#but i try to write long posts and i get hung up on details to the point that it becomes about something else entirely

[inkspiredwriting]

A Life Worth Fighting For

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: It's time we all got our five back. Five needs y/n, in every timeline. If I'm honest, I don't want to read anything more about this Five/Lila relationship. For me that never happened. From now on I'll be posting the stories that I've already finished writing

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6

The air shimmered with energy as Five and Lila landed in yet another timeline, they found themselves in a cozy, well-kept house that radiated warmth and comfort. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of flowers from somewhere nearby.

Lila glanced around, her brow furrowed with suspicion. “This doesn’t look like any of the timelines we’ve been to,” she muttered, her hand instinctively moving toward the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh. “Too quiet, too… perfect.”

Five didn’t respond immediately. He was scanning the room, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The polished wooden floors, the cushy furniture, the family photos lining the walls—it was all so domestic, so ordinary. It felt like the calm before a storm, and after seven years of battling against the odds in a timeline where everything was wrong, he couldn’t trust it.

“We need to be careful,” Five said finally, his voice low. “This place looks safe, but it’s too familiar. We could be in one of those timelines where something’s just a bit off.”

“Like that time where your younger self shot at us??” Lila quipped, her lips curving into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Exactly,” Five replied, the memory flashing through his mind. “Let’s find out where we are and who’s running the show here.”

Just as he was about to suggest searching the house, the door to the living room swung open. Both Five and Lila instinctively tensed, ready for whatever was about to step through.

But what they saw caught them completely off guard.

Another Five stood in the doorway, looking just as surprised as they were. This version of Five was dressed casually, in a button-down shirt and jeans, a far cry from the suits that the time-traveling Five was used to. He looked… settled.

“What the—” the other Five started, his eyes narrowing as he processed the scene before him. “What are you doing in my house?”

Five stepped forward, his gaze locked onto his counterpart. “We’re from a different timeline” he said, his voice steady.

The other Five’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed again with suspicion. “A different timeline? What do you want?”

Before Five could respond, Lila spoke up, her tone laced with annoyance. “Listen, mate, we don’t want to be here any more than you want us to be. We’re just trying to get back to our own timeline, but we’ve been stuck in the wrong one for seven years. Seven years!”

The other Five’s expression softened slightly, though the wariness didn’t leave his eyes. “Seven years? What happened?”

Five took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as memories of those long, grueling years came rushing back. “We got trapped,” he explained, his voice quieter now. “No way out. We were stuck there for what felt like a lifetime. And… well, we ended up together.”

For a moment, there was silence. The other Five’s eyes flicked between his counterpart and Lila, his expression growing darker with each passing second. “You ended up together?” he repeated, disbelief coloring his tone. “You and her?”

Five nodded, bracing himself for the reaction he knew was coming.

The other Five’s jaw tightened, and without warning, he stepped forward and smacked his counterpart on the back of the head. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice a mix of anger and incredulity. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

Lila’s eyes flashed with anger, but Five raised a hand to stop her from retaliating. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, though even as he spoke the words, he knew how weak they sounded.

“There’s always a choice!” the other Five shot back, his anger unabated. “You’re telling me that in seven years, you never once thought about the consequences? About Diego? He’s her husband in our timeline, for Christ’s sake! They have three kids together!”

Five flinched at the mention of Diego, a pang of guilt stabbing through him. “I don't have a girlfriend or wife,” he said defensively, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I have no one.”

At this, the other Five’s anger seemed to shift, turning into something more like pity. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because you gave up,” he said quietly. “You gave up on yourself, and you gave up on your family.”

For a long moment, Five couldn’t find the words to respond. The weight of what his counterpart was saying pressed down on him like a lead blanket. Had he really given up? Had he allowed himself to lose sight of everything that mattered because he was too tired, too lost, to keep fighting?

The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the unspoken regrets and what-ifs of a life that could have been.

“Look,” the other Five said, his voice softer now, “I know how easy it is to get lost in this mess, to lose sight of who you are and what you want. But you can’t just throw everything away because things get hard. You have to fight for what matters.”

Five looked down, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to believe that it wasn’t too late, that he could still find the life he’d always wanted, the love he’d convinced himself was out of reach. But the last seven years had left him scarred, beaten down by a world that had taken so much from him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter coming from outside. He looked up and saw that the other Five was gazing out the large bay window, a small smile on his lips.

Five followed his gaze and felt his heart clench at the sight that greeted him.

In the garden, a beautiful pregnant woman was playing with a little girl, who looked to be around four years old. The woman’s laughter was like music, her face glowing with happiness as she twirled the giggling child around in her arms. The little girl had a mop of dark hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief—eyes that Five recognized all too well.

“That’s Y/n,” the other Five said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “And that’s our daughter, Maddie.”

Five stared at him, his mind reeling. “I want what you have,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I want… her.”

The other Five nodded, his expression firm but not unkind. “Then fight for it,” he said. “Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on her.”

Five’s throat tightened as he watched them, his heart aching with a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. This was it. This was what he had wanted, what he had fought so hard to protect but had never truly believed he could have. A family. A home. A life filled with love.

He could have had this. He could have had her.

“I can’t believe…” Five started, but his voice broke, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe I gave this up.”

“You didn’t,” the other Five said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet. You still have a chance to find her. You still have a chance to make this life your own.”

Five closed his eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to drown him. He didn’t deserve this—this kindness, this hope. But he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to find his y/n, to have his own Maddie, to fight for a life worth living.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the other Five watching him, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Go,” the other Five said gently. “Find her. Fight for her.”

Five nodded, and then turned to Lila, who had been watching the exchange in silence. She looked at him with a mixture of sadness and understanding, knowing that whatever they had shared was over.

“We should go,” Five said softly, his eyes meeting Lila’s. her expression unreadable, and with a final nod to the other five, he teleported them both away, leaving the other Five standing alone in the quiet house.

A few moments later, the front door opened, and Y/n and Maddie walked in, their faces flushed with happiness from their time in the garden. Y/n smiled warmly at Five, the love in her eyes undeniable as she approached him.

“Everything okay?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice as she noticed the tension in his posture.

Five looked at her, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he kissed her gently on the lips.

“Everything’s perfect,” he murmured against her lips, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m just… so happy that I have you. You’re my one true love, y/n. No one else. Just you.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes shining with love as she leaned into his embrace. “I love you too,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

Five held her close, the weight of everything that had just happened slowly fading away as he focused on the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her heartbeat, the soft rise and fall of her breath. This was his life, his family, his everything.

And he wouldn't give that up for anything in the world...timeline or not.

[ddejavvu]

Hii hope you’re doing well, I was wondering if I could request a criminal minds blurb where reader is Penelope’s best friend and they’ve met for lunch in a cafe near Quantico, and reader is telling Penny about this new guy she hooked up with a few nights ago, reader tells Penny how big the guy was and then a few minutes later Spencer walks in and reader is like “P omg that’s the guy!!” And gestures towards Spencer who’s the only person ordering at the counter? I just feel like Penny would be equal parts both shocked and horrified that her sweet innocent boy Spence has a sex life but also that he’s HUNG?? I literally love you and all your Spencer works and I feel like you’d write this perfectly 🫶🫶

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Penelope is absolutely enraptured by the play-by-play you're murmuring to her over the low din of the cafe's patronage. The whirring and grinding of the machines behind the counter only further aid in your attempt to keep your conversation private, and you can smell sweet strawberries on the bubbly blonde when you lean in to give her details.

"And he reached for his fly- ooh, Penny, the way his arms looked," You gush, remembering the thick veins that had corded his bone while he'd wrestled with his belt, "He whipped his belt out of the way, and- stop!" You urge her when she wriggles her brows at you, "He took his pants off, Penny, and I swear to god I've seen thighs thinner than that dick."

Her resulting squeal is much less hushed than you'd managed to keep the rest of your conversation, and you swat at the arm that's not holding her coffee. She gets the message but resorts to stamping her feet beneath the table instead, a repeated clicking that blends in much better with the mechanical whirring of the baristas' handiwork.

"He was so thick, and Jesus- Penny, he was long, too, just big all around," You recall, insides throbbing with a phantom ache at the memory of what you'd taken last night, "I swear he had me seeing stars," You sigh, glancing down at the pale pink ring of lip gloss around the mouth of your cup, "I'd beg him to come over again tonight, but I think I need a week to recover."

"A week," She breathes dreamily, "I could barely feel the last guy I had."

"Oh, I could feel him," You laugh, "It's like I still can, I'm pretty sure he bruised- oh fuck!"

"What?" Penelope's brow dips instantly, concern etched into her pretty features, "What's wrong?"

"It's him," You grip her hand, nails digging into her skin, "It's the guy from last night!"

"Big dick dude?" She asks, and your frantic nod confirms her theory.

She tries to be subtle, bless her, when she turns to see him, but when the only person that she sees standing in line for a drink is her coworker, her brain chugs along slower than normal.

Where's big dick dude?

Oh, Spencer's here!

I don't see big dick dude.

Spencer is-

You're not sure even the most talented actor could ever recreate the sheer horror swimming in her gaze when she turns to face you again. Her eyes are blown wide and her mouth, lined in a pretty fuchsia paste, is downturned in a grimace.

"Please tell me you're not talking about the skinny mess in the sweater vest."

"That's exactly who I'm talking about!" You gush, trying to avoid his gaze lest he thinks you're trying to follow him around, "Penny, isn't he dreamy?"

"That's- oh my god," She recalls your descriptions, thicker than thighs, longer than you've ever seen, "I have to resign."

[mydarlingem]

ever since we met

guys we are SO BACK i bring gifts <3 didnt realize how much i would miss writing on here. currently working on rewriting old work and new stuff so i can get back to posting on a weekly basis. hope you have been well and enjoy!!

cw. sakusa kiyoomi eats pussy, what more could you need

wc. 1800

you met sakusa kiyoomi two years ago when he took over his father’s business. every monday and saturday at 4 pm, he knocked on the back door of your flower shop. big boxes filled with one the best flowers for you. it was also two years ago when you first opened the door for him that you realized you loved him. he was so sweet and kind, always taking time to ask about you and following up on events in your life. you figured he did this with everyone on his route. little did you know that your sweet kiyoomi did not ask questions about any of his other deliveries.

he was determined to get to know you, however long it took him. he knew the movies you saw, the terrible dates you went on, your favorite flowers and your least favorite customers. no detail was too small for him, because he did care about it all. he liked your passion for your work and your love for the people around you. ever since he knocked on that door monday at 4 pm two years ago he has loved you. he knows it crazy, and he can't rationalize it for the life of him but he knows it's the truth. he knows you probably don't reciprocate but god he can't help it.

“hey kiyoomi what did you bring for me today?” you say with a smiled as you prop open the door for him. the way you say his name makes him weak in the knees, he loves how comfortable you are around him. “besides my beautiful face, everything you had on your list and an extra case of snapdragons because i know you always run out by thursday.” he smiles at you and sets down the boxes. “you really are the best thank you” you say as you walk back over to the counter to continue cleaning roses. “how are you today my favorite florist?” he asks as he sets down the last three boxes in their designated spot. “busy and understaffed” you sigh. “glad to know things always stay the same around here” he smiles and hands you a clipboard for a signature.

he likes the way you sign your name, he can't explain it but it suits you. “you know you are the last delivery of the day, so is there anything i can do to help out?” he takes the clipboard back from you as you hold back from speaking for a moment. “i have so much to do are you sure?” you ask hoping it's not just pity. “i'm here for whatever you need” he says as he takes his hoodie off and sets his things down. you never realized how many tattoos he has, or how big his biceps were. maybe him staying was good for morale. “would mind cleaning some mums for me?” he nods and steps to the counter to start.

its quiet for a little, the silence isn't awkward though. you look over at him, he's so efficient. his hands are so perfect, how is he so perfect? his voice snaps you out of your trance. “how was that date you had last week?” he asks, not looking up from the flowers in his hands. “lets just say i won’t be seeing him again” you exhale softly, mentally pleading that the very attractive man across from you will not ask you to embarrass yourself further. kiyoomi laughs softly before speaking again, “i can't believe we have never hung out outside of work” he says as he continues to clean flowers. his heart was racing at this point, you made him so nervous he was hoping you couldn’t tell.

“i know it's so crazy! we have to do something soon” you say with a smile. “well what are you doing this weekend? there’s a new bar i want to check out and i’d love to take you.” “if i didn't know any better i would think you were asking me out on a date kiyoomi” you smile before looking up at him and making eye contact with him. “and what if i am?” he says still smiling, your cheeks were so hot, was he messing with you? “well i'd think you were joking” you say trying to control the tone of your voice. he sets his flowers down as he makes his way to the other side of the table where you stand with shaky hands.

“oh im dead serious pretty girl” he runs his hand along your jaw tilting your chin towards his face. he's smiling at you like you hung and the moon and stars just for him. hes so close all you can smell is his cologne, god did he always smell this good? you aren’t sure who leans in first but your lips touch and suddenly everything feels so right. hes holding your face in his hand but slowly becoming so desperate as he kisses you. the cold metal of his lip piercings feels so good against your lips. you can't seem to get enough of him and you wrap your arms around his neck. he taps your thighs as you wrap your legs around him, he gently sets you on the counter. he breaks away from the kiss breathless and rests his head against your shoulder “you're so perfect” he all but whimpers against the skin of your neck.

“i've wanted to kiss you for so long” you say as he kisses your neck, and you run your hands through his soft hair. he moans softly at the contact and lifts his head up to kiss you again. standing in between your thighs he wraps his hands around your waist, smiling into the kiss. he can't believe this moment is real, he can't believe he finally worked up the courage to to act on his feelings. the all too familiar jingle of the front door opening snaps the both of you out of your bliss. “fuck” you say as you hop off the counter, “hi ill be right there." you look back to kiyoomi “will you please stay i promise i'll be so quick”. he smiles “dont worry im not going anywhere sweetheart.” you smile and kiss him on the cheek before running off to the front.

this might be the happiest he’s ever been. you’re so soft and sweet and oh my god he loves how gentle you are with him. he loves the effect he has on you, in fact he may just never move from this spot in the hope that you kiss him like that again. “thank you have a great day” you chirp as your voice breaks him out of his trance. you appear into the doorway to the back of the door with a smile. “hi” you say as you make your way back over to him, “hi sweet girl” he wraps his arms around you again. “i close in about 30 minutes, will you come home with me?” you ask shocked by your own boldness. the way you are looking at him he thinks he might die. “god i'll be wherever you want me.” the effect you had on him was unreal. “let me drop off my truck and i'll be back in fifteen”, “be quick” you say as you twirl his hair with your fingers. have you always been this hot?

kiyoomi was convinced was losing his mind. he has never moved faster in his life. he doesn't even remember driving his motorcycle back to your shop. all he knew is that he was walking back into your shop with more determination than he's ever felt before. “hi handsome” you say as he drapes his body against yours. “almost done?” he asks as he kisses your cheek. “i have about fifteen minutes before i can go but i'm all done.” you turn to kiss him as he plays with the waistband of your jeans. the kiss is messy and hot, he felt weak in the knees. “i can think of a few things to pass the time” he says as he breaks away from the kiss.

you smile looking up at him, his face was flushed and you could help but be proud of the effect you had on him. “please let me eat you out” your jaw drops at his words. “here?” you ask and he grins “here” he says as he drops to his knees in front of you. you could finish from just looking at this beautiful large man on his knees in front of you. “god please” he's quick to unzip your pants and slide them down your legs. he places small kisses along your thighs as he moves to put your legs on his shoulders. he kisses you through your underwear and you whimper softly. sliding your underwear to the side he starts softly using his tongue, and puts a finger inside you as he continues.

you grip his hair and squeeze your thighs against his head as he quickened his pace. “harder” he whimpers into you and you squeeze harder. god his tongue piercing is incredible. you are getting close to finishing, and he can tell. he moans into you like this is pleasuring him just as much as it is you. “more kiyo” you moan out. he moves faster as he inserts another finger. the nickname could have made him cum in his pants. you are quickly approaching your high as you stutter out an “im close” he's moving faster than before, focused on you and only you. he's eating you out like a man starved, the cold metal of his piercing mixed with the warmth of his fingers had you seeing stars.

you moan his name as you finish and he cleans you up with his tongue. your legs were shaking as he stands up and licks the rest of you off of his slender fingers. “you're so incredible” you say as you wrap your arms around him and kiss him, the taste of you still on his tongue. “i've been dying to do that for two years” he says as he pulls away from you. “i love you kiyoomi” you say looking him in the eyes, "i've been dying to tell you that for two years" mustering the courage to confess everything to him. “god i love you” he says cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you again. “i love you i love you i love you” he says softly in between kisses. "ill spend forever making you feel it."

[her-favorite]

THE HOLES IN HIS SNEAKERS; M. STURNIOLO

MATT STURNIOLO X F!READER

warnings: sort of fluff? honestly, i have no idea what this would be categorized as.. read to find out!! 😽 - talks of (sex)ual acts but not blatant smut - that’s it, i think

wc: 1,252 - just something small bc i felt like writing something small

a/n: i’ve wanted to write something for matt based on an ethel song for a bit (totally don’t have a pt. 1 to a horror series for him based on another one of her songs in my drafts) so i decided on dust bowl! also i’m seeing her live on the 27th and i’m so fucking excited 🤭 (technically tomorrow since it’s past 1 am when i’m posting this)

a/n 2: as someone who lovesss dialogue, there really isn’t much in this (sadly), so if you’re like me and you like reading about people talking, this probably won’t be very interesting lmao but you can give it a try! 🫶🏻

SYNOPSIS: He was the love of your life, someone that only ever cherished you. You both were made for each other.. and only each other.

-

a/n 3: listening to the song will help!! promise (had to do an unofficial vers. bc it’s a demo!)

-

He was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen.

From his piercing blue eyes, to his messy, soft brown hair, to his perfectly sculpted nose, to his pretty pink lips. It was as if someone had took centuries to hand sculpt his features carefully.

His clothes were old and worn, but it only showed growth. His white sneakers were stained with dirt and grass, with holes seeping through the fabric, but he always told you it was because he wanted them to be worn until they couldn’t be used anymore. His mind always amazed you, though he was as humble as ever. Not once did he speak of himself as someone superior to others, he wanted to be on the same level as outsiders. He wanted that normalcy that comes with growing up.

It was easy to fall in love with Matt.

He looked at you as if you had hung the moon and hand placed the stars. His ocean eyes tinted with admiration anytime they had caught yours. He looked to you as his lover; not a piece of meat that he could bite into and swallow whole so there was nothing left. He didn’t love you for your body, your beautiful sculpture was just a bonus. He loves you for you.

His big hands took time on you. They felt and molded into your curves and marks, memorizing every small and big detail on your skin. From your eyebrows, down to your ankles, he lets his calloused palms gently glide over your soft skin. Whispered praises always left his sweet lips, sinking you deeper into euphoria. He always knew the right words to say, as if he only knew those words in those moments.

He never rushed anything. The way his lips or his fingers or his eyes traveled your body, he worshipped you as if he was only put on earth to do so. He knew you deserved it, you were the only thing that deserved only good in your life. And he’d do anything to do that for you.

It was written in both of your minds that you’d end up together. It was the only way.

Back then, when everyone was naïve and dumb, you and him had made a pact, back in middle school. Had anything happen to you, Matt would join. When you both were younger, it was all just words. But now, as you grow older together, live together, and experience more together, the words became more real; they became set in stone. The both of you knew that if you were to pass, Matt wouldn’t waste a second to be with you; and vice versa.

Some people thought you guys were too close. They thought it was odd to spend so much time with your lover, muttering to others that they’d get sick of their’s had they be around them for too long. But you couldn’t get sick of Matt. And neither could he.

Matt had brought a light into your life, even at such a young age. He was a shy, suppressed boy when you had met him. His father drove a hard bargain into making his son’s life difficult and puzzling, but that never stopped Matt. There were times, when you both were in Highschool, where he’d run away at night and climb the tree by your window because he needed to be near you. On certain nights like those, where his father’s harsh words cut deep wounds, Matt would let you hold him as you promised him a future of leaving this old, shitty town and traveling together, free of everyone and everything.

When you both would have nights like that, it was easy to think of the future. Sometimes, if he was drowsy, he’d confess about how he wanted to be a writer. He wanted to construct his own stories, where he can escape into the words and become the character that he wrote about, delving deep into the flimsy, white paper. He’d whisper, on the edge of sleep, about how he’d write about you. About how he pictured your future together and the way he quietly slurs his words as sleep slowly invades his body, sending him into a deep slumber as all of his body weight lays on you.

You knew he loved you. It was obvious.

Though, the thought of how many other pretty girls have tried to entice him into being theirs never failed to make you spiral. He was your pretty boy, and everyone could see how beautiful he is. Of course other people wanted to be chosen by him.

“I love you.”

His words didn’t shock you the first time he had told you; like you had said, it was obvious. They slipped from his lips when you both had been at your regular Friday drive-in movie. Your eyes were captivated by the old, black and white movie with bad acting that you didn’t notice the way his eyes were captivated by you.

His gaze never wavered as they ventured over your side, perfectly unique.. perfectly you. He tried to fight it, tried to not distract you from the screen that caught every bit of your attention, but he already knew he was going to lose the game.

Not once had Matt looked at any other women with any interest ever since that day in first grade. At such a young, and innocent age, he knew he was made for you. All he’s ever wanted was you. He never gave another girl the light of day, or porn, or anything else. Because he looked at you as someone who deserves all of his attention; someone so effortlessly beautiful, mind and body, that he found that he physically couldn’t ignore you, even if he so desperately tried. You were just so damn captivating.. even after all these years.

So many times, on your scheduled date nights, you’ve both ended up with your lips entwined as your labored breathing shares with his, his pretty blue eyes and pretty pink swollen lips captured only by you, even with pornographic scenes playing on the big screen. He didn’t need them, or want them, he wanted you. His eyes were always on you, no matter what you were doing.

With your whispered promises of the future, it was hard to not feel guilty.

Your hands shook as your eyes rimmed red, sobs being ripped and pulled from you as you begged and pleaded with anything to bring him back. This wasn’t set in stone, this wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to leave you here without him; he was supposed to stay with you, to leave this godforsaken town and for him to become a writer and to have children and to grow old together, until you rot beside him. But now that’s not an option.

You had promised him a future.. now he doesn’t get one. Because, as you rip at the grass surrounding his headstone, you beseech and cry out as you beg for someone to take you, not him. He didn’t deserve it, he never did anything wrong. Your words were now lies as they replay and replay and replay in your mind, taunting and mocking you as you sob for your lover back.

Though, one thing that was for certain, was your pact. And you were sure to join him as you slowly lose consciousness, your cold body laying beside Matt’s grave.

With the holes in his sneakers.

And his eyes all over me.

[python333]

I love your writings sm. And I love the way you write platonic stuff with task force 141 😋

You can ignore this if ya want but I just can't get over reader angst. Honestly atp I starve for angst. Could you feed us another angst fic? Like platonic 141 with a reader where she maybe got pretty badly injured while being on a mission? :3

AND. don't forget to stay hydrated and eat well!! Take any breaks you need 😌.

(sorry if this doesn't make sense English is not my native language 🥲)

below zero — python333

— — — —

synopsis u get thrown into a freezer after refusing to give up intel to enemy soldiers, and u get thrown into a freezer, and ghost comes and saves u :3

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters ghost.

word count 5.2k

warnings hypothermia, disorientation, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hi anon thank u so much for all the compliments!!! before i say anything else, i wanna point out that i 1) only really wrote ghost into this and 2) literally read the request completely wrong and i think im actually just illiterate because how did i mess up this bad. ALSO hi its been a month since i posted on here i swear i'm still alive i'm just super busy with school!! updates are going to be extremely slow, so i apologize in advance. still, i hope u enjoy it anyways tho!! its all hurt/comfort + angst/fluff + protective/soft ghost :3

When you were thrown into the freezer, the first thing you noticed were the bodies. 

There’s ten that you can immediately see, and twelve once you look a little bit closer. All of them are suspended from the ceiling, each hanging from their ankle—with said ankle being held up by a meat hook. 

When the door had been closed shut with a loud, booming thump you hadn’t felt any immediate fear. But now, as you’re sitting in the corner of the freezer you’d been trapped in—the corner farthest away from any bodies—that fear is starting to set in.

Before this, only a few minutes ago, you were being interrogated. Your captors were asking for information on the details of any upcoming missions, objectives, target locations, anything that you had about the 141 that you could share with them, they wanted. 

Of course, you didn’t say anything. You remained silent throughout the entire thing, not talking once, even when at the end of the whole thing your interrogator slammed his hand down onto the table you were sat down in front of and yelled at you to say anything. 

When he and his team figured out that you wouldn’t give them any information, you remember he muttered something unintelligible under his breath and swiftly walked over to your end of the table. He had uncuffed your ankles from the legs of the chair you were sitting down on and uncuffed your wrists from the table, and before you could fight back, he grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and dragged you behind him. 

Then, he led you to the freezer you were trapped in now, and threw you in roughly before shutting the door behind you. You had hit and scratched at the door for a good minute after being thrown in, and after you figured that it was a waste of time trying to do so, you sighed and retired to the corner.

Now, as you’re huddled in the corner, you kind of regret not giving them the intel they needed. 

The freezer wasn’t too bad at first—you thought you’d last pretty long in there, and mentally called all the dead bodies hung from meat hooks in there pussies and simply walked around for a bit. The walking helped warm you up a bit, but soon it got tiring, and you retired to the corner farthest away from any dead bodies. 

You think the freezer is below zero degrees—no, has to be below zero, because now, just about five minutes after being thrown in, violent shivers have started to wrack your body and you swear you can’t feel your lips anymore. You haven’t been able to feel any sort of warmth in the past four minutes, all of it disappearing within the first. 

And God, the smell. The smell of frozen, rotting flesh really isn’t something you ever want to smell again. Thankfully, there’s no live flies in the freezer—all of them had died of the severe cold, creating small black circles under each hanging body where they died. 

You currently have your knees up to your chest with your hands trapped in between your thighs to try and keep them warm at least, with your forehead resting on the top of one of your knees. It’s working, kind of. The palms and backs of your hands feel just warm enough to not be considered cold, but the tips of your fingers are so cold they’re beginning to burn. 

You pull them back a bit to trap your fingertips in between your thighs, exposing the area where your wrist and hand meet to the cold, sighing as your fingertips warm up just a bit. Your thighs, thankfully, still have some heat trapped in between them, and you think your stomach is still somewhat warm. 

Around ten minutes later, you feel the heat trapped in your thighs start to dissipate. Fucking fantastic. You sigh and let your head tilt back, the back of it hitting the wall behind you, making you wince at the cold metal directly on your head. The cold seems to crawl through your hair and make it to your scalp, small pinpricks of the cold spreading throughout your scalp and the back of your neck. 

You’re reminded of just how cold it is then, of how this is quite literally a freezer, and of how said freezer has already claimed twelve lives. Or, at least, has housed twelve dead bodies and several unfortunate flies.

Just then, the fear finally starts to set in. 

At first, you weren’t all too worried about being saved—you figured you’d be found soon enough, since your team has a general idea of where you are. But the more you think about it, the more your brain emphasizes the general part of general idea. You start to think about how they don’t know any specifics. 

Sure, they know that you were captured, and that you were being held in some small part of Italy, and the people who captured you—but what did they know beyond that? Did they know your exact location? How long would it take them to figure it out? And how long would it take them to get here? 

Would you even be alive by the time they got here, if they ever did?

You notice your teeth starting to make an annoying chattering noise and you bite down to stop them. The violent shivers that wrack your body don’t help, the intense trembling only succeeding in making you more anxious. You start to become hyper aware of the cold that crawls onto your back from the freezing metal you’re leaning back on, and you quickly push yourself just a foot away from it so that it no longer bothers you. 

Your feet are starting to feel numb, you don’t think you’d be able to stand on them anymore if you tried, for you fear you’d just stumble and fall down. You look around the small freezer. There’s nothing that could help you get out—there’s only the bodies suspended from the ceiling and the dead flies that surround them. 

You’re glad none of the bodies are facing you—you don’t know what you would do if you had to sit in the corner with a bunch of dead bodies staring at you with their vacant, frozen-over eyes. Thinking about the eyes makes your own water, and you blink away the small tears that’ve gathered on your waterline. 

You can’t feel them, but you see the tears that were once in your eyes now clumping together on your eyelashes, making your brows furrow. With them starting to cling to your eyelashes comes blurriness for the top half of whatever you can see. You sigh, a white puff of condensation hanging in the air as evidence of your exhale, and move your hand out from in between your thighs to wipe away the tears from your lashes haphazardly. 

You don’t bother to put your hand back in between your thighs, instead just resting it on top of your knee. Despite it only having been around fifteen minutes since you were thrown into the freezer, you’re starting to feel more fatigued and your breath slows down significantly, as does your heartbeat. 

Another ten minutes of doing nothing but staring at the wall opposite of your own pass by, and disorientation is starting to set in. You feel oddly forgetful—like at times, you forget how you even got into the freezer, and have to wrack your brain to remember that you literally got thrown into it and are now trapped in here until someone rescues you. Assuming they do. Who was it that would even rescue you? 

You think long and hard for a few seconds, and can scrounge up nothing from your confused mind. You let out a frustrated huff and let your head tilt and fall forward so that your forehead is resting atop your knee, another shiver ripping through your frame. It almost feels like it’s getting colder in the fridge. 

Suddenly, you hear a loud banging noise—albeit, it sounded more muffled to your ears, but you could tell it was loud—and guns being fired. 

You can’t really tell when the gunfire dies down, but you can tell when the thumping of someone’s boots grows louder and closer to the door of the freezer. You try to stand up, not really knowing why since you’re in no condition to fight, having been in a freezer for about forty minutes, but you still attempt to. 

You find that standing is extremely difficult after practically being frozen alive for the past forty minutes, because as soon as you try to even push yourself off of the ground with your shaky hands, you discover that you aren’t even strong enough to push yourself up a single inch before having to stop. As well as that, you find that the ground is just as freezing as the walls and air of the freezer, because your hands now ached with frostbite. 

The action causes an unexpected wave of exhaustion to roll over you, and you pant to try and catch your breath, breathing white puffs of condensation out into the air. 

You hear a loud bang against the door, and jump at the sound, your head whipping towards the door. You hear another loud noise, and the confused fog that’s taken over your mind only grows thicker, your disorientation only growing stronger with it. The room feels like it’s spinning, and the feeling reminds you of a word, and you know what the word is, but fuck, why don’t you know it at the same time? Why can’t I remember anything? 

There’s another bang, and you hear muffled cursing before suddenly the door bursts open, a man wearing a skull mask stumbling in after it does so—he probably ran into it to open it, you think, watching the man get his balance back. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, and the moment they do, you finally remember something. 

That’s Ghost. 

Somewhere in your confusion-clouded mind, you’re happy that you’ve finally remembered something. But right now, you can’t really think about anything—your mind is blank, and you can barely even process what you’re seeing. 

You’re so caught up in thinking about the fact that you aren’t really thinking, you’re just focusing a little more on whatever’s going on in your mind and not actually retaining any of it, that you don’t even notice Ghost rushing towards you and kneeling down right next to you. 

He pauses for a moment, but after a second he makes the decision to put one hand behind your back and snake one under your legs, the warm physical touch making you wince. Not that you didn’t like the warmth—you just didn’t like the sudden temperature change beneath your knees and across your back.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Ghost grunts as he picks you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you up into a sort of bridal carry. He nearly drops you because of how cold your skin is—for a moment he thinks your back and legs are wet, then he realizes that no, they aren’t wet, you’re just really fucking cold. 

He takes a moment to make sure you’re secure in his arms before tilting his head to the side, all the way down to his shoulder, and muttering something into his earpiece. Despite being so close to him, his voice only sounds muffled to you—in all honesty, just about everything is starting to sound more muffled to you. You can only tell he’s done talking because he lifts his head back up and readjusts his arms around you, before walking out the busted-open door. 

The walking quickly turns into running, which then turns into sprinting, making your surroundings go blurry and makes your vertigo worse—it almost feels like you’re falling. You’re grateful you haven’t eaten anything in the past few hours, because you fear that if you had, you would’ve thrown it all up by now. All you can see are blurred colors—the hallways, you vaguely remember, because I’m in a building. How’d I even get here? Why am I here? You’re pulled out of your confused thoughts when you’re set down on the ground somewhere, and forced into a lying position with your limbs all outstretched. When you slowly blink up at what you thought was the ceiling, you’re both surprised and not surprised when you see the blue-black night sky. 

Not sure of what’s going on, you try to get up, but Ghost quickly pushes you back down, muttering something under his breath. He pauses for a moment, his blurred figure stopping any and all movements, before he suddenly picks you back up, making you wince at the way your head spins at the sudden movement. You hear a quiet, muffled—but clearer than before—’sorry’ from Ghost before he’s running again. 

It’s a much shorter distance this time, and instead of immediately setting you down, you hear something click and suddenly you hear another muffled voice. They sound concerned, you mentally note, Or maybe confused. Maybe both, actually. No yeah, definitely both. Well, now just concerned. Or maybe that’s confused. 

Caught up in your confused thoughts, you don’t realize that you’re being set down on a few comfy seats. You aren’t pulled away from your own thoughts until you feel two warm hands cupping either side of your jaw, and hear Ghost’s oddly distressed voice becoming more clear by the second. You now acknowledge the weird ringing in your ears that almost drown out the sound of Ghost, and struggle to figure out what he’s saying through the annoying noise. 

“—something,” You catch the end of Ghost’s sentence, and blink up at him slowly. 

“Huh?” You elegantly ask, coughing and wincing at your hoarse voice, not knowing how it got so hoarse—or why it hurt so much to talk. Your throat almost felt like it was burning, but it also felt oddly numb, a sensation you couldn’t quite put a name on. 

“Oh my god,” Ghost sighs, his forehead falling onto your chest momentarily as he takes a few deep breaths. He brings his head back up from your chest and says, “I almost thought you were dead when I got in there. Jesus, you look dead. I need to— I need to get something, a blanket or— why the fuck don’t we carry any heat packs or anything in here? Swear to God, I’m gonna—” You don’t pay too much attention to Ghost’s panicked ranting and shift your head to the side to try and look at where you are, and you discover that you’re in a car. Oh. Cool. You spot the door on the passenger seat’s side still open and swinging a bit, as if it’d been opened quickly just a few moments earlier for someone to quickly get out. 

Ghost suddenly backs up and gets out of the car, though staying within a foot of it, looking around for a moment before heading to the back of the car. Your head clears up the tiniest bit, just enough for you to be able to assume that he’s heading to the back of the car to get to the trunk for whatever reason, and you simply lie there on the seat cushions. 

A few seconds later, Ghost comes back with a somewhat-fluffy jacket, and carefully gets into the car—half kneeling down so that he doesn’t need to lean on the seats to get to you. He tosses the coat over your chest, and it does absolutely nothing at first, at least not until Ghost gets a bit closer and tucks the coat tighter around you, treating it like a blanket. Then, it starts to warm you up just the tiniest bit. Beyond that, it does absolutely nothing. But props to Ghost for at least trying. 

He quickly backs out of the car and once he’s out he closes the door behind him, and you want to get up for a moment, just to go see what he’s doing, but you don’t have to. He gets into the car again, this time in the driver’s seat, and he turns on the ignition. Once the car rumbles to life, he immediately turns up the heat and leans over to the passenger seat’s side in order to close the door, and with a grunt he manages to do so. 

The newfound heat makes you shiver, and it almost feels like you’re in a microwave defrosting. Distracted by the sudden temperature change, you don’t pay attention to what Ghost is saying into his earpiece as he glances out the front window of the car and back at you. You simply tug the jacket tighter around your torso and relish in the warmth. 

“—ay. So we’ll just leave then, and you’ll be fine?” You pick up from Ghost’s conversation, perking up at the mention of leaving, “Copy that, Captain. I’ll get them back to base.”

‘Captain’—Oh, he’s talking to Price—says something that makes Ghost sigh exasperatedly and take his index finger off of his earpiece, instead settling both of his hands on the steering wheel of the car and stealing one last glance at you before setting his eyes on the gravel ahead of him and pushing down on the gas pedal.

— 

When you wake up, you’re significantly warmer than you were… however-long-it’s-been-ago. 

You look to your left and see nothing but a white wall and a heart rate monitor—which displays that your heart rate is 115—then to your right, where you see Ghost sitting in a plastic chair close to the bed you’re laying in, eyes closed with his head tilted to the side and resting on his own shoulder.

You don’t bother trying to wake him up, not knowing how long he’s been asleep or how much sleep he’s gotten, and instead simply turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

After maybe five minutes of zoning out and staring up at the ceiling, you hear clothes rustling and look back over to your right, seeing Ghost start to stir in his sleep. Just a few seconds later, he stirs awake, slowly blinking his eyes open. 

You watch silently as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes, and he breathes in sharply through his nose before looking over at you and seeing you staring at him wordlessly. You both blink at each other for a long, awkward moment before he speaks. 

“… Did you, uh… how was your… rest?” Ghost asks, not sure what to say. What exactly do you say, after saving one of your teammates from potential death?

“Good,” You respond, your throat having an odd, small burning sensation when you talk. 

Ghost looks like he’s holding back a few words for a moment after you speak, and after one expectant look from you, he mumbles, “You should really say ‘well’ or ‘fine’ instead. It’d be more grammatically accurate and is more grammatically aligned with the verb ‘rest’.” 

“… Okay?” You blink, thrown off by the unexpected information, “I’ll, uh… keep that in mind, next time someone asks me how my rest was.” 

“You get asked that often?” 

“I only get asked that by you.” 

“Ah.” Ghost nods, looking off to the side for a moment. You’d think he was your dad and you’d just asked him how babies were made with how awkward he was, and you honestly expected the next words out of his mouth to be ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ before he hesitantly asks, “D’you feel better? After the whole being-trapped-in-a-freezer… experience?” 

“Experience?” You question, a light laugh evident in your voice, “Yeah, I feel better. I like being warm more than, y’know, being frozen alive. Laying down in a warm bed is nice.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it,” Ghost huffs out, leaning back in his seat. 

“So you’re gonna correct me on my grammar but you can’t think of a better word than ‘experience’?” 

“Don’t get smart with me, [c/n].” 

“I’m just saying,” You shrug lightly, wincing a little when your shoulders ache as you do. Ghost notices this and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t mention it. 

“Then stop trying to sass me.” 

“Sass you? Jesus, fuck, don’t talk to me like I’m some preteen who just found out that they can talk back to their parents.” 

“Isn’t that what you are, though?” 

“No, I’m— you know what? Fuck you. Get out. I hate you. You suck.” 

“That’s a colorful choice of words to say to the man who saved your life,” Ghost raises an eyebrow at you, “I’m still waiting for my ‘thank you’, by the way.” 

“Don’t care, you’re never getting it,” You say stubbornly, making Ghost sigh and stand up. You look up at him as he stands up and try to sit up in your bed, but wince again when you try to move your arms. Still, you attempt to push yourself up, and only relax your weak joints and lay back down when Ghost presses a gentle hand to your shoulder to get you to stop trying to sit up. 

“Don’t,” He warns softly—you didn’t know his voice could get that soft—as he pushes you back down, “Medics said you’re to keep laying down for a bit while you warm up. We’ve gotta wait until your BPM is below a hundred before letting you up.” 

“That’s stupid,” You huff out, though not fighting Ghost pushing you back down. 

“It’s not stupid,” Ghost lightly chastises you, “It’s doctor’s orders. Once your BPM is below a hundred, we’ll know you’re warmed up enough to start gettin’ up and walking around.” 

“… Still stupid,” You grumble, not commenting on the way Ghost’s hand lingers on your shoulder even after you’ve already laid back down. Ghost sighs and kneels down so that his shoulders are level with the railing of your bed. 

“You’re too stubborn.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Yes you are.” 

“No I’m not!” Your light arguing only proves Ghost’s point further, and he knows this, the knowledge of it making him snicker quietly. 

“Uh huh. Sure, kid,” He begins to retract his hand from your shoulder, but upon seeing the disappointment that immediately seeps into your expression once he even barely begins to lift his hand from your shoulder, he immediately lets it rest right back onto your shoulder. 

You both sit in silence for another few moments before Ghost speaks up again, this time a bit quieter and in that same soft tone he’d used earlier, “I tried to get to you quicker. But we needed some time to get your exact location, and when we found it we were a hundred and sixty klicks away, and it was just—it took us… some time to find you.” 

“It’s fine. I understand,” You respond, about to shrug but stopping yourself, not wanting to feel that aching in your shoulders again, “I don’t even know how I let myself get captured, that— that’s probably on me.” 

“You didn’t let yourself get captured, you just did.” 

“Well…”

“Well, what?” 

“I don’t know, I just—” You take a deep breath before continuing slowly, “I didn’t let myself get captured, but I also didn’t do enough to fight against it, so I feel like technically—” 

“Fuck the technicalities about how you got captured, you got captured either way, and you got thrown into a freezer,” Ghost cuts you off, talking quickly, before sighing and continuing in a softer voice once again, “Please, just let me try to be somewhat comforting for once. You know I’m bad at this, and that I never do this. So just… don’t talk about what happened like that, if not for your own mental health’s sake, at least for my attempts at making you feel better.” 

You open your mouth to say something else but ultimately close your mouth and let out a deep sigh through your nose, not saying anything, letting Ghost continue to talk. 

“I, for whatever reason, feel… very oddly bad for you,” Ghost poorly explains, before pausing to think for a moment then rephrasing, “Not… not as in I pity you, but as in I feel bad for you in a way that I feel like I’m at fault for what you went through even though I know I’m not at fault. It’s like empathy but… worse. Not saying empathy is bad to begin with, but this is like if empathy was bad and it became worse and—” 

Ghost cuts himself off with silence and lets out a frustrated huff at his inability to put his feelings into words, and tries again, “I feel bad for you in a way that I don’t know what exactly you felt or how you felt in the moment that you were in that freezer but just the idea of you being in there without me for… I’m assuming an entire hour, if not longer, makes me feel like I failed. I don’t know what I failed at—”

Ghost quickly pauses before sighing and continuing, “Actually, no, I do. I feel like I failed at protecting you. Which is strange, because that’s technically not my job, but I felt—and still feel—obligated to protect you especially and that bothers me. Not bothers me in a sense that I don’t like you or the thought of… protecting you, but bothers me in the sense that I’m not supposed to feel like that. No amount of teasing, or borderline bullying, or anything should’ve ever made me feel obligated to think of you like— like— like…” Ghost trails off, leaving you wondering what he meant to say. He stays silent for a few moments, before you try to fill in for him. 

“Like… what, a kid?” You offer, watching him shake his head negatively. You think for another moment, before trying again, “… Like your kid?” 

Ghost nods affirmatively, hesitantly, and you want to scoff at the hesitation. 

“And what, that’s bad to you?” You ask, your words more venomous than you intended. Ghost sighs and nonverbally shakes his head negatively before responding to you.

“Not bad in the way you’re thinking,” He answers, before elaborating upon seeing your confused expression, “It’s bad not because you’re bad, it’s bad because I’m bad.” 

“… No you’re not?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

“No, you’re really not,” You insist stubbornly. 

“Please don’t be stubborn with me on this,” His tone makes it sound like he’s almost begging you, which is… somehow beyond terrifying to think about.  

“I’m not being stubborn, I’m being honest, you’re really not.” 

“But I am,” He sounds like he’s trying to make his tone sound like there’s no room for any further arguments, but he fails, and you continue to argue with him. 

“No you’re not!” The whole conversation feels like a parallel to the one you’d both been having just a few minutes earlier, except this time you’re not giving up as easily, “How are you bad?” 

“I’m—” Ghost pauses for a moment, not having expected that argument, and he weakly argues, “I just am!” 

“You’re not, and you fucking know it!” 

“Okay, well—” Ghost sighs and looks away from you, “You might not think so. That’s fine. But I know I am. If not for anything else, for you. I’d be… terrible as any sort of… I don’t know, role model to you.” 

“Jokes on you, you’re already a role model to me.” 

“I’m being serious.” 

“So am I,” You raise an eyebrow at him, “You aren’t a terrible role model. A little emo, sure, but not terrible.” 

“I’m emotionally and mentally unstable, and am terrible with empathy. I’m blunt, abrasive more than half the time, and I tell the shittiest jokes known to man. I can’t— I don’t show my face to anyone. I expect everyone to act the way I want them to. I’m almost always busy.” 

“At least you’re self-aware,” You brush off, “And, for the record, I don’t know what abrasive means and I can’t tell empathy from sympathy without using Google.” 

Ghost looks back at you in disbelief and stares for a moment before saying quietly, “Abrasive means harsh. And empathy is showing understanding for others while sympathy is pity.” 

“I also like your shitty jokes,” You add on, “I think they’re great. They make everyone else mad so I like them. And some of them are funny.” 

“You find them funny?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That’s…” Ghost blinks at you, eyes a little watery, before huffing out a small laugh, “That’s ridiculous, none of them are funny. I call them shitty for a reason.” 

“Some of them are pretty funny.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“The Mayflower one.” 

“… That one?” Ghost asks, tone humorous but still disbelieving, “Out of all the ones I’ve told, that one?” 

“Yes, that one,” You insist, before pausing and holding back a smile while tacking on, “Unless you wanna tell it again to try and change my mind?” 

Ghost thinks for a moment before telling the joke, “If April showers bring May flowers, what do Mayflowers bring?” 

You feign cluelessness for a moment, “What do they bring?” 

“Pilgrims.” The bluntness of the delivery makes you quietly snicker, much to Ghost’s surprise, the laugh not forced or anything. 

“It’s still good,” You sigh, small giggles still escaping your lips. 

“It’s really not,” Ghost sighs, finally retracting his hand from your shoulder to settle it on the railing of your bed and use it to help himself stand up. Once he fully stands up, he looks down at you, and one look at your face makes him want to whisk you out of bed and at least hug you, but he knows he can’t with your sore muscles and still-somewhat frozen skin. 

Instead, he opts for grabbing one of your hands gently and giving it a very emotionally charged squeeze, and holding it for another few moments before letting go. 

“I’m not forgetting that, by the way,” At Ghost’s confused eyes, you tack on, “You confirming earlier that you think of me as your kid.” 

“That—” Ghost stammers for a moment before saying, “That was barely a confirmation, that was just— that was nothing.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yes. Yeah. Yep.” 

“So if I told you that you saying that that was nothing is making me a little bit upset…” 

“… Then I would say, out of pity, that I did mean it and that it was a confirmation.” 

“Good to know,” You nod. 

“But that’s only a hypothetical.” 

“Right, yeah, of course.” 

You both stay silent for another moment, the silence now a little less awkward, before Ghost says, “I’m gonna, uh… head out, now.” 

“Alright,” You hum simply, watching as Ghost nods to you as a sort of ‘bye’ before heading towards the curtains in front of your bed. 

Before he can exit, you quickly and quietly say, “Thank you, for saving me.” 

He pauses, a little confused on why you chose now to thank him—and why you thanked him at all—until he quickly recalls earlier in the conversation when he’d mentioned expecting some words of gratitude. 

He smiles behind his mask, the smile evident in his voice as he replies to you, “No problem.”

[hoony2k]

I'D LOVE TO HATE YOU IN EACH LIFE

You were a werewolf, he was a vampire, both corporate slaves, can I make it more obvious?

Pairing: vampire! Jake x werewolf! reader ft human! sunghoon

Genre: enemies to somewhat lovers, work place au!, they like each other but don't know that yet au (?)

Word count: 1k+

Warnings: none just imaginary strangling as a metaphor for love

Note: it took me a day to write this but 3 years to decorate it. Hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it. Jake ily ♡

Masterlist

The hum of the printer had just begun when a sudden scent filled your senses. It was unmistakable, completely unavoidable. The stench of earth and ruins overflooded you and the realisation of who had entered your sanctuary dawned upon you. Of course, it was him, the same man who walked either unaware or unbothered that the breath of death clung onto him as he marched into the office.

With unholy steps, the vampire stacked his papers right next to yours. A deep exhale left your nostrils in an attempt to calm your annoyance and to distract yourself from his suffocating scent.

“Jaeyun”, you growled.

He rolled his eyes in weak irritation and waved his hand around as a greeting though it hung in the air as an insult.

He shoved your papers near the edge of the table. “I’m going to be your supervisor soon. Better learn to show me respect”.

You stalked up to him, abandoning your post by the printer that dutifully spit out documents you were scanning. You pointed an accusing finger in his face.

He jerked his head backwards, and a strand landed perfectly on his forehead: vampires and their stupid innate visual perfection. You shoved your finger in his face once more and he scowled, your claw barely missed poking his eye.

“Good luck trying to save your skin after I get promoted. I’m going to make you wish you never left Hell”, you snarl.

He smacked your hand away and laughed loudly, dull eyes scanning you up and down with a burst of interest.

“He didn’t tell you?”

You squinted your eyes at him despite not needing to do so, though it allowed you to appear intimidating, Jake’s expression wavered from arrogance to mild discomfort until his smug smile returned to his plush pink lips.

He leaned closer to you and sinfully whispered the words he knew you could easily hear.

“Heeseung took me to dinner last night. Bought me the classic five-star steak, and showed off his black card”. You raised a brow in disbelief at the story. There was no way your boss would be stupid enough to show blatant favouritism before choosing who gets his comfy chair and floor to ceiling window office.

You turned your back to Jake, conveying the most apathetic look you could muster. He sensed your sceptical attitude and brought a poisoned apple for you to bite.

The printer beeped, you took out the printed files and then crouched down to reach for the fresh stack of A4 papers to add to the printer.

Jake inspected his short nails when he spoke once more.

“Yeah, he told me a story of how he sent some dumb mutt chasing ghosts”, he ended the sentence in a sing-song manner which did more than grab your attention.

You bumped your head under the table as you hastily stood to your feet, heels allowing you see the other man eye to eye. Fingers shaking with anger, you fumbled through the newly printed documents and sparks inflamed inside you when you realised that it was true. Heeseung had asked you to print out all the files Sunoo Kim from Sales emailed him-they were merchant details from last year. You weren’t even printing out the updated version. This was all useless information from months ago. Jaeyun wasn’t lying, he acted as Heeseung’s pathetic date last night.

By the time your consciousness allowed you to return to the present, Jaeyun had doubled over in laughter. His eyes were misty with unshed tears, lashes fluttering. His boyish giggles echoed through the room and resonated in your heart with a sick clang. He had his head thrown back revealing the long curve of his neck and angular jaw, his strong shoulders hidden under a pristine dress shirt shook with each deep breath. He covered his face with his hand to calm himself but his loud laughter increased when he met the fury in your eyes.

God, he truly was beautiful. And he’d look ethereal with your hands around his neck trying to end his infinite life.  

The next course of action occurred in a blink of an eye. Had Jaeyun not been occupied with his fit, he could have blocked you or certainly halted you with ease. Though, fortune seemed to favour you. In less than a second, your nails automatically grew and hands flew to his collar, with all your body weight pushed upon him, he stumbled backwards until his back harshly collided with the wall and he choked out a silent gasp. The numerous tables in the room shook gently with the impact, ink, staplers and whatnot clanged in their plastic containers but you paid attention to the noise.

You ignored how Jaeyun’s raised brows returned to their usual height, how his dilated pupils shrank then grew again at the sight of you, how his shock morphed into delight and he stretched his lips to show off his teeth, fangs challenged you further, begged you.

His arms hung by his sides even when a crumb of the drywall ceiling fell onto his gelled hair, painting his dark locks silver.

You shuddered in a deep breath to calm yourself before you did worse like actually punch his pretty face. That would be a ticket straight to HR, a perfect opportunity for Jaeyun to bad-mouth you. His collar crinkled under your grip, your nails were close to tearing holes in the stiff material.

Your voice felt like hot venom to Jaeyun.

“I want you to get lost and find someone else to entertain your childish behaviour before I-”,

Sudden advancing steps paused your threat at the tip of your tongue. Grip on his collar loosening, you allowed his body to slide an inch down, his heel finally touching the ground though Jaeyun continued to stare at you, clearly unconcerned regarding your change in attitude.

The door of the small printing room was flung open and revealed co-worker Park Sunghoon with a bright smile adorning his face. For a minute second minute period he stared at the questionable position he found you two with perplexity, but his charming expression did not diminish.

Instead, he chose to ignore whatever might have been happening and stepped closer to you, arms stretched out for what you and Jaeyun presumed to be an oncoming hug. Your nails shrunk to their normal length and Jaeyun zipped his mouth shut.

Immediately, you were proven right as Sunghoon engulfed your bodies in his, his arms went wide trying to hug two bodies together. The dusty bleak scent of vampires merged with the human’s pure scent infused with spicy perfume and you held your breath. With one final squeeze that pushed your face into Jaeyun’s neck, Sunghoon decided to kill the intimacy. You poked an elbow in Jaeyun’s ribs in a petty fashion and he shoved you backwards in return.

Sunghoon’s immense glee was what blinded him from your sour expressions. His arms never fell to his sides, they hung in the air in an invisible web, ready for another hug. You tiptoed closer to the table and Jaeyun pretended to need something from the printer. Then, Sunghoon’s words had the blood drain from Jaeyun’s face and fired icy dread in your stomach.

“You guys will not believe what happened! I got promoted to Supervisor!”

Jaeyun stood dead in shock but you marched towards Sunghoon, expression laced with confusion and a hint of hope that this may simply be a misunderstanding. Sunghoon wasn’t even a candidate. He wasn’t present during the interviews. He joined the company this year. Jaeyun and you had been around for longer, given your hard work, intellect and slaved away for more hours than Sunghoon ever had-

Said man grabbed your shoulder delicately, the innocent smile remained on his face. “I know! I was as surprised as you guys are. I didn’t think Heeseung liked me”.

You were rendered speechless. Sunghoon let his hand fall to his side, then stared around in evident awe, still in disbelief. He gave you and Jaeyun one final nod and smiled.

“I gotta run guys, I just wanted to share the news with my two buddies”.

The door clicked shut softly and the sound brought Jaeyun back to life and he fell to his knees. He cursed under his breath once, then twice. You sighed deeply and felt all anticipation for future purchases wash down the drain. Jaeyun shook his head and stared you right in the face.

“That guy doesn’t even know my landline number”.

You answered with another sigh, shoulders slumped.

“That’s bare minimum information. Hell, I know your number by heart”, he spoke loudly.

You glanced at his feeble attempt to connect the dots. On a usual day, you would have watched him suffer, you would have enjoyed it so much. The bittersweet taste of seeing his furrowed brows and pout left you with the satisfaction of knowing something he didn’t. Yet, there was no joy in watching him crumble today. You answered his questions for him.

“He doesn’t care about us. He came here to brag, Jaeyun. It’s that simple,” you picked up the printed documents and traced the dates. You debated throwing them but the thought of wasting paper stopped you. “He doesn’t have lunch with us or any of the other employees. He just disappears”.

Jaeyun sprung up to his feet, hand reaching the table to balance himself. He was far too close to you and he turned his face to look at you, inches closer than before. You could count the pores on his face and see yourself reflected in hollowness of his dark eyes. Your eyes trailed the long slope of his nose bridge, his cupids bow, then you forced yourself to a stop.

It took him a moment to collect his composure, a futile attempt to wear his usual smug face but you could tell he couldn’t be bothered to keep face.

Both of you lost the war.

It was the vampire’s turn to sigh. “I guess we know who he was having lunch dates with”. He spat out the word ‘date’. You spared a gentle glance at him, actually soaking his presence in for once.

There were no weapons aimed at you nor were there any threats you were about to spit at him. For once, you looked at him.

Jaeyun was tall, confidence oozed from his body language and words, he wasn’t bad to look at either. This was probably the first ‘non-work’ (as much as it could be) conversation you two shared, the most decent you two had ever been before.

You flung the papers in the bin, shoved them all inside then stomped on them for personal satisfaction. Jaeyun watched with a raised brow as you turned to him, your shoulders pulled back and a flirty smile hung on your lips. You had transformed your self beforr his eyes, gazed sweetly as him instead of scowling at his entire being.

He could get used to this.

“Wanna grab lunch early?”.

He mirrored your smile, canines out on display. He watched how your eyes narrowed at him and he responded ny scanning you up and down with hooded eyes.

What was this shift in the limbo, a peace treaty? Truce? Whatever it was, it wasn’t friendship that swam in your eyes. It was a silent challenge, a howl that called to his unbeating heart. Whatever it was, Jaeyun was ready to drown himself in it.

“What are we waiting for?”.

Thank you for reading! please do not edit/translate/copy.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Letterman Jacket

Javier Peña x F!Reader oneshot

{ Main Masterlist }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: Tensions come to a head between you and Javier on the private jet back to Bogotá after a long, frustrating day. Or rather - after six long, frustrating years of bad blood.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: My first PW(much)P, enemies to lovers, arguing, swearing, drinking, dirty talk, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, thigh riding, no use of Y/N, soft!Javier

Notes: After obsessing over this damn jacket forever, I finally pulled the trigger. This is my first ever Javier, and I know he’s not perfect, but my 2023 resolution is to not overthink things, and I had a blast writing this in a couple of days since the idea came to me. I’m so nervous posting this, but excited to have finally made a start with Javier. Please be gentle with me ❤️

P.S. I’m going on my honeymoon the next 2 weeks. I’m sure I’ll be lurking around, and I also have new content all queued up for @fuckyeahpedropascal! See you!

I’m still finding Javier’s voice, but my understanding and interpretation of this man so far is definitely shaped by @the-ginger-hedge-witch character analyses and The Crush (which I’m still catching up on). Thank you Professor Ren for sharing your insight into our favourite DEA agent 🥰

It’s cold.

Why is it cold in fucking Miami?

If only you’d checked the weather report beforehand - oh wait, that’s right. You weren’t exactly given much notice, even less detail, when the phone call came this morning. Not that 4am should count as "morning" in your books.

We found him.

Who?

Jurado. Take the first flight out to Curacao this morning, it’s in two hours. We’re taking him in and flying straight to Miami. Get the papers ready, he’ll be testifying tomorrow.

What the actual fuck, Peña -

You can’t even remember what you stuffed into your weekender bag after he hung up without another word. Mostly legal papers and pens and a change of clothes - all of which are now redundant. The bag hangs heavy in your grip, the taste of failure bitter in your mouth.

Something warm descends onto your shoulders, and you almost jump out of your skin, eyes wide as they snap up. Javier isn’t looking at you though, his unseeing gaze trained on the tips of his brown leather boots, hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans. He trudges across the tarmac, the bravado that is usually so loud in his walk conspicuously absent.

Reaching up, you pull his jacket tighter with your free hand, the stretch of the fabric distorting the bold letters DEA emblazoned on the left lapel. He doesn’t wear it often - he’s in suits mostly these days, which you can tell pisses him off to no end. He almost never does his tie up properly, a subtle middle finger to the establishment, perhaps.

Your lips twitch despite yourself. Peña’s always been happier going on literal wild goose chases.

The jacket easily engulfs you, blocking out the unwelcome evening chill. You breathe in the faint but unmistakable scent of cigarettes and you can feel the weight of a full box swing against your side. He keeps insisting he’s trying to quit, but obviously not very hard.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel any warmer in the plane cabin, and you put your arms through the sleeves of the jacket properly before sinking heavily into one of the plush leather seats with a sigh, relieved to get off your sore feet.

You don’t notice the small plane taking off with just the two of you, sitting silently opposite each other until the flight path levels, at which point Javier promptly heads to the small bar at the end of the cabin and comes back with two generous glasses of whiskey.

Sipping in silence, you let your gaze settle on him, no subtlety left in the tank after your shitty day at twenty hours and counting. Javier, in turn, stares listlessly out of the window, uninterested in your scrutiny. Strands of mussed hair fall over his tired eyes, the dark circles underneath shadowing his entire countenance.

His pink shirt, which was drenched in sweat when he’d finally, finally caught up to Jurado in that square in Curacao, has long dried in the cool Miami air. And of course it’s tight and the neckline unbuttoned halfway down his chest, the poor fabric stretched to an inch of its life by his obnoxiously wide shoulders. It’s tucked into even tighter jeans that seem to struggle to contain all of him.

Honestly, it’s a damn miracle he could do any running at all in this ensemble.

You stare at the little fold-up table between the two of you. It had been covered in papers en route to Miami just hours ago, the Cali moneyman sitting exactly where you are now. Jurado agreed to the lesser charges of money laundering and racketeering in exchange for testifying for the DEA. You had him. He was in that interview room. The lawyers from the Miami county court were ready to take over.

But somehow, that smarmy, rotund excuse of a cartel lawyer got there first.

A heavy sigh catches your ear over the whir of the plane engines, and you watch as Javier drags one heavy hand over his face, the tips of his thick fingers resting above his pursed lips, before he shakes his head.

The words are out of your mouth before your head catches up. ‘Stop it.’

Dark eyes flicker your way, brows drawing into a frown. ‘What?’

Your empty glass clunks loudly when it hits the table. ‘Stop beating yourself up. We both know this is out of our hands. Quit the self-martyrdom bullshit.’

The grin comes quickly and sarcastically. You hate it. He’s never been big on smiles, but you’ve seen how his face can light up with a laugh over a drink, or at a good joke. From a distance, of course, and never in your direction. You’ve only ever had scowls and glares thrown your way.

You’re not alone though - these days, that’s all anyone ever gets from him.

Leaning back in his chair, one big palm cradling the bottom of the crystal tumbler that looks much smaller than it should, and the other resting on his thigh, Javier huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Is that what you think of me?’

‘I don’t think it. I know it.’

‘You don’t know me,’ he answers coolly.

You roll your eyes. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Peña. You’re not some pouty, brooding mystery to me. I’ve been cleaning up after your mess for six fucking years.’ Shaking your head, you can’t help adding, ‘Not that you’ve ever appreciated any of it.’

He gives you a derisive snort. ‘I wasn’t aware that I should be thanking you for getting in my way at every turn.’

‘Getting in your way?’ you chuckle mirthlessly. ‘I’ve been trying to keep you out of jail, asshole.’

‘Maybe you shouldn’t be.’

‘Is this what all this is about? Some survivor’s guilt bullshit?’ Unperturbed by his silence, you press on. ‘Well guess what, I don’t work for you. Having the attaché in jail isn’t really a good look for our employer, so bad news, you’re a free man as long as I’m legal counsel for the DEA.’

‘It would make my life a lot fucking easier if you weren’t.’

The words are so quiet, so matter-of-fact, they have no right to hit you as hard as they do. You’re horrified to feel the sting of tears on the seam of your eyelashes, and your lips part wordlessly before you regain your voice. ‘Fuck you, Peña.’

He winces and sits up, setting his glass next to yours on the table. ‘Shit. That came out wrong -’

Nails dig into your palms as hurt threatens to claw its out of the carefully locked compartment where you keep it. ‘No, I think it came out exactly as you meant it. You’ve hated me since day one.’

‘I don’t hate you -’

You glare at him. ‘You think I don’t know what people say behind my back over drinks at the embassy bar, when I’m stuck in the office dealing with whatever legal bullshit you’ve dug yourself into? I bet you like a good laugh at my expense.’

Shifting forward in his seat, Javier reaches out and grabs your left wrist. ‘Stop it. I don’t. You know I wouldn’t.’

You try to pull back but he doesn’t budge, easily holding you in place. You bite out, ‘I’ll quit if that’s what you want. Might as well make both of our lives easier with one resignation letter.’

Javier’s hold on you tightens, and he bares his teeth in frustration. ‘That’s not what I want.’

‘That’s exactly what you said you wanted just now. Why don’t you make up your fucking mind, Peña?’ you snap back.

‘I can’t,’ he snarls, his other hand finding your free wrist, almost jolting you out of your seat. He’s so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath. ‘I’ve never been able to with you.’

You go as still as the air around you, the mixed signals scrambling the wires in your already exhausted head. You narrow your eyes and him and hiss, ‘What?’

Javier heaves a sigh, breathing out the words through gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut. ‘You drive me up a fucking wall, woman.’

Anger surges in you, and you manage to yank both of your wrists free. Pushing him away, you spit at him with all the venom you can muster. ‘Fuck you, too!’

He growls, raking one hand through his hair before slamming it onto the fold-up table, making the glasses clink when they knock together from the force. ‘Goddamnit, won’t you just hear me? I can’t decide if I want you to shut the fuck up or if I just - want you.’

You watch his broad chest rise and fall in quick succession as he slumps in his chair, as if the last two words that are still ringing in your ears knocked the wind out of him.

Want you.

His eyes follow from under thick lashes when you reach out for the glasses, relocating them to the carpeted floor on the other side of your chair, before finding the lever underneath the table and folding it down. And you don’t miss the way his stare falls to your legs as you cross them deliberately, skirt hitching higher up, his Adam’s apple bobbing thickly in the column of his neck.

You tilt your head to one side in a challenge. ‘Well? What are you going to do about it, then?’

He’s out of his chair and on you in a beat, his arms caging you in as you pull him close by the collar of his shirt. You murmur against his lips, ‘You’re a fucking asshole, Peña.’

‘I know. Let me make it up to you -’ The words barely make it out of his mouth before he kisses you, lips warm and wet and pressing into yours insistently.

You let out a surprised yelp when Javier tugs you onto your feet, hot hands pushing his jacket off your shoulders but leaving it hanging from the crook of your arms. Goosebumps bloom where his fingers brush your sternum as he unbuttons your sleeveless shirt underneath, tugging it free from where it’s neatly tucked into your skirt.

You retort, ‘You’re going to make up for six years of bad blood on a three-hour flight?’

‘Well, what are you doing tomorrow?’ he asks almost conversationally, and with a casual flick, he undoes the front clasp of your bra. He breathes a raspy fuck as he palms your tits reverently, the contact making you shudder.

‘Actually, I was going to have a sit down with you. A little birdy told me some outrageous story about the DEA attaché endorsing wiretapping,’ you reply teasingly, wrestling with the small buttons on his shirt.

Javier chuckles, clever fingers sliding down your back and undoing the zipper on your pencil skirt, which pools about your now bare feet after kicking off your sensible low heels. ‘Fucking Stoddard. I knew he'd tattle on me.’

‘You better come prepared with a good defence, Peña,’ you quip, letting him spin you around and ease you into his seat, the leather still warm under your bare thighs. His pink shirt hangs open as he looms over you, so broad that he’s the only thing you see.

He hums and kisses down the side of your neck, stopping to suck on your pulse point. ‘How about a bit of incentive to go easy on me instead, hmm?’

You arch an eyebrow while he gets on one knee, then the other, but there’s no denying the wild rabbiting of your pulse despite your banter. ‘Bribery? Just one of the dirty tricks up your sleeves, Agent Peña?’

He peels your panties down the length of your thighs unhurriedly, smirking at the way you bite into your bottom lip as the scrap of fabric makes its descent. He hooks your right leg on his shoulder, then the left one, opening you up to his dark gaze as he smirks, ‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, cariño.’

It’s been too long. Too fucking long since you’ve been with anyone. Your hips arch clean off the leather seat at the first broad stroke of his tongue, confidently charting its way all the way up your folds. His weathered palms hold your thighs firmly apart as you writhe in his grip because it’s too much.

‘Javier,’ you breathe, meeting his almost cocky gaze as he stares up at you. He suckles wetly at your clit, lips puckering, and you buck hard into his mouth.

Granting you a brief reprieve, he moves off you with a wet smack of his lips and teases, ‘Am I making a good case for myself?’

‘Clearly not good enough if I’m still speaking in complete sentences,’ you somehow manage to counter.

He grins at you - a real one that lifts both corners of his mouth and chases away the shadows of his demons, and it has absolutely no business making your heart lurch the way that it does. ‘Touché, cariño.’

There’s no polite way of putting this. Javier eats you, meticulous and sloppy in turn, until your slick and his spit trail down the inside of your legs, and you feel the leather growing slippery underneath your bare ass. You can hear yourself over the roar of the plane engines, and you babble incoherently when he pushes his tongue into your pussy. ‘Javier, Javi -’

‘Gonna cum for me, cariño?’ He slurs as he sinks one, and then two fingers into you, biting out a filthy groan at how wet you are.

You nod desperately, finding purchase on his broad shoulders. ‘I’m so close, please -’

Pumping his fingers inside you until you squelch around them, he ducks down and laves your clit in earnest, pushing you until there’s nothing left - no air, no sound, no time and space - all the oxygen is sucked out of your lungs and your ears pop, and you cum so fucking hard with your hands tangled in his curls and his name on your lips.

‘Fuck, you’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs almost absent-mindedly, chasing your skin when you try to push him away. His moustache scrapes your thighs and sends a shudder running through you as you catch your breath. ‘I’m an idiot for waiting this long.’

Gently setting your legs down - not that you can feel them anyway - Javier turns his face to his right shoulder, and you watch in rapture as he smears the slick coating his mouth and chin onto his pink shirt, the wet spot staining the fabric.

Your lip curls in giddy amusement as you think to yourself - you look good on him.

Then he leans up to kiss you, and your head spins at the taste of yourself on his tongue and your scent on his moustache.

Pushing back the loose locks that now curl against his forehead, you sass, ‘That’s one trick. Are you going to show me another, Agent Peña?’

Without warning, his hands slide under your bare buttocks and he lifts you clean off the seat. You laugh and close your grip around his upper arms, feeling his muscles flex under your palms. You know without looking how his biceps must be straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.

He falls heavily into the chair with you straddling him, and you protest, ‘Stop, Javi, I’m going to make a mess of your jeans.’

‘I want you to make a mess,’ he declares in his rich baritone. ‘Want your pussy to soak my jeans, cariño.’

Desire flashes hot and fast up and down your spine. ‘But Javi, I just came -’ you break off as he grasps your hips and settles you onto his right thigh.

‘You can cum again,’ he shrugs with a cocksure definitiveness, coaxing a moan from you when he shifts and your folds drag along the denim. ‘Ride me, cariño.’

‘But what about you?’ You trace one palm down his bare chest and soft stomach to rest on the prominent bulge straining against the front of his tight jeans. He chokes when you give his erection a bold squeeze through the denim, which has you grinning smugly.

Covering your hand with his, he brings it up to kiss it softly. ‘Another time, it’s been a long day. Now - can I get back to making it up to you?’

Winding your arms around his neck, you rock against his thigh, feeling the wet imprint of the slick you leave behind on the coarse fabric as you move back and forth. His palms squeeze the swell of your ass reassuringly but loose enough so that you can find your own rhythm.

Javier patiently mouths his way down your neck and further, sucking hard on one nipple and then the other, making you throw your head back in a gasp.

‘You look so good wearing my jacket with your gorgeous tits out,’ he praises you, letting go of your hips to push your breasts together and laps at the soft flesh with his tongue.

‘Javier,’ you whine, tipping forward to bury your face in the long line of his neck.

The same neck you’ve sometimes wanted to wring in the heat of the moment, but also caught yourself staring at when he cradles the office phone in the crook of his shoulder. You can taste the salt on his skin - sweat and sea breeze and sunshine - and when the breath catches in his throat, your hips stutter, your orgasm so close to the surface.

As if sensing you need a bit of help, he whispers into your ear. ‘I can feel you so wet for me through my jeans, cariño. You’re doing so good for me.’

Feeling his nails dig into you as he guides you over his thigh, you whimper needily, ‘I’m so close.’

‘I know you are. You can do it - cum on my thigh.’

‘Oh fuck,’ you choke, pressing your forehead into his as you begin to shake, and he brushes his nose soothingly against yours. The impending vertigo sends you crashing into him, hands trembling on his shoulders, torn between clinging on and letting go. ‘Javi - I’m cumming, oh my god -’

And then he’s lunging towards you in a deep kiss, tongues tangling as you break again, a moan in his windpipe when he feels your pussy leak into his jeans as it clenches and clenches around nothing. Needing air, you pull back to slump bonelessly against him, panting hard into his neck, his palms drawing circles over your back.

You only realise you’ve drifted off when a sudden drop in altitude wakes you, and the PA system cackles to life with the captain’s ten-minute warning to landing. From the corner of your eye, you catch Javier watching you with a lopsided smile.

You duck your head sheepishly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.’

‘Well, you did have a 4am wakeup call,’ he quips.

Sitting back on your haunches, you do up your bra and then the buttons on your now very crumpled shirt. Easing off him on wobbly legs, you pick up your panties and skirt from the floor and dress yourself quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles as best as you can. You smile at Javier, watching him he button up his pink shirt, stopping at the fourth one as always.

Stepping in between his spread legs, hands on his upper thighs, you press a soft kiss to his lips. You smile and drag a finger over the wet spot you left on his jeans. ‘That was fun.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle and he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. ‘That might be an understatement of criminal proportions.’

You make to take off his jacket, but Javier shakes his head, tugging on the collar so it sits squarely on your shoulders. ‘Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.’

You can’t tell if it’s actually warmer when you step off the plane or if it’s the afterglow, but you keep the jacket on. Your respective cars are waiting on the airstrip next to each other, and Javier loads your weekender bag into the backseat before opening the door on the driver’s side, shutting it after you climb in.

You palm the steering wheel self-consciously as you stare at each other in a slightly awkward lull, before clearing your throat. ‘So, 9am sharp tomorrow at the 3rd floor conference room, Agent Peña?’

Javier smirks, but his eyes are warm as he shifts on his feet, leaning one elbow on the open window and cocks his head to one side. ‘Depends. Will you be wearing my letterman jacket?’

A bark of laughter escapes you. ‘Your letterman jacket? Should I pick up matching friendship bracelets for us before our meeting?’

With a lighthearted shake of his head, Javier half-turns to leave before stopping abruptly. Tapping two fingers on the window frame, he hesitates briefly, before looking up at you with earnest eyes, his voice quiet and almost solemn in its sincerity. ‘Thank you.’

Watching him go, your chest blooms with warmth at the eight letters and two little words you’ve waited six years to hear.

At twenty-seven minutes to nine the next morning, you’re flinging open the front door of your apartment, car keys jingling and thermos balanced precariously in one hand, when a flash of white on navy catches your attention.

For a long moment, you stand off dramatically with the jacket draped across the back of a kitchen chair, the letters DEA staring back at you - before you reach for it and shrug it on with a silly grin.

What can you say? You’ve always had a thing for letterman jackets.

More notes: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments and reblogs are always encouraged and so appreciated ❤️

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics as always 💕

[cochineal-leviat]

Sweet Dreams, Stardust

Okay, so I have a lot of feelings about In Stars and Time. But let me say first, wow, this game irreversibly changed my brain network. For anyone who is considering buying this game, please do. I don't think I've had a story touch my heart and mind like this for a long time. And that goes without mentioning the stunning visuals and entertaining battle system. (Be careful, though, because this game handles heavy topics regarding mental health)

If you're still hung up on buying it but are curious, there is a free demo on Steam if you like to try.

Thank you, @insertdisc5, for this gem of a game. I will be turning it around in my head like a microwaveable gourmet meal for months to come.

Technically the illustration has no spoilers (unless you count Siffrin having a good nap as a spoiler). But I will be going into heavy spoiler territory under the keep reading since I need to get my thoughts on this game off my chest.

And a monochrome version because you know me, I can't help myself. Even in black and white art pieces, I will put in some colour.

And a very tiny Loop

Initially, I was going to do a piece with a theatre stage and the cast (Siffrin, Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie and the head house maiden) taking a bow and finally leaving the spectacle to a life not controlled by a script and Wish Craft. But it was more fitting to put my feelings into creating a peaceful scene. Like, oof, I needed this very badly. I used sepia to make the painting warmer and added some more details like headcanons. The stars/colours might be remnants of Siffrin's transformation. Or maybe they were always there, but he never paid attention to it. Who knows.

I'm going to keep this brief. Otherwise, this post will take way too long.

I adore Siff's character. It's perfect for a game and narrative such as this. I saw a post not long ago on Tumblr going into depth about how their role as the rogue and not the hero works so well, so I won't linger on it for long. But how they would rather listen and fade into the background perfectly aligns with the player's experience of being the silent observer. (And the nodding off that changes into zoning out. It took me way too long to realise that small but essential narrative change) Oh, and the portrait change! It flew over my head until I was staring at the game menu. I was so confident Siffrin had a mischievous grin and not a frown. I always feel slightly surprised when the party asks for Siff's opinion or mentions that they have been too quiet. I felt Siffrin's excitement like my own when he got excited at finding clues to end the nightmare they were in. So I knew it would end up falling on their face because they were too excited. I just had this bad gut feeling the whole time during Act 4.

And oh boy, speaking off acts. I thought it would have been the standard 3. Boy, I was wrong. Whenever I felt I was nearing the end, I was thrown back at the start with more mysteries than answers. It made exploring the game intriguing since there is almost no information about it online (at the time of writing this post). There is the Discord, but I didn't know about it until I finished it.

This game has a lot of secrets, and I had a lot of fun uncovering them. The looping mechanic works so well in discovering little details and further leads. (even though my stubborn arse kept trying to do everything in the least amount of loops as possible. I thought the ending would be different if I exceeded a 100. My final number is 59. I am still not sure if I should be mad about it not being a rounded number like 60 or that I went over the 50 threshold)

However, it is a good thing that only some mysteries were solved. Like, what's up with colours in this world? Everyone sees in black and white, and the idea of shades and colours is only spoken of in scientific studies. They do exist and are not a part of the disaster that happened to Siffrin and their land. But there is definitely something mysterious about it. I adore how the dialogue reflects this, as the characters do not speak of shades or colours. Isabeau expresses surprise to see a streak of red colouring the sky in Act 6. It makes you think about how colour is perceived and how you describe it. (The lore inside this game is immaculate. I eat this shit up)

We never find out the name of the country north of Vanguard or what it was like. We can only infer that the beaches had black sand, with shells that shine like stars, high-reaching mountains, forests and plains. Which is vague and yet intriguing enough to make you wonder. It connected me to Siff and King because I also wanted to know. I was desperate to know. I needed to know. But in the end, we never will know because that is not the story's point. Siffrin even says in the game, that King should let go because he is hurting everyone and everything, including himself, in his desperation to preserve Vanguard. This is all the more ironic when Siff accidentally does the same with his family and the loops. I might gush more about what the country might be like and their technology in another post. This game makes me want to theorise. This is the first time I've wanted to write and post theories. ISAT fucked me up good.

Which, by the way, was genius. Siffrin and King are mirrors of each other. Siff does not have King's disastrous ambition, but their love/obsession will be the downfall of both of them. They have more than being each other's countrymen in common, and I imagine Siff despises that.

I love the fact King's question to Siffrin before the showdown was/could never be answered. Usually, in a game such as this, you must figure out how to solve everything, especially for the big bad. But that was never the goal. King is a delusional monster who will not stop before achieving his dream. He will raze everything to the ground and hurt many people because he must succeed. It is what he desires. Nay, the universe wills it. What a witless excuse that can easily be made into someone's truth. Especially to somebody who is driven mad with grief.

How King's character's done is so excellent. Because, at first, I wasn't scared of him at all. He was just the big bad, and I felt nothing much but the glory of victory when Siffrin outsmarted him by looping and making sure Mirabelle learned the shield spell that would protect the party from freezing in time. But each time you fight him, you get more frustrated until Siff figures that talking to him might be fruitful. It does, but unfortunately, you and Siffrin leave yourself emotionally and mentally vulnerable. King stops being a one-dimensional villain and changes into an actual person. Someone you can sympathise with and possibly mend peace with without fighting. You and Siffrin opened his heart for a kindred spirit and got hurt.

King stopped being a monster and became human. And while monsters are wretched, humans have intent behind their cruelty. I felt so betrayed, so angry, but most of all - terrified. I felt it when Siffrin spiralled when fighting King again after their actions caused such a catastrophic turn of events for Bonnie. Every time after that, the fight with King felt tense and nerve-wracking in a dreadful way. Because even victory could not soothe the dread I felt. (The track 'It's finally over" will forever haunt me. I already feel anxious whenever it cycles to that when I listen to the playlist)

He was not, however, the final villain, even though everything that happened was King's fault. You were always your greatest enemy (or Siffrin in this case, since you are supposed to be Siffrin). I never could have guessed that the whole reason why Siffrin could not escape the loops was because Siff accidentally wished to never let go of their friends. This reminds me of Modaka Magica, where (spoilers for the OG anime) Homura goes back in time so much that the universe ties itself around Modoka, making her a waiting egg whose wish and magic will be massive when she becomes a magical girl. The one thing Homura was trying to prevent.

(Siffrin and Homura are identical in that sense. Shy characters who are loyal to a fault but are rendered into something cold, bitter and cutting by their traumatic experiences. Only Siff has people who care about them and would do anything to save him, too, whereas Homura never lets go, making the world a worse place to live in. Yes, I did go into doomed Yuri. That anime lived in my mind rent-free in my mind for years)

The Head House-maiden not being the villain was also a great touch. I am used to the apparent antagonist turning out not to be the big bad and the trusted, friendly character ending up being the evil one. Twist villains no longer work when everyone expects them to be villains.

That was my biggest theory as I played. The second biggest being that Loop is someone who enjoys Siffrin's suffering. I am so glad that was also not the case. They are apathetic but not cruel. Never intentionally, anyway. They were like the player, urging Siffrin to go deeper into the mystery to solve it. Ultimately, I chose and made cold and cruel decisions simply because I wanted to see what would happen. So yeah, I warmed up to this cosmic star thing as the game went on and even started trusting them. Act 5 really is a punch in the gut. I am so sorry, Loop. Thank you for coming through in the end.

Oh man, this is so long, and I haven't even gone into the main cast. I will leave that for another post. They are such great characters, as are the people of Dormant and the House. (Don't think I don't see the wordplay in this game. Very clever)

Going into this game completely blind was the best experience I could have had. I felt anxious, happy and scared so severely that my neurons were rearranged. I don't know if there are more endings (aside from the obvious action of attacking Odile in the True(?) ending of the game), but I am taking a break from it to make art and write for this game before I dive back into despair-o-land.

Anywho, thank you for coming this far and reading my ramblings. Have a fantastic day or evening further! o(*'▽`*)ブ

[genshingarbage]

Temptress. ||Drabbles-NSFW||

Reader x Genshin Men

WOAh! Whats this?! a post???? Must be a dream looool anyway, So yea, no idea where this sprouted from, but they're small drabble length scenarios that have floated around in my head for literal months, so I decided fuck it might as well just write it all down, I like to think of whore like things about the men in Genshin sooo, why not just do some drabbles of reader being a whore with several of 'em lmao some may be longer than others/more detailed, some may be more focused on reader truly being just a pet/whore but in a way all the men do sorta I guess, care, for you lol in their own, uhm, personal ways, in fact some may even come off as more fluffy smut than smut smut as I am probably gonna edit this as I'm writing so, yea, also it may not contain all the boys as well... there is a lot of them now and trying to cram it all in for all the boys is kinda difficult now lmao however hope you like whatever this is lmao also Merry Christmas~ - Mod Diluc.

Diluc

Mondstadt was now silent, the night sky had made its arrival and it being a weekday an all even the city of freedom had to follow some basic rules; which was simply sleep because you have work tomorrow, duh. Not a single soul was to be found strolling the streets anymore, well, except one... "Damn you, woman." Okay, two.

Your hands was pressed against the cold surface of the darkened behind of Angel's Share, one of the last establishments to close so late at night, most of the customers inside, drunk or tipsy had already began their dizzy wobbling back to their homes, all, except you.

You had stubbornly refused the whole night to move from a certain stool at a certain table, in full view of a certain red haired man at the bar, constant threatening glares from his crimson fire eyes did little to warn you and wave you off, you remained sat, smug little smirk an all.

And thanks to your little rebellion of not leaving it costed said man that owned Angel's Share a rather unfortunate amount of potential paying customers, which to his obvious position made him rather, angry.

So as a show of how frustrated you had made him all night; being the sly temptress that you are, licking your lips, stealing glances, blowing kisses, hiking up your foot against your other leg to give him a full on showing of your lace panties between your thick thighs that barely remained in your black stockings, you were now bent over, hands pressed against a building, being pounded mercilessly by the red haired man, Diluc Ragnvindr.

His trousers hung down loosely around his waist, his hands having a vice grip on you leaving you no room to even wriggle, your cheek had began to hurt from being pressed against the bricks outer layer for so long. The slapping of his hips meeting yours were echoing more than he'd like, he had a reputation to up hold after all, so with that in mind he bent down over your arched back and pressed his clothed chest against your back.

One hand remained against your thick and curvaceous thigh as the other slithered up past your belly and under your blouse to where your breasts sat confined.

"Stubborn slut." His voice was laced with a certain venom as his slender fingers groped into your breast, kneading the flesh as he pulled himself even closer to you. His words of degradation did nothing but spur the fire in your burning core, if he truly did hate you that would hurt, but when fucking you it sure felt like he did, and it felt good.

He began to practically hump and rut into you from behind now, squeezing your thigh and using it as leverage to force you back onto his throbbing cock with every thrust, the wetness of your slick coated him nicely and allowed him to thrust with blissful ease.

"So damn wet, aren't you?" he spat through gritted teeth, his hand slapping your thigh before squeezing it hard as he continued his pace.

"Should finish with you and leave you begging, then maybe you'd get it through that whore mind of yours to stop interfering with my business just because your hungry for some cock!" He growled lowly, the threat almost sounding genuine, you whimpered softly and shook your head.

You lust ridden and dizzy glare back at him with such a pleading look didn't work on him anymore, but beg or not he would never actually leave you high and dry, he was just too, soft, for such a cruel act.

With every thrust your legs faltered in their strength, he really was big, and thick to add to it and the way he angled and piston into your hips left no room for you to even breathe, but he is right, you were so hungry for this, for him, no one gets you off as well as he does, such a talent he possesses. Maybe if he didn't do such a good job you wouldn't always crawl back for more.

A drop of sweat fell from the red haired mans face as he remained hunched over you like a wolf mounted atop it's bitch, grunting and growling with anger mixed with now sexual frustration.

This had already been going on for far longer than you could remember, your brain becoming too thoroughly fucked out to care anymore, then your eyes widen, just as you was about to cry out in ecstasy a hand grips strongly round your mouth, two fingers sinking past your lips and capturing your tongue.

"Silence, slut, I don't need Mondstadt waking up to the sounds of a needy whore." The man behind you spoke in a low husky tone right at your ear as he continued to mercilessly pound you through your orgasm into overstimulation and possibly another orgasm.

"Feeling good, Hmm? Tsk." He bit your ear lobe, hard, and began to suck on it roughly as his pace quickened and you could tell by his insistent throbbing he was about to-

With a low groan you felt it, hot and sticky coating the backs of your thighs and legs as a guttural growl left him. Then you felt him tear away from you as if you was too hot to touch right now, afraid to get burnt and consumed by your feverish neediness.

Turning around with a slight pout you didn't get to reach a second orgasm he merely scoffed as he pulled his trousers back up and fixed himself instantly, as if he hadn't just abused your now dripping hole for the past what? Thirty minutes?

He already began to turn away from you to walk back around and go back inside Angel's Share to properly finish locking up, and as he did he spoke in a monotone voice.

"I'm warning you Y/N, Don't do that again." and with that he disappeared like always after these fun little encounters you had with him.

You pulled your panties back up and neatly pushed your skirt back down and over your now sticky thighs and giggled licking your lips. His 'Don't do that again' merely meant, 'same time tomorrow.'

And tomorrow you would be back for sure.

Kaeya

You closed your eyes and calmed your breathing as best as you could, focusing fully on your task at hand; to not gag. But that proved difficult when Kaeya Alberich, Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonious had his rather thick and long cock buried deep down your throat.

There you sat, between his thighs under a table in Angel's Share, nestled away from public eyes, barely. You couldn't complain however, since this had been your idea right from the start, when the silver tongued devil before you actually for once wasn't in the mood to fool around, solemn look on his face you'd decided you didn't like such an expression on such a pretty face.

You ignored his tired refusals and weak attempts to move away or grab your head and stop you, but silly Kaeya, he's played this game before with you so much now you know all his buttons to press and flick, and it started with a simple kitten lick to the top of his weeping head of his cock that he tried to act wasn't already hard from the moment you'd sat down with him in the tavern.

"Such a... naughty girl." he spoke softly, as to not drawn any unwanted attention, luckily he was on the upper floor, which was normally less busy anyway, but still, it only took one peek to see your knelt down self gagging and swallowing on him like a hungry hound.

You rubbed your tongue on the underneath of his shaft and the man above you hissed gently, clenching his fist on the table before bringing his other hand down under to roughly ball a fist of your hair into, yanking your face flush against his base leaving you to jerk slightly and gag ever so slightly.

"Watch it princess." is all he gave as a warning before releasing your hair and allowing you to pull away and catch your breath as quietly as possible, though you couldn't help the smirk that crept onto your face, you loved when he treated you rough like this, putting you in your place, sometimes you thought maybe the pirate actually had grown a soft spot for you, his favourite little plaything.

Having caught your breath you gave no warning prior before sucking him back down all the way to the base causing him to now jerk, the mug of Death After Noon nearly slipping from his grasp, his furrowed his brows and slammed the mug down, looking around he saw he was the only one up here with you right now, good.

He fisted your hair again and yanked your head up out from under the table, you blinked a few times as the light dangling from the ceiling burned your vision from having been under a dark table for so long, face flushed and lips puffy and wet he merely examined your face before drawing closer.

"Stop testing my patience today Y/N, you will not like the end result do I make myself clear?" You looked up into his lust filled but suddenly dangerous icy cold glare in his blue eye and nodded licking your lips slowly, he brought his other hand to your face and slowly rubbed his thumb along your swollen bottom lip, a gentle hum of approval emitting from him.

"Open." is all he said, to which you obeyed, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out.

He smirked at your obedience, he remembered how nervous and shy you first was when suggested such acts with you, my how you've grown into his perfect cock toy.

He then spat into your mouth with almost a look of disgust but you'd grown use to his domineering stare during such moments, all it did now was turn you on, you closed your mouth and swallowed it happily which he then smirked at, tugging your head up and giving you an ice cold stinging kiss that left you breathless before dropping your head back down below the table.

"There's my good princess, now, back to it Y/N" he said as he took another sip of his favourite drink after a long days work, with his pretty little princess helping him unwind, such a good life to be living.

And there you sat back between his thighs and sucking deeply on his pulsing cock, thinking the exact same thought, such a good life to be living.

Childe

Oh god, make it stop, archons have mercy on me please!

Your pleas fell on deaf ears however, you'd given up begging the tall, lean ginger that sat knelt behind you for mercy hours ago, resorting to the archons for a saving grace now. The slapping sounds resounding all around the room, the room that reeked of nothing but sex and sweat now, how many times had you cum? how many times had he cum again?

Your muscles ached and wept inside for just a moments rest, but they weren't anywhere near as sore as your insides where, and your dripping abused sex, the squelching as his thick veiny length continued to endlessly thrust in an out, your slick, and both of your mixed releases becoming immensely perfect lubricant for his ongoing assault at your insides.

His pace hadn't wavered in the slightest since he'd first tossed you on this bed, your final resting place it was starting to look like however, your head drooped down, your damp hair sticking to your shining sweat coated skin and pooling around your neck and shoulders, one arm coiled round your head in a petty attempt to keep you propped up, the other bent behind you and pinned to your lower back by one of his strong hands, long fingers determined on a goal keeping your hand and arm prisoner.

"Ch- Childe please, 'm... so ...c-cl-" a sudden smack to your rear causing you to yelp and cut your own sentence off, moans immediately breaking through after as his thrust get even faster. As if he was trying to damn you into oblivion by his cock alone.

"Ajax, milaya (dear), told you so many times before." he sounded hoarse, rough, but so damn sexy, the manly grunts and growls seeping from his lips as he selfishly slapped into your behind with each frantic thrust left you speechless, and nearly breathless too.

"A- Aja-ax! Please, I am about to c-" a sudden grip to your chin and a demanding tug forced your silence and sights to look behind you, the sight almost made you cum alone, a beautiful dusted shade of pink across his cheeks, his auburn hair dishevelled and unruly, lifeless ocean eyes drowning in lust and greed with a soft shine of sweat glistening off his skin, his jacket nearly fully discarded now as it drape on his arms already having slipped from his shoulders, his toned and muscular chest and abs constantly coming into view as his jacket lay open.

"Then cum, little zayka (bunny)" he gruffly commanded and that was your undoing, crying out in a plea, pleasure? You truly didn't know at this point, but it hit you, so damn hard and fast, your whole body convulsing against your will as you came for the Nth time today, his hand caging yours finally let go and slithered up tightly squeezing your shoulder, somewhat steadying your shudders and shivers as your body became victim to another hard orgasm.

Pushing with force he broke your weak attempt of propping yourself up, falling flat into the mattress now that was utterly soiled with too many bodily fluids to decipher at this moment. Your cheek pressed into the softness as you felt the weight dip either side your head, opening your glossy and dazed eyes you saw one of his hands, the one still confined in a glove pressed flatly into the mattress beside you.

From above Tartaglia now looked ready in position to start doing push-ups, one of his many basic warm up exercises in the early morning. However the only difference now was he wasn't out in the morning chill, but in a stuffy and stagnant aired room above a quickly melting minded woman that he enjoyed watching fall further into damnation.

"Good, good girl, so obedient for me aren't you?" An almost sadistic smile crept onto the gingers face as he loomed above you like a lion above its dinner, he breathed in deeply through his nose, a deep guttural inhale that left him shakily exhaling as he was becoming intoxicated in all that was you.

Soft whimpers is all you replied with now, you were slipping so fast into madness, your body hurt, it stung with aches and soreness, it begged so dearly to have rest now, but it couldn't deny the gut twisting pleasure that kept being forced onto it, your mind was torn and confused and left you more lost than when this all started, you found it easier to just stop thinking now.

"So beautiful, perfect." he murmured to himself, you'd not had guessed it was about you until you felt dotting caresses to your head and cheek that felt entirely out of place right now. He was petting you like you were some magical creature that he'd nurtured back to health and grown a sense of parenthood for, it felt uncanny to his normal flirtatious playboy style void of any deeper meaning.

With a slight reposition of balance you felt his thick length wedge deeper into your battered insides, reminding you of your situation. How did it get this way? All you remember now as hazy as it was, is you merely saying you felt you had no purpose in this world anymore, having retired from your assassination workforce, realising you no longer had a calling, for your call was always to be the sirens song of death to others, with no victims left to sing too, you were left abandoned. A performer with no audience, on a stage barely intact anymore.

You couldn't decipher the look on his face back then as he went silent, an eerie shadow of ominous tension exuding from him after the words left your mouth. Within mere seconds he had you naked and forced onto the bed in the shared room you both occupied, common occurrence for you both whenever you crossed paths, you had an ongoing fling with him after all. But he'd never been this intense with you before, sure he always fucked you good and proper, with that scary unending stamina of his, but this felt far more goal orientated than ever before now.

A sudden deep chuckle from him dragged you back to the now, as if he too had been lost temporarily in a deep trance, now back with full clarity he'd yet to enlighten you on, but you felt it was about to be shone on you no matter what your protests could've, if it even existed, been.

"You never were a little zayka (bunny) were you Y/N? No, you kill too easily, show no remorse for something innocent like that, but you're so sly, stealthy even, that sharp witted tongue as stinging as your knives that claimed so many lives, no, not a zayka (bunny) at all, but you know what you are?" He sounded so, serious... strong, possessive.

Before you could question his motives for this speech and demand a conclusion his thrusts suddenly started up again, this time slow, painfully slow, but deliciously deep and hard. Rhythmic slapping of your rear as his waist slammed down into you with full force now, his position allowing him to sink deeper and deeper inside your warmth. You began to moan loudly, desperately as he reached new depths within you. Feeling his weight press down into you as he laid almost on you now, his arm slowly slinking round your neck as if getting you into a headlock ready to strangle.

His teeth nibbling against your earlobe as he pants hot bated breaths beside your flushed cheek, so close, so hot, his smell, his weight, him, so much to take in...

"You're my malenʹka lysytsya (little fox), you're mine, all mine, always will be mine, now and forever milaya (dear)." His voice now a husky hot whisper against your ear, cheating entirely as he knows how weak in the knees you become to him using his native language to pet name you and praise you, you began to know what some of them meant, having him repeat them so often to you, it was bound to happen, but that... whatever he just said? 'malenʹka lysytsya' you'd never heard that one...

As if reading your mind he let out a soft chuckle, far too innocent and full of boyish charm for what he was literally doing to you right now. "It means little fox Y/N, bunny doesn't suit a killer, but a hunter in the shadows whose mastery lies in stealth and deceit, fox suits you perfectly, don't you think?" He asked it so nonchalantly as if he wasn't balls deep inside you right now, literally keeping you under him in a tight grip.

You blinked to try clear your vision, but blurry it remained, tears constantly swelling from painful yet blissful overstimulation to your abused body now. He was a harbinger, he was ruthless in battle and an expert with his weapons, and he seemed to dance that dance well, to avoid death, for your first meeting with him was purely because you'd been commissioned to off the young Harbinger. What a joke that ended up, duelling him when he easily caught you trying to stalk him in the shadows, fighting you was capable of, but the element of surprise was your best weapon and he'd disarmed it instantaneously.

Having fallen to the floor and accepting bitter defeat you awaited the sealing blow that was to end you, fully aware of what this work entails if you're to fail, but it never came, instead you felt a hand slink into your own and yank you back up to your feet, amused and lovestruck lifeless blue eyes gleaming back at you. That is how it started, in return for not killing you, you became, friends with benefits, often meeting up with each other when stressed and wanting a way to get out, at first it was just him summoning onto you, but when you grew to like his company and after a certain night where he became nothing but a selfless giver fixated on making you almost die from pleasure, you concluded this wasn't such a bad alternative, plus he was attractive obviously and somewhat... well, ... likeable.

You moaned again loudly as you felt him begin to thrust more harder and faster into you now. Splitting you apart inside and making home in your deepest most intimate places, you felt it, the buzz of another orgasm building, you loved it, but dreaded it all the same for it was becoming ten too many now.

"Come back with me." you heard his gruff voice beside your ear again, your head being forced to remain still as he rutted into you hard and fast. You continued to moan and blinked several times, did you hear that right?

"Y/N, be mine, come back with me, to my homeland, Snezhnaya. You have no reason to remain here anymore, or anywhere, the only place you're ever going to be needed is with me, by my side, in my home, be mine, become a mother to our children-"

"A-ajax?! children wh-what?!"

"Come now little lysytsya (fox) after how many times I have came inside you tonight, you really believe you aren't getting pregnant?"

"I can just go to BuBu Pharmacy and-"

"Over my dead body."

He began to pick up pace now, frighteningly so, drawing your orgasm horrifically nearer at breaking speeds. What had gotten into him?! more importantly what had gotten into you? Why did the sound of becoming his woman and bearing his children sound so inviting to you all of a sudden?

"Sl-slow down A, Ajax... I am gonna c-cum again-eng..."

"Let's, mmh, make a bet then my beautiful milaya (dear), last longer than me, and you're free to go, but if you cum before me, that is your eternal promise to forever holding loyalty to me and me only, and becoming mother to our beautiful multiple children." He chuckled gutturally as he finished having seen the red flush spread like wildfire over your cheeks as you became insanely embarrassed at all these far too loving and endearing promises to what is suppose to be mindless sex only! Wait a fucking second, Did he say multiple children?!

You growled out in a broken and shaky agreement to his proposal not that you had any choice but too from your current position, with that he beamed a far too overly energetic grin before piston slamming into you. Deep, so damn deep and hard, so fast too, dear archons above you wasn't gonna last for shit, why did you even think you could?!

Like clockwork he began to mutter praises into your ear, breath hot and hoarse, coaxing your orgasm closer every native word he rolled off his tongue. It was useless because with in only a few minutes and some perfectly deep angled rolls of his hips you melted and fell apart beneath him, moaning out loudly and shuddering aggressively yet again, your orgasm rattling you entirely, his grip around your neck never did cease.

"Good, gooood girl, my good girl, you hear that milaya (dear)? You're mine now, forever. Sucks to lose, but man do I love always winning." So cocky, you tried to groan but it came out a garbled whimper as your orgasm was still wrecking havoc on your poor body. Then the final straw snapped your sanity as he let out a deep groan finally cumming in you, letting his thick white ropes of seed paint and smother your insides, filling you to the brim yet again, he was right- you were definitely gonna be pregnant after this.

You felt so thoroughly fucked now, so dizzy, tired and exhausted, you felt the tempting blanket of slumber beginning to wrap around you. That and he was fucking you into unconsciousness at this point, he didn't stop thrusting, albeit he'd slowed down a bit, became softer, but movement was still apparent within him as he rested his head between your shoulder blades, panting deeply and heavily.

Finally releasing your head you dropped on to the mattress instantly and you heard him chuckle softly, warmly.

"Rest milaya (dear), you'll need it, it is a long trip back to Snezhnaya, rest." And you couldn't help but obey the order for it sounded too sweet to refuse, as you began to rapidly drift off into sleep the last coherent thought in you mind was; you wouldn't mind having a boy as your first child.

Ayato

Smack!

A loud moan erupted from your lips as your bare ass jiggled and your skin rippled down from the initial contact.

Smack!

Again you moaned loudly as you were sure the cheeks of your ass were becoming red raw now.

"What are you?" A stern voice bellowed out above you.

You sniffled.

Smack!

You moaned.

"What are you?" The stern voice repeated, sounding more serious.

"I- I'm sorry!" You whined out through pained sobs. You ass stinging something beyond comprehension right now, and your slick growing more by the second between your thighs.

"That's right, and why are you sorry?" The voice continued to bark out questions demanding answers.

"Be- beause-" you sniffled again finding it hard to find your words.

Smack!

You moaned out again and attempted to wriggle free from the Lords lap only to have him grab you by your neck and keep you forced bent over his knees.

"Now you try to escape your punishment for your little outburst too? Insane to think it possible with me young lady." Lord Kamisato growls as he deftly shoves two of his fingers into your soaking and unsuspecting sex.

A wanton moan escapes you as he finally gives attention to where you've been dying for it the past forty-five minutes. He curls his fingers constantly in a come hither motion, pressing against so many of your sweet spots that he was far too privy of now.

He tuts and then stops his actions as soon as sees you melting into it too much. You whine but before you can continue your pitiful protest he shushes you loudly.

"Silence, focus your mind Y/N, this is a punishment, remember that. Don't you dare cum unless I say you can, do I make myself clear?" He groans lowly awaiting your response.

You do not want to agree, you know if you do he will edge and tease you for hours, but this is the price you pay for calling him a stubborn man child in front of his subordinates and colleagues, and practically humiliating him in front of people he tries his best to keep reputation upheld with.

Smack!

You moan out again as he roughly curls his fingers inside you and slaps your ass again, ignoring your sobs and broken garbled moans.

"Do I make myself clear!" He hisses it at you now and for once you actually realise you may have gone a step overboard with your games on the young Lord's patience this time.

"Y-yes sir!" you sob out and inhaled deeply.

"Prepare yourself Y/N, I am not going easy on you this time. Time you learned your place, maid."

||Special Guest Appearance|| Wanderer

"Brat." The young small looking boy spat the harsh words out from under you, and not because you was topping, absolutely not. He had you on top, faced away from him, but his pelvis was suspended up by the balls of heels as he slammed up into you, lifting and slamming you back down, like you was nothing but a toy to him.

He was mostly intact, his clothes still on just his cock springing out from the top of his shorts to impale into your quivering sex. You however was a hot sweaty mess, clothes half hanging off, your breasts on display bouncing with every hard slap up into you and your bottoms long since thrown along the bedroom floor somewhere.

You continued to moan, tears falling from your eyes, it was starting to hurt, you just wanted to cum so bad now... but every time you felt close-

All movement stopped. You couldn't help but let out a soft sob as you felt your high slowly dissolve painstakingly away. Why must he be so cruel? Sure, you may have been teasing him a bit too much today but this was borderline torture of the sickest degree now, and he says he's a changed man, bullshit.

Suddenly just when your breathing had gone back to normal he picked up pace again, hard, fast and deep, continuous thrust up into you as he pulled you down onto him. Starting the build up all over again, you shook your head as you slightly sob-moaned out, so happy for the pleasure building again but distraught knowing he's only going to leave you hanging yet again.

"Tears, tsk, pathetic." he scoffed sounding completely undisturbed from the exertion on his body as he continuously thrusted up into you in such a position. For a man of such short stature he sure did pack a lot of muscle behind those garments, his fragile look was merely a trick to the eye, a trick he revelled in using to his advantage.

It worked on you like a charm after all, for you never would expected to be in the predicament you're in now just from making some light jabs about him being a 'scrawny puppet.' But as much as you hated to admit it, he sure did excel in having devastating strength and power, remaining half suspended in the air by just the balls of his heels; while slamming you up and down into his throbbing length like a flimsy dummy.

But you had zero time to fully praise him on his outstanding physique, for, he gave little to no care toward the torture and abuse he currently was thrusting into your own this very moment. How he managed to keep himself perfectly angled to reach all your sweetest spots inside was true sadism, for he did it not to help you reach your climax, merely to have you teetering on the precipice only to coldly drag you back.

You squeezed your eyes shut and shakily inhaled before holding your breath, a poor and futile attempt to force focus elsewhere, anywhere but right now, right here with him. If you could just think of nasty things and frightful occurrences maybe you could detour all of this-

"Cute." You heard him gruffly scoff from beneath you, still sounding entirely unaffected through this entire situation, from the smug snicker that slowly seeped from his voice you dreaded the fact that you knew, he knew, what you was desperately trying to do right now. That you were trying to will his sultry siren moves on your body out of your senses, ignore the singing melody of deceitful promises to hold your hand and lead you above the fluffy clouds you found yourself stagnant and forever floating in, to that white static of buzzing euphoria.

You were simply trapped in purgatory, made to feel all the delicious tremors and shudders that attacked your body from all angles, but denied that mind frazzling release. It was seriously starting to drain you of energy, your sanity dwindling in his truly unforgiveable grip, that he had so tightly locked around you, your very being right now.

"Said some hurtful things to me Y/N, puppet or not, still hurts my feelings ya know~" his voice mockingly rose in pitch as he feigned a pout, the sarcasm that dripped from every word like wet paint down a wall, too viscous to dry in time, it made you more angry than anything else now, how he lectures you and now taunts with your dwindling sanity at a time, like this.

"Y-yea? Well it's probably b-because you're a puppet that you cannot g-, g- get me off, in f-fact, can y-you even c-cum yourself r-robot boy? Psh." You spoke through shaky breaths and wobbly gasps, your voice wavering continuously as you did, you sounded far from threatening, more winded and void of any air in your lungs, but hopefully you'd irked that blown out ego of his.

All movement stopped, not abruptly, more so it died down gradually but still rather fast, which was odd given you hadn't reached the very peak of your climb to climax yet, did he slip out of tune with your own body just then? Assuming you'd gotten close when you hadn't, not so smart after all is he, hmph.

"I see." A low thrumming growl seeped from the boy beneath you, the words so quite you only heard them because no movement was being made anymore, it sounded like the words were meant for him more than you however, but that was proven wrong when in the blink of an eye and a gust of cold wind you were swirled round, back laying flushed against the soft mattress beneath you, the boy now above you, caging you in.

"W-wanderer?" Your voice was barely above a whisper as you saw the dim glow of something dangerous spinning in his dark purple eyes, he said nothing in response, merely lifted his head to grab his hat and for once carelessly drop it to the floor, he treated that hat like a second appendage, such unnecessary respect for the item, so seeing him so careless toward it now left you lost for words.

You hadn't even noticed he'd pulled out of you until you felt the glorious burning sensation of him pushing back inside you, your slick so plentiful he slipped back in with ease, for the first few inches at least- wait, there was more!?

He kept sinking deeper, deeper and deeper, kept go-ing, oh! Now having bottomed out in you entirely, reaching unfathomable depths within your moist spasming walls, it dawned on you how much he'd held back on you, how much he'd spared you from right now, and every time that had ever been before, he refused to ever fully strip, refused to ever let you see him naked or even glance at his what from feeling alone now concluded was a clearly thick and massive length.

Always remaining mostly dressed and concealed from your sights you'd never gotten to see his actual size, so you never would've guessed he was so well endowed. But you sure as fuck were feeling it now as it bulged inside you and kept you spread apart for his unimaginable girth that throbbed deep in your very being now.

So deep he was that the slightest thrust he made had your eyes rolling back and your eyelids fluttering, mimicking the way your walls fluttered in a pleasure wracked frenzy around him as he did.

"Can't get you off, huh?" He repeated your words back to you, not that you could in anyway respond now, your brain slowly frying what coherent sanity you had left, your vision blurred immensely but through the onslaught of swelling tears in your eyes from the scary pleasure that pulled you deeper down into the abyss, you could see his smug smirk staring down at you, how easily you unravelled your needy whimpering self beneath the porcelain doll now, no more bite in you, nothing but broken submission.

During your hazy dance in ecstasy your hand weakly lifted up and absentmindedly stroked through his indigo hair, soft and velvety in your touch, your hand dropping to gently cup and stroke his cheek a few frail times before dropping back down, a rare act of tenderness from you indeed, between the pair of you it was always sharp sarcasm and primal lust is all, but your eyes were out of focus, somewhere, far, far away, so it was a shame you missed the dazed expression of disbelief in the dolls face as he glared down at you, his look almost akin to warmth and softness toward you.

He didn't press on the matter, he decided he'd let you have that one broad move against him, not that it mattered, nor would he let it happen again.

His soft gaze as brief as it was, was then replaced with a deadly determination instead. "Don't you worry Y/N, I can cum alright." He punctuated the words with a deep intrusive thrust somewhere inside that he really shouldn't be able to reach let alone remain embedded in, a wanton moan ripping from you as that thrust alone reeled you into a sudden shudder and buzz.

"And how deep." he sneered the response out after watching your face contort and morph into so many beautiful faces for him to see, how pretty you looked finally shutting up and taking his cock in its fully entirety, how he'd always wanted it to be. He despised you'd got under his glass skin, made him, feel, for you, not that he'd ever admit it to you, but now he had the perfect reason to keep you by his side, always.

"I'll have you drunk on my cock in no more time, Y/N, besides, you're not bad on the eyes and I've revealed too much to you to ever let you go now, so congratulations Y/N, you just got upgraded to my personal cum bucket."

As you felt your climax ruthlessly climbing up and ready to burst at the seams, what he was saying didn't matter anymore, in fact... you rather enjoyed the sound of it.

||Special Guest Appearance|| Pantalone

The sounds of scribbling pen against paper echoed through a nearly empty hall, the source of the sound coming from none other than Pantalone's office, in the headquarters for the Harbingers. That and, a low buzzing vibration from a dildo that was wedged deeply into your dripping sex as you sat on the sofa legs spread eagle.

Face flushed pink as you moaned and mewled, your juices constantly dripping out causing vulgar squelching sounds, the room positively reeked of your musky scent, and maybe a year ago this would've killed you from embarrassment but now, it just fried your already sex addled brain further into the dark desires of bliss.

There he sat, Lord Pantalone, comfortably behind his desk scribbling away on documents and spreadsheets, securing further details, data and funds for the Fatui and her Majesty the Tsaritsa. A swift nonchalant push of his glasses back up the ridge of his nose where they'd momentarily slipped down and sip of his black coffee is the only extra movement he made before going back to work.

You continued to moan and whine as you thrusted the vibrating dildo continuously into your aching core, you'd been edging yourself for nearly three hours now, his orders, and you would be a fool to disobey, not that you ever wanted too; not after his last punishment anyway.

In a way you had asked for this, acting so needy to him and distracting him from his very important work, you should've known better, silly girl. But then again he cannot be mad, you're just a Fatui secretary after all, you'd not a clue how to run such errands he must do daily, but still, respect is key to this man and you'd shown none of it while wagging your ass around his office and speaking in a seductive manner all day.

You could feel the orgasm tipping over the edge yet again, right at your peak, your moans picked up in tone and your legs began to shake, your vision finally going blurry for the Nth time this hour, so close, just a bit longer-

"Stop." You heard his voice clearer than the ringing in your ears of your nearing release, a pitiful and needy whine escaped your lips as you reluctantly pulled the vibrator out from your now twitching opening that was completely slick with your arousal.

"S-...sir pl-"

"Did I give you permission to speak?" He quickly interjected with an all too kind sounding voice to which you slowly shook your head no.

"Mmh, then pray tell, why are your lips moving and why is there sound coming out?" He looked up at you now, that sinister grin on his face like always, to an outsider it seems warm, charming, welcoming even, but to those who know this man, it is merely a mask, almost unremovable like its part of his attire now, to always, be, smiling.

You opened your mouth about to speak but something about his aura made you shut your mouth again, that smile, though he hasn't moved, hasn't changed expression, didn't even raise his voice, you felt deeply in trouble and scared all over, so you remained dead silent.

He simply flared his nostrils as he sighed out slowly, almost humming gently, his smile still there, as he stood from his desk and stretched slowly, the crack of his arms, back and legs an indicator to how long he had been seated today, too long, for even his liking.

He glanced out his window and saw the night sky had blanketed over Teyvat now, perfect he mused to himself as he clapped his hands together in a pleased manner which only made you sink further into doubt and fear. To which he soon clocked onto fast.

"Oh my sweet flower, why so scared hm? You act as if I plan something disastrous, come now." His voice was so smooth, almost like butter, but behind that honey woven voice lay poison and you knew it. You loved it.

He beamed a more genuine smile at you now unable to hide his amusement as he walked around his desk to his cupboard of- well archon knows really, no one is ever allowed to see inside there, period. But you heard it, the slight jingle, and you swallowed down thickly, fear settling in with a pulsing sense of excitement too.

As he turned your eyes fixated on it instantly, the pink dog leash and collar with a baby pink jingling bell that had 'Flower' carved in cursive over it, it was all yours, he so happily said the day he showed you it, bought it custom made just for you! Lucky girl!

When he sat you on his lap that one lonely dark night, asking what your favourite colour is, and your favourite hobby, you didn't think saying pink and picking flowers would have led to all this, but here you are, and deep down, you were happy about it now? Maybe he finally had broken you in, because all you ever wished was for his appraisal now, approval and attention, much like a dog.

He clicked his finger and aimed his index toward the floor by his shoe, and you knew what that meant, you began to slowly close your legs to make your attempt to get off the couch but his tut and sigh stopped you.

Looking at him, collar spinning round his long slender index finger, that had caused you to orgasm more times than you can remember now, his foot tapping impatiently you suddenly realised. Still afraid to speak you spread your legs back open for his full viewing pleasure as you stuck the dildo back in and switched it back on.

Now with a constant muffled buzz and your small whimpers and moans as you slowly crawled over to him he smiled and hummed once again. Placing the collar round your neck and clipping the leash like a cherry on top of a cake he stood back up.

"Good girl, such a precious flower you are, now come, let us go for a walk, you have been showing too much energy around here recently and it is becoming rather distracting, best we fix that now." With a curt tug of your collar followed by a jingle of your bell you began to crawl behind him slowly out his office and into the cold hallway that laid barren and silent.

You are his good girl after all, and as much as he adores seeing you like this, he would much rather keep it to his eyes only, that is why these calming walks only happen at midnight, when everyone is asleep, or away.

See, he does care.

||Special Guest Appearance|| Dottore

You don't know what he'd injected into you, but it made you horny, fast, desperately so, the moment the needle left your skin your body set itself ablaze with a hunger and desire that threatened to consume you in seconds if you didn't find any sort of friction to ease your burning coiled tension inside.

Falling to your knees and clutching at your stomach as it warped round your very muscles and brain and began to make your mind spin till dizzy, wanting The Doctor to just fuck you then and there, you weakly tugged at his coat, to which he joyfully hummed in response as he set the empty needle down.

"Yes? What is it Y/N." he asked all too carelessly for your liking right now.

"N- need you..." you could barely speak now, you didn't wanna waste time talking! Just wanted him fucking into you good and proper.

"Need me? My dear, you'll have to be more informative than that, need me for what exactly?" His grin only widened, his sharp canines on full display as he peered down at you, not that you could see his eyes, but the way he wore that beak like mask certainly made him look like a bird of prey zeroing in on its prey; you.

"T-touch me, pl-please..." you whimpered, begging with all your might, you could already feel your slick pooling in your underwear, it felt hot, uncomfortable, unbearable.

"Oh I'd be more than happy too dear, if you swear your loyalty to me, now, and not that insufferable man." You knew who he meant, for it was your higher ranking officer in charge of your unit, Sir Capitano.

Il Dottore has had his eye on you for so long now, and ever since finding out you would be working for the knight he has clearly shown his anger to it, demanding your Captain hand you over to him to which he would always refuse before continuing with his day.

"Such a needy little brat, aren't you" The masked, blue haired man hummed down at you, creepy shark toothed grin an all. You merely mewled in response however as you continued to hump yourself shamefully against his leg and shoe.

You didn't think that offering to help Sir Dottore once with his medical report that it would lead to this, being drugged into a raging intoxication of desire and want. Rutting against the mans shoe like a horny rabid animal.

"I won't offer my shoe to you forever dear, so either swear loyalty to me now or leave my office at once." The threat alone had your heart tightening in embarrassment and worry, there was no way in Celestia itself you would walk out here like this!

You wanted to remain loyal to Capitano, you really did, but the drug became too much, your brain had long since lost to it, your body even quicker, you just wanted this man to do all sorts of unspeakable things to you now to relieve you of this burning inside.

"Fine! I- I hereby swear my undying loyalty to you Sir Il Dottore!" you cried it out sounding far more needy than you'd ever heard yourself before.

"Good, good girl." he never did drop his scary grin as he was swift with his actions of bending down and scooping your sweating weak body up and laying you out on his desk, almost like a patient about to undergo surgery.

"That stupid monster, he never did know how to treat such a beautiful specimen, I will open your eyes to wonder you never would've known existed my sweet girl, my loyal subject." he spoke with an eerie tone of endearment that you would've normally found distasteful but now, hearing such beautiful promises set your insides ablaze even hotter.

It took record time for Dottore to have you naked on his desk, nestled between your thighs, his trousers now loosely hung round his lower waist, his thick veiny erection rubbing and pressing against your hot, achy sex that was coated in your slick arousal, desperate to feel him fill you up.

"Close your eyes my beautiful subject, allow yourself to sink into the mind destroying pleasure, that I your new master, and much more generous leader is going to suffocate you in." it sounded like a promise, but also a threat but it also sounded just, so fucking good and you wanted it bad.

When you closed your eyes you heard an animalistic growl leave the man, your obedience seemed to further boost his crazy ego but it probably meant a better thorough fucking for you, so ego boost him all the way man!

When you felt him slowly push inside you, spreading you open and filling you all the way deep inside, till his base press flush against you, you shuddered hard and couldn't help the mind breaking orgasm that simply rocked and cascaded all over your body like a mini seizure. It frightened you almost with how intense it was and all he'd done was enter you!

You heard a dry chuckle from Dottore now and then his deep husky voice.

"Dirty girl, enjoy it, because there is so, so much more from where that came from, you're not leaving here till all you know is the feel of me, and my cock inside you, little slut."

The sudden name calling only fanned your flames of want, and the promise of more of those scarily intense orgasms made your stomach flip inside, yea... you think you can get use to serving Dottore instead now.

[choso-ish]

Twilight's Embrace

--Suguru Geto x gn! reader

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

. ݁ ⟡ ݁ Summary: Suguru's breakup with you before leaving Jujutsu Tech.

. ݁ ⟡ ݁ Word count: 1.3k

. ݁ ⟡ ݁ Warnings: Arguing, angst, I think one or two curse words

. ݁ ⟡ ݁ A/N: If you saw the original post of this, no you didn't. It flopped a bit (undoubtedly because of my bad writing, sorry guys), so I decided to do some editing, delete the first one, and post this instead. Can't tell if this is better or worse ngl.

“You deserve someone better.” 

The dim rays of moonlight that shone through the curtains cast an ethereal glow on his face. His lips were pursed, his posture poor, and his gaze no longer lovingly on you. 

He was no student, no man; just your lover eroding into something less than human. But no, he was never human, was he? He was a Jujutsu sorcerer – bound by duty and destiny. 

Humans were now his enemies, after all. 

However, the physical repercussions of that fact were ones you had overlooked for far too long, only noticing them for what they were in this moment, as the two of you were left face-to-face in his room. 

As he stood with his hands in his pockets, his arms suddenly seemed thinner, the shadows beneath his eyes deeper, and his hair now greasier and unrestrained. Each detail painted a poignant picture of his inner turmoil.

It was suddenly so vivid that you were shocked by how long it took you to really see it all in the first place. 

Outside, the faint murmur of crickets filled the silence between the two of you, punctuated by the occasional rustle of leaves in the late night’s breeze. Fond memories created in this room were now losing their significance, and it hurt you too much to spend time mulling over that fact. 

You drew in a deep breath, your eyes drifting around the room, as if seeking refuge from your own swirling thoughts. A lone candle slowly flickered on the bedside table, its warm glow offering scant comfort in the face of looming despair.

"I don’t understand," you managed to say, the simplicity of your words betraying just how confused you really were.

“I mean,” you laugh anxiously, a hand slipping through your hair. “We were doing fine. More than fine…” 

So where was this all coming from? 

“You’ve been doing fine.” he slipped in smoothly, his eyes sharper than usual. The comment caused you to pause as another long silence fell across the room. 

"How long?" you questioned softly, your voice trembling with a mix of concern and apprehension. "How long have you been feeling this way?" Each word hung heavy in the air, waiting for his response to break the suffocating silence.

His eyes darted away, revealing a flicker of doubt behind his otherwise collected facade.

You knew, deep down, there was no way that he wasn’t bothered by this, too. 

“I don’t know,” he murmured. He fidgeted and readjusted himself before gazing out of the window and then back at you. “It’s been… pent up for a while I guess.” 

In the growing silence, a surge of emotions overwhelmed you. Doubt crept into the corners of your mind as regret splintered through your heart. 

Each word he spoke felt like another crack in the facade of your shared reality. 

His jaw twitched and for a moment, there was a glimmer of challenge in his eyes as he held your gaze. “It doesn’t matter,” he shot back defensively. “What does matter is that I’m dealing with it.”

But you weren’t hearing it. You were too busy replaying all the ways you felt you had let him down. You weighed up just how much worse things could get before the bleeding stopped. You were standing on the edge of something irreversible – you just couldn’t see the canyon below.

“It matters to me.” you retort gently, subconsciously leaning forward as you try to pry through his walls. You attempt to grab his hand, but he pulls away and looks in the opposite direction. Goddamnit. 

“I can’t help if you don’t let me in, so stop shutting me out.” 

“But I don’t need your help.” There was a furrow in his brow, a crease of frustration etched deep into his forehead. “I told you, I’m dealing with it.”

Rejection had never tasted so bitter. Each time he refused to open up, it felt like reopening a wound. Why won't he just talk to you? Why won’t he confide in you? 

All you wanted was to bear his burdens for him. 

Anger begins to stir within you, and you feel a sense of powerlessness. He's always been your shoulder to cry on, your ear to bend towards in times of distress. Now, he’s closed off when he needs you, as if you’re suddenly a stranger in your own relationship. 

Your fists ball themselves at your thighs, nails piercing your flesh as you fight to hold back the mix of emotions raging inside you. Unshed tears begin to sting the corners of your eyes.

“I… I don’t know.” You manage to whisper, your heart thumping in your ears. “We’re supposed to be a team. You know, in this together." 

But he doesn’t say a word – a stinging reminder of the growing distance between the two of you. With a heavy heart, you realized that perhaps some wounds ran too deep to ever truly heal.

You never thought that would apply to the two of you. 

You cast a fleeting glance around the room once again, searching for something, anything, to anchor you in this moment of uncertainty – but all you found were echoes of memories, now tainted by the harsh reality of your shattered relationship.

The distance between you felt insurmountable, a gaping chasm widening with each passing moment. And though you longed to bridge the gap, to find your way back to each other, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling that perhaps it was already too late. 

"I don't want to lose you," you confessed, each word tinged with a raw vulnerability you hadn't anticipated. "But I can't keep pretending everything's okay when it's not."

"I don't know," he muttered, his tone edged with frustration. "Maybe it's better if we just... let it go."

His words landed like a punch to the gut, the finality of them sending a chill down your spine. It was as if he had slammed a door shut that you had desperately hoped to keep open. 

Your eyes widened as you took another step closer to him. No way. 

"Then let's fix it together," you pushed, trying to ignore the tremble in your voice. "...Because I refuse to believe that we're beyond repair.” 

In the silence that followed, you held your breath, hoping for a positive response, a sign that he was willing to try along with you. 

But he remained stubbornly silent, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the distance. It was as if he had withdrawn into himself, building walls where bridges should have been.

It takes you a moment to realize that you had been crying. 

You quickly wiped away the tears that had begun to pool in your eyes, resigning yourself to the painful truth. "I can't do this alone," you whispered, the words a final plea for understanding. 

"I know," he finally murmured, his voice barely audible. "And I... I'm sorry."

His apology hung in the air like a hollow echo, devoid of the warmth and sincerity you had longed for. It was a bittersweet acknowledgment of the pain he had caused, but it offered no solace in the face of your shattered dreams.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, bringing his palm up to his jaw and running his fingers along his cheeks. “You know it’s not your fault. It’s mine.” 

He wasn't asking for forgiveness; he was grappling with his own emotions, aware of the consequences of his actions – and that terrified you. 

He slowly turned and approached the foyer. After grabbing his coat, he gripped and twisted the doorknob open. 

“Don’t leave me, Suguru.” you stood a few feet from the doorway, showing the last amount of desperation you had left. 

“Please.” 

His eyes caught yours for a brief second before he looked away. You heard the click of the door shutting in place as he exited, creating the final rift between the two of you.

The candle on the nightstand extinguished, the room going dark. 

How swiftly it had become yet another night with only the moon offering its consolation. 

likes/reblogs/comments are more than appreciated! thank you so much for reading to the end :D

©choso-ish. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works.

[doumadono]

Emergency request:

Hey I hope it's okay if I request some comfort with Hawks. I've had struggled for a long time now never really telling anyone even though I have had times where I got anxiety/panic attacks almost daily. Mostly because of some family issues and having to had been safe place and supporter for both my younger siblings and a mother. (there has happened a lot but I won't go to any specific details) It was both freeing and terrifying to have moved on my own since I felt like I had in a way less responsibility havig to just look after myself and do what I want. But I also felt anxious of not really knowing what's going at home and feeling like I wasn't really needed anymore. Not really getting many calls to ask how I was doing or if I do it quickly becomes a 'rant' of what's going on in their life, even though it's much better now than few years back.

I'm finally getting help and send a text to my school psychologist because I have been pretty exhausted about everything building up and not really attending to school either. But I'm proud for finally going to talk there and hopefully getting some more help. I'm just anxious of how no one really knows how much I have been struggling and thinks I'm doing well and I don't know how I'm going to face them telling them if I can't continue school at this moment.. Meaning I would have to break the illusion of how I really am.. I'm just used to keeping it inside but I'm trying to break out of that.. but it's scary xd

I'm sorry for the long explanation I don't mean to vent I'm bad at summarizing stuff. There's absolutely no pressure to write this and I wish you have an amazing day! I wanto say I really love your blog and all your amazing writings!❤️

A/N: I apologize for posting this after the 48-hour emergency request window; I've been quite busy recently. I want you to know that reaching out for help is a brave and significant step. You don't have to carry this burden alone, and it's okay to break the illusion. Your well-being matters, and I'm proud of you for taking care of yourself. It may be scary, but you're on the path to healing, and there's strength in vulnerability! Keep moving forward, and things will get better ♥

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Hawks had always been known for his swiftness, both in the skies and in his hero duties. But today, as he received your message and read through the turmoil you'd been enduring, he realized that some things couldn't be rushed. He knew that your struggles had been hidden beneath a brave facade for far too long. As he flew toward your place, he used a few of his feathers to discreetly check in on you. They slipped through the slightly ajar window, silently sensing your distress and heavy sighs.

You sat alone, enveloped in the suffocating embrace of your inner demons; your apartment dimly lit, and your heart heavy with the weight of your struggles. The room was filled with a haunting silence, only broken by the occasional distant sirens of the city.

When he finally landed on your balcony, and knocked gently, you were startled, not expecting him to actualy show up. Opening the balcony door, his wings cast a shadow over you. His usually confident demeanor was replaced with an air of solemnity.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, both surprised and touched by his presence.

He gave you a soft, sympathetic smile and stepped inside. "I read your message, and I couldn't just ignore it. You really thought I won't check upon you, songbird? Can I come in?"

Nodding, you led him to your living room, where you both settled on the couch. The weight of your troubles hung heavy in the air, and Hawks knew he needed to tread carefully. "I know this might be difficult," Hawks began gently, "but you don't have to carry this alone anymore. You can talk to me, whatever it might be about."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you finally allowed yourself to speak, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. You shared your anxiety, panic attacks, and the overwhelming sense of responsibility for your family's well-being.

Hawks listened intently, his red wings folding around you protectively as you poured out your heart. "You don't have to hide your pain. It's okay to be vulnerable."

"But what if they see me differently now since I moved out?" you whispered, fear lacing your voice. "What if they think I don't care about them anymore? What if they'll consider me weak if I tell them about my school?"

Hawks leaned closer, his feather-light touch soothing. "Strength isn't about never feeling weak. It's about facing your vulnerabilities and seeking support when you need it, even if you're a pro hero. And believe me, there's nothing weak about that. About the situation with your family - I'm sure they'll finally accept your decision about moving out. Give them time and with small gestures show them that you still care."

As you continued to talk, Hawks offered reassuring words, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. He spoke of his own struggles, sharing stories of the pressure and loneliness that came with being a hero. Hawks gently brushed his feathers against your cheek, a gesture filled with tenderness. "You're not alone in this, okay? I'll be here for you whenever you need me, and I'll support you through the tough times."

Tears streamed down your face as you gazed at him, grateful for his understanding. "Thank you, Keigo. I don't know what I would've done without you today."

He smiled softly, his golden eyes reflecting genuine care. "Anytime, kid. Remember, you've got wings of your own, and you can soar through anything."

[yourlocalmerchgirl]

Hi there! I saw your post and was wondering if I could request a Bucky AU story featuring a soft, protective Bucky with the reader. Thanks so much! ❤️

Let me take the pain away

Bucky Barns x F!reader

Thank you Anon for this request! I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. 🫶🫶

Warnings: small SHIELD cross over/ spoiler. Mentions of reader being kidnapped/ tortured by hydra. Protect Bucky. Soft Bucky. Angsty Bucky. No use of Y/N. Not a lot of physical descriptions of reader

“Do you think you’re ready to talk about what happened?” Your therapist asks.

Your leg bounces rapidly, you knew you couldn’t get away without talking about it forever. It’s been a month, she was generous not to push before now.

“I can try” you breathe out, your head hung low.

“How about we start with some details you remember.”

“Honestly, a lot of the details are fuzzy. I lost pretty big chunks of time”

“It’s a natural reaction for your body to completely shut down and go into survival mode”

“I remember waking up in an abandoned wear-house restrained to a chair. I have no idea how long I was there or how long I’d been out…. Ward and a few people I’d never seen before appeared. I always had a bad feeling about him but I never thought he would have been a part of Hydra.”

“They….they wanted me to give up secret tech the Avengers use. Wanted to know where all the hideouts are, all the safe houses and planes.”

Deep Breath

“When I wouldn’t give them the info…they….they proceeded to try to scare me into it and when that didn’t work. They tortured me. I was in and out of consciousness. I-I have no idea how many days it went on. It could have been days or weeks, they barely gave me food or water. After a certain point i just remember coming too briefly in Visions arms as we were flying. When I woke up again I was in my bed with a finger monitor on.”

“How have you been healing?”

“They told me that Hydra had put a chip in my neck. To try to track where they were moving my body… to try to find out about locations of different head quarters. Apparently it was sharp and placed by my jugular so that it could finish me off if they needed. Antman had to shrink down and go in an incision to help Bruce get it out because it was a dangerous surgery.”

“The scar from that is healing and the rest of my broken bones and cuts are healing, but I was so scared… I’m still so scared.” You say, tears starting to stream down your face.

“I’ll stop you there and we can pick this up next week, you’re making real progress that you should be proud of.”

—————————————————————

-The day they found you-

“Let me see her!” Bucky shouted

“She’s going into surgery, you shouldn’t see her like this” Tony pressed

“Why wouldn’t you tell all of us that she was even found?”

“Because we didn’t and still don’t know if she’s going to make it”

“Well then let me see her if she’s not going to make it!”

“They can’t stop the surgery, it’s very dangerous and if the smallest move is done wrong she will die on the spot. So please just go sit down”

“Goddamnit Stark don’t talk to me like I’m a child, when my best friend is fucking dying” Bucky snarls as he pushes a bunch of papers off the table.

“Get a hold of yourself Bucky!” Tony shouts after him as he’s walking away.

“I’ll go talk to him Tony, he’s just worried. You do understand that right?” Steve says going after him.

Steve finds Bucky pacing outside of the compound.

“He’s something else you know that! The fact that they moved most of us here, didn’t tell us they found her and then just showed up with her. And then expect none of us are going to want to see her, it’s fucking bull shit Steve”

“I know, trust me I get it Bucky. But I understand them not wanting to get our hopes up. She’s in really bad shape, she’s on her death bed. They’re just trying to do what they can as quickly as they can”

Bucky let’s out a groan, raking his hands over his face.

“I love her…” Bucky says looking over at Steve.

“And the thought of not being able to tell her that….I don’t know if I’ll recover from that, from losing her.”

——————————————————————

Back to present day

“You should be making her come out here if she wants to eat. She can’t just keep hiding in her room. You also should stop sleeping on a cot outside of her room.” Natasha chides

“She will come out when she’s ready. Christ Nat it’s only been 2 months, she’s been through a lot. Atleast I know she’s eating if I bring her food.”

“I wasn’t able to protect her in the first place, so im sure as hell going to make sure im there to protect her now. She was there for me when I was recovering from Hydra. Because that’s what you do when you care about someone. So I don’t know, maybe mind your own business”

Knock Knock

“C-come in” your voice is so meek and tried. If Bucky wasn’t listening for it he would of missed it.

The dim lighting of your room casts a soft warm hue over everything. You’re curled up in bed facing away from him as he quietly comes further into your room.

I’d give anything for her to just look at me, to let me take all her pain away

“I brought you dinner, you might not be hungry but I’ll put it on your desk for you to have when ever you want.”

“Thank you Bucky” you said turning your head only slightly to make sure he heard you.

Bucky was your best friend and if you were being honest with yourself the love of your life. But you couldn’t bare the thought of him seeing you like this, The terrified shell of a person you were before nearly dying at the hands of Hydra.

Bucky couldn’t help but sigh in relief when he hears you getting up and going to your desk almost as soon as he closes the door. And he can’t help but smile when he hears you whisper “my favorite” when you see what’s for dinner tonight.

Bucky jolts awake to the sounds of you crying out. He scrambles off the cot and to your door way in seconds. He opens the door to find you reaching out grasping at something in your nightmare.

“No please… don’t hurt him…Bucky no” you cry out.

Bucky kneels down next to the bed

“Shh- shh. It’s ok, I’m here with you. Your safe, I’m safe, I’ve got you” he says smoothing this hand up your arm up to your face brushing the hair away to cup your face. He traces your cheek bone back and forth with his thumb until your cries stop and your breathing dips back down to normal.

“Bucky…don’t go please… I don’t want to be alone” you whispered through a broken sob as he was sitting there quietly mentally unwilling to leave your side.

“I’m never leaving your side again I’m right here”

“W-will you lay with me?” You ask nervously

“Of course I will”

As soon as Bucky gets settled in your bed your clinging to each other like your lives depend on it. Your face buried in the crook of his neck, his head resting on yours, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

“I thought I was never going to see you again. I’ll never forgive myself for not being there to protect you when you needed me”

“Bucky” you sobbed.

“I was so scared. Scared of what they’d do to you or any of the team. They forced me to watch these videos that showed terrible things happening to you. It took me so long to realize they were fake. But-but I though for most of the time I was captured I thought you were dead. The only thing that got me through was thinking about you”

“I never thought I’d see you again to say this but I love you”

[ink-and-dagger]

Drink With Me - The Virgin AU [Part 3]

The problem: I cannot finish this fic by myself because I keep getting hung up over the details.

The solution: You thots are gonna help me.

You heard correct. The final part of the DWM Virgin Silco AU is going to be a Choose Your Own Adventure, and here's how it's going to work.

I will be releasing this final part in instalments, and at the end of each instalment will be a poll where you can vote for Reader/Astrid's next move. Whatever you decide, I will write.

Some key things to note:

The length of installations will vary. Some will be longer, some will be shorter, and I don't know yet how many there will be in total. I will end each segment whenever a natural CYOA opportunity arises, and we'll keep going until this virgin is a virgin no more.

The polls will only be 24 hours long. This is because I want to write and release each installation as quickly as possible. So keep an eye on my blog and cast your vote lickety-split.

Once the AU is wrapped up I will gather all the segments together and repost it so that people can read the entirety of Part 3 without any breaks in the text.

I will also be uploading these segments to AO3 with a link to the Tumblr poll, so subscribe to the fic over there if you want to receive email notifications for each instalment/poll.

I will be posting the first instalment tonight at 9pm GMT.

I'm actually really excited to try this new method of fic writing. So let's all hold hands and wet this man's ween as a community ✨💜

Links to the first two parts below, in case anyone fancies rereading in preparation:

Drink With Me - The Virgin AU Part 1

Drink With Me - The Virgin AU Part 2

[rpgsandbox]

So this appeared on twitter the other day, a challenge for 2023.

A blog post fleshed out the idea a bit more:

#Dungeon23

A dungeon room a day for all of 2023.

The other day I posted on twitter about a cool little project I’m working on for 2023. Essentially, I’m doing a dungeon room a day, every day, and keeping track of it in a little weekly calendar.

Why?

Well, I love dungeons and megadungeon play, but writing a megadungeon is difficult! It takes a lot of energy and it’s hard to know when to work on it and for how long. This simplifies things.

A dungeon room a day, every day, for 2023. That’s 365 rooms. I’ll do a level a month, so 12 levels. Every week is a little area of 7 rooms, so I can keep my focus small.

I’m using the amazing Hobonichi Weeks which if you don’t know is a great little notebook designed by the writer of the Earthbound/Mother game series. It’s got great paper, and the Weeks version is the smaller more portable notebook. Essentially on a single spread you’ve got seven days on the left and then an open piece of graph paper on the right. That’s perfect for a key of seven rooms and a map. Here’s another one that ship’s from the US. Got a worldbuilder’s notebook you’ve been dying to use? Now’s the time.

You don’t have to use this notebook, don’t get hung up on the details here. Any old notebook will do. I just happen to have an addiction to Japanese stationery and no real need to journal, so this is what I’m doing, dungeon as journal.

There’s some great things you can do here too: instead of room numbers, you can number them with the date. This makes rooms pretty easy to find and reference within your notebook. Don’t need a megadungeon? Try twelve small dungeons! The point is to do a little bit of writing a day. Some tips:

Don’t overthink it. Don’t make a grand plan, just sit down each day and focus on writing a good dungeon room.

Generators are your friend. The point isn’t to get stuck writing the perfect room, the point is to write a room. Randomize the monster, treasure, whatever items you need. Use “Tricks, Traps, and Empty Rooms,” by Courtney Campbell. There’s a billion d100 lists on Elfmaids & Octopi. Take rooms from dungeons you love. Just get the rooms down on paper.

If you can’t think of what to write that day just write “Empty Room,” see how easy that is?

365 rooms written like “3 orcs, 25 gold pieces.” is better than 5 rooms written like “In this beautiful hand carved obsidian room sit 3 orcs arguing over a dice game. 25gp sit on the table, each of them…” See what I’m getting at? The goal is the finish line. Just get to the finish line. Trust me.

If you want to keep up with my progress on Twitter, mastodon, or cohost, use the hashtag #dungeon23. Post your results too! Post a room a day on twitter so other people can steal it and put it in their journals! Become a collector of rooms, you don’t have to be the well.

The greatest creative advice I ever got was “have something to show for your time.” I’ve found a lot of success on always shipping projects every year. This is one of those projects, once you realize you can create a dungeon of this magnitude, your whole world opens up with what you can do. And it’s insanely fun too!

#dungeon23, I’ll see you on the other side.

P.S.

Need a weekly prompt to carry you through? Here’s 52 prompts to keep you motivated:

Ancient

Death

Sunken

Love

Empire

Heavy

Rural

Darkness

Bloom

Rust

Noise

Childhood

Time

Excess

Decay

City

Factory

Flood

Sleep

Cold

Ash

Touch

Meat

Solitude

Growth

Greed

Luck

Fall

Pit

Chaos

Laughter

Smoke

Forgotten

Library

Ocean

Song

Roots

Bones

Hangman

Blood

Prophet

Idol

Door

Light

Stars

Bridge

Mask

Cut

Sacrifice

Incense

Rise

Gold

[thewingedbaron]

Lord Enver Gortash- Underestimated

A worm has crawled into my brain and will not release me until I write more of these. (Check out my Ketheric Post if you haven't seen it) Enjoy a little confrontation between everyone's least favorite hot topic shopper and the Dark Urge.

Warning: Depictions of Violence, Emotional Manipulation, and Body Horror.

Enjoy :)

Lord Enver Gortash glanced up with annoyance as the door to his lavish office softly clicked shut. He was terribly busy, the stack of reports on his desk had become ever growing since those bothersome annoyances had entered the city. Reports seemed to fly in every few minutes detailing strange disturbances and happenings about the lower city. Gortash had shut himself away in his office hours ago with orders to not be disturbed, though it seemed the bumbling idiots of the Flaming Fist couldn’t even manage that. 

Gortash’s annoyance evaporated as his eyes landed on the figure standing before the door. 

“I was hoping we would get the chance to speak alone.” He smiled as he glanced back down at the reports on his desk, appearing unconcerned by the intruder. “I’m not offended that it's taken you so long. You’ve been quite busy since you’ve gotten back. But I knew you couldn’t stay away forever.” 

The figure in the doorway said nothing. Gortash could feel the familiar heat of their eyes on him, sizing him up like a cut of meat. The back of his neck prickled as a small shiver of fear wormed down his spine. Oh how he had missed this little game of theirs. The threat of murder had always made their relationship so… exhilarating. 

“I must admit, I was surprised when you turned up with those hangers-on. Less surprised when I discovered you murdered Ketheric. I would have done the old man in myself, had you not gotten to it first.” Gortash’s smile widened as he scratched a note on a report. “No matter, the important thing is we control two of the nether stones. Have you considered my proposition? You must be itching to get your hands on Orin and reclaim your rightful place as the Chosen of Bhaal. None of us could have ever imagined her to be so ambitious, but I doubt she will prove a difficult obstacle for someone of your prowess.” 

Still his old lover said nothing. The Lord of Baldur’s Gate felt a flash of annoyance. When they had appeared at his coronation, he had seen a new side of the beast of Bhaal. The same murderous flame still burned in their eyes, but they had changed. It was tempered. Controlled. Like it had once been under his thumb. 

He had intended to relish in the challenge of dominating this new beast. Not so long ago, they had hung off his arm and rested in his bed. Conquering the Chosen of Bhaal had been no easy feat, but it had been an entertaining one. He’d wrapped them so tightly around his finger they’d been delighted to spill blood as much in his name as in their murderous father’s. But eventually, even that had bored him. So fixated was his pop that they had not foreseen Orin’s betrayal. They had fallen, and Gortash had moved on to more interesting toys. 

But when they entered his celebration of power with their flame rekindled, Gortash had rejoiced. He was free to manipulate and steer the Bhaalspawn once more. Through them, he would control all three nether stones and rid himself of Orin, who was so annoyingly resistant to his charms. 

Yet now they stood in his chambers once more. Silent. Staring dumbly at him as if he were not even there. Perhaps Orin’s betrayal had stolen more than their memories. 

“Come now lover, you must say-” 

As if finally responding to his voice, the figure dashed forward. A grin spread across Gortash’s lips as he opened his arms to embrace them before a white hot pain slashed across his throat. His eye caught the glint of a blade and a spray of blood as the Bhaalspawn stepped beyond his embrace. He tried to call out, but realized he could not speak. With rising horror, he clutched at the wound trying to stem the sudden flow of blood. It was less than he expected. The wound had been shallow, just deep enough to sever his vocal chords. Unbidden tears streamed down his face as Gortash tried to scream. 

Suddenly, the Bhaalspawn’s face was a mere inch from his own, their breath hot on his face. The flame in their eyes had reached a roaring crescendo as Gortash realized his miscalculation. 

“I have taken something most precious from you, tyrant.” Each word whispered like a searing kiss upon his face. “I wish I could take the light from your eyes, and the thoughts from your mind, but I have promised your life to another… as you once did.” 

Gortash’s eyes widened in panic as a second figure moved into view. Large, looming, a giant by any definition. Their skin was pitted with old scars and burns, a broken horn sat upon their brow. Lord Enver Gortash could not beg for mercy, for he had none in his blackened heart. 

[nerdyvocals]

Now that Far Away has been published and I'm slightly in-between works (working on the outline for this one but it likely will get interrupted by the Lynthia fic exchange), I've decided to make a post with all the little details/symbolism/funny things that happened while @look-at-those-niceass-rocks and I were working on it. This is very self-indulgent and simply because I put more thought into this fic than I have into any of my writing in a long time, and I want to point out all of the things that still have me, personally, on my knees.

This is a very long info dump, so post under the cut <3

So first and foremost, I originally posted Steady, Steady the day the show was cancelled, just a few hours before the news broke, and I was already planning on rewriting the ending of that one shot (and I did end up doing that), the very idea for Far Away stemmed from my rage at the cancellation (sign the petition if you haven't already!)

The first thing I came up with were two lines from the confrontation scene, "I'm what you were too much of a coward to be," and "Lydia is the goddamn sun." After writing Steady, Steady, I couldn't get the idea out of my head that Cynthia would be so ready to throw down with summer stock girl if she ever got the chance, and all I could think about was what she would say to her.

The original pitch I gave Bee was "it’s roughly 2ish years post season 1, Nancy has a summer job designing for an opera (because why not), and while there, Lydia has a run-in with Kitty Thompson for the first time since that time at summer stock. Featuring Protective!Cynthia cussing her bitch ass out."

Also special shout out to Bee for taking my off-hand comment about wanting to keep the theme of Crane Wives lyrics for titles to heart and going through their entire discography line by fucking line to write down lyrics that fit the vibes we were going for.

(Side note: New Discovery is a very thesbian coded song. Additionally, Queen of Nothing is Kitty Thompson coded, directly correlating to her telling Lydia that she was nothing.)

The opera they see is La Traviata because that's what my summer stock job was doing at the time I was writing Steady, Steady (the costumes department were all sitting in a room run making a quick change schedule when the news of the cancellation broke) so it was in my head.

The "he fell in love with a hooker?!" line came from a conversation that happened in one of the dressing rooms closing night, when half the cast finally figured out that a courtesan was essentially a high-end prostitute.

I got hung up for a while on the sleeping arrangements of the other Pinks. Personality wise, Jane and Olivia made the most sense as each other's roommates, and Nancy and Hazel did as well. However, in the canon of this fic, Nancy got into fashion school in New York and Hazel was attending Howard University, and thus they would both be gone most of the year, so logic dictated that Jane and Olivia room with either Hazel or Nancy, and have the room to themselves for the rest of the year. In the end, Bee and I decided on the original groups, and that Nancy and Hazels' room would be a guest room when they were not in Cali.

In my original concept, this was going to be more centric on summer stock girl; a character study if you will, like how the previous fic was a study on Lydia. The original title, keeping with the Crane Wives theme, was going to be The Fool in her Wedding Gown, which I had chosen to be symbolic of how Kitty had entered a beard marriage and was trying to convince herself she was straight. She was a fool in a wedding gown. Somewhere along the line, it shifted Cynthia's perspective and became an exploration of love, family, and healing after trauma.

Coming from that point, everything Cynthia and Lydia do in this fic is meant to contrast what Kitty's marriage is like. Cynthia and Lydia have been together for a little over two years at this point and they have settled into a comfortable domesticity with each other. They have their little routines, they're not shy about casual affection, and they know just about everything about each other, including drink orders (Cynthia may not remember the name, but she knows what the drink is and what it looks like) and Lydia knowing when Cynthia's hair is almost long enough to bother her just from how it feels between her fingers. In contrast, Kitty's husband calls her Kathy even though she clearly hates it, he gets her a drink with egg whites despite her telling him (repeatedly) that it sets her stomach off since she's been pregnant, and he is overtly dismissive of her.

We spent a lot of time deliberating over what everyone's drink order would be (and were helped out by some vintage bar menus I found online). Lydia wants to be a red wine girly for the aesthetic, but she simply cannot stand the taste, so her go-to is a white wine. Kitty is more of a martini or just straight whiskey or beer kind of girl, but her husband always gets her whatever is fruity and pink. The husband's drink was Bee's idea. I suggested an Old Fashioned, and Bee told me about a version that drink snobs get particularly offended over, and we decided that that is what this man drinks (Quoting Bee, "I am roasting a fictional man with slightly obscure knowledge, my favorite thing to do"). Cynthia gets a regular one, for contrast.

Also, it's no coincidence that A) Kitty was unable to stomach a Pink Lady drink, just like she wasn't able to stomach her feelings for Lydia, and B) that it was a Pink Lady who swept Lydia off her feet.

And Kitty's husband calls her Kathy or Kath (despite her wanting to go by Katherine at this point), which is just a shortening of her name, not even a nickname. He doesn't care enough to come up with one, doesn't care to say her full name, and doesn't care that it bothers her.

Cynthia blanking on the drink name was purely for in-character humor, as we figured she'd have trouble saying most wine names. Rejected drinks and their pronunciations: sauvignon blanc (pronounced the way it is spelled, inspired by Bee's husband reading the name phonetically) and Moscato D'asti (My personal favorite wine. Pronounced "Muscadine Nasty," which I think was the funniest option, but I didn't know if anyone, Cynthia included, outside the deep American south would know what a muscadine was.)

In the end, Bee chose Dry Sack Sherry from one of the menus I'd found. Quote, "I’ve changed my mind, Lydia needs to get a Dry Sack Sherry so Cynthia can accidentally call it a 'sad sack Sherry'." Further research revealed that 'sack' meant that it was a fortified wine, meaning that it had a higher alcohol content than other wines. Bee pointed out that it was truly a sad sack wine, and I pointed out that Lydia was about to have a sad sack night.

As for Kitty's sexuality, she is a lesbian. She is not bi or pan or anything like that, she is not at all attracted to her husband, she is just unable to accept that in the way Cynthia and Lydia have. As she says, Lydia was not the first girl she took advantage of and she was not the last. She has a fling with a newbie just about every year, and then uses her popularity and clout to scare them away from her theatre when she's done with them. She always ends it explosively so they don't come back and she doesn't have to face what she's done while playing Good Little Straight Girl. I hinted at it a bit in Steady, Steady that some of her friends are aware of her tendencies; they're the ones that look at Lydia with pity when Kitty leads them away from her at lunch.

Potato's nicknames for Nancy came from me asking a dear friend-who-is-like-my-sister that is fluent in Spanish for some pet names that don't sound like pet names. Translations: Mi luz: My light, Mi cebollita: My little onion, Mi perrita: My little bitch. It felt fitting.

Honorable mention, the many many interludes of us getting distracted by Static updates and screaming

Apparently there's a character limit to tumblr posts??? This is getting too long, possible part two in the future