#end of the day (silence) - blue foundation

[ask-sebastian]

not sure if I'm too late for the musical Monday, but anyways 🩷

Absolutely not too late! Thanks for sharing 🖤

[sweetlemontart]

call me by his name | yoon jeonghan [M]

summary ⇾ to you, one of jeonghan's most admirable trait is his candid nature. he's straightforward with most people—if he's angry, they'll definitely know. but with you? he'd rather swim the ocean day and night than take his anger out on you. well, that is, of course, unless you ask him to.

PAIRING // yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

GENRE // explicit smut, established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut, sub!reader, jeonghan tries to be angry hard!dom but is actually a soft!dom cause he's too in love with mc, not much plot tbh mostly just smut

WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, oral sex and fingering (f receiving), degradation, choking, hair pulling, some spanking, creampie, slight dacryphilia, orgasm denial(?) ig, mentions of mc's past relationship with ex!seungcheol

WORD COUNT // 8.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE // me casually coming back on here and posting after almost 2 years of radio silence (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡ btw this is my very first svt fic hehe i started liking them like a month ago? watching going svt is the only thing keeping me sane during my second year of uni :') i love jeonghan and all his manipulating mind games & cheating ways, it's the most attractive thing to me !! might drop a wonwoo fic soon too bcs he's a cutie and his wip is coming along nicely. hope u guys have been doing good hehe do like and reblog if u enjoy reading this, song rec is blue foundation - eyes on fire (skeler remix)

masterlist link

Jeonghan isn't a particularly placid man. He's not excessively ill-tempered per se, but he is remarkably patient when it comes to you. You know how he is when he's angry, and you can't recall a single time when you've been on the receiving end of his wrath. 

When something ticks him off, his eyes will darken and the heated stare he gives is shrouded beneath his lashes. When he is truly livid, he'll usually walk away from the situation, and there'll be no room for anyone to say something they'll end up regretting later on. 

It's incredible, really, that he possesses the ability to bottle his anger up when it involves you. Anger is an emotion that can rarely be suppressed, but Jeonghan does it with remarkable ease. 

On any other day, perhaps you'd appreciate his effort to control his anger, but not tonight. You've made a serious mistake, one that goes against the one thing Jeonghan had explicitly stated from the start of your relationship—keeping secrets is a recipe for a failed relationship, so if you have something important to say, just say it. Jeonghan is a great boyfriend. He gives you the freedom and privacy to do things you want to do, but this particular boundary was crystal clear, and you just crossed it.

It was your fault, really. You had broken up with Choi Seungcheol only a year prior to dating Jeonghan. The break-up had been a mutual agreement, and there were no hard feelings involved. Over time, you gradually drifted apart and had minimal to no contact until... well, two weeks ago. 

It had been at a dinner party hosted by one of your acquaintances, someone who just happened to be Seungcheol's cousin. Jeonghan hadn't been able to accompany you, so you hadn't been able to introduce him to Seungcheol. Meeting Seungcheol again after more than a year hadn't been awkward. It was like meeting up with an old friend. 

Tonight, however, the universe seems like it's conspiring against you. You had been preparing dinner when you heard a notification chime on your phone. You had haphazardly tossed your phone onto the living room couch before cooking, and your boyfriend just happened to be doing his Lego in the living room, so you called out to him to check the notification. 

There was shuffling in the living room as he stood. When he strolled into the kitchen, his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he held your phone in one hand, eyes fixed on the screen. "Who's Choi Seungcheol and why is he asking to catch up over lunch?"

Fuck. 

To be fair, you really weren't expecting Seungcheol to contact you after the dinner party. You had gone without contacting each other for more than a year, so what changed now? You had told him that you found someone new, so he definitely knew there was no possibility of rekindling your relationship. He was most likely trying to be friendly, but you understand why it would seem questionable to Jeonghan. 

Contrary to what you expected, Jeonghan hadn't gotten angry at you. He simply listened to your explanation and nodded. He became quiet, a glazed look in his eyes that you couldn't interpret. Then, he sets your phone down on the kitchen counter and hummed. Oh, he was annoyed, that much was obvious. 

"Okay, well, I trust you. Just... don't do it again," Jeonghan spoke with a slight frown, then walked out of the kitchen as though you hadn't just violated the one, single rule that you had both agreed to abide by. 

Perhaps you've gone stupid, because as your boyfriend walked out of the kitchen, you found yourself trailing close behind him. A tinge of irritation slowly bubbled up in your chest as you watched him casually plop down onto the floor to continue doing the Lego set he had been doing since earlier. 

"Is that it?" you asked him. 

Jeonghan momentarily diverted his attention from his Lego to meet your gaze. He blinked a few times. "I'm sorry?"

"You just... you're not even getting angry at me?"

"Um, am I supposed to be angry at you?"

You were taken aback by his response because it suddenly occurred to you just how silly you sounded. Did you really want him to get angry at you?

"Yes?"

Jeonghan nodded wordlessly, seemingly mulling over something in his head. 

"I made a mistake, you should be mad at me."

There was a pregnant pause before he chuckled, but there was nothing humorous about it. If anything, it sounded a little... sinister. "You want me to get mad at you, baby? Want me to show you how I'm really feeling?"

You swallowed. Suddenly, you felt small under the weight of his unyielding stare. You shouldn't have nodded, shouldn't have ever said anything about it at all, because now, Jeonghan has you on the bed, doing the one thing you had practically begged him to do—take his anger out on you. 

"G-God, please..." You're not sure what it is you're begging for. It's hard to think straight when Jeonghan is between your legs, lapping at your dripping cunt with his tongue. He had warned you not to touch him, but after several attempts of burying your fingers into his silky hair, he decided to take matters into his own hand, grabbing both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them to your heaving chest. 

Your fingers continuously curl and uncurl against your chest, desperately trying to grab at something to ground yourself. The pleasure coursing through you makes your head spin, your mouth feeling as dry as cotton as you continue to chant your boyfriend's name. 

Jeonghan hums against you, mouth suckling at your swollen bundle of nerves. Your jaw drops open at the feeling, eyes screwing shut as you let a moan slip past your lips. He repeats the cycle a few more times—kissing, sucking, licking—until you feel the familiar knot tightening in your stomach. 

To your disappointment, Jeonghan withdraws his mouth from you but is quick to replace it with his fingers. He's familiar with your body by now, knowing what gives you the most pleasure and which spots to press to have you coming undone in minutes. 

He's rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb, middle and ring fingers ghosting over your hole, not dipping in, only lingering there to serve as a reminder of the control he has over you. "Keep your hands there," he says, squeezing at your wrists once as a warning. Then he lets go of your hands and settles his palm on the inside of your thigh, spreading you open further. 

"Jeonghan..." you whimper, legs beginning to shake as the telltale sign of your climax begins to show. 

"I need you to cum on my fingers once before you can have my cock," he says, voice coming out huskier than normal. 

Straining your neck, you peer down at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes, only to feel a rush of heat in your stomach when you see that he's already looking at you. In the dim light of your bedside lamp, you can just make out his blown-out pupils, almost obscured beneath the strands of dark hair falling over his forehead. His lips curl up into a wicked smirk, and your focus shifts from his eyes to the way his mouth glistens with your wetness. It feels so shameful, but the sight only makes you drip even more. 

"My angel wants me to be angry at her, right?" he asks you, pressing down harder on your clit, which makes you yelp with surprise, head dropping back onto your pillow. 

"Don't stop, please, I'm cumming... F-Fuck!" It's all you manage to say as you begin to writhe under Jeonghan's hold.

He clicks his teeth in disapproval when you shift your hands from your chest to your sides, fingers tightly grabbing at the bedsheet, twisting at it recklessly. He lets it slide, however, knowing you're trying your best not to touch him like he knows you so desperately want to. 

His ring finger dips into your hole just slightly, and the stretch isn't much, but it makes you keen anyway, breath catching in your throat as he plunges it deeper and deeper until it reaches his knuckle. He doesn't move it after that, keeping it buried there as he continues to play with your clit. 

"I've barely even started and you're already like this," he says in a mocking tone, teasingly biting down at your plush thigh. "Go ahead and cum for me, then. Show me how much you want my cock, baby..."

Your body caves to his words. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you cum with a loud moan that you don't even attempt to hide. Without warning, Jeonghan promptly replaces his thumb on your clit with his mouth, sucking hard, prolonging the pleasure. He doesn't mind the way your whole body is trembling or the way your thighs try to snap shut. 

"H-Hannie, fuck... fuck..."

The way you're mumbling out incoherent words only makes the blood rush down to his cock. He's painfully hard in his pants, wanting nothing more than to sink himself right into your tight pussy. It's getting increasingly difficult to think with his head than his dick. His self-restraint is starting to fray at the edge. 

"That's it, baby..." he mumbles, removing his ring finger from inside you, grinning when your hole tries to suck the digit back in. 

With his index and middle finger, Jeonghan spreads your pussy lips apart, ignoring your whine of protest as he continues to stare at your soaked cunt. It's humiliating to be so exposed and vulnerable like this, but why do you enjoy it so much? 

Jeonghan snickers, warm breath hitting your bare pussy. "Baby, I wish you could see yourself right now. Your cute pussy is clenching around nothing."

With a sheepish whine, you splay your hands over your face, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Hannie..." you grumble, hoping he would show you some compassion and stop teasing. But of course, Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't just stop there. You should know better by now that there is no one in the world more cunning and sly than your boyfriend. 

Jeonghan pushes himself up into a sitting position, sighing when he sees the way you've covered your face. He doesn't like it when you hide from him but surprisingly doesn't say anything about it. 

When you feel him shift on the bed, your curiosity gets the best of you. Peering cautiously through the gaps of your fingers, you're left dumbfounded at the sight of your boyfriend tugging his shirt over his head. The wisps of his dark hair that had been snagged by the shirt are left askew, and the view would be endearing if it wasn't for the devious look in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Then he stands, and for a second, you're afraid he might leave you there. It wouldn't be unlike Jeonghan to suddenly leave. He's unpredictable, always trying to be a step ahead of everyone. This time, however, all he does is stand by the end of the bed, eyes roaming over your exposed figure as if trying to determine the next course of action that will deliver the most favourable outcome for him. Damn him and his mind games.

With slow movement, you press your legs together, concealing your most intimate part from your boyfriend. He shakes his head in disapproval, but you make no move to rectify your mistake. It's impossible not to hide from him when he's looking down at you as though he wants to devour you inch by inch—like a lion ogling at a wounded deer. 

Very slowly, he begins to undo the string of his sweatpants. It aggravates you to see how composed he is, movements unhurried as if he doesn't see just how much you need him. Surely he notices how your eyes rove over his bare torso, committing to memory every little detail about his body even if you've seen it myriad times before. He's not particularly muscular; he's more lean than anything, elegant, and refined in all the right places. It only makes the waiting feel even more agonising. 

"Don't tease, Hannie, please," you plead, your pulse quickening when he finally steps out of his pants. 

"Don't tease? Aw, princess, you were the one getting all friendly with your ex, and now you want me to treat you like a good girl who hasn't been whoring around behind my back?" His tone is condescending, sending a surge of electricity up your spine.  

You're suddenly reminded of what landed you in the current predicament in the first place. You want to explain and justify yourself, but you're rendered speechless when Jeonghan sweeps a hand down over his torso, eventually wrapping around his hard cock. He tugs once, twice, hissing slightly at the much-needed contact, smearing pre-cum all over the tip and shaft, the ring on his pinky glinting in the low light. 

Sitting upright, you're about to speak and deny his previous statement, but the words die down in your throat when he suddenly climbs onto the bed, slowly crawling closer to you.

You squeak in surprise when he grabs at one of your legs, tugging you down just slightly so that your face is parallel to his. Then, he settles himself between your legs, cock pressed against your stomach. He has you right where he wants you. 

Jeonghan captures your lips in a kiss, wasting no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with yours. You sigh into his mouth, tasting the remnants of your wetness on his tongue and lips. It's a pleasant mix of bitter and sweet, a combination that makes you feel dazed despite the fact that he hasn't done anything to you yet. 

Jeonghan sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, relishing the way you mewl. He starts pressing wet kisses onto your jaw, trailing down to your neck and collarbone. "You smell so good, pretty," he mumbles against your skin, licking at your sternum. 

Reaching a hand down, you grab at his hard cock, wanting nothing more than for him to slip himself inside. You're sure you're dripping down onto the bedsheet by now. Jeonghan, however, has other plans. You only get to pump him twice before he slaps your hand away, pinning your wrist to the bed. "Don't act like such an impatient whore..."

Your whine of protest trails out into a moan when Jeonghan suddenly wraps his mouth around your nipple. His mouth is hot against the sensitive bud, and the light grazes of his teeth against it makes you arch your back. 

Jeonghan's eyes suddenly meet yours, hooded with lust. He's suckling so noisily, hips grinding into yours. It's so obscene—the way he's looking at you, the sounds he's making, the way his balls press down on your clit whenever he grinds into you. Feeling overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensory, you turn your head to the side, burying your face into your pillow as you huff out a shaky breath. 

You should've known Jeonghan wouldn't be too pleased with this. He withdraws his mouth from your chest with a lewd pop. His hand leaves your wrist in favour of grabbing at your chin. His grip is harsh, but not enough to hurt. With a sharp yank, he forces you to face forward, where you have no other choice than to meet his eyes. 

He clicks his tongue disappointedly, and your eyes flick down to his lips, red and puffy from sucking. This doesn't help your case at all, because Jeonghan immediately starts vigorously shaking your face left and right, compelling you to look back into his eyes. Your head feels dizzy, but you don't miss the look in his eyes. There's irritation swirling in them now, imbued with desire and the hunger to ravage your body until you're left a broken, muddled mess. It makes you shudder, legs squeezing tight on each side of his hips. 

"You know better than to hide from me, right?" His thumb caresses the skin of your jaw. The touch is so soft, a stark contrast to the way he's glaring down at you. When you take a little too long to answer, Jeonghan taps at your cheek a few times, hard enough for you to feel the sting. 

"Y-Yes..."

He coos, stroking your stinging cheek. "Mhm, but you're not behaving very well tonight, are you?"

"I've been good, Hannie," you assert, trying to maintain your composed front even though you desperately need him to fill you to the brim. You're aching, and you need his cock to soothe the pain. Noticing his sceptical gaze, you decide to reword your sentence. "I'm sorry. I'll be good, I promise."

Jeonghan is thinking about something, silently plotting something in his head. Fuck, you're screwed now. The intensity of his gaze tells you he's about to do something that's unlikely to be in your favour.

"You want to hide from me that bad, hm?"

You're quick to shake your head. "No, Hannie, I want you to see me."

Jeonghan scowls, pecking your lips once before sitting up on his knees. "On your stomach."

You frown, dread washing over you. He knows how much you loathe that position. "Jeonghan, please, no..."

Jeonghan's face remains impassive. "I won't ask you twice."

"You know I take a long time to cum when I can't see your face," you grumble, feeling your stomach churn, chest tightening. 

"Who said you were cumming tonight?"

The question sends you into a frenzy. "Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it again, please, please..."

When Jeonghan has his mind set on something, no amount of begging or grovelling will sway him. He's glowering at you, and three seconds pass before you relent. Having his cock inside you is better than nothing at all. 

"There you go, baby," he says when you finally shift onto your stomach. He's quick to straddle your thighs. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" 

You say nothing, feeling sulky now that you can't look at your boyfriend's pretty face anymore. "Angh!" you yelp when you feel a spank on your ass. Jeonghan does it a few more times, rubbing the tender skin between each hit. The touch should be soothing, but it only makes your ass burn even more, raw from his smacking.

Gritting your teeth from the tantalizing sting, you bite back an apology, knowing it's probably the last thing Jeonghan wants from you. Saying sorry would only make it worst for you. He's testing you, pushing the boundaries to see how much you can endure before you break and plead for some semblance of his kindness. The longer you hold out, the better. 

You feel him dip his head down, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale to breathe in your smell. The fragrance of your perfume and natural scent is exhilarating. He wants to stay there and breathe you in all day, fill his lungs with your sweet scent so that he can still smell you even when you're miles away from him. 

A groan rumbles in his chest, you can feel it on your upper back, can hear it right beside your ear. He starts pressing kisses down your shoulder blade, digging his teeth into the smooth flesh. 

"Keep your head down," he warns you, as though he knows about your urge to turn and look at him. He sits up, his knees on each side of your legs, willowy fingers kneading your hips. 

You whine into your pillow, eyes brimming with frustrated tears. Your whole body is trembling, yearning to see him, touch him, tug on the silken strands of his dark hair. God, just the thought of it has slick gushing out of your throbbing hole. 

"I'll be good," you promise him, voice coming out breathy, desperation bleeding through. "Just, please..." you beg, quietly moaning when you feel Jeonghan's hands on your inner thighs, spreading your legs just enough for him to comfortably press the tip of his leaking cock onto your cunt. 

You hear him chuckle when your whole body stiffens, anticipating the moment when he'll finally fuck you full. He sighs to himself, looking at the way your pussy is all coated in your wetness, slick gushing out onto his cockhead as he brushes it over your clit. 

"Hmm, but you only behave after you're caught doing something bad, isn't that right?"

You don't answer, unsure whether you should defend yourself or agree with his question. You gasp when you feel him slide in just slightly, stretching you out, tip prodding at your gummy walls just enough to make you feel the agonizing stretch. "More, Hannie," you mutter, practically drooling at the prospect that it would only take a roll of his hips for him to fill you up. 

However, the delicious stretch never comes, and you're left there feeling stupid, panting with only his tip buried inside of you. You whine once, lifting your head to look back at him. Big mistake. You've barely craned your neck before you feel his hand pushing down onto the crown of your head, fingers yanking at your mussed-up hair, shoving the side of your face back into the pillow. 

With a growl, Jeonghan leans down to press his lips against your ear. "What's with you today, princess? You've always been such a good girl for me, but you keep pushing my fucking buttons today. You want me angry, hm? Is that what you want?"

His crude words shouldn't make you feel the way you do, but when he speaks, his hot breath against your ear makes your eyes roll back, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock, desperate to suck more of him in. You respond with a quiet apology, voice quivering from the arousal wracking through your body. You crave him, ache for him like a desert thirsts for rain. "Need you..."

Then, as if he senses your distress, he decides to show you some mercy. Little by little, he slides into you, slipping in easily, aided by the wetness seeping out of your pulsating hole. He ignores the way you call out his name with a shattered gasp, slowly pressing forward until his hips are flush against your ass and his cock is snug in your heat, buried to the hilt. 

You can feel Jeonghan's groan rumbling in his chest, and the noise makes your pussy clamp down on him tighter. You're fisting at the bedsheet, feeling relieved, desperate, and frantic all at the same time. God, why isn't he moving? You want him to fuck you into the bed, want him to ruin you, use you until you can barely remember your name. 

Perhaps this is Jeonghan's way of taking his anger out on you—tormenting you until you're reduced to nothing but a sputtering, drooling wreck. Maybe he wants to see you plead, beg. Or maybe, he wants you to curse him out, chastise him, berate him for putting you through this torture.

Afraid of further repercussions, you decide to patiently wait, clenching your teeth to bite back from begging him to move. Seconds seem to drag on endlessly, and you resort to imagining the sight you'd be met with if you were to turn around. Would you see Jeonghan's face contorted into a mixture of frustration and hunger? Would his eyes be crazed and heated? Maybe he's enjoying the excruciating wait, peering down at you with an amused grin, tongue peeking out to rest against his lower lip just slightly. You're dying to know. 

Then, as if he is satisfied with your unwavering determination to remain still for him, he loosens his hold on your hair, gently brushing the dishevelled strands back. His thumb extends out to stroke at the tendrils of baby hair stuck to your temple, damp with perspiration. "You want me to move, baby?"

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you have half a mind to consider saying yes, but a nagging feeling tells you it might be a trick question. Jeonghan must've sensed your apprehension because you hear him chuckle. 

Without any warning, he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his tip remains inside before plunging in again. Your jaw slackens into a silent moan. The lack of stimulation has made your body feel so attuned to his, sensitive to every little movement. You feel the rise and fall of his chest against your back, feel his breath on your neck, and the ridges of the veins on his cock against your pussy. 

"It's not a trick question, you know?"

You're quick to nod your head as best as you can. "Please move," you breathe out, feeling like you're on the verge of just turning around and demanding him to fuck you the way you both need it. 

His hand grapples onto the sheets by your head, delivering another thrust into your cunt. His movement is languid, as though he wants to take his time. It's driving you crazy, just how collected he seems compared to you. Your body feels as though it's burning, lit ablaze by his kisses, touches, and every single point of contact between his skin and yours. 

Your eyes zero in on his hand propped up on the bed, right in front of your eyes, honing in on the way the sheets bunch between his fingers and the way his ring sits snug on his pinky. Subconsciously, you reach out for it, fingertips digging into his knuckles, nails pinching into the skin when he thrusts again. The movement is more rushed this time, jostling you up on the bed just a little, which makes you gasp. 

He removes your hand from him, hurriedly pressing your palm into the bed, cradling your hand from behind, his fingers sliding through the spaces of yours to intertwine them. The gesture feels so intimate, and it leaves you feeling disoriented. "Fuck, Hannie, so good..."

Jeonghan chuckles, peppering kisses all over your bare shoulder, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake wherever his lips meet your skin. "I've barely even started, baby."

Jeonghan pushes himself up onto his knees, letting go of your hand to place both his hands on your hips. He doesn't miss the way you groan at the loss of his warmth on your back, but he dismisses it. He pushes in once, twice, his gaze fixed on the point where his cock keeps appearing and disappearing into your drenched cunt. 

You barely register it when Jeonghan hauls you up onto your hands and knees, lost in the thought of him, only comprehending the situation when he once again slides into your aching pussy. You make a strangled noise in the back of your throat, elbows buckling, almost sending your face flopping back into your pillow. 

Jeonghan doesn't feel the need to take it slow anymore. His thrusts are no longer feeble, and his pace is steady. The sound of skin meeting skin fills his ears, mixed with your broken moans. It sounds like an obscene euphony, a harmony that makes his head feel foggy and hazed.

 "Fuck, pretty, you're enjoying this, aren't you?" Jeonghan grunts, sneaking a glance down, only for his pace to falter when he sees the way your slick is coating your inner thighs. The view is so lewd, salacious, dirty, and messy. "My messy fucking baby," he mumbles, picking up his speed, eyes fluttering when he feels your walls tightening around him. 

"Jeonghan... Jeonghan..." You're chanting his name like a mantra, eyes pinched close, savouring the feeling of being pumped full. 

"Yeah... that's my name, baby," Jeonghan responds, restrain starting to slip, evident in the way his voice cracks just slightly at the last syllable. "Can you cum like this?"

You promptly shake your head. "N-No." It's not entirely a lie. You hate relying on your imagination like this. You want to be able to touch him, hold him, want to be able to look into his eyes as you let your orgasm crash down on you. You want to see the way his hair frames his pretty face, want to see his flushed cheeks and the sweat gathering at the dips of his collarbones. You want to see him, or you think you'll die on the spot.

"Good. Don't cum, princess." 

"W-What?" you squeak out. 

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh. "I told you before—you're not cumming tonight."

You gulp, stooping down low onto your elbow, too weak to support yourself up on your hands. "I wanna cum, H-Hannie... Please let me..."

Jeonghan only snickers, ramming into you harder, letting out a content sigh when your moans seem to escalate, becoming more wanton and desperate. You're squeezing him so tight, white ring of your milky slick forming a ring at the base of his cock, causing him to groan out loud. He'd like to think that he's in full control, but everything about you is making him feel delirious—your smell, your pussy, your moans. 

Ever the competitive man, Jeonghan feels like he's losing this game. He's supposed to be angry at you, but why does it feel like you have the upper hand? Feeling irked by this sudden revelation, he stretches a hand out, wrapping it around your neck. He hears the surprised gasp you let out when he pulls you upright into his chest. 

Your hands immediately fly up to circle around his wrist, taken aback by the sudden change of positions. His other arm slithers around your waist, keeping you balanced as he continues to fuck you from behind. "Fuck, Hannie, your cock feels so good," you can't help but murmur, arching your hips just slightly so he can reach deeper into you. 

He scoffs, burying his face into the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on the spot underneath your ear, strands of his hair tickling your skin. As he expects, your head lolls the other way, granting him better access to your neck. "Of course it feels good, baby. I've fucked you so many times your pussy is used to me now. Wouldn't be able to take another cock without thinking of mine, would you? Wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't my cock, right?"

His fingers dig into the sides of your neck, constricting just enough for you to gradually feel the drowsiness from the lack of air. It's intoxicating, being able to surrender yourself to another person completely, knowing they have you in the palm of their hand.

You're too preoccupied with the feeling of his hand around your throat to realise his other hand sneaking down to settle between your legs, middle and ring fingers starting to draw gentle circles into your bundle of nerves. It's almost too much—the way his cock slides in and out of you, the way his lips skim over your neck, the chokehold he has on you, the breathy groans he murmurs against your skin. 

"Unghh! F-Fuck, Jeonghan, 'm gonna cum..."

He chuckles, delighted at the turn of events. He doesn't stop the motion of his fingers against your clit and instead presses down harder, making your head roll back onto his shoulder, a throaty moan spilling past your lips into the open air. 

"Oh?" he says in a sardonic tone. "You said you couldn't cum like this. Or were you just lying to me, baby?" His mocking shouldn't have such power over you, but it makes your heart pound with the intensity of a raging storm.

"N-No, it's because you're... your fingers—"

"Hmm, what's with my fingers, angel?" 

The fingers on your clit start moving faster, motions rushed and relentless, bringing you to the verge of your climax quicker than you would ever anticipate. The sudden shift in speed makes you cry out in shock, eyes pinching shut. You're quick to bring a hand down to his wrist, tugging, trying to yank his hand away from between your legs. 

He doesn't relent, slapping your hand away and briefly resuming his assault on your aching bud. "Don't try to stop me now. I thought you wanted to cum."

"You told me not to," you rush out, heat starting to swell in your stomach, ready to burst. 

Jeonghan lets out a chortle. "That's right, baby. Ah, you listen so well..." Stretching his tongue out, he licks a broad path up your neck, stopping right underneath your jaw, where he proceeds to suck the skin. He wants to mark you, claim you. What better way than to bruise your pretty skin, right? To show everyone only a sliver of what goes on between you and him behind closed doors. 

"Oh, god, let me cum, please, please..." You have no other option than to resort to begging. Cumming without his consent would be catastrophic now. Not being able to see his face is punishment already to you, you're terrified of just how far he'd be willing to go to take his anger out on you.

Jeonghan presses the tip of his nose into the plushness of your cheek, humming as though he's weighing his options. "I don't think so, princess," he mumbles, the snap of his hips not once faltering, maintaining its hasty rhythm. "I don't think you deserve to cum."

You don't have much time left. Simple begging won't work now. You're wracking your brain for anything, anything. Forcing him to cum before you would be close to impossible, noting just how composed he seems. He's breathing hard, gravelly groans bubbling up in his chest, but he's nowhere near how wrecked you are.

Through your haze, you suddenly grow aware of the hand still draped over your throat. He's not pressing or squeezing, simply just letting his hand rest there as a means to keep you balanced on your knees as he fucks you open from behind. 

Sheer desperation makes you reach both hands up to claw at the hand on your neck. You're clinging onto the last threads of your rationality, knowing if Jeonghan puts even the slightest amount of pressure on his grip, all your sanity will go out the window, and you'd be hurled face-first into your much-awaited orgasm. You're playing with fire, you know it, but you only have one chance. 

"Unghh, f-fuck, please, choke me... I've been a bad girl, H-Hannie, choke me as punishment, and let me cum..."

You feel his mouth stretch into a grin against your cheek. Your walls are clenching around him so tight, pulsing, so hot and tight. He knows he has won. It's this notion of winning that has him thinking about giving in, but one look at your face has him reeling back his words. The furrow of your eyebrows, your slack jaw, your scarlet cheeks... it makes him feel sadistic. You wanted him to be angry at you anyway, what boyfriend would he be if he didn't give you any reason to make him angry? 

Then, Jeonghan watches. He tightens the hand around your neck, and continues his assault on your clit with the other, all while he continues to ram his dick into you again and again. You start to babble out incoherent words, and that's when he finally strikes. 

"Don't cum."

Those are the two simple words that send you dissolving into a whirl of pleasure and euphoria. Your ears feel like they're ringing as pure, white heat consumes you whole, moaning out your boyfriend's name repeatedly as you go rigid in his embrace. It's like shockwaves, rippling through you so forcibly you have no choice but to succumb to the raging tides, riding it out until you can fully apprehend the situation again. 

Gradually, you begin to notice the way Jeonghan holds you tight to him, how both his hands wrap around your waist to keep your body pressed to his, how his hips have stilled, hard cock still sheathed in your throbbing heat. He's pressing soft kisses onto your shoulder, coaxing you down from your high. 

Jeonghan lets your tired figure collapse onto the bed before sitting back and propping himself up on his heels. The sight is so endearing to him—you, still huffing breathlessly, hushed whines slipping past your lips at every exhale, so spent after only one orgasm. Jeonghan feels like it's so perverse of him to reach a hand down to stroke at his still-hard cock, touching himself to the sight of your curled figure. From this angle, he can see the mess between your thighs, remnants of your juices and his pre-cum smeared all over your puffy pussy lips. Oh, he definitely isn't done with you just yet. 

He hears you mumble his name groggily. Jeonghan's not sure whether you're calling out to him or just saying meaningless things in your post-orgasm haze. He doesn't waste time thinking, though, immediately swooping down to cage you between his arms, kissing along your hairline. "Tired already?"

Your eyes flutter open, looking up at your boyfriend who hovers above you with a smirk that makes your heart skip a beat. Fuck, you're really in for it. 

He coos at you, but it sounds sarcastic. "I told you to hold it, didn't I?"

You puff out a breath, shifting onto your back, obediently parting your legs so Jeonghan can slot himself in between them. "But your fingers—"

"Good girls don't talk back, do they, pretty?"

"N-No..."

He nods, eyes wandering downward, not trying to hide the way they zero in on your breasts. "No, they don't... But you're not a good girl, are you?" he asks, lowering himself to blow cool air onto your nipple, earning a choked gasp from you. Without any warning, he latches his mouth onto the skin at the top of your breast, sucking earnestly, not letting up until he's finally satisfied with the reddening of the skin there. He always loved to see the reddish hue of your hickeys turn into delicate shades of blue and purple as they heal. 

"I can be your good girl..."

"No, no, baby, you're a lying whore who doesn't do as they're told."

"Hannie, I asked you so many times—"

Jeonghan doesn't give you a chance to object, immediately slanting his lips over yours. He pushes his tongue past your spit-coated lips, exploring every crevice of your mouth, letting his tongue tangle with yours lasciviously. He feels you sigh against his mouth, hands coming up to curl around the nape of his neck. 

Reaching a hand down, he positions his cock over your entrance, plunging himself into your sopping pussy without any notice. It's easy to sink back into you—you're still sopping wet and stretched open from before.

Shocked, you break away from the kiss to let out a sharp cry, nails digging into his shoulders, threatening to break the skin there. "God, J-Jeonghan!"

He doesn't give you any time to adjust, quickly finding a rhythm that makes you arch your chest, pebbled nipples brushing against his front. You finally have the chance to look at him, really look at him. Fuck, you wouldn't trade this sight for anything else. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever had the privilege of seeing. 

He notices your lovestruck eyes, cock twitching inside you as he pounds into you. He thinks you're so pretty, all splayed out underneath him, so pliant, letting him do whatever he pleases with you. Your hair fans out over the pillow under your head, thin tendrils of it clinging onto your dewy temple and neck. He understands why you love to see his face so much whenever you fuck—he thinks he could cum earlier than anticipated if you keep looking at him with that infatuated gaze.

"Fuck, baby..." he curses, and it's the first time you've seen him lose his composure. "Fuck, you're such a pretty little thing..."

Your body sings at the compliment, shuddering, legs pressing into his sides, wanting to close shut but unable to. You're light-headed, still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but this feels too good to stop. With quivering hands, you slip your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling carelessly. He's growing his hair out, so the length falls just shy of his shoulders, some strands curling over his neck like delicate tendrils of silk. 

Jeonghan's low groan pulls you out of your dazed thoughts. "Hannie..."

"Mhm, am I fucking you good, gorgeous? No one else can fuck you like I can, hm?"

You rake your nails across the nape of his neck, whimpering when he shifts just a little, hitching one of your legs up and hooking it around his slender waist. He thrusts a few more times, and his cock brushes against a spot that has you jolting, mewling as he grazes it repeatedly. 

"Oh? Right there?" Jeonghan noses at your cheekbone, listening to your gasps and whimpers, feeling his abdomen tighten at the obscene sounds you let out. 

"R-Right there..."

"That's it... You think Seungcheol can get you like this?"

At the mention of your ex's name, you whine loudly. A part of you hadn't expected Jeonghan to remember the earlier incident, but you should've known better. It seems stupid to think Yoon Jeonghan wouldn't remember an incident that occurred only an hour ago. 

"H-Hannie..."

"Hm, you gonna meet him for lunch? Gonna let him try to win you over? Gonna let him have what's mine?"

You shake your head, on the verge of sobbing, feeling your eyes fill with tears. "Wouldn't do that," you rasp. "I'm yours, Hannie..."

Jeonghan doesn't seem very convinced. "Yeah? You're mine?" he mutters against the apple of your cheek. His voice is low, any traces of anger or annoyance concealed. "You wanna say you're mine, with his contact still saved in your phone, baby? Don't be silly."

Your heel digs into Jeonghan's lower back, anchoring him to you as he continues to drill into you. "But I am yours—"

"Are you?"

"Y-Yes, always yours..." A hard thrust has you gasping, tears trickling down your temple, getting caught in your hair. 

Jeonghan's pace stutters, distracted by the way you blink up at him through your damp lashes. Tears gather at your lash line, and he can't help but want more. It's a sick thought, but Jeonghan doesn't care much. How could he care when he's balls deep inside of you, feeling like he's about to explode from the way your heat wraps around him so well? He wants to see you cry for him, sob, snivel, all because you can't get enough of his cock. He wants you to cum so hard you see stars and forget about everything but him, him, him. Choi Seungcheol will be the last thing on your mind. 

When Jeonghan lowers himself down onto his elbow, he seals his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently. It's a bruising kiss, teeth digging into lips, tongue rolling together in an alluring dance. After some time, Jeonghan reluctantly pulls back, taking a much-needed breath. He groans at the sight of your lips, all plump and damp with a mixture of his and your spit. "Fuck, baby... you're mine, aren't you?" 

 "Y-Yes, yes!" you babble, vision blurring as more tears fill your eyes. 

"You're gonna let me fill you up? Have your pussy dripping my cum for days so you don't forget who you belong to. You like the sound of that?"

"God, yes, yes..." 

Your thighs are starting to shake, Jeonghan can feel it on his hips. He brings his lips over yours again, not kissing you, just barely letting it brush over yours. He can feel every hot breath you release against his mouth. "Say his name, baby."

"Unghh... Hannie—" 

He snickers. "I said his name, not mine," he says darkly, pecking your lips once. 

You're confused and so goddamn frustrated. You're teetering on the precipice of your orgasm, and he wants to play mind games with you now? "No," you whine, shaking your head. 

"No? Why are you so scared?"

"F-Fuck, please!"

"I won't get mad at you for saying it, princess." His voice has dropped down an octave. It feels like it's seeping into your brain, turning it into mush. 

"C-Can't..." you murmur, drool gathering in your mouth the more Jeonghan splits you open. 

"You can't? Why? Scared you might cum if you say his name? Scared you'll think of him when you cum?"

Your eyes grow wide in alarm. "N-No! I wouldn't do that, oh god, f-fuck..."

"Then say it or you're not cumming," he threatens, grinding harder into you, angling his pelvis just slightly so that it brushes against your clit every time he thrusts in. He watches your eyes roll back, pleasure fogging up your brain. He feels your juices coat his pelvis, splashing over his lower abdomen. Whenever his cock dips in and out, the wet sounds resound throughout the room, and it makes him hiss. "Say it," he repeats, knowing he won't last much longer. 

You frantically shake your head, moans coming out stuttered. "N-No, please don't, I can't...Hannie—"

Jeonghan notes the way you're starting to sound distant. "Say it or I'm leaving you here to cum by yourself."

Your eyes meet his—frazzled, panicked, dazed. "Please, I can't!"

"You wanted me mad, right? This is it, princess. Show some gratitude and say his fucking name."

You're trying hard to read him, to possibly decipher his intentions, but it's so hard when you feel like you're on the verge of passing out from the onslaught of pleasure. You reach one hand down to rake at the skin of his lower back, earning a throaty groan from him, a sound that makes your skin prickle. Your other hand settles on his face, cupping his jaw softly, as if begging him. 

Your eyes roam over his face, taking in his exquisite beauty that always leaves you short of breath. His tousled hair hangs over his forehead, dangling in front of his eyes, dark like pools of obsidian, drawing you into their depth. There's a radiant flush that colours his cheeks, drawing your attention to the contour of his cheekbones and jaw, dusted lightly with sweat, highlighting the sharp features. Then his lips—so inviting and soft, parting with each breath. 

Jeonghan feels almost flattered under the weight of your affectionate stare. He briefly closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose, trying to pull himself together. He tries to push everything out of his mind—your delicious sounds, your intoxicating scent, your warm cunt around his cock. It's your sweet, quiet whine that pulls him out of his reverie. When he locks eyes with you again, he knows there's nothing he can do to delay his impending climax—not when you're looking up at him so tenderly, eyes fixated on him like a moth drawn to a mesmerizing flame.

"I c-cant... Don't make me say his name, p-please..."

Jeonghan swallows hard, one hand curving at the nape of your neck. With his grip he tilts your head up, letting your lips caress his. "Say my name, then. Say my name when you cum. Look at me and show me who you belong to..." 

You cum with a shout of Jeonghan's name, your whole body shaking at the sudden explosion. You squirm in your boyfriend's hold, toes curling over the back of his thighs as the pleasure ravages your whole body, surging through every nerve and every cell. It's numbing and so overwhelming at the same time, every inch of your skin humming with electricity, and every vein feeling like they've been set ablaze. For a moment, nothing else in the world matters except you and Jeonghan, entwined in each other as you lose yourself in the whirlwind of pleasure. 

"Fuck, fuck, should I fill you up, baby?" Jeonghan's voice quivers just slightly. 

The question sends another flood of ecstasy through you, cunt fluttering around his cock a second time. "Yes, yes—"

Your voice is like a siren's call to him, beckoning him, tempting him. Jeonghan is only a man, and he's not immune to a force as powerful as you. He sinks his teeth into your neck as he finally empties himself inside you with a drawn-out groan. Your tight cunt is pulsing so tightly around him, milking him, forcing every drop of cum to spill into you and coat your walls. A rather high-pitched whine escapes his lips as he slumps into you, hips flushed to yours, aching balls slick with the mixture of your release and his. 

You're panting heavily as you wrap your arms around Jeonghan, blinking up at the ceiling blearily, feeling filled to the brim with his cum still in you. Despite having the urge to clean yourself up and get rid of the stickiness between your legs, you lie there for another minute, feeling so content with Jeonghan's weight atop yours and his lips on your neck. Being with him is pure bliss. 

"Jeonghan," you say softly after some time, not wanting to ruin the peace and quiet.

He hums, rolling over to the side to lie on his back, letting his softening cock slip out of you. He pulls you into him with one arm, allowing you to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets out a pleased sigh, one hand grazing over your bare back, fingertips gliding down the dip of your spine. 

Placing a palm on his chest, you rest your chin on the back of your hand, gazing up at him tiredly. He seems to glow so prettily, eyes fluttered shut and a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Despite the heaviness of your eyelids, you gather your resolve, knowing that you still have something to clarify with him.

Without thinking too much, you mumble Jeonghan's name again and smile when his eyes flutter open to peer down at you drowsily. His free hand comes up to brush back the hair from your eyes. 

"I'm sorry for not letting you know," you mutter, the weight of your guilt just now settling in your heart. If you don't apologise now, the feeling might devour you whole. "I should've told you..."

The hand on your back ceases moving, palm splaying on your upper back, warm against your skin. "Baby, I wasn't really—you know—angry about it. I was a little stumped, sure, but... I trust you. I always trust you."

You shake your head, pulling yourself up slightly to look at him better. "You deserve to be angry. Jeonghan, you should be so angry at me. I should've told you as soon as I got home from that dinner party."

Jeonghan chuckles, much to your dismay. "Okay, then why didn't you?"

"I just... didn't think it was important. I felt like it wasn't anything worth telling you. It's not a good excuse, I know."

"Is Seungcheol important to you?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, unable to fully grasp what you just heard. "What! No, of course not!"

"Then what's there to apologise about?" Jeonghan says with a snicker. "Did you kiss him at the party? Did he try to make any move on you? Did he seem interested in you?"

"No to all of those. I... I told him I already found someone else," you admit in a quiet voice. 

When Jeonghan smiles at you, it looks somewhat smug. "That's my girl... Besides, it wasn't his face that you were sitting on when you got back home from that party, was it?"

Appalled by Jeonghan's words, you bring your palm down on his chest, smacking him. "You're disgusting, Yoon Jeonghan."

He only laughs, eyes crinkling as he pulls you even closer. "Don't act like you don't love it."

You say nothing, only bringing your head down to rest it on his chest again. His heartbeat is strong against your ear, and his skin feels warm under your cheek. 

"So..." Jeonghan begins. "Round two in the shower?"

He doesn't have to ask twice—you're already off the bed and sauntering towards the bathroom. 

© sweetlemontart — all rights reserved.

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere Bachira/ Yandere Shidou + Obsessing Over Their Agent

Giving into their egos at the end of Blue Lock, they're used to getting everything they wanted and what they wanted next...was their cute little agent who handled their public relations and contracts♡

Characters: Bachira Meguru, Shidou Ryusei

Bachira:

"You're staring again."

Bachira blinks at your words, dazed as he slowly was brought back to reality. Huh, he must've zoned out staring at your face again. Your sharp (e/c) eyes focused on your phone, your stoic expression making his heart beat a bit more quickly in his chest, and your hair which was all fixed up and neat was just begging for his fingers to come through it with how it looked. He tilted his head to the side cutely and closed his eyes, flashing you his most charming smile.

"Can you blame me?" He chuckled, moving his way over to you. With lightning fast reflexes, you stuck your foot up in the air to stop him while still focusing on your task at hand as he whined and tried to pinch your cheek. He pouted after a few unsuccessful minutes and frowned, "Aw! You're no fun, (Y/n)-chan!"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes but you did respond to him.

"Sir, don't be misinformed; this relationship is purely professional. I am your agent, you are my client. That is all." You spoke sternly to him as if he were a child, "Now, let's get you ready for that commercial shoot."

Just a client, huh?

Bachira sighs and holds his chest where his heart would be and looks at you with his big yellow puppy dog eyes: "That hurts, (Y/n)! After everything we've been through!"

Again, his attempts were met with silence and he frowned, seeing that you were still focused on your phone. That's not fair, (Y/n), so many people would've absolutely killed to be in your shoes in this moment and you have the audacity to brush him off? Fine, he'll just have to make it clear that there was no one else but you.

- He makes everything difficult for everyone if it doesn't involve you, he's still likeable, but everyone just talks about how he's a bit too energetic to stay still. You can't tell how many times make up crews, directors, and training coaches or even other players had to shyly come up to you and make Bachira comply with their wishes because "he behaves when you're around".

- Many times Bachira tries to make it appear you two are a couple; telling you that he loves you as you do his foundation for his upcoming interviews, excitedly running at you in between commercial breaks to ask you if he did well, and often wanting to take you out for casual outings as celebration but you declined. You didn't want to feed into whatever delusion he had in his head about you two.

- You tried to be a bit personal and suggest he try out some sports modeling, casually mentioning how a current model heart throb was interested in collaborating with him in hopes that it'd be enough to get him to move on but he frowned and shook his head. NO! He's not posing for pictures with anyone, especially not for some random model, if its not you!

- Even though you're in charge of his social media; he will still post pictures of you to his own account, admiring how cute you are when you're in the zone, or just captioning the photo with a simple: "Mine♥️💕" and even though you tell him to delete those photos everytime, you feel a bit uneasy when you realize you didn't even notice him pulling out his phone and getting these photos until he tagged you in them. You just hope he doesn't have anymore photos of you that you didn't know about.

- Bachira is without a doubt obsessive, he gets giddy when you call him because he believes one of these days you'll wake up and realize you love him back just as much, only to be slightly dissapointed when you are merely calling him to discuss contract details. That's fine, though! One of these days you're going to have to face the reality that you two were meant to be together♡

- You're just like him after all! It's just that you want to dominate a different field than him. Your goals are similar, be the best that Japan has to offer, making sure that Bachira succeeds on and off the field helps ensure your own success, and while you didn't want to deal with his annoying behavior all the time; it'd be a foolish choice to quit working for him. You think that he knows that too because he'll always try to test the waters of your relationship, never really believing your threats of switching to a different player.

- Because even if you didn't love him, you needed him, just as he needed you. Surely you'll end up loving him back, though, after all: there was no one else in his eyes besides you. So he'll work hard to be the best, not just for Japan, but for you. Each goal he makes, he looks at you and sees the briefest smile on your face and it drives him wild the rest of the game to keep scoring and scoring.

- Don't think you've tamed the monster inside of him, though. Because it'll never be truly satisfied until it finally has you. All of you.

Shidou:

"Why're you buying flowers for that asshole?"

You felt a shiver go up your spine, feeling Shidou's sharp chin resting on your shoulder and feeling his warm breath on the back of your right ear, he was still a little sweaty from his daily drills and workouts...technically, he should've been working out still but his fitness coaches knew the moment you stepped into the room that he wouldn't be able to focus on anything but you.

"Technically, you're buying him flowers," You corrected, moving away from him. He raised an eyebrow but kept a deadpan face as you turned around to explain to him, "Shido, you're already controversial. You played way too hard and broke that man's ankle. Sending flowers is the least you could do."

Aw, give him some credit...he could've done a lot worse if he wanted too but he managed to restrain himself from doing that, all for you. Plus, it was entirely the other guy's fault anyways. That asshole was eyeing you up and down when you weren't looking and jokingly told Ryusei that he wished he had an agent that was as hot as you were instead of his current old and grumpy one. Shido knew he had the best things: the best cars, the best shoes, the best career a soccer player could ask for...but you were different. You were one of the things he had that made him the best, flipping his controversies into picturing him as this passionate player whose just motivated to represent his country, but you were meant for only him to admire. Everyone else is allowed to stare at you two with envy and jealously but that's ALL.

"I'm not sending him no damn flowers and neither are you." He scoffed, taking your phone from your hand and canceling the order. You frowned and tried to grab it back from him, he raised it above his head am to force you to reach for it and when you raised one arm and stood on both your tippy toes, he used his free arm to hook it around your waist and pull you close to him. Pining you against the wall, his pink eyes focused on you in a way that a predator would eye its prey.

"Quit thinkin' about some nobody player. You're MY agent."

- Before you, Shidou went through a lot of agents. Agents who quit on the spot because he was impossible to work with, agents who just stormed out of the doors because they couldn't take anymore, agents who still badmouth him to the public and feeding into his reputation.

- Then you walked in through those doors. Steely gazed, chin up and proud. You were cute, that's for sure, but you weren't gonna be any different then the rest of them. At least, thats what he had originally thought. You never lost your mind over the way he played, you never complained about how he was making your job impossible, and you never lost your cool.

- You were a professional at your job, you knew how to make him appeal to the audience and frame him in a better light while also making sure he didn't have to change too much...because he would never change. So you would work with what you had, how did the saying go? There's no such thing as bad publicity.

- Unlike Bachira, you just being there isn't gonna make him behave. If you're gonna make him do some lame ass photoshoot then he better be getting something out of it. At first it was just things like arranging a deal with a brand he liked, setting up a soccer match with some good players only for him to absolutely ruin them. He started to like you because of those things.

- However it escalated one day when he asked for something that took you off gaurd. A kiss. It was for an interview and he refused to let anyone touch him so they all ran crying to you, he instantly looked at you as you put a gentle hand on his shoulder and asked him what he wanted this time so you both could get through this.

- He didn't even really think about it either, he was a little shocked when he said it himself but he was just mesmerized by your lips that he wondered what it'd be like to kiss them. So he wanted to find out. You were flustered, rightfully so and tried to bargain with him but he was dead set on that kiss...oh well...it was one measly kiss. So you kissed his cheek and he frowned, not exactly what he wanted but you did give him what he wanted technically.

- But yeah, that just kinda sparked his obsession with you and his obsession isn't what you should be concerned about. It's his possessive nature, you work for him so you belong to him. He doesn't like you talking to other people most of the time, constantly grabbing your phone and hanging up important calls when the conversation goes somewhere he doesn't like or deems isn't as important as him.

- Shidou knows he doesn't love you but love isn't exactly on either of your radars since your focused on your career, which only does well as long as Shido's does well. It doesn't stop him from looking at you tying his tie for him, imagining you doing something more intimate than a mere kiss on the cheek, to take you out on fancy dates and buy you nice things and all the crap (he's tried before but you always refuse) and when he wakes up in the morning, he wonders how different it would be if you were next to him. He might love you but overall, it's a matter of possession. You belong to him. No one else.

[itsmeatballworld]

| it ends in heartbreak |

pairing | daryl dixon x f!reader

summary | you both knew he would break your heart. he couldn't help himself.

wc | 1400

warnings | cursing, sadness/heartbreak [aka the title]

a/n | I've had this in my drafts forever lol I forgot about this one! Also this is the first time I've ever written pure angst so go easy on me <3

continue... [ part 2 ] - [ part 3 ]

You always knew this day would come.

There were signs pointing to the downfall of your relationship, signs you chose to ignore to enjoy the moments of happiness.

But the signs couldn’t be any clearer–it would never last. It couldn't.

It was the end of the world, for starters. Life was always in shambles. The group never stayed in one spot long enough. Even the prison wasn’t safe. With everything unstable, it should’ve been obvious this would happen, but you were naive to think you’d would be any different.

Because the reality was: this was always how it was supposed to end.

He was built on a fractured foundation. He set up walls and built his life around a broken base, worn down by his past that he couldn't escape. First, parents had cracked and hardened his outlook on life. Then his brother taught him he meant little to others by leaving him behind. Not once did he ever learn how to fix the ache in his heart.

Yet when he met you, things changed.

It was gradual. Pieces of him started to align and heal. The tough outer shell wasn't as indestructible as he first imagined. After some time he opened up and let you in.

But you both knew he would break your heart.

He couldn't help himself. It was in his nature to push back, to fight and wrangle away from anything that became too real. Too good.

But for the time being, you enjoyed the blissful moments of his affection.

When he kissed you goodnight it was over.

He lingered, almost as if he was allowing his lips to memorize the feeling of your skin on his. His fingers fell against your curves as you pressed into the cellblock’s cool cement wall. It was in these seconds of quiet where you both had a chance to breathe.

Pulling back, Daryl rested one arm above your head. He leaned in close, gazing sweetly down at you. His other hand slowly traveled to your face and Daryl’s thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

Without hesitating you whispered the words he never imagined hearing from you.

Love you.

There. Right there. You saw the spark in his bright blue eyes dim. The crystalline color washed away into a deep ocean blue. Rocky and turbulent. Daryl’s eyes were no longer filled with love, but rather, fear.

You lost him, right there, pressed against the concrete wall of Cellblock D.

This was destined to fail.

“Please don’t do this.”

“Have to.”

“No…no you don’t have to, Daryl.” Your chest tightened. It was like the air was on fire. No matter how deeply you breathed in and out, pain still resided in your chest. He was crippling you.

“Daryl–”

“Ain’t up for debate.” He stepped back, snatching his crossbow from the watchtower’s metal flooring.

Your hands fumbled to find your shirt, hating how he sprung this on you in the middle of the night. He didn't have patience to wait, apparently. Just break your heart and go, like it was nothing.

“I’m not trying to…I just…” you groaned. “What happened? Was it me? Did I do something?”

His eyes went wide. That scared, fearful expression washed over him once again.

Fuck, you squeezed your eyes shut. That was it. That look. It was just like the other night. When those stupid words stumbled out of your mouth, falling to the ground at Daryl’s feet. Just before he crushed them with his silence.

“Was it something I said?”

He didn't answer and his silence (unlike most nights) wasn't good enough. You needed answers.

“So that’s it then. You say ‘I’m done’ and leave before sunrise?”

The broody man fought to glance in your direction. Instead, he focused out towards the tree-line. He grabbed onto the windowsill and squeezed so tightly that the white of his knuckles appeared. But his tactics to avoid the conversation at hand weren’t getting past you tonight.

You shot up from the floor. “Daryl.”

“I ain’t got time for this.”

“You fuck me, say we’re done, and leave? Like this was all nothing? Like we mean nothing to each other?”

Daryl paused. He turned to you with lips curled into a tight frown. Even in the darkness of the watchtower, through the bright white moonlight, his frustration was clear.

“I said ‘I love you’, Daryl.” There was a desperation behind your words. Your voice was so deeply distressing it made your chest ache. It was heavy and exhausting to display your feelings out to him in the middle of the night. But you wanted more–deserved more–than a shitty ending to whatever you had with him.

“You think this is love?”

You gawked, “yes!”

He paced the small room like a caged animal ready to pounce.

You love this man.

“This ain’t love.”

You love this man. This jerk.

“Then what the fuck is this, Daryl? Tell me.” You paused, tears welling in your eyes but you refused to let them fall. “Fucking tell me!”

The shirt in your hands balled up tight around your closed fist. You were hurt. Everything about him was trouble and you let him in.

“I said ‘I love you’. I said it and now you’re pulling away.”

As he watched you, just for a moment, his eyes didn’t fill with fear or confusion. There was something there. Between the declarations, he looked apologetic. His blue eyes softened, letting the emotions he desperately tried to conceal slip past those walls he built back up.

“Well, shit! I’m sorry I said it. I fucked this up, didn’t I?” The gravel in your voice scratched your throat. Everything burned.

The apologetic stare turned pitiful. A deep scowl crossed his face and your heart sank. “Can’t mess it up when there was nothin’ here, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. It was so condescending as his drawl pulls at the syllables. That tightness in your chest balled into a pit of rage. Fire that burned you before ignited an anger inside.

You moved closer towards him. “You sleep with me every night. You kiss me before leaving on runs. When you think nobody’s looking, you hold my hand. We talk about our past. Our future. This is real, Daryl.”

“Nah.” He grabbed his belt, twisting it through the loops. “This ain’t real.”

Your fingers tightened on the fabric as you tugged the shirt on. “That’s not true—“

He huffed, staring out into the cloudy night sky. “You’re better off without me anyway.”

“Don’t. Don't say that. I’m not better off without you. I’d be worse.”

Daryl paused.

But the hurt and anger fueling your body didn’t stop. “So don’t make me feel crazy for falling in love with you. Like it was a choice? If I was fucking smart, I would’ve ran far away from you the second we met. But I didn’t. Because I saw you for more than the asshole you pretend to be. So excuse me for feeling blindsided by your decision to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He spat. “Get it through your head, girl. You ain’t mine! You’re just some bitch I screwed.”

The frogs croaking down by the creeks ceased to exist. Trees stopped rustling in the breeze. Crickets no longer sang under the stars. The world froze as his words were thrown at you with such haste. Like he didn’t think twice.

Your arms wrapped around your waist, tugging at the fabric clinging to your body.

He didn’t look back at you. His eyes seemed to drift anywhere but you like he couldn't face the fact that he said it out loud.

No, no. He doesn’t really think that…

Your voice cracked as the tears from earlier were not going to wait much longer. “Daryl–”

He turned on his heels and was out the door. Down the ladder, each step was louder than the last. You paused, bawling your fists as the tears finally spilled across your cheeks. Loud and heaving gasps, muddled together with hot tears.

He broke you down within seconds. The tears and sobs continued on for what felt like forever until you finally had a moment of rest. The tightness in your chest subsided, thankfully, but this was the easier part. Tomorrow will be harder when you’ll have to put on a fake smile, wipe away tears in the dark prison hallways, and avoid him.

Forget him. Forget him…right like it would be easy. It’ll be fucking impossible to forget him.

You wished you could hate him. But you don’t.

So for tonight, you let yourself feel the heartbreak and planned to stand taller tomorrow. Because in the end you knew it would never last.

But it didn't matter.

You loved that man.

Yet after everything, he might have been right. You weren't truly with him.

And maybe he never really cared for you at all.

-xx-

-xx-

a/n 2.0 | daryl PLEASEE {as if I didn't write him to act this way}

[usiel21]

There will come a day where the stalker or someone will kidnap Enid in order to use her against Wednesday. He or she will be filled with such confidence about their plan, but Enid will hold a smug sadness, saying that Wednesday won't come for her, Wednesday won't fall for such an obvious trap even if she was worth saving which she isn't. Enid, having come to terms with the fact she was in love with her best friend, that she came to terms with the fact that Wednesday would never feel the same, that she would pine and worship Wednesday from within the shadows for the rest of her life. Enid, believing that no-one would come for her, not Wednesday, not her family, because she thinks she's not worth it. But she's glad because Wednesday would stay safe even if it meant it cost her life once her usefulness was null and void. Until the ground started to shake and a rumbling seems to engulf the cabin. Enid looks up as the darkness seems to create a shockwave that consistently shakes the walls and the very foundations of the cabin "What in the fuck" He mumbles to himself, Enid hears the something being slapped into something else, a clicking sound and snap, Enid realises that the man has just loaded a weapon and primed it. The windows start to rattle as specks of black start to black out the windows, the mass seeming to sift and creep and Enid realises what she's looking at. Bees.

Millions upon millions of Bees. Suddenly the door to the cabin shakes in the frame as something rattles it. Something heavy. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. The man unloads several rounds into the door. Each shot causing Enid to flinch and shake, smoke pours from the end of the barrel, the last shell casing having clattered to the floor. There was sudden silence. Save for the buzzing of the bee's surrounding the cabin. The door is suddenly blown apart causing Enid to shriek and turn her head away as splinters of wood fly in all directions. Smoke dances and prances in the dim light until a shadow steps through, her face aflame with an icy fury. "You dare to take what belongs to me. I will make you beg for mercy in death" Wednesday says coldly, except Enid gapes at her, Wednesday is adorned from head to toe in black armour, a sword clasped in her right hand, a small dagger in the left.

But there upon one of the pauldron's is a small insignia, the head of a howling wolf. White in colour, except for two streaks of blue and pink atop the wolf's head. "Wends..." Enid whimpers softly.

"You think I didn't come prepared Addams?" The Man hissed. "You people are stupidly impervious to damage, except for this" The Man says pressing the barrel of the gun to the side of Enid's head. "I heard that the pain of losing the love of your life is enough to make you Addams' die from a broken heart." The man grins maliciously. "I'm curious to find out!"

Wednesday raises the sword and points it at the man. "Enid's life is the only thing stopping me from ripping you apart. The pain of losing the woman I love will destroy me, but I'll have enough will left to avenge her upon your corpse" Wednesday threatened darkly. "Wends..." Enid whispers almost silently "...you love me?" Her eyes pleading, desperate, shimmering with tears. "You overtook my soul with yours Enid, you conquered every corner of darkness with the light you bring, how... how could i not?"

Enid let the tears fall, because Wednesday was here for her. Wednesday had really come for her but as her assailant and Wednesday stared each other down more shadows moved behind her, Wednesday stepped to the side to clear her view and she saw the entirety of Wednesday's family behind her, their faces thunderous, Yoko, Divina, Ajax, Eugene, and half of Nevermore seemed to be outside.

And she realised that she was loved and cherished, so much so that Wednesday call in every favour she ever had to mobilize a small army. Gomez Addams stepped up behind his daughter, his own sabre raised, as he backed up his eldest, the look upon his face sent genuine fear down Enid's spine, his face dark, monstrous. "You stole our wolf from the Addams clan" Gomez uttered darkly, As Morticia gracefully came up to her husbands side. "And for that there shall be no mercy for you for she has our little stormcloud's heart, ensnaring all our hearts with her colourfully sharp claws!" "She is family" Morticia said proudly "And we protect our family." She said as her eyes turned black. Sweat began to pour from the man's forehead, his composure gone and doubt began to gnaw at him, the gun came away from Enid's temple to point directly at Wednesday who darted forwards, her sword flashing, and his arm, still clutching the pistol, hit the floor with a thud.

But Enid paid no heed to this, only when Wednesday flew to her side, her hands more gentle that she thought possible as Wednesday checked over her carefully, face laced with concern. Her hands became loose and Enid's first act was to launch forwards, ensnaring Wednesday in her arms, her scent a comfort, her touch a relief, her love a salvation.

Enid, inconsolable with both sadness and elation, with the knowledge she was now truly loved, that she had a family, that she had Wednesday, who held her tight lest she slip from her fingers again.

Enid, finally felt loved.

[blackkatmagic]

Ooh for the ask game Oola. I love her💕

On Ryloth, every type of bender has their own dance. It’s hard to remember, sometimes, that the rest of the galaxy just sees bodies moving.

Oola stays still, careful, quiet, as Jabba sleeps. There are a handful of people left around the main rooms of his palace, but more of the guests and hangers-on are asleep, sprawled out drunk in corners or having retreated to their rooms. The only one still awake is the Ubese bounty hunter in the heavy mask, settled back against the far wall to watch the room.

It’s a problem, but—Oola is too desperate to care at this point.

Only knowing that this was an option got her through the dance earlier. Oola had been tempted to fight back, to resist even if she knows what happens to slaves who defy Jabba. She’d held herself back, though, because Jabba always drinks heavily when he’s pleased, and getting the smuggler as a wall decoration had pleased him.

It means he won't wake up for anything short of an explosion, now, and that’s all the chance Oola needs.

Carefully, she shifts, slowly enough that the clink of the chains won't draw attention. Boba Fett is still in the palace, probably lurking in the halls somewhere, and he’s dangerous enough, clever enough to make her wary. But—

With her body between her and the bounty hunter, she brings her hands up, breathes out, breathes in again. The foundation of any dance is breathing, even more than motion, and she remembers hours in the sun with her mother, training her breaths in Ryloth’s scorching heat. The hand motions are simple, too, muscle memory now, and she turns her hands, slides her palms past each other, breathes. Tatooine's suns are down, and this would be easier in the day, but that’s fine. This is her only chance to get away, so she has to take it.

Light flickers, fire kindles. A flame leaps between her palms, and Oola curls around it, lets the chain connected to her collar fall right through its heart. Harder to hold it while she’s still, but an actual dance is impossible, so this has to be enough. At least for this, it’s all in the breath, at least.

Oola breathes out, in, out again, and focuses on heat. Focuses on Ryloth’s suns, and the feeling of the traditional dance the firebenders use to call up their flames. She knows the steps, knows the guide they give, and like this her bending is stripped entirely of its grace and beauty, filed down into something utilitarian and rough, but—

She’s escaping. That’s the only important thing.

And then, just a little heavier than silence, there’s a footfall behind her.

Oola jerks her hands down, ducks. The chain is glowing white-hot, though it hasn’t melted yet, and there's no hiding that, but if she plays stupid, if she uses the fact that to Jabba she’s just a plaything—

The bounty hunter’s hand slides into her line of vision, careful to avoid her lek, and catches the chain. Then, sharp, their other hand slashes down—

Fire, a thin and blue-white lance of it that’s hotter than anything Oola has ever felt before, strikes the metal and breaks it in one blow, sending drops of molten steel scattering across the sand.

Quick, the bounty hunter pulls Oola to her feet, still gripping the glowing end of the chain so it can’t fall back against her skin. They jerk their head towards one of the halls, but don’t wait for a response, just pull Oola in that direction at a near run, ducking into the shadows, then down the halls, through several rooms and up a narrow set of stairs meant for the slaves. Near the top, there’s a door standing ajar, and the bounty hunter pushes it all the way open, guides Oola in, then shoves it closed behind her.

Fear rises, and Oola takes three quick steps back, unease warring with relief. The Ubese hasn’t shown any interest in Jabba's personal slaves since their arrival, and they have to know what Jabba will do to them for taking Oola even this far, but still an unsteady sort of fear washes through her veins, makes her hands tremble as she raises them. One on one, she can defend herself if she needs to, without the threat of Jabba's retaliation, but people will notice.

Slowly, deliberately, the bounty hunter raises their hands, palms out, then reaches up. They grip their helmet, pull—

Not an Ubese at all. A Human, a woman with heavy braids of brown hair bound up out of the way, clear brown eyes that meet and hold Oola’s without hesitation.

“Easy,” she says, pitched quiet even though they're alone in the room. “You were trying to escape, weren’t you? I can help.”

“Why should I trust you?” Oola asks, as steady as she can make it. “You work for Jabba.”

The woman snorts, like that accusation is ridiculous. “I'm here to save a friend,” she says. “The one in carbonite.” Hesitates, just for an instant, and then meets Oola’s gaze again and says plainly, “My name is Leia Organa. I'm the princess of Alderaan. If you know that, it means I'm at risk, too. So we’re even. We can trust each other.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” Oola says, but—she knows what happened to Alderaan. She’s heard of its princess, even on Ryloth. Even on Tatooine.

The princess of lost Alderaan saved her. It’s like something out of one of the old tales her father loved.

“Why not?” Leia asks, and smiles. “You don’t have to worry. My brother and I have a plan.”

A plan. Oola didn’t have one beyond breaking the chain, and she puts a hand up to the collar, something shiver through her. If there’s really a way out—all the way out, and not just to die in the desert, free but still doomed—someone like Princess Leia would surely know it, or be able to make it. But—

“Boba Fett is somewhere in the palace,” she says, and it feels a little bit like despair. “He’s too dangerous—”

Leia rolls her eyes. “My brother is distracting him,” she says, and smiles at Oola, like sharing a secret. “That’s part of the plan.”

It seems utterly impossible that the prince and princess of Alderaan are both on Tatooine, both working to free one friend from Jabba's grip. Seems even more ridiculous that they would care about freeing an enslaved dancer, too, without any reason to bother, and Oola has to take a breath, close her eyes. It feels like a dream, like at any moment she’s going to wake up to Jabba's touch, a waking nightmare she’s lived through for months now.

It's not Jabba's touch that makes her open her eyes, though. It’s a Human hand, cooler than her own skin, bare of its heavy glove. Leia touches her cheek, light, careful, and when Oola looks up, Leia holds her gaze with a seriousness that makes Oola’s heart turn over in her chest.

“We can get you out,” Leia promises, and her smile is a warm thing, like Ryloth’s sun. “Your firebending is beautiful. It shouldn’t stay in a place like this.”

Oola shudders, closes her eyes. She presses a hand over Leia's, leans in, and when Leia wraps her up in a tight hug, she twines her lekku around Leia's arms, buries her face in the worn pressure suit, and just breathes.

She was just dancing, before. But Leia saw it for what it was. And right now, that feels like the only thing that matters.

[materassassino]

Green Pastures, Still Waters

This is a little birthday present for @non-un-topo, who is very lovely and deserves to have a wonderful birthday. I hope you like it!

(I did try to draw Nicolò with sheep for you, but I have completely forgotten how to draw, it seems. I'm sorry.)

---

In truth, Nicolò loves Yusuf more than he could ever say. More than his own limbs, his own breath. With every beat of his heart, in time with Yusuf’s. It is a certainty, a steadfast and immovable foundation of his being, by now.

That does not mean, of course, that there is not… friction. They are two very different men, sometimes.

“I tire of this place!”

Yusuf announces it, loudly, to the pasture around them. The sheep are unbothered by this, and continue grazing. They have become completely inured to Yusuf’s histrionics, and he scowls at them, hands on his hips.

“Philistines,” he says, and throws himself on the grass. He then springs up again, yelping, because the grass is sparse and brown, and the ground is baked hard and it is very, very hot. The Sardinian sun is fickle at best and merciless at worst.

Nicolò, much more wisely, has chosen a rock in the shade. He sits with his crook across his lap, chin propped on his hand, and watches Yusuf scoot back into the shade beside him, where the ground is less fiery.

Yusuf draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, pouting fiercely. Nicolò lets him stew a moment longer.

“Why do you tire?” he asks.

Yusuf turns to him with a look of complete and utter outrage on his face.

“Why? Why?” he demands, his voice almost shrill with indignation. “Nicolò, what kind of question is that?”

Nicolò thinks it a perfectly legitimate question. He likes this place. He loves the gentle but rugged mountains, the rocks and the cliffs and the stiff, scrubby pines, the scent of the myrtle and the laurel bushes. He loves the olives and figs and carobs. He loves the animals, the mouflons and deer, the lizards and crawling insects, and the birds, from the smallest to the great vultures that soar above. He loves the silence broken only by birdsong and the symphony of grasshoppers and the quiet rustle of the trees. He loves tending the sheep, hearing their bleating, feeding and watering and herding them, and in the spring, helping the ewes give birth, bringing new little lives into this world, soft and white. He loves the sun on his skin and the cool of the shade and the caress of the mountain breeze on his face.

This place, he thinks, is its own sort of paradise.

Yet while he flourishes, Yusuf seems to wither.

“Do you not like it here?” Nicolò asks. Yusuf lets his head fall back with a long-suffering sigh.

“I grow weary, Nicolò,” he says. “I am bored!”

Nicolò blinks. “Bored?” he repeats, surprised. He would have deemed this place perfect for art to bloom, inspiration in every hillside. Yusuf raises a rather condescending eyebrow at him.

“Yes. Bored. It is the same, day after day! The sheep, the mountains, the vast, never-ending blue sky! I miss…” He huffs, folding his arms. “I miss being in a city. I miss gossip and debate and the vibrancy of human life! I miss markets and varied foods and music and festivities! I miss libraries and art! I miss people!”

Nicolò grip on his crook tightens, twisting nervously. In truth, despite the knowledge of Yusuf’s unwavering love, there is always some fear. Little, dark thoughts, ink in water, that Yusuf might one day want more. Want better.

“Do you tire of my company, Yusuf?” he asks, very quietly.

Yusuf whips around, his eyes wide and horrified.

“What? No!” He springs up, crowding close to Nicolò on his rock, and takes his face between his palms. “Never!” He kisses every part of Nicolò’s face, his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his lips. “Never, not in a thousand lifetimes!”

He sits back, taking one of Nicolò’s hands. “No, I merely… miss other people. This place is beautiful but so quiet. My thoughts chase themselves, tangle themselves in knots until I can barely think. My head is so loud it aches, sometimes.” He sighs. “We have boundless time, and yet I fear that here there is too much of it.”

Nicolò reaches out, stroking Yusuf’s cheek. “I think I understand.”

What is for Nicolò quiet contemplation, for Yusuf is, after too long, maddening emptiness. They truly are two very different men. He kisses Yusuf’s wrist, the heel of his hand, the pad of his thumb.

“I would say we could leave, but…” He gestures helplessly to the sheep. “We promised.”

Yusuf hums. “We did, we did.”

Nicolò knows Yusuf is a man of his word. They promised the old widow Agnese to mind her flock for the spring and the summer, and Yusuf would never renege on such a thing unless there was, truly, no other choice, but wanderlust flaps desperate wings against the cage of his ribs.

“My desire is frivolous,” Yusuf admits. “I feel quite selfish, now that I think about it.”

“Do not be foolish,” Nicolò chides gently. “You have wishes, and I would see you happy, Yusuf. That is my desire.” He gets to his feet, crook discarded, pulling Yusuf with him. “When the summer ends, we will find a city, a huge, wonderful, loud city, and you will discuss your philosophy and write your poetry and make your art again!”

Yusuf laughs, tugging him closer. “In truth, Nicolò, wherever you take me, I am happy. Forgive my grumbling.”

Nicolò could never paint with words like Yusuf does. He could never voice the beauty he sees in that beloved face, the glory of Yusuf’s bright smile, the melody of his laughter, the softness of his joyful eyes. So he kisses him, attempting to pour all his love, his devotion, the boundless depth and lofty heights of it into where their lips meet. And when Yusuf kisses back with the same passion, perhaps that is proof he can feel it.

They must be very distracted, because all of a sudden Yusuf sqawks into the kiss. The earth disappears from beneath their feet, and Nicolò’s back makes hard, painful contact with the ground. Their teeth smash into each other, cracking, cutting Nicolò’s lip and his tongue, and Yusuf’s entire weight on top of him knocks the wind from his lungs.

Dazed, he stares up at the sky, feeling new teeth grow back in, an itching, sharp ache. It is a deeply unpleasant sensation.

“You beast! Demon of a sheep!” Yusuf cries. He scrambles up to his knees, pointing accusingly.

The sheep – the one Nicolò has called Alfreda, because he cannot help but name them, and name them after saints at that – bleats mockingly back, and turns away, content in her petty vengeance.

“She charged right into me,” Yusuf grumbles, shifting so he can massage his behind. Nicolò laughs at that, wiping away the blood from his mouth.

“Alfreda is very opinionated,” he says, sitting up. “God’s punishment for shirking our duties to mind them, no doubt.”

Yusuf snorts, and sits back on his hands, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“I shall remember her for my entire long life,” he vows. “I shall remember and curse Alfreda the sheep, until death finally comes for me. Do you hear me?!” he yells after her. She takes absolutely no notice, going back to grazing.

Nicolò laughs again, falling to the side into Yusuf’s shoulder, and when the laughter dies away, he stays there. Yusuf holds out his hand, and Nicolò takes it, threading their fingers together, and Nicolò can never cease to marvel at how perfectly they fit, despite looking so very different.

[glorious-imagines]

Don't Wanna Be Torn

1 2 3 4

Jason lay on his bed, staring at his stained ceiling as he tossed a stress ball. He hadn't gone to see Isabel or the twins. Not yet. Not when he had Gabby's words swirling in his head like a maelstrom. Not when he had to make another choice that would shake his foundations. In hindsight, he should've thought about the first foundation-shaking choice more deeply. He probably would've been able to still be happy with Y/n.

Y/n... Not a day had gone by that she wasn't on his mind. The true object of his affection. He missed the catch, and the plushy ball landed on his face with a soft thunk. A light huff escaped his nostrils, and he just laid there, eyes closed. Basking in the silence. Images of Y/n flashed in his mind. His heart is aching for her. 

When the image of her laughing with Conner shot forth, his lids opened abruptly. Of course. Even in his own mind, there is no peace. He should be used to that by now. His mind has never been a place of comfort. Y/n probably wouldn't be happy if he came running back to her. Uprooting the work she's taken to heal her hurt. He wouldn't forgive himself, either.

He sat up, the stress ball rolling down his face as he did so. He stared at it for a moment. It was a stupid gift from Roy. He'd gotten it at the at the last minute for one of his birthdays. Jason hardly celebrates such a day. But this stupid two-dollar toy from a nearby gift store was all that remained. He didn't fully understand why, but he cherished the ball. When Roy gave it to him, he said, don't forget to think about you. Jason had since taken it everywhere.

He stuffed it in his pocket with a centering huff. "Time to face the music." He wasn't at all enthusiastic about what he was going to do. But almost thirty minutes later, he was outside Isabel's hospital room.

He takes a breath. And another. The haze in his mind cleared, but his heart seemed to constrict. His hands were getting clammy as he reached to open the door. He swallowed when he saw Isabel sitting between the twins incubators.

Isabel's face lights up when she notices him. "Jay! Hi, I didn't think you were coming."

He grabbed the nearest chair and dragged it to the foot of her bed. "Hey, Isabel. How are you? You feeling okay after everything?"

"Yeah, it was a surprise, but myself and our babies are fine." She took a sip of the little orange juice cup.

He nods with a barely noticeable, somber smile on his face. "Good, I'm glad." 

Silence quickly invades the room. It steals the air of normalcy and creates a smog of tension. Isabel's eyes seem to be trained on her juice cup. Jason's were fixed on her. 

And they stay like that for what feels like hours to Isabel. She huffs in annoyance and looks back at him. Her face is scrounged in an awkward mix of apprehension and annoyance. "She told you, right? Gabby? About that guy?"

Jason snorts and grabs one of her juice cups, poking a straw into the top before taking a drink. Isabel watches with a growing pit in her stomach. 

"I don't wanna cause you too much stress, so I'll get to the point." He started when she finished the small drink and placed it back on the table. "I know they're not mine."

"Jaso--"

"I think you've said more than enough these past months. It is absolutely shit that you derailed the trajectory of my life to make me play father to someone else's kids.

"Jason, please--"

"Not done." He levels his oceanic blues into her, through her. "I was prepared to marry her. She was it for me. And you stole that life from me." 

To her, he is scarily calm. He should be yelling. Yelling would be less stressful. Even if it woke the twins, she would prefer his anger to... whatever the hell he was giving her. If the twins suddenly woke, they would have no choice but to end this conversation.

"I will never forgive you for that. It hurt me, but more importantly, it hurt Y/n. And she deserves so much more." He could feel the heat of his pain welling up. He took a deep breath. "I'm not upset about that guy. I never said we were official. From the start, I was only here for the twins. I would've helped, Isabel. You were my friend. I would've helped if you asked."

"Were?" She involuntarily questions.

"After all this, there's no way we can maintain the relationship we once had."

The tears pooling in her sapphires spilled over. "Jason, please, I'm sorry."

He stands and stretches. "M'gonna call in some favors. Get you set for when you leave."

"Jason..."

"If you need anything for the twins, and I doubt you will, you have my number. But only for the twins. I won't respond to anything else, and if you try to trick me, I'll cut you off completely." He opens the door and says, "Goodbye, Isabel."

...

At the gala, Conner let Y/n know what he'd said to Jason. He described it as childish and stupid, and he was very sorry. And he dropped to his knees and begged her not to ghost him or something.

It was super embarrassing, but also incredibly hilarious. Such a huge guy was on his knees, begging for forgiveness, and putting on such a show. She laughed, genuinely and heartily as she pulled him up. She gave him another shot, but he had to work double time if he wanted her to be with him. He was more than happy to agree, of course.

From then on, he'd been attached at the hip to her. She didn't mind; she liked having him work so hard for her. She wished Jason had done the same. They wouldn't be in the mess they currently find themselves.

Not that she actually knew what he was going through. She just knew that chick would be a hand full. If she wasn't pregnant, she'd have hit her. And she definitely would've deserved it.

Thinking about her made Y/n's blood boil. So she stopped. And maybe that's what she's needed all along. To just stop. Though her heart aches for Jason, his sense of responsibility takes him elsewhere. And even if he were to come back...

The thought of leaving Conner pulled her full lips down and made her stomach swirl in the worst way. He felt comforting and warm. A feeling that wasn't new to her but was severely missed. Like he was hot tea on a bitterly cold night.

"Y/n?"

She looked up from idly circling her martini glass rim. "Hm?"

"You okay? Seem a bit lost."

"Just a bit of thinking."

"Not about boys. Pleeaase not about boys," Shana whined childishly.

Y/n puckered her lips, her head turning up a bit and away, her eyes going back to her friend like a puppy that made a mess of the trash. Shana chuckled and elbowed her lightly. "Because of course you are," she said, rolling her eyes. "So, what's the problem this time?"

Y/n shrugs, taking a sip of her martini. "There isn't one. I think I'm finally moving on from Jason."

Shana's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and her lips pursed. "Yeah, alright."

"I'm serious. No gotcha's. But listen, I have a question."

"Shoot."

"What would you say if I said I was thinking about moving to Metropolis?"

Shana's eyes go wide, completely confounded, as she stares into Y/n's soul. "Perdeste a cabeça?! You didn't even move on Jason this fast! Did that super freak brainwash you?" Shana snatches her head up and examines it with her magic.

Y/n shoves her off. "Shana, girl, I love you, but if you ever put your hands on me like that again, I'ma forget you my best friend." 

Shana is still looking at her as if she's hiding something, to which Y/n rolls her eyes. "I'm not going for Conner, fucking duh."

"Then why?"

"I may or may not have been aiming for a spot on the Justice League for the past few years."

Shana freezes for a moment, scrutinizing her for a moment. After a minute, she snorts and then bursts into laughter. "You're kidding, right?"

Y/n's lip quirks up in a frown, and she plucks her on the forehead. "Here I was talking about something other than the men in my life, and here you are being an ass."

"Ow, okay," Shana says, rubbing the spot where she plucked. "Sorry, geez."

"Anyway, Superman and a few others wanna hold interviews, and they want me to do some kinda trial run in Metropolis."

"Why? You're great at what you do."

"Yes, but am I JL great? That's what they wanna find out. Besides, I never planned on staying in Gotham for so long. I think my true calling is Manhattan, anyway."

"Why am I just finding out about this anyway?

"Because you have close relations with the Batfamily."

"Batfamily? What the fuck? Where did that BS name come from?"

It was Y/n's turn to scrutinize Shana. "Batfamily? You not bouta tell me you've never heard that before."

"Should I have?"

"Literally everyone says it."

"No, they don't."

"Yes, they do."

"Nuh uh."

"Yuh huh."

"Nuh uh."

"I'm not doing this with your ass right now." She downs the rest of her drink and gathers her things. "Pay for this martini, and I swear I'll spot you later."

"We both know that's a lie, but sure, get outta here. Amo-te, desarrumado." They kiss each other on the cheeks, and Y/n departs.

As Y/n is walking to her apartment, she has the misfortune of running into a couple of low-level criminals trying to steal a car. 

"You know, I don't think that's yours."

"And I think you'd best move along." He pulls a gun on her, but she is unphased by it. "Less you wanna be a victim to this crime."

"I bet you thought you ate that one." The criminals look up just as a figure falls from the sky and lands on one of them.

Y/n knew that physique well. It used to embrace her while she cooked breakfast at three in the morning. Shield her from the demons that plagued her in the dark. That voice that whispered sweet nothings when he thought she was sleeping. That voice that chortled mockingly at something that she hadn't meant as a joke, but she joined in the mirth. And when those eyes landed on her, she could feel the moment he first told her, I love you.

And just for a moment, she wanted to run into his arms and say it back. Just for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to feel all those things again.

"Can we talk?"

"I really don't want to do that."

"Please, Y/n?" 

She had to look away from him. The slight tremble in his tone as he pleaded, the glossy bit of hope that seemed to fill his eyes overwhelmed her. Even with his mask on, she still knew him so well.

She crossed her arms tightly over her abdomen, her hands cradling her biceps protectively. She huffs and does nothing else, but Jason quickly deals with the criminals and calls the police. 

She follows him to his motorcycle, where he puts her helmet on her, making sure it's secure. She wraps her arms around his midsection, and he pats her hands twice. The whole exchange is silent, and the ride follows suit. As well as the climb to the roof of the clock tower, where Jason walks behind her, ready to catch her.

Both hearts hammer in their chests. Both minds fuzzy and anxious. Hands fiddling with each other.

Above them, the stars twinkle and glitter. Their own conversations endless. She wondered what they spoke of. If the language they used ever became a hindrance to them. 

Jason took a seat just a bit behind her. His arms were propped up on his knees as he gazed at her. He swallowed, and his mouth opened, but nothing came out. His teeth clenched and his jaw set, his brows furrowing while he scrutinized the way her eyes shimmered in the moonlight. 

"Just like stars." He murmured abruptly.

And when she turned those eyes on him, he felt his breath catch. The world seemed to slow along with his heart. A wave of serenity washed over him.

"Hm?"

"Your eyes. They always remind me of stars."

Warmth fills her face, and her nose tingles. "O-oh, I-- th-thank you." Just as her words her heart stutters. Because, of course, he can make her feel just like a schoolgirl confessing to her crush.

"I miss you, Y/n." He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips and a weight lifting from his shoulders. "I miss you so damn much."

She bites her bottom lip to keep from saying it back. She takes a deep breath through her nostrils and blinks away tears. A war started in her the moment she saw him. And she was determined not to succumb to it.

She looks away. Back out at the plagued city below. "You wanted to talk. So talk."

His head hangs, a tired breath escaping his lips. "The kids turned out to not be mine.

Her heart picks up pace, and her head whips back around to him. Brows slowly knit together, her bottom lip quivering with her shakey breath. "Kids?"

He explains everything that's led up to this moment. "I won't pretend I'm not entirely hurt and disappointed by this. I just—I want you back. I was an idiot to ever leave you." 

He lets his words sink in a bit, and they do sink in. They permeate and invade. She feels... dizzy? Dazed? Her mind is fuzzy, and her loud heart is beating her ears. And his words--.

Gently, his hands cupped her face, soft like petals to his touch. His eyes, intense, warm, and focused drink in her own, uneasy, anticipating, and longing. His lips quirked up slightly on the right, strained and bittersweet. He brought her forehead down to his lips, planting a lingering kiss, then pulled her into an encompassing embrace.

"I'm sorry... I can't seem to stay away from you."

And she was sorry, too. She didn't want him to stay away. Fuck.

~~~

damn part 5. I remember when I said this would be no more than 5 parts... welp

Tags: @b4tm4nn @iyuuii @jaguarthecat @rhyanna6012

[chiiyuuvv]

true🎙️ l. yechan

you meet the boy that encourages you to audition **note this is based off of the descendants headcanons I wrote! The setting is in the first movie, but they're relationship (kind of) is based off the second (and third I think) movie

stranger/bestfriend!yechan x fem!reader 1.4k words requested!

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

The sound of yechan’s breath falters when he hears the croon in the woods, his hands planted firmly on his knees in a crouching position; to find where the voice was coming from, and to stay on the lookout for the hungry Brussels Griffin Cross, who always growled at him whenever the boy was near. His hands run through his sweaty black locks, the crisp crunches of the leaves that he steps on accommodating the smooth lullaby he hears in the distance, navigating his way out of the area and finding more of the deep green from the trees, the saltiness of the blue lake that surrounds him.

He can hear the voice getting louder as he takes another step onto the gray foundation sitting in the middle of the lake, his eyes traveling up and down the thick, broken poles that circle the perimeter of the area. A scream leaves his lips when turns his head, looking around one of the poles to find you sitting there in your checkered light blue dress, the exact same look he has washed over your facials as you quickly jump up and back away from the stranger.

Yechan realizes you were the voice that sings to the open when you both stand there in a loud silence, his lips slightly parted so the only thing that could take up the space was his quick breaths. “Were you.. Stalking me?!” Your voice echoes in his ears, your hand over your chest from the sudden jump scare and taking in the solid black clothes he wears, you could only assume the worst.

“No!” yechan head shakes profoundly to hopefully ease you out of your panicked state, his hands out and in front of him to show he wouldn’t do anything to harm you. “I-I’m just passing by, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He looks into your eyes to show his response was genuine, feeling better when your breaths begin to steady, making your way to sit back down on the foundation. “You um..” yechan begins, scratching the back of his head awkwardly, “have an amazing voice, by the way.”

“Oh.. thanks,” a nervous smile cracks your lips, watching as the boy nods and turns the heel of his boots.

“Sorry to scare you again. Um, see you around?” 

“See you,” it was your turn to nod, watching as the boy walks away, your eyes going back to the pretty sparkles of the enchanted lake, a small smile stuck on your lips at the compliment you just received. 

It became a daily routine for yechan to meet you at the enchanted lake ever since the first encounter, running from his fears (dog) until his feet give up on the boy and leave him helpless in the forest. But thanks to the softness of your singing voice, he’s able to calm down and converse in conversation. You learn even though he’s from the isle, he’s a sweetheart, having an amazing attitude while also caring deeply for the people around him, you included. When you revealed you were stressed out about school one day, yechan made it a point to make you laugh or to crack a smile at the very least. He walked you home despite all the judging eyes, his confidence shining brighter than the sun itself. He was the first friend you made so quickly, and it didn’t seem like he would suddenly disappear the next day. No, he was here to stay, and there was no use trying to get rid of him.

“You should really audition with that voice of yours,” yechan says after taking a sip of the warm tea you provided, a chuckle leaving your lips in disbelief. The end of the year is coming up, and the school needed someone to sing a solo for a small portion during prom, and yechan hasn’t shutted up about it ever since.

“Really?” You question, sounding a bit insecure about this topic. “I dunno, I mean there's so many other pretty voices, why would anyone choose me?”

“Because no one sounds like you,” yechan answers calmly, “and if they don’t choose you,” he moves his hands in circular motions to symbolize Auradon, “someone else will. Everyone isn’t stupid, you know.” You chuckle at his statement, still feeling a little unsure, but happy to know that you just met your number one biggest supporter. 

“Will you audition for anything?” You ask the boy, swiftly changing the subject as you rest your head against the thick, broken poles. 

“Yeah.” “What are you going to do?”

“This.” Yechan gets up, showing off his.. elegant dance moves. A cackle escapes your lips without a second thought, clapping your hands as your eyes crinkle shut, showcasing your pretty pearly whites. Yechan stops in his tracks when he hears the sound of your laughter, his heart skipping a few beats as his ears redden, growing sensitive to the newfound feelings of awkwardness, and of love. He’s never felt like this before, but for some reason his heart just knows, like it gained deja vu for this euphoric moment.

Yechan lets out a bungle chuckle, sitting back down on the warm foundation as he nervously scratches the back of his neck, waiting for your laughs to quiet down, and waiting for his heart to stop fluttering. 

“Sorry..” you say after a while, waving your hand and wiping away your tears. “That was really funny.” You give a small smile, which turns into a snicker.. before going right back to cracking up again. But this time, yechan has crawled out of his shell, no longer feeling uneasy as he lets out genuine giggles for his silly actions.

From that day forward, yechan felt like something lit itself on fire after your interaction. He felt like he was put under a spell of some sort, willing to throw away his own dignity to make you laugh, showing sides of himself that he didn’t even know existed. He felt like an idiot, but it was okay because he was your idiot, right?

A breath heaves through his chest as he finds his way to the auditorium, running just a few minutes late as he finds your figure sitting at the edge of your seat, your hands gripped onto your pants leg. He could tell you were terribly nervous, taking a seat right next to your panicked body as his hand places itself on yours. “Hey.. it’s okay,” he frowns when your pupils begin to shake, shushing you like a baby. “You’re going to do okay. You’re going to do amazing, actually,” he gently pushes your head onto his shoulder while his free arm hugs your body, his kind words helping you swim back up to the surface of self doubt. You felt as if time moved too fast for you to catch a breath, squeezing your eyes shut.

“W-what if my voice cracks??” You reason, quick stutters leaving your lips as you miss the way yechan’s gaze goes soft. He knew you weren’t the most confident person, but it did tear away some heartstrings to see you so distressed and anxious. His other hand grabs your hand that runs through your hair, turning your body around so you could look him in the eyes.

“Your voice might crack if you keep thinking like that,” his thumbs rub the back of your hand, “so relax, okay? Everything is going to be okay, you know that.” His hand lets go of yours to carefully tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers ghosting your jaw before his thumb comes in contact with your cheek, softly stroking the skin. “Everything’s going to be alright,” he repeats in a whisper, his hand glued to your cheek, refusing to let go of your warmth.

But the peaceful atmosphere breaks when an adult shouts your name, your head snapping to that direction to find that it was your turn to sing. When you look back at your friend, you see that he was already looking at you, an encouraging smile plastered onto his face as he fist bumps the air. “Go knock them dead, partner!” His smile widen when you return it, leaving yechan’s warm presence and going up to the stage with a newfound confidence. It was all because of yechan, you felt so thankful for his existence.

When you returned to your seat, you discovered the boy had vanished, finding nothing but a small box and envelope in his place with your name on it. Curiously, you open it, revealing a handwritten letter. 

I knew you’d do so well up there. You worked so hard for it, I’m so proud of you. Do you know how much I love you? I don’t know what I’d do without you and vice versa. If you’d like, I’d love for you to become mine. Is that alright? You’re so going to get that position, I hope you know that.

︴bonus! there will be a part twooo whoop!! credit as always go to @marw-lilia and ty jellyfish anon for requesting!!

▸ taglist 🎧 @hyunukitty , @cake1box , @mars101 , @yuniniverse , @hunchan444 , @s00buwu , @cherrycolaberry , @yoiiwonn , @wonootnoot , @pinievsev

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

[chernabogs]

Stasis

Inc: Lilia, Malleus (egg), Maleficia WC: 2k Warnings: C7 spoilers (heavy), discussions of death/rot Summary: To wrap that child in his magic, to lull him into a gentle rest until the time is right and he can come into a world where he knows no death—is that not the greatest act of kindness? The greatest act of love? (i wrote this then went a lil goofy)

There is a glorification of dying in battle that is so deeply ingrained in their culture, that one would think it was woven in with the clay and the magic that was used to create them. It’s as though the gods, when their hands were forming mouths to scream and eyes to weep, asked those very first Fae;

so, how shall you decay? how shall you crumble to these foundations, of which I build you on so gently?

And when the Fae did not speak—for voices had not yet been given—those very same creators deemed that only through sword and through arrow could a noble death be found. Perhaps that is why they failed to grant immunity to those who were expunged from the Otherworld—discarded to the realms of man like naked, starving wraiths, scrambling in the shadows to build up the foundations of life in a mockery of their own creation. 

The descendants of that first generation feast off the bounty of those struggles with a never satiated hunger. Lilia knows; he bore witness to it first-hand in youth. Tattered memories remain in the scarce edges of his mind of who the two that raised him were before the collapse. There are moments by the ocean, where baby-blue waves kiss pale feet and sand dots raven hair, and there are moments in the night, where a large hand holds his own as he looks up to the stars that represent the Fae long passed. 

These are marred by the aftermath of greed. Rather than sand dotting raven hair, it becomes bone fragments, with red waves now kissing pale feet instead. A large hand is stiff and cold in his own as he looks at a slack-jawed face with half-hooded eyes that are as blue now and as bright as the stars he once admired. He cannot recall how long he sat there—perhaps until the pungent smell of rot finally drove him to leave. 

They did not have a noble death. They went like a cacophony, screaming and begging until those sounds were silenced by a singular fracture to a fragile bone. 

There is a glorification of dying in battle. 

Perhaps this is why she decides it will be the way she goes. She has always burned so brilliantly, her light engulfing every space she enters and drawing the masses to her. But those who burn so bright are blind to the way that brilliance consumes their flesh as well, and he knows it’s this mindset that drives her to the end—although he will never admit it aloud. 

But it’s the silence after the end that’s the worst. The family is granted the right to see the body first—now that the body has been retrieved, of course—and he’s blessed that Maleficia considers him family enough. The grand chamber of Black Scale Palace is uncannily silent and therefore makes the steps he takes sound like thunder rumbling across the stone. He spies the egg in her arms, cradled close to her chest as her hand runs a slow, soothing motion over its mottled shell. It shouldn’t be mottled—but he wagers that the trauma of the past few days has done a degree of damage, even if small. 

“They did their best.” Maleficia’s voice is quiet as he stops a few feet back. It isn’t out of courtesy—he’s invaded her space many times before—but more out of fear. He does not want to see the body he knows is lying in the stone tomb just ahead. “There was not much to salvage, though.” 

“They left her there for days.” Lilia’s voice sounds foreign to himself as he clasps his hands tightly behind his back. It had been a hard-fought battle (were they not all hard fought?) to retrieve those remains. They had been rotting on the bridge in the meantime—Heinrich’s additional snub to the royal family. He pauses for a moment before tentatively asking, “To what extent was the damage?” 

Maleficia is silent for a moment longer as her hand slowly strokes the eggshell. Lilia considers that she’s doing it more to comfort herself than the child within. “They took her horns, in addition to a few other parts.” 

The statement turns over in Lilia’s mind as he finally takes those last few steps closer. He draws to a stop next to Maleficia, glancing up at her towering form for only a scarce moment, before forcing his gaze down to the body before them. 

They had wrapped her in a shroud. The white fabric sits oddly on her, and he can see truth in the Queen’s words—there are no horns to be covered. Instead, the crown she would have worn upon ascending is resting upon her brow, and the torc around her neck holds the shroud fast in position. He cannot smell rot due to the excess of roses put in the tomb as well, and yet the sickly sweet scent still makes his stomach turn, still makes him draw back. 

The last time he had seen her she had been lively, throwing her egg to him and laughing as she prepared to dispatch those who dared defy her. Now there is an eerie stillness about her that is unbecoming of who Meleanor Draconia is. His gaze draws down the length of her body, at the plain white robe they dressed her in, and the hands that are folded over her abdomen. Her skin is gray, and he can see where the funerary workers attempted to conceal the spots of decay already taking place. 

People often believe that, when a Fae dies, they return to the clay and the magic that had crafted them. Lilia remembers the two who raised him telling him tall tales such as that, until their bodies had begun to turn to sludge and he realized that there was no clay, or magic, or grand departure at all. The Fae are no better than humans when it comes to death—all rot and gas and empty spaces in the hearts of the living. 

“We cannot permit this to continue. We cannot lose anyone else.” Maleficia’s voice draws his attention once more as he looks up to her. Despite the stoic expression on her face, he can see exhaustion in her bloodshot gaze. She looks to be both a queen and a woman who has gone through hell in the past few weeks. To have lost a daughter, a son, and to be holding your entire world in your arms with no reassurance of its survival…

He feels his throat tighten. No.He has shed his tears already in the darkness of the barracks, the burning sting of alcohol and a frigid metal mug as his only companions. He cannot fall before her because he cannot allow her to see all that she has left crumble. He digs his nails into his palms and ignores the way this may draw blood as he looks back to the body. 

Quiet. So quiet. 

And then… an idea. Perhaps outrageous, perhaps suicidal, but perhaps also the most efficient idea they have. The mottled egg in the queen's arms retains its faint, magical glow—the dimming powers of its parent’s love—and Lilia feels a pull to preserve that for as long as he can. He did not care for children, but he did care—does care—for Meleanor and Levan. 

So, he speaks. 

“We cannot let it hatch.” His voice is blunt and dry as he looks at the egg. It quivers, as though hearing the weight behind his words, as Maleficia’s hold on it tightens. She doesn’t immediately object. Instead, she frowns.

“Speak.” She commands, and he does. 

“Raising an heir in these conditions would be nothing short of damnation. We know not of how long this will drag on for, nor what the end will be. If we can keep the heir—keep Malleus—in his egg, preserve him until it is safe enough for him to be raised...” Lilia’s voice trails off as Maleficia continues to observe him dispassionately. Her hand does still in consideration, however.

“Like a sleep.” She hums softly, the motion then resuming. “A peaceful sleep, full of lullabies and warmth, until it is safe enough for him to greet the world. Much akin to what the Thorn Witch did, no?”

Lilia nods at her words. “Precisely. A stasis position until we are sure nothing will befall him... nor will he be dragged into conflict. I speak for us both when I say we are tired of witnessing our loved ones in conflict.”

Maleficia does not reply immediately as she continues to stare at her daughter’s body. The empty tomb next to her full one, meant to resemble the husband who is presumed to have been lost as well, speaks loud in the absence of sound.

“It will require a tremendous amount of power.” She finally adds. “Power I cannot give just yet. There is too much happening right now for me to split myself in such a manner.”

Lilia knew she would say as much before the words even left her lips. She is now the sole royal remaining in Briar Valley; even with the support of other Fae, all is on her shoulders at this moment. The well-being of the nocturnal Fae, the preservation of their lands, the concerns of the colonizing happening on the shores. She is drawn so thin that she is fraying at the very seams.

“Is it not fortunate,” he muses quietly, hands still clasped behind his back, nails still digging in his palms. He can feel warm liquid smearing his skin. “That you have me?”

Green eyes snap towards him with an expression of both outrage and shock, the most emotive he has seen her for a while. It then smooths over to composed indifference once more as she takes a levelled breath. “You do not owe that.”

“It was by my absence she fell.” He replies tersely, knowing this is a lie. He had fought tooth and nail to try and stay with Meleanor, but she had driven him back with lightning and taunts, forcing him to swear to protect her son. He is protecting her son by doing this. To wrap that child in his magic, to lull him into a gentle rest until the time is right and he can come into a world where he knows no death—is that not the greatest act of kindness? The greatest act of love?

So, he fibs, if not just a little. “Permit me to do this. For her, and for him.”

There’s a vagueness in who he means by him. Maleficia looks upon him for a long moment as he lowers his gaze to the onyx floors beneath their feet. For a moment he fears that she will strike him down as her daughter had done so often, until he hears shifting, and she extends the egg she’s been cradling so possessively towards him.

“Take the... take Malleus, to the lower chambers. Do as you must, as I will not burden you with the consequences—for I presume you have thought on this quite extensively already.”

He looks up to her. The face he had seen many times now since she pulled him off the streets and into her home is fracturing, with traces of sorrow beginning to show. She has always been vulnerable to him, to her daughter, and he knows it to be a rare privilege. He extends his hands and takes the egg, his bloody palms soaking its black surface.

“I swear to you—” he begins, but she cuts him off as she turns away.

“You have given enough to me. More than I have the right to take.” Her voice is cold and formal again as he nods, giving her a low bow before beginning to leave. As he does, she speaks up once more, her tone quieter now than before. “She went a noble death. They both did.”

Lilia pauses as the words play in his mind and his grip tightens around the egg. He can feel its warmth, as though he can feel her love through it, before he leaves that sickly-sweet smelling chamber without a backwards glance.

[secret-spirit]

Take your Alex to work day

Bringing the Angel of Silence

_

Alex felt the feeling of water underneath them, but they weren't sinking. They saw lights in the corner of their vision, purple, blue and yellow lights glowing at the side amongst the black void wall.

They looked up and saw a ceiling light shaped like a crescent illuminating an orange light, where were they?

Alex sat up, the floor having the weird illusion of water as it mimicked the sounds of moving around in water, yet the floor was solid. They stood up and looked around, a narrow but spacious hall decked in desks and cabinets, on the wall were floating doors color coded and have designs they didn't recognize, they all had a shine to them, and whispers can be heard behind them. In the end of the hallway was a couch with a sketchbook and a mess of art supplies scattered around.

Alex noticed all the doors had some shine to them except for one with the text reading above saying "Hollow Dreams". The other doors had text above but they were blurred out.

The room shook a little, making Alex stumble off balance. Three eyes then appeared in each side of the walls. Blue on the left, Yellow on the right, and an asymmetrical light purple eye at the end of the hall above the couch.

Alex felt their other eyes blink open in response, the second layer of wings spreading open in defense.

The eyes all blinked at the same time at them, before they all closed. Alex looked around cautiously, before bubbles began immerging from the water floor.

A silhouette covered in black water immerged, it was fully covered in some kind of black water but had dark colors flowing around it. It then began to form into a person, lilac moth antennas appeared on their head, they had short black hair with braids but they had a ponytail that denied gravity and flowed like water, the black water sinking down their head to form a face, having lilac glasses. They wore a dark blue long sleeve jacket and had lilac leggings, they also wore a necklace that looked like an eye.

Alex briefly saw blue moth wings and a tail on them before it faded. They didn't look like a veldigun, they were more human except for the moth antennas.

They opened their eyes, and looked directly at Alex, the veldigun stood their ground defensively, seeing how they tower over the stranger.

The stranger stood up from the floor.

Then they began to sign with their hands.

'Im not gonna hurt you' They signed.

Alex dropped their guard a little, they then signed back.

'Where am i?'

The stranger stepped closer, but Alex stepped back, not trusting them.

'In my hall, don't worry there isn't any danger around here' The moth signed as a soft smile went across their features.

'Where is Clyde?' Alex asked.

'Your friend is safe and sound, they are back at Simons barn' The moth signed.

Alex grew suspicious. 'How do you know about Simons barn? Are you with the foundation?'

The moth made a gross sound. 'If i were I'd be dead immediately'

'What is your name?' Alex asked.

"Call me Secret" Secret said.

Alex stiffed from the sudden change from signing to speaking.

Secret noticed the way they flinched.

"Sorry about that, sometimes i don't feel like talking and use sign language instead, only for a brief few seconds or minutes though" They explained as they stepped closer.

'Did you bring me here?' They signed.

Secret nodded. "Yeah, I'll send you back though so don't worry about a thing" they reassured.

'Why did you bring me here?' Alex signed out.

"Some of my mutuals suggested we should bring our veldigun Alexs to the office, i just went along with it" Secret replied.

'Theres...more of me? Did you create me?' Alex asked disbelief.

"This version of you yeah, sorry i had to take away your voice but it made sense for your story" Secret said.

Alex felt the world began to spin as they reflected on their life. Their life was just a story written by this kid, maybe even more people beyond their control having written their life in different ways? Everything they went through, everything they had done. Was being written by someone.

They felt their lower wing(hair) being tugged at as the lower pair of eyes looked at the one bothering it.

"Hey, sorry but it's no time to think about having an existential dread, c'mon I'm already late to the office" Secret called out.

Alex flinched at the touch. "Secret you-"

"-shouldnt touch you because veldigun symptoms" Secret finished their sentence before letting go of their wing. "Don't worry I'm not affected by it in terms of the story I've written about myself" they chuckled.

"Hey I'm a creator but I'm my own character, irony am i right?" Secret said. Alex did not get it.

"Come on Alex" Secret said as they walked up to a door at the other end of the hallway, the text above reading 'Sitcom AU' in big bold letters that dripped.

Secret twisted the doorknob and opened the door.

"Welcome to the office, Angel of Silence"

[hahnspoetrywrites]

princess [claire debella x f!intern!assistant!reader]

you’re an intern for the debella campaign on her road to her becoming a senator, and one of the hardest working on the team. no one notices how hard you work... or so you thought. 

warnings: 18+!!, m0mmy k!nk, legal age gap (reader is around 23-24), f!ngering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), soft!dom!claire, potential sugar mommy situation, pet names galore (i’m a sucker for pet names I’M SORRY), men with power they don’t deserve. please let me know if i missed anything!!! 

words: 3.4k

BIG BIG thanks to @getlostsquidward and @wandakink for letting me ramble in your asks and for helping me write this!!

i hope y’all enjoy this hot mess!

You don’t really know how you ended up in this position. You’d taken this internship as part of your college course. You were in your final year, and needed some more hands-on experience for you to finish. The Debella campaign team had been looking for interns. It was unpaid work, but it was work. You couldn’t turn your nose up at it. That’s how you ended up in the lunchroom, being yelled at by one of your superiors on how you screwed up the campaign trail… all because you printed the handouts and gave them out to be delivered door to door, a day too early. Now here you were, hiding in the bathroom from most of your peers and the higher ups of the team, praying that none of them would fire you. You furiously wiped at your eyes, cursing yourself for getting upset over something menial, but you couldn’t help it. A knock sounded on the door, prompting you to snap out of your spiralling thoughts. 

“Y/N? Are you still here?” Your sniffles gave your location away. The voice sounded like Kacey, another intern on the team. 

“Ms Debella wants to see you in her office, as soon as possible.” 

You sighed, trying to hold back more tears. You were about to be fired. After all the work you’ve done, this was how the universe would repay you. 

“Fuck,” you muttered as you inspected your reflection. Smeared mascara and eyeliner down your cheeks, your foundation was blotchy, but you didn’t really care anymore. If you were about to be fired, how you looked didn’t really matter anymore. As you exited the bathroom, you saw some of your colleagues gathered by the coffee station, whispering and mumbling about something (you assumed most likely it was about your breakdown). When you passed the glass walls of the office, you failed to notice the superior who yelled at you packing up his desk. You also failed to notice, the way the others eyed you as you walked by. They almost looked scared, as if saying or doing the wrong thing would get them killed. 

You arrived by the large mahogany double doors of your boss’s office. Your anxiety kicked it up to 11, hands trembling as you reached up to knock. Three soft knocks resounded in the empty corridor, the silence deafening until you heard the sweet soft voice of your boss.

“Come in,” she said. You entered, the largeness of the office taking you by surprise. A giant bookcase took over one side of the wall, a door hidden at the end closest to the windows. On the opposite sat a few more shelves full of folders, pictures of Ms Debella with other famous figures dotted around with small knick knacks as well. In the middle of the room, situated in front of some large glass windows was a desk, which Ms Debella sat behind, in a large leather swivel chair. She looked concerned seeing your distressed state but you brushed it off as fake, her trying to comfort you when in reality she didn’t care.

“You asked to see me, miss?” You asked, your voice coming out more broken than you initially hoped it would. 

“Please, come in. Take a seat, honey. Oh, and shut the door behind you please.” 

Her soft tone was comforting, but still filled you with anxiety. You did as instructed, closing the door behind you and heading towards one of the two chairs placed in front of the desk. As you sat, you saw her expression changed to something akin to guilt, but you weren’t sure. Her bright blue eyes clouded with worry when they fell upon your dishevelled state. She always looked so smart, her hair always perfectly styled (she’d chosen to have it straight today, you preferred when it was naturally curly), her beige pantsuit accentuated her curves perfectly, and was always perfect, no wrinkles or creases. She was always ready to be seen.

“Y/N, how have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you around a lot,” she asked, that gentle tone never leaving her voice.

“I-uh, I’ve been working a lot outside the office. And Glenn’s been giving me a lot to do,” You answered, your continued broken tone making you curse yourself. Although you don’t know why you’re so desperately trying to hide you’ve been crying when the evidence is on your face already.

Claire nodded, inspecting you closely, her eyes squinting in concentration. 

“That’s good! I hope it’s good, anyways.” Claire didn’t sound too sure of what she was saying but again, you brushed it off. You weren’t going to question your boss.

“Yeah, it’s been… it’s been interesting.”

Claire stood up from her chair, coming around the desk to stand in front of you, her back leaning against the desk.

“So, he hasn’t just spent the last 20 minutes yelling at you for doing something that he asked you to do earlier today? He hasn’t consistently been downplaying your role in this team? Or making you hide in the bathroom numerous times a day to cry?”

Claire didn’t lose the soft edge in her voice but it sounded angry, not at you per se but angry at something or someone. You glanced down at the floor, not wanting to catch Claire’s eyes. A soft hand made its way to your chin, tilting it upwards so you could look Claire in the eyes.

“Tell me the truth, honey.” Claire whispered softly, prompting tears to fall from your eyes. You nodded softly as more tears trailed down your cheeks.

“Oh, honey. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

You hastily wiped at your eyes, trying to avoid looking at her but her grip on your chin didn’t falter.

“I-I didn’t want to bother anyone. I thought I could handle it,”

Claire pouted, a stern look crossing over her face.

“Just because you thought you could, doesn’t mean you should, honey.”

Claire’s hand moved from your chin to your cheek, catching some of your tears with her thumb. 

“Let's just say he won’t be yelling at you anymore. But before we talk about anything else,” Claire leant over to one of the drawers of her desk, opening it and pulling out a packet of something you couldn’t quite see from your position. Once it was opened up and could smell that familiar scent, you realised she had some face wipes. She turned back to face you, one hand holding your jaw softly, the other wiping away your messy makeup.

“Close your eyes for me, sweetheart.” She asked gently, her lips ghosting against your forehead, an imperceptible kiss placed against your skin. You did as she asked, beginning to feel safe and comfortable with her. 

“Good girl,” she praised you softly as she wiped away your eye makeup, your natural skin finally being able to breathe. You didn’t necessarily like wearing makeup, but Glenn said (threatened) that wearing makeup would get you better positions and better jobs within this world. In his words, “pretty women are respected here, the others aren’t welcome,”. Safe to say he wasn’t liked much amongst the team. Claire didn’t like wearing heavy makeup either, and would always make a safe space for her female colleagues no matter where they were. This campaign was a lot bigger than she was used to, so she couldn’t ensure that was happening this time around. She thought you were so much prettier without the makeup. 

“There, that’s much better, isn’t it? Such a beautiful girl,”

Claire eyed you gently, taking in your nervous demeanour.

“I see how hard you work, Y/N. I see all the dedication and time you put into the work you do here. I see it go so underappreciated and so unnoticed. But I see all of it. All those extra hours, all those weekends spent outside the office, spreading the word about our campaign, going door to door. I noticed all of it.”

You were stunned, out of everyone in the office who you thought would pay attention to the work you did you never thought it would be your boss. 

“I never thought anyone would notice… me.”

“Of course I noticed you. I notice everything about you. How you like to work alone, how you like tea over coffee. How you forget to eat meals sometimes. How you forget to take care of yourself.”

You looked away from her, feeling guilt surge through your veins. You felt like a child being scolded by their parents. Claire continued to observe as you began picking at the skin surrounding your fingernails, pulling and scratching. That was another thing she noticed, your tendency to take all your anxieties and worries out on yourself. She still remembers seeing you on your first day. You looked so small and nervous, not looking smug like the others did. You were gentle and kind and that was when she knew she wanted you. She wanted to wrap you up in her arms and look after you the way you should be cared for. 

“The way the others treat you… you don’t deserve treatment like that. You deserve to be treated like a princess, sweetheart.”

Claire’s hand threaded through your hair, gently parting the knots that had formed. You looked at her with hopeful eyes, hearing her speak such nice things made your heart warm (and heat pool between your legs). 

“Would you like that, baby?” Her question made you shiver, she smiled in response. 

“If they can’t treat you right, I’ll have to do it myself. After all, I’m the only one who can treat you right, aren’t I, princess?” She asked you. 

“Y-y-yes ma’am.” You stuttered out the reply almost immediately. 

“You can call me mommy here, sweet girl.”

“Y-yes. Yes mommy.” You smiled sweetly at Claire, who sent a brighter smile back at you. She approached you once more, her towering over you as you shrunk back into the chair. Her hands held onto the arm rests as her nose brushed yours. 

“My good girl,” She whispered against your lips before she gently caressed them with her own. Her lips were soft and warm, the taste of her coffee lingering. You suddenly became conscious of what you last ate and drank. You knew you hadn't had lunch yet (you didn’t have any, since you couldn’t afford it) and you were sure you last drank water before the whole yelling incident. Claire pulled away, noticing how tense and rigid you were. 

“Relax, baby girl. You’re safe here with mommy.” A soft kiss was placed on your forehead before Claire took both your hands in hers, pulling you up so you were face-to-face. She led you round her desk to the opposite side and to her large leather office chair. 

“Sit down, angel. Make yourself comfortable.” She plumped the cushion against the backrest before encouraging you to sit. You did so, noticing the warmth that remained in the chair from where she had sat before. It was soft against your back, a huge improvement from the hard, plastic chair you had at your tiny desk setup.  

“If you don’t want this, now's your chance to say so, sweetheart. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want this.”

Claire held your face gently in her hands, watching as you thought it over. You nodded profusely, holding onto her wrists as a smile took over her face.

“I want this mommy. I want you to make me feel better, want you to treat me like your princess.” 

Claire claimed your lips once more, this kiss harder than the ones before.

“Good girl,” she murmured against your neck, leaving kisses against your skin. You shifted in your seat, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable. Claire noticed your squirming, moving a hand from your cheek to your thigh, feeling your soft skin before letting it slip underneath your skirt. You were so thankful you chose to wear a skirt instead of your suit pants. You shuddered at her touch, goosebumps trailing along the skin.

“So receptive to my touch, baby,” Her hand stroked the inside of your thigh, before reaching your clothed cunt. 

Claire grinned as she felt the damp spot on your panties, her fingers rubbing your clit. “My, my, you're so wet... Let's get this out of the way, shall we? Wouldn't want my princess to feel all sticky.”

As much as you wanted her to keep touching you there, you parted your legs, giving way to her as she took your panties off. Claire winked as she put them in her pocket, making you look away, flustered. “Eyes on me, honey.”

You did as told, feeling yourself getting lost in her darkening blue eyes as she kissed your thigh. As she reached your inner thigh, you gasped as she bit and sucked on the skin, leaving marks all over.

Once she was satisfied painting your skin with bruises, she paused briefly, looking at you, your pupils dilated, lips slightly parted, and chest heaving with anticipation. Claire did not break eye contact as she inched closer to your core. 

Your whole body shivered as she lapped your folds, your hand immediately finding purchase in her hair. “You taste as sweet as you sound, princess,” Claire says, before sucking your clit in her mouth. You whined softly as her tongue toyed with your clit, your grip on her hair tightening. She moaned at the tight grip, vibrating against your core. She moved from your clit to lick up your folds, small kitten licks that had you panting and whining, trying to hold back any loud moans. Her nails dig into the skin of your thigh harshly, almost like a warning. 

“Don’t hold back, baby. Let mommy hear you… no one else will. I promise,” Claire leaned back in, giving your clit another harsh suck. You moaned unabashedly, unable to hold back. Claire smirks against your clit as she begins to alternate between sucking your clit and lapping up your folds. You could feel that familiar burning pool in your stomach. 

“M-mommy,” you whined, your moans getting higher in pitch the closer you got. 

“So sensitive, you gonna come just from mommy’s tongue?” She asked, her voice vibrating against your cunt. You nodded shakily, watching as she leaned in once more, devouring you like you were her last meal. 

“Cum,” she whispered against your cunt. She lapped up your juices as you finally came, her tongue expertly keeping you on that delicious high. She moved away from where her head was buried, releasing your grip on her hair as she did so, watching as she moved upwards towards your face. Before you could think, you pulled her to you, claiming her lips with your own with desperation. You could taste yourself on her lips and tongue and moaned into her mouth. 

You were so distracted kissing her you didn’t notice her hand sliding up your thighs and dipping below your skirt until she dragged a single digit through your folds. You paused and moaned, your cunt still sensitive from your last orgasm. 

“You can give me one more, can’t you baby?” She asked as she rubbed your clit, watching as you squirmed in her hold. 

“M-maybe. Too much,” You managed to whine out as she slowed her fingers down, gently toying with you. 

“I’ll take it nice and slow, a reward for being such a good girl. Don’t expect it to be like this all the time though, princess.” She warned before kissing your forehead. Her praise spurred you on as you nodded, moving your hips slightly to show you wanted more. 

“My good girl,” she remarked before inserting two fingers into you, her thumb softly rubbing your clit. Your hips undulated against her hand, her other hand holding your head against her neck. You kissed her exposed neck, her blouse being low cut enough to be professional but still show enough exposed skin for you to work with. 

“That’s it baby, let mommy take care of you.” She whispered as she stroked your hair. 

“P-please. I wanna be your good girl.” You moaned against her neck, inhaling her perfume as you continued your kisses. 

“You’re my good girl, baby. Always have been.” She kissed your hair as she softly curled her fingers upwards, feeling you bounce on her fingers. You moaned once again, wondering how this woman was able to make you feel so good whilst doing so little. How no one else you had been with had made you feel as safe and as good as Claire had. Your sensitive cunt was almost gushing and all she had to do was mutter some praises and let you ride her fingers and her tongue for you to be such a writhing mess. Your thoughts were becoming too much, you couldn’t stop yourself. You came without warning, the bubbling in your stomach catching you off-guard. You immediately panicked… you’d ruined her chair, the pillow and her blazer. You tried to pull away from her, muttering panicked sorry’s as you cried, the overstimulation of her fingers becoming too much but she continued to hold you close. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. Don’t worry, princess,” her voice was comforting, not a single ounce of annoyance or anger, yet you couldn’t hear it. The panic had already set in, how overwhelmed you’d been over the last few weeks finally hitting you as you cried into her shoulder. Her neck and blazer were soaked with tears, her fingers still buried in you as she held you. 

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay! It’s okay!” She reassured you as she pulled your head out from where you had tucked it into her neck. Seeing your red, puffy eyes filled with tears, the dark circles underneath them, your flushed cheeks, stained with tears made her heart break. 

“What are you apologising for, sweet angel?” She asked, concern laced within her voice.

“Y-you didn’t say- I didn’t have p-permission… and I ruin-ruined your chair and blazer- I’m so-sorry!” Your broken sobs made it harder to speak, but Claire moved the hand from your hair to your cheek, brushing away your tears as she tried to calm you down. 

“Those things can be cleaned, angel. The chair’s so old and this blazer… I have about 4 more of these at home, so don’t worry, sweet girl,” she pressed one more kiss to your forehead. 

You grimaced as she pulled out of you, whispering sweet nothings against your cheek along with a few kisses. You felt sleepy and tried your hardest to stay awake for the inevitable. She would want you to go, having got what she wanted from you she no longer needed you to stay. Claire had gotten up from in front of you and moved towards the door to the side of the desk, revealing a small bathroom. You attempted to stand up, but your shaky legs made it nearly impossible. 

“Now, where do you think you’re going, princess?” Claire gently questioned, coming back to you so she could gently push you back down onto the chair by your shoulders. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can cuddle for a little while,” Claire was ever so gentle, almost as if you were fine china, so fragile you could shatter at any moment. She ensured you would stay put whilst she disappeared back into the bathroom, returning a few moments after with a damp cloth. She wiped your thighs down gently before wiping your arousal off the chair (not before dragging her fingers through it and sucking them into her mouth). She removed her blazer, throwing it onto one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, making her toned arms visible. She helped you up before taking a seat on the chair, pulling you down to sit on her lap. You curled into her embrace, hiding your head back into her neck as you wrapped your arms around her. 

“My princess,” she muttered against your forehead, leaving a sweet kiss there before continuing, “We have a lot to talk about, some things to discuss and arrange but for now, you can stay in here with me. As I said, it won’t be like this all the time, but I’ll make sure you feel like a princess every day, I promise you, baby.” 

As you snuggled further into her, she grabbed her laptop, one hand in your hair, the other scrolling through unread emails. 

“Thank you mommy… for this. For choosing me to be your princess, and for taking care of me.”

Your eyes closed, feeling one final kiss being pressed against your temple as you began to dream of what the future would hold for you and Claire.

[hannahsvault]

my love language was always in the form of letters -

My mother did her best with what she had. I would come home from school to find sticky notes on the kitchen table, letting me know that she would be back for dinner and that she loved me. Sometimes she left requests, asking me to finish the dishes or to make sure the younger kids did their chores. She always ended her notes with a heart, “momma”. As I grew older, I returned the favor. A sticky note letting her know I would finish the dishes after my nap, or using them as a way to ask for a friend to stay over without using my voice. This became our secret language. For many years this went on, until one day she did not come home, and therefore I did not finish the dishes.

In middle school, I carried the secret language of writing along and it became mine and my best friend’s, except sticky notes turned into ripped notebook sheets. It didn’t matter that we sat less than five feet from one another in class, or that we called every day after the final bell rang. Our letters kept us close, and kept our words separate from all others' influence. We wrote about the boys we thought we were destined to be with, despite their lack of noticing us; about the teachers who inspired us and those who frowned upon the knowledge we had learned from outside that brick building; about how we were most definitely sisters in another lifetime. Hearts were drawn next to each other's name, and we signed off with cliffhangers, knowing the next letter would be delivered within a matter of days, if not hours. I do not know how or if she kept my letters, but for years I compiled all of hers and stacked them as tightly as they would fit into a small cardboard box.

And as it goes, the years passed.

I had a boyfriend in high school who started as a friend, then turned into what I would defend as a fierce lover. It was Valentine's Day, two weeks short of us calling it official, and he handed me my first gift in our English class. While he had bought me fresh, elegant roses, I had written him a letter. I called him my love. I expressed my gratitude for his kindness, and wrote about how I often found myself lost in his big, green eyes; how excited I was to start this relationship with a solidified foundation. There were hearts written next to his name, around the border of the pages, and between the lines of soft sentiment. This was but the first letter I wrote to him, and yet it was without a doubt the most truthful.

As time passed before, it had done so again.

I found myself a new lover in the midst of chaos. Many of my weekends involved placing a speck of paper on my tongue and chasing the moon until she turned into the sun. He loved how my eyes shone even when he could not find the blue in them. I took all the colors I had seen flowing through my veins and jotted them down on scrap paper, giving him the most authentic pieces of my heart. Little did I know the longevity of this love until the breakdown. He held me just like my mother did when I was a child, screaming how I either felt nothing, or I felt everything bad. This did not deter his attention, but rather his eyes laid upon me sweetly. Just as before, time continued to pass. Weekends turned into months, turned into holidays with families.

What were once nights spent wandering the roads and making love wherever our hormones saw fit turned into evenings on the couch in one another's arms. Christmas and birthday gifts improved with each year, and road trips with misleading directions left us well traveled. A bedroom in his parent’s basement turned into a house with a yard and tomato plants.

Somehow, along the way, it seems my secret language of sticky notes and love letters had diminished when silence grew to be a comfort rather than a fear.

- from the vault 🕊️

[yourwinchesterbros]

SUPERNATURAL MAYHEM Part one

The beginning of my favorite crossover is here! I’ve chosen to break this up into two parts as it added up to being over 10k words. Second part will be posted in a few days ✨ If you enjoyed this, please let me know! A like, reblog or comment means so much!

Word Count: 6.5k 

Pairing: Jax Teller x Female Reader x Dean Winchester x Soulless Sam

Summary: A long unforgettable night leaves reader with a new view of the world, but will she choose to explore it? 

Authors Note: This is a crossover I've been searching for and one night decided to write! If you like both SPN and SOA, then you might enjoy this! HUGE THANK YOU TOO @alohomorasomnium​ for editing my flaws, you're simply the best! 

Warnings: Fairly tame, cursing, use of weapons, use of antidote, kidnapping, kissing, angst, some Dom behavior. 

 Darkness. It’s all you see around you, like an empty void ready to consume you. Your head is spinning, trying to make sense of your absence of sight. Your ears ring due to the deafening silence of your surroundings.  

Where am I? Is the first thought that breaks through the fog, echoing in your mind.  

Pain suddenly radiates through-out your body. You realize your shoulders, your collarbone, and your wrists all feel as if they’ve been battered black and blue. You try to shift around but somehow; your wrists are bound behind you. Your confusion grows, your mind fighting through the haze. You blink, feeling fabric brush against your long eyelashes. You try to think back to where you were before this, but even thinking is painful. You instinctively start to rub your temple against the bone of your shoulder in an attempt to push the rough, ratty material that you realize is blinding you. After a few attempts, an old twisted up cloth falls into your lap.  

You’re welcomed to the sight of more darkness. It appears you’re in a room, from what you can make out. Your eyes sting when exposed to all the dust that’s hanging in the air. You stifle a cough, irritated that you’ve been breathing heavily, inhaling basically asbestos at this point.  

What the fuck?  

You blink hard, all your senses coming alive with your eyesight regaining. Pain. Every part of your body aches, your hands are tied to a wooden foundation pillar behind you with what feels like old rope. Its split ends tear into your skin like sandpaper. You try moving your wrists around, to see if the rope will give way so you can free yourself, but it's no use. The bindings, if anything, tighten that much more from your movements. Giving you less and less room to work with. Whoever did this to you, had no intention of letting you go. You shudder at the thought of whoever this mysterious person may be, holding you captive. What they may want…

You refocus your attention, desperately trying to remember anything from before but you can’t seem to recall what happened. Was I at home? Work?

No, there’s no way you’d been snatched from the clubhouse while tending the bar. You must’ve been at home, sleeping?  

You lean forward, trying to use your body weight and the corner of the pillar to separate the rope, but it doesn’t work. As you contemplate your next course of action, a horrifying thought plaques your mind.  

How long have I been here? How long do I have to get out of here before they come back?

With that now in the forefront of your mind, you gain a new sense of urgency. Frantically, you try rubbing the homemade cuffs against the wood. You ignore the fact that the air is still clouded as your breathing deepens in an effort to free yourself. But once again, you fail. You growl in frustration, throwing your hands back against the wood, ignoring the dull aches seeping from the bruises on your battered wrists. As panic and adrenaline continue to take over, you scan your eyes over your surroundings once more, analyzing the area to see if anything can help you.  

With one little window above the wooden stationary table across the room from you, there really isn’t much of a light source. Just a delicate stream of moonlight, illuminating the dust particles dancing in the air, stirred up from your panicked escape attempts. You think again, where the fuck was I? But you come up with nothing.

“God damn it Jax” You whisper to yourself. You knew this was coming, it came for all the women who dared to join the Prince of Charming in his tirades of violence. It was well known history that whoever stood next to Jax, had a death wish. Yes, believe or not, dating the President of a biker gang isn’t as glorious as it seems. Being an old lady makes you an instant target for the enemies of the sons, of which there are many.  

Who found you this time?

That’s right, this time. You’ve been kidnapped before. The Mayans followed you home one night. Before you even had the chance to turn the ignition off in your car, you were ripped out of the seat and taken for negotiation. Then there was the IRA. You were held hostage; your life was on the line once again. Literally on the phone line, with Jax on the other end telling Gaelan he would continue distributing for him in exchange for your survival. And now this. You know your luck is bound to run out. Your breathing quickens as you start to accept the reality of the situation. There’s no getting out this time. Is the club even aware that you’ve been taken? The question you keep coming back to is how long have you been tied up in this dingy basement? The fact that you don’t know the answer to that and probably never will, causes a pit of dread to form in your stomach.

“Fuck” you mutter under your breath as you roughly shut your eyes.

This song and dance is starting to get old. To what end is enough, finally enough? Each time your safety is questioned, you tell yourself that it’s too dangerous to go back, that you can’t handle the life; always watching your 6 as well as your 7-8-9.  

Yet each time you’re rescued, you’re consumed by the ways of the club, and always end up back to square one. The simple fact is you desire the life. The atmosphere, the people, the machines, the thrill... you feel you belong. That your role is meant to be at Teller-Morrow assisting those men in kutte, offering sanctuary and support for the women in tight dresses, to stand beside the old ladies and keep them on their toes. As for the president that sits at the head of the table; for him you’re the reason he stays resilient and clear-minded. Each time you get a chance to see how short-lived life is for those around the sons, you tell yourself you’re on borrowed time. That you need to walk away, that you will leave the life, but you know you speak the language of lies.  

“Quit your bitching” you mumble to yourself, thudding your head lightly against the wood. They’ll find you. They have too. The notorious band of killer bikers always do. You know how much you mean to Jax, and you know they’re probably already on the hunt looking for you. Jax calling all charters for assistance and letting the reaper inside him take the wheel.  

The reaper. That side of Jax, he can smell you. Feel your pull when he needs you. Everyone says that he’s the prince but really, he’s the god damn devil himself. He’s feared among warriors, he puts demons to shame. And your soul will always belong to him, no trade necessary.  

“I see you’re awake.”  

The sudden intrusion of your captors' grating whisper tears you from your thoughts as your whole body goes rigid. Your breathing falters at the realization that you’re no longer alone, your heartbeat getting louder and louder in the growing silence. You can feel the echoing of each beat in your ears. You wish you could turn it off and hide in the dark, in silence.  

“Shh... “The sound slithers from the shell of your right ear across the nape of your neck causing your hair to stand on end as it settles in your left ear. You can’t move, your body is frozen in shock, locked in a state of fear. You can’t even bear to look, to reveal the mystery.  

“It’ll be quick...” the voice drawls out, an underlying tone of excitement riding with it, riddling your skin with goosebumps.  

Just then, you’re startled by a muffled vibration from directly underneath your rear. Holy shit. You’ve had your shitty iPhone 4, in your back pocket this entire time. Regardless, you wouldn't have been able to snake it out from beneath you but the fact that it’s ringing on silent mode, gives you just enough confidence to believe you might get saved. You know it’s Jax trying to get a hold of you.

“Doesn’t matter” you manage to spill out. The two words are all you could say as you clutch onto your mask of composure.

“You won’t receive the same fate.” You whisper, staring ahead. Your eyes glues to an old piece of tape stuck on the wall in front of you as an anchor. You could feel it’s presence right beside you. Feel eyes burning into your flesh.  

“Look at me” the low voice says with a sharp hiss.  

You clench your jaw. You know you have to face your captor. It’s your best chance for an opportunity to escape or buy yourself more time.  

“You see” you start your attempt to distract.  

“When you’re in his grip, there will be no such thing as a quick death” you spit the words as you turn, to stare down your opponent.  

Your eyes grow wide, the second they make contact with hers. A shriek clambers out of your throat before you can even think to stop it, you try to rationalize what you’re seeing in front of you

“W-what are you!?” You scream at her, as you push yourself back as close as you can against the wooden pillar.  

You can’t believe your eyes, as they focus on the woman – no - thing, crouched in front of you.  

A smile slowly works its way onto her face. “I always forget how ignorant you humans are…so unaware of what’s lurking in the dark all around you”  

She creeps closer, stepping over your legs as she does so.  

It wasn’t the fact that her face, lips, arms, her entire body was covered in tattooed lines or that her expression seemed void of any emotion, but it was her eyes. They glowed deep blue. Her silhouette black against the navy hue emanating from her eye sockets. It was unnatural.  

“You’re a monster” You utter the words in disbelief, your eyes wide at the creature staring back at you.  

She advances again, giving you a better look at her disguised form. It looks starved, deprived of meals.  

“A Djinn” her voice echoes as she closes the space between you two. Your mind fills with confusion at her words. You feel her cold touch, gripping your chin. Before closing your eyes due to the blue light blinding you, your eyes focus on her tattoos and how they move… all travelling towards her hand, to her grasp on your face.  

Another wave comes rushing through you, but this time it’s peaceful. Not a nauseating sensation but a sense of euphoria. Your eyes roll back, as her toxins continue to seep into your pores. Your mind is abruptly cleared as a moment of clarity hits you. You find yourself in a different world, such as a dream. Your body completely relaxes without instruction. Everything feels… calm. Calm enough to let yourself fall further into the hallucination.  

“Grab the girl, I got this!” You hear a deep shout somewhere in the distance, or maybe it’s right in front of you. The now familiar haze in your mind makes it impossible to decipher. Maybe there is no voice at all.  

“Dean!” Another voice echoes nearby.  

You feel yourself losing consciousness as your hands are suddenly free from their restraints. Your vision starts spinning once again as you feel yourself being lifted from the ground. The motion of being airborne is enough to make you blackout due to being so vertiginous. The last thing you can remember is your arm wrapped around someone’s neck, as this person carries you in theirs. Your fingertips brush against slick, long hair.  

“Jax?” you weakly whisper before slipping into the darkness once more. 

                                                        ~

“Found it! Jax, I found her!” Juice shouts as he runs through the clubhouse, holding his laptop above his decaled head. Jax, who was just inches from walking out the front door snaps around, his face riddled with worry and downright anger.  

“Where!?” The president barks back, his glare piercing juice’s very soul. He wastes no time as he turns, continuing to the railing outside, which is accompanied by several Harleys. Following Jax were his comrades from the SOA crew.  

“Her cell just came back into service; the ping shows she’s 40 miles out headed towards Oakland. She’s on the highway right now” Juice said, placing the laptop on the outside bench and reaching for his helmet sitting on his bike.  

“Aye, Niners Jackie boy” Chibs speaks as he buckles his own helmet on. Jax looks into his brothers’ eyes with flared nostrils, seething.  

“If they fucking touch her- “

“Go get our girl and bring her back!” Bobby interrupts from the club door, hollering at the cavalry of big men in leather kuttes straddling their roaring machines.  

“I got this; you guys go!” He motions to the men to head out. The clubhouse is accompanying more and more bodies as Jax had ordered a lock down since the discovery of your disappearance. He has learned his lesson from previous threats, it’s the quickest way to make sure all the women, children and other men of mayhem are accounted for.  

Bobby chose to stay back and monitor in case the wrong people came knocking. He was doubtful that this was a distraction tactic but the one thing he did know, is that anything can happen. As he watched the bikers ride out, he was thankful for wearing his black shades, as he would have trouble believing his own concealed expression. There was a chance you weren’t making it back this time, and everyone knew.  

One by one, they follow their leader, silently preparing themselves for the worst. Jax however, was preparing for war while struggling with the ongoing battle in his head.

Jax hates, truly hates himself for being selfish. It’s exactly what this is. He hates that each time your life has been in danger, he has to face the picture of standing over top your headstone.  

Since you came back to Charming, Jax vowed to serve you, protect you, love you. He knew he was destined to be yours when you told him the life didn’t scare you, just the fear of losing him. You agreed to be his old lady, despite all the risks and stand by his side during all the chaos.

Even though Jax would never leave the club, he wishes he could. Every day he thought about how you deserved more. Just like him, you suffered sleepless nights, restless days, endless dry throat from all the cigarettes you smoked to ease the stress away. He thought about the way you startle each time your cell rings, adrenaline consuming you as you brace yourself to receive bad or very bad news. This life, it too affects you. He’s selfish because he holds your freedom in his hand. A better existence. Fuck, you’d do anything for this man no matter how deep it hurts. Yet, he’ll never set you free. You are the only light in his days of darkness, his one true love. This life isn’t easy, but no matter what, you always look evil right in the eye and challenge it. You’re a fighter, and you fight hard. It’s another reason why he loves you so effortlessly. You’d listen if he told you to walk away, to leave Charming and he knows it, but he also knows he’d find you dead before ever granting you that peace.  

He tries his damndest to keep his eyes dry, to override the blue with pure red hate, but regardless of his efforts, the tears fall, disappearing into the wind. He wreaks on the throttle harder, hoping the rumble would drown out his sorrow. 

                                                              ~

“Dean, It’s the only antidote we have, that blue eye freak got away. There’s a chance we’ll need this once we find her again and kill her for good.” The agitated voice spoke right beside you.

“Sammy, I’m not saying this again, give her the fucking antidote.” Someone responded from further away. It was hard to tell over the rumble of.. a car?  

“Such a waste, we don’t even know her!” You felt a grip tighten around your arm.

“Give it to her, now!”  

“Fuck!” You shriek as your arm is stabbed with a needle birthed from a large syringe. The sharp infliction snapped you out of whatever previous fog you were residing in or maybe it was the effect of the content that was administered into you.  

“That fucking hurt!” You shout, ripping your arm out of the stranger’s grasp and holding onto the spot that feels like its bruising already.  

“Yeah, well it was that or deteriorate due to your blood getting sucked out, disintegrating your brain” He responds, seemingly sarcastic whilst putting the needle away into a bag.  

“Jesus Christ” The voice comes from the driver seat. You look over at the rearview mirror in the darkness, suddenly catching a glimpse of deep green eyes accented by freckles as he drives underneath a spotlight. His face disappears as the dark of the night envelopes the inside of the car once more.  

You look up at the man who had been manhandling you in the backseat to find him staring back at you.  

“I think it worked” Sam says, looking passively towards the driver. You rub your eyes, as if when you open them again, you’d be back home.  

“Good, we’ll keep her at the motel. Try and stray the Djinn off her scent.”  

“Why? it would make more sense to use her as bait, draw the djinn back in and finish it off.”  

“She doesn’t need to be a part of it Sam.”  

“She became a part of it when she almost died, Dean.”

As you listen to these men banter your conscience becomes clearer. You have no idea where they were taking you, what had happened to the creature that was apparently about to feed on you, and what the SONS may be doing to find you. With rising confusion, you snapped.  

“Who the hell are you guys!?” You blurt out, interrupting their fight. “And what the fuck was that thing back there!?” You point your thumb towards the rear window.

“Because I swear when she touched me, it felt like… I was drifting away...” You shift yourself upwards in the leather seat, well more like a bench, in this vehicle that these men threw you into.  

You watch the man who sat in front of you, his broad shoulders rising as he clears his throat.  

“What you saw… is what you think you saw” Dean says slowly from up front, locking his eyes with yours from the mirror again. “She’s a monster… and she was trying to kill you”.  

“We really giving her the talk right now Dean?” Sam says with his eyebrows raised. You side-eye him, shocked by how comfortable this guy is. You wonder if this is something they’ve done before. “The less people know the better” He continues.

“Might as well, she saw too much and clearly she remembers, don’t you?” Dean asks you.

You rub your forehead with your fingers. This is all too much. This isn’t really happening, is it? You’ve spent the last year running away from thugs, for what? To run straight into the arms of monsters?

You scoff to yourself, then inhale deeply through your nostrils, eyes shut trying to center and organize your thoughts. You’re capable of handling a lot of bullshit, but this is next level. You make a silent agreement to figure out the truth first.  

You open your tired eyes, “Alright, one thing at a time.” You mutter just loud enough for them to hear.

“So, you’re Sam?” You point your finger at the long haired, flannel wearing giant who barely fits inside the car. He nodded; his eyes intense as he continued to analyze you. Maybe to see if the antidote was still working.  

“Sam Winchester” He speaks up.  

“Winchester… okay.” You whisper.  

You glance back to the rear mirror, searching for those earthy forest green eyes.  

“Dean, is it?” You question him in the dark as he continues driving down the wet highway.  

“That’s right sweetheart” You could hear the smirk on his lip, and you barely know the guy… Kidnapper, savior, whatever he is.  

you correct him by giving your name. “That’s a pretty name” Dean replies before his brother interjects with a huff.

“We’re brothers, we work this gig together” Sam says.  

You pause with your brows raised. “Gig … as in … killing monsters?” you speak slowly, feeling silly even saying the words.  

“We hunt monsters, then kill them. It’s sort of a family business” Dean explains.  

You stare at him in disbelief, jaw agape. “Okay…” You drawl out.  

“The thing that attacked you was a Djinn. They infuse their victims with poison, which acts as a hallucinogen, which you learned. As you dream away, they drain you of blood until you’re all dried up. The poison also seeps into your bloodstream slowly shutting down your entire system, hence why you needed the antidote.” Sam ever so calmly reveals what could have been your fate.  

“Right…” You shake your head, still trying to register all that has occurred. It doesn’t help that every time you close your eyes, you see that blue haze, scouring the inside of your eyelids like veins.  Just as you’re about to question more, a white sign with black fonts catches your eye as you speed by.  

“OAKLAND”

“Wait, wait, where are you guys going?” Your voice starts to raise as your panic quickly surfaces.

As if Dean can hear the unease in your tone, he responds softly.

“Back to our motel. You gotta stay there and we’ll go back out and finish the job. We’ll take you home when it’s safe”.  

You hear Sam scoff.

“Yeah no, I think I’ll manage just fine on my own actually. We need to turn around and head back to Charming, like now”.  You turn looking out the back window wondering if Niners are trailing the impala.  

“Oh yeah? Being tied up to a pillar is how you manage? How’d that work out again?” Dean questions, tearing his eyes from the road and meeting your gaze with furrowed brows.  

“Yeah, thanks for saving me, I get it” You spit back with your arms crossed, shooting a glare at Sam who clearly didn’t want to give you the antidote. He shrugs his shoulders back at you.  

“But listen, I’ve got bigger problems on my tail than this monster you guys are hunting, I need to get back to Samcro” You demand, catching Dean's eyes in yours.  

“I can’t do that” he says matter-of-factly as if he actually has control over you.  

“Hah” You laugh out loud. “Little do you know we’re probably being hunted right now” you say with a grin.  

“What are you talking about?” Sam turns to you.  

“I deal with real monsters on a daily basis, your worst nightmare is my constant” You speak with one brow raised. “Have you ever heard of a group called Sons of Anarchy?”

Dean stared at you through the mirror, you could just see his half smile cracking, showing a little bit of his perfect teeth “Oh? Those old boys that ride scooters?” he chuckles.  

And it was as if Dean had summoned Jax Teller, the Reaper himself because there it comes. The loud rumble of the Harleys, sounding like the impending hoof beats of the horsemen of the apocalypse arriving on the battlegrounds of war.  

“We got company” Sam states, as he crawls over the seat from the back to join Dean in the front, he opens up the glovebox and pulls out a pistol.  

“Guys, guys just pull over” you try to suppress the panic in your throat. The last thing you need tonight is to get caught in the middle of a full-blown drive by.  

Just like that, the men in kutte open fire while they gain speed. That’s their first warning to the brothers to pull over. They intentionally miss the impala as they presume you’re inside.  

“Fuck that” Dean curses as he slams on his brake causing an ear-piercing squeal followed by the stink of burning tires - a sharp punch to the nose.  

“Jesus!” You spit as you hold onto the seat in front of you to brace yourself.  

“Stay in the car” Dean commands as he and his brother step out, slamming the doors behind them.  

“For fucks sakes” you mutter underneath your breath as you attempt to crawl over the seat yourself.  

The Harleys come to a screech themselves as the men all then quickly step off their steeds. Each one, reaching and pulling out their weapons to point at the brothers. The sounds of Glocks being cocked simultaneously, echo into the night.  

Sam and Dean follow suit, raising their own guns, facing the crew.

“Jackie boy, these guys are looking a little too white to be niners” The Scotsman shouts to his president.

“She’s with them” Jax murmurs lowly. His skin screaming, he knows you’re in the impala, he can feel it. He takes his helmet off before hanging it on the clutch.  

The blonde man is yet to be armed as he plucks a cig from his pack in an all too calm manner. He slows his strides as he walks over to the brothers in his famous swag, one white sneaker in front of the other. He places his smoke in between his lips before pausing to light the end. His sharp framed face looks eerie, as the light from the flame casts shadows across his cheekbones.  

In the still air the crackle of his intake is loudly audible. The smoke drifting from his nostrils before he exhales

His stance expelled power. His feet planted widely apart from each other, one hand to his mouth assisting his smoke. The other clutching his belt buckle. He let his hand fall down, exhaling once more before breaking the silence and the hair-pulling tension.

“Give her to me” He finally speaks, in a low haunting tone. His eyebrows raise with his words before furrowing. He can see your shadow moving in the vehicle, bringing an instant blanket of relief over him.  

“Not gunna happen, pretty boy. Unlike you guys, trafficking isn’t really our style.” Dean spits out, never wavering his raised hand, gripping his gun. He can only assume these guys wanted to hurt you, that they used you for whatever needs they required. The fact that they’re chasing you down, guns out, demanding for you like some piece of property, enraged him to his very core. He never liked gangs to begin with but a biker gang? What a joke. He’s familiar with the Sons of Anarchy as he’s a man of research whenever he goes into any new town to hunt. Within moments of searching up Charming, the notorious Men of Mayhem found their way onto the Google search page. They seem to cause trouble, attend a charity here and there, then more trouble again. Their reputation, other than running a consensual brothel which is right up Deans ally, bothers him.  

Jax lets out a chuckle, flicking his lit bud to the side of the road. Before it can land onto the wet concrete, Jax pulls out his own piece and points it right at the shorter, dark-haired brother. The taller one flinches at his motions, looking over at Dean. Jax could tell he was trying to read his face, to navigate their game plan.  

The Impala door squeaks open, and a light thud sounds as you stumble onto the road as you pull yourself out.  

“Wait! Don’t shoot” You call out, causing all the men to turn their attention to you. Jax’s breathing stops as he watches you approach him.  

Abruptly, Sam puts his hand across your torso, blocking you from your path; his other still holding the gun.  

“Get your fucking hand off of her” Jax then points the gun at Sam as the men behind him holler with rage.

“Move” you mutter as you shove his hand off, continuing towards Jax unphased as you walk to him in line of his weapon. 

Dean calls out your name, watching you walk to the leader, his heart pounding while thinking the worst.  

Jax scowled at the sound of your name coming out of another man's mouth. He keeps his eyes on Dean as he clutches your waists and pulls you into him. The brothers seemed utterly perplexed that you weren’t a target; more so a member.

With a scowl still residing on his face, he finally breaks the eye contact from Dean to you.

“You okay Darlin’?” He murmurs to you as you lean into him.  

“Yeah, I’m fine, get them to put their guns away Jax” you motion to the armed crew behind him “they didn’t hurt me” He tilts his head at you with confusion, his icy cobalt eyes scanning your face.  

You turn to the brothers, their concern growing. You knew they didn’t want them knowing about their... occupation. You remembered what Sam said earlier “The less people know, the better”

You look back at your dark prince.  

“They saved me Jax, I was tied up in a house” you start to explain “I’m pretty sure it was the Niners, but… I can’t remember shit” you rub your head as you blatantly lie through your teeth.  

The brothers were first to lower their guns, Dean raising his hands in surrender.  

“She’s telling the truth” He says, speaking directly to Jax.  

“We were in the area, heard her screaming, thought we’d check it out.”  Sam explains.

“Did you see them?” Jax asks, clutching your waist tighter, bringing his gun down.

“No, by the time we showed up, it was just her'' Sam pitches. “We untied her, carried her out of the house, just trying to help her”.  

“Aye, and what were the two of you planning on doing to ... help her?” Chibs spoke out as he grabs his scarred cheeks, trying to conceal the pure hell boiling internally. He doesn’t trust these guys as far as he can throw them. Nothing about this made sense.  

Dean scoffs, shaking his head. “She might be right, maybe they do see worse shit than we do” he says, mumbling to his taller brother.  

With a dry chuckle, Sam responds “Yeah, you’re telling me”.

Jax releases you, as he tucks away his piece before sliding both hands into his pockets motioning his chin at them with his jaw clenched.  

“Wanna tell me why you two are driving around Charming in some shit impala then? Besides searching for women in distress?” Jax speaks sharply, his words laced with hostility.  

Dean closes his eyes slowly, his hand curling into a fist. “Shit impala” being repeated in his head. That car is his baby.

“We’re just driving through; we’ll be out of here by tomorrow” Sam intercepts knowing damn well his brother is still trying to recover from that comment.  

“Tonight” Jax demands through gritted teeth. He wanted these men out of sight. It didn’t add up, the Niners haven’t had beef with the SONS. Why were you taken? Why did you stay with them? Did they make you feel safe? Was he not enough?   

“Tsk” the click of Dean's tongue echoes down the highway before he purses his lips.  

“Or what?” he says with a half-smile. He couldn’t help it, he liked to get under people's skin and there was something about Jax that just pissed him right off. It was the entitlement, or maybe it was the fact that you were so calm about the matter, around guns, around bad men. He wondered what kinds of hell they put you through in order to be so tough-skinned.  

“Fuck around and you’ll find out” Opie utters, stalking up to join his blood brother in their battle of wills against these two posers. Settling his deadly glare on the taller one with the mop of hair on his head.  

“Oh, like how you found her?” Dean snaps back, his voice a deep rasp. “Maybe you should take better care of your women or better yet, maybe I should stay in town, just to make sure she stays alive, cause if it wasn’t for us buddy, she’d be cold by now.” He motions his index finger at you.  

Your President jerks forward but before he can get his hands on Dean standing in front of him, you shove yourself in his path, grabbing his kutte in fistfuls. Glaring at his brothers over his shoulder to back down.  

“Jax” you breathe, looking up at him “They’re not a threat!”  

“I really don’t give a shit” He says, leveling you with his dark eyes. That’s when you know he’s plotting his revenge for you later on. Disappearing doesn’t go unpunished, even if you were kidnapped.

You swallow hard. This isn’t the man that was smitten by you, how his eyes would sparkle at the sight of you, the man that appreciated hearing your two cents, the man that would softly ask you to listen to him when he was frustrated, no. This was the Reaper, and he’s very unforgiving. You know when you’re out of bounds with him, and as of right now you’re on the tipping edge. You blink rapidly realizing just how affected he is by the words spat by Dean. You release his kutte from your hands, feeling his anger radiating from his body. Before you can speak, he cuts you off.  

“Sit your ass down on the bike and shut your mouth” he says to you coldly.  

That was a direct order. You’re grateful for the dark of the night as it hides the growing red in your cheeks. You hate when he embarrasses you in front of his soldiers like that. You can feel the looks of concern settling on you, the men in kutte don’t particularly like it either but, that’s what being an old lady entails and you signed up for it.  

Dean watches you with Jax, his entire body tense with rage. He can’t even begin to understand the relationship you share with this man. He can’t fathom how you’re a part of a gang. You seemed so innocent, so defenseless tied up to that pillar in the cellar. Yet here you stand, next to the President of murderers. Hell, he barely knows you but for some reason, he doesn’t want to leave you there. Not until he knows for sure, that you truly feel safe.  

The air is so silent you could hear a pin drop. You slowly make your way over to Jax’s Harley, quietly slipping on his helmet and swinging a leg over the seat. You keep your gaze down, eyes locking onto a little pebble sitting by the kickstand of Jax's bike.

Jax analyzes Dean, how he watches your every step. He grows more and more infuriated as he witnesses Dean struggling not to call out to you, like he thinks he’s some knight in shining armor ready to rescue you from the Dark Prince you’ve seemed to settle with. It looks as if he is worried about you. And Jax simply doesn’t like that.  

“Hey, you gunna be okay?” your head snapped up at Dean who called out to you. His forehead creased with lines as he awaited your response. His carelessness was going to get him killed.  

“Don’t fucking talk to her” Jax shouts as Opie intervened, standing in between. 

“Ill be fine” you responded to Dean in the smallest voice, that it squeezed his heart. You feel guilt rising as you deliberately ignore the glare from Jax for disobeying his orders.  

“Tonight it is then” Sam states, not wanting to pursue this any further. His focus was on hunting, not this ‘who’s dick is bigger’ pit fest. He turns to Dean, nodding his head to the impala. “Let’s go”.  

Dean remains in his stance, his eyes flicker back at Jax once more, letting out a scoff before following Sam.   

“Hey brother, we’ve got the clubhouse on lockdown still. We should get back.” Opie turns to face Jax, trying to read his expression.  

“Time to let these wankers get on the road aye?” Chibs joins in. “She’s safe n with us now” 

Jax stares at the mystery brothers with his brows furrowed. Absorbing all the details of their features, their car, their potential baggage. He would be sure to remember them if they ever step foot near his town again and more importantly, come near you.  

Nothing more had to be said between the standoff of Jax and Dean, their eyes said enough. Jax turns, patting Opie’s chest. “Let’s go brother” he commands.

Collectively the men begin to board their steeds.  

You peer up from your lashes, feeling his presence as he walks towards you. He slips his black leather gloves on and by surprise he grips your face, squeezing your cheeks together before giving you a hard kiss.  

It’s clear he is marking his territory in front of the brothers; you really aren’t sure why he’s so threatened by the two. You deal with perverse men on the daily, but Jax very seldom had this reaction. He releases your cheeks, glaring towards Dean as he stood watching the two of you before opening the impala door. Once Jax sits on the Harley, you wrap your arms around his waist.  

Discreetly you look at the Impala once more, to see Dean looking back at you through his side mirror. You wanted to tell him that you’re thankful he saved your life, to tell him that you’re safe in this club. Well for the most part anyways. You wanted to apologize for the way the sons greeted them. But you knew this was the last interaction you’d have with the Winchesters.  

Your heart sinks when the engine turns over. You don’t like this feeling of uncertainty residing within you. You have so much more to learn about, this whole deal with monsters? Is this Djinn still tracking you down? Are you watching the only people that could protect you, drive away out of town, out of your life? You’re left with so many questions and an atmosphere that makes you feel incredibly alone.  

The machine below you roars to life, rumbling underneath you, the sound growing louder as Jax steers around. He then squeezes the clutch, and revs his engine, causing the tires to spin out spitting up gravel on the side of the highway which coincidentally patters the rear of the impala before heading back to the direction they came from.

BANG!

Your shoulders dip, your ears ring slightly at the sound of a gun going off. You frantically release one hand off Jax, to turn and look behind you, the wind causing your hair to blow across your face. Your eyes scan, as you’re worried that they had killed the brothers. Tig was the last one following the comrade, holstering his Glock with a smirk across his face. With a sigh of relief, you see Sam step out of the impala, to inspect what appeared to be a side mirror blown into pieces on the ground.  

The last thing you saw was Dean stepping out with his hands behind his head, before dropping his arms in frustration. You truly feel bad for them, they don’t deserve this treatment. Surely anyone who offers a hand in protecting your life would be put on a pedestal by Jax but this time, it seemed as if death was as good a reward as any. You feel his chuckle through his kutte, as he’s pleased with Tig’s style of amusement. You place your hands back around Jax, pressing your cheek up against his back. With shut eyes, you try to mentally prepare yourself for the chaos awaiting you back at the clubhouse.  

But due to the exhaustion of the night, you drift in and out of sleepiness on the way back to Charming, your mind replaying the scene of those deep green eyes, accented by freckles underneath the passing streetlights.  

Taglist @sarah-bear706318 @witchthewriter @spaghettificationandpretzels @ambassadortotrilliusprime @freddaemagnifica @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites @spngingerbread21 @davten74 @alohomorasomnium   @withmyteeth

[sinning-23]

Socket Wrench: Chapt. 4

so ladies and germssss this is the final chapter...uhhh I'm very much not 1000% happy with the end so I may end up tweaking it more. ANYWHO after this will be someeee oneshots so keep those eyes peeled! ENjoy btw!

Chapter 3 found here

Chapter 4: Shitty Finale

Your idea worked, the rocket managed to shoot out of the eel's mouth and head back in the direction of the Mushroom Kingdom. You were left gripping onto DK’s waist for dear life, his fur soft beneath your fingers as you buried your face into his back. 

“You alright back there?” He shouts, knowing that the height was somewhat bothering you based on how tightly you had him in a grip. He wasn't complaining though, he rather liked having you this close to him. 

“Just steer.” You groan, trying to distract yourself as the rocket whizzes past, various mushrooms beginning to show up on your path.

Bowser's castle was hovering now, the cloud of darkness it brought trying to spread. 

“So what’s the plan? Fly up there, kick-ass, and the day is saved?” You question, the silence following making your once jokey smile drop. 

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” You groan, preparing to jump from the rocket once you reached a good enough point above the debris.

 You manage to land almost slipping, but DK grabs your hand, pulling you forward. A flurry of blue flashes of light appears from the top of the floating structure. The princess must be fighting back like the bad bitch she is. You return your focus to the scene in front of you, various Koopa troops taking items from the kingdom, trying to store them for later.

Maybe it was time to put all that par core you did in high school to use. DK and Mario were already headed towards the soldiers, dodging attacks from shells all the while grabbing any power-ups they could find. You sprint forward, hopping up on one of the blocks, and using shells you grabbed to throw in any direction. 

“DK!” You call out, sliding under the mystery box two of the shoulders happened to be carrying, your legs beginning to burn. 

He turns his attention to you as you throw a power up to him, sending a wink his way before sliding into another tunnel. He chuckles, following your lead as Mario does the same. You pause, looking to see if the pair was following close behind and sure enough, they were. The next step was to get to the Princess. You hit one of the mystery boxes, eyes brightening at the power-up. 

You climb the chains latched to the kingdom's foundation, just barely making it to the top to see the Princess standing from the stairs, her power up now gone. You wave to her, running towards the mechanisms dropping what looked like dozens of prisoners into lava, you try pulling but it was no use. Finally following behind was DK and upon seeing you struggle DK quickly runs over trying to reverse the chains. 

You were able to grab each prisoner and melt the bars with the fire flower you’d scored, trying to work quickly at setting them free. Mario scooped up Luigi, and they share and embrace, happy to be united again. You climb back up to meet the group, the rest of the newly freed prisoners following you. 

And right when everything seemed to be fine, Bowser broke free of the ice he was trapped in, the single command he spoke launching a bomb into the air and setting direction for the Mushroom Kingdom. 

Mario follows it, trying his best to redirect its attention. Sure enough, the bomb is hot on Mario’s tail (literally) as he tries to guide it as far from the kingdom as possible. 

“What’s he doing?” You whisper out, seeing the bomb head straight for the tunnel where this mess has started. 

You walk forward a bit, DK only a few steps behind as you feel the world shake, a low rumble soon sounding into the aftershock of the bomb. You stumble a bit, falling to your knees, DK quickly finds himself hovering over you to try and keep you out of harms way. 

“Get down! We're getting sucked in!” You explain the gust of wind that began pulling the large mushrooms off the ground and into the void was beginning to do the same to Bowser’s Castle. 

You hold onto his arm, trying to figure out what the next step was. The pipe had sucked the remainder of the castle in, Brooklyn waiting patiently on the other side as you warp through it. In a flash of light, you were transported right back to where this had all started, the manhole right above The sewer system, or at least what was left of it. 

Rubble crushed cars and businesses to dust as streets were destroyed. The power star that Bowser had been holding onto was now begging for help from what could only be described as his henchman while the group was surrounded by Koopa troops, yourself included. 

“What do we do? I don't know what that star does and I’m not tryna find out either.” You whisper, still feeling DK close behind you. Speaking of which he hadn't left your side since before you left the Mushroom Kingdom. 

What was there even left to do? There was really no saving the situation and if Bowser really wanted to he could take over the city. Hell, he had gotten this far. Mario of course was taking the fall now, seeing how Bowser was on a rampage since his surprise wedding was ruined and his plan somewhat foiled.

This wasn't working in anyone's favor, Luigi now stepping in to try and save his brother. Maybe…. You glance at Peach who seemed like she was also trying to come up with a solution. You tap her shoulder, passing a nice-sized boulder and motioning to the star with your eyes. 

“Throw this as hard as you can, it should give them a chance to use it and turn this whole situation around.” You speak, just below a whisper. 

She nods, following your instruction as you push past the troops, using one of the shells discarded to launch the star even more forward towards the brothers. Bowser'sgaze is threatening, eyes glowing red as he grabs you by your shirt and throws you aside, the wind leaving your lungs as you gasp for air when you hit the rubble behind you.

It was instant when DK came to your aid, throwing a punch at Bowser while the brothers reached the power star.  Trying to get to you was easier said than done when Bowser had in him a chokehold as he struggled to break free. You try to stand again, wobbling at first but quickly letting your legs move on their own. You manage to grab what looked like part of a discarded pole and slam it into Bowser's stomach, making him flinch only slightly and drop DK.

 His attention was back on you and before you could dodge, another backhand sent you flying into a car. DK rushed to you, seeing you wince when he went to pull you up, the bruises and cuts over your body filling him with dread. Despite gaining these earlier in the beetle he still hates seeing you even mildly injured. 

“Are you okay?”He huffs, not sure where to put his hand as you wheeze out a groan, trying to get yourself steady. 

“Oh, yeah I just got thrown across the street, no biggie.” You try and joke, leaning against him to steady yourself. He's warm, and inviting even when he guides you closer to him. You can’t help but stare upward considering how much taller he was. 

“Thank you.” You hum breathlessly gaze trailing from his eyes, then to his lips, and back again.

“Wanna call it even?” He sighs in relief, at least you were conscious. Maybe a bit delirious but conscious. 

“What? For saving your ass from drowning earlier AND just now from getting choked out? No way baby.” You test, leaning more upward, a coy smile parting your lips. 

He chuckles a bit, swallowing hard at what you were trying to get at. This was hardly the time but he didn’t care. After fighting off this feeling for 3 days you knew you both needed some kind of confession. Something, anything, to break this growing tension. But before his lips could meet yours you press your finger to them, smirking. 

“Save it for after the fight, yeah? Then we’ll call it even.” You wink, slipping out of his grip to help fight. 

He went to reach for you but ended up joining you and fighting by your side, having your back when you were turned, and you do the same. There was a rhythm between the two of you, your punches being thrown just as he followed close behind, he pulls you from any attacks you may not be able to doge and you take the chance to save his ass when he was too busy saving yours.

The brothes on the other hand managed to land one final blow on Bowser as he was finally knocked down, captured by the princess, and placed into a jar, courtesy of a blue mushroom. The fight was over! You’d all won! 

The fight was over….

Your smile of relief and victory was replaced with a soft frown. DK of course was excited to soak up the attention, standing beside the Princess and the two brothers who were also celebrating. You decided to push that empty feeling aside and celebrate with them, taking a stance next to DK who smiles and throws his arm over your shoulder. 

“I know that look on your face, I told you that line was gonna become permanent.” He hums, stepping aside with you to talk, even if it meant just for a minute. 

You avoid his eyes, only to have him frown and turn your face to his gently. Well, you were home now, and at this point… the end goal was complete.

“Welcome to Brooklyn. Sorry, the reveal wasn’t under better circumstances.” You try joking, swallowing hard at his previous gesture. 

“Is that what really bothers you? How we got here? C’mon, I can see right through you.” He explains, arms folded now.

“I-I just ended up getting home faster than I thought. I don’t wanna leave you behind.” You whisper out, dread filling you as you realize that not only him but Peach too, would have to leave and go back to their realm. 

“Then come home with me…us. We can fix the pipe and you can just…I don’t know visit somehow.” He corrects, biting his lip as he gauges your reaction. 

“How would that even work DK? I have a business here and I worked my ass off for it but…”  Your eyes are beginning to burn now, one of the toughest decisions you’d have to make leading to you creeping closer and closer to tears.

“I can’t leave you behind…I can’t. I haven’t been on an adventure like that ever in my life. And I haven’t felt so comfortable around someone in so long and so fast. And don’t look at me like that either because you’re making it hard to say no. Shit dude, why did you have to make me like you so much!” You ramble, wiping your face as the frustration of the situation had made you cry.

He pauses for a bit, unsure as to what to do. He wasn't used to seeing people cry, especially not one that had managed to make him fall so hopelessly for them. He knew he didn't like it though, any of your current state. You're sad, stressed, beat up, and bruised. How could someone so sweet and witty feel so helpless…

“Hey hey, take a breath. We’ll figure it out! And everything will work out fine. Just, please don't cry.” He comforts you, giving you that goofy smile you loved. 

“This is so stupid.” You huff, letting your head fall onto his chest as he hesitates a bit to pull you into a secure hug. 

“No it's not, listen let's just get this figured out first, and then we can work on visiting, sound good?” He suggests, motioning to the damage from the battle that had taken place. 

___________________________________________________________

It had been about 6 months since your surprise adventure in the Mushroom and Jungle Kingdom. Bowser's castle was transported back to the Darklands through the tunnel where the whole mess started in the first place. Apparently, the tunnels had connected back to their paths between kingdoms and everything was somewhat restored.

Toads had managed to work together to clean up any other damage done and the city was good as new! Of course, the press had questions galore all of which were answered quickly and closed out to keep others from feeling as if they could just go back and forth between the two realms as they please

It's summer now, and the heat getting to you a bit as you tighten the nuts and bolts on the rims of the tires. This was the final step in your rebuild process, the rest of the vehicle looking almost identical to how it looked before. You step back admiring your work, mostly the painted lipstick print on the front left rim. 

“Good as new right?” You hum, falling back into DK’s arms as he smiles and presses a quick kiss to your lips. 

“It's perfect. Looks exactly like how it did before. You’re too good to me, how’d I get so lucky?” He questions, kissing you again, this time more playfully as he spins you in a hug. 

You only giggle in response, stretching a bit as he releases you from his grip. 

“I don't know you're just sooooo charming I couldn't help but fall for you.” You tease, placing the socket wrench you’d previously used back in its place.

Moving to the Jungle Kindom had to be one of the best decisions you'd made, and moving your business here was also on that list. Best of both worlds, fortunately. The transition wasn't the smoothest, but being here was bliss in its purest form.

The two of you weren’t exactly official but, you were definitely sticking to just each other. You both established the growing feeling between the two of you but never really addressed whether or not you were TOGETHER. It didn't matter though, you were happy,' and that's what did matter. 

Maybe one day youd be bold enough to pop the question but for now, this was perfect.

OKAY YAL THTS IT THATS ALL LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS IF YALLLLL WANT ANY OTHER X READERS OR HAVE ANY OTHER COMMENTSSS. LOVE YA AND THATS FOR READING!

[seaside-lovers-archive]

⚓ Jotaro & Kate 🦉

Ship name/tag: ⚓ oceans of love

Anniversary: June 15, 2020

F/O source: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

My backstory: I'm an employee working at the Speedwagon Foundation during the events of Stardust Crusaders. I joined with the intention of working in their conservation program, but I am also being trained to help study stands as I have an interest in them (and awakened my own several years back).

How we meet: I meet Jotaro for the first time after I travel to the Tokyo branch of the Speedwagon Foundation to assist in the study of stands with Muhammad Avdol. We're introduced by his grandfather, Joseph Joestar, who figures since we are similar in age, we should get along just fine.

First impressions: My first impression of jotaro is that he is cold and rude. At least, that's what I think of him at the time. He's hard to read and comes across as uncaring to me.

Jotaro isn't really sure what to think of me. I'm loud and bright, overwhelming in a way. He tries to avoid me though his grandfather keeps setting things up so we are partnered together on projects, studying together, etc.

Getting closer: At one point, I ask Jotaro about his studies and we discover we have a mutual interest in animals, especially sharks. This gives us a springboard for conversation and we start to talk a lot more rather than just sitting in awkward silence. As we get to talking about sharks, it slowly starts to branch out into getting to know one another more.

It's during this time that I get more used to Jotaro and let my mask drop, becoming calmer/quieter as I don't feel the need to keep up a high energy facade around him. I also start to get a feel for his personality; he may have came across as cold, but he is quite sweet, just not great at expressing his emotions.

Beginning our relationship: Jotaro and I both developed a crush on each other around the same time. I was honest to him after I realized it, telling hi that I liked him and would love to start dating if he was up for it. Having someone he actually liked approach him and ask him out was a bit flustering, but he accepted, and we started dating.

We dated through college before I proposed and we got married right after getting our Bachelor's degrees.

Canon introduction: Working for the Speedwagon Foundation same as Jotaro, I tag along with him on the trip (with Jolyne staying at Grandma Holly's while we are at work).

Ship trope(s): None ATM

Aesthetics: Oceans, blue + purple

Our song(s): "Falling In" by Lifehouse, "Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby" by Cigarettes After Sex

Favorite forms of affection: Kisses... give me more kisses, please. Forehead kisses are my favorite to receive.

Jotaro loves being tightly squeezed. He loves the sensation and being able to snuggle into my shoulder and just give himself a moment to forget everything but us.

Favorite kind of date: Coffee dates are our favorite. We both like coffee and it's nice to sit together and talk or sit in silence depending on the day.

Ways we comfort one another: I comfort Jotaro by sitting with him. The fight in Cairo left him anxiety, so I let him come to me when he needs it. Sometimes he just wants to sit in silence and sometimes I'll comfort him and remind him that we're both safe.

Jotaro comforts me via physical affection. I also enjoy bear hugs but I find them to be the best when I'm needing comfort. Just sitting cuddled together while he holds me tightly can help me a lot.

What we love most about each other: I love Jotaro's loyalty and protectiveness. Once he's friends with someone, he sticks by them and becomes very protective of them. He hates seeing harm come to his loved ones and will go to the ends of the earth to protect us.

Jotaro loves my gestures of love. I'm not a super romantic person, but I love declaring my love and affection for him in lots of ways, like getting on one knee and swearing myself to him, kissing his hand, etc (when we're alone; I don't want to embarrass him). He loves being made to feel loved like this and it shows when his face turns bright red and he pulls down his hat, though I can catch the small smile underneath. He also appreciates my keeping it private since I know he isn't one for PDA.