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tiramisuc0ffee · 1 month

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Warm Afternoons.

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pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!reader

Summary: After wrapping up a more than pesky mission, you and Satoru decide to laze about for a few hours before returning to Jujutsu Tech... which leads to Satoru being a lot more sentimental than you both are used to.

warnings/tags: Takes place before "The Ghost of You" (which you can read here), this is just a further look into the reader's dynamic with Satoru :), reader and Satoru are close friends, and themes of unspoken feelings, it's like pretty clear that they like each other.

word count: 1.9k (THIS IS MUCH LONGER THEN I THOUGHT OOPS)

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"God that was so annoying"

Your voice slices through the tranquil evening, disrupting and overtaking the buzz of cicadas and the gentle symphony of the wind as you approach a lonesome bench that stands planted before a river. The sky is a canvas of orange and yellow as the sun dips towards the horizon, its warmth kissing your skin. A gentle breeze rustles through the grass and nearby foliage, creating a mesmerizing, smooth oceanic hum that cushions your approaching footsteps.

A soft snicker meets your ears and you can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you prepare for one of his usual snarky remarks.

"You got knocked on your ass pretty hard. You sure you're okay?" Satoru speaks, his eyes meeting yours as you sit beside him on the bench. He sports a teasing grin but his eyes betray his demeanor as you easily spot the specks of concern lingering in them.

The mission the two of you had wrapped up no more than an hour ago had been undeniably frustrating. What was supposed to be a routine exorcism of two second-grade curses had turned into a chaotic struggle against two first-grades, both capable of using cursed techniques. While it was nothing more than a small adjustment for Satoru given his well-praised Infinity and Six Eyes, you definitely had been taken off-guard. Not anticipating the usage of cursed techniques and the sheer force behind them led to a few cuts and bruises that honestly stung more from frustration than pain.

You couldn't shake the feeling that you had been set up for failure by being fed false information by Yaga.

Scoffing at his words, you give his arm a gentle nudge with your elbow, sinking further into the curve of the bench, "Shut up, I was just caught off guard for a moment..." you murmur before a soft smile tugs at your lips, "But I'm okay. Just a few scrapes here and there.... I'll see if Shoko can patch me up when we get back..."

Satoru simply nods at your reassurances, a soft hum escaping his lips as he gives you a once over as if to confirm that you were actually telling him the truth.

It was annoyingly stupid how he tended to do this. He had these moments where he seemingly stared into you, seeing through your being, opening you up, dissecting and picking apart your every feature.

It made you feel so exposed—being under the microscope that was his cerulean eyes. His eyes were breathtaking, there was no doubt about that, but these moments made you realize how those blue oceans could be oh-so intimidating and you briefly wondered if this is how most cursed spirits felt when being face to face with his power.

You shudder slightly, and he quirks an eyebrow, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly before grinning, "what?" he asks, though his eyes never leave you.

You shake your head waving him off wordlessly, and you can't help but smile just a little wider before bringing the straw of your smoothie that you bought beforehand to your lips. You hum softly as the cold sweetness coats your tongue, bringing a refreshing calm.

After spending so much time with him since the two of you met in your first year, you've come to understand that this simply was his way of showing concern. He never was one for soft words or heartfelt expressions; his awkward attempts at sentiment were as endearing as they were clumsy.

"You don't think the higher-ups will be mad if we're a few hours late with our report, do you?" He then asks, shifting his gaze off of you and watching the sun through his dark round sunglasses.

You let out a soft chuckle, wordlessly pressing the straw of your drink to Satoru's lips watching him take a sip without hesitation.

He hums, smiling softly as the cool liquid coats his tongue. "Mango?" he inquires, his tone light and curious.

"Mhmm" you hum out, bringing the straw to your lips as he finishes taking another sip.

His arm slips around your shoulders, drawing you closer to his side. You find yourself leaning into him, the closeness feeling as natural as breathing. It's a simple gesture, but it's one that feels like a second skin for both of you. The way Satoru effortlessly bridges the gap between you two speaks volumes more than any words could.

You were magnetic to him. Being close to you, talking to you, being in your presence, it all just felt so correct, it felt so easy. He honestly couldn't pinpoint when this physical aspect of your friendship first developed...

Maybe it was when you welcomed him back with a bone-crushing hug after he had been away on a 2-week mission with Suguru. Maybe it was when he brushed and braided your hair during one of your many sleepovers in your dorm room, the two of you sitting on your bed, his long fingers, delicately touching your hair and somehow perfectly braiding your hair despite him insisting it was his first time.

...Maybe it was when he awoke the following morning, with you in his arms, your head resting on his chest and your arms around his waist.

He really wasn't sure when it became so normalized, but slowly, he was getting to a point where he stopped questioning why. When everything felt so right, why did he need to question it? This was just the way things were between you two.

Even though he knew for a fact that you weren't this way with anyone else just as he was only this way with you, there was no need to think too deeply about the implications, right?

"I'm sure they may have a lot to say if you're gone for too long, Mr. golden child of the jujutsu world," you remarked sarcastically, finally responding to his question with a smirk. He rolled his eyes at you, pursing his lips at your words, "Me on the other hand, I don't think they're all that concerned.." you then grumble, clearly still irritated by the miscommunication that occurred during the mission.

He laughs, the rumbling of his chest being felt against your arm as he saw through you so easily. "Don't pout too much like that, you'll get wrinkles and look like a grandpa," he teased, the hand around your shoulders reaching up to pull at your cheek. You immediately hiss swatting his hand away, "...don't pinch me, asshole," you said through teeth which only earned you another laugh from him.

You could be so crude at times, and he frankly adored that about you, because, he was the same. He wondered if that's why he felt so drawn to you since day one. He liked how you carried yourself with this lightheartedness, the way you were just so effortlessly... you. Dead serious when you needed to be, strong, dependable, but also the way you were able to keep up with him. Sending snarky remarks right back at him and telling jokes that were so stupid, he would genuinely laugh until his stomach hurt.

He smiled softly to himself, feeling a gentle warmth spread in his chest.

His eyes shifted to your face and he just... took you in.

Watching as you happily sipped on your smoothie, your fingers gently smoothing out the spot where he pinched you. You definitely looked a little more roughed up than usual... but you still... looked so nice.

As your eyes shifted to meet his gaze, he noticed a small scratch on your cheek, and thoughtlessly, his long fingers gently took hold of your chin. He tilted your face to the side ever so slightly, his eyes tracing along the split skin, taking note of the redness and irritation.

You nearly choked on your drink as your fingers gripped your cup a little tighter, crinkling the plastic. Not a word was shared as you looked at each other and you felt your entire being start to warm, a sense of shyness growing deep within you.

You awkwardly laughed, "You're acting like a creep, Satoru" you joked, trying to lighten the air and get some air into your lungs. His eyes snapped back to yours and you noticed how his eyes widened slightly as if he only just realized how intimately he was touching you.

"Sorry..." he murmurs, but not making any sort of attempt to remove his gentle hold on you.

His lips parted, then closed. His eyebrows furrowed, and his throat bobbed when he swallowed. You took note of each of these actions as they played out before you.

"You know.." he suddenly says after a beat of silence passes, his voice trailing off as his mind searches for the right words to say. He wanted to say something, he knew he wanted to express something to you. But he wasn't used to this, not used to soft words of gratitude and appreciation. He'd grown accustomed to interacting with others rather bluntly or in a lighthearted, sarcastic, joking manner, but ever since he met you, it was as if he had no choice but to break this routine of his.

He furrowed his eyebrows again. Fuck...He really was trying.

"I really do appreciate us... you-" he tried to continue, pouting slightly as he stumbled over his words, which led to you letting out a lighthearted chuckle.

"Are you being sentimental with me right now, Satoru?" you grinned widely, words carrying a teasing undertone as you attempted to mask your growing fondness.

He groans slightly, finally removing his hand from your face and letting it drop to your shoulder. "Could you not right now?" he huffs out, "I'm trying to say something nice to you".

And there's a certain look in his eyes that you couldn't quite decipher.

"Sorry, sorry," you giggle softly "I know you're trying...I appreciate you too Satoru" You smile softly at him, trying to reassure him that you understood what he was trying to communicate.

"It's not just that," he interjects, sighing softly as his free hand runs through his snowy locks and makes a mess out of them, "It's just nice... to have someone who simply, understands," his voice is quiet and delicate and his words are careful, coming out slow and precise.

"Having you here, having you with me... that means a lot to me... I know I don't normally say shit like this- but I do really appreciate what we have..." His eyes are now focused on the darkening sky as the sun officially says its goodbye, setting past the horizon.

"I hope you don't plan on going anywhere" he then chuckles, his smooth demeanor returning as fast as it left as he gives you a lopsided grin.

You're rendered speechless for a moment.

There's a lot you wanted to say, certain feelings that are just dying to be expressed sitting right at the tip of your tongue as you can't help but melt from Satoru's words.

But you let them sit there, those will be for another day. When it's right.

"You're stuck with me, that's for sure" You grin widely at him watching as his smile grows at your reassurance.

"Good," he says, gently ruffling your hair which has you whining softly. "...Let's head back, gotta get you all fixed up before you start crying from the pain" he snickers, removing his arm from you and standing up from the bench, offering his hand to you.

You laugh softly, taking his hand as he helps you to your feet. "Shut up..." you murmur before shoving his shoulder slightly once again.

The two of you walk side by side in a comfortable silence, the evening growing cooler and the river’s gentle rhythm growing distant. You couldn't help but smile to yourself, the fondness in your heart continuing to grow the longer you mauled over Satoru's words.

Yeah... you definitely didn't plan on going anywhere.

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A/N: I went overboard with this I can't lie LMFAO. I'm so sorry about the delay on this, I can't lie I've been putting it off because I have been drawing Gojo instead of writing about him hehehehe. This is 1 of 2 snippets I have planned as little prequels to "The Ghost of You" I will try to work on the next one as soon as possible. It will be ANGSTTYYYYY so prepare yourselves for it if you are interested in reading it!

also- like completely unrelated but I learned about the ask feature! So you guys can send me fun little messages now yippie!!

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Taglist: @hyori2 @kalulakunundrum @smolbeanzzz @numblytemporary @satxoru

(I hope I didn't miss anyone LMFAO)

#gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo oneshot #I love him so much omg

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lewmagoo · 4 months

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trouble's always gonna find you | rhett abbott

description: in which you know he's no good for you, but you just can't stay away

pairing: rhett abbott x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ only, dark themes, questionable morals, non-graphic description of a gunshot wound, mentions of death, allusions to crime, unprotected p in v sex (on the floor lol), choking, creampie

notes: i have no idea what this even is, but as soon as i saw these pictures for the first time yesterday, i started writing this fic. i just wanted to write something mysterious and different. and i'm proud of myself for finishing a fic for the first time in months. i may also write more installments for this story in the future, depending on how well it's received.

You couldn’t sleep.

It was late July, and the air was heavy and thick with humidity. You felt as if you lived in a swamp. Which, essentially, that was what Florida was. Your skimpy tank top and shorts did little to cool you down, but foregoing clothes wouldn’t offer you much relief.

And to make matters worse, the small window unit that cooled your entire double-wide had broken, leaving you without a way to cool down. So, you found yourself outside, seated on your porch swing as you stared out into the night.

Your neighborhood was quiet. As it should be, at 2 o’clock in the morning. You were enjoying the peace, listening to the throaty calls of frogs and other nightlife. If it hadn’t been so miserably hot, you might have even felt serene.

That is, until the sound of a rickety old pickup truck approaching interrupted all the frogs and cicadas and crickets. You froze, your eyes widening as you watched the truck approach. A blue, beat-up GMC Sierra, circa 2006.

The vehicle came to a stop at the trailer directly next to yours. You rose to your feet, immediately stepping toward the edge of your porch, watching as the driver shut off the engine and proceeded to climb out of the truck, heavy work boots thudding against the ground.

Your stomach twisted as you realized that he was hurt. The hand pressed against his left shoulder alerted you to that much. And even in the darkness, you could see the crimson shade of blood seeping through the fingers that remained against his shoulder.

He made eye contact with you as he limped toward the door of his trailer. You weren’t sure if he even wanted to see you, but you found your legs moving of their own accord, carrying you toward him, toward the man you knew that you never should have gotten tangled up with. The man who had more skeletons in his closet than you could ever count.

The man named Rhett Abbott.

He’d stepped inside already, but he’d left the door open, knowing you were following him. You stepped onto the ramshackle porch that squeaked beneath your feet and made you feel as if it was going to give way and send you falling to the ground underneath it.

Hesitating, you stood in the doorway for a moment before your feet crossed over the threshold. You glanced around, eyes adjusting to the warm glow of the lamp he had turned on as he came through.

“Rhett?” You cautiously called out. You shut the door behind you as you walked further into the trailer, old, orange shag carpet soft beneath the soles of your sandals. You walked down the dim hall, toward the bathroom, where you finally saw him.

He was hunched over the sink, hands whiteknuckling the counter. He was trembling, fighting to keep his breathing steady. “Rhett?” You spoke again as you came to a stop in the bathroom doorway.

Now that you were closer, you could see that his shoulder injury was actually a gunshot wound. Your eyes went wide and your chest tightened. “Who did this?” You asked. The heavy weight of dread washed over you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he gruffed.

“Yes it does.”

He looked at you in the mirror, his gaze harsh. “You know who did it.”

A chill ran down your spine. He’d always refused to share the details of his job with you. You knew that he drove semi trucks for a living, but early on, you had learned that he transported materials for some dangerous people. You had no idea who they were, or what he actually transported for them, and he had sworn to you that you never would know, either.

You knew that you were foolish for getting involved with a man like him. But somewhere along the way, you had fallen in love with him, and now, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Maybe it was because some part of you believed that you could somehow fix him. Save him from himself.

But Rhett Abbott didn’t want to be saved. Whatever it was that he was involved in had him chained down like a prisoner. He couldn’t leave. Not even your love for him was strong enough to pull him away.

“I can’t leave,” he murmured to you one night, as you lay in bed with him. “They’ll kill me if I do.”

Those words had stuck with you ever since. And now, every time he left, you feared that this time, he might not come back. And now, seeing him hunched over his bathroom sink with a bullet wound in his shoulder, you were struck with a wave of nausea.

“But…but why? Why did they do this?” You whispered.

He shook his head, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “The less you know, the safer you are,” he responded.

You stepped forward, reaching your hands out, touching either side of his face. His stubble was rough beneath your palms. You wanted to ask so many more questions, but you knew he was right. Despite your involvement with him already being a risk to your safety, he did what he could to protect you still. And part of that was disclosing as little as possible with you about his line of work.

The people he worked for were capable of heinous things. He had witnessed these things firsthand. Unspeakable acts of violence and depravity. He would cut off his own arm before he let you be subjected to those things.

“Can I at least help you take care of this wound?” You softly questioned.

His lashes fluttered. “Mhm.”

You let go of his face. “Go sit at the kitchen table. And take your shirt off, if you can.”

He let out a breath, nodding almost imperceptibly before he stepped around you, leaving you to scrounge up whatever first aid items you could find in the bathroom as he took a seat in the kitchen. Wooden chair legs scraped against cracked linoleum as he sat down. There, he took his hat off, tossing it onto the table before gingerly removing his bloodied shirt.

The wound wasn’t that bad. In fact, it could have been much worse. It was only a warning. If the man holding the gun had been intending to kill him, Rhett would already be dead. Instead, he had a nick in his shoulder, and he doubted it would even need stitches.

As you approached with gauze and rubbing alcohol, he eyed you, and felt a sadness building in his chest, clouding his lungs like wildfire smoke, making it difficult to breathe. He was selfish to keep you in his life. He needed to let you go. But he knew that he wasn’t strong enough to do so.

As stoic as he appeared, he cared for you deeply. Hell, he loved you. And that terrified him, because in his experience, whenever he loved someone, they were ripped away from him. He tried to tell himself this time would be different. But that was merely wishful thinking.

“I wish you’d leave this job,” you murmured as you soaked a piece of gauze in alcohol. You used it to wipe the blood from his skin, cleaning the area around his wound. As it came in contact with the gash, he hissed only slightly. He’d endured far worse pain in his life.

“Can’t,” he simply said.

You sighed as you tossed the bloodied gauze in the trash. “Why? Is this what they’ll do to you if you try? Will they kill you for leaving?”

In the low light, his gaze flickered up to meet yours. His chest heaved slightly. “Don’t ask me anythin’ else about it.”

“Why not?!”

“Because they could take you from me! And I can’t lose you!” He shouted, his outburst causing you to jump in surprise.

You stared at him, your body tense, your breath trapped in your lungs for a brief moment as you processed his words. You didn’t know how to respond. So you did the only thing you could think of. You reached for him, pulling his body toward yours, letting his head rest upon your abdomen as one of your hands came up to run through his hair.

He was trembling. So were you. You realized that you had never fully grasped the gravity of the situation until now. This was, quite literally, life or death. A clear reason to walk away, to leave him behind and find another place to live, for your own safety. And yet, you didn’t walk away.

You stayed right there, in the middle of his kitchen, in a rundown little trailer in the middle of a Florida trailer park, holding him close. You were already in over your head. What was allowing yourself to sink a few more feet into the water going to change?

“Sorry for yellin’,” he mumbled as you finally pulled away to continue tending to his wound. His voice trembled.

“I didn’t realize you felt that strongly about me,” came your soft response. Your tone wasn’t accusatory.

Rhett was a hard man to read. You had met him two years prior, when he’d first moved into the trailer next door to yours. He’d come to Florida, of all places, for a fresh start. Claimed the reason he’d chosen this place was because it was as far away from his hometown as he could get.

The attraction between you was there. It resulted in a casual romp between the sheets, that soon turned into both of you catching feelings. Around that time, Rhett started a new job at a trucking company, which meant he was gone for days at a time. And that was all well and good, until he started coming home with a haunted look in his eyes and an uneasy countenance.

He wouldn’t tell you what had happened. Refused to share any details. He insisted that it was for your own safety. But it only created a sinking feeling of unease in your gut. Whoever he’d gotten involved with was powerful.

You knew he cared about you in some way, because he was so adamant about protecting you. But he wasn’t much for words. He’d never truly expressed how much you meant to him.

But now, as you stood before him in his kitchen, it was finally out in the open. He was terrified of losing you. Couldn’t stomach the thought of you being taken from him. You could see it in his eyes. Raw fear that made you shiver.

“‘Course I feel that way about you,” he whispered. “I know ‘m shit with expressin’ my feelings, but…you mean so much to me, an’ I can’t– I can’t stomach the thought of losin’ you.” He’d never forgive himself if he ended up being the reason for harm coming to you. In his heart, he knew you were safest if you weren’t associated with him at all, but selfishly, he couldn’t let you go.

You sighed softly as you moved to finish patching him up, smoothing medical tape over the gauze so it would stay in place. “For what it’s worth, I really care about you, Rhett. I don’t know exactly what you’re tied up in, and maybe I’m stupid for sticking with you because of it. But I want to be with you. I want this to work.”

“Me too,” he hummed, watching as you gathered up all of the first aid paraphernalia, tossing the used items into the trash.

“I just hate seeing you come home hurt,” you added on, voice thick with emotion. “And it…it scares me, what they could do to you. You say you’re afraid to lose me, but did you ever stop to think that I feel the same way about losing you?”

He nodded, his eyes downcast. If he was looking at you, you would have been able to see the raw emotion glimmering in his eyes. “I’ll…I’ll figure out a way to leave this job. I promise,” came his confession.

You took his face in your hands, thumbs gently rubbing circles against his cheeks. “I hope you do,” you replied.

He took a deep, unsteady breath before he released it. Your touch calmed him, melting some of the tension he carried upon his shoulders. His large hands came up to rest upon your hips, and he pulled you closer, slotting you between his knees.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, fingers slotting into the curls at the nape of his neck. His hair had gotten longer since you’d seen him last. He was in need of a haircut. You would likely end up giving him one outside in the yard one of these days.

His stubble had grown out, too. He looked weathered and tired, but still so handsome.

His lashes fluttered at the feeling of your fingers brushing against the skin of his neck, and he shivered slightly. It had been a while since he had felt the tenderness of your touch. He hadn’t realized how starved he was for it.

Slowly, you leaned in, gaze flickering to his lips before you caught his eye. He gave the faintest of nods, giving you permission before you gently captured his lips with your own.

He melted into you, a soft grunt leaving his throat as you kissed him. His heart rate quickened in his chest, his skin heating.

You were dressed in your little tank top and shorts, and he could feel how warm you were against his bare torso. As his large hands splayed over your hips, the fabric of your shorts rode up, granting him access to the swell of your ass.

He broke the kiss, breathing rushed as he pressed his face against the side of your neck, mouth open against your skin.

“Need you,” he gasped. He was desperate to feel your body against his again. Desperate to have that connection with you. After all he’d been through, he craved tenderness.

As one of his hands came up to paw at your breast through the thin fabric of your tank top, you knew you could not resist. You wanted him, too.

Your knees went weak as he tugged your top town further, his tongue laving at the exposed swell of your chest. One hand remained tangled in his hair, guiding his head further into you. “Need you too,” came your breathless response.

He looked up at you then, and you saw unbridled desire in his eyes. “I…” he began, but trailed off, unsure of how to express what he truly wanted. He was overcome with such an intense wave of emotions. He might even describe himself as being ravenous for you. Having a near brush with death had brought out an almost feral yearning for you.

What was soon to follow would not be gentle. It would be animalistic. Somehow, you knew this. So you nodded your head. “It’s okay. Take what you need.”

So he stood from his chair, one hand holding the side of your neck as he pulled you in to kiss you again, his hulking frame hunched over you. His mouth locked with yours again, kissing you deeply as he backed you into the kitchen table.

He guided you to sit upon the smooth wood, and he immediately slotted himself between your thighs. His stubble was rough against your skin, creating a delicious burn that made you shudder. Then he trailed his mouth down your jaw, teeth nipping at you as he went lower. You gasped, back arching, body pressing into his as he shifted his attention to your neck.

Then he yanked your tank top down, exposing your breasts. One of which he gripped in his hand, the other he attended to with his mouth, teeth grazing your nipple, causing it to harden beneath his touch.

Your fingers tugged at his hair, and you could feel the molten heat beginning to settle between your legs. Being this close to him, breathing in his scent, feeling his body against yours, was so overwhelming. You had missed him so terribly.

Being in your proximity was affecting him, too. He grabbed your hand, bringing it down below his belt, alerting you to what you’d done to him. You gasped softly at the feeling of his hardness. You ached for him, longing to have him inside you, joined as one.

In a flurry of need, you reached to undo his belt buckle, hands fumbling, eager, impatient. He watched you for a moment before he pushed your hands away and finished the job himself.

Then those big hands of his were pulling your shorts down your legs, completely removing them, tossing them aside. Then came your tank top, which he all but ripped over your head, the flimsy fabric protesting in the form of popping seams as he did so.

Now, you were fully exposed to him, laying bare naked on his kitchen table, staring up at him, silently begging him to take things further. He ducked forward, trailing his tongue over your abdomen and up between your breasts, tasting the salt of the sweat on your skin.

Then he moved to kiss you again, tongue delving into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself. As he did this, he brought his hand down between your legs, dipping his middle and ring fingers inside you. You gasped at the feeling of the thick digits, and he pressed his forehead to yours as he fucked you with his fingers, with the intention of making you wetter than you already were, so he could fuck you with ease.

With his left hand, he grabbed your throat, ignoring the twinge of pain in his injured shoulder. He applied just the slightest bit of pressure to your neck, fingers pressing into the sides, intentionally avoiding your airway so that you would be able to breathe with ease. Your eyes went wide, and you gasped sharply, mouth falling open.

Rhett could feel the way you suddenly tightened around him, and it sent his blood rushing south, cock growing even harder. He could feel you, even slicker around his fingers. You’d begun to drip like a juicy peach bitten into on a hot summer's day, coating his hand in your molten arousal. It pulled a breathless groan from his throat.

He pulled his hand back then, lifting it to his mouth to suck your wetness off his fingers before he hurriedly began unbuckling his belt. You watched him, dazed. You found yourself suddenly desperate for him, your desire to have him inside you completely overwhelming you senses.

Your eyes flickered downward, unable to tear your gaze away as he tugged his jeans and underwear down, exposing his hard, leaking cock. You whimpered softly, biting your lip as you quite literally began to salivate like a starving animal at the sight of him.

Rhett tipped your chin up then, so you were looking into his face. "Keep your eyes on me" he instructed, and you obeyed, staring into the deep blue, so dark it was almost like looking into the midnight sky.

He aligned himself with you, and in one carefully timed thrust, he was fully seated inside you. No hesitation. No easing into you to let you adjust. He made you take him all at once. You let out a cry at the feeling, and he watched the way your brow furrowed, the way your mouth fell open. In the yellow light of his trailer, you looked so heavenly, like a deity sent to grace him with your presence. He wanted to commit your features to memory.

With one hand pressed against the table and the other cradling the back of your head, he began to move. Slowly at first, working up to a rhythm. You melted in his arms, moaning lowly at the feeling of him stretching you, sliding into your tight, slick heat before pulling back again. His thickness filled you in such a satisfying way.

Rhett leaned back to watch his cock disappear within you with each push of his hips into your own. The sight of you stretching to accommodate him had his knees going weak. A switch was flipped in his arousal-clouded brain. He wasn’t going to fuck you slowly. He was going to take you hard and fast.

You cried out as he quickened his movements, driving himself into you deeply before pulling back, just to do it all over again. the force of which caused the legs of the kitchen table to scrape against the linoleum floor. However, the harder he fucked you, he found that the table was inching its way back, moving across the floor little by little. To solve this problem, he lifted you, inside you still as he lowered you to the kitchen floor, one hand supporting the back of your head so you wouldn't bump it on the way down.

You gazed up at him, completely overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. His frame was hulking over yours. He was so broad, he could make almost anyone feel small beside him. But despite his roughness, despite all that he was tied up in that had hardened him this way, you knew you were safe here, connected to the man that you loved. You weren’t sure when you realized you were in love with him, but the realization had been painful, because you knew you shouldn’t be involved with a man like him.

Yet here you were, on his kitchen floor, letting him fuck you. You were in too deep now.

You lifted her back off the ground, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair as you pulled him down to kiss her. "Nobody else gets to do this to me," you breathed. "Only you." Because that was the truth. No matter how many times he left, or how long he was gone, he was the only man you wanted.

A growl escaped his throat as he ducked forward to kiss you hard, resuming his pace, though this time, he went harder. He placed his hands on the floor by either side of your head, using his strength to drive himself into you. There was an intensity in his face, a look that seemed almost animalistic. Mouth curled into a snarl. Brow furrowed.

Beneath him, you whimpered and wailed at the feeling of him inside you. Your pretty, broken sounds were music to his ears. He wanted to hear them always.

And when you asked for more, he gave it to you. He ground against you each time his hips met yours, his pubic bone pressing into your sensitive gathering of nerves. This sent you shuddering in pleasure, head thrown back as electricity crackled through you.

Your chests were pressed together, heartbeats and breaths intertwining, joining you as one. You clutched at him, careful to avoid his injured shoulder as your fingers dug into the rippling muscles of his back. You felt as if you might float away, each ripple of ecstasy stronger than the last.

It felt so dirty to be fucked into the kitchen floor, and yet, your entire body was a live wire, crackling and sparking beneath him as you wailed and cried and begged for more. Rhett captured your cries in his open mouth, kissing you languidly, gasping against your lips, moaning your name, swearing under his breath.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, shifting your hips up to meet each thrust, trying to chase that delicious spark that you felt each time he grinded against you. But Rhett wasn’t going to let you do all the work.

To help you plummet toward your end more quickly, he slipped his good arm between your bodies, hand quickly locating the place you needed him most, deft fingers swirling against your swollen clit. You arched into him, mouth falling open as you gripped his arm, nails digging into the meat of it.

“Wan’ you to come for me,” he growled, teeth nipping at your bottom lip.

The pressure he used against your swollen, twitching clit was certainly going to cause that to happen. “C-close!” You squeaked.

He nodded, lock of hair falling against his forehead. “I know. Can feel y’ squeezin’ me.”

Your pussy was involuntarily clenching around him, and you could feel the evidence of your arousal dripping from you, soaking his shaft, creating a puddle on the floor beneath you. Rhett could feel it, too, and it made him shudder above you.

“S’fuckin wet.”

All you could do was whimper, jolting against him as he offered a particularly deep thrust. “O-oh my g–ah!”

You wrapped both arms around him, and locked your legs in place, holding on for dear life as he fucked you into the floor, grunting and growling as he did, the weight of his body heavy against your own, but not overwhelmingly so. Oddly enough, the weight felt almost comforting. It grounded you, and if only for a moment, you felt as if nothing could take you away from him. You were safe. You were shielded.

And then he was in your ear, gritting out, “c’mon baby, need y’ to come for me. Come all over me, just let go.”

And oh, you wanted to give it all to him. Wanted to succumb to the intensity roiling deep within you. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears of pleasure slipping down the sides of your face as you did so. You felt hot all over, buzzing from head to toe, near your boiling point.

Rhett leaned back, bringing his hand to your throat all over again, pressing his fingertips into the sides, cutting off your blood flow. Your eyes shot open, and your gaze locked with his as you let out a sound between a shriek and a gasp. The restricted blood flow made your head spin, and suddenly, you felt as if you were floating above yourself, in the midst of an out-of-body experience.

Everything you felt was heightened tenfold, and you were very quickly overwhelmed.

“I said, come,” he growled.

And you did. Whether it was on command, or your body was already tipping over the edge, you didn’t know. But what you did know was, you were plunged into the throes of an orgasm so intense, you swore you blacked out for a moment. Searing ecstasy rippled through you, spreading from the tips of your toes to the top of your head.

You cried out Rhett’s name, holding onto him for dear life as you convulsed beneath him, pulsing around his cock. He had to fight to hold it together, because he was moments away from his own end, and he wanted to enjoy you like this for a moment longer before he let go.

He watched you in awe, amazed at how beautiful you were when you were in such a state of unbridled pleasure. As you writhed in his arms, he held you, keeping you grounded when you felt like you’d float away.

As you slowly came down from the intensity, Rhett took that as his cue to pick up his pace, kissing you when you began to whimper from the sensitivity. "I'm gonna fill you to the brim," he gritted out, voice strained as he approached his own release.

You welcomed it, you begged for it, longing to feel his essence spilling deep within you. And he gave it to you. With nothing short of a roar, Rhett came undone. He buried his face against your neck as he lost himself, hips pressed tightly to yours as he spasmed and filled you with his warmth. You held him close, shivering at the sensation.

Still breathless, his body relaxed against your own, though he was careful not to rest dead weight on you. As he slowly regained his composure, he lifted his head, moving to plant a deep kiss on your lips.

You held his face in your hands as you kissed him back. But your connection could only last for so long. His cock was beginning to soften within you, and you could feel his seed dripping between your thighs, joining the mess you’d already made on the floor.

Although he didn't want to part from you, he knew he couldn't stay this way forever. So eased himself from you, soothing you with another kiss before he lifted his head to gaze between your legs at the mess he'd made.

Wordlessly, he swiped his fingers through your combined mess, and then brought those fingers to your mouth. Eagerly, you parted your lips, tasting your shared arousal, sucking his digits clean. He hummed low in his throat. The sight was nearly enough to have him growing hard all over again.

But he gave you both a moment of reprieve, moving to settle beside you on the floor, as you stared up at the aged popcorn ceiling together. His hand rested on his abdomen, while the other searched for your own hand, interlacing your fingers.

“I missed you,” you whispered into the silence.

He hummed. “I missed y’ too.”

The heaviness of reality had begun to set in as the afterglow faded and your conversation grew serious. You moved to prop yourself up on your elbow, gazing down at Rhett. “Should I be worried about you coming home with more gunshot wounds from now on?” You asked, as you lovingly traced your fingers around the area you had covered with gauze.

He sighed. “I…I can’t promise it won’t happen again. But I want ya to know, I’m gonna figure out a way to quit this job, alright? You deserve a better life. A better man. And I can be a better man. I just gotta clean up the mess I made first.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

But the truth was, Rhett wasn’t sure that he could keep that promise. He would try, dammit, he’d try. But he was very well aware that going through with it could result in his own life being snuffed out.

And that night, as he lay in bed, with you sleeping soundly by his side, he considered what might happen to you if he ended up meeting a premature end. He had several thousand in cash stuffed into a loose floorboard in the closet. You could live off of that for a while.

He just wanted to make sure you were taken care of in the event that something happened to him.

The thought made him uneasy. But as he gazed upon your peaceful form, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he wanted to build a beautiful life with you. He wanted to take you away from all of this, away from this hick trailer park, and give you a home worth living in.

But the only way he could do any of those things, was by breaking the shackles that held him down. He had to walk away from the line of work that he was tied up in, and he had to do it now, otherwise, he’d never be free.

So, in the wee hours of the morning, just before sunrise, he slipped away. He wrote you a note, left you a twenty dollar bill to buy yourself breakfast with, and left a featherlight kiss against your temple before he walked out to meet fate.

When you woke a few hours later, you found his note on the wobbly old nightstand beside the bed.

It read, Went to try and fix things. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Buy yourself some breakfast with this 20. If I’m not back in a week, there’s a few grand under the loose floorboard in my closet. Take it and move far away from here, because it won’t be safe for you to stay here anymore.

P.S. I know I’m shit at words, but I just want you to know, I love you. Hope I see you soon. - Rhett.

You stared at his barely legible writing, your chest tightening with uncertainty. What on earth did he mean by if I’m not back in a week? A pit of dread formed in your gut. You knew he was trying to leave his job, but would doing so cost him his life?

You so badly wanted him to have his freedom back, but what good would that freedom do him if he was dead?

You didn’t buy breakfast with the money he left you that morning. You felt much too sick to your stomach, knowing he was deliberately putting himself in danger. But there was nothing you could do about it. You had no idea where he had gone, nor did you have any clue where to start looking for him.

All you were left to do was worry, and wonder if you would ever see the man you loved again.

tagging (those who expressed interest in the concept post i made): @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @up-thereinthesky @peachystenbrough @attapullman @sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @floydsmuse @hangmanapologist @bobfloydsbabe @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @milesmillergf @laracrofted @floydsglasses @westpastor @seitmai-too @topherwrites

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction

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zorosdimples · 6 months

Text

DUSK, RESPLENDENT

pairing ⟢ astarion x gn!reader

warnings ⟢ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. not sexually explicit, but highly suggestive… smut-lite! descriptions of blood, blood sucking, bite marks, scars, etc. this occurs after astarion first feeds from tav. reader has breasts and a vagina and is called “beautiful” once (i swiped a line from the game).

word count ⟢ 1208

notes ⟢ this particular scenario has been rotting my brain since september. my first official bg3 fic—please enjoy!

It’s impossible to miss the heat of his crimson gaze scorching your flesh.

You’ve felt it ever since the night you discovered his secret: that quiet evening when the stars shined as silent sentinels, the embers of the campfire danced into ash, and the ghost of a breath roused you. You offered Astarion your neck—swanlike, untouched, vital—prey allowing predator a taste of divinity as he buried his glistening fangs into your skin. Agony bled into a hazy euphoria as the vampire fed on your lifeblood. You barely had enough stamina to push him off (lest he leave you drained and lifeless), rivulets of you the color of his irises running from his gums to his chin, dripping onto the forest floor.

Many moons have since passed, though your mind always revisits the feeling of his weight atop yours, the strength of his jaw, the vitality in his sated stare. The sun starts its golden descent as you bathe in a creek by camp. You scrub your skin with vigor, almost without care as you seek to shed layers of sweat, grime, and gore. The midsummer air is stifling and the cicadas play their shrill song, but the chilly caress of the water makes you giddy.

It takes no small effort, but once your hair and body are stripped bare (clean enough), you remain in the water and watch pinks and oranges and yellows bleed and bloom across the wide sky. Some may say that resting for even a moment in a situation like yours—with a mindflayer parasite in your brain—is to accept death. But if you were to die at this very moment, surrounded by beauty? You couldn’t dream of a more peaceful end.

You feel your visitor’s presence before you see or hear him. It starts as an itch at your nape, nagging and unsettling—insistent. “Enjoying the view?” The playful lilt of Astarion's smooth voice never fails to set your nerves alight.

As you turn to face him, the water laps at your collarbone. You spy the pale elf along the bank, donning only his breeches. Cheeky bastard. “I could ask you the same,” you quip.

“I am indeed.” Lithe fingers tease the waistband of his pants. “But I can't help but feel as though something is missing.”

Walking a few steps toward the shore, you reveal more flesh, water skimming the top of your breasts. “It wouldn’t happen to be a rogue vampire, would it?”

“And if it is?”

“He should join.”

You sink beneath the creek’s surface, allowing him some privacy and urging your face to cool down. When you plant your feet on the silty ground and stand up, you rub crystalline droplets from your eyes and blink a few times before your companion comes into focus.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets with a smirk before approaching you, dexterous fingers grasping and pulling at the fat around your hips. “I can't help but feel as though you’ve been avoiding me.”

Without thinking, your fingers weave through Astarion's moonbeam hair, gently tugging on the curls. The elf pulls you closer with a pleased hum. “Whatever gave you that impression?” you ask.

“Don’t play coy; I haven't so much as gotten a breath alone with you.” His gaze softens; you see a flash of vulnerability, but all too soon, it disappears. “Do you…regret this?” A chilly thumb grazes the puckered scar on your neck. The featherlight touch plucks a shudder from you, your spine bowing—strung for him.

“Quite the opposite,” you admit. Your attention flits down to his lips. Maker, you know they would feel divine dancing with your own, slipping down to carry the tune across your flesh, skating lower and lower until—

“So,” he says, palms sweeping up your arms and the slope of your shoulders until they rest on either side of your neck. He strokes the delicate flesh, his touch unhurried yet charged; restless. “You wouldn’t begrudge me another taste, hm?”

Perhaps you should be embarrassed by how eagerly you want this to happen, how many times you’ve envisioned him tasting your blood again—and perhaps tasting something more (such thoughts have fueled many solitary searches for pleasure within the canvas walls of your tent). But living in the dusky shadows of near-certain death has made you hopelessly brazen.

You lean in, petal-soft lips grazing one of his pointed ears. “It’s yours for the taking.”

Astarion’s irises darken at your words, pools of congealed blood. He drops his head and presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to your scar, his molten breath warming your body, melding you to his touch.

He bares his fangs and bites you, piercing the puffy tissue, a satisfied groan rumbling his throat and resonating in your veins. The pain is dizzying but dulls quickly, the jarring sensation of knife-sharp incisors tearing your flesh carried away by the flow of the creek. Fuzzy pleasure soon clouds your mind. The sloppy lap of the elf’s tongue against your wound is all you can discern; you want to feel him everywhere.

The vampire’s moans shudder deep within his chest and reverberate through your body from where you’re connected, vibrating lower until they settle in your core. A delicious pressure rocks against your belly and seems to relish the softness. It feels like he gluts for an eternity—like this is all you know—housed within a single, precious breath.

When Astarion surfaces, fangs retracting, you stumble in his embrace, coming down from your high. The ache of want remains as you rest your forehead against his freckled shoulder, and morphs into need as your vision clears. His eyes are unfocused, crazed with bloodlust; you’ve never seen them so red, glowing like moonlit wine. His chin is slick with ichor, and—absentmindedly or not, it’s impossible to tell—his tongue darts out to mop up some of the remnants of your sweetness.

One, two, three heaves of your chests pass before you crash together with a swiftness that betrays desperation, errant waves succumbing to the tide.

You never liked the tang of your blood until you tasted it on Astarion’s silken lips. It’s…cloying. The syrupy copper overwhelms your senses as the elf smears a claret gash across your mouth. He drunkenly sucks on your tongue, fangs nicking the muscle, urging you to give him more. Your fingers twist and twirl the pearly down that covers his chest as he squeezes your ass, pulling you so close that not even a whisper could get between you. You’re engulfed in a heady fire, one that can’t be put out by the cool water around you—especially as the vampire’s cock nestles between your clenched thighs, bumping against your clit.

A crashing sound in the surrounding forest interrupts your shared bliss. The moon ascended and the stars awoke while you were wrapped up in one another. Lightning bugs glimmer and flit through the dark woods, and you know that you both need to leave. Supper will be soon; any absences will be noticed. But before he pulls away, Astarion places a prim kiss on your lips.

“Meet me by the campfire after everyone else has fallen asleep,” he whispers against your cheek.

Your heart trills as you watch him disappear into the night—excited for the adventure to come.

#if this is messy i’m sorry i just had to let it go. it’s imperfect but it’s full of love (and lust)#banner is a detail of ‘sunset on the sea’ (1872) by john frederick kensett #astarion x reader #bg3 x reader #astarion <3 #༄ kae writes

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anacdoce · 4 days

Text

A soft breeze of summer

Pairing: Astarion x you (f!reader)

Rating: T

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

Summary: "Suddenly, you turn to him, a mischievous smile spread all over your face. “Can you catch me?” You shout at him. And then you start running into the field.

Astarion feels his heart swell with love. He loves you deeply. That is one of the few certainties in his life.

He smiles. And slowly gets up, giving you time to flee. He will play your game. And he will catch you, like he always does."

a/n: summer is ending, and I already miss it! So, this is my goodbye to summer, like a serenade, if you like.

I was inspired to write this piece by the beautiful screenshot from @casualya, and from Terrence Malick style, one of my favorite movies director.

I hope you like it as much as I loved writing it!

The divider used is from @saradika-graphics

Lots of Love to all of you 🖤

Read on ao3

Astarion is lying on the floor, over the blanket that you carefully had spread over the summer's dried vegetation in the shade of an oak tree. One of his hands rests beneath his head, while the other holds your back, feeling your steady breathing, while you take comfort in his embrace, nestling against him.

He savors this moment, basking in the simplicity of just being with you.

The sun is high in the sky and the day is hot, but there is a soft breeze of cooler wind that comes and goes, from time to time, soothing the heat.

Here, with you, he has no obligations, no burdens. The only thing he has to do is to enjoy your company on this perfect day of summer. To feel your heart beating against his chest, listening to the wind blowing against the field of wheat near you, that lovely sound of the dried wheat bustling against each other.

He closes his eyes, relaxing his body to the music of the cicadas nearby, singing nonstop a love song to summer. It’s peaceful. It's perfect.

Your breathing is heavy and even. You fell asleep in his arms, and he can’t help feeling the amazement of this simple and precious act of yours. It's still a surprise to him the safety that his arms can offer you. Just months ago, he couldn’t have dreamed of having these perfect moments in life. To have something so precious to care for. To have you. He. A vampire. Living a perfect and quiet life. Filling his undead heart with such a great love for this lovely being who chose him over everyone to spend the rest of your days with.

Astarion smiles at his thoughts. A genuine and contented smile. It's so nice. He is happy. Truly happy.

He breathes in deeply, summer scents all over. And yours. Your familiar and unique scent. Not your perfume. The smell of your skin, of your sweat. He can't help but to squeeze you. Are you really there? Are you even real? Is this happiness his to feel?

You stir, and he feels guilty for waking you. You were so peaceful…

You yawn, stretching your arms. “Was I sleeping for too long?”

“For some time, yes.” He replies, softly.

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, my dear. My arms are yours.” He says sincerely.

You move and sit beside him, and Astarion feels some kind of emptiness when you leave his embrace. He could have stayed like that forever, holding you close.

He watches as you stand from his side and walk straight to the edge of the wheat field. Your bare feet, moving slowly through the dried grass. You stop when you reach the first strands of wheat, brushing your hands through the golden ears, tilting your head slightly upward, enjoying the soft breeze.

Astarion shifts to properly look at you, leaning on his elbows. And what a beautiful sight you are. You stay there for a while, with your dress swaying gently in the wind. Your free hair dancing in the air. You are like a living painting, another sweet memory to guard in his memory.

Suddenly, you turn to him, a mischievous smile spread all over your face. “Can you catch me?” You shout at him. And then you start running into the field.

Astarion feels his heart swell with love. He loves you deeply. That is one of the few certainties in his life.

He smiles. And slowly gets up, giving you time to flee. He will play your game. And he will catch you, like he always does.

He starts running, chasing you. He doesn't see you, but he can hear you laugh, your joyous, nervous laughter. And he keeps chasing.

After a while he spots you, with your back turned to him. You don't see him, so he takes that advantage and puts in practice his stealth skills. Astarion crouches, concealing his presence between the wheat, approaching you slowly and silently.

You search for him, but he is nowhere to be found. But he sees you, and he knows you are waiting. You are waiting for him to catch you. Oh Gods! How he loves you…

He is close to you now. And he can hear your racing heart, leaving a tender smile on his lips. When he finally is close enough he leaps to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and rolling with you to the ground.

Astarion positions himself above you, basking in your image while you laugh, with your glittering eyes. But not because of the sun, but because you are looking at him.

“It’s not fair Astarion!” You protest, tapping his chest, leaving there your hand to caress his skin.

“I don’t play fair, Darling.” He smirks, entangling his fingers in your hair.

You stay like that for a while, only gazing at each other. And Astarion sees how your eyes smile at him, how your lips crave for his. Your mouth, slightly open. Waiting. Inviting him. And he obliges, kissing you gently. He closes his eyes and he feels your lips in his. And he feels how you hold your breath at his touch, at his much-desired touch. And he waits, brushing his lips softly on yours. Finally you gasp, and you hold him. You hold his head, gripping his hair fiercely, pressing him against you, pressing his mouth against yours. Your lips, urgent against his.

He doesn’t know for how long you kissed, and he doesn’t care. He is not in a hurry.

When your lips finally part, you glare at him, leaning your head to the side. You don’t speak, but no words are needed. Astarion can feel your warm love embracing him.

You reach for a wheat ear, plucking it from the ground. Then you tuck a strand of his hair behind his pointy ear, as the wheat you just plucked.

“There. My beautiful summer elf.” You cup his face and kiss the tip of his nose softly. No one else has ever kissed his nose before. Just you. Only you.

Astarion smiles. A big wide smile, revealing his fangs. He feels light. Light like a feather. And he feels loved. Truly loved. You make him feel this way, always.

“Do you love me?” He hears you whisper, a faint of fear in your voice.

“My sweet little girl… I love you. I love you more than I ever thought possible. And today I love you more than I did yesterday, and less than I will tomorrow. I love you, Darling. Don’t you ever doubt that. Ever.” Astarion rests his hand in your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb, and you lean into his touch, pressing your face against it. And you smile, a sweet and tender smile, full of love and reassurance.

You make him happy, a happiness he never believed he could have. You care for him, in a way he thought no one ever would. And he will do everything in his power to watch you smile, like you just did, for as long as you bless him with your presence in this world.

Thank you so much for reading my story. Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcomed!

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rayveneyed · 23 days

Text

cw: mentions + depictions of death, crime, alcohol.

it's difficult for nanami kento to leave behind the life of a cowboy -- but, truth be told, he's only ever wanted to live a quiet life.

god as his witness, he’s seen his fair share of trouble — train heists and bank robberies and turning sheriffs topsy-turvy, mostly at the behest of his more excitable companions. he's seen blood and guts and bullet wounds the size of his fist, and he’s damn sure seen too many good people bite the dust far too soon. the adrenaline and the money weren’t ever worth it -- but haibara had wanted to stay, and so he did.

haibara dies. it's no glamorous death. it's shitty, and dull, and it happens in the blink of an eye -- shot from his horse as he galloped down the side of a train, hitting the sand with a sickening crack. they hadn't even been able to recover his body, and it ruins kento beyond anything. haibara was his brother. they'd known each other since they were old enough to know what knowing someone meant.

his heart was never fully in it, but that was the nail in the coffin. he couldn't smile. couldn't find the will to continue on as he had before, like nothing had happened. what was it that made him survive, when so many died? why did haibara die -- good haibara, ditsy, smiling haibara -- while nanami lived? why was he seemingly deserving of life, when others weren't?

he didn't know. he doesn't know, but here he is, with a beating heart and a furrowed brow and a pistol that doesn't fit all too well in his hands anymore.

it's all enough to have him yearning for a home and a bed and the country, with it's silence, with it's peace. the country, like he lived in when he was a boy. the country, where haibara had run through the grass and caught cicadas and geckos.

if he can't swap places with haibara, he thinks, then surely he can try to repent for all he's done. turn his life around. live as an honest man.

so — with a heart as light as a lump of stone — he retires from the outlaw life. says goodbye to the crew. sets himself up in a quaint town with a little cottage to himself, some land to farm on and some cattle to wrangle. it’s far away from the big cities, but there’s a train station the next town over and everything he needs a short horse-ride away: a general store, a saloon, a doctor. he can live simply. he can live honestly.

and so it starts. no use in making a name for himself as some sorta recluse, he reckons, so he forces himself to get to know the town, settle in. he’s a quiet man by nature, but they’re kind as most small-town folk are; the doctor is a weathered old man whose daughter is married to the town sheriff, and their niece helps out at the general store. the sheriff himself is stout and balding, with little experience in shooting a gun, but he's a good man. there’s a group of old, weathered farmers that seem to take him under their wing, though he tells them time and time again that he’s no spring-chicken when it comes to tending the farm — that was his father’s work, after all, before he died. and there’s families and kids and men his age, mostly farmers or sheriff’s deputies or soldiers. girls just barely women, tittering and blushing when he nods a good day to them.

life is good. he can live like this, he thinks. he milks the cows and sheers the sheep, hoists lambs over his shoulders and sweats, sweats, sweats. gorges himself on whisky and beer and hearty food, spares some money for a little piece of toffee if he has it. walks himself home from the rowdy saloon with his jacket over his arm and his cheeks flushed, eyes counting fireflies in the evening sun. it’s all hard work -- he's left aching and sore each day -- and it’s good work, anyways. at least out here no-one’s hankering to put a bullet between his eyes.

and yes — he gets lonely sometimes. he’s so used to running with a pack of seven or eight, staying up ‘til dawn, trading stories ‘round the fire. laughing more than he knows how to, hiding smiles around the rim of a cup of moonshine. now, his nights are filled only with the calls of cicadas, the sound of dried grass brushing against itself in the wind. the days are long and hard and he has little to return to by its end.

probably why he spends all his time at the saloon, drowning out the quiet with the noise of it all.

probably why he spends all his time glancing at you out the corner of his eyes.

now, look here: kento doesn’t consider himself the kinda man deserving a wife — but you’re… you’re kind. kind and pretty, serving up drinks and putting the town drunkard out on his ass when he gets too riled up (if kento doesn’t get to him first). slipping the kids sugar cubes when they sneak in past their bedtime.

his first day in town, you never made strange; you remind him of his old crew, in some ways, with your open brightness, your ability to welcome him so easily. you’d told him that his first drink was free of charge, a smile on your lips like a secret. and you walk past his home on your way to work, your dress swaying ‘round your hips, your face all dewy and plump — you're a summer evening, strawberries sweet and syrupy, and he can't help himself: he glances over sometimes, and you always call his name in greeting, like you were expecting it.

(in the back of his bad, no-good mind, he wonders if you talk about him the way the other town girls do — if you giggle over the size of his arms, or the colour of his hair, or his voice. he shakes the thoughts away with a disapproving grunt.)

but it doesn’t matter — it doesn’t matter that sometimes you end up late for work, stuck standing at his fence and talking for far too long; doesn't matter that you bake him loaves of bread, using the excuse that there's too much at home. it doesn't matter that he fixes the porch of your house and you make him lemonade, batting away your younger siblings with a tea-towel and scolding them for bothering him -- doesn't matter that, for a second, he imagines a life like that.

and it sure as hell doesn't matter that, when the old doctor swings an arm around his neck and teases him something terrible, drunk off his head and slurring — “i reckon you’ll be wantin’ a wife soon, big man like yourself!” — that his eyes cut to you. and it doesn’t matter that you’re already looking at him, knowing.

men like him don’t deserve lemonade or apple pie or sweet summer strawberries. not now, not ever.

#angsty cowboy nanami pls come home #nanami x reader #kento x reader #jjk x reader #nanami x you #kento x you #jjk x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami au #kento au #jjk au #anime au #anime x reader #anime x you #YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE #i started playing overwatch again and rediscovered jesse mccree #that is my only explanation

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luveline · 2 years

Note

OK THE STEVE ZOMBIE AU BUT HE DOES FINALLY MIRACULOUSLY FIND ROBIN OR MAYBE DUSTIN OR LITERALLY ANYONE FAMILIAR. Our girl is happy but also like 👀 u finna ditch me now?

theres literally no zombies in this lmao </3 apocalypse au with new (but not really) boyfriend steve wherein you reunite with some old friends and find a community (and worry steve is gonna break up w u) fem!reader 7k words

The border between Indiana and Michigan is quiet. Nothing denotes its location besides a Welcome to Indiana sign.

Steve's hand tightens around yours. You stand there for minutes, wind breezing past your tired bodies and ruffling his limp hair.

"Do you think this is our last time seeing Indiana?" you ask quietly.

There's no need to shout. The town surrounding the border is abandoned.

He drops your hand. You miss his touch and the soothing effect it gives to hold it immediately.

"Maybe," he says. "Does that bother you?"

It fucking scares you. Staying there wasn't really an option anymore, not with the infestation of geeks dribbling away from Indianapolis or the lack of food. And besides that, you'd wanted to get to Michigan badly. Steve and his friend Robin had been planning to come here together before their untimely separation. Half of Hawkins had been aiming for Michigan after the news broke all those months ago — Illinois, Ohio, and Kentucky overrun by flesh-eating monsters.

But if you leave Indiana, you're admitting it's a lost cause. That the lives you led there are gone, candles snuffed out by a sudden ripping gale.

"I just…" You look over your shoulder at Michigan. "Can't believe we're here."

"I think I'm glad we're here."

You cock your head toward him.

"Not just to find Robin," he clarifies. "But, no offence? Indiana was kicking your ass."

You grimace at his implication. Indiana was kicking your ass. You've rolled your ankle more times than you can count. You'd fallen ten feet through the floor and given yourself a major concussion. You've been snarled at, robbed at knifepoint, and almost eaten.

"Fucking Indiana," you say.

"Fuck Indiana." He turns on his heel, but not before he's wrapped a hand around your arm to drag you with him. "Michigan better be nice to my girl, or we're going to Canada."

You've already let him walk you a couple of feet when you have the bearings to splutter, "Your girl?"

He ignores you, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips. You’re pretty confident in being his girlfriend, but something about being ‘his girl’ makes your head rush.

You'd found a gun a little ways back but no ammunition for it. It's a good prop regardless, so Steve keeps it in hand stuffed into the pocket of his windbreaker ready to scare off anyone with enough wits to find guns scary. You're sitting ducks otherwise, armed with one small penknife and the metal baseball bat that Steve keeps in the strap of his rucksack, so you stick to the side roads. Being out in the open is risky. You're used to this mode of living, adept at slinking and skulking in dimly dark places.

"Steve?" you ask, a murmur in the ringing quiet. Cicadas chirp in the trees, leaves rustling with each burst of wind.

"Yeah?" he asks shortly, distracted by the door in front of him.

He's attempting to pick the lock of a convenience store's sidedoor. You're standing guard.

"Where do you think Robin is?"

He doesn't answer for a while. He works a delicate job, the slim pick in his hand creaking formidably with every wrong move. He's too forceful, and you're the better locksmith, but your wrist still twinges from your fall in the woods a few days ago. Steve's too protective for his own good.

"I don't know. But she's smart, and-" He hisses, hair falling into his eyes. "I'm hoping she's still here."

"If I were her, I'd wait for you."

He tips his head back to meet your eyes. "If you ever stay somewhere dangerous waiting for me, I'll fist fight you."

Usually you'd burst into laughter at his familiar abrupt absurdity — you've grown to adore his jokes now that you know there's no real malice behind them — but you want him to hear what you're saying. You want to know if he'd do the same.

"I would," you say softly.

The lock clicks open.

Steve grins at you. "You won't need to. You're stuck with me like glue."

Inside of the store is a sorry sight. While the shutters had been down, a good sign, the interior is much less promising. Sunshine filters in through the smallest cracks, casting a scarce light over what's left of the aisles. Two are crushed to one side as if a huge hand has swept them away. Smashed booze bottles litter the floor. Glass like snow crunches underfoot, and a sticky sour smell is heavy in the air.

You ease into the room on pins.

"There's gotta be something," Steve says, pulling his pocket-sized torch out to give you a better view.

Where the shelves have collapsed, there's a small tunnel to the front of the room. You bend down to assess it.

"I think there's cookies over there."

"Where?" Steve demands. You point to aforementioned treats.

He army crawls through the gap and pops out on the other side. Those few seconds where you can't see him are unsettling, and from the speed with which he looks at you, he may have felt the same.

"Keep an eye out," he says.

You turn to the door. You've closed it tight but it won't lock without a key, and anyone might assume what you have and come inside.

Steve hisses an excited, "Yes!"

"How'm I s'posed to keep watch when you're doing that?"

"Babe, there's fucking Chips Ahoy." He loves them.

"I'm sick of Chips Ahoy," you mumble to yourself. "I miss carrots. And potatoes. I miss pasta. Pasta."

"Should I be jealous?"

"Definitely. I'd trade you for a full, home-cooked meal any day, handsome. Fresh made pasta, sun dried tomatoes. Garlic bread." You could cry thinking about it, all those rich flavours together.

"Call me crazy, but I think we could make you some pasta. Look-" He holds up a small jar. "Crushed garlic."

You brighten. "Where'd you find that?"

Garlic is a great flavour to make literally anything taste better, like all the canned stuff people don't always take: artichoke hearts, asparagus, aubergine.

"Holy shit, score.” Steve holds another tin up, torch held between his chest and his upper arm.

Your eyes turn round as saucers.

That night, you decide to stay in the convenience store. You'll be cornered if somebody tries to get in, but you'll be safe from geeks and the elements. Two out of three isn't bad.

You and Steve share the only fork, chowing down on his amazing find of tinned vegetable soup and dumplings. It barely registers in your head that it's cold, it's so nice to be eating something that isn't spaghettios. You could've built a fire outside to warm it if you weren't scared of being spotted by scroungers. Or worse, cannibals.

"Maybe we should go outside. Look for smoke," you say. Smoke means people.

"Good idea.” He urges you to take what's left of the soup, stands, and kisses the top of your head as he does.

You're pretty sure there's bliss like the light of a star radiating off of your skin, elated at his easy affection. You're almost as happy to get to finish the soup.

While he's gone, you open your bag and scrounge for what little self-care you have. Toothpaste is abundant in every store no matter how looted, as is soap, but soap needs water, and you're running low. You brush your teeth with toothpaste alone and use a little bit of water on a rag to wipe the oil off of your face, guilty and thankful at once. If you don't wash yourself when you can, you'll go crazy.

You apply another layer of roll on old spice and hope it'll hold out until you can find another lake, river, or tributary, which shouldn't be impossible. Michigan is surrounded by water, a fact that had put you off coming here at first.

You go where Steve goes, though, so Michigan it had been, and Michigan it is.

Your first night’s already proved fruitful. There's more than enough food here if you're willing to get weird (and you and Steve usually are). More food than you could carry.

Which is a little suspicious, now that you think about it.

Nobody thought to look here?

Is there anybody to look?

You push all your stuff aside and scramble onto your knees, suddenly paranoid. Steve's taking too long, what if this place is a trap? A honeytrap to lure in mindless ants. What if they've already grabbed him, and–

"Oh, Jesus," Steve says as he opens the door, voice uber loud in the night time stillness. "You scared me. What's the matter, need to pee?"

"I thought somebody kidnapped you," you say, trying for joking and missing by a mile.

Steve leans against the door. He's regained his controlled volume and demeanour, "Safe and sound. I'm serious, do you need to pee?"

You and Steve pad out your corner of the store against the pilfered chip aisle. He lets you use his chest as a pillow, and when he turns off the torch there's nothing to do but listen to his breathing and feel his chest move under your ear.

You rub his sternum with the heel of your hand. "You could use me as a pillow sometime. If you wanted to."

"Yeah? You're softer than me, I think I'd love that."

You draw a short line to his navel, thinking. Lucky to have found him. Lucky to like him this much, and lucky that he likes you. You're 'his girl', and you get to sleep on his chest and sometimes when he's not worrying himself to the bone he'll tell you secrets. You know him better than you’ve ever known anybody.

He curls his arm around your shoulder and takes your upper arm into his hand, the heat from his fingers seeping into your skin. You've taken off your coat because it's uncomfortable. Steve will fold it over your chest when you fall asleep.

"It was a good day, right?" He sounds terrified of jinxing it.

You kiss his chest, or his t-shirt, so lightly he likely doesn't feel it. A kiss for your sake rather than his. "It was a good day."

He holds you close. His heart thrums in your head.

"Floor's like a fucking ice cube," he mutters.

You cover as much of him as you can with your arms, sleep tugging at your eyelids. "I'll keep you warm," you promise as they close. "Wake me up when you get too tired."

"Alright." He massages your arm in his hand gently, and you fall asleep.

—

Steve flinches awake at the whisper of a sound outside. A younger Steve, one who'd known nothing about geeks, or people, really, how awful they can be, wouldn't have woken. Hell, Steve could've slept through a hurricane when he was in high school, all those years where he'd stayed up too late playing hooky and smoking Malboro's behind the Big Buy. He looks back now and wonders how much sleep he missed out on in his king-sized mattress, up to his eyeballs in cushy sheets and fresh linens. Why had sleeping felt like such a chore?

And after that, when he and Robin would stay up watching shitty movies and eating the free stale popcorn from the video store. Though he wouldn't trade any of that away.

Fucking idiot, he thinks to himself scathingly. He was not supposed to fall asleep. He checks you over quickly. In your sleep you've slid off of his chest and onto the tarp next to him, but you’re unharmed.

He sits up and scrambles for his penknife. Weak dusk light breaks through the store's shutters, dust motes disturbed by his movements diving between rays of light like lightning bugs. His joints click with the force and speed with which he springs up to protect you.

What sound was that? It had come as loud as a crack of thunder, but could've been something small, a squirrel over a tree branch.

He should wake you up. If it's one person, even two, you could help him. But if it's more, and they find you…

He shoulders open the door and walks out into the morning light.

—

You wake to hands on your shoulders.

You're scared instantly. Steve usually wakes you reluctantly, a shake and a whispered, "Up," or, "Up, baby," if he's especially tired.

"It's me," he says, his voice burning with something you haven't ever heard before. "It's me. Time to wake up."

You peel your eyes open, horrified at the sight above you. Steve face hovers over your own with his hair tucked behind his ears and a blazing smile, daylight behind him haloing him in gold.

"You didn't wake me." You bring clumsy hands to his rough cheeks. "Why didn't you wake me? You look so tired."

He looks electrified, the bags under his eyes no match for his smile. You can feel it as he leans down, as he plants a kiss firmly to your unsuspecting mouth. He kisses you all over, a joyous chuckle bubbling out between them.

You laugh yourself, tickled as his stubble scratches your cheeks, your neck as he works his way down.

"There's- There's people," he says. "My people. Fucking Robin-"

"What?"

You're a half inch from headbutting him unconscious. Luckily he's already veering upward, stuffing what you'd left on the ground back into your packs.

"I haven't seen her yet, but there's this other girl we went to school with, Darcy Mulligan, and she said this is an outpost, right? They keep all this shit here for people who need it, and then they watch to see if you're dangerous-"

"They were watching us?"

He plows onward, ignoring you, "And they saw us and I went out thinking they were gonna shoot me but-"

"Steve, we can't go with these people."

His smile fades a little. "No, we aren't. I told them already, we aren't that stupid. But," — he grabs your arm — "they said they're gonna bring Robin."

You don't want to keep fighting him. To shoot down this newfound hope, this lightness you've never seen him shine with before, feels cruel. But you don't want him to get ahead of himself.

"What if they're bringing back reinforcements?"

He swallows and nods, reassuring your conjectures. "Right, I thought that too, but- I don't know, baby, Darcy was with a guy, and they both had guns. They could've shot me. 'N' if they were empty, the guy could've just knocked me over the head with it, you know?" He crawls impossibly closer than he'd been, hands rubbing your arm unthinking. "I think this is real."

I want it to be real goes unsaid.

You're ashamed that you can't find any excitement to wear with him. Dread licks over your skin as you smile at him, as you cup his cheek in your hand, and as you stand up to help him pack away his things. You feel like you're going to your death.

Steve can read you well. He grabs your shoulders. You're selfishly hoping he'll say you can run. He doesn't. "You trust me?" he asks.

You deflate, shoulders falling. "Of course I do."

"Thank you." He tries to pull you in for a hug but you're reeling, distracted, he has to persuade you, and he does so sweetly. "Hey, c'mere, come on." He pulls at you. "Come here."

You flop into his chest with all the grace of a shored fish, arms limp. He smells like sweat which probably means you do too, but he smells like himself, and that's what's important.

"Nothing bad is going to happen to you."

"What about you?"

"If Robin's here, I have to take the risk. She's my best friend."

You understand that. You'd never ask him not to do this, because you'd do it for him. If you'd ever gotten separated, you'd spend months looking for him. Years, maybe. He's the only person left.

You have no clue if he'd do the same for you.

He scrubs at your back roughly. Such a boyish kind of hug.

"You have your knife?" he asks.

You have it. Rather than let them corner you in here, you both make your way out into the woods. Steve shows you the short path he'd taken to find Darcy Mulligan and the man she'd been with, evidence of their stakeout left in the embers of a small fire. You stand frozen with a tree trunk to your back and Steve stations himself in front of you, pack secured on your back. Steve has his baseball bat in hand. What good will it serve against a possible group of gunmen? You start to panic, really panic, and you're a hair's width from begging him to run with you when his grip on the bat falters.

"Fuck," he says softly.

Three people turn the corner; a dark haired girl with twin pigtails and a rifle hanging at her side; a boy, presumably the man Steve had mentioned; and a shorter girl with light brown hair, her expression — her entire body — lit with happiness, elation, and her laugh loud enough to prove it.

"Holy shit," Steve says.

You forget to be scared. You forget to worry. Steve lets the baseball bat drop out of his hand, and then he's taking three weak steps forward to meet her, and that's it, it's her, Robin throws her arms around his neck and nearly barrels him to the ground. His hands come up to meet her. He's shaking so hard you're surprised he can grip her waist, his face crushed to the side of her head.

Tears well in your eyes. To get to see this, so soon, when you'd thought maybe Steve might never see his best friend ever again, is a blessing. It's a fucking miracle.

Your tears bite back when the boy moves forward and hugs him too.

You tighten your grip on your knife and pull it from your pocket, confused and alarmed that Steve's about to get gutted, but Steve starts to shake worse.

It takes you a second to realise he's crying.

"Henderson," he says.

Oh. It's Dustin. You've heard enough stories about him to know it. He has the same curly hair, and while he's taller than you'd thought, Steve had only ever talked about one Henderson.

Steve's relief is a knot in your throat. You wipe your cheek quickly with the back of your hand and shove the knife into your pocket.

Over their heads, the dark haired girl narrows her eyes at you.

"I can't believe you're here," Steve says, voice raspy with emotion.

You have never heard him cry.

"Where have you been, Steve?" Robin asks hoarsely.

You take a step toward him without thinking, and he hears it despite everything and looks up at you with a teary-eyed smile.

"We got lost," he says, holding your gaze.

"Lost? It's been months. We thought you were zombie mulch, you shithead."

"I'm here, aren't I?" He rolls his eyes at you, like he's saying Get a load of this guy?

It's a reassuring gesture even if he doesn't mean for it to be. You're still a team.

"Hi," Robin says, her hands clasped in Steve's shirt, but her attention fully yours. "I'm Robin."

You don't have a chance to introduce yourself. Steve does it for you, and he says, "She's my girl. Saved me this entire time."

What the fuck does that mean?

Robin looks at you again. "No fucking way."

"Only took an apocalypse for Steve to get a girlfriend," Dustin says.

There's something about their playful arguing that makes you want to cry again. It's the relief they've padded it with. You can imagine how brilliant it must feel to make fun of somebody you'd thought long dead.

"Don't worry, Y/N," Robin says gravely, "there are tons of dudes at camp. You have options."

Steve steps on her foot.

"We should head back," Darcy says shortly.

On the walk, Steve feels very far away. He keeps looking at you to check you're there, but his thoughts are months ago, recounting the details of your survival to his friends in short. You and Steve had been together since basically the very start when you'd saved him from a horde, and he tells that with pride. So much so you feel heat blooming behind your neck and at the tips of your ears.

"We fucking floored to to the meeting point but you guys weren't there-"

"Sorry-"

"No, it's okay," he says. "I get it. It was rough." All of you shiver at the memory. Hawkins had been hit hard, a close knit town with nowhere to hide.

"No we- we should’ve fucking waited- I begged them to wait," Robin says.

"Who did you get out with?"

And there's the list of survivors. It's short. The amount of orphaned kids is extremely depressing, and for a while there's silence. All those people. Dustin's mom, Robin's dad.

"Hopper's here, though," Dustin adds after a while.

"That explains why you're still alive."

"Actually, dickhead, we're alive because I'm awesome. The radio-"

"How many people are there?" Steve interrupts.

"It's a whole new world, Harrington."

It's better.

You turn onto what looks like an old college campus and suddenly, there's people. So many people you walk backward and almost tumblr off of the curb, because fuck. There's noise, and smells, and sounds. There are little kids running around in a closed off area of the quad, laughing and chasing after one another. There are guns on guards patrolling makeshift walls.

Your ears start ringing.

"Think your girlfriend's gonna pass out," Darcy says.

You're the last one to figure out she's talking about you.

"Oh, hey. Hey," Steve says, stepping toward you.

You take another step back.

"Baby," he says softly.

"There's people here."

"So many new boyfriend's to choose from," he jokes. He's tentative, but he offers his hand like he knows you'll take it. "Come on. I promise I won't get jealous when you run off with somebody cooler."

"I don't want somebody cooler," you say.

"Okay, awesome, 'cause I was lying. I'd be super jealous. I'd feed myself to the geeks."

"Don't say that."

He grins at you, hand hovering in the gap between your bodies unwavering. Trust me, it says. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.

You take Steve's hand.

—

The world is more than you and Steve against it. There are people to answer to.

Chief Hopper actually recognises you when he sees you. He recognises Steve first, and he gives him a pat on the back. You aren't expecting any hellos, figuring you're barely a memory to him, but Hopper smiles at you like you've just told him you have the antidote for zombification in your rucksack.

"It's good to see you, kid."

That night, in the dining hall, you get a small welcome between shift announcements. Hundreds of heads turn your way, and while some house cagey unsurety, the majority are happy to see you.

You sit with Steve and his friends (plural, a growing number, because nearly all of them are here), torn between stopping him from crying his eyes out with happy tears and listening to the older woman sitting beside you. Her name is Mallory, and she offers a generous gift.

"You have any questions at all, sweetpea, and you can come to me. Or if you just wanna talk, my shoulder's right here." She pats it for emphasis.

"Thank you so much." But, you want to say, I have Steve.

"Young love, and in a time like this." Mallory's smile is genuine, if a little haunted. "It's amazing."

You indulge her, turning from Steve just slightly. "But?"

She brushes a strand of hair behind her ears. It's three colours, a faded red at the middle, a mix of grey and brown at the top. "Listen, I have some unsolicited advice for you hon, but I'm not trying to offend you when you just got here."

You shake your head. "No," you say hurriedly, "of course not. I wouldn't think that."

She digs around in her pocket and opens her hand covertly under the table. When you look at it, she hisses. "No, don't. Keep your eyes up."

You right your gaze accordingly. The canteen is simply that — the college's canteen. Every night there's something cooking, and every morning if they can afford it. Although you'd been told some people eat at home, most people come here, because this is the only place with a reliable generator. From where you're sitting, you can see everybody, and you suspect Steve had chosen this vantage point on purpose.

Hopper stands at the front of the room behind another man, who's moved from the important stuff and is now lamenting at the book club's low attendance. They have a fucking book club. You can't believe it.

Mallory drops something into your hand. A hard-boiled candy.

"My advice," she says, the two of you watching as Hopper and the second man confer, "is to try and be in both worlds at once."

"You've lost me."

"That's not a good sign, I've barely started," she jokes, laughing so much that the men sitting across from you laugh too. She carries on, "What I mean is, this isn't home. It probably never will be. We fight so hard to make it home, we plant trees, 'n' we sleep warm every night, but…" She squeezes your shoulder amicably, a light, quick touch. "I know how it felt when I got here. Me and my husband, we kept to ourselves. And we were right to, not everybody here can be good. But when he died, I had nobody."

You let your eyes drop to you plate, a small portion of a soup that's not the best and a sandwich that's marginally better. You get what Mallory's trying to say — don't put your eggs all in one basket, not when the basket might get mauled to death any day coming.

You get what she's trying to say. You don't appreciate it.

"Thank you," you say weakly.

She nods, and Steve saves you from anymore conversation with an arm hooked through yours.

“You okay?” he asks. Unmistakably fond.

You can feel the eyes of all of his friends. All these people you knew too, or knew of, and should be happy to see. You should be so fucking happy right now.

So why aren’t you?

You turn your face to his and take him in. He’s got a red rash of skin over the top of his head from prolonged sunburn and a scar under his left eye from a cruel tree branch. He looks different than the Steve you’d met at school, and he looks different still from the Steve you’d saved on day 1.

But he’s your Steve.

You drop your forehead into his neck, love like a warm blanket encapsulating you when he presses a kiss against your forehead.

“I know,” he says, moving back, forcing you to sit up again. “It’s crazy.”

You return his smile, though you aren’t sure you're on the same page.

—

Little Hawkins makes you want to curl up into a ball and cry. It’s a floor of rooms in the campus dormitories, and Robin shares with a couple of other people your age. She only has a mattress and her things on the ground in one room, but soon Steve and another guy are dragging another mattress from across campus while you watch.

"No offence," Steve says, "but I'm trying to spoil you right now. Can you stop pouting? I'm giving you a breather."

"I don't believe you."

He and the unnamed man lean the mattress up outside of Robin's door.

"Well," he says warmly, and you're starting to feel lovesick with how sweet he's being, nearly enough to forget how scared you are, "maybe you should try."

Steve is nice. He's always been nice, ever since you met him, even if that nice was strapped down and buried under one layer of derision, one layer of sarcasm, and another layer of sternness for prosperity. But this is another level. Ever since he woke you up he's been ridiculous (he's been the kind of affectionate you've secretly ached for). Steve's sparing with affection but you wouldn't ever complain — can you expect him to play doting boyfriend when each day he's hardwired and on the fritz trying to make sure you both don't die agonising, gross deaths?

This is fucking crazy, though.

Steve pulls you bodily by the waist into his front and talks into the highest point of your cheek, words muffled by your skin, "When was the last time we slept on a mattress? Gotta be months ago," — you lean into him entirely, he takes your weight with zero qualms — "when we were in that house by the lake with all the soaps."

"So many soaps," you murmur, melted by his closeness.

He laughs. He giggles, all boyish and pretty and you can't help yourself, you lift your chin, practically begging for a kiss.

You get a short one. Steve's too busy laughing. "And the canned pickles. I know they were, like, doomsdayers, but what did we count, like-"

"Fifty seven-"

"Fifty seven jars of pickles," he finishes.

If this is what Steve is like here, you can make the trade. You don't trust anybody that isn't him, and it feels like you're surrounded by people who could easily hurt you, but his easy joy right now is contagious.

Robin's voice comes loud from inside her room. "Hey, lovebirds! Are you coming in? They turn all the lights off in like, twenty minutes."

It's obvious how much Steve trusts Robin. You get the mattress in her room through a series of squeezing and hoping, and she shows you her fancy little sink with running water, nothing short of pride in her eyes.

"It's freezing," she says, "but you can wash up."

It genuinely doesn't bother you that it's cold, emotionally. Physically you get the jitters, and it's worth it because Steve pities you and wraps you up tight to rub your arms. He and Robin talk a lot, so much that your brain has given up on listening. It's not something you're happy to hear anyhow, your perilous journey. Steve is generous on your account, leaving out all your most embarrassing moments.

You sit on the end of the mattress and wonder if you can take your shoes off.

"Robin?" you ask.

Both turn to look at you, surprised.

"Yeah?"

"Does the door lock?"

She brings her legs up to her chest, chin on her knees. "There's no deadbolt, but you need a key to open it from the outside. So kind of?" She watches you for a moment, and then she nods towards the desk covered in books. "I used to put the chair under the handle when I first got here. You can do that, if you're worried."

You nod uselessly and get up to do just that.

"Thanks, Robs," Steve says.

"Yep." She flops into a ball on her side and pulls the blankets up and over her face. "Goodnight, then."

Steve laughs and steps over your legs so he can get to her. "Robin," he says, pulling the blankets down. "I- I really missed you."

She holds out her arms and they hug. She pats his back. "Missed being a pain in my neck, maybe," she mutters. He pushes away from her in mock disgusts and they smile, a shared smile that douses you in an unfair jealousy. You shrug it off pretty quickly when he sits down on the mattress beside you, looking content and, shockingly, really tired.

He encourages you up to the top of the mattress beside him and folds up the blanket from the rucksack for you as a pillow, sliding it under your head. When he seems confident that you're comfortable he blows out the candle burning on Robin's desk.

This part's easy, you and Steve in the dark. You're practised in the art of moving around one another.

Your heart pounds in your ears as Steve pulls a heavy blanket over the both of you, his arm strewn across your stomach haphazardly.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

You turn your face to his though you can't see it. "Of course I am. Are you okay?"

"I know this is weird."

Weird doesn't feel like the right word. Surreal, maybe. Something out of a dream.

"I think my back aches more on the mattress, I'm so used to twisting myself into knots between your legs."

He snorts. "That doesn't sound right."

You cover his arm with your hand. "Pig."

"You can lie on my chest, if you want."

"Think it's your turn to use me as cushioning." Your voice is coloured by your smile.

He exhales into your shoulder.

"Mm. This is nice," he murmurs.

"You want me to take the first shift?"

"I don't think we need shifts."

You can't agree. Steve trusts Robin and you trust Steve, but you do not trust Robin. She seems lovely, and through Steve's stories you know she's a good person, but he hasn't seen her in a year. She could be anybody, and she's locked into a room with you.

You don't mean to be deceitful. "Alright," you utter, "no shifts."

"You smell nice," Steve says. His lips move against your skin, and he lifts his head enough to kiss your jaw, three kisses in succession. "Goodnight, honey."

You raise your hand to his head. "Goodnight."

He falls asleep to you carding through his hair. Even when you're sure he's dead to the world you keep going, the feeling of it between your fingers calming.

You don't sleep a wink.

—

It becomes a mantra. Steve is happy here. Over and over and over.

You're happy too by consequence; Steve is a new person, still the man you know but with this emanating happiness rolling off of him in waves.

Chief Hopper has promised to get you and Steve a place together if you want one. This had scared you half to death, because you want one bad, but you'd been expecting a little resistance from Steve (or, admittedly, a lot). Because…

You're starting to think maybe you aren't scared of the people here. You trust Hopper to run a community that's safe if he says it is, and as the days stretch into a week, two weeks, you start to feel secure. Steve's never far, but that's the terrifying part.

You're worried Steve is going to leave you.

It sounds dramatic. It is dramatic. But you're scared shirtless that Steve is going to wake up and realise he doesn't owe you a thing, that he doesn't harbour the affection for you that he thinks he does. You're worried that Steve had gone soft on you because you'd been there, like a habit.

Your feelings for him only grow, despite this. He's fucking handsome when he's clean-shaven, clean in general. Somebody's mom gives him a haircut and you can't believe it, because he's always been good looking but you can tell he's more confident like this, and the confidence makes him golden.

He's also super handsy.

You love it, and you get it. You know you look prettier clean, even more so after somebody's mom gives you a haircut and you've managed to scrub the perma-dirt from under your nails. The want to kiss him is dialled up by a thousand because you always have clean teeth.

The nagging fear remains even when he's got a mouthful of your neck.

"Ouch," you moan, hands in his hair, legs spread enough to accommodate his figure between them, "s'like a geek, nibbling on me."

Steve bites a little harder.

You gasp at his show of force and push your head away from him. "Steve," you say with a laugh.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologises, pulling back. Elbows at your ribs, he holds his weight off of you though there's no reason to. "My teeth missed you."

"What the fuck."

"All of me missed you." He strokes the side of your face mildly. "I hate this."

You wiggle under him, mattress springs digging into your back. He doesn't bother explaining what he'd meant, only leans down to kiss your cheek, your chin, the tip of your nose.

You stare at him.

"What do you hate?"

He scrunches his nose up like it's obvious, and you're stupid for not knowing. "Us being on separate schedules. It's fucking shitty."

You don't have an answer for him. It seems more than lucky that he would assuage your worst feelings considering you haven't told him anything at all. You haven't told him about staying up at night to make sure Robin's not gonna kill him, or how worried you are that he's gonna realise he can leave you now you're safe, now you don't owe each other anything. You haven't told him how much you love him, and how much that would hurt.

Somehow, you get the impression that he knows anyway.

"This is really nice," you say eventually.

He rests his face against yours. You close your eyes.

"What's nice?" he asks. "Our separation? You're sick, babe. I'm trying to bare my heart here and you're stomping all over it."

"Not our separation, dummy. This. You lying on top of me. It feels really nice."

His small laugh warms your cheek. "I know. Why'd you think I let you climb all over me for months?"

"'Cause otherwise we'd freeze to death?"

He kisses a line down to the skin under your ear. "That, too. But mostly because it feels good."

You wrap your arms around him and press your nose to his hair, smelling him for your own self-indulgence. He lets his weight press down on you, shifting his arm so they're digging behind your shoulders.

You hook a leg behind his.

"Steve, I…"

"I love you."

You stiffen.

He hugs you that tiny bit tighter. "I love you," he says again. "I should've told you before, but I- I was so afraid that you'd-" He clears his throat quietly. "I was fucking terrified that I was going to let you down. You kept almost dying on me, and I kept realising I wouldn't be able to do this without you."

"I love you too," you say, shell-shocked.

He kisses your cheek slowly, softly, and then he lifts himself up so you're face to face.

"I love you," you say, because he'd said it twice.

His smile is gentle, eyes creased with a loving amusement. "I know." Steve steals back one of his arms so he can thumb under your eye. "I know you're not sleeping."

"Steve-"

"No, listen. I know you don't trust Robin-"

"I do-"

"You don't, and it's okay." He cups your cheek. "It's okay. You know, Hopper said it wouldn’t take long to find us a room. A couple more days and you won’t have to worry. And you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you say, voice softening to match his own.

He squeezes your cheek. “There’s a lot of stuff I should say to you and I’m kind of trying to hang onto my last shred of dignity here, but I mean it. More than I’ve ever- More than anyone. I love you.”

Your lips fall into a self-pitying pout. You won’t cry, though you feel like you could, because this is possibly the happiest you’ve ever been in your life. Steve loves you more than anyone, plain as day. He wouldn’t say that if he were going to swap you out for a new apocalypse girlfriend anytime soon, ‘cause Steve doesn’t mess with feelings. He’s earnest.

“Ever since we got here, I’ve been waiting for you to break up with me,” you say.

Which is funny in itself. You and Steve kissed each other every now and then for weeks before you had the conversation — it feels juvenile to think of boyfriends and girlfriends in life or death, and, paradoxically, it feels really important. The label means a lot to you. The ‘I love you’ means the world, even if he’s been showing it everyday since he met you.

He makes a sound that’s a combination of a scoff, a snort, and a pitying sigh. “You’re ridiculous,” he says.

You laugh so loudly it surprises you both. “I’m ridiculous? Get off of me, rich boy.”

Steve hunkers down. “What? No way. I live here now.”

“Seriously, Harrington, get off. I'm sick of you. Robin promised she’d find me a new boyfriend. Maybe I’ll get one with compassion.”

He laughs. He’s trying not to, and it comes out warm and soft to spite him. “Fine, let’s break up.”

“Fine.”

He tilts his head toward yours until your foreheads are touching, staring into your eyes. It takes a lot of willpower to hold in your laugh. “Wanna go on a date with me?”

You lift your chin and kiss him through giggles. “Yeah, okay. Options are pretty limited here, anyway.”

#stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve zombie!au #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington

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lost-in-fandoms · 1 month

Text

I have no idea where this came from and where it's going. Probably nowhere. No thoughts, just vibes.

cw: implied past character death (i'll put something more specific in the tags)

The street looks the same as when Daniel had left. Same cracked pavement, same uneven sidewalk, only on the left. Even the washed out weeds, insisting on growing where they shouldn't have, look the same.

The fence on the right is maybe a little less red, a little more broken, but the hedge on the left is still cut in the same strictly rectangular shape, so dense you can't see the garden on the other side. His feet seem to remember just how many steps it takes to go from the intersection to the end of the cul-de-sac, stopping exactly where the old bus stop was.

The gate is different. It's jarring, in the sameness of it all, to see something so starkly changed. It used to be white, with rusted and mossy spots all over, a number of bars Daniel had never bothered to count. Nothing like the tall, solid black gate he's looking at now.

He just wanted to look at the garden, at the path, at the front door. He wanted to see if the hydrangeas had survived all these years, if the grass was overgrown, if the multi-colored window on the side of the door was still intact. If the rosemary, without someone carefully keeping it contained, had escaped its flowerbed and invaded the nearby hibiscus.

He had wanted to see if there was any part of him still clinging to the living room windows, to the sun-warmed bricks.

Now, all he can see are the second store windows, all curtains drawn, and the new solar panels on the garage roof.

He shouldn't have come.

There is an ache eating away at his chest, bacteria freed from a petri dish and given his whole insides to feast on, lid broken and thrown away by the first step he had taken out of the car.

Suddenly, as if yanked from the past he's both begging for and resisting, a child's laughter rings through the hot summer air, followed by a gleeful high pitched scream.

He shouldn't have come.

And yet, his feet are stuck on the pavement, and his mind is stuck in the nowhere place that is half in the present and half in a past that no longer exists.

There's another voice in the garden, too low to make out the words, but clearly belonging to a man. Daniel can hear a sliding door open and then close, the sound discordant against his sliding-door-free memories.

He should go.

The tide is already threatening to fill his lungs. The air smells the same, but somehow turns to rot when it reaches the back of his throat.

There's a high beeping sound, then a click, then the smaller gate to the side, the one they always needed to unstuck in the winter, now replaced too, opens.

Before he can stop himself, Daniel gasps, heart jumping in his throat, hope building like a cursed bubble. He's not quick enough to pop it himself, and it explodes right in front of his face, soapy water stinging his eyes, when the man who steps through it is a complete stranger.

The air is shimmering with heat, cicadas' screams swelling, and for a second Daniel thinks: it's not real.

Then the stranger fully exits the gate, square jaw set and eyebrows furrowed, and closes it behind him with a clank.

"Can I ask you who you are and what you are doing in front of my house?" No hellos.

There's an accent there, a rasp cutting through some words, a lisp making itself known into others. A frosty threat thickly slathered on top, icing on an uncut cake, knife into Daniel's hand to slice the tension in the air with.

His brain, still clawing its way back to the present, offers his tongue no words, half open mouth empty. The man raises his eyebrows, crosses his arms. Daniel knows with crystal clear certainty he's going to have the cops called on him very soon, or he's going to be punched. He thinks of the kid laughing and can't find any blame in either option.

"Sorry," he finally manages, stiff vocal cords striding together. The man doesn't look impressed.

Daniel forcefully pulls his brain together, connecting neurons like he's jump starting a car, stuffing memory boxes closed.

"I used to live here, years ago." He tears his eyes away, wishing once again he could see the hydrangeas. His mom had loved the hydrangeas, even when she cursed them every year for being needy fuckers. "When I was a kid."

When he looks back, the man doesn't look quite as tense, something absurdly like recognition in his blue eyes.

"I was in the area, and thought I would check it out," he offers lamely. Just sort of a lie, but he doesn't owe his bleeding soul to this stranger.

"I bought it four months ago," the man says, and Daniel feels weirdly chastised, as if he should have come by sooner.

"I know. I signed the deal." And then spent one whole day in bed, cradling ghosts in his arms underneath the blankets.

The man tilts his head appraisingly, lips slightly pursed. Daniel doesn't know what he's being considered for, but tries his best not too look to lost, or too insane, or too dangerous. He doesn't even know why. Maybe just to avoid the cops.

"There was a picture, in the living room," the man slowly says. Daniel immediately wishes he would stop talking, but his brain is gone again, unable to give words, too busy looking in his memories for the framed photograph he knows the man is talking about. There were four people in the picture, and Daniel had mourned it for years, forgotten on the shelf of the emptied dish cupboard.

Suddenly, fierce protectiveness surges inside him, hands twitching with the need to go back, to hide it from stranger's eyes, to cradle it to his chest so hard he can carve a space for it between his ribs.

"I know you are saying the truth, because you are in it. Smaller." The stranger's lips curve up a bit at his own little joke, but Daniel's don't.

Yeah, of course he had been in it, smiling his still-crooked smile, flash glinting on his braces, curls squished under a baseball cap. His dad's hand on his shoulder.

His insides, all eaten by the fugitive bacteria, are burning, poison seeping from his bloodstream.

"Yeah." He refuses to elaborate. He shouldn't have come. "I'll be going."

He doesn't want to go. He shouldn't have come, but now that he has, he doesn't want to go. Walking away once again feels like something that could kill him.

"You could come back, tomorrow morning, when my daughter isn't here."

Daniel doesn't know what his face is doing, too many feelings slamming into him all at once. He hopes the only one the other man can see is surprise.

"Why?" He shouldn't ask. He should just say okay. He should just say no. He should turn around and walk away, and keep walking and walking until his legs hurt as much as the traitorous hope biting at him again.

"For the picture. And to see the house, if you want." The man says it as if this whole conversation is a test, and Daniel is on the verge of failing. As always, he doesn't know the correct answer. And yet, he knows there's only one he can give.

"Okay." He nods, feeling like he's jumping off the boat without checking for sharks first. Then belatedly, "thank you."

"10 am. If you are a serial killer, I know how to box." The man smiles, as if it was a joke. Daniel doesn't need his full brain capacities to know he's one hundred percent serious.

"I'm not." He almost adds which is exactly what a serial killer would say, but now that the stranger has offered, he does want to come back, doesn't want to ruin his chance with a dumb joke.

"Good."

The man doesn't say goodbye before turning around and pulling a bunch of keys out of his shorts pocket, opening the small gate and walking through, closing it behind himself without a second glance towards Daniel.

As if broken out of a spell, his feet can move again, and he finds himself walking away before he can even make the conscious decision to, his body wanting to hurry along the hours, to shorten the time between now and tomorrow, 10 am.

He barely looks at the road, at the cracked pavement and uneven sidewalk. Impressed on his retinas, the flutter of a curtain on the second floor, and the new name on the doorbell.

Max Verstappen.

#my writing #the implied character death cw is about daniel's family (nothing is specified)#the aim for today was to write part 3 of the omegaverse series #obviously it didn't happen #still many hours to go before bedtime though so i can still hope my brain gives it to me!!!#maxiel #sort of #if there are typos no there aren't <3 my brain was refusing to english today #i haven't read this back so if it makes no sense we'll just forget about this one okay?

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razbunz · 6 months

Text

Best of the worst (Pt 2)

Toji x Fem Reader CW: Drinking/Smoking, Older Toji, Gets a little spicy, Shiu and others are mentioned, Cursing. Word Count: 5K (I cooked on this)

Husband Toji! Quickly packs for a honeymoon to Spain, A whole AirBnb for a week on the island of Ibiza, The warm waters rolling over your skin as you swim with your husband taking in the salty air of the coast.

Husband Toji! Splashing you aggressively with water when diving into the balearic sea, Soon taking you to a seafood dinner. Candlelit with flames wavering with every warm breeze that passes through the gazebo It's easy to gorge on crab legs and to chat playfully with your freshly wed husband. The wedding band on his finger shining in the moonlight as cicadas hum an evening tune.

Husband Toji! Gifts you a sundress, and goes grape picking at a local vineyard in the summer heat. He helps you reach the tallest vines by lifting you up by the hips; gripping them tightly so you stay sturdy in his arms. He holds the basket of grapes collected and once you reach the rim of the wicker pail he's coated in sweat- looking nothing less than ethereal. Toji hands over the grapes to the vine assistant, who suggests that they can make a small batch. It's heartily agreed it will be your ‘honeymoon’ blend.

Husband Toji! Eagerly taking the opportunity to get wine drunk with you at the rental house- laughing as you get more whiny and needy with each sip. Toji can't help but pout and tease you during your hazy state, eventually he will show kindness though- it's your honeymoon afterall.And will lay you on the bed gently, kissing and suckling at your supple flesh until you beg him to do something more, until your crying of pleasure.

Husband Toji! Trying not to pout as he boards the plane, internally he fears that you're only sticking around like some fucked up ‘honeymoon phase’. He will never admit to you but it really hurts his feelings, you're not sure he knows just how serious you are about him.

Husband Toji! He goes back to work soon after, he's heard your complaints that his field is dangerous and he shouldn't be doing that, More than ever now that he's married.

But in his head it's the only way and the best way to make money to support the both of you, Though he doesn't want to hurt your feelings It's something that must be done.

Husband Toji! He goes to work with his hands covered in leather gloves so his ring doesn't rust with blood he has to deal with on a daily basis. His gloves are drenched in a sticky maroon substance as cuts the hands off of a victim. It doesn't make his stomach feel bad anymore… it hasn't for a while. He offers it to the commissioner as some sort of sick gift- they hand over a briefcase of money and he's back home to being your loveable bear of a husband.

Husband Toji! But because of his job it's easy for him to help you during your period. He knows you try to avoid him during that time, And he laughs when you explain why. It pisses you off to the nth degree but he reassures you that he isn't disgusted. His hands are a warm safety when you're cramping, he runs his fingers up and down your stomach until the pain goes away. Even once when you stain the sheets while you expected him to be mad he races to the corner store to buy you snacks, as he sets the sheets into the wash. When he comes back he watches whatever film you want as he stirs up hot cocoa which he is a master at making.

Husband Toji! Hearing you throw up one morning, He rushes to the bathroom to see you spill your guts out; Lifting up your hair he pats your back soothingly. He's groggy but it comforts him to know that you're okay. But this pattern continues... Morning after morning you start to feel nauseous and ill, It's starting to scare him.

He's making dinner one night, suddenly noticing that you've been in the bathroom for almost an hour. He calls out your name and as he walks closer to the bathroom his ears prick up as they catch your sobs.

“Princess?” he calls out into the hallway awaiting a response. Your chest racks and you stop crying, trying to compose yourself to respond.

But he knocks on the door “Are you okay, pretty girl?” The silence echoes throughout the house.

Behind the door you're biting your lip to stop a sob.

“Princess, Open up please.” His voice itches with anxiety, He's growing impatient pacing through the hallway until he breaks open the door with a sharp CRACK the lock splintering immediately.

“Baby?” He sees your figure on the floor clutching something to your chest.

“There you are pretty.” his voice makes you shiver into the ground-he reaches out to you but you shrink back, whimpering in fear.

“M’sorry m’sorry toji.” you sound more pathetic than you ever thought.

“Sorry?” he scoffs “For what?” Standing back to give you some space, Instead of words you pass what's clutched to your chest. With one glance it makes him want to hurl.

Soon to be father Toji! Turning the blue stick in his hands, Two blue lines staring up at him like daggers.

“M’sorryyyy Toji” by now you're hyperventilating, as he acknowledges the weight of it all.

“Baby it's okay!” He crouches down and offers you a hand brushing your hair back.

“You're gonna kill me.” he shakes his head, you’re being dramatic.

“I'm not going to kill you princess.” pressing a kiss to your hand.

He chuckles for the second it takes you to realize that he is not made, he's rather happy.

Lifting you up he hugs you tight, peppering your wet cheeks with kisses, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“God I love you so much.” he confesses to you “Always wanted a little brat, hmm?” he looks down to see your face.

“You want one with me too mama?” you nod enthusiastically before admitting to Toji

“I thought you didn't want one!” you breathe a sigh of relief now knowing that you were wrong,

“Of course I did!” he pauses “I didn't think you wanted one with an old man like me!” He blushes and combs through his hair to reveal more of his face.

“Well clearly you're not that old.” You gesture to your body.

Laughs fill the bathroom.

Soon to be Father Toji! Goes to every single one of your doctor visits, He can just be back from a mission with bloody clothes in the back of the car but will be there. Holding your hand throughout the first ultrasound. When a heartbeat shows up on the monitor he squeezes your hand, smiling cheesily as a tiny baby shows up on screen-He keeps an ultrasound photo in his wallet now.

Soon to be Father Toji! If you thought he was protective before, When you're pregnant he might as well be a guard dog. Holding your hand everywhere and when people come up to gush about having a kid he is only 4 seconds from committing another murder. You're his wife and that's his kid. They shouldn't touch you.

Soon to be Father Toji! Ikea shopping with you as your due date approaches, By the end of the trip you’ve got a Crib, Dresser, and changing table with plenty of storage.

When they arrive at the house he sets an entire day aside to build it all, yelling at the instructions while you sit down. Admiring him hammering everything together- his biceps taut as he holds pieces together. Needless to say, you're happy to watch.

Soon to be Father Toji! Who looks at you odd when you hand him a tiny gift bag, When he opens it to see pastel pink onesie with a card saying ‘Its a Girl’. He's ready to be a father right then; letting you find names for his little girl. And with some guidance you both decide on the name Tsumiki, A beautiful name for his baby to come.

Soon to be Father Toji! Adores stepping into stores with his pretty little wife in his hands, buying whatever your eyes even flick over. When you paint the spare room an ash blue he asks

‘Would you ever share your plushies with her?’ The look you give him shuts him up immediately, he’ll take that as a no.

He still loves you even when you woke him up at the asscrack of the morning because you were craving Auntie Anne's Cinnamon sticks, dragging himself out of bed because he wants to see you happy. When he gets them (and a cinnamon roll for himself).

You eat them in the car, music low so you can talk to him. He chuckles when you mention that this scene looks so familiar- Time has passed, but you've only gotten more irresistible to him (especially when your swollen with his child)

Soon to be Father Toji! Whereas as soon as the slight wince of discomfort leaves your lips, he's dragging you to the hospital even when you say you can wait it out a bit longer, he'd rather be safe.

He enters the Maternity Ward with you trying to calm your nerves to the best of his ability. Toji has seen lots of morbid things before…Torture victims and bodies without heads, but its different when its his precious wife screaming in agony with every contraction. He avoids looking at your form until he hears the cries of a child. His child. Walking up to your sweat slicked form he gives you a small peck on your forehead, hushing your whines of pain as they take your daughter away for a health check.

“You did so good mama, so good for me hmm?” you don't have the energy to respond but soak in the voice of your husband and your body resting. Tsumiki is a healthy little girl, And much to Tojis relief he can't sense cursed energy.

It makes him unbelievably happy.

Father Toji! Letting you rest while he cradles his little girl in his arms, she's so small in his arms he's afraid that one wrong move and it'll be over. So he sits as still as a statue so his baby can sleep. He shakes his head at his life, never did he think he'd be a dad. Especially to a girl who resembles you so much, your small smile in particular.

Father Toji! Hates Hospitals to an incredible degree and races out the hospital with his baby, Tsumiki is held in a baby carrier with his grip unwavering. He places the carrier in the back and starts up the car for the drive home.

He drives much more carefully then he ever has, you could even say legally.

Father Toji! Lets you take the next few weeks easy, he dearly wants another kid- but doesn't want to force another child on you; At least not this early. It's hard to compose his thoughts though when Tsumiki cries at 1:48 in the morning…like clockwork, You go sometimes but if you're deep sleeping there isn't a reason to bother. He swaddles her while she cries going into the pantry to fetch some formula hoping that she's just hungry. He has work in the morning but he knows you're just as tired.

So Toji hums strangers in the night softly, the words are mumbled and hushed so he doesn't wake you up in the next room. But upon not feeling the comforting warmth of your husband you look around the house. To find Him in the nursery coddling Tsumiki, bouncing up and down to a soft rhythm.

He looks at Tsumiki like it's his whole world.You dont say anything,You slink behind the wall hoping he doesn't sense your presence. You keep it short,retiring to sleep while you hold the memory close to your heart.

Father Toji! After feeding Tsumiki, he makes dinner for the two of you. It's filled with light conversation but he can sense your not saying something.

Once you finish though you look him dead in the eyes and ask

“Do you not want another kid with me?” Your voice is shaken and Toji is bewildered that this question would ever arise.

“What? Of course, Whatever gave you that idea?’” He retorts finally thinking his hints have clocked in

“I- just thought you were a one and done type of guy…” A pregnant pause prevents both of you from talking.

“Absolutely not. I love Tsumiki and she needs another sibling-maybe even a brother!” He sounds 10x excited at that.

He closes the distance between the two of you going to nip at your neck, biting it harshly.

“Why, Wanna try? Hmmmm?” He grins and bites your cheek, you cringe at the feeling of wet saliva on your cheek- nodding as you lay back onto the bed letting his larger form crawl on top of yours.

“Need words baby~” he coaxes you to speak, he loves seeing you desperate for him.

“Please Toji?” You test the waters,but he shakes his head.

“Please touch me Toji daddy?” and you pout giving him puppy eyes. At that he undos his belt taking the cool leather into his calloused hands.

“Take it real fucking good then.”

Father Toji! Makes sure you take everything he has to give, Cleaning you up gently but it’s all a blur when you look back at it. You wake up the following morning with the scent of honey and sweet fruit. When he spots you trying to stand up to meet him halfway, he ushers you to sit down on the bed handing you a cup of tea with waffles and fruit. It makes you smile at his softness.

Father Toji! Just as equally excited when you tell him you're pregnant again, he knows it will be a challenge but it's one both of you want to face together. Since this one is planned you both take the pleasure in throwing a baby shower.

You invite all of your friends as does Toji, who has gotten closer with other people now that he is settled down- he won't admit it but it's easier to make friends when he doesn't constantly have to move around with a price on his head.

Well he still does…But at least he's home. At your home.

Father Toji! And Shiu about everything that's taken place this last year…

“Two kids, big man?” Shiu jokes to him, jabbing him in the side while looking at your unknowing figure, as you chat to your friends.

Toji looks at his drink and chuckles “It's a huge change, I mean anything for her. That's my girl right there.” His eyes meet yours and you give him a wide smile, he grins back.

“You ever thought about settling down Shiu?” Toji asks, setting his glass of champagne down onto the cedar table.

Shiu shakes his head “I'd like to, now that my best client is turning to mush on me.” Shiu snickers to himself.

“No the fuck I aint. I still kill people mind you.” Toji objects to his partner.

“You gonna do that when Tsumiki has a sibling too?” Shiu quips, hitting toji with verbal whiplash.

He doesn't know how to reply.

“ I… I don't know.”

“I'd figure that out before your woman does.” Shiu swigs the rest of his glass down, setting it down before walking up to you to say another congratulations.

Father Toji! Uncharacteristically shaken by that conversation with Shiu, though he powers through the party to hear some good news, It's a boy.

He’s ecstatic at just the thought of Tsumiki having a little brother and already brewing names.

As you drive back home with gifts packed into the trunk you giggle about some drama spilled earlier, he laughs commenting on your tales- but he's really thinking.

“Let's name him megumi.” you're talking when he says it- catching you off guard.

“Like how could sh- What?” you fumble over your own words forgetting the story that once filled your mind.

“Megumi.” he repeats; you nod, mouthing it trying to see how it flows off your tongue.

“I like it.” You agree fidgeting with your maternity dress. He smiles lightly at that, kissing you gently at the next stoplight as if you might shatter from his touch.

Megumi’s his little blessing to come, Toji’s so thankful for you and his kids.

Father Toji! Megumi comes into the world with a fight, it's harder on you then Tsumiki. He's louder and fussier with his food, not liking the ones Tsumiki once did. Sweet potato puree is suddenly garbage now. Toji notices you need more rest after Megumi and how you spend more time in bed then with the 3 of them, He does the best he can though- he always does.

Father Toji! Is super excited (emotional) when you begin to play with Megumi and Tsumiki, trying to get Tsumiki to walk often and feeding the two of them. Which Toji is unarguably better at, he's a master at feeding his kids. Baby food? Easy win, Solids? Something so easy that he's starting to enjoy cutting up tiny pieces of chicken and apples to feed them.

Father Toji! Denies that Megumi is a mirror reflection of him, Makes you frown thinking of the nine months of pain and cravings and hormones… just for him to look exactly like his father.

Toji doesn’t claim that his pout comes from him but it most definitely does.

Father Toji! Loves watching you take care of Megumi, the way you play with him, playing peek-a-boo and talking to him about your day as if he can understand you. You tell him about how you and Toji met, just explaining his dad to him.

“Toji’s a big scary bear, But he's nice huh gumi? Your dad loves you soooooo much” You look Toji in the eye when you say that, beaming as Megumi spits out baby gibberish as a response.

“I am not that scary!” Toji retorts going up to take Megumi from your lap, you hand him off- Megumi gives a bit of a tussle crying clawing at his dads skin but calms down when Toji offers him a lighthearted smile. (Megumi’s scared of him smiling with teeth)

Kiddos (Double dad Toji?) Are both sad that your kids are now both in elementary school. Megumi isn't super social, and likes to stay silent in class making pictures that he hands to you at the end of the day. Megumi is a big reader and listener which doesn't help, especially when it includes curse words that he hears mostly from his dad, occasionally you.

Meg’s has picked up “Motherfucker” too quickly for your taste. Tsumiki on the other hand is a social butterfly, playing with other kids and humming tunes she hears on the radio. She loves to hang around in the school garden with her closest friends and play ‘Bug matchmaker’ Megumi has joined her in this, and it freaks you out sometimes when they do it at home.

Double dad Toji! Knows Megumi has cursed energy, he's known it since Megumi was 6 months old. It scares him deeply- He doesn't want his kid to turn out like him, being thrown to the side when he’s not ‘good enough’.

So when Megumi comes home during second grade petting something invisible, he picks up the aura of a curse and tries his hardest to be normal about it. Toji only wishes his kid didn't have cursed energy but it's too late for that. He can sense the energy is mostly positive-it gives him some sort of morbid solace.

Double dad Toji! Has explained cursed energy to you before, and while you can't use it you try your best to understand it. Toji can't bring himself to tell you about what it can mean for Megumi, and he doesn't want to think of your reaction if you find out it could bring Megumi harm. So he goes to Shiu…

He pulls up to a bar slamming the doors to his Maserati he bought an suv after having kids

Ordering a Jack & Coke as he sits down next to Shiu

“How's the wife and kids?” Shiu asks politely before they catch up.

“Wife's good, but ummm… Megumi is definitely a Shikigami user and I need your help.” Shiu’s eyes draw wide.

“When did you find this out??” Shiu asks, fully engaged.

“Like fuck I dont know, couple days ago?” Toji bites his lip and raps his knuckles against the sticky wood counter of the sports bar. A game he betted on plays above but he cant bother to look up. Someone scored- he can't care for who,Shiu spends the time of the pause to think.

“How about you drive me to your place and I can tell you just how bad it is.” Toji knows Shiu can see curses so hopefully whatever it is…is good.

“Let's go then.” Toji grabs his keys and they speed off to your house.

Ringing the doorbell its only worse as Megumi opens the door

Toji can sense the energy and grimaces, while Shiu laughs holding his temple and rolls his back to let out a cackle.

You travel to the foyer seeing Toji pale and Shiu red with laughter.

“Back so soon?” you question as you hold Tsumiki's hand, who smiles e at her dad and greets shiu with a tiny bow.

“Yeah, there wasn't much going on.” Toji lies through his teeth.

“What about your game though? Yankees and the Dodgers?” you pressure him.

“We can watch it here.” Shiu tacks in “And the bar ran out of our favorite bourbon anyways.” It's a simple, yet effective excuse.

They walk to the coffee bar you have, cramped in the corner where he pulls out what he needs to make a vodka cran. You continue to make mac and cheese for dinner for the kiddos, not before asking toji to make you one as well. He kisses you on the cheek and mixes your first so they can talk business.

“He's a shikigami user alright, but they are his for sure.”

“10 shadows technique, you think?” Toji asks, sipping lightly at his drink.

“Mhm, he's got it in control though, He has two dogs” Shiu takes a swig “They are his friends though, he was petting them at the door.”

Toji sighs with relief-

“Ima need a smoke after this, you gonna join me?” Digging through his overcoat pocket for a carton of Marlboro reds offering to shiu as he pulls out one.

“When don't I?” he smiles, as they walk out to the porch.

Double Dad Toji! Is a total Dad, In the beginning of your relationship he thought yall were gonna bang and be done. Now he's standing over an ice cream cart letting Megs and Tsumiki choose what popsicle they want. Megumi chooses the spongebob one and Tsumiki chooses Bubbles. You find him doing this unspeakably attractive. He's a Total Dilf, the ones you used to dream about when you scrolled through ‘hot dad’ blogs. And he's yours.

Kiddos! Middle school is interesting for you and Toji watch to say the least. Megumi has started to talk more and fights a lot, this leads to plenty of parent meetings for you and Toji to deal with. Leading to Tojis favorite saying (much to your anger) is “Hey at least he has good grades” Which he is right… But that doesnt give him to make the entire campus fear him

You can only ‘wonder’ where he got it from. Toji, Of course it’s toji.

Your daughter, Tsumiki loves to go to the mall with her best friend buying whatever she can afford from claires. Much to Megumi's dismay he is dragged around the wholeeeeee time, into Bath & Body works and turning away when they point out Victoria's secret. The only thing he gets out of it is Cinnabon and Hot Topic.

Double Dad Toji! With you, explaining to Tsumiki that Megumi won't be going to the same high school as her. He can sense his energy growing and is used to feeling his dogs' energy around the house.

“He's going to go to a different high school then you Tsu,” Toji tries to his daughter.

Tsumiki takes a sip of Fanta before sitting down,

“Why?? Does he not want to go with me?” She questions

Tojis sends him to Tokyo Jujitsu High.

He’s special… kinda like Shiu and me, we can both see and do things that you can't.”

Tsumiki nods “Is he a sorcerer?”

Toji sighs “Yes he is, me and mom-” he looks at you nod offering some sort of non-verbal comfort “think it's best to have him there.”

Tsumiki rubs her eyes.“When is he going, Can he visit? Wait, is he going to be okay?! Does he know???”

Tsumiki is a big questioner, it takes some time to explain to Tsumiki before she calms down

When Megumi comes back from detention that day Tsumiki gives him a huge hug. With tears pricking her eyes. Toji kisses your forehead before calling in pizza to lift the mood for the evening.

Double dad Toji! Thought he was done with parent meetings, he was wrong.

He waits outside the teachers office with you waiting for his main teacher, Satoru Gojo.

You're both ushered inside by the Snowy Haired man who grins at the both of you.

Gojo seems to frown looking at your husband but still eagerly greets the both of you.

“So your Megumi’s Dad, it’s no wonder your son is so strong!” He kicks up his feet on the desk.

“You must be his mother, pleasure to meet you too!” you agree and settle into the dark leather chair.

Gojo, Quickly moves onto talking about Megumi.

“He's a really bright kid! Great test scores on all the basics and he really shines on the Battlefield with his partners.” Gojo gushes, pulling out a lollipop humming to himself “Ah yes, my partner says he is a total team player.”

Toji nods while gritting his teeth, it's no secret he isn't a fan of him.

“His Shikigami are strong and lives up to other users of the Ten Shadows Technique, maybe one day he’ll even tame Mahoraga!” Gojo laughs and adjusts his sunglasses.

Toji isn't pleased hearing this “As long as it won't destroy the kid.” They make eye contact and Gojo throws his hands back.

“I'll make sure of it, for both of you.”

His teacher goes back to explaining a lot of terms you just don't get. But toji seems to be following along well enough besides his piercing grip on your thigh and his eyes twitching every now and then.

Once you leave the office, you walk to the training fields where Megumi is supposed to be.

When you see him he's laughing and talking to a pink haired boy and brown haired girl. It makes you extremely happy to see Megumi having friends.

A tall, long black haired man approaches you- putting his hair into a bun.

“You two must be Megumi's parents, Satoru told me you guys were coming to visit.” Toji shakes his hand firmly.

“But where are my manners! I'm Suguru Geto, the other teacher here. I'm mostly in charge of keeping them in check…Since I'm sure you can guess.” He leans in “My associate wont” you share a laugh with him.

He's a refresher from the partner, though probably complimenting each other's teaching skills.

Megumi looks up from his friends and lightly jogs to the two of you.

“Mom! Dad! Hey!” He is red from laughing and working in the sun- he now adorns a black fitted uniform not unlike his partners.

You hug him and Toji asks-

“How's it going kid?” giving him a head pat, “Haven't seen you in awhile. Your sister is supposed to graduate early. Did you hear that?”

You spend the afternoon catching up with your son and meeting his friends.

Toji holds your hand as you walk out of the campus, it's comfortingly silent, and he opens the door of his old car for you before he drives home.

Double Dad Toji! Is emotional when Tsumiki graduates from high school, she's wearing a dark blue slim fit dress. The black graduation gown is open and she wears her hat.

When they toss the hats into the air it's impossible for him to not feel that he's done something right in his life.

You and him raised a kid that's starting to bloom in a beautiful way. It does horrify him at the realization she is attending college soon enough. And when you come back from the graduation he makes sure he proves your ‘silver fox’ comment.

Double Dad Toji! Letting you adjust his tie when you get ready for Megumi's graduation not long after. It's a smaller scene with mostly family and close friends protected by a veil.

The Upperclassmen cheer them on with smiles and taunts to ‘Just turn 1st grade already!’ after their teachers give heartfelt speeches.

He steps on stage with his partners and a beautiful shower of flowers covers their stage as they hug each other, cheers radiate from the people there.

You're crying, and Toji, well- he's almost there.

Toji. Who finds comfort in you growing older by his side, Completing crossword puzzles with coffee and going on art museum dates. He's put down his weapons but not the cigarettes,

And you who loves to read next to him, appreciating the gentleness of his forever calloused hands still in love with the scent of his cologne and smoke.

It feels good to be in love, to have two kids who love you both endlessly. To live a dream- with you.

Thank you so much for reading! This took a lot of time but I really do love it. Requests are going to be open soon if you would like me to write anything! Love,Razzy!

#toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk fluff #toji x reader #jjk writing #this took forever #i love writing for him #older bf toji

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apollosunshineisdead · 3 months

Text

my favorite lyric or two from every will wood song

Everything is a Lot:

6up 5oh: "they shoulda fried me, I'll give ya PTSD!"

skeleton Appreciation Day: "give me all your LSD so i can feel my mind unweave again!"

front Street: "you said let loose, but now you're lost"

aikido!: "i told doctor tillis to prescribe an illness, but he said his schedule's filled with children with need Prozac, prilosec and lo-jack, triple-sec and lexapro"

white Knuckle Jerk: "i wonder how i woke up in the middle of my surgery, and i watched them botch my heart"

cover This Song!: "i'm just a little bit crazy 'bout you, just a little bit out of my mind"

Thermodynamic Lawyer: "so all that i see, absolute entropy as the chemical bounds fall apart"

red Moon: "the crescent rests, tethered to the west"

lysergide Daydream: "ooh, i wanna be on the picture on the postcard, pouring pitchers in the backyard by the garden we tend"

the First Step: "i lost count after 21 in the college crawl"

jimmy Mushrooms': "i think the truth is that everyone's wrong!"

Compound Fracture: "bienvenidos a la villa de arañas españas"

everything is a Lot: "night sky, i wonder why i am alive until i die / i find that at this size, no answer can be right"

destroy to Enjoy: "lao tzu, chaung tzu, yin-yang tattoos, FUCK your mystic wisdom! find your own way home from Bonnaroo!"

SELF-iSH:

self-: "i'll shake the apples from my family tree, so when the autumn comes to take the leaves..."

2012: "testing my hypothesis, never finding a theory!"

cotard's Solution: "rolling my third eye into the back, of my head and squinting through the black"

mr. Capgras: "eulogy or biography, i'm who i ought to be, and that is God to me"

the Song with 5 Names: "WHAT IS "IS"? WHAT IS "NOT"? WHAT IS "WHAT"? WHAT'S UP PARTY PEOPLE! WHAT? / WHY I WONDER WHY I'M NOT WHATEVER, WHAT THE FUCK!"

hand Me My Shovel: "looking up, i could say Heaven sent me! / hand me my shovel, i'm going in!"

dr. Sunshine is Dead: "i'm noone if i'm nowhere in between!"

-ish: "well at 27 will i see, that i was born to be the man i'll be?"

The Normal Album:

greetings from Mary Bell Township!: "so give me your half-life crisis / i can tell that you know where paradise is!"

(vampire) Culture: come on, drink that BLOOD! didn't they want your blood?

Love Me, normally: the Lord looked down, said, "hey, you're only mortal"

2econd 2ight 2eer: "my grip on the secrets' slippin' while i'm speakin' in tongues!"

laplace's Angel: "so if you wash your hands of where you've been until you flood the second floor / neatly fold your skeletons, but still can't shut the closet door"

i/Me/myself: "eating your prosthetic, meet your anesthetic"

...well, better than the Alternative: "she's gonna be a lot like me, but i don't wanna be at all like me"

outliars And Hyppocrates: "i am the shadows cast aside by gallows, and you, the red hot sky"

blackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA: "his ribcage was a hornet's nest, his palpitations set the beat!"

marsha, thankk you for the Dialects: "doctor, what's my prognosis if the studies show that / disease is in the eye of the beholder, tell me "so it goes!""

love, Me Normally: "is there nothing to fear, cuz shit's getting weird!"

memento Mori: "no need to fear cuz when it's Here you won't be alive / try not to think about it!"

Camp Here & There: Campfire Songs:

venetian Blind Man: "string on his finger, a tourniquet ring"

yes, to err is Human: "if you don't hate me, then reanimate me!"

your body, My Temple: "furthering the fever of your fervor for believing, I will"

when somebody Needs you: "fishing lure moon on a string for you, didn't you say you need space?"

"In Case I Make It,"

tomcat Disposables: "what's the moon made of? meet me there after i'm gone"

becoming The Lastnames: "weeding out the garden where the milestones gather moss"

Cicada Days: "here at the end of days, my god, what have I done? / christ, now it feels damn inhumane to get all i dreamed of"

euthanasia: "and every, everybody dies / fighting for their lives, just trying to survive"

falling Up: "airplane eclipses over spirals of math – would or could the impact kill me?"

that's Enough, let's get you Home: "but CO2 and fish tanks do enough to get you home"

um, it's Kind of a Lot: "sorry darling, please excuse my constant need to self-aggrandize!"

half-Decade Hangover: "but i can't make amends for things i can't remember"

vampire Reference in a Minor Key: "the seraphim on my shoulder, whispering "please don't turn your head""

you liked this: "Ten Red Flags that a Neurotypical Narcissist is Trauma Dump Gaslighting You into Sex-Negative Self-Abuse Emotional Labor and Internalised Reverse Racism Against Post-Modern Flat Earthers with Facts and Logic (Number Seven Will Destroy Your Family)"

the Main Character: "judge me by what my cover shows, author becomes beyond reproach"

Against the Kitchen Floor: "i'm not a good person, i'm barely a person at all"

Sex, Drugs, Rock 'n' Roll: "and i hate proving that i'm still human after all"

BFB's Blueberry Pie: " "

Willard!: "so gather 'round pandora's skinner's box, look through the one-way mirror / if you can see in shade's of grey, the colors are much clearer"

White Noise: "it begs the question just to tell you the answer!"

ICIMI outtakes:

misanthrapologist: "I hear your hear beating under the floorboards" and if i did, you deserved it: "that i really don't carе what you think or what you say, either that or I do way too much, oh well whatever, either way"

thank you for listening

#i mightve missed something but this is so incredibly long #sunshine silliness #will wood #wwatt #everything is a lot #eial #self ish #camp here and there campfire songs #the normal album #in case i make it #icimi

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angeliconstell · 8 days

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I love otis so much I'm so sad that there isn't much about him </3

Otis x F!Reader

A/N: And I damn agree with you. I have scourged the Internet for good Otis content and there's been A FEW I've come across. So here's a juicy one for y'all mostly because I'm a big Otis lover.

Warnings: Otis himself is a warning, the UTI is worth it, breeding, choking, hair pulling, a lot of cussing, degrading.

"Imma give you to the count of three to drop the fuckin' attitude, mama. I ain't dealin' with no bitch that grew up with puppy dogs in Disney Land talkin' shit to me." Otis spat. He had too far enough of the constant bickering with you. The yappin' and the talkin' back. Over breakfast, in his room, when going out to feed the hogs.

Otis would give you the same treatment as he does his own victims.

You almost wanted to snap back, but the idiotic grin that came across your face when you realized what was about to go down. It was your absolute favorite. Otis would get so wound up when you got bratty and he'd chase you across the lawn like you were his victim. He'd chase you far into the woods until you were panting and whimpering like a scared puppy.

"Go on, I'll give you a head start." Otis pulled the ragged cowboy hat over his head, his hands coming down over his belt buckle. "Run, rabbit, run." Before anything else could be said, you took off like Otis said. It usually didn't take long to get to you. He was older, but them long ass legs is what really could get him going after you.

You ran hard, hard enough that the burning in your lungs was already starting to ache. That's how Otis liked it, when you were too tired to bitch back with him. The gun shot echoing in the air was your alarm that you needed to haul ass. The briars were causing small cuts on your legs as you whipped past them.

It was a horrible time to start running out, dark and mosquitoes swarming the area. The dark is when Otis like to hunt. No rabbit can't see or smell his scent. The cracks of sticks in the distance is all Otis needed to tell exactly where you were at. You thought you had made it, the blood thundering in your ears blocked out most noises besides the cicadas screaming into the late night.

"Got'cha, you bratty bitch!" Otis slammed in from your right side, sending you sprawling into the dirt. The air whipped out of your lungs like you were suddenly sucked out by a vacuum. It might've caused a slight moment of panic, but it was easily managed.

"Down, mama! Imma show you how a bitch should behave." Otis didn't waste time, pinning you underneath him where your face was in the dirt and your ass was pressed firmly against his groin. The warmth of his erection was warm enough to make you insides melt and quiver. He was always hard, the chase always had him going, especially if it wasn't some New York yuppie that was his victim.

A quick yank of your dress skirt and your ass was suddenly bare in front of Otis. What got to him more than getting to chase after his toy? You wearing no panties when you knew you were about to get a good fuck. "Atta, girl. Y'know how to fuckin' listen sometimes."

Otis grinned like a drunk bastard as he fumbled with his belt, the clatter of his buckle and his pants hitting the ground was almost loud to you once the pounding in your ears stopped. Otis grabbed a handful of your hair in a iron grip, ensuring your ass stayed bent in place.

"You're a good breedin' rabbit, bitch." Otis grunted, his cock teasing over the wet fold between your legs. "God damn, just a lil' slut, huh? You get so turned on when you know when your bratty ass is about to get ruined by me." Otis had his ways of making you feel praised and degraded at once. His words always filthy but some sort of praise was hidden underneath it. What causes even more praise was the groan of pleasure he released when he finally stopped teasing and just bottomed out in you, jolting your body further into the dirt.

"Fuck, you bastard-" You mewled, your thighs and hips already starting to ache the harder Otis drilled into you. You were sopping wet, the wet squelches of your insides parting around Otis was loud and filthy.

Otis was almost drooling onto your back before he caught himself. "You fuck." Otis placed a thick hand around your throat, forcing your head out of the dirt. "Arch it, arch it, two timing whore." He groaned out. You did. Your back arched, giving Otis access to just rail into you hard. Your air was choking off and your pussy fluttered the closer you got. He was hitting so deep into that gooey cervix that it made your eyes roll when your vision went spotty.

"No, ma'am. Not yet, mama." Otis pulled out, leaving you gasping for air as a scream almost ripped from your lungs. The missing ache of his cock was horrible. Otis laid back against the ground, forcing you right on top of him where his cock could pop right back in.

Otis could never stand long being out of you. When you'd get so needy and your cum was dribbling all over his pubes, it was just almost as delicious as Mama Firefly's peach cobbler.

Otis pushed his hat onto your head before giving you a firm slap across the face. "Ride." He commanded. It took you a moment to regain your thoughts and, of course, your breathing. The slap on your cheek stung but in the best way possible.

"You're a fucking jerk, Otis." You panted out when you started to rutt your hips into his cock. Otis leaned his head back with a groan that turned to laughter. "Oh, you dumb motherfuckn' slut. I'm a jerk? Thought you were used to them tourists when you served ice cream for tips. I got you a tip, a nice big fucking one." Otis held your hips, not out of being greedy, he knew you were getting exhausted.

What followed was probably the best fucking you had in your life. It left you gripping at his chest, pulling onto his hair. The sting of his hips slapping against you was fucking orgasmic. Otis pulled you roughly against his chest, his relentless pumping was growing uneven before the warm heat of his cum spilled into your womb. He pulled out, the rest of it covering your thighs and ass.

Otis smirked at the dirty work. He usually left people bloody, not shaking and covered in his cum. "Up ya' go, rabbit." Otis stood up, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, leaving you a giggling mess. Your red ass and cum soaked hole was just the perfect sight to see.

"I may be a fuckin' jerk, mama, but I at least know how to treat a lady." Otis planted a kiss against the side of your ass as he carried you back to the house.

#horror #fanfic #slasher x you #slashers x reader #smut writing #otis driftwood #house of 1000 corpses #otis driftwood x reader

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rootedinrevisions · 6 days

Text

Chasing Us: Part 1

SUMMARY: When Hannah needs a date to her sister's wedding, she turns to one of her best friends and fellow storm chasers, Tyler, for help. What starts as a simple favor quickly turns complicated as the lines between pretense and reality blur. With the backdrop of a beautiful seaside wedding, Hannah and Tyler navigate their growing feelings for each other, facing moments of heartache, unexpected confessions, and the realization that they might be more than just friends after all.

In this first part of the story, the offer is put out there by Tyler to be her pretend boyfriend for the trip.

WARNINGS: NONE

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

The sun was setting behind the thick, rolling clouds as The Wranglers pulled into the small motel parking lot. The neon sign flickered in the dim light of the evening, casting an eerie glow over the parking lot as they climbed out of the van, exhaustion hanging heavy in the air.

Tyler stretched his arms above his head, his muscles sore from the day's work. As he glanced around at his team, his eyes landed on Hannah, who was leaning against the van, lost in thought. She seemed a little more distant than usual, the light in her eyes dulled by something beyond the weariness of the day.

"Hannah," Tyler called out as he walked over, his voice cutting through the quiet. "You still need that time off in a few weeks?"

Hannah sighed, pulling herself back to the present. She nodded, her expression shifting. "Yeah, I do."

The rest of the team - Boone, Dexter, Dani, and Lily - were unpacking gear and chatting amongst themselves, but they quickly tuned in, sensing the shift in the conversation. Boone was the first to pipe up, his voice tinged with concern. "Everything okay, Han?"

Hannah managed a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's fine. I just have to go to my sister's wedding."

"A wedding?" Dani raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the van beside Hannah. "You don't sound too thrilled about it. What's the deal? You don't like the guy?"

Hannah shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's just...my family. Every time we get together, they can't help but pick on me for not being married, or even in a relationship. They make it their mission to remind me how single I am."

Boone let out a low whistle, shaking his head sympathetically. "That sounds rough." He then looked over at Tyler with a grin. "Maybe you should take Tyler with you. You two could pretend to date. Might keep them off your back."

Dexter, always quick to crack a joke, grinned. "Why not you Boone? You could be a pretty convincing boyfriend, don't you think?"

Boone chuckled, giving Dexter a playful shove. "Because I'm not the fancy occasion type, Dex. But Tyler here," he glanced over at their leader with a grin, "he could probably clean up nice. Maybe even pass for a respectable guy."

Tyler laughed, the idea catching him off guard. He looked over at Hannah, his eyes filled with mischief. "What do you say, Han? Need a stand-in boyfriend?"

Hannah rolled her eyes, laughing with the rest of the team. "Oh please. Like I'd want to drag you into that mess."

Later that night, the motel was quiet, the earlier hum of activity replaced by the gentle hum of cicadas outside. Most of the team had already settled into their rooms, the day's exhaustion finally catching up with them.

In Room 12, Hannah was lying on one of the two beds, flipping absentmindedly through the channels on the old TV. Lily had gone out to grab some food with Boone, leaving Hannah to her thoughts.

A knock at the door pulled her from her half-hearted channel surfing. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand - just after nine. Confused, she pushed herself up and crossed the small room, peering through the peephole. Seeing Tyler standing on the other side, she hesitated momentarily before unlocking the door and opening it.

"Tyler?" She asked, her surprise evident in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

Tyler offered a small smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, sure," Hannah stepped aside, letting him in. He glanced around the room as he walked in, noting the neatness on Hannah's side compared to Lily's slightly chaotic half.

"Lily's not here," Hannah added, closing the door behind him. "She went to get food with Boone. Do we have something developing? I can call and see how soon they could get back-"

Tyler lifted a hand waving her thoughts aside. His expression was more serious, almost contemplative. He turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. "I was thinking about what Boone said earlier."

Hannah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall. "About what?"

"About me going to the wedding with you," Tyler said, his tone more sincere than it had been earlier. "I wanted to let you know that if you really want to take me, I'm game. We can make it look real enough to get your family off your back, at least for the weekend."

Hannah blinked, taken aback by the offer. "Wait, you're serious?"

Tyler nodded, his eyes steady on hers. "Yeah, I am. I know how family can be, and if me tagging along makes it easier for you, then I'm all in."

Hannah stared at him for a moment, searching his face for any hint of a joke. But Tyler was serious, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more genuine. She let out a slow breath, the weight of the situation settling on her shoulders.

"I'll have to call my sister," she finally said, her voice shaky.

"Go ahead," Tyler replied, gesturing to her phone on the nightstand. "I'll wait."

Hannah hesitated before reaching for her phone. She glanced at Tyler once more before sitting down on the edge of her bed and dialing her sister's number.

The phone rang a few times before a cheerful voice answered on the other end.

"Hannah! What's up?"

Hannah swallowed, feeling a sudden rush of nerves. "Hey, uh, I wanted to ask you something. Is it too late to bring a plus one to the wedding?"

Her sister's excitement was immediate. "A plus one? Oh my gosh, who are you bringing?"

Hannah bit her lip, glancing up at Tyler, who was watching her with an encouraging nod. "Tyler," she said, the name felt strange on her tongue in this context.

"Tyler? Like Tyler Owens? The cute cowboy you work with?"

Hannah's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, especially knowing that Tyler could hear every word. She shot him an apologetic look, but Tyler just grinned, clearly amused by the comment.

Hannah cleared her throat, trying to ignore the heat rising in her face. "Yeah, that Tyler."

Her sister let out a squeal of delight. "Of course, you can bring him! I'll make whatever adjustments we need to. This is so exciting!"

Hannah couldn't help but smile at her sister's enthusiasm, though she was still mortified by the earlier comment. They exchanged a few more words before hanging up, and Hannah placed the phone back on the nightstand with a sigh of relief. She looked back at Tyler, who was sitting on the other bed, his posture relaxed but his grin still lingering.

"You're officially my plus one," Hannah said.

"Looks like we're doing this." Tyler chuckled, leaning back on his hands. "And for the record, I'm flattered your sister thinks I'm cute."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't let it go to your head." Hannah rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Do you even know what you've gotten yourself into?"

Tyler chuckled, "I think I've got an idea. But hey, it'll be fun, right? A weekend in the tropics, pretending to be your boyfriend. What could go wrong?"

Hannah couldn't help but laugh, the earlier heaviness she had been feeling about the trip lifting. "Famous last words, Owens."

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction

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lilmisssona · 6 months

Text

𓍢ִ໋🀦 CHAPTER 2: WELCOMING 𓍢ִ໋🀦

𓍢ִ໋🀦 PAIRING: Vampire! Hyunjin × Witch! Fem Reader

𓍢ִ໋🀦 GENRE: Supernatural AU, SMAU, Enemies To Lovers, Murder Mystery AU

𓍢ִ໋🀦 PLOT: You're accepted to The University Of Magicks" You thought it was just a fun prank, a spam ad even. But when you get actually accepted, things start to get real....You move across the country to start your new life, only to get on the nerves of a certain vampire.... Join on this magical journey as you navigate through life, friendships , love and maybe even an ancient curse ??!! Will you be able to thrive or will this be a battle to survive ?

𓍢ִ໋🀦 WORD COUNT: 2K

𓍢ִ໋🀦 A/N: Happy 6 years Stray Kids!!! Time flies and I'm so proud of my boys accomplishing their goals!! q(╥﹏╥)p So, here's a long due update to your fav series! Let Me Know what you think! New chapters every other week ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

𓍢ִ໋🀦 WARNINGS: Hyunjin being a douchebag, platonic friendships.

𓍢ִ໋🀦PREVIOUS|𓍢ִ໋🀦MASTERLIST |𓍢ִ໋🀦NEXT

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

"We're here!" The carriage came to a halt in front of a dark, quaint forest.

Only the sounds of cicadas and frogs chirping can be heard, with the exception of a massive tree standing in between the pathway.

"But there's no university I see.." you curiously asked Yunjin as you peeked through the curtains at the back.

"Get down and see for yourself!" Karina winked at you again.

You smiled back at her. Looks like she was finally opening up to you.

"Alright" Karina spoke as all of you stepped down. "Follow me through the hole in the tree."

"I see no hole though..." you squint your eyes to focus.

"Hun, magick is when you believe it's true," Yunjin replied to you, smiling.

"Imagine that there's a hole and there shall be." Karina spoke.

"But.." " I never used any magick in my life." you nervously replied.

" In that case, hold our hand and follow us. '' Yunjin replied to you. So you intertwined your fingers with both of them and closed your eyes...

At first you can't hear anything except the occasional chirping of the cicadas and the rustling of the leaves under your feet.

But when you followed them enough to stand in front of the massive tree, that did you begin to feel "it" again.

Your whole body shivered as you focused on your surroundings. Every sound was blocked and now there was pin drop silence around you.

There was a sudden crumbling sound and some shuffling. Slowly all three of you opened your eyes....

"OMG" you put a hand on your mouth and gasped.

"There's a door in the tree now"

"Told ya to believe yourself" Karina smiled at you. The door opened by itself as you three cautiously took a step inside

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

"Holy hell" you gasped a little as you looked at the view in front of you…

"Never knew a tree can lead us to this" you beamed.

The whole place looked magnificent. Rows and rows of different houses with a massive fountain in the middle. Laden with beautiful lights. It was as if you're transported to a magical land...

AN: *Ahem* this IS a magical land,literally... 🙄

Narrator: oopsies but anyways...🤷‍♀️

" Welcome To The University yn "

" Let's go inside shall we ?" Yunjin replied to you, smiling.

" Heck yeah!" You replied. All three of you slowly entered the premises of the university....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

"And we're going to conduct a..." Hurriedly you three took your seats, as you realised the orientation has already began.

" You are late" The man who was conducting the orientation announced.

" We're sorry, yn was lost and couldn't find us..." You looked at him. Very dark aesthetics yet a charming endeavour he had.

He didn't look much older than you, yet he had an authoritarian figure. The thing you noticed the most was his glowing blue eyes, that had a magical aura around them.

" Nice to meet you yn, I'm Chan, the Captain of the Wolf Packs!"

" Hello, nice to meet you" you smiled, shaking his hand.

" Please take your seats, you'll be assigned to your rooms shortly" Chan replied, guiding you to the rows of seats in front of you.

Thanking him, you three hurriedly shuffled through rows of students, until you get to sit in your assigned seats.

" Now that everyone is here.." The announcer spoke curtly, " I would like to introduce you to your individual house captains."

" Mr. Lee, Ms. Yu, Mr. Bahng and Mr. Hwang, please come to the stage."

You watched with bated breath as the man who introduced himself as Chan walked up to the stage as well as your new friend Karina.

" Karina ?" you curiously asked Yunjin, " Yes, she's the captain of our house, The Witch's Lair." Yunjin replied to you.

You watched as whom you assumed as Mr. Lee, walked up to the stage as well. He had a powerful aura in his face, with a distinctive green eye in his left, which glowed like fire.

" That's Lee Felix, the house captain of the outkasts" Yunjin pointed at him.

"And... that's..." " Where's Hwang ?" Yunjin was surprised as she scanned the room.

" Hwang " that title sounded similiar... " I'm here!!" Someone jumped from behind your seats. You ducked again in fear.

" What the hell dude!" You screamed at the commotion. That person looked behind you... It was him.

THE HWANG HYUNJIN in flesh in front of you.

Suddenly your throat went dry as you looked at him, his ethereal beauty shining even better in real life.

" Sorry sweetheart, but you should really mind whom you're speaking to. " Hyunjin replied to you annoyingly.

" Unless you're a novice which I think you are..." he scoffed as he looked at you up and down. " So I don't think so you know, about us The Elites,..."

" So mind your language hun, and keep your head down, your house is little than us anyway..."

" Hyunjin!" Yunjin spoke harshly. " Why are you being mean to her ? she could've gotten brain damage from your stupid actions. And her poor cat could've gotten hurt. "

" Whatever, I'm getting late for my speech anyways..." Hyunjin rolled his eyes and rushed to the stage. You were left speechless after the conversation...

This is the man whom you stalked through social media ? This guy ?

" He's so full of himself!!" you thought to yourself in frustration.

" Ugh, I'm an idiot" you sighed.

You gulped as you watched him walk up to the stage. " You ok ?" Yunjin asked you, concerned.

" Yeah..." you sighed.

" Don't mind he's just as annoying to everyone here..."

"Hmm, ok" you replied.

You felt dejected from the conversation.

That warm feeling in your heart was crushed as your hope to befriend him, slowly faded away... there was a lump in your throat. you fought back tears.

He was one of the sole reasons to enter the university. That reason now crushed and buried in your mind. " As I was saying..." The announcer spoke, as you fiddled with the sleeves of your shirt, to distract yourself.

Ms. Tuna looked at you from her carrier, you shot her a sad smile.

" Mr. Hwang please introduce yourself and your house, "

" Of course Ms. Im." You rolled your eyes as he shone a bright smile at her.

" I am Hwang, Hyunjin Hwang, the leader of your house, the Elites and we believe in sucking the soul out of our enemies. " He smirked a devious smile as he continued.

" Eternity is in our blood and you better not mess with us as the consequences would lead you straight to the gates of hell. " He looked in your direction, smirking. You gulped a little.

" Welcome To all the novice Vampires and Demons your dorms are located at the highest floor of this University..."

The hall erupted in demonic groans and claps as Hyunjin stepped down from his speech.

You scoffed at the commotion.

" Now please welcome, Mr. Bahng your Wolf Pack Leader!" The announcer smiled as Mr. Bahng or Chan as he introduced himself to you and stepped up on the stage for his speech.

You intently watched him as he did. A sudden warmth engulfing you from within.

" Thank you Ms. Im, I am Chan, your leader of the wolf packs. We believe that unity is our strongest forte. "

" Welcome to you all new wolves. Soon you'll be assigned to your individual dorms , that's on the 5th floor, and you'll begin your testing tomorrow to be assigned to your packs. "

Chan bowed shyly and stepped down as all of you applauded him.

" Hey Everyone!" Next it was Karina's turn. You cheered her with praises from your seat. Karina winked at you.

" I'm Karina, the leader of the Witch's Lair and we believe that magick is when you believe in it."

you smiled at her remembering her similar words she spoke to you back there at the tree.

" Welcome my novice witches to your house. "

" Your dorms are on the 4th floor and soon you'll be assigned to your rooms. "

" Go Karina!" you cheered at her as she stepped down from her speech.

" And last but definitely not the least...." the announcer smiled at the half green eyed boy.

" Mr. Lee, please introduce yourself!"

" Hello everyone, I'm Felix, the leader of the outkasts. "

Sudden, giggles and laughter were heard from a distance as he spoke.

You turned your head towards the direction of the sound. It was most definitely the Elites group mocking him.

" Yes, to you elites we might be nothing. " Felix smirked at them.

" But don't think of us as any less."

" We Outkasts believe that every being has magick in it. "

" And every individual is unique to us. " You smiled triumphantly at him as he stood up for his house.

" However small or big they are, it doesn't matter. "

" So all of you are welcome here, your dorms are on the 3rd Floor. "

Roars of applause erupted in the hall as everyone cheered for their individual house captains.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

It was already half past 10 as you scurried your way to the dorms. Karina guided your team, as you and Yunjin followed suit.

Slowly she guided and assigned everyone to her rooms. And lastly it was your turn.

" And yn this is our room, with Yunjin of course!" " I'll be living with the captain ? That's so cool!" you brightly smiled at her.

" Well you were a last minute addition so we decided that you'll be with us. " Yunjin smiled at you as she replied.

You opened the carrier and let Ms. Tuna roam around her new surroundings, who already found comfort in a chair in the corner and dozed off.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you remembered what Sunday was...

It was your birthday and the very day you lost your biological parents.

You exited the chat and excused yourself to go to the washroom. Yunjin and Karina looked at you curiously as you dismissed yourself suddenly.

A knot of dread formed in your stomach as you looked at the face in front of you in the mirror.

" 22 years have passed yet the mention of this day still makes me like this. "

" Why am I so pathetic ? " You silently cried to yourself. " Why can't I enjoy my birthday like normal people..." you sniffled.

" All okay, YN ?" Yunjin knocked at the bathroom door suddenly, startling you.

" Yeah, I'm ok, don't worry. " Quickly you splashed some water on your face to hide the tears and exited the washroom.

" So you're coming right ? " Karina asked you, concerned.

" Y...y..eah of course " you cursed yourself for stuttering as you forced a smile.

" Perfect, what are you wearing ?? '' Yunjin squealed as she twirled you across the room, making the atmosphere lighter with everyone's laughter.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

It was Saturday morning and you were already late on your first day.

Scurrying through hundreds of students you made your way to the first class of the morning. Although you're sure you have already missed half of it.

" Ouch!" suddenly you banged your head onto something hard, making you stumble and slip on the path and spilling all your stuff on the floor.

Internally cursing yourself you started to angrily stuff the contents back into your bag. A chill passed over you when you realised your phone is nowhere to be found.

You panicked and started to recheck the contents of your bag again, when someone tapped on your shoulders.

" Is this what you're looking for ? " you turned around to see the most kind looking stranger looking back at you, smiling.

He was holding your phone and a shiny pen.

" Y...yes thank you so much. " you replied as you got up to greet him.

" Sunghoon."

" YN"

" Beautiful name just like your face..." you blushed a little as he complimented you.

" Nice meeting you Sunghoon and thank you for finding my phone, but now I have to leave as I'm already super late for my first class. "

" Oh, good luck with that! " He waved at you as you rushed to your classes.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

𓍢ִ໋🀦 OUR ETERNAL ALLIES: @atinyniki @kailee08 @writingforstraykids

@cheesemonky @skzoologist @minholing

@michelle4eve @jinnie-ret @thatonedemigodfromseoul @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz

𓍢ִ໋🀦 NEW RECRUITMENTS: @star92 @arloo00 @dabiscrustyfeet @loxgirl2004 @lakoya @thisrandomgoofy15 @kpopmenace143 @avokralaim @i2nsstuff @yasssposts @kopikokrunch @wa-wandavision @nlr1606 @kangyeonie @niaalove @bellandxx @annybah @kaiyaba @seungminindabuilding

(Taglist is closed!!)

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

𓍢ִ໋🀦 ENDNOTE: Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids.

Make sure to like, reblog, follow and turn your notifications on to get updated whenever I upload a new chapter!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

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skinnyazn · 1 year

Text

Lick Your Wounds

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 1/? Notes: Thank you to @solidly-indulgent for inspiring the fic with their request of Jag getting injured and Ghost being sad feral, also inspired by how freaking hot and humid it’s been in FL lately, I literally just churned this out at work today oops, maybe one or two more chapters, eventual smut but not yet, sorry not sorry if there are grammatical errors; I can't fucking read,

Part Two | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST

“Ghost, what’s your status?”

Sweat rolled down your temple, trickling the length of your neck before settling in the crook of your collar bone. The humidity was thick, suffocating. Like you could cut it with a knife and it would still cling to you. The jungle was alive with noise.

“‘Bout 20 meters out. There’s a good perch for you comin’ up on your right.”

“Copy.”

You continued to stalk through the foliage, thankful for the screaming cicadas that masked the sound of your movements through the dense growth of flora.

“Visual on the compound.” Soap’s voice came through your comms evenly.

“Count?”

“Three around the perimeter, two on the roof. Jag should be able to take them no problem.”

“Copy,” you spoke again.

You saw the perch Ghost was talking about. It was a wall of sorts, with vines reclaiming it. Some old vestige of humanity, forgotten to time. Huffing, you scaled the old stone. Laying supine, you slung your sniper rifle in front of you and peered through the scope. You could see the first target one on the roof, but the second was obscured by the dense jungle. The cicadas screamed on.

“No clear visual on the right target,” you spoke into the comms. “How do we want to do this?” You watched a mosquito buzz by and land on your arm. You slapped it, leaving a bloody splotch on your skin.

“Jag, take your shot on my mark. I’ll ‘andle the other one.” Below you, Simon waded further ahead; his camo blended into the underbrush.

“Copy. What about the perimeter?”

“Soap, you take right, I’ll take center. Jag do you have visuals on the left?”

“Affirm.”

“Alright then. Work you magic.”

You smiled. “Always do.”

Soap scoffed on the other side of the comms. “We know. Hear Ghost blabberin’ about it all the fecking time.”

“That’ll do, Sergeant.” Ghost barked.

It wasn’t necessarily true. Most of the time his blabbering was muffled into your skin, the wetness of your mouth or the delicious heat of you. They usually came out as low groans. Sharp hisses. You hadn’t really kept what was going on between you two a secret since your rejoining of the task force. But you also didn’t air it out in the open. And when you fucked, you tried to be quiet. Easier said than done when Simon was pressed to his hilt inside of you, kissing your neck and gripping your thighs like it was his latest mission. Maybe you two weren’t being as quiet as you thought.

“Right.” Simon’s basso voice brought your focus back. “On my count.”

The two men on the roof dropped quickly. The three on the ground followed. A smooth takedown. You slung the weight of your rifle behind you and scaled down the wall, landing with a soft thud. Some sweat splashed off you.

“Fucking drenched here.” You mumbled to yourself. Soap’s chuckle could be heard on the comms.

“On me, at the entrance.”

A few minutes later the three of you were crouched low next to the perimeter wall.

“Nice of you to finally join us, bonnie.”

You smiled at Soap. Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Jag, get up to the perimeter and guide us through. Soap, on me. The cunts will be well-armed inside the compound. Let’s keep things quiet and clean.” Soap and you nodded. “Right, let’s get up there.”

Soap shot a grapple to the perimeter wall.

“Ladies first,” he gestured, with his signature buoyant grin.

You clipped your pulley to the rope and ascended. The brief rush of air was a blessed respite from the heat. Hoisting yourself over the wall’s edge, you crouched down. Insects were already starting to buzz around the lifeless man on the floor. You tried not to get any of his blood on your boots as you stepped over him.

Ghost and Soap followed quietly behind. You pressed your body against the hot concrete.

“Christ alive, look at all that,” Johnny whispered next to you.

It was decent sized compound, hidden away in the Lacandon jungle. Stacks of crates littered the grounds, while armed men wandered about. Their radios blasted urbano music. In total, you counted 15 men out in the open, but who knows how many more were inside. Of course the target building was at the far side of the compound. It wouldn’t be a cakewalk, but it was doable. And, the blasting music paired with cacophony of tropical birds and insects made for perfect cover. Soap’s hand clapped your shoulder.

You nodded at him and Simon. “Good luck, boys.”

“Don’t need luck. We’ve got you, Jaguar,” Soap winked and then started to descend the rope on the interior.

Simon’s eyes lingered on you for a second too long. You held the gaze. Then he turned and followed Soap.

After silently taking down the first two men, Ghost and Soap moved quietly ahead.

“Walk us through, Jag,” Simon’s voice came over hushed and gravelly. Try as you might, it always sent heat between your legs when he rasped through the comms.

“One on your left, just around the crate. Use your knife.” Simon took him down with ease. “Got another two crates ahead.” You maneuvered the two through the complex from you perch, watching them exact their deadly dance. “Hold,” you spoke when the two came closer to the target building. A group of four men were lingering outside, chatting and smoking. “Coming up on four. Might be best to cause a distraction.”

“Can’t we just frag these guys,” Soap muttered to himself.

“How many left in the compound, Jag?” Simon asked.

“Two in the North East corner, and one at your eight o’clock. And the four ahead.”

You heard Simon let out a long sigh.

“Don’t know how many are inside though,” you reminded him.

“Thas what I’m worried about.”

“Your call, L.T.,” Johnny huffed. “They’re gonna hear some booms when I demo the door anyway.”

You could almost hear Simon thinking. You wiped the sweat that was beading at your brow with the back of your gloved hand. Finally he said, “Jag, take the other three. Soap’s got these four. Be prepared for a fight after.”

Your heartbeat sped up. You hated unknowns but that was part of your job. So all you could say in return was “Copy.”

Each kickback from your M82 was a tangible reminder of the death you so expertly dealt. The three men went down with ease, painting the sun-scorched earth in red. And when Soap’s grenade went off, you sucked in a deep breath and honed your focus as you picked off the swarm of men that rushed outside. Time had a funny way of moving while adrenaline coursed through your veins. It was simultaneously slow and fast. Like each bullet left your gun in slow-motion while you moved from target to target. Schrödinger’s Time.

There were a lot more people than you thought, but the steady breathing over the comms was reassuring that Soap and Ghost were handling themselves. Through your scope, you watched men’s heads swivel as they tried to spot you. But each tac from your rifle met them all the same.

“Take out that fucking RPG, Jag!” Simon shouted over the comms. It was jarring, Simon’s yelling amidst the gunfire and insects.

You pulled away from your scope to spot the target, but the compound was big. When you finally saw him, you lined up the shot and pulled the trigger. You’d hit your mark—watched him crumple. But his aim was already on you, and as his body fell a flash of orange emitted. You began to move but felt the explosion of the perimeter wall below you. And then everything was crumbling in an eruption of dust. You thought you heard Simon screaming into the comms, but all you could think about as you fell was: who the fuck carries a rocket launcher?

#my fic #cod fic #Simon ghost Riley x you #Simon ghost Riley x female reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x jaguar #ghost x jaguar #ghost x you #ghost x reader #mw2 #ghost mw2 #Simon ghost riley #fan fiction #fanfiction

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