#he would fist fight with his pinky fingers but he would fight

[lady-charinette]

This is like my third version of this plot but bear with me bc I go feral for domestic but deadly Kazurei

Post 10 year timeskip

Rei and Kazuki are cleaning up the kitchen, Kazuki is carrying boxes to the storage room so they store the food safely for tomorrow. Rei is left alone in the kitchen wiping the counters clean.

Someone comes in despite the closed sign being turned up and Rei glances at them and immediately tenses.

He could recognize that look anywhere.

A look that spelled trouble and screamed weapon.

Rei scanned the man from head to toe, eyes zeroing in on what appeared to be a concealed knife from within the man's jacket pocket. "Hey, uh, you guy's still open?"

"No, the closed sign is displayed on the front door, I'm afraid you'll have to leave." Rei didn't miss the way the stranger kept glancing at his limp arm by his side, as if gauging how much of a threat Rei posed since being crippled.

Oh, how dangerous it was to underestimate your opponent.

The man approached the counter and slid his hand along the polished wood. "Sir, I said we were closed."

Rei rolled his eyes when the stranger made a sharp turn to enter into the kitchen area, obviously to gain momentum to draw his knife and stab him.

Good thing Rei couldn't get rid of his blood that easily.

As soon as he caught the glint of metal, Rei sprung into action.

Using his limp arm as a feint, faking the movement of reaching for something, Rei distracted the man long enough to grab his wrist holding the knife and twisting the limb sharply.

The man cried out in pain, bones grinding against each-other viciously. "I said, we were closed."

The man ignored Rei and tried to punch him with his free hand, but Rei acted quickly. He kicked the man's chin, twisting his arm further, causing him to drop the knife. Right into Rei's hand.

Twirling the knife in his hand to hold it in a reverse grip, Rei aimed for the spot between his eyebrows.

When the stranger opened his eyes again, he was met with the sharp edge of his blade inches away from his face. "You have 5 seconds to decide whether you want your liver carved out by your own knife or you run away and never set foot in here again."

The stranger didn't even use the full five seconds before he was out the door, his cries echoing through the half empty streets.

Kazuki returned from the backroom, scratching his head. "Did that guy want a refund?" He rose an eyebrow at the knife in Rei's hand. "Hey man, I told you not to threaten our customers for looking at the family pictures."

Rei tossed the knife into the drawer and closed it, gazing blankly at Kazuki. "....You're one to talk. Didn't you threaten to disembowel a kid and use his innards as ingredients for our next menu item?"

Kazuki clenched his fist at the memory. "I threatened a man looking at pictures of our Miri lewdly! You were itching to get your hand on him, too!" He pouted, sneering at Rei.

Rei grinned. "The kid was 16, I draw the line at beating up kids."

Kazuki cackled maniacally. "HA! Weakling! Good thing you have me! I'll throw hands with a toddler if he made kissy faces at yo- I mean Miri!"

Rei rose an eyebrow at the verbal slip, watching his partner's face heat up.

"Hm...sure you would."

[letterstotheflre]

cw: a little angsty. hurt/comfort. 18+ plus [sexual situations, mention of scars and child abuse, daryl has body image issues :((]

a/n: ummm this was supposed to be a cute little blurb. maybe 4-5 paragraphs. it became this angsty mess tho </3

thinking about how daryl never takes his shirt off during sex bc he doesn't want you to see or feel his scars </3 he thinks you'll be disgusted by him, that you'll think he's damaged goods. maybe you never want to touch him ever again. maybe you'll never want him to touch you again.

and at first you don't even realise he's doing it because you don't have the privacy or the time to get fully naked. most of your hook ups consist of quickly scurrying off your jeans and underwear to your knees. if it's summer you might get to lower the straps of your tank top to free your boobs. but being so out in the open, so defenceless, doesn't allow for complete stripping.

it's not until alexandria that you start to notice the fact that you're always naked and daryl always keeps his shirt on. sometimes his vest, too. you don't ask though, wouldn't ever pressure him into doing anything he's not comfortable with. you guess he might have his reasons.

until one time when he's buried so deep inside you that you just might lose your mind so you grip his shoulders to keep some of your sanity. and he keeps thrusting, keeps hitting that spot and god, you want him even closer. you don't want him to move an inch away from you. so your hand slips. down to his waist, where his shirt rode up just a little. and he's so warm. so you keep touching him, hand spread open as it moves up to his shoulder and that's when you feel it— the raised, jagged skin.

and the size of it is not even small to have been from an accident or a fight. it throws you off completely. "daryl, what's that?"

he's tense above you. "nothin'," he grunts and nearly slaps your hand away from his back. he pins both of your wrists above your head and thrusts again, hoping that he might be able to make you forget about it.

"daryl—" you gasp when you feel the spongy tip of his cock nearly in the back of your throat from how deep he's fucking you.

"it's nothin', don't worry about it."

"but—"

"jesus, i said it's nothing, woman!" he nearly screams at you. he pulls out completely and looks for his jeans, quickly getting dressed. "that so hard for ya to understand, huh? need me to spell it out for ya?"

"no," you say quietly, looking for some of your own clothes to cover up a little. "i just want to know if—"

his boots slam down on the hardwood floor as he finishes tying the laces. "there's nothing to know!"

you know daryl would never, ever hurt you. still, you can't help but freeze at how loud he's being.

the room is completely silent for the first time in an hour. daryl watches as you stand there in just your panties and tank top, right next to the soft bed, and use the tip of the nail on your pinky finger to pull at the skin around your thumb. he swallows down his shame. "i'm going out," he states and walks out of the room.

you let him go, knowing that he's feeling caged in right now. that his emotions are too big for him sometimes and he needs to get out because he might explode from the sheer size and weight of his anger. it's almost like little daryl was never taught how to process his emotions safely, how to avoid reacting with rage at the first sign of a confrontation.

it's late at night when he sneaks back into the community. if you had to guess, the front door opens at around 11pm. you hear him take off his boots and pad to the living room, where you're sitting cross-legged on the couch with a book laying on your legs.

he's dirty, that's your first observation, but when is he not? he takes his crossbow off and places it on the coffee table then holds a string of 3 three dead squirrels and a single rabbit with his whole fist. "brought dinner," he says.

you look at the pot of cold spaghetti on the stove. you might be able to cook the rabbit and then reheat the pasta in the oven. when you look back at him, daryl is shifting his weight from one leg to another, clearly uncomfortable with the tense silence.

you close the book and stand. "you wanna skin the rabbit?"

he nods. you touch his shoulder in passing and offer him a comforting smile. he follows you into the kitchen and gets to work with his knife, quickly cutting the best pieces of meat on the chopping board and storing the remaining bits he knows you won't eat in a tupper that he'll put on the fridge for another day.

you eat in silence. daryl practically swallows the entire plate in under 10 minutes, sauce splashing into his shirt and all over his face. a light orange hue tints the area around his mouth.

you wash the dishes in silence. you brush your teeth in silence. you get ready for bed in silence. you're about to turn the lights off and go to sleep with your back facing him when he finally speaks. "it was my dad."

he's not looking at you as he talks. instead, he stares at a random spot on the wall in front of him. "he drank a lot, y'know? used, too. didn't matter if it was pot or cocaine or heroin. anythin' he could get his hands on. sometimes he'd be in a real good mood 'n he would take merle and i out for ice-cream. other times... most times," he corrects himself, "he'd be real pissed off. he'd lock me up in a room, no food, no water, and let me out the next day." he gives you a melancholic smile. "s'how i learned how to hunt— had to eat somehow. taught myself how to shoot. found some survival books at the public library that said a lot of useful shit."

he sits up, back facing you completely, and takes his shirt off. you cover your mouth in shock at the sight. three scars in the shape of an 'x' cover most of his shoulderblades. there's others too, smaller only in comparison to the huge ones, littered across his lower back. tentatively, you reach forward and trace the shapes, the puckered skin somehow very soft to the touch.

"when he was really mad, though, he'd use his belt and just... hit." he takes a shuddering breath and rubs his face with his hands, feeling a little wetness around his eyes. "anyway, this ain't even the worst he's done. merle had it worse. spent a lot of time alone with him before i was born and even after he'd try to get him to leave me alone. tried to protect me," he laughs like the sheer idea of someone wanting to keep him out of harm's way is ridiculous.

you scoot forward and hug him sideways. you gently turn his face to you, thumb rubbing soothingly on his chin. "i'm sorry, daryl."

"s'not your fault," he says immediately.

"that's not what i meant. i meant," you pet his head and look him in the eye, "i'm sorry for what happened to you. you didn't deserve any of it, you were just a kid. merle too," you add, knowing how important his brother was to him, even after everything. you kiss his sun-spotted shoulder. "it wasn’t your fault.”

he swallows down the lump in his throat. “i know.”

you keep stroking his hair. “is that why you never took your shirt off? because of the scars?”

“yeah.”

“why, baby?” you whisper incredulously. he shrugs one shoulder. “were you embarrassed? scared i’d say something?“ he is still for a few seconds, almost like he’s considering telling the truth, but ends up shrugging anyway. you know you hit the nail, though.

you shift and sit on his lap, holding his face with both hands so you can look him in the eyes. "those scars... they only show how brave and strong and resilient you are. they're part of you. and you're beautiful, dayl." you kiss him once. "i love every inch of you, including those scars, even though i hate the reason you have them in the first place."

his eyes gleam with tears. they gather in his waterline and he tries his best to keep them away. one manages to stream down his cheek. you brush it away. "it's okay to cry."

almost like he was waiting for your permition, daryl breaks down in a second. he hides his face in your chest, wetting your skin with salt streams. his shoulders shake so much with the force of his sobs that he ends up shaking you, too, caged inside his arms that circle around your waist. there's nothing else for you to do but hold him, allowing him to process his pain for perhaps the first time in decades.

it takes him minutes to calm down. half an hour maybe. when his sobs subside and his hold relaxes, you kiss the top of his head and lay him down on the bed with you. while he's usually the one who holds you at night, this time you are the one holding him. you fall asleep like that: with daryl's face tucked in your chest, your fingers combing through his long hair, nails scratching idly at his scalp.

when you wake up in the morning there's no sign of daryl. you go downstairs, following the sounds of a pan hitting the stove with a little too much force and daryl's loud curse. stepping into the kitchen, you see him, shirtless, throwing away the egg he attempted to crack. you can't help but giggle quietly in amusement— he always underestimates his strength and ends up breaking the entire shell instead of creating a crack big enough to let the gooey egg fall onto the pan.

"morning," you greet, picking up another egg and breaking it for him. the pan sizzles.

his smile is crooked. a little shy. "mornin', sunshine."

[diomaster69]

Jotaro Kujo (Part 3) x Reader

Dating Jotaro Kujo would include:

- Boy I don’t even know how the hell you got him to fall for you. You probably didn’t bother him like his fangirls and just talked to him like a normal human being. I feel that’s all he wants

- It might take him a while to actually start liking you, he’ll slowly start falling though as he realizes you’re a pretty cool and chill person

- Chillin with him while he smokes whether you join him or not

- If you don’t like the smell of smoke (like me and my lungs fr) then he won’t smoke in front of you, though that doesn’t mean he might have the scent of cigarettes on him

- We established he’s a tsundere, he loves you a lot just doesn’t know how to show it straight up, especially in the beginning

- If you ask him out he’d accept, probably acting like he doesn’t care and pulls his hat down to hide his face and smile

- If he asks you out he’d keep it very straightforward, short, and simple. It’s just “Let’s go on a date.” And you BETTER accept, do not break this big guy’s heart :(

- The first date would also be simple, maybe a small picnic in the park or going out for food

- I feel a lot of the dates wouldn’t include a ton of talking, and if there is talking then you’d be doing a good amount of it. Jotaro comes off as the type of guy who enjoys just being in your presence

- So basically his love language is quality time

- He’ll give you small gifts like seashells and jewelry or have Star Platinum get things for you if you wanted

- As your relationship progresses his gifts will get bigger. Such as giant ocean animal plushies

- More dates like going to an arcade so he can win you prizes effortlessly and impress you

- There will be aquarium dates, might be the place where you first kiss. Picture it, standing under a tunnel of fish swimming all around you and he pulls you in for a kiss

- Will beat people up for you, no questions asked

- You got a girl from school picking on you? Don’t worry, his fists are rated E for everyone. Equal rights equal fights

- Will not let his fan girls bother you, like they will never even get close to you (don’t ask how)

- Listening to music together whether it’s blasting in his room, on the car while you guys watch the stars, or sharing ear buds

- Even though he holds up his bad boy personality around everyone including his mom, he has his moments where he just melts with you

- Please hold his face once in a while, he’ll love it

- Very minimal PDA, closest you get is you and him wrapping your pinky fingers (if his giant hands let him)

- His mom would love you so much oh my god, sweetest woman alive

- She’d invite you to come over so often and loves that someone got Jotaro to settle down with

- Jotaro’s friends would be so surprised if they found out he was dating someone, Kakyoin wouldn’t be as surprised but Polnareff? Polnareff would be so lost as to how Jotaro got a girlfriend before him

- Forehead kisses, he has to bend down all the time to kiss yours

- Probably has back problems because of you

- Despite his fists being brutally scarred and coarse, he’s so gentle whenever he touches you in any way. I feel his hugs are the best and he’ll try to be careful when you hold hands

- Will carry you

- Let’s you wear his hats and clothes (but not for too long cause he wants them back)

- If you ever go on any transport, plane, boat, train, you name it, he will let you rest on him. Just don’t bring Joseph, it’ll give Jotaro PTSD

- Carefully caresses your face and admires every part of it, even plays with your hair

- If you can see Star Platinum he would love you so much, they say that Stands are a reflection of one’s soul. So basically Star will be very excited to be out and to see you

- Jotaro will smile with you a lot more than others

- He’s not the best at communication but once you get to know him it’s very easy to tell how he’s feeling

There’s probably more stuff but that’s all I got for this one. I am currently going through a JJBA brain rot please let me know if you have any requests!

[sapphire-dreamsky]

the promise of a distant future

inspiration: heavily inspired by The Hunger Games starring: ryomen sukuna | female reader pairing: sukuna x reader warnings: violence| death of minor characters setting: alternate universe | hunger games universe previous

Ten minutes. That was the amount of time allocated to tributes to spend with their family before they are whisked away to the train leading to their deaths. As if ten minutes would be enough time for a family to say farewell to their sons and daughters. 

His mother held him tightly while his father patted him on his back. Ever so awkward, the man was distant in physical affections but eloquent with words.

“I know you will come back to us. Make us proud.”

Of course. His parents knew that their son wasn’t one to back down or to let himself be killed. But they weren’t disillusioned either. Amongst the sea of tributes, there were two districts who would be threats to Sukuna. Despite how cunning the fourteen year old boy, he was the youngest selected tribute this year. He was at a severe disadvantage to the older, more experienced and skilled tributes of District 1 and 2. Still, they believed in him. Because if they lost faith in Sukuna, who would believe in him?

The next one to visit Sukuna had less time with him. She was not family. But she was a friend. 

“Only five minutes.”

As soon as the peacemaker closed the door on her, (name) threw her arms around Sukuna, sobs racking through her body as she clutched on him like he was her lifeline. And maybe he was. For once, he didn’t chide her for showing her weakness. Instead, he hugged her just as tightly while kissing the top of her head. Her red ribbon tied her hair in a beautiful french braid that his mother must have helped her with. 

“You have to come back. You have to.”

Her words were muffled against his grey coat but he could hear her clearly. 

“Brat. As if I was one to back down. I will be returning as victor. So don’t you dare shed a tear while I’m out there. I need my prettiest fan to give me her full support.”

“Your prettiest? How many fans do you have?”

He could hear the pout in her voice amongst her sniffling. His smile was soft. Something that was uncharacteristic of him. And yet, at this moment, he couldn’t care less. It could very well be the last time he ever saw her. As much as he would love to return as victor, he knew the games were ruthless and pitiless. Only the strongest came out of them. And as a child from District 12, and the youngest at that, it was pretty much certain that no-one would really be rooting for him. He would have to fight the hardest to come out alive. 

“Time’s up!”

They ripped her away from him. But before she was taken forcefully from him, she closed his fist around something. When the door closed on him, he looked down only to find a necklace with a silver ring dangling off the chain. He recognised it immediately. It was the one she always wore on her right ring finger.

“Come back to me Sukuna. I will make matching ones!”

As an orphan, (name) had to start working since she was young. She couldn’t go to the mines due to her age and her frail form. So instead, she found herself doing some odd jobs here and there. Sukuna was always watching out for the young girl. He was her protector. Everybody in District 12 knew that Sukuna was not afraid of bruising his fists if anybody dared to lay a hand on his promised girl. That was how she was referred to. Sukuna’s promised wife. She didn’t know when the rumours started but Sukuna could care less. As long as it kept away the lecherous men hanging around the Hob, then so be it. She was his promised wife. 

The owner of the only jewellery store in District 12 was a friend of the young girl’s parents. She took the young girl in and taught her the crafts. This ring was the first jewellery she crafted. It was originally meant to be his but she got his measurements wrong. The ring was too snug even when he tried it on his pinky finger. With an embarrassed face, she promised to make him another one when she would be more skilled. Still, the ring was oddly hers. It fit her. So, he took her right hand in his, and slipped the ring on her ring finger. 

“It’s not an engagement ring. It’s too early for that. But this is a promise to you. As long as I’m here, I will protect you.”

Ever since then, the girl wore the ring religiously. Sukuna proudly held her right hand every time they hung out. It was a slap to the face of the boys in his class. The misfit managed to get a girl before any of them. The girls could only watch with jealousy as the handsome pink-haired teenager showered (name) with attention; treating her as if she was the most delicate flower. When his mother heard about his ‘engagement’ as everyone in their neighbourhood liked to call it, she tugged on his ear and gave him a scolding.

“You are only twelve! What are you thinking? What if this doesn’t work out? What if you two end up disliking each other in the future? You have already made it known that she belonged to you now! No other boys would want to properly court her!”

His father was sitting at the table quietly. The cup placed in front of him had long gone cold. His father was a man who didn’t let his expressions show; he was often compared to the stone-faced peacemakers. A trait that Sukuna inherited from him. In retrospect personality-wise, Sukuna was the most like his father. Physically however, he was the spitting portrait of his mother, inheriting her pink hair and ruby eyes. 

“Good. There are no boys who are worthy of her attention in this world anyway.”

“And you think you are?”

His mother shook her head disapprovingly. Her head snapped up to glare at his father.

“And you have nothing to say? Your son is going around, claiming a young girl to be his future spouse.”

“Only one advice Sukuna. The answer is always “yes sweetheart,” irrespective of who is wrong in an argument.”

His mother promptly rolled the daily newspaper and wacked his father over the head with it. To his father’s credit, he at least had the decency to look a bit bashful under the heated gaze of his mother. 

Sukuna clutched the ring in his hand and brought it to his lips.

“Watch me (name). I will come back to you no matter who I have to kill.”

He tied the necklace around his neck before hiding it underneath his layers. He would be damned if anyone took that ring away from him.

tag list:

@imisshim2much | @tenshis-cake | @black-swan-blog27

[is-on-its-way]

This post from @unremarkablehouse got me writing an entire scene for Scully telling Emily about Mulder... and also because I like to torture myself...

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ⋆

“Hey, Hey, Hey” she said softly into the little girls baby shampoo scented hair.

Emily was sniffling into her neck, refusing to let her arms be pried from around her. 

“Ill be back tomorrow Emily, I promise.”

She stopped fighting her and hugged her back closing her eyes against her burning tears, against the orderly's stern face looking down at them both. 

Her heart ached to pick her up and take her far from this place. Take her back. Her baby. She was hers. 

“Hey, do you want to pinky swear?”

She felt the little girl nod against her and then release her, little balled up fists rubbing at her eyes as she sniffled big heaving sobs. 

She held out a pinky and waited for Emily, who indextrously grabbed for her finger with her own tiny pinky.

Scully found her eyes and hoped with sheer willpower the girl felt just how truthful she was being, because nothing would stop her from coming back for her. 

“I promise Emily, Im going to come back tomorrow. Ill see you at 10am, thats when visiting hours start okay?”

The girl nodded tears staining her face.

“Oh baby.” She couldn’t help herself as she wiped at Emilys face and drew her in for a hug. This time Emily curled in and let herself be comforted instead of clinging on like she might lose her. 

“And guess what?” She looked down at her. “Tomorrow, I have someone special who wants to meet you, his name is Mu.. his name is Fox.”

“A fox?” Emily looked up excited.

“Well not quite” she smirked to herself, “He’s a person, his name is just Fox.”

She giggled.

“Well he likes to be called Mulder, but I don’t know if thats so easy to say…”

“Is Fox your daddy?”

“No, he’s not my dad, he’s..”

“Not your dad… you’re mommy and he’s daddy?”

“Oh, are we married? No, we aren’t married, but he’s my friend and he’s going to come meet you.”

Sharp pain coursed behind her sternum as if pieces of her soul were being ripped from her chest. Her daughter, even admitting that to herself was as if the world had shifted on its axis. Her daughter had referred to her as mommy. She knew it wasn’t what she meant and she was being so, so reckless to hope. But hope was growing from embers to flames at each passing second she spent with her. She felt the change, in an unyielding determination, ready to fight the entire state of California if thats what needed to be done.

She rubbed the girls cheek and said “Goodnight Emily, Ill see you tomorrow.” in as steady a voice as she could with the best smile she could muster. 

She watched as the girl took the orderly's hand and was led away. At the door Emily turned and waved and she waved back. She thought, as she stood, she would be able to hold it together until she reached her car, but the flood of emotion wasn’t going to cooperate like it usually did. She avoided peoples gaze as she rushed outside, tears streaming down her face.

[sardonic-the-writer]

—a stakeout

SUMMARY | a late night steakout with tangerine has you questioning how you really feel for him

PAIRING | tangerine x reader

REQUESTED | no

WARNING | mentions of guns, hit men, murder, some angst, etc

WORD COUNT | 2k+

AUTHORS NOTES | no spoilers for bullet train! and as much as i love the rivals/enemies to lovers troupe with tange, here's some softer stuff. happy holidays!

🍊 Masterlist 🍊 Navigation 🍊 Rules 🍊

Lemon had done this on purpose.

He had always had the ability to read people well when he wasn't busy talking about that train show of his. You swore he could tell what you were feeling before you did most times—instantly there with a handful of tissues or some reaffirming words before you even knew it. Most times it was real a help.

Most times.

That was all you could think as you stared out a tinted window into the cold night. The leather of the car seat underneath you was warm from hours of constant body heat, your legs surely numb from blood loss by this point.

From next to you sat a tall figure, dressed to the nines per usual. Soft ringlets of messy brown hair fell in his eyes, only ever moving as he let out a big sigh on occasion.

Tangerine rested his head in one hand, the other drumming his fingertips across the steering wheel as he clutched it. Flashes of moonlight would steadily dance over your vision as the luminescence caught sight of the metal rings decorating his fingers.

His rings. Seperate pages in one giant book it often seemed. Each one of them told an individual story throughout his life. The pitch black ring on his pinky? The first time he'd ever gotten into a fist fight on the job, that one had left a mark deep enough in the other guys face to shed buckets of blood. A lucky hit. Tangerine often told that story with pride, boasting that you would still be able to see the scar he left behind to this day.

The chunky gold one situated snugly on his pointer? Lemon had snatched that off a random bloke that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time a few years ago. It had been right when they had first gotten into the business, presenting it to his twin afterward with a clap on the back as a job well done. A sick gift of sorts, but it still managed to make each of them smile when they looked at it.

And that smooth, rose gold band hanging around his chest—dangling loosely on a silver chain? Well that was the reason you were currently sitting in a car in the dead of night.

Lemon was no fool. The moment he had seen you pull out that small gift box for his brother last week, he had recognized that love sick smile on your face. The way your eyes shone with excitement as you practically bounced on the balls of your feet when he went to open it. Lemon should be able to recognize it after all. It was the same look Tangerine got anytime you entered the room.

It was antagonizing for him really. Watching the both of you harbor crushes for each other in your own ways. (Tangerine; constantly checking for texts from you when he was away, using more than enough loving nicknames for you just to see your ears grow red. You; buying anything and everything that reminded you of him, doodling little drawings of the man on the corner of your loose leaf nktebooks at briefings before quickly erasing them.)

Finally he had had enough, pulling you off to the side last night. He had been a bit too rough about it for his liking, but it didn't matter now.

"Here's the plan." He didn't even stop to acknowledge your confused expression, questions surely bubbling on the tip of your tongue. "I'm sick. Very sick. You're not. Tha' stake out tomorrow night? You're goin' on it mate."

"The fuck Lemon?"

"Mate, just trust me. I know you fancy m' brother. Just take th' opportunity."

He had taken your stunned silence as a yes, giving you his best smile before moving on like nothing had happened.

So far, that was the only thing you had been able to focus on the entire time you'd been sitting idle on this hill. Not your target or his friends' late night activity you were supposed to be monitoring. Just re-running things over and over in your mind until you were dizzy with the effort.

All the times you had tried to be subtle with the longing looks and sporadic gifts. All the nights you had lay wide awake staring at the ceiling. Wondering if it would even be possible for someone like him to love you back. How did Lemon know? Were you really that obvious? Did anyone else know?

More importantly, did Tangerine know?

"Alright. S' going on in that lil head of yours (Y/n). Been quiet all night. Not like you."

Tangerine was now facing you. Arm draped around the back of your seat as if preparing to back out of a parking space. Heat from his hand radiated mere inches from your neck, but you pushed your shiver down with a forceful swallow.

"The mission." You shrugged, not moving your gaze from its spot on the window. Hoping that your response would be the end of this conversation.

"Yeah right." Tangerine just snorted. "You've never cared for these kinds of jobs love."

You forced the butterfly in your stomach to be killed off one by one. Refusing to be affected by the nickname.

"Guess I do now." Your shoulders moved with the effort of another shrug.

Tangerines mouths dipped down into a slight frown. He had been looking forward to a night alone with you. Maybe even going to get some food afterwards, even if just under the guise of two friends having a meal together. He would take it. He would take anything involving you at that point if he was being truthful.

Calloused fingers gently cradled your chin, softly gripping it as Tangerine turned your head to face him. You finally got a proper look at him, seeing the way his baby blue eyes rippled with concern as they traced unseeable patterns on your face. You were so focused on his intense stare that you forgot to remind yourself not to lean into his hand.

"You alright love?"

It would be so easy to kiss him. Just a little stretch of your neck and—

"I'm fine." His hand fell away from your face as you jerked yourself away. You almost immediately regretted it, wanting nothing more to feel him against you for a moment more.

"(Y/n)—"

"I'm just peachy Tan." You snapped, suddenly feeling angry. "Can we get back to our jobs now? You know. The thing we came here to do?"

Tangerine felt his own face flare up with anger. A rare feeling when it came directed at you.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He frowned with a bit more bite to his tone than he intented. The sound of it made a flicker of regret cross your face before it was replaced with a scowl. "Seriously, who fucken pissed in your oatmeal this mornin?"

"Oh like you don't fucking know." Your own teeth grit against each other as you glared at him. The both of you now locked in a heated staring match. It wouldn't be a suprise if the windows started to fog up. The car certainly seemed like it was a lot hotter than it had been a few minutes ago.

"What, so I can fucken read your mind now?" He ran a hand through his hair in a jerky movement. The way your heart fluttered at his disheviled state drove another molten spike of rage into your heart, frustrated with yourself for finding him attractive even in the middle of an argument.

"Sometimes I really hate you Tan." You hissed. How it had gotten to this point you had no idea. But each word was like a nail to the heart for you.

"Yeah? Well, you're not exactly a joy ta be around all the time either, sunshine."

"And that's another thing!" You were full on yelling now, probably looking like a crazy person to any passing cars as you threw your hands in the air. "Stop fucking calling me those names! I bet you think you can just charm your way into anyone's pants with that huh?"

"When the fuck did I ever say anything like that!? And I thought you liked the nicknames for fucks sake!"

"I do!" You hissed with clenched fists. "The problem is I like them too fucking much! I like you too fucking much Tan! And it's killing me knowing I can't do a single goddamn thing about it!"

It was only after it was already out there did you realize what you had really said.

"Fuck. Listen—"

You didn't get any farther than that before Tangerine slammed his lips into your own. A sound of muffled suprise made it past your lips before it was quickly swallowed by him, along with the rest of your breath. The faint feeling of something prickly ticking your upper lip sang in your head as you realized it was his mustache, resulting in a silent sort of laughter. Teeth clicked against each other harshly before you reached up to rest a hand on his jaw and the other in his hair, steadying his pace to a softer, more tender one.

He only broke away in time for you to notice how fuzzy your head was becoming at the lack of oxygen. Gasping for breath, you brushed a hand over your lips. As if checking to make sure that had really just happened. Or maybe to keep the moment bottled up forever, solidifying it with the graze of your fingers.

Both of you took a moment, panting for breath as a way to fill the silence.

"Did you just—?"

"Yeah."

"Did we just—?"

"Sure did."

"And that means you're—?"

"If you ask anymore questions I might have to kiss you again (Y/n)."

The smile in his voice shone through. You allowed yourself one as well, eyes watering.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that for." The englishman sighed, resting his elbows on his thighs as he watched you stare star struck at him. "Please tell me I didn't seriously misread the situation there." He added on as an afterthought with a chuckle, already knowing the answer as he looked deep into your eyes.

"I'm sorry Tangerine." The sudden apology left you with a breathy quality. Tears were threatening to fall at a rapid pace now, one or two escaping. You couldn't tell if they were from remorse or joy. "I didn't mean that. Any of it."

"What about th' part where you confessed your undying love for me?"

He laughed as you went to hit him in the chest playfully, noting how the tears in the corner of your eyes began to disappear.

"You know what I meant. And I did no such thing." Your efforts to conceal a smile were fruitless for once. "You just got lucky this time."

"This time?" He reached a hand out to brush the pad of his thumb across your cheek with a sudden fondness. "Nah. Been plenty lucky for a while now, love."

"Sap." You mummbled, closing your eyes with a sigh as he continued to leave soft strokes against your skin.

"Just for you darling."

You really would have to thank Lemon when you got back home.

[spitefulwriters]

JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera (2.6K) all the times they could have kissed, but didn’t. (a series, maybe)

JJ slept like the dead, usually.

Normally half dressed, when he could be bothered, stripped down to jeans, sometimes less when it got too hot. Most of the time he didn’t make it under the sheets, bone tired from surfing, from fighting waves or fighting his father, passed out on the mattress at a weird angle to avoid that one broken spring.

Face down on a pillow, salt still in his hair, an old fan aimed at his naked back, a silly amount of lukewarm air blowing onto his sunburnt skin.

He’d sleep through the TV, the angry blare of it, the smash of an empty beer bottle, all too used to the sounds that became a fucked up kind of lullaby. Alarms didn’t budge him, not really, not anymore. He would have never made it to school if it weren’t for his dad’s foot against the door, an offbeat drum, angry and shattering.

So JJ had absolutely no idea how the tiny rocks against his window pane stirred him from sleep.

One hit, two hit, three; the sound almost like the beginning of a rain shower and then it stopped. JJ groaned, nose rubbing at the pillowcase, brow wrinkling.

Something told him to get up.

Fists found the mattress, another groan, a stifled yawn and then he was pushing himself off of the bed, sheets tangled around his knees and he tripped on one abandoned boot before he made it to the window. Eyes half closed, heavy with sleep, he cracked it open, looking out into the dark, the marshes still alive, buzzing under the moon. He couldn’t see anything, not at first, not when the sky bled into the water and the greenery became inky black, shadows on shadows with nothing in between.

Then, from the treeline, a girl appeared. Just ten feet away, too scared to get too close, wary of the glow from the television bleeding from the living room blinds, slants of blue light between broken slats. JJ thought he might’ve been dreaming.

Maybe he was.

Kiara.

Half dressed in pyjama shorts and an old sweatshirt that had some kind of fishing logo on the front. It was too dark to see, but the boy thought it might’ve been his, maybe once.

JJ blinked and dragged a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingers got caught in the ends, salt and sand falling onto his shoulders and he stared at the girl in her unlaced sneakers, no car, no bike, no nothing around her.

“What’re you doing?” He hissed, voice rough with sleep, cracking with anticipation. He could hear the western movie that was playing from the other room, but he couldn’t hear his dad snoring. Not yet. “What the fuck, Kie?”

Kiara edged forward, eyes wary, stare flickering from JJ’s face and back to the front door of the trailer. When nothing moved, when no one appeared, she walked through the grown grass and curled her fingers around the window edge. She was close enough now that JJ could see the heaviness on her face, the tired looking bruises under her lash line, the weight on her shoulders.

Kie’s chin jumped the sill and her fingers were so close to the boy’s, close enough that her pinky almost grazed his thumb and it wasn’t cold outside, not in the slightest, but the boy seemed to hold the sun under his skin and Kiara wanted to run to it.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered, her voice too awake, too alert for two in the morning.

JJ waited, knowing there was more. He could see it in her face, the bitten skin at her bottom lip, the pulled out curl that fell into her eyes, the one that held more frizz than the rest.

“Parents are fighting again,” Kie continued, staring past JJ, into his room, gaze studying the posters and photos on his wall as if she could hide her feelings amongst them all. “It’s stupid. I just— I wanted to get out of the house.”

Maybe before - years ago, maybe only months ago - JJ would’ve teased her. Made some kind of comment, something less than sensitive, something crude about seeking him out in the middle of the night, something destructive about not choosing John B or Pope over him.

But now— now?

JJ pressed his lips together and nodded. His thumb shifted, just once, grazing the back of Kie’s hand before pulling away and searching his floor for a shirt. He yanked one on, buttoned up his jeans, grabbed a cap to cover his bed mussed hair, shoved bare feet into shoes and ushered her backwards without looking at his bedroom door or thinking about what lay behind it. Kie moved, watching as the boy slid open the window a little wider, throwing one leg out before the other and dropping almost silently to the ground, like he’d done it before.

Of course he had. He’d done it plenty of times.

Just not for her.

They didn’t speak as JJ straightened up, boots crunching in the grass. Eyes locked, the boy lifted a finger to his lips and offered Kiara his other hand. She took it like she always did, with no hesitation at all, and JJ led her across the marshes, through the buzz of the insects, away from the man in the living room. They walked until overgrown grass and reeds turned into a dirt path, forged by night time walks just like this.

Neither thought to take JJ’s bike, neither thought about a car, or the Twinkie. They just walked, heading out of the marshes until the fisherman shacks were left behind, until they couldn’t hear the drone of cicadas as loudly, until they were crossing the road that took them out of The Cut and under streetlights.

They walked until tarmac turned to sand and the empty beach lay before them and like it had already been agreed, they both stopped to toe off their shoes, digging the soles of their feet into the sand just to see if it had kept any of the afternoon heat. Kiara walked and JJ followed, not speaking, not yet, not until he knew the time was right.

He’d once been a stupid kid, a teenage boy without much common sense when it came to girls and feelings - and shit, maybe he still was - but JJ Maybank was a grade A student when it came to Kiara Carrera. So he watched and he waited, following the girl in the sand, his footprints covering up her much smaller ones as she led them to the shoreline, where the waves lapped at the beach and created the best kind of white noise. A rush of water, the most pretty kind of itch that scratched at his brain and he thought Kie felt the same, because when she stopped and he chanced a look at her profile, her eyes were closed, the corners of her mouths lifting every time the ocean caught her toes.

“It was too loud,” Kie finally said as a way of explanation. The water rushed, a shell hit a rock and silence fell over them again. “They’d been arguing all night, all through dinner. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Doesn’t sound fun,” JJ agreed. He kept his eyes on the water, searching the horizon like he was trying to find something to focus on other than the warmth of the girl standing beside him. “What’re they yellin’ ‘bout now?”

Kiara’s sneakers hit the sand with a wet smack. She sighed before sitting, knees tucked to her chest and JJ wondered once more if the sweater was his before it had become hers, maybe John B’s for a week or two, maybe Pope’s. He joined her, feet planted half in the sea and his arms on his knees, waiting for her reply, even if he knew what was coming.

“Everything,” Kiara stated flatly. She let out a huff of laughter, no humour to the sound. “Me, mostly.”

JJ smiled at her bluntness and touched the brim of his hat, for lack of something to do. He was itching to reach out, to brush away the grains of wet sand that stuck to her shins. “Doesn’t sound like anythin’ new.”

Kiara shrugged. “Not really, s’all a broken record now though. Sick of the same shit every day. All they do is act like I’m some sort of broken kid, like they have to fix me.”

JJ wanted to nod and say he understood, that he knew the feeling. He’d been treated like a problem his whole life, like he’d been born less than perfect, like he was the root cause of all his fathers shortcomings. But he didn’t know what it was like to have someone care enough to wanna try and solve it. To maybe try and put his broken pieces back together. So he just pressed his lips together and stared at the sand, waiting for the moment the ocean would brush back over his bare feet again, soaking at the hem of his jeans.

“Ever wanna do something stupid? Just ‘cause?”

JJ snorted at the question, chin turning up and eyes searching for Kiara’s. She was already looking at him, more start curls escaping her hair tie, a smile on her face that JJ thought could maybe fix some of his problems, at least.

“You realise who you’re talkin’ to, right?” He replied, grinning right back. The sun that was left of his cheeks stung when he did it, nose wrinkled and a little too red because he never listened when Kiara and Pope told him he needed more sunblock. “What kinda stupid are we talkin’ about?”

Kie shrugged, stretched out her legs and let the sand coat the back of them, wet, golden grains against dark bronzed skin and JJ wondered if she’d take them to bed with her, if she’d manage to wash them off and hide the evidence of their night from her parents before she got back home. The boy wondered if she cared.

“I don’t know,” kie let her head tilt to the side, pondering. She held up one hand and started counting on each finger. “We’ve already covered running away, robbery—”

JJ snorted. “Don’t forget grand theft auto.”

“—does grand larceny count?” Kie smiled.

The boy smirked. “Gold was always ours, Kie, don’t forget it.”

Silence fell over them again, smiles never fading. If they waited long enough, they’d see the stars turn to sunlight and the sky change to cotton candy pink, creeping over the edge of the ocean.

Kie didn’t want to wait that long.

She let her head fall back, her neck on its hinge, staring up above, lights winking down at her, telling her she should be asleep.

“Maybe we’ve been going too big.” She blew out a breath, let her eyes close. “Maybe we need to start from the beginning, throw a rager, get drunk. Like kids are supposed to. That kind of stupid.”

JJ hummed, nodding even though Kiara could see. Her hands were in the sand, fingertips buried in the grains. If he moved a little closer, their pinkies could touch.

“Sounds lame in comparison,” the boy teased lightly. “Where’s the fun if we don’t got no guns?”

Kie didn’t laugh but JJ watched her smile, head shaking, eyes opening so she could flick her gaze over to him, mirth dancing in them. She looked like she was unsure of what to say next, if she should say anything at all but then she sat up a little straighter, turning so her body was facing him.

“What about something stupid like—” Kiara picked at a broken shell, a barely there piece of pearl. “—like kissing someone you’re not supposed to.”

It was like the air had been sucked off of the island, like it had up and left, leaving them with only the sound of the sea. Whilst everyone else on Kildare slept, JJ felt like his heart had exploded. Surely the sonic boom could be heard across the beach, reaching Charleston and further, surely Kiara heard it too.

But the girl was just watching him, waiting, wary and quiet.

JJ felt like he’d swallowed his tongue, but still he moved, shifted in the sand until his knee knocked Kiara’s bare one and he felt the entire night swallow him whole. He didn’t know where to look, didn’t know how to act. ‘Causal’ wasn’t in JJ Maybank’s vocabulary. He stared at the shell in the girls hand, watched the pink and green oil slick shine glint in the moonlight.

“Like— like Gary at the restaurant? Or—?”

Kie wrinkled her nose at the mention of the older boy who worked for her parents. Twenty-something and harbouring a habit from cheap whisky and younger girls, he wasn’t Kiara’s favourite person.

“What?” Kie pulled a face. “Ew, no. No— like a friend.” She swallowed a little too harshly, her fingers suddenly clumsy and dropping her shell. “Someone who people would get mad about.”

A friend a friend a friend.

JJ felt his cheeks flush, a rosy warmth across his nose that he could only hope the darkness would hide. It felt like the middle of the day, a heatwave creeping in, a tropical storm with the name of a girl, making the air too hot, ready to sweep him up and rattle him from the inside out.

He licked his lips, tried to stay neutral, hoped his voice wouldn’t crack, prayed he didn’t act a fool. “Who’d get mad at you for something like that?”

When JJ finally looked up, waiting for the girl’s answer with a breath held in his chest, he realised Kiara was already looking at him. Her lashes lowered, gaze trained in his lips, watching the way his mouth parted ever so slightly when he sucked in a burning breath.

“Everyone,” Kie whispered.

The world would have fell into the ocean then, houses and cliffs crumbling, JJ wouldn’t have noticed. Not at all.

“Because it would be a mistake?” His voice cracked, too husky. He didn’t care, not one bit. “Or ‘cause you’d regret it…?”

Kie was still watching him, eyes flicking from his mouth as he spoke, to the slant of his cheek bones, the blue of his eyes. He felt so exposed under her gaze, laid bare, even in the middle of the night, sitting on the beach in the dark. JJ marvelled over the realisation that he didn’t really mind. He’d sit like this for days on end for Kiara, if it meant getting her attention in this way.

Kie shrugged, gave a sad sort of smile and found her broken shell again, tapping her nail against the side. “Not necessarily,” was all she said.

He could’ve kissed her then, JJ was almost sure of it. He could’ve leant in, tested the waters, watched to see if her eyes followed his mouth even when it moved to her own, if she’d let him put his hand on her knee, if she’d let him pull her in by the back of her neck like he was used to doing with the girls he met at parties.

But JJ didn’t have that kind of confidence, not then. Not with Kiara Carrera. He thought about what she’d said, about the people who’d be mad at her— at them. He wondered if Kie was even talking about him in the first place.

She couldn’t be. Of course not, right?

Right?

So JJ waited until the surf was dragged back out and Kie brushed the sand off her calves. He stood, tugged off his cap to drag a hand through his hair before shoving it back on, pulling the brim down to hide his eyes, the disappointment in them. Then, the boy held a hand out to the girl and he tried to keep his heart inside his chest when she took it.

Dragging Kie up from the sand, he smiled at her, just like he normally would. “Lemme walk you home,” was all he had to say.

-Bellamy (SW#1)

[beginningofwonderland]

One on One - Wooyoung

Your training partner Wooyoung is an insufferable brat who has made it his personal goal to turn your life into hell. But in a heated fight between you two you discover more than hatred for him.

Pairing: WooyoungxfemReader

Gerne: Smut and only smut (MINORS DNI!)

Word count: 4.2k

warnings: fighting sports au, fight between the two, name calling (babe, darling, slut...), unprotected sex (don't do this folks), public sex, pretty unsanitary place to have sex, sassy Woo, marking, degradation, spitting, pretty rough, mirror sex

(Not gonna lie I'm kinda proud of this one. It's filthy as fuck)

@underworldnet 👍🏻

"You're still too fucking slow," Wooyoung taunted you as another hit landed on your arm. You were sure that you were littered in dark spots by now as he didn't hold back whenever he landed a blow.

"I know, idiot. I'm fucking exhausted," you spat back dodging another one of his attacks, barely avoiding his fist.

"Well you'll be exhausted in a fight as well and your opponent will care about you even less than I do. So get yourself together."

At this point the only thing keeping you going was your pure hatred for Wooyoung and your pride stopping you from giving up to him.

When your trainer had told you that you would get extra lessons by Wooyoung to prepare for the nationals, it was the first time you had ever spoken up against your teacher.

"Please let me train with anyone but Jung Wooyoung," you had pleaded and your trainer had perked up in surprise.

"I don't see a reason why not. He's the best fighter on the entire team and everyone I put under his care has improved significantly. I really don't know what's your problem with him. I will schedule a time for you to train together."

And from that moment on you had to endure the most annoying, nerve-wracking brat of a partner twice a week for training. Jung Wooyoung had been a menace to you ever since you hadn't responded to his flirtations back when he joined your club.

To everyone else he was the charming 4-times national champion, bringing fame to your sports club. He flirted left and right with everyone at the studio, having them all wrapped around his pinky finger with his sweet words.

But when you hadn't gone along with his attitude, he quickly changed up on you. Wooyoung then made it his goal to make your time at training as miserable as possible, humiliating you in front of the others or dropping sassy remarks about you at every opportunity he got.

By far the worst were these personal lessons your trainer had so generously arranged for you. Wooyoung made you go on and on without breaks to your absolute breaking point. You were able to take a heavy training session but his constant condescending remarks took a toll on your concentration and your mood. You found yourself lashing out at him out of pure anger and he only thrived off of the way you reacted to him.

He aimed another kick at your side and you stepped out of it's way in time, countering with a weak blow to his stomach which he blocked easily.

"You're getting even weaker and I didn't know that was physically possible," he chuckled at your attempt to hit him.

He was right, you had absolutely no strength left in you after doing cardio in the morning and now this two hour session with Wooyoung. Your lungs were burning and your entire body moved on instinct only. And the worst thing about it was, how much energy he still had left. His steps were light and a shit-eating grin covered his handsome face as he circled you.

Oh, how you hated how attractive he looked with that grin and the sweat running down his defined jawline. Wooyoung was your very personal definition of the devil, menacing personality and temptation all in one. It was even worse, now that the lighting in the studio was dim due to the late time of your training and you two were the only ones left in the studio.

Wooyoung had no mercy on you. He followed you up with a series of punches and as you struggled to dodge them, he was able to back you up against the wall of the studio. He landed his fist on the wall behind you only centimeters from your face to show you how you messed up. His hot breath hit your face as he grinned down at you with triumph in his eyes. His body was way too close for your liking and you couldn't keep a clear head anymore as you stared up at him blankly.

"Are you that afraid of me, babe?" he asked tauntingly and the teasing tone of his voice made you finally snap.

"Get the fuck off of me, Wooyoung," you spat at him swatting his arm to the side.

To your own surprise, he let you go and watched you walk to the side of the fighting area.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked in a warning tone.

"Let me drink some fucking water before I'll pass out, will you asshole?" You felt like you hadn't had a sip of water in a week when you slumped onto the bench and chugged down half your bottle. When you looked at the ground for a couple of seconds to avoid Wooyoung's stare, small black spots started appearing in your vision.

Fuck.

"Get your ass back up here, we're not finished yet."

Anger was rising inside you, once again sending adrenaline through your burning body. You really fought with yourself. You knew you were at your limits and that you should ask him to stop, but your pride couldn't handle the thought of saying that to his face. You dragged your own body up from the bench ignoring the dizziness that hit you immediately.

"Then fucking finish," you said to him as you fell into a fighting stance once more, approaching him slowly. "I bet you don't last two minutes outside of the ring." You cocked your head in challenge and a smirk sneaked its way onto your face.

Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up in surprise at your remark. He wasn't used to you making such low blows but he was definitely up for the challenge.

"Oh you wanna find out that bad?" he cooed at you as he came closer, fists raised just like you.

He attacked you again immediately. The hit went to your head but you dodged in time, countering him with a blow to his ribs. You were to exhausted to realize that was exactly his intention. Wooyoung knew you would counter like that, your fighting scheme obvious to him after hours of training. He blocked your arm and grabbed onto it right after.

You noticed it too late to retract in time and before you could blink, he had your arm twisted behind your back, his other arm around your neck, keeping you in a tight chokehold in front of him.

This wasn't normal training anymore: chokeholds weren't even permitted in the fights. This was a personal matter. You struggled in his arms a little but soon noticed he was holding on too tightly. His body was hot on your back as you were pressed up against him and you could feel the chuckle that erupted from his chest.

"Don't provoke me, darling," he warned you, his mouth directly next to your ear. The low tone of his voice sent shivers down your skin and you hated him for it. But what you hated even more was how you reacted to him.

He let you go to restart the fight, but if Jung Wooyoung could play unfair, so could you. You pretended to rearrange your shirt with your back still towards him before spinning around and hooking your leg behind his knee. With your arms pushing at his shoulders, he fell to the ground, surprise breaking his smug expression.

You followed his fall, straddling his waist and pressing your forearm into his neck until you could feel him swallow.

"I won't provoke you if you stop getting on my fucking nerves," you retorted. His eyes mirrored the same fire in yours as he stared back at you. The air between you two was  uncomfortably tense.

When you removed your arm to get up, Wooyoung suddenly lifted one side of his hip, effectively tipping you over before he reversed your position. He grabbed both your wrists, pinning them above your head before getting close to your face once again.

"Don't act like you don't like it when I treat you like shit. Getting all worked up over how I talk down to you. I bet you think about me before you go to sleep."

The complacent grin on his face channelled all energy left within you and you would have punched him right in the face if he wasn't holding you down. Your insides stirred in what you believed to be anger.

"Get your dirty hands off of me," you hissed through clenched teeth.

Wooyoung only laughed at you, his dark strands falling into his eyes as he shook his head. You never realized how handsome he looked from this angle.

"Look at you all helpless. You're all bark and no bite. Admit you like the way I talk to you and I might let you go."

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction but your arms buckled up once against his tight grip; to no avail. You were quite literally trapped.

"I can't believe you are big-headed enough to think I want to hear even one more word from you."

"Then why do you keep looking at my lips like that?" he asked you back with a chuckle and you found yourself startled.

Fuck. Did I really look at his lips?

You hadn't even noticed. But now upon his words, your eyes flitted to his plump lips like they were on autopilot. Of course he noticed and his grin only widened.

"If you wanted to make out instead of train you could have just said so. Would've spared us some trouble."

"Fuck you, Wooyoung." You couldn't think of anything else to say. Anger and some other indistinct feeling mixed in your stomach as you glared at him from beneath.

"Say it or I won't let you go."

He shifted his hands around so that one arm was free and the other one holding down both your wrists. With his free hand he grabbed onto your chin harshly, fingers digging into your cheeks as he spoke.

Now what neither you or Wooyoung had expected was the small moan that escaped your throat as his fingers grabbed onto your face. Immediately, your eyes widened in shock and you could feel hotness rush over you in what was sure to be a dark red blush.

Wooyoung's eyebrows rose in surprise at the noise you made but as realization hit him you could practically watch his entire stare go dark. He hovered even closer to you, his face only inches from yours as he watched you in amusement.

"You know what?" he asked in a husky voice. "I'll take that as an answer."

And before you even knew what was happening he squeezed your chin once again, lifting your face up a little before crushing his lips onto yours.

The kiss was harsh and messy. Your lips crashed against one another as if they were fighting and soon his tongue entered your mouth. The feeling made your eyes flutter and as if taking revenge you bit his lip in return.

This time it was Wooyoung who couldn't hold back a small groan and the sound drove heat through your whole body down to your core. Why was he making you feel like this?

It was like you were taking all that build-up frustration out on his lips and it somehow worked a lot better than fighting him with your fists.

Wooyoung released your wrists to attach his hand to your waist. Because your shirt had ridden up in the fight, he was touching your bare skin, sending shivers along your spine. You had touched Wooyoung thousands of times during practice, but this was different. His hand on your skin and his soft lips on yours made you dizzy in a different way than your fatigue ever could.

Now that your hands were freed you wound one into his messy locks, making him groan as you pulled on it slightly. The other hand couldn't help but wander over his tight muscles. You knew exactly how fit he was, having experienced the strength of his attacks first-hand. But you never had an opportunity to just marvel at the sheer beauty of his stature before.

Wooyoung also noticed your wandering fingers and smirked into the kiss:

"Said you wanted me off of you and now you're hands are all over me. You're such a slut."

You whined shamelessly at his words. It felt like all rationality and sense had left your body. I hate Jung Wooyoung. That was the mantra you repeated in your head over and over as your lips pressed onto his with more fervour. As your hands frantically grabbed onto his sweaty skin to draw him closer.

His body gave in to your desire pressing his upper body onto yours, hips still straddling yours. God damn his flexibility. You could feel the heat of his skin burning you through your shirts and wanted nothing more than to get rid of it.

As your hands started wandering to the hem of his shirt he understood and broke the kiss shortly to pull the piece of fabric over his head. His tight muscles glistened in the dim lighting of the studio and you let your eyes wander around his honey skin.

"I knew you were down bad for me as soon as I saw you, babe. But you don't have to be that obvious," he chuckled.

"Shut up, before I regret this."

"Oh, I'll make sure you won't regret a second of this, darling," he replied smugly before devouring your lips once again.

When he pressed his body up against you this time, you could feel his hard on press against your core through both your pants. The feeling made your hips roll into him in response as you released a small moan into the kiss.

The sound had Wooyoung going crazy, grabbing frantically for the hem of your shirt and quickly pulling it off you as well. His hands laced into your already messy hair as your teeth clashed in the intense kiss that followed. You wanted to kill and fuck him all at once. It infuriated you that he had this effect on you but he was just so damn attractive.

As he started rolling his hips into yours repeatedly, you lost all self control.

"Please, just fuck me," you breathed out in between two kisses.

"Begging already, I see."

Wooyoung grinned widely as he pulled your sweatpants down in an instant. Your bare skin hit the coldness of the training mat beneath you and made you realize you weren't exactly at a private location.

Your mind was drawn back to Wooyoung as he pulled on the hem of your panties and let them snap back onto your skin. The slight sting only turned you on more and your hands worked fast to pull at the strings of his own pants. The both of you were only left in your underwear soon.

"Do I need to finger you first or are you already dripping through your panties?" Wooyoung asked cockily.

"Just fuck me already, I'm sure I can take it," you replied impatiently.

"Oh baby, you keep overestimating yourself," Wooyoung chuckled as he ripped down your panties harshly.

When he took his hardened length out of his boxers, you had to keep yourself from swallowing hard. Maybe he was right. Maybe you did overestimate yourself. He was bigger than you had expected and you hadn't taken anyone his size before.

He let the tip of his cock run through your folds, collecting your liquids with a devilish grin on his face.

"Were you this wet the whole training session or only since I choked you?"

"I think it started when I had you pressed down on the floor," you tried to save yourself but Wooyoung saw right through your attitude.

"Oh baby, don't try pretending that you're dominant. I can see your eyes begging for me to destroy you."

You bit your cheek, knowing quite well that he was right. You wanted that idiot to fuck your brains out. To finally have him shut up and rail you into the floor until you forgot how insufferable he was.

As he slowly pushed himself into you, your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you moaned as he filled you up. He was stretching you out quite a bit, but you were worked up enough for it not to hurt too much. The pain wouldn't compare to all the bruises on your skin anyway.

Arms propped up beside your head, Wooyoung started thrusting into you harshly. You found yourself spreading your legs for him on instinct, so that he could have better access to you. But that wasn't enough for Wooyoung who grabbed onto your thighs, pressing them into your upper body to thrust into you at the deepest angle possible.

When he sped up his tempo you were moaning at every thrust he gave you, losing your mind at the way the tip of his cock hit your sweet spot every time.

"You're so pathetic. Saying I won't last two minutes yet here you are almost crying over how good I fuck you already."

You whined at his harsh words. He was right. You felt pathetic yourself. But fuck being pathetic if it meant getting railed this good. You started kissing messily once again, your hands latching onto his flexed biceps for some support. When he pounded into you particularly deep, you unconsciously scratched the skin on his arms.

In response Wooyoung quickly grabbed your hands, pinning them back over your hand.

"I'm the only one marking you up here, darling." As if to prove his point he latched onto your neck sucking harshly to create a dark purple mark on your skin.

You hated him for it. Hated that the sign of him fucking you would be with you for days now. And you hated how fucking good it felt.

"Fuck, Wooyoung..." you moaned as the pleasure in your core started building up.

"You love having me use you like this don't you, slut? All covered in bruises and hickeys by me. What will you tell the others at training tomorrow, huh?" He relished in the way you turned a whimpering, needy mess under his words.

He knew exactly how much he was turning you on by the fact that you were clenching around his dick desperately. As you got closer to your orgasm, your eyes fluttered shut and you just gave in to the feeling of him fucking you into the ground. You had never had anyone fuck you that harshly but it was undoubtedly the best sex you'd ever had and you hadn't even come yet.

"Open your mouth for me, darling."

You opened your eyes first while processing his request. The way he looked down at you with raised brows, breath heavy as he kept thrusting into you almost made you come. When you didn't obey quick enough his hand suddenly wandered to your clit, drawing firm circles into it.

Your mouth fell open in a loud moan, which was all Wooyoung wanted.

"There you go," he said before spitting into your opened mouth. That was it for you. As the warm liquid trailed down your tongue your legs started shaking with your hitting orgasm. The black dots spotted your vision again as your high completely shut off your body. It was the most intense orgasm you had ever had and Wooyoung knew with the way he watched your features contort with a smug grin.

He fucked you through it before pulling out of you.

"I'm not done with you yet."

He flipped your half limb body onto your stomach before pulling you up on your knees.

By this time you felt just how exhausted you were. Every single muscle in your body was tired and sore and you were even weaker after your orgasm. Wooyoung noticed how much you struggled to hold yourself up so he rested your body against his, your back supported on his chest.

Only then did you notice that he had placed you in front of the big mirror that spread over one wall of the studio. You watched yourself in it every single day at training, correcting your posture or fighting stance. But now you could see yourself falling apart as Wooyoung entered you again.

Your head fell back onto his shoulder as he started thrusting into you once again, his arm tightly latched around your waist to keep you upright.

"Come on, look at the mirror for me again, pretty. Want you to see how beautiful you look for me."

You didn't know why you listened to him at this point and lifted your head again to watch the mirrored image in front of you. You had to admit that there was a certain kind of beauty in the way he held you in front of him. It looked like you were melting into his body. The two of you gave a prettier pair than you thought you would.

"So pretty all covered in my marks," Wooyoung whined, voice strained as he slowly neared his own high.

And indeed your body was littered with bruises and hickeys. His eyes wandered over them in a hazed expression. He looked almost drunk on the sight in front of him.

When his hand wandered back to your clit you couldn't do anything but whimper under his touch, your mind too dizzy to form words.

"Can you come one more time?" Wooyoung asked you through heavy breaths.

You hummed and nodded in answer. Your core was burning but the way his fingers pressed into your sensitive bud already made you near a second orgasm.

"I'm close too, baby. Where should I come?"

You noticed how he spoke softer to you now. Maybe it was because he was beginning to fall apart as well. Or maybe he actually noticed just how exhausted you were and was trying to be more gentle. But you couldn't quite believe that.

"Please come inside me," you whined with all the strength left in you. You hated to admit it but you wanted his cum in you so badly. Wanted him to mark you up.

Your confession drew a deep moan from Wooyoung and you felt him shudder beneath you.

"Fuck darling, you'll be the death of me."

And with that he sped up his fingers on your clit, desperate to make you come one last time before he reached his own high.

Every single one of his thrust dragged so deliciously at your walls and he applied just the right amount of pressure to your sensitive spot. You moaned shamelessly in Wooyoung's grip and he couldn't hold back his own groans as well.

"I wished somebody would come in right now to see me fill you up, baby," he whined and the thought drove like electricity through your body.

"Wooyoung," you cried out desperately before coming undone for him one more time. This time you truly felt like passing out, losing all sense of your body. A ringing sound filled your ears and without his arm around your waist you would've surely broken down immediately.

As you clenched around Wooyoung he finally came deep inside of you. You could feel every twitch of his cock as he pumped his hot liquid inside you. When you slowly gained consciousness again, you could already feel some dripping down your thigh.

Both of you stayed like that for a while. Heavy breaths being the only sound in the hall as your sweaty bodies supported one another.

When he had somewhat recovered, Wooyoung carefully pulled out of you, his arm still holding you tight. His cum dripped out of you in an instant, covering your thighs and the training mat.

"Fuck you did so well for me, baby." Wooyoung said gently as his thumb started drawing soft circles into your waist. "Let me help you get cleaned up."

You looked at him in surprise through the mirror. You had expected him to drop you and leave you for yourself to recover. But instead he picked you up bridal style carrying you to the changing room showers.

He must've noticed your expression as he chuckled gently.

"Don't look so scandalized. I'm not that much of an asshole."

"Then why is this the first time you're being nice to me?" you weakly replied.

"I'm an asshole at training and I know that. But that makes you improve the most."

"That doesn't justify your bitchy attitude towards me," you complained as he slowly put you down, leaning your body against the cold shower tiles.

He started to run the shower waiting for the water to get hot.

"No.  That's just because you look so freaking hot when you get mad at me," he grinned and you looked at him in disbelief.

"You're telling me making me despise you was your way of flirting with me?"

"It worked, didn't it?" You wanted to punch that smug grin off of his face more than anything but there was no energy left in you.

Also there was this warm feeling bubbling up inside of you that made you want to hug him more than continuing the fight.

"You're insufferable."

"I know, baby," he said as he pulled you under the hot stream of water.

His arms around your body and the warmth of the shower soothed your aching body as he pulled you into a kiss.

You couldn't keep yourself from smiling a little.

[roninishere]

right now.

part one.

Giyuu Tomioka x female reader

Warnings: angst, in the feels, anxiety, bullying, self hate, bad grammar?

Summary: Life is incredibly unfair at times, this was one of them.

||

“You don’t think I can handle being a Hashira anymore..don’t you?” The way your voice cracked, really made him feel guilty.

And the worst part was, he had so much to say to you, but he just couldn’t.

Neither one of you ever left things like this, never. He regretted it the very moment you left for your mission. He knew that was probably one of the worst things he could let you think, and him not say a damn word. cause it wasn’t true.

‘Lights go down and
The night is calling to me, yeah
I hear voices
Singing songs in the street and I know’

As if his anxiety wasn’t already always so high, it kept him laying awake in bed. And he wasn’t the only one that couldn’t sleep, little Mio would cry her little lungs out. Every night for the first week you were gone. After day four, Giyuu discovered that her sleeping on his chest after he sang her the lullaby that you use to, her chubby pale fingers wrapped around his pinky was the key.

She slept peacefully, at least that made one of them.

‘That we won't be going home
For so long, for so long, but I know
That I won't be on my own
Yeah, I love this feeling and

Right now I wish you were here with me (oh)
'Cause right now everything is new to me (oh)
You know, I can't fight the feeling
And every night I feel it
Right now I wish you were here with me (oh)’

Giyuus couldn’t help it but his anxiety was so bad this time around, maybe because he never failed to worry about you every time you left for a mission. He knew that you could take care of yourself, you were a Hashira after all, but something wasn’t right.

He hoped you’d complete your mission and be home soon.

Until a week turned into two weeks. No letter from you, just your crow reporting his biggest fear.

You had gone missing after your encounter with the demon.

||

So he searched for you, having your crow take him where you went missing. Nothing. He found nothing. It was like you vanished out of thin air. That’s what scared him.

All the worst possibilities had flooded in his mind. Not his beloved. He couldn’t lose you too. Seven days and not a trace of what could’ve happened to you.

Don’t give up. She would never on you.

‘Late-night spaces
With all our friends, you and me, yeah
Love these faces
Just like how it used to be’

“You know, she probably just got sick of your shit and took off. I know I would with that ‘I’m not like you guys’ attitude.” Sanemi shrugged as Master called for a Hashira meeting to discuss about their missing Hashira comrade, and of course everyone was getting their lick in.

Taking shots. Giyuu never gave a shit about what they thought of him, but this wasn’t the time to being making allegations. You’d never leave him, he knew that. You’d never. They all knew that. Even if you were upset with him about your fight, you’d always come home. He and Mio were your reason for living, the reason you never gave up in this harsh world.

“I never understood what she saw in you anyways. Mr. High and mighty, must’ve said some messed up stuff.” Obanai added.

Their comments just angered Giyuu, his expression staying the same as his hand on his side balled into a fist, really? Right now?

His wife is missing, their beloved Hashira, and all they heard was that they had an argument before you left? He’s better off on his own.

Fuck he missed when you use to attend these meetings with him, threatening to fight the Wind and Serpent Pillar if he didn’t keep your husbands name out his mouth. When he had to throw you over his shoulder, and line up on the opposite side of them.

“That’s enough! This is serious, no matter what happened before she left for her mission, the situation still stands, a Hashira is still missing!” The love pillar glared at the two other pillars as she stood her ground. “Stop saying things that aren’t true! it’s not like Y/N to just go missing, especially after an encounter with a demon. Instead of bullying Tomioka-San, remember that’s his daughters mother you’re speaking of!”

Shinobu set a hand on her friends shoulder seeing she got all worked up, and was nearly in tears.

Zoning out everyone, Giyuu set towards Masters Estate once Amane came out with Mio in her arms. “Tomioka-san, still no progress?” Giyuu returned her bow as he took the toddler in his arms.

“No,” his voice was calm as the little girl gripped his index finger in her chubby fingers with the cutest burst of laughter to see her father. “Would be alright if I bring her back tomorrow afternoon?”

He hadn’t noticed the pillars stopped their bickering behind him, seeing how much the little girl in his arms looking like their missing pillar. Same eyes, same smile, and hair color. If Mio didn’t have Giyuus pale complexion and similar hair style, she would’ve been a spilt image of her mother.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a few more days? You’ve been gone for a week, you should rest.”

He wanted to, but he couldn’t give up now “I’ll rest once I find Y/N. I made a promise, isn’t that right princess?” His dark blue ocean eyes were soft as he caress her cheek, giving it a little pinch getting a squeal out of the baby.

“I understand, then of course, bring her by tomorrow afternoon,” The masters wife waved at the little girl.

‘And we won't be going home
For so long, for so long, but I know
I won't be on my own
On my own, I'm feeling like

Right now I wish you were here with me (oh)
'Cause right now everything is new to me (oh)
You know, I can't fight the feeling
And every night I feel it
Right now I wish you were here with me (oh)’

“almost done princess.” It was easy for him to do his own hair, but doing it on someone else, let alone a baby, was harder. Well he just had to be very delicate. His hands were gently as he brushed her hair that was surprisingly long, already down past her shoulders. The Hashira sat on his knees behind Mio who was making cute silly faces to her father, waiting for him to see her reflection in the mirror.

When he finished putting her hair in a loose ponytail, he sighed softly before looking up in the mirror to see her sticking her tongue at him before breaking out in a giggle fit before she tried to crawl away, “and where do you think you’re going, come here silly,” he crawled over to her playfully as she let out playfully screams before he snatched her up in his arms “I gotcha!”

“D..da-ada!” Mio exclaimed causing Giyuu to freeze, did she just? She just said her first word!

He smiled so big at her of happiness before a feeling of sadness washed over him, she said her first word…and you weren’t here. You were missing her first word.

If you were here, he could see you getting all excited yet jealous that of course her daughters first word was dada! You’d pout but definitely treasure this moment with him. He never dropped his smile, not wanting to upset his daughter as he fought the fears that were building up.

I’m sorry I failed you. I’m sorry I failed to protect you. I’m so sorry. I will find you and bring you back home.

God he missed you so much, so fucking much. He felt like someone stabbed him, and was turning the blade in his stomach over and over. Like a thousand pounds were on his chest, making it so hard to fucking breathe. He felt someone had a grasp on his heart, squeezing it to see how long before its burst.

His heart was breaking every second you were away from them, every time he subconsciously thought of the worst.

||

After being unsuccessful the second time, he grew frustrated, but he wasn’t giving up. He made a promise to his pride and joy that he would bring you back home.

“Alright,” he stood over Mio as the little girl stood up, she had been determined for the past few days, trying over and over again, now matter how hard she fell. Definitely reminded him of you, too stubborn to stop. Slowly and steadily letting go of her hands, Giyuu walked over a few paces as she struggled to stand on her own. “Come here Mio, walk to me.”

His arms reached out for the toddler as she took a very wobbly first step, nearly falling but caught herself with her hand before pushing back up. The second step made the Hashira smile, her first steps already. The third one quickly turned into a sloppy fourth one when she crashed into Giyuus arms with a fit of giggles. Bringing her into his lap, he smothered her in face kisses “Good job princess,” he nearly folded when she reached out, tugging on his cheek.

You missed her first steps too.

Y/N, wherever you are, I hope you’re safe, just hold out a little longer.

‘Lights go down and
I hear you calling to me, yeah

Right now I wish you were here with me (oh)
'Cause right now everything is new to me (oh)
You know, I can't fight the feeling
And every night I feel it
Right now I wish you were here with me (oh)’

On his third attempt, he went nine miles north of where you encountered the demon, to find ripped pieces of your haori around the area. Picking up them up, the pieces lead him to w trail where your sword laid, nearly covered in leaves.

His heart steered to swell, his hands started shaking when he bent down to pick your sword up.

Not his Y/N. Please not her.

How much more would this world take from him?

Balling his fists, his cloudy vision searched every inch of the area for you, you were close, he knew it. “Y-Y/N?!”

The more he called out your name, the more his voice broke, where were you?

Give me a sign please.

Instead he felt the presence of a demon, gripping your sword tightly in his hands. The footsteps got closer, right behind the Hashira, and once he jumped up, flipping back to attack… he froze, unable to commit as your once beautiful eyes were now large cat like ones.

No. Impossible!

He kicked you away from him, hating the twisted turn in his stomach of causing harm to you. Once he landed in his feet, they immediately buckled, his knees crashing on the leaves underneath him. His once calm expression crumpled as his bottom lip trembled. Tears welled up in his pretty blue eyes as they ran down his cheeks uncontrollably.

“N-no…p-please…no…” he begged, his voice so hoarse.

It felt like someone ripping his heart out his chest as the quiet environment echoed with his sobs.

Please, someone wake me up from this horrible nightmare.

Until reality hit him that this was REAL. Tomioka, Y/N, the love of his life, his beloved, the mother of his daughter…

A demon.

The loud nasty snarls escaped your lips made him wince as you bolted to him, ready to attack.

I can’t do it, I-I can’t, he told himself.

Getting to his feet, he once again dodged your attacks with tears down his pale cheeks “Y/N! Snap out of it! P-please! You know who I am!” He cried out as he tried to regain you back, regain his wife.

Even though you should’ve been faster and stronger than him, despite his emotions, he easily blocked your sloppy movements coming to conclusion that you haven’t fed on anyone, yet. And you wouldn’t, especially if he had anything to do with it. Remembering him, he had to get you to remember, remember your life over your desire for human flesh and blood.

“I-it’s me! G-giyuu, your husban-nd!” Tossing the swords to the side, he wouldn’t attack you, he refused. He couldn’t hurt you. He sniffled, wiping his face as he side stepped to avoid you “r-remember the day we-e first kissed? It-t was under the fireworks-s, you were so beautiful-l in that orange k-kimono. I-it was fall,” he held back a sob as you growled like a beast in the shadows “come-e back to me Y/N, f-fight it!”

Fireworks? Kiss? You in an orange kimono? Oh when you felt those butterflies in your tummy? When you thought you were pass out from how overwhelming feeling of love and desire you felt for him? That day? You remember that day! You had just turned eighteen that fall.

Seeing your eyes widen and halt for a moment, he kept going even when you went for a hit “M-Mio! H-how hard you cried when you held her in you-ur arms, y-you said she was a-as beautiful a-as a cherry B-blossom even though she l-looks just like you…Y-you c-call her your precious c-cherry blossom.”

Mio. My precious cherry blossom. My blessing. My baby girl.

Tears built up in your eyes as frustration was new to you, so lost, so hungry. So thirsty. Just a taste…

No! I can’t, my Mio, my Giyuu I just want to hold and kiss my family. I want my life back. Fight it Y/N! You’re not hungry nor thirsty, you’re not hungry nor thirsty. You’re not a monster. Remember Nezuko, there’s hope, hope, you don’t have to be a killer. You’re not a killer. You can still be you, and still protect.

You’re not hungry nor thirsty.

Those sobs filled your eyes as you felt it tug in the pit of your stomach, make it stop. You’re not hungry or thirsty.

‘Ensure you feed. If you feed, it’ll make the pain stop.’ That unfamiliar voice repeated itself in your head, and just when you thought you had complete and utter control, you didn’t.

Your mouth was watering, you were hungry and thirsty.

Not expecting the quick snap, the hashira did his best to avoid, but not before you go scratched up Giyuu pretty good. Jumping back, he felt pain on the left side of his cheek and neck, blood trickling down slowly. Lifting his head up, his hair moved to the side exposing the damage you had done.

Mild cuts on his left cheek and neck…

The first time you saw Giyuu with scratches on his face…the two of you had been on your third mission together when he pushed you out of the way to take nails to his face from a demon. You…you had felt so guilty…because you weren’t…paying attention? Ah yes.

Second time was when he came home from a mission…he got marked up when a child was caught in the crossfire of an attack. He..didn’t go to see Shinobu…he came straight home, the incident scared him half to death, thinking of you and your unborn baby…

Except this time around, you were the cause of it.

You hurt him.

You. A demon. Hurt your husband.

Stopping in your tracks, your hands shook as your balled them in fists, digging your nails in your palms as your heavy breathing sounded almost like it hurt, it was ragged and shallow. Your eyes switched from hunger to full of fear as you’re backed away from your husband.

Flooding of all the good memories in your life flashed through your head; running away from an abusive family to join the corps, your friends, meeting Giyuu, falling in love, getting married, becoming an hashira, and having be blessed with the most beautiful baby girl.

Mio. Giyuu. They are you family Y/N REMEMBER THAT! Your everything!

Backing up into a tree, your hands shook as you blocked out that desire to feed “I-I-…” that burned sensation was fighting you, but you refused for it to win. No!

“You breathe life into my existence, making every moment worth living…” your eyes flickered over at the Water Hashira when your heart fluttered at those oddly familiar words. Meeting your sad gaze, his monotone explained “you’ve told..me that since we’ve met.”

Of course you did. He and Mio were your breathe of fresh air, the reason you chose to live in this fucked up world. Overwhelming pit of sadness returned, engulfing you as you broke down in tears, crying out in pain, crying out how sorry you were. How sorry you were for failing, for being weak.

||

😭 I hope you enjoyed! I really tried with this one, and very much enjoyed writing it! I promise they’ll will be more parts! SPECIAL SHOUT-OUT TO @unofficialmuilover FOR THE HELP AND BASICALLY HAND HOLDING ME THROUGH WRITING THIS 🫶🏼💙 LOVE YOU GUYS! 🫶🏼

Going to bed 🫶🏼 my stubborn ass wanted to finish this and I got muster in the morning 😭

[starshideyourfics]

Chapter three of Build a Life with You, the omegaverse mail order bride au, is up now!

Enjoy a quick preview here, then enjoy the rest on ao3!

Angel of the Home

Steve’s nausea settles, but Eddie encourages him to take things easy and rest when he comes out to join them. Not that any of the Munsons are doing anything particularly taxing when he does; they’re spending the late afternoon talking in the front room, and Eddie keeps Steve pressed against his side once he joins them. Dustin bounces around until the sun begins to set, yawning and stretching as he visibly sags. Wayne’s just said his goodbyes, needing enough light to get home, and Eddie tells Dustin, “I think you had so much fun this week that your body needs a break. Go on and get ready for bed.”

Dustin sulks, fighting his clear exhaustion, and sits next to Steve, arms thrown around his neck. “Do I have to?” he asks, only a little whiney as he snuggles into Steve’s shoulder, his breathing already getting deep and even.

Steve looks to his husband, not wanting to overstep his bounds, but also desperate to comfort Dustin. Eddie sucks his teeth, but refrains from saying anything, simply nodding to Steve so they can present a united front without turning this into an argument. Stroking down Dustin’s back, Steve says, “I think you’re already halfway asleep, Dustin. You need to rest, and so do I. I promise you won’t miss anything exciting.”

“Pinky promise?” Dustin murmurs, looking up at Steve and holding out his little finger.

Linking his own pinky around it, Steve whispers, “Pinky promise,” against his fist the way he would with Tommy when they were still young enough and close enough for such things. Dustin grins, fighting to keep his eyes open, and Steve adds, no longer whispering, “But you can’t just come to me if Eddie tells you to do something you don’t like, all right? We’re pack and we work together.”

“All right,” he agrees, yawning again and hiding his face against Steve’s shoulder.

Eddie smiles indulgently at them both, Steve smiling back as he rubs little circles between Dustin’s shoulders. “I’ll go get the animals bedded down for the night and when I get back I can carry him up to bed,” Eddie whispers before dropping a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Scent sharing like this should be good for you both,” he adds as he ruffles Dustin’s hair before turning to leave.

Steve hums his assent, happy to continue cuddling the pup, feeling warmth spread through his body as Dustin’s powdery sweet scent fills his nose. Dustin mumbles something incoherent, fingers gripping harder at Steve’s shirt. “Shh,”Steve soothes, “Rest now. Just relax here with me.”

Pretty soon, Steve has his eyes closed too, letting himself drift…

A gentle, “Nooo, don’ wan’ go,” mumbled near Steve’s ear wakes him. Dustin clings to him, and Steve holds him tight and buries his nose in the boy’s curls.

“I’m just taking you up to bed, Dusty,” Eddie says, gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“I can take him,” Steve announces sleepily, blinking to try and focus on his husband’s face. He shifts his arms, doing his best to cradle Dustin close and get an arm under his legs.

He tries to stand, but Eddie’s hand on his shoulder keeps him down as he leans to whisper in Steve’s ear, “Don’t think that’s a great idea, sweetheart. I don’t want you to strain anything, and you’re clearly too tired as it is.” He carefully peels away Steve’s arms, omega and pup both huffing small whines at the loss of contact, and picks Dustin up, tucking him to his neck to calm him.

Steve stands, getting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and trailing behind him up the stairs. Walking gets his blood moving, wakes him up enough that he can dig through Dustin’s small chest of drawers and retrieve a nightshirt for the pup while Eddie gets him out of his clothes. Together, they have Dustin ready for bed in about a minute, Eddie tucking him in and Steve brushing a hand over his forehead, pushing his hair back from his face. “Night,” the pup mumbles as he turns on his side and presses his face into his pillow.

“Good night, Dusty,” Eddie says from the doorway, already leading Steve slowly from the room and back downstairs.

Once in their own bedroom, Steve rests his head against his husband’s shoulder and hums. Eddie easily wraps him in his arms, a purr rumbling through his chest. “Sweetheart, you need rest. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

“You too?” Steve asks sleepily, nuzzling forward to press his nose to Eddie’s neck and drawing in his scent. No matter how tired he is, Steve dislikes the very idea of sleeping without Eddie touching him. Two nights and he already can’t imagine going to bed alone.

“Me too, Stevie.” He drops a kiss to Steve’s temple and tugs him closer.

Steve rewards him with a smile as he lifts his head and leans in for a proper kiss. “Can you help me? Too tired for buttons.”

Eddie chuckles, cupping Steve’s cheek and kissing him again. “I can handle buttons,” he says, gently flicking open the placket of Steve’s shirtwaist, revealing his lace-trimmed chemise. His fingers trace over the lace, then move up to stroke over Steve’s collarbones. “Such a pretty package for my pretty wife,” Eddie murmurs, leaning in for another kiss.

Glowing at the compliment, Steve wants to keep kissing his husband forever. He’s too tired to do so, and certainly too tired to even consider attempting more, but it doesn’t stop the wanting. “Eddie…”

“I know, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.” Eddie pets his hair and strokes down his back. Focus shifted, he helps Steve change into his nightgown, then strips down to his underwear to join Steve in their bed. “Wanna touch you,” he whispers by way of explanation, “Feel your skin against mine.”

Steve has the same desire, perfectly happy to snuggle against Eddie’s chest, falling asleep in the span of a few deep breaths.

[eggtartz]

Hi! Can you do a Rindou x soulmate reader, a soulmate AU where the reader has a brother who's in a gang and she's really protective of her brother just like how Nezuko is so protective of Tanjiro, so her brother is getting beaten down in a fight and so the reader beats up the guy who was beating down her brother, just like how Nezuko beat daki up wit NO MERCY, she did the same😬 and literally just stood there with a disgusted face and broke the guys leg by her feet, just the same way Nezuko did to Daki.

And because of the tattoo that the reader has on their arm, Rindou recognized the tattoo since both of you guys are soulmates and have the same tattoo so her recognized it and knew that you were his soulmate. The reader is so protective of her brother and has the strength of Nezuko also the reader is

✨ DROP DEAD GORGEOUS ✨

a/n : is this what im seeing or someone finally requested me to write? HELLO ANON THANKYOU FOR THE REQUEST AAA *eats fist* i did a brainstorm on the concept of soulmates i hope you'll like this 🫶🏻💕

"The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break."

wc : 2152

you and your brother have been together since you were so young, him being seven while you were just ten. your whole family got into a car crash leaving only two of you to survive in the cruel world. watching your brother grow, the protective side came with an instinct and even though now both of have grown up you were still protective over him.

"onee-san i'll be back late tomorrow. gang stuff" he said while munching on his chocolate bread that you made for him. you worriedly glanced at him and he understood that look very well. "c'mon onee-san, i'll be back before dinner. don't worry too much" he ate the leftover icing on his fingers and went to wash his hands on the sink. without turning your body, you spoke.

"ikeru. what if you get beaten up so bad huh? you got beaten up so bad that you can't even come back home, not coming home to me. is that what you want? i've been letting you do this shady gang stuff for some time, don't you think you should stop?" your tone was worrying and ikeru see no lies from your words. he will get beaten up at a daily basis, the only difference is either his knuckles are going to bloody from his blood or the opponents blood.

"fine nee-san. if it would make you feel better, i'll quit the gang and find a job. would that make you feel better?" he placed his chin on your head and felt your nodding. "so let this be the last time you're doing gang stuff okay? promise me you'll come back as soon as you say quits" you raised your red-tattoed pinky and locked his pinky finger with yours.

except that, he broke the promise.

that day, your brother didn't came back home. you tried to stay rational and thought his friends might've offered him booze but you know him. he would always update on his conditions to you. you tried calling him, messaging him. you knew little about his gang business but you did find their where their hideout is. "listen here little shit, i don't have time and the food for dinner is getting cold. i'll ask you one more time, where the hell is ikeru?" your gaze was cold, unfazed as the so called gang member was trembling under your threat.

"ikeru went out miss. i don't know exactly where but they did said they wanted to stay at the new bar down street" he said while stuttering a lot, your knife still on his throat. you released a heavy sigh and said thank you under your breath and dashed out. it's okay, you assured yourself. he might forgot to tell you, he's probably having a great time. just check on him and then leave, you said to calm yourself down. walking down the street, you saw a familiar bike you confirmed that was your brother's bike. however there was no sight of him. infact there was no sight of anyone at all.

you saw the bar the kid mention but there were too many people. too many, it looked like a crowd. crowd.. people.. the crowd was noisy as there was a fight on the center of the bar floor. standing on your toes, to your horror you saw your brother, ikeru on the floor all bloody while getting punched continuously while he remained unconscious and not moving. letting your body move based on adrenaline, you jumped on the bigger man's back and tried scratching him.

"oi what the hell?!" he easily threw your body across the room and your head knocked one of the chairs. standing up, you hissed but saw a bottle of beer on the counter, took it and ran at the man full speed then smashed his head with it. the glass shattered and the crowd grew wilder as if this was a show but you didn't care. all care thrown out the window, you approached your brother and checked his breathing. it was ragged, uneven but he was breathing. you held his bloody face near to your neck and silently sobbed.

you felt like a failure, no, you were a failure. what kind of sister just let's their little brother do this? you swore that all your life you would protect his life but here he is, almost at the verge at death and you wondered if only he wasn't a gang member would he be in the same situation now.

"onee-san?"

"yes ikeru?"

"run, onee-san. the guys are bigger than you, they'll kill you. run onee-san, my boss is coming please don't worry" he whispered againts the shell of your ear. you were fuming, furious. inhaling another breath, you said to him "don't worry they can't kill me if i kill them first" then you dragged his body to the nearest chair and sat him on top of it. "onee-san stop, please they'll kill you" he tried grabbing your wrist to stop you but his grip got weaker. ikeru's vision was blurry and he passed out.

meanwhile you, adrenaline pumped in your veins you took a wooden stool and knock one of the gang rivals with it. you recognized your brother's gang by the uniform so you could differentiate them. swinging a punch, the man fell down startled and off guard you took the knife you had and plunged his shoulder. looking him straight in the eye, you twisted the knife and deepened the wound.

the other men stopped what they were doing as they heard the screams of their man getting tortured by a woman half his size. you stand up only to get tackled down but you managed to kick his groin, grounded your knees on the floor and twisted his head with a headlock ikeru taught you while watching mma matches in television. ikeru's member started scooting away as the man averted their attention to you. "now, now girl. you might wanna calm down okay? knife's a dangerous weapon dont'cha think?" one of them said.

"shut the fuck up if you don't want my foot down your throat" you said before running towards one of them, climbed their back and bit his ears. they panicked a lot and tried to grabbed you but using your sweater sleeve you tied one their hands into the man's head making all of them lose their balance and collectively fell. you jumped from his back successfully landing on the ground.

one of them lunge towards you but you dodged him and knocked his nose as hard as you could making him coughing out blood. the crowd wasn't rowdy anymore as they watched the bloody murder you were doing. the rampage of yours didn't seem to stop because the guys kept standing up. the more they tried to stand, the more damaging your attacks were. you didn't had any ounce of mercy.

the guy that earlier was smashing ikeru's face tried to crawl away but you saw him "oh you're not going anywhere. come back!" you dragged his left leg back to the center of the bar floor. you lifted his left calf and stepped on his thigh, breaking his kneecaps. he wailed in pain and as you were going to do the same to the next leg, you felt a shiver down your spine.

"yikes, sweetie you did this by yourself?" a braided hair man asked you while coming through the crowd. the still conscious ikeru's members tried to bow down but some of them fell down as they grow weaker.

"my, oh, look at that. hello keizo is your leg okay? didn't i told you specifically not to barge in this area of ours hm~?" the braided man asked him while he was wailing in pain. you kept experiencing this shivering but you shrugged it for now. the braided man finally looked at you "hm, you might need to go to the hospital love. you're injured" you stepped away from him only up now to realize there was someone else behind him. he wore a black shirt, glasses and had blue and yellow highlights. he was gorgeous and you couldn't stop staring at him. he did the same too, unable to tear his gaze away.

"rinnie could you tell them to clean this up? we have to bring this girl to the hospital" getting a tch as a respond, he inspected all the injuries and observed the damage you did. on the men and on the facility. "im sorry" you said impulsively, and he looked at you confused.

the crowd was already dismissed as silence developed between the two of you. this was strange, you met this man two seconds ago and you felt a huge relief washing over you. you shouldn't even feel better when he's here, he might be a greater threat but you felt the opposite with him. it was like you felt comfortable with him, safe with him.

"it's okay, uh. your name?" his voice did wonders to you. it felt soothing and you actually wanted to step closer to him so you could hear his voice again but this time closer. "i uh y/n"

"okay y/n, im rindou haitani. could you tell me what just happened because the guy almost got killed"

"my brother" you walked to ikeru's cold body and saw the blood on his face started to dry up, making it smell foul. rindou scrunched his nose and tried lifting him up before gesturing you to follow him. "uh hey you think you could ride? you guys need like immediate medical help and using the car, you know. there's traffic and that" he kept averting his eyes somewhere else while talking to you and stuttered a lot. "oh yeah my brother's bike is here so i can go to the hospital myself"

"oh, where's the keys?" he said while one of his gang members reached ikeru's shoulder and took him away. you snatched the keys from ikeru's pocket earlier and you handed it to rindou. you were too exhausted to ride the bike anyway and you felt like you could trust rindou. strangely.

"okay if you feel like falling asleep just hug me so you won't fall" he said while reviving the engine. you did what he said and arrived at the hospital and almost immediately got into an emergency ward. your brother's bed was beside yours although you might discharge earlier as your injuries wasn't too bad. the sight of your brother being connected with so many wires scared you, it was like the time of the car crash where you thought he would leave you. your daydreaming snapped as you heard a soft click on the door and saw rindou with some flowers.

"oh hi. i thought you were asleep. here, uh some flowers and food. i don't know what you like so i bought a few types of- wait why are you crying?" rindou stopped his rambling and placed the items in his hand on the table so he could swipe your tears away. he was worried for me, he's so cute, you thought.

"it's just, i love my brother so much i really thought i lost him" he held your hand and in a trance you two could speak only with your eyes. you desperately closed the gap between the two of you and cried more on his chest. after a while your hiccups was disappearing slowly and your grip on his shirt too had loosened. he laid you back so you could rest while he studied your face.

people would be terrified if their first meeting was with yours, your eyes were bloodshot, knuckles bloody, lip busted and sweater dirty but you looked magnificent is his eyes. your black hair, perfect eye shape, nose, lips hell you had no flaw. rindou was the one who wanted to see the new club, his gut telling him that there was something, someone there. then, he met you and he was correct. the moment he saw you, he fell. hard.

he rubbed his thumb over your bandaged knuckles and kissed the pinky finger with the tattoo on it. rindou wasn't a man of superstition or any sort but he does feel that you were truly his. the same red matching tattoo on his pinky said it.

he only realized you had the same tattoo while you entered the doctor's room for an examination. he didn't believed in fate but he genuinely thinks that you're his soulmate. his other half. the only one for him.

he kissed your forehead to leave so you could rest but you held his tattooed pinky. "stay with me" you softly said. rindou smiled and climbed the bed with you and you instantly snuggled in his arm. you felt safe, he felt complete. you both were truly soulmates.

a/n : this might be the longest fic i've ever wrote i got really indulged

[tadfools]

Does anyone remember when I asked folks to proofread a few paragraphs for a fic the other day? I finished the whole thing and the link to it is here if anybody wants to give it a gander x

It's the act 1 Astarion bite but more dark urgey, a little bit of its under the cut

While she peeled the onions, Tavris could almost imagine it being the same as prying back the skin of a face. An agonizingly simple motion, a quick pull of the ear and one could achieve a clean removal to the other side.

It was almost enough to drown out the prattling of her fellow wizard, who in the few days since they met, decided he was to be the group’s resident cook. There was a twinge in the back of her mind when she thought that. Not the mutilation of a man meant to be her friend, but in the idea that he could be considered an equal to her in any regard.

The magic that Gale played with wasn’t worth killing. It was meant for show - to impress others that were better suited to die. Where Gale made a presentation of a flick of the wrist and bright colorful displays of sparks, she wielded pure, concentrated death in her hands… it wouldn’t have been that hard to rot the wizard’s flesh. Honestly, she should’ve cut his hand off when she had the chance.

None of that was within a line of thinking Tavris wanted to be anywhere near. She wanted to listen Gale’s stories of Waterdeep and learn how he casted spells like an art show.

It was easier to raise a corpse and have it an answer a string of questions than it was for her to produce a simple flame in the palm of her hand. Even in the fight against the gnolls, she wanted to lunge at them with a dagger instead of sending a bolt of radiant energy towards them from a distance. Why was that? Why was holding the sun within her hand more difficult than a wad of necrosis?

The headache which never fully left her thrummed in time with her heartbeat. A steady rhythm of blood which serenaded her in quiet moments. It was maddening. What had she done before the nautiloid to be cursed with the inability to sit in silence for even a moment? Tavris took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. If it was that painful to focus within, she would focus out.

The fire dying down, Karlach’s snoring, Shadowheart – or perhaps Wyll tossing in their bedroll, the river flowing away from them, frogs croaking and crickets chirping and the sound of… leaves crunching.

Crunching leaves that were all but muffled within the other sounds of the night. Had she not been actively listening, the footfalls would have gone unnoticed.

The events that happen next came in quick succession, almost as if another being had taken control of her completely. The rustling got ever-so louder; the hairs in the back of her neck stood on end - a signal to a predator that a fool was attempting to make her prey. Tavris spun around with her hands clutched into fists with her pinky and pointer fingers extended on both hands so that a small ball of necrotic energy crackled between the them.

“Shit.” Astarion was less than a foot from her, eyes wide – almost manic.

“That’s all you have to say?” Tavris clenched her fist, the green energy growing brighter to the point it numbed the sides of her fingers and top of her knuckles. She stood to her full height in one motion, shoulders square as she stalked towards him until Astarion was backed against a pine tree. He was a full head taller than her but, in the moment, seemed so, so small.

[softquietsteadylove]

Thena and Gil are filming a movie with Eros this time. Eros still doesn’t like Gil and finds a perfect time to take revenge! Gil and Eros have a fighting scene and Eros takes the chance to “accidentally“ hit Gil really hard at his temple causing him to loose consciousness for a few seconds. When Gil regains consciousness again he is really angry at Eros and his reckless behavior but lucky for our snob Thena is here to hold Gil back before it could escalate😈

"And...action!"

It was pretty basic choreography. Blow for blow, it was Gil vs. Eros. Not that everyone thought a fist fight between the two of them would necessarily translate the right way on screen. But Gil's character had thus far sustained a few injuries, he was at the end of several other fights he had faced.

Eros didn't really appreciate being told that he didn't seem like he would be able to fight Gil realistically, but that was beside the point.

Gil swung a few times, Eros managing to dodge and deflect them. There were a few hits that would be faked for the camera, but they had both practised how to make them look as believable as possible.

They had promos and interview to do! They couldn't go damaging the goods.

"Easy, old man," Eros taunted as he leaned out of another punch. "Don't want to pull your back!"

Gil was 'panting', some fake blood already applied to his arms and some bruising and scratches just faint enough to be a nice subtle touch. He huffed, "don't push your luck, kid."

Eros cracked his knuckles, the large signet ring on his pinkie indicating the allegiance of his character. He pulled back his fist and wound up.

The sound of the ring meeting Gil's head was deafening.

"Gil!" Thena sprang up from the side of the sound stage. Under any other circumstance she would never display such unprofessional behaviour. But she leapt from her chair.

Gilgamesh swayed a little, completely dizzied by the punch. He touched his temple where it landed, where there was a sizable welt growing, as well as blood that was not special effects. "Shit."

"Cut!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Thena rushed onto stage, pushing grips and gaffers alike out of her way. She leaned close to Gil, who swayed right into her. "Are you okay?"

He grunted, but his attempts to stand upright didn't go as planned.

"Gil, mate, I'm so sorry, are you all right?"

Thena would glare at him if she weren't supporting most of Gil's weight as much as she possibly could. "Gil, it's okay, just sit down."

"I'm fine," he groaned, obviously not fine.

"Gil," Thena tried again to calm him, running her fingers through his hair.

He put his hand on her back, but he pulled his head up from her shoulder, glaring at Eros behind her, "what the fuck?"

"I really am sorry," Eros professed, putting his hand to his heart and everything. "Honestly, I didn't-"

"I took the time to work on this shit with you," Gil huffed at him, squinting with the eye closest to where he got hit, "just for you to wide swing and hit me in the face?"

"Gil," Eros held his hands out, taking a step back as Gil took an even more aggravated step forward.

"Gil," Thena said gently, pushing against his chest. "I know, but I need you to sit down right now."

Gil swayed a few more times, flush with adrenaline. "You get away with a lot of shit, man, but this-"

"Gil," she repeated, still working on trying to get him to sit down and take a breath. "Hey, look at me."

Gil moved his squinted eye from the man he wanted to punch right with the face. He looked at Thena, who was still somewhat holding him up. "Thena, I'm okay."

"You're not," she shook her head, tipping his chin at her. "You are almost certainly concussed, and that's nothing to say of the black eye you're going to have."

Gil did sigh faintly as Thena's soft skinned and cool fingers touched his temple. "This sucks, though--we have to get this scene shot."

"Not with an injury like this," Thena broke the news to him, even making a face as she watched the swelling on his face begin to protrude.

"Thena-"

"I think Thena's right, mate," Eros added, which the entirety of the room could have told him was a stupid choice.

Gil made one more feint of a lunge at him, spooking Eros just for the fun of it. He chuckled, letting Thena press her hand to his chest to keep him in place. Although she didn't remove it afterward either, so really she just had her hand over his heart.

Thena put her (other) hand on Gil's cheek, "we're done for the day."

The director inched forward from the shadows, "uh, we?"

"Come on," she coaxed him back to his chair at first, leading him with her hand on his peck and letting him lean on her.

Gil peeked out from the crook of Thena's neck at Eros behind them. He couldn't wink with his bad eye, but he couldn't resist smirking a little as he nestled back into Thena's hair and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"You poor thing," Thena whispered, running her hand over his cheek as she helped him sit.

"Thena, you know you can't really take the day off, right?"

"What about him?" Gil sighed as she gave him a sip of her water, and then pressed the bottle to his temple.

Thena didn't even look over at Eros, still hovering around nervously at the edges of things. "Don't worry about him. We're going to get you checked out and then we'll head home."

Maybe he usually wouldn't, but Gil nuzzled in more, his head on Thena's shoulder, letting her run her fingers through his hair. If he could purr, he would.

If he couldn't actually hit Eros back, this would have to do.

[nichenarratives]

Hurricane Heller 18

A Niche Narratives Fanficiton.

last | first | next

18 Lingering Complications

Commuters scurry to their destinations as rain hammers the pavements, the thin sheen of water on the pavement adding to a cacophonic drum devouring ambient city sounds, while umbrellas fight with gusty winds that would make Chicago envious. Cars move slowly through deep pools gathering at the edges of flooded streets, the voices and motors of those unfortunate enough to be outside lost to Mother Nature, her wrath reducing feline society to shadowy figures in the rain.

A dreary sky mirrored in soaking cobblestones intensifies an inherent darkness, casting the city in muted hues of gray or deep blues even lanterns cannot penetrate, fires struggling to swell in the damp air despite the protective glass casings. Only the brave - or those required to - traverse the streets that November evening in 1918, begrudging acceptance of their inability to master the weather unspoken in resigned eyes.

Mordecai Heller is neither of these, nor does he skitter to or fro seeking shelter. His approach on that Sabbath had been slow, his pace even and purposeful. His trench coat collar popped against the elements and head hung low to protect his glasses from the incessant rain, the tom had steadily set foot across city, stepped onto the porch of his childhood home and taken hold of the rusting door knob only to freeze there indefinitely, wide eyes staring at the old timber.

Rain continues to fall in sheets, pouring from the brim of his hat onto his loafers. Mordecai is saturated from head to toe; his socks squelch in his shoes, his suit is plastered to his slender frame beneath his compromised coat, and his hat is stuck to his temples around the rim. Water runs down his lenses, smeared by numerous attempts to wipe them on soaked clothes and vision subsequently blurred, but he can't turn that handle to let himself in, he simply can't walk in like nothing happened.

It's been two years, twenty-four months without speaking to his mother, with a single hug from Esther. Whatever rapport he had with them should rightfully be in tatters. He takes his hand from the handle and flexes his leather-clad fingers in the air, exhaling a shakingly heavy breath into the dark.

Mordecai has no more right to be here than a stranger now, a harsh realisation to have on the threshold of his childhood home, but a truth he must accept if reparations are to be achievable. Nausea swims in Mordecai's gut, possibility of rejection crawling from the depths of his psyche, strangling his confidence. He pulls his hand back entirely, hesitating on the precipice of decision until he almost flees the situation in a bid to be free of its anxious grasp.

"I miss you," Ester had whispered into the dark, her breaths warm in his shoulders, her arms tight around his waist. "We all do. Come home. Please."

Mordecai knows if he walks away tonight, he won't return for another attempt at reconciliation. Surrendering to impulse is always a slippery slope, something the tom saw hundreds of time at the tracks; a single bet becomes two, then four, then a dozen, until the debts rack up and they either pay up, or Mr Savage requests their pinkie finger on ice before they're dumped in the bay to rot.

It's a one way ticket to failure, relying on being stronger next week. If he's passed the buck once, it'll be easier to bet on that same crook horse over and over, until he returns to only delivering a weekly allowance, pretending an attempt to reconnect never happened. For better or for worse, it has to be tonight, and it's the thought that finally brings his fist against the cracked wood in three firm, swift knocks.

There's a slight within ruckus and the hall light flicks on. He holds his breath, soft footfalls drowned out by the beating rain so Mordecai doesn't hear them approach. Large ears drooped with excess water, pupils constrict and shoulders hunch against the driving rain as the door creaks open, bathing the porch in a warm orange that cuts through the grayscale night.

Warmth exudes from the open door, enveloping the soaked feline and suddenly very aware of how cold he is, Mordecai shudders and clutches his biceps, rubbing the muscles in a futile attempt to warm up when still being pummeled by icy rain. The figure pauses in the dry doorway; she's grown tall, and with hair pulled back into a thick braid, wearing an identical dress - likely the exact one he remembers - Esther is the splitting image of their mother, if not for their father's fully white muzzle and softer green eyes.

His breath mists before being swiftly swallowed by rainfall. A deep inhale sends fingers of ice through his chest so potent, he feels his bronchi contract in shock as he tries to greet his sister, his voice awfully strained and shaken by the cold. "I'd s-say good evening, but we both k-know its d-dreadful-"

She throws her arms around him, and Mordecai grunts in surprise, rocking back on his heels before her tight embrace pulls him back to the soles of his loafers. Rain continues to fall but Esther doesn't seem to care; burying her face in his sodden coat and clutching him tightly, she swiftly becomes just as soaked by the open heavens as he stands with arms hanging uselessly at his sides, aware of an uncomfortably heavy feeling building in his chest he can't identify.

The warmth of her body and loving gesture cuts through the resilient, bone-numbing chill. Despite knowing it's idiotic to stay in the rain, Mordecai tentatively hugs her back on the steps, a slender arm slipping around her waist while a hand cradles the back of her head, holding her to his chest. It's a natural affection, so rarely permitted to his younger siblings in times of distress but now, feels pertinent to offer after time spent apart, a reconnection of lives, of eternal souls.

"You came back," she eventually says, her voice muffled by his soaking coat and the continued downpour thrumming on the steps around them. Dark ears flicking forwards, the tom pulls back just enough to look down as Esther casts damp, olive eyes up. Wayward baby hairs stick to her face and her fur mats into soggy clumps, whiskers weighed down as they drip to bare feet. "Mother worried you'd left for good, but I… I prayed you'd come back every night…"

Mordecai frowns, causing rain to gather in his brow before it drips down the side of his face. She looks more vulnerable than usual with hot tears gathering in her eyes. Esther may be the more expressive of the siblings, but she'd stopped openly showing intense emotions following the tween anger phase. The tears take him off guard and bringing a thumb to her face, he tries to wipe them away, only to find her sodden fur swallows it as soon as it slides free.

"You're soaked," he observes, not realising how ridiculous of a statement it is until Esther's sorrow morphs into joy as she laughs, a sound so pure, warmth pools in his chest. He can't help but smile slightly; it feels good to hear her laugh again. "I suppose that's redundant, isn't it?" She buries her face in his sodden coat, the damp fabric muffling her giggles as she holds him tight. "It's pouring with rain. We should go inside."

"You're always meshuggeneh," she returns affectionately and apparently in no rush to go inside, squeezes his damp frame so tight he grunts with discomfort. "I missed you so much, Mordy."

Someone gruffly clears their throat and Esther practically leaps from him, emerald and olive eyes both snapping up to their mother's piercing gaze in the doorway. She looks older than Mordecai remembers; single silver hairs intertwine with her thick black braid now, the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth more pronounced, eyes hooded with exhaustion. It's as if the last two years counted for ten, which only intensifies the heavy feeling in his torso.

"Come inside, or you'll catch your death." 

Esther doesn't hesitate to obey, pausing once she's in the hall to cast him a last look before swiftly climbing the stairs, leaving drops of water and damp footprints on bare boards in her wake. Mordecai remains on the step, rain drilling into his shoulders and echoing off his hat, the air thick with a silence that's somehow more deafening than the relentless rain until she turns away, heading back for the kitchen.

His shoulders sag, his mother's rejection stinging his eyes. Mordecai takes a deep, steadying breath and immediately regrets it as the chill and damp invades his lungs. He raises a fist and coughs, his other hand clutching the stair railing for stability until the constriction of his airways recedes. All the warmth he'd regained from seeing Esther abandons him and he shudders, so viscerally alone in the rain, so cold left on the steps by-

"I said come inside," his mother repeats, drawing his gaze back to her tired face. She's half turned away, the stern lines of disappointment replaced with gentleness he recalls from his kitten years; affection without prerequisites, a mother's love for her son. "Come sit by the fire, Mordecai," she adds, her smile tinged with sadness. "And I'll make us some tea."

Sitting by the fire becomes borrowing a pair of his father's pajamas as his clothes are hung close to the hearth to dry, the faded flannel soft against roughly dried fur. Rose is ecstatic to see her brother and hugs him so violently, he almost falls to his side on the rug. Scolded by their mother for impropriety, Rose apologises, then excitedly runs off to retrieve her sketchbook and share the progress she's made in his absence.

Rose sits beside him on the rug until dinner, flipping through the hundreds of small sketches of flowers, butterflies, birds and even people from Temple. To begin with, he's idiotically critical of the small flaws to make her giggle, enjoying how it makes his chest feel light. By the end of the sketchbook he's honestly impressed by sketches though; they aren't simply recognisable, but have a spark in their eyes, as if they could hop off the page and fly around the room any moment.

"These are exquisite," he praises, flipping from a wren in flight to a butterfly resting upon a pansy, its petals drooping beneath its meager weight. He glances at Rose, who's flush is highlighted by the fire before she turns away bashfully. In an attempt to engage her without further embarrassment, he adds: "Did you draw these with your Bat Mitzvah pencils?"

The youngster rejoins the conversation animatedly then, explaining in detail how different grades of pencil create the differing depths and gradients of lines in each sketch. Soon enough, they have to put the sketchbook aside for dinner. Yet despite Mordecai being hastily added to the table and their portions subsequently smaller, conversation flows light and free around the kitchen. Awkwardness forgotten, former disputes left out in the cold, it's as if he never left.

Yet every so often, his mother coughs a heavy, wet cough, one that echoes around the kitchen and drags the air from their lungs in anxious anticipation, bringing an awful silence to the table. They fall silent and wait, sharing worried looks as their mother weathers each coughing attack with a tissue to her lips and a hand on her glass, preparing to take a sip of wine when it's over.

"It's since she got the Spanish Flu," Esther whispers as they clear the table, their mother already retiring to bed. "She got better, but the cough never went, and now sounds just like-"

She goes quiet as Rose returns with an empty glass, drying the dishes Mordecai offers in silence, but Mordecai doesn't need her to elaborate. His ear turns to coughing from the second floor, the same dreadful wet hacking Hannah hadn't the strength to endure, and the awful feeling in his stomach solidifies into guilt for being gone so long.

Yet he leaves that night reaffirmed of in his place within his family, and a plan forming for their wellbeing. He walks with calculations behind reflective spectacles and an index finger running along the sheath of the letter opener in his pocket. Memory of that wet cough echoing within his consciousness for days, but with it comes a renewed determination to provide by any means necessary, sharpening his focus on the final objective.

After all, he's just got his family back, and Hashem's plans be damned, Mordecai Heller will move both hell and Earth to ensure they don't have to endure another tragedy. 

[suspicious-whumping-egg]

Rock Bottom, A Moneymakers AU: Part 7

This is a fanfic series based on the Moneymakers series by @coldresolve. Masterlist for Moneymakers is here, masterlist (and content warnings) for Rock Bottom is here. The inspo for the “piercing” in this chapter is here. Enjoy!

~~

Despite the threats, Corbin relented and gave him a break— of course, contingent to his obedience. But Renee was in far too much pain to even think about fighting back. As Corbin carefully bandaged the lash marks, he fought to stay still but for the involuntary flinches and hisses that overtook him when a particularly deep mark was prodded.

He wasn’t given anything for the pain, of course. But at least he was no longer helplessly bleeding out. 

Corbin paced the room for a moment, flipping through drawers and shelves until he found what he was looking for. And he returned with a thick, curved barbell, beginning to screw off one end as he approached Renee. 

“I’ve never tried this before, but I thought it’d be fun to give it a shot,” he smirked. “Now hold out your hand.” 

Renee winced, curling his tattered hand to his chest on instinct. The wound already throbbed unbelievably, the last thing he needed was a piercing through it. 

Yet Corbin snatched his hand brutally, forcing his fingers to splay out against the cement with a carefully placed blow to his fist. Agony lanced up his arm, white-hot and furious, and he let out a strangled cry. 

“Don’t you wanna wait and do this in front of the camera?” He choked out bitterly. It was a pitiful excuse to put it off, even if he knew Corbin would certainly make an extra buck streaming this cruel and unusual torture. If he wanted to stream it, he would already be doing so.

Corbin flashed a grin, the same dazzling expression as he used introducing a stream. 

“Aww, how thoughtful to think of lining my pockets, doll,” he simpered, his hold on Renee’s hand shifting to a grip on his wrist. “But I’m all good. This, I’d rather just keep all for myself.” 

As he held the barbell up to the throbbing wound, Renee noticed it wasn’t a normal, albeit oversized barbell at all. Thicker, of course, and on either end of the screw there was a ring attached. 

“I had it custom made,” Corbin said proudly. “The concept already exists, a kink thing or something, but nothing nearly big enough for a whole piercing through the hand. Alright, deep breath, doll. Shouldn’t be too bad, but it’s still gonna irritate the burn.” 

 And before Renee could uselessly try and plead his case one last time, Corbin slid the contraption through the bloodstained hole he’d made in his hand. He hissed in pain, the burns along the wound flaring, but even more, the touch was unnatural and sickening, sending nausea stabbing throguh his gut. Nothing was supposed to be in the inside of his hand, let alone going through it. 

He couldn’t help but try to jerk away, but Corbin’s grip on the barbell meant the movement only flashed fresh agony through his hand, forcing a whimper from his lips. He held begrudgingly still as Corbin finished screwing the second ring end back onto the barbell, the ringed ends resting at the joint of his pinkie finger. The weight of the metal grating against the wound was enough to bring tears to his eyes, its pressure alighting the site with fresh agony. 

Yet Corbin went back to the drawers rather than backing away in satisfaction, and returned with a short length of chain and a padlock. 

“We’re almost done for the night, love, don’t worry,” he said condescendingly. “This part shouldn’t hurt a bit.” 

He seized Renee’s hand again, fiddling with the rings on the barbell to line them up. 

“This was Wyvern’s idea, as a matter of fact. I commissioned them to design this little piece of jewelry, as a matter of fact. They offered to come weld it onto you themself, but we can’t have your ownership questioned like that. So thank me that it’s not permanent.” He winked deviously, then threaded the chain through both rings, lining up either end of the links and securing the lock so a loop of chain dangled from the device piercing through his hand. 

“It’ll be nice to have such easy access,” Corbin mused, tugging the chain until Renee gasped in pain. 

“But I digress,” he continued. “Off you go, now.” 

He gestured towards an open, sparsely furnished cell. 

“I need my beauty sleep, doll, my daily vices, all that. Maybe I’ll spare a shot or two for you, or a cigarette, if you’re good tomorrow.” 

Renee hated that he already knew he’d get on his knees just for a drop of alcohol. He hated that the mere mention of a cigarette had his hands trembling with need. He hated that he’d cut himself open if it meant getting the high of cocaine. 

He hated that he hadn’t suffered the withdrawals in his parents’ summer home, stewed in his anger and plotted his rage. His own impulse made him sick. 

And when the cell door closed in his face, he hated the pang of loneliness that hit him like a bullet. 

Taglist: Taglist: @coyotehusk @befuddled-calico-whump @just-horrible-things

[aheckinmess]

Below Ground Zero [Deku] (Angst)

(One-shot 3/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Deku x OC, Izuku Midoriya, Deku, UA High School, Rescue Training Gone Wrong, MHA one-shots, fanfiction, My Hero Academia, Deku is a Bean, Angst

Word Count: 1,425 words

Summary: During a training exercise at UA, Tigress rushes to save her friends and finds herself trapped under a building. As time passes and she cries for help, will it prove to be Class 1-A's greatest rescue or a detrimental failure?

Author's Note: This one-shot isn't a part of a series, so if you're ever looking to see what character I'm writing for, I'll give a character name and whether it's angst, fluff, or smut in the title. Enjoy!

Ichijiku (Tigress)

"We need to get inside and make sure we find the survivor. That's our priority!" Ashido clenches her fist with determination. "Now, let's hurry! Time is of the essence!"

"Right!" Everyone follows her lead, even though I'm wary and feel a chill down the back of my neck. Didn't Mr. Aizawa say the building was burnt? I wonder if we should check it out to make sure it's stable... But since everyone seems confident, I hold my tongue.

We're already on the ground floor of the building by the time I realize I should have spoken up. I feel a light rumble beneath my feet and dart after my friends, trying to warn them like I should have done to begin with. "Wait, guys! If the building was burnt, it may still be unstable–" No sooner have I said it that the ground gives way beneath me and Toru. I shove her ahead to keep her from falling down with me.

"Tigress!" Their voices follow me as darkness swallows me.

Something cracks against the back of my head and my vision blurs. Sharp pain stabs through my calf as I hit the ground so hard I dry heave in the dirt. For the next few moments - is it five minutes or fifty? - I fight with consciousness. My body from the belly down feels completely immobile, pinned from the rubble.

When my brain finally refocuses, I find enough energy in me to call out instinctively for my boyfriend. "DEKU!"

My default emotion results in tears steaking down my cheeks as I try to analyze my situation. What would Mr. Aizawa do? He's always so logical. See how freely you can move, Little Cub. I grip at the dirt with the claws in my suit, trying to forcefully pull myself out.

A shriek tears through my lungs as my leg throbs from the movement. Dammit...I can't move my legs. Shit. I'm stuck here. I can't free myself. Sometimes, you have to wait for others to help you.  That's only fitting for something as worthless as you. A pathetic failure. Failure and guilt crash around in my head, threatening to break my body more than the building on my back. Mr. Aizawa is going to be so disappointed. I haven't even managed to get through the first quarter of the exercise. And then Dad... A sob rushes out of me as I try to think of something...anything I can do. I can't let him down.

So much for being a hero, huh? You were in the building for all of thirty seconds before it fell on you. Mr. Aizawa is going to expel you when you get out of here...if your own stupidity doesn't kill you first. No wonder your father gave Deku his quirk and not you. My fingers dig into the dirt painfully again, trying to distract from the emotional pain of my doubt, and the physical pain in my legs. There has to be something I can do. Call for help. No one is going to be mad at you. You saved Toru from the same fate.

"DEKU! FROPPY! URAVITY!" I choke out, using the amplifier in my suit to my advantage. "PINKY! INVISIBLE GIRL!" I shove the butt of my palm into my eyes to try and stop the flow of tears. Worthless. Failure. The sound of my doubt is abruptly cut off by the vivid sound of a tiger roaring in my mind.

I keep screaming and calling for help until my voice is tired and I feel my energy waning. What if they've forgotten me? What if they just left me here? I start to worry, calling out every one of my classmate's names at least once.

I'm starting to wonder if I'll die when the sound of footsteps reaches my ears. My breathing is shaky as I look up, and I'm sure my face is a sight, marred by panic, guilt, and blood.

Deku's face isn't smug or disappointed or annoyed like I'd convinced myself it would be. It pulls more tears from my eyes to match his glistening ones as he slides to his knees in front of me.

"TIGRESS!" He exclaims as he assesses the damage. He takes my hand. "The damage looked pretty bad here. Pinky and Invisible Girl said this was the area you'd fallen down. I was hoping this wouldn't be where I found you but–" He looks up at the debris shifting minutely above me, and his eyes widen, but his brows furrow as he takes a determined stance. "I'm going to get you out of here, honeydoodle. I promise. You're going to be okay!" He gives me a smile, and it both mends and breaks me.

He knows how to keep smiling. Why don't you?

"I'm sorry." I choke out. "I'm not...I wasn't...good enough..." I exhale, gritting my teeth. "I'm a monster."

"No, you're not. Don't say that. Invisible Girl said you saved her. I'm proud of you." Deku pats the top of my hair before he calls down the hall of the dilapidated building. "GUYS! SHE'S DOWN HERE!"

More footsteps start approaching. Iida and Tsu are the first ones that come into view, followed by Todoroki, Ojiro, and Ochaco.

I watch them jog closer until there's more movement from the debris above me and I shriek as my vision goes dark again.

"WATCH OUT!" I hear Deku cry and then everything is silent.

Now everything is pinned. There's no way I'm moving.

"DEKU!" I cry through the dusty darkness, coughing out the dirt trying to invade my lungs. "Is everyone okay?!" Please don't tell me others got hurt on my account.

"Tigress! Thank god you're still alive...we're all okay! Todoroki's ice kept the building from falling further. Can you move at all?" He calls.

"No, I can't move anything now, it has me pinned!" And indeed, even as I say this I try. I can't even turn my head; fallen debris renders it stationary.

I close my eyes and try to focus solely on their voices despite a throbbing headache. I listen as they come up with a plan. Iida is to be ready to run and grab me just in case. Ojiro and Ochaco are going to help move debris while Todoroki uses his ice to stabilize it.

The building crushing down on me has me fighting consciousness. One moment, I hear them talking. The next, I can hear the dirt above me starting to shift and settle. The next time I'm awake, I'm already on a stretcher made by Momo.

"S'Invisible Girl okay...?" I grunt out. It doesn't occur to me until I focus on a pounding in the back of my head that my deteriorating status is due to blood loss.

"I'm okay, Tigress." She promises, squeezing my hand.

I blink and then I'm pulled into a warm embrace. I think it's Deku at first, or my dad. But when he speaks, my chest aches as I find it's someone who's hug means that much more.

"You're going to be okay." Mr. Aizawa tells me, squeezing me. I sniffle and let my head rest on his shoulder for a minute. He reads my mind because as he pulls back and catches my expression he meets it with a stern look. "Don't you dare start apologizing. Just let them take you to Recovery Girl."

I'm too tired to fight it, but I have enough energy to huff at him.

The next in line, not surprisingly, is my dad.

"Ichijiku!" He darts over to my side; even he's not wearing his signature hero smile at first, but he grits his teeth and forces it there in the next moment. "You're okay." He exhales his relief. "Recovery Girl's going to fix you up, okay? I'll be right by your side the whole time."

I reach my hand weakly to pat his, again wanting to apologize but not having the energy. The world starts shifting in focus again.

"Can I go with her, Mr. Aizawa?" I hear Deku's voice in the distance and start glancing around for him.

Soon enough, he's jogging by my stretcher. "Ichan, it's okay. I'll come check on you in a little bit, but I have to finish the training...I'll be with you as soon as I can, okay?" Deku's hero smile is gone and fresh tears paddle down his face. He grips my hand tightly and squeezes before giving it a kiss. "We love you."

I love you too. I think, finally feeling content enough to fall asleep.

Want More Deku? Try: Rhythm & Blues

Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider!