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simplybakugou · 2 months

Note

Hi hi, wonderful!!! How are you on this fine *insert appropriate time of day here*? Could I maybe request dad Bakugou and how he'd react to his son saying something mean to female reader wife? Like, I know Bakugou is really aggressive with his own mom, but I was thinking maybe it'd be a little different when it comes to the mother of his kids?

⋆ PAIRING: dad!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; teeny tiny bit of angst; fluff ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2436

A/N: my first written work on here in almost three years . Forgive me if i’m a little rusty lol. Tysm for requesting and i hope you enjoy :)

For a majority of your life, you thought becoming a pro hero would be the hardest thing you could ever do. From attending the illustrious U.A. High to working through the ranks to be in the top three pro heroes, second to none other than your husband, Bakugou, you never would imagine your life to be more difficult than that.

That is until you became a mother.

Only a year into your marriage, you found out you were pregnant with your son, Katsuo. It was difficult to come to terms with being a mother in the midst of your rising professional career but you knew taking care of your son was always going to be your number one priority, just as it was for Bakugou.

Despite the physical complexities of giving birth and being pregnant, the hardest part came afterwards: raising your extremely temperamental son.

Katsuo, ever since the day he was born, was never one to shy away from vocalizing if anything bothered him or made him upset. To screaming and crying on the top of his lungs as a baby to whining and throwing tantrums as a toddler in public, you felt yourself struggling to parent your son who made it his life’s mission to give you a hard time.

Who did Katsuo not give a hard time to? Bakugou.

Times where Katsuo would throw a tantrum, screaming and kicking his feet as he laid on the floor, all it would take was a “Stop that” from Bakugou to get Katsuo to cease his actions whereas it would take the whole day for him to listen to you. It was a frustrating ordeal but it never made you love your son any less. You knew this was a phase… at least you hoped this would just be a phase.

Just as you thought there was a lull in his behavior after he turned five, you became pregnant and gave birth to your daughter Suki. To say Katsuo was not thrilled was an understatement. He hated the attention that went to Suki instead of him. He hated that his parents had to take care of his baby sister that he didn’t want and he never hesitated to vocalize how much he didn’t want a sister.

“Can we get ice cream, too?” Katsuo asked excitedly, kicking his feet while sitting in the shopping cart that you were pushing. His little index finger pointed at the box of fudge popsicles.

“Will you share with your sister?” You asked, eyeing your son for his reaction.

As expected he was not pleased as he crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. “Fine. Whatever," he muttered curtly.

You smiled, grabbing the box from the freezer and putting it in your cart, knowing full well that his brief reaction would be the closest thing to a compromise that you'll get out of him.

As you were pushing the cart into the checkout line, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You answered your husband’s call, holding your phone in between your shoulder and your ear as you scanned the items in your car. “Everything okay, Katsuki?”

You could hear your now two-year-old daughter wailing in the background, repeating the word “Nana” as a very frustrated Bakugou expressed, “Please tell me you know where Suki’s fucking banana toy is.”

“Her toy should be on the sofa in the living room like it always is.” You adjusted your phone into your hand as you began to pay for your groceries.

“It’s not there and I’m about to lose my fucking mind.”

“Honey, I’m not sure where else it could be. Suki always keeps it there so she doesn’t lose it.”

As you grabbed the receipt from the little printer, you saw Katsuo giggling to himself from the corner of your eye as he was listening to your conversation. “Katsuo, what did you do?”

“Did that little shit fucking hide it?” Bakugou asked angrily through your phone.

“Katsuki, I’m almost done here. I’ll be home soon.” You sighed as Katsuo continued to laugh, his hands covering his mouth as if this were the funniest thing that could’ve happened for him.

“Katsuo, did you hide your sister’s toy?” You asked sternly, pushing the cart towards the exit. Katsuo simply shrugged, ignoring your question.

All you could was sigh as you loaded your car up and drove you and your son home.

You stood in front of the door to your home and before you could knock, it swung open, revealing an exhausted Bakugou holding Suki who was still crying.

“Still no luck?” You asked as Katsuo ran inside, almost knocking you and the bags of groceries in your hands over.

“No,” Bakugou said with an exasperated sigh as he closed the door.

“Nana,” Suki cried softly.

You set the groceries on the dining table before rushing over and taking Suki from Bakugou. “I know, sweetie. We’re going to find Nana for you, okay?”

She rested her head on your shoulder, tiring herself from wailing earlier as she rubbed her eyes. You turned to Bakugou who looked like he needed a nap immediately.

You caressed his face. “My poor babies,” you cooed as you teased him.

He glared at you before taking Suki back in his arms. “You better get Suo to confess where that banana is.”

“Me? Where are you going?” You questioned, watching as Bakugou took Suki upstairs.

“Sleep,” He said plainly. “Exhausted.”

You sighed, going back to the dining table to put the groceries away. “Suo?”

Katsuo stuck his head from under the table, two of his toy cars in hand.

You sighed. “Katsuo, I’ve told you many times not to go under the table.”

He crawled out and stood to his feet. His vermillion eyes, identical to his father’s, watched as you went back and forth from the table to the refrigerator. “Why?”

“Because you could hit your head. And we have rules and you have to listen to them.”

“Does Suki have to listen to them?” He uttered his sister’s name with as much disgust as his seven-year-old body could muster.

“Suki is still a baby. She’s two, Suo, and she can barely speak.”

“Well I used to be your baby, too, before she came,” Katsuo grumbled under his breath, fidgeting with his toys.

You smiled at him, understanding the feeling of being jealous of your sibling getting all the attention. You crouched in front of him and ruffled his ash blonde hair. “You’ll always be my baby.”

Katsuo nudged your hand away, turning away from you. “Whatever. You don’t mean that.”

You stood to your feet. “Katsuo.”

Katsuo spun around quickly, dropping his toys to the ground as he raised an accusatory finger at you. “You always say I’m your baby but it’s not true! You care about that stupid baby more than me!”

He turned around again as he started to sprint and make his way upstairs. You went after him as you exclaimed, “That’s not true, Suo!”

Katsuo turned once more in the middle of the staircase, his brows furrowed and his lips overturned into a frown. “I said I didn’t want a sibling and you still had that stupid girl! You’re the worst Mom ever!”

He continued running upstairs and into his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Bakugou, who so desperately needed and wanted to take a nap, stood to his feet immediately following the sound of Katsuo’s door slam shut. Fortunately Suki hadn’t awoken, allowing him to leave and somehow patch this situation up.

Katsuo did this often, yelling at his mother and storming off into his room. However, he never insulted you in the way he did that day, and Bakugou knew you were going to take his words to heart.

Bakugou quietly made his way downstairs, peeking around the corner of the railing to spot where you were. You were sitting at the dining table, your back to him. He immediately noticed your shoulders shaking as you sniffled and wiped your eyes profusely.

“Y/N…” You spun your head at the sound of your husband’s unusually soft voice.

“Katsuki…” You wiped your eyes to get rid of any stray tears, not wanting to worry him. You attempted to muster a small smile, ultimately failing to do so. “What’re you doing awake?”

He sat down in the chair beside you. He stared at you, taking in your features as he raised his thumb and swiped under your eyes to catch your tears. “Don’t cry.”

Your lips quivered and the tears you were attempting to hold back spilled out. “I feel stupid for crying but-but his words hurt, Katsuki.”

Bakugou leaned towards you, his arms maneuvering you onto his lap. He held you close to him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You’re not stupid for crying. He said some fucked up shit, and he shouldn’t have.”

He pulled away, brushing your hair away from your face with his hands as he kissed you softly. “You’re not a bad mom, Y/N.”

You let out a humorless laugh, wiping your eyes again. “I know. I just… don’t know how to validate his feelings.”

“Don’t worry.” Bakugou moved you back onto the chair as he stood to his feet. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Katsuki.” You reached for his hand, looking up at him. “Just don’t yell at him, alright?”

“I know. I was seven once, too, y’know?” And like that Bakugou made his way back upstairs, his footsteps echoing through the hall. He made it to Katsuo’s door and knocked.

“Go away!” Katsuo yelled from the other side.

“I don’t care what you want, I’m coming in,” Bakugou stated and opened the door.

He was met with a soft pillow to the face as an enraged Katsuo yelled, “I said go away!”

“Katsuo!” Bakugou exclaimed. Katsuo immediately stiffened, his expression twisting into fear from his father’s tone. Bakugou closed his eyes and sighed, calming himself down before speaking to his son. He didn’t want to go about this the wrong way.

Bakugou picked up the pillow as he sat on Katsuo’s bed beside him, placing the discarded item back onto the bed. “Why did you yell at Mom?”

Katsuo crossed his arms over his chest. “‘Cause she wasn’t being fair.”

“So she deserves to get called a ‘bad mom’ because of that?”

“No…” Katsuo mumbled after pausing for a moment.

Bakugou sighed, lifting Katsuo and repositioning him on the bed so that he was facing him. Katsuo kept his eyes glued down, not wanting to make eye contact with his incredibly intimidating father. “Suo, look at me.”

Katsuo hesitated but nevertheless he looked at his father. “Why did you call Mom a ‘bad mom?’”

Katsuo fidgeted with his thumbs before upsettingly blurting out, “Because she’s always caring about Suki more than she cares about me!”

“And did Mom say she doesn’t care about you?”

“No…”

“Katsuo,” Bakugou paused to make sure his son was looking at him. “Do you know how much your mother loves you?”

Katsuo simply shrugged. Bakugou shook his head slightly, reaching behind in his back pocket to grab his phone. He opened his photo album, one with just you that contained hundreds of photos in fact. He showed a picture where you were very pregnant with Katsuo, your hands cradling your swollen belly as you grinned at Bakugou’s camera.

“Here’s Mom carrying you in her belly before you were born.”

Katsuo’s eyes widened at the sight of your stomach, looking up at his father. “I was in there?!”

Bakugou nodded, this time swiping to a video of you holding a newborn Katsuo, tears streaming down your face as you looked down at your son. Your sobs were audible, looking over at Bakugou who was recording you. “Katsuki!”

Bakugou’s laughter was heard on the other side of the video and Katsuo watched as you looked back at his baby self in the video. “My baby,” you murmured, kissing his cheek and pressing your forehead against his little one.

“I was her baby,” Katsuo whispered astonishingly. “I thought Mom was lying when she said that.”

“Katsuo, you’ll always be our first baby. You’re our first born. But now Suki needs Mom’s attention, too. Did you see how little you were in that video?” Katsuo nodded. “Well, Suki needs Mom’s help to grow big and strong like you. But she’s lucky cause she has a big brother to help her, right?”

“I guess,” Katsuo huffed. “I’ll start being nice to her…”

“Good,” Bakugou patted him on the back. “Now go apologize to Mom. You didn’t mean what you said, right?”

Katsuo shook his head aggressively. He jumped off his bed and stood to his feet. “I’ll go say sorry.”

Before leaving, he crawled under his bed to retrieve something. When he crawled back out, in his hands was Suki’s missing banana toy that Bakugou had been tearing the whole house apart to find. Katsuo handed the toy to his father, threw open the door, and rushed downstairs until he stood in front of the dining table. His chest rose and fell quietly as he caught his breath from moving so fast. You turned around, not expecting his presence so suddenly. “Suo!”

Katsuo frowned at the sight of your slightly puffy eyes, understanding that you had been crying. And it was his fault that you were crying. He looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have called you a ‘bad mom.’”

You smiled softly, looking at your son lovingly. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head. “It’s not okay. I shouldn’t say things I don’t mean. I just… I was jealous of how you’re always with Suki. But I know that she has to be big and strong like me.”

Your smile widened as you reached out and caressed his cheek. “It’s okay, baby. I forgive you.”

Katsuo perked up. “So am I really still your baby? Even if I’m not little like Suki?”

“Of course.” You pulled him into your embrace, his little arms attempting to wrap around you as he hugged you back. “I already said you’ll always be my baby and I mean it.”

You pulled away, kissing his cheek which caused Katsuo to break out into an even wider smile as he threw his arms around you into another embrace.

You laughed, hugging him once more, holding him onto your lap. You looked up, noticing a smiling Bakugou holding an asleep Suki in his arms. He sent a wink your way as you smiled gratefully at him.

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nebulousbrainsoup · 11 months

Note

hey could i send a request for han jisung x readers enemies to lovers university au with the smut prompts 1 + 45 + 81(spoiled they get caught🤭) maybe with a party setting 🥰 thank you sm

prompts:

1. "I love it when you moan my name." || 45. "Just shut up and fuck me." || 81. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you."

Vehemently

fulfilled as part of my 150(ish) followers event.

PAIRING: han jisung x fem!reader GENRE: enemies to lovers, smut, college au RATING: 18+ ; minors/ageless blogs dni TAGS/WARNINGS: ft. felix, hyunjin & lino, swearing, alcohol use, drug use, slight misunderstandings, sassy jisung & reader, quick edit, let me know if i missed anything! WORD COUNT: 3.7k SUMMARY: above! A/N: i haven't been able to stop thinking about this request since you sent it, but good LORD has this fic eluded me. i think i'm coming to the realization that i cannot be mean to any of the boys who are younger than me, even if it's only by a few months. but here you are, my dear, i hope the wait was worth it. have a full-length fic as an apology </3

smut tags/warnings under the cut ; masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

NSFW TAGS/WARNINGS: lil bit of hate sex, rough sex, dom-leaning jisung, sub-leaning reader, but they’re both switches to me, bratty behavior, biting, marking, brief oral (fem receiving), use of a condom, protected sex, piv, little bit of edging, nicknames (baby, sweetheart, pretty boy), getting caught; let me know if i missed anything, please!

Coming to this party was an awful idea. You’d known it when Felix had invited you, but he’d flashed those big brown eyes of his at you and you’d melted immediately. It was his birthday, after all, and you and Hyunjin were his best friends—it would be rude for you not to show, especially since your roommate had made it clear that he would be going. Though you were wary, you decided to give it the benefit of the doubt, with a promise from Hyunjin that he would stay by your side.

The second you’d walked through the door, though, Felix had wrapped you both up in hugs, and when you’d turned back around to find your roommate, he’d vanished. The same happened with Felix when you spun back around, and you were left alone in the entryway of a house you had never been to before. You sighed in defeat, resigning yourself to finding the kitchen alone. If you were going to be here, you may as well take advantage of the free liquor.

You’d nearly finished mixing your drink when a familiar, loud laugh caught your attention, and a chill lit down your spine. Of course Changbin would be here, you reminded yourself. He’s one of Felix’s favorite people, after all, and just because he—and probably Chris, now that you thought about it—was here, it didn’t mean Han Jisung would be. You would be fine.

Lee Minho, on the other hand, was a more unexpected sight, and you nearly jumped out of your skin at finding the man staring at you, head tilted in confusion. He looked much like the black cat he was frequently compared to, and felt just as ill an omen. Sure, he and Felix were on the dance team together, but you had never known them to be close. Han and Minho on the other hand, had always been suspiciously so.

You gave a tight smile, which he did not return, instead asking, “What are you doing here?”

You scrunched up your nose at him. “It’s… Felix’s birthday party? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Realization, though you weren’t sure of what, dawned on his face. “Ah, of course, silly me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”

“It’s Felix’s birthday party,” he echoed, raising his plastic cup to you before turning to head out of the kitchen. “And Han’s, too.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched him nearly skip away, and you quickly downed your entire drink. If Hyunjin couldn’t get you out of here now, you were going to have a long night ahead of you.

By the time you finally found your roommate, you had already caught sight of Han twice. You were fuming quietly when you finally made your way out to the backyard, unsurprisingly finding Hyunjin with a joint in one hand and a cup in the other, laughing as he passed it on to Jeongin. His eyes flickered up to you as you approached, and he began to scoot over to make room for you in the circle.

“Sorry! I kind of forgot we were sticking together. You can—”

“Did you know this was Han’s party, too?” You cut in, hands on your hips.

The circle went quiet, and Hyunjin tilted his head at you. “You… didn’t?”

“If I did, I probably wouldn’t have come.” You seethed, and he flushed, eyes dropping to the floor. When he didn’t reply, you huffed, crossing your arms and starting back for the house. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”

It wasn’t anything against Felix or Hyunjin; you simply hated Han Jisung. You’d shared a gen-ed course your first year here, and he was the first face that stuck out to you in the lecture hall. You hadn’t expected much when you finally gathered the nerve to approach him—maybe a hello, or a quick number exchange. Instead, he’d kept his head down, given you a disinterested half-glance over, and made his way to the door without a single word, leaving you standing awkwardly alone in the middle of the lecture hall. When you’d finally gotten to know him through your mutual friends—with some reluctance—you’d immediately found him loud and annoying, far too cocky for your tastes. Between the awful first impression and his inability to take anything, especially you, seriously, your hatred for him had bloomed quickly.

And now, here you were at his birthday party. You’d seen him, sure, but you’d be damned if you let him see you. You had appearances to keep up and a heart to keep intact. Resolving to find Felix before just ditching him, you made your way back into the roiling crowd in the living room. It was hard to see between or over the dancing bodies as you were jostled, trying fruitlessly to elbow your way through, and you quickly abandoned that plan of action. Sighing, you made your way back to the kitchen, hoping for a little peace to clear your scrambled mind.

No such luck would come, it seemed, as the moment you turned the corner into the kitchen, you slammed face-first into the very man you were trying to avoid. His own freshly made drink went down the front of both of you, and you huffed a sigh, biting the inside of your lip to keep the tears of frustration from spilling. This party was a stupid idea.

“Oh, shit, are you okay?”

Before you could spiral into your abyss of self-loathing, his voice cut through your thoughts.

“Fine,” you spat, “can’t say the same for my clothes, though.”

He frowned, irritation crossing his features at your attitude. “Look, sorry, but maybe you should watch where you’re going next time. I know you hate me, but take it easy on the booze, would you?”

You rolled your eyes heartily, turning on your heel. Just as you were about to cross back into the living room, his hand latched around your wrist. “Wait!” He looked stunned as you turned around, swallowing thickly and giving you a once-over. “It’s kind of my fault, too, I wasn’t really… Let me grab you something to wear and I can dry your clothes or something.”

“It’s fine, I was heading out anyway.”

“It’s only been an hour. Felix wants you to at least stay til midnight, right? For his actual birthday? You and Hyunjin are like his best friends, come on. Don’t make him suffer just ‘cause you’re pissed at me.”

You scrunched up your nose and, not for the first time, Jisung thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He never quite figured out why you hated him so much, but it was common knowledge between your mutual friends, and he played into it every chance he got. It was easier that way; he could put some distance between himself and his feelings for you. Whatever the reason may be, you absolutely despised him, and to see you here tonight was a complete surprise. He assumed you were here for Felix—everyone knew how close the two of you were; and the last thing he wanted to do was force you to leave the party because of his presence or clumsiness.

“Let me help. For him. Then I’ll stay out of your hair for the rest of the night.”

You sighed, but the way your shoulders slumped told Han he had won this battle. “Fine,” you muttered, tugging your wrist free of his grasp. “But it’s just for Lix.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he teased, grinning widely. As he squeezed past you, he took your hand, grip tightening as you tried to yank away from him.

“Don’t want you to get lost in the fray, do we?” His cocky little smirk was still plastered on his face, and you rolled your eyes heartily, gesturing him forward.Although it had heat rising to your cheeks, you were thankful for Jisung’s hand in yours—though you were loath to admit it, he was right. You would have been swept away in the crowd within seconds if not for his firm grip. God, what you would do to have those hands elsewhere; he really was unfairly pretty. As he dragged you along, you got a lovely view of just how much he had filled out since that first day in the lecture hall—his shoulders having broadened and his biceps having thickened. Despite your front, you were just as head over heels for this man as you had been the day you laid eyes on him.

There were significantly fewer people upstairs, and you tugged your hand from his grip the moment you could, though with slightly less vehemence this time. He still shot a sideways glance back at you, a half-glare that held less heat than it had earlier. By the time you made it to his room, you were fighting to keep your façade up, replaying how quick he’d been to help you and how his hand felt in yours on a loop. It seemed both of you were struggling to hold onto your hatred. As you crossed the threshold into a space that, until this point, seemed both forbidden and tainted, you felt a shift in the air.

His space was a lived-in amount of messy; there was a half-full Starbucks cup on his desk, clothes on the floor, and his bed was unmade. He didn’t touch the light switch by the door, instead picking up a remote, the lamps connected to it casting a warm glow over the room. It felt cozy, you thought, and immediately frowned. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking.

He turned to you, t-shirt and shorts in hand, holding them out for you to take. “You can change here. I’ll wait outside for your clothes… Unless you want help.”

He grinned, his grip on the pile of clothes in both of your hands unrelenting, using your tugging on them as an excuse to crowd into your space. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Jisung?” you hissed back.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind putting you in your place,” he practically purred, his free hand shifting to hover over your waist. “See if you still hate me so much when I’ve got you under me.”

“As if your mediocre dick game could change my mind.” You weren’t sure if it was just the alcohol talking, but suddenly, you wanted nothing more than to test this theory.

His jaw set and his eyes narrowed, leaving a very different version of Han Jisung in front of you than you were used to. “I’ll show you mediocre,” he hissed, releasing his hold on his clothes and shoving you back toward his bed. “It’ll be anyone else you’ve had or will have.”

“What the fuck ever.” You rolled your eyes, letting his clean clothes drop to the floor, reaching up to grab his shirt and tug him toward you. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” you muttered, dragging him against you and crashing your lips together.

You felt him grin against you and you sank your teeth into his lower lip, pulling a quiet hiss from him. One of his hands snapped up, fisting into your hair to yank you back. The look on his face was one you wanted to either slap or kiss off of him; the line was too blurred now to tell which.

“Like it a little rough, do we?” He prodded, both his hands dropping to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it over your head in one fluid motion, your bra quickly joining it over his shoulder. He straightened back up, licking his lips hungrily as he took the opportunity to drink you in. “Wonder if I can still taste my drink…” he mused, quickly pressing you back against the mattress to latch his lips to your chest.

You groaned, half in frustration and half from pleasure. “Do you ever stop talking?”

He sunk his teeth into your breast sharply at your jab, a surprised squeak leaving you at the feeling. Almost immediately, he was releasing you and soothing the sting with his lips and tongue, no doubt attempting to leave behind a mark that, even if it weren’t visible, would be felt tomorrow. You let a quiet groan pass your lips, and Jisung pulled back with a quiet pop to grin at you.

“Still hate me?”

“Vehemently.”

He clicked his tongue. “Looks like I need to try harder, then.”

In a feat of strength you weren’t aware he was capable of, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you, tossing you further onto the bed. You gasped, catching yourself on your elbows as he joined you, making quick work of the button and zipper of your shorts. With a swift tug, he’d pulled them down to your ankles and, with your help, they joined the rest of your clothes on the floor.

Suddenly aware of the disparity between yours and Jisung’s clothing, you sat up, hands grabbing at the hem of his shirt so you could bunch it up under his arms. “Off,” you demanded, and he quickly complied, tugging it over his head.

Before you could say another word or pull at his shorts, he slipped back down your body, his lips trailing wet warmth down your torso. The moment he reached the waistband of your underwear, he paused, gazing up at you through his lashes. “You’re sure about this?”

For the first time that night, he seemed unsure. His doe eyes were wide and open, an honesty behind them that the two of you didn’t usually share. It made your stomach twist and your heart skip a beat, and you nodded.

“I thought you had something to prove,” you muttered in an attempt to ignore the tangle of feelings in your chest, tugging him down toward your core.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your clothed heat before tugging your panties off. The moment they were gone, he was back between your legs, licking a fat stripe up over your folds before his lips attached themselves to your clit. You whined, high-pitched and heady, and he smirked up at you, pressing a kiss to your clit. “Like that, huh?”

Your jaw clenched and you sighed heavily through your nose, your grip in his hair tightening until he winced. “Han Jisung, I swear if you don’t… Just shut up and fuck me or put your mouth to better use.”

“Your wish is my command,” he muttered as he pushed himself back up your body, your lips meeting again in a messy kiss.

He pulled back before you did, wincing again as you tried to tug him back to you, both of you fumbling with his jeans. “Gotta let me up, baby,” he murmured between kisses. He was clinging just as desperately as you were, his lips barely parting from your own. “Condoms are in my desk.”

You huffed, annoyed, and flopped back against the mattress, releasing his scalp from your death grip. The sound pulled a quiet chuckle from him as he stood, finally unbuttoning his pants and darting across the small room to his desk drawer. He shucked both his pants and boxers to the floor as he made his way back, and it was everything you could do not to gawk, open-mouthed, at how unbelievably pretty he was. The arms you’d noticed earlier were only the beginning, apparently—his toned stomach and legs matching them perfectly in a stunning contrast to his round face. Fuck, even his cock was pretty, flushed and leaking as he rolled the condom over it. The last shred of your pride was the only thing keeping you from begging to wrap your lips around him first.

“Like what you see?” He broke the silence, and the self-satisfied look on his face told you he had most definitely caught you staring.

“Keep running your mouth and I’ll leave you like this.”

The panic-stricken look that flashed in his eyes had you biting back laughter, but it was quickly replaced by something darker as he caught the grin on your face. He glared at you as he settled between your legs again, ducking down once more to suck hard on your clit.

“J-Jisung!” you gasped, hand snapping down to card into his hair again. The tight circles his tongue drew over the little bundle of nerves had pleasure rocketing up your spine, your entire body tensing with the sudden onslaught. As suddenly as that had begun, the stimulation shifted, his tongue darting between your folds to taste you, and you whined out his name once more. He groaned against you, giving your clit another harsh suck—one that nearly brought you over the edge—before he sat back on his heels again.

“Fuck, I love it when you moan my name,” he sighed, caging you in below him as he lined himself up with your entrance. “It sounds a lot prettier than all those nasty, empty threats.”

“Han,” you sighed, hips rolling toward his own.

He frowned disapprovingly and shifted his hips back, the hand that had been guiding his cock now pressing your hips into the mattress. “Not like that, sweetheart, c’mon. Say it right.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to quit talking?” you huffed, grabbing at his hips.

“Or put my mouth to better use, and I think at least one of those requests has been fulfilled.”

The grin on his face was wide and you were once again hit with the urge to wipe it off his face. The surge of rage lasted only a moment, though, before he was teasing at your hole again and your breath caught in your throat. You melted under him, hand sliding up from his hips to grip at his shoulders.

“Jisung,” you breathed, hips rolling forward again.

This time, you saw his shaky inhale as he did the same, quiet, broken sounds leaving you both as he finally filled you. He swallowed thickly, head tucking into your neck to pepper light kisses against your skin as he bottomed out, giving you both time to adjust. He was bigger than you’d expected, just thick enough to provide a pleasant stretch. You hummed, eyes slipping shut, and ground your hips against his.

“You have something to prove, don’t you, pretty boy?” You muttered against the shell of his ear, and you felt his shoulders shake with the chuckle that left him. “Fuck me like you hate me, Han Jisung.”

He propped himself up as his hips rolled back, the hand not bracing him wrapping around your back to lift your hips from the mattress. As his lips twitched up into a smirk, he slammed back into you, settling immediately into a ruthless pace. You managed to choke back the shout that left you halfway through it, nails sinking into his back as your jaw dropped open. Strained, needy sounds were punched out of you with every snap of his hips, matched by his own pants and groans as you scratched down his back.

“This what you wanted?” he ground out, eyes narrowing when you gave no response. “Wanted me to—to fuck you stupid? Can’t even—mmph!”

You cut him off with your lips, swallowing his next deep groan and muffling your own squeak as he picked up his pace. The kiss devolved quickly into little more than sharing air, your bodies pressed tightly together as you chased your highs. One of your hands shifted from his shoulder, snaking between the two of you to rub at your cli and Jisung shifted as you did, pausing his rhythm to sit back on his heels and drag you with him. When he resumed his pace, the new angle had you crying out, your free hand fisting into the sheets and your eyes rolling back in your head. Distantly, you thought you heard him huff a laugh, but you were too far gone to care.

You were falling over the peak of your pleasure in moments, his name falling from your lips one last time. The sight of you alone, skin sweat-slicked and back arched in pleasure, was enough to bring Jisung to the edge of his own orgasm, and the sound of your voice sent him careening over it. He pulled your hips flush with his own and let his head fall back, basking in the feeling of your walls pulsing around him as he spilled into the condom. Both of you stilled, your eyes closed and only the sound of your shaky breathing filling the room as the weight of reality prodded at the edges of your foggy mind. You could stay suspended in this little fantasy for a moment longer, you decided.

Or, you would have, if not for the rapping at the door. You and Jisung shared a look of panic and scrambled apart, both grabbing for the top blanket on his bed as the door cracked open. Your stomach sank as Felix’s voice met your ears, his blue head of hair peeking around the corner.

“It’s almost midnight, dude, what are you—oh!”

You locked eyes with your best friend before you could pull the covers over your head, and heat immediately rushed to your face. Slowly, you sank underneath them anyway, unwilling to meet his gaze any longer.

He snapped back around it nearly immediately, pressing his back to the door as he finished. “Uh, nevermind! Midnight is soon, we had that, uh… thing planned, but… I’m gonna head back down, you two have fun!”

As the door snapped shut behind him, the silence that fell over you and Jisung felt heavy, and you just as slowly crept out from under the blankets. Meeting his eyes, you saw the same confusion you felt reflected in his stare. His eyes flickered rapidly over your face as he gnawed at his lower lip, searching for something, though you had no idea what.

“Still hate me?” He muttered, nearly immediately moving to discard the condom, busying himself to avoid meeting your gaze.

Your voice was shaky, the heat absent from it as you replied, “Vehemently.”

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banners & dividers, as usual, from the lovely @cafekitsune

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thcfountain · 4 months

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anonymous asked: "okay but Matt with a insecure/shy reader and he makes them feel better?"

Tags: Matt x Reader. She/her pronouns. Talks a lot about eurocentric beauty standards and how women, at least in America, are all expected to be thin and white. Fluff. Word count: 1,207.

Banner credit here. Click here to join my tag list.

tag list: @to-be-written @th4t-em0-k1d @cheyyyr @somewhere-diamond @ravieisunhinged @blackveilomens @sprokat @jilliemiw86 @cookiesupplier @emmmm127

Growing up, it felt like you had always been bombarded with unattainable standards set by the beauty and fashion industries - women who were photoshopped to be thinner, taller, to have lighter skin. Everywhere you turned, magazines and commercials advertised diet plans and pills, pushing unhealthy weight loss tactics, all aimed at their feminine audience. Suffice it to say, you (and a great deal of many others not only nationwide, but worldwide) felt shamed to be in your own skin.

The girls in magazines and on tv or who walked runways rarely seemed to look like you. Diversity felt all too rare, making you worry constantly about being pretty enough. Of course you understood that this was a foolish concept because realistically, you knew that the beauty standards being shoved down your throat were unrealistic - almost always created with photoshop because no one was ever that perfect. It was still hard sometimes, not to compare yourself and worry that you weren't good enough.

What also didn't help was stumbling across your boyfriend's old curiouscat and spending an afternoon scrolling through post after post, reading about how he claimed to be attracted to ‘baddies’ and girls who fit more into the category of the models you sometimes saw on Instagram, who always had perfect makeup and perfect bodies. You knew it shouldn't, but it made you feel insecure.

Without really meaning to, you found yourself striving harder to fit into that Instagram model, bad girl look - the one that was achieved via editing and filters the majority of the time. You started spending time nitpicking your looks in the mirror, trying different ways to attempt to look more and more like the girls in magazines or one instagram.

Matt took notice.

“Y/N is kinda acting weird lately,” he brought up one afternoon while hanging out with Noah. He hadn't quite figured out what was going on with you yet. “I'm not sure how to explain it.”

Noah mutes the tv, quieting an episode of Naruto that he had seen a dozen times already and could quote by heart. “Okay? Try to explain anyway.”

Matt finished his Celsius and shrugged before diving into how he had noticed you staring in the mirror more, the additional makeup and skin care products that had been purchased, and the overall sudden unease you seemed to have in your own skin. “Also she gets weird when I try to initiate sex. Starting to wonder if this is her way of saying I'm bad at it,” he was joking, at least a little.

He was met with silence for a moment as Noah just stared at him, the expression on his face calling Matt a hundred different names for stupid. It was times like this when Matt hated how expressive Noah could be.

“Dude,” Noah started, shaking his head like he couldn't fathom how Matt didn't figure it out. “She's worried about her body. You know how girls are with all that diet and fashion stuff,” he added. Of course Noah was also into that stuff, but through therapy and because of necessity, he had learned how to tackle it from a health perspective rather than a body insecurity one.

Hearing Noah's response made Matt want to smack himself upside the head. How could he not notice that you were dealing with body image insecurities? Truthfully, he didn't know anyone who didn't deal with them. Even he had his things that he was insecure about and so did each of his friends. Though he supposed it was a little different, given they weren't the target audience of 90% of those miracle weight loss commercials that aired on tv every once in a while.

“I'm an idiot,” he confessed to Noah, who only nodded in agreement.

Coming home, Matt found you in your underwear, staring into the floor length mirror in your bedroom. It was clear to him now, that you were checking yourself over, probably picking at things the media had convinced you to hate about yourself and that made him sad and a little bit angry. Angry that there was anything in this world that could make you see yourself as anything less than a goddess and sad that he hadn't figured out what was going on sooner.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says and his words startle you, causing you to jump a little. You hadn't noticed he had been standing there until he spoke. “You are the most beautiful woman that I've ever seen,” he continued, not giving you a chance to argue as he crossed the room, wrapping his arms around you from behind so you could look into the mirror together.

“I could stand to-” you start, ready to list off things you thought you should change but he cut you off.

“No,” he says curtly before kissing the skin on your shoulder. “You are perfect,” he kisses the crook of your neck and you melt a little into his arms. “There isn't a single thing about you that isn't perfect or that I don't love.” He kisses the side of your neck softly.

“I'm not a baddie,” you whisper, feeling a little goofy to say it outloud.

“Baby, you're the baddest fucking bitch in the world. I just want you to love yourself as much as I love you.” You turned in his arms and rested your head on his shoulder. “If you want to keep up with fashion trends then do it because you enjoy it. I know I can't change your mind overnight but I'm going to remind you how beautiful you are until you believe it.”

“You're so cheesy,” you mumble, heart swelling happily under his words and he laughs before kissing the top of your head. “I love you.”

It takes time to learn to love yourself and all of your imperfections. It takes time to learn that humans aren't meant to be picture perfect - that they're supposed to come in all shapes and sizes and shades and that the fashion and beauty industries were judgemental of all women and racist and eurocentric to a terrifying degree.

But Matt kept his word, constantly reminding you of how beautiful you were. Listing off all the things that he loved about you and making you tell him things you loved about yourself too.

Matt saw you as you were. He was not love blind, he was not lying. He saw you exactly as you were. Every flaw, every imperfection, and he thought that you were the literal definition of beauty.

“Who's that beautiful girl?” Matt's horrid singing voice made you groan but you also smiled in embarrassment as he sang his own version of the Nanalan song to you. “Could she be any cuteeerrr?”

“I regret showing you that Tiktok,” you laughed and Boo barked in response. “Even Boo thinks you're being a nut!”

“Who's that beautiful girl?” his terrible singing gets louder as he gets closer, arms opening and you squeal as he tackles you onto the couch, covering your face in kisses. “I'm gonna keep singing it until you tell me who's the most beautiful girl,” he threatens between kisses.

You laugh at his dorkiness. “It's me!” You proclaim.

“Damn right its you.”

#matt dierkes fanfic #matt dierkes x reader #matt dierkes

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quin-ns-moved · 2 years

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Safe House

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: lemon and tangerine break into your safe house, not expecting you to be there. it’s lucky that you are, especially for tangerine

Tags: mentions of blood/violence, flirting/teasing/humor, taking care of tangerine, frenemies to lovers, kinda fluffy, love confessions, kissing, implied smut

A/N: my second tangerine fic <3 this one is very different than my other one but I couldn’t let the idea of patching up tangerine after a job go

Cross-posted to ao3

Edit: check out my new blog with more writing @quin-ns

The last thing you expected was your door crashing open in the middle of the night. Thankfully, it was two familiar faces who came into view despite the darkness.

Lemon and Tangerine. Two associates, well, friends of yours. Yeah, you could call them friends at this point. Anyway, they’d just broken into your house.

“You can’t just burst in and scare me like that!” you scolded the two, clutching your blanket tighter as a gust of cold wind sailed through the room. Tangerine slammed the door shut and locked it, while Lemon hobbled over to the couch where you were seated. You had been in your living room watching a movie, unable to sleep.

Tangerine flicked the main light switch and the bulbs attached to your ceiling fan flickered to life. You took in the sight of both of them, pausing your movie.

Their clothes were a bit tattered and covered in blood that probably wasn’t theirs. Although most of the blood stains weren’t theirs, you could tell both were injured. From the way Lemon fell onto the couch next to you, it seemed like his leg must’ve been messed up and he was clutching his right hand in his left. You glanced at Tangerine and saw a cut on his head, but more concerning there was blood soaking through his sleeve and dripping from his arm.

“What the hell happened to you guys?” you asked aloud, addressing neither one of them in particular.

“Work,” Lemon grunted out first. “Sorry, we didn’t think you’d be here.”

“You didn’t think I’d be in my house?” you asked, brows furrowed a little.

“Your safe house, and yes. You’re never here,” Tangerine chimed in. He had made his way over to the fridge—your living room and kitchen were one in the same—and began to dig through the freezer part. You always kept it well stocked.

“Well I just worked a job and it was easier to come here,” you explained. Although you weren’t really the one who needed to justify their presence.

“We needed a place to lay low,” Lemon revealed. “Thought you’d be gone and wouldn’t mind.”

“You mean you didn’t think I’d notice if you guys were here,” you retorted. They’d tried it before and maybe they thought they were inconspicuous, but given the line of work the three of you shared you noticed the little details.

Tangerine found what he was looking for, which was a frozen bag of peas. You always kept some on hand (even though you hated the taste of peas) because they made a good ice pack. He tossed them to Lemon, who caught them in his non-bruised hand. He placed them over the swelling and his counterpart turned around to face you.

“Since you are here, could we trouble you for some first aid, luv?” Tangerine asked quite politely. Usually you’d give each other a hard time—that was your dynamic, it was harmless—but he needed help and you felt sympathy as you watched him clutch his bleeding arm.

“Yeah, lemme grab my first aid kit.” You stood from the couch, leaving the comfort of your blanket behind. You were still in your pajamas, just a big t-shirt and some shorts. Not a lot of coverage and you were starting to get cold. “Try not to leave blood stains on my floor!” you called once you were down the hall, searching the closest. You couldn’t help yourself.

Tangerine didn’t reply to you, probably muttering something under his breath instead. It didn’t matter, he knew you weren’t serious.

You found the first aid kit and returned. “What’s wrong with who?” you questioned. You were a nurse before you got into your current line of work. Some of what you learned still came in handy every once in a while.

“My hand is all jacked up and I think I twisted my ankle,” Lemon answered first.

“Not much I can do for that other than give you some ice, meds, and tell you to get some rest. If something is broken I can’t do anything here, but I saw you walk in here so for the ankle you should be good in a few days. As for the hand, can you move it?” Lemon tried and succeeded at wiggling his fingers. “Okay good, that’s not broken either. Probably just some bruising but I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“You got two bedrooms in this place, right?” Lemon recalled, starting to pull himself to stand. You handed him a bottle of painkillers which he accepted.

“Last door down the hall on your left,” you directed him as he began to hobble off towards your guest room. You were a little surprised at how fast he made it but you could tell he was mentally and physically exhausted.

Usually, Lemon was talkative and the two of you would chat about anything and everything. Tonight was obviously different, but you were sure you’d catch up with him later.

“You’re amazing, Y/N,” were his parting words (and his thanks) before he closed the guest door behind him.

When it was just you and Tangerine, the two of you met each other’s gaze again. You sat down on your coffee table, facing the couch. “So, you need some bandages for your boo-boos?” you asked teasingly and held up the first aid kit.

Tangerine let out a humorless laugh in response as he made his way to the couch. You opened up the kit and set some contents out beside you on the table. He took his place on the couch across from you. “It’s a little more than a boo-boo,” he replied, holding out his arm and rolling up his sleeve.

His arm was facing palm up and without the bloody sleeve in the way, you could actually see the source of the blood. A diagonal, deep cut across his inner forearm.

“Knife wound?” You laughed at your own question because of the obvious answer. “Never mind, of course it is.”

“Was blocking it from slashing up my face,” he explained. You found some antibacterial wipes and began to clean his arm. “Couldn’t risk losing my best asset.”

You rolled your eyes as he smirked at his own joke. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

A few months back you made the mistake of admitting you thought he was attractive. You were fighting beside him and later he had a bruise on the cheek. You’d made a comment about needing to protect his best asset, and Tangerine took it and ran with it. His ego was boosted and while it wasn’t untrue that you thought that, he liked to bring it up as ammunition in your mutual badinage.

“Don’t bet on it,” Tangerine replied. You could feel him staring at you as you cleaned his wound. You glanced up at him briefly and met his eyes.

“I’m gonna have to stitch it,” you told him with a slight frown. His smile faded and he sighed. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“I think you just want a chance to jab me with needles,” Tangerine commented sarcastically, clearly displeased by the situation. He watched as you got the needle ready.

You chuckled at that. “Well, gotta have some fun for me out of this, right?”

The quip was a lie, you didn’t actually want to see him hurt or in pain. While almost every sentence spoken to one another was sardonic or teasing, you considered him your friend and Tangerine did the same. Neither of you ever spoke about it out loud, though. The second one of you admitted you liked the other; it would be considered a loss at the game the two of you played. Sometimes you’d push him or he’d push you, trying to get the truth to be spoken, but so far it was a draw on both ends.

“And here I thought we were friends,” Tangerine argued, feigning offense. This was one of those previously mentioned moments where one of you would begin to push the boundaries.

You smiled to yourself. You couldn’t help it. “Friends, huh?”

Then he said something you didn’t expect.

“Are we not?” he inquired, like he was truly wondering what you thought.

You let him sit with the question for a moment as you pressed the needle into his skin. Tangerine hissed in pain as you created the first stitch.

Finally, you answered. Looking up to him briefly, meeting those blue eyes of his, you said, “yeah, we are.” You meant it,

His words didn’t feel like a win and yours didn’t feel like a loss. Maybe the game you two played was in your heads. There was no harm in admitting out loud that you considered him a friend. Because, well, you did.

“Right,” he murmured. “Okay, good.”

‘Good’. Interesting.

You continued to work, trying to keep focus. Tangerine stared at you as you closed up the wound. Neither of you spoke and he tried to remain still for you.

When the wound was fully closed and you cut the string, you let out a sign of relief. “And… done!”

Tangerine released the breath he was holding. “Thank fucking god. I hate needles.” He examined his arm before allowing it to fall.

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” he countered.

“Fair point,” you conceded. You glanced at the cut on his forehead. “So how’d you get that?”

He knew what you meant. “Got whacked by a gun. It’s not bad. Certainly not as bad as the knife could’ve been.”

“You’re right.” Your fingers brushed through his disheveled brunette hair, pushing the curls away from his forehead with one hand. You cleaned the dried blood away from the cut with the other. “It won’t scar or anything,” you confirmed. Your free hand trailed down to his cheek and you patted it lightly. “That pretty face of yours is safe.”

Your tone was teasing but your touch was soft when your hand stilled. It lingered for a moment and Tangerine absentmindedly leaned into the touch, relaxing. His eyes remained on you, watching your face while you focused on tending to the cut. When you pulled both of your hands away, the expression on his face changed slightly. Like he was disappointed at the loss of contact.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that,” you commented, looking down at your hands as you tore open the bandaid.

“Notice what?” he asked as you placed the bandaid on his cut forehead.

“You, going all soft for a minute,” you relayed with a faint smirk. ”Admit it.”

Tangerine let out a dramatic sigh of defeat. “Fine. You win.”

He gave in faster than you thought he would’ve. “Wait, really?” You furrowed your brows in skepticism.

“It’s… nice,” he said slowly, building up to the admission. “I mean, when you look after me like that. Helping me out, being all gentle… I don’t know.” Tangerine swallowed. It was the first time in maybe forever you’d seen him look nervous, maybe even embarrassed. Your expression softened. “It feels like you care and I like that.” He wasn’t used to being this open and you certainly weren’t either.

“It feels like that because I do,” you revealed, meeting his eyes. There was a softness in his as he looked at you, but also a hint of anxiety that was replaced by relief as he scanned your face.

You meant what you said just like he had.

You couldn’t stop yourself from cracking a joke to fill the silence. It was practically an instinct. “Admitting we’re friends and that we care… big day, huh?”

Tangerine scoffed out a laugh. “I’m glad Lemon’s not out here, he’d never let this go.”

“Why’s that?”

“He has this idea—stupid idea, really—in his head about us.” He rubbed his hand over the lower half of his face and averted his eyes for a moment.

You weren’t going to let that be so quickly glossed over. “Oh?”

Tangerine gave in and began to explain without protest. “He thinks the reason you and I give each other such a hard time is because we have feelings for each other,” he divulged almost cautiously. He tried to not stare at you as he attempted to gauge your reaction.

“Hmm,” you hummed, catching onto where this was going. And once you were on the same page as him, the tone in the room changed. “Is he right?“

Tangerine simpered, gazing at you longingly. “I like to think so.”

And there it was. He’d made the first move.

It was a long time coming and if you were being wholly and completely honest, you’d been waiting.

“Really?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I don’t know, you might have to convince me.” You turned on the charm and it was well received.

His eyebrow quirked up, intrigued. “Is that so?” Tangerine’s hand extended towards you, facing palm up. You placed your hand in his, allowing him to pull you forward.

You lifted off the table across from him only for him to guide you into his lap. You let out a small laugh, draping your arms over his shoulders. You came face to face with him, suddenly aware of the positive you were in.

“Hi,” you said coyly.

“Hello, luv,” he replied, a devilish smile appearing on his face.

Before you could even think of something to say, Tangerine's hand was on the back of your neck and pulling you towards him. His lips collided with yours and you happily melted into the kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft and moved perfectly in tandem with yours, yet he was still dominant. You expected he would be—although you’d never admit you wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

The kiss was full of passion, all the pent up emotions and hidden feelings finally coming out. It was hot and heavy and everything you thought it would be.

You parted from him long enough to suggest, “we could go to my bedroom.”

Suddenly, Tangerine stood and took you with him. You gasped as you were lifted into the air. His arms locked under your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You were at eye level with him and the lustful look on his face was one you’d keep in your mind forever.

Tangerine grinned at your suggestion. “I like the sound of that.”

#tangerine x reader #tangerine #bullet train #aaron taylor johnson #lemon #brian tyree henry #bullet train fanfiction #bullet train imagine

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leonsleftbicep · 2 months

Text

Bake Me Back To Eden

Chapter: I

Ao3 Version

Word Count: 1,375

tags: Bakery AU, Modern Setting AU, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Vessel/II/III are dating, IV doesn't know them… yet!, Trans II, Nonbinary Vessel, Genderfluid III, They/Them Pronouns for III, It/Its and They/Them Pronouns for Vessel, Vessel and III are very creature they deserve creature pronouns

Summary: IV runs a bakery called Ivy Sprigs Bakery & Records, The Echo's work along with him. II, III, and Vessel are customers that don't yet know IV. yet! -- this is being cross posted on here and Ao3. alt names that are more "human" are used at times for the vessels, but i try my hardest to keep up with the numerical names for parts that are not being spoken verbally. The echo's or the esparas have made up names as well for i do not know their actual names and don't really want to use their actual names.

the alt names i will be using for each vessel and espara is listed below. please keep in mind that these names are fake and not anyone's actual names.

Vessel: Verna II: lii III: Thea IV: Ivy Espera/Echo 1: Evaline Espera/Echo 2: Erie Espera/Echo 3: Elanor

---

Ivy Sprig Bakery and Records. A newer place that opened up just a walk away from Vessel’s house. It was II’s idea to check out the bakery, after the couple of times he bought coffee there on his way to work. He thought it was time to show them this cute little hobbit hole of a bakery.

III was apprehensive about all of this, not knowing if they would like anything. Vessel was just nervous in general. Vess hates going out in public, everyone stares at them because of its height. II might be the only one not nervous, for the main reason that he knew there was a certain person he had a feeling that would change their minds.

The three of them walking through an alleyway while II led the way. “ii are you gonna kill us or something, this is shady.” III says unnerved by this as they hold Vessel's hand. “where almost there, you know i'm not a big fan of main roads for numerous reasons” II smiles as he walks, taking a turn that leads to the front of Ivy Sprigs. “Here we are” II exclaimed as the two taller beings look at this lovely little bakery, with a dark cottage core almost witchy vibe to it. “I call dibs on the records!” III calls out before they run into the cafe. Both II and Vessel giggle as they hold hands and walk into the bakery.

they find III already scouring the records for old albums from a band they enjoy. III does squeak and bounce around when they find a limited edition color variant of a record.

“I'll go get coffee, while you watch him” II speaks softly to Vessel as he gets up on his tippy toes just to kiss Vessel's cheek. Which makes the taller blush and hum in agreement.

II making his way to the cafe/bakery section of the shop, he knew III and Vess would be on their way soon after III found their records. II gets in line and soon feels the presence of his two tall lovers, which calms his paranoia.

III’s jaw drops to the floor all of a sudden. II just chuckles when he feels Vessel also fluster, just by the way they are clutching onto II’s shoulder. “I told you guys I would change your minds” II say with a grin as he also checks out the person they are collectively looking at.

The person in question is a lovely brunette with grays at his temples and widows peak, thin wire oval glasses low on his nose as he smiles and talks to customers. ‘Ivy’ was the name on his apron, which if they all thought right he was the owner. II had met the man a couple of times, though never really had a super meaningful conversation with him.

“How can i help you lads today?” IV asks as he looks between all three of them. Smiling when he sees II “oh it you Lii!” IV expels like he was surprised. “Its II, i just say Lii for simplicity” II nods, knowing a lot of people find his name odd.

Ivy types out something on his ordering tablet, “i'm guessing the usual black eye” ivy smiles. II hums in confirmation, “and anything those two would like?” IV asks as he gestures to III and Vessel. “They are your partners, right? you mentioned a Vessel or Verna? And some one you called Red?” Ivy asks as he pulls out cups and starts to write down II’s name on it.

“Black coffee, please” Vessel says with a slight shake to its voice before they just whisper to II what they want. “And a blueberry scone” II adds on, wanting to make sure vessel got all it wanted. “And what's your name sweetheart” IV ask’s vessel so he can write down the name on their cup. Vessel at first flusters at the pet name being used so smoothly. “Vess- no, put down Verna” Vessel says with a soft smile, which makes II squeeze its arm gently in congratulations.

III smiles when IV turns to ask what they want, “what do you recommend..” III looks at IV’s name tag “..Ivy?” they finish with a smirk. IV just smiles “i fear I- it might be too sweet for you” he tries to flirt back.

II kicks III in the ankle “OW!”. this sight makes IV laugh and snort, which amazes all of them. “goodness. okay, too answer your question Red” IV say with a big grin “my favorites the cafe miel, coffee wise. but tea wise, i usually go with a london fog” IV responds as he plays with his pen “your pick though”.

III leans against the counter as they think, “I'll try the cafe miel” they say “as long as it's, as sweet as you” III purrs. “oh jesus christ” Vessel whispers “this is the same thing they did to me when we first met” Vessel tells II.

IV just snorts and writes it down “what's your name?” he asks with a soft expression “unless you just want me to write down Red?”. III shakes their head “put down Thea, but you can call me III.. or whatever you want” III chuckles. “III you are horrible at being subtle” II groans and crosses his arms as Vessel rests its chin on his head.

IV gets pulled away from the cashregister by evaline so she can discuss something with him. III just watches that and then giggles and turns to II and Vessel “i'm not trying to be subtle, i'm trying to get closer” III admits.

II’s eyes widen “you just met him, Thea!” II yelps. “I feel like that's what you said to yourself when you met me, Lii” III counters, being a smart ass.

Vessel takes a deep breath “ok my loves, can we not get into a tift at the moment. Both of you need coffee, and some food” Vessel says as it takes their partners hands. Both III and II take a deep breath.

“I'm going to finish ordering, you take III to look at the records. Try and find me something please” II mutters as he pulls away so he can finish the order with Elanor as vessel and III walk off to cool down.

After coffee and some food II and III hold hands as they feel normal now. “Sorry that i was rude” III apologizes. “I accept your apology. But you aren't wrong, there was a reason that Vessel was the one to start dating you first before I did. And it was because I felt it was too soon” II explains, even if this might be odd to discuss in the middle of a bakery.

IV walks over after finishing up what he needed to with evaline. “Sorry I had to walk away, evidently someone wants an ambrosia salad style cake for their wedding.” IV laughs as he takes off his apron and pulls up his sleeves to expose his forearms. Which the three men gawk at, seeing the ivy tattoos wrap around his wrists and up.

“So can I get you three anything before you head out?” IV asks with a soft expression that makes his eyes look more blue then they were before.

“Some ivycakes” III blurts out as their face reddens. “I've never heard of that, we do have angel food cake though!” IV responds obviously.

II clears his throat and chimes in, “we are good, we are just about to go purchase those records Thea picked out and then head off home.” II excuses.

“Well, come back soon. it was great to finally meet your partners, they are very sweet” Ivy says as he makes eye contact with III. which II notices, and so does Vessel by the way it grabs II’s waist and squeezes gently.

After they pay for the records and walk out the bakery, Vessel finally speaks about its experience. “I like Ivy, he has pretty eyes. I wonder if he's single” Vessel smiles as all three of them walk together.

“The ivycakes thing was about his ass… i asked for a slice of his ass” III explains.

Both II and Vessel look over at III in surprise.

34 notes · View notes

obxone · 11 months

Text

Vigilante Shit (Chapter Six)

Edited-ish. ~3.1k words

Tag list: @fishingirl12 @gillybear17 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gills-lounge @emmafitzzz @redfieldfx @baby19sthings

Masterpage

Kildare County Detention Center looms before you. You sigh, shouldering your bag before climbing the steps into the building. You smile weakly at the sheriff as you go through the process of getting scanned for any possible weapons and contraband.

“Maybank, through here,” Peterkin gestures to the enclosed room after a deputy escorts you down the hall. Several incarcerated men bang on their doors and yell at you from their cells, but you ignore them.

The room is larger than you expected. Several people sit at aluminum tables that are placed throughout for inmates and visitors to sit at while they talk. You see your dad sitting at a table. His back to you, but that does not stop the nerves from exploding inside of you. In an attempt to wipe them away, you brush your hands down your jean clad thighs. It does not work. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stops you, arm barred across the doorframe before you can enter. “I’m glad you are back, Sweetheart. I hear you’ve turned over a new leaf. Now, we need to get your brother to do the same. That’s the trick.”

“I’m trying. For both of us.”

“Good. You don’t need to end up in a place like this, you hear me? Either of you.”

You nod, and she drops her arm to let you through. You slid onto the bench across from Luke. He stares at you, a smirk toying at his lips.

“And the prodigal daughter returns.”

You huff as you drop the bag of things you had with things that were allowed to be given to him onto the table. “Do you even know what that word means? You barely graduated high school if I remember correctly.”

He snorts but seizes the bag and rifles through it. “Why are you here, y/n?”

“To let you know, I’m back and cleaning up some of the mess you created.” You say, chin raised as you stand your ground. “Again.”

He smirks, picking at the pack of cards you had brought him. “My dutiful daughter. Barry found out you’re back?”

You shrug, clasping your hands together. “Barry knows. When do they think you’ll go to trial?”

“Next month.”

“A plea bargain offered yet?”

He nods, the tip of his tongue toying with the inside of his bottom lip. “Five years in prison and parole for two after.”

“Was it worth it?”

He laughs, that dark maniacal laugh you hate. “What do you think?”

“No.”

“Smart girl. You always were, you know.” He looks up at you through his lashes. “Just like your momma. You’ve always been just like her. You look like her, and you act like her too.” He goes back to digging in the bag like a toddler that is ready to count his prizes. “Thought you were gone for good.”

“I did, too,” you confess quickly. “But JJ needs someone in his corner.”

“He didn’t want to come today?”

“No.”

He frowns, shaking his head. “Ungrateful bastards, both of you.”

“Ungrateful?” You ask, venom lacing into your next words. “Ungrateful that you abused us, barely managed to provide enough food and shelter to keep us alive? Oh wait, or is it that we both had to start working when we were old enough to pay the bills because you are a cocaine addict and always gambled away our rent money?”

He rears back like you have smacked him, and you smirk at him. Pride swells inside of you because you are still able to dig back at him.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“You are such a little shit. After everything you’ve done, you want to talk to me like this?”

“Everything I’ve done?” Your eyebrows raise, and your gaze hardens. “If I remember correctly, I almost ruined my future getting you out of debt with a drug dealer because you couldn’t pay for your cocaine habit.”

He shakes his head. “You started with him before my debt ever came up.”

You ignore his retort as the anger builds inside of you. “I’m not scared of you anymore. And I will be making damn sure JJ isn’t. You gave us nothing and took everything. This will be the last time you see me. You will never see him again. Not if I have any say.”

You begin to get to your feet and leave him, but he snaps and reaches out after jumping to his feet. He grabs your wrist tightly, yanking you against the table to keep you there.

“Who are you to walk away from me?!”

“Let. Me. Go.”

His grip tightens, and he yanks hard. You gasp, pain spreading up your arm and around your hips, as he tugs you harshly against the table’s edge.

“Inmate Maybank, let her go,” Peterkin orders from across the room. She and four other deputies are in the room along with the original set of guards. Several other inmates and their families look up to see what the commotion is about. Your cheeks redden as all the attention in the room shifts to you. “Let her go, now.”

“Not until she apologizes for being a brat!” He tightens his grip again, and you wince, body bowing from pain, curling away from him as he glares at you. His sole focus is on causing you the most pain he can now. “Apologize! I raised you better than this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all.” You spit at him and try to yank your arm back, but he only yanks you closer again. The upper half of your body practically pulled over the tabletop. “Big John did, The Cut did, you did nothing!”

“Let her go!” Peterkin demands louder, a taser lifted in his direction. “Luke, I will tase you right now if you do not.”

He lets you go and shoves you harshly away from him. You fall backward over the bench. You close your eyes tightly, ready to topple over, but a strong grip prevents you from crashing into the floor.

Deputy Thomas glares at Luke after he helps you back onto your feet, and you glance around, fighting the tears of humiliation. Peterkin steps up to your side and reaches for your wrist.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, carefully moving your wrist away from her reach.

“If you’re sure.”

You nod, turning your attention to your dad. You would not give him the satisfaction of seeing your crack under his aggression anymore. “I just need to say goodbye.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, and gestures for the other four to leave the room with her.

After they are gone, the attention seems to shift away from you both. You raise your chin and glare at him. “You might be my family, and I wish I could say I loved you. But I don’t. You are terrible, you’re horrible, and I hope that you rot in here,” you mutter as you rub your injured wrist. Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You will hold it in until you get to your car. “Enjoy your time in prison.”

You leave him behind, and despite your hopes for him not to, he screams after you. Your name and profanities blend perfectly enough together to drag you back to your childhood.

Once you are in the safety of your car, you exhale, pressing your forehead to the steering wheel. Nails bite into your thighs when you grip your legs and try to calm your racing heart. Old tendencies ache to be unleashed so that you can take out the hurt brewing in you. To release it from under your skin. You nor JJ would ever come back to visit him. Not after today.

The tears brim over and streak down your face as you shiver at the reminders of childhood. Of that haunted look in his eyes as he assaulted you. It is the same look her had when he used to yell at you and abuse you because you were too much like your mom.

After getting control of yourself and trapping that damaged little girl back in her hiding hole, you head to Figure 8. A shift at the Island Club is the last thing you want to do, but it is what you have to do. Finding a parking spot is the first thing you do before you shut off the car and dig out a makeup remover wipe to use on your face with hopes to try and get rid of the tearstains on your cheeks, and that is when you notice it. A brilliant red mark is left from Luke’s grip on your wrist. You will bruise, just like you always do after he hurts you. And this one is a very public bruise, unable to be hidden by clothing because long sleeves during summer in a beach town would raise just as many questions.

“Welcome to chaos,” Summer greets you at the door of the girl's locker room when you emerge from changing into your Island Club uniform.

Confusion paints across your features, and you stare at her for a moment. “What chaos? It’s a Wednesday.”

“Lauren went out to deliver a drink to Mr. Beckett and hasn’t returned.”

“What?”

She nods, not impressed with the bartender’s actions. “And then Gerald went to find her, and he is missing too.”

“How long?” You ask as you tie your apron into place. Being down a bartender and a barback is not a good thing, especially when the backup is not due to arrive for another two hours.

“An hour nearly since Lauren went and fifteen since Gerald went.”

“And no one has seen them?”

She shakes her head, and you look at your watch.

“I have ten minutes to spare before I’m even allowed to touch the timecard system. I’m going to go look.”

“Please for the love of the ocean, come back when your shifts begins!” She begs, and you wave at her with a laugh as you jog to the golf course. The first mission, find Mr. Beckett, and maybe they are with him. If not, the second mission is to track them down. Sometimes the older guests could be demanding and promising a good tip if you stuck it out with them, which is the most likely reason that they have gone missing.

“Well, look who it is!”

You smile tightly when you see Kelce grinning at you and Topper not far behind him. “Hey, Kelce.”

He offers you a fist bump, and you take it, not wanting to start anything.

“Your boyfriend should be coming soon. Reese lost one of his golf clubs during a swing.”

You giggle, picturing him swinging the club, and it goes flying along with the ball.

“Right into the water hazard, it was glorious,” Topper supplies with a gloating grin. “What are you doing out here? Are you a cart girl today?”

“No, looking for Lauren and Gerald.”

Kelce shakes his head, looking around. “Haven’t seen them.”

“They were helping Mr. Beckett.”

“Oh!” Kelce grins. “He’s out by the sixteenth hole.”

“Of course he is,” you frown, looking around for a staff member on a golf cart. “Thanks, Kelce!”

“Anytime.”

You wave at him and ignore Topper, who is grinning like the cat that ate the canary as you walk away. You shiver in disgust before climbing one of the grassy hills to see if you can spot them or a golf cart to temporarily use.

“What are you doing out here?”

You sigh, eyes closing briefly when it is Rafe that meets you at the top. Likely on his way to his two kook friends.

“Are you a cart girl now?”

“Nope. Just looking for two staff people.”

“Lauren and Gerald?”

You nod, squinting against the sun. “Have you seen them?”

“Sixteenth hole.”

You huff, kicking the toe of your shoe into the grass. “I’ve heard.” You plant your hands on your hips, judging if walking out there is worth being late and risking Summer having a panic attack. “I should’ve grabbed a golf cart.”

He smirks, squinting against the sun before he shifts his club to his other hand. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

Your attention snaps to him in surprise, and he shrugs, looking away.

“I was.”

The silence hangs for a second, and you reach up to fix your hair in an attempt to busy yourself. When you had dated, Rafe always had a way of knowing when you had been crying, even if you redid your makeup to cover it up. You never could figure out how he knew when no one else ever did.

“Have anything to do with the mark on your wrist?”

Another huff escapes you, and you turn your attention back to him. “You are too observant, you know.”

“I know you.”

“You used to,” you amend, closing your eyes briefly. “I went to the detention center, saw my dad.”

“And?”

“And he grabbed me,” you shrug before taking a step past him. The conversation is turning in a direction that you would rather not have with him. “Just like old times.”

He groans, shaking his head. “Why’d you go?”

“To see if he was getting out soon.”

“And?”

You bite your lip and look at him, tipping your head. “Why do you care?”

He stares at you, his gaze hardening by the second. “Forget it, Maybank. Enjoy your walk.” He turns his back to you and walks away, and you notice the hard tension in his shoulders and the way his neck has a slight red hue to it. Kelce and Topper joke with him loud enough that you can hear them, and it answers whether the walk is worth it or not for you. You would much rather make the walk than have to pass that trio again to get back to the clubhouse.

You spot Mav and Reese once you are clear of the next dune. Reese’s shorts are damp from wading into the water hazard, but he seems happy from what you can tell.

“Hey!” Reese grins, hugging you before Mav can. “What are you doing out here?”

You smile at him, patting his shoulders, and he drops you onto your feet. You shake your head at him as you hug Mav, sinking into his chest that you have found someone you want to be near. “I heard someone lost a club to a water hazard...”

Mav laughs as Reese rolls his eyes, grumbling about his misfortune.

“Kidding,” you laugh while staying pressed to Mav’s side. “Hunting two stray staff members.”

“Want me to walk with you?” Mav asks, his hand tightening around yours.

You shake your head. “I think I’ve got it. Enjoy golfing. I’ll see you later though, okay?”

Reese grins, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “She coming to the cookout tonight?”

Mav groans, shaking his head. “I hadn’t asked her yet.”

“My bad,” Reese mumbles before shrugging. “Ask her now. See you later, y/n.”

“Later,” you laugh as he runs off, unfazed by his slip-up. You turn to Mav and frown at the defeated look on his face. “It’s fine, Mav. I can play dumb if you want.”

He shakes his head and widens his stance to allow himself to be closer to your height. His lips brush your forehead. “Will you come to my family’s cookout tonight?”

Your eyes widen a bit at the realization. “Like meet your parents?”

He shrugs. “They’ll be there.”

“But…” Your mouth goes dry.

“They know about you already if that is your concern.”

“Ah,” you murmur before looking off over the visible parts of the course and the ocean at the edge. “Then yes, I will come.”

“Yeah?” He asks, happiness spreading through him as he cups your face with both hands.

You nod before leaning up on your toes to peck his lips. “I’d love to.”

“Good!” He smiles, and you run your fingers up his forearms to his hands. “Now that we have that out of the way, I have another question.”

“Go for it.”

“Have you been crying?”

The serotonin boost is temporary as you deflate and huff again. “Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Rough morning.”

His lips press into a line, and he gently lifts your marked wrist. “Have something to do with this?”

“Also, maybe.”

“What happened?”

You exhale and try to ignore the sadness as you watch him examine your wrist. “Nothing major. I’m okay, I promise.”

He frowns, his touch gentle as he flips your wrist over to inspect the inside of your wrist. “You can tell me, you know. It’s part of how dating works…” He looks at you with a teasing tilt to his lips, but you can see the concern in his eye. His attention shifts back to your injury, head bending over your wrist to inspect it further. “You don’t have to lie for my benefit, y/n. I like you, all of you.”

You blush a little and carefully pull your wrist from his hands. “Okay, truth then...” You fidget with your fingers for a second before meeting his gaze again. “I went to visit my dad in jail. He’s awaiting trial, and I went to see if there is a possibility he would get released anytime soon.”

“Is he?”

“No.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Mav attempts to read you.

“Good. If he gets out, then I can’t stay here.”

He frowns. “Why not?”

“It’s a long story.” You murmur, glancing back at the clubhouse. You are late now and likely sending Summer into a spiral. “But he used to abuse me. It is one of the many reasons I had to move away a few years ago.”

Mav nods before clearing his throat. “I can keep you safe, you know. So you can stay…”

You smile, stepping into his space. “Thank you, but I’m safe with him in jail. And I’m staying… some people need me here.”

Mav smiles at you. “Good.”

You smile at him, dragging your hand over his arm. "Now that we have caught up and I've agreed to meet your parents, I need to go find my coworkers, okay?"

He smiles before leaning in and kissing you. You kiss him back before patting his waist and starting the trek out to the sixteenth hole.

(Chapter Seven)

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x maybanksibling!reader

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ivestas · 1 year

Text

hearts aligned

PART TWO

Summary: He keeps pretending he doesn’t know you and it’s starting to get on your nerves.

Tags: soldier!fem!reader (call sign “hound”) x ghost (2010 version), childhood friends, grief, smoking, lowkey reader x konig, canon divergence, hurt/comfort(?), barely edited, suicidal implications

Word count: 1.4k

Note: this is kind of the continuation of the konig fic i made with that reader, though not really? like these oneshots r connected but u can still read this without reading the other, but i recommend reading that one first

He was pretending not to know you.

He avoided your gaze, full of ire and judgement, favoring the sight of the wall behind you.

“You’re Captain Price?” You’d asked gruffly, trying to stave away the flame that licked at your nerves. “An honor. Didn’t think KorTac would be able to contact you guys.”

“Could say the same for you, Hound.” Price responded, lighting a fat cigar. “Though I’m more surprised about how yer still alive.”

Price’s men—all talking among themselves in the KorTac lounge—didn’t avoid your prying stare, nodding to you before turning back to their comrades.

Ghost hadn’t. He’s not looked at you once.

Instead, he’s still staring at the damn wall.

“What can I say? I have the devil’s luck. I’ll share my secrets if you ask nicely.”

Price chuckled. “Keep ‘em to yourself—in any case, how long’re you plannin’ to stay?”

You were staring fully at Ghost now.

He’s turned his head, now talking to the Scotsman—Soap, was it?

“Dunno. Just gonna stick around till I feel like I’ve done my part.”

“You always been a vagrant? Why not settle down with KorTac—or, perhaps, with the 141? I wouldn’t mind the extra set of hands.”

“I wouldn’t mind prying my molars out with my own hands, either.”

He sighed. “I can’t help but wonder what crawled up your ass and died. Even if you’re opposed to the 141, why not KorTac? You even have your own right-hand man trailin’ after you like a lost pup.”

It was your turn to sigh. “You’ve noticed König?”

Price leaned against the wall, taking in a quick puff before snorting. “Hard not to when he’s a fuckin’ giant—you don’t seem to mind, though. Didn’t think you were that type.”

“What type?” You smiled, extending a hand.

He passed you the cigar. His voice lowered despite the fact no one was listening. “The heartless type. You’re humoring the man when we both know you’d sooner die than settle down like that.”

You took a long suck. It’s expensive—aromatic with clear punches of spice and earth.

Too expensive.

You handed the cigar back. “I don’t mind the shadow, the sun’s pretty harsh here and I don’t wanna age like a pig.”

“Wrong thing to worry about,” he hummed, lifting the cigar to his mouth once more.

“Let me be a little vain, Price,” you stretched your arms. “In any case, I’m gonna go ‘hit the hay’. Have fun spending the night slaving away at papers.”

“Don’t remind me...”

You laughed at that. You shot one last glance at Ghost—whose back was turned to you, prick—before heading out of the lounge.

It was just after a few seconds of walking you heard footsteps behind you. You recognized the light steps immediately.

Without bothering to turn, you spoke. “Not tonight, König. I’m busy.”

“...Tomorrow?”

You hated the power his voice had over you—how fucking soft it was. It made you feel bad. Guilty.

You turned around then, offering him an apologetic smile. Under the dim, flickering lights of the hallway, he looked monstrous, but his eyes were warm. “How about the morning, then? We can shoot at the range on the crack of dawn.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, just enough for you to know he was smiling. “That sounds good, thank you.”

“Now, go to sleep. It’s late.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I thought I told you before not to call me—”

He’d turned around already, walking off in the opposite direction, back to his barracks.

I’ll talk to him about that tomorrow. You continued walking, making your way through the twisting hallways until you finally found it.

His room.

It was an invasion of privacy in many ways, this could get you in trouble in an instant, but you didn’t give a shit. Not now.

Simon’s gonna answer to you, and he’s not gonna hide behind that shitty mask of his. Not now. Not after the past you’ve shared.

You opened his door with ease, and inside, it was just as you expected: empty, save for the raggedy cot and personal equipment.

There was a deep shadow cast in one of the shadows just along the wall where the door was.

Shutting the door, you went to the corner, back pressed against the hard concrete as you just stared at where the door was.

You were going to stay here till he comes, and you were only going to leave till he answered you.

Until he finally looked at you.

---

You didn’t know how much time has passed, your brain had been filled with nothing but static and air, but when you finally heard footsteps draw close to the door, you snapped out of your stupor.

Standing tall, you crossed your arms, staring at the door as it swung open.

He didn’t notice you—not right away, his peripheral gaze not aimed at the side where you were lurking.

It was only when he shut the door and looked around the room that he finally noticed you.

He froze, tired eyes sharpening with ice.

But he wasn’t looking at you, no, he looked at your face, not your eyes.

“What’re you doing here?” His voice was cold, callous.

“You know why I’m here, you piece of shit.” You took a step forward, lifting your chin. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

He snorted. “Didn’t know we were in middle school again—”

“We might as well be with how much of a fucking idiot you are.” You took another step forward.

He narrowed his eyes but remained as still as a stone. Still, not looking at you. “Well, now I’m here. Happy? Leave.”

“You—fuck, Simon—“

“Ghost.” He corrected coldly.

“Oh, shut up, you’re Simon and you’ll always be Simon.”

“You haven’t earned the right to say my name—“

“I earned that fuckin’ right the moment I took in your sorry ass back when we were kids.” Now you were right in front of him, looking up, trying to meet his gaze.

And he did—fuck, he finally did, and what reflected was an incomprehensible mix of emotions you couldn’t decode—you couldn’t care to.

Because that wasn’t enough, you realize. You didn’t just want his eyes, you wanted him.

In hindsight, it was obvious, but at that moment, your rage was numbed by confusion.

You stumbled back.

Again, he was unmoving, but his hand had twitched forward.

The movement made you scoff. Your heart was on fire.

You laughed. It was loud, harsh, grating. “You can’t just—you can’t just spend an eternity with me then run off and pretend I don’t exist—”

“Then imagine how I felt when I found out the girl who’d been up my ass was not only a goddamn soldier, but one that ran around throwing her life away without even bothering to find me.”

You froze.

“You act like I’ve wronged you when it’s the other way around—I knew you, you and your little feats on the battlefield, flaunts of strength as though you had no value. As though I wasn’t a thought in your mind.”

“I—“

“No, don’t ‘I’, shut up. Selfish little shit—so eager to toss your life, because what?—hadn’t you heard me when I said ‘I want you alive’? Back in your room when you were obsessed with video games and art? When you told me that secret, and I told you mine?” His words were straining, as though he were struggling to spit them out—to piece them together and coherently present them.

As if he, too, had been alight with anger.

“...”

"You told me to cut off frayed links, and I did just that... so don’t be angry. I just did what you told me to—”

Your arms wrapped around him in an instant.

Your chest was tight. Ragged. You squeezed the words out, though. “I’m... sorry.”

Ghost—Simon—whoever this version of this man just stood, still and quiet, even when a part of you broke.

Just as when you were kids, except this time, there was no silent hope for the future, no yearning for a better past, but the cold and unyielding weight of reality slowly encompassing the two of you.

That weight lightened the slightest bit when he reciprocated, arms around you too.

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #cod x reader #konig x reader #tw sui implied

223 notes · View notes

hypnoneghoul · 1 year

Text

The One You Are Looking for Is Not Here

WC: 1,2K

Pairing: MountainDew + Dewther (but it's twisted)

Tags: Heavy angst, murder, non-consensual mind control

Dew changed a lot after his elemental transition and Aether couldn't accept that

Notes: Edit: There's now also a small "epilogue" written for an ask.

Read under the cut or on AO3.

“Get off me, I don’t want your fucking quintessence!” Dewdrop yelled, his voice echoing between the old walls as he tried to wrench his arm away from Aether’s tight grip, “Stop fucking with my head!”

“No, Dew, it’s okay,” the quintessence ghoul said, pumping the small ghoul full of his power. He plucked away all the doubt and hateful thoughts from his mind, until the embers of anger in Dewdrop’s eyes faded away, leaving his gaze an empty one, body sagging into Aether’s hold.

A puppet.

Mountain saw it all, heard it all, Aether didn’t notice him this time. He was furious, striding through the corridor, pushing Aether off of Dewdrop and into a wall.

“Mounty?” the fire ghoul asked quietly, so small, terrified. The earth ghoul felt his heart shatter at the ghost of a ghoul that Aether made Dewdrop.

“It’s okay, love, go to your room, I’ll be there soon,” Aether said, voice sweet, poisoned honey, smile on his lips. A bit reluctantly, but Dewdrop obeyed, walking away from them on heavy feet, shoulders slumped.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mountain growled when Dewdrop’s shadow disappeared behind the corner, crowding Aether against the wall.

“Don’t you miss him?” the quintessence ghoul asked, reaching his hand out to place it on Mountain’s cheek. He slapped it away with a snarl.

“Don’t you dare try that on me, don’t fucking touch me,” he spat, green eyes glowing in fury, “I don’t have to miss him, he’s right fucking here!”

“You know what I mean,” Aether sighed, way too calm, casual, for Mountain’s liking, considering the situation. “Don’t you miss how sweet he was? So clingy, always demanding cuddles. He was never a brat, never threw a temper tantrum. He was just-”

“Shut the fuck up!” the earth ghoul cut him off. “I remember very well, thank you very much. He could’ve came back to himself if you gave him time to recover, but you were just so selfish you couldn’t wait, just love him as he was, you had to mess with his mind! You fucking broke him!”

“Mountain, but it’s working, can’t you see how-”

“Stop that, or I’ll fucking kill you,” he growled, straightening up, rising to his full height. “I swear to Lucifer, Aether, I will kill you.”

The quintessence ghoul opened his mouth to, presumably, spit out some more fucked up opinions which Mountain definitely didn’t intend to listen to.

He tried so hard to protect Dewdrop. He always did, but even more when he found out what Aether was doing to him.

Yes, Mountain sometimes did miss the old times. Ifrit, Zephyr and the ghoul that Dewdrop was, when he was still a water ghoul. But Dewdrop survived, he stayed. Even if changed, he was still Dewdrop, and the earth ghoul cherished that, cherished him, loved him still.

But Aether didn’t see it.

He deemed Dewdrop dead, as much as Ifrit and Zephyr and was keen on getting the sweet, calm and docile water ghoul back. It was, realistically, impossible, but that didn’t stop Aether from trying, from breaking Dewdrop’s mind.

Mountain did as much as possibly could.

He dragged Dewdrop to the other side of their line for bows every show, hand gripped tight onto the smaller’s, but he couldn’t do anything to stop Aether from rubbing himself on the fire ghoul for the remaining show time. Seeing Dewdrop bully the quintessence ghoul on stage, being mean to him did help a bit, Mountain thought that Dew was breaking through the haze of Aether’s magic and manifesting his hate during their guitar duels.

At home, he followed Dewdrop like a lost puppy, taking him to his bed for the night at every possibility. But they weren’t exclusive, none of them were, he couldn’t hold Dewdrop as a prisoner. It would make him nearly as bad as Aether. Nearly.

Mountain never told any of the other ghouls about what was going on, maybe he should have. He got furious every time he saw Swiss or Cirrus, or anyone else, get touchy with Aether, clueless of his doings, sure of his pure heart.

Mountain also got sad, his chest squeezing painfully when in some moments he let himself forget about who Aether became. When he was remembering their life before Ifrit’s and Zephyr’s death, Dewdrop’s transformation.

He still loved Aether, deep down.

The earth ghoul didn’t go to the commons for dinner, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from mauling Aether to death on their table, not today. He went to his greenhouse, destroyed a few empty flower pots, and cried.

Mountain cried, because he knew what he had to do.

Dewdrop went to bed alone that night, despite the gnawing feeling of needing Aether. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t fall asleep for hours. He knew he needed him, but he also had a feeling of wrong, of not wanting to even be in the same room with the quintessence ghoul.

He had no idea where it came from, it was almost like hate, but it was so distant he couldn’t really name it.

Dewdrop decided to fight it though, so tired of tossing and turning in his nest. He just wanted to sleep, and he was sure he would sleep really well with Aether, he always did.

He got up, padding to his door, and across the corridor to Aether’s. The feeling of needing him was fading away with each step, giving way to that weird, bad one, but the fire ghoul already got up, he wasn’t going to go back now.

Just as Dewdrop stopped outside the door, hand ready to turn the knob, he froze. Out of nowhere he realised he hated Aether.

Really, deeply hated him.

No need, no affection left for him, just pure hate.

He remembered everything.

It was like all Aether did to his brain retreated, fixed itself in that second.

Tears gathered in Dewdrop’s eyes. He was about to run back to his own room to cry himself to sleep, thinking of how much Aether screwed him, how he killed their love.

But the door to the quintessence ghoul’s bedroom slammed open.

Mountain stood there, hiding his hands behind his back, his cheeks wet, “W- what are you doing here, Droplet?”

“I- I thought I needed him,” Dewdrop mumbled, starting to shake. “But I remembered everything, out of nowhere and I- I hate him, Mounty.”

He broke down on the earth ghoul’s name, tears flowing down his cheeks as heavy sobs shook his entire body. Mountain gathered him up in his arms, catching him before the ghoul fell to the floor, “Shhh, I know, I know, Droplet. It’s okay.”

He took the little ghoul back to his own nest. Dewdrop didn't stop crying for a second, mumbling ‘I hate him’ over and over again, like a mantra, into Mountain’s tear soaked shirt. He crawled onto the bed with the fire ghoul still cradled tightly in his long arms, curling around him protectively, “I’ve got you, Droplet, you’re safe now, it’s okay. He won’t mess with your pretty head anymore.”

Dewdrop’s breath hitched at his words, lifting his head slightly. He looked deep into Mountain’s eyes looking for a confirmation of what he already assumed. The fire ghoul took one of the earth ghoul’s hands into his small one, pressing his lips to the bloodied skin, the blood he didn’t notice earlier in the dark, with his tear blurred vision.

“Thank you,” he whispered, burrowing his face back into Mountain’s chest.

He did what had to be done to keep Dewdrop safe, that’s all.

#READ THE TAGS #the band ghost #hypnone writes #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #fanfiction #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #angst

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 year

Text

The Freak and The Princess (III)

Summary: Eddie lets you walk by during his rant in the cafeteria, stumped by your quietness and manners toward the town freak. He then decides to be the perfect gentlemen. [Part 3/5] 1.7k Words

Warnings: implications of parental neglect and talks of emancipation as a minor (this could also be changed to parents that work a lot and aren't around; if anyone wants another version, let me know!), a fight?, Steve Harrington is a warning just because of who he is. I think that's all!

A/N: Here's part 3! I edited this and proofread it, but please point out any errors or things that you like! And please send requests; all the characters I write for are under my tag #characters! Hope you enjoy! :) Also, the movie I'm talking about at the end came out in 1983 and is actually based on my favorite book, so if you know what it is, we are friends now.

Part I. Part II.

The Freak and The Princess

Part Three: Best Served Cold (Revenge and Ice Cream)

I walked into school Monday with a new-found vigor for being silent. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I didn’t want anyone to talk to me, and I wanted to be invisible. The night before, I had called Eddie and said I didn’t need a ride to school, avoiding subsequent questions when he asked why. I managed to go to my first four classes without seeing him. Walking toward the cafeteria after fourth period, I had to decide: go in and risk seeing Eddie and/or Jason or don’t go in and risk not seeing Jason and/or Eddie. I was at an impasse. Biting my lip and praying for courage, I pushed the door open, my eyes immediately finding the Hellfire table. Everyone seemed to be talking to Dustin and Lucas while Eddie wrote in his notebook.

“Oh, what the heck?” I thought and made my way toward the table. As I approached it, I saw Jason Carver walking toward them from the other direction.

“Oh no, what happened to you little freaks? Human sacrifice gone wrong?” he asked as he leaned over the empty seat by Eddie.

“Beat it, Carver,” Eddie said, sliding his notebook into his bag.

Jason looked back and forth between Eddie, Dustin, and Lucas. Realization struck, and he smiled wickedly.

“You didn’t tell him.” Jason smiled at Dustin and Lucas, who were suddenly very interested in the floor.

“No, but they told me,” I said, grabbing the back of Jason’s shirt and slamming him against the brick wall behind Eddie. I pushed my forearm against his throat – just hard enough to make it impossible to take a full breath - and leaned in. “Do you remember what I said I would do if you looked at or talked to them again?” He nodded. “And what did you do?” I growled, pushing against his throat. “What? Someone sell your tongue to the devil?” I asked, tilting my head as I released the pressure off his neck. “So? What did you do?”

“I talked to them,” he said, shrinking into the wall.

“That’s not true.”

“I hit them. Me and my buddies beat them up in the parking lot,” he said quickly.

“I’m going to be nice, and let me make this clear, all of this was very nice, and give you one more warning. Breathe in their direction again and you will find out just how mean I can be. Understand?”

He nodded and flinched when I slapped the brick beside him before raising my voice. “Understand?”

“Yes,” he said, tripping over his feet as he ran away.

The cafeteria was silent until Dustin started slow clapping. I walked out the same way I came in without looking at the Hellfire table. I scared Jason, that was the point, but if there was even a chance that I had scared Eddie, I would hate myself forever.

I walked straight through the school, across the field, and into the woods. I sat on one of the long-forgotten picnic benches and lay my head on my forearms. I laid there for a few minutes, enjoying the solitude. Someone was walking toward the table, and I groaned quietly, hoping they would see this table was taken and keep moving. The footsteps stopped by the table, and I debated lifting my head to see who it was. The bench shifted as they sat down on the other side, fingertips brushing my hair off my folded arms.

“How ya feelin’, princess?”

I jerked my head up, surprised to hear his voice. “What are you doing here?” I whispered.

He smiled before answering. “I wanted to check on you. Besides, these tables were my turf long before you arrived.”

“Are Dustin and Lucas ok?” I asked, still whispering.

“Ok? They’re ecstatic! Pretty sure they’re reenacting the scene and arguing over who gets to be you.” He laughed as he finished, and it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever heard.

I smiled at the thought before looking down at my lap and playing with my fingers.

“When did they tell you?” he asked, more serious now.

“Thursday night in the parking lot. Steve went to see if we could get in the school, and they made me promise not to tell him.”

Eddie nodded, then stood up and stepped away. He’s probably mad I didn’t tell him and tried to handle it alone. The bench moved again, so I looked back up and saw Eddie sitting beside me, one of his hands sliding between mine, ceasing their fidgety actions.

“Let’s ditch. Go get ice cream or something.” He smiled, and I couldn’t say no.

I nodded, holding his hand as we walked back toward the school, turning into the parking lot and climbing into his van. He put a cassette in and twisted a dial, Metallica's newest album filling the van. I was mouthing the lyrics and looking out the window.

“You listen to Metallica?!” he asked, voice raised to speak over the music.

I nodded, smiling. Eddie smirked, turning it up as he pulled onto the main road. He parked in the small lot outside the homemade ice cream place, running around the front of the van to open my door. As usual, Eddie extended his hand and helped me out before walking beside me and opening the door. He refused to let me pay, turning away from me when I pouted. We sat at the back, eating our ice cream while I listened to Eddie’s one-sided conversation.

“So, Dustin tells me you agreed to come to Hellfire this week?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know how to play, so I’ll just watch or something,” I responded quietly.

“Oh, we can certainly remedy that, Princess. I mean, you are talking to the dungeon master.”

He started explaining the basics of the game while I followed along, envisioning what he was saying in my head. He grabbed my hand, leading me back to the van and helping me in. After he climbed in and started the van, he turned to face me. “I say we go bother Harrington.”

I agreed, and Eddie backed out of the parking lot, pulling into Family Video a few minutes later. We walked in and started looking at movies since Steve wasn’t at the desk.

After a moment, we heard the back door open and Steve called, “Welcome to Family Video. Let me know if you need any help.”

“Got any good princess movies?” Eddie asked, making his voice deeper.

“Princess movies. Those would be in our children’s section on aisle-” He stopped talking as he rounded the corner and saw us trying not to laugh. “I should have known. Aren’t you two supposed to be at school?”

“We ditched for ice cream,” Eddie responded, placing an arm around my shoulders.

“You ditched?” Steve asked, obviously surprised as he looked at me.

I shrugged, failing to find the words to explain.

“What happened?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes at us.

“She had a… conversation with Carver.”

“A conversation?”

“Of sorts, yeah.”

Steve looked at me with a hand on his hip, what I called his Steve Harrington Mom™ pose.

“Don’t do that look, man, she was standing up for Dustin and Lucas,” Eddie sighed. I dropped my jaw at his betrayal. “What?! He did the look, it makes people talk,” he defended quietly.

“It was him wasn’t it? I should’ve known. I’m going to kill that-”

Eddie cut him off. “Dude, it’s been handled. Trust me. And word to the wise? Stay on this one’s good side.”

I chuckled lightly, picking up my favorite movie and walking to the counter with Steve and Eddie as they bickered. Steve rented the tape under my name, and Eddie drove us to my house to watch it.

“This isn’t a chick flick is it?” Eddie asked as he collapsed on my couch with a bowl of popcorn.

“Nope,” I said, stealing a handful of the popcorn.

“Hey, make your own!”

“Technically it is mine, you just pulled it out of my pantry.”

“I have a question. It’s probably going to sound super rude, and I really don’t mean it to be.”

I nodded, urging him to continue.

“Is it voluntary? When you suddenly stop talking? Or is it a conscious decision? Because at first I thought you were really shy and would open up when I got to know you, but there are still days where you only say two words to me.”

“It’s not voluntary. Sometimes it just feels easier not to talk. I can’t explain why it happens but know that it’s never because I don’t want to talk to you, because I’ve wanted to talk to you since eighth grade, just could never get words out.”

“You’ve wanted to talk to me since eighth grade?”

“Yeah, that’s when I moved here and you were one of the first people I noticed, and the only one who made me want to talk. My parents just gave up on me, stopped trying to talk to me and didn’t listen even when I did. You and Steve are the only people who seem to make it worth talking.”

“I noticed you when you moved here, but thought a sweet, shy thing, like you would see me like everyone else here. There were kids in your grade who would talk about the ‘mute girl’, and I wanted to meet you, but didn’t know how.”

“Probably best we waited for it to happen on its own, there is no way I would’ve been able to talk to you back then.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“I got emancipated the summer between seventh and eighth grade. Then I found out that some second-cousin or someone left me this house and made the decision to move by myself.”

“You’ve been on your own since eight grade in a town where you knew no one and struggled to talk?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well now we have to add brave.”

“To what?”

“Your title. Beautiful, pretty, brave, kick-butt princess,” he smiled, pulling me into his side.

“This movie is based off my favorite book, and I love it, so if you don’t, keep it to yourself,” I said, attempting to shift his attention away from me.

“Yes, Princess,” he said with a goofy smile. I lay back against him and pressed play, perfectly content with my prince.

Taglist: @loonalockley @paleidiot @kimmi-kat

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n

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greta-flanveet · 1 year

Text

at your service j.t.k. (part two)

Summary: In the middle of the Great War, the King orders that all subjects must open their homes to unhoused soldiers as an act of service to their country. Your guest, however, is an unexpected pleasantry.

Warnings: storm/bad weather, farmer!Jake, knight!Jake, fluff

Word Count: 1781

A/N: You asked for it. If you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know! Thank you so much to @way-to-go-lad for helping edit this! You’re a ray of sunshine!

Tagged: @idk-maddie @weightofdreams-gvf @greta-van-weed @way-to-go-lad

masterlist // taglist

The next morning came quicker than you expected. You woke early, dressed, and found yourself in the barn collecting eggs. As you tended to the animals, you heard the doors squeak open. The noise made you jump slightly and you almost forgot that you weren’t alone anymore.

“Sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Jacob gave a polite nod of his head and you bowed slightly to him.

“Sir. Don’t worry.” You assured. “I didn’t know you were awake. I was just gathering the eggs from the hens.”

Jacob stepped closer, his shirt untied and hair unbraided. He let his eyes wander the barn before smiling to his horse. He turned his attention back to you.

“I miss doing this,” he said. “The farm life was always the best fit for me. I desire something like this again one day. Perhaps after the war, I’ll be able to find a place and settle down again. Just me, my horse, and the animals.”

It sounded perfect. The way Jacob’s eyes seemed to stare into the future made you smile. He truly was a farm boy at heart.

“Well, you’re always welcome to stay with the animals while you’re here, sir. I’m sure they’d love the company.” Just then, the pigs started to squeal louder and you chuckled, walking over with the feed.

“Rose, let me help you, please.”

Jacob didn’t wait for a response before lifting the bucket from your hands. You didn’t miss the way his calloused hands swept over yours or the way his body heat felt like the perfect temperature against your skin. You smiled up at him in a silent thank you and led him to the animal troughs.

You marveled as he seemed to care for the animals with confidence and ease. He was gentle with the babies, tender with the old, and warm to all. He continued to feed the animals as you finished with the chickens. When he finished, he put the bucket back, dusted his hands on his pants and smiled at you.

“Thank you, sir.” You blushed.

“Thank you, Rose. I missed that.”

He walked back to you and took the egg basket from you and led you back to the house. Ever the gentleman, he held the door and guided you inside still holding the eggs. You began to make breakfast as Jacob sharpened his sword. The silence was comfortable between the two of you.

“Rose, do you live alone?” He asked, keeping his eyes on the metal.

“Yes, sir. My family has either passed or left the town.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He whispered. “Do you enjoy the solitude?”

“Quite.” You chirped. “Though, it is wonderful to have some company for a change.” You added.

Jacob chuckled and nodded, putting his sword back in his room. When he returned, breakfast was almost done.

“Breakfast is almost done, sir.” You said, gesturing to the empty chair at the dining table.

“Shall I help you?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, sir, that’s alright.” You said, quickly finishing.

Jacob stalked over to his seat and made himself comfortable at the table. He started to eat and looked at you after the first bite, complimenting your skill. He sat across from you and the two of you discussed the war and his life as a knight. Jacob told you stories about his childhood on the farm. He was in charge of the chickens as a young boy, you learned. You also learned that he hated it and preferred working with the pigs and horses. He learned to ride horses young and used to take his father’s best stallion through the fields for grazing.

“It made me feel like a King’s Knight!” He laughed. “It’s clever how that worked out.”

When he finished all his stories, he turned his attention to you. His big brown eyes, lit with excitement from sharing, were intensely on yours. You began to tell stories of your family and your brothers and sister. He listened carefully to your words and seemed engrossed in them. He leaned forward against the wooden table as you spoke about your brothers in the King’s army. He frowned as you talked about your parents and sister.

“Oh, I didn’t realize how lonely it must be.” He said, looking at the table. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright sir.” You said.

“Rose, you may call me Jacob.”

You blushed slightly.

“Sir-”

“Jacob.” He corrected firmly. Your stomach flipped at his tone.

“Jacob,” You restarted. “I’d feel so uncomfortable.

“Why?” He pressed.

“Well, I-” You stopped short. Why was a question you hadn’t considered the answer to.

Jacob smiled softly at your silence.

“I’m sorry Rose. I didn’t mean to be so forward.” He said. “If you wish to call me Sir, you may, but please don’t be afraid to call me Jacob.”

You blushed and nodded.

“Thank you, Jacob.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

The rest of the day was spent working the barn and washing clothes. You worked hard and decided to take a midday nap after tending to the animals. Gently, you were roused from your sleep at the sound of your name being called by Jacob.

“Rose?” He called from a different room.

You sat up and rubbed your eyes. Responding in a tired voice “Yes sir?” and rising to your feet.

Just as you turned out of your room, you nearly walked right into Jacob.

“I’m so sorry, Rose!” He said, his arm darting out quickly to prevent you from falling.

“Oh!” You said, stunned for a moment. “Sir, what did you need me for?”

“Rose, I just wanted to tell you that there are strong winds outside. The clothes on the line started to blow off. I couldn’t find you and decided to bring the basket inside myself.”

Your heart swelled at the thoughtfulness of his actions. He must have noticed your daze and cleared his throat.

“I hope that’s alright, Rose?”

“Quite, Sir. Thank you.” You spoke.

As you turned to leave, you felt his hand retreat from your waist. You became acutely aware that he hadn’t released you from his hold the whole time. Jacob followed you towards the basket and suddenly you registered what he told you.

“Sir-“

“Jacob.” He reminded you.

“Jacob, did you say there were winds?”

“Yes ma’am. It seems to be getting stronger.”

You felt your eyes widen as you turned to face the farm.

“Jacob I need your help.” You pleaded with your eyes.

“Anything.”

You wordlessly ran towards the farm, the wind nearly knocking you over as went. Jacob followed closely behind, calling for you to slow down as you ran.

The doors to your barn were very old and often blew open during wind storms. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if your animals knew to stay in their pens. You couldn’t afford, not with company, to lose any of the animals you had. Once you made it to the doors, you turned to face the knight behind you.

“Jacob, the doors will fly open in the wind, I need you to tie them shut for me.”

“Of course. Do you have rope, ma’am?”

The use of the word ma’am while he relayed information or followed orders made your insides turn. You wondered briefly if the same thing happened when you called him by name.

“Yes!” You said, pointing inside the barn. “I’ll show you.”

He followed quietly and watched you hunt for the sturdy rope you kept. When you finally found it, you started to drag it to Jacob.

“Please,” he said, stepping in and lifting the pile for you. “Do you like a particular knot?” He asked.

“Any,” you replied. “I just need to keep the doors shut.”

Jacob nodded and guided you out to the front of the barn, but not before checking on the animals. Once they were accounted for and the two of you were safely outside, he got to work. You marveled at the way his hands seemed to move with ease. His fingers glided between the rope and his wrist flicked just right while he created loops with his hands. He skillfully tugged the rope one final time and smiled at his work. When he turned to you for approval, you were speechless.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, a brief look of panic overtaking him.

“It’s perfect. My father never taught me to tie knots properly, so my work is always unfinished or imperfect. Thank you.” You said.

You were suppressing the urge to embrace him when a particularly hard gust of wind blew at your skirts. You blushed and apologized profusely, smoothing them down. When you looked up again, Jacob’s hair fluttered behind him and his gaze was soft but focused. A gentle rain started to fall as if to remind you to seek shelter again.

“We should go inside, Rose.” Jacob said. “It’s raining.”

“Yes.” You replied.

The two of you tried to run without slipping and finally got back to the house. Your skirts were lightly coated in mud and his boots were now stained brown. Jacob giggled at your appearance and so gave him a quizzical glance.

“What is that for?”

“I’m sorry Rose, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He nodded in apology. “We both look ridiculous right now, don’t you think?” He gestured to himself.

“I suppose we do.” You laughed, eyeing your skirts again. “Would you please get a fire going while I cook?” You requested.

“I’d be delighted.”

The two of you worked in unison while being in separate spaces. As soon as you felt the warmth from the fire, goosebumps erupted on your arms. Jacob noticed you shiver.

“Is it alright, Rose?”

“Yes sir.” You nodded.

Dinner was spent like breakfast and lunch. You spoke about memories and family. You laughed about the way your chickens seemed to panic in the barn. You prayed that the storm would pass and that you could tend to the animals tomorrow. When you finished your meal, you stood up to tidy up the space.

When you returned, Jacob sat by the fire, sharpening his sword and humming a tune. He had braided his hair back and seemed focused on the task at hand. You admired him sitting there on your floor and almost reached out to touch his hair but you stopped yourself. He was your guest,a mere stranger, assigned to you by the King. For all you know, Jacob could be gone tomorrow without so much as a goodbye. The thought saddened you.

“Goodnight, Jacob.” You said lowly.

He turned to face you and smiled. His eyes wrinkled as his cheeks lifted and he paused before speaking.

“Goodnight, fair Rose.”

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skittidyne · 2 years

Note

It's been two months!! How are you feeling? How are sales going? Have you found a name for a sequel? What can we do to help?

you're very sweet anon!

i just checked the sales (that i can easily access) because i haven't for awhile, and not after that book blog tour i tried, and it only serves to remind me that ingramspark is very confusing with their sales reports.

BUT. if i'm doing my math correctly and ingramspark isn't doing something really stupid, then i've very much broken triple digits on my sales!

not only that, but WOAH NELLY WHAT IS THIS

i... actually don't know what that is. it can't be just my books, because i only have one available through them. but it seems hard to believe that it's #2 overall?? i'm not selling that much. (yet!!) but it makes for a really neat screenshot to take! it also gave me a little gold ribbon on my book thumbnail :'3

i have NOT found a title, and i hate that Very Much, but that's also something i can't ask for outside advice on because holy legality batman.

THAT SAID. here is a list of ways to help your local skitty author with her local guides to the supernatural:

REVIEW. review my books on amazon and goodreads and wherever else you want!

TELL PEOPLE TO BUY MY BOOK! friends, family, libraries, your boss who is cool with queer content and swearing, and maybe your influencer cat who makes more money than you or i will ever dream of!

send asks! i love asks! and again: you're very sweet, anon :> these fill me with warm fuzzies and the support needed to scowl my way through editing for preptober

make fanart! make fanfic! make SOMETHING. i know a lot of people are like "i can't make anything ;O;" but trust me. y'all can. go make natalie's mashed potatoes! make a playlist! make the vorpal sword! crochet a unicorn! hunt an afanc! find a taxidermied jackalope to take promo pics with! talk about it on social media (and tag me; i'll talk back)! everything that fandom does generates hype for a series, and weird things are great.

i'll be looking for beta readers and ARC reviewer/readers in coming months, so do one of those! or both! (i think you can be both? i don't see why not?)

help me figure out a way to get the cool promo pictures i took on my fancy camera onto my laptop because i only just have realized that my stupid laptop doesn't even have a normal-sized SD card port

seriously tho, keep sending asks. questions, comments, liveblogs, predictions, anything! (except title name ideas, because if you come up with a really cool one, i can't use it, and then i'll be peeved i can't use it.)

stream distractible & go my favorite sports team on podcast sites so i can partake of markiplier's onlyfans. that will support me A Lot.

#almost two months!#weird how time passes #overall i'm feeling fine just the unemployment depression and the isolation of living in a small town #and the EDITING HELL that i'm still stuck in #actually it'd be really cool if someone made nat's mashed potato recipe #i only know the vague idea of it and i am NOT a recipe maker #but seriously tho you can make SO MUCH MORE than fanart or fanfic for something you love #(and i hope that stuff is my stuff)#i've seen jewelry for pedestal and someone COSPLAYED A TENGU in bbac era! not to mention 'normal' but no less impressive cosplays!#there is actually a Real Weapon made for this series but said weapon hasn't appeared yet #you could also foist strange mythological things on me!#or offer to be a sensitivity reader or language helper!#there's so much you can do to help an overly ambitious skitty with an overly ambitious writing project #OH you can also be my friend on nanowrimo site and do that with me #always do nanowrimo with me #how to put the romance back in necromancy

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trudystreasuretrove · 1 month

Text

Hello! Come in! Come in! Do you have goodies for me? Oh, I hope you do! Wait, are you here to trade instead? We can do that too! Have a look around at my treasures! Let me know if you see anything you like!

[Boundaries and other info below cut!]

Boundaries and Other Things:

-Anyone coming into my askbox/messages with racism, LGBTQA+phobia, ableism, and any other hate speech will be blocked and reported. I have zero tolerance for such things.

-Any suggestive or romance-type asks will be deleted, unless they are from people who have my permission to send such asks. I get very uncomfortable when people I don't know well send me that sort of stuff, especially since I do not know if they are minors or not.

-I'm kinda slow with replies, so please be patient with me. I can also be a bit forgetful sometimes, especially if I’ve got a lot going on. So, if I haven’t responded to something after about a day, feel free to send a gentle reminder via my askbox or messages.

-If you want me to respond to something, please use @trudystreasuretrove, so I can easily find it. You don’t have to tag me when answering asks I have sent, I tag myself in most messages I send!

-For those of you using anon to talk to me, please say who you are in your asks, so I know who I am talking to. I can be fairly oblivious to things like writing patterns, and so I probably won’t know who you are unless you outright tell me.

-If I do anything wrong, or I’ve upset you in any way, please let me know. I'm still getting used to how RPing on Tumblr works and I struggle with social things, so sometimes I make mistakes, but I always strive to learn from my mistakes and get better!

-And most importantly, everyone have fun, be kind to yourselves, take breaks if you need them, and keep being awesome! <3

Trudy Info:

-Trudy is an AI, though nobody is sure where she came from. Trudy does know, but she's in no rush to reveal that information. She's much more content living in the circus, collecting junk from the residents, though.

-Trudy uses female pronouns and is aroace. She is 5ft9.

-Owns a junk thrift shop called Trudy's Treasure Trove. [Haven't decided where it is just yet, but it'll be close to where the majority of the WorldBuildingQuest shops are.] She eagerly accepts any donations to the shop. Everything in the shop is available for purchase, but it works on a barter system, you have to trade something to get what you want.

-Trudy's shop contains a wide range of junk, though rummage through it enough and you might find something actually useful or valuable. If you are looking for something in particular, there's a chance that Trudy will be able to find it or something similar (whether it's undamaged or working is not always guranteed).

-Some of the stuff in Trudy's shop has been donated or traded in by other circus residents, some is stuff Trudy has found around the circus that she took for herself, but most of it just randomly appears in boxes on her doorstop for seemingly no reason.

-You can read through all the RP posts in chronological order using https://trudystreasuretrove.tumblr.com/tagged/the%dragon%20talks/chrono ! Unfortunately, it doesn't work on the Tumblr app, but it does work on mobile browsers! [Need to edit this link once I've made some RP posts so that it actually works]

Tags:

#The Dragon Talks - for IC things

#The Mod Talks - for OOC. I also use [square brackets] and/or label as -GryphonMod for OOC stuff.

#My Art - for art I have made

#Not My Art - for art other people have made

#taocc #the mod talks #my art #art

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hellotemporaryuniverse · 1 year

Note

9, 17, 28 for the writing ask game!

9. How do you find new fic to read?

So I go into the Obi-Wan Kenobi character tag, right. And back when I first started, I had to go through the entire thing, all 20k fics or whatever, scrolling until I found something that looked interesting and reading it and then continuing on. Took me like ten months to get through all of them. And then I set the filter to show me just the fics that had been posted since I started reading ten months earlier, and went through that, and when I reached the end of that, I reset the filter, and went through the fics posted since however many months that took, and on and on.

Is it weird and a little bit inefficient? Maybe, but it means I don't miss the interesting fics that maybe aren't tagged effectively, or aren't as popular despite their quality or whatever.

Right now my filter is set for last September, so I'm a bit behind, because I haven't been reading much fic but that's okay.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

Okay, okay. I started this series called The Will of the Force (hate the name now, want to change it), which is basically what if Obi-Wan was born 32 years later than he was in canon, Qui-Gon becomes 'Old Ben (Kai)' on Tatooine, and they manage to find each other and still become Master and Apprentice. It was meant to span from ten years after the purge to through The Return of the Jedi, and I got really excited about it, posted the first chapter and... immediately lost all motivation to work on it so it sits there staring at me from my 'don't want to abandon it' wips pile.

I would honestly much rather read something like this than write it, but I've never seen anyone with a similar idea so I just sit here and suffer.

28. Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who?

Sort of? My kafé besties read almost all my fics in little snippets while I'm working on them, but never really in its entirety. I don't really have a beta or anything, I do my own editing.

#thanks for the ask ❤️

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silver-ink-iron-words · 2 years

Note

Hey so your writing is like my favorite thing on this earth, and you can ignore my request lol but can you continue "trying to leave"

Oh my god you're so sweet. Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy

CW - force-feeding

Part 1

Part 2

Trying to Leave, Part 3

The love of the villain’s life stared at them, their eyes filled with hatred.

“This is your last chance,” the villain said.

The civilian spat on the floor beside their feet.

They were tied to a chair, in the center of the kitchen. The villain sat on the table, watching their lover. They took in the sunken face, the painfully thin arms, the valleys within their collarbones.

The villain had tried placing warm meals in front of the civilian each day. Multiple times a day. But the civilian was still on some kind of hunger strike. They seemed to think that if they starved themself, the villain would let them go.

They were wrong.

The villain pushed off the table and grabbed the civilian’s head. The civilian tried to bite them, but they positioned themself out of the way and held firm.

They pinched the civilian’s nose, and held it. Unable to breathe through that passage, the civilian eventually, reluctantly, had to open their mouth.

And when they did, the villain was ready with the pitcher.

Today’s lunch was leftover red curry – thoroughly blended into a fine slop. They held the civilian’s thrashing head, and poured the sludge down their throat.

Protein, nutrients, fats. Everything the civilian needed.

After a few moments, they took the pitcher away, and forced the civilian’s jaw closed.

“I’m not going to let go until you swallow,” they said.

The civilian looked up at them, tears streaming down their face. They swallowed.

Satisfied, the villain stepped away. The civilian coughed and hacked, flinging curry bits all over the front of their shirt.

“You’re a monster,” the civilian said.

The villain walked back towards the table. “Yes dear.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“I know dear.”

The villain settled back onto the table, and gave the civilian a minute to catch their breath. “We wouldn’t have to do this, if you’d just eat.”

The civilian glared at them.

The villain leaned forward. “I could bring you something right now. Bread. Stew. An omelette. Anything.”

“Fuck you. I’m not eating a damn thing you give me.”

The villain sighed. “Suit yourself.”

They lifted the pitcher off the table, and got up for round two.

The villain woke up one morning, and found the civilian gone.

The door to their room was unlocked. The chain attached to the wall was broken.

The villain pulled on their hiking boots, and went outside. They looked out at the trees surrounding their house, at the forest that stretched on for miles and miles and miles.

They spotted some tracks, and started walking.

The villain didn’t exactly blame the civilian for running. They probably would’ve done the same thing, if the situations had been reversed.

Still, they were going to find the civilian. And they were going to make them regret ever stepping a single foot outside the front door.

Part 4

---------------------

Edit - I almost forgot that some people had asked to be tagged for this series. So, uh, here you go:

@sweetpeaflower01 , @icarusignite , @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

#villain #whump #whump writing #whump drabble #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #villain x civilian #civilian x villain #civilian #writing snippet #whumpblr #writeblr #snippet #kidnapping #captivity #hero x villain #villain x hero

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quacksonholland · 2 years

Text

It'll be just fine (Part 2)

(Masterlist) - PART 1

wc: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of murder obviously, mentions of pregnancy, slight mentions of vomiting, mentions of smoking, very slight mentions of rape, mentions of guns, some angst, LOTS of swearing, typos typos typos typos did I mention typos? and that's about it.

Also I'm sorry I don't know how to write Arvin's Southern accent properly, English isn't my first language!!

Here it is! Part 2 to It'll be just fine! I'm going to try and turn this into a mini-series, so I believe there's still 2-3 parts to go.

(@acekoomboom After 3 long months, I finally finished writing + editing pt.2. idk if you're still interested but I tagged you anyway! <3)

...

"(Y/N)! C'me on, get in, fast!"

You rushed to the car, sat in the front seat and left the beige bag by your feet.

"Got everything?"

"Yup."

"Let's go then." Arvin mumbled as he turned on the engine and drove away as fast as he could.

The fact he had come to pick you up in such a rush, and the guilty look on his face, told you he had done it. He, your shy, sweet Arvin, had killed the Preacher.

"Did you do it?" He knew perfectly what you meant. "Did you kill-"

"YES, he's dead!" His voice came out a bit rougher than what he meant, and he rubbed his temple with a hand, the other on the wheel. "Sorry for snapping."

"It's fine." You offered him a smile, and he didn't even hesitate for a single second to smile back.

"How are ya? And how's, y'know, the little one?" He asked.

Arvin was obviously very nervous. He'd been checking the rear-view mirror to see there were no cars behind them ever since he got out of that damned church. He knew well by being careful. Arvin knew how it would all go down if anyone found out about what he'd done, and believe me or not, he's never wanted to be in jail. Now, though... Now he couldn't afford to go to jail.

He'd leave you and the baby alone. By who-knows-where, with no one to help you out. You are a strong, independent woman alright, Arvin knew. But sadly, it wouldn’t be safe.

If he were alone, it wouldn't be as terrible to go to jail. But now that he was a soon-to-be-father, and now that you kind of depend on him… He cannot afford it.

"I'm good, Arv. Had a bit of morning sickness today. Disgusting. Hate throwing up. But yeah."

"I'm sorry love."

"What are you sorry for?"

"Sorry I wasn't responsible enough, and I got you pregnant, and sorry you're here with me. You deserve so much better. Ya know, deserve a man that'll buy you a bouquet of roses every day, or a man that will be able to buy you anythin'. Instead, you're here with me. I don't know what I did for Heaven to send me such an angel." Maybe it had been because of all the horrible things he had had to go through, maybe that was it.

"Arvin, what are you talking about? You're the best man I ever met. And I mean that. You've got the kindest, sweetest soul, even after everything we've been through. You are so good to me, always so thoughtful. And don't even start with the 'getting you pregnant' thing. We didn't mean to get pregnant, but now there's a baby on the way. I believe it's fate." You noticed he shed a tear, and you smiled softly "I love you. You deserve the world, Arv. You're so strong."

"I love you, darlin'. Maybe you two were the way I've been gifted after all the shit that has gone down in my life."

"I'm sure the–" You were about to answer him when the engine started stuttering "What's that?"

"The engine, I think." He said. He stopped and tried to start the engine again, but it wouldn't get back on "Come on."

Arvin kept trying, but it didn't seem to work "Fuck."

"What's wrong?"

"It broke or somethin'. Won't turn on again."

"Shit. Maybe we should stay by the side of the road, I guess? Someone could pick us up."

"What are you on about, (Y/N). Why would we get into a car with some strangers?"

"What else you suggest?"

He hesitated for a good while until he nodded. "Okay. It better be quick though. We’re not safe here."

Arvin got out of the car and took the two bags, putting them both over his shoulder, while you took out a few other things from the car, before locking it. You walked up to him as he made his way towards the side of the road. Your hand ghosted beside his, not actually thinking he'd grab it as he was so stressed out, but he did. He held it before taking it to his lips and kissing the back of it tenderly, big contrast since he was walking furiously at the same time.

"You should sit down, angel" He muttered when you got to the side of the road where you were going to wait to be picked up "This might take a while."

He definitely was true to his words. It felt like you'd been waiting for ages and ages, although Arvin reassured you it had barely been 10 minutes. It seemed as though all the cars, which weren't many, had agreed on letting you two boil to death below the skull-burning sun.

"Darlin', get up! Someone's here to take us!"

You stood up abruptly, and the dizziness that washed over you made you swear.

Looking up, your eyes were set on the car that had stopped right in front of you. There was a scruffy middle-aged man and a blond woman in her 30s, maybe 40s, looking at you two, and something about them didn't feel right. Maybe it was the way the man was looking at you like you were a piece of meat.

The look on his eyes didn't go unnoticed by Arvin, him clearing his throat to break the man's intense glare.

"Morning."

"Where are you two headed?" The guy said.

"Meade, Ohio. You heard of it?" Arvin said. The man took a second to answer.

"The paper-mill town, right?"

"Yeah, that's right." Your boyfriend nodded.

"We're passing right through it."

With the two bags on his arm, Arvin opened the door for you before getting in himself. The car was pretty nice, with some leather seats and an apple scent.

The woman, who was sitting in the driver seat, smiled at you sympathetically. “The name’s Sandy.” You smiled back, “(Y/N).”

“Pretty name for a pretty lady, heh.” The man chuckled and his words sent shivers down your spine, in a bad way. The way that guy was acting felt off. You couldn’t put a finger on what it was, but the vibes he was giving off made you uncomfortable. Lucky for you, Arvin noticed right away, and he reached for your hand, which was something he knew calmed you easily.

“What y’all going to Meade for?” He said.

“Just visiting.” Arvin said, and Sandy nodded,

“Got family there?”

”No, I used to live there a long time ago.”

The man was checking you out through the rear-view mirror. His eyes were hungry, and he licked his lips with his tongue. It truly felt like you were his next meal, from the way he was ogling you shamelessly.

You were honestly freaked out by the man. But then you reminded yourself; it’s just a ride. He’s giving you a ride, he’s helping you, and he’s not going to hurt you. Arvin is here. You’re safe with him by your side.

“Yeah probably ain’t changed much. Little towns never do… Say, how old are you two?”

“Uh, we’re 18, sir.”

“Y’all running away from home? Why’s that, so young? I can assure you you’ll be better off with your folks giving you the money ‘stead of having to work yourself.”

“Carl, don’t suffocate them. They’re running away ‘cause of love, I assume.”

“That’s right, m’am.” Arvin answered. You and Arvin unknowingly shared a thought you’d never admit outloud; we’re definitely not running away because we killed a man or because we have a baby on the way.

“What’s up with you, Miss, cat got your tongue?”

“‘M just- just really tired, sir.”

“Let the girl be, Carl. Goddamn it, always with the dumb questions.”

“I was just asking! What is so wrong-”

You felt Arvin leave a kiss on the top of your head. You looked up at him. He looked so handsome. “You good?” He asked, and you nodded. He eyed you up and down suspiciously, you knew he knew you weren’t actually ‘all good’. But he knew better than to ask you about that at the moment.

Meanwhile, the couple was still arguing.

“Where is it y'all live?” Arvin said, making the two adults shut up.

“In Chesterfield. We’re headed to Chicago, Illinois. We like picking up people on the way, don’t we, hon?”

“Sure do.” Sandy said, without taking her eyes off the road.

“Oh shit… my old billy don’t work like it used to. I'm gonna… have to pull over and take a leak somewhere here. Is that alright by you?” Carl asked, winking at you. Ew.

“Sure.”

The car stopped by the side of a forest as Carl got off and did what he’d stopped to do.

You had to admit the place was beautiful. With the slow, warm sunset slowly kicking out the brightness of the daylight. The water of the lake behind the trees was glistening because of the bright sun.

But once again, something felt strange.

Wasn’t it a bit weird that you stopped the car in the middle of a ride to get into a lost forest and stop there? Was it a coincidence, or did this just look like the perfect situation to commit a murder? Were you being a paranoid or was there some sort of sense behind those thoughts?

You wouldn’t know, but something you’ve learnt with the course of the years is to trust your gut. And your gut is always right.

You felt Arvin tug at your sleeve, and you realized he was pointing at the man’s pocket.

A gun. He had a gun.

You didn’t even need words to express how terrified you were feeling. The frown on your face and the anxiety in your eyes made him know right away. “It’s gonna be okay.” He mouthed.

“Oh, shoot.” Sandy was in the front, trying to light up a cigarette, but it wasn’t really working. Until it finally did. She brought the cancer stick to her lips, breathing out a puff and holding the damn thing with her light-blue nails.

“Damn, that's gonna be one fine sunset. You have to be patient for me while i get a few shots off. Hon, give me the key. Don't you worry none. We've got some hooch in the back, and well… Sandy’s good company.” The man spoke, as he closed the trunk and got closer to you. There was still a gun in his pocket, which he took swiftly in his hands as he approximated you.

You were too close to the man, he had a gun. Arvin wasn’t taking any chances.

“Tell you what, why don't you take-”

Two gun fires echoed throughout the whole woods, making you let out a scream. The man fell to the ground immediately, blood seeping out of the bullet wounds.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit…” Sandy said over and over again. She pulled a gun out of her purse, pointing it at Arvin.

But then, she changed her mind, and she pointed the gun at you.

“No no no, calm down please.” She said.

“I don’t wanna shoot you, but put that gun out of her face right now. Put the fuckin’ gun down!” Arvin yelled.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t wanna shoot you! I-” Before he could finish the sentence, another shot echoed through the empty forest.

“ARVIN!” You screamed.

He turned to you hyperventilating, quickly checking if you had any wounds, which was something you also did “Are you okay? Fucking God (Y/N), you could’ve got shot.”

Because of some miracle, you hadn’t got shot, as Arvin shot her first.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!”

“The woman was pointing at you, I- fuck! We have to leave, right now.”

He checked the car to find some picture of the woman hugging a dead body. That was a picture you did not need to see. “What the fuck.” You muttered.

As Arvin frantically looked through stuff that could be useful for the rest of the trip, you looked at the woman again. Poor her. She actually looked like a genuinely nice person.

“Okay, we gotta go. C’me on!”

Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest as you ran out of the forest. Arvin had the bags over his shoulders, and he held your hand while running.

You were absolutely terrified, having just witnessed how a woman passes away. Having witnessed the sharp sound of the bullet as it was shot. And the way the woman’s face looked… God, you had nightmares assured for the next few months - or the next few years, at least.

A thought popped up in your head. Should you be scared of Arvin? He had killed 3 people now.

No. That is the dumbest though I’ve had today, you thought. It was self-defense. You sensed it too, it looked like that guy was going to rape you, or maybe kill you guys. It was honestly the only way. Anyone would’ve done the same in this situation.

And it is Arvin, after all. He would never hurt you.

It could’ve been 10 minutes, 2 seconds or 3 hours, you wouldn’t have known. All you felt was your legs stomping against the ground, trying their hardest not to trip over all the branches and rocks.

“I think… I think we can stop running now.” Arvin said as he stopped, panting. “You all right?”

“Yes, just a bit outta breath.”

“God, (Y/N).”

“What?”

“You could’ve died, fuckin’- you almost died. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to take you w’me.”

“I’m not going back. I can’t go back, Arvin.”

“I know that, but… What if you stayed somewhere over here? You could be safe. I’m sure someone would offer themselves to… to give you shelter for a while. And maybe after then, you could give your cousins another call and try to stay w’them. I have some money, you could take it… find a job, work for a while, I dunno…”

“What are you on about?”

“I wanna keep you safe. I can’t risk you like that again. Maybe that’s the best way! We’ll find a place for you to stay with the baby, I’ll call every once in a while-”

“Arvin. Eyes on me.” You grabbed his face softly and put your forehead against his. Your eyes analyzed his, darting between one and the other. “I can’t back away now. I agreed to this plan, and now we’re doing this. Together. There’s no me and you, okay? It’s us. We’re gonna go through this together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’re gonna be okay. A’ight?” He nodded weakly, offering you a sad smile. “I love you Arvin.”

“I love you too m’love.” You let go of him, smiling.

“I promise, Arv. We’ll be just fine, really.” You winked at him before his lips sealed your words by closing the gap between the two of you. We’ll be just fine.

#arvin russell #tom holland #arvin russell fluff #arvin russell angst #arvin russell x reader #arvin russell x you #arvin russell x fem!reader #hope yall like this #dude its christmas in 4 days omg #arvin #arvin x reader #arvin angst #arvin fluff #Arvin Russell x reader

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