#best way to go red is to live in a blue state

[rescatada]

Please pray for me, my idiot state past a law forcing rideshare companies to pay drivers more and now it costs $85 to get to work on the days I don’t have the car. Leftist idealism harms the working class once again yay!

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

[bonesandchalamet]

predictable - c.fisher

masterlist

requested: y- “Can you do a conrad fisher x reader where the readers family has a house next to theirs so they grew up going to cousins for the summers (cons age), and they are in love w each other but don’t want to admit it and everyone notices it around them/teases them. maybe a flash ward to their wedding in a couple of years and everyone’s speeches are like “yeah i won the bet they would be married by now” or smth like that?“

pairings: conrad fisher x fem!reader

warnings: fluff + jokes

a/n: I hope I did this justice anon! xx there are NO spoilers of book 2 or season 2!

you can hear his voice. it’s muffled, he sounds like he’s in your kitchen, a blessing of having the bedroom right above it, but you can hear him talking to your mother.

you don’t have time to think, you just fling your legs over your mattress and rush down the stairs at an appropriate pace. you’d just woke up, maybe not your best state to be in, but you couldn’t wait to see conrad fisher. the boy next door.

he’d gone to Princeton, smart cookie if you say so yourself, and you hadn’t seen him since last summer. in fact, you only saw him maybe once or twice outside of the neighborhood and that was getting ice cream and groceries. other than that, you live by the fence that separates your yards waiting to hear the laughter and conversations from the Conklin and fisher kids.

“just tomatoes? are you sure? I can go pick out some basil—“

“no, no laurel will kill you if you do any more yard work! I can get it.” you hear conrad protest. the fisher family was used to your parents generosity, the beautiful vegetable garden grew right on the fisher/y/l/n house line, the family was more than welcome to eat and take whatever they wanted, but it didn’t stop them from being kind enough to ask. Susannah raised those boys right.

“are you sure?”

“what’s going on?” you ask, it’s like the words floated out of you when you saw him. his brown hair a little longer than normal, his t-shirt a bit smaller on him, and he’s wearing small navy blue swim trunks. a sight to make any girl swoon for a fisher.

“oh, y/n, do you think you can help conrad get some more tomatoes from the vines? it seems to be the fisher-Conklin clan has run out.” your mother hands you Susannah’s woven basket that conrad was once holding. your mother looks at you with pleading eyes but she knows you’ll do anything that has conrad fisher involved.

“happy to.” you take the basket in your hand and gesture for conrad to follow. he thanks your mother once again and follows along out the back door. you can hear not only just your heartbeat, but the blood rushing to your ears.

being alone with Conrad was sometimes awkward. at least to you it always felt that way, because you never knew how to be around him as yourself. you were so deeply in love with him that just being in his presence was enough to make you fumble over your words.

“here I can get the tomatoes.” conrad pushes past you, his shoulder brushing against your body, you could smell his cologne, the salty ocean in his hair, and the mixture of the laundry detergent Susannah uses. it was an intoxicating smell, one to make your world spin.

“you sure? they are kind of all over the place.” you chuckle setting the basket down into the grass. you start picking the beautiful blush red ones and gently place them in the basket along side the ones conrad was picking. every so often your hands would brush or you’d about pick the same tomato. you both would blush and apologize instantly for the connection.

“would you guys just kiss already! you’re making me nauseous.” Jeremiah calls over the fence line from the pool, he’s watched about every embarrassing second of you and his brothers interactions.

“come on, con!” Steven hollers, it’s loud enough for the neighbors on the other side of their house to snicker at the boys energy for far too early in the morning.

“I don’t know what their problem is.” Conrad says and it’s only for you two to hear. he’s picked up the basket from the grass now, you’re stuck with holding a few more tomatoes that he claims would be more than enough for everyone.

“no seriously, just keep those ones.”

“we have enough inside, just take them—“

“fine,” he huffs out an annoyed sigh and watches you dump them into the basket, “can I at least make you breakfast with them?”

“sounds like a plan to me.”

that day, he made you more than breakfast. he made you feel the most indescribable feeling of love and excitement. he left you walking home as beat red as those tomatoes you picked. you could thank Steven and Jeremiah for their pressure and tease, because conrad fisher did in fact kiss you that morning.

—

FUTURE

“I’m so happy for these guys because today I became twenty dollars richer,” Jeremiah pauses, the laughter of friends and family make you both blush, “so thank you Steven for believing they would never get married. here’s to the bride and the groom!” Jeremiah holds his champagne glass up, others in the room follow.

“you really bet we would get married?” Conrad turns to his brother who passes the microphone to belly before sitting down beside him.

Jeremiah’s hands clap his brothers shoulder, “we also made a bet that you’d kiss her that summer. belly also made a bet that you’d have tomatoes on the menu, looks like you guys are the most predictable couple ever.”

[moon-rivr]

easiest thing

pairing: miguel o’hara x spider-woman reader

contents: reader who thinks they’re hard to love and miguel who loves them so easily, mentions of death at the beginning, reader goes to therapy, somewhat angsty and fluffy?

author’s note: pls don’t take the characterization for ‘you’ srsly, this was purely self indulgence 🫡

word count: 4.3k

"Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

You'd given up on romance despite that you still had the lingering desire of wanting someone's eyes to sparkle everytime they looked at you and of wanting someone that just understood you in a way that nobody else had access to. You were a hopeless romantic with a shitty life in general, to say the least. If it wasn't the fact that you ended up getting ghosted time and time again or the fact that every talking stage you had ended up flopping like a fish out of water, it was the only best friend that you'd had dying. A part of you shut off the day you were forced to kneel down next to your Peter Parker, every sliver of hope in you fading away at the same rate that the life faded away from his eyes.

You knew that you weren't responsible for Peter's passing, but a part of you wished you could've done more than just watch the life from his body fade within your very eyes. You'd felt like the strongest person in the world up to that moment, being able to lift vehicles and pieces of rubble with ease, but in the moment, you were just as vulnerable as anybody else. You wished that you could've taken note of the strange behavior he elicited beforehand, that you weren't so caught up in your own issues to take note of what burdens he was struggling with. But now, all you could do was just linger on what you could've done, should've done, and what you wished you'd done differently.

You forced yourself to try to go through the motions of living without Peter, every task seeming more and more difficult with each day that passed by. Showering seemed like a tedious task, the almost borderline sting of the boiling water doing nothing to distract you from the pain that lingered in your heart. You'd even considered giving up the mantle of being Spider-Woman, the red and blue spandex suit collecting dust in the back of your wardrobe. Not even a year had passed by when you'd lost your Uncle Ben, the words from his dying lips ringing through your head. "With great power comes great responsibility," you murmured quietly to yourself, deciding to put on the suit after you'd failed to show up for New York time and time again these last few months.

You'd thought that coming back would be like riding a bike, that you wouldn't forget it no matter how much you willed yourself to try. But clearly, you'd been mistaken seeing as how you were currently dangling off the edge of the Empire State Building. You'd shot a web to cling onto the side of a building, finding yourself coming up short as nothing came out of your wrists. "Come on," you murmured to yourself, trying to stick your fingers in different positions to get the web to come out. It was almost like your body was giving you the consequences of neglecting it for far too long, refusing to work with you when you needed it the most. The grip that you had on the building loosened, the stickiness from your fingers no longer there as you dropped to the floor.

You frantically stuck your hand out to try to stick a web as you rapidly began your descent, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead. You weren't sure if it was the humidity in the air or the sheer nervousness that was coaxing your body at the moment. Most likely the latter, but you didn't have time to think too hard about it as you willed for just one measly web to come out before you face planted onto the pavement. Your body was running strictly out of fear now as you got dangerously close to the floor now, your mind starting to accept the situation for what it was. While you'd completely given up on trying more than surviving after Peter had died, all you knew now is that you didn't want to die. You really didn't.

A shaky breath of relief escaped from your lips when you stuck to a building near you, the web that you'd been hoping for so badly coming into fruition. You looked down at the floor, silently thanking the web sticking to the side of the building after realizing just how close you'd gotten to actually hitting the floor. After that near-death experience, you'd decided to get back into training your body before you went out to patrolling the city like you used to. Forcing yourself out of bed was less difficult as the days passed, finding a purpose to get yourself out of your house everyday. Your body wasn't the fighting machine that it used to be but you were willing to work to get just a sliver of what you used to have.

It wasn't long until the citizens of new york city started noticing that Spider-Woman was back, met with some disapproval but overall, everyone just seemed thrilled over the comeback. The city had been buried in a cesspool of chaos and robberies after you'd left. A few of the small fry were smart enough to drop their sketchy business before they got caught, an instant relief felt in the small businesses throughout the city. You couldn't help but feel suspicious as even the villains that found joy in threatening the city had gone under wraps, your mind running through all the possibilities of what they could possibly be planning. Your feet swung off the building you were monitoring from, your eyes shifting to every little noise elicited below you.

Your feet sprung up to action faster than you'd expected when you heard the sound of rubble crumbling underneath you, the sound of screaming ringing through your ears as you swung throughout the different buildings. You went to the scene of the danger, a distinction from the people that were fleeing from the scene while screaming at the top of the lungs. You approached the scene, watching as Rhino destroyed every building that he had access to. a malicious smile on his face as he controlled the metal suit, taking pleasure in the way that the city panicked under his control. You weren't one to make any ceremonious entrances, simply swinging into action as you wrapped a web from underneath him to tie his feet together.

You'd taken a couple hits from the fight, your body still not used to the strain of these fights after only week of training. Despite the fact that every muscle in your body was begging for you to stop, to give into the exhaustion, you refused to give up just yet. "Just a little longer," you mentally assured yourself, the muscles in your legs starting to burn as you ran over to the Rhino. You wanted to separate him from any of the citizens that might've stayed to watch the fight, unable to take even just one casualty tonight. You rendered the suit useless after tying it up to the wall, punching through the thick glass of what seemed to resemble the eyes. You pulled out what seemed to be a cheap copy of the original out of the suit, your eyes widening at the realization that this was all a decoy.

Miguel was watching your fight intently through the monitor, watching your movements as you tied the villain down. It was everything that he would've done in your situation, every movement graceful as you kept the villain away from any civilians. "Thinking about her as a new recruit?" LYLA asked from beside him, popping up into view as she took in the sight of your reflexes. "She'd be a nice addition," Miguel uttered quietly, entranced by the way that your body moved under the spandex. He'd been overlooking your universe for quite some time, finding a couple things that elicited some red flags in the system during your absence. He found it impressive the way that you'd managed to put your pain to the side for the greater good of New York City, willing to come back and fight despite the fact that you had no one to be personally fighting for.

Blood leaked from the side of your mouth as you received a blow from the actual Rhino, half your ribs bruised from the sheer impact of his metal fists pounding into your body. His suit was nearly indestructible, you were unable to take him down but you were able to tie him. Almost as if sensing your plan to restrain him, he avoided every single one of the webs that you'd struck out at him and landing a couple hits in the process. You were reeling on the floor, clutching your stomach as the man mocked your position on the floor. Every little comment escaping from his mouth serving to belittle your position as Spider-Woman, of doubting your ability to protect the people of New York City. You hated the effect that his words had on you, every single little utter only serving to deepen the insecurities that you already felt about yourself.

Your eyes widen a bit as you noticed the man in front of you glitch, making it all too evident that this wasn't your Rhino. You had noticed that it was taking you a bit longer to get past his defenses. You were thinking of giving up, giving into the pain and exhaustion coursing through your body when you felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up like a soldier on command. An orange portal appeared by the side, the swirling waves almost distracting you from the task at hand. You'd managed to briskly avoid a punch thrown by the robot, your legs barely sustaining you as you stood up. You expected for the portal to show some of the goons that the Rhino called for assistance, but you were instead met with people that were all too similar to you. They all wore the spider emblem on their suit, their movements synced to precision as they fought against the villain.

You'd joined the fight to the best of your ability, helping them tie down the villain until one of the members captured the man in a trap. You were approached by a rather tall man just as you were getting ready to leave, his figure imposing over yours as he looked down at you. The mask on his face disappeared with one tap of the watch he had on, his gaze showing no emotion in it as he looked over at you. "I want to formally invite you to the Spider Society. It's where spider-people from different universes come and gather to fight against anomalies, I'd recommend for you to give it a thought," he spoke up, his hand extending a watch similar to the one he had on over to you. "This should teleport you to the building whenever you're ready."

You looked down at the watch as you realized it was nearly a week since it'd been given to you, the decision still not clear to you despite how long you'd looked at it. While there was nothing here for you in this universe, no prospect of friendship, family, or romance, a part of you didn't want to leave out of how comfortable you were at the moment. You'd gotten used to the cycle of the crime rates in New York, of fighting small time criminals and the occasional villain that tormented the city. You thought to yourself about what Peter would do, trying to convince yourself that he would be assuring your decision to stay stuck in this spot. With every attempt that you tried to rationalize your decision, you were only met with more reasons as to why you should go. Your finger pressed the button on the gizmo hesitantly, looking at the portal appearing inside of your apartment.

You were awestruck as you walked into the Spider Society, overwhelmed by just how many different universes you'd been so blissfully unaware of. There was a Spider-Cat, Spider-Dino, and even a car version of Spider-Man, interacting like it was normal. The building itself was also impressive, a modern design to match those of the buildings outside of it. You'd thought of flying cars as a figment of your imagination but here they were, a common sight as they moved through the sky. "You're the new recruit, right?" A small orange holographic woman appeared in front of you, waiting for your confirmation before she led you inside. "Grab one of the bracelets on that table over there before you start to glitch out."

Before you got the chance to ask what she meant by 'glitch out,' you felt like your body was struggling to even mobilize. The atoms inside you seemed to be defying the building you were in, some of them morphing you into a different shape before it stopped. You quickly pulled the bracelet onto your wrist, following the holograph into the room that she led you in. "He'll be down from his platform in a second. That thing usually takes a while to load," she informed you, fading away just as soon as she'd arrived. You looked up at the platform as it started to lower, every second of waiting only making you feel more nervous about the situation. It was the same man that had given you the watch beforehand, the leader of this whole organization if you had to assume.

Miguel took one look at your expression, your eyes holding so much pain buried within them even if you were trying your best to plaster a smile on your face. Even that seemed to be crumbling under his very eyes, though, your smile not quite meeting your eyes as it wavered with every second that he spent looking at you. He knew the pain that came with being Spider-Man, knew of all the sacrifices that the people in his society faced once they took on the role. He'd seen this story play out multiple times, whether it be with Ben, Gwen, or with Peter. But for some reason, unknown even to himself, he couldn't handle seeing you so upset. "Welcome to the Spider Society, I'm Miguel O’Hara. Allow me to show you around."

Miguel took you along through the different areas in the society, taking in your reactions of everything that it offered. You couldn't help but notice that every member that the two of you passed seemed to look at him with awe, immediately scrambling to find something to do. "If you ever want or need someone to talk to, we have a licensed therapist on the first floor. Everything's confidential so you don't have to worry about anything getting out," he spoke up once he was finished with the tour of the facility, his red eyes meeting yours for the first time this evening. The orange hue in the background only accentuated how beautiful they truly were, the intensity that his gaze held.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn't want you to turn out like had, so consumed in your own pain that you'd become a shell of the person of who you used to be. A way for him to prevent yourself from delving in too far in your pain, the way he had when he neglected to speak his native tongue because it just reminded him time and time again of how his mamá had failed to show up for him. You weren't a bunch of sunshine and rainbows from what he could tell from the few clips that he'd seen from you in your element, but even he could tell that you were hiding the pain you felt. He wanted to be the helping hand he wished he could've had when he was struggling with Gabriella’s loss, the helping hand he wished he could’ve just had in general.

“I don't really need therapy but thank you," you assured him, thanking him once more for welcoming you as a member before making your way out of the room. While subconsciously you could feel that there was something wrong with the way that you were perceiving the world and reacting to the things happening in your life, you didn't want to feel like too much of a burden. You didn't want to take that help away from the people that could need it, despite the fact that you could tell within yourself you were slowly starting to wear down from the events happening in your life. Before you could go to get help, you had to acknowledge that deep within, you truly did need someone's help during this period of your life. But for now, you would just keep your head down and prove your worth in the society.

You'd made your way into therapy after you decided that maybe it wasn't as bad as you imagined, that admitting to yourself that you needed help hadn't been the end of the world. You'd managed to work out through your feelings of grief about losing peter and Uncle Ben, learning that it was okay to miss them just as long as you didn't let your life stop from the grief that you felt. Despite the fact that you'd made some progress with that aspect of your life, you refused to touch any topic that covered the progress of your romantic life. Maybe because you knew that it would delve into further issues, knowing that it would make you think about why you felt unwanted. You weren't ready to deal with those issues just yet, unsure if you would ever be ready to divulge.

You were slowly starting to come around to being the version of yourself that you used to be, of getting back into doing the things that you once enjoyed doing. You'd picked up a couple books from the library at the society, spending some of the time that wasn't training or going out on missions reading about silly romance novels. If it wasn't that, you'd found different activities that you found yourself enjoying. You realized that you wouldn't have tried them out if it weren't for the state of your life right now, having lived in a state of doing whatever was comfortable between Peter and you. You were finding things that belonged solely to you, finding memories that weren't involved with missing anybody.

Miguel wasn't too obvious with the way that he presented his feelings towards you, but if you'd looked a little closer, you would've noticed the little details. How the grumpy boss who avoided making meaningless conversation with everyone else seemed to present an interest in everything that you had to say, asking you questions of how you were adjusting to the Spider Society and asking questions about things that you showed an interest in. He knew that you were still coping with your problems so he didn't want to push you too far, didn't want to push you too far away from him. He was happy to keep talking to you in a platonic matter, just getting to hear that little rise in your pitch whenever you were excited filling him up with a sense of peace and tranquility.

"LYLA, can you log into her amazon account for me?" He spoke up to her, unable to decide what to get you for your birthday. He'd had months to plan out what he wanted to gift you, but every gift seemed to be dwindled in quality when he compared it to the type of person that you were. You were worth more than the complimentary pair of socks he was so accustomed to gifting the members of the society whenever they had a birthday. LYLA’s confusion was evident across her features but she complied with his request, hacking through your account to pull up your cart. While you had some necessities on there, you also had a list of the books that you were planning on getting in the near future. Perfect.

To say that it was the easiest purchase he's made in his life was a bit of an understatement, he was waiting anxiously to see the excitement on your face once you opened his gift. You'd even joked that he seemed more excited about the gift opening than you were. He watched as you opened up the gift carefully, trying not to rip apart the wrapping paper that he'd chosen for you. Your eyes practically sparked up with excitement at opening up the box, finding the catalog of books you were putting to the side until you were able to buy them. You were rendered speechless for a bit, your eyes shifting from the books over to Miguel who was standing to the side, gauging for every one of your little reactions.

"Thank you!" You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him as you enveloped him into a hug. The action was foreign to him, something he hadn't bothered to practice in a while. but every thought of that went out the window as his arms came to your back, rubbing small circles as he looked down at you. "I hope this means you liked your present," he spoke just loud enough for you to hear, an intimate scene set between the two of you despite the fact there was a crowd of people partying around. "I love it, thank you so much," you told him, the tightness of your embrace speaking for all the words you couldn't get out of your mouth at the moment. He let you cling onto him as long as you needed, unwilling to deny you anything.

Miguel wasn't planning on acting on his feelings, but eventually decided that it would be better to get a rejection straight up than stay wondering 'what if?' He ran different scenarios of how it would go, some of them resulting in the two of you going out on a date while some of them resulted in you ignoring him throughout your duration at the Spider Society. He tried hard not to focus on those thoughts too much, letting himself have a false sense of positivity despite the fact that you hadn't reciprocated his feelings at all. He ran different approach methods in his mind, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to you but every thought in his head seemed to be rendered useless just by taking a good glimpse at you in your natural state. Curled up on the couch with a book in your hand, the faint glow from the sun shining through the window illuminating your features.

"Hey, do you mind if I talk to you?" He came up by your side as you were reading one of the books he'd gotten for your birthday, a small smile appearing on your face as you looked over at him. "Yeah, for sure. What's up?" You asked him, scooting over on the couch to give him space to sit down. He sat down next to you, almost seeming nervous in front of you as he twiddled with his thumbs. It was a sight to behold, the man usually in command of every room he walked into nervous at the prospect of getting rejected. "I wanted to ask you out on a date. If you don't want to, I completely understand. I just hope it won't ruin what you've built here at the Spider Society," he finally spoke up after what seemed to be a couple minutes of silence, his eyes hesitant to look into yours as he waited for you to process the information.

You'd been oblivious to these signs for months, unable to even fathom that someone would see you in that way. You were so convinced that you weren't someone that people saw as date-worthy, that you were only a placeholder until they were able to find someone better. You blinked slowly as you tried to let his words sink in, the look on your face vulnerable as you looked up at him. "You're not joking right?" You tried to confirm, hoping that you weren't being used as the butt of a joke this time around. You'd started to grow comfortable around Miguel, enjoying being around his company and even envisioning him whenever you had your nose buried in a book. "No I’m not joking," his voice was gentle as he assured you, his hand holding yours as he rubbed circles on the back of yours.

"Then yes. I'd like to go out on a date with you," you finally accepted his invitation after no recording crew had come out to expose themselves.The two of you spent a couple seconds in silence before he spoke up again. "Pudiera escribirte un libro como esos que tanto te gustan nomas hablando de cuanto tu presencia me alumbra la vida y aun no seria suficiente para describir el amor que siento por ti, preciosa. You make me forget every word in my repertoire just by looking into your eyes," he murmured, his Spanish coming out nearly perfect despite the fact he hadn't bothered to speak it aloud in a couple years now. "Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

(I could write you a book like those you really like, just talking about how much your presence illuminates my life and it still wouldn't enough to describe the love I feel for you, precious)

Despite reading and re-reading all the romance books stacked up on your shelf at home, you'd never actually imagined that you'd be the one in the main character's position now. You lived vicariously through those books, all the romantic moments that you longed for merely described as words on paper. You remembered picking out books with the male's pov just to get that glimpse of what adoration sounded on both sides, of getting a picture of what you wanted someone to think about when they saw you. You'd seen multiple people in your life getting into relationships, assuring you empty promises that you'd find the person for you when the time was right, and you’d dismissed it all as pure bullshit. But all that waiting seemed worth it at the thought of going out with Miguel.

You couldn't help but feel butterflies taking flight in your stomach at the realization that Miguel, one of the smartest people you've ever met who seemed to have a response for everything, was rendered speechless just by having you around. The feeling was almost overwhelming as you slowly started to let your guard down around him, letting him love you the way he wanted to love you. You realized now that maybe you weren't as unlovable as you thought you were, that you weren't too broken to be the object of someone's love and admiration, just that you'd been seeking those things from the wrong people. All you wanted was to express the same love that he’d expressed towards you despite the lack of experience.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02

[lecsainz]

my brother's friend

pairings: max verstappen x leclerc!reader

summary: the one where you're charles' sister and dating one of his friends, max.

authors note: I absolutely love writing smau!! sometimes I want to include all the ideas I have, but I'm afraid it will end up being tooooo longgggg

masterlist!

yn_leclerc

liked by leclerc_pascale, danielricciardo , and 250.786 others

yn_leclerc a little photo dump from this week, and let's pretend that I didn't spend this entire weekend with max away from the ferrari paddock 🤭

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maxverstappen1 blue looks good on you 😍

yn_leclerc I know! 😘

lestappen these photos are the ultimate boyfriend material

redbullwins the best couple on the grid

arthur_leclerc traitor 😔

yn_leclerc who? arthur_leclerc you! yn_leclerc no, who asked you?

charles_leclerc what shirt is that, y/n?? it's horrifying, my eyes are bleeding

yn_leclerc your problem, not mine. 🫶

lorenzotl but to grab some food, you were there in the ferrari paddock

yn_leclerc lorenzo! shhhhhh lorenzotl I'm just stating the truth yn_leclerc red bull doesn't have italian food 😭 what could I do? arthur_leclerc spend the weekend with us

leclercmoves I'm loving this

riccnorris HER WEARING A RED BULL SHIRT

yn_leclerc

yn_leclerc always a ferrari girl, and no, my brothers didn't force me to post this 😁

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lercsainz xavi out!

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arthur_leclerc why isn't there a picture of me too?

yn_leclerc cause you're annoying arthur_leclerc seriously?! just yesterday you said I was your favorite sibling charles_leclerc everyone knows it's me! yn_leclerc actually, it's enzo

maxverstappen1 I missed seeing you in my motorhome

yn_leclerc christian said I'm not allowed in there wearing ferrari clothes, love maxverstappen1 oh he did? I think I'm going to have a little chat with the red bull team

sebredbull max activating the madmax mode

cl16 I miss seeing y/n in ferrari clothing

redbullracing am I the only one who thinks that the red bull blue is her color?

scuderiaferrari no way! the ferrari red is so much better landonorris I think orange is her color yn_leclerc never lando! you forced me to wear that hoodie and I looked so ugly danielricciardo I remember max almost having a heart attack seeing her in that hoodie pierregasly I thought lando would die that day 😅

yn_leclerc added to their story

maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1 look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth the girl in my story has always been you

tag: yn_leclerc

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yn_leclerc I love you so much 🤍

maxverstappen1 I love you too, mijn schat (my treasure)

yn_leclerc

liked by leclerc_pascale, danielricciardo , and 956.384 others

yn_leclerc life has been full of surprises lately and I couldn't be happier to announce that I said YES to forever with the love of my life! couldn't imagine my life without this incredible man by my side. love you, max! and that's not all... we have an extra little passenger on board! baby leclerc-verstappen coming soon! the joy and excitement we feel right now is indescribable we can't wait to welcome our little one into the world and create beautiful memories together as a family

tag: maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 I couldn't be more grateful and excited for this next chapter of our lives. y/n, you've made me the happiest man on earth. thank you for choosing me to be your partner in this incredible journey. I love you endlessly, schatje (sweetheart)

charles_leclerc wow, can't believe you're becoming a mom, y/n. you've always been my little sister! it's a beautiful journey you and max are on. wishing you all the love and happiness in this new chapter. I'm here to support you always! ❤️

arthur_leclerc congrats on the engagement and baby news, though! can't wait to become the coolest uncle ever. love you

charles_leclerc let's face it, I'm going to be the best uncle yn_leclerc I think enzo beats you guys lorenzotl I think so too charles_leclerc you think nothing. arthur_leclerc I'm going to be the best uncle, end of story yn_leclerc if you say so 🤭 arthur_leclerc Y/N! yn_leclerc I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING

lorenzotl congratulations, y/n and max! so happy for you both and excited to be an uncle. sending all the love and happiness your way

leclerc_pascale oh mon petit chou, je suis tellement fière de toi et de ta belle vie! congratulations on your engagement and the upcoming arrival of our little baby! you've truly found your happily ever after, and I couldn't be happier for you. sending all my love and blessings to you, max and our precious leclerc-verstappen baby. love, your adoring maman 💕(my little cabbage, I'm so proud of you and your beautiful life!)

maxverstappen1

liked by lewishamilton, schecoperez , and 1.572.105 others

maxverstappen1 words can't express the love and joy we feel as we hold our little one in our arms, from the moment we found out we were expecting the anticipation and excitement have been off the charts. now, seeing this tiny human who carries both our love and our dreams, it's a feeling like no other ❤️ to my beautiful fiancée, y/n, you continue to amaze me with your grace and resilience. seeing you bring our little racer into this world has filled my heart with an indescribable joy. I am beyond grateful for the incredible woman you are and I can't wait to continue this incredible journey together as a family

tag: yn_leclerc

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yn_leclerc you've stolen my heart all over again with this heartfelt message, max. our little one is a true blessing, a beautiful reflection of our love and dreams. I'm endlessly grateful to be by your side, witnessing the incredible love and joy you bring as a father. I am so incredibly blessed to have you by my side on this beautiful journey ❤️

charles_leclerc I'm so happy for you both, and I can't wait for the day when the little one is old enough to choose ferrari as their favorite team!

maxverstappen1 definitely not! the baby will be rooting for redbull! charles_leclerc we'll see about that! 👀

alex_albon I think we all know who the obvious choice for the godfather is... me! I mean, have you seen my skills with the little ones? 😁

danielricciardo oh, come on, albon! we need someone with real charisma and charm to be the godfather. that's where I step in, mate. I'll bring the laughs, the smiles, and the epic shoey celebrations! carlossainz55 hold up! I'm the perfect candidate for the godfather gig. think about it - I'll bring the spanish flair, the fiestas, and the best paella you've ever tasted landonorris sorry guys, but it's clear that I'm the most qualified for this role. I'll be the cool, fun-loving godfather who introduces the kid to the world of gaming, memes, and, of course, helmet design maxverstappen1 alright, alright, boys. I hate to break it to you, but we've already made our decision, and none of you made the cut carlossainz55 WHAT?? danielricciardo we were friends, max and y/n 😭 landonorris who is better than me??? alex_albon I feel betrayed

verstlercs I'M SCREAMING, CRYING, AND FREAKING OUT

f1number1 leclerc-verstappen family, something nobody saw coming

scuderiaferrari oh, we all know this little one is destined to be a future ferrari driver! welcome to the scuderia, baby leclerc-verstappen!

redbullracing this little racer is definitely going to join the red bull family and experience the thrill of flying on the track! get ready for some high-speed action! scuderiaferrari dream on, red bull! our legacy and history speak for themselves. this baby will be rocking the prancing horse on their chest, just like their talented uncles! redbullracing talent? speed? innovation? that's what red bull stands for! This little champion will be tearing up the circuits in our car, guaranteed! charles_leclerc can I place my bet? I say the baby will race for ferrari, just like their dear old uncle charles! maxverstappen1 sorry, bro! the baby will follow in their old man's footsteps and race for red bull. it's in their blood!

[queers-gambit]

Blue Moon Wreckage

prompt: your husband can often lose his temper and resort to the man he was before you. you grow tired of lashing your tongue, and learn your husband responds better to silence.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 4.3k+

note: another stand alone, no sequel

warnings: cursing, talk of child abandonment, vulgar dialogue, old-fashioned views on marriage (maybe idk), not edited. small angst, small comfort. author probably missed some warnings.

The entire city cleaned up in preparation for Princess Rhaenyra's nuptials to the heir of Driftmark, Lord Laenor Velaryon. It was refreshing to see citizens rejoicing in a common theme and going around to hang different decorations; chandeliers of strung florals, wreaths woven and hung, lanterns set all around to create an ambiance in the street.

Romance was in the air.

It put people in jolly spirits, brought them elation, and gave the ability to decompress from the woes of life. Wine tasted sweeter, the food saltier, and many merchants came into town for the week-long celebration of Rhaenyra and Laenor in the hopes of selling enough wares to pay for three of their month's expenses. Every room at the inn was filled, brothels hosting the leftover stragglers; money was simply made in an abundance after taking advantage of the citizens come to celebrate.

And yet, deep within the halls of the Red Keep, not all were so at peace with the state of things.

Maids and servants all skidded around the corridor that housed your bedchambers shared with your husband. The walls almost vibrated with the sheer force of the yelling that took place, and while the sun shone on the rest of the Kingdom, there was a dark shadow over the Red Keep.

Rarely, and it was the truth, rarely did you and Daemon ever fight. He was your best friend, he was the love of your life, you've known him for years, and had long since developed an effective way to communicate. Daemon wasn't easy to deal with, in fact, even to those who knew how to handle him, he sometimes pushed past boundaries and threw curveballs into the mix. You were not immune to his sharp tongue and wicked-fast wit, but in reality, Daemon never actively sought conflict with you, so fighting was incredibly rare - though, not totally unheard of.

Like a blue moon - not totally unheard of, but still considered rare. And in pale moonlight, the ship you and Daemon found yourselves sailing on seemed to crash into a set of cliffside jagged rocks, all but imploding the balance you had found yourselves in.

A shipwreck during a blue moon.

Before you, Daemon was violent and volatile. He was irresponsible, impulsive, stubborn, hotheaded, and blood thirty. Many Ladies all vied for the Prince's attention, but as he grew older, he became more and more reckless and more Ladies started keeping their distance. Expect you. You heard rumor his grandmother, the Queen Alysanne, meant to marry him off to Rhea Royce but your father was almost too smart for his own good. He devised a tantalizing offer that the Crown would've been foolish to refuse - thus binding you and Daemon to fate.

Before you, Daemon wasn't a man. He was just a second son trapped in a shell of his body, full of anger with nowhere to expel himself. A boy with a temper. A lad with attitude. He was knighted at 16, an impressive feat, and not a full moon cycle later, you and Daemon wed. He wasn't easy to love, but that was because he was so defensive in his life living in his older brother's shadow.

Before you, Daemon never believed in love or acceptance. Yet everyday he spent with you, he was reminded of his value and worth as a person - not just a Prince, or a Targaryen. You worked every day for his trust and confidence, and once you had it, it was an unshakeable foundation. Daemon was everything to you, and before him, you were shy and awkward and overwhelmed in the glaring eyes of court. Now, you were confident, humble, and weeping with power.

You kept Daemon balanced in his head and heart.

Before you, he was like a wild dog. Now, he was domesticated for you and you alone. He realized how much his recklessness hurt you and never wanted to be the cause of your pain, so, Daemon cleaned himself up. Most days, he was perfectly content in life, and others, he was still as stubborn as ever, but every so often, Daemon loses sight of himself and resorts back to who he was before you.

Fighting with Daemon was always difficult. He wasn't accustomed to losing, so, when you two went toe-to-toe, he was out for blood. He loses himself in his anger, fueled only by the need to cause the most harm with his sharpest words. Daemon jumped to conclusions faster than a grasshopper hops from blades of grass because he was vastly insecure, and it took most of your will to restrain your anger enough to soothe him of his worries.

Daemon hated fighting with you, and you hated fighting with him. There was never a true victor because you both hated it so much. Perhaps that was why your once-in-a-blue-moon fights turned so gruesome and emotional; you both hated fighting that it made you fight even harder.

How you came to this, you didn't remember. One moment, you were enjoying a morning feast with your husband, and the next, you were locked in your chambers, lashing at each other's throats with hateful words.

"I do not understand!" You sobbed. "You agreed to this - "

"No! No, I did not! You did not consult me on this matter, you just accepted responsibility. For the both of us!"

"He is my little brother, Daemon!"

"He is not our responsibility!"

"He is now!"

"Because you took action without a word to me!"

"I did not need to consult you; he is my blood."

"But not mine."

You scoffed, "For fuck's sake, Daemon, do you hear yourself? You are whinging over a child - you're bloody jealous of a child! Where is the man I married?"

"I have done all I am expected and required as a husband, it is you who refuses my seed. Who refuses to grow our family!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Now you want a baby!? Married ten years, we are, and NOW you want to whinge about babies!? I am busy in case you've not bothered to look around every once in a while," you snapped, "and I understand having a baby is not ideal right now!"

"So, you will not take my seed because you are busy raising another man's?"

"He was my father - oh, Gods be good, why're we fighting over this?"

"You need to understand, he is not mine," Daemon seethed. "He will never be mine and I do not wish to treat him as such. The life and luxury we live in are not meant for a child that is neither of ours."

"What would you have me do!?"

"Send him to your brother."

"Oh, spare me this notion, Daemon! I will not hear of it! No! We are not discussing this again and again!"

"You mean to disobey me then, wife?" He snapped, making your mouth snap shut. "Huh? Think you're immune to the duties you must uphold as a woman? Think that allows you free rein? You are luckier than most that I allow you to have a fucking opinion; do not abuse my generosity. You want the child to stay, fine, I hear you, but I say he goes. Guess who's want will triumph?"

You blinked several times, unable to find words.

"Nothing to say?" He taunted. "That is a first, wife, you surprise me. In your moment of silence, do well to listen to me now: the child goes, or I do. You either get rid of the child or I will remove myself from this sham of a marriage."

"I do not recognize you, you are not my husband," you finally sighed. "Do me a favor and figure you may speak to me again once you're ready to apologize. If not, I assume by week's end, we will be celebrating both Rhaenyra's wedding and our annulment."

"Too much time has passed for such - "

"I know a Septon that will forge documents. Now," you eyed him up and down, "once more, do not think to speak to me unless to grovel for my forgiveness."

"You will die before that happens."

You nodded slowly, then shrugged and dodged around him to exit the room. You could not bear to be around him any longer, storming away to where your small brother was being looked after by a Septa. You did not speak to Daemon the rest of the day, feeling yourself brimming with anger as you replayed his words.

How dare he find insult in your desire to do "the right thing" by caring for your brother after your parents met their untimely demise? How dare he cite "wifely duties" to you? Just how dare he!

The day was supposed to be merry. It was supposed to be lighthearted and fun and romantic and exciting and gossip worthy. Yet now, you were feeling annoyed, frustrated, weighed down, and plain stupid. You felt alone. You felt tired and worn thin. Your little brother, Jamie, always put a smile on your face, but now, you were simply ready to cry just by looking at him. This planted the seed of resentment towards Daemon, and through the day, only festered.

"My Lady?" You glanced in the mirror to see your hand maiden, who was doing your hair, humming in question. "Alyria has arrived, she will watch young Lord Jamie for the evening."

"Good, thank you," you sighed. "Has Daemon come around?"

"No, my Lady."

"Hmm."

Not 30 minutes later, you were walking towards the decorated throne room with your hair braided back, make-up laid perfectly, and your dress a dark grey, black, and Targaryen red.

However, before you could walk in, someone called your name. You paused, letting Daemon approach you, his eyes raking you in as he realized you dressed to match him. "You look beautiful," he complimented, but you just stared; then sighed through your nose and straightened up. "What? You're not speaking to me?"

"I told you the terms in which you should find it acceptable to speak to me again."

Daemon scoffed, "You're still on that?" You did not answer, just stared forward. "Fine, be that way. Come," he offered his arm, but you brushed past him to finally enter the throne room. Your names were announced, albeit begrudgingly because most in the castle harbored ill-will towards Daemon. They just felt bad for you, not knowing of the man you had grown to know and love unconditionally.

You took long strides to shorten your journey, but behind you, your husband just sauntered in as if the center of attention. However, no matter where he was, Daemon was always the main character, and he was quite the peacock in flaunting himself. You bowed to the King and his daughter, heir to the Iron Throne, Princess Rhaenyra. You took your seat beside the Hand of the King, Ser Strong, as Daemon climbed the stone stairs with a smug expression before taking the seat beside you at the very end.

Needless to say, Daemon was not accustomed to being ignored. You did not look at him, did not speak to him, ignored his direct questions, even went as far as to slapping his hand away when he reached for your thigh. When your hand rested on the table and he laid his over yours, you pulled it back.

It drove Daemon absolutely up the wall.

"And how fairs your brother, my Lady?" Ser Strong asked gently. "How does he like life in the Capital?"

"He adores it," you hummed with a nod. "He is learning so much and loves watching the boats in the harbor."

"How old is he now?"

"Just shy of 4, my Lord."

"Well, what would the little Prince like for his nameday?"

"Oh, uh, no, he's not a Prince," you spoke gently.

"No? Well, I suppose until Viserys recognizes him."

"Well, Daemon's made it clear that if I do not give custody of my brother up, this marriage is null and void, so," you clicked your tongue cheekily, sipping your wine, "no use in titles."

You knew others heard you and smirked to yourself. Another gulp of wine and you were standing, excusing yourself, and moving onto the dance floor. Rhaenyra giggled when you gave her a playful twirl before taking your place with a partner, falling into rhythm with those around you. The entire time, you felt Daemon's eyes burning into you.

You didn't care. You carried on as if there wasn't a ring on your wedding finger weighing like a full fish net, like you weren't burdened by your marriage.

You danced with a Tully, Stark, Frey, and Lannister boy, all who looked at you like a delectable treat but were being effectively ignored, just like your handsome, white-haired husband. It was a lively time, twisting and turning and leaping and being lifted in ture with the instruments playing. Rhaenyra caught your eye a few times, grinning and giggling as she, too, let herself destress in the glee of the festivities. However, when the Frey lad spun you around, you had thought of the devil so much, there he bloody was.

Your husband smirked down at you, "You look startled, little bird."

You scoffed and moved to go around him, but Daemon's hand was darting out to grab your upper arm. He pulled you further into the crowd to use them as a layer of protection, turning sharply to leer over you. He snapped in High Valyrian, "What're you playing at? Hmm? You mean to embarrass my entire family by being so cold and shrewish?"

You scoffed, glaring at him for a moment before he reached forward to grab your neck and cheek in a possessive hold. "I dare you to raise a sharp word at me," he sneered quietly, keeping you in place. "You have ignored me all fucking day, these games are at an end. I have always known your voice to be a sweet remedy, do not deprive me of it longer."

"Then apologize," You snapped.

"For what? Speaking the truth? That you refuse to sire my children because you are too occupied with your wee brother? For taking in a child without so much as asking me? Tell me, what am I apologizing for?"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, and swatting his hand from you. However, just as you meant to walk away from him, someone gasped and yelped from the people around you. Daemon brought you into his chest as a sudden crowd thickened, two bodies hitting the floor in a gruesome fight. This encouraged others to get rowdy, and before you could comprehend his actions, Daemon was stooping low to hoist you over his shoulder and stride away.

When out of the fray, Daemon slowed himself enough to set you down at the base of the stairs leading to the Royal banquet table, both his hands going to your cheeks. He panted lightly, looking you over, "All right? You hurt? They touch you?"

"No, I'm okay," you sighed gently, reaching up to hold his wrists in a brief show of affection. However, the crowd only grew in size and aggression; the Royals all taking refuge on the elevated landing to take a headcount. Not a moment later, Ser Harwin Strong, the Hand's eldest son, was emerging from the crowd with Rhaenyra hoisted up his shoulder.

But your attention was drawn elsewhere. You parted Daemon's side to get under Viserys' arm, lifting him up slightly as he coughed into a handkerchief. You frowned when you saw the blood, his eyes meeting your wide ones. You asked the only question you could think of, "Does Daemon know?"

"No," he matched your tone in a whisper.

You nodded and assisted him into the closest chair. After the death of Ser Laenor Velayron's paramour (Ser Joffrey, was it?) the hall was cleared of everyone to only leave the immediate family. In hopes of avoiding future turmoil, it was decided that the Realm's Delight, Rhaenyra, was to wed the Sea Snake's son, Laenor, now instead of at week's end. Viserys asked his brother to stay but you were quick to bow out, promising it was a family affair and you should get ready for bed anyways.

Daemon looked close to protesting your departure but was unable to utter a single word, only watching you scamper out of the throne room as the High Septon finally arrived.

Rhaenyra and Laenor married in front of his mother and father, Rhaenys and Corlys, and his sister, Laena. King Viserys was there with his brother Daemon and wife Alicent, leaving only the Hand present to pose as "unbiased witness".

Further into the castle, you collected your brother, Jamie, and quickly got him ready for bed. Your heart felt heavy with guilt as you looked at him, understanding on a deeper level that if it came down to it, you'd do anything to keep Daemon in your life... And if he said your brother had to go or he did, well, you feared to find out if he was serious.

Jamie fell asleep on the long bench at the base of your bed with a fire crackling in front of his face. He had fallen asleep listening to you read, your emotions catching up to you to let you finally sob quietly while preparing for bed. You hated the idea of losing either Daemon or Jamie, and the fact that you had to choose? It felt impossible. So, once ready for bed, you tied on your dressing robe and bent at the waist to kiss Jamie's forehead. You then found yourself standing at the floor-to-ceiling window, wine in hand, staring out into nothing as you were wrecked emotionally from considering Daemon's ultimatum.

You were overwhelmed.

The door opened behind you and your eyes screwed shut. You took an even breath in, heard the door shut quietly, and then turned to spy your husband already staring at you. His face was neutral, passive, and you knew he was sizing you up just as you were him; both waiting for the other to make the first move.

Your resolve crumbled.

As if your minds were connected by a string, you surged forward as Daemon took a few steps toward you, meeting in the middle, and wrapping your arms around one another. Daemon held your waist tightly as yours tied around his neck in a vice grip, breathing in his scent that seemed to mingle permanently with the smell of dragon. He felt gentle trembling from contained sobs, soothing you with hushed cooing; hand petting the back of your head.

When you pulled back, it was only just enough to find his lips; drenching yourself in sheer relief at the familiar taste and feel of your husband. Just before you could whimper you were sorry, truly being unsure what you were actually apologizing for, when he beat you to it.

The space between your lips was filled with Daemon's rushed words, both his hands cradling your cheeks as he spoke, "I'm so sorry, my love. I am. I am truly so sorry. I hate fighting, I hate us fighting, it just feels so fucking wrong, I'm so sorry."

"No, it is I who am sorry, husband."

"Nothing to apologize for," he rushed, forehead glued to yours as he moved you backwards to the bed. "You do not apologize to me; you have done no wrong. It's me, I am the one who should grovel. I do deserve your kindness; I am so sorry for what I've said." He took a long breath, just holding you carefully, "I was out of line."

"No, you were right. I did not consult you; I should have. It is not just you or I in this, but the two of us together. I shouldn't have acted without so much as a word."

"It is okay," he assured softly, "it is more than all right by me now. I just," he sighed, "I needed to think, process a little. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, I should've listened to you and been a supportive husband, but instead, I just fought with you." He frowned, petting down your face with a dainty finger. "We fight because we care, but Gods do I hate it."

"I do, too," you whispered. "Can we just," you sighed, "go to bed or something? I'm exhausted."

He nodded, glancing at the foot of the bed before looking back at you, "One more thing."

"Hmm?"

"We will talk to Viserys in the morning about recognizing Jamie."

You frowned, "Well, hang on, I think I understand your point, too, Daemon. Listen, yes, I want us charged with Jamie's care, but I do not wish to replace his parents."

"He should still have a title, a place at court. Access to tutors and such."

You smiled fondly, whispering, "That is the man I married."

Daemon prepared for bed as you check Jamie, finding him fast asleep still. Your husband came to bed after blowing out all candles, leaving the fire simmering and you both under a single linen sheet. He laid on his back with you flush against his side, both hands holding your form and tracing idle patterns.

Every so often, he'd squeeze you tightly and kiss your forehead, but otherwise, you both just laid in peace. However, Daemon broke the silence, "I did not mean to cause you harm. I just felt panicked, I think, after the war."

You nodded with understanding, "Our time is on the horizon, Daemon, I promise, I just needed to find balance with Jamie. I've never been a mother before, 's very odd."

"Perhaps we can learn together, I've never been a father," Daemon offered softly. "I fear I have not been entirely welcoming."

"You've time to remedy it," you urged softly. "But you are not obligated."

"He will be our shared responsibility."

You smiled against his chest. "So, tell me of the wedding."

"Nothing special," he sighed. "Viserys fell ill. And I do mean literally fell."

"What? Is he all right?"

"Yes, he's being seen to... But I was thinking..."

"Of?"

"Us. Our family."

"Hm, and what of them, my love?"

Daemon sighed, reaching for your cheek in order to find your lips in the dark. "We will leave," he whispered, licking another kiss to your lips. "We'll go across the Narrow Sea together, raise a family away from the politics and chaos."

"You would miss your family."

"I would rue staying in this city. Away from here, we'd have liberties and freedoms Kings Landing does not offer us, nor our kids."

"I will think on it."

When morning broke through the window of consciousness, Daemon realized you were still sound and dead asleep, but there was something or someone poking his arm in an annoying repetition. When he blinked awake and looked to the culprit, he smiled slightly at Jamie. "What's wrong, little lad?" He asked quietly, voice heavy and hazy with sleep, seeing tears fill the kid's eyes.

"I-I didn't mean to."

"Mean to what?"

"I wet the bed," he frowned, looking at the lounge he slept on all night. "I didn't mean to. It was a scary dream."

"It's okay," he whispered, glancing at you before standing from bed. "C'mon, it's all right, we can clean it."

He nodded and let Daemon sit him at the bottom of the mattress, some two full feet from touching you. Jamie watched Daemon work, gathering any linens to set aside to be washed before plucking the child into his arms. He took his to the washroom and got him cleaned up before redressing him for the day, Daemon quickly doing the same, and then the two left for the day.

You slept while Daemon took Jaime to breakfast. You slept while the two ate and made merry; getting to know each other. You slept while Daemon answered little Jamie's questions. You slept while Daemon offered to introduce him to Caraxes, his dragon.

By the time you were awake, dressed, and approaching the mess hall, Daemon and Jamie were leaving to head for the Dragon Pit. When they saw you, Jamie grinned and squealed, "Sissy!"

You grinned when he rushed for your legs, greeting him with enthusiasm. You hoisted him onto your hip as Daemon approached you, pausing to lean in and kiss you. "Where are you two lads off to?"

"Dragons!"

You chuckled, "Yeah? Uncle's taking you to see the dragons? You're very lucky, not many people get to see them up close."

"Would you care to join us?" Daemon offered.

"No, no, that's quite all right. Thank you, my love, but perhaps this is best kept to a boy’s trip," you quipped, pecking Daemon's lips. "Bring him back in one piece, please."

"Of course," Daemon agreed, taking Jamie's hand when you set him on the ground. He stole one last kiss before leading Jamie away; where you watched them walk away and felt something stirring in your gut; suddenly come alive with tingling electricity. Instead of venturing into the mess hall, you instead continued your way to where you could meet the Grand Maester for a series of tests.

Learning you were pregnant was surreal, but incredibly elating. You were humored by the fact that, just hours ago, you and Daemon feuded for this very reason. However, after simply seeing your husband and little brother get along so effortlessly, you had no doubt in your mind you could handle this. Worrying about having Jamie and a newborn so close together was valid, of course - but it wasn't something you actually needed to worry about now.

Plenty of families had children with shorter age ranges, but none of that matters now - not when you were so explicably happy. All that was left to do now was tell Daemon and Jamie.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[d0youc0py]

You had spent the night in your car. You hoped by now he had sobered up. Hell, he was probably still asleep. The sun was rising, not that you enjoyed its pale blue color. Your eyes throbbed. You had barely slept, and while you were awake you did nothing but cry.

You turned your car on.

You didn’t want to go back. He could still be drinking. He could be passed out in the living room. He could be out looking for you. He could not care at all. You didn’t believe that last one. You knew without a doubt Simon loved you more than anything. Last night was the first time he’d ever shown you something different. You hoped he was worried. Pacing the floor. Wondering what the hell he did last night. Buckling your seatbelt you headed back to your shared flat, with no clue what was in store for you- but you knew one thing: he was going to have to work hard to make it up to you.

•••••••••••••••••

You had barely opened the door before he was on you. His knees hitting the ground with a loud thump, two powerful arms gripping your waist. His hands clawed at the back of your shirt, pressing you suffocatingly close to him.

Your exterior was already faltering. You stopped your hands from digging in his hair, telling him you forgave him- but yell at him to never do it again. He was mumbling into your stomach. You maneuvered the both of you so you could get the door shut.

“Simon?” You questioned slowly. You couldn’t understand a word, or see his face. Your shirt began to feel wet. His whole body was quivering as he dug himself closer to you. He pulled his mouth away from your stomach, but you were still only able to catch every other word. You sighed and cupped his face in your hands forcing him to look at you.

You winced as a sharp pain stabbed you right in the heart.

He looked worse than you’d hope. You thought you’d take a little joy from it- seeing him feel bad. You were wrong.

His molten eyes were bright red and swollen. His pale face covered in red splotches from crying. He had rubbed his jaw completely raw, something he did when he was upset. You wiped a tear away from his eyes. They instantly closed craving any scrap of comfort you wanted to give him.

“Where’d you go?” You murmured, craning your neck down closer to him. He furrowed his brows at your question. He’d been here, getting shitfaced. Then it dawned on him. You meant Simon. After a year of dating he opened up to you a little more about his “alter ego”- Ghost. When Simon had been acting the way he was a part of you wondered if maybe you had been dealing with Ghost.

“You know I can’t tell you.” He choked.

“It had to be pretty bad for you to come home and treat me the way you did though.” You tried your best to keep your tone cold. He whimpered, but nodded his head agreeing with you. “Treating me like I didn’t even exist- then having the audacity to get drunk and yell at me. Do you know how scary that was for me? How would you like a 6’4, two hundred and fifty pound man- in an obviously bad headspace, drunk, yelling at you? You scared me Simon Riley and I don’t know how long it will take for me to trust you again.” You felt lighter getting that off your chest. The weight was quickly replaced by Simon curling himself around you. His sobs shook your whole body, and you fought against gravity to stay upright. You lost that battle, your body tumbling into his lap. He made quickly work of tangling both of you together, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

This was the most excruciating experience of his life. He didn’t sleep last night either, even in his drunken state he knew he’d messed up. After you left he stumbled off the couch and grabbed a few pieces of bread and shoved them down his throat. He grabbed any item containing alcohol and dumped it down the drain, throwing it straight in the trash. He tried calling you, you had left your phone on the counter. This was his worst nightmare. He had acted like his father.

He pleaded for your forgiveness against your head. He didn’t know how to make it better. All he could do was hope that you saw how truly sorry he was. How his heart was twisting so painfully in his chest that he’d had a grimace on his face for the past six hours. “How can I fix it.” He murmured. His sobs had calmed down after you caved and started rubbing his back.

“I don’t know Si.” You mumbled. His grip on you tightened. “I think you should figure that out.”

He did figure it out. It took about a month for the two of you to get back to normal. He made a point to never drink while he was home- only drinking one or two drinks after a mission if he really needed it. In the future when you two fought he made sure to control his volume and temper- stepping away from the argument if he felt he was going to scare you. More importantly though he started to see a therapist and became much more open with you about his life before you. He will always put in the work for you.

You could barely hear your name being shouted over the heartbeat in your ears. It wasn’t until a hand wrapped around your arm did you become aware of your surroundings.

“Fuck off.” You shouted tugging your arm away from Johnny.

“Bonnie please.” He begged, pulling you back towards him. He felt sick to him stomach. Your terrified voice ringing in his ears as he pressed the accelerator. The fat tears rolling down your cheeks, your chest heaving up and down. He’s had more than enough panic attacks to know one when he sees one. You gripped the wall for support your other hand pushing roughly at his chest. His heart clenched as he realized you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. “Bonnie.” He tried again. Your breathing was so ragged he was surprised you were still conscious. “Sit down with me, please.” His voice was so soft, like he was trying to not scare off a deer. He sunk down slowly, his hands pulling you down with him. You put your legs between the two of you, resting your heated head on the cold brick of the building. You grabbed his wrists and threw his hands off of you.

He couldn’t hold back a tear any longer, his throat constricting so tight he knew it would be sore tomorrow. He quickly wiped it away. He didn’t deserve to feel sorry for himself. He’d put you- the most precious thing in his life- in danger. He deserved whatever punishment you had in mind for him.

You began to feel lightheaded. You shut your eyes, focusing hard on calming your breathing down. People walked past you- assuming the two of you had gotten a little too plastered.

“How could you do that to me.” You whispered finally. You opened your eyes and took in the sight of him. He was trying his hardest not to break down. The veins in his neck becoming more prominent.

“I was mad. You laughed at that bastards joke and it hurt me. If someone was poking fun at you I wouldn’t laugh along with them.” He tried to reason.

“So you thought almost killing us was the right way to go about it?” You snapped. Another tear fell from his eye. Usually the sight would absolutely break you, but you were so mad at him you hardly noticed it.

He didn’t know how to respond.

“We wouldn’t have died.” He assured. He had no way of knowing that and the crack in his voice made it obvious he knew that too.“I’m sorry, Bonnie.” He rose his head to look at you. He shivered as you looked at him with cold eyes.

“You wanted to scare me Johnny. You wanted to get back at me for making you feel bad. I’m sorry I laughed at his jokes- I’ll admit that wasn’t a kind thing to do. It sure as hell doesn’t excuse what you did though. How am I ever suppose to trust you again?” This was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Now you were wondering if his impulse would kill you one day.

“Let me make it up to you.” He said quickly. “All I ask for is one more chance. I’ll do anything for you, sweetheart and I know it doesn’t feel like it right now but you’re the most important thing to me. Please let me fix this.” He pleaded to you. The sincerity so evident in his eyes chipped at your cold heart. You stared at him for a long moment waiting for any falter. To see if this was just some facade. As the silence grew his gaze became more panicked- more heartbroken.

“One more chance Johnny.” You agreed. You could feel the weight of worry leaving his body. He was about to throw his arms around you but stopped himself.

“I’ll make it up to you, Sweetheart. I promise.” He swore. He did in fact, keep his promise. He never let his temper get the best of him again and completely changed his communication style, making sure he was always open and honest with you about the way he was feeling.

If you asked anyone what Captain John Price was most proud of in his whole life, they knew without a doubt his answer would have something to do with you. He took such pride in you and his relationship with you. He lived off of the way you looked at him. The way he was able to keep that lovestruck glint in your eye no matter how long the two of you had been together. He reveled in the feelings he got when someone asked him how he was able to keep someone like you so infatuated with him. He couldn’t help but puff his chest when someone came to him for relationship advice, because there was one thing no one could ever deny:

John Price was a fantastic Husband.

He was a fantastic husband.

That night changed everything. He took the easy way out. Leaving an ‘I’m sorry’ note on the fridge before he left for three months. The first week he was away he had the chance to call you. Pour his heart out, beg you for forgiveness. Remind you how much he loves you. How he would kill and be killed for you in a heartbeat. Yet he just stood there. Staring at the small burner phone in his shaking palm.

He hated himself enough for the both of you.

Everyone quickly noticed the shift. The always present loveglow he had was completely gone. He was a ghostly color- besides the red the that never left his eyes. He was completely dead. Only speaking to bark something out. They didn’t know the pain he was in. His heart constantly constricting in his chest. He wasn’t able to sleep because all he could think about was the sobs that left your body that night. He could hear them all the way from the living room. The look of complete and utter heartbreak as you watch the love of your life beat you down with words. He had shattered your world completely. He knew the comfort you found in him. He was a natural protector and he scared you more than anyone ever had. It was the most torturous experience of his life. Yet all he did was sit there and let silent tears roll down his face.

He hated himself enough for the both of you.

He had become a menace on the field. If anyone had forget why the man was Captain- they had sure been reminded. Talks of a promotion lingered in the air but he could care less. He wasn’t John Price anymore.

Hence why no one argued with him when he demanded to be taken back to you. He had been shot. Three times. He stayed still enough to receive some treatment, but he couldn’t be away from you. Not now. He couldn’t die thinking you hated him. He couldn’t have shame be the last emotion he felt for you. He couldn’t have his name written proudly on a tombstone, because if you didn’t want his last name anymore- he didn’t want it either.

He managed to convince one of the new rookies to fly him to home base. He jumped into his truck and sped as fast as he could to you.

A familiar pair of headlights shining into the bedroom window woke you up.

It couldn’t be. He had only been gone for a little more than six weeks. The front door opened, followed by your name being shouted. You tore off the covers. The sight of him alone was enough to make you sob.

“John.” You whimpered. He tugged you against him. Your mind was spinning. He was here, covered head to toe in blood, sweat, and tears, pressing quick hard kisses anywhere he could reach.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He repeated over and over against your skin. He knew he would have to work hard to get back to where you two were. To get that same lovestruck glint back in your eye. He could do it. The way you pressed yourself closer to him gave him some hope. Hope that he could one day, become a fantastic husband again.

“Can we talk.” You we’re just about to fall asleep when the words struck through the air. You rubbed your sore eyes nodding. The living room light flickered on and you sat up. You decided it was best for you to sleep on the couch tonight. Give each of you time to think and cool down. Looks like Konig was done. The couch squeaked uncomfortably at the newly added weight. “I did some research and I realized that the way I acted towards you wasn’t normal.” He said softly. His eyes met yours and all doubt slipped from your mind. He knew it wasn’t right. And he was sorry.

To Konig the world was very black and white. You either fought or took flight- he was choosing to fight. He knew he needed to change. He would die if you ended up resenting him. He was going to fight for this relationship by changing the way his brain worked- and he prayed that you didn’t already choose flight.

You scooted closer to him, your hand resting on his shoulder. You could feel his tense muscles relax under your touch. He leaned into you. Before you knew it you were both laying on the couch, your body nuzzled into his wide chest.

“I’m sorry I acted like that, Schatz.” He ran a huge Hand up and down your back. “I’m still so new to this. I just want you all to myself.”

“I know Konnie.” You smiled, pressing a kiss against his lips. “There are times I want you all to myself too. It’s natural to want to be close to what you love. Just try to remember I love you more than anything.” His face flushed and you snickered at the wide smile spread across his face. “I’m sorry for what I said too, Konnie. That was uncalled for.”

“No you’re right. Its true I’m not the most popular person, but I’m happy with my friends at work and of course you. I don’t really need anything else.” He sighed. “Does this mean you’ll come to bed now?” He questioned. You nodded your head rapidly, already feeling a crick in your neck.

Part one here

I just want to thank everyone for the support on this little mini series! Some of you had asked for alternative endings and I’ll have those out soon! Thank you for your patience!

[ebonyslasher]

Can you do more yandere slashers part 2 please.

Hopefully, I'm getting better at writing yandere characters! There are some possible triggering themes ahead so read with caution.

Roses are red, violets are blue

Here's

Yandere!Slashers Pt. 2!

A strained sob bounced against the dingy walls that you were held captive in. Your existence, normally happy and calm, turned desperate and miserable. You looked around with teary eyes, taking in your unfortunate new home. The air was littered with specks of dust, paint torn from the walls, and all the windows crudely covered and broken. It was a scene taken from a horror movie that you desperately did not want to be in. The tears silently flow down your face before the raggedy door flings open.

A shadowy, foreboding figure stood tall at the door frame. You recognized that figure, it was the one who kidnapped you to this horrid place.

“Please ... .please let me go…,” you whimpered out, your sobbing revitalizing before this monster. He stepped forward and you shrunk back. He stops. The next movement he made your heart stop. Michael flings a body beside you. The patch of light coming from the mostly covered window showed the gouged out eyes of your crush. They lay lifeless and their once beautiful face was now covered with blood. 

The image of a dead body, especially of someone you knew, caused you to hyperventilate. Feeling an extreme urge to flee, you stand up and attempt to run towards the door. Michael grabs your arm painfully and throws you down.

“Let me go, let me go! You monster!” you screamed. You attempt to stand again when Michael kicks at your legs. He quickly places his dirty boot on your right leg, right on the tibia. Stomping down, Michael relishes in your painful cry after the sickening snap of your bone. You could not run from him and he could not be happier.

—--

Michael knew everyone who lived in Haddonfield. Most by their identifiable features and home addresses.

Michael stalked all his victims, but only for a short time as their existence would not last long.

However, if he becomes obsessed, not only will he stalk them every single day. He will keep them alive for an undecided amount of time.

As you place your existence in Haddonfield, Michael becomes hooked. 

He paid attention to your needs, placing toiletries that you ran out of/low on in various places in your house. It escalates into leisure items that you spoke about with your friends. Things that he knew that you knew you did not purchase

Making himself known, he begins to appear and reappear in different places, from a distance. Toying with you.

Anyone who will get in the way will be removed, permanently. Especially any love interest.

He is not above harming you to make you submit, stay, and be quiet. He knew what was best for you.

Injuries looked especially good on you anyway

“Kitten ... .how disappointing,” Asa remarks, seeing the piss-poor excuse of a Valentine's Day present on his bed. It was made haphazardly, the paper mache butterfly looked tattered with paint, some sort of adhesive, and drenched paper.

Asa had shown you how to do the technique weeks ago, disguising the activity as a fun bonding moment. He made an off-handed comment that a paper mache insect would be a great gift for Valentine’s Day. Of course, his smart little kitty caught the hint. But, it was obvious that you did not practice enough. 

You sat upon the bed, head down in embarrassment at the state of your gift. “Asa, I tried! I really did! You know I’m not that good at-” You started to explain. Asa put his hand up and you stopped talking immediately.

“You had ample time to practice, y/n. But, you did not. Therefore, you will be punished. Get on all fours on top of your disaster,” Asa instructed coldly. You did so, feeling humiliated at the action. You desperately wanted to make this up to him while also feeling apprehension at the punishment. 

Asa starts to hit your back and ass with his hands. You endure, but the force of his hits ends up making you fall on top of your gift. The burn of his hits combined with the uncomfortable feeling of wet paper and glue slathering your stomach. It made you cry out, strengthening the boner Asa had. 

---

Anyone who’s moving, living, or even traveling through the town gets observed by Asa. When you arrive, you capture his interest in ways he never thought possible. 

He searched your name, address (and floor plan if available), and knew all your family members. He breaks in to look at everything you have.

 He had notes dedicated to what you like to eat, what size of clothes you wear, etc. 

Once he captures you, he doesn’t make you a part of his collection. Instead, you'll be his personal pet. A little kitty he can enjoy. 

Life was starting to get a little boring. Your existence changed his life. He just needed to train you so you would not be useless to him.

His training includes the way you react (in the way that he likes), enduring physical punishment and sexual sensory overloads, how to care for him correctly, etc. 

Any spouse, family, or friends that were living with you are now part of his collection. They would be a distraction to your duties.

If you perform extremely poorly, he will drag you across the floor to see any loved ones in the collection. Digging his fingers into your eyelids to force you to look at their display.

“Dr. Lecter?,” You asked as you knocked lightly on his office door. You let yourself into his practice, as was normal for your appointments. 

“Y/N, please come in,” he said smoothly so as to not betray his excitement at your arrival.

You plop down on the sofa across from him and your weekly sessions begin. You’d had them for a month now. It was last week when you noticed that you were getting weirdly attached and attracted to Dr. Hannibal. It wasn’t right with the power dynamics in your current relationship. Also, all the blaring issues he knew about your life. This did not dissuade your budding feelings, with the unintentional help of Hannibal. He did not know that your conflicted romantic feelings were about him. It was like he always knew the right thing to say. He spurred your mind to think outside the box or his perspective. Everything he said, he seemed to always be right about. 

“.....I feel a romantic connection to this person, but I know I shouldn’t,” You say.

“And why not?” He questioned

“Our relationship right now…it would be inappropriate to say the least.”

Hannibal leaned forward, his face schooled in its perfect neutral expression. Internally, he was fighting a smirk to bless his sharp features. “And what is love without risk?”

“....I…”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t know, y/n. I am merely throwing out a different perspective. You like this person right? What makes it inappropriate?”

“His…status and title do. The power dynamics would be unequal,” you say, trying to be as vague as possible.

“It will always be unequal. You possess powers that he would not have. And vice versa. Titles mean nothing. You see, I am your psychiatrist. I know who you are, I can see the power that you have. A relationship between you and me would be risky, in the eyes of others. But, only our eyes matter in the end.”

“A relationship between us two…?”

“Just as an example, Y/n. To help you see the big picture.”

--

You were his patient. He fell in love, becoming obsessed with you. You looked like the perfect partner, one to parade around at the envy of others. 

He would make sure to format your mind to see how perfect you two would be. That he would be the only one for you. 

Hannibal being Hannibal does this covertly, planting seeds into your head every session. He even stops taking payment for your appointments, to ensure you would still come.

The medication he would prescribe you was a level of biochemical control over your emotions. He knew the side effects and how the medication would affect your mood after you took them. 

He acts like the perfect gentleman. He has perused your home, making sure to have items that you need or want coincidentally at appointments. 

Anyone who is a threat to you or the budding relationship will be removed.

You will see them for the last time, served as a decadent meal. He will feed them to you, without your knowledge

“Taylor Layknn’s party is in two days, I’ve taken the liberty of picking out your look for you,” Patrick says dismissively. He thrust the outfit into your arms as he checked his phone. You stood flabbergasted at his gall.

“Patrick, I already had an outfit planned out,” you explain. You look over the outfit, trying to imagine how it would look on you.

“Yes I know, but I saw this while shopping and thought about you immediately. I knew it would be flattering on you. It goes with what I’m wearing. We’ll look great together.” Patrick looks straight into your eyes, watching your reaction.

You felt annoyed, a little offended, but flattered that he thought of you. “That’s sweet, but I don’t think that’s exactly my style.” You began to hand the outfit back to him. He thrusts the outfit back against your chest.

“It is your style and you don’t even know it. Here, look at how the color compliments your skin. How it’ll hug your figure in the right places. You know, most of these bitches don’t even know how to dress. You’ll be the talk of the night if you just listen to me.”

--

He tries to shelter your interactions from others, feeding you lies and pretending like he is giving you inside information to gain your trust

He purposefully talks bad and compassionate about others to uplift himself in your presence, disguising it as competition.

He is always extra with his appearance but was even more so when he knew you were going to be there.

He even wears the cologne that you love. He sends you flowers, your favorite ones, to show how much attention he paid to you

Once he has you wrapped around his finger, He tells you what to say and how to act. He needs you to be the perfect partner that even Paul Allen would be jealous of. 

The desperate yuppie that he is needs you to look and act a certain way to fit in with the 'in-group'.

He buys you clothing and expects you to wear it for him. He will send you makeup tutorial videos that he likes.

Patrick will also send photos and videos of people with what he thinks is the ultimate body type. He will do whatever to shape and mold you into his perfect partner.

Patrick has a doll that looks like you in his office drawer. He dresses up in what he would want you to wear. He has another at home where he acts out fantasies of your eventual marriage. 

He constantly questions where you are or slyly questions others. He gets mad if he isn’t invited anywhere, especially to his favorite place.

If he could, he dreams of hiring you as his personal assistant (if that was your profession). He has thought many times about firing his current assistant just to have you perched there, sitting pretty.  

[skipper1331]

best friends sister // Alessia Russo

a/n: based off this request.

Alessia Russo.

Y/n Toone.

Two people.

One mutual contact.

Best friend - sister.

One common rule in the world: never date your best friends little sister.

And: never date your sisters best friend.

Simple? You might think.

Alessia Russo fell in love with you ages ago.

You fell in love with Alessia Russo years ago.

-

"Hi" shy Lessi smiled as you opened the door, "you look nic-" as the blonde was about compliment you, her chaotic best friend stumbled down the stairs. "Less! Hi, i‘m ready to go" the young girl said before she grabbed her purse, "we‘re out shopping" your sister told you as she pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, "ew" your hand wiped away the spit of Ella as she grinned cheekily, linking her arm with Lessi. How i wish that i could kiss her, Alessia daydreamed, red colour covering her cheeks. When Ella pulled her out your shared flat, the italian turned around one last time to look at you, smiling shyly as you waved a good bye.

"why does she have to be so beautiful?" you muttered under your breath, closing the door. Your hand still rested on the door knob, your head falling against the wooden material with a quiet thud.

-

Movie night.

Sitting on the couch with popcorn on your lap, you had a brunette, known as annoying big sister, on your left and you had a blonde, known as a lovely girl, on your right.

20 minutes into the third movie of Pitch Perfect, you heard loud breathing next to you - Ella in dreamland. She could never go through a movie marathon without falling asleep.

As you went to grab more popcorn, too occupied by the movie to notice another hand in the bowl, you shrieked lightly when you felt something warm touch your hand. Ella stirred a little yet didn‘t wake up, drool running further down her chin. "Sorry" you mumbled, cheeks flushing red. "No, i‘m sorry, i wasn‘t looking. Please" Alessia pulled her hand out of the bowl, signing to you that you should take popcorn first. Smiling at her you grabbed a hand full, the blonde going back in as it was her turn now. The two of you fell in a quiet conversation about the movie and the characters as you still watched it. At some point, you rested your head against Alessias shoulder, her body tensed as she got flustered mess, heart racing, skin on fire. She didn‘t know what came over her - where the confidence came from but when she saw your hand resting openly on the blanket she interwined your hands. Nobody dared to say a word or let their eyes leave the tv, your cheeks covered in a blush, lopsided smiles plastered on your face as you simply enjoyed the moment.

Who knows If it‘ll ever come again?

-

The two best friends were in the living room of your apartment as they sat comfortable on the couch, each of them a glass of wine in their hand as you walked down the stairs all dressed up. Alessias breath hitched as she saw you, you look absolutely stunning. Out of reflex, she stood up, eyes wandering over your body, dotting around your curves until the blue orbs stopped at your face. "Wow" she said star struck, she couldn‘t believe the sight she had in front of her, "where are ya goin‘?" the older Toone asked as she eyed you skeptically, "i‘ve got a date" you stated while looking directly at Alessia. Her whole face fell at the word 'date', feeling as she was punched in the gut. The wine glass slipped out of her hand, shattering on the floor, her eyes not leaving yours. "D-date?" it took everything in her not to cry, she felt so hurt.

"Clumsy girl!" Ella laughed, herself standing up to get a broom to sweep up the broken pieces. She didn‘t realize what was happening in front of her eyes - her best friend just got her heart broken.

You left without looking back.

You didn‘t mean to hurt her in any kind of way - she looked sad when you left but why?

-

"Hello?" you answered the phone in the middle of the night.

"My pretty lady, hi" a sweet voice said - the voice you knew so well, the voice that followed you into your dreams. "Lessi?" you asked anyways, your brain not in its full function that early. "No it‘s Alessia Russo, Tooneys best friend" she clarified giggling. "I know who you are- why are you calling me" you looked at your alarm before you continued "at 2am?" she sighed theatrically, "just wanted to hear your sexy morning voice, i guess"

"Lessi are you drunk?"

"Absolutely! HA!" she laughed, jumping up and down at the location she was at.

"Where are you?"

"Hmmm, not gonna tell you"

"Alessia!" your voice got louder and stern. You didn‘t want her to get lost while she was drunk. She was already clumsy sober you didn‘t want to find out what happens If you let her wander around alone and drunk.

"Baby, one day you‘re screaming that"

ignoring her coment, you searched for an app on your phone. Your sister was heavingly annoying but right now you were more than thankful that she had installed a tracking app in case of an emergency - Lessi’s location included. Within minutes you were out of the house, sitting in your car as you drove to the destination.

As you saw the blonde happily jumping around near a club, your heart felt relief - she seemed to be fine. "Less" you said, stepping out of your car, walking towards her.

She threw herself on you, arms flying around your body as she contently greeted you, "looking absolute gorgeous, babygirl"

"What‘re you doing here?!"

"drinking and dancing!" she held her cup with some liquid in the air as she cheered. "Oh my- Lessi" your arm went around her waist as she stumbled over her own feet- not clear If it was the alcohol or her clumsiness.

Finally, buckled in the car seat, you took a seat behind the steering wheel. The radio was playing as you drove home, Ella at Joe‘s. The italian in no condition to be left alone. The whole way she brabbled about something as you occasionally answered with a humm.

At home, you gave her some of your clothes, helping her change.

Something was on her mind as she walked around the kitchen island with a deep frown on her face after she drank the glass of water which you had handed her. "Ya alright?" you asked, blocking her way. She marched over to the living room, standing at the exact same spot, she had stood once before - not enjoying it at all. "You had a date" she stated, "you had a fucking date!" her mood taking a turn, "you had a fucking date and I wasn‘t invited"

Utterly confused you asked, "What?"

"Why didn‘t you ask me?"

"On a date?"

"Yes" her face held the same sadness it had a few days ago when you saw her that night, "my heart shattered in more pieces than that stupid wine glass" she admitted, a single tear slipping out of her eyes.

"Alessia, what‘re you-"

"Stop talking!" with quick steps she was in front of you, walking you back in the kitchen as she trapped your body between her own and the kitchen island, her arms on either side of it, "i want you to be mine" she mumbled against your lips, an inch away, the smell alcohol hitting your nostrils. "I don‘t want you going out on dates, i don‘t want to know that someone else is making you blush - it has to be me! You have to be mine, please"

"Lessi, you‘re drunk, you won‘t remember any of this in the morning" you told her, breaking your own heart. The day finally came where she reciprocated your feelings and admitted it and know you had to tell her that it were drunk slurs.

"This isn‘t the alcohol!" her voice grew loud, "fucking hell"

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply as you kind of soaked in the moment, "tell me in the morning and i‘m yours" you whispered, still with your eyes shut.

"Fine, i will" with an ease she picked you up and carried you to your bed, maybe she wasn‘t as clumsy as she was when she was sober. You were about to say something before she put her finger to your lips, shushing you, "don‘t say anything, baby, you’re sleeping in my arms - end of discussion"

Flopping on the free side of the bed, the striker made herself comfortable before she pulled you into her hold. It was new for both of you yet so familiar.

The two of you fell asleep within seconds, sleeping better than ever.

-

You were the first one up, strong arms wrapped around your body and gentle breaths hitting the nape of your neck. Turning in her hold, you took the chance to admire her, she looked so cute. It wasn‘t a rare sight for you per se, she‘s at your home all the time but something about her laying in your bed, holding you tight made it much more special.

You had to break the moment, though. If she really wants you, she would know without the clue of you being in her arms. You wanted to know: were it just slurs?

Slowly, you entangled your body, the blonde grumbling as nothing was in her arms yet still sleeping. you made your way down to the kitchen, starting to make breakfast as music was softly playing in the background. In your own mind, you didn‘t hear her come down the stairs, messy hair, cheeks puffed from last night. Her head hurt like shit, "mornin‘" she greeted, taking a seat on the stool. Wordlessly, you placed a glass of water in front of her, pills next to it.

"Thank you"

You hoped she would say something, say something about last night, about what she admitted.

In the meantime, she played with her glass, counting the left over water droplets, "you know," she started, the empty glass on the counter, "i still want you to be mine"

Your movements stopped, everything just stopped.

"I‘m sorry for last night but not for what i said, i remember everything and if my mind isn‘t playing some games, you‘re mine now" she walked around the island, confidence radiating from her body. Like last night, her arms wrapped around your smaller frame with her forehead resting against your own, "say yes, please. I can‘t stand a day with the knowledge you‘re going out with other people"

Your heart fluttered at her gentle touch, skin burning, "yes"

-

Ella didn‘t know a thing about the two of you, her best friend and little sister - girlfriends.

The last few months had been the happiest of your life, Alessia was an angel, treated you like a royalty, kissed you like you were her forever.

"Baby," the striker looped her arms around your waist from behind as she pressed soft kisses to the side of her neck, "looking stunning as always"

"Lessi" you giggled, interwining your hands as you swayed around, "my pretty girl, amore, the prettiest"

Both of you heard the door open way to late as a loud Ella Toone barged in, "Hi!" she yelled, you jumped away from Alessia, her hands leaving your body as she turned around to the cupboard, "oh hi Less" the Mancunian smiled, not seeing the interaction Alessia had with her little sister, "what‘re you doing here?" she asked instead

"Came to suprise you!" the italian lied, out of the matter of fact, the thing you had was something new and private, nobody knew. And to be honest, neither of you knew how Ella would react. Would she support you? Would she be angry?

-

"Oi! What‘s that?" Ella asked as the three of you sat like so often on the couch, her thumb flew to your neck, rubbing over the reddish mark. Lessi‘s hickey. Your hand swatted Tooney‘s away, holding your neck as a slight hiss left your throat. Alessia chocked on air - she got carried away last night when you visited her, "burnt myself with the curling iron" you stuttered, trying to cover your flustered and caught self.

"Are ya turning into clumsy-Lessi?" she laughed, smacking your thigh, amused by her own joke.

Thankfully, Ella didn‘t realize that there were no curls in your hair.

-

"What are you wearing?" your sister asked her best friend as they sat in the coffee shop.

Confused, the striker looked down at herself, "a hoodie?"

"From whom?"

Just now, Alessia realized it wasn‘t her own - yours. It was the first thing she saw this morning and in her groggy morning state she didn‘t recognized that it was yours. "Looks likes Y/ns" the midfielder added to her question as she took a sip.

"Uh! It‘s not yours?"

"No?"

"Oh shit. The other day when i waited for you, i grabbed it 'cause it looked so cozy, didn‘t know it was hers" she rambled.

"Nah, no worries. We‘re family"

Alessia gulped, oh gosh, how is she ever gonna tell her best friend that she’s in love let alone in a relationship with her little sister?

-

It went on like this for half a year, Ella didn‘t know a thing. Both of you felt bad lying to her but on the other side you didn‘t know what to do.

Alessia loved you.

You loved Alessia.

And the two of you cared so much about Ella and her opinion. So every day that passed, the harder it got for you, the more your heart broke.

"Lessi, i don‘t want to her find out about us, i wanna tell her and everyone" you mumbled in her chest. "I know, baby, me too" she kissed your forehead with so much love as she held you close, "I promise we will tell her soon"

-

"Oh Less, hi? tooney asked as she opened the door.

"Can I come in?" the blonde asked, fists balling as she tried to stay calm.

"Sure! Ya don‘t have to ask"

In a firm voice, she told her bestie, "We need to talk about something" Ellas face growing pale, the striker never one to be this serious, "yeah sure, let‘s take a seat" she signaled to the couch, yet Alessia didn‘t move, "is your sister here?" ske asked instead.

"Yeah, she’s in her room. What is going on?"

"Y/n!" Alessia shouted so you would come down. She didn‘t talk to you about what she was about to do, what she was going to admit but she didn‘t want to lie to her best friend another day and she didn‘t want to hide her feelings for you either.

As you patted down the stairs, you saw your girlfriend with a determined expression on her face and a confused sister sitting on the couch. "Hi" you greeted. Nonetheless that she had a clenched jaw, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner, pulling you in front of the couch where Ella was sitting.

"I‘m dating your sister" the italian stated firmly. As Ella was about to say something, she cut her off, "before you say something: i love her. And i know sisters are a no-go but i couldn‘t help myself." her voice grew shaky at the so thought end, "please don‘t hate me" she whispered as she looked at Ella who had an unreadable expression on her face. Shamefully, you looked to the ground, squeezing Lessi’s hand: you‘re with her.

Ella didn‘t say anything - she needed to gather her thoughts. After 5 minutes, you were a nervous mess, the same as your girlfriend, "Ella, we‘re so sorry. It- it just happened" you explained, trying to save the situation.

Like a robot, the young lioness stood up from the couch, both of you inhaling sharply, "I‘m so happy!" she exclaimed, arms swinging over your bodies, pulling you in a bear hug. You didn't expect that reaction but were more than happy with it, "that‘s so cool! My little sister and best friend! Less, you’re gonna be my sister-in-law"

Sighing in relief, you felt at peace, all the nerves washing off your body, "You’re not mad?" Less asked to be sure.

"Nah! i love this"

And she meant it when she said it, maybe she didn‘t know about it from very first day and as obvious as she can be, Ella saw your and Alessias mood change over the last few moths, both of you seemed much more happy and at peace. Even If she couldn‘t connect the dots, she was now your biggest supporter.

She sailed the ship Russo-MiniToone.

————————

[waltermis]

Stay, Stay, Stay

Summary: You & Natasha share a comforting moment

Warnings: hurt/comfort

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader (romantic)

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NATASHA!! ❤️❤️

↠↠↠ 

Natasha sighed, cutting her peanut butter sandwich. She listened to Rocket, Nebula, and the rest of the remaining avengers argue from across the universe. It’s been five years since the snap. Five years since Thanos. Five years since the Avengers officially split up. Five years since she lost Yelena. Five years since everything… But no matter how much time passed, she couldn’t let this life go. 

“Carol, are we seeing you here next month?”

“Not likely,”

“What? You gonna get another haircut?” Rocket teased.

“Listen, fur face. I’m covering a lot of territory. The things that are happening on Earth are happening everywhere. On thousands of planets.”

“Uh, all right. All right. That’s a good point. That’s a good point.”

“So, you might not see me for a long time.” 

“All right. Uh well, this channel's always active. So, if anything goes sideways… anyone’s making trouble where they shouldn’t… comes through me.” Natasha stated, before Rocket, Okoye, Carol’s channels disappeared, leaving Rhodey. “Where are you?” she asked him.

“Mexico. The Federales found a room full of bodies. Looks like a bunch of cartel guys never even had a chance to get their guns off.”

“It’s probably a rival gang,” Natasha denied quickly.

“Except it isn’t. It’s definitely Barton… what he’s done here, what he’s been doing for the last few years. I mean, the scene that he left…I gotta tell you there’s a part of me that doesn’t even want to find him.”

“Will you find out where he’s going next?” she asked, taking a bit of her sandwich, tears filling her eyes, threatening to spill.

“Nat?”

“Please?” she asked, quietly. She looked so vulnerable, her eyes glassy and nose red from holding back tears.

“Okay,” he sighed, before leaving the channel.

Natasha sighed, trying her hardest not to cry. She missed him, Clint, he was her best friend. One of the first few people that truly trusted her. When she met Clint’s family, they welcomed her in with open arms. They were like her second family; finding out that they were blipped broke her heart. She couldn’t imagine what Clint was going through. 

‘God, this is a fucking mess.’ She thought, wrapping her arms around herself. Taking a bite out of her sad excuse of a sandwich, Natasha’s senses picked up the sound of wheels rolling against the hardwood floor. Natasha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, watching you hauling two big blue luggage, she’s never seen before, through the common room. “Moya lyubov’, where are you going?” You ignored her, continuing to grab the luggage’s outside. “Detka? Are you okay?!” Still nothing. Natasha began to panic; thoughts of you finally realizing that you deserved better clawed their way into her brain. “Dorogaya? Can we talk about this? Please!”

“Babe?” you asked, coming back. “What’re you doing in here? I thought you were gonna use Meeting room A today… W-why’re you crying?” you asked, wrapping her up in your arms. She didn’t even notice the tears that streamed down her face. 

“Please don’t leave me! I promise I’ll spend more time with you, just please don’t go…” she cried into your chest, her words muffled as she tugged you into her, her grip tight.

“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere,”

“Then why are you taking your luggage outside?!” she wailed, her nails digging further into you, afraid that you’d leave the second she loosened her grip.

“What? Those aren’t mine.”

“Huh?” she sobbed out. “Then whose are those?”

“They’re Tony’s, from when he and Pepper used to live here. They still have a bit of stuff here they haven’t moved to the cabin yet, he wanted me to finally bring it over for him.” you explained slowly, knowing that the lack of sleep was finally catching up on your redheaded girlfriend.

“Then what about you ignoring me?” she asked softly, her grip finally loosening.

“I was listening to music,” you showed her the air pods still in your ears. “I couldn’t hear you. I didn’t even know you were in here. I thought you decided to use one of the meeting rooms instead. You know I would never intentionally ignore you,”

Natasha nodded; her eyes grew heavier listening to the soothing sound of your voice. “Promise me you’ll never leave me.” she begged, tilting her head up to look into your eyes.

“I promise, there is nothing in this world that would make me leave you. Ever.” you promised, pecking her on the lips.

“I love you; you know that right?”

“Of course, I do, and I love you too. To Vormir and back.”

“Where’s that?” she asked sleepily, her head thudding on your chest again.

“Not sure… just came into my head.” you laughed, picking her up in your arms. You brought her back to your shared bedroom, placing her underneath the covers.

“Stay,” she said, grabbing a hold of your arm.

“Of course.” Bringing her into your arms, you placed a firm kiss on her head, letting sleep envelope the two of you.

↠↠↠ 

864 words

[cyberpunkgyu]

Hey can i have request of morning's with jay.

Just saw the heeseung version and loved it🥹🫶🏻

mornings with jay ✦

ahh of course :D so glad you enjoyed it! i really appreciate the responses/comments i get! here we gooo!

so we know heeseung is the last to wake up among his members

jay is most likely the first one to wake up between the two of you

this man is definitely a morning person i feel like

you won't even notice that he has gotten up already

he'll get out of bed as quietly as he can because he doesn't want to wake you up

but before he gets up he'll admire your sleeping state for a bit

imagine this man stroking your hair out of your face so he can see you clearly

a smile will appear on his face as soon as he sees your pretty face

"ahh, so pretty..." he'll mumble to himself

he'll then press a light kiss either on your forehead or your nose

he would then fix the blanket around you to make you more comfy and then place his pillow around your arms to hug

because he knows how much you love his scent :(

he finally gets up and goes straight to the kitchen

if the kitchen is messy he will clean first before he starts cooking

he will cook whatever your favorite food is

you then wake up once you start smelling food being cooked

you already know it smells scumptiousss

this man is handsome, a gentleman, can cook and clean??

you literally hit the jackpot

once you got out of bed you went to the kitchen

your stomach will definitely start rumbling because of the smell

"morning sweetie" he'll greet you as soon as you enter the kitchen

that simple greeting will make you all red and smiley

you walk up to him and wrap your arms around his waist as he cooks

"smells good"

"it's almost done" he gives your hand a soft squeeze and turns his head to look down at you

might as well peck his lips when he looks down at you so lovingly (ෆ’∀’ෆ)

"go sit, I'll plate this up" he'll smile widely and then steal a kiss from you like you just did, making you all shy

he's the type to make your plating pretty and aesthetic-looking

he will wait for you to take your first bite before he eats

bc he loves seeing your reaction (灬♡ ω ♡灬)

"good?"

you better compliment this man

he takes your comments seriously

once you tell him how good the food is he feels accomplished

he LOVES watching you eat

not in a creepy way okay but in an admiring way

he just likes seeing you enjoy the food he cooks

once you both finish, you are about to go wash the dishes since he already cooked but he won't let you

"no, just wait for me in the living room. i got this, love"

he's so husband material :((

after he finishes cleaning, he then goes to the living room where he finds you sitting on the couch

"cuddle with meee" you'd hold your arms out for him

he would hum and sit on the other end of the couch

he would have a space between his legs for you to sit in between- oh MY gosh

you then sit between his legs and rest your head on his chest

he does love holding you so this is the best part of his mornings

he is not afraid to say 'i love you'

sometimes he'll just say it out of the blue

it never fails to make you smile though

he'll hold both your hands and just play with it

once you start talking to him he just listens to you

he is a very attentive person and makes sure you know you have his full attention

if you have any worries or anything bothering you, he will advise you and reassure you that everything will be okay

we can all agree this man is the standard

[chosetherose]

Updated as of 6/30

The Eras Tour *Surprise Songs*

Taylor said her goal is to not repeat each show’s surprise songs so I thought it would be fun to track them as the tour goes on! Black strikethrough is included in the main set list. Purple strikethrough are included in the main set list but have been switched up at some show/s. Blue songs Taylor played but might be repeated due to messing up.

Taylor Swift

Tim McGraw (3/17) • Picture to Burn • Teardrops on My Guitar (5/5) • A Place in This World (4/22) • Cold as You (4/23) • The Outside • Tied Together with a Smile • Stay Beautiful• Should’ve Said No (5/19) • Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) • Our Song (3/24) • I’m Only Me When I’m with You (6/30) • Invisible (5/20) • A Perfectly Good Heart

Fearless

Fearless • Fifteen (5/6) • Love Story • Hey Stephen (5/14) • White Horse (3/25) • You Belong With Me • Breathe• Tell Me Why• You’re Not Sorry (4/21) • The Way I Loved You • Forever & Always (5/13) • The Best Day (5/14) • Change • Jump Then Fall (4/2) • Untouchable • Come In With The Rain • Superstar • The Other Side Of The Door (4/28) • You All Over Me (6/3) • Mr. Perfectly Fine (6/16) • We Were Happy • That’s When • Don’t You • Bye Bye Baby • Today was a fairytale (4/22)

Speak Now

Mine (5/7) • Sparks Fly (5/5) • Back To December • Speak Now (4/13, Taylor restarted part of the song but did not confirm it could be played again) • Dear John (6/24) • Mean (4/15) • The Story Of Us (6/17) • Never Grow Up • Enchanted • Better Than Revenge • Innocent• Haunted (6/9) • Last Kiss • Long Live • Ours (3/31) • If This Was A Movie (6/23) • Superman

Red

State Of Grace (3/18) • Red (5/21) • Treacherous (4/13) • I Knew You Were Trouble • All Too Well • 22 • I Almost Do (6/9) • We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together • Stay Stay Stay • The Last Time (6/16) • Holy Ground (5/27) • Sad Beautiful Tragic (3/31) • The Lucky One (4/2) • Everything Has Changed • Starlight • Begin Again (4/23) • The Moment I Knew (6/4) • Come Back… Be Here (5/12) • Girl At Home • Ronan • Better Man (5/19) • Nothing New • Babe • Message In A Bottle • I Bet You Think About Me (4/30) • Forever Winter • Run • The Very First Night • All Too Well – 10 Minute Version

1989

Welcome To New York (5/28) • Blank Space • Style • Out Of The Woods (5/6, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • All You Had To Do Was Stay • Shake It Off • I Wish You Would (6/2) • Bad Blood • Wildest Dreams • How You Get The Girl (4/30) • This Love (5/13) • I Know Places • Clean (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again, 5/28) • Wonderland (4/21) • You Are In Love • New Romantics

Reputation

…Ready For It? • End Game • I Did Something Bad • Don’t Blame Me • Delicate • Look What You Made Me Do • So It Goes… • Gorgeous (4/29) • Getaway Car (5/26) • King Of My Heart • Dancing With Our Hands Tied • Dress • This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things • Call It What You Want • New Year’s Day

Lover

I Forgot That You Existed • Cruel Summer • Lover • The Man • The Archer • I Think He Knows (5/21) • Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince • Paper Rings (6/23) • Cornelia Street • Death By A Thousand Cuts (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • London Boy • Soon You’ll Get Better • False God (5/27) • You Need To Calm Down • Afterglow • Me! • It’s Nice To Have A Friend • Daylight (6/24) • All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before

Folklore

The 1 (replaced IS multiple shows) • Cardigan • The Last Great American Dynasty • Exile with Bon Iver • My Tears Ricochet • Mirrorball (3/17) • Seven (spoken, 6/17) • August • This Is Me Trying (3/18) • Illicit Affairs • Invisible String (replaced by T1 multiple shows) • Mad Woman (4/15) • Epiphany • Betty • Peace • Hoax • The Lakes (6/2)

Evermore

Willow • Champagne Problems • Gold Rush (5/12) • Tis The Damn Season • Tolerate It • No Body, No Crime • Happiness • Dorothea • Coney Island (4/28) • Ivy • Cowboy Like Me (3/25) • Long Story Short • Marjorie • Closure • Evermore (6/30) • Right Where You Left Me •It’s Time To Go

Midnights

On 4/14 Taylor changed the rule: ALL SONGS ON MIDNIGHTS MAY BE REPEATED. I’m adding the dates to the midnights surprise songs but they will remain in black text since they can be repeated.

Lavender Haze • Maroon (5/26) • Anti-Hero • Snow on the Beach (3/24) • You’re on Your Own, Kid (4/14) • Midnight Rain • Question…? (5/20) • Vigilante Shit • Bejeweled • Labyrinth • Karma • Sweet Nothing • Mastermind • The Great War (4/14) • Bigger Than the Whole Sky • Paris • High Infidelity (4/29) • Glitch • Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (5/7) • Dear Reader • Hits Different (6/4)

Other

I don’t wanna live forever (6/3)

[bedoballoons]

can We get a very physically hurt/half dying reader x the healers? And by bbg’s wanderer and albedo? Like when we get so hurt that we almost die?🩸💀☠️🩸☠️💀🩸☠️💀🩸☠️💀🩸☠️💀

Absolutely!! I'm not particularly sure which healers you meant though so I hope this is okay and I know Tighnari technically isn't a healer but he's a canon doctor so I figured he could also be in this! If there's characters you wanted to see that weren't in this don't be afraid to ask for them! Also so sorry this took so long!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Readers injured~༺}

CW: Some gore because of injury description, it's my first time writing Kokomi so I'm sorry if it's not the best!, angst and fluff <3

(Includes: Albedo, Baizhu, Tighnari, Wanderer, and Kokomi!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Albedo:

"Just stay awake."

Albedos words rang in your ears as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, carrying you through the thick white snow to the nearest heat source in hopes of saving you. Your body was already limp against him because of the cold and it made his heart pound in his chest, he was scared...terrified and right now the only thing keeping you alive, your life was in his hands...and he knew it.

He kept telling you it was going to be alright, promising you nothing bad would happen, but it didn't matter...after all you could barely hear him over the loud screams of the wind, each one smacking you both with whips of freezing cold air, some of them harsh enough to make him stumble backwards. You were starting to loose hope, tears staining your cheeks and stinging as they froze against your skin, were you really going to be alright?

Suddenly Albedo fell forward onto his knees, setting you on the ground and pushing you into what appeared to be a cave, just big enough for the both of you. He didn't waste a moment, crawling in after you once he had removed his coat and covering you with it like it was a blanket, his hands busying themself with the start of a fire. The second the flames appeared he pulled you into his lap, forcing you to heat up...and doing everything in his power to save you, the love of his life.

𑁍༄Baizhu:

"I'm with you now, don't worry dearest...it's all going to be alright."

Baizhu held your hand tightly, his fingers intertwined with yours while Changsheng used her gifts to perform the ritual...draining his life force right from his body...so you could live to see the next day. If you had been able to stop him...to keep him from shortening his life to lengthen yours, you would have...but you were so weak from your injuries...you could barely keep your eyes open. If he didn't do this...you would have died.

"Changsheng..." He simply said the serpents name, but even in your dazed state you could tell he wanted details...he wanted confirmation you'd be okay and he wouldn't rest till he knew, even as he was rattled with coughs...he had to know if you were going to make it. "Baizhu...they will be alright, your life force wasssss enough. Rest with them now...you both need it."

Baizhu nodded, crawling carefully into the bed with you so you could rest together...his ears tuned in to your breathing, listening for any signs of trouble and kissing your head while you drifted off to sleep.

𑁍༄Tighnari:

"Don't die on me now...you're far to important for me to loose."

You could taste blood on your lips, metallic and coppery...dripping down your chin in bright red streaks, all the while you clutched your stomach, hunched over in the most excruciating pain you'd ever felt in your entire life. Your body was riddled with bruises and cuts, your insides screaming at you for medical attention as you frantically scanned the area around you for the one person that you knew could save you, "Tighnari! H-help!"

Suddenly big blue ears twitched in your direction, his movements quick and calculated as he hurried to you, taking down anything that got in his way while you fell to your knees. He could tell this was serious and he didn't wast a single second, as soon as he was close enough you were getting bandaged, his senses on high alert just in case a enemy got to close. "You know when I said, give them a beating, I didn't mean to include yourself."

You couldn't stop yourself from chuckling, which hurt...but his sarcasm...it also made you feel better

𑁍༄Wanderer:

"You'll be okay, you have to...y-you can't leave me."

Wanderer couldn't even think correctly, his arms holding you so carefully...like your body was made of the most fragile of material in the world...all the while your crimson red blood dripped down his clothes. His emotions going hay wire and leaving him on a roller coaster, fear like he'd never felt before, anger burning in him like a raging fire and most of all..the lack of understanding.

If someone had went after him...that he would have understood...he would have defended himself, he would have fought against them and he most likely would have won, but who...who the hell would attack you.. and why? Why couldn't he have been there to keep you safe? "Please...I...I love you and I know I don't say it enough because of my stupid pride but I love you and you're not allowed to die on me because some stupid jerk attack you." He hugged you tighter as he spoke before bursting through the doors of Tighnaris house and quickly laying you down on the bed, his hand intertwined with yours even when everyone told him to leave.

He wouldn't let you wake up alone...no matter what he'd be there.

𑁍༄Kokomi:

"Just...breath."

Kokomis hands rested softly on your chest...a faint blue light seeping from the cracks of her fingers while she used her vision to heal your wounds and you tried desperately to keep breathing like she'd instructed you to...,but despite her incredible powers, you were in so much pain...each breath threatened to be your last one.

"It's going to be okay...I'll have you patched up in no time, just concentrate on me...I'll save you, I promise." She leaned in close, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, her sweet calming aura making you feel warm as you struggled to keep your eyes open. That warmth spread all across your body, as if she had hugged you with all the love she could give and just when you'd thought you were going to take your last breath, that love made all the pain fade away.

Your injuries healing till they were nothing more than scratches and your fear replaced with happiness...gratitude. The two of you shared a sweet kiss before she had to hurry away to help someone else.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[sprout-fics]

Mayday Mayday Chapter Two: Effective Fire

(Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Medic "Fix" Reader)

Part Six of Snowblind

Rating: Mature Themes Wordcount: 4.8k Tags: Slow Burn, Whump, Blood and Injury, Active Combat Scenarios, Teammates to ??? to Lovers, Angst, Banter Warnings: Crashes, Descriptions of blood and injury A/N: Special thank you to @okaycoldplay @gazs-blue-hat , @laeilaps , and @vampirekilmerfic for the research and development of this installment! and thank you to everyone still reading despite the large gap in updates.

In the darkness of the desert, you engrave in your soul the names of the dying and the damned.

You set to work quickly, assessing the men injured in the crash laid down beside each other against the gritty earth. It’s slow, slogging work, working in near total darkness. Ghost had punched out the lone red blinking beacon from the helicopter lest it betray your position, and as a result you work only through the scant illumination of the flashlight held by the pale-faced private next to you. You try to refrain from snapping at him when his hand wavers and you pause your hands over the limp forms of his brothers.

There’s no way around it. It’s bad. It’s...really bad.

Aside from Ghost and his concussion, there’s four more soldiers wounded, not including the pilots. Fractures, contusions, and shrapnel laced wounds litter the debris-strewn space around you. Groans and scarcely stifled cries seem to be the only sound aside from the lonely, cold wind that travels through the valley.

You try your best to push aside any thoughts of impending attack, narrowing your focus down to the flesh and bone under your hands. The flashlight illuminates seeping pools of red under some of the bodies, and as fast as you work it doesn’t seem to stem the tide of crimson that you know will haunt you for days to come.

Both pilots are concussed, out cold, and you think it’s for the best. If they awoke to the state of themselves, it would be far more agonizing. The pilot has a broken right leg, the thing bent at a horribly awkward angle that had one of the other marines swear a sacrament at just the sight. Shrapnel litters down his waist to his calf, and somewhere between it all you think you feel a fractured rib that belays a tender, weakening heartbeat that flutters with every red ooze from his wounds.

You try your best to make him comfortable, and quietly attach a black tag to his jacket to signal his chances of survival. There’s only so much you can do, and silently you pray that if he does pass, that at least it’s without pain.

His co-pilot isn’t much better. 

When you go to attach a black tag to him, the marine behind you shoots out to catch your wrist. In the sloping glow of the flashlight, his eyes are pleading.

“Please.” Is all he offers, quiet and forlorn. “He’s…my friend. Please.”

You regard him with sad eyes, but quietly nod and begin to work on the unconscious man who had saved your lives.

The shattered windshield sliced through his upper arm, where a tourniquet now cinches the vein tightly as you work to apply bloodstop to the worst of the gashes. There’s a piece of debris lodged in his stomach that you work desperately to treat, thanking whatever higher power that be that the object itself stops most of the blood flow. You use a good amount of your supplies on him, ensuring your assistant holds aloft your one and only fluid bag to try and ease the strain on his body despite the blood loss. He’s covered in your own jacket to try and keep him warm as he shivers, a tell-tale sign of shock. The cold that bites your skin is nothing compared to the silent dread that pools low and dark in your stomach. He's deathly pale, and you assign the marine to watch over him and the other pilot, to guard them if and when you should be found.

Down the line, your next man is unconscious, bleeding from his head and arm broken, but otherwise whole and in one piece. He’s a boyish sort, you think as you wipe the blood free and use butterfly stitches for the gash on his forehead. He still hasn’t shed a soft roundness of baby fat on his cheeks, and you can’t help but think how young he is to be out here, prone in the dark desert sand.

He rouses just as you finish working on him, startling and grasping at your sleeve in a sudden panic.

“Easy.” You soothe, laying a hand flat on his chest as he tries to raise his head. “Try not to move. You’re okay.”

You catch his eyes by the light of the flashlight. They look lost, but then they find you, blink, before he slips away again. His heart pulses steadily under your hand. You squeeze his hand just one, hoping he feels it before he goes still again.

Beside him is a corporal who seems to babble in delirium as you carefully inspect his pupils and wrap gauze around his head. His left arm has debris engraved into it, not nearly as bad as the pilots, but no doubt requiring a careful operation the second you land back at base.

If you land back at base.

You try not to think about that either.

The corporal talks in circles, no doubt severely concussed but at least halfway lucid. You catch him drifting more than once, shaking him awake and telling him to keep talking unless he falls asleep. He chokes back a sob when you wrap a tourniquet around his upper arms, biting his lip so hard it bleeds but offering no other complaint. When you tell him, breathless but firm nonetheless, that he’s going to be okay, you find him smiling at you through heavy eyes.

Your designated assistant, a flint-eyed man with dark hair who goes by ‘Smit’ bends to assist you with each man, each of you easily slashing the straps of the plate vests and discarding them to the side so you can inspect the unevenly rising chest of each man. A second holds the flashlight as you work, illuminating the scarlet slashed over their forms that you rapidly try to stem.

“Hang on for me, soldier. Keep breathing.” You murmur to the marine under your hands, and then to your new assistant: “Hold down on the gauze. Keep a steady pressure. Let me know the second his breathing changes. Understood?”

“Yes sir- er, ma’am.”

With each new wound, each new injury, you do inventory on your existing supplies- not nearly enough to deal with a situation of this caliber. Gunshot wounds, flash-bang concussions, these were routine for you. This, where the crash constitutes a disaster zone, you feel the weight of your quick decisions sink heavily into your shoulders.

The pilot is the first to go.

Martinez, the man designated to watch over him, quietly signals you over. You feel the pilot’s pulse flutter under your fingers, your other hand quietly holding him as he lets out several long, slow breaths and then goes forever still.

“He saved our lives.” The marine tells you solemnly as you cover his face. “I’ve never seen a pilot come back like that from a tailspin. We...”

He trails off. You know he doesn’t need to finish the thought.

We should all be dead.

A hollowness burrows deep and aching into your chest. You wish you had time to indulge it.

“Take his jacket.” You quietly offer. “See if you can warm up the co-pilot.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You rise to your feet and pace away for a moment, lingering between the soft perimeter of the crash and the injured men contained within it. It takes a few breaths to settle your heartbeat, and you wonder if you should feel more grief than you do- if it is a reflection on yourself that you learned to blunt your inward pain so long ago.

You look up to the sky. There’s still no stars.

In the darkness, you watch the massive, prowling shape of Ghost pace the perimeter like a wolf protecting the corpse of felled prey. Beneath him, lain flat against the sand, the marines keep a silent, steady watch for the smallest indication of enemy movement. You can barely make out the outline of your lieutenant, his figure blurring into shadow like a wraith. When he senses your eyes on him and turns, you can make out the shock of white from his mask.

“We lost one.” You tell him quietly as you approach, careful to keep your voice quiet from the nearby soldiers. Ghost seems to have expected this, for he nods, silent as he considers.

“Dust-off is on standby.” He relays back to you, voice dipping so low it feels like it vibrates the earth beneath your feet. “They’re waiting for the area to clear before they send another chopper.”

You grimace, mouth pressing into a line. Right. Of course the base is waiting to make sure there’s no more RPGs in the zone before they can send a team to your position. Knowing procedure, it could be up to a day before you see help.

Ghosts eyes watch you as you process this information, trying to run the numbers on the supplies in your field kit, trying to prioritize who’s wounded and who may not return home.

“Sorry.” You offer suddenly, and you sense Ghost still, tilt his head at you.

“I jinxed it, I think.” You offer, more to yourself than to him, and you wonder how much of the stress is getting to your head. “With it being a good night for a hunt and all.”

It takes Ghost a moment to digest this, but eventually he huffs and shifts away from you.

“Hunt’s not over yet, Fix.” He tells you simply, and you think in the darkness he somehow sounds bemused. You blink at that, always surprised by how Ghost can take a situation such as this and simply compartmentalize, offer a scant bit of humor with the confidence that he, at least, will survive.

You wonder, quietly in his shadow, if you’ll make it home despite all this.

You shake the thought as soon as it appears. There’s no time to entertain it, and as you snap your gloves off and slide on a fresh pair, returning to your makeshift triage.

A sound.

There’s a current that runs through the remaining members of the team around you as you all seem to catch it at the same time. Distant, a low thrum that sounds for just a moment before the desert goes silent once more.

Then again, louder.

You can’t discern where it is at first, ears straining to track whatever it was- another chopper, a truck, or...something else.

Then, to the east.

“3 o’clock.” Ghost states just loud enough for the circle of marines scattered around the site to hear, and there’s a flurry of movement as the team situates itself to face the oncoming threat. You can hear it now- the distant churning of an engine choked by sand as it draws closer. “NVGs on. Now.”

You follow the order automatically, hearing the whine of your goggles as they come to life and throw the world into a sickly green light.

“Fix.” Ghost snaps as you try and squint in the darkness to make out distant, blurry shapes of the oncoming forces. “On your weapon. Now.”

You don’t hesitate, quickly snatching your weapon from near the row of fallen men and murmuring a few quiet orders to your assistants there. It takes all of five seconds for you to reappear at Ghost’s side, lowering yourself to the ground alongside him as he flattens himself, opening his scope to peer into the horizon.

You see them now, in the distance. Two trucks together, and as they draw closer you see the forms of men with weapons held aloft as they rapidly close in on your position.

“What’s the call, Ghost?” One of the sergeants besides you asks, fingers tapping nervously on his weapon. You feel it, the frenetic, taut energy that courses like an electric current between you all. Holding its breath, starved of air, waiting until the moment the first bullet signals destruction.

“Not yet.” Ghost replies, eerily calm. “Wait until they’re in range. Conserve your ammo, there may be more.”

You shudder to think of that, already finding your stomach wind tighter every moment the trucks grow closer. You can already tell you’re outnumbered. There has to be twenty men at least, and as they near you hear them begin to raise their voices in the darkness in battle cries that pull taut at the low, cold coil of your gut.

You don’t allow yourself to think what may become of this- gazing into the scope of an enemy for a single heartbeat before everything goes dark.

Forever.

“Hold steady, lads.” Ghost murmurs, voice a deathly low roll in his chest.

The group draws closer, unloading from the truck, weapons out. They must not see you in the dark. Maybe they think you all died in the crash, bodies lying prone and scattered in the sand amidst the wreckage of the helicopter.

“Not yet.” Ghost intones quietly as the men from the truck grow closer, cautiously approaching the edge of your perimeter. “Set your targets.”

You choose a man in the middle of the group, both hands on a soviet-era rifle as dust billows at his feet. He’s less than thirty paces away from you, and with each heartbeat he takes another step towards the crosshairs of your trigger.

He’ll kill you, given the chance.

Ghost is silent beside you, body taut, entirely still. He doesn’t even seem to breathe. if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a corpse.

Twenty paces.

Fifteen.

You see it happen in just a moment. A man pauses at the edge of the group as he looks directly at you on the small rise towards the crash. He raises a shout.

He drops dead before he can finish.

Your eardrums ring as the men around you wordlessly unleash a hailstorm of bullets on the group. You watch five men go down in the first few seconds, unable to lift their weapons before they drop. The remaining open fire on your position blindly, bullets burying themselves into the dirt with puffs of dust. Gunfire explodes across your vision like fireworks as you open fire, tracking shapes in the shadows and deftly squeezing the trigger after them.

They’re trying to find you in the dark, and it’s difficult with your group spread apart as it is, perched on a low rise that offers a semblance of cover to shield you. There’s shouts that echo in the darkness, panicked, angry, offering orders that are cut short by the sound of a gunshot.

You watch as a man retreats to the cover of one of the trucks, and moments later the engine starts, and the vehicle begins to roll towards you with increasing speed.

“TAKE OUT THE TRUCK.” Ghost orders over the chaos at you, head not turning for even a moment as he focuses his sights.

You have a momentary pause as to why it isn’t Ghost trying to take the shot. He’s always been a better sniper than you, so how-

You watch him take aim at a man fleeing in the direction of the truck.

and miss.

“FIX!!” Ghost bellows, thunderous, and you lock on to the front wheel swerving in the dirt. You take a breath, and a split second later your shoulder jolts with the impact of your rifle, and you watch the rubber of the tire spin into shreds. Yet the truck continues, swerving erratically in your direction. It raises a burst of panic in the men around you, who open fire on the truck as it closes in, all while its passengers take aim at you all.

You watch a body down the line jolt, then go still.

“Anderson!!” One of the corporals hollers, and before you can scream at him to stay where he is, he foregos his weapon in favor of reaching for his teammate.

He screams as his body jerks, cries as he collapses onto his side.

You have no time to look, unleashing your ammo at the truck’s other front wheel in a desperate bid to slow it down before resorting to firing upon the driver. He jerks before slumping forwards, twisting the heel so the truck goes careening off course and away from your sight range.

“They’re flanking us!”

You don’t move unless it would give away your position, instead trying to track the targets in front of you before turning your attention to your side. That is, until you realize-

“Ghost-” You bark, voice cracking. “The injured-”

The truck disappeared towards the broken tail that shelters your comrades.

“Stay put.” Ghost snarls as a bullet pings off the dirt between you, making you flinch. “If you get up, you’re as good as dead.”

You try not to let your hands shake as you focus through your scope again, tracing the remaining five or six targets that flee back towards the other truck. In the chaos of trying to take down the vehicle headed towards you, they’ve gotten a head start, and rapidly begin to reach the edge of your firing range. You try to lock onto them, catching one by the shoulder as he stumbles, then goes down with your next shot. Yes his comrades manage to reach the truck ahead of him, piling in and backing up away from the range of your weapons.

“They’re retreating!” A voice rises beside you.

“They’re getting away.” Ghost growls back, ceaselessly firing upon the truck in an effort to slow it as it withdraws.

There’s gunfire to your right now, and at last you twist towards it, army-crawling in the direction of your wounded patients.

“They’re hidden behind the truck.” A voice tells you, shielded by the mangled helicopter tail. He ducks, crouching, as a bullet pings off the metal.

The wounded are on the other side.

Yet when you try and jolt forward, around, trying to reach for them, you’re hauled back by the straps of your tac vest.

“I said-” Ghost growls in your ear as you all but fall back into the heavy plane of his broad chest. “Stay. put.”

You didn’t realize you were shaking until you were in his arms. The adrenaline bites hard and sour on the underside of your tongue, chest heaving and brain working into overdrive as you force yourself to freeze, process his words.

“Think.” Ghost tells you, breathless enough that you think you might have imagined it.

You blink, trying to reroute the synapses of your thoughts to listen to him, to obey this order he’s given you. You remind yourself it’s Ghost’s voice that has guided you through darkness, through blood and sin, through your own undoings and towards the light of survival. Now, with souls of others cupped preciously in the palms of your hands, you will yourself once more to listen to his guiding clarion.

With you still sprawled back against him, Ghost reaches one massive arm around you to your front. You think he’s about to secure you, roll you out of the way, only for him to deftly pluck your one grenade from the front of your vest. With hardly any effort, Ghost uncaps it right before your eyes...

and hurls it in the direction of the truck.

There’s a pause as it clatters somewhere into the front seat, followed by a shout-

BOOM-!!

Debris erupts upwards, rains down on you. The world spins, rings around you for a moment, and you scrunch your eyes to try and grimace through it. Eventually it fades, and you feel a body pressed to yours shift, one arm looped around your front slowly retreating as you’re released.

He’s still holding you.

For a moment you feel your brain short-circuit, torn hopelessly between utter bafflement at Ghost’s proximity to you, and the reminder of your task at hand. Awkwardly, you cough and scramble to detangle yourself from Ghost, who eases slowly away from you, giving you space.

“All clear!” One of the marines nearby yells in the silence that follows. You glance back at Ghost, crouched as you are by the wrecked helicopter tail. The white of his skull mask flashes luminescent green under your night vision, shadows dancing from the fire of the truck. He nods at you in a silent affirmation- ensuring he’s covering you as you dart for the wounded.

You keep low as you crawl towards the forms of your fallen comrades, grabbing the first man you can and dragging him backwards until one of the other marines assists you. There’s smoking forms hidden behind the truck not far off, one of them moving and moaning wordlessly in pain.

You manage to get everyone behind cover from the truck, not yet looking to see if they’ve been further injured, focused instead on the perimeter, looking for future threats.

“Sergeant.” A marine quietly offers next to you, and you turn, look into his eyes.

The man you’re still holding- clutching onto his tac vest straps by a death grip. He’s dead.

“It’s Martinez.” He whispers solemnly. The one you’d left to defend his brothers. He’s still holding the IV bag.

It takes a few moments for the thing inside your chest to awaken- that dark beast that howls in anger and sorrow. It draws upwards, clawing viscous and sinister at your inside, and as you stare into the blank eyes of Martinez it growls in low tones words of grief and fury at you’d been unable to save him.

That you’d failed.

You release the body like you’ve been electrocuted- muscles a live wire as you try to control your shallow breathing. Blood rushes in your ears. The world dizzies you with shades of green.

“Fix.”

You turn, eyes wild, almost careening into Ghost behind you. He catches you by your elbow, steadies you silently. The warmth from his gloved hands bleeds through, and somehow you find your balance.

You almost want to shield the fallen soldier behind you, trying to hide the act of failure you’ve committed. Yet when you try, Ghost’s grip on your arm remains tight, as if somehow anticipating your movement.

“Think.” His voice echoes again in your mind.

Your throat is a hard, bitter scrape of air as you swallow, steady yourself.

“Who’s injured?” You ask the survivors gathered around you.

“Anderson is dead.” A voice intones, quiet and grieving. “Smit is gone too.”

Three men including the pilot. Three men you failed to save. Three souls to haunt you.

You stare up at Ghost, trying to make out his expression despite the night vision. You wonder if he still feels grief despite everything. You wonder if you respect him for that.

Over his shoulder, light in the distance.

He blinks, follows your gaze.

More trucks. Distant, but closing in. Hyenas come to pick off the wounded survivors.

“Dig in.” Ghost tells the team, releasing you so abruptly the world spins. “We’ve got enemy reinforcements inbound.”

Yet as you focus in on the convoy headed in your direction, you see just how many reinforcements Ghost speaks of.

Three cars. You’ll be overrun.

“Ghost, we need to retreat.” The marine sergeant tells him roughly. “We can’t hold this position.”

“Retreat to where?” Ghost snaps back, never taking his eyes off the convoy. “We hold here.”

“There’s buildings north of us, they look abandoned-”

“We won’t make it. Not with the trucks.”

He’s right. Even if you didn’t carry the wounded, in which Ghost would have to haul you to withdraw himself, there’s just no way you can make it to a cover without the trucks catching up and encircling you all, cutting off any escape- or chance at survival.

“Reload.” Ghost declares when the sergeant goes quiet of protests. “Inside the chopper, wounded first.”

The men echo a chorus of acknowledgments, moving around you. Yet you remain rooted to where you stand, gazing at Ghost, at the convoy, at the starless sky.

You’ve lost three men. Now more enemies come to reap the souls of those who have lived. You need to retreat, to fight, to protect the men you’ve been tasked with, to ensure your own survival.

Think, he said.

Think, Fix.

Think.

The answer comes before you can second guess yourself.

“We need to blow up the chopper.”

The men around you freeze, turn to look at you. The air feels stale in your lungs, heartbeat stuttering, but under their eyes you force yourself to repeat your words.

“We need to rig the chopper to explode- and retreat.”

Ghost stares at you wordlessly. You expect him to snarl at you, to reprimand you, but instead he simply watches, waits for you to speak.

Listening. Perhaps even trusting.

You swallow hard, settling yourself where you stand before speaking again.

“We have demolition charges for the bunker. We can set them on the chopper, wait until the trucks get close, withdraw and then set them to go off. It’ll give us time to take the wounded and hike to a better position.”

It’s quiet in the moments after you speak.

Then:

“That’s crazy.” The marine sergeant offers in utter disbelief. Then, quieter: “It could work.”

Ghost’s eyes haven’t strayed from you. You lock onto them, quiet. Pleading. Trusting.

“It would take a crack shot to explode the package at that distance in the dark.” Is the only thing he offers. Yet the silent message is clear.

Can you do it?

For a single, suffocating moment doubt threatens to choke the hope from your chest, obfuscating it in a noxious cloud of self loathing and hatred. Instead, you square your shoulders, look at Ghost’s eyes, pupils blown wide and dark under the starless sky.

“I can do it.”

Ghost holds your stare. The trucks in the distance grow closer.

“Pack up.” He barks, turning. “Wounded take priority. Take what you can, leave the rest. I want the charges on the nose of the chopper, and whatever ammunition is left after reloading. Wounded at the front, the rest of you watching our six. MOVE!!”

You fall in line, a flurry of activity as you rapidly check the wounded men, hauling those who can stand to their feet, taking the weapons of the men who carry those who can’t. You watch as the marine sergeant and two more secure charges to the front of the chopper near the fuel tank, working quickly as the rest of you pass them, headed up the rise.

You can hear the engines of the trucks now, roaring with sand choked valves as they close in.

“Move. Move!” You urge the men ahead of you, hanging towards the rear as Ghost takes up the tail of your group. You watch the lights of the trucks near the forms of their fallen comrades as you reach the top of the hill. They swiftly pass them, firing several shots into the sky as they near the crash site.

You plant yourself at the top of the rise, rock and dirt digging into your stomach as you focus through your scope, swinging your sights from the rapidly encroaching convoy towards the exposed charges. Ghost hovers at your back as the men hike past him, encouraged by their sergeant. You know if this doesn’t work, if you shoot too soon or too late, it will be an early grave for you all.

“Not yet.” Ghost tells you, observing as the trucks begin to eclipse the former perimeter where you’d been laying only minutes ago. You steady your breathing, forcing your heartbeat to slow, loosening your hands on your rifle and then slowly tightening it once more. You keep your finger off the trigger.

The trucks pass the perimeter.

Not yet.

The trucks creep up on the helicopter tail.

Not yet.

The trucks pass by the burning wreckage of the other truck.

Your finger lays on the trigger. You focus on the demolition charges.

Deep breath in.

Quietly, from behind you:

“Now.”

You squeeze the trigger just once, and at the exact moment that the trucks come up parallel to the nose of the bird, you watch as the charges explode. It takes a moment for the heat to burn a hole through the fuel tank, but then a second, larger explosion alights and deafens you with the sound of its ignition. The force of it momentarily rocks you backwards, and it's only Ghost that manages to keep you steady as the shockwave briefly rolls over you both.

When you open your eyes, you see the three trucks gone. Engulfed in the inferno.

Clear.

“Bloody fuckin hell.” Ghost breathes beside you, observing the carnage with an expression far from unimpressed. “Bloody good shot, sergeant.”

You’re so stunned by the blast you almost miss the praise, blinking even as Ghost grabs you by your arm and hauls you to your feet beside him.

“Thank you. Sir.” You manage at last, still gazing down at the flames. The rifle in your grip feels too heavy. Then: “Holy shit.”

“Keen observation.” Ghost remarks dryly, but there’s an undercurrent of something else to his voice. Something that sounds almost relieved. Pleased. “Let’s get moving.”

He turns, and you follow in his shadow. Behind you, the blaze of your destruction alights you in fiery warmth.

He hikes higher into the hills.

You follow him.

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[theemissuniverse]

“REMEMBER ME” RAIDEN X FEM!READER

SUMMARY : Shang Tsung took your memory away of Raiden so Raiden slowly starts to help you remember him. But when you do remember him, you can’t help but be upset

WARNINGS : slight angst i think but it’s a happy ending

When you and Raiden were thirteen, the two of you sat in a field of flowers. Raiden had always been a gentleman so he picked the most beautiful daisy for you and placed it behind your ear.

You giggled at the action and kissed his cheek. His face turned red at the action but he smiled.

It was a peaceful day despite circumstances. Your parents were getting a divorce and you obviously were not happy about it. “One day, I hope I get married and have a big wedding.” You said.

Raiden gently took your hand and looked you straight in the eyes. “One day I hope I can marry you.”

You were a little shocked by this statement but chose to laugh it off. “Aw, that’s sweet Raiden.”

“I mean it. You are the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”

“Surely, you don’t mean it. We’re only thirteen.”

“I still love you. I love you like a man loves a woman.”

You were stunned by this confession. Instead, you placed a hand over his knee. “I’ll tell you what, if I’m not married by the time I’m like…twenty five…then you and I can get married.”

Raiden smiled sweetly at you. “You better keep your end of the deal. But when we kiss, it has to be romantic. Like kissing in the rain.”

You giggled at this request. “All right. Deal.”

Raiden was in a state of depression and it was all Shang Tsung’s fault. He took away everything. Everything that made him good.

He could not possibly live on. Not without you. You were his everything. Everything that made him whole.

Part of his evil plan, Shang Tsung took your memories away of Raiden. Now you knew him as nothing. Nothing but a man with thunder powers.

Armageddon was over and it was time for everyone to return back to their normal lives. Normal lives? How could he go back to normal when the love of his life shared no memory of him?

He was not only angry with the spell that was casted on you but he was angry with himself. He never got to tell you he loved you. That was the most bone crushing feeling.

Raiden was helping Madam Bo clean up. He swept the floors trying to make sure every spot was nice and tidy.

That’s when you walked in. Beautiful as ever. You placed the blue mug full of tea on the table. “Here you go, Raiden. I made your favorite. Green tea.”

He sighed some and grabbed the mug. “Thanks (Y/N).” He said and just when he was about to take a sip of it, something sparked in his mind. You knew what his favorite tea was.

Raiden took a sip. It was made perfect. Just the way he liked it. When he saw you about to walk away, he set the mug down and walked in front of you. “Hey, how’d you know I like my tea like that?”

You stumbled a little. You couldn’t remember or think of why. You just sort of knew. Like it was instinct. “I don’t know I guess I sort of just…know.”

That’s when Raiden started to have hope again.

So, Raiden took you to your guys’s favorite spots. He had only hoped that some memory would spark in you. Each and every place made you remember bits and pieces.

Although you couldn’t remember Raiden, there was something about Raiden that made you feel safe. You felt loved. He was trying his best to make you remember him.

Raiden was gentle and kind. A man that when you were a little girl, you had only hoped for to get.

And that made you fall in love with him all over again.

You and Raiden were on a picnic date. (It was never said it was a date but it was quite obvious it was.) You noticed something around his neck. It was a necklace. A necklace that you used to wear.

You touched the necklace slightly. “I used to wear this?”

Raiden was only shocked a little that you remembered this but he smiled none the less. “Yes. I wear it to honor you every day.”

The statement made you smile. You placed your hand down and looked at him, taking in all his beauty. “You’re so wonderful to me.”

“I try.” Raiden slightly said with a tease before taking out some chocolates and feeding you one. “These are your favorite.”

You open your mouth to receive the chocolate. Honestly it was a little overwhelming that a man knew you so much and you knew him so little. You two made it work though.

You felt like you had to confess to him your feelings. “Raiden, I have to tell you something.”

Raiden goes to fix the hat that was on his head. “What is it, lovely?”

He had a habit of calling you that. You hoped that it was because he felt something more than a friendship with you. “These last couple weeks have been amazing. There are little bits that I remember of you but I can’t remember you fully. You still have been at my side despite circumstances.”

Raiden gave you a genuine smile. He held your hand. “I would never leave you.”

That gave you some reassurance. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Did he hear you right? He felt his throat start to close up. He was so shocked he swore he would faint. He removed his hand from yours and stared in the distance as if to try and make sense of it.

Now that didn’t reassure you at all. You frowned slightly and sat up. “Like really. I think I-“

Raiden immediately shook his head. “No, no. You’re not. It’s okay to be confused.”

Well that hurt. “I’m not confused. Do you not love me back?”

Raiden didn’t mean to but he laughed at the question like it was the most idiotic question. “Do I love you? I’ve loved you since we were kids. I’ve dreamt of this moment but this isn’t the way. The real you wouldn’t want to be with me.”

You placed your hand on his back. “How do you know that?”

“I just do.”

He was wrong. Before the memory had wiped away, you did love him with everything in you. And one day that would all prove to be true.

Raiden was again helping Madam Bo with cleaning. While he was doing this a woman he did not recognize walked over to him.

She was a a beautiful woman in retrospect but Raiden did not care for her beauty as maybe other men would.

The woman stands in front of him as he sweeps. When he notices a figure standing before him, he looks up and sees her. Then offers her a smile. “Hello.”

The woman popped on her bubblegum as she spoke. “Do they make all the cute boys sweep or just you?”

Raiden was slightly taken back at this. Women didn’t really go out of their way to flirt with him. However, he wasn’t interested as he already had feelings for one woman on his mind. Though, he was still trying to be polite. “I suppose so…” He continues to clean, not looking at her.

The woman seemed to be stunned that Raiden was not flirting with her back. “Well. I’m Korisha.”

Raiden didn’t really want to continue conversation but he was a gentleman and wanted to remain as polite as possible. “I’m Raiden. I hope your lunch was enjoyable.”

You watched from afar as the girl flirted with Raiden. It didn’t sit right with you. You were angry. Very angry but tried to keep your composure. You couldn’t hear the conversation though so you were just going based on body language.

“It was…but I bet something else would be enjoyable…” The woman took a step forward to him.

Raiden started to feel uncomfortable. He scratched the back of his neck before giving out an awkward laugh. “I don’t know about that…”

Again, the woman was stunned. “Huh…you must either have a girlfriend or you’re gay.”

Raiden went wide by the assumption, almost coughing at it. “Um…no. Not at all, ma’am. I’m just not interested.”

Korisha seemed appalled by the idea a man did not want her. “Well, okay.” She took out a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Here’s my number in case you change your mind.” Then she walked away.

You were, in fact, enraged. Keep all in mind, you did not hear the conversation. All you had seen was Raiden “accept” a phone number from a woman that you had thought to be even more beautiful than you were.

Raiden looked at the phone number and shook his head before looking around the area. He had seen you and smiled. “Hey, (Y/N).”

Suddenly, a flow of memories came to your head. Every laugh, every lie, every hug. Everything you knew about Raiden came and overwhelmed you in every possible way.

Tears slid down your cheeks. Raiden’s face was full of concern. “(Y/N)?” You didn’t bother to reply back to him. You just left.

Raiden dropped the paper and broom in his hands. Then followed you out of the restaurant. “(Y/N), wait!”

You had gotten pretty far. You were so upset that you tried to cross the street when a car was coming.

Raiden immediately grabbed you and pulled you back on the sidewalk. Not without the car honking at you when they past.

You felt the breath get knocked out of your lungs. Raiden examined you to make sure you were okay. “Are you alright, (Y/N)? You almost got hit.”

Rage consumed your body. How dare he try to be with a girl after you had confessed your feelings for him? Not only that but you had been in love with him all your life come to find out.

You smacked Raiden across the face. Raiden was taken aback. It only stung a little. He felt his cheek a little with his eyes squinted.

“You told me the real me would have never loved you. Guess what you jackass, I do. I remember everything about you.”

The sudden statement made Raiden’s eyes wide. He had completely forgotten you were in rage and had a smile on his face. “You remember me?”

He tried to grab your hands but you smacked him again. This hurt more than last time. “Ow…” He mumbled lightly.

“What was all that talk? That you’ve been in love with me forever? Huh? Oh wait no. That had to be just out of pity right? Because why did you take that girl’s number?”

Raiden now realized what the problem was. He immediately tried to deny this. “No, no. I tried to tell her to go away but she wasn’t budging-“

“Did me confessing my feelings for you mean nothing to you? You had to do it in my face?”

“(Y/N)-“

You started to smack his chest repeatedly. You tried to shove him away from you. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Raiden didn’t waste any time. He cupped your face and pulled you into a passionate kiss. The sudden drum of his chest began to fade. You stood there feeling frozen.

Even though you were completely angry at him, you couldn’t help but kiss him back. Your hands instantly went to the back of his neck, pulling him deeper.

Raiden pulled away. He rubbed away all your frustrated tears. “Do you remember when we were thirteen and you told me that when you turn twenty five, if you are not married by then, then you would marry me?”

The memory hit you like brick. It was a wonderful memory of the two of you. It instantly made you forget your anger at him. “Yes. Why?”

“Well you’re twenty six and you got to hold your end of the bargain.” He joked lightly. “(Y/N), I love you more than life itself. It ate me up inside when Shang Tsung erased your memories of me. I did not think I could…I could live with myself after that.”

You caressed his face and prayed to yourself to stay like this forever. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I wish to be with you for the rest of my life.”

Before you could get a word out, it started raining. The two of you looked at the sky. The clouds had darkened without the two of you noticing.

Raiden then smiled at the memory before looking back at you. “You still owe me a rain kiss.”

You smiled, remembering you promised you would kiss him in the rain. You leaned in and your lips met his.

The kiss was more passionate this time. The two of you longed for this. Finally, you two had it.

Forever.

[gabseyoo]

Jealous.

pairing: getō suguru x fem!reader | wc: 5k.

summary: Getō Suguru and you only have a friends with benefits relationship, just sex, no feelings, no commitments. He knows this very well, but after an unexpected encounter with your ex, he can’t help but feel something he shouldn’t: jealousy. 

warnings: college!au, fwb to lovers, lovesick!suguru, love confession, jealousy, possessive behavior, alcohol use, exhibitionism, car sex, dry humping, marking, spanking, fingering, spit as lube, unprotected sex, creampie, reader is a tease.

Suguru drank from his freshly poured beer, furrowing his brow at the strong taste but still took another sip. He was at one of his friend's party, standing in the middle of the kitchen with his best friend, Satoru, who kept talking about a video game he’s been obsessed with lately. At first, he was paying attention even though he didn’t understand what the fuck he was talking about, but his attention was stolen when he saw a female figure he knew a little too well in the living room. 

“I wanted to buy more, but I ran out of primogems and—” 

“Wait a second.” He cut his friend off to make sure it wasn’t his imagination, but no, she really was here.

Satoru frowned in confusion, but when he looked to where Suguru’s eyes were fixed, a smirk appeared on his face, “Oh, look who’s there.” 

“I’ll be back.”

“Simp.” 

The black-haired man just rolled his eyes at his friend's mockery and grabbed an extra cup of beer before heading towards the living room. 

“Hey.” Suguru greeted you while sitting next to you on that old blue couch. “Didn’t know you were coming.” He added handing you the red cup, which you accepted with a smile before speaking, 

“It was supposed to be a movie night, but Utahime wanted to come.” You nodded to your friend who was passionately playing beer pong paired with Shoko on the other side of the room. “Not complaining, tho. I like the vibe.” 

“This is the song you like, isn’t it?” He pointed out when he recognized the beat of Kiss Me More in the background. 

“I love Doja Cat so fucking much.” You leaned your head back against the back of the couch and closed your eyes, enjoying the obscene words of the song that Suguru knew perfectly from listening to you sing it so many times. “Where’s Satoru?”

“Flirting with a girl, maybe.” He said playfully, smiling to himself as he watched you let out a chuckle at his words. Of course he wasn’t going to tell you that he left him stranded in the kitchen to come talk to you. 

“No way? That’s like, super weird.” You stated sarcastically as you opened your eyes to meet Geto’s intense dark ones that hadn’t stopped staring at you since he sat down next to you. You licked your lips before continuing the conversation, “How did your test go?” 

What kind of relationship do you and Suguru have? It’s kind of complicated. Well, not so much for you, but for him. 

You had been in the same circle of friends since early college, casually hanging out in groups at coffee shops or parties; he always thought you were a pretty attractive woman, but never tried to make a move on you. Until eight months ago. When you had both ended up at his apartment at two in the morning, drunk, but not enough to forget when you woke up in each other’s arms the mind-blowing sex you had had in the wee hours of the morning. 

To his surprise, it was you who suggested that it not end in a one-night stand, sure enough, he accepted immediately. Since then, almost every weekend—or even weekdays—, Suguru found himself between your legs, touching and licking every inch of your precious body, kissing your lips and moaning your name over and over again.  

But as most of the time happens in a friends-with-benefits relationship, someone has to fall first. And unfortunately, that was him. 

The love he felt for you was consuming him completely, just two weekends ago Satoru had to confiscate his phone because he got drunk and all he wanted was to confess his feelings to you with tears in his eyes while a Taylor Swift song played in the background. 

Geto was tired of having you without actually having you. He wanted whatever you had to have an official label. He wanted all the early morning showers, dinner dates or late night texting you used to have to be with his girlfriend, not with the girl he happens to have sex with. 

Sometimes, he liked to fantasize about what it would be like if you were officials. Maybe post you on social media, with one of those stupid Instagram filters you like so much, comment on your photos, hold hands in public while walking your dogs, meeting your parents, tell the world you are his, but— he wasn’t even sure if you were or wanted to be. 

It bothered him more that your relationship was not even a secret, all your friends knew what you usually do. It was normal for them to see you two kissing in the middle of a party and leaving together, or refusing outings saying that you already have plans with each other. It bothered him because he couldn't even victimize himself by saying that he was a dirty little secret, he just wanted you to reciprocate his feelings. 

Yes, it was his fault, you were honest from the beginning, you said it was just casual and that there would be no feelings involved, but the heart wants what it wants. 

Well, let’s stop being sentimental.

So right now, he’s content to be in conversation with you. Your hand had moved from your knee to his, casually making imaginary shapes with your index finger as he told you about his week. You were normally quite touchy with each other, so it wasn’t uncommon, but he couldn’t help but feel his heart race at the mere physical contact. 

But your pleasant conversation was interrupted by a guy who suddenly sat down on the armrest next to you. 

“Didn’t expect to meet you here, Y/N.” The man stole your attention, a half smile appeared on your face as you recognized him and for the same reason Suguru’s smile disappeared. “How are you, pretty?” He asked leaning over to greet you with a kiss on the cheek. Geto could do nothing but distract himself by drinking his beer. “I haven’t seen you for three months.” Three months?

“I’m fine— I’m the one who didn’t expect to meet you here.” You responded with some nervousness in your voice, “Suguru, you remember Naoya, right?” You turned to look at him pointing your thumb at the blonde guy. 

“Yeah.” Hell he does. 

He never interacted or talked much with him, but of course he knew who he was— your ex-boyfriend. 

You and Naoya Zen’in had dated for almost two years but broke up a couple of months before you and Suguru started your thing. As far as he knew your relationship with Naoya was pretty stormy and toxic and that’s why you decided to break up for good. That’s why Geto had never considered him a ‘threat’, but seeing him come and talk to you so naturally, even using a nickname, and him saying that you hadn’t seen him for three fucking months, made his stomach turn. 

“Hey.” Naoya greeted him with a casual nod and he did the same, but the blond returned his attention to you immediately. “Anyway, I texted you yesterday, you didn’t reply.”

“I’ve been busy.” 

“Doing what?” He interrogated, clearly annoyed with your curt reply. Naoya seemed to notice the hand you had on Suguru’s knee, because he frowned and licked his lip before asking, “You guys are dating or something?” 

For some reason, Geto got his hopes up for a moment, expecting to hear a yes or at least a ‘something like that’, even if it was a lie, you recognizing him as something else in front of Naoya was enough to—

“We’re just friends.” You answered, removing your hand from his knee to see your perfectly manicured nails. 

A kick in the balls would have hurt less. 

Suguru didn’t want to admit how affected he felt by it, it was the truth, just the harsh truth and yet he decided to hurt himself by waiting for another answer. He was just a friend with whom you had sex without commitment, it was obvious that you wouldn’t say that to your ex.

Naoya just nodded and drank from his red cup before wrapping his arm around your shoulders, the black-haired noticed how you tensed. He just wanted to hit him, push him and tell him not to dare touch you, but he knew he had no right to do so and that the least you would like was to make a scene. 

The sudden sound of a notification on his phone brought him out of his thoughts—he hadn’t even realized he had clenched his fists—he sighed before reaching into his pocket for his device. 

Satoru: 

u better fight for your princess ‘cause it looks like she’s being stolen from you :p 

do something

tell him to fuck off

He frowned and looked around for his best friend, finding him a few meters behind him along with Nanami. The white-haired man waved his hands at him, telling him to get rid of Naoya. That’s what he wanted the most, the problem was that he didn't know how. 

He turned, ignoring how you were having a hushed conversation with your ex to type on his phone,

Suguru: 

what the hell do i do?

Satoru: 

for god’s sake, you’re hopeless 

leave it to me, hold on

“Is that the scrunchie I gave you?” He heard Naoya say, out of curiosity he turned to look at you, your ex was fiddling with your low ponytail, his eyes fixed on the pink scrunchie that tied your hair. 

“Is it?” You brought your hand to the back of your head, undoing the improvised ponytail you had made to look at the hair tie, the movement pushing your ex’s hand away. Suguru swore he could almost see hearts in Naoya’s eyes when you let your hair down. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, he was about to explode. He had seen you use that same scrunchie dozens of times, and knowing that it was your asshole ex-boyfriend who gave it to you made him feel ten times worst. 

“Yeah. You still use it, huh?” 

“Well, I’m using it now, isn’t that a yes?” You said tying your hair back up. Geto could notice how you were downplaying what Naoya said, and that appeared to irritate the blond, who didn't seem to be giving up. 

C’mon Suguru, do something. Do fucking something. 

“Y/N, are you doing some—” Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by a six-foot-two man who suddenly appeared at his side. 

“Zen’in! Long time no see!” Satoru greeted cheerfully, hooking his arm over Naoya’s shoulders making him stand next to him. “Hey Y/N, I didn’t see you there, you don’t mind if I steal him for a while, do you?”

“He’s all yours.” 

“Wait! Gojo—” Naoya tried to break free from the grip but failed in the attempt. 

“The boys are asking for you, let’s go play beer pong!” He shouted practically dragging your ex with him. The white-haired man looked over his shoulder, mouthing a get out of here to his best friend before pulling Naoya out to the garden. 

Well— Satoru was more useful than he thought.

“Thank God.” You sang, stretching your arms back in relief. “He keeps insisting that he wants us to get back together.”

Suguru gulped, his fists clenched again and he felt a knot in his stomach. He was hurt and overthinking, what he had witnessed between you and your ex had affected him too much. You have no right to feel this way, he reminded himself. 

But still, he couldn’t help the anger that was building inside him. Jealousy was eating him alive. 

It’s time to do something. 

“Y/N—” You looked at him waiting for his next words, “Let’s get out of here.” 

And without a second thought, Suguru grabbed your wrist to pull you up from the couch and move through the party crowd towards the exit. You followed him without putting up any resistance or trying to free yourself from his grip, asking questions like: Where are we going? Are you okay? Which he chose to ignore. 

The cold air hit your bodies as soon as you left the house and walked down the dark street until you reached his car. Instead of opening the passenger door, he opened the back one and told you to get in, after looking at him with confusion, you obeyed his words and he got in after you, closing the door with a loud thump and locking it. 

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong? Why all of a sud—” He didn’t let you finish speaking when his lips were already on yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth when you reciprocated his kiss immediately. 

You leaned your body against the door as Geto intensified the kiss, moaning into his mouth and resting your pretty hands on his shoulders. 

“Suguru—” You called his name in the middle of the kiss, but he was unwilling to separate his lips from yours. 

You had no idea how much he enjoyed kissing you, tasting the different flavors of gloss you used, having his mouth and face stained with your lipstick, he could kiss you for hours without getting tired. 

This kiss was passionate, intense, even a little aggressive. You had kissed like this before, what made it different was what he wanted to convey to you with it— how much he adored you and how incredibly irritated he was with the appearance of your ex.  

His hands went to your waist to pull you closer to him before he leaned back against the backrest, making you straddle his lap. He stroked from your back to your thighs, then squeezed your buttocks under your dress. 

The moment he left your lips to kiss your neck, you took the opportunity to finally speak, “Why are you acting so weird?” 

Suguru tried to remind himself not to get carried away, he had to think before he spoke. But the next words had already left his mouth before he could even think of stopping them, 

“Why are you using the scrunchie he gave you?” 

He didn’t have the courage to look you in the face—instead he concentrated on spreading more kisses on your neck—but he bet you frowned at his random question. 

“I don’t know? I have dozens of these, I just pick the one that goes best with my outfit.” You said, lifting your head a little to give him more access to your skin. “I didn’t even remember Naoya gave it to me until he mentioned it.”

He didn’t expect you to actually give him an explanation, he expected at most a ‘not your problem’ or a ‘because I want to’. Your words should have given him peace of mind, but that feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away, much less with your ex’s name coming from your lips. 

Geto sucked the skin under your ear, leaving a mark for sure. Your hands tightened on his broad shoulders, and you began to move your hips in a slow rhythm, grinding your crotch against his. 

“Take it off.”

“Huh? Why?” You muttered, moaning softly when he sucked again, this time at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He didn’t miss the teasing tone of your voice when you added, “You don’t like it?” 

He didn’t think twice before replying with a clear and sharp, “No.”

“Why not?”

It was at that moment when Suguru finally had the courage to look at your face, and he had to restrain himself from sighing— with the little light he could see that your lips were swollen and your eyes had that gleam he liked so much. You’re gorgeous. 

Instead of answering right away, he placed his hand on your cheek and caressed your skin with his thumb for a few seconds before moving it behind your head, right where your ponytail started, to grab the scrunchie that was annoying him so much and slowly remove it. When he loosened your hair, he pulled the pink hair tie to the side and with his fingers began to stroke your hair before moving it to the side, freeing your neck for him to kiss it once more. 

“Because he gave it to you” He admitted, he had already come this far and believed he shouldn’t stop. If you were going to reject him, call him crazy and end what you had—even when the last thing he wanted was to lose you—he should hear that now, so he would have more time to heal instead of continuing to dig himself into a hole. 

“It’s just a scrunchie.” You positioned your hand on the back of his neck to stroke his hair, and without hesitation, you asked, “Are you jealous?”

He’s fucked. It was no longer worth denying the obvious. 

“What if I am?”

“We’ll have to end this.” There was no way you could mean it, not when you had even started to move your hips over his hard cock with more pressure. 

“I don’t think you really want that.” He replied with a smirk, pointing to the way you were getting off on top of his bulge with a nod of his head, to which you responded with a sarcastic chuckle. 

“Don’t be so confident.” You said between your teeth, trying to contain the sighs of pleasure that wanted to come out of you. “Gonna tell me why you’re jealous?”

Suguru decided to pull down your dress to free your breasts, instantly cupping them with his large hands to caress your erect nipples with his thumbs while leaving wet kisses on your shoulder.

You didn’t seem to like how he ignored your words, because with the hand you had previously placed in his hair you pulled him away from your skin and forced him to look at you. Instead of saying something at that moment, you ran your tongue over your lips before kissing him again, moaning at the feeling of his erection against your covered clit one more time.

When he felt your hands on the edge of his shirt, he helped you by lifting his arms so you could take it off and expose the muscular torso he knew you loved. 

“Does it piss you off that someone has fucked me before?” You questioned with a mocking tone. 

“Shut up.” He spat and pushed his body forward aggressively, he made sure to grab you around the waist to keep you from falling backwards onto the center console. Your arms sought support on the headrests of the front seats. 

It was obvious that one of his favorite parts of your body were your tits, because his mouth went back to making circular movements with his tongue on your nipple. The hand that was on your waist moved down to the middle of your legs, you moaned with anticipation as he began to brush his thumb over your underwear.  

“Is that a yes?” Your tone of voice showed that you were beginning to despair at the lack of answers from him, but you had to be patient, there were things he needed to know before he would respond to your words. 

“When was the last time you fucked him?” He asked suddenly, pulling your breast out of his mouth only to appreciate the moment when his hand pushed aside your panties and his fingers began to play with the fluids in your slit. 

You pushed your hips forward urging him to insert his fingers, he wanted to keep teasing you a little, but you looked so pretty at this moment that it was almost impossible for him to deny you what you wanted, so he inserted two fingers slowly. 

“Fuck— Does it matter?” 

“Tell me.” 

“Why should I? You haven’t wanted to tell me that—” A spank on the exposed skin of your butt cut off your words, no doubt you were surprised, but Suguru knew how to recognize when you liked something, and clearly his sudden rough treatment did. 

“Fuckin’ tell me.” He curved his fingers making sure to touch that sweet spot inside you, “C’mon I’m listening.”

You sighed as your grip on the headrests intensified, digging your nails into the material as you felt his blessed fingers pleasure you with perfection. 

“I think—fuck—three months ago.” 

Suddenly, his movements stopped. Suguru believed that even his breathing and heart did when he heard you. 

“What?”

It didn’t bother him that you had sex with other men before him, he knew perfectly well that you were a single woman and could do whatever you wanted with your body. But he couldn’t deny it, the thought of Naoya’s dirty hands on your precious body made his chest ache because he wasn’t just another man, he was your ex, someone you had an emotional connection with in the past and it got under his skin because he wanted that.

He felt cheated, betrayed, angry. It was wrong, you didn’t owe him anything, it was part of your agreement, and he felt like a hypocrite because at least in the first few months he had started sleeping with you, he had also been with other girls. But he didn’t know whether to be ashamed or proud that when his feelings for you began to evolve— suddenly the desire to be with someone other than you disappeared. So yes, for the last four months he’s only had sex with you, and for some naive reason, he expected you to do the same. 

“We were drunk” You quickly clarified, but that didn’t make him feel better, quite the contrary. “I don’t want it to happen again.” 

“I see.” He muttered after withdrawing his fingers without looking at your face, not wanting you to see through him and realize how hurt he felt. 

But apparently, you did.

“Suguru, I’m sorry.” The fact that you said sorry caught him off guard; as he stated earlier, you didn’t owe him anything, but somehow it filled him with hope— was there any small chance that you felt something more for him?

The need to show you everything he felt, to prove to you that he was the man you deserved multiplied. 

He grabbed you by the jaw with one hand to pull you close to him and bring your lips to his in a passionate kiss once again. His tongue slipped into your mouth, still tasting the flavor of the drink he offered you earlier and your hands went to his shoulders where you dug your nails when he bit your lower lip. 

“You can do whatever you want, there’s no need to say sorry.” He mumbled still with his lips on yours. “But I think I’ll need to fuck you enough to erase all traces of him, then.”

“You better.”

Geto’s hands worked quickly at unbuttoning his pants to pull them down along with his boxers, just enough to free his throbbing cock and wrap his fingers around it to stroke it up and down. He muttered a profanity at the feeling of relief he gave himself while you lifted your hips and pushed your underwear aside, waiting for him. 

“Spit on it— yes, fuck.” He began to lubricate his long shaft after you dropped your saliva on the tip, only to seconds later line it up against your wet entrance. “Sit, baby.” 

You heeded his command and began to slowly lower your hips; you closed your eyes as you felt his cock enter between your tight walls. His eyes were fixed on the spot where your body and his became one, it was always a delight for him to witness how your little pussy managed to swallow him completely. 

He threw his head back against the backrest, enjoying the moment when your buttocks met his thighs. You felt so warm and tight, there was no pussy like yours and that was confirmed every time he was deep inside you. 

Geto let out a guttural sound as you started to move your hips, sucking him every time you went down as deliciously as ever. God, he had fucked you too many times and in different positions, but he could never get enough of you— you certainly had him in the palm of your hand. 

The slight bouncing of your breasts invited him to take one into his mouth, savoring the taste of your skin with pleasure as he brought his hands to your hips to guide your sensual movements to his liking. 

The windows began to fog up as the moans of the two of you became louder and louder. For a moment Geto forgot that you were in his car, parked a few meters from the house where the party was, that anyone could pass by and realize what you were doing in there because it was too obvious thanks to the fogged windows and the movement of the vehicle, but that didn’t matter to him in the least, especially when he had a goddess like you riding him. 

He ran his tongue from your chest to your collarbones before resting his cheek on your shoulder as he felt his climax near. 

“You’re perfect.” He murmured in the middle of his gasps. “So damn perfect that you drive me crazy.” One of his hands went to the middle of your legs to circle your clit and rush an orgasm out of you, a loud grunt came from his throat when your walls squeezed him hard from the stimulation.

“Do I?”

“You fucking do. I just can’t imagine you with anyone else, I want you all to myself.” He knew he was saying too much in the heat of the moment, that there was a possibility that you would end this and that meant he wouldn’t have you in his life at all; but the words came from his heart and his mouth was unable to stop them. 

“You said I can do whatever I wanted— fuck.” Your hands tightened on his shoulders the closer you got to your peak. 

“I know what I said but—god—that doesn’t mean I like the idea.” He admitted, finally raising his head to meet your eyes and see the smile that appeared on your face. You started to move your hips faster, with the purpose of making him explode as soon as possible.

The words were left aside when you closed your eyes as Suguru pressed his fingers harder, making your legs tremble and your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders the moment you reached your climax. His own orgasm didn’t take long, he stifled his moans by joining your lips in another kiss as he spilled his warm cum inside you. 

You were both sweaty and a panting mess, the heat in the car was immense and Suguru had the urge to reach over to start the vehicle to turn on the AC or at least roll down the windows; but he gave up the idea when you leaned over him. He could feel your heartbeat because your chest was against his, smell the scent of your shampoo from your head resting on his shoulder and the softness of your fingers as your hands caressed his ribs. It was such an intimate moment that he wouldn’t dare to interrupt, so he kissed the top of your head and wrapped his muscular arms around you to feel you closer to him. 

He doesn’t know how long you were like this, enjoying each other’s vital sounds, it could be a few minutes or more than an hour, but it’s not like he cares either. Having the woman he loved in his arms always made him lose track of time. 

The sudden sound of your voice calling his name brought him out of his thoughts, for a moment he thought you had fallen asleep, “Yes, angel?” 

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes again, your noses almost brushed mingling their breaths. 

“Are you gonna tell me why now?” You asked in a whisper, picking up on the previous conversation. You tucked behind his ear one of the strands of black hair that had slipped into his face, the act was so affectionate that it almost made Suguru shed a tear. 

Geto gulped. Well, it was now or never.

“I-I love you.” 

God, he actually did it. He confessed. His heart stopped for a moment waiting for your answer, although it only took a few seconds, it felt like an eternity for him. 

“Finally.” Wait, what? “I was beginning to think you’d never say it.”

You didn’t give him time to assimilate your words when you kissed him, cupping his face between the palms of your hands to hold him closer to you. 

“Love you too.” You added, leaving a peck on his lips. His heart began to race as he found it hard to believe that this was really happening, wasn’t he dreaming? Were you really reciprocating his feelings?  

“You serious?” Stupid Suguru, is that really what left his mouth? 

You let out a chuckle before nodding and pressing your forehead to his. “Did you want me to say the opposite?” 

“No, I just— god, I’m speechless.” A smile took over his face, showing all the happiness he felt.

“So…” You sang, caressing his cheek with your knuckles “Aren’t you gonna ask me something, jealous boy?

He snorted holding back a laugh, somewhat embarrassed, but still took your hands in his before saying, “Angel, will you please be my girlfriend?”

Suguru couldn’t help the pride he felt in his chest as you two walked back into the party with clasped hands, he ignored the mocking look on his white-haired friend’s face as he noticed your obvious disheveled appearances and mouthed that he owed him one. And of course, he couldn’t help but smile arrogantly when he met Naoya’s stare at the two of you; maybe someone else would be the one to feel jealous from now on— and Geto would have nothing to worry about because now he’s yours and you’re his.