#i mean i knew it was him but i love being proven right

[weaselle]

i want to talk about real life villains

Not someone who mugs you, or kills someone while driving drunk, those are just criminals. I mean VILLAINS.

Not like trump or musk, who are... cartoonishly evil. And not sexy villains, not grandiose villains, not even satisfyingly two dimensional villains it is easy to hate unconditionally. The real villains.

I had a client who was a retired executive for one of the big oil companies, i think it was Shell or Chevron. Had a home just outside of San Francisco that was wall to wall floor to ceiling full of expensive art. Literally. I once accidentally knocked a painting off the wall because it was hanging at knee height at the corner of the stairs, and it had a little brass plaque on it, and i looked up the name of the artist and it was Monet's apprentice and son-in-law, who was apparently also a famous painter. He had an original Andy Warhol, which should have been a prize piece for anyone to showcase -- it was hanging in the bathroom. I swear to god this guy was using a Chihuly (famous glass sculptor) as a fruit bowl. And he was like, "idk my wife was the one who liked art"

I was intrigued by this guy, because in the circles i run this dude is The Enemy. right? Wealthy oil executive? But as my client, he was... like a sweet grandpa. A poor widower, a nice old man, anyone who knew him would have called him a sweetheart. He had a slightly bewildered air, a sort of gentle bumbling nature.

And the fact that he was both of these things, a Sweet Little Old Man and The Enemy, at the same time, seemed important and fascinating to me.

He reminded me of some antagonist from fiction, but i couldn't put my finger on who. And when i did it all made sense.

John Hammond.

probably one of the most realistic bad guys ever written.

If you've only ever seen the movie, this will need some explaining.

Michael Crichton wrote Jurassic Park in 1990, and i read it shortly thereafter. In the movie, the dinosaurs are the antagonists, which imo erases 50% of the point of the story.

book spoilers below.

In the book, John Hammond is the villain but it takes the reader like half the book to figure that out. Just like my client, John is a sweet old man who wants lovely things for people. He's a very sympathetic character. But as the book progresses, you start to see something about him.

He has an idea, and he's sure it's a good one. When someone else dies in pursuit of his dream, he doesn't think anything of it. When other people turn out to care about that, he brings in experts to evaluate the safety of his idea, and when they quickly tell him his idea is dangerous and needs to be put on hold, he ignores his own experts that he himself hired, because they are telling him that he is wrong, and he is sure he is right.

In his mind, he's a visionary, and nobody understands his vision. He is surrounded by naysayers. Several things have proven too difficult to do the best and safest way, so he has cut corners and taken shortcuts so he can keep moving forward with his plans, but he's sure it's fine. He refuses to hear any word of caution, because he believes he is being cautious enough, and he knows best, even though he has no background in any of the sciences or professions involved. He sends his own grandchildren out into a life-threatening situation because he is willfully ignorant of the danger he is creating.

THIS is like the real villains of the world. He doesn't want anyone to die. Far from it, he only wants good things for people! He's a sweet old man who loves his grandchildren. But he has money and power and refuses to hear that what he is doing is dangerous for everyone, even his own family.

I think he's possibly one of the most important villains ever written in popular fiction.

In the book, he is killed by a pack of the smallest, cutest, "least dangerous" dinosaurs, because a big part of why we read fiction is to see the villains face thematic justice. But like a cigarette CEO dying of lung cancer, his death does not stop his creation from spreading out into the world to continue to endanger everyone else.

I think it is really important to see and understand this kind of villainy in fiction, so you can recognize it in real life.

Sweetheart of a grandfather. Wanted the best for everyone. Right up until what was best for everyone inconvenienced the pursuit of his own interests.

And my client was like that too. His wife had died, and his dog was now the love of his life, and she was this little old dog with silky hair in a hair cut that left long wispy bits on her lower legs. Certain plant materials were easily entangled in this hair and impossible to get out without pulling her hair which clearly hurt her. When i suggested he ask his groomer to trim her lower leg hair short to avoid this, he refused, saying he really liked her usual hair cut.

I emphasized that she was in pain after every walk due to the plant debris getting caught in her leg hair, and a simple trim could put an end to her daily painful removal of it, and he just frowned like i'd recommended he take a bath in pig shit and said "But she'll be ugly" and refused to talk about it anymore.

Sweet old man though. Everyone loved him.

[coweye]

The Worst Logan

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 5.8k words

Summary: You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life. Sweet dick kicking angst with gratuitous smut, cause we all know Logan eats pussy like a CHAMP. 😤

This is self indulgence at its finest, but it had be to done. 7-years ago, the movie Logan broke something within me that has finally been fixed! 🤠💕

Warning: Explicit - smut. canon death, depression, angst, spoilers for Logan / Wolverine and deadpool, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v, creampie, all the good stuff. 18+

The first time you see him again, the new him, the other him you mean. It’s in the cave accompanied by a man who talks far too much.

You recognise his voice in an instant when the mouth finally allows him to get a word in edgeways. His voice. 

You’ve heard it nearly every night for the past seven years. It's a few octaves deeper than you remember and filled to the brim with vitriol but it's definitely his. The realisation that your memory has been warped by time is a blow to the gut but you continue towards the sound all the same.

When finally you round the corner Logan stands before you in all his glory. For a moment you are rendered utterly unable to form a single sentence as he leans against the wall, a bottle of bourbon in his palm and adorned in yellow and blue.

Your mind can't reconcile this figure as the man you buried. He has the same sneer, the same broad shoulders, he even has the same stance - but Logan, your Logan, would rather die than wear that garish yellow suit and admit to being the hero he always was. 

His nose flares in what you believe to be recognition as he smells your presence, you allow your powers to retreat and reveal yourself. As your invisibility ebbs away Logan snarls in surprise as the talkative man in red gasps theatrically and begins jumping on the spot. 

Your fears are proven well founded when your eyes connect with his across the room, instead of the love and recognition, you find only open hostility and rage.

Your heart had bulldozed all logic, you were in the fucking void, of course it was a variant.

This Logan looks younger; his hair not so grey, his face unscarred and his eyes not so tired. 

This not-quite-Logan stares right back at you seemingly ill at ease with the stranger who is currently taking an inventory of his face. 

“Logan, that's them. It’s X-23 and Y/N, the one’s I told you about.” You graze your palm along your daughter's back in support as you come to stand beside her. 

“Her name is Laura.” It’s a knee jerk reaction; your correction. Your girl wasn’t the sum total of an experiment, she was her own person with her own thoughts and feelings, not a weapon to be utilised. 

The Wolverine’s gaze darts between the two of you, it’d be comical if you didn’t feel like you were about to regurgitate your lunch. They land on Laura, and linger there for a few moments, before they return to you, it's as if he’s trying to find you in her features. 

You barely hear the man you will later come to know fondly as Wade Wilson, question how you all ended up in the void.

“There was a knock at the door TVA sent me here, saying my world was dying … and I never even got the chance to fight for it.” Blade explains remorsefully. 

“They sent us here because they knew we’d put up a fight.” You utter distractedly, finally breaking your staring contest with Logan as he takes a swig from the bottle he’s currently white knuckling. 

“People like us don’t go quietly, TVA knows that so they took us out.” Elektra attests.

“The answer is yes, I’m in.” Wade declares.

“In what?” Blade questions bemused by the man in red. 

“A team up, you me, me you, all of us together, lets get the fuck outta’ here.”

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar!” Logan growls, furious at the other man. 

“It was an educated wish!”

“HA!” The loathing behind it makes you pause, he was so angry. 

The heat in his voice, the resentment, it burns you. You supposed even your Logan had his fair share of rage.  

When he arrived at the mansion all those years ago, fresh faced and wild, you had adored him even then, though Logan was far too preoccupied with Jean to notice the torch you carried for him back then.

It was ironic that It had taken the utter annihilation of the X-Men to bring you together. Charles’ accident had left the two of you as sole survivors. Over the years in hiding your ability to mould force fields managed to keep the worst of the effects of Charles’ seizures at bay, but Charles Xavier was one of the most powerful telepaths to grace the earth and your powers had limits. 

Those years were some of the darkest and yet the best of your life, you found yourself growing to love the man the world called The Wolverine.

You realise you’ve entirely tuned out Wade’s rousing speech and have spent the time analysing the man wearing your love’s face currently gargling bourbon though your name pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Laura, Y/N? What’s it gonna’ be girlies?” 

“Lets fucking go.” Laura agrees heartily, you simply nod still dazed. 

“YES! LET’S FUCKING GO!” Wade shouts back fist pumping. 

“You’re all fucking dead.”

Much later in the evening when the sun has finally set you seek him out. When you come across the father and daughter duo before the campfire you hold back, your skin slowly begins reflecting light, fading from vision as you call upon your powers to hide in the treeline. 

They both needed this and it wasn’t something you were about to get in the way of. They talk for a little while, before they part ways, both a little teary. Laura nods your way despite being unable to see you as she heads back to the cave, her nose just as keen as her fathers. 

So it shouldn’t surprise you a few moments later when you hear Logan's voice call across the clearing.

“You gonna’ stand there all night, Bub?” The man sounds utterly exhausted. 

You say nothing in response, only dismissing your powers and revealing yourself as you advance. You take Laura’s seat at the fire, not quite having the courage to look at him just yet. 

“You hear all that? Should mind your own damn business.” You remembered this Logan well, the one aching for a fight, desperate to shed his vulnerability and bloody his fists. 

“I didn’t hear a thing, Logan.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, you haven’t had to gentle parent The Wolverine in a while but it’s like riding a bike. “I wanted to let the two of you talk, she needed it and I think maybe you did too.”

“What do you fuckin’ know.” He growls dismissively, swigging from his bottle of what now appears to be scotch. “You can skip the speech and go back up, I’m not looking for company.” 

“I’m not here to tell you what to do, Logan.” Finally, you look away from the fire and find his eyes fixed on you, you swallow the lump in your throat before you speak. “I just wanted to see you.”

“See me?” He questions incredulously. “Well, keep the change, bub. Good night.”

Despite your smile at his words, you can’t help the tears that begin to cloud your eyes. Your mind and your heart have been locked in a constant battle since setting eyes on him. This man by all rights is Logan. The man you have mourned relentlessly and yet in every way that matters he isn’t.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Is the only explanation you can give him, his response is a stoic cheers with his bottle before he takes a deep gulp. 

Finally either his curiosity or the alcohol gets the better of him as he questions. “You her Mother?” 

“Yes and no.” His stare doesn’t leave your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “Her biological mother was a woman from Mexico City that the fuckers in the lab exploited, all we know is that she disappeared after giving birth. After … you … after everything that happened in North Dakota…” You trail off.

Your voice is suddenly thick and your words get stuck in your throat as you try to make them form. It's utterly embarrassing as you feel the traitor tears begin to form. 

A bottle of Johnny Walker enters your field of vision from where you sit staring at your clasped hands in your lap. Startled, you glance up to find the Wolverine standing before you, casting an impossibly large shadow as he holds out the bottle.

You accept the offering from his gloved hand, your fingers grazing his in the transaction as you take a swig or two (or three) before passing it back. He looks thoughtful when he places his lips on the place where your own had just lingered, as he retakes his seat. With amber courage coursing your veins, you continue. 

“She was all I had - if not for her, I-.” You wipe your nose, staring back into the fire. If it was a struggle to meet his eyes before, it was impossible for you now.  “I just couldn’t see the point in being alive anymore if everything just slowly gets stripped away; the X-Men, then Charles and then Lo-” 

You don’t know it, but you’re preaching to the fucking choir with your words. It was rare to find a soul, going through the exact same torture as yourself. Logan found himself softening to you, it was as involuntary as it was unwelcome, but he couldn’t help it as you described a battle so close to the one he fought daily. 

“-she reminded me what I had to live for. Laura she is fierce and so fucking kind; she is everything I loved about him.” You cut your trauma dumping to a swift end as you remember yourself. “So no, to answer your question. I’m not her biological mother, but she’s my daughter in every way that counts.”

Silence reigns for a moment as neither one of you knows what to say to the other. 

“You loved him?” Logan’s voice is deeper than before when he speaks the sentence. You raise your eyes from the fire to find his for the first time since you began monologuing. They’re filled with something you can’t quite name.

“I did.”

Logan seems to contemplate this, mulling it over as he continues drinking. Finally, he seems to reach some sort of conclusion.  “You should get some sleep, big day for you tomorrow.”

“Can I stay here … with you for tonight?” The words slip out before you really even mean them to. Tomorrow you might be going to your death and the ghost of the love of your life is here alive and real, what do you really have to lose?

Logan does a double take, not quite expecting those to be the words that leave your lips. “I’m not him, Darlin’.”

“No, I suppose you’re not.” You sigh, “but could you please just hold me whilst I sleep, James?”

A huge part of you expects him to tell you to fuck off back to the cave and leave him to his booze fueled pity party. However, against all odds, he doesn’t do that. 

Logan simply lifts the half full bottle of scotch to his lips and downs every last drop. He’s a little unsteady on his feet when finally he stands up to his full height and turns towards the blankets he’s laid out on the ground. 

“Fuck it.” He growls and drops himself like a sack of potatoes onto the pile with little regard for his own body. You’ve certainly had nicer invitations into his bed but when he waves you over with a lazy gesture, you can’t help but hurry before he changes his mind. 

Before you know it you’re tucked into Logan’s side. His gloved hand doesn’t quite seem to know where to go, more accustomed to brutality than tenderness these days as it hesitates for a moment suspended in the air. After some careful consideration he delicately places it on the dip in your waist securing you to him. 

Logan’s breath is uneven, though he’s doing his best to seem unaffected by your closeness. It has been years since someone has touched him with such easy affection and the way your body curls around his own as if it was created to do just that is driving him crazy. 

You are completely at ease with him, you trust him so entirely it almost breaks his fucking heart. Logan's stomach is heavy with something he can’t name, you fucking terrify him. Yet, he doesn’t move because you feel so fucking good as he holds you. 

It's scary, you realise, how easy it would be to pretend this was your Logan as you melt into his embrace. He smells exactly the same as you bury your face in his neck, the roughness of his beard feels the same pressed against your forehead. 

This Wolverine’s arms are a little fuller and his chest a little firmer, but he still holds you the same. You make a decision to not focus on such difficult philosophical concepts as variants and the morality of switching out your Wolverine. You decide to live in the moment, to just enjoy the furnace of his body keeping you warm and his arm encircling your waist protecting you from the world, it’s so easy to pretend that this was your Logan, so you do. 

And you fall asleep quicker than you have in years.

It is still night when you awaken, it's not quite dawn but the fire has burned out to a low smoulder. You’re not sure what has awoken you from the best sleep you’ve had in a long while, that is until you feel the arms wrapped around you and the sleeping Wolverine holding you in a death grip against his chest, his half hard appendage digging into your hip. 

Everything is still hazy; you’re floating in that sweet spot between waking and dreaming, you forget about North Dakota and, god forgive me, Laura. 

You’re back in your bed at home and Logan is holding you.

There's no my logan, new logan, old logan. 

He’s just Logan. 

You bury yourself deeper in his neck. 

It’s only for a moment though before it all comes flooding back and the agony overwhelms you like a blade to the gut. 

Instantly tears flood your cheeks as you shake from your silent sobs. 

“...Y/N?” Logan's voice is thick with confusion and sleep, his grip has loosened somewhat to allow you to breathe but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “What’s wrong darlin’?” 

That affectionate name is the last nail in the coffin it fucking ends you. 

All teary, and regrettably maybe a teensy bit snotty, you lean forward and kiss him. Kiss isn’t the right word but it’s your intention. Your lips touch one anothers before he’s pulling away and holding you back. 

“Y/n… Darlin’ you don’t want this… I’m not-”

“But you are Logan. You’re him just as much as he’s you.” Your hands rise to his jaw, running your finger along its familiar sharp edge. “You’re Logan.”

“Y/N… I’d be taking advantage…” His voice is firm yet gruff as he tries to inject reason into the conversation. As usual being the good guy he’s constantly telling everyone he’s not. 

“I am so goddamn sick and tired of being sad, please Logan.” This time when you capture his lips, he doesn’t rear back. You’re not sure what’s going through his mind, but his self control seems to snap within him as he begins returning the kiss in earnest.

Logan’s tongue swipes along your bottom lip begging entry, entry you swiftly allow. You’re breathing heavily through your nose as he plunders the depths of your mouth, exploring your mouth with his quick tongue. 

Deciding to make the next move you push yourself up, throwing a leg over him to straddle his lower stomach. He’s lifted the top half of his body to ensure he doesn’t lose your mouth, your teeth clash slightly with the movement and you can’t help a bubble of nervous laughter.  He pays it little mind though as he swallows the noise, his hands coming to rest on your hips. 

Instantly, you grind your hips downward on the growing bulge that lurks below. Logan lets out a deep groan at the friction and his hands on your hips raise to the bottom of your tee in response, his thick hands tugging at it requesting your permission.

Nodding, you pull back causing him to groan at the loss of your hot mouth on his. Though it's only for a moment as the second the tee is over your head, he’s back on you, only it's your bare neck he’s lashing with affection now.

Logan breathes in deep your scent mixing with the heady aroma of your arousal. He’s nipping and licking along the smooth skin, soothing his bites as quickly he makes them. It's the animal instinct within him, telling him to devour you entirely; make you his. 

“Logan…” You gasp, your eyes are clenched shut in pleasure as he bucks his hips upwards into your jean covered centre.  

Logan pulls back to take you in, writhing above him in the moonlight, you’re fucking beautiful, though the flash of familiar metal between your breasts catches his eye, unable to stop himself, he catches it in his fist. 

Dog tags; his old dog tags.

‘LOGAN’ is etched into the aged metal and they’re warm to the touch from living beneath your shirt over your heart. 

The realisation hits him like a freight train, not only was he loved by you, but for his other self to have given you these, he fucking loved you. 

He’s not sure why it didn’t occur to him before, that the other him was as devoted to you as you were to him. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he twists his hands, careful not to snap the metal string, but using it to pull you close. 

For the other dead Logan, the hero he’s heard so goddamn much about, he decides he’ll give you the treatment you deserve. 

As if you weigh nothing at all he flips you onto your back, his hands dropping the dog tags and falling to the waistband of your jeans. His dexterous hands undo the button so quickly, that your trousers are peeled from your legs before you know it, leaving you in an unimpressive unmatching set of underwear beneath his roaming eyes. Though Logan couldn’t give a fuck as he groans at the sight of your body exposed to him. 

Logan begins by kissing down your stomach before his hands linger on your black panties, he can't help but grin at the tiny barely there bow in the middle of them; you’re like a gift all wrapped up for him. 

His eyes lift to meet your own as he begins sucking at the fabric that's keeping your pussy from him, it's already damp with your arousal and by the time he finishes, absolutely sodden with his saliva.

“Logan, please…” you whisper desperately as your hands find his ‘tufts’ for a lack of a better word. They were new, but you liked them, plus they now seemed pretty functional. 

He takes only a moment to remove his gloves, before they return eagerly to your body. Those thick hands traverse the planes of your thighs, they’re quick in their passing as they make their way up to the waistband of your panties, he hooks them over his thumb and reveals your soaking core to his hungry eyes and he’s right back to wanting to fucking devour you, and boy, fucking does he. 

Enthusiastic, would be the word, earth-shattering would be another - the word to describe how Logan eats pussy.

Logan without much preamble dives into your centre, his tongue slips into your hot wet heat, lingering for a moment on your clit, circling it reverently before he dips that talented tongue inside of you. His nose knocks against your clit several times, each more delicious than the last as he utterly devours your pussy. He moans, grinding his hips into the dirt and readjusts pulling you closer, his thick muscled arms locking under your thighs as you buck against his mouth. 

You're a complete goner the second he slips a single long thick finger inside of you. 

“Fuck, Lo, I’m gonna-” 

“Come, baby... I got’ya.” He mumbles into your pussy. And fuck me, he does. He carries on lapping at you all the way through your orgasm, drawing it out of you like the pied fucking piper of pussy. It feels like you’ve been falling for hours by the time you finally come down, only Logan doesn’t allow you any reprieve before he’s back to lashing your clit with his quick tongue. Your hands find those faux ear tufts once more and he groans as you pull on them a little more sharply than you intend in your shock, in answer Two fingers bury themselves deep inside of you.

“One more.” He’s negotiating orgasms, but you have no qualms as he rubs his nose side to side with affection against your sensitive bud. His tongue and nose moving in pace with his fingers, currently fucking in and out of you. 

It's when he scissors those thick long fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot within you that makes your back arch. 

Your top half has left the ground, he grunts in annoyance, suspending your hips back to his mouth at the angle he likes. Those deep hazel eyes meet yours from between your thighs, crazed and animalistic, driven wild with arousal as he eats your pussy with gusto.

It's that image that thrusts you over the edge once more, your back hitting the ground as your body seizes, thrusting your hips against his mouth. 

Without any preamble a third finger joins stretching you deliciously. The hand not currently fucking you, leaves your hip to caress your stomach stroking the flesh there, not quite able to reach your breast. 

“Lo… fuck… yes… right… right fucking there.” You cry as he draws your second orgasm of the night out, only when you tug at his tuft due to overstimulation does he acquiesce and pull back, only of course, after cleaning up your gaping desperate hole. 

He sucks his fingers clean as he sits back on his knees, his cock thick and tenting against the yellow bottoms of his suit. Your arousal has soaked through his beard making his chin slick, he wipes it with a single swipe with the back of hand though, it does very little for his sodden chin. 

Tired of not touching him, you sit forward grabbing at his belt. It's a difficult contraption that confounds you, though Logan is far too wound up to find any humour from it. 

 He replaces your hands unbuckling the thing before finding the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head. 

There, finally in all his glory, he is exposed to you and you’ve never been a religious woman, but Mary mother of fucking christ, he is gorgeous. Logan’s chest is fucking… transcendant to behold, it's like he’s been sculpted by god herself, the light isn’t the best out of here, but you hope to god you don’t die tomorrow simply for wanting to take your time and lick each and every single one of those muscles on his stomach. 

Its your turn to leap forward onto your knees and join his mouth with yours, he tastes distinctly of you and his chin is still sodden, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck, you love the fact your desire is still marking his skin. 

Your hands trace the firm abs at your disposal, before dipping into his now open trousers and underwear to find him rock hard. 

If his physique impressed you, you had a big storm coming, because his cock was a fucking resplendant beauty and it was plain to see from the swelling Logan really liked eating pussy. 

Your fingers barely touched as you pumped him, once twice, spreading the copious amounts of precum along his shaft.

“Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth. You lean down, positioning yourself to take him in your mouth, though he stops you in your tracks grabbing your shoulder. “No sweetheart, I want your pussy.” You clench around nothing at his filthy words, this man will be the fucking death of you. 

You reach behind you and free your tits from their confines, another moan leaves his throat as he pushes you backwards. On his hands and knees he’s deliberate with every move as kicks the bottoms of his suit off as he prowls towards you.

Finally, he’s in between your legs naked as the day he was born. His hands are on your breasts, exploring the new plains exposed to him, playing with your nipples alternating between sucking and twirling them between his fingers. 

So lost in his skilled hands, you barely notice when one disappears to line himself up, it's a shock, the sudden intrusion, but not an unwelcome one as he thrusts himself forward and as deep as he can go. 

You moan his name into his ear, doing your best to keep your volume down.

He has prepared you well, you’re so worked up that he slides home through your tight slit. The sheer size of him means it's a stretch that borders on uncomfortable, but the second his hand finds your clit you’re clenching around him and grinding forward, desperate for more. Unable to control himself, his claws extend, he grunts pulling you close and thrusting them down into the ground. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts into your neck, where he's busy lavishing the flesh once again with bites. Your neck is going to be black and blue tomorrow, but you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck.

The two of you are so fucking close his bare skin so deliciously hot against your own, but you want more, you need more.

Logan pulls his hips backwards, pulling out of you until only the tip remains before slamming home and spearing you wide open his cock. Your moans blend together as you lose yourself in each other's bodies.

Logan is worked up from eating your cunt, so it doesn’t take long for the sensation to hit him.

“Fuck, where do you want it?” He grunts into your neck, as his hand descends to rub quick circles on your clit. He pulls your ass up, making sure to hit the spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

You know he’s teetering on the edge, desperate to make you cum before he does. 

“Inside - come inside me, baby.” You whimper into his neck as he pounds into you reaching your deepest recesses with his thick cock, his hammering, it’s unforgiving with his enhanced strength but it pushes him deeper into spots you couldn’t have imagined. He groans at your words, sounding every bit the wounded animal he is. Your shared groans and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he takes you again, and again is all that can be heard in the clearing. 

Finally as he joins your lips in a kiss, you come hard on his cock. Clenching around him as your body writhes uncontrollably. 

Logan adjusts his hold on your thighs, now he uses your body, drawing out your pleasure but ultimately chasing his own. The pace is fast as he grunts and groans erotically into your neck, he fucking growls as his hips stutter against your own, and you know you should be more careful, but the thought of him cumming inside you has you gripping his cock like a vice once more. You give him a tight sheath to come in, and he pumps you fucking full of his cum and its a big fucking load. Logan thrusts a few more times, pushing his seed deep inside of you as he claims your mouth once more.

You run your hands through his hair as he lets his body fall against yours, he’s supporting his own weight, thank god, you don’t think you could handle his muscle, let alone the adamantium skeleton. He’s still sheathed inside you as the two of you revel in the closeness.

The silence stretches on for an amount of time you can’t quite quantify. The two of you take in your surroundings, listening to the quiet of the forest, until your breathing has finally calmed down. 

Logan lifts himself up on one arm, and pushes your hair back from your face. You stare at him in the moonlight for a long moment, unable to help yourself as you trace his familiar features. His strong nose and the curve of his brow, your finger dances along his flesh. 

Logan’s eyes close, so touch starved he basks in your affection. 

“I-” Logan goes to speak, before you drop your finger on his lips.

“It’s okay. Whatever happens tomorrow, happens. I’m okay with it.” You smile at him, there's a chill to the air but you’ve got your Wolverine warming you up. “I just wanted one night to be about something other than death.”

He takes your hand from his lips and kisses along the back of it and up your wrist, though It's a slippery slope as he hardens inside of you again. 

Logan manages to pull two more orgasms out of you before dawn.

When your time has run out, the two of you finally dress, not wanting to be found in a compromising position. Logan curls his body around yours and buries his face in your hair as he spoons you from behind. 

Just when you’re just on the cusp of sleep, he finally speaks into the night. Logan opens up about his world tearfully, instantly you reach your hand down, finding his own thicker one resting on your belly and you intertwine your fingers with his. He tells you of the mutant hunting as you draw comforting circles on the back of his hand, it's not much, but it's more than he’s ever had whilst reliving his worst day. When he has finally bared his soul, the two of you fall back into silence. 

After what has been an emotionally, not to mention physically taxing night the two of you finally fall asleep if only for a few more hours, two incredibly damaged souls offering one another comfort.

It’s later in the morning when you finally awake. The sun has risen that much is clear but you're slow to awaken from your comfortable position in Logan's arms, his warm strong body coiled against your back fighting off the worst of the early morning chill, his face still buried in your hair as he snores peacefully.

There’s a sensation niggling at you, you think it's what woke you up in the first place; you can’t shake the sensation of being watched. 

Lazily you open your eyes, only for your heart to drop to your asshole when you find Wade Wilson about 10-inches from your face lying on his side, his head supported by his hand.

“Mornin’ sleepy head, have a good night?” You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“AGH!”  Unable to stop both your cry of fear and your fight or flight response in progress, you throw yourself backwards, your powers activating of their own accord, and slamming your body into Logan’s chest. He startles awake, with the telltale ‘snikt’ of his claws extending as he orientates himself, his arm coming out to block you from the threat, despite not being able to see you. 

After your brain catches up, you call your power back, but Logan doesn’t do the same, keeping his claws out seemingly ready to slice up his not-so-best friend. 

“Get the fuck outta’ here, Wade.” Logan growls harshly at the other man, his voice is filled to the brim with hatred.

“Hmph - this is what I get for acting altruistically. I thought a good stress relieving bone in the woods with your cherie amour would really sort out that bee in your bonnet, but you sir are just a very unpleasant man and I’m worried that-”

“WADE.” This time Logan’s voice is a threat as he shouts at the man. You place a hand on his muscled arm to steady him. Though he may have stopped your heart with his antics, Wade isn’t doing anything particularly outrageous.  Logan shakes your hand from his arm and allows his claws to retract as he stands. 

“Thanks for jumping to my defence there, Y/N. Great to meetcha bt-dubs, huge fan.” You’re disoriented from the wakeup call but you shake the hand he offers you.  Honestly, you’re still trying to process the head-fuckery of the past day, so you don’t have a quick response for him, though the mouth doesn’t seem to mind as he continues. “That mean lil’ lady is asking for ya’. Thought I’d come and check you and big yellow weren’t still bumpin’ uglies. Didn’t want her to see you and Papa going to town on each other's fun parts.”

“Uh - Thanks… Wade?” 

“That’s me.” He theatrically begins bestowing multiple kisses on the back of your hand he still had in his grasp, which you retract gently. “Oh, and we’re done.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to stand though Logan offers you his newly gloved palm. You lock your fingers around his and the two of you stand together, inches apart and your fingers still intertwined, neither quite sure what to say to the other. Wade’s ‘awh’ over your shoulder shatters the moment and he drops your hand instantaneously. 

After a beat or two Logan leans forward, placing a single solitary kiss on your forehead. “See ya’ around, bub.”

“Where’s my smooch, Logie-bear?”

“Go fuck yourself, Wade.” He calls as he walks around, Logan doesn’t look back as he heads off into the forest. 

You still had faith he’d turn up for the fight, Logan always turned up when it counted and you knew this time would be no different. 

“Hate to see him leave, but love to watch him go.” Wade sighs linking his arm with yours. 

“Mmh, You can say that again.” You agree with the clown watching Logan’s ass as he walks away, you swear you see his step falter thanks to his impeccable hearing, but he doesn’t turn back. 

The two of you turn and you begin walking back to the cave arm in arm with the strange man to prepare for the assault on Cassandra’s lair when Wade finally asks the question you know he’s been dying to ask since meeting you “So, Y/N just between us girls… how big is it?”

LOGAN TENDER HAIR TUCK SUPREMACY RISE. I'll use it in every fic, don't think I won't.

Thanks for reading xxx

Graphics by my pal - @saradika-graphics 💕

[qlossytbh]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeuQ8EA6/

I am obsessed with this edit!

Can you do a spencer reid x bau reader where she is very closed off emotionaly so he doesnt know if she likes him back or not until she does the little "tuck her hair behind her ears thing"?

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you were someone spencer found very hard to read. that is until the day of your birthday, where you accidentally do the infamous double tuck

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 PURE FLUFF, my beloved awkward spence <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 this is so sickeningly sweet. my heart is literally about to implode, they’re so awkward and wholesome. this request was so fucking cute i just had to do something with it

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Garcia!" You smiled sweetly, immediately infecting those around with a mirror of your very smile. You held one of your favorite candles between your hands, tracing the glass beneath your fingertips— You had just been meaning to buy a new one.

Garcia beamed proudly, knowing she had nailed your birthday gift, a task many deemed imposible. It’s not that you were hard to please, not at all. You had always been closed off with those around you, opting to talk very little about yourself and allowing people to talk a lot about themselves, which is what people nowadays loved doing. As a profiler, you knew exactly how to prevent prying eyes from seeing anything past the depths of yours.

However, to Spencer particularly, it was absolutely infuriating to not be able to read you properly. Any hypothesis he made up in his head based on any of your gazes, your gestures, your small quirks and antics— only turned out being proven wrong since you'd completely redirect him in an opposite direction to what he believed you were thinking.

He was constantly thrown off by you, and Spencer wasn't the type of person who particularly enjoyed being wrong or not being able to perfectly calculate and analyze a situation. His job was profiling after all.

There was a single reason and he tried to remain completely oblivious. But he knew that the only reason as to why he wanted so desperately to know about you was because he liked you— he really liked you.

As in 'became a blabbering mess around you' liked you, as in 'couldn't formulate a coherent sentence around you' liked you— It was so hard for him to act normal around you. Anytime you appeared out of no where, asking how his day had been, and offering another one of those teeth-rottening sweet smiles, he'd go blank and feel utterly stupid. Every aspect of being a genius vanished into thin air when it came to you.

Morgan teased him persistently, being able to see his fuming crush from a mile away. Spencer sat down quietly, watching you hug Garcia happily as you sat the candle down onto your desk. When you pulled away, you tucked a single strand of hair behind one ear, smiling brightly.

"So, has she done it yet?" Morgan inquired, appearing right behind Spencer as he watched you silently from his own desk. Spencer flinched, turning immediately in his chair, looking over at his fellow co-worker and friend like a deer caught in headlights. He used his hand to push Morgan's face away from his with a shove. Garcia, who accompanied Morgan, stood by the side, bemused entirely by the situation .

Morgan lowered his tone, lacing it with implicit teases that flew past his familiar smirk. He leaned against Spencer's desk. "So how's the stalking going Lover boy?"

Garcia laughed to herself unwittingly while she mixed her coffee around in her mug with a spoon. Spencer glowered at the two of them.

"I'm not stalking," He defended matter of factly. "And stop with the 'lover boy'"

"But that's what you'd call someone who's head over heels for our dear little—"  Morgan began saying in a sing-song voice as he poked at Spencer's cheek, desperate to get a reaction out of his constant teasing. With a firm slap, Spencer shooed him away, blushing profusely.

"I'm not.!" He fussed. Garcia let out a soft snort, to which Spencer was not amused by. In the slightest.

"Really?" Garcia asked, almost in amusement. The only one truthfully believing what Spencer was saying was himself.

"I'm just looking t-to—" Spencer pulled his lips into a flat line, unable to come up with a plausible excuse quick enough. "—to figure out what she may want for her birthday."

Garcia and Morgan exchanged a brief glance before simultaneously regarding Spencer. He sputtered, still glaring at them.

"What?!"

"Oh nothing.." Garcia took a sip of her coffee with a smirk. "Has she done it yet?"

"I asked the same thing!" Derek turned to Garcia. They laughed together as if one big secret was being tossed around in front of everyone and no one else knew. Spencer furrowed his brows, looking at them oodly.

"Done what?" Spencer couldn't help but ask, curiosity tickling him.

"The double tuck," Garcia stated, looking back over at Reid. The furrow in Spencer's brow deepened as he opened his mouth to speak.

"The—what?"

Derek then proceeded to give a very specific demonstration of whatever it was Garcia was talking about. Derek batted his lashes, putting on the most innocent face he could muster and giggled nervously as he pretended to tuck hair behind both ears. Spencer cringed at his antics while Garcia let out a laugh.

"When she really likes a guy and gets nervous she tucks her hair behind both ears at the same time,"

Spencer looked back over at you as you handed a fellow co-worker a few files, talking aimlessly. You threw your head back laughing at something the woman who chatted with you had said and Spencer couldn't stop a small smile from creeping it’s way onto his face.

"She hasn't," He said, still looking at you intently. Garcia and Derek shared a look and with one more sip of coffee, she added.

"She will.”

"Watch out lover boy, she'll catch you staring—" Morgan whispered in Spencer's ear, which only caused him to reach back in protest and slap Derek away. He turned to glare at him while Morgan laughed.

You thanked Garcia one final time and turned your attention over at Morgan who was now laughing in a way that you felt intrigued enough to want to be involved in whatever it was the two of them were laughing at. You tilted your head slightly to the side, furrowing your brows with a smile.

"What's so funny over there boys?" Penelope asked, lips curving into a sly smirk while she crossed her arms across her body. Spencer froze, looking over at you immediately.

"Uh— we, uhm—" He stammered, cheeks beginning to buzz with heat. Before he could dig his grave any deeper, JJ and Emily walked into the room singing happy birthday with a tray of cupcakes in their hands.

You turned to them, eyes blowing wide. A nervous laugh erupted out of you, causing you to lower your face and hide it in your hands, feeling profusely embarrassed. Getting this kind of public attention wasn’t something you preferred, and it made you wonder if there was anyone that truthfully enjoyed getting their chants of happy birthday’s in public.

Spencer’s could practically feel and hear the way his heart bursted in his chest as he watched you crinkle your face in embarrassment. It was evident on every single fraction of his face— the awe that pooled behind his irises and the way his cheeks were tainted a specific shade of pink.

"Someone's fallin'—" Derek started.

"Shut up."

The day had gone by swiftly. It had been a slow and uneventful day, so no crimes were up for reviewing. You had instead, been drowned in paperwork that had your back aching by the end of the day.

However, being surrounded by all of your friends and receiving so much appreciation and love on your special day had been a plus, urging you further to push throughout the rest of the day.

Hotch had given you an okay to leave early, and knowing that your parents were waiting for you to take you out for your birthday dinner, you hurriedly packed up your things into your purse.

On your way out, you shot a goodbye to everyone with a bright smile plastered across your features. As you walked past Spencer's desk, you offered him a brief glance accompanied with a small wave. “Bye Spence,"

He waved back woefully, blinking rapidly and pressing his lips into a tight smile that inched sideways. Not wanting to give himself the pleasure of gawking at you further, he turned to his files, swirling his pen in his hand nervously.

Someone cleared their throat, catching Spencer's attention. He turned seeing JJ, Emily and Morgan peering over at him from their respective desks.

"Really?" Emily pinched the skin between her eyebrows with frustration.

"What?" Suddenly he was feeling mortified that all his co-workers had been watching his entire inner-turmoil.

"Did you even give her the gift you spent weeks putting together?" JJ tested, resting her chin in her hand. Spencer looked away sheepishly, scribbling something onto his paper and not entirely sure how JJ knew about it.

"I— I forgot.." He said, voice small while he tripped over his own words.

"Reid, just get out there," Derek urged. He was beginning to get restless with watching the two of you ghost around eachother like two idiots.

Spencer stopped scribbling and glanced over at you briefly as you walked out the main door that lead towards the elevators. He looked back over to the others who all shot him a look of encouragement. He supposed that it wouldn't be a bad idea just to— you know, give you your present.

The impulse in him was screaming and yelling at him to just get up and chase after you. But another part of him was forcing him to stay glued to his desk, letting you leave yet again.

It really didn't help him not being sure where you stood when it came to your friendship. At times, he’d get the smallest intuition that maybe, just even possibly, you were on the same page as him, but the insecurity that lingered within him was loud enough to prevent him from ever doing anything about it.

He had to get over himself— it was just a present. Everyone had given you one except him, and he didn't want you thinking he didn't care. He knew he didn't give it to you not because he didn't care but because he cared too much and he felt really scared that maybe by giving you his gift you may not—

He clapped his eyes shut, realizing he really had to stop overthinking and just, in the ‘wise’ words of Morgan, 'shoot his shot'.

Spencer, peered down at his pocket, and back over at the door.

You pushed the glass door open, looking down at your phone and tugging your scarf up to cover your nose from the piercing cold.

"Y/n!" You turned, surprised to see Spencer running through the lobby and out the main door, catching up to you.

You watching him, wide-eyed and taken aback as he jogged up to you, opening his mouth to say something but having to lean over to catch his breath. He didn’t know if it had been the brief run or the unforeseen anxiety that caused him to run out of breathe— whichever it was, he needed to work on it.

You let out a soft laugh, finding his behavior amusing. “You okay?”

You followed him with your gaze while he finally straightened himself. No words were said as his chest heaved. He looked into your eyes, immediately regretting it as his rapid pulse hammered against his head. You too began to feel your heart begin to pick up its pace until you found yourself reaching up and tucking your hair behind both ears, looking at the floor sheepishly

And there it was.

Spencer's mind stopped running the second he registered your movements and Garcia's words flashed across his mind so quickly he almost didn’t remember.

"When she really likes a guy and gets nervous she tucks her hair behind both ears at the same time,"

"I, uhm—" He started, trying to prevent a grin from rising onto his face at his newfound information.

You watched him curiously, starting to wonder if his cheeks were turning pink due to how cold it was or if he was possibly blushing.

Spencer reached into his pocket and took out a small chained bracelet. It was small and dainty— nothing too flashy or flamboyant. He held his slightly trembling hand out to you, revealing the small, nearly minuscule butterfly charm that sat on center of it. You stared at it in awe, reaching over and grasping it.

As you stared at it, you recalled the first conversation you had with Spencer. It was nearly spring and you were on one of your first cases with the team. As you inspected one of the crime scenes, a butterfly had suddenly latched onto your wrist.

You looked at the small insect, briefly startled, but once realizing the absence of danger, you quickly allowed yourself to gaze upon the bug with curiosity and awe.

Spencer watched you intently. He knew close to nothing about you, but something inside him twisted with your tender gaze towards something so small and fragile. He couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth and beginning one of his endless rants on that specific species of butterfly and how butterflies were a symbolism of good luck and, oh so on.

He couldn't stop talking and that was the first impression you had gotten from Spencer. He was profusely embarrassed afterwards, realizing he had probably overstepped a boundary you had yet to set given since— he really didn't know you all that much.

However, you smiled at him and asked him to tell you more. Since that day, butterflies had become your favorite.

And since that day, Spencer felt his heart double in size any time you were near him.

"Spence," You looked back up at him. "This is beautiful."

He smiled awkwardly, and shuffled on his heels, feeling his pulse quicken. How fast can one’s pulse beat? "I didn't want you thinking I had forgotten about a gift I just, didn't really know when to give it to you and I though—"

You watched his every movement intently, noticing the small pool of fog leave his mouth with each breath due to the cold, not even trying to avoid lingering your gaze on his lips.

"No! No—" You waved your hands in front of him frantically, panicking at the thought of him feeling in any way obligated to get you stuff, even if it was your birthday. It felt too indulgent from him— especially from him.

“It's okay..! You didn't have to get me anything, much less something so special,"

"I—" Spencer looked to the side. With the simple confirmation of your little hair tuck, he decided to push his luck, relying completely on Garcia’s analysis. "I wanted to."

You felt heat all over your face. You grabbed the small chain and easily slipped it onto your wrist, looking at it in awe. You once again, unconsciously tucked your hair behind both of your ears. Spencer noticed this but this time, he allowed himself to smile widely like kid on christmas morning.

You smiled down at it. Spencer watched you, eyes pooling with affection. You looked back up at him, realizing the way his gazed lingered on you. There was some form of affection that was quite evident, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think anything of it. Nothing was said, and that made you incredibly nervous.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something but not being able to. The mix of the piercing cold and the invasive anxiety wasn’t doing him any good as his shoulders shook lightly. You took notice, and it made sense since he had chased you down in nothing but a blue button up shirt. Without a single word, you reached for your scarf and unwrapped it from your neck. You’d do okay with the cold. You had enough layers— and you were blushing enough to heat your whole body up.

You pushed yourself onto the tip of your toes, wrapping it around Spencer's neck in order to give him some sort of warmth. Spencer immediately grew dizzy, failing to ignore how the scarf smelled just like you always did— a burnt vanilla mixed with the sweetest notes of sugared petals, warm and inviting. He also failed to ignore how close you suddenly were.

Something in you flipped and with a slap of encouragement, you once again pushed yourself onto your toes and planted a tender kiss onto his cheek, staining it ever so slightly with the soft red chapstick you were wearing.

"Blue looks good on you," You said, hands still playing with the blue scarf that sat comfortably around his neck. You wish you could’ve taken a picture of his face, starstruck and dizzy.

You caught the small red stain on his cheek. You smiled, reaching up and smudging your thumb across the stain. "So does red."

Spencer had nearly felt his knees buck. Your sudden bold moves were causing him to spin. It had always been so hard trying to decipher your intentions and antics, but with you standing so close to him, for the first time, he found everything so clear and evident. Like the last layer of secrecy had been ripped off in the matter of seconds and he was entranced.

That could be part of the reason as to why Spencer couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and placing a firm kiss onto your lips.

You froze momentarily, completely caught off guard, especially since you had always thought what you felt for Spencer was one-sided. But soon enough, you eased and smiled into the kiss. It was sweet and soft, innocent and pure, and it was perfect.

He pulled away harshly, suddenly realizing what he had done. "I’m—"

“No!—“ You were surprised at the lack of stability in your voice. “T-that was fine,”

Oh if one could kick themselves. Fine?!

He cleared his throat, words caught deep into his throat. You blushed profusely, wanting to slap yourself back into reality as you grew more and more fidgety and nervous.

"I—" You both said simultaneously. This was embarrassing.

You shot him a nervous smile as you both proceeded to stumble upon each-others words, neither being able to form a coherent sentance.

"Are— Are you doing anything tomorrow..?" Spencer asked, anxiety clawing at him relentlessly.

"No," You felt anticipation in your chest as you shuffled your grip on your purses strap.

"Would you want to?—” He asked, voice small, as if testing the waters and terrified to how you would reply. “You know, do something..?”

A giddy smile grew onto your face, as your hands reached up, and for a third time, tucked hair behind both ears.

"I’d love to," You said. Spencer felt like he was on cloud nine.

"Great! Uh—" He glanced down, pursing his lips. "Cool..”

You stifled a laugh, as he peered over at you with a smile. "I'll text you,"

"Cool.." You pointed over to your car, realizing that it was getting late. "I'm going to, uh—"

A grin that stretched from ear to ear was plastered across Spencer face as you began walking away, also smiling to yourself giddily. Once your back was turned to him, you squeezed your eyes shut, nearly jumping with joy.

"Happy birthday..!" He shot out. You turned, offering him a wave. Spencer watched until you climbed into your car and left the driveway, with the widest, most stupidly huge smile plastered all over his face.

Of course, when he reappeared at his desk, wrapped in your scarf, cheek stained slightly, and the most dazed look splattered all across his features, Morgan didn't skip the opportunity to tease the hell out of him— again.

[lady-ashfade]

Pretty girl

Yandere Percy Jackson x Aphrodite!Bimbo fem!reader. (Slight Yan! Aphroditesiblings)

Plot: Maybe the power of your beauty worked a little too well on him. Percy can’t get you out of his head.

-£ he’s aged up and I’m thinking of book Percy

Warnings: Spoilers for the books? Yandere tendencies, Jealousy, Percy being possessive, Percy thinking he as some of claim on you, Reader being a bit naïve and the baby of her cabin, and not knowing how to fight, Percy being kinda mean to the reader, over all toxic.

if there was one thing he wanted in this life. it would be to call you his.

percy never saw anything more beautiful in his life then when he looked at you for the first time when he arrived at camp. sitting with your sisters and giggling as they braided your hair, you didn’t notice him. he was with luke while getting to know the camp, he just stopped at stared at you. his cheeks flushed and heart beating faster as he heard the faint sound of your cute laugh. the older boy took notice and realized what was happening.

“Aphrodite’s daughters, the one in the middle is y/n. She’s the camp’s sweetheart, I don’t think there is a mean bone in her body.” Percy pulled away from you for a second to look at luke but just went back to you. “is she seeing anyone?” luke just laughed and patted him on the back.

“Aphrodites cabin keeps her away from anyone other then them, no one as been bold enough to try. So good luck,” after a few seconds of standing there like a love struck idiot he was pulled away and forced to go found out who is godly parents is.

Percy was proven right when he tried to approve you many times. your sisters just glared at him and pulled you away without you noticing he was even there, and he tried so many times. that only tempted him more. so he started following you around and watches you. laughing, playing in the water as your sister watched, or brushing your hair. where ever you went he wasn’t far behind.

this sparked his yandere behavior. he was convinced you were waiting for him to take you away. you need someone to kiss the ground you walk on and protect you. he was always watching you and when he went a day without seeing you he get cranky.

luckily, after months of just watching you he was finally able to find you alone with no sibling in sight. he watched you with a smirk as you cut through the air with your sword and played pretend. he never saw you in training or around, and never with any weapons. you must have stunk away from your cabin and tried to train yourself.

it was adorable how you thought you could teach yourself. being so weak and clumsy. Percy watched for a few minutes as you copied some simple moves you must have saw and small screams.

it wasn’t until you tripped over a root sticking up from the ground he was rushing towards you.

“Poor thing,” you turned your head at a voice behind you while you sat on the ground getting your pants covered in dirt. “Need some help?” as you looked up at him he realized how bad he had been craving to have your attention on him. he was close to you now. all alone. this was his opportunity.

embarrassment set inside of you and your body heated up and started to sweat. you looked away from him and started to get up on your own. “how much did you see.” You picked up the sword and played with the handle.

“not much, just you taking a nasty fall.” You nodded your head as he spoke and started to walk closer to you. “I could help if you want, I’ve fought a few things before.” His cheeky smile and tone made you look at him. You knew who he was, of course you did. he saved camp, he stopped a war. he was a hero.

and the most handsome boy you have seen.

it was unreal to think about how he was talking to you now. offering to help you after you embarrassed yourself in front of him. “um, you can if you want.” the small sound of your voice made his heart pulse faster. he was finally getting what he wanted. so he only smiled and grabbed ahold of your hand that held the sword.

as he spoke he moved behind you and wrapped his arm around your waist and pushed your foot back to get you balanced. his other hand still holding yours. you could barely focus when he was so warm, your crush was helping you! Percy noticed how quiet you got and he was so smug about it. “Y/n.” He looked at you as your eyes stared over his face barely hearing the words from his lips.

“Not much going on in that head, hmm? Maybe fighting isn’t for you.” his hand took the blade from your grasp and he stepped away from you. you got shy when you realized he had caught you staring.

your fingers play with the ends of your camp shirt, “I wanna protect myself.” He titled his head and his hand reached up to play with your hair. “You have the camp to do that, and of course I’ll keep you safe. But you just have to stay and look pretty.”

you looked so embarrassed and shy at his statement you eyes stayed away from him and stood awkwardly. Percy smiled and chuckled, “Maybe you should hang out with me? I could teach you a bit to protect yourself…Or you probably don’t wanna-” as he spoke he started to move away from you, knowing you’d actually take his offer.

“No, no! I’d love to.” You reached for him again with a smile. “Please.” He looked back at you and let out a fake sighed. if only he could show the huge smirk he had to fight back. you were just to easy to manipulate.

“then you stick by me now then, pretty girl?” you nodded your head and clapped your hands excitedly now having someone to train you. but Percy was happy you would stay by him now and no one could pull you away from, he had his hooks in you. and so what if they tried? not like they’d find their bodies anyway, who would look in the lake? no one would miss them away.

all that matter was you and him.

[crxssbowcarl]

HURT

carl grimes x female reader

summary: you return from a run badly injured and you were certain that carl’s worried appearance was worse than the injury itself. (first time saying "I love you")

(intended lowercase)

warnings: injury, brief mentions/description of gore, slight angst, argument.

slight angst to fluff

you woke up to the sounds of voices, you weren't sure who was speaking but you could tell that they were angry, worried, but angry.

you looked around the room you were in only to notice it was the infirmary, you were confused on how you ended up there, the last thing you remember was being out on a run with glenn and rick. you couldn't recall getting injured or falling unconscious, but then again you couldn't remember much of anything, your head was pounding and your brain was foggy.

you propped yourself up on your elbows to assist yourself in sitting up only to be met with a sharp pain to your left side. you groaned in response and fell back onto the mattress, you could hear the commotion around you quiet once they noticed you were awake. you could see bodies beginning to hover over you but you couldn't make out their faces due to the light shining directly into your eyes.

as disoriented as you were, you were curious as to what kind of injury could've rendered you unconscious. you slowly lifted up the side of your shirt to reveal bandaging that had been wrapped around your torso, a bit of blood seeping through the white surface. that's when it hit you, the events of the run all came flooding back to you at once causing the room to start spinning around you.

you looked over to the group of people surrounding you, squinting as you tried to make out who was in the room with you, but your attempts seemed to be useless. “is glenn okay?”

you heard someone say something in return, what you could only hope was a ‘yes’ before the room went dark around you.

you had been finishing up clearing out a store when you caught a walker sneaking up on glenn while he was focused on a small group in front of him. you had to jump over a few things to get to him, it didn't take long but it did cause you to trip and fall into the walker. luckily you landed on top on it and you were able to quickly dig your blade into it's skull, but due to the amount of adrenaline pumping through your veins, you didn't notice the large piece of glass that had pierced your side until glenn had gasped, turning away from the walkers he had previously been working on killing off. you looked down and saw what had caused his reaction and that's when everything went black.

it didn't take long for you to wake up again, this time being immediately met with the face of your boyfriend hovering over you. “carl?”

you could tell he was glad you were awake but you could also tell he wasn't pleased with you and you were only proven right when he spoke, “what were you thinking? do you know how reckless you were today?”

you slowly sat up to get a better look at him, wincing at the pain that accompanied the movement. “I was helping glenn, he could've gotten bit—”

“glenn can handle himself.”

“and I can't?” you shot back, angered by his remark.

“clearly not!” he said, gesturing to the infirmary bed you were laying in. you could see the anger occupying his expression along with the worry in his eyes and you couldn't help but feel guilty.

“carl…”

“you could've died.” your gaze drifted to the blanket that was draped over your legs as you began to fidget with it. “I can't lose anyone else, y/n.”

your chest tightened at the way his voice trembled, you didn't mean to cause him so much distress. you acted without thinking and as reckless as it was you were okay and so was glenn, but it didn't seem to help ease the frustration and concern carl was filled with.

you caught your lip between your teeth, searching for something to hopefully reason with the boy next to you, but you knew it would be better if you put your stubbornness aside and admit what you did was dangerous, so that's what you did.

“I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to help— I know that doesn't make it any better, but I did what anyone would've done even if it was.. stupid.”

you heard him sigh before he crouched down to level with your face, his hand finding its way to your jaw and tilting your face towards him. you watched as he examined your features, you assumed he was looking for wounds that went unnoticed by denise. once he determined you were okay he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you close to him. you whimpered softly at the jolt of pain you felt but quickly decided it was unimportant and buried your face in the crook of his neck, looping your arms around his torso, “I didn't mean to worry you.”

“I just want you to be more careful.” he spoke, his words accompanied by a shaky breath, “I don't know what I would've done if I lost you.” he pulled away to look you in the eye, using his hand to push your hair away from your face so he could press a kiss to your forehead.

you nodded, thinking about what you'd do if you lost him and wondered if he'd do the same thing. “I will be, promise.” you reassured him, using your hand to cup his cheek, your thumb rubbing soothing motions on his cheekbone. “forgive me?”

he chuckled softly, ducking his head down and nuzzling it in the space between your shoulder and neck, pressing soft kisses against the exposed skin. “you’re hard to stay mad at, you know that?”

you smiled, glad to see he wasn't upset with you anymore. you understood where his concern was coming from, it was nice to have someone care about you that way especially when the world was so evil.

“I love you.”

you pulled back, shocked by his proclamation, “..what?”

“when I saw glenn carry you through those gates with you covered in your own blood..” he paused, haunted by the image of you in that state, “I noticed that I couldn't lose you, that I couldn't live without you.. I once asked maggie how she knew she loved glenn and she told me I would just know, and today, seeing you like that, I knew. I love you, y/n.”

you felt your breath catch in your throat, your eyes brimming with tears while searching his face for any sign of a lie. you could tell your reaction scared him, it was written all over his face, worried he had said the wrong thing, but it quickly changed when you grabbed his face and crashed your lips against his, mumbling how much you loved him and how happy he made you.

“I love you, I love you so much.” you said, resting your forehead against his, both of you wearing a matching smile. “if I would've known almost dying would've made you notice you love me I would've let it happen a long time ago.”

he gave you a fake laugh and gently shoved your face away, “haha, very funny.” you watched as he stood up and walked away, returning shortly with a water bottle in hand which he handed to you before adding onto his previous sentence, “but seriously, if you ever pull some dumb shit like that again I'll be pissed at you forever.”

you took a swig of the water, staring at him with the same geeky smile from moments ago. “as if you could stay mad at me for that long.”

divider by @saradika-graphics

a/n: this was more on the short and sweet side, I have more stories coming I just wanted to upload something so forgive me if this seems like a filler.

masterlist

[ratatoastwrites]

Playing house

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

[this was specifically written with s2 bratty(suffering from withdrawal)!Spencer in mind 🧚‍♀️]

Synopsis: “has a PhD in engineering and thinks that Ikea manuals are for stupid people” boyfriend vs “isn’t really a good handyman but is determined to follow the rules” s/o get into a bit of an argument 🫢

a/n: it’s me woo! did y’all miss me? 🌝 ofc u did!! 🥰 jkjk but umm i was inspired to write this bcuz i actually got a new chair from ikea a few days ago and i almost ripped out all my hair by the time i managed to put it together ✨ i was listening to the Like a Prayer EP from deadpool & wolverine for the whole two (2) hours it took me to put it together as well lmao 🪑 also, the pic on the left of the moodboard is my own ikea manual on the exact page i messed up!! fun 🧚‍♀️ also, did u guys like that i included a synopsis this time? i hope u did ;)

cw: light angst, arguing about something that shouldn’t really be a cause of an argument, reader has one (1) violent thought but doesn’t actually mean it and also doesn’t act on it ofc, allusion to Spencer’s addiction/withdrawal, some kinda unhealthy thoughts, Spencer is a bit 🤏 of an asshole in the beginning, mostly fluffy ending, also kinda rushed ending which is my bad :( sorry

“This is stupid. And you’re doing it wrong.”

You scoffed in exasperation at your boyfriend’s complaints, but otherwise kept your focus on the task at hand.

You’ve been trying to assemble your new desk chair for the past half hour, while Spencer loomed over your hunched figure, like an unhelpful little devil on your shoulder.

“Well, why don’t you do it then?”

You mumbled under your breath, not necessarily wanting him to hear. He did anyway.

“Well, I would. If you weren’t so insistent on using the manual.”

You could quite literally hear the eye roll in his tone, and while you usually didn’t mind his bratty attitude, right now it wasn’t helping your already frustrated mood.

“Oh, right. Silly me, using the manual that tells me how to assemble this piece of- furniture.”

You had to try your hardest not to start cursing, not wanting to let this swedish nightmare of a chair get the better of you. Spencer sighed behind you, and you were secretly hoping that it was a sigh of resignation.

“I have a PhD in engineering, do you really think that I don’t know how to assemble a chair from Ikea?”

Your hopes were proven to be futile, just like every other time you found yourself not seeing eye to eye with your boyfriend. You took a deep breath, not wanting to turn this petty argument into an actual fight.

“I don’t know, Spencer. And I’m not interested in finding out. I just don’t understand what you’re trying to prove by refusing the very idea of using the manual.”

Your tone became a little sharper by the end, although it wasn’t actually aimed at him. As you read over the manual again, you realised that you messed up the last step, cursing quietly under your breath as you had to undo the last eight screws in the armrests.

“Good thing you were using the manual.”

You were seriously contemplating throwing the screwdriver at your boyfriend’s smartass head after his smug comment. However, you just slowly put it down instead, before standing up from your place on the carpet, ignoring the crackling in your knees as you turned around to face him.

“Spencer, I love you more than words could describe, but you’re seriously getting on my last nerve right now. I’m going to make myself a cup of tea, do not follow me please.”

You told him with eerie calmness, before walking out of the living room and towards the kitchen.

You tried to ignore the guilt gnawing at your stomach at how annoyed you’d gotten over something so trivial. You knew that he was going through a rough patch in his life, and you couldn’t blame him for being more annoying than usual. But you couldn’t always have the patience of a saint, and you were already quite worked up about that stupid chair.

‘I just need a few moments of peace. Then I’ll go back and pretend like everything is okay. As per usual.’

You tried telling yourself, blocking out the voices saying how unhealthy that sounded.

You went through the steps of making your tea, doing your best to silence the myriad of emotions swirling in your chest. By the time you finished your hot beverage and put your cup in the sink, all your previous frustrations were gone, replaced by only tiredness. The weight of the day weighed on your shoulders as you dragged yourself back to the living room, although the slight aching in your muscles quickly faded to the back of your mind when you took in the sight waiting for you in there.

“Wh- Spence?”

You were dumbfounded as you looked at your boyfriend, who was standing next to your -now assembled!- chair with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, put it together for you. All according to the manual, of course.”

His tone was almost shy, and he gave you the sweetest puppy dog eyes imaginable, which never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“But I thought the manual was stupid.”

You stepped closer to him, still feeling a little confused, but your gaze softened in fondness as you looked at him. He shuffled on his feet a little, glancing between you and the chair awkwardly.

“It is. But it doesn’t matter. According to the studies, most healthy relationships are based on compromises. I guess I just realised that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately.”

You frowned at his words, stepping even closer to him, until you were almost toe to toe. You didn’t like it when he talked about himself like that, and he quickly understood your expression.

“You know it’s true. You’ve been nothing but patient and accepting since I… And I can’t even swallow my pride for an hour to help you put together a piece of furniture.”

He continued before you could argue, and your heart broke as he trailed off mid-sentence. You knew that it was hard for him to acknowledge what he was going through, and you really wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t do anything wrong. But you knew that those empty words of comfort wouldn’t do your relationship any good.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true. But Spence, I don’t want you to think that me being there for you is a chore, or a sacrifice. I’m being patient and accepting, because I love you.“

You told him, reaching your hands out to hold his, interlocking your fingers as you smiled at him softly.

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. And you being a little annoying about a stupid chair doesn’t make you a bad boyfriend. Not to mention that you ended up putting it together for me.”

You nodded your head towards the aforementioned furniture next to you, squeezing his hand a bit tighter as you smiled at him fondly.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He said softly, tilting his forehead against yours.

“Negative. You deserve only good things in your life.”

You told him, before capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.

The two of you didn’t always agree, and you could both be incredibly stubborn. But at the end of the day there was nothing you wouldn’t do for your beautiful, intelligent, sweetheart of a boyfriend, no matter how much he tested your patience. And you knew that he felt the exact same way about you.

🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

Bonus badly edited pic of Spencer in my new chair ✨

[emswritingsstuff]

Home at Last (Daryl Dixon x Fem! Reader)

another request from @caseylicious !! i love your daryl ideas so much!! hope you enjoy!! 🫶🫶

Summary: After being left on the roof with Merle, you're separated from Daryl.

WC: 2.7k

--

“Merle was a danger to himself and everyone else, your husband did the right thing.” Andrea looked over at Lori, she just looked up at Rick and nodded, still looking unsure about the whole situation. “What about (Y/N)? I mean she definitely doesn’t deserve to be left with him.” Dale inquired. Glenn shook his head and held it in his hands, just dreading the conversation they were going to have with Daryl. “It's not our fault she wanted to stay; she wasn’t listening to us. What more could we have done,” Rick said matter of factly. Head nods and sighs were a sign of mutual agreement with Rick. They all knew you, but they also knew Daryl. 

It was clear to everyone that you and the Dixons were a package deal. Daryl and you were together for a while before everything had started. Making Merle practically your brother at that point, meaning you weren’t just going to sit around and let a random cop handcuff him. You did agree Merle was out of line but keeping him tied down the roof was not the move. Determined to make them let him go, you stayed with him. Without a second thought too. But that plan failed, as they did actually leave you. Ironically, without a second thought. But they all knew once the news got to Daryl, Hell would certainly break loose within the camp. 

The morning sun casted over the camp, everyone doing the daily routine with their chores. Shane had just brought in the water when screams were heard, the children screamed. Everyone ran to action seeing a walker had made its way onto the camp, eating a deer with a bunch of arrows in it. After disabling the walker, rustling was heard in the bushes, all of them breathing in sighs of relief when it was revealed to be Daryl. But the sighs of relief turned into stressful breathing when they realized what they were about to have to explain to him. 

Daryl was ranting on about the loss of venison, shooting the brain, and whatever else as he marched his way back into the camp. Everyone was keeping their distance from him, not wanting to get too close in case he exploded. Daryl had started yelling for you and Merle, completely unaware of what he was about to find out. 

“Daryl, I need to talk to you about them,” Shane spoke. Daryl looked at Shane with a questionable look, not so sure about what Shane was about to tell him. “Something happened on the run-” 

“They dead?” Daryl looked more tense now, ready to take his anger out on whoever got you both killed. The more Shane and Rick spoke, the more angry Daryl grew. FInding out they had stupidly left you both there threw him off the tiny edge he was standing on. 

“Lemme process this, ya handcuffed my brother to a roof? And left him and my girl there?” The anger was obvious, he was pacing around Rick. Nothing could be said in that moment to make him feel better. 

“If it makes anything better, I chained the door shut so geeks couldn’t get them,” point proven right there. Right as Daryl went to throw a punch, Shane put him in a headlock, pinning him to the ground. “Chokeholds illegal,” he mumbled as he caught his breath still in the group. Rick crouched down to Daryl’s level and told him how it is. That it just had to happen in order for the group to be saved, but he wasn’t buying it. 

Just like how they knew how much he meant to you, they knew how much you meant to him. You were the rational part of him, the part of him that kept him level headed, the part of him they all missed right now. But it was their fault you were gone, at least to him. He had started to break down, just enough to where it was noticeable. 

Rick had made the plan to go out with Daryl and Glenn to retrieve you and Merle, but also the guns. T-Dog soon made the choice to tag along as well. Though, Daryl knew everyone just wanted the guns and could give less of shit about the people he cared about. A nervous gut feeling hit Daryl, he didn’t want to show it, but he was scared shitless. If neither of you were there, he didn’t know what he would do. 

Daryl was getting antsy with Rick and T-Dog taking their sweet ass time getting into the truck. He was pacing again, nervous habit, just needed to see you were okay. Merle could defend himself, he knew that. You could as well, he taught you to, but he couldn’t let go of you no matter what. His leg was bouncing like crazy, the eventual drive feeling like it was taking forever. T-Dog looked at Daryl, just watching him. The tension was high, and he wanted to try and ease the air. 

“So, you and (Y/N), how’d that happen,” Daryl shot him a glare. T-Dog looked away, regretting what he had said instantly. Bringing his rag to his face, Daryl wiped it off and proceeded to speak. “None of yer business, just needa know you messed up leavin’ her there,” Daryl's eyes darted down at his hands not even wanting to engage in anymore conversations. 

Once finally getting to the department store, Daryl hauled his ass through it. Getting to the roof faster than everybody else. Getting the door open, the bright light threw him off. As soon as his eyes adjusted, he was devastated. It was empty.

Blood was all over the floor, Merle’s hand was on the ground and both of you were nowhere to be seen. The only thing of yours left behind being a necklace, intentionally placed where it would be seen. It was a sign that you were alive, but also a sign you were gone. Like you wanted to leave something of you for him. He lost you, he fucking lost you. 

Ever since that day on the rooftop, he swore to himself that he would look for you. No matter what, he looked. Tracking anything he could, any sign of you, just anything. The group had tried to convince him you were gone, to make him stop risking himself out there. Which never worked, he didn’t believe for a second you were dead. When on the road after the farm, he still looked. Going into the woods constantly, claiming to hunt, but in reality just putting up a front so he wouldn’t get chewed out for still looking for you. 

Daryl didn’t want to admit it. He really didn’t want to admit it, but he was starting to lose faith in ever finding you again. As the days went on, the tracks were growing cold. The faith he had rapidly dying with it. “She’ll turn up, she’s like you,” looking beside him, Glenn had snuck up on him. He didn’t blame Glenn for the rooftop, Hell, he couldn’t blame anyone for it. Daryl just shook his head and put it down. Glenn spoke up again, just trying to make him feel better. 

“She’s stubborn, should’ve seen her that day. Thought she was going to kill Rick herself for Merle.” Glenn giggled to himself, Daryl just huffing. Not an angry huff though, it was something more lighthearted. The idea of you defending Merle was amusing. “Her ass was probably more pissed at Merle than anythin’” Daryl had gotten used to thinking back on memories with you. Merle and you had never gotten along, ironically it's what he liked about you. Never scared to put him in his place. In return, Merle gave Daryl his approval about you, which was really unneeded in Daryl’s opinion. 

Unfortunately for him, once the group got to the prison so much was happening that he didn’t have time to look. He felt horrible about it, surely feeling like the biggest piece of shit to walk the earth. Everything that had happened became a blur, trying to keep the prison up, the multiple losses, the birth of Judith, just so much going on he could barely keep track. The thing that brought him back to reality was the ambush on Woodbury, and the reunion with his brother. 

But still no you, still nothing. He had to hold back the tears the minute he found out Merle hadn’t seen you in ages. Apparently you had run off when you Merle got with the Governor. When the brothers branched off from the main group, Daryl was silent. Part of him was mad at Merle for letting you go, but the other part was dealing with the fact you were gone. Probably for good. 

Walking through the woods, Merle was talking his ass off. Just saying shit and Daryl couldn’t care to listen to any of it. “Lighten’ up brother! The Dixons are back!” He roughly pat Daryl on the back. Daryl was quick to grumble and shrug off Merle's sorry attempt at making a joke. “Now, what's wrong Darlina? Gotten soft?” Daryl stopped and let Merle keep on walking. It took a minute for Merle to realize he stopped, which made him stop too and look back at his brother. 

“Why’d ya let her go.” Daryl's words were harsh but quiet. Just enough to wipe the smirk off Merle’s face. Stepping up to Daryl, Merle was trying to intimidate him. But Daryl wasn’t going to budge, he was never going to let himself do that. Not with Merle. “I didn’t let her go, the bitch got scared. Didn’t trust the Governor, chose to fend for herself. Like the dumbass she is,” Merle was quickly cut off with a swift punch in his face. Getting knocked on his ass by Daryl. 

He crouched down to Merle’s level and got in his face. “Speak about ‘er like tha’ again, I’ll kill ya next time.” Daryl jerked forward to imitate a punch which caused Merle to flinch. Scoffing, Daryl moved forward through the woods. Just those few interactions made him realize staying with Merle was a mistake, he needed to get back to the family that cared about him and that he cared about. 

It had felt like ages since they had seen anything other than the woods, when it was actually a few hours. When Daryl had spotted a small shed, he was grateful. Maybe there was something in there that could be useful. Daryl whistled to get Merle’s attention and make him see what he saw. Inching closer and closer to the shed door, crossbow at the ready but no finger on the trigger. If something was in there he could act quickly, but he didn’t want to be irrational. 

Throwing open the door, there was nothing there. Putting down the bow, he breathed a sigh of relief and looked some more. There were signs of life but nothing that alarmed him. Water bottles were scattered around, some still filled. Jackpot. Snatching them up Daryl put them with their other belongings. If the person living there showed up, he’d give them back no problem. But finders keepers for now. 

The brothers decided mutually that they were going to camp for the night in that spot, just creating a small campfire outside the shed before turning in. The night dragged on, heavy tension filled air filled the brothers atmosphere. Merle had walked off to look for “food”, leaving Daryl by himself. Just him and his thoughts. He had found himself sitting around the fire just staring at it. The memories came flooding back to him, he just missed you so much. He hates himself for not continuing to look for you. He’ll never forgive himself for giving up, but more could he really do. 

As if the universe was giving him a sign, he heard twigs snap in the distance. His head snapped in the direction of the sound, instantly on edge about the whole ordeal. Standing up slowly he equipped his crossbow but before he could raise it up, an arm wrapped around his neck bringing him down. This wasn’t a walker, this was a person. And a pretty strong one at that. 

Making quick work of getting out of the chokehold he separated himself and the attacker in question. A bandanna was wrapped around their face to cover it, they were wearing a heavy jacket with a hood up. Daryl could barely make out who this person even was, which made it all the more weird when the attacker said his name. Quietly of course, but he heard it. Trying to figure out what was happening he was lost in his thoughts. He never even saw the attacker charge at him again. 

Standing his ground he fought them off as best as he could, just trying to figure out how this person knew who he was. Pushing down harshly, the attacker fell on their back almost knocked out. Daryl took this as his moment to get rid of the disguise the attacker had on, and almost broke when he took the bandanna off. 

It was you, it was really you. He could barely believe it himself. 

Daryl stepped backwards and fell to his knees. Hurting you was something he never once wanted to do, and he just did that. He was defending himself, sure, and you attacked him. Guilt started to weigh on him, causing him to go crazy a bit. The whole situation didn’t feel real, which was a shared feeling. You weren’t in your right state of mind, he knew that. But Daryl was focused on the tears and the emotions he was feeling that he didn’t notice you get up and pounce on him again, successfully pinning him to the ground.

He was trying to explain himself, trying so hard to make you see reality. It surprised him how strong you had gotten after all this time, fighting so hard against your strength. “You’re not real. If you were, you would’ve found me sooner,” you said holding a knife up to his throat. Having him in such a bad position. Daryl acted quick and knocked the knife out of your hands and flipped you over so that he was now holding you down. His strong arm was across your chest and his legs held down yours. 

Tears streamed down his face as you thrashed against him, begging to be let go. Daryl could barely speak, hating to see you like this and him being the reason for it. “I tried, I looked everyday, I never wanted to give up. Please, it’s me.” Daryl’s head fell with his hair covering his face. A few more hits flew from you, definitely going to leave marks, but did not care. He needed you back. 

Surprisingly for him, the thrashing stopped. Just to make sure it wasn’t a fake out, he didn’t look up. But once he did look, he saw your face was softened. Moving his arm off your chest, he freed you a bit. Still weary on if you were in a better space or not. Your arm snaked up from your side where it was held down, taking the necklace Daryl had on in your hands.

“It's my necklace. It is you. You looked for me..” Your voice was breaking and soft, like the regret had set in. He had always kept the necklace tucked under his shirt so it wouldn’t get caught on anything and risk losing it, must've slipped out during the fight. Wiping his face, Daryl looked in your eyes, “Course I looked, never wanted to lose ya.” He eased up and stood up off of you, helping you up in the process. The minute you were up and stable, his strong arms were around you, this time in a loving embrace. 

Tears were falling like they never had before, the both of you just living in the moment in each other's arms. “They left me,” you silently whispered, voice breaking even more., Daryl just shushed you softly and put his hand in your hair. “I know, but now I got ya. Never leavin’ ya again.”

--

btw if anyone has s1-s2 daryl request pls, send them i love him

[bitterchocoo]

Golden Hour

Jing Yuan | M. Reader

----------

Reincarnation AU

----------

There's a particular painting inside the Luofu Museum. It's a painting of the former General, they say that the General never smiles and always has a blank expression. That painting is the most precious and one of a kind in the whole world...

Why?

Because it's the only time...

Where the General finally smiles...

----------

"Huh... "Wise and Brave; Jing Yuan." Hey, wouldn't it be funny if he's actually you from the past?"

"Nonsense, we just have the same name."

[Name] turn his head towards the white haired man with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah.. Sure.. But you do have the same smile as him." He said as he look back at the painting in front of them.

The General in the painting looks almost identical to the man standing beside him  down to the same smile. Then again, [Name] couldn't imagine Jing Yuan being all stoic like, a smile fits him better. "You know... They say that the General had fallen in love with the Strategist in the Xianzhou, some even say that the Strategist was the reason why he started smiling."

"Really?"

"It's just a myth though, don't know if it's true."

Jing Yuan chuckles at that statement, after all myths are just myths, there's no telling if it's real or not. It's probably fake, people usually make up things just to satisfy their own fantasies, but something in him tells him otherwise.

That maybe, just maybe... It's the truth.

.

.

.

.

.

"ARE YOU INSANE?!"

"It's the most optimal solution, General."

"BY SACRIFICING MY MEN!?"

"Losing a handful of soldiers are better than losing civilians, plus—isn't it their duty to give their live for the people and die in battle?"

"HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT WITH SUCH A CALM VOICE?!" The General huffs as he glared daggers at the man in front of him, the man who proposed the very strategy that practically sacrifices his men "for the greater good." Jing Yuan always wonder how this man is able to be the Strategist of the Xianzhou...

A man who stood to benefit from betraying others... It's not proven or anything and yet...

Jing Yuan is certain that he'd turn against the Reignbow Arbiter in a heartbeat...

There's isn't a sane bone in his body.

The other man sigh at Jing Yuan's response as he crosses his arms and spoke up with his usual calm yet firm voice. "And here I thought you'd be more reasonable, given that you're the General."

"The leader of an organization is at the pinnacle of it and, at the same time, he is its slave. The leader must be more than willing to commit any atrocity in order to ensure the organisation's survival."

He hates it.... He hates this man so much...

How could he talk about that so casually? As if these men... Were just mere pawns to him... After all sacrificing a few pawns means relatively little if it means your King's safety.

'He's not thinking about the people.. He's thinking about the Xianzhou Loufu's survival instead...'

"They were right about you... You're a wolf in sheep's clothing..." He started as he continues to glare daggers at the man. The man only gave him an unamused look as he asked in a calm voice. "And why would you think that?" Jing Yuan scoffed at the question as he crosses his arms. "Talking to you is impossible."

"But in all honesty, give my strategy some thought, General."

"There's nothing left to think regarding that. I want you to change it this instant."

The man sigh at the order he was given, he uncrossed his arms and took back the papers from the General's desk. "As you wish."

And with that... The man left his office.

Jing Yuan sigh as he put a hand on his forehead and look down at his wooden desk. "I can't believe that man... [Name] was it..?" He mumbled under his breath.

'It's as if a life meant relatively little to him.'

.

.

.

.

.

"I never knew you could be a skilled doctor.."

"I was the Head Physician before becoming your strategist, General."

"..."

The two fall silent as [Name] bandaged the general's wounds. It seems even the "Mighty General of the Loufu" can get hurt. How fascinating. Once he's done, [Name] lets out a sigh and puts back the supplies he had used. "I suggest you shouldn't go to any missions at the moment. Let your wounds heal."

Jing Yuan remains silent as he inspects his carefully treated wounds. The bandages aren't too tight, and his body isn't as sore anymore. [Name] might be a sociopath with the types of strategies he comes up with. But he's a wonderful physician. Maybe he should stay as one.

"Can't have you start bleeding out in the middle of a fight after all. Unless you wanted me to operate on you then go ahead."

Jing Yuan can't help but sigh at those words. Of course the doctor has to open his mouth and end it on that note... even if he's good, [Name]'s still a sociopath though..

"...Understood."

"Good."

.

.

.

.

.

The crowd was silent as they watched the starskiff flies to through the sky. Reaching greater heights. "Another sent of.." The doctor mumbled under his breath.

"Sad, isn't it?"

"Not really."

Oh you sociopath! Jing Yuan snapped his head towards him. He was about to argue until he saw a soft smile on the doctor's face. A soft. Melancholy. Smile.

"It's not sad. It's poetic." [Name] says softly as he watches the starskiff. "In a way, if you're at a loss, you could look up at the sky and.... remember that they're watching over you.. and there's nothing to be afraid of.." Turning his head towards the general, [Name] gave him a closed eye smile as his hair got caught in the wind. "It's almost romantic, is it not?"

Jing Yuan felt a strange and warm feeling on his chest. Without thinking, he returns the smile with his own. "If you put it that way.. it is kinda poetic.."

----------

"Well... I heard that the Strategist is far more worse than the General." Jing Yuan spoke up, making [Name] turn his head to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Really?" He asked as he crosses his arms, waiting for am explanation. "Yup, they say that the Strategist is a sociopath. I've also heard that the General was the reason the Strategist began to have a "heart". " Jing Yuan concluded with a smirk on his face.

[Name] can't help but chuckle at those words. For some reason.. he had a feeling it was true..

[starqueensthings]

We need to talk about Echo (and by talk I mean screm). S3 E13 + 14 Spoilers!

FRIENDS, I'M GOING TO EXPLODE. I need to talk about Echo for a minute. We need to talk about Echo for a minute,  because he has spent the last two episodes in the absolute thralls of complete and total danger, and I personally don't feel like there's been enough of a celebratory uproar for me to be satisfied with the level of appreciation and love that man deserves. (Remember when Hunter ran face first into a colossal exhaust pipe and we all collectively lost our minds because it was so impressive and so sexy? Remember when Tech drove a speeder really fast through a tunnel and we all fainted? I'M A TECH GIRLY. IT WAS ME! I FAINTED!!) but, Y'ALL, Echo deserves that right now!! And for all eternity!!! Because he is wholly submurged in the harrowing potential of torture and execution, and he didn't even bat an eye to put himself there. My awe of him is all-consuming, so please forgive me if this rant reads as nothing but incoherent screaming. 

Echo haters (first of all, we can't be friends....) come on this journey with me! Let's back pedal to the beginning of the last episode (13). He stole an imperial shuttle. Let me repeat, he stole an imperial shuttle. And not just an attack shuttle. Not just a lil one-pilot transport. Bro somehow stole a Rho-class medical transport, which is very large, obscenely conspicuous, and very easily tracked. And, to use his own words, it was "the best he could do on short notice." The man stole a shuttle on short notice. ON SHORT NOTICE? HELLO, HOW DID HE DO THAT. WHY AIN'T WE LOSING OUR COOL ABOUT IT. 

Next stop on this I-love-Echo journey through my mind: not only did he provide his brothers transportation in the complete void of their own (RIP havoc bb), but he also came equipped with intel and clearance codes, and, as Rampart stated, those things change DAILY. Echo somehow procured top secret imperial clearance codes, and a fkn SHIP, within hours of the Batch requesting his help. Not to mention, the ship had yet to be reported missing (which means it was only-freshly commandeered), and the clearance codes worked. Of course they did. Echo never fails. Never doubt Echo. "Echo's on it."  

Choochoo, next stop! Once they arrived on that station orbiting Coruscant, and made their way to the control room (lookin sexy as heck in his armour-au-noir), he broke imperial encryption, hacked into the Imperial database, almost instantly found them the location of a ship departing for the prison that holds their daughter Tantiss, AND THEN DIDN'T EVEN HESITATE TO CLIMB ABOARD AND STOW AWAY.  

He didn't even remotely have a plan, or have time to make a plan. He didn't know who or what else would be on board that mysterious vessel. He didn't know where it was going other than the name of the fkn mountain (which has proven to be nothing but unhelpful thus far). He just ARC-troopered his way through that crowded hangar, dodging aggressive astromech's and inconsiderate loader droids, shirking from the perspective eyes of highly trained commandos, and snuck his way onto a heavily guarded, extremely unknown science vessel. Then, of course, he wasted no time, hacking into the ships control system (may I gently remind- there were at least three pilots and an officer prepping the ship for jump and closely watching all aspects of its controls), disabling the proximity sensors without being detected, and then seamlessly covered the troopers absence by pretending to be him (which we all know is what should have happened on Serenno but... hindsight is 20/20.)  

So... SO.... now we're at Episode 14. Here we at fkn terrified station because HULLO ECHO IS ALONE ON A SCIENCE DIVISION TRANSPORT; we have literally seen them carry around Zilo beasts in that shit. What the heck else could be on there that they don't know about? Literally anything. Because THEY KNEW NOTHING before attaching themselves to it. Echo knew NOTHING before sneaking onto that thing and creepin' around. Thank heck he didnt come across a fkn fresh wave of slither vines ok?  

NEXT, Echo shoots (not stuns- lol) a sassy fkn droid (they had it coming, not sorry), then another trooper. AND THEN discovered his only option for departing the ship once it enters atmosphere is going completely undercover, because (in true "we improvise everything" CF99 fashion that gives me heart burn just thinking about it), they had zero fkn plan to get off the ship. I will repeat: completely undercover. On Tantiss. COMPLETELY UNDERCOVER ON TANTISS. NO COMMS, NO BACK UP, NO RECON, NO PLAN, BARELY ANY GEAR, and I would just like to stress... no neuro brace. He left his neurobrace on that ship. Left it. LEFT IT AND TOOK A HAND INSTEAD. PLEASE FKN SEDATE ME.  

We can't leave this station yet... This I-love-Echo train needs to linger at this point for a sec because I think it's lost on some people how wild this is. Echo without his neurobrace is huge. It's a bigger deal than Echo without his armour. Armour is, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential (one can find more- see Howzer). Echo's neurobrace is not armour, it's a computer and it's so so so crucial to how his mind processes information and events. Don't forget, the Technounion HIJACKED HIS BRAIN. They took every memory from him and manipulated it for their gain. Pruned it, tweaked it, blanched it, poached it, turned it into scrambled eggs, and then fkn ate it up and used it to defeat their enemies (Echo's family- I'm sobbing). They implanted him with an unfathomable amount of information; they changed the way the neurons in his brain fire in relation to stimuli. That neurobrace is so so critical for him. Now, we know he can operate well enough without it, we saw it in the last episode of the TBB arc in season 7 of Clone Wars, but... please.... to what extent? We don't know what an extended time without that neurobrace looks like for him... especially when all other aspects compliing his surroundings foreign, unknown, and dangerous, and that scares me.

AND NOW HE'S ABOUT TO RUN AMOK IN TANTISS with Emerie who, (I'm sorry) is wishy-washy as heck (who are you loyal to!!!!! What is your history!!! Are you trustworthy and what are you looking to gain!!!), trying to adopt a collection of Jedi children whove spent maker-knows how long playing space tetris, WHILST ALSO ATTEMPTING TO LOCATE AND ESCAPE WITH HIS BROTHERS UNDER THE EYE OF THE GALAXY'S SECOND MOST DANGEROUS MAN. 

So yes, short of d-d-d-di... can't say it... short of THE WORST CASE, Echo has made the ultimate sacrifice to save not only Omega who is literally the only person we've seen able to make him truly laugh, but all the clone brothers that he's been desperately trying to locate and rescue. His bravery and determination are literally unrivalled, and he did it while feasting on nothing but humble pie because that man wouldn't know arrogance if it danced naked under his perfect nose.  

Okay so welcome, we've finally pulled into I-Love-Echo station. Before departing the ride, please stand and do a hip hip hurray for the miracle that is Echo, including but not limited to, everything he's done, is doing, and is willing to do for other people. 

[unreliablesnake]

Untitled. Part one.

Summary: Deacon wants to introduce his girlfriend to his kids.

Note: Reader is a fashion model in her twenties. Deacon and Annie only have three kids. To be honest I like him and the reader together and I see potential. I mean, jealousy from Annie's side or her coming up with the idea that Deac is experiencing some midlife crisis, the kids hating/loving her, the team finding out they're together, she gets into trouble and he has to save our protect her...

Warning: age gap, afab!reader.

PS: I told you I can't stop.

Danica, the lead makeup artist of the photo shoot came over to you with a wide grin on her face, quickly sending the others away so she could tell you an important piece of gossip. You returned her smile as you leaned closer to listen, expecting something about the model who caused some chaos by not showing up.

But she remained silent for a little too long, and you began to assume it was about something else. And just like that, your suspicion was proven right when she finally spoke up. “There's a handsome silver fox outside with a police badge and he's looking for you. Jack is trying to convince him to leave if it's not related to an investigation, though, so if he belongs to you…”

“Oh, yes, he's mine,” you were quick to say with a bright smile. “Thanks for the heads-up, I'll talk to Jack.”

She nodded before gently patting you on the shoulder, giving you the green light to leave. Your makeup was done, it was only your hair that they had to finish before you could stand in front of the camera. They could surely survive five minutes without you, so you rushed out of the building to find your boyfriend and hopefully tell the head of security that there was nothing to worry about.

When your eyes finally fell on Deacon, you couldn't help but gulp from the sight. He was wearing a suit, something you always pointed out looked good on him, and when he noticed you, his face immediately lit up. You had been together for three months now, so this was probably the honeymoon phase making you this happy around each other, but you truly hoped things would stay this way.

His marriage ended shortly before you met thanks to Chris, and back then he wasn't ready to make a move on someone. But months later you met again on a night out with the team and he finally made up his mind to ask for your number. Long story short, he swept you off your feet with ease, and even the age difference wasn't enough to stop you from being happy together.

“Jack, he's with me. Can you let him in?” you asked with a sweet smile.

The man let out a sigh then gestured to him that he was allowed to enter the premises under your watch. Deacon leaned down to kiss the top of your head, already knowing better than to ruin your makeup, then took your hand and led you a little further away from people.

“Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad you're here, but why did you come? Did something happen?” you asked worriedly.

He was quick to reassure you with a shake of his head. “I just wanted to see you. But there's a change in the plans. Annie called; something came along and I'll have the kids over tonight,” he told you.

If he had the kids over, it meant your planned date had to be canceled. It sucked, but you were okay with it. His kids would always come first, and you liked that about him. He loved them more than anything, and it was nice to see how well he and his ex got along after the divorce. Were you jealous of their relationship? Yes, some days it was hard, but you knew they had a history together. You can't delete so many years with a piece of paper that proved you weren't together anymore.

“Raincheck?”

Deacon's smile returned as he watched you. “No. Come over tonight and meet the kids,” he suggested casually. You bit on your lower lip and avoided his gaze, showing the tell tale signs of your insecurity. “Hey, it's okay. I want them to finally meet you. Actually, I think Lila would love you. I was going through some photos of you the other day and there was this stunning picture of you wearing a purple gown. When she saw that, she said you looked like a princess and got all excited, saying she wanted to dress like that too.”

It was hard to hold back a laugh. You could imagine a young girl going nuts over the idea of wearing gowns every single day, and you could also imagine the way he was torn between smiling at his daughter and wishing she would just go to sleep.

Despite your good mood, you still didn't know if you were ready. Meeting the kids was a big step, one that he wanted to happen sooner than it would naturally occur. So you took a deep breath and stepped away, dragging him along as you walked back inside the building. Maybe if he began to focus on seeing you work, he would forget about this idea.

While Henry styled your hair, Deacon leaned against a table with his arms folded over his chest as he watched you. “You don't want to meet them,” he suddenly said. When you let out a sigh and tore your gaze away from him, he nodded. “At all or just yet?”

“It's too soon, Deac,” you admitted. “Look, we've only been together for a few months. I love you, you know that, but I don't think I'm ready for their questions. I need some time to figure out how to talk to kids first. I don't know anything about that, I don't have the experience, and–”

With a small smile on his face he came closer and signaled the hair stylist the step aside for a second. When you gave him a worried look, he just leaned down to place a light kiss on your temple. “Okay, okay, I get it. I love you too, no matter when you meet them. I can give you advice, don't worry, then we'll wait until you're ready,” he assured you.

“Lovebirds, I hate to interrupt, but if you're not ready in ten minutes, they will kill you,” Henry said, but then his eyes fell on Deacon's badge. “Not literally, of course.”

“Yeah, I assumed you meant it that way.”

[vivid-dreamscapes]

Tw; Sexual mentions, cursing, undressing in front of him Themes; Light angst, comfort, insecurity Summery; You feel insecure and anxious about boring your boyfriend, and he reassures you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After a tiring yet fun day at the vacation beach house your were staying at with the bakusquad, you had finished a nice, long shower with your boyfriend Katsuki Bakugou.

Bakugou was now sitting on his bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, leaning against the headboard as he looked over at you. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, also only clad in a towel as you looked for something on the ground. “You know where you even put your clothes?”

“In my bag, but I tripped over it and now they’re spewed about.” You said before smirking. “Aha! Found it!” You grabbed some clothes and made a few outfits on the bed. “Alright. Now you pick.”

Bakugou looked down at the different outfits you had laid out on the bed before looking back at you with a small smirk. “Oh I get to pick now? Why don’t I just leave you naked for the rest of the day? That sounds nice.” He said, a hint of suggestion in his tone, not so subtly covering up a more teasing hint.

“Katsuki!”

Bakugou chuckled at your protest—squeal of flusteredness? Or just an irritated squeal?—and rolled his eyes. He had obviously been messing with you, but he definitely would have preferred to leave you without any clothes.

He let out a small huff before finally looking over the clothing options again and taking a good look at them. “Tch, fine I pick. How about this one?” He said, pointing to the outfit on the far right.

“Alright bet.” You said, dropping the towel to get dressed in front of him shamelessly.

His eyes widened a bit, a small blush forming on his face as he looked at the now fully exposed version of you in front of him. “Damn, just gonna drop the towel like that, huh?” He said, his eyes unable to tear away from you.

“I’m not gonna move to a closet or some shit.” You said simply, getting dressed. You had a point. “I would only do that if I didn’t want you to see me naked. And you’ve already seen that so many times.”

Bakugou huffed a bit, he knew you had a point. But that didn’t mean it didn’t affect him each time he saw you drop your towel or be naked in front of him. “Well, yeah I know that, but couldn’t you at least give me a warning?” He said, watching as you began getting dressed in the outfit he picked out.

“Think of this as a way of entertaining you.” You said jokingly, sticking my tongue out at him before pausing. “…So you don’t get bored of me.” You mumbled to yourself quietly, pulling on the last bit of clothes.

Bakugou raised an eyebrow at you when you very obviously purposefully mumbled something quite enough so that he couldn’t hear fully what you said exactly. Yet he still heard it. Because of course he did. “Hah? What was that last thing you said?” He questioned, now looking at you in curiosity. He had heard it, but wanted to know if you’d tell him anyways.

“…if you ever get bored of me?”

His eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise when he heard what you repeat your previous statement, his expression shifting a hint of annoyance to a slight surprise. He had been hoping he’d hear you wrong, but that was proven to be wishful thinking. He knew for a fact that he would never get bored of you, how could he?

“Who said I’d ever get bored of you?” He said, trying to keep his tone from changing too much, and showing a hint of a slight annoyance.

“I dunno. You just might.”

Bakugou huffed at that answer, now rolling his eyes and giving you a small glare. “As if I could ever get bored of you.” He said bluntly, now giving you a firm look. Did you honestly think that he could just get bored of being with you? He was in love with you.

“People say that and still get bored.” You said with a shrug, sitting down in front of our room’s mirror.

You sighed and started going through your usual skincare routine after a shower—an extremely simple one, but still.

The blonde looked at you with a slightly bewildered and frustrated expression as you shrugged and sat down to start you usual skincare routine. He sighed and rolled his eyes before walking over to you.

“Tch, well I’m not like other people, am I?” He said, now standing behind you and looking down at you while you sat in front of the mirror.

“Well…” You looked down as you unscrewed the lid of your moisturizer cream. “…no.” You said after a moment, looking back up at him in the mirror. “But still. What if you get tired seeing the same face, and eating the same pussy/dick?”

Your boyfriend raised an eyebrow at that, an amused small smirk tugging at his lips as you met his gaze in the mirror. “I’ve had the same explosions for years, and you don’t seem to be getting tired of them.” He said, his voice a hint lower as he crouched down behind you, leaning closer against your back.

“Well…” You paused in thought before looking up at him, open moisturizer still in your hand. “Your quirk isn’t the same thing as my dick/pussy!” You said defensively as he almost snorted in amusement, taking the skincare product out of your hand gently.

Bakugou snickered softly against your ear at your defensive response, now grabbing the moisturizer from your hand gently and starting to rub a bit onto his fingers.

“Oh trust me, I know. Believe me.” He mumbled in a deep voice, his body now leaning against your back, his breath hot and warm against your ear and neck.

“Then why compare them…?”

You asked and he chuckled silently against your neck as he began to rub the moisturizer onto your skin, his calloused hands gentle and firm at the same time as they worked.

“Because they have something in common.” He mumbled, bringing his hands down a bit lower as he began to rub the moisturizer on your shoulders and collarbones, now planting a few kisses on the nape of your neck and your shoulders.

“Psh, like what?” You asked, squirming slightly with a smirk and an eye roll.

He was definitely enjoying the reaction as he continued to kiss along you skin, now working his way onto your collarbones as he answered your question.

“It’s simple. They’re both my favorite things.” He stated bluntly, his words spoken against your skin.

[annwrites]

i've wanted this for so long

— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & shane make love for the first time

— tags: angst, shane is desperately in love with you & has been waiting for this

— tw: depressive thoughts, sex

— word count: 2,229

It felt like since the world fell apart, that there wasn't a moment that you weren't filled with utter terror. Always waiting for the next tragedy to strike. But this? What you were about to ask of Shane?

It didn't matter if he'd already made you an offer...and mentioned it once more during target practice. You were petrified as you stood across the camp staring in his direction as he sorted through the duffle bag of firearms and ammo, trying to come up with the right way to say it.

You worry that perhaps he's now changed his mind. What if he doesn't want to anymore? And when you ask...is the camp really the best place to do it? What if someone overhears? What would they think?

And while he'd told you he'd moved past whatever he'd felt for Lori—whatever they'd had—you weren't so sure.

You suppose it doesn't matter either way. It'll be one thing: sex. No feelings attached. Just...just something you wanted to experience. To know what it felt like. A brief release.

You'd lied awake tossing and turning nearly all night, debating with yourself. You'd tried, in earnest, to talk yourself out of it. Told yourself you were being stupid. Selfish. You'd torn yourself apart until you were in tears.

He may've made it sound like—that night on the porch—it wouldn't just be 'getting laid' to him, but you knew otherwise. You were so...worthless and weak.

It doesn't matter that he told you he saw you as anything but. He was a leader. You, a follower. He'd kept everyone safe, had bothered to waste his time saving your life over and over. Meanwhile, you did meaningless chores all day.

Why had he ever bothered giving you the time of day in the first place? Why had he ever glanced twice in your direction? You can't wrap your head around it.

You could never mean something more to someone. Not that you want to to him. You know he's...beyond your grasp.

You shake your head, huffing, fighting back tears again. God, you were absolutely pathetic.

And it's the very reason you finally march over to him, ready for him to tell you no. That he had no idea what he was thinking making someone like you such an offer in the first place.

You want the rejection. You want him to hurt you. Badly. You want to be proven right: that you're nothing.

It'll make letting go of this idiotic idea that much easier.

Shane doesn't even see you standing across the picnic table at first.

You clasp your hands nervously in front of you. "Shane."

He looks up to you. "Was thinkin' 'bout gettin' these rifles cleaned up and sortin' through the ammo. Not sure how much we've got left in here. If you want to help, you can-"

"I want you to do it."

He stops, the pistol in his hand slipping from his grip back into the bag. He stares at you for a moment. "What?"

Please, be as harsh as possible, you think.

"I want you to take my virginity."

He blinks at you, dumbfounded. And then a slow smile spreads across his lips.

You hope he's about to mock you for ever taking his offer seriously in the first place. You know he's about to.

You don't blame him.

He comes around the table to stand in front of you. He gently takes your hand in his. "You do?"

You nod.

The look on his face softens and you suddenly feel confused.

Why isn't he being mean to you for this?

"When?" He asks in a hopeful whisper.

"N-now...?"

He reaches up, brushing his knuckles along your cheek. "Where?"

Had...had he actually meant it, then?

"I...I don't know." You can't think.

"I know a place."

"Oh." Had he thought ahead? Been planning for it all this time?

He chuckles. "I uh...I need to grab somethin' from my tent real quick. Wait here for me?"

You nod.

You stand there taken completely aback. How...how could he actually want this with you? To be the one to do it? You saw it as more of a burden on him than anything.

A chore.

You're broken from spiraling thoughts of telling him to forget it, that you've changed your mind; made a mistake, by him taking your hand in his and leading you away from the farm, a blanket tucked under his other arm.

Shane had led you well away from the house and into a clearing in the middle of the woods. And it was beautiful.

Vibrant green canopies of tree leaves were overhead, the sun shining through them, casting rays of light across the forest floor. Birds sung a melody all around you, and a cool breeze kissed your skin.

You look to him and watch as he fans out the blanket he'd brought, smoothing it across the grass.

Finally, he stands again.

Before he can speak, you do so first.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

He gives you a quizzical look. "I should be asking you that. Why're you askin' me, though, darlin'?"

"I don't understand you," you blurt out.

He raises a brow.

You continue. "Don't...don't you see this as more of a burdensome chore than anything else?"

Sadness for you flashes across his features. "How could I ever see makin' love you as that?" He cups your cheeks in his hands then.

"Making...love..." You struggle to wrap your head around him seeing it as that.

His voice becomes a mere whisper. "I've wanted this for so long. Have I not made my feelings for you clear yet?"

You blink up at him in response.

"Then let me show you. Right now."

Shane crushes his lips to yours, cupping the back of your head, holding you to him, terrified that if he lets go for even a moment, you'll run and this...this will be over. For good.

He'd waited for you for weeks, and months, and now—now—here you were. Finally.

You had finally come to him on your own. Had finally asked him for himself. Asked him to be the one man you gave this precious part of yourself to.

How could he not love you for that? How could he not otherwise?

He slides his other hand along your hip, until his palm is pressed firmly to the small of your back, bringing your body closer to his own. He flicks his tongue against your lips, asking you for entrance.

And you grant it.

He flicks his tongue again, against yours, silently encouraging you to enjoy this. To make the most of this—of all of it—of him.

He pulls away for a moment, reaching down to his belt, until your hands come to rest over his.

He looks at you, heart sinking. "Do you want to stop?"

You shake your head, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, then back down.

He drops his hands and yours take over, gently unbuckling his belt.

Meanwhile, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you next unzip and unbutton his pants.

He toes off his boots, pulling his shirt over his head, then stepping out of his pants next.

Once he's clad in nothing but his boxers, erection firmly present, he slides his hands up your hips, pulling your shirt off as well.

He reaches to the back of you, gently unclasping your bra and you cover yourself as it slips off of your arms.

He shakes his head, his eyes searching for yours. "You don't need to hide from me."

"What...what if you don't like how I look...once I'm naked?"

He hates that you're worried about such a thing in the first place, but understands.

"What're you worried about, babydoll? Some stretch marks? Do you want to know what a man thinks when a naked woman is in front of him?"

You shrug.

"Shit, she's naked."

You give a small laugh at that and he's glad to see you smile.

"A woman giving you her naked body is a gift. Any man who sees it otherwise never deserved you in the first place. At that," he says, unbuttoning your jeans. "He ain't a man if judging your body is the only thing on his mind when you're like that in front of him."

Finally, you toe off your shoes as well.

He gently tugs your jeans down past your hips, then your legs, until they've pooled around your feet.

You step out of them and Shane lays them to the side.

He stands again and you lower your arms.

He grips either of your hips, thumbs brushing against the bare skin of your sides as he studies your nearly-naked form, wanting desperately the unwrap the rest of his gift by removing your panties.

He looks you over, eyes dilating with lust.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you've got anythin' to be worried about."

He looks into your eyes and his lip twitches when he sees how flushed your face is.

He crushes his lips back to yours, sliding his hand down your stomach, past the waistline of your panties, his palm coming to rest against your sex, which is already pleasantly wet.

He runs two fingers between your folds and you whimper against his lips, your tongue slipping inside his mouth.

He does it again and your hips jerk, bringing you closer to him as you throw your arms around his neck, breasts pressed firmly to his chest.

He groans as he continues to tease that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs until his palm is covered in you.

Shane then reaches down, grabbing the backs of your thighs and lifts you, wrapping your legs around him as he sets both of you on the ground.

He lies you back as he rests on his haunches, studying every inch of you.

He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, looks at you, and when you give him a small nod, slips them down your legs, tossing them to the side, his hands spreading your legs further apart.

He licks his lips. "You're so damn perfect."

He leans down, kissing your lips fervently, but gently. He then presses hot kisses to your neck, then your shoulder, your breasts—he teases your nipples with the tip of his tongue until your hips are rising up to rub against his erection, desperate for any form of friction. He them moves to your stomach, spearing his tongue as he licks and teases, then moves lower until his face is between your thighs.

He throws your legs over his shoulders, and you gasp as he presses his open mouth against you, tasting you over and over, lapping at you like he can't get nearly enough. He spreads your soaked folds with his tongue, teasing against your tight entrance. He then flicks his tongue against your clit over and over, and your hips buck against him—his large calloused hands holding firmly against them—as you fuck yourself against his mouth.

He eventually begins to press wet hot kisses to your inner thighs, enjoying the sight of you spread open before him, pink and glistening. And the sounds mewling from your mouth... He doesn't know if he's ever been so fucking turned on before.

Finally, he stands quickly enough to remove his boxers, reaching to retrieve a condom from the pocket of his pants and your eyes widen as he rolls it onto his considerable length. All you can think is that much girth will be excruciating.

He lays back down on top of you, erection in his right hand, rubbing against your entrance as his other smooths hair away from your face as he kisses and kisses you. Finally, he begins to ease into you, inch by inch.

You do your utmost to relax, positioning one of your legs over his back and it helps with the pain, even minimally.

He stops halfway inside of you to allow you to adjust.

"You alright, angel?"

You nod, biting your lip. You wiggle your hips, trying to get more comfortable.

"Want me to keep goin'?"

He voice is husky, his words said between breaths.

You nod.

Once he's eased himself the rest of the way inside of you, he presses his forehead against your shoulder. "Jesus Christ," he whispers.

You wrap your arms around him, massaging the back of his head with your fingers.

He fights against his body jerking as he feels you clench around him once, twice...

He looks at you, and in that moment...something has changed. For both of you.

He kisses you. "This won't be enough for me. I can't just do this once and be expected to forget about it. To move on. Getting over her was one thing. But if I lose you? It'll damn-near kill me." He twines his fingers between yours as he begins to move inside of you. "Tell me you're mine. Tell me," he grunts, slipping out then back into you. "Tell me this is forever."

You wrap your other leg around him and he sinks even deeper. You sigh, gripping his chin gently in your hand, wanting nothing more than to look into his eyes as you give him this promise.

"I'm yours, Shane. Forever."

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Banchan x F!Reader & Jisung x F!Reader TW : Bangchans : pregnancy ; morning sickness ; general angst ;. Jisungs : menstrual cycles ; really bad period cramps ; Han being an asshole ;. BOTH : FLUFF AT THE END I SWEAR!! Word Count : Bangchan (2.1k) Han (2.2k) TOTAL : 4.3k Request : This is so heavily requested!! I'm sorry for keeping everyone waiting!! Chan's specific theme was requested so I'm fulfilling that one right now with this! I will do the other members as well, I'll get to them, I promise!!

Bangchan

Nausea was usually something that you were able to overcome quite quickly, you’d just drink a little bit of water and lay down until the feeling subsided. It wasn’t something that would keep you from doing the chores that you promised Chan that you’d do, it definitely would never stop you from making sure dinner was ready for when he came back from the office. Chan worked hard, and although he always told you that you didn’t have to do all that you did while he was gone, you thought that it was the least you could do. 

Today in particular was by far the worst day, and your attempt at swallowing back the bile in your throat as you normally would when you’d start getting that queasy feeling in your stomach was proven pointless. It was a miracle that you were even able to make it to the bathroom in time to lean over the toilet, your throat burning from the acids that came up from your empty stomach as you heaved over the seat. 

Throwing up was awful, but throwing up literal bile was the worst. Your head was spinning and your stomach felt way too tight from the constant retching, the feeling almost making you throw up again. The taste in your mouth was just as bad, and you pushed yourself up off the floor to drink the water from the faucet out of the palm of your hands. Beads of sweat clung to your forehead and you felt absolutely exhausted just from the physical exertion it took to throw up. A quick nap wouldn’t be bad, you’d wake up before Chan got home and you’d have everything done by the time he got through the door. At least, that’s how you planned on things going this evening. 

Of course he didn’t expect everything to be done for him when he came home from work, he didn’t start dating you so that you could be a maid and a chef for him, he genuinely just loved being with you. That didn’t mean that he didn’t appreciate it though, and some nights he’d even look forward to it, especially on nights like tonight. The new song he was working on just didn’t seem to line up right, he couldn’t find any source of motivation, he had been at work for hours but he hadn’t gotten anything done. He was annoyed, he was upset with himself, he was hungry, and he was tired. 

“Babe, I’m home.” He called out, kicking his shoes off after walking through the front door, his eyes finally glancing up and looking around when he realized just how quiet it was. Not just that, but the smell of dinner wasn’t wafting through the house… There was no smell at all, which was strange. Your shoes were still in the doorway, perfectly straight right next to his. Maybe it’s just because he was running a little late and you didn’t want to make dinner too early… You must be in the bathroom or something. 

He continued in through the house, making his way to the bedroom and slowly opening it. Now, deep down he knew that he shouldn’t be mad, you were his girlfriend, not his servant, but something about the sight of you curled up underneath the blanket, surrounded by toppled over laundry piles… It was infuriating. You really just decided halfway through that you didn’t want to do it and you just… took a nap. 

“Must be nice…” He said, just loud enough to stir you from your sleep, your eyes slowly opening before repeatedly blinking to get the sleep out of them. “Look who finally woke up? Did you have a nice nap?” You quickly jolted up, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands before looking around, your mouth falling open into a small ‘o’ when you saw him standing there. “Was one basket of laundry too much for you? Huh?” 

You scanned over the piles of laundry, whispering out a curse before scooting across the bed towards them, trying to refold and situate them as quickly as possible. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t feeling well. My stomach’s been acting up lately… I don’t know what’s wrong.” You murmured, grabbing out balls of clothes that were still tangled up in the basket. “I’m thinking… Maybe-” 

“Maybe it’s because you’re lazy?” He cut you off, and your head whipped up fast to look at him wide eyed. “I mean, good god, who falls asleep while folding one basket of laundry?” His head shook as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what, just go back to sleep. Clearly you can’t even do the simplest of things.” 

“N-No, it’s…” Tears were already stinging at your eyes as you rushed to fold the clothes in front of you. “I just don’t feel good… I don’t know what’s going on… I…” The heavy breathing was causing you to get nauseous again, the feeling of being attacked by him for something that both he and you didn’t even understand. He didn’t even know what was going on, he was never home, and now he was coming down on you. 

He yanked the shirt out of your hand, throwing it back into the basket before picking it up off the floor and carrying it to the door. “You think I don’t get sick? I still have to work. You’re just being ridiculous.” He mumbled, dropping the basket on the floor right outside the door. “It’s whatever though, just go do what you do best. I guess I’ll make dinner tonight after working all day too. Fucking fantastic.” He kicked the basket across the hallway before stepping out and slamming the door behind him. 

The sound of kitchen utensils being slammed against the counter and the fridge being opened and shut forcefully could be heard throughout the house, the constant loud noises causing you to jump, and you wouldn’t have been able to fall asleep even if you wanted to. You didn’t want to though, you wanted to talk to him because whatever was going on was starting to scare you. You had never been this sick for this long, and you didn’t have any other symptoms, it was just the random bouts of nausea. 

Suddenly the smell of ramen was filling the air, and you would usually love the smell of it, but right now it had your stomach turning as every single scent of the different spices filled your nose. “Chan…” You groaned, kicking the blankets off of yourself and heading out of the room. The smell hit you harder now and you covered your mouth and your nose, gagging silently as you moved into the kitchen and turned off the burner much to Chans surprise. 

“The hell are you doing?” He muttered, lightly swatting your hand away to turn it back on, and now just the sight of the red broth boiling in the pot had you retching. “What’s your problem?” He grumbled, moving you to the side as he stirred the contents in the pot, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore, leaning over the sink and throwing up, the force behind it sending the bile shooting out of your nose. “Hey! Hey what’s… hey!” He shouted, turning off the burner once more and standing behind you, holding your hair away from your face with one hand as he rubbed your back. 

“Fuck…” You sighed, turning on the spicket and washing out your mouth before grabbing a napkin to blow your nose. “I think I’m dying…” You whispered, a shudder running through you as you dropped down to the floor, leaning your forehead against the cold metal of the dishwasher. Your entire face was covered in sweat and you could barely catch your breath, that alone scaring you even more and causing you to breathe even heavier. 

“C-Calm down, it’s going to be okay.” Chan said, dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands firmly cupping your cheeks to look at you. “How long have you been sick like this?” He asked frantically, his thumb quickly wiping the tears from your cheeks. Your shoulders shrugged as you mumbled out a soft “a while” in response. “Jesus Christ… okay. We’re going to the hospital.” 

You laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, hating the fact that you were there but thankful for the lack of IVs. The doctor had taken a couple blood samples and those were the only needles that you had needed for the time being. Now you just wanted to relax, and as tired as you felt, the words that Chan had said earlier had you keeping your eyes open. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were feeling this way? Hmm? You told the doctor it’s been going on for a month and a half almost… How could you not tell me?” 

“You’re always at the office… you’re always working…” You muttered, balling up the blanket in your hands. “I don’t like bothering you while you’re working. You’ve got more important things to do than dealing with me.” You sniffled softly, quickly rolling over onto your side to face away from him, tears trickling down from the corner of your eyes. 

“What are you talking about? You’re extremely important to me, babe.” He cooed, not even bothering to try to roll you back over to face him, instead scooting the rolling chair around to the other side of the bed so he could see you. “All you have to do is call and I’ll come to you, I love you…” 

Your lips pulled together into a thin line as you looked past him. “I should have just laid in bed… went back to sleep and died. It’s what I do best…” He sighed heavily, knowing that those words were only in your head because of what hr had said earlier. He already felt awful about saying them, but now seeing you here like this, he felt even worse. 

“I don’t want you to do that… I want you to be here with me forever…” He whispered, reaching out to caress your cheek, his touch feather light against your clammy skin. “I’m sorry I spoke to you that way earlier… But once we find out what’s wrong and when you get better, I’ll make it up to you. Okay? I promise.” 

The knock at the door came and the doctor peaked in, a wide smile on her face as she waved to both you and Chan. It was a strange expression considering you literally thought you were on the brink of death, maybe she was just trying to lighten the mood before delivering the news. “So the results came back.” Chan nodded his head, his breaths becoming quicker as he waited for her to continue, clearly impatient. “Congratulations. You’re pregnant.” 

You blinked a few times, your mind struggling to process the information that was just given to you. Chan was also shocked into a state of silence as he stared at the doctor who was still smiling just as bright. “A baby… Is making her feel like this?” He questioned, and she simply nodded, walking closer to the bed and pulling a sheet of paper off the clipboard she was carrying, the words morning sickness printed in bold letters across the top and underneath a lengthy article about it. “Well… how… how far along is she? Why is she throwing up so much?” 

The doctor giggled lightly as she slipped the clipboard under her arm. “She’s about 4 months right now. Morning sickness can come at any time and it can be just nausea, or it can be actually getting ill. It depends on the person. I’d recommend setting up an appointment with your OBGYN as soon as possible though, just to get you in the system.” She nodded her head, backing up towards the door. “Congratulations again. Whenever you’re ready, you can head on out and sign the release forms at the front desk.” 

Once she was gone, Chan swiveled the chair back in your direction, still slack jawed at the unexpected diagnosis. “Well… You’re not dying, so that’s good…” He said softly, and then, as if the news had fully processed in his mind, his lips slowly pulled up at the corners, his hand holding onto yours as his thumb brushed along your knuckles. “I know this is unexpected… But I know we can do this… I love you, I know already that I want to have a family with you… and there’s nothing wrong with starting a little bit early…” He chuckled softly, standing up and helping you to your feet. “We’re going to be fine. Let’s get home and relax though, take a nap, I think you’ve earned one.”  going to be right here with you the whole time.”

Jisung

“Pookie butt!!” Jisung called from the living room while you were in the bathroom, waiting for you to come out before he continued. He was standing in the doorway, pulling on his shoes, waiting for you to come out to say goodbye to him. Once you emerged from the hallway and ran over to him, his arms were immediately around your hips, his face nuzzling into your neck. “I’m gonna be sleeping at the dorms tonight, I’ll be working late and I know you hate when I come in at weird hours, you get all panicky and scared.” 

“I do not!” You retorted, pushing back against his chest lightly as you looked up at him, but the smile he was wearing never failed to soften you up immediately. His laughter had you giggling along with him, burying your face in his chest as his hands lightly squeezed your sides. 

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t come at me swinging a baseball bat one night because I came in at 3 in the morning. You almost killed me, pookie poo.” He teased, and you couldn’t even deny it because it was the truth, and while you had apologized profusely for it for an entire month, now you were able to laugh about it with him. “You gonna be okay though? You gonna be able to sleep without the best boyfriend in the world laying beside you? Hmm? Can you do that? Do you need me to come home tonight?” 

“I think I’ll manage.” You said between little fits of laughter, grabbing his jacket from off the hook and handing it to him before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, the one thing that would certainly keep him from teasing you for at least the next 30 seconds. “What time do you think you’ll be back home though? I’m gonna run to the grocery store and get some of your favorite snacks, nothing but the best for my hard working man.” 

His cheeks flushed a light shade of pink at your words, and he quickly kissed you again to try to distract you from noticing it. “This is why you’re the best girlfriend, best pookie poo, my one and only schmookem boops.” He nuzzled his nose against yours, clearly procrastinating, he hated having to leave you, especially if it was over night. “I’ll try to be back by the evening. We can eat some ramen and watch movies, hmm?” You nodded your head in agreement as you opened the door for him, giving him one last kiss before saying goodbye. 

That night you had started your period, and you had fallen asleep with your fingers crossed that the cramps wouldn’t be as bad as they usually were when you woke up. Of course, you weren’t that lucky, and when you did wake up in the morning, it was like your cramps were your personal alarm clock. You could barely even roll over to get out of the bed, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to walk, let alone walk through the grocery store. 

You hated getting your period, it was a pain in the ass in every single way, shape, and form. It had completely slipped your mind that you were due for it, and you didn’t have any pain medication to even slightly reduce the pain from your cramps. You were practically bed ridden, curled up in the fetal position under the blankets, your breaths labored as you tried to get through each one that came so frequently that you weren’t even able to get a break. 

Just the simple task of getting up to get a drink of water left you doubled over in the middle of the kitchen, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to breathe your way through it just to get to the couch. Tears pricked your eyes as every minute your stomach would tighten up and your back would ache and you’d try your best to maneuver into a more comfortable position, but it seemed that there was no way that you could lay to rid yourself of the pain. 

You had tried to call Jisung, but his phone went to voicemail each time, clearly busy with work and you didn’t want to keep bothering him. You hoped that at some point he’d just call you back before he got home and you could tell him what was going on and ask him to bring you some ibuprofen. The only thing you could do at this point was try to sleep through the pain. 

When the door unlocked, you slowly opened your eyes, smiling up to Jisung as he walked through the front door, kicking off his shoes and going over to you. “Looks like you’re already ready for movie night. I’ll just get the snacks, you stay comfy.” He made little finger guns as he made his way to the kitchen, the sound of cabinets opening and closing as he searched, and if he had answered the phone he would know what was going on, but you didn’t expect him to be so upset about the lack of snacks either. “Where are they?” He called from the kitchen, and you slowly sat up on the couch, looking over the back of it to see him. 

“I didn’t get to go to the store today.” You said, the bright fluorescent bulbs that hung in the kitchen burning your eyes as they glowed behind him, so you quickly laid back down, keeping your eyes shut to try to fight off the headache that threatened to come. “I’m sorry… I just… I’ve been cramping and my head hurts so bad… I couldn’t make it to the store.” 

“Really?” He posed the question, and you thought that for a second he would show some sort of concern like he usually would, but instead he came back into the living room, standing over you as you laid curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. “You really didn’t go to the store because of a couple cramps? There’s girl idols that literally do entire dance routines when they have their periods and you couldn’t walk? Boohoo. Come on, get up. Let’s get the snacks.” 

He reached out to grab your hand, but you quickly pulled it away, your eyes opening just enough to glare at him. You weren’t used to him being so insensitive, and maybe he had a bad day at work, maybe he couldn’t sleep well last night, but whatever the reason, he had no right to practically insult you for not feeling well. “No. I’m in pain, and if you want to go get your fucking snacks so bad, then go get them… But you can go right back to the fucking dorms when you’re done shopping.” You snapped, pulling the blanket up around your face and closing your eyes. 

“Fine!” He retorted loudly, his hands flying up in the air with annoyance as he walked away from you. “But I’m getting really fucking tired of you using your period cramps as a reason to get out of doing literally anything. It isn’t even that bad.” It was like he was trying to piss you off, and it was working really well. He didn’t know shit about the way you were feeling, and for him to assume that you were acting just to get out of going grocery shopping was infuriating. 

“Would you just get the fuck out already?!” You shouted, only for your words to be followed by the door slamming shut, your headache only worsened by the sound of it. You hadn’t even gotten your medicine, and now you were alone once again, and the cramps were only getting worse, and now you were in pain and upset. 

“Weren’t you literally just back home?” Bangchan questioned when Jisung walked through the front door, and he could only assume that the oldest was talking about the fact that he hadn’t even been gone for more than an hour, and when he had left he had excitedly announced that he was having movie night with you. “Did you get Y/N the medicine she needed? She sounded really bad over the phone…” 

Jisung stopped in his tracks on his way to his own room, turning to look back at Chan. “What are you talking about? She called you?” He inquired, slowly walking over to the couch where Chan was sitting. “What did she say?” Obviously he was worried about you, and the only reason he didn’t run back into the house and apologize was because he was embarrassed. He felt like shit for going off on you, and he knew that you’d both need a bit to cool down. 

“She called Minho, asked him to bring her some Tylenol or something. She was crying… He felt really bad so he already left.” Chan explained, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Jisung. “What did you do?” He could read Hans face clearly, and while he wasn’t one to be nosy, he did want to make sure that nothing too serious had happened. You made Jisung happier than anyone else ever could, and he didn’t want that to be ruined for his friend over something small. 

“M-Minho?” Jisung stammered out the name, his hands running through his hair as he grew even more anxious. “Why would he go? That’s… That’s not his place… H-He can’t do that.” He was becoming frantic as his fingers continued to run across his scalp, becoming tangled in the strands that got knotted. “And she was crying?!” 

Bangchan nodded slowly, knowing that nothing he said or did would be able to calm him down now that Jisung was like this. He was practically spiraling and the only thing he could even attempt to do was tell him that it would be okay, although he was sure he wouldn’t believe him. “Look, if you’re so worried, then just go-“ But he didn’t even get the chance to finish the sentence before Jisung was rushing out the door, his shoes barely even on as he hopped on one foot down the hallway to get to the elevator. 

Although he knew that Minho meant well by going there to help you, it felt like he had crossed a line that no friend should ever cross. Going over to his house with his girlfriend when he wasn’t there. It was uncalled for, and even if you had called Minho to get you some medicine, Minho should have contacted him first. It shouldn’t matter that he walked out the door on bad terms, at the end of the day you were still his girlfriend. 

He rushed through the front door and he didn’t know how to feel, seeing Minho sitting on the couch with you had anger rushing through his veins, but it’s not like the two of you were cuddled up or anything, you were on completely opposite sides of the sofa. “Was waiting for you to come.” Minho teased, turning his head as far as he could to look at Jisung who stood like a statue in the doorway. 

He completely ignored the older member, moving to squat down in front of you, his hands grabbing yours tightly as he looked up at you with glassy eyes and dampened cheeks. “Why wouldn’t you call me? Why did you call him? Are you going to leave me? I’m so sorry, baby… I didn’t mean what I said… Don’t leave me…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him, lifting your intertwined hands to brush the tears from his cheeks. “You were mad… we were mad at each other when you walked out… I didn’t think you’d come rushing back to bring me the medicine. That’s why I called him…” You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched his eyes grow wider, almost like a puppy who was just told they were misbehaving. 

“I was a big dummy… I know how bad your cramps get, I was being an ass. I shouldn’t have compared you to anyone because you’re just… you’re amazing and beautiful and there’s no one else in the world like you.” He kissed along your knuckles before brushing his thumb against them, giving you a sad smile. “Will you ever forgive me pookie schmooks?” 

A sound of disgust came from Minho as he quickly got up from the couch, his face perfectly expressing how he felt. “You two are the cringiest people I’ve ever seen in my life and I’m leaving. Get well, Y/N. Goodbye weirdo.” He said to both you and Jisung, practically running to the door as if he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. His reaction was just the icebreaker the two of you needed to get over the awkwardness that was felt. 

“Did you… Get your snacks?” You asked nervously, keeping your eyes down, wondering if he’d act out again just from the snacks being brought up, but his head shook in response before it was laid against your lap. “Do you want me to go get them? I think the pill is starting to kick in…” 

“Mm… no.” He hummed, his smile growing wider as he looked up at you. “I just want to cuddle with you and make sure you feel good and stay feeling good.. We can order in tonight… I just want to stay with you.”

[sordidmusings]

Fixing What Ifs (Mihawk x F!Reader)

A/N: For this ancient request (told you they are not forgotten just severely neglected 💀). I really hope I captured the type of scene you were looking for! Debating on writing a follow up smut because sex as the culmination of pining?? That's that good good right there that is. Bless up to @fanaticsnail for cheering me while writing this, would've very much struggled without you love bug 🤍🤍🤍

Listening to: Prove Your Love - Fleetwood Mac, Go Slowly - Radiohead, Love Song - Lesley Duncan

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: Fem!reader, a gratuitous amount of mutual pining, kind of bantering?, Mihawk leans opla in that he has such sass, a few flashback scenes, Mihawk is a Man who does not know how to deal with being in love, but he’s trying like a lot, I mean he even kisses your wrist, probably idiots in love, there's one brief allusion to Buggy cuz I Need Him

Snippet:

“You say that as if we’re too old to have options.” He spoke quite steadily, but you noticed his golden eyes flicking to you, ravenously seeking your reaction. You knew he was trying to cover at least a little; your equal skills in observation were a beauty and a bane to him. It was your favorite source of bickering, giving you many lines to smile at when you were stuck in lonely nights tracking targets.

“You are in your forties,” you teased. Again, you took a sip to think. You meant to find some words to match his characteristic tone (“Joints still working well enough to properly share a bed?”), but instead what came out was “though you’ve aged better than I imagined in our twenties”. You blamed that you had finally looked over and taken in his face, sculpted angles all alive and aglow in the torch-light. There was also that defined chest that he maddeningly always insisted on showing everyone. You probably would too, looking like that.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“There’s still many places I’ve yet to see that proven,” you responded, words coy and teasing but smile easy and affectionate. Mihawk would need much more intimacy before he admitted how that smile stalled his thoughts. You would need much more boldness before you let him know you noticed when you managed to halt his breath.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“I’ve chosen another I want you to try. Push your glass this way,” Mihawk prompted gently. Years of knowing him let you pick up the hints of eagerness hidden under his usual drawl.

You watched Mihawk’s hands and forearms work as he opened another bottle to share. He had foregone his coat tonight, instead draping himself with a well-cut white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows and buttons undone to below his sternum, of course. Toned muscle danced under his skin with every twist and turn, leading you to great distraction throughout the process of him serving you. After enjoying the sculpt of his large hand while it gripped the full bottle to pour your glass, you changed your attention to the luxurious material of his shirt, fluttering over his chest and playing against tanned skin and his heavy gold cross. You wished you could find an excuse to pull at that hem, testing the softness of the material and making it reveal more for you.

The dark green bottle thumping back down on the bartop brought your attention away from your companion and back to your refreshed drink. You did feel a bit guilty that Mihawk’s description of the new wine was going near completely ignored (you at least caught the words “barrel-aged”, flattered he remembered your offhand comment about that preference from months ago). You just couldn’t get yourself to pay attention; your mind was swimming through multiple years at once any time it wasn’t grounded by his visage. Wistfulness had a stranglehold on you tonight, keeping you locked between painful yearning and bittersweet nostalgia. The comfort of hearing his smooth voice accompanied by the quietly unfolding lives of every stranger in the bar did reach you, however. You took solace in that while you went for your first sip.

“You’re much quieter than usual,” Mihawk prodded with dry displeasure. That displeasure was interrupted when he got to enjoy your usual show of flicking your tongue out to lick your glass and then your lips upon the first taste.

You took another, much longer sip of your drink to delay the need to respond. It was an easy choice of diversion; the wine was exquisite as always. You’d tell him as much if you were more in the mood for the gloating, simpering glow he’d get from earning a stroke to his ego from you.

“I thought you’d like that,” you offered quietly. You swept a fingertip around the slick rim of your glass, mindless in your feeling and seeing and doing. This absent state let Mihawk watch for every detail of the action to better imagine how that trailing fingertip would feel against his skin. 

“Clearly you’re not as observant as you think,” he dug back, this time with much more amusement warming his voice, yet not quite enough to completely melt the snideness out.

Despite yourself, you smiled. Years of rivalry softened you to affection. Over those years of pushing yourselves and each other, bitterness became respect, respect became comradery, and comradery became admiration. In you, that admiration had long bloomed into devotion, petals bursting open in a stalwart stand against his consistent frigid air. Some days they withered, but then he would reach to you, hearten you, or defend you in a way that would have new buds growing more and more numerous until you had a field that could withstand winter's chill, turning to ice sculptures in each frost instead of decaying pulp.

“I blame your wines,” you chuckled, still taking yet another sip despite the accusation. “They have me stuck reminiscing.”

“I’d advise against that; it’s a trying endeavor. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Mihawk teased, doing a great job of masking his fondness with wry wit. He did venture to expose his curiosity, however. “Where and when does your mind have you trapped?”

“Our first meeting.”

Mihawk barely managed to keep from choking on his wine. He didn’t want to tip you off on how much that memory affected him. And it would be a shame to waste such an expensive drink.

“Why would you be thinking of that ridiculous affair?” There goes the effort at keeping you in the dark.

“What?” you asked with mock shock. “The only thing that was ridiculous was how little you trusted the top marksman to do her job.”

“You didn’t exactly scream competency,” Mihawk defended, hiding his fluster behind rudeness and the rim of his glass. The dim lighting of the bar would have hid it for him anyway; the few torch chandeliers did wonders for turning him to a living Baroque painting, but they were known for their shadows more than their breadth of hues. 

“That is one thing you always did have on me,” you relented easily, more set on imagining the immaculately groomed and glaring warlord who first saw you than needing to keep a score with his modern counterpart at your side.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“They asked for me for a reason, you’re more useful elsewhere.”

“I’m useful everywhere you’ll find,” he dismissed easily, as sure of that fact as in the rising of the sun each day. You were a hard one to shake, but the way his namesake hawk’s eyes cut through you had you feeling exposed and vulnerable. It had you needing to make him just as small as the little pieces his endlessly picking gaze had shredded you into. 

“Then go be useful as something other than my shadow. Some of us are actually working.” Even in your exasperation fueled anger, you sounded more like you were asking than telling. The ease with which he commanded was yet another skill you’d spotted on him so quickly in these few days together that had you feeling out of your league. You were beginning to think he took great joy in your mounting discomfort with the way he hovered around, always looking for another soft spot to peck at.

“You’ve been laying at this spot for days, Viper, with nothing to show for it,” Mihawk said, phrasing the truth quite unfairly. Viper was the code-name gifted to you in your work; the snakes could sit still as the dead for weeks, waiting for the one moment that prey finally crossed their path. That same dedication was what he was attempting to disturb now. “I could have rooted the rats out within the hour of mission's start.”

“Then it’s a good thing this task is mine and not yours,” you spat back, finally finding the will to sound truly mean. There was much you were uncertain of but your methods were a strong sense of pride and no one got to question them. “I’m sure the trafficking victims would do really well avoiding harm in the slaughter you’d start. They are known for being battle-ready after all; I’m sure they’re just playing victim right now so they can partake in a song-worthy escape and claim their glory.”

“You think I have no skill to guard and fight at the same time?”

“I think it’s not worth the risk to innocents just to feed one man’s insatiable ego,” you grumbled, spreading yourself out on your familiar and beloved blanket to begin this day’s long watch. You lined one eye with the one-of-a-kind scope of your rifle, taking comfort in settling into your power. “Better to wait until they show themselves and pick them off from miles away, letting them panic at the suddenness of death from a foe they’ll never see.”

Your memory never granted you Mihawk’s perspective on your first job together. You never figured out that he was hovering not from hatred of your perceived incompetence but an uncontrollable need to have you in his sight. He’d never had to contend with such an impulse before and found himself completely at the mercy of its whims. Garp was not happy with the freshly titled Warlord; he was meant to be helping eradicate the rebel legion that had taken this island over to ravage it for resources (humans included), not keep checking out their prized sniper like he’s a fifteen year old with his first female fixation.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Surely I can be of much more entertainment to you in the present than in whatever foggy memories you have,” Mihawk said, successfully bringing you back to him.

“Yes you can,” you admitted with too much authenticity and affection for your tastes to just leave that flavor in the ari. After a moment of thought, you softly bumped your shoulder with his and added, “You’re practically a whole circus over there, how ever could I look away?”

You didn’t expect the long and tired sigh to deflate the man next to you, leaving his upper body draped on the bar. The sound seemed to have come from so deep in his lungs that it was born from his very soul.

“Please keep all talk of circuses and especially clowns to a minimum,” Mihawk pleaded into his forearms. He lifted head to look at you with one of the grouchiest and most sour faces you’d seen on him in a long time, before plopping it back into his arms. The whole thing was only made more endearing with the way the bar had pushed his hat askew.

“What’s with that look?” you laughed. “You usually save that one for Shanks.”

“I wish it was Shanks,” he grumbled petulantly. Your laughter always brightened him back up and he longed to turn and see the beauty of it on your face, but instead chose to keep to his brooding to prolong the sound just that much more.

 If it wouldn’t send him up the wall, you would have told him how much you adored when his brooding turned pouty. It sapped him of his persistent decorum and made him feel closer - more touchable. The slouch it brought out in him always had you valiantly fighting the urge to wrap his curved chest in a firm hug. It was unfair how perfectly suited for one he looked, resting his elbows on the bar and opening him and his luxury shirt and his warm skin up for your reaching hands and arms. You shook your head after a mourning sigh and took another sip of heady wine.

“I wish it was Shanks too. It’s been too long since I’ve seen him.” The soft spot you always showed for the Red Haired Pirates only threatened to drag Mihawk’s mood low again. It was amended slightly by your cute, happy gasp before you said, “We should go visit them soon! I’ve got a bigger chunk of free time after the next two months.”

Mihawk was always amazed by how easily tiny little gestures from you perked him back up and got his heart leaping. All you did was choose to say “we”. He wished and wished that it was always “we”, but he’d take what he could get. Even if it meant dealing with the usual treatment whenever you were both with Shanks and his crew.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk was not fond of the look Shanks was sending his way. It was all too smarmy, built on equal parts smugness and giddiness. Disgusting.

“You dog! When I tried to imagine what could have the unshakable Dracule Mihawk off his game I never would’ve guessed it was our dear Viper,” Shanks teased cheerily, bumping his shoulder into the rigid one of the swordsman next to him. Mihawk was affronted - he nearly spilled his drink from Shanks’ boorish behavior.

“Didn’t know she was yours,” Mihawk grumbled, attempting to sidestep Shanks’ prompts to have him speak his infatuation aloud.

Shanks was fighting poorly to hold in his laughter; Mihawk was absolutely sulking while he watched Yasopp teach you more gun spinning tricks. You and the sharpshooter were always all joy and play, easily finding common ground in marksmanship but with the added fun of showing your separate specializations to each other. Each bout of laughter from your direction brought another brooding line to Mihawk’s furrowed brow. This standoffish air was his habitual defense against the raw ache he’d been tending to since the two of you met.

Every time I try to play, I end up wounding her, he lamented. Why can I not earn your laughter?

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

Mihawk lightly shook himself of the memory. On instinct, he turned to look at you and found you already looking at him but not really seeing him. He quietly huffed through his nose at losing you again to your own mind. He decided to give you a moment before getting to the bottom of whatever it was that had you in your funk. Beyond selfishly wanting your rapt attention, he was worried for you. You were prone to take pause and think long, especially when in quiet company, but you seemed truly lost in your own mind, taken against your will.

Mihawk’s accurate read on you was more proof of the years tentatively building rapport with each other. That intimacy you shared, which lacked the intimacy you so craved, was what had you held hostage in one of the many examples of your entwining lives.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

The quiet in the air was broken only by Mihawk’s calm breathing, his occasional quiet sips of today’s wine, and the gentle rustle of a turning page. Your own breathing was silent, having gone so long and smooth it was imperceptible due to an instinct trained in so no need of your body could get in the way of your shot. Luckily, your targets were always at such a great distance that Mihawk’s casual lounging would never alert them that they were being hunted.

“It’s been twelve hours since you’ve eaten,” Mihawk told you in a bored tone, eyes never leaving the pages of his book. You made to ignore him and continue your work, but he had never been able to stand your attention off of him for long. “Almost three since you’ve taken a sip of water.”

“Sorry, Mom, I’m a bit busy at the moment,” you mumbled back evenly. You had long lost the majority of your bitterness toward his nitpicking, instead just glad he was around and saying anything to you.

“If I was your mother, I would’ve commanded you to just let me take the target out in the first place so we could leave this boring island,” Mihawk complained.

“You really gonna take a swing at them from two miles off?” you asked, smiling as you imagined the chaos wrought from such an action. It would be a catastrophe, but it would also give you quite the show. Over your time knowing him, you’d seen Mihawk’s innate beauty and untouchable prowess countless times, but it was never enough to sate you.

“You’re not the only one who can hit a target from that distance,” Mihawk reminded you and you hoped you weren't imagining the tone of a smirk shaping his voice.

“Yeah, but I’m the only one of us who won’t cause a tsunami in the process,” you giggled at him. 

Again, your diligence robbed you of the chance to see the poignant longing overtaking Mihawk’s face when he smiled at you. He relished every step he’d gotten closer to being the source of your joy.

~ ~ ~ ••• ~ ~ ~

“You’ve disappeared again,” Mihawk complained after sending a haughty tut your way.

You offered an apologetic smile and were happy that he accepted it readily. All those memories, years of feeling, and liquid courage built a full storm inside of you until you knew you needed to allow yourself some time in the eye of it. Being surrounded by the roaring weather would be nerve-wracking but you hoped the calm at the center helped protect you from those shredding winds. You blew a heavy sigh over your drink, refusing to look from its dark, blooded tint when you asked, “Have you ever wondered what it would’ve been like if we were together?”

He didn’t answer right away. Usually Mihawk was a man who was quick with his words, as sure in speed and precision with their strike as he was with that of his sword. You respected that sureness and bold weaponizing of his thoughts, but you deeply appreciated that, with you, he would take the time to truly parse his words when he felt the need. It suited your nature better; your patience was as legendary as your ability to shoot the wings from a fly that was miles off from the end of your rifle. 

“You say that as if we’re too old to have options.” He spoke quite steadily, but you noticed his golden eyes flicking to you, ravenously seeking your reaction. You knew he was trying to cover at least a little; your equal skills in observation were a beauty and a bane to him. It was your favorite source of bickering, giving you many lines to smile at when you were stuck in lonely nights tracking targets.

“You are in your forties,” you teased. Again, you took a sip to think. You meant to find some words to match his characteristic tone (“Joints still working well enough to properly share a bed?”), but instead what came out was “though you’ve aged better than I imagined in our twenties”. You blamed that you had finally looked over and taken in his face, sculpted angles all alive and aglow in the torch-light. There was also that defined chest that he maddeningly always insisted on showing everyone. You probably would too, looking like that.

“You should know by now I always exceed expectation,” Mihawk said without a hint of gloating, just simply stating an absolute fact.

“There’s still many places I’ve yet to see that proven,” you responded, words coy and teasing but smile easy and affectionate. Mihawk would need much more intimacy before he admitted how that smile stalled his thoughts. You would need much more boldness before you let him know you noticed when you managed to halt his breath.

“Mihawk, my dearest adversary and cherished… friend,” you hesitated on the word, never having claimed him as such to his face before. He rewarded your bravery with a gentle bump of his knee against yours and with the bare fondness that began softening his stare. “We have been playing this game, dancing this dance, for decades now. Am I really meant to believe that one question changes everything?”

“The right question can,” he asserted immediately. He opened his mouth to continue, but for once you were the one striking quick with your words.

“You are a man who does not hesitate,” you accused, staring cuttingly into his focused gaze, not backing down at the way it became shielded. “If you want something you take it.”

“And?” Mihawk prompted, tone the most biting it's been all night.

“And,” you repeated. “And…”

You sighed in defeat and turned back to your drink, closing yourself away. He was more than smart enough to know where you were going with that, but he insisted on making you be the one to say it. You wouldn’t allow him to make you insult yourself, especially after you had ventured to bring up the tenuous topic in the first place. If he refused to argue or even acknowledge your conclusions, then you’d let your drink be the friend to assuage those old hurts. The echoed sigh to your side did little to move you from your new stake out with your wounds and your wine.

Mihawk pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to call you foolish so his own mind would stop branding him with that word. He had been ever vigilant of you throughout the years, not only in an effort to soak you in every moment he could, but also to latch on the moment he noticed you offering him a true opening. You had finally bared your throat to him and he had managed to fail at your final test to check that he would not stoop to bite - that he would only beg to kiss.

While taking his next sip of wine, Mihawk extended an olive branch in the form of a thigh pressed firmly into yours. He was barely able to keep in the frustrated growl that pressed at his chest when you shifted yourself away. You did turn your eyes to him out of curiosity, however, but he missed the look completely, too busy reassembling himself. It let you watch carefully as the flaming lights turned his hat’s extravagant feather amber in their glow when he lifted it off his head to place on the bartop. It let him run his fingers back through his thick black curls, trying to shake his disappointment off with the teasing of his strands.

He looked over at you and finally caught on to your observing. Mihawk let his regret pour over his face, even letting his lips twitch into a momentary, rueful smile. You replied with a tired smile of your own. In the end, it turned sweet and loving; a bad habit of yours with the swordsman. You pressed your thigh back to his.

In a rare show of humility, propelled by the heat of your thigh warming his and the sweet crinkles your smile brought to your eyes (Just for me, he thought with doting greed), Mihawk took your hand and bowed himself low to touch his forehead to your knuckles. His thumb soothed gentle circles into it while he stayed lowered to you for a few long breaths. He was eager to enjoy the feeling of your skin and the decadent scent of your perfume, strong now with the proximity of your wrist. You had chosen something sultry and heady with its deep notes of orchid and amber and wood, all calling to him until he acted with thought a millisecond behind instinct.

He flipped your hand over, slowly and gently, cradling it palm up in his large hand. Still stooped, he had to move scant inches to brush the tip of his nose across the thin skin on the inside of your wrist, savoring the pull of your perfume going deep into his lungs and leading his mind to a content haze. He sealed the small caress with a feathery brush of his lips over your pulse, wishing he could make himself press harder to feel your heart thump against his lips. He longed to know if it raced with the same jumping cantor as his.

When he sat back up he was met with a vision from his dreams. You had fully turned your face to him and it was lit with a deep flush made more rosy in the fire-cast light of the bar. No ambient chatter nor clinking cutlery could keep his ears from delighting in the hitch of your breath in and the contented sigh out. Another smile indulged him, this one easily crowned his favorite with its happy chuckle, pressing cheeks, and bare affection. 

“I am a man who takes what I want,” Mihawk confirmed your words delicately. He continued to hold your hand, now enfolding it in both of his. You felt bright tingling shooting from the contact and the press of your thighs. They made you twenty again, staring down the most handsome and insipidly arrogant man you’d ever met and cursing your heart for its clear choice. “I take what I want, not who I want. People aren’t for the taking, little viper.”

You laughed at the title, never feeling it sat quite right. You felt you wore it well at work only. The imagery it brought up of femme fatales and their hypnotizing looks and lethal wit made you feel like a young girl cloaked ill-fittingly in her mother’s best event wear, barely able to peek your head out of the wool coat dwarfing you. Mihawk noted your discomfort with the title throughout the years but never found the proper words to have you see that all who said it were reverent when they saw how well the word wrapped over you.

“What if-” again you hesitate. You scrunch your face in anger at your nature, but before Mihawk had time to bring a hand to your face and soothe it back into a smile, you force out the words. “What if I am for the taking?”

Mihawk’s thumbs stopped their massaging and you felt his thigh jump to tense against your own. Staring into his widening eyes and how they glowed so beautifully - too beautifully to be within your reach - you immediately wished you could suck the words right back into your lungs. You made it this far though, so you instead worried at your lip and clung your hand onto Mihawk’s stalled hold.

Finally, he unfroze.

“For the night only?” Mihawk probed, wanting answers but worrying about making you close off again.

“Do you only want the night?” You tossed back to him, unwilling to turn this propositioning into a confession of the long years you have built a deep and sturdy love for him, no matter your attempts to welcome others into its halls.

“What I want,” Mihawk said, gentle and deliberate in coloring his tone with humble honestly, “is to be what you want.”

You were taken aback by the confession, but you were even more awed by the look he was giving you. He was still slightly stooped, broad shoulders gently curved and bent towards you, pulled down under the need to lower himself below you but body still gravitating towards you with the magnetism he’s been weak to since you first crossed paths. Framed by those shoulders and his wild curls, Mihawk looked to you with the sadly tinted longing you had felt seize you in his presence all this time. While the furrow of his brow and glimmer of his eyes had your brain buzzing with more hope than you’d dare let it host before, your chest squeezed at the conflict you saw in him; you knew that torment in your very bones.

“You always have been,” you whispered on a trembling breath. Mihawk’s eyes went wild for a moment where his whole body tensed and you felt his urge to pounce on you steal the oxygen from the room. He thanked the gods for a majority of his life spent learning control and restraint, while he got himself in order and pressed the firm kiss he’d longed for to your wrist instead. 

“Come with me,” Mihawk commanded through lips still pressed to your skin, though it was the closest you’d heard him to begging in your entire life.

You let yourself partake in a longtime wish by moving your other hand to card your fingers back into his thick hair, happy to find that it was just as soft as you had imagined. Their trailing came back around to have your palm cup his jaw. He leaned into the touch, tickling your hand with the rub of his precise facial hair when he allowed himself one small nuzzle into your loving hold. That hand guided him up to meet your eyes so he could see the love you held for him finally displayed openly in all its abundance.

“Wherever you ask me to, I will go,” you promised.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

[leaentries]

just stay | luke hughes

summary: troubled by luke’s continued absence, you just want him to stop. but he just wants you to stay.

warnings: angsty themes, mentions of abandonment, arguing, happy-ish ending (but also sad)

wc: 1.2k

a/n: this is my first angsty fic, so please bare with me! <3

You should have known better. You did know better.

Yet for some reason, you found yourself caught up in his chaos again. Luke was always a hard worker, this is something he prided himself on. The way he could completely immerse himself in his work and focus on nothing else. It was the only time his mind was quiet.

Sometimes it occurred to you that maybe his job was his only true love because, for the third time this week, Luke found himself walking through the front door at an ungodly hour. He assumed you’d be tucked away asleep, but was proven wrong when he saw your displeased features looming at him from the couch. 

He gently set his hockey bag down, clearly sensing the thick tension practically rolling off your body. Luke was scared to move or talk for that matter. Now of course, he knew why you were upset with him, as you had every right to be, but what you didn’t know was Luke would often find an escape on the ice, a way to heal scars he tried so hard to conceal. So it was easy for him to lose track of time, needing to expel all of his emotions. It was the only way he knew how to process. 

And with your ongoing relationship issues, Luke began to disappear. At least, that’s what it felt like to you. One of your biggest fears was Luke leaving you, so it truly felt like you were living in your worst nightmare when the distance between you grew. The feeling of abandonment engraved in your mind was impossible to get rid of.

Letting out a deep sigh, you couldn’t find the energy to scold him again. “Why, Luke?” 

The simple question hung in the air like a rope, tight and unwavering. Truth be told, Luke didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know why all he wanted to do was bury his head in the sand until morning when he could get back to the rink. He didn’t know why he couldn’t convey his feelings properly. He didn’t know why he felt so scared to be vulnerable around you. 

Taking his silence as an answer, you rose from the couch. Not taking a second glance in Luke’s direction, you made your way to your shared bedroom. Luke immediately followed suit. He watched as you grabbed an overnight bag, half-hazardly throwing things in. He reached out to touch your arm.

“No!” You yanked your arm away looking up at his guilt-ridden eyes. “You don’t get to feel bad. I told you. I told you how you being distant all the time made me feel. But you clearly don’t care enough to change anything.”

Luke roughly ran a hand through his messy curls.

“Look y/n, you know I care about you. But-” You quickly cut him off.

“See? There shouldn’t even be a but. You simply just don’t care, Luke.” Tears began to fill your eyes at this point. “I’m at a loss. I told you I wanted to work on us and I thought you did too. But apparently I was wrong.” 

Luke shook his head in protest, “Of course I want to work on us! You haven’t given me a chance to try and explain!” He tried tirelessly to let you hear him out. Unfortunately, his attempts were in vain.

“I gave you plenty of chances to explain, Luke. It’s too late.” The next words that left your mouth cut through Luke’s heart like a dagger. “I-I think we should take a break.” 

Luke’s breath quickened as his heart rate began to rise. Tears immediately sprung in his eyes, “Don’t say that. You don’t mean that. Please, please say you don’t mean that” He begged.

You had never seen Luke break down like that. The pain in your chest was hard to ignore as you tried your best to control the sobs that now shook your body. You didn’t trust your voice enough to speak, so you grabbed your bag and attempted to go around Luke’s frame. He gripped onto your bag, causing your body to sharply turn back. 

“Y/n, don’t leave it like this,” He sobbed, “Don’t leave us like this!” You scoffed at his last remark.

“I’m the one leaving? Luke, you left this relationship a long time ago. It just sucks I didn’t notice it until now. I could have saved us both the time.” Your voice became dull. You had lost all motivation to fight for what you and Luke had lost. You were tired. 

“I-I don’t understand. You told me you wanted me to try and here I am, trying. This time you are the one walking away. Not me.” Luke’s voice began to become unsteady. Overwhelmed with the severity of the situation. He was flooded with anger, confusion, and most of all: sadness. He felt completely helpless. Two hours ago all he wanted was to stay on that ice until the world stopped, but now it felt as though the world did. Except now, all he wanted was you. 

“Just stop it, Luke. This is it. What’s done is done, and I need you to understand that.” The tone of absolute in your voice made his blood run cold.

“I don’t want to understand, I want you to stay.” Luke felt his ears start ringing. He was pierced by your neutral gaze. You didn’t continue towards the door, but you didn’t make a move for him either. Luke was in agony waiting for you to say something. He chose to take your silence as an opportunity. 

“Just let me say something. Please.” He pleaded with you. “I know, I messed up. I wasn’t there for you, or for us. But I can’t stand the thought of waking up every day without you. Not hearing you sing in the shower when I come home from practice. Not smelling your perfume on my hoodies, or watching the way your mouth twitches when you’re reading. But most of all, I can’t fathom the thought of not having you love me. Out of everything in this world, you have been the one constant thing I can depend on. So please, please, just stay. Stay for me.” Luke’s bloodshot eyes bore into yours as his tears violently spilled from his eyes. 

You felt your own drip down your face at his words, leaving hot wet trails in their wake. This is the first time Luke has ever been this vulnerable in front of you. You felt as if you were truly seeing him for the first time, the real Luke Hughes. 

“Okay,” You whispered, “I’ll stay. I’ll stay with you, in this relationship. But I can’t stay here right now.” With that, you managed your way out of the bedroom to the front door. Luke desperately followed your steps. 

“Baby, please. Wait.” He stopped in his place when you turned towards him. You walked up to him, cupping a gentle hand on his cheek. You placed a soft but promising kiss against his swollen lips. The love shared between you lingered as you pulled your lips from his. You stepped back, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. 

“I need some time to think. But I’ll be back. I promise.” And with that, you left. 

Luke knew better than to follow you. But here he stood, staring at the closed front door. Left with a reassuring promise, yet a shattered heart. 

[literaila]

okay but like do you think gojo and oc would ever have a baby of their own, giving tsumiki and megumi a sibling, or are their adopted children enough?

sometimes i like to think oc would agree to become a teacher just to feel like all her students are also her babies.

i am personally of the belief that satoru wants a million children. and he says this, verbatim, when you get together.

“oh, just by the way we’re having ten kids, kay, love ya!”

but then there’s the fact that he doesn’t care where they come from. biological children, adopted children, curse wombs, mahito’s silly little transfigured humans… you got ‘em, he’ll take them.

you, on the other hand, have always been… wary about kids. i mean there’s no doubt that you adore them, think they’re precious little angels to be bestowed on only the best of beings—i mean, really, the reason satoru sought you out to help with megumi and tsumiki is because he knew you liked kids.

still… there’s that doubt, that worry that you could never be enough for a child. that you could never give them a childhood that you wanted and deserved.

teenage you is the gloomiest of them all, and if you asked her, she’d probably say no.

but then a stupid man brought home two children unannounced and swore he was going to help with them (he does… occasionally).

so, without warning, you gets the kids you’ve always (secretly) dreamed of. and who could ask for more than megumi and tsumiki, really? who even could?

(so obviously that fear is quickly washed away. i mean, there’s days, weeks, months of doubts where you’re sure that you’re doing everything wrong. sure that megumi is never going to be able to live in society as a normal human being, and that tsumiki is going to suffer from her soft, easygoing heart.

luckily satoru is also there to prove that if you think you’re doing anything wrong, he’s doing it ten times worse.

and sometimes he sweet talks you. but only for the rewards, of course.

you both learn that parenting is less about being perfect than adapting to the needs of the tiny beings, bending at their every will…)

still, even though you love megumi and tsumiki like they’ve crawled into your veins and strained all livelihood from you, having your own biological kids is a bit different.

satoru is all for it, no doubt, but he doesn’t push. he understands your hesitation—especially with how difficult everything’s become as the kids get older. the increase in curses, the rising fear that the world isn’t a safe place as is, and could never be a safe place for another baby.

(but don’t expect him not to stare at you when you’re helping a lost little girl across the street. or holding the baby of a friend. really, he’s just reminiscing… he’s not planning anything… probably…)

though, it doesn’t help either of you that satoru teaches the first years. in hindsight, you shouldn’t have let him make that decision, but it’s too late now.

satoru tries to bring every student home. even if they’ve got two healthy, loving parents—he’s calling a lawyer to draw up legal paperwork the moment yaga tells him there’s a new student about to come to jujutsu high.

what? the house is big enough for a guest, isn’t it? why do you think satoru was so pushy for all of those extra bedrooms?

(and you’ll scold him when there’s a another place set at the table. you’ll ask megumi to show the new student around the house, pointedly, and then you’ll make him recite the lengthy list of things he’s not supposed to do with every kid he meets (again)

but really, you don’t mind.

you’ve always thought that hearts were rather expandable things, and your son and daughter have only proven that fact.

and there’s a little part of you that can’t deny the admiration you have for satoru. his need to coddle every student of his, to comfort them endlessly, even if they don’t want it.

if you had to guess, you’d say that satoru’s heart is the stretchiest.

so you only tug on his hair a little. and then you’ll sit right next to him at dinner, letting him hold your hand under the table).

and there’s been a couple of times where you bring someone of your own home. just as a little payback, of course. no other reason….