#i looked at some of their other takes out of curiosity and its wild. they think shadow existing is promoting a satanic agenda or whatever

[sonknuxadow]

just saw some weird homophobic hardcore christian person saying that sonic and shadow are too gay in sonic prime and thats bad because being gay is bad and on one hand i do not want any ships becoming canon like in general and i think a lot of sonadow fans are being super annoying about sonic prime and exaggerating how gay they are but also. it would be kind of hilarious if sonic and shadow kissed in the last episode just to make people who think like that mad

[givemequeen]

trying new things: spencer reid x reader

request: could you do something with softdom!spencer and fem reader, and they are testing new waters?(spencer being rougher and more demanding etc?) a/n: hey! so i hope this was what you meantttt. lmk if you enjoyed it! warnings: smut obv, harsh sex, oral!female receiving word count: 2817

"Spence..." you said in a sing song voice.

He dropped his book and you could see the dread and curiosity on his face. "Hey!" you said, furrowing your brows.

"What? I haven't said anything." he smiled, setting aside his book and giving you his whole focus.

"Neither have I, so drop that look on your face." you sat up, setting your own book aside. Spencer was sat across the room on his favourite seat in the living room, you had both been doing your nightly reading routine.

"Okay, okay. So, what is it?" he leaned forward.

"Well, I was reading something and... I want to try something out." you shrug, looking around the room, at the floor, anywhere but him.

"Oh, God." he drags a hand down his face. "I love that you read, really I do, it's one of the things I love about you, but do you have to read these..." he looked around trying to find a word. "Disturbing books?"

"Disturbing?" you scoffed. "Some of your favourite things I do come from these "disturbing" books." you give him a look.

"You do bring up a good point." he nods to himself and sits up, walking towards you. "Fine. What is it you want to try?" he asks when he's right in front of you.

You look up, he's so tall you have to lean back, and suddenly feel shy.

"Well..." you bite your lip.

"Oh, come on now, you can't get all shy now." he teases, leaning down and resting his hands on your armchairs, caging you in.

"Read this." you reach for your book, pressing yourself against him, knowing it drives him wild.

He reaches for the open book in your hand. "The whole book or just the chapter?" he asks.

"Oh, right. Well I was just gonna say the page but the book is fine too." you laugh.

He makes his way back to his favourite chair and this time you follow him, perching yourself on his armrest. You look over his shoulder as he quickly reads through your book; you're not sure why you do this because he's too quick for you to understand anything but you do it either way.

Even though you can't see his full face, you see the side of his face as his eyes widen in shock. He gasps, raises his brows, lowers them, laughs, smiles, smirks. You watch as all the emotions pass through his face.

He finally closes the book. He opens his mouths, furrows his brows, and then closes it, relaxing his face. Spencer places the book on his lap and turns to face you.

"Alright." he says, standing up.

"Alright?" you repeat, you weren't sure what you were expecting but he agreed way too fast. He's standing in front of you now, you're looking up at him, blinking stupidly at his expression.

You can tell he's trying to hide a grin. Is he liking how flustered you are? You expected him to act how you're acting; blushing, shy, not sure what to say.

Spencer reaches his hand out and you take it. He pulls you up and you squeal, landing in his arms. His expression is much more serious now, he looks into your eyes and then flickers his gaze down to your lips. You stick your tongue out to wet your lips and Spencer chooses that moment to kiss you. Its slow at first, just like his hands that wrap around you.

Then, its fast and harsh. One hand is on the back of you head, gripping you close to him. His other hand is on your thigh, inviting you to jump up. You do so and wrap your legs around his waist.

You groan into the kiss, all shyness long gone, probably kissed out of you by Spencer. He's making his way to the bedroom now but right before entering, he presses you against the wall of the hallway, holding you up with his knee.

You grind against him, pulling away from the kiss to look into his eyes. They're hungry now, pupils blown wide. He kisses your neck, surely feeling how rapidly your heart is beating. You moan his name and run your fingers through his hair, well aware how it drives him crazy.

"You want me to fuck you?" he suddenly whispers.

He's never said anything like that before. "Yes." you reply, your eyes closed and mouth open in pleasure as he makes his way further south.

"You're so pretty." he palms your breasts, reaching for your collar before ripping it open in one quick movement.

You gasp.

"You like that?" he asks, looking at your exposed breasts.

You nodded quickly.

"Use your words, darling." he glances up at you, looking at you through his lashes.

You swallow, feeling a knot form in your throat. You like this new Spencer. "Yes." you stumble over your words, blood rushing into your cheeks.

"Good." he pushes off the wall and takes you into bedroom where, instead of setting you down on the bed, he puts you on your dresser.

He sets you down and takes a step back. You whine, wanting - no, needing - him back. His lips, his hands, his warmth. You reach out for him but he tuts, shaking his head.

"I just want to look at my pretty princess." he takes a step towards you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You look so beautiful." his long fingers reach for your ripped shirt, brushing it aside.

His fingers glide over your skin and you arch your back, pushing your chest out.

"Mmm, if you insist." he licks your left breast and rips your shirt even more. It's completely ripped in half now. He pushes it off of your shoulder and reaches behind you to take off your bra with one hand.

"So pretty." he repeats, more to himself than to you.

Your breasts are right in front of him, nipples hard and ready for him. He takes one in his mouth, sucking and biting. You moan at the sensation, hands flying to their familiar spot in his hair. You inch closer to the edge of the dressers, needing to feel him.

You reach down between you, grabbing his bulge through his pants. Without taking his mouth off of you, Spencer grabs your hand and pulls it away. You complain, wanting to make him feel as good as he's making you feel but he keeps his tight grip on your wrist.

"Please, Spence."

"No." he pulls away from your tit and you groan. "Tonight is about you, baby." he runs a finger down your jaw, stopping in front of you lips.

You part them for him and he places two fingers inside of your mouth, pressing against your tongue. You open wide for him, staring straight into his eyes.

He raises his brow, a silent command. You do as you're told and suck on his fingers, closing your eyes and imagining its something else.

You roll your hips against the dresser, one of your hands goes between your legs to relieve some of the tension but Spencer stops you once more.

"That's my job." he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away.

Spencer removes his fingers from your mouth and you watch as he hooks his fingers under the band of your pants. You lift your hips, letting him take them off completely.

"You're already so wet for me." he sighs as he presses his fingers against you. You moan as he starts drawing small circles against you.

Just like his kisses, they're slow at first. You rock your hips, matching his movements. He seems to like that because he speeds up. Just when you feel that tension build up, he stops.

You frown at him but he doesn't give you enough time to complain before his lips are on you once more. He's kissing you harshly, biting your lower lip and tugging on it. You barely notice when he lifts up once more and plops you down on the bed.

Spencer pulls away from you, leaving you staring at the ceiling and you feel like screaming. Why does he keep stopping? You're about to ask him when you feel another sharp tug. He's taking off your underwear.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he kneels down in front of the bed. He tugs you further down and, without warning, presses his mouth against you. You feel his sigh as he starts tasting you.

"Fuck, you taste so good, baby." he moans against you.

You bite your lip, threading your fingers through his soft hair to guide him though he does not need it. He's hitting all the correct spots, going at just the perfect speed, perfect pressure, perfect everything.

You fall back, relaxing against the bed. Spencer places your legs over his shoulders, giving him better access.

"You taste so good." he says as he inserts two fingers into you.

"Fuck, Spence!" you moan.

"Is that good?" he asks.

"Yes! Fuck, that's good."

He slips another finger into you and you nearly cum right there. He hooks his fingers into you, reaching deeper and deeper. You arch your back, feeling close to the edge. It's when he presses his mouth back against your aching cunt that you completely fall over it.

You orgasm against his mouth, riding his face as the pleasure washes over you. You see a combination of stars and fireworks behind your eyes and dig the heel of your feet into his back.

Spencer says nothing as you ride out your orgasms, keeping his mouth on you at all times. Once you're finally done, he pulls away. You're panting on the bed, your chest rapidly falling and rising.

You see him stand up and undo his tie, keeping it hanging around his neck.

"That felt so good, Spence." you say, half-laughing.

"Yeah? You did so well for me."

You feel the bed dip as he climbs over you. His mouth is wet and you can taste yourself on his lips when he begins to kiss you. He lets his entire weight crush you, pressing his hips against your naked cunt. He's hard, you roll your hips against him as he kisses you, wanting him to feel some sort of release.

In one quick movement, he rolls you over. You smile into the kiss, excited for whatever comes next. Spencer sits both of you up, moving you to the edge of the bed.

He pulls back and brushes his hair over your shoulder, exposing your chest. He kisses the top of your breast, sucking the soft skin until surely a hickey starts to form. You roll your hips against him, reeling in how good the material of his trousers feel against you.

"You want me to feel good?" he asks, looking up at you.

"Yeah." you say as you ride him.

Spencer nods and you put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back. He smiles, crossing his arms behind his head and watching you roll your hips.

You move to get off him so you can suck his dick but he stops you.

"No." is all he says.

"No?" you ask.

He shakes his head.

You smile, liking a challenge. You place your hand flat against your stomach, slowly guiding it upwards until your left tit is in your hand, you squeeze it, giving him a good show. He arches an eyebrow and you wink.

Your other hand goes to his stomach, using it to hold yourself up as you continue to ride him. You glance down and see a wet patch in his pants form from were your cunt has been.

"You're gonna have to wash these pants." you laugh.

"Have to?" he asks.

You glance up at him and blush.

"I want you to come using only my leg." he suddenly says.

"What?" your hips freeze in response to his words.

"Did I say stop?" he asks, one of his hands going to your hips to coax you into moving. "No. I said I want you to come using only my leg."

You lick your lips and nod. Sure, you can do that. You roll your hips once and gasp at the sensation. You do it again, closing your eyes and throwing your head back. You squeeze your breast before releasing it. You reach down to the first button of his shirt and carefully undo it.

Shyly, you glance up at him, asking for permission to continue. Spencer gives it to you with a quick nod. You undo his shirt, exposing his chest and stomach. You place both hands on Spencer's bare stomach and lean forward, resting your bodyweight on him.

You open your eyes and stare into his as you begin to roll your hips. His trousers are the perfect friction against your cunt. You can already tell you're close. You imagine the satisfaction of feeling him inside of you.

"And after, you'll fuck me?" you ask him.

"Yes, of course, you've been so good. So so good, I'll just have to fuck you." he's just lying there, staring up at you, gaze flickering from your bouncing tits to your desperate face.

You feel yourself tighten around nothing and, forgetting his words, you reach down to push yourself over the edge. It's quick, two strokes of your index and middle finger and your orgasm overtakes your body. You keep rubbing yourself against him.

However, you're quickly pulled out of your orgasm as Spencer flips you over. You feel so dazed, you can do nothing but whimper as he grabs your hands and pulls them behind you. You vaguely feel as he wraps something around your wrists, constraining you. It's soft and silky - his tie.

You're still confused when he pulls your hips up, your bare ass right in front of him. It's his cock slamming into you that finally snaps you out of your daze.

"Fuck!" you yell, pulling on the constraint, wanting to place a hand before you.

He surprises you once more with a sharp sting on your ass.

"I said only my leg." he growls. "You little slut, did I say you could use your fingers?"

He slams into you once more, pushing you further into the mattress and drowning whatever you were going to say. You open your mouth, spit pooling on the sheets, and let moan after moan spill out of you. You're so sensitive you can feel your next orgasm ready to bubble over. He lifts your ass further and smacks it again.

You hiss at the sensation, wondering what he's using to smack you. Though the loud slap of skin on skin is filling the room, you can hear his groans as he slams into you repeatedly. He's fucking you harder than he's even fucked you before. His left hand tightly grips your waist, holding you up because you can barely do that yourself.

"Answer me! Did I say you could use your fingers?" he slams into you.

"No, no." you stutter, your vision is clouding with pleasure.

"Then why did you?" he smacks you again.

It then that you realise it's his belt he's using to smack your ass.

The thought alone pushes you into your third orgasm. You clench around him and bite down on your lower lip.

"Fuck, Spence!" you moan. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Please don't stop, please, please."

He drops the belt and reaches between you, his fingers quickly drawing circles on your clit. You're shaking as you reach your peak, barely able to get a single word out. Spencer cums in you soon after, slamming into you once, twice, until he collapses on top of you.

Your mind is still cloudy as he rolls off of you and takes off the constraint. He pulls you close to him and kisses you as you come down from your high. You press yourself into him and gently kiss his chest, wrapping yourself around him so you're locked together like two pieces of a puzzle.

"Hey." he says, pulling away just enough to see you.

"Hi." you hazily smile up at him.

"Was that good?" his voice is much softer now and he even looks a bit shy, maybe even unsure.

"Yeah, yeah." you pull away wanting to asure him. "It was perfect. I, well, I honestly didn't know you had it in you." you wink at him, poking his cheek.

"Shut up." he rolls his eyes and laughs.

"It was hot, Dr. Reid." you feel his cock twitch at the sound of his title. "Oh?" you glance down between you and look up at him, grinning.

"Shush." he repeats, burying his head in your hair.

"If there's something you need to tell me, Dr. Reid, you can tell me." you're just teasing but the way he looks up at you makes your legs clench.

[nereidprinc3ss]

please don't say you love me

in which fwb!spencer reid and fem!reader get into an argument about the nature of their relationship.

18+ (implied intimacy) warnings/tags: friends with benefits arrangement, it goes bad, reader is so clearly anxious avoidant, reader is so me-coded, self-loathing, difficulties with emotional intimacy, arguing, derek and penelope make an appearance woo, a little dramatic, no happy ending (a nereidprinc3ss first!) a/n: it happened guys I stopped writing for a few days and last night randomly was inspired to finish this fwb piece and it essentially turned into a vent and went a completely different direction than i thought it would but here we are!!! i hope you enjoy, I loved writing, ilysm

“Are you reading it? Did you get to the part yet?” You ask, buzzing as you peer around Spencer’s arm to see where he’s at in the book you’d handed him. Sometimes you think it takes him longer to flip the pages than to read them. 

He doesn’t answer, but you see the flickering quirk of his lip like something is amusing him. It’s been a few minutes and he’s maybe halfway through. He has to have seen it by now. 

You’re clinging to his arm, eyes darting pointlessly between the text and his face, searching for a reaction. It comes in the form of a furrowed brow, a disbelieving smile, and something between a barking laugh and an exclamation of, “what?”

“You read it?”

His eyes narrow and he flips back a page, taking a bit longer to reevaluate. 

“Our moans and grunts drowned out the screams of the dead and dying only a few hundred feet away.”

You giggle furiously, clapping a hand to your mouth when you snort, and you feel Spencer’s focus shifting to you, even with your eyes screwed shut. 

“And you read this whole series?”

At that you sober up some, still hiding the bottom half of your face and brows drawn sorrowfully as mirthful tears well. You’re slow to admit your guilt with a nod, and his expression is somewhere between horror and fascination. 

Your cheeks heat and you cover your face, laughing again and shaking your head shamefully as he ridicules you. 

“Why? Why would you do that to yourself? I don’t even know if I can be seen in public with you, that’s—” he’s haphazardly tossed the book back on its display table and grabbed your wrists, pulling gently and laughing too. “No, show me your face. This is—you need to explain yourself. This is unforgivable.” 

“No! I swear it was a morbid curiosity, I didn’t like it, I’m sorry! I—”

“Reid?”

You both freeze. 

It’s not the most dignified position, admittedly—hidden among the shelves in a bookstore, pressed too close to be friendly, his hands around your wrists. 

So you don’t mind when he drops them like hot potatoes and gives you a few inches of breathing room. 

“Hey! Uh—you’re—”

Spencer is looking between you and two other people at the end of the aisle—a quirky bespectacled blonde in a flouncy polka-dot dress and her taller companion, ripped and head shaved, sporting some impressive eyebrows. Right now they’re conspicuously raised—his eyes are also pinballing between you and Spencer. 

For a moment, everyone is just sort of… looking at each other. 

It’s a little bit… awful?

Finally Spencer clears his throat. 

“Um, what are you guys doing here? Just… looking at books?”

Something is off, and you feel like shrinking or running, but you just stay glued to your spot. 

In sync, they hold up copies of the same book—and it takes you not a second to place the author’s name, in imposing red font at the bottom like it’s important. Rossi. 

The pieces click into place. These must be Spencer’s co-workers—Penelope and Derek, if his descriptions of the team have served you well. Part of you is starstruck. Part of you is embarrassed. They’re clearly shocked to see Spencer with a girl in the wild, so you know he hasn’t told them about you—and why should he, you think, why should he tell his friends about the girl he’s been sleeping with for months now? 

Finally, the blonder half of the duo speaks. 

“You’re—this is a girl. That’s. Who is that? Hi! Who are you?”

She’s literally pointing at you, eyes drifting between you and Spencer like it just doesn’t make any sense. Derek gives her a look and gently pushes her hand down. 

“Hey. That’s enough.” Then he offers you a polite smile, though you sense a bit strained, and his eyes too keep wandering back to the man next to you. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, no! You’re not… interrupting…” Spencer trails off and you sense he’s looking at you and gauging a reaction but you’re just smiling idly at his friends and waiting for this to be over. He finally thinks to introduce you by name, and you offer a shy wave and a smile to your new acquaintances. 

Penelope points (that damn finger again) but this time it’s less accusatory, and stays below chin level. 

“Cool shirt. I love that band,” she offers genially. Your brows raise and you look down, trying to remember what shirt you’d tossed on before leaving Spencer’s apartment an hour ago. 

“Oh! Thanks,” you smile, and you’re relieved to mean it this time. 

Another frosty silence begins to descend, but Derek doesn’t let it settle so much this time, to everyone’s satisfaction. 

“Alright, well. It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your date.”

There’s too much weight on the last sentence, and Derek gives Spencer a eyebrows-raised-meaningfully look you don’t understand. You’re just glad Spencer keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t immediately insist that it’s not a date, because it’s not, and that’s fine, but the vehement denial would bum you out. 

The pair walk away in the kind of clenched silence that means they’ll start fervently whispering as soon as they are out of ear shot. You watch their retreating figures and chew your lip, sensing that the carefree and playful energy of five minutes ago will have evaporated by the time you turn back to face your companion. 

“Strange,” you murmur, mostly to yourself, and you’re slightly jarred when Spencer replies from beside you. 

“Which part?”

All of it. 

Turning to face him, you smile, and it doesn’t reach your eyes but it doesn’t need to. 

“Oh—nothing, sorry.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, only stares at a point somewhere above your head and narrows his eyes like he’s thinking unpleasant thoughts. 

“Was I an asshole, to you, just now?”

It’s unexpected. You don’t have an answer prepared, so you say something that feels like a lie because you can’t prove that it’s not the truth. 

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I just… I don’t know. I get weird around them, sometimes. I don’t always know what to say, like, when my personal life and my work life intersect, because for a long time I didn’t really have a personal life. And I think they still think I don’t know how to talk to girls, so…”

“You don’t know how to talk to girls,” you remind him. “Let’s go look at the puzzles.”

Maybe you spend too much time with Spencer Reid. Maybe that’s the problem—too long in his presence and he’s eating away at your neural tissue like you’ve got cysticercosis and he’s the T. solium (a terrible thing he had explained to you a few weeks ago.)

Maybe you need a break from him, to stop breathing his air and sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothing, because you’re forgetting that he’s not the entire world and that is a very bad thing to forget in a situation like yours. The entire world cannot be the size of his apartment. 

But you also just like him so much. As a friend, of course. That goes without saying. You like his strange sense of humor, and the way he lights up when you ask him an obscure question. You like your legs across his lap while you watch his old shows. You also like being kissed by him, and hugged by him. You like being taken care of like no one has ever taken care of you, and you like the way he always touches you, soft and kind and so on purpose. 

You never meant to like him so much. 

This affection—it has grown, insidious and parasitic, and now that it’s been pointed out to you like a lump in your side, it’s impossible to ignore. 

What you and Spencer have works precisely because you’ve kept things platonic and casual. That way, there’s no worrying about emotional baggage or arguing about feelings because there are none to be found and no precedent that any such things should or need to occur. You can’t hurt each other’s feelings if your feelings aren’t on the table. 

So why can’t you stop thinking about earlier?

Why can’t you help caring that he’s been keeping you a secret from the people he loves most?

“So, essentially the book is his first deep dive into meta-fiction. It was pretty revolutionary at the time, and while not his most celebrated novel, I’d argue it was his most relevant and culturally pervasive. I’d actually love to hear your interpretation of the story—it’s truly different for everyone. It’s a little like… like a literary Rorschach test. Do you wanna borrow it?”

You’re a tangle on his bed—arms, legs, sheets—it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins. All you’re sure of is his hand, tracing his fingers in chaste lines, feather-light up and down your inner thigh in the way he knows you like. Usually it’s so soothing you melt and fall asleep within minutes. Right now it’s only stoking some sparking electrical fire in your chest—the buzzes and bursts from which have you on edge. Ready to cave in at any second. You wish you could relax. You’ve been trying.

Spencer is in no hurry for you to respond, and so doesn’t seem to mind when it takes you a long while to find your answer. 

“I think I need to go home.”

It comes out too scratchy, as you haven’t really spoken for several hours. Not as casual as you were going for. He angles his head down toward you and his hand stops and you realize it’s actually worse like that. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah! Everything is fine, I just… I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight, I think.”

It’s late and you shouldn’t be making him drive you across town, but he’s always amenable to what you want. This is the longest you’ve ever stayed at his place, after all—a rare long weekend—and before that a few weeks had passed with no cases to speak of, during which time you’ve been staying with him more and more. Spencer seems to be completely content letting you eat his food and use his shower if it means you don’t leave. 

“I know the feeling well,” he admits, and your heart twinges with the care he takes to not bump or bend you or pull your hair as he shifts. He’s already been out of bed, and so is more dressed than you. Really, most people on the planet are more dressed than you, and you pull his nice sheet higher up your chest as he sits on the edge of the mattress, looking down at you and with a sort of worry in his eyes. He finds your knee through the fabric. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Stop paying such close attention, you want to tell him. And in the same breath, please don’t ever look away. 

“I’m… good.”

It is easily the least convincing performance of your life. Either you’re self sabotaging or you want him to push you further, and you don’t know which is worse. 

When his brow ramps just the slightest bit, you know you’ve fumbled it. 

“I don’t believe you.”

You shrug. “I don’t need you to.” And then you sit up, still holding the sheet to your chest. “Can you hand me a shirt?”

Enough clothing has accumulated around the room recently that he could pretty much reach out in any direction and find something for you to wear.  He grabs a sweatshirt hanging from the bedpost and holds it out for you, and you pull it over your head, before dropping your feet onto the cool wooden floor and grabbing the first bottoms you see—a pair of floral pajama shorts. How have so many of your clothes ended up at his apartment?

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

You scoop your bag up from a chair and flit around the room, haphazardly stuffing away discarded clothing to take back home. It’s true that it’ll be nice to get back to your stuff—your shower products and your closet and your silk pillow cases. You shouldn’t be spending so much time here. It’s not your space and you’ve been sacrificing your own needs to be closer to him, which is something you’d rather not do for any man. 

“You can drive me home. I’ll send you gas money.”

“You don’t need to send me gas money,” he says, tacking your name on to the end of the sentence in a way that raises your hackles instantly. 

“Yeah, I do. You drive me around constantly. I’ll pay you back and start taking the metro, or something.”

“I don’t want your money,” he scoffs. 

“Fine. Then I’ll call a car.”

“That’s unnecessary. I’m happy to drive you.”

“Why?”

Silence hangs. Spencer has by this point stood up, and he’s watching you with a furrowed brow and slightly parted lips like he doesn’t understand where this animosity has come from. Honestly, you’re not entirely sure either. You didn’t realize you were harboring so much of it. 

“Am I supposed to see you as an inconvenience?”

“I’m not your responsibility.”

“No. You’re not. We have a relationship and I don’t mind doing things for you.”

“You’re not my boyfriend.”

You didn’t mean to say it, but you sure as hell were thinking it. 

It feels good to say, like stretching a sore muscle beyond its limits or pressing into a bruise until you get past the ache. Sometimes when things hurt, it’s best to feel the pain and move on. 

He looks absolutely perplexed, the lines between his brows only ditching deeper. 

“Is that what this is about?”

“Oh my god, Spencer, no, I don’t care—”

“Because earlier at the bookstore I asked you if I was being an asshole and—”

“I do not give a fuck about earlier at the fucking bookstore!”

It’s too late to be yelling, but he doesn’t scold you. He just sort of looks at you, like you’re something mildly unpleasant. It makes you feel worse. 

A long moment goes by. 

“Fine. I’ll take you home.”

You let him brush past you, nothing more than a breeze on your shoulders as he disappears from the darkened bedroom. For a moment, you can’t follow him. All you can do is stand there and try to contain that sour, stinging, crying feeling in your eyes and nose because there’s no reason for you to be crying right now. 

From the living room, he calls, rather abrasively, “Are you coming?”

“Yes,” you huff, and it is as wavering as it is insolent, so obviously the only word holding back a full-fledged deluge of tears. 

One minute. One minute to sniffle and take deep breaths and wipe abashedly under your eyes because you refuse to be dramatic about this. Refuse to get over-emotional. You will not let it matter this much to you. 

When you decide you can show your face without making a scene, you march out of his bedroom and straight past where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, keys in hand, to the front door. 

He doesn’t move. You burn smoking holes into the dark wood of the door with your eyes, and the two of you are apparently at an impasse. 

“I’m ready,” you eventually snap, always the impatient one between the two of you, casting a sharp glance over your shoulder. 

“I’m not.”

“You said you would—”

“I know what I said,” Spencer cuts you off and shuts you up, “and I changed my mind. I’d prefer to talk about it before I take you home.”

By the time he finishes the sentence you’re already wrestling your phone from the depths of your bag in search of a ride sharing app. 

“Okay, well I’m done talking because I don’t think there’s anything to talk about, so—”

“No, you’re done talking because this is what you do. You can never admit it when you want something because that would mean acknowledging that you’re a human being with emotions, and that’s too scary for you.”

Surely you misheard him. You turn around, a deep frown contorting your features. 

“Excuse me?”

He only looks at you in that expectant, knowing way of his. 

“It’s too scary so you run away. You’d rather burn your relationships to the ground and rebuild them with a new person every time than actually let someone in.”

“You don’t know me!” You yell.

“Do you actually think that’s true?” Spencer says, pushing off his perch against the counter, voice shrilling and raised slightly as he gets visibly agitated. “You think I’ve spent hours upon hours with you and I don’t know you at all?”

“You have no idea what I’m like in a relationship because this isn’t one. You have no fucking idea what I want, so do not presume to,” you seethe. 

“You want a relationship. You wanted my friends to know you and you didn’t tell me that because you’re fucking terrified of the fact that I do know you. You can’t stand the idea that regardless of how many times you tell yourself it’s just sex, you have been vulnerable with me, and you’ve told me things you’ve never told anyone before, like why your last three relationships really ended, and how you constantly self-sabotage when you’re on the verge of getting what you want because you think you don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up!”

“No. I’m not just going to let you walk away from me like you did everyone else who could’ve ever cared about you because I know once you walk out that door you’ll stop responding to my calls and texts and I’ll never see you again, which is a juvenile pattern and completely unsustainable if you don’t want to keep pushing people away for the rest of your life!”

“God, Spencer, stop!” You sob, staggering back like you’ve been stabbed. 

The urgency, the raw, desperate scratch of your voice, stops him in his tracks. 

Every place an arrow penetrated a chink in your armor aches, and it hurts so much worse because he knew exactly where they were. You don’t know when or how it happened, but he’s right. Despite your most valiant efforts, Spencer Reid knows you. Somehow he crept in and grew over every limb like ivy. It’s crawled over your feet and up your legs and it’s keeping you there, rooted in place in his apartment, sobbing silently into the crook of your arm because you feel utterly paralyzed with fear. 

Just as he’d said. 

It’s silent for a long stretch of time, unquantifiable the same way the distance between the beach and the horizon is unquantifiable. It’s sprawling and infinite and desolate. The only relief from the drowning quiet is the occasional gulp of air or gasp from you which furthers your humiliation. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer finally whispers, soft and unsure like rays of weak sunlight over staggered tides, in the grey morning after a raging storm. It’s an attempt. It’s earnest and afraid. 

The energy radiating off of him is so tangible that you can sense his desire to come near. To hold you. But that would be your worst nightmare come to fruition. This—this warbling and crying in front of him in silence in his dark apartment is god-awful enough. But to be comforted? For him to bear witness up close and personal to your humility and your ugly, jagged pieces—that inspires true catatonia. That is everything he said you were afraid of, and he was right. 

You resent your human nature, and the fact that you care how his friends look at you and that it stung when they did so with little more than apathy. You hate that you care that he hasn’t told them about you. You hate that you feel so unimportant—because more than anything, you want to be fine with being unimportant. 

You want to be fine. Constantly. 

You hate that you feel. You hate that you care. 

But you always have. And so fucking deeply. 

Somehow, Spencer Reid is the only one who has ever noticed. 

Eventually, his self-restraint snaps and he surges forward at the same time as you take a shuddering inhale and step back. 

“Please don’t touch me,” you whisper. Afraid that if he did, his fingers would only sink into your flesh like decaying fruit. That you would disintegrate in his hands, and he’d finally see you’d been rotten the whole time. 

He speaks softly, holding his hands up to show you he’s not a threat. 

“Okay. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I need to go home.”

“I’ll—”

“No. I don’t want a ride. I’ll get a car.” You speak quietly. Efficiently. There’s no point in pretending this doesn’t feel catastrophic anymore. 

His brows furrow. Like a moth to flame, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he draws nearer again. 

“I’m not comfortable with you on the street at this hour.”

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” you insist, pleading, a wounded animal, because he doesn’t seem to understand how every casual notion of kindness is a violence, how he’s ripping into you and making it so you’ll never be able to put yourself back together. He can’t be kind like you’re easy to be kind to. 

If you’re easy to be kind to, you are just as easy to hurt. Accepting that kindness is a sort of vulnerability you feel you can’t afford right now. 

Another moment of silence, of stillness, as if you’re both bolted to the ground where you stand. 

When he speaks it’s a blow to the chest because you’ve made him cry too. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, quietly, and a venomous self-hatred drips down your throat. Because you’re doing it again.

Maybe this is all you will ever be. 

You fail to stifle a sob and Spencer steps closer still, saying your name desperately and so quietly like it’s his last rite. 

And you try. You try harder than you ever have to stay in one place, to get a hold of your vibrating and to swallow all those slithery feelings and ignore every alarm telling you to panic when he reaches out to touch your arm because it’s never safe to let people in. But when his hand finally brushes you, it’s like a cow prod. You jolt backward. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” you whisper all in one harrowed breath, and there’s so much you’d like to say—you’re right, about everything, you do know me, you know what I want, I tried, I’m ashamed—but none of it matters. None of it is enough. He’s backed you into a corner of your own making, and the only way out is by pushing him aside even if it hurts you both. 

So you don’t say anything else. You leave him there, in the dark of his own apartment, and you disappear down the hall. 

Maybe this is all you will ever be.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Howdy Honey I. can't get you off my mind

series masterlist masterlist

wordcount: 6,709

summary: After a tumultuous fall from your horse that leaves you with a fractured wrist and bruised ribs, you find solace in the strong arms and gentle care of Joel Miller, the new ranch hand whose rugged exterior hides a tender heart.

warnings: mentions of falling, fracture, eventual smut, slowburn, age-gap, some fluff, two stubborn people falling in love, angst, from both your and Joel's pov

notes: First of all thank you to all of you for supporting the masterlist, I am absolutely blown away! I appreciate the heck out of you all so very much! <3 <3 Second thank you sm to @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for screaming with me about all of this ily both <3 Third I wrote this after my own experiences falling off a horse and being carried by a hot cowboy at work. K I'm gonna go panic, love you all bye. gif is by @tomshiddles divider by @saradika-graphics

The sun is high and unforgiving, casting a golden hue over the sprawling acres of your family's ranch—a place where the West still feels wild and untamed. The ranch, nestled in a valley surrounded by rugged mountains, is a patchwork of green pastures, dotted with grazing cattle and horses. The main house, a sturdy two-story structure with a wraparound porch, stands proudly at the heart of the property, its whitewashed walls and red roof are like a beacon for the lost amidst the vast expanse of land. You can always find your way back home.

To the east lies the stables, a long, low building with enough room to house two dozen horses comfortably. Its wooden walls have weathered to a soft gray, and the scent of hay and horse is always present in the air. Just beyond the stables is the equipment barn, filled with tractors, balers, and all manner of tools necessary for maintaining the ranch. The sound of metal clanging against metal often echoes from within as ranch hands tend to repairs or prepare for the day's work. A little further out is the chicken coop, bustling with activity as hens peck at the ground and roosters crow their morning greetings.

On the southern end of the ranch, a series of fenced-in training pens are set up for breaking in new horses or for practicing roping skills. It's here that you often find the newly hired ranch hand, Joel Miller, expertly mending a section of split-rail fence or guiding a young colt through its paces with patience and skill honed over decades. 

You've grown up with the scent of hay and the sound of hooves on dirt, a life that's as much a part of you as the blood in your veins. Recently, your parents brought on a few new ranch hands, a decision driven not only by their advancing years and a growing wanderlust but also, you suspect, by a desire to ensure you're well looked after in their absence. It didn't seem to matter how many times you'd promised that you and [name] the very first and only other person hired to help around, could take care of the ranch -  they never let go of the fact you weren't five anymore. 

Today you find yourself working a little less hard because of Joel Miller, the new ranch hand that looks like he stepped straight out of a Western movie. You watch him from afar as you make your way to take your horse out, his muscles straining against his plaid shirt as he repairs a section of fencing. He moves with an easy grace despite his age and broad build. His salt-and-pepper hair peeks out from under his worn cowboy hat, and you can't help but feel a pull towards him, something beyond the usual respect for a seasoned hand.

The ranch is alive with activity as you prepare Daisy for her daily run. The horses in the nearby pasture lift their heads at your approach, their ears pricked with curiosity. Daisy nickers softly, her tail swishing in anticipation as you lead her out of her stall and toward the open pasture. As you trot along one of the well-worn trails, you pass by landmarks that tell stories of your family's history; there's an old rusted tractor from your grandfather's time, now half-buried in wildflowers; a grove where you used to play hide-and-seek with your siblings; and further on, an ancient stone marker placed by settlers who once claimed this land as their own. Each sight brings back memories that are as much a part of you as they are a part of this place. 

But today, these familiar sights are merely blurs in your peripheral vision as Daisy gallops across the landscape. The wind whips through your hair, and you feel a rush of adrenaline as the horse's muscles move powerfully beneath you. It's in these moments that you feel most at peace, in harmony with the natural world around you.

Suddenly, a sharp cry from Daisy breaks the rhythm of her gait. You pull sharply on the reins as a jackrabbit darts out from the underbrush, its sudden appearance startling her. In an instant, your peaceful ride turns to chaos. Daisy rears up, her eyes wide with fear, and you're thrown from the saddle, the world a blur of blue sky and golden earth. The impact is jarring, knocking the breath from your lungs as you hit the ground hard. Pain radiates from your side and arm. As you lie there, struggling to catch your breath, Daisy gallops away towards the safety of the stables, leaving you alone in a cloud of dust.

The sun beats down mercilessly upon you as waves of pain wash over your body. You try to move but find that even breathing is a challenge. You try to push yourself up, but a wave of nausea forces you back down. It's then that you hear the pounding of hooves approaching fast and boots hitting the ground. 

"Easy there, easy," a familiar voice drawls as strong hands gently roll you onto your back. Joel's face swims into view, his brow furrowed with concern. "Looks like ya had a bit of a tumble, darlin'. Can you tell me where it hurts?" His voice is deep and soothing, cutting through the haze of pain. You manage to point to your side, wincing as he carefully probes the area. "Just bruised, I reckon," he says after a moment, his touch is surprisingly gentle for such calloused hands. "Your arm too. We should get ya back to the house. Might have t'see the doctor."

Over my dead body, you think to yourself.

With surprising ease, Joel scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest. You can't help but notice the warmth radiating from his body. It's an intimacy that makes your breath hitch in your throat—a sensation that has nothing to do with your injuries.

"Gave me quite the scare there darlin," Joel remarks as he carries you towards his waiting horse. His tone is light but there's an undercurrent of something else—affection? worry? "What were you thinkin’ taking Daisy out alone after that storm last night? These trails can be treacherous."

You want to argue that you're capable and don't need help, that it was just a routine ride and something spooked Daisy but arguing takes energy—energy that's currently in short supply thanks to the pain radiating from your side and shooting through your arm. Instead you murmur a weak apology. "Didn't think it’d be a problem."

Joel chuckles softly. "Well, I reckon that's part of the adventure, ain't it? Never quite knowing what the day's gonna bring." He adjusts his hold on you slightly, his grip firm yet careful. "But next time, maybe wait for someone to come with you. Safety in numbers and all that."

As he settles you onto his horse, he keeps a steady hand on your back, “you okay darlin?” He asks, making sure you're secure before you nod and he swings up behind you as gently as he can. The closeness is overwhelming; his body is a solid wall of heat at your back, and you can feel the muscles in his thighs as they grip the horse's flanks. It's a strange mix of vulnerability and safety, being so close to this man who just (weeks/days?) ago was a little more than a stranger.

The ride back to the ranch is a blur of sensations—the rhythmic sway of the horse beneath you, the scent of leather and sweat mingling with Joel's unique aroma of woodsmoke and something undeniably masculine. You find yourself leaning into him without thinking, seeking comfort in his strength.

"Almost there," Joel reassures you as the house comes into view. His breath is warm against your ear, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. "We'll get some ice on those bruises and take a look at you."

Once at the ranch house, he carries you inside and sets you down gently on the living room couch crouching beside you to remove your boots. His fingers brush against your skin accidentally as he works them off one by one—a touch that sends sparks racing along your nerves despite yourself and despite any rational thought about how much older he is than you. You quickly blink them away.

"Ice pack," he commands firmly but kindly before disappearing into the kitchen. You hear the clinking of ice being scooped from the freezer. 

As Joel returns from the kitchen, the air in the room shifts subtly. He kneels beside you on the couch, his movements deliberate and gentle. "This might be a bit cold at first," he warns, his voice carrying a hint of gruffness that hadn't been there before.

You nod, bracing yourself for the shock of cold. But when he lifts the hem of your shirt to expose your bruised side, the brush of his fingers against the sensitive skin of your stomach sends an unexpected wave of heat coursing through you. It's a clinical touch, meant only to aid in your recovery, but the proximity of his hands to the curves of your body is not lost on you.

He places the makeshift ice pack against your side, the cold seeping your body. You can't help the sharp intake of breath as the icy chill envelops the tender area. Joel's eyes flick to yours, concern etched across his features.

"Sorry, darlin'," he murmurs, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "I know it's uncomfortable, but it'll help with the swelling."

You give him a small, reassuring smile, trying to convey that you understand—that you appreciate his attentiveness. As he holds the ice pack in place, his other hand comes to rest on your hip, a steady presence that seems to anchor you amidst the discomfort.

The room is silent save for the soft ticking of the grandfather clock and the occasional crackle of ice as it begins to melt against your skin. You can feel the heat of Joel's palm through the fabric of your jeans, and you find yourself acutely aware of every point of contact between you.

After a few minutes, he slowly lifts the ice pack away, his eyes scanning your side with a practiced eye. "How does it feel now?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that seems to resonate within you.

"A bit better," you admit, the pain having dulled to a manageable ache.

He nods, his attention still focused on your injury. With a gentle touch that belies his rugged exterior, he traces the edge of the bruise with his fingers, his touch feather-light yet firm. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for his next move.

"You're gonna be sore for a few days," he says. "But I think you'll live."

As he withdraws his hand, you feel an odd sense of loss, as if the warmth of his touch had become a lifeline in the midst of your pain. You watch as he rises to his feet, his tall frame casting a shadow over you.

"Thank you, Joel," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The words feel inadequate, but they're all you have to offer in this moment.

The corners of Joel's mouth twitch into a small smile, and he gives a nod, turning back towards the kitchen 

While he's gone, you take the opportunity to study him from afar as he walks through the open room to the kitchen. There's an air of quiet strength about him, a sense of resilience. You find yourself wondering about his past—where he came from, what brought him here to your family's ranch. But those questions will have to wait for another time; right now, just talking and moving is enough of a challenge without adding an interrogation into the mix.

Joel returns with a glass of water and some painkillers. "Here," he says gently, helping you sit up enough to swallow the pills before lying back down against the cushions with a wince at the sharp pain in your side again.

“Rest up now," Joel instructs. “I'll take care of things around here for the rest of the day. You just focus on healin.”

You drift in and out of sleep on the couch and everytime you drift out you see Joel lingering around keeping watch over you like some kind old west guardian angel dressed in denim. 

As the day wanes and the shadows grow long across the hardwood floors, you stir from your uneasy slumber. The pain in your side is a dull roar now, thanks to the medication Joel provided. You blink slowly, your eyes adjusting to the dim light of the living room. The ranch is quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old house settling and the distant sound of Joel's voice as he talks to one of the horses in the stable.

Your heart flutters at the thought of him—his rugged features, his gentle touch, and those eyes that seem to see right through you. It's a dangerous path your thoughts are taking, but you can't help it. There's something about Joel that draws you in, despite the years between you.

The front door opens with a soft squeak, and Joel steps inside, his boots leaving a trail of dust on the floorboards. He looks weary but satisfied, his shirt damp with sweat from a hard day's work. His gaze finds you instantly, and a warm smile spreads across his face.

"You're awake," he observes needlessly as he approaches. "How're you feeling?"

"Sore," you admit with a small grimace as you try to sit up straighter on the couch. "But better than before." You didn't want to admit how bad your arm was actually killing you.

Joel nods in approval before disappearing into the kitchen again—a man of few words but many actions. He returns a bit later with a steaming mug in hand and offers it to you carefully so as not to spill any on your lap. 

"Chamomile tea," he explains gruffly when he sees your questioning look at what seems like an unusual choice for someone like him, someone who seems more accustomed to strong black coffee than herbal infusions. "It'll help with any lingering pain and help ya sleep." 

You take a tentative sip; making sure to grab the cup with your good hand it's sweetened just how you like it—a small detail that makes your chest tighten unexpectedly because it means he's been paying attention even when he didn’t have to be.  The warmth seeps into your hands as much as into your insides making everything feel less daunting all at once despite your injuries.

The evening settles in, casting a cozy glow over the living room. The ranch is quiet, the animals bedded down for the night, and the chores all done. Joel lingers, his presence a comforting constant in the otherwise empty house. He settles into the armchair across from you, the lines of his face softened by the dim light.

"You should eat somethin’," he suggests, already rising from his chair. "I'll fix ya up a plate."

Before you can protest, he's back in the kitchen, the clatter of dishes and the smell of food wafting through the air. You can't help but smile at his insistence. It's been a long time since anyone has taken care of you like this.

Joel returns with a tray balanced in one hand—a simple meal of soup and a sandwich, cut into manageable pieces. He sets it down on the coffee table, pulling it closer to you. "Eat up," he urges, his tone gentle but firm. "You need to keep your strength up."

As you eat, he watches you, his gaze never straying far. It's an odd sensation, being the focus of such intense attention, but you find yourself not minding it. There's a sense of security in his watchfulness, a feeling that you're not alone in this big house.

When you've finished eating, Joel takes the tray away, leaving you to sip your tea in peace. The painkillers are starting to wear off, and as you move to adjust your position on the couch, a sharp, stabbing pain shoots through your arm, causing you to yelp in surprise and discomfort.

Joel, who has been quietly cleaning up the remnants of dinner in the kitchen, is at your side in an instant. "What is it?" he asks, his voice laced with concern. "Did you move wrong?"

"It's my arm," you admit through gritted teeth, cradling the injured limb with your other hand. "I think I might have aggravated it."

With a nod, Joel gently takes your arm in his hands, his touch firm yet gentle. He probes the area with practiced ease, watching your face for any signs of pain. When he reaches a particular spot, you can't help but flinch, a hiss escaping your lips. “Shh, I know. Easy, easy," he soothes you like a wounded animal, before releasing your arm. His brow is furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't like the look of this. Could be broken, or at least badly sprained. We need to get you to a doctor first thing in the mornin’."

"I'm sure it's fine, Joel," you argue weakly, not wanting to cause a fuss. "It's probably just a bad bruise. I'll be okay after a good night's sleep."

But Joel is having none of it. "No, it ain't fine," he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You could be doin’ more damage by not getting it checked out. I'll drive you to the clinic myself in the morning. This ain’t up for debate."

You know that look on his face—it's the same one he wears when he's dealing with a stubborn horse or a difficult piece of machinery. There's no point in trying to dissuade him when he's made up his mind. And truthfully, the idea of having a professional assess your injuries is somewhat of a relief.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, the fight draining out of you. "I'll go to the doctor in the morning."

Joel's expression softens, and he gives your good shoulder a gentle squeeze. "That's the smart choice, darlin'. We'll get you fixed up in no time."

As he moves away to finish tidying up the kitchen, you find yourself watching him, a mix of gratitude and something deeper swirling within you. Despite the pain and the uncertainty of your injuries, you can't help but feel a sense of safety and comfort with Joel around. You're taken from your thoughts when Joel comes back into the living room. "I should be gettin’ home," Joel says after a while, his voice low and reluctant. "But I'll be back first thing to check on you."

You nod, trying to hide your disappointment. The house feels too big, too empty to be without him in it. "I'll be okay, Joel," you assure him, trying not to worry him, though the words taste like a stale cigarette on your tongue. "Thank you for everything."

He gives you a long, searching look before nodding slowly. "Alright then," he says, rising from his chair. "You remember what I said about not pushin’ yourself too hard?"

"Yes," you reply with a small smile. "Rest and recovery."

"That's right," he affirms, pulling on his jacket. "And don't hesitate to call me if you need anything—no matter the time."

You watch as he heads for the door, his silhouette framed by the night outside. Just before he steps out into the darkness, he turns back to you, his eyes reflecting the soft light of the living room. "Goodnight darlin," he says, his voice carrying a hint of something unspoken.

"Goodnight, Joel," you whisper back, the words hanging in the air long after he's gone.

The house is silent once more, save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the corner. You finish your tea and carefully set the mug aside, the warmth of it still lingering on your lips. With a sigh, you settle back against the cushions, the pain in your side a dull reminder of the day's events.

As the night deepens, you find yourself reaching for your phone, your fingers typing out a message before you can second-guess yourself.

Hey. Just wanted to say thank you again for today. I'm okay, just wanted to say thanks. Hope you got home safe.

What you really meant was, “please come back I'm fucking scared being alone.”

You hit send before you can change your mind, the message disappearing into the ether. Minutes tick by with no response, and you chide yourself for expecting otherwise. Joel is probably already asleep, or at least on his way to getting some much-needed rest after the day he's had. But just as you're about to set your phone aside and try to get some sleep yourself, it vibrates in your hand, startling you. A notification lights up the screen—a new message from Joel.

Of course. That's what I'm here for. Got home just fine. How are the ribs? Any better with the meds?

You can't help but smile at the concern in his words, the gruff affection that seems to come so naturally to him. You reply, telling him about the tea and the meal, about how much better you feel with him looking out for you.

His response is quick, as if he's been waiting by his phone for your message. 

Glad to hear it. And remember, there's no rush to get back in the saddle if you're not feeling up to it. Everything will still be here when you're ready. Your health is the priority now. If there's anything I can do for you, just holler. I've got your chores covered. Take care of yourself and don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything or just want to talk about what happened.

You read his words over and over, each one a balm to the lingering ache in your side—and to the unexpected emptiness in your heart. With a contented sigh, you finally set your phone aside and close your eyes, the sound of the ranch at night lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, you're awakened by the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside. You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance at the clock—it's early, barely past dawn. With some effort, you manage to sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the couch, wincing at the stiffness in your muscles.

The front door opens, and Joel steps inside, his hands full of a large wicker basket. "Brought you some things," he announces, setting the basket down on the coffee table. Inside, you find an assortment of items—fresh fruit, a few paperback novels, a soft, hand-knitted blanket, and a small potted plant. "I figured you could use some company," he says, gesturing to the plant. "And the books are from my daughter's collection. She loves a good western—thought you might enjoy them."

The revelation that Joel has a daughter is something that catches you off guard, a piece of him that he kept carefully tucked away, a piece you want to know more about. 

You're touched by the thoughtfulness of his gifts, each one carefully chosen to bring you comfort during your recovery. "Joel, this is... it's too much," you protest half-heartedly, even as you reach out to run your fingers over the soft wool of the blanket.

"Nonsense, darlin’," he replies with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

The way he calls you darlin’ brings heat to your cheeks, and you quickly look away, busying yourself with arranging the items in the basket. When you finally gather the courage to meet his gaze again, you find him watching you with a soft smile on his face and you assume he's forgotten about the doctor until he speaks up.

“Alright let's go.” Joel's stands up and holds a hand out to you. 

You look up at him and chuckle “It's fine Joel. It barely even hurts.”

The argument is brief but intense, with you stubbornly insisting that a trip to the clinic is unnecessary despite the pain in your arm. Joel, however, is just as adamant, his concern for your well-being overriding any protests you might have.

"I ain't gonna stand by and watch you suffer when there's somethin’ that can be done about it," he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

You cross your arms defiantly, wincing as the movement sends a jolt of pain through your injured wrist. "And what's the hard way?" you challenge him, though there's a hint of amusement in your voice.

Without warning, Joel strides toward you, scooping you up into his arms before you can react. You let out a startled yelp as he hoists you over his shoulder with surprising ease, his strong hands holding you securely in place.

"Hey! Put me down!" You pound on his back with your good hand, your cheeks hot with embarrassment and indignation. But beneath the surface, there's an undeniable thrill at being so close to him—at feeling the muscles in his shoulders and back move beneath his shirt as he carries you effortlessly toward the front door.

"As soon as we get to the truck," he replies calmly, unfazed by your struggles. "We're going to see Dr. Simmons whether you like it or not."

You continue to squirm and protest as he carries you across the yard to where his truck is parked. The other ranch hands look on with barely concealed grins but wisely choose to keep their comments to themselves. They know better than to get between Joel Miller and something he's set his mind to.

With a gentleness that belies his gruff exterior, Joel sets you down on the passenger seat of the truck and buckles your seatbelt for you before closing the door and heading around to the driver's side. 

Joel.

He grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he navigates the familiar dirt roads that lead away from the ranch. He can see you out of the corner of his eye, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the passing landscape. A vision of stubborn beauty, your jaw set in a way that makes his heart do things it hadn't done in years. He can feel the tension radiating off you—a mix of pain and frustration at being manhandled against your will. He can't blame you for being upset. If someone had picked him up and carried him off like a sack of feed, he'd be mad too. But when he saw you lying there in the dirt, hurt and vulnerable, something inside him shifted. It awakened a protective instinct that he thought had died along with Sarah.

Damn it, Joel, he chides himself. She's young enough to be your daughter. But the thought feels hollow, a weak defense against the pull he feels toward you. You’re strong, fiercely independent, and yet, there’s a vulnerability to you that calls to something deep within him, the need to care for someone - for you. He glances over at you again, taking in the delicate curve of your jaw, and the way your hair falls in waves around your shoulders, taking in the way the morning light plays across your features. You’re a sight to behold, all fire and spirit wrapped up in a package that is far too tempting for his peace of mind. Every time he looks at you, all logic seems to fly out the window. There's an undeniable connection between you, a spark that ignites whenever you're near each other. It's terrifying and exhilarating, you make him feel young again. 

He risks another glance in your direction, and his heart skips a beat when he finds you watching him with those big doe eyes of yours. Joel swallows hard, forcing himself to look away before his thoughts can wander any further down that dangerous path. He needs to focus on getting through this day without letting his guard down completely.

The clinic is just up ahead now, its whitewashed walls gleaming in the early morning sun. He pulls into the parking lot and kills the engine, turning to face you with a stern expression that belies the turmoil he feels inside.

"Ready?" he asks, though it's clear from his tone that it's more of a statement than a question. He's not going to let you talk your way out of this one—not when your health is at stake.

You nod reluctantly, your gaze fixed on the clinic entrance. You're nervous; he can see it in the way your fingers worry at the hem of your shirt, in the slight tremble of your chin. He wants to reach out and wrap you in his arms, to offer some semblance of comfort, but he holds back. It wouldn't be appropriate—not here, not now. Instead, he climbs out of the truck and comes around to open your door for you, offering a hand to help you down onto solid ground.

The interior of the clinic is cool and sterile-smelling—a stark contrast to the fresh air and open spaces of the ranch. Joel checks you in at the reception desk while you sink into one of the waiting room chairs, wincing as even that small movement sends a twinge of pain through your side and arm.  Joel takes a seat beside you in the waiting room, his hands clasped tightly between his knees. He can feel the tension emanating from you, a coiled spring ready to leap to action at the slightest provocation. He knows that look—it's the same one he's seen on injured animals over the years, a mix of fear and defiance. It tugs at something deep within him, a primal urge to protect those he cares about most.

He wants to say something to ease your discomfort, but words seem inadequate in the face of your pain. Instead, he reaches out tentatively, his hand hovering just above your knee before he gives in to the impulse and rests it there gently—a silent promise that he's not going anywhere.

You startle at his touch, your gaze flicking to his face in surprise. But as you meet his eyes, you see nothing but sincerity and concern reflected back at you. Slowly, deliberately, you place your own hand over his.

The waiting room is filled with the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional rustle of magazines being flipped through by other patients. Joel's thumb traces idle patterns on your leg as you sit there together in silence.

"Joel," you say finally, breaking the silence that has settled between you. Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the ambient noise like a knife. "I want to thank you - for everything."

He shakes his head dismissively, though there's a warmth in his eyes that wasn't there before. "No need for thanks," he replies gruffly. "I did what anyone else woulda done."

"No," you insist firmly, turning in your seat so that you're facing him fully now—ignoring the twinge of pain it elicits from your injuries. "Joel," you say again, your voice steady despite the pain you're clearly in. "I mean it. You've been... you've done so much for me. More than I could have asked for."

He opens his mouth to respond, to downplay his role in your care, but the words die on his lips as the nurse appears in the doorway, clipboard in hand. She calls out your name, scanning the room until her eyes land on the two of you.

Reluctantly, Joel withdraws his hand from your knee, the connection between you severed as you rise to follow the nurse. He stands as well, intending to accompany you, but the nurse shakes her head. "Just the patient for now, please," she says with a polite but firm smile.

You shoot him a reassuring look over your shoulder as you follow the nurse down the hallway, leaving Joel alone with his thoughts. He sinks back into his chair, his hands clasped tightly between his knees again as he waits for you to return.

The minutes tick by slowly, each second stretching into an eternity. Joel's mind races with worry and concern. He knows the ranch like the back of his hand, can handle any crisis that comes his way—but this is different. This is about you, and the thought of you in pain, of you being afraid, is more than he can bear.

He can't shake the image of you lying in the dust after being thrown from Daisy, the fear in your eyes when you realized you couldn't get up on your own. It had been years since he'd felt that kind of raw terror, the kind that gripped your heart and squeezed until you couldn't breathe. But in that moment, with you hurt and helpless, it all came flooding back. Joel had always prided himself on his strength, both physical and emotional. He'd had to be strong after Sarah passed, but with you, he felt something shift inside him—a crack in the armor he'd spent years building up around his heart. He cared about you, more than he should. It was a truth he couldn't ignore, no matter how hard he tried. You were young, vibrant, full of potential and promise. And he, well, he was just an old cowboy with more yesterdays than tomorrows. But when he looked at you, when he saw the fire in your eyes, he felt alive in a way he hadn't in years.

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he hears your name called again. He looks up to see the nurse beckoning him forward with a gentle smile.

"You can come back now," she says, her voice soft and reassuring. "She's asking for you."

Joel's heart skips a beat at her words. He rises quickly, his boots thudding against the linoleum floor as he follows the nurse through the maze of hallways to the examination room where you're waiting. His mind races with possibilities—none of them good. 

Why would they need me if everything was fine? Had something happened while you were back there? Was the injury worse than they initially thought?

The door to the examination room creaks open, and Joel steps inside, his eyes immediately going to you. You're sitting on the edge of the examination table, your face pale but composed. The relief that washes over him at seeing you unharmed is palpable; it leaves him momentarily lightheaded as he crosses the room to your side.

"What's goin on?" he asks urgently, his gaze flicking between you and the doctor who is standing nearby with a clipboard in hand. "Is everything alright?"

Dr. Simmons gives him a reassuring nod before turning his attention back to you. "I was just explaining to your friend here that it looks like she's got some bruised ribs and a fracture in her wrist," he says matter-of-factly as he jots something down on his clipboard. "We'll need to keep an eye on those ribs—make sure there's no internal bleeding or complications—but I think she'll be just fine with some rest and proper care.We gave her some pain medication before the x-ray. It may make her tired so she will need to be watched. No driving, etc. And she will need to come back in three weeks from now to get an updated x-ray of her wrist."

Joel lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, relief flooding through him like a tidal wave crashing against jagged rocks. He reaches out instinctively, taking your good hand in his own as he listens intently while Dr. Simmons goes over your care instructions.

Once the doctor finishes his instructions and hands over the prescription, Joel helps you down from the examination table, his hand at the small of your back providing a steady, reassuring presence. "Let's get your meds and then getcha home," he says softly, guiding you out of the clinic and back to his truck.

The drive to the pharmacy is quiet, the air between you thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions. Joel keeps stealing glances at you, noting the way you're cradling your injured wrist against your chest, the way your breath hitches ever so slightly when the truck hits a bump in the road. He wants to say something, to offer some words of comfort, but he's never been good with this sort of thing. He's a man of action, not words.

At the pharmacy, Joel takes charge, handling the paperwork and payment while you sit quietly on a nearby bench. He can see the exhaustion etched into your features, the way your eyelids are starting to droop. He knows you're running on fumes, and the pain medication will likely knock you out soon.

He heads back to the ranch, the truck's engine humming softly beneath the weight of the silence that stretches between you. You're fading fast, the medication they gave you at the doctor taking its toll. He can see you struggling to keep your eyes open, your body swaying slightly with each turn of the vehicle.

Once he reaches the ranch house, he parks as close to the front door as possible and hurries around to your side of the truck. You're already half-asleep by the time he opens your door, your eyelids fluttering as you fight to stay awake. "Easy now," Joel murmurs, unbuckling your seatbelt and scooping you into his arms with a tenderness that surprises even himself. You let out a soft sigh as he carries you into the house, your head lolling against his chest. The trust you place in him is both humbling and terrifying and the sweet little noises coming from your mouth don't make any of this easier. 

He settles you onto the couch, propping pillows behind your back to keep you comfortable. You smile sleepily up at you, a smile that sends a jolt straight to his heart and many other places. "Stay with me?" You ask quietly. 

How could he possibly say no?

Joel nods, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, “‘course darlin, just gonna make you somethin to eat real quick.” Joel heads into the kitchen to prepare something for you to eat. An Eggo waffle seems like a safe bet—simple and comforting in its familiarity. He pops one into the toaster and waits impatiently for it to brown, his thoughts consumed by the woman lying on the couch.

Joel returns to the living room, the scent of warm waffles wafting through the air. He sets the plate down on the coffee table, along with a glass of water and the bottle of pain medication the pharmacist had given him. "Here you go, darlin'," he says softly, offering you a small smile. "Eat up, and then we'll get you settled in with a movie or somethin."

You nod, managing a weak smile in return as you reach for the waffle with your good hand. The simple act of eating seems to revive you somewhat, though Joel can tell you're still in a considerable amount of pain. He watches as you take a tentative bite, followed by a sip of water to wash it down.

"Thank you," you murmur between bites, your eyes meeting his in a silent exchange of gratitude and concern.

Joel nods, his throat tightening unexpectedly at the sincerity in your voice. "Anything for you," he replies gruffly, the words slipping out before he can stop them. He quickly clears his throat and changes the subject. "What do ya feel like watchin’? There's some old western tapes layin around or we could find somethin else.”

“Hmmm” You think about it for a moment before responding with a slight shrug of your shoulders—a movement that causes you to wince slightly, “I'm not picky. Whatever you want cowboy.” 

If only I could tell ya what I want darlin’

Taglist: @mermaidgirl30 @maried01

[empresskylo]

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠ GUNSLINGER SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠ afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. blood. gun violence. gore. smut. p in v. sex without protection. wild west au. wc 5.9k. ➠SUMMARY | you find yourself getting tangled up in the mission of a group of outlaw cowboys and ghost doesn't seem to take a liking to you. that is until you get hurt. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | cowboy ghost! cowboy ghost! cowboy ghost!

gunslinger ghost image cr ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

you flipped another coin onto the bar, thanking the bartender as he refilled your glass with whiskey. you turned and leaned back, taking a sip of your drink. the high-noon light poured into the saloon, dust particles sparkling in its rays.

you played with the gun in your holster aimlessly as a group of men you’ve never seen before walked in. they pushed through the batwing doors and took in their surroundings, appraising the people of al mazrah. the piano stopped momentarily, synchronizing with the speechlessness of the room. 

your eyes glazed over several cowboys, all with their own unique getup. but the one that drew your attention the most was a man donning a red skull mask. it reflected the midday sun and piqued your curiosity. he stood behind the others, his head not scanning the saloon like his friends were. you felt his eyes settle on you and your cheeks went hot at the attention. 

they all approached the bar and you kept your eyes locked on them in a challenge. “afternoon, ma’am,” the only man in the group without some form of face covering said, tipping his hat as he did. 

you glanced up at him, narrowing your eyes before taking a swig of your drink. “can i help you boys?”

the other three men gathered around, one of them–the youngest looking of the bunch–leaned on the bartop and waved two fingers in the air to gain the bartender's attention. “whiskey neat,” you heard him order. it made the corner of your lip quirk upwards. 

“that depends,” he drawled. “we’re lookin’ for a wanted man.” he slid a wanted poster onto the bartop and you turned to look at it. you traced over the sketch’s features and the man’s name, all the while you could feel eyes burning through you. 

you turned back to the man. “i don’t recognize his likeness, but his name sounds familiar.”

“yeah?”

“i think i’ve heard of him and his men causing trouble up the bend at the neighboring town. ‘bout 20 miles from here, give or take.”

he reached up and scratched his overgrown stubble. “well, that helped plenty. thanks…” he drew out the word, waiting for you to introduce yourself. 

you accepted his extended hand and told him your name, your eyes flickering behind him to the man in the red skull mask. “john,” he said back to you, his free hand tipping his hat down again but in a thanks this time. 

you wondered who these men were working for. they didn’t exactly look like your typical bounty hunters. they were far more intimidating than that. their gear more intricate and sharp. 

“gaz, pay the man. we’re leaving,” john said. gaz downed his whiskey and threw a few coins on the counter before following his friends out. 

you watched as they drew everyone’s attention as they strolled out of the saloon. you were torn back and forth between doing something very thoughtless and stupid. you looked at the bartender–someone who had listened to you drone on and on about how nothing interesting ever happened in this town. he gave you a nod as he wiped down a glass, a sly smile forming on his lips. 

“ shit ,” you muttered as you pushed yourself away from the bar and scurried outside. 

the men were mounting their horses off to the side of the building. your boots echoed off the wooden porch as you hurried towards them. the men looked up at you as you jostled down the stairs and to the dirt road. 

john raised a brow at you, a small smile creeping on his lips. 

“i, uhm…” you hesitated. you summoned the courage inside of you–mainly from the whiskey–as john patiently waited for you to speak. “i was hopin’ i could come along.”

john smiled at you, his rough hands holding onto the reigns of his horse. “and why might we allow that?”

you stood up a bit taller. “i know i’m a woman, but–”

“didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout you bein’ a woman.”

you pursed your lips. the men’s eyes tentatively watched you as they each half-focused on what they were doing before you came storming over. “i’m a good shot. i have nothin’ left for me here,” you gestured around the desolate town. “i’d like to help.”

john looked pensive. “no,” a deep, guttural voice said. your eyes flickered to the man in the skull mask and grimaced. 

“don’t mind ghost. he’s not used to new company.” ghost . a chill ran up your spine at the name. these were no average bounty hunters you’d be getting yourself involved in, that was definitely clear now. it was like john could read your thoughts. “can’t guarantee your safety… but i don’t see why not. ”

you nodded. “that’s alright. i know the risks.”

ghost grumbled something and rode off. the other three men ignored him, like they were used to his grumpy behavior. “this here is gaz and soap,” john said, pointing to each man respectively. 

you smiled at them. “got yourself a horse?” soap asked you, pulling his bandana down so you could see his mouth move as he talked. you nodded, your heart racing at the promise of adventure. 

you adjusted your hat as you followed closely behind the men on horseback. you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. the men were absent of all colors apart from ghost’s red skull mask. they each had on a black outfit, paired with black boots, and a black hat. you, on the other hand, had on a dirty brown jacket, brown boots, faded blue pants, and a sunbleached hat. you never would have thought your outfit would seem almost colorful. 

you galloped closer to john, al mazrah getting smaller and smaller as you rode further away from the town. 

“heard people talkin’ ‘bout some bandits robbing folk around the bend comin’ up.”

john glanced at you before shifting his eyes to soap who was in hearing range. 

“woulda been nice to know that a bit earlier,” a deep voice said. you turned to see ghost riding at your side, his eyes bright against the black on his skin. you felt your chest tighten. 

“i-i didn’t think of it. didn’t realize where we were till i saw the hill in the bend in the road up ahead.”

ghost grunted, looking over at john who sat opposite of you. “no use arguing ‘bout it now,” he placated. 

before he could open his mouth to continue, a gunshot rang in your ear. your eyes widened as you looked forward, stupefied. your ears rang and your hands came up to clamp over your ears before you yelped in pain. you could hear the soft rumble of more gunshots going off, but it was like you were stuck in your own little bubble. 

you pulled your hands down and looked at them, blood covering your left hand. 

oh my god , you thought. you were shot. 

you heard your name coming in louder and louder until you finally could hear clearly again. you looked up to ghost who was grabbing your arm and yelling your name. his other hand held his shotgun, extended as he pulled it, and shot a bandit in the chest, knocking him off his horse. 

“focus!” he shouted. you nodded and locked eyes. 

“i’m okay,” you said. you knew the bullet must have hit skin, or you wouldn’t be bleeding, but it was just a graze. 

“your gun!” he growled. 

you shook your head to come to your senses and pulled your gun from it’s holster. ghost’s hand left you and you felt a chill run through your arm at the loss. 

you aimed to shoot one of the bandits immediately before he had time to raise his own gun at soap. your eyes moved and you saw john jump off his horse and tackle a man to the ground, knocking him out cold with a few punches. 

soap was aiming up on the hill, taking out a couple of men stationed there. they were waiting for someone stupid enough to come trotting down their trail. you felt like shit for not remembering this crucial bit of information until it was too late. 

you shot another bandit, riding your horse further up the road. you spotted ghost as he shot down a bandit coming at him before loading his gun in no time at all, then shooting the man riding up on gaz’s tail. another man came up from behind him and ghost had his knife in his hand and sliced across the man’s throat before you could even blink. 

you were no stranger to violence, but these men were cold-blooded killers, you’d be stupid to not feel a trace of formidable fear run up your spine. 

the gunshots slowly simmered down and the five of you found yourselves coming back together. you slid off your horse as the others did. “jesus,” gaz mumbled, his breathing slightly heavy. 

ghost flung himself off his horse and stormed up to you, grabbing your arm like he did earlier, and turning you to him. 

“what–?”

his gloved hand came up to your jaw and turned your head so he could see the drying blood that coated your ear. “fuckin’ hell. you coulda been killed.”

“yes, thank you. so glad i have you to point that out,” you snarled. 

john, soap, and gaz were busy talking, likely going over the group's next course of actions, and paid no mind to you and ghost as he hissed at you. 

“what's your problem with me?”

ghost released you and took a step back. “what’s my problem with you?” it was just now that you could really hear his accent. he wasn’t from around here, that was for sure. 

you nodded. 

“not keen on having to babysit.”

your eyes blared with heat, your fists clenching. “fuckin’ hell! you barely know me! i’ve done nothing that says i’m not up for this,” you gestured around you, “so i got shot unexpectedly, i hardly think that's my fault.”

he just stared at you, which honestly, frustrated you even more. 

“you ever take that stupid thing off?” you asked, referring to his mask. god, you were proving him right–you were acting like a baby.

“why? you wanna know what's underneath?”

his husky voice made your chest flutter. there was something about the combination of his terrifying appearance, his deep voice, and the way he seemed utterly concerned for your safety. it was doing things to your insides that you didn’t appreciate. 

he leaned in closer. “does it unsettle you, pet?” he asked, referring to his mask. 

frankly, it did. his entire body was covered from head to toe. the only bit of him you saw was his eyes, and even those were darkened with charcoal. maybe you were stupid to trust these men. it was just hitting you now that you were with a group of insanely skilled men. alone . 

it was as if ghost could read the sudden hesitation and regret that filled your features. his voice was low as he spoke. “we won’t hurt ya.” you swallowed hard. you should leave while it’s still daylight. “ not unless you ask. ”

your jaw would have fallen slack if you weren’t wound up so tight from ghost standing so close. he slid past you and you turned, starstruck, forcing your feet to move so you were standing in a circle with the men. 

“we’re only a few miles out from town. and clearly, we’re at a disadvantage,” john spoke. “we should split up and surround the town, figure out if hassan is there. and locate his base. it’s our best bet.”

soap and gaz nodded. 

“good,” john said in response to the agreement for his plan. “i’ll flank west. soap you go right. gaz you can take the southern part of town. ghost, north.”

you looked up at john expectantly. he went to open his mouth–to invite you to tag along with him you assumed–but ghost beat him to it. “she’ll come with me.” it wasn’t a question. and you hated that it sparked something inside you. 

john nodded. “we got a few more hours of daylight left. let's go. we’ll convene in the center of town.”

you trailed behind ghost on your horse. you two had gone off the road and were currently riding over the rough terrain of the surrounding woods. the sun was slowly setting and you found it hard to see your footing with all the shadows the trees cast. 

“so what’d you want with this guy anyways?” you asked ghost, breaking the silence. 

“he’s the enemy,” he said flatly. 

you rolled your eyes. “yeah. i get that. but why exactly are you–”

he cut you off with a single finger to his lips, his eyes gesturing in front of him. you immediately went silent, slowly reaching for your gun. 

you both paused on your horses, sitting still, listening. you felt your heartbeat racing in your chest. 

that's when you saw movement in the distance. “ghost! behind you–”

your warning was muffled as a hand wrapped around your face, covering your mouth, and yanking you off your horse. you slashed back and forth, trying to fight off whoever had you in their grip. 

you kicked backward, hitting them in the knee, and they finally dropped you to the ground. “fuckin’ bitch!”

you spun around, stumbling to your feet and grabbing your gun out of its holster. it was just one guy. you could take him. 

as you raised your gun, another man appeared beside him. your eyes widened. okay, this was going to be harder than you thought. 

“i wouldn’t do that if i was you,” the other man said. 

you gulped. before you could fully raise your hand, a third man knocked the gun from your hand and twisted your arm, holding you against him. “you don’t like to listen, do ya?”

you showed your teeth as you struggled against him. you kicked and squirmed as you felt the air begin to slip from you. 

suddenly, the man around you went slack, his arm falling, and hot liquid trailed your back. you turned and watched the man sink to the ground, grabbing at the slit in his throat. behind him towered ghost. 

he had blood on his mask and he was breathing so rapidly you could see his chest moving up and down under all his layers. 

you didn’t have long to take him in before he pushed you aside and began fighting the other two men. you scanned behind you and saw two other bodies sprawled on the rocky ground. he had already taken down three men. your eyes widened. 

“go!” he shouted at you. in the quick second he was distracted, one of the bandits managed to get a swing in and hit ghost right under his jaw. 

you mustered the courage inside yourself and you sprinted at the three men. you jumped on one of them, flying to the ground with him, landing atop him. his hand reached out and wrapped around your neck but you were faster. your knife was already plowing into the side of his skull. his hand fell loosely to his side.

you huffed as you climbed off of him. ghost’s hands struggled but he managed to get them on the man’s head that he was fighting and in a quick and sharp twist, he broke his neck. 

you gasped slightly, the air falling silent around you two. his hands were clenched at his side as you both stared at one another among the carnage. 

“i told you to go.”

“and i didn’t want to,” you responded. how was he going to be mad that you helped him?

you huffed and bent over to rip the knife from the man’s skull and slid it back into its sheath. as you stood straight, ghost was pushing you against a tree. you yelped as he pinned you back. 

“these aren’t just normal men,” he growled. 

you searched his eyes. you hoped he couldn’t hear your heart racing. “we handled it, didn’t we?”

ghost shook his head in annoyance, his body still entraping yours. “and if we hadn’t? if you had gotten yourself killed?”

you gave him an exacerbated look. “then i’d be dead. i don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

ghost pushed away from you and began walking back to his horse. “i want you to tell me you’ll listen next time i tell you to go.”

you hesitated before you found your way back to your own steed. “why do you care so much?” you had come along to help. and that’s what you planned on doing. ghost wasn’t the boss of you. 

he didn’t respond and you rode the rest of the way in silence.

it didn't take much longer to get into town. and it took an even shorter amount of time to find out hassan wasn’t here. you and the rest of the men met up in the middle of town, just like john had told you. 

“y’all run into trouble?” he asked you and ghost, noticing the blood on both of your clothes. 

“nothin’ we couldn’t handle,” you answered. 

john’s gaze met ghost’s momentarily and he smirked. john could tell you were driving ghost crazy, just from your short interactions. he liked that someone was getting this reaction from him. it felt like so long since he had seen ghost have any sort of emotional response. 

“think we should camp here for the night,” john added. 

the five of you went into the town’s saloon and the men went straight to the bar. drinks were ordered and you shifted uncomfortably, playing with the glass of whiskey in your hand. 

two women dressed in silky gowns, the cut of their dresses low and tight enough to expose their chests, strolled up to your group. “haven’t seen you boys before,” the blonde one said. you were in saloons enough to recognize prostitutes when you saw them. 

“just passin’ through,” gaz spoke. the ladies smiled and one of their hands came out and traced along gaz’s collar. 

“you look like you could use a little pick me up,” she said sweetly. 

you saw where this was going and you felt yourself grow uncomfortable. “i think i’m gonna go to my room,” you mumbled. john saluted you off, his attention going back to soap as they talked. one of the girls made her way to ghost and you hated that a pang of jealousy coursed through you as she sat on his lap. 

his eyes flickered to you as the woman whispered in his ear. the saloon was filled with a cacophony of noise, music playing loudly, and the sound of the girls giggling. no one but ghost had even paid attention to you leaving. and you really couldn’t hold it against any of them. you barely knew them. you weren’t friends yet. 

you felt your breath hitch as the woman reached her hand out to trace ghost’s mask, his hand catching her wrist. you wanted to turn to finish going up the stairs but your eyes were locked in challenge with his. 

he nudged the girl off his lap and she huffed slightly before turning her attention to soap. your face felt inflamed as you turned and went up the stairs, slipping off into one of the rooms the lot of you had paid for. 

why were you so attracted to ghost? he was intimidating, scary even. and you had no idea what he looked like. not even his hands or neck.

you sighed as you cleaned up, stripping your clothes down into your undergarments, washing the stain from your jacket, and hanging it against the wooden bedframe to dry. 

the room was small but comfortable. you let your hair down and washed your face with the bucket of water. you wore your undershirt and underwear, everything else was either drying or removed so you could sleep comfortably. 

you were ready to slip into bed when you hear footsteps stumbling past your room. you wondered if it was one of the men. you heard a woman’s voice and that same, uncomfortable feeling squeezed your chest. maybe it was ghost bringing one of the women back to his room. 

you walked to your door and your hand hovered over the doorknob. you wanted to peek out, just to see. to see if it was ghost, or one of the others from downstairs. you were being crazy, you knew it. but you pulled the door open ever so slightly and peered out. you jumped, a loud yelp escaping you as a large ghost stood in your doorway. 

he deftly pushed your door open and made his way inside your small room. he kicked it closed behind him, his eyes trailing your exposed body shadowed by the small glow of the few candles by your bedside. 

“ghost,” you breathed, unsure of what else to say. you could smell whiskey on him as he walked closer. you looked up at him, his eyes piercing your own. his mask still had blood on it. and the way the shadows of the room illuminated and hid his features was haunting.

“were you jealous?” he said. 

you were taken aback but his question. you almost laughed. what on earth was happening? ghost just barged inside your room and was asking if you were jealous. of what? the woman on his lap earlier? why would he think that? 

“did you hear a woman outside your door and open it to see if it was me who was bedding one of the whores?”

your mouth hung open at his forward words. that was one thing you came to know about ghost: he said whatever the fuck he was thinking. 

“i… i…” you stuttered. 

ghost spun you around, slamming you against the wall, one hand coming out beside your head, the other on your hip. you were startled, unsure of what to say or do. ghost’s hand on your hip slid down to the apex of your thighs, slowly slipping between them and pressing against you. you gasped. 

“tell me. were. you. jealous? ”

you swallowed hard before nodding. “y-yes.”

you could almost hear the smile in his voice as he hummed. he rubbed you a few times over your underwear before backing away slightly and removing his gloves. your marvled at his hands before they were lost between your legs again. 

he slipped one into your panties and circled your clit. your hands finally came out and grabbed onto his shoulders, small little noises escaping you. 

“mhmmm,” he hummed, “already so wet for me, pet.” one of his fingers slid inside your heat painfully slow and your eyes rolled back. he pumped his finger a few times before pulling out of you. your eyes focused back on him as he nudged his mask up and slid his finger into his mouth. you could see the stubble on his chin and the soft pink of his lips. 

when he pulled his finger out, he spoke. “still want to see what i look like?” he teased. 

you nodded. he didn't move, waiting for you to take initiative. your hands crept up and you peeled his mask off–the cloth covering and the hard red skull. you tossed it onto the floor and were faced with a beautiful man. he was both rugged and pretty. it almost hurt to look at him. 

he had a scar running below his eye and one slicing his upper lip. his eyes were smoked out in black that smudged his skin and ran down his face from sweat. his hair was surprisingly light and soft looking. you couldn’t help yourself as you ran your hand up the back of his head and into his hair. 

you didn’t say it, but ghost could see the way you were taking his features in. you were pleased. pleasantly surprised. 

his lips came down on yours, crushing against you and pushing you flat against the wall. his mouth moved in sync with yours, making you groan against him. his hand slid into your hair and grabbed it, pulling your head back to expose your neck to him. he began to place kisses there and you felt your legs squeeze together. 

“never wanted anyone so bad in my life,” he grumbled against your skin. you felt your heart race at the confession. it made your head dizzy to think this terrifying killer wanted you . he wanted you so bad he couldn’t help himself. he was so set on you that he didn’t give a shit how many women came onto him downstairs at the bar. he just wanted to get up to your room and throw you against the wall. no stranger had even consumed his thoughts like this.

his rough hand ran up your front and grabbed the hem of your loose undershirt before pulling it off your body. he stood back and looked at you, licking his lips. 

before you had time to feel self-conscious, his mouth was diving for your chest and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. you let out a breathless moan, your hands running through his hair. his hands slid to your ass and squeezed, pulling your hips against him. you could feel him tenting through his pants. 

before you could even think, he was on his knees, yanking your underwear all the way down your legs. you felt a weird sense of excitement course through you seeing him still fully dressed, knelt before you, while you were completely naked. 

he grabbed one of your legs and pulled it so you bent it over his shoulder. then his face was pleasantly nestled between your thighs. he sucked and licked at you and you threw your head back against the wall in a cry. “g-god.”

you could feel him smile against you. his stubble tickled you as his tongue moved in and out of you, then traced you up and down, before repeating the actions. you actually felt like you couldn’t breathe. and when two of his fingers came up to slide inside you while his mouth worked your clit, you felt your chest tighten and a hot flutter pool at the base of your spine. 

“lemme hear you,” he grunted. you panted and moaned as he continued to work his mouth against you. it didn’t take long before you were shaking and crying out. your hands gripped the wall behind you, your nails digging into the wood. 

ghost worked you through your orgasm, lapping every drop of you up until you were begging him to stop. 

you didn’t have a real chance to catch your breath and really take in what was happening because ghost was shoving you down onto your knees before him. he was undoing his belt, his lips glistening. you hesitantly reached up and replaced his hands. he let you take over and you unbuttoned and unzipped his dark trousers, releasing his cock from its restraints.

you swallowed at his size, your eyes widening slightly. you heard ghost chuckle above you. annoyed that he was somehow getting satisfaction out of your surprise and tentativeness, you took him in your mouth without warning. ghost’s chuckle turned into a choked groan. 

you bobbed up and down, not taking your time at all, your hand coming up to wrap around the base of him to move in sync with your mouth. you could hear him panting as you slid your tongue up and down, swirling it around the tip before sinking him back deep inside of you. 

he swore under his breath as you pumped him a few times, kissing the tip of his cock already leaking with precum. when you took him in your mouth again, his hand fisted your hair and his hips swung forward, rutting himself into you. 

you braced a hand against his thigh as he took control, moving in and out of your mouth at a faster speed than you were taking him moments ago. he hit the back of your throat and you swallowed so you wouldn’t choke and his head flew back and he moaned uncontrollably. 

you coughed and tried to catch your breath as he pulled out of you. tears were running down your face and you wiped your mouth. his fingers slid under your chin and tilted your head up towards him. 

“you’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me, pet.” his thumb traced your bottom lip as he studied you, face flushed and glowing, tears making your eyes sparkle, your lips swollen and red, sat back on your haunches as you looked up. you were a marvel. 

he pulled you up and pushed you onto your bed. you watched as he crawled on top of you. your hands slid to his shirt and vest and you began to unbutton them. “want this off,” you muttered. 

his eyes searched yours for a moment, hesitating before he did what you wanted and stripped his top bare. it was hard to see in the dim light but you could tell he had scarring along his chest and back. you wondered if he was somehow ashamed or embarrassed by them and that’s why he contemplated removing his shirt or not. 

he settled back between your legs and you traced one of the scars on his shoulders before looking up at him. he was already looking at you, his eyes boring into your own. “how’d you get this?” you asked. 

he tilted his head, his hand brushing the side of your hair then cupping your cheek. “bounty hunting.” you looked at him expectantly. “he had me pinned down, tried to slit my throat. i kicked him from underneath and it made him miss. still hurt like a bitch though,” he said with a bit of faux mirth. 

you pulled him down to kiss you, his lips moving softer against you than earlier, gentle, but still just as hungry. 

he rolled his hips against you and you both groaned. “i need to fuck you so bad,” he said against your mouth. 

“so do it then.”

his eyes flared as he pulled back and looked at you. his hands shuffled his pants the rest of the way off and he lined himself up with your entrance. your hands wrapped around his back as he began to ease his way into you. 

you squeezed your eyes shut as he edged further in. he paused when he saw you. “am i hurting you?”

you shook your head. “no. keep going.” he gave you a questioning look, not sure if you were lying or not before he pushed all the way in. you both gasped as he sank as far as he could go. 

you both panted, trying to catch your breaths as he let you adjust to his size. he tested the waters by pulling out a little bit and pushing back in. he groaned deep in his chest as you spasmed around him, unused to someone of his size. 

“fuckin’ hell,” he said to himself. he knew he wasn’t going to last long. but fuck, he wanted to get you off at least one more time. 

he began to thrust in and out of you, doing a little more each time until he was almost pulling all the way out before thrusting back against your hips. 

the pain subsided and all you felt was ripples of pleasure as he moved inside of you. your nails dug into his back, your legs hooking around him and urging him to go faster. 

“you feel so good,” he mumbled against your neck. you mewled and threw your head back against the mattress as he relentlessly pounded into you, going rather hard now that you seemed to take him okay. the wooden bedframe crashed against the wall, thumping with the beat of his hips, but neither of you had it in you to care.

he picked up speed and you gasped, “ah!”

he stopped moving. “shit, did i hurt you?”

“no, no! keep going. move! fuck, please,” you said desperately. ghost chuckled before moving again, hitting you deep with each thrust. 

his smile quickly faded as he tried to stop himself from finishing too early. his hand slid between your bodies and began to rub your clit. your legs went outwards, letting him get you even deeper, and your walls spasmed around his cock. you felt yourself getting close. 

you were muttering all kinds of obscenities under your breath and ghost was growling and panting as he rutted against you. “you feel–fuck–so much better than i thought.”

your fingers ran through his hair and he kissed you again. “fuck, ghost,” you moaned. 

“simon.” you opened your eyes to look at him. “my name is simon.”

your eyes never left his as you whispered his name, the ‘n’ of it raising in octave as he thrusted into you. your eyes began to flutter again but one of his hands grabbed your jaw. “keep your eyes on me,” he demanded. 

his dark eyes were intoxicating as they glowed in the candlelight, the dark makeup around them making them that much more captivating. his hair was disheveled from all the times your fingers ran through it. you were certain you had never seen anyone so handsome. 

“i’m gonna come,” he growled. your breath picked up speed and your mouth hung open in breathy pants and little moans. 

“come in me,” you pleaded. before he could even respond, your soft voice saying something so obscene had him tumbling over the edge. his finger on your clit kept moving as he spurted inside you. 

you felt your legs shake and your walls clench down on him, dragging out his orgasm as he made sounds like he was in pain. 

you kept your eyes locked on him as you cried out, though you found it a difficult task. you felt his warmth fill you as you shuttered around his cock. he continued to thrust through both of your highs, a guttural groan escaping him each time your hips connected. 

when you both seemed to settle down, your highs coming to a blissful end, he collapsed on top of you, his face buried in your neck, breathing you in. 

your hands traced absentmindedly up and down his arm as he pressed himself against you. a few minutes later he rolled over and slid out of you, white seeping out and onto the sheets. he gave you a satisfied grin as he looked between your legs. you felt oddly shy.

he laid back into your pillow and pulled you against him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. you still couldn’t fathom the fact that this man who seemed to hate you for no reason was actually extremely attracted to you and just ravished the fuck out of you. and he was far kinder in bed than you would have imagined. 

you liked the feeling of security as he possessively held you to him, his hand in your hair. 

you tilted your head up to him. “you might want to go back to your room,” you muttered. 

“why?”

you felt your face heat. “we probably don’t want the others to find out…” this was a whole new type of situation for you, and you weren’t sure you wanted the whole group to know you and ghost just fucked, only hours after meeting one another. 

he laughed. “i think they already know, pet. we weren’t exactly quiet.”

“oh my god,” you said in mortification, bringing your hands up to cover your face.

[eunxhan]

❝ A kiss is the beginning of cannibalism. ❞

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Ꮺ Anon Requested ⨾ hii can u do a ticci toby x cannibalistic gn reader?

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ Greetings! I apologize for the late response as i got more focused on working on my ocs — This is quite short compared to my other works but I do hope you'll like this one! I've searched on how cannibalism works just to make sure.

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Ꮺ Disclaimer — GORE!SUGGESTIVE! I do not condone this kind of behavior in real life situations.

Reader ⨾ CANNIBALISTIC!GN!READER. YOU/YOURS

Words used ⨾ 624 words 3,502 characters

Character ⨾ TOBIAS ERIN ROGERS (Ticci Toby)

Art credit ⨾ @/kousomii on tumblr

Links ⨾ My Navigation

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Toby felt a strange mix of fascination and horror when he first encountered you. You were out, eating the corpse he just sliced up. He couldn't help but wonder how you got into your current situation, what led you to become a cannibal, and how you were able to maintain the facade of being a normal, functioning member of society.

Toby sometimes feels tempted to try what you are eating, but he always stops himself from actually doing so. If you manage to have some influence on him or try to convince him, he'll do so.

So whenever he goes out to do his missions, if you were allowed to he would let you follow him to clean up his mess. If you weren't, he would come back with a bag full of the parts you prefer.

If you happen to have a biting habit, whether biting yourself or someone else. He's be fascinated by it as he also have a biting habit, he doesn't mind you biting him as he doesn't feel that much pain as long as you let him bite also. He just watch you bite him and look at the bite marks, just don't bite him when he's in a sour mood.

If you cook them, Toby is intrigued and impressed by your skills as a cook, especially if you have a talent for preparing human flesh in a way that's palatable and delicious. He enjoys the idea of sharing a meal with you that is both unique and delicious.

He may or may not say some jokes about you being a cannibal. Toby's sexual jokes about you are him comparing your appetite for human flesh to his imagined prowess in bed. He'll make crude remarks, such as "You're tearing through those organs like you'd rip through a woman's panties."

Toby's indifference towards your post-feast appearance is a direct reflection of his own descent into depravity. Once disgusted by the mere thought of cannibalism, leaving him numb to the grotesque reality surrounding him but who knows? He's also a killer.

He knows that he himself isn't much better, for he too has stained his hands with blood and consumed human flesh. His ambivalence towards your plight is a twisted acceptance of their shared fate, a grim acknowledgment that they have both become monsters in their own right.

For Toby, he just eats the people he chops for survival and if you happen to have a different reasoning Toby listens to your dissection of cannibalism with a mix of repulsion, curiosity, and a twisted sense of familiarity. The gruesome details of how your body processes the consumed flesh, the nutritional benefits, and the sensory experiences, all serve as a morbid testament to the transformation you have undergone.

As you delves into the biological aspects of cannibalism, Toby's mind can't help but conjure vivid images of digestion, the human body breaking down its victims in the most base and primal of ways.

With the knowledge of cannibalism fresh in his mind, Toby's approach to his missions takes on a new, more methodical quality. Instead of the wild, frenzied attacks that once characterized his hunts, Toby now dispatches his victims with a chilling efficiency.

With each slash of his blade, Toby is careful to target specific organs, his actions driven by the newfound knowledge of their nutritional value. He takes the time to slice off limbs, and as he does, he can't help but recall yout descriptions of the sensory experiences. A strange, twisted thrill courses through him as he works.

Once he's collected his bounty, Toby methodically collects the parts into one bag, taking care not to mix the organs with the flesh. You'll be eating with no problem in your mind.

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Ꮺ ⨾ I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING COPIED OR TRANSLATED.

[bloodywickedvamp]

Two's Company - What The Hell Is Six? Part 3

Poly!Lost Boys x GN Reader x Michael

Series Masterlist

Summary: It's date night

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, touching, angst, arguments, flirting, lil kiss

I really cannot believe it took me so long to finish part 3 like...where did the time go?? It was almost an entire year...I just struggled to find the motivation but I finally did! Not sure if this is even good it's so late when I finished writing lol, hope you enjoy!

Dividers: @saradika & @firefly-graphics

“Okay…I’ll do it.”

“What?” Michael turns towards me and asks bewildered. I can’t blame him, I’m a little shocked by my own acquiescence. 

I tear my gaze from David to Michael and briefly at our fingers laced together before meeting his eyes. 

“I know this isn’t ideal Mikey, but you heard them, they won’t stop. We can talk about this more later, okay? Just trust me.” Squeezing his hand so tight, to help him to understand why I’m doing this. Why I didn’t have a choice other than to accept their ‘offer’. To protect him from whatever they’re truly capable of. If I said no, they’d take it out on Michael, I know they would. 

He takes a moment to respond. Taking me in from top to bottom and squeezing back a non-verbal response before speaking. With more understanding than I initially thought he’d be capable of granting, he nods, brings our hands up to his lips to ghost them over my knuckles and finally lets out a soft 'okay' with a gentle smile only meant for me. I mirror the sweetness in his face back, until the moment is interrupted. 

“Well that’s just adorable.” David snorted, all too eager to have our attention not on each other. 

“But if you’re finished I’d like to get back to the date you just agreed to.” He directed impatiently. 

“Fine, but there are some ground rules we need to establish first.” I said.

“Oh?” questioned David. He seemed amused by my answer, curiosity slipping through at what I could possibly come up with. 

“First, no kissing or inappropriate touching-”

Paul cut me off to complain, “damn babe, those are all my go-to moves.”

Dwayne swiftly takes it upon himself to reprimand the wild blonde with an elbow to the side and a ‘shut up Paul’. While said blonde untangles his arm from the taller man's shoulders to soothe his aching side with a look of exasperation, like he’d been completely put out by the interaction. 

“Ow, I was only kinda kidding. You can’t hit me like that man, you know I'm sensitive.” He croaked out in a very childlike manner accompanied by a pouty bottom lip. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually got into the fetal position next with how dramatic of a person he seemed to be. In a different circumstance I would’ve found the exchange funny and how close the two are adorable. 

Instead of dwelling, I decided to continue. “Second, we won’t be going anywhere private, we’ll be in public the whole time. Third, no threatening or hurting Michael for any reason. No matter what happens on our ‘date’ you don’t get to do anything to him.” Emphasizing date with a quick eye roll. I may have agreed to this but I don’t have to be happy about it. 

Michael let out a small chuckle from my right before he leaned down to whisper in my ear “My hero.” I try my best to hold back the smile threatening to sneak its way past my serious demeanor but it’s useless and I crack. I can never seem to hold myself back when it comes to Michael, he pulls every part of me to the forefront, good or bad, he always embraces it with open arms and a warm smile. 

“Is that all or do you have any more demands princex?” Marko piped in, once again directing our attention towards the boys in front of us. 

“That’s all for now, but if I think of any more I’ll be sure to let you know promptly.” I finish with faux nicety and the sweetest smile I can muster. 

Pulling a sarcastic laugh from him followed by an even more sarcastic “Can’t wait.” 

It seems Marko and I will be having the most lively time together on our date, if we don’t kill each other first. 

This time, I hear a genuine laugh come from the same curly headed boy. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I’m baffled at the comment. His joyous response sounded like it was directed at my previous thought, one I definitely thought to myself and didn’t voice aloud. 

“Wait, I didn’t say anything. How-”

Paul decides to answer me first. “We've got all kinds of tricks we can show you baby”, with an additional cheeky grin thrown my way. 

While David finishes with a “but we’ll save that for next time. We’ll meet back here tomorrow night where we usually park the bikes, right after sunset. Don’t be late.” He looks between Michael and I as the quartet begin to make their leave. Each boy giving their own version of a goodbye with waves and ‘catch ya laters’ till they’ve vanished from underneath the boardwalk back towards the stairs. 

“So…we should probably get home and maybe figure out what the hell you just agreed to.” Michael announces after a bout of silence following the departure. 

After Michael drives us back home, he seems to be in a better mood than I expected. He’s acting like his old self again, not letting go of my hand or some part of my body since we arrived. The truth coming out makes him much more at ease, which I can appreciate. The rest of the family noticed his sudden presence at the dinner table with stunned expressions, Sam even commenting ‘what were you dying for moms lasagna or something bud?’ as Lucy shoo’s that off with a wave of her hand and says she’s happy to see everyone together again for dinner with a beaming smile along her face, quickly changing the topic to grandpa’s aversion to giving him an overdue haircut.

Later on, Michael and I found ourselves in the bedroom we share. After a lengthy discussion of the night to come and having to only calm him down a couple of times from leaving to find the boys again and telling them to fuck off, we agree on sticking it out just for tomorrow. After the dates I tell them it won’t work and we can put this mess behind us, hopefully. The matter of Michael being a bloodthirsty creature of the night has yet to be discussed. 

“I still don’t like this plan, just so we’re clear.” He proceeds to tell me one final time as we start to lay down to sleep with a few hours of darkness left cloaking the sky before dawn breaks. 

“We don’t have any other options…unless one of your new special tricks includes time travel to before you met them.” I jokingly tack on as I cuddle further into his side. 

He releases a light chuckle while rubbing my back soothingly. “Sadly no, that’s not in my abilities.” 

“It’ll be okay.” I say, not certain if it’s more for his sake or my own. He silently agrees with a kiss to my forehead and a soft goodnight as we both fall asleep in the comfort of this small window of time we have together. 

Michael and I silently wake up just hours before we would need to leave, having mostly slept the day away together. As dusk quickly approaches, getting ready seemed an easier task than I initially anticipated. He showers after me and dresses in his usual attire of blue jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and his newly acquired leather jacket that I can’t help but start to like the more I see him in it. While I put on a nice tank top, black jean shorts, and sneakers, dressing fairly casual but also something I would wear on a date with Michael. My outfit showed a bit more skin due to the heat. 

He gives me a once over before asking ‘Is that new?’ as he points to my top. I nod with a look of ‘yeah why?’ and he only shakes his head back before answering, “nothing, you just look nice…and not to sound like a jealous boyfriend but…I can’t say i’m happy seeing you wear something new for them.” 

“Hey I can chan-”

“No.” He stops me before I begin. “Like I said you look good and I’ll just have to get over the fact that they’re getting to be with you tonight and not me, when all I want to do now is rip your outfit to shreds and toss you back in that bed till morning.” He says, as he grabs my hips pulling me into a heated kiss. Only allowing himself to pull back as I’m gasping for air. 

“Very tempting offer.” I breathlessly snicker while running my hands through his thick head of curls. He pulls me back in for one more peck and reluctantly drags me along to the front door so we can head out.

We arrive at the boardwalk and Michael parks his bike exactly where David said they’d be, watching the crowd go by and laughing amongst themselves till we’ve made our way into the group beside them as they take notice. Michael helps me off his bike as we stand in front of them, hands still intertwined. 

David looks at us like it’s cute we’re still trying to hold up some type of front to the situation, and I guess in a way he’s right, they have the upper hand. 

Surprisingly Marko is the first to speak, “And here I thought you were dreading going out with us, but by the looks of that outfit I’d say you were trying to put on a show, feel free to show off even more skin if you’d like.” It takes everything in my body to stay calm because I know that comment is only meant to get a rise out of me. I won’t give him the satisfaction. 

After I take a soothing breath I reply, “It’s hot outside and I’d rather not keel over from overheating, that’s all.” 

He leans closer with a smirk and gives a half-hearted “whatever you say sweetheart”, before leaning back and giggling like school girls about it with Paul. I simply roll my eyes and turn my attention back to David. 

“Let’s go.” He announces to the group as we all start to follow his lead. Dwayne walks in stride with Michael and I, sandwiching me between them, with Marko and Paul tailing behind us. I decide to chance it and look at Dwayne as he leans down towards me, not breaking eye contact for even a moment as we continue to walk. “Don’t let him get to you, he just likes to ruffle feathers. But for what it’s worth, you look lovely.” His lips lift into a half smile, half smirk once he notices the heat rising to my cheeks at the complement. I attempt to brush it off with a quick ‘thanks’ and steal a glance at Michaels now taut jaw and lingering gaze on us. I turn my attention forward as Dwayne’s hand coyly slides up my waist and is gone again before I even have time to register it as he picks up his pace to step in time with David. Michael lets out a scoff and pulls me closer to his side by our joined hands. 

David walked us to a section of restaurants with outdoor seating we could all gather at, choosing a wooden picnic bench for us. Michael and I are sitting on one bench with the two natural blondes and brunette sitting on the other, while David decides to grab a lone chair from a different table and pull it up on the side so he’s seated at the ‘head’ of the table. 

“So how is this going to work exactly? Are we all doing this together or…?” I decide to voice my curiosity before the conversation inevitably gets side tracked or leads to another argument.  

All eyes turn to David as he fills me in. “We’ll each take you out individually - Dwayne’s first.” Nodding his head in the direction of his friend. My own gaze found its way back to his dark brown eyes, that same smile from earlier plastered on. In that moment a wave of familiarity washed over me, like I’ve gotten lost in those eyes a million times before and would continue to do so for as long as I’d be allowed to stare into them. Like how it feels to look into Michaels. 

Michael.

Remembering he’s sitting right next to me I shake the previous thoughts away and proceed to stand to meet Dwayne on the other side so we can get this night started already. 

But I freeze in my tracks as it suddenly occurs to me that Michael will be all alone with the other boys for the rest of the evening, and the thought of him being tormented and teased about this situation he has no control over sends a pang of guilt through me. I decide I have to try and ease some of the tension, if I can. 

“Wait- before we go I have another condition to add.” 

David leans back in his chair with a raised brow, gloved fingers tapping along the table. “Yes?” 

“If this is going to work you can’t be at each other's throats the whole time I'm gone. Michael told me that he barely knows anything about any of you and vice versa, so while I'm on each date the rest of you are going to stay here and get to know each other - like real friends.” 

“What?” 

“I’m serious, you’re not going to sit here all night and fuck with my boyfriend behind my back, I’m not asking.” I try to muster up as much confidence in my words as I'm sure David actually has naturally coursing through him. He only ponders what I've said momentarily before giving a strained smile that doesn’t exactly meet his eyes and mutters out a quick ‘sure’. Looking towards the others that slowly nod along in agreement - even if their faces say otherwise. 

Now feeling better about leaving, I let Dwayne lead the way out of the seating area towards the  crowds of people scattered along the boardwalk for whatever he had planned.

Michael turns back to the remaining boys seated with him after staring daggers into Dwayne's back before the two completely disappear from sight. He speaks up before the others can, to get the ball rolling. “Okay so…where should we start?” He sends them each a questioning glance. 

David stares back with the most incredulous look he can muster, like he couldn’t believe he was actually going through with the ‘getting to know each other idea’. After a minute a mocking smile takes over his face. 

“Yeah…” He draws out. “We’re not doing that.” He says with little room for push back. 

Michael crosses his arms over his chest and nods his head in a similar mocking manner, amused by the reply. “You’ve got a lot to learn, they’ll come back and expect a full report on what we talked about, want specifics to make sure you followed through on your promise.” 

“We’ll make something up.” David again says matter of factly. 

Michael scoffs. “They’ll be able to tell if i’m lying, how do you think I ended up in this situation in the first place? I wasn’t able to keep what you did to me a secret.” The other boys may not want to participate in this but he’d be damned if he got into trouble for not at least trying to play nice. 

“Alright, fine. I particularly enjoyed watching you get your ass chewed out in front of half the boardwalk last night. It was the highlight of my week.” David faux relents, like he’s shared intimate knowledge of himself only few know and pretends as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders with a content sigh. Stifled giggles from the terror twins echo in the background. 

“You know what, the only one you’re hurting is yourself. Keep it up and they’ll want nothing to do with you. Which will be the highlight of my life.” 

Silence followed Michaels statement as the two were now sat in a heated staring match. The tension in the air rapidly increased as neither one backed down. If looks could kill they’d both be six feet under. Even the blondes, who hadn’t said a word since the conversation began, were forced into an awkward stillness watching the interaction unfold, waiting for the underlying hostility to bubble over. 

Paul decides someone has to try and mediate before this gets any uglier and, more importantly, his turn for a date is possibly soured by the oldest and newest member of their pack coming to blows. In his opinion the best way to deal with this would be to let them fight it out, but he knows the night can’t end with them covered in blood, scratches, and bite marks - unless they’re fucking. 

All eyes are suddenly shifted to Paul as he clears his throat obnoxiously. “Uhhh…my favorite band is Mötley Crüe.” He says with a bright smile, proud that it actually worked since the boys' body languages were all seeming to relax. 

Marko, good naturedly, pats Paul on the back as an ‘attaboy’ for the attempt. 

As Dwayne and I continue walking through the boardwalk I feel one of his hands graze my lower back and rest there. I quickly snatch his wrist and pull it in front of me.

“I said no touching.” I admonish. Before I can drop it, he seizes the opportunity to grab my hand instead. 

“I was only trying to guide you, but you’re right this way is better so we don’t get separated.” 

“Right…” I probably should have put up more of a fight, but the crowd is double the size of last night's and we could easily lose each other. Not that I really believe his reason for wanting to hold my hand is so noble. I let it slide anyways.

We make small talk about movies and music as we venture through different stalls. Anytime he asks me a question I have to mentally prepare myself before answering. His intense gaze makes me apprehensive, it's like he’s enraptured by every word and I’m nervous if what I'm saying is even adequate. He hasn’t been judgemental yet, so I let his deep baritone put me at ease when he responds to something I’ve said. 

He pulls us to a stop in front of an ice cream shop claiming it's the best in town and we should get some. After ordering and him paying for both of ours, we head towards the other side to lean against the railing while we eat. He watches as I dig out a spoonful of the sweet treat to taste. My eyes go wide from the first bite. He wasn’t kidding about how good it is and he seemed proud of himself once I told him exactly that. 

After a few mouthfuls of his own, he silently gestures towards his cup asking if I’d like to try the flavor he had and I nod in agreement. He dips his spoon in and holds it to my mouth for me to try. I squint at it before making eye contact with him and before I can even get a word out he’s anticipated why I won't try it. 

“You’re not cheating on Michael by tasting my ice cream.”

“No, but I’m not trying to swap spit by sharing a spoon.” I decline, while gently pushing his arm towards his own face to eat it and he does so with a chuckle. 

He relents and allows me to try it with my own spoon. I, in turn, make him the same offer with my cup of ice cream. 

Instead, he takes his thumb and swipes it across the corner of my mouth before bringing it back to his own and sucking on the digit. 

“Pretty good.” He says casually.

I’m in shock as my whole body is set aflame from the intimate moment. He grants me a small mercy by not acknowledging how much it affected me. I proceed to eat the rest in silence knowing if I look him in the eye or, god forbid, try and have a conversation after that I’d be a stuttering mess. 

He takes the lead once more by throwing out our trash and grabbing my hand to help me off the railing. 

“Let’s check out a few pop up booths, there might be something there you like.” He says as he walks us in that direction. 

“Like clothes and stuff?” I ask. I haven’t really explored the boardwalk before so I don’t know much about what they have or the best places to shop. 

“Yeah, that’s usually where we pick something up if we need new clothes, that’s where Marko gets all his patches because they’re…cheap.”

“Do you even own a shirt?” I jest. “Because I’ve only ever seen you in just that jacket.”

He looks back at me with amusement in his eyes. 

“I do, but the clean up from a night out is much easier without one.” 

I give him a weary look and he tenses slightly like he said something he probably shouldn’t have. 

“Do I want to know what that means?” 

He shakes his head at me, “no, probably not.” 

“Let’s just keep the conversation light for now.” I suggest, hoping not to dive into anything too heavy. I’ve enjoyed the mostly chill atmosphere so far and hope it can stay that way. 

“Deal”, he says as he gives me a genuine smile as we continue on our way.

🖤 Taglist 🖤

@britany1997 @faefairi3 @princessmads1820 @1nternetvampire @itsyoboysparkel @nataliewalker93 @thelostone91 @misslavenderlady @ursatanicbunny @warrior-616 @charlizekkelly @ghoulgeousimmaculate @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @the-faceless-bride @wickedsandwich08 @palomam18 @walt25 @phantomenby @dwaynesbiboyfriend @crustyraccoon @vampirefilmlover @certified-ghostbuster @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @solobagginses @asdorlia @besas-stuff @kathylee2003 @notfoundfootage @milfsrcool @queen-bunny @imacollasaltitan @midnight-shadow-va

[merbear25]

Hello!!! I saw the “what kind of women Mihawk would like” and I was wondering what Killer and Kids type would be! If that’s okay! I hope you’re having a good day/night!✨

Hey there! I’m glad that it sparked some curiosity about Kid's and Killer's type. They really need so much more content, so I’m more than happy to write this for you! I decided to make the reader gn, so hopefully you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy it and have a lovely day/night too. 💜💜

Original ask

CW: SFW, gn!reader, fluff, headcanons

Their type (Killer, Kid)

Killer

He’s fairly level-headed, and although he’s used to being around more radical individuals, he may want just a bit of a break when it comes to his partner.

That doesn’t mean his partner has to be just as calm or calmer; they could be a bit wild at times. In fact, I don’t think he’d necessarily mind that. As long as you aren’t constantly getting yourself into trouble, he wouldn’t mind you being a bit more energetic.

I could see him with someone who is more open about how they feel and what they are thinking. He’s a good listener and observant, so he’d be able to pick up on the little things.

With this considered, he’d appreciate a partner who shows him the same courtesy. Someone who is willing to listen and is patient would go a long way with him.

I could see him wanting to be affectionate and to be with someone who enjoys cuddling and hugs.

He’d probably be drawn to someone who holds some contrast. For example, they look rather sweet but are interested in horror or they dress alternatively but have a room filled with stuffed animals/loves cute things.

I have this image in my head of him gifting you with flowers on a whim. Not expecting anything in return other than your smile and affection.

A level of maturity would go a long way. Being able to conduct yourself with at least some grace when caught in an argument, not resorting to below the belt actions, would help you earn his respect.

I believe he would enjoy having a partner with a sense of humor, just be sure not to point out his laugh; he’s a bit self-conscious about it, afterall.

Going off the assumption that he’s physically stronger than you, he wouldn’t expect you to fight any battles for him. That being said, having a partner who sticks up for him would be heart-warming.

Kid

Being one to anger quickly, you may think that having a s/o who was his total opposite would offer more stability, more balance. However, I think that’s only true to an extent.

Although it would do him well to have them be just a bit more level-headed, he would do well with someone who was fiery—a fighting spirit, one that wouldn’t back down easily.

I feel like he would value inner / mental strength a lot, probably even more so than physical.

Taking that into consideration, a s/o who has a quick tongue and is bold enough to confront him if his temper gets the best of him, would not only catch him off guard, but would leave him wondering who they really were. 

With his interest piqued, he’d enjoy pushing each other’s buttons, which means that the potential partner in question must be able to hold their own. 

Tease him back! Sure, he’s going to blush and get flustered, maybe ever scold them a bit but the banter is something that would certainly work its way through to his heart.

I imagine there being a bit of an argument between the two of them, and when enough time passes and both have cooled off, they both curl up next to each other. Perhaps there are no sorrys exchanged, but it’s done through physical touch.

Considering how out of tune he is with his emotional side, he might not do well with a partner who’s very open about discussing such things; I could see him stonewalling in that case, which wouldn’t be good for either person.

Someone who could show their feelings more so through actions would probably be ideal for him. That being said, he’s not particularly affectionate either.

In terms of how he would show he cares, I would say his love language would be acts of service. To him, actions spoke louder than words ever could, so if his partner understands that, there would be less problems in the future.

I believe ingenuity would impress him. Thinking outside of the box was a valuable skill, one which he could admire.

[i-heart-hxh]

Hey! This is purely me and my morbid curiosity asking, but you mentioned you buy in to the pregnancy stone oops baby Gon origin story more than an actual mother. Can you elaborate, even if it falls with what others may have already brought up? I'd love to get your take! (also, I sent a review of your chapter 4 hxhbb fic, but I think it might've been eaten!)

Hi!

So, I do buy into it, somewhat! I think, for the time being, it's the best theory we have on Gon's parentage. There are a few interesting details related to it.

First off, Togashi included this woman with Ging in some of his early HxH concept drawings, from November 1997:

People have speculated that the woman next to Ging might be Gon's mother, however there isn't actually conclusive evidence of this--it's just a theory. It could also be an early design concept for Mito, Menchi, or one of the other female characters from the series, as the drawing isn't labeled with a name or description like some of the others. Or, she could be a scrapped concept even if she was intended at the time to be Gon's mother, as clearly this isn't finalized in any way.

You can read about this drawing a bit more here!

However, of course within the series itself we have no info on who Gon's mother might be, and Togashi did bother to include the Pregnancy Stone card:

Now, an interesting connection with this is that Togashi is known to have read the BL manga Patalliro!, as he based Hiei's hair off one of the characters, Scunky:

(From a doujinshi Togashi released, Yoshirin de Pon!)

There is also an unconfirmed but very reasonable theory that Killua may have been based in part of the character Maraich from Patalliro!, as the basis of both characters is similar and we know for a fact from the above image Togashi has read Patalliro!.

Now, how does this connect to the Pregnancy Stone theory? Well, Patalliro! also has mpreg as part of its storyline (with biologically male Maraich getting pregnant twice through unexplained means, with one of these pregnancies leading to a son), and considering Togashi may have used other elements from Patalliro! as inspiration... You can see where I'm going with this. I do think it's interesting he put the Pregnancy Stone card in the series to begin with, and there's also the Panda Maid card ("excellent at taking care of human children"), and Ging has used a panda plush as a substitute for himself in the Election arc. Coincidence? Hmmm...

Image taken from this post, explaining more about the Pregnancy Stone theory.

My personal feelings now that I've laid all this info out are basically... I've talked a lot about how intentional Togashi's storytelling is and how much attention he pays to things, so I think he planted this knowing people would consider it a possibility, at the very least. We don't have any other theories about Gon's mom that have this much to go off of. It's possible he will reveal more info eventually and either make this more likely or explain Gon's origin in some other, totally different way, but for now I think this is compelling--there are enough pieces that it is a legitimate possibility.

I'm not someone who is interested in mpreg (or any kind of preg, for that matter, LOL), so I don't spend a lot of time thinking about this whole situation or the mechanics behind it, but I do think it would be pretty hilarious if this does canonically end up being Gon's origin story after all. Just such a wild way for Gon to come into existence. It'll be interesting to see if we ever get answers with regards to who/where Gon came from, whether it's by Pregnancy Stone or not.

It's a fun topic because it seems so goofy and farfetched initially, but the more you look at it, the more it's like, "Actually..." 🤔

(And thanks again for the review, my apologies that it took me a while to reply!)

[eyesthatroll]

GIVE ME AN ANSWER!

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

warning(s): cursing, angst(??), not sure what else, not edited

word count: 2.5k

author’s note: not super happy with this, it feels a bit underdeveloped, but i can’t watch it sit in my drafts any longer. i didn’t write this with a part ll in mind, by the way. this was supposed to turn into something else, but that didn’t work out + i lost inspiration so it is what it is. sidenote, if you have any angsty/sad prompts/requests, pls send ‘em in, it’s my favourite thing to write! sending love, —mari

You couldn't help but feel like a creep, huddled in the corner of the dimly lit booth, your gaze fixated on them from across the bar. In front of you, a nearly forgotten gin and tonic sat, its ice cubes melting as you absentmindedly swirl them around with a small black straw. If anyone were to inquire, you'd insist that your attention was solely on the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall behind them, broadcasting a wrestling match you had zero interest in.

You wondered if He was somehow aware of your unwavering gaze fixed upon him from across the room. It crossed your mind that perhaps he was deliberately flirting with the stunning redhead as a sly ploy to put on a spectacle, fully cognizant of your watchful eyes. Did He hope to incite jealousy within you? You nearly chuckled at the absurdity of the idea. The notion of feeling envious over a girl with her hands lightly grazing his arm seemed laughable. After all, just a few days ago, he had been lying naked between the sheets in your bed. So, no, you weren't jealous, and you certainly weren't about to let jealousy rear its head.

Yet, there was a gnawing irritation within you. He had, after all, extended a personal invitation your way, urging you to join him and his teammates for what he touted as their "one last hurrah" before the start of the new season. It irked you that he was lavishing so much attention on someone else, given this context. The annoyance was unmistakably etched across your features. Your poker face had long deserted you, and you didn't care to conceal your disdain. Several drinks deep, with a pleasant buzz now enveloping you, you found yourself in a carefree state where your demeanor wasn't a primary concern.

You eventually shift your gaze from him, an uneasy feeling retreating in your stomach. You instead direct your attention to Baby Hughes, who is engrossed in a game of darts with John. A small smile graces your lips as the younger boy, with his earnest enthusiasm, throws a dart that sails far wide of the board, disappearing into some unseen corner. John throws his head back in laughter, and it's evident that he's playfully ribbing Luke, who responds with a melodramatic explanation for his errant throw, punctuating with wild hand gestures. You contemplate joining them, when a towering figure looms over you, casting a shadow that demands your immediate notice.

"Is this seat taken?" You find yourself under the scrutiny of a tall, attractive blonde who's looking down at you. A hopeful smile adorns his lips, revealing dimples that only add to his charm. His right hand holds a beer, while the other rests casually at the nape of his neck, lightly tugging the hair. Your eyes travel appreciatively from his warm gaze, down his well-dressed figure. Blondie sported black slacks that complement a maroon long-sleeve dress shirt neatly tucked in, with the top buttons lazily undone, revealing a small, glimmering gold cross. The choice of attire piqued your curiosity; he seemed a bit overdressed for a local, family owned bar.

Your minds flickers back to Him, and you contemplate stealing a quick glance in his direction to see if he's still in conversation that girl. However, you are somewhat physically trapped behind the man standing in front of you, preventing any discreet surveillance without making your intentions obvious. Opting for a polite smile instead, you gesture with a welcoming hand for the handsome stranger to take the seat in front of you.

You observe the visible sigh of relief escaping him, his eyes momentarily betraying his unease. With a sheepish smile, he gently places his drink on the table and eases himself into the booth.

His voice, raspy and honestly deeper than you expected, breaks the silence. "I'm Anthony, by the way." He extends his hand toward you, but halts for a moment, perhaps feeling slightly awkward at the formality.

You respond with a light chuckle, reaching out to meet his hand with yours for a firm handshake. "I'm Y/N, nice to meet you."

The conversation with Anthony flows effortlessly, each word weaving a tapestry of connection that unravels the initial awkwardness. You discover that he's in town for a friend's wedding, which explains the formal attire, and that he's a native Rhode Islander. He confesses his nervousness about approaching you, and when you jest about whether it's due to your so-called "resting bitch face," he denies it vehemently.

He smiles, his eyes sincere as he offers, "It's always a bit nerve-wracking to approach the most beautiful girl in the room."

You can't help but snort at his compliment, your hand quickly covering your mouth in embarrassment.

Unbeknownst to you, your surprised snort captures His attention, and his head snaps in your direction, drawn by the sound of your voice cutting through the bar's lively atmosphere. His gaze lowers at the sight of a guy in front of you, and the smile on your lips as you laugh again at something he's said. He watches, as the guy's hand moves to rest on yours, and his jaw tightens, his mind racing with questions about what could possibly be so amusing in your conversation.

"Jack, are you listening to me?" A manicured hand slides into his view, weaving through the air in a bid to recapture his attention. Clearing his throat, he absentmindedly runs a hand through his unruly brown locks before reluctantly refocusing his eyes on the redhead before him. She beams at him, her lips quickly resuming what she had been saying before his lost concentration. The truth was, he hadn't been listening to her at all.

He can't focus on her words, not with the image of you and that guy now engraved into his mind. The mere thought consumes his every breath, causing him to bite at his bottom lip out of agitation. He racks his brain for a way to gracefully escape the everlasting conversation with the redhead, and as if on cue, the universe seems to answer his silent plea, when the girl in front of him glances at the clock. Her eyes widen in alarm as she realizes the time.

"Shit, I didn't realize it was this late. I've got to get going," she apologized, her lips forming a slight pout. Jack sends her a reassuring smile, nodding his head in understanding.

"It's cool, it was fun while it lasted," He replies plainly, standing up from his barstool with a nod.

She frowns, mirroring his actions. "Did you want to maybe exchange numbers, or something?" Her voice holds a glimmer of hope.

He pauses, pretending to think for a moment, even though he doesn't really need to as the answer was always going to be the same. "No, sorry. Have a good night, Isla."

You don't even notice Him walking over to you, too consumed in the vibrant conversation that you shared with the man in front of you. It's only when Anthony's gaze travels past your head, his lips pausing mid sentence, that you finally catch sight of him. You follow Anthony's gaze, angling your body around in the small booth.

You open your mouth to speak, but His cold palms cup your cheeks, drawing you into a passionate, yet utterly unexpected and somewhat unwelcome kiss. Your eyes widen, caught off guard, and your lips don't have time to react before he gently pulls away. His fingers tenderly brush aside a stray strand of hair that had fallen across your face, and he looks down at you with an innocent smile. "Hi, my love. Is everything okay?"

You're too dumbfounded to formulate a response, still struggling to register what just transpired as Jack gently nudges you aside and smoothly settles into the booth next to you. As you lock eyes with Anthony, it's evident he feels extremely uncomfortable, his gaze darting uneasily between you and Jack.

"Hey, man. How's it goin'?" Jack asks with a casual grin, his tone laid-back as he eases into the booth. His arm naturally drapes around your shoulders, as if it's a habitual gesture that's been repeated countless times. You go to shrug him off, but his grasp tightens, pulling you even closer against his side.

"Hey... hi," Anthony's gaze leaves Jack, focusing solely on you as he speaks again. "You didn't say you had a..."

Jack interjects, cutting off Anthony before he can finish his sentence. "Boyfriend? Yeah, she does."

Your elbow makes sharp contact with Jack's side, prompting a quick release of his arm from around your shoulder. He winces, but swiftly regains his composure, though not without a slight scoff escaping his lips. "He's not my boyfriend."

"You weren't saying that last night?" Jack didn't come to yours last night, and even if he had, he was the one requesting that whatever was happening between the two of you to remain casual.

I don't have time for a full blown relationship, he said.

All of my focus needs to be on hockey, he said.

Things are fine as they are, let's not ruin it, he said.

And what? He gets to flirt and fuck around with as many puck bunnies as he wants, but the minute you try and do the same, it's suddenly a problem? Not only was he not your boyfriend, but he didn't even want to be, he had no right to get jealous. And he especially had no right to rush over here and kiss you the way he did.

You pivot towards Jack, your fury emanating from every pore. His T-zone area has a faint reddish tint, and his breaths come fast and heavy. "Aren't you busy entertaining Jessica Rabbit?"

He tilts his head back in laughter at your nickname for the redhead he's been conversing with all night. Clearing his throat to regain composure, he gazes at you with a grin, teeth lightly grazing his lower lip as he tries to suppress a smirk that manages to break free regardless. "Jealous?"

You scoff, an incredulous look overtaking your face as you stumble over your words at his accusation. "Me? Jealous? Jealous of what? Listening to you talk about yourself for an hour? God, you're so full of it."

"Wouldn't you like to be?" He mumbles under his breath.

His perverted insinuation prompts a gasp to escape your lips, and your face ignites with embarrassment. Anthony's eyes are locked on the awkward exchange, his expression a mixture of horror and discomfort. You hurriedly bring your hands to your face, rubbing your eyes intensely, yearning for this nightmarish moment to come to an end.

"I don't... I don't know what's happening," he stammers, slipping out of the booth to rise to his feet. Anthony takes a final sip of his beer, his head shaking in disbelief. "But clearly, there's... something between the two of you."

You find yourself at a loss for words because, in a way, he isn't entirely wrong. You and Jack weren't in a defined relationship, but there was undoubtedly something brewing between the two of you, despite both of you attempting to ignore it. It wouldn't be right to involve Anthony in the midst of your complicated situation, no matter how appealing and genuine he seems.

"I'm sorry." You apologize.

He shakes his head. "It's alright. It was nice to meet you, Y/N. Maybe I'll see you around." With those words, he walks away from your table, heading toward the exit.

Jack shifts next to you, a content sigh escaping his lips. "He seemed nice."

"What's your problem?!" You hiss, jabbing your finger into his chest. "You invite me out with you and then completely ignore me the whole night? What the fuck, Jack!"

He meets your intensity head-on, responding in self-defense. "You started it!"

"How, Jack, how? How did I start it?"

"You were flirting with Dawson!"

A scoff escapes your lips, followed by an incredulous laugh. "I was not flirting with Dawson!"

You needed to escape the bar. The conversation had spiraled into a heated exchange, and the air in the crowded space felt increasingly suffocating. You were determined not to create a scene, but it was clear that staying any longer would only escalate tensions.

Without hesitation, you start pushing Jack, who reluctantly lets his body be forced out of the booth. He struggles to regain his footing as you forcefully move past him, heading straight for the exit.

As you pass through the door and step outside, the brisk New Jersey air envelopes you, offering a welcome contrast to the heated atmosphere inside. The chill grazes your exposed skin, providing a refreshing respite from the intense emotions swirling within. Jack hastily follows you, his fingers gripping your arm in an attempt to halt your departure, but you had no intention of walking away this time.

You pivot to confront him, your gaze unwavering and filled with a determination that mirrored the intensity in his own eyes, which held an enigmatic spark you couldn't quite decipher.

"It's not fair," you assert, your hands gently settling on his chest, seeking the warmth of his presence. He remains silent, leaving you to fill the void with your thoughts and emotions, or leave, and say nothing.

You stand there, torn between two choices. The option to say nothing and simply walk away, leaving behind all the headaches, the arguments, and the pettiness, but also bidding farewell to the good days, the shared laughs, and the nights spent wrapped up in each other. It's a choice to say goodbye to Jack Hughes, the one who has become the only constant in your life for the past three months.

Or the second choice, the most daunting path to take. It's the option where you stand in front of him, your heart pounding in your chest, and confess everything you've been holding in. To leave it all on the floor, a vulnerable offering for him to accept or decline. It's the scariest option of all, baring your heart to the boy on the hockey team, even after he's made it clear many times that he isn't looking for anything serious.

"We're not exclusive, Jack." You begin. "You can't keep swooping in and acting like you have some sort of ownership over me when you don't even want to be my boyfriend."

He waits, the stillness between you heavy with unspoken words, expectancy etched across his features. When your silence lingers, he takes the initiative. "Let me take you home," he offers.

"Either you want me, only me, or I'm done."

He pressures. "Let me take you home."

"Give me an answer!"

He sighs, a deep and exasperated sound, his fingers instinctively tangling in the roots of his hair as he grapples with the complexity of the situation. "I can't give you the answer you want."

[donustellaron]

All Grown up

Okay so this is my first published fic, this one's inspired by a Sukuna bot (shockingly), so no warnings honestly? Just pure fluff and love<33. This is a gojo x reader x geto, oh also male reader cuz I'm a guy and gay. Also this is kind of a sorcerer thingy but its not like explicitly mentioned.

When Sukuna's servants brought him a small child as food he decided to give the kid some time to grow before eating him, what he didn't expect was for him to get attached to the kid. Now the kid was 11 and practically his son.

Sukuna sighed, you were gonna be the death of him, you had just asked to go meet the Gojo clan's kid, Satoru Gojo. After a bit of thinking Sukuna replied, "Fine, go see this brat of theirs, maybe it'll amuse me." With Sukuna's permission, you ran off to go find the boy. Sukuna sighed again, he hoped you didn't get into any trouble, not because he cared for you...he just didn't want any inconveniences. So when you came back holding hands with the young Satoru Gojo he was pleasantly surprised, "Why do you have him with you?" he spoke in a confused and irritated tone. "Oh! Suku-nii this is Satoru Gojo, Satoru-chan this is my caretaker Sukuna," you exclaimed excitedly, "Suku-nii I wanted to play with Satoru-chan but his guards didn't let us leave the mansion so we snuck out!!" Sukuna's expression was a mix of curiosity, annoyance, and mild amusement. "So you snuck out just to play with this one?" You responded eagerly, "Satoru-chan is lonely so this'll be his first time playing!! We'll have tons of fun!!" It was clear to Sukuna that you were happy with having a playmate, "How adorable..." He muttered under his breath. "Well go ahead and play." Hearing that you grabbed Satoru's hand and ran off to play in Sukuna's palace.

Later that night the two kids were exhausted from all their shenanigans, Satoru especially had fun, he'd smiled more that evening than in his life. "By the way, I'm glad you brought me here." He grinned, thinking about how his parents were probably running wild. Suddenly you were hit with a great idea, you grabbed Satoru's hand again and ran to your Suku-nii.

Sukuna was having tea with Uraume when he sensed the cursed energy of the Gojo kid, he turned to the door, his face expressionless as you barged in. "SUKU-NI!!!!" You paused to take a breather, "Can Satoru-chan stay the night?? Please???" Sukuna pauses, considering your request.

Meanwhile, Uraume looks at all of you confused, soon enough Sukuna speaks, "Okay... fine. The brat can stay the night if he doesn't make a mess and behaves himself." He holds back laughter at Uraume's shocked face. You squeal in happiness and thank him. "Thank you thank you thank you!!!" And again, off you go with the Gojo kid.

Once it's time to sleep you and Satoru end up talking for hours until you both pass out in your pillow fort.

5 years later, you and Satoru are now 16, in terms of appearance you both have matured and are much taller and stronger than before, yet one thing remains unchanged: your unwavering bond and love for one another. You've spent these past 5 years together, enjoying a wide variety of activities and learning more about the world and each other with every passing day. Satoru's relationship with Sukuna is better now, he's still called a brat but in an affectionate way, when they return from school they always greet Sukuna and then head off to your room to hang out.

A year later they both meet another boy: Suguru Geto, you love him dearly and so does Satoru. A year later you, Satoru, and Suguru have formed an inseparable bond. The three of you are now 17, having grown closer to each other. At one point they end up losing their virginities to each other, it's clear to Sukuna that they are in love. Even so, he and Uraume are always ready to comfort you in your relationship woes.

Soon you're 28 and at your wedding, today's the day you get married to your amazing boyfriends. When Sukuna walks you down the aisle you can't help but cry, and so does he, his little kid grew up into a formidable man. After the ceremony you find him and Uraume talking to your husbands, you walk over and hug Sukuna, a faint smile on his face and a wide smile on yours, "Suku-nii..." His heart warms at the nickname you gave him all those years ago, he holds you tightly. He had witnessed your growth and development over the years, watching your love and devotion to your husbands. He calls your name and you look up at him, "Isn't this a lovely occasion? No need for tears kid, it warms my heart to see you and your beloveds bound in matrimony." You chuckle at his choice of words, "Suku-nii, thank you for taking care of me and letting me meet Satoru-chan and Suguru-chan all those years ago, thank you...Dad" Sukuna chokes up and feels tears welling in his eyes. He hugs you tightly, and you smile, you love your dad dearly. (and Uraume)

AHHH OMG. I'm ngl I almost cried during the wedding part....anyways I really love how this turned out !! And I hope you do too :))

[youaintnothinbuta]

OKAY SO I WAS THINKING JD X READER WHO HATES HIM AT FIRST BUT ENDS UP FALLING FOR HIM? I HOPE THAT MAKES SENSE LOVE YOUR WORK BTW💗

“I didn’t know how else to shut you up.”

Summary: you and Jd are partnered for a school project.

Pairing: reader x jd

Word count: 896

Warnings: fluff, probably spelling mistakes/typos

Request something here !

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Get a load of this. I got paired with trench coat kid for our history assignment. Kill me now.” You ranted, joining your best friends in the hallway, walking to the cafeteria.

“Trench coat kid? Ouch.” Jd pretended to be insulted, accidentally bumping into you in the cafeteria. Your friends continued to your table, you glaring at them as they left you with Jd.

“God, why are you so weird?”

Jd flashed a mischievous smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I prefer fascinating.” he retorted.

You rolled your eyes, "fascinating. How very.”

Undeterred by your dismissive attitude, Jd continued, “Look, I know you don't like me, but we're stuck together for this history project. Can you quit it with the Heather attitude just while we have to work together?”

You sighed, realizing he had a point. As much as you disliked the idea, you were a straight-A student, more or less, and this project wasn’t going to change that. Besides, at the very least, you’ll get to hang around some male company that isn’t Kurt or Ram for once. “Fine,” you grumbled, “but don't expect me to become your new best friend or anything.”

Jd grinned. “Fair enough. Let's meet up at the library after school, and we can start working on the project.”

You gave him one last look, before pushing passed to meet your friends at your table.

***

After the final bell rang, you made your way to the library. Jd was already waiting, sitting at a table near the back. He had his nose buried in a book, seemingly engrossed in its contents.

As you approached, Jd looked up and smiled warmly. “Glad you could make it,” he stood up, pulling out the chair beside him for you. You sat down beside him, slightly surprised by his chivalrous demeanor. “Yeah, well, I'm not one to back down from a challenge,” you replied, earning a small chuckle from Jd.

***

Two days ago you and Jd started your project together, in the library. You spent most of the time making snarky comments at him, however he stayed undiscouraged by your remarks, leaving you with a particular curiosity you’d not felt before. Anyway, the two of you agreed that it’d be better to continue working on it at your house, because you were constantly being shushed by the librarian.

“Where’s your parents?” Jd asked as you walked him though your house, upstairs to your room.

“It’s a Thursday. Their date night. But it’s more like a date afternoon because my mom likes to be in bed by nine thirty.”

“Nine thirty,” Jd, raised an eyebrow, laughing, “wild child.”

“Yeah, I get it from her, can’t you tell?” You joked.

Jd laughed, sitting on the floor, pulling his textbook out his backpack. You sat beside him, taking out the work you two started the other day. Just as you were about to get started, the phone on your bedside table began to ring. You inhaled deeply, waiting for it to ring out.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?” Jd asked.

“No. It’s either Heather, Heather, or Heather.”

Jd took a moment to think, “You’re not really one of them, are you?” The way we spoke was gentle. Usually every sentence he speaks contains at least one sarcastic punch, but he was tender with his words this time, something you’d not heard before.

“Well, my name isn’t Heather.”

“You don’t like them, do you, Y/N?”

You shook your head, “I don’t.”

Jd stared at you for a while, you stared back at him, not in a competitive way, just trying to read the others gaze for a moment.

“Why do you do that to yourself? Involve yourself in them, I mean? Why?”

“Well, it’s just like they’re people I work with and our job is being popular and shit. I can’t exactly just say no.” You gave him a small smile, “but it’d be nice to have someone around that wasn’t a mythic bitch.”

Jd laughed softly, “what about McNamara? She seems tolera—“

“Ugh!” You shouted.

“Woah. Forget I said that, Christ.”

Once again, your telephone rang.

“I can’t stand this! Ho-how does someone end up in this situation- I shoved away my real friends for what?” You ranted, on and on, over the sound of the phone, “I use my grand IQ to decide what lip gloss to wear in the morning and how to hit three keggers before—“

Jd shushed you with the first thing that came to mind. A kiss. As his lips gently connected to yours, you were momentarily taken aback. His unexpected gesture silenced your rambling, leaving you both in a state of quiet astonishment.

When he pulled away, you blinked, trying to process what had just happened. The room was filled with an unusual tension, and the air crackled with unspoken words. You looked at Jd, searching for an explanation in his eyes.

Jd's expression mirrored your confusion, but there was a newfound vulnerability there. “I... I didn’t know how else to shut you up,” he stammered. You stared at him, your mind racing. In that instant, you realized that Jd wasn't just your sarcastic and weird project partner anymore. There was something that had been building between you two. Perhaps it was the shared frustrations, the longing for genuine connections, or simply the way he had seen through the facade you put on for the world.

[hopesangelsprite]

Tag, You're It

Pairing: Wolf!Illumi x Bunny!Reader

Summary: Illumi's grown tired of watching his little bunny roam wild and free.

Warnings: perv/stalker activity, manipulation, yandere behavior, kidnapping, mentions of murder, mentions of groping, breaking and entering, suggested noncon/dubcon

Special Tag: @jaebird44

Viewer discretion is advised.

Looking at me through your window

Boy, you had your eye out for a little

"I'll cut you up and make you dinner

You've reached the end, you are the winner"

The day you met Illumi would go down in history as the beginning of the end. You'd just moved in next door, hoping for a fresh start in a new city far from your hometown. The sky was overcast, the sun had decided not to shine as much behind greying storm clouds. The U-Haul you'd rented was long gone, the last few boxes waiting on your front porch as you sifted through them. It'd taken a while to find, but soon you were holding the trinket you'd been looking for: a tiny blue ornament.

It'd been your mother's and her mother's before her, the keepsake being passed onto the first girl to leave the litter on her own. It marked the beginning of a long but lovely life journey. Suddenly, a stray bolt of thunder shook the ground, startling you and causing you to drop the ornament. You gasped in horror as you watched it roll toward the busy street and closed your eyes knowing you wouldn't be able to reach it in time.

"Excuse me... is this yours?", came a low and inquisitive voice after a few moments. You cracked an eye open, the other following soon after, upon finding yourself staring at the ornament you'd just seen roll off the sidewalk. "Yes, it i-is!", you cheered while taking it from the large, pale hand offering it to you. Your eyes traced upward, head tilting back to look into the eyes of its owner.

His eyes were dark, black even, as he peered down at you with loose curiosity. His hair fell across his shoulders in inky waves, a few strands waving in the breeze. Atop his head, a set of dark pointed ears with fur the color of ash twitched at the sounds going on around the two of you.

"You should be more careful next time.", he gently scolded before turning and making his way back down your walkway. You stood from your perch on the top of your stairs and called out to him. "What's y-your name mister?", you asked, and he slowed to a stop. He looked over his shoulder, ears swiveling in your direction, the ghost of a smirk kissing his features. "Illumi.", he answered before crossing the street and entering the dark house across from yours.

That was the beginning of your end.

Rolling down your tinted window

Driving next to me real slow, he said

"Let me take you for a joyride

I've got some candy for you inside"

Illumi watched from his dark window, eyes locked on your small frame as you shuffled into your new home with a smile on your face. You were so terribly clumsy and deliciously weak, not to mention the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. His heart thundered in his chest as he watched the sun begin to sink lower in the sky, and he glanced back at your house with devious intentions in mind.

He let hours pass while he prepared, dressing himself in black and pulling his hair back to fit under his ski mask. Soon, he was vaulting over your picket fence, using the shadows to navigate around the back of your house unnoticed. As he stared up at the second story's window, another wave of darkness washed over him. It didn't take long for him to let himself in through the back door.

He made quick work of mapping out your new home, wall to wall and window to window.

Illumi crept up the stairs, heart pounding in his chest as he reached your bedroom. Your scent was heavy, and intoxicating, even from behind the door. If he wasn't careful, he'd release his own scent and startle you awake. So, he leveled his breathing and pushed open your bedroom door, eyes locked on your sleeping figure. Illumi towered over you and watched your soft chest heave with shallow breaths; you were sleeping so soundly, totally unaware of the predator that'd broken into your home.

The thought of you being so vulnerable sent a wave of heat throughout Illumi's body and his cock twitched. He needed to leave before he'd be tempted to do something he hadn't prepared for. Still, he lingered and looked over your scantily clad body, tiny pajama top and shorts barely covering your curves. Illumi stiffened as you rolled over in your sleep, settling on your stomach with your ass in view. His hands twitched at his side, and he wondered for a moment if he could get away with getting a quick feel of you. He dismissed the idea as quickly as it'd come, opting to steal a pair of your underwear before leaving instead.

Running through the parking lot

He chased me and he wouldn't stop

Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it

Grabbed my hand, pushed me down

Took the words right out my mouth

Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it

Can anybody hear me when I'm hidden underground?

Can anybody hear me? Am I talking to myself?

Saying, "tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it"

He's saying, "tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it"

A whisper-quiet curse left your lips as you tugged the hood of your jacket higher over your head in hopes it would stave off more of the rain. You'd been so panicked at the sight of your empty cupboards that you'd forgotten to bring an umbrella; it didn't help that your car had been in the shop for weeks either.

A shiver danced down your spine as a stray raindrop met your skin. If you didn't make it home soon, you'd be sick for sure.

The sound of an engine drawing close caught your attention, head tilting toward its steady hum just in time to see the window of a dark sports car roll down. "Get in, you'll freeze to death if you don't.", called a familiar voice and you paused to peer into the window. Illumi sat in the driver's seat, dark hair pulled into a low ponytail, his free hand reaching across to open the passenger door.

For a second, you thought about turning him down. You were neighbors, sure, but you'd only spoken to each other once or twice. Another shiver wracked your body, quickly deciding for you. You thanked him profusely as you slipped into the passenger's seat, apologizing quietly for the water you'd brought in with you. He simply hummed and turned up the heater as he pulled back onto the main road.

"Looks like you weren't listening when I told you to be careful.", he spoke after a while, voice stern, "Honestly, what were you thinking?". Your ears sank low against your damp hair as you let silence fill the car again. Though he was voicing his worry for your health, you couldn't help but feel ashamed for being absentminded enough to leave the house ill-prepared.

Illumi took note of your silence and the drooping of your coal-colored ears before sighing. "I just want what's best for you, bunny.", he said as he pulled into your driveway, "I'll always want what's best for you.".

Little bit of poison in me

I can taste your skin in my teeth

"I love it when I hear you breathing

I hope to God you're never leaving"

Running through the parking lot

He chased me and he wouldn't stop

Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it

Grabbed my hand, pushed me down

Took the words right out my mouth

Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it

The first time you'd been inside Illumi's home was late one night, the hour far past midnight. You'd been startled awake by the sound of glass shattering followed by heavy footfalls. Tears welled in your eyes as you rushed to gather yourself into the closet with bated breaths. What seemed like eons passed before the house quieted enough for you to gain the courage to leave the closet, dashing down the stairs and through the back door.

All you could think to do was run, tears clouding your vision as you frantically knocked on the door of the house closest to you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you frantically glanced over your shoulder at the sound of a branch snapping in the distance. You whipped around to bang on the door again only to be met with a very disgruntled male, dark hair disheveled from sleep.

You babbled out apologies between sobs, barely able to explain what was happening before he pulled you into his home. He traversed upstairs for a moment before returning and instructing you to lock the door behind him. You opened your mouth to ask him where he was going but the words caught in your throat at the sight of a silvery gun hilt peaking above the waist of his sweatpants.

As the minutes passed, your nerves grew worse. You trapped your thumb between your teeth as you paced the dimly lit entrance, questions rattling about your skull. What was taking him so long? Had he gotten hurt? Why was everything so quiet? Had he killed someone?

Before your frazzled mind could become any more frazzled, a knock sounded at the door. You flinched and rushed to open it but stilled at the thought of one of the intruders being on the other side of it. "Don't worry, it's me.", came Illumi's voice after a second and you sighed with relief. You unlocked the door and opened it, stepping aside to let him into his home. Once the door was shut, you faced him. "Whoever broke in was long gone when I got there.", he explained while raking a hand through his inky tresses, "They made a mess and made off with a few things, too."

Your lips trembled once more, tears threatening to start falling again. Illumi noticed the defeated look in your eyes and tilted his head. "There's no use in crying now, we'll sort things out in the morning.", he spoke before turning to ascend the stairs, "Follow me.". As he disappeared into the shadows, you considered turning him down again; you two weren't nearly close enough to be sleeping under the same roof. Outside the front, the screech of passing tires startled you thus effectively deciding for you.

The trip upstairs was short with Illumi explaining that his room was the only one available to sleep in. The thought of spending the night with a man you barely knew discomforted you but not nearly as much as going home alone did. So, you pushed away the awkwardness and took your place next to Illumi once he'd settled in bed. Your heart thundered in your chest, legs restless, as you sank into the heavily scented sheets with heat rising in your body. The proximity jumpstarted your nerves, making you acutely aware of everything; you realized he'd been shirtless the entire time and just how much bigger he was compared to you. A small shudder crept down your spine, and you forced yourself to close your eyes shamefully upon the growing dampness between your thighs. With a gentle sigh, you fell asleep.

Illumi, on the other hand, was wide awake. He faced you once your breathing slowed and he confirmed you were asleep. He crept closer until there was barely any space between you, the body heat you were giving off causing his cock to stir. Carefully, he reached out and pulled the blanket over your shoulder to ensure you stayed warm. Though the sick, dark part of him wanted to shove your face into his pillows and knot you, the scent of your arousal stretching what sanity he had left, another part of him needed to ensure you were safe and comfortable.

Boldness overtook Illumi, long arms outstretching to pull you into him, and he let it. A deep, satisfied growl reverberated through his chest at the feeling of your softer body against his and he found himself growing drowsy. He shifted once more, nose now between your fluffy ears, resulting in his throbbing cock pressing against your tummy. "Not yet.", he whispered to himself as he forced sleep to take him further, "Not yet.".

Can anybody hear me when I'm hidden underground?

Can anybody hear me? Am I talking to myself?

Saying, "tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it"

He's saying, "tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it"

Eenie, meenie, miny, mo

Catch your lady by her toes

If she squeals, don't let her go

Eenie meenie miny mo

Your mother said to pick the very best girl

And I am

A few months had passed since the burglary, and your nerves had finally calmed enough for you to go out on your own again. The weeks following that horrible night had consisted of you staying either at Illumi's place or your own until things were fixed and settled. You had become familiar with the dark wolf; you'd come to trust him.

You looked up into the night sky as you traveled the sidewalk, admiring the moon as you made your way home from work. As you stared on, tall ears twitching, you thought more about Illumi. You thought about the things you'd learned about him, how he had protected you... how good it felt to lay next to him knowing he'd protect you. You shook your head in hopes of ridding your brain of the impure thoughts toward your neighbor and the warmth in your cheeks. Still, a little smile remained as you walked on.

You took your eyes off the moon to gauge how far away you were from home when the sound of rustling met your ears not far behind you. All the blood in your body ran cold as the faint sound subsided before becoming a little louder and a lot faster. They were footsteps. Someone or something was following you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to quickly look behind you. There was nothing but an empty street, and, somehow, that frightened you even more. You bolted and so did the footsteps trailing you.

Once again, fear gripped you and began pulling tears from your eyes as you ran. You cursed yourself for being so weak as your thighs began to burn the harder you ran. You looked around at all the houses in the neighborhood, their windows dark and their driveways vacant. Even if you did make it home in time, would you be able to unlock the door fast enough? If whoever was chasing you was the same person who'd broken in last time, wouldn't they just break in again? You sobbed pathetically, body aching and heart sinking, as you fought to continue running.

You scanned the houses again in hopes someone, anyone would be home and your heart jolted. Just a few feet away, Illumi's windows were bright allowing you the visage of his silhouette passing throughout the house. "ILLUMI!!", you cried into the night, "PLEASE!! ILLUMI PLEASE HELP!". The tiny flicker of hope within you grew the closer you got to what you perceived as safety. You cried out once more, heart leaping in your chest at the sight of the door opening and Illumi peeking out of it.

With a final burst of speed, you crossed the driveway and threshold of his home, tangling yourself in his arm with tears of fear and joy cascading down your heated cheeks. The door slammed shut, locks turning quickly as Illumi caught your slumping figure. Illumi cooed apologetically as you sobbed into him, his heart swelling with pride at the thought of you running to him for comfort. "Shh, it's okay sweet girl. I'm here for you, I'm here.", he coaxed and your crying quieted.

Running through the parking lot

He chased me and he wouldn't stop

Tag, you're it, tag, you're it

Grabbed my hand, pushed me down

Took the words right out my mouth

Tag, you're it, tag, tag, you're it

As you prepared to tell him what had happened and why you'd run to him so urgently, a small pinch at your neck caused your body to stiffen. "What...", you tried to ask but failed as your eyelids and body grew heavy, too heavy for you to handle. Illumi continued to cradle you as he tucked the now empty sedative syringe away, brushing your hair from your face. "I know, little bunny. It'll all be over soon.", he hummed as he stood with you in tow and opened the door. Through blurry and fading vision, you could just barely make out the silhouette of a shadowy figure, presumably the one that'd chased into Illumi's home.

They exchanged words that fell upon your deafening ears, but it was all too clear what had really happened. You'd been trapped, set up by the man you trusted. Illumi slipped the figure an envelope before shutting the door and locking it once more. He shifted a little so he could hold you closer as he traveled up the stairs of his dark, eerily quiet house. A single tear slipped from your eyes along with the last of your consciousness and Illumi noticed.

"Sleep well, little bunny. You're going to need it.".

[resident-idiot-simp]

More incorrect quotes

(x) @s3d-sd

Ghost: Thats where they can come from, the homeless people

Ghost: If I had a nickel for every time someone called me sexy, I'd be in debt.

Soap: Im just to thicc for pants

Gaz: There is a fine line between marriage and identify theft

Ghost walking into a dark room of rookies playing uno (Yes this is the context): Turn the lights on, this isn't a whorehouse."

Ghost: I'm hot but not in the physically attractive way.

Ghost: Suffering, suffering, suffering and pain, its nice it's fresh and it's all homemade

Soap to Ghost: We are two different breeds of white

Gaz: TI'S a queer

Gaz: This Is not like the kool aid man he goes ohh yeah I go Ohh noo

Price: I know a thing or two because I've seen a thing or two, I am farmers "bum bum bum bum bum bum bum"

Soap: (Looks at unfinished house) They ran out of gorilla glue

Gaz about Price: The homeless shelter where the old people go.

Ghost: Whenever you die and they write that check to cover your funeral make sure that bitch bounces

Soap: I swear to God and three other white dudes

Price: He's making leaving noises

Soap: Whatever clicked it clacked and I was wrong

Soap: You can take the toothpastes out the tube but you can't take the- take the toothpaste back in the tube

Soap/Gaz to Ghost: Come heeerrreee tall boy

Gaz: Go back to bring ugly plllleeeaasseee

Ghost: Speaking of toe fungus, what the hell is wrong with Britney Spears?!

Gaz: I just wanted to tell you that I woke up to go to bed

(any of the 141): Turbo virgen

Ghost: God hates me today

Soap: I have a better chance of seeing Batman then heaven

Price: They called me racist and I said no I'm sexist

Ghost: Curiosity killed the cat, and that bitch ain't coming back cause we ain't satisfied at fuckin all.

Ghost: We're balls deep in the cringe, might as well fuck it to completion

(I'll give credit for this one because it's @meowmeowriley)

Ghost/Soap: The whole bus is going to be completely underwater due to my ball sweat

(every paragraph break is a different person the one with the most on this is my practical brother.. he says some wild shit)

[euphorianyx]

Bet Beat Keep [pt2]

Pairing : Jungkook & Reader (MC) Genre : Smut / Romance / Thrilling / Dark Summary : Jeon Jungkook is a legendary boxer, currently the best around the city. Even the illegal cage fights he takes place become famous… And your rich boyfriend decides to bet on his next game. JungKook must win no matter what because you are on the line. Will Jungkook win for himself, or will another game begin? ⟪A/N: Do not copy or publish my work on other platforms without my permission. All Rights Reserved. Every and each like & reblog are highly appreciated.⟫

“Find her… !”

Panic got the best of me. Before I realized, my fingers tightly grabbed the beautiful stranger’s arm.

"Jaehwan must not find me here. He will cause trouble."

I tried to explain. Scanning the room with his eyes, Jungkook pulled me toward the chair. I hesitated to walked in, desperation still all over me. His voice was gentle yet stern.

"Just sit down and follow my lead."

He did not even speak loudly, but still got the effect to make me obey him.

With no other option, I did so. A tired sigh left his mouth while he went to open the door. Jungkook walked out and greeted the small crowd in suits. Jaehwan eyed Jungkook up to down. He gestured his man to search the room.

"I guess you are looking for her. Miss was not feeling fine."

Only in his shorts with his muscles exposed, this man was alone with his woman. Gritting his teeth, Jaehwan took a step toward Jung Kook.

“Seems like you have a death wish.”

Keeping his composure, Jung Kook looked him dead in the eyes.

“What for? I just helped her. I think you should calm down.”

Jaehwan let out a creepy smile and pulled out his gun yet stopped himself with a displeased groan.

"Thought so… You would not kill me while I am the one that will win her for you."

Jaehwan propped the barrel against Jungkook's chest.

"You bought yourself some time for the fight but count those breaths."

Jungkook mirrored the same smile.

“Do not worry. I will put on a good show.”

After that, Jaehwan walked in. I could tell he was furious. Seeing the gun is being placed to its place on his back, my stress doubled. To be honest, I was worried about the boxer more than myself. My eyes peeked at the half open door, and I was glad to see he was fine. Taking it differently, Jaehwan did not yell at me at all.

“Are you alright?”

It was simply what Jaehwan asked. Trying not to give anything away, I nodded.

“Yes, I am better now. Just felt a bit dizzy.”

Jaehwan held his hand out for me. I took his hand, then followed his lead out of the room. My eyes lingered on the boxer as I pleaded for him to win.

After what just happened, Jung Kook mentally cursed himself. He made an enemy out of someone who was in power. He tried to focus again before he walked out to the ring. Chanting his small mantra inside his head, Jungkook walked out with a fake smile.

The referee did not take much time to start the brutal fight. Bets kept rising as both charged at each other to get the upper hand. At some point he saw fit, Jungkook stopped the uneven fight. Shocked by his unexpected behavior, the middle-aged referee came closer to Jungkook to warn him.

"Son, you better have a good reason for this."

With a crooked yet confident smile, Jungkook raised his hands while shouting.

"Do you want to see something interesting?"

A moment of astonishment left its place to curiosity, with elites cheering for him.

"Let's take off the gloves, shall we?"

His buff opponent became visibly timid. Eyes landed on the rich man who bet on him. Annoyed to his core, the man had no option but nod. After the gloves were gone, the knuckleduster in his hand was out for everyone to see. Flashing a smile to the distressed man, Jungkook yelled again.

"Guess I need one of that."

The wild crowd agreed right away. A knuckleduster was brought by the show-girl. In revealing clothes, she climbed to the ring and presented it to Jungkook as if it was a crown.

The fight began again, and the surface was covered in blood soon. Jungkook ducked down to avoid a hit aimed at his face. He punched the man in front him with all his force three times back to back. Finally body giving up, the opponent was on the floor unconscious.

Once Jungkook was declared as the winner, Jaehwan sent his men to get him. Surrounding Jungkook, they avoided speaking to him. Tilting his head, Jungkook mocked them with a half smile.

"If I wanted to fight, you would have no chance."

Two men that were holding his arms let Jungkook go. He followed them recollectedly. The way lead to a private room. Jaehwan sat there like he owned the place.

Waiting for the boxer to arrive, I was already stressed out for the shit Jaehwan could pull. I had to think of a way for him to stay alive. Then the beautiful man appeared on the door. The blood dried on his pretty face, with a few bruises already showing. However, he seemed to have no remorse as he sat across the table. Jaehwan broke the silence with that disgusting smug smile on his face.

"You fulfilled your duty gracefully. I acknowledge that."

Jungkook's tongue poked his cheek because he knew things would not be this smooth. He could see the dangerous shine on Jaehwan's eyes.

"You were way too involved with her for my liking, and you even crossed me after that."

Even though I tried to seem collected outside, I was a mess inside. With the rush I felt, words left my mouth before I could filter them.

"If he did not win, I would be in the hands of another man now."

And they left a distaste right away.

"I believe he deserves some appreciation?"

I finished, sounding colder than I expected. Clearly not expecting that outburst, Jaehwan locked his eyes to you.

"I see where you come from, sweetie. However, I am not sure if he saved you for me or … himself."

Jungkook let out a broken chuckle. Being the topic, it was funny how he never got included in the conversation. The woman he literally risked his life for was also the reason he was in trouble. He was about to cut the conversation but was stopped by the soft voice.

"He just helped me Jaehwan, nothing happened."

I emphasized the words, hoping he would at least consider. Jaehwan paused, but he was still thinking about what might have happened while he was not there.

"Almost fifteen minutes... Enough for a lot to happen."

Tired of control freak behavior and his distrust, it took all my strength to not roll my eyes at him.

Across the table, Jungkook rested his body back to a more comfortable position.

"If I have done anything with her, you would have heard her screams across the hallway."

Eyes twice their size in shock, I was stunned for a brief second. Definitely, it was a wrong time to brag about his ... fucking skills.

"Not helping."

I mouthed the words, hoping he could read my lips.

Jungkook noticed your warning, but that would not stop him from speaking his mind.

"Thinking so puts her in a delicate position as well."

Jaehwan was about to throw a fist but when he realized he was against a boxer he clenched his jaw.

Jaehwan's face was getting red out of anger, so I had to figure something out. An idea popped in my head. Even though it was crazy, I decided to try.

"Everything aside, we could make him useful."

I tried to divert the situation to a more reasonable course. When I saw Jaehwan's fake wide smile, I almost regretted my decision.

"How?"

That simple question was dangerously sharp. Felt like walking on thin ice, I tried not to shake.

"That bozo will not let the bet go, and your men are incapable of watching me all day."

Eyes twice their size, Jungkook was dumbfounded after hearing the crazy suggestion.

"Hold up… If I got what you mean, no thanks. I will pass."

My eyes found his big eyes rather quickly. I tried to shut him down. Somehow he understood, but I could see he was rather displeased.

Annoyed to his core, Jungkook stopped talking. He had no idea what he was dragged into, though he knew he did not like it.

After the debate Jaehwan had in mind, he decided the suggestion made sense. Moreover, he could watch closely and easier this way. Jaehwan got up and put his hand on the muscular shoulder of the half naked boxer.

"Her safety is your responsibility now. Consider this a forgiveness and do not get other ideas."

Without waiting for a response, Jaehwan turned around to leave. Before I got up to follow him, I asked the boxer his name.

"Jeon Jungkook..."

He answered rather coldly.

"I will order them to prepare proper suits for you, and you will stay at the curtilage."

I explained, hence the only response from Jungkook was a deep sigh. Hearing the conversation, Jaehwan walked back to get me. He grabbed my arm rather roughly while dragging me out of the room. Right next to the door frame, he pushed me against the wall.

"Do not play games, baby, or you both will face the consequences."

I tore my gaze away from him.

"I am aware."

Hearing the rather broken voice, Jungkook felt something inside him shift. The panic before and now the despair... What kind of man Jaehwan was evident. He walked out to check, but the hallway was already empty.

[lorre-verie]

heyyyy there, how are you? was just thinkinggg 😝🧟 ---

may I please request an enemies to lovers ao'nung x fem!metkayina!reader fic where reader ventures out beyond the reef with bestie tsireya in their rarely found free time in order to decompress from their stressful routines --- evident in readers duties of teaching the young many things like weaving and breathing, helping ronal collect medicinal resources, and tsireya being tsakarem. reader vents about ao'nung being a pain and how hard she's pining for him regardless and tsireya, being all knowing, tries to hint to reader about ao'nungs feelings. some more banter before reya rushes off to meet with lo'ak for their date. not long after tsireya leaves, readers gets attacked and badly injured in the leg by something (I can't think of anything 💀) and rushes back to awa'atlu riding an ilu, bleeding out, where ao'nung (previously training) takes notice of her limping out of the water barely conscious. ao'nung rushes to her, reader collapsing in his arms, ao'nung delivering a cutsie little panicked "don't worry, im not gonna let anything to happen to you, 'm gonna take care of you" just before readers loses consciousness 😝😝😝😝 perhaps some cutie fluffy tearful confessions after she wakes in ronals healing marui

“Living, breathing, nightmare.”

word count: 4.4k

pairings: aonung x fem!metkayina!reader 

author notes:  - the prompt IS enemies to lovers so i decided to make it a HEAAVY emphasis on the enemies part of that (😏), so this is gonna be a wild ass ride. love you for this request, thanks for bringing me back onto this platform, anon! - 2nd person (love it too much) - NO you are not short you’re a little taller than tsireya but aonung is just a tall mf

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“So, they hate each other?” Ewie asked curiously, her curiosity piqued as her gaze remained fixed on the two na’vi bickering aways from her and the tsakarem-to-be of her clan.

“...Not exactly,” Tsireya answered, grimacing.

She sighed, patting the little one’s back, who stood there confused and still staring, eyes wide as seashells. Tsireya knelt down on one knee atop the damp, warm sand, offering the little girl a reassuring smile as she reached out to place her hand to Ewie’s shoulder, encouraging her to meet Tsireya’s gaze. “Why don’t you go on and play with your friends now, Ewie? You can resume your lessons with [name] tomorrow,” she said softly, promptly turning her head to smile at Ewie’s friends who ran wildly across the coast, screaming and jumping joyously.

The little girl’s eyes brightened as she looked at her group of friends, one of the boys in particular waving her over to join. She let out a small excited squeal, her mind now totally torn away from the sight of you and aonung, running to join them. Tsireya smiled as she watched Ewie scamper away, leaving only the older girl and the ocean in her wake. For Tsireya, now was one of the calm moments that no one could take away from her. 

She inhaled, the ocean breeze carrying a freshness that was tinged with the ancient salt of countless tides. Its age-old whispers danced through the air, brushing against her skin with a coolness that– if she concentrated enough, she could almost hear….yes…Eyw-

“You are an ABSOLUTE NIGHTMARE!” Your voice pierced through her thoughts, her ears flattening as she winced.

She whipped her head around to look at you and aonung in what seemed to be a private, yet full-blown war between the two of you, Aonung laughing in your face as you gave him a piece of your mind.

She let out a breath to calm herself. Happy thoughts…happy thoughts…she repeated in her mind as to not kick both you and her older brother in the back of the knees. 

“Yet I still show up in your dreams every night, eh?” he smirked even wider at you (if that was even possible).

To that, you didn’t know whether you wanted to scream, cry, cringe, throw up, or shove a kick so far up his ass he would never be able to talk out of it again. 

So you just stared at him silently, your silent screams bouncing off the insides of your body.

He towered over you, seemingly amused by your lack of response. 

You hated that. Why did Eywa give the males the unfair advantage in vertical length? (the answer is cause they need it boo or else they’d cry themselves to sleep every night) If you wanted to meet his eyes you would have to give yourself a strained neck, compared to all the other boys your age.

“You…wish.” you said, internally groaning at the less-than-satisfactory response you gave him. 

Should’ve been something kickass like “yeah, the haunting presence of your mediocrity,” but of course you’d only think about something like that far later, when it was way too late.

Tsireya walked towards the two of you, making sure to sigh mentally instead of in real life, bracing herself for whatever outlandish thing you two were bickering about now.

“Ah, sister, how kind of you to join us!” aonung raised his eyebrows slightly, “Would you kindly tell your friend here that she would absolutely not hold up in a battle between her and an Akula?” 

Before Tsireya could even open her mouth, you scoffed. 

“That is not what I said!” you seethed, crossing your arms. He had this tactic of taking whatever you were saying and twisting it so that he’d seem in the right at all times.

“I only said that I’ve been training for it, and I think that I could handle it! And also, that wasn’t even your conversation to listen in on!” and you didn’t want to admit that you were just trying to make yourself seem the teeniest bit more impressive to one of the younger kids you were teaching. In moderation of course!

*record scratch* (for all my lovely readers who’ve no idea/don’t remember what an akula is, that's the scary 3 jawed monster that practically almost killed our boy lo’ak. but that hasn't happened yet in this story)

Tsireya contained her urge to pinch the bridge of her nose, instead resorting to pinching aonung’s wrist, earning a ‘hey!’ from the metkayina while you smirked, satisfied with her response which was clearly a ‘i-don't-want-to-get-into-detail-about-the-topic-of-conversation-but-my-brother-is-incredibly-annoying-and-i-know-that-so-i’ll-just-do-this’ stance, but hey, at least it humbled the gargantuan himbo in front of you, even if by the smallest bit.

“[Name], how about we just get going?” she said, her hand rested on your shoulder, looking at you with an awkward smile.

“Great idea,” you smiled at her, willing to do anything to get away from the disproportionate frog. 

Before you could even take a step away, he obviously had to get in his bit.

“Hey wait, where are you two going?” he looked at you both, confusedly.

This was strange for 1 reason.

Why the hell does he care??? He never cared before, so why does he care now???

You turned your head and gave him an annoyed look, while Reya, ever the peacekeeper, answered his question for you. 

“We’re going beyond the reef. We want to see if we can catch a glimpse of the nrr payoang migrating for the season.” she said.

And even though she was the one who answered, he kept his eyes fixated on you for a solid extra few seconds, before finally switching to her. What in the motherfu-

“It’s optimal timing. Plus, this is one of the rare occasions where me and [name] are both free at the same time.” she said, smiling brightly. “It must be Eywa clearing the path for us.”

Right then, he smirked. 

Oh no. 

He was going to say something else to keep your blood above a healthy pressure, wasn’t he?

He looked at you again, and you felt your muscles tense. His mouth opened– no– here it comes– mayday, mayday!

BRACE FOR IMPACT!!!

“I also happen to be free. Can I come along?” 

You felt yourself die.

“NO!” you said a little bit too suddenly. “Go find some other people to bother!” you turned on your heel and stomped away from the situation before he could burden your mind further, grumbling at the sheer audacity.

“He literally insulted my capability of surviving like any normal metkayina could, and then he wants to “cOmE AlOnG?” Forget it!” you pressed a wrist into your left eye, trying to rid it of the image of the colossal amphibian as you rode on the ilu with Tsireya by your side, who was dipping gracefully above and below the water on her own ilu.

She emerged from the cerulean blue waves, her hair carrying beads of water in them, before she turned to look at you, back straightening.

“I think he just wanted to spend more time with you, you know.” she suggested, trying her damndest to hint to you what everyone else except literally the two of you could see. 

“Ha! As if! The last time I tried to ask him something, he said “don’t talk to me, my people might think that we’re friends.” Like what? Who says that? WHY would he say that?” you started, your ramble being nothing new to your best friend, who only sighed as she dipped a hand into the water as her ilu moved her through it.

Together, you headed to the point where the glowing fish were most spotted, waiting above the water for any signs of movement as you continued on.

“And I do not like him at all, despite what that skxawng Neteyam might say. He’s annoying, loud, obnoxious, and the way he carries himself differently when I’m in the vicinity is dumb. Almost like he’s trying to make himself seem better than me! Who does he think he is, puffing his chest out like a-” hold on.

You went silent, backtracking. 

Everytime Aonung noticed you were near, he stood up straighter than usual.

Your mind thought back to all those little moments in flashes. During training, at your cousin's coming-of-age ceremony, the harvest celebration, and today.

He constantly looks at you even if there are others around, but if you look back at him (more like glare), he looks away immediately. 

He always initiates the conversation first, even if there’s nothing to talk about.

Okay hold on [name], none of this necessarily means that he likes you.

And then, your whole world came to a stop. You swear even the wind became silent, leaving only you and the sounds of the cool ocean water rippling against your body, the evening painting a blur of pinks and oranges in the sky.

As if she knew every bit of the revelation you just had, Tsireya, who was a little ways in front of you, turned her head, looking at the blank expression on your face.

Am I the one that likes him? you thought to yourself.

No. It couldn’t be. There was no way, no possible way, that this was happening.

“Reya?” you blurted out, your body (and your stupid mouth) acting on instinct.

I mean, she was your best friend. Obviously best friends have to tell each other about their crushes, right?

“I think I like-” you stopped yourself short as you looked at her face. 

Her face, which was trying to hold back a smirk.

“Yes, [name]? Do continue?” she said, her tone a lot more singsong than you’d like it to be.

Perhaps telling your best friend that you had a crush on her literal BROTHER wasn’t the best course of action.

Fuuuuuuuuu–

“You know, if you like him, it’s totally alright with me.” she said, shrugging as she turned her head back to the front, smiling as she knew exactly what you’d say next.

“WHAT??” you screamed, startling your ilu, to which you whispered rushed apologies, soothing the back of its neck. 

“I’m just happy you’ve finally realised it.” she said, still not turning back, acting as if this was the most normal conversation to have.

“Wha? Who???” you asked, suddenly getting the idea she was having the wrong idea.

“Neteyam.” she said, her tone sarcastic, but unfortunately you were too startled to catch on.

“Hah! You’re wrong, I do not like him.” you said, silently revelling in the relief that she didn’t catch on.

Oh [name]. Sweet, oblivious, [name].

“Yeah I know, that’s why you have a crush on my brother.” 

To that, you completely stopped in your tracks, jaw slack open. She’s done it. She’s broken you.

She finally turned around, guiding her ilu to the left so as to block your track. 

“He likes you too. And I think you know that already.” she smiled, narrowing her eyes mischievously.

‘For the love of all things good and beautiful, why was this happening to me?’ you screamed on the inside, not wanting to relent.

Okay, if you were denying it, then maybe you actually didn’t like him! Right??

Yeah. That was it. You were giving yourself the delusion of liking him, because he’s the one that liked you first and you felt bad for him, and that’s why you were only considering liking him back.

Wait, does he even like me? What??

“Okay, no, that’s not what I-” and just as you were starting to deny everything, because that was 100% the truth, Tsireya waved you off as she submerged her head in the water, already off her ilu. 

You quickly realised what you were here for in the first place, hopping off and following suit, taking a deep breath before you dipped your head below the cool waves.

Deep below the two of you on the surface, you could see hundreds of bioluminescent jellyfish wading in one path, weaving through the floating rocks and plants, the vividness of the glowing colours acting as if a kaleidoscope in your vision.

You had to pull your head out from the water to take another breath, using your hand to push away some of your hair that decided to stick itself onto your face. You were absolutely stunned at the beautiful sight. It took your breath away, literally.

Dipping your head below the surface of the water once more, you decided with Tsireya to take a closer look. You dove your body forwards into the water, Reya following closely behind. 

It was quickly becoming darker, night was falling and you knew it was time to turn back, but the jellyfish illuminated your surroundings almost mesmerizingly, as if pulling you into a beautiful vortex. 

You hid your body behind a set of rocks, watching the jellyfish swim in their little path, smiling as you watched a small one lag behind the others before a bigger one pushed it forward, practically propelling it through the water as it sputtered around before finding its place again.

Tsireya, who was a little bit above you in the water, turned and dipped her body downwards to touch your shoulder, to signal that it was time to return to the surface and go home before it got too dark.

Her hand was a mere millimetre away from you when a sudden jolt of agony rips through your leg. It's as if a thousand needles pierce your flesh all at once, and panic surges, rising through your veins like wildfire.

Instinctively, you kick and thrash, but the unseen assailant's grip tightens like a vise, dragging you mercilessly downward. Darkness engulfs your senses and you're plunged into a void, robbed of sight and hearing, your lungs screaming for air..

You can’t even see Tsireya anymore, nor the prismatic glow of the jellies.

Bubbles erupt from your lips in frantic bursts, mingling with the surrounding darkness, further obscuring your already impaired vision. Each gasp for air feels like a futile struggle against the inevitable, your chest burning with the agonising need for oxygen. What is this? What is this that’s grabbing you? What is happening? The questions flood your mind and sear the corners of your vision as you're dragged deeper, darkness enveloping you fully. 

With each passing second, your panic intensifies. You can't tell which way is up anymore. The ocean presses in around you, a suffocating weight. It’s still pulling you down.

Down…

..down…

and down…

In a last, thoughtless attempt, you reach out, fingers stretching toward the abyssal void, but there's nothing to grasp onto, nothing to anchor you in this sea of darkness. Panic tightens its grip around your throat, threatening to choke the life from your trembling body.

Desperation claws at your soul, pounding on your chest, as you realise the seconds are slipping away. Any moment now, and you’ll be dead. Any moment now, and everything you yourself have worked for, would be gone. You let yourself close your eyes. Maybe because of the weight of the void pushing onto your body, or maybe you’re tired from fighting this thing around your leg for Eywa knows how long. When you outstretched your hand you hoped that someone, anyone would pull you out of this..nothingness. You wanted it so badly you almost thought that he would. That he’d save you.

Your body jolts awake, only to find yourself in an unfamiliar place. 

The cool, steady flow of the breeze unnerves you. It’s the first thing you notice besides the wild racing of your heart in your chest, your head whipping around in this empty space, trying to ascertain where you are. Is this Eywa? The place feels like a void, but it’s far different from the blackened one that suffocated your being. It feels calm. Peaceful. You can see the dark purple sky above you, glittering with stars and moons that you’ve never even seen about it. But it looks… strange. 

Otherworldly. Like it is impossibly distant, yet so close to you at the same time. You kneel in an extraordinarily shallow pool of cool water, the surface reflecting the celestial display above you. Though it is rather shallow, like a puddle almost, it stretches endlessly into the horizon as far as your eyes can see it. As you look around, time seems to stand perfectly still. 

It’s unnerving. Realising that you can, in fact, move your desensitised limbs, you slowly get up, your feet creating small ripples in the water. “Hello?” you call out. 

Nothing except your own echo responds to you. Just then, you hear something in the distance. Like someone’s there, in the hazed distance. They’re close to you, then they’re unimaginably far away. What is that? “[Name]!” It’s calling out your name. How do you respond? A. Call out for help

B. Cry C. Curl up into a ball and give up D. Walk towards the source Just kidding, you don’t have a choice. As if your legs had minds of their own, you start walking towards the source. You can’t quite make out that voice. It changes every time you hear it, showing up in intervals of about 5-8 seconds of space in between. “[Name]?” Gosh, and the change in tone too. It’s filled with fear, then anger, then happiness, then…huh? “[Name]... I’m so sorry.” Sadness. The voice is filled with a type of sadness that almost stabs your chest. Regret. Guilt. So many emotions in this strangely familiar, choked-out voice. The voice continues sobbing, sniffling, but then it stops. Leaving you whipping around in the darkness, unsure of where to go. You turn around, then you slam face first into something really tough. “What the fuc-” your voice rings out, angered, in the void. Rubbing your nose, you look up. “What the fuck?” you whisper. It’s Aonung. 

How delightful. But seriously, how de-fucking-lightful? Finally, another person in this endless, pitch black space of darkness. You almost want to scream. Of horror or joy, you’re not exactly sure, but you contain yourself, mostly due to the fact that he’s looking at you.

And he’s crying. Tears stream down his cheeks as he looks at you— actually, not quite you. His eyes aren’t exactly focused on yours, but they’re focused on…you. If that makes any sense at all. “Please wake up…” he croaks out. 

And that voice! It was him. That depressing, bleak voice from before that was calling out your name. It was him. But why? And how? 

You’re about to do something but then your heart jolts in your chest because he’s lifting up his right hand and cupping your cheek softly. Gently. Like the real Aonung would never do. This is some sick hallucination isn’t it? Oh gosh you actually went to hell, didn’t you? Before you realise it, he uses his thumb to wipe away a tear that somehow appeared on your face. You’re not crying. So what is this? What’s going o– NO. He’s leaning in. WHY IS HE LEANING IN? Fuck all “[NAME], DO SOMETHING!! YOU STUPID-” you scream at yourself, fighting your inanimate body. WHY COULDN’T YOU FUCKING MO- *SLLAAAAAPPPPPP!!!*Now you’re scrambling to your feet on what you realise to be the sickbed of Ronal’s healing tent, your hand stinging after delivering the most horrible sounding slap you have ever slapped…

…to the side of Aonung’s, now incredibly shocked, and incredibly offended, face.

Ronal sighed, but the remnant of a smirk lingered still on her cheeks, avoiding both you and Aonung’s gaze. “There you go, [name]. Next time, you should be much more careful,” she said softly, her hands leaving the cooling bandage now wrapped around your still aching leg and extending to your ankle, a sore reminder of whatever the hell it was that you experienced the night before.

You sat on a woven hammock, propped up by the trees that supported the healing tent. Ronal stood in front of you, “I am grateful that Aonung was there to help,” she said, turning towards the discombobulated walking-disease she called her son, who had a big bandage over his cheek, glaring down at you. She grabbed Aonung’s ear, pulling his body over very clearly painfully, making him yelp in pain with incoherent pleas of ‘ma’ and ‘please’  coming from his lips.

“What in Eywa’s name were you thinking? Trying to kiss a girl while she’s injured and unable to say anything about it! You are lucky that she slapped you first, or else you would not live to see another day if I had anything to do with it! My son, you are many things, but you are not an idi–” she scolded, promptly dragging him out of the marui still by his ear to deliver his well-deserved punishment outside, an amused smile making its way onto your face. Sigh, justice.

But okay, the incredulity of the day, of course, has not worn down on you. 

Tsireya came rushing into the tent with a bowl of…whatever, her face the guiltiest it’s ever been. It kinda made your heart hurt. “[Name], I am so, so, so sorry!” she said, kneeling down by your hammock and taking your hand in between hers. “As soon as I heard you were awake I rushed over,” she quickly mumbled, grabbing a rag and dipping it into the bowl and pressing it over your forehead gently, “I am so sorry for yesterday, I never should have suggested going there, let alone–”

Oh, here we go… It’s the Tsireya cycle, you call it. Whenever something goes wrong, she infinitely feels bad as if it’s her fault that something nearly killed you. 

She kept on rambling, trying to explain herself, but all you did was squeeze her hand tighter. She stopped, looking at the small smile on your face. “Hey, no harm done Reya. I’m fine, you see?” you reassure her, the small beads of water gathering under her eyes slowly going away as she blinked rapidly, containing herself as best as she could. She couldn’t say anything, although words were at the tip of her tongue. You could see she was struggling to add something, but she finally relented, settling for a gentle hug. “I’m glad,” she smiled. 

Okay, now it was time to figure out what the hell happened. “So…who saved me?” you asked her, using your arms to prop you up a little bit higher on the hammock. “Well, it’s a long story. Aonung kind of…followed us to see the nrr payoang. He was planning to surprise us, he said.” 

what

“He said he saw us, and as he was swimming down he saw you get pulled down by the creature. He dove in immediately and saved you.” she offered a small smile, like anything she was saying was making sense at the moment.

The only thing that came into your mind was the blaring red siren that screamed “STALKER! STALKER! STALKER!” but unfortunately, the pufferfish on legs had just saved your life so you were probably going to have to shut up about that for a while.

Woah. He just saved your life, [Name], shouldn’t you be more grateful? Maybe hug him? Maybe-

NO! Inner thoughts, shut up. Nobody likes you.

Tsireya turned around in response to the sound of someone being pushed through the entrance to the healing tent. 

Aonung. 

Wait nonononono Tsireya please don’t get up please don’t leave me here with him he looks like he’s about to kill me please

Aaand she’s gone. 

He took a pained breath, as if what he was going to do next was going to bruise him for the next couple centuries or so, sitting cross legged beside your, now that you realise it, very lowly hung hammock.

You were positive the look on your face wasn’t very inviting. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said.

You had half a mind to burst out laughing because you were the one that had to get saved in the middle of the deep dark ocean. But he did violate you so obviously you weren’t going to do that, it was well deserved. A non-consensual move is still a non-consensual move.

“For the record, I only wanted to….” he basically whispered the next word, “kiss” (you felt your whole body cringing and twisting and turning on the inside and screaming to be let go from this horrible situation) “the top of your head.”

Oh. 

‘kayyyy… that makes it the tiniest bit better. 

Still not forgiving though. 

“I’m sorry too.” you said to him, your eyes now avoiding his face. Damn, did you slap him good.

He let out a small smirk. Oh no, you slapped his smirking cheek. You could see him wince in pain a bit before he stopped his expression abruptly.

“For what? I mean besides the slap. I deserved that. Although, I have no idea how you knew-” his eyes widened, stopping mid-sentence.

“Were you pretending the whole time?” he asked, eyes scrutinising your face.

“Okay hold on! I know it sounds crazy, but I had this dream, and you were in my dream–” you started explaining, ignoring his smirk at those words, “and I saw you lean down to like, kiss me, or something, and then I slapped you in the dream but I slapped you in real life.”

“All I got from that was ‘I dreamed about you kissing me, Aonung, please kiss me now, Aonung, I love you, Aonung’ ” he joked, smiling down at you.

Gosh, those dimples. 

FUCK nononononnnonasonfiwbjberhblvhaqnerovnav

Okay but he was kinda attractive as hell right now.

The hair too.

You weighed your options for a bit, the tension in the air crisp.

“[Name]? Did I say something wro–” he started. 

Ughhhhh, just shut up already.

Before you knew it, you closed your eyes and pulled him in by his neck, pressing his lips onto yours, kissing him.

He sighed into the kiss, before smiling really widely, pulling away.

“So I was right after all–”

“Just shut up before I give you a matching bruise on the other cheek,” you threatened. But a super wide smile was evident on your face, and your hands still clasped together on the back of his neck.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled, whispering softly, looking into your eyes and then your lips again.

“Thank you for saving my life, ‘Nung.” you say. 

You don’t know why the hell you’re doing this.

 But it just feels right.

 And isn’t that what we’re all looking for in the end?

“No problem. Would do it again,” he smirked, “Know how you can repay me?” 

You rolled your eyes before pulling him in once again.

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Omg screaming crying WOOO it’s over it’s done! I’m so so sorry if it didn’t turn out to be exactly what you asked for, anon. Harder than I thought it would be to complete a fic after a solid 10 months of not writing (and also unfortunate circumstances arising). I made sure it was longer than my usual so that it’s not too bad 😭

I hope you guys enjoyed the fic, I know I definitely enjoyed writing it lol. I tried a different style of narration this time so do let me know what you guys think! Hope it’s not total doodoo to future Lorre when she rereads this back again. 

As always, feedback is much much appreciated and any interaction with my posts helps a lot! In case anyone has more requests please feel free to leave them in the inbox, I will get to them eventually. Thinking of writing for a lot of characters and fandoms but this is getting way too long so I'll cut this short lmao.

see you later!

much love, lorre