#i need to read something really gut wrenching about him or maybe just something so unbearably fluffy

[kaeyapilled]

i miss kaeya

[mattyriddlesbitch]

I don’t see any rules for what you do and don’t write but I’m thinking ghostface/stalker Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott or Tom Riddle

Yesssss, I love Scream! Let me know if you guys want more of this with the other boys or more of Mattheo!

My Princess

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Stalking, killing, Ghostface, mention of assault

Don't read if this stuff bothers you!

There’s been reportings of a murderer in your area. One who donned a mask. ‘Ghostface’ is what they started calling him.

It was scary, trying to live with a serial killer nearby, who could be anyone since no one saw their face.

The killings seemed random at first. No pattern, no specific target demographic, no connections to each other.

Then, unfortunately or fortunately for you, he killed your cheating ex. And your old bully. And that one teacher who seemed like he had it out for you.

It got scarier for you. Seeing so many people who had connections to you being killed.

Only, it got worse when, the day after the murders, little boxes appeared at your door with an item from the victims and flowers. Each time, you called the cops, but they would make a report and leave, saying they can’t really do anything else.

It was frustrating and terrifying. You invested in a doorbell camera, hoping to catch whoever it was leaving these on your doorstep. But they didn’t show up again. Not at your door, at least.

Next was a box on your bed in your room, this one just filled with flowers and jewelry. As soon as you saw it, you got chills and a gut-wrenching feeling knowing they were in your room.

You called the cops again, but since there was no footage or DNA left behind, all they could do was make another report.

They started leaving notes now. Telling you how pretty you are, how sweet you are, how much he adores you and is obsessed with you. Again, cops won’t do anything, no DNA or footage.

You set a camera up in your room to catch them. You caught them when you were at work, but they were in a Ghostface mask and waved at your camera. They left a note on your bed and left. That was all they did that you caught on camera. You stopped sleeping at your place, waiting for the lease to end in a few months. Your friends let you crash at their place until the notes and gifts started showing up there. You had to go back to your place since no one wanted to let you in theirs with fear they’d show up.

They promised to never hurt you, they were protecting you, they were keeping you safe from everyone who ever hurt you or plans to hurt you.

You heard about a co-worker that was killed one day at work, and the next day, you see papers of screenshots printed out from the co-worker talking about what he wanted to do to you, how he was planning on asking you out to a bar and assaulting you. That made you feel sick. But now you were starting to see this stalker was telling the truth. Maybe they were protecting you.

You still kept the cameras up and bought some weapons for your place, even a handgun.

“You don’t need all this protection, princess. I’ll always protect you.” That was on a note left on your bed, but they left all your weapons alone.

You finally had enough of the cops not doing anything, of no one helping you, of not feeling safe anymore. Whoever this was wasn’t hurting you, just being creepy. You wrote notes back to them, asking who they were and why they kept stalking you.

“Stalking? No, I’m protecting you.” They would write back. “I wouldn’t do anything to harm you. You’re precious to me. I love you.”

It really didn’t help the creepiness, but at least you were finally talking to them. You were hoping to gain their trust and meet them, hopefully kill them.

“You wanna meet me, princess? It’s tempting. But I wouldn’t want you to do something irrational.” They wrote back. “Do you trust me?”

You wanted to say ‘no’ but you couldn’t. Not if you wanted to meet them.

So you said ‘yes’ and the notes stopped. You thought you scared them away maybe. Maybe they thought it was too much to meet you.

Until a few days later, you had just gotten back from work. It was a Friday night and you sat at your counter in the kitchen, drinking wine, trying to calm your nerves from everything. You were always on edge nowadays and needed something to help with it. You were tipsy at this point, just eating and drinking as you let yourself relax.

Then you saw a figure emerge from the hallway to stand on the other side of the counter from you, wearing all black and the Ghostface mask.

You panicked and tried running, but your stalker was faster. They grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to them, grabbing your other wrist as well to keep you from running.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, princess.” A male voice said behind the mask. “You wanted to meet. I’m here.”

You were still panicking, but stopped fighting him. You stared at the mask. Fear took over your body again when you remembered he didn’t just stalk you, but also killed people and you kicked him and took off running again when he let go, running towards your room since that was closest. He ran after you, blocking the door before you could close it. 

“Please, I don’t want any of this. I-” You broke into sobs as you backed away.

“No, no , no, princess. I won’t hurt you. I promise. You’re the most important thing in my life.” He said, closing the door behind him as he spoke softly.

“Why do you do this?” You asked with a shaky voice.

“To protect you. No one will ever hurt you, baby.” He was walking closer and you backed up until you hit the wall.

“Who are you?” You asked, still crying from fear.

He took off his mask to reveal someone you worked with. The co-worker your dead co-worker was messaging about you with.

“Mattheo?” You said with a confused look.

“I just wanted to protect you. To keep you safe from all the evil in the world. You don’t deserve any of that.” He was still speaking softly as he stepped in front of you.

“You killed people.” You whispered.

“People who hurt you. I couldn’t let them live after hurting you.” He said, touching your arm softly and you flinched.

“They didn’t deserve that.”

“They did. You’re perfect. No one should ever hurt you or make you feel bad again.” He moved his other hand to your hair. “I’ve been dreaming about touching you for so long.” His voice was quiet. As much as you feared him, his touch was reverent, like he was savoring every touch of your skin.

“Why did you break into my house?” You asked quietly, meeting his eyes.

“You put the camera up. I wasn’t ready to be caught just yet.” He said with a small smile, trailing his hand up and down your arm, his other hand running through your hair gently.

“We work together. Why didn’t you just talk to me if you felt this way?”

“I was too nervous. You’re perfect. You’re so pretty and funny and sweet and I couldn’t stand the thought of you rejecting me.” His hand on your arm moved up to cup your cheek. “Would you reject me now?”

You shook your head. “No. I wouldn’t.” You said, but you were still terrified.

He smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, hoping if you played along, you could get away at some point.

He leaned in and kissed you gently, timidly. He was nervous. You kissed back, trying to think of a way out of this. It was hard to think when he was kissing you so sweetly.

He broke the kiss and looked at your face. ���Your lips are softer than I ever imagined.” He smiled again, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

“Yes.” You nodded.

“My princess. All mine now.” He said before kissing you again.

Now that you were in his hands, he wasn’t letting you go.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @ireallyneed-somesleep @soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[taurasiluvr]

I DON'T WANNA SEE YOU WITH ANYONE BUT ME / NOBODY GETS ME LIKE YOU / HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LET YOU GO? / ONLY LIKE MYSELF WHEN I'M WITH YOU / NOBODY GETS ME, YOU DO──BELLINGHAM⁵

how you can help palestine

★ been thinking about fwb!jude, blame ev for the filth you're all about to read.

 ⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, minors dni. friends with benefits, smut with plot, p in v, unprotected sex, cheating (on r's bf), nothing too insane

 ⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; i am sooooo down bad for jude, he's my husband. also why do 80% of my fics have to do with cheating ummmm

 ⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 5.5k

you didn't really know how this arrangement had began, all you knew was that it was very much due to jude's very evident commitment issues.

okay, maybe commitment issues were a stretch. you'd seen how he treated his friends and family with unwavering loyalty. but when it came to relationships, there was always a barrier, an unspoken rule that he couldn't let anyone get too close. or maybe he just didn't want to ─ you weren't too sure.

it all started innocently enough.

you and jude had been friends for a while, always hanging out with the same group, always finding yourselves paired off in conversations or at the same end of the couch during movie nights. there was a comfort in your friendship, a kind of ease that made everything feel natural and genuine.

one night, after a particularly intense game and a few too many drinks, you found yourselves alone in his apartment. the air was thick with a tension that had been building for months. one thing led to another, and suddenly you were waking up in his bed, sheets tangled around your legs and his arm draped over your waist.

the next morning, you both agreed it was a one-time thing, a slip-up that wouldn't happen again.

but it did. over and over, until it wasn't just an accident anymore. it became an unspoken arrangement, a way for both of you to satisfy needs without the complications of a real relationship.

you knew it wasn't ideal. you knew that every time you woke up in his bed, you were getting a little more attached, a little more hopeful that maybe he would see you as more than just a friend with benefits. but you also knew that jude had his walls up for a reason, and trying to tear them down could end up ruining everything.

so, you kept going. you played your role, took what you could get, and tried not to think about what it meant for the future.

because as long as you had him in some way, it was better than not having him at all.

seeing him with other women was the worst part of it all. now you knew you didn't really have any rational reason to be mad because he wasn't your boyfriend ─ he was just... well, it was complicated.

you hated the gut-wrenching feeling when you saw him talking to a beautiful girl at a party, his charming smile lighting up his face in a way that made your heart ache. tt was a reminder that while you had a piece of him, it wasn’t enough to keep him from seeking out others.

you tried to mask your feelings, laughing along with your friends and pretending not to notice when he slipped away with someone new. But inside, you were screaming. the rational part of you understood that you had no claim over him, no right to be jealous. yet, the emotional part couldn't help but feel a sting of betrayal every time.

 ⠀ ── ⠀

one night, it got to be too much. you saw him at a club, his arm around a girl's waist as he whispered something into her ear, making her giggle. your stomach churned, and before you knew it, you were outside, gulping in the cool night air to calm the nausea.

when you had come back inside, your initial hurt turned into bitterness. now you usually weren't so petty ─ but if jude was allowed to go and flirt with other people, why couldn't you?

you sat down at the bar, finding some solace with the alcohol you were drinking. you knew your bait had worked when you felt someone eyeing you in your peripheral, a small smile on your face.

"hello,"

he had a slight accent, his voice was gruff and sent a shiver down your spine. you turned to face him, taking in his rugged features and confident demeanor. he was attractive, no doubt, and the way he looked at you made you feel a flicker of excitement.

"hi," you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

he leaned against the bar, his gaze never leaving yours. "can i buy you a drink?"

you nodded, pushing aside the guilt that tugged at your conscience. "sure, why not?"

as you sipped the cocktail he ordered for you, you couldn't help but steal glances across the room, where jude was still engrossed in conversation with the girl. the sight fueled your determination to go through with this. if jude could have his fun, so could you.

"so, what brings you here tonight?" the man asked, his eyes glinting with interest.

you shrugged, taking another sip. "my friends told me i needed to get out, they say i've been stuck in the office for too long."

he chuckled, a low sound that made your skin tingle. "i get that. they're some good friends."

the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself relaxing in his company. he was charming and attentive, qualities that made you feel desired in a way jude never fully did. but even as you laughed at his jokes and flirted back, a part of you remained painfully aware that this was all a distraction, a way to numb the hurt.

as the night wore on, he moved closer, his hand resting on your lower back. you allowed it, leaning into the touch, craving the comfort it provided. but just as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, you caught sight of jude watching you from across the room, his expression unreadable.

your heart skipped a beat, a mix of triumph and regret flooding through you. you had his attention now, but at what cost? you broke away from jude's gaze, your attention fully on the man next to you.

however, before you knew it ─ you two were interrupted.

"y/n," jude's voice seemed steady but as you turned to face him, his expression nothing short of intense. his eyes bore into yours, a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place.

"jude," you replied, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. the man next to you shifted awkwardly, sensing the tension.

jude's jaw tightened as he glanced at the guy beside you, then back at you. "it's getting late, let's get outta here."

"that's funny, i was just about to ask her that." the man spoke, a hint of amusement in his voice before he cleared his throat, noting that his commentary was certainly not needed.

you blinked up at him, your lips curving into a sarcastic smile. "why don't you go ask the girl who's been keeping you busy all night?"

"that's what this is about?" jude let out a huff, his gaze boring into yours. "jealousy?"

"oh, you shouldn't be talking." you shot back, your voice tinged with bitterness. "you’ve been parading around with other women all night. don’t act like you’re innocent."

jude's eyes flashed with anger. "i wasn’t doing anything different than what we've been doing all along. you knew what this was from the start."

"yeah, i did," you snapped. "but it doesn't make it any easier to watch you with someone else."

the man next to you awkwardly excused himself, sensing the argument escalating. jude barely noticed as he took a step closer to you, his frustration palpable. "so, what? you decided to flirt with some random guy to get back at me? i don't like pettiness, you know that."

you crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground. "no, not everything is about you. maybe you just don't do it for me anymore, have you thought about that? you're not everyone's ideal man, jude."

jude stared back at you, trying to process what you just said. "oh really?" he let out a laugh but it was void of the usual amusement. were you really trying to come for his ego now?

"really," you responded, standing your ground.

"so i don't do it for you anymore, is that right?" jude glared back at you as he walked closer, his tall frame towering over you. "what's it, exactly? cause i know you're not coming for my bedroom skills."

"bingo," you answered with a smirk, grabbing the drink from the table as you took a sip. "you're exactly right."

he let out a soft chuckle as his gaze darkened. "really that guy could fuck you like i do? nobody could fuck you like i do."

you felt excitement in his words, knowing you were hitting him where it hurts. and you'd hoped it'll pay off at the end of the night. "you really think you're that good?"

"i know it,"

"cocky, jude. very cocky," you purred, stepping closer to him.

the heat between you was palpable, the air thick with unresolved tension. you could feel the intensity of his gaze as it roamed over your face, down your body, and back up to meet your eyes.

"confident," he corrected, his voice low and husky. "there's a difference."

you raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "is that right?"

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. "you know it is. and i'll can prove it to you."

a shiver ran down your spine at the closeness of his body, the warmth of his breath on your skin. you set your drink down and placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under your touch.

"prove it, then," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heart.

jude's eyes darkened further, a predatory gleam in them as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. his other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "i will, make you remember who fucks you the best."

you licked your lips, your breath hitching as his thumb traced your lower lip. "i'm counting on it,"

with a growl, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his hand tightening around your waist as he deepened the kiss. you melted into him, all the anger and frustration from earlier dissipating in the heat of the moment. his lips were demanding, his touch possessive, as if he was claiming you all over again.

your hands found his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more. jude responded by lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the exit. the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you and the electricity sparking between your bodies.

as he pushed open the door to his car and placed you inside, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. something real. but you knew that was wishful thinking.

jude climbed in after you as he started the car and drove toward his place. the journey was a blur of heated kisses and whispered promises, both of you unable to keep your hands off each other.

and by the time you reached his apartment, the anticipation was nearly unbearable. he carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him before setting you down and pinning you against the wall, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck.

"still think that guy could compare to me?" he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your body.

you moaned softly, arching into his touch. "no," you admitted breathlessly.

he smiled against your neck, his hands finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it over your head. "good. cause you’re mine, and i’m going to show you just how much you mean to me."

he carried you toward the bed, placing you down gently before hovering over you, his eyes burning with desire. you could feel the tension in the air, the electricity between you crackling with intensity.

jude's hands moved with a possessive urgency, trailing over your skin as if he needed to memorize every inch of you. your breath hitched as he leaned in, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.

his hands were deft and skilled, knowing exactly how to make you gasp and shiver under his touch. clothes were discarded in a frenzy, the need to feel each other skin-to-skin overwhelming, leaving you naked. when he finally pushed into you, it felt like coming home, a perfect fit that made you both moan in unison.

"all mine," he whispered against your lips, his thrusts steady and deep. "don't ever forget that."

you clung to him, nails digging into his back as you matched his rhythm, losing yourself in the sensation. the way he moved, the way he touched you, it was like he was trying to prove a point with every thrust. and maybe he was. maybe this was his way of showing you just how much you meant to him, how much he needed you.

he pulled your hips upward, sitting up as he fucked into you like a starved man. his grip on your hips was firm, almost bruising, as he pulled you closer, thrusting deeper with each movement.

the intensity of his gaze bore into you, a mix of lust and possessiveness that made your heart race. your body arched off the bed, meeting him halfway, every sensation amplified by the sheer need radiating between you.

"god, you're so perfect," he groaned, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. the combination of pleasure and the raw intensity in his voice made you shiver, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

you were completely at his mercy, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you, building higher and higher. his pace quickened, a desperate edge to his movements as if he couldn't get enough of you. you could feel the tension coiling in your core, your breaths coming in short gasps as you neared the edge.

"cum for me," he demanded, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

the command was all it took. your body tensed, the pleasure cresting in a powerful wave that crashed over you, leaving you trembling and breathless. jude's eyes darkened with satisfaction as he watched you, his own control slipping as he followed you over the edge, his release spilling into you with a groan.

for a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the aftermath of your shared intensity leaving you both spent and sated. jude collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his hold gentle now, almost tender.

"mine," he murmured again, his lips brushing your temple. "always."

you nestled against him, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. "always," you echoed, the word a promise and a reminder of the connection that bound you together, for better or worse.

after that night, sex was how you fixed every little dispute you had. sure it wasn't healthy but sure as hell worked, he made sure you forgot all about why you were angry in the first place. yeah, he was cocky but it was for a reason.

 ⠀ ── ⠀

you still yearned for more.

you knew that was wishful thinking, jude was too focused on his career to even think about girls. you were the only one that he kept and you didn't know why, but you couldn't deny that it made you feel special, even if it wasn't in the way you truly wanted.

you were his escape, his relief from the pressures of his demanding life, and while you cherished the moments you had together, you couldn't shake the longing for something deeper, something more meaningful.

you often found yourself lying awake at night, replaying your conversations and encounters, searching for any sign that he might feel the same way. but jude was a closed book, his intentions unclear. it was both frustrating and intoxicating, leaving you constantly on edge, hoping for more but never quite sure if it would ever come.

one evening, after another intense round of making up, you lay in his arms, the room quiet except for the sound of your mingled breaths. jude's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, a touch of tenderness that made your heart ache.

"jude," you began hesitantly, unsure if you should voice the thoughts that had been plaguing you. "do you ever think about what this... what we could be if things were different?"

he stiffened slightly, his hand pausing its movements. "what do you mean?"

you took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "i mean, if you weren't so focused on football, do you think we could be more than just... this?"

jude was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost distant. "i don't know. my career is everything to me. it's what i've worked for my whole life."

"i get that," you said softly, turning to look at him. "but it doesn't mean you can't have something more, someone who supports you and is there for you."

he sighed, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of regret and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "if... if things were different, sure. but not right now, i don't have time for all that right now."

all that, he called it, as if your feelings and the possibility of a deeper relationship were just another burden on his already full plate. the sting of his words was sharp, but you tried to keep your voice steady.

"all that," you repeated, a bitter smile tugging at your lips.

jude's expression softened, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "y/n, it's not that i don't want it. it's just... i can't handle more than i already have. my career, the constant travel, the pressure — it's overwhelming."

you leaned into his touch, closing your eyes briefly before opening them again to meet his gaze. "i get it, it's okay."

having some of him is better than have none of him, you kept reminding yourself as he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as he drifted off to sleep. you lay there for a while, listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

the reality of your situation weighed heavily on you, the knowledge that you would always come second to his career. but in those quiet moments, it was hard to focus on the negative. there was something so peaceful about being in his arms, so right, that made it difficult to let go.

days turned into weeks, and the cycle continued. you took what you could get, savoring the good moments and enduring the difficult ones. your friends started to notice the change in you, the way your mood would swing based on your interactions with jude. they would offer concerned looks and ask if everything was okay, but you always brushed them off with a smile and a nonchalant "i'm fine."

deep down, you knew they were right to worry. the emotional toll of your arrangement with jude was starting to wear on you, and you were constantly on edge, wondering when the next blow would come. you tried to distract yourself with work and hobbies, but nothing seemed to fill the void that jude left when he wasn't around.

 ⠀ ── ⠀

THREE MONTHS LATER

 ⠀ ── ⠀

it's crazy how much could change within 3 months. after a while, you stopped talking to jude and he understood why ─ you were hurting and you needed time. you found a boyfriend and of course jude wasn't too happy about that, but he couldn't really do anything about it.

you met your boyfriend at a friend’s birthday party. he was charming, attentive, and most importantly, he was ready for a relationship. things moved quickly, and soon enough, you found yourself in a stable, happy relationship. he treated you with the care you had longed for, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you were moving forward.

it didn't stop you from missing jude. the excitement you got from the way his presence made your heart race, was something you couldn’t easily forget. despite your boyfriend's kindness and the stability he offered, there was a lingering sense of something unfulfilled, a part of you that still yearned for the intensity you once had with jude.

one evening, as you and your boyfriend were having dinner at your favorite restaurant, your phone buzzed with a message. you glanced at it, your heart skipping a beat when you saw jude's name.

jude: miss you.

you quickly turned your phone face down, trying to focus on the conversation with ben, but the message stayed with you, echoing in your mind. you couldn’t deny that a part of you missed him too, missed the thrill and the connection you shared.

 ⠀ ── ⠀

the euros had came and your friends had bought tickets to go see england in the quarterfinals versus switzerland, they eventually convinced you to come. the thought of seeing jude on the pitch, representing his country, filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves.

on the day of the match, the stadium was buzzing with energy. you and your friends found your seats, the sea of england fans creating a vibrant atmosphere. as the players took to the field, your eyes were immediately drawn to jude. he looked focused, determined, and undeniably handsome in his england kit.

the match was intense, with both teams fighting hard for a place in the semifinals. you cheered along with the crowd, your emotions swinging with every close call and near miss. seeing jude play with such passion and skill reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place.

when the final whistle blew, signaling england's victory, the celebration in the stadium was electric. you watched as jude and his teammates hugged, their faces alight with joy. you couldn't take your eyes off him, feeling a deep sense of connection despite the physical distance between you.

after the match, your friends had gotten invited to the celebratory party due to their connections to the english players. you knew you'd eventually be seeing jude and you just had to trust yourself to not fall in his trap once again.

well, you were wrong.

your legs tightened around jude's waist as he pushed the door of his hotel room open, his lips never leaving yours. he closed the door with his foot, pushing you against it when it closed.

you moaned against his lips as his hands roamed over your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. his kisses were demanding, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own. you could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he held you close as if afraid you might slip away.

"jude," you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair. "we shouldn’t be doing this."

"i know," he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing down your neck. "can’t help it. i need you, y/n. how can i celebrate without you?"

his words sent a shiver down your spine, and any resolve you had left melted away. you had tried to move on, to build a new life with your boyfriend, but being in jude's arms again felt like coming home.

"just this once," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "just this once," he agreed, though you both knew it was a lie.

with a growl, he captured your lips again, his hands gripping your hips as he carried you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body pressing against yours as he deepened the kiss. you could feel the heat between you growing, the familiar ache of desire spreading through you.

"god, i’ve missed this," he groaned, his hands sliding under your shirt. "missed you."

"me too," you admitted, your breath hitching as his fingers brushed against your skin.

clothes were quickly discarded until you were in left in your bra and underwear, the urgency between you leaving little room for hesitation. jude's touch was both familiar and electrifying, every caress reminding you of the connection you had tried so hard to forget. he moved with a confidence that made your heart race, his hands and lips worshipping your body as if making up for lost time.

"mine," he murmured against your ear, his voice rough with emotion. "no one else can make you feel like this."

"yes," you gasped, arching into his touch. "i’m yours, jude. always."

his eyes darkened with possessiveness, a primal satisfaction evident in his gaze. "i’ll never let you go again," he promised, his lips crashing into yours with renewed fervor.

his hands found your hips as he pushed you into the mattress, you let out another moan at his roughness. something your boyfriend never managed to do, you were never satisfied with the sexual part of your relationship.

he began rubbing his finger against your clothed core, his ego skyrocketing at the wetness that was already soaking through your panties. "look at you," he murmured, his voice dripping with pride. "so wet for me."

you whimpered in response, your hips bucking against his hand. "jude, please," you begged, the need in your voice unmistakable.

"please what?" he teased, his fingers slipping under the fabric to stroke you directly. "tell me what you want, y/n."

"i want you," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. "i need you inside me, jude. now."

"oh yeah?" his voice was hoarse as he gazed down at you, taking in your form. he stopped his movements as he licked his lips, "does he fuck you like i do? tell me."

jude was teasing and you hated it. you also loved it, loved the way he made you work for it.

"no," you admitted breathlessly, your hips moving in a desperate attempt to find some friction. "no one fucks me like you do, jude. only you."

a satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "that's what i thought," he murmured, his fingers resuming their torturous movements. "you're mine, y/n. always have been, always will be."

"please," you begged, your voice breaking with need. "i need you, jude. please."

"aw, poor baby. bet you haven't cum in a while, right? he looks like he doesn't know how to fuck, right?" jude mocked as he leaned in closer to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "he's a damn loser. let me show you how a real man fucks, yeah?"

"please," you repeated as you nodded, too lost in the pleasure to think clearly.

he chuckled softly, clearly relishing the power he held over you. "since you asked so nicely," he said, positioning himself at your entrance. with a single, powerful thrust, he filled you completely, drawing a loud moan from your lips.

the sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain. jude moved with a possessiveness that left you breathless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

his hands found your hips as he began fucking into you, your body arching to meet his every thrust. each movement was deliberate and intense, a reminder of the connection you shared and the passion that had never truly faded.

"god, you feel so good," he groaned, his grip tightening as he quickened his pace. "so tight, fuck. like you were made for me."

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. "only you, jude. no one else."

the words seemed to drive him wild, his thrusts becoming even more frantic as he pushed you both closer to the edge. the room was filled with the sounds of your bodies, each moan and gasp a testament to the intensity of the moment.

"can't get enough of you," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "i need you, y/n. always."

"always," you echoed, your own voice trembling with the force of your feelings. "i'm all yours, jude."

the coil of pleasure inside you tightened with each thrust, building to a crescendo that left you breathless and desperate for release. jude's movements became almost frenzied, his own need evident as he chased his climax.

"cum for me," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "wanna feel you come around me."

the words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with the intensity of your orgasm. you cried out his name, the pleasure washing over you in waves that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

jude followed moments later, his own release hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he spilled into you, as if he was reclaiming all over again. for a long moment, you both lay there, tangled together and utterly spent.

finally, he shifted, rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms. you nestled against him, savoring the warmth and closeness. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a tender gesture that made your heart ache with longing.

"break up with him," he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"jude..." you moved your head so you could face him, a frown curving your lips. "it's not that easy,"

"you just cheated on him and all it took were a couple drinks." he replied nonchalantly, his voice tinged with annoyance. "obviously he doesn't fuck you well, cause you felt this the moment i touched you."

"it's not just about that," you protested, your voice a mixture of guilt and frustration. "he's a good guy. he treats me well, and i do care about him."

"but you don't love him," jude shot back, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "not the way you love me."

the truth in his words stung, and you knew he was right. but breaking up with your boyfriend wasn't just about ending a relationship; it meant facing the reality of your feelings for jude and the complicated situation you found yourselves in.

"i don't want to hurt him," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"but you can't keep pretending." he spoke, his gaze never leaving yours. "look, i know... i was selfish."

was, as in past tense. you noted.

"i wasn't thinking about what you wanted and... i knew i wasn't fulfilling your emotional needs. i didn't know what i had til you left," jude continued, his voice sincere. "god, nobody does it like you. i've looked but nobody feels like you and it's deeper than just sex it's..."

he paused, feeling vulnerable as he sighed. where was he even going with this?

"it's everything," jude finally said, his voice softening. "it's the way you make me feel, the way you understand me without me having to say a word. it's the way you laugh, the way you support me, the way you just... get me."

you felt your heart swell at his words, the sincerity in his eyes making you believe every word. it was everything you had wanted to hear, but the reality of your situation made it hard to fully embrace it.

"jude, i need you to understand that this isn't just about you and me," you said gently, trying to convey the complexity of your feelings. "i do care about ben, and breaking up with him is going to hurt him. i can't just ignore that."

"i know," he replied, his hand cupping your cheek. "and i'm not asking you to ignore it. i'm asking you to be honest with yourself and with him. you deserve to be happy, and so does he. even if it means going through some pain first."

you sighed, knowing he was right. it was a difficult decision, but staying in a relationship where your heart wasn't fully invested was unfair to both you and ben.

"okay," you said softly, leaning into his touch. "i'll talk to him. but jude, i need you to promise me something."

"anything," he replied, his eyes full of determination.

"i need you to be all in," you said, your voice steady despite the emotion in your chest. "if we're going to do this, i need to know that you're committed, that this isn't just about the thrill or the sex. i need to know that you're ready for something real."

jude's eyes softened, and he nodded, his hand gently squeezing yours. "i promise, y/n. i'm all in. i want this to work, more than anything. and i'll do whatever it takes to make sure you know that."

with those words, a sense of resolve settled over you. it wouldn't be easy, and there would be challenges ahead, but for the first time, you felt like you were moving in the right direction.

as you lay back in his arms, feeling the warmth and security of his embrace, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter. one where you were finally choosing to follow your heart, no matter where it led.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚

[writingforstraykids]

I feel kind of angsty today and I’m in the mood to just read something that makes me cry so hear me out.Minho/Chan or Felix argue with you because you feel neglected and such in because they are so busy and barley make time for you and you just want to feel a little affection and they are also upset because they are stressed and kind of blow up and say stuff they shouldn’t have and evereyone is upset.Maybe they solve it (or they don’t if you want to be mean).But I really need something gut wrenching.

(Also don’t rush and take your time with writing this if you even want to<3)

-🎀

I've decided to be extra mean and make this a poly mess so you have all of the boys in it😂😂 I hope you like it and I don't make you cry too hard...also if you ever wanna talk, just let me know hun🥺🖤

You don't need me

Pairing: Minchanlix x femReader | Minho x Chan x Felix x femReader

Word Count: 2391

Warnings/Tags: angst, argument, insecurities, feeling neglected, feeling left out, loneliness, chan's a little stressed meanie, Minlix is...idk🤣

bold indicates English

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho races down the stairs, cursing quietly as he drops his keys. He quickly bends down to pick them up, and his glasses, which he only quickly pushed up his nose before, fall onto the floor.

"Are you okay?" you ask, amused.

"Obviously not," he says, clearly annoyed.

"Well, can I help?" you ask gently, and Minho firmly shakes his head, grabbing his sneakers.

"I'm late; there's nothing you can do about that," he tells you, and you're about to answer, but he cuts you off. "Yongbok! I swear if you don't move your ass down here in five seconds, I'll drive without you!" he yells upstairs, making you flinch at the volume of his voice.

"Is Channie already-?"

"Don't think he slept here tonight," Minho shakes his head and grabs his bag. "FELIX!"

"Minho, for fucks sake!" Felix yells back and appears at the top of the stairs. "I swear, this man is driving me crazy. As if those five seconds would make any difference at this point, my God. It's Hyunjin, he won't kill us!" he curses as he walks downstairs, his hair messily falling around his head.

"Don't you start talking English now and think I don't know that means you're talking shit about me," Minho tells him, throwing his sneakers at him. "Put those on, we're late."

"Well, if someone wouldn't have taken so long waking up today," Felix comments and rolls his eyes at him. He looks up, startled, as you carefully brush his hair back for him, trying to fix the mess. "Not now, Y/nnie, we have to leave," he gently shakes you off.

You pull back your hand and nod gently, glancing at Minho, who's grabbing his stuff and unlocking the door. "Bye, see you later!" he shouts and waves you, stepping outside. Only two seconds later, he's back. "Felix, I swear I will kick you."

"Fuck off," Felix curses under his breath and grabs his things, waving at you and slipping outside as well. The door falls closed, and you're standing still for a moment.

"Well, good morning and goodbye to you too. I love you too," you whisper to yourself and sigh softly. Turning around you spot their packed lunch boxes still on the table. "Shit," you curse and throw your head back, frustrated. You know they barely make time to eat unless you made it. Well, maybe you could visit them later, get your kiss, and check on Chan.

You stand still in the suddenly very empty house and try to remember the last time they were all home and you've spent some quality time together. It feels like months and you soon realize it has been. One of them has always been either working or not even in the country. Sometimes it really doesn't feel like you're living with your three boyfriends but some roommates who stop by now and then.

"Oh, come on, don't be so dramatic," you shake your head and chew on your lower lip. You don't know when the last time was you had breakfast all together, you got a kiss goodbye from all of them or they came back in time for dinner. Needless to say, no one has properly touched you in weeks as well. Were you that easy to forget? Are you just another assignment to get done on their daily to-do lists? Something they could just reschedule to another day if they can't make time for it?

Sighing softly you make your way upstairs and rummage through your closet, searching for a nice outfit. You find a cute summer dress they all love and decide on that. After a quick shower, you fix your hair and make yourself presentable.

-

Only a little later, you're walking down the hallway to their practice room and gently knock at the door, letting yourself inside. Minho demonstrates some steps as Felix and Hyunjin watch him closely and try to mirror his movements. Felix messes up a step, and Minho starts laughing at him, chasing him through the room. He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him against his chest, kissing his cheek. "Yongbokie, come on," he giggles softly, and Felix tries to squirm away from him.

"I'm sorry, hyungie," he laughs, eyes shining bright. "I promise I'll do better."

"Once you're done flirting, we could continue?" Hyunjin groans playfully annoyed.

Minho turns with Felix in his hold, and they face you. Surprise laces their features. "Y/n? What are you doing here?" Minho asks confused.

"Oh, you forgot your lunch today, and I didn't know how long you'd be at the company," you tell them, and Minho nods gently.

"Thanks," he tells you and lets go of Felix, walking over to his phone.

Felix stretches tiredly and watches Minho as he scrolls through his phone. "You wanna go again?"

Minho glances at his watch before nodding. "We should. We have like an hour before the rest join us." You nod gently to yourself and put their lunch down on the bench next to their stuff. "Chan's at the studio," he tells you before turning the music back on.

You watch them stunned as they continue practicing and don't really notice the compassionate smile Hyunjin gives you. Your throat tightens, and you quickly make your way outside. You're clearly not needed here.

You knock at the door, and Jisung opens the door, smiling at you brightly. "Hey, Y/n," he beams at you and pulls you into a hug. "Chan hyung, look who's here."

"Ji, I told you no visitors right now," he groans and pulls off his headphones with a heavy sigh. He spots you in the door and nods. "Oh, hi."

"Hi," you say quietly, holding on tightly to the box in your hand. "I just wanted to bring you your lunch. I won't disturb you for long."

"Ah, okay," he says and gestures toward the small table next to the door. "Just put it there, I'll eat later. Thanks, Y/n."

"You're welcome," you nod and are about to leave again but hesitate for a moment.

"Anything else?" Chan asks, not even looking at you.

"Will you be home tonight?" you ask gently, and he raises his eyebrows, still not looking over.

"Why?"

"Because you weren't yesterday," you say and see Jisung's confused frown at that.

"Hyung, you promised," Changbin sighs from his spot on the sofa, rolling his eyes at you in secrecy.

"Y/n, we've been over this before. If I get done in time, I'll be there; if not, then not," he announces, almost a little annoyed.

You scoff at him and put down the box heavily. "Sorry for asking, I guess," you spit out and open the door, stopping when you hear him groan.

"Stop being so pushy, my god," Chan rolls his eyes and looks at you for the first time today. "I'll be there. Are you happy now?"

"You know what?" you ask lowly. "You can stay here for another night. It makes no difference if you guys are there or not, you only have eyes for each other or work. Sometimes I wonder why my three roommates even need me."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Chan asks quietly and stares at you.

"You fucking heard me," you spit out with tears burning in your eyes. "At this rate, I'm just part of the interior. You don't say good morning, you don't say goodnight, you're not home for dinner, you're not there. And if you are you're busy with work or talk to Minho and Felix only. You don't need me right now, and that fucking hurts, Chan."

"Okay, that's enough delusional behavior for one day," Chan gets up with a groan and shakes his head at you. "We'll talk about this tonight, but right now, I really don't have time for this."

"Don't bother," you shake your head at him, heart breaking. "I'll take myself back out."

"Hyung," Changbin sighs a little, but Chan ignores him.

"Come on, Y/nnie, I'll take you to your car, yeah?" Jisung says gently and wraps his arm around you, pulling you outside. "He doesn't mean it. He's being dumb."

"Yes, he does; they all do," you sniffle, and Jisung frowns at you.

"What do you mean?" he asks worriedly.

"It's been like this for weeks now. They all rush out of the house and act like I don't exist anymore," you tell him, hot tears falling down your cheeks. "I know they're stressed; I know they have a lot to do, but is it really too much to ask?"

"No, Y/nnie, it isn't," he shakes his head and pulls you into a tight hug. "I'm sure what you're describing is true. They sometimes forget everything around them when things here get rough. I'm sorry, hun," he says and soothingly rubs your back. He thinks for a moment before shaking his head and gently patting your back. "Come on, they'll never learn if they don't see what it does to you."

"No, Ji, they're busy-" you protest through tears.

"I don't care," he shakes his head and leads you down the hallway. He rips open the door to the room and pulls you with him to Minho's phone, turning the music off. "Hyunjin, you come with me. You two have something to fix here."

Minho blinks at him, confused, and his face falls, seeing you crying in his arms. "Y/nnie, kitten," he says worriedly and quickly makes his way over. "Honey, what's wrong?" he asks gently, cupping your face and searching your eyes. "Hey, look at me," he says softly.

"Y-You don't need me," you hiccup, and Minho frowns at you.

"What do you mean?" he asks, confused, and Felix steps next to you, gently rubbing your lower back.

"Babe?" Felix asks worriedly as you don't answer.

"Go get Channie," Minho tells him, eyes widening as you furiously shake your head. Chan is usually the best to comfort you when you are really upset. "No? Why, kitten? What happened?"

"Channie s-says I'm delusional," you sob quietly as Minho sits down on the bench and pulls you into his lap.

"What?" Felix asks, confused. "Did you two get into a fight?" he asks, sitting down next to the two of you.

You bury your face in Minho's chest, so desperate for such a simple gesture. Sobs shake your body as you tell them about what happened with Chan and how neglected you felt during those past weeks. It all flows freely now, and they both listen quietly, not interrupting you once. Minho's hand rubs your back soothingly, and Felix fondles your hair gently.

"Oh kitten, I'm so sorry," Minho apologizes sincerely once you're done. "I had no idea you were suffering that much because of us."

"You're right, babe, we're so busy we sometimes forget about you or act a little harsh," Felix nods guiltily and leans down to kiss your head. "I'm so sorry we made you feel like that. You don't deserve that one bit, my dear."

"I know I'm being dramatic," you sniffle into Minho's shirt.

"No, you're not," he shakes his head and rests his head against yours. You really aren't. I didn't even say goodbye properly today. Or good morning," he says, his voice laced heavily with guilt. "And...I should've told you how beautiful you look today the minute you stepped inside."

You giggle sadly and pull back. "Yeah?"

"Mhm, our pretty girl," Felix adds fondly as Minho wipes your cheeks.

"We love you so much, even if we act like idiots sometimes," Minho promises and kisses your forehead.

"I love you guys too," you tell them with a sad little smile.

"I'll go and get Channie, okay?" Felix asks softly, and you nod timidly. He giggles at the comment Minho makes and quickly makes his way to the studio. He doesn't knock at the door and steps inside. "Channie babe, we need you."

"Not now, Lix," Chan shakes his head, writing down some things for Jisung.

"Minho said if you don't move your ass over there in two minutes top he won't have sex with you for the next three months. Our tour comes up, you don't wanna risk that," Felix says with a straight face, making Changbin and Jisung crack up.

Chan glances up at him suspiciously and sees Felix isn't joking. "Oh my fucking God, fine!"

Felix walks next to him and glances at Chan thoughtfully. "Push the group back for a moment, yeah? Stray Kids doesn't matter now, she does."

Chan's face falls a little and he straightens up as they reach the door. "Yeah, okay," he says quietly and steps inside with him. You're curled up in Minho's lap on the floor by now as he's playing with your hair. Tear streaks paint your cheeks, your eyes are reddish, and you're sniffling a little. "Baby, I'm sorry," Chan sighs and gets down on the floor next to you. "I'm stressed out, I didn't sleep last night, and I took it out on you. I'm an idiot, please forgive me?" he asks guiltily and hesitantly takes your hand. He must've really hurt you if you went to Minho and Felix about it. You usually prefer to settle arguments privately.

"It's not just you," Minho shakes his head, and Felix sums it up for him. Chan nods along, and his heart gets heavier with every word leaving his boyfriend's lips.

"Oh, Y/nnie baby," he whispers with tears in his eyes. "Can I give you a hug?" You nod timidly and climb off Minho's lap and into his arms instead. Chan pulls you in tight, burying his face in your shoulder. You relax in his hold and close your eyes. No matter how mad or hurt you were, you would never deny one of Chan's healing long hugs. "I'm so sorry, you're right, we've messed up big time. I love you so much, yeah? You're so beautiful and kind, and I could never stop loving you, baby. Never. I will do better, I promise."

"I love you too," you whisper and exhale softly, your heart feeling a lot lighter now that you've told them all. Minho and Felix join your hug and kiss your hair. "You'll be home tonight?" you ask timidly.

"Yeah, we'll all be home," Chan assures you kindly and squeezes you.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @galaxycatdrawz @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @gxtwllsn @xxstrayland

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 11:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Angst. Canon violence

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

Three days had passed since the argument with Hunter that sent you storming from the Marauder with anger blazing hot in your veins. Two days since you’d left the planet, intent on putting all your focus towards the job Cid had given you.

One day had turned your anger into a suffocating heaviness of guilt and grief. Now it was something else - it felt strange and unnatural - or maybe it was just nothingness. Whatever it was, you wished the anger would come back. Anger was tangible, it gave you something to hold onto. Anger had a conviction - a purpose. Whatever it was that you felt now, slipped numbly through your fingers, floating aimlessly and as silent as the vortex of hyperspace you currently traveled through.

They didn’t come for me.

---

You had waited around Cid’s for a full rotation - unsure what for.

Did you really think they’d come looking for you?

Did they even want to?

“Give it up, kid.” Cid advised as you’d found yourself glancing over at the door for the thousandth time, “Dark and Broody ain’t coming after ya.”

You looked at her sharply. How did she know?

Cid shrugged, “Don’t look at me like that, Hotshot. I’m not stupid, you know. I’ve seen the way you look at him.” She smirked, “It’s the same way he looks at you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Then tell me why he hasn’t come.”

Cid threw down her washrag, looking annoyed. “You’re the idiot who ran away. He’s smart enough not to bother a woman who’s mad at him.” She scoffed, “Or he’s stupid enough not to go after the woman he obviously cares about.”

That’s when the anger came back, flashing brightly like the flame of a candle exposed to the air just before it fizzled out again. “You’re wrong. He’s not here because he doesn’t care. None of them do.” Disappointment settled like a boot on your chest.

Cid let out a bored sigh. “Then quit moping around and do something! I’ve got plenty of jobs around here and no one to do them. Might as well get paid if you’re just going to be miserable anyway.”

You looked at her quizzically then groaned. “Alright… where do you need me to go?”

---

The ship shuttered as it dropped out of hyperspace, pulling you back to the present as you came into orbit around the moon Cid’s coordinates had directed you to. You chuckled bitterly.

Well joke’s on them. I don’t need them either.

---

“Omega, come on! We need to make a supply run in town,” Hunter called down the ramp as he slung his pack over his shoulder. He frowned as she made no move to get up, though he was certain she’d heard him. He set his pack down and walked over to her. She sat on the ramp, resting her arms and chin on her knees, as she looked blankly out at the empty road.

“Omega..” he sat down beside her.

“It’s been three days, Hunter. Where is she?” Her muffled voice broke his heart. She’d been crying and he had no words to comfort her.

There had only been two times in his life that Hunter found himself with no idea what to do.

The empty numbness that dug its relentless claws through his skull screamed at him in an overwhelming self-hatred after their first real mission failure which left Wrecker clinging to life.

Failure. Coward. Pathetic.

It was the same feeling now that spread through his bones. I should’ve run after her. Now it’s too late. Mission failure once again.

The gut-wrenching flood of emotion that came with being a parent and falling in love was more unyielding than any enemy he’d faced before. It’s the one thing they didn’t train us for. At least when an enemy combatant refused to cooperate, there were many ways to get what you wanted out of them. Hunter didn’t know how to react when it was his own thoughts that refused to comply.

“I don’t know, Omega.”

“She’s coming back though, right?” She looked up at him but he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.

He spun his vibroblade anxiously. “I hope so.”

“Wrecker went out looking for her, you know.”

Hunter straightened in surprise, turning to look at her. “He did what?”

Omega wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sat up. “Yeah. He left this morning. He said he was gonna find her and make everything better again.”

As if on cue, Wrecker came barreling down the road, skidding to a stop just shy of the ramp panting and out of breath. Hunter stood up as Omega dashed to his side.

“What is it, Wrecker? Did you find her!? Is she okay?!” Her eyes were wide and Hunter was glad to see some of the hopeful spark return. He just hoped that whatever news Wrecker brought wouldn’t snuff it out again.

Wrecker collapsed onto the ramp. “Phew… I’m never running like that again!”

“Well?” prompted Hunter, still nervously twiring the blade through his fingers.

“Huh? Oh yeah! I found out from some scumbag that Cid sent her on a mission. Said it was real dangerous.”

“What.” Hunter tensed. Suddenly that pitiful feeling of futility was gone, replaced by something he was all too familiar with. He slid the vibroblade back into its sheath with a deadly click, mouth set in a fierce line of determination.

“Did he say anything else?” Omega asked.

Wrecker laughed. “Yeah. When I hung him upside down from the roof, he cried.” He turned towards Hunter and his smile faded into a growl. “Hunter, he said it was a suicide mission. He said nobody gets outta there alive. That’s why I ran all the way here.”

Omega gasped, “Hunter we have to go after her! She might not know it’s a trap!”

Hunter had already strapped on his pack and secured his blaster.

“Tech, Echo! Start the ship.” He called out. “I’m gonna go have a little chat with Cid.”

Loosened by the adrenaline as he ran, a sudden moment of clarity fell upon him. He’d been thinking about this all wrong.

You were not a mission in which to succeed or fail. You were a part of him - the missing link in his short mess of a life - and he would do everything it took to get you back.

The door to Cid’s Parlour opened with a slam. Cid nearly dropped the glass she was cleaning as she looked up to see Hunter striding over to her, fire in his eyes. The only two patrons in the room fled, feeling the mood of the room sour almost immediately. Cid set the cup down in obvious annoyance. “Hey! You can’t just storm on in here, scaring away my customers like that! I’ve got bills to pay here.”

He didn’t seem to hear her as he pointed a sharp finger in her direction.

“Where is she?”

Cid smirked, deciding to play coy. This could get interesting, she thought as she dried her hands, making sure to look as unbothered as she possibly could.

“Where is who? You gotta be more specific.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes, “You know exactly who I’m talking about.”

She tapped a finger on her chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… I really don’t think I do.”

Hunter sighed, exasperated. “I don’t have time to play your games, Cid. Tell me where you sent her.”

Cid sighed, suddenly bored of whatever ruse she’d cooked up to mess with him. “Fine.”

Hunter clenched his teeth. “I need to know, Cid. Now.”

“Cool your jets, Dark and Broody.” Cid rolled her eyes. “Your girlfriend’s fine. She asked me for a job and I gave ‘er one.”

Hunter’s face darkened. “Where. Is. She.” His white knuckled fist slammed down on the counter. “I promise you I won’t be so nice if I have to ask you again.”

Cid raised her hands in a mocked surrender. “Look, I promised her that I wouldn’t tell any of you lot where she went. She obviously doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Hunter's hands shot across the bar, vibroblade suddenly poised in a violent threat at her throat. His voice was dangerously low. “She could be in real danger. Tell me where you sent her. Now.”

Cid gulped, backing into the wall, knocking a bottle onto the ground where it shattered. She glared then raised her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright fine! Put the knife down and I’ll tell you!”

Hunter lowered the knife. Cid nervously rubbed her throat. “Geez… I can see why she likes you so much. I sent her to a small moon in the Sullest system. Doesn’t even have a name. Hardly anybody goes there at all.”

Hunter glared daggers.

“Relax, Dark and Broody. She’s not in any danger. It’s just a simple snatch and grab. The mines over there are full of stuff worth a ton to the right people.”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Just give me the coordinates.”

Cid sighed, “Already done. Get outta here, lover boy.”

Hunter rolled his eyes as he turned to leave.

“Hey!” Cid’s voice called after him. “You owe me for that bottle. Corellian Whiskey is hard to come by these days!”

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

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[court-jobi]

Tuning Out, Tuning In

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's characters or this art))

Pairing: Bakugou x reader (biker!pro hero, some afab pronouns used)

Words: 5.1K

Rating: T+ (language, bc obviously)

Warnings: Pro-Hero Bakugo/Pro-Hero Reader, cursing as a love language, insecurities, arguing, use of hearing aids (not an expert!), light hurt/comfort, she falls first-he falls harder

Summary:

So he's got context clues down. Smart, but not convincing enough. He's still not hearing you- because he can't.  You check on your Katsuki after an unannounced leave of absence, only to discover the true reason why is the source of a mighty insecurity of his that he's expertly kept you out of the loop of till now. He's defensive and mean- uncharacteristically so, towards you when you find out. It's heart-wrenching when he realizes he's snapped at you, and gutting when you love him through it.

A/N: *Can be read as a follow-up in the 'Backpack Privileges' universe, but not necessarily a series. Just how I envision these babies evolving~

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

News from the girls at the scheduling counter is  that Dynamight was actually putting in PTO for the first time this calendar year.

Sure he’s worked hard, but when doesn’t he? It wasn't like he expended so much energy from his last rescue call that he was too tired or anything when you’d last seen him… so the time off request surprised you. Katsuki Bakugou never took time off, even when he’s congested to the point of sounding like a wounded seagull and hacking up a lung.

You called to check on him the first day he was out, but it went unanswered; he texted back instead that he was in the middle of eating and asked what you needed. You told him to rest up, and he proceeded to spam you with the same angry animal memes as always. 

At the office, things were at a surprising lull by the end of the week, with Kirishima on your right on the sofa scrolling through some mods Hatsume had for him to review. Meanwhile, you took the rather unprofessional route and scrolled on your phone. Your retort to Kiri’s tutting over the bad habit was that you knew the higher ups were off with Jeanist at some press junket, and you could risk it. Called you a naughty thing, how Bakugou was rubbing off on you. You’re sure even at your hangriest you’re not that prickly. 

An instinct, you try calling Bakugou again, this time on speakerphone. It’s been a whole workweek, after all. It rings twice, then straight to voicemail. You end the call before recording anything, and fuss at the phone in your hand. 

“Ok, Kiri? This is weird.”

“Hm? What is?”

“He’s never answering,” you lock the phone habitually, “-and I mean never. No ‘hi’, no ‘whaddya want’; did he lose his voice or something?”

Kirishima finally breaks focus to look at you, questioning, “Bakubro?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t– not that I’m trying every day or anything, but it’s been almost a week of nothing and-” 

-your phone dings: one new preview of a message from ‘Backpack’ lights your lockscreen, and your frustration ramps up to 60.

“-Then he freakin’ texts– like two seconds later!! What the actual hell is going on with him?!”

Kirishima just snorts.

“Maybe he’s taking a dump~”

“He would not text me on the toilet.”

“All men do it.”

“KIRI.” you swat his foot off the couch that’s laid out towards you, crossing yours while he cackles behind his ipad’s screen.

“Oh cmon, he’s fine! He’s just taking a breather~” Kirishima presses you with an assuring look you’re inclined to buy, because his delivery is just that sweet, “Doesn’t really take time off much anymore, so if he did, he probably needs it. Been doing a lot of those muscle contracts, which pays well! But it’s no joke how much it takes out of you– Kamui wants him, Rocklock wants him-”

You do worry about the workload Bakugou is  under given all the names Kirishima rattles off, but your boy’s assured you it’s all part of his drive. That, and he says Bakugou’s saving up for something important for work, but doesn’t disclose more than that.

You don’t press when Bakugou puts up a wall– knowing full well he tells you things when he’s ready.  Till now, he’s not given an indication that he doesn't distrust you with anything- not even his life. You have each other’s backs, and that’s an honor that you value and reciprocate. Perhaps it’s by that faith in one another that you should grant him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe one of these days under another starry sky from the back of your bike, he may share his whats and hows and whys to that sweet spot behind your ear, disguising his secrets with yet another kiss he saves for when you’re alone.

But this silence is really throwing you a curveball. Katsuki’s voice is just one of the many things you’ve come to adore about him. When you confessed that little thought to him, he turned a soft answer -a promise- that he’d answer when you called, day or night. It’s a gruff, punchy sound when you hear it over coms, or even through your shared helmets; but it’s also rumbling, constant, soothing when you hear it fitted against your ear. 

You never thought you’d even miss Dynamight’s passive aggressive screaming so much– until you don’t have any echo of him in your head at all.

“-or yknow if it’s not his schedule, it’s his body that’s about to quit on him. He’s probably giving his ears a break, if I had to guess!”

“...His ears.”

Kirishima looks up at you again, like his point was obvious, “Yeah. He can’t wear ‘em all the time– they’ve gotta charge, and if he’s sweat them out of their normal place, they pinch-”

Realization forces you to sit up straight, “Katsuki wears hearing aids?”

“Well he has to, with his quirk!” Kirishima tickled himself explaining so, “Kats probably blew out his inner ear in middle school, and it’s only gotten worse the harder he’s trained. He got fitted for new ones sometime last winter which he says are more comfortable than the last ones, but I dunno-” Kirishima cracked his neck in a roll, “I think he keeps' em in too long; and they drive him batty after a while.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. 

Down at your phone, you read the text message fully:

Backpack: Knee deep in dishes. What’s up pretty girl.

You decide to answer,

//Waiting on a call for a pickup, just keeping the couch warm~  Up for a call real quick?

‘Backpack’ takes a minute this time. You reason maybe he’s using speech to text given the perfect grammar.

Backpack: Can’t right now.

// Podcast instead? ((eyes emoji))

Backpack: Pass.

//Kiri misses you… ((sad eyes))

Backpack: No he fucking doesn’t. 

Backpack: Throw him a bone or try some fetch, he’ll be fine.

You don’t even laugh at the image with how much he’s deflecting talking to you. Laying back, your concern must be palpable because Kiri nudges you with his foot, and you stare at its buckles; anything from looking at his face.

“He never turns down food.”

“What d’you mean.”

“I mean, he’ll need to eat~” Kirishima’s never ending support coats his words. “-and I’d be shocked if he’d  turn his Darling DoorDasher down.”

You snorted, “Hush, you.”

Kirishima knew full well about you two- he’s not blind. He knows about dates one, two, well- every date, whether from Bakubro's lips or your own. But while it doesn’t feel new and raw… it feels tender and personal, what you share with your hero off the field– and you don’t want the bubble to burst between you and Katsuki. Not just yet.

-which is why, despite your firm concern deep in your gut reminding you of your plans throughout your shift,  you are nervous for your first time going to his apartment, unannounced. 

You knock four times, then back away to the near side of the door so it doesn’t hit you when it opens. A lull of ‘nothing’ hung in the air.. 

You reconsidered,  suspicion making you  bite your cheek: what if he can’t hear you?

You knock four more times, a bit louder. You’re cringing as you come back to your lean. Shuffling, you do indeed look like a food delivery service- an insistent-looking one, to the couple passing by on the ground floor who look up at you and likely wonder why you don’t just call this a ‘contactless delivery’ and jog on.. 

“Cmon, Kats…” you bemoan before steeling your nerves. You try just three more times, channeling your inner ‘Dynamight’ yourself and banging at a level that would take it off its hinges before cringing away to your waiting spot. 

Bakugou’s neighbor pops his head out of the door opposite you this time– nailing you with a reproachful look. Apologies mouthed, you smile demurely as the sound of a very aware Bakugou approaches now.

“I’M COMING, DAMMIT!”

The neighbor -perhaps wisely- shuts his door as he hears the door about to be unlocked. The way his eyebrows fly up, you infer that he does little to ever cross his hotheaded neighbor.

“ALRIGHT ALREADY- WHAT?!”

He's gorgeous, still. Pissy and caught off his guard, and donned headphones around his neck. But Bakugou double-takes to you with a frozen mouth, watching you push off the siding seemingly unaffected by his outburst and smiling casually.

“Hiya~”

His jaw flexes, but he forces his snarl away. Clearly conflicted at your presence, he pinched his brow.

"Said you were workin’ today. What’re you doing."

"I was in the neighborhood. Brought you a bowl~" you bribed the man's heart with the top way you knew how: a white and red ‘thank you’-covered baggie with the jackpot inside..

He likes kamameshi so he doesn’t hafta chew a ton. If his ear n’ jaw are tired, the softer the better. You can't go wrong with a nice bowl o’comfort…  Not like it’d last long with that guy’s appetite on a good day, anyways! Hah!

Hardly one to refuse you (just as Kirishima lovingly predicted), Bakugou stepped aside to let you in, granting you a gentle stroke on your back as you passed him..

Inside, you trade giving him the bag with his offering of your choice in houseshoes. On the far side of the room, the TV is on, including a scroll of subtitles. You look about and the place is spotless- he wasn’t lying about the rage cleaning.

"In the neighborhood, huh?" Bakugou called to you, dishing out the box of takeout while watching you get settled in.

You already said so, but made sure to face him as you speak- eyes all on you. You think that making a sweet delivery is reason enough for your presence here,

"Yeah~ the office drew a short straw on the menu this week, so I’ve been eating out more~ still don’t know how you can mess up potatoes, but sure enough, Feefee’s found a way~" you smile, coming up to his side with a little lilt in your step.

-but Bakugou just drones back,

"Overdue on our lunches, aren’t we sweets. We'll go do something this weekend."

Oh boy. You’re really bad off. A diss at the agency kitchen staff would never go unnoticed by the resident lunch snob, you think to yourself. You may not have lightning fast quips like Kaminari, but c'mon, that was a little funny…

Any other time that Bakugou would willingly suggest a date would thrill you. Maybe he’s even aware that he’s been avoiding you, and is trying to make up for it by suggesting a couple places offhand. But knowing the real reason behind the aversion, it doesn’t warm you the way it always does. 

His answer was typical and wasn't really related to what you asked at all, so you watch him take some bites and try again.

You trailed over to his dining kitchenette, taking a seat before him, tone lovely and appropriate for the distance between you. 

“You should have seen Kiri’s attempt to make my coffee order. Almost put a pump of salmon oil in instead of simple syrup! But hey, that just means job security for you, yeah? You’re so much better at it.”

You make eyes at the tv behind you as you speak- a test. 

He catches your intentional look, but he twists in his seat to glance. Then, focuses back on you and not making a mess of his dish, “Yeah, you can change it if you want.”

So he's got context clues down. Smart, but not convincing enough. Still not hearing. 

You try once more, sass tinting your voice as if you were teasing him privately.

"We adopted a purple hippo as an office pet~"

"Mhm," Bakugou picked up on the attitude, pausing and coming to your side with a bit of a swagger he hopes looks natural, "Sure been a crazy week. Missed a lot. We’ll get back to normal soon, yeah? Cmon, let's go watch somethin’."

Your hands fall to your thighs in a resigned slap. Sighing, you look to him desperately, urging him with more enunciation. 

"This is bad, Katsuki."

"What's so bad." Bakugou reads your lips and deflects.

You tap your ear with a sympathetic look.

– his demeanor changes. Horribly.

Bakugou steps away in almost disbelief, edgy and firm: a rolling boil starts to simmer behind his eyes. Turning aside, he huffs. Guilty. 

He turns tail to the kitchen, cursing under his breath to ‘give him a second.’ Bakugou pushes his stacks of cleaned dishes aside, making a clash of noise even you flinch at. It’s evident the sound doesn’t phase him. 

"No, you don't have to put them-"

"I can't fucking HEAR YOU, woman; give me a DAMN SECOND!!"

Coming around the island after him, you see he’s trying to get at the charging dock on the backside of his butcher block.

Watching him fiddle with just his right ear, he turns back and faces you prickly as ever, with arms crossed and barely attempting to rein in his anger.

You are sure now you've struck a nerve if he's acting like this around you. You tread carefully,

"I'm not here to just yap your head off, or commandeer your days off. I… was just concerned."

"About what? I'm fine."

"It's been five days,” you stress gently, “you didn't think I would think it’s weird if you didn’t answer once?"

"I answered you back every time," Bakugou raised his voice a tick, "Every text– never left you on read, cuz I know that feels shitty!"

"I know you did," you give him credit, "But it's– different when we talk, and you know that difference. It's just that you always call back. It just hasn’t felt normal -for you- is all. And I didn’t know there was going to be a reason like this that’s why."

"Well it's not like I could hear the phone ring anyway, so fuck me for that. How the hell’d you find out anyway."

"...I didn't know until Kirishima said something. I was telling him I-"

"Of course it fucking was,” Bakugou huffed again, “Well, it's none of his business, it’s not his problem, and he should kept his DAMN mouth shut."

To trash Kirishima like this -hotheaded and bitter- definitely feels more like an attack than he'd ever mean on a good day. Kiri is his best friend, and clearly close enough to have been there at the first fitting and have a picture perfect memory of it because it mattered so much to his buddy to be there for him. To not let it define him.

You can't pretend to know how sensitive of a subject this is, based on how confident Bakugou is with everything in life: even the litany of scars he wears outlining his hero work aren't off limits to discussion. But his answers come armed with cached ammo and heat.

You certainly don't think yourself entitled to everything about him, but you see now that he clearly hadn’t planned to tell you about his wearing hearing aids, or at least hadn’t intended for you find out this way… so someone had to take the brunt of his ire. You think to be grateful he doesn’t appear ready to snap at you, but you feel so much on the outside, it hurts to watch him sizzle. 

You try to take the pressure off the leak of the news, "Where's this coming from, hon?"

Bakugou grunts, looking back to you with a raised brow. 

You gestured between you just to talk with your hands a little, "Where  is  this  coming-"

"HELL IF I KNOW!” Bakugou shouts back, “It just IS. I just wanted- it-- Look, just fuckin’ drop it, ok? I will. be back. tomorrow. And everything’ll be like it was before you knew a damn thing, ALRIGHT??"

He's defensive and mean now; the pitch he never aimed at you before now entered the ring.

This was a line you were damned sure not to let any man cross.

"Ok, we're gonna try that again,” you spoke plain as day.

"Try WHAT again??"

"Discussing, not fighting." You stood firm at his counter. You will not be taking up a screaming match under any circumstances, and have to make that clear. "Coming up with an answer -together- because that's what we do when our backs are up against the wall... Not bite the hand that's trying to help. ‘Hit the problem, not the player’."

The words resonate with Bakugou, having been the one who shot that reminder to you not a week ago from his own mouth, and everything in that face full of fire wants to rear back– 

"-and before you say ANYTHING else... You will. not. talk to me like that."

You hear the hero’s palms sizzle, and see by the look of hatred he glares at them with that he clearly hates the feel. 

Bakugou lets out a growl then goes silent, obeying. He takes a little pace around, finally settling at the tall, bar-height stool, rubs his palms compulsively at his thighs as a reset, and pulls at his head until it lays dejected in those explosive hands propped up on his knees.

Your invitation to stand by him opens when he lifts his head and scowls behind tented fingers. Kindly, you make sure to stand closer to his right to give him the best chance of catching your words.

"Y'know I'm the last one who's ever gonna give you a hard time for this, don’t you?"

Bakugou doesn't answer, but you know he's listening.

"It's hard for me to take time off work too, I don't do it as much as I should. I know it's hard to leave work at work, and you did that on your own, in order to take care of yourself. You know your limits and that’s keeping you alive. That was really wise."

You see a little bob of the head by the slight jostle of his hair.

What bothers you here and now isn’t just selfish thoughts of ‘why didn’t he tell me’, but ‘why didn’t he tell anyone’? It’s clear by what you’ve learned that next to no one knows of his condition. That small aspect of this gives you a little comfort, but opens up a bigger dose of worry. Hearing impairment might be perceived by a bystander as a defect or weakness, but for the old friends and medical experts who surely surround him, you’d feel confident in Bakugou’s care to know he’d surely not think of himself that way. 

Surely not… surely not?

“But the thing is, if it's coming down to you hurting and needing help- or just, getting time away if that's what you really want, I can totally get that. But  between you and I? We've gotta figure out how you really feel about this, because it’s eating at you. Affects everything you do at some point, right? Can't have you working yourself to the bone here, overworking your senses out there, feeling like you can’t speak for days on end, setting things off, either. Even accidentally."

You swipe along his shoulder and arm sweetly, just for a little connection.

“I… I really do care about you, Katsuki. I don't want you to feel you have to manage it all on your own.  I want to be someone you can have in your back pocket for help- even with something like this.”

A ‘ride or die’ offer if there ever was one.

Bakugou looks in the direction of your hand. The smooth, unscarred hand you sport is so different from his own. Proof of the softness he lost a long time ago, his sunken eyes tell you. He blinks, and it’s a pensive, sad sight. 

 "M'sorry." 

The hoarseness in that proud voice fell hollow.

To anyone else, it may sound apathetic and half-assed, but Bakugou held so much ‘punch’ in his daily speech that you realized this apology featured the even breath of emotion. Restraint. His control. His gentleness.

“You can't help how your body works, Kats. You don't have to apologize for what's happening naturally. This is... just a side effect, unfortunately.”

“T’snot that,” he said limply.

A second attempt to finish for him, you try again studying the takeout boxes left open. “I.. get you not telling me, too. It’s not my business either.”

Bakugou shakes his head, with a dismissive shake of the head altogether. Instead he lifts up, miserably.

"I don't talk to you that way."

Through a brief silent showdown, you accept his apology. As rough as he is even with his own mother, Bakugou has framed a different ring for you two to dance in, and harshness doesn’t belong in it.

"You don’t,” the agreement is established, “that's how I knew something's out of whack. Plus, I mean.. if you can’t pick up background noise, it must be hard trying to match volume in a space, right?"

Bakugou’s hoarseness fails him, falling to which air, "That's a shit poor excuse. You were right. I know the difference." 

Meekly reaching for hip, the man sniffles: pulling you the rest of the way between his bent legs. 

You step in and he crumbles into your core, strong hands encircling your hips. 

"I'm sorry," he swears.

"It's ok..."

Bakugou squeezes you in, "It's not. Ok. You should have slapped me for that shit.”

“I’m not doing that, either,” you get weary hearing how the guys rough each other up. You’re certainly not applying the same tactics to him of all people.

“Well, it’s inexcusable. I respect you more than to do that. Know better.”

"I forgive you, then."

"You shouldn't, so easily.”

Chin jutted on his still-bowed head, your answer comes simply but openly:

"...That's commonly called love, Katsuki. I love you. That’s what I do."

He's silent and frozen. The only sign of life is that he is -in fact- breathing still.

You said these, the magic words, in record time for anyone you've held affection for... and you didn't care. You loved Katsuki. Loved all of him. Even the prickly bits that threatened to square up at you like  a bull. 

Friendship was an surprisingly easy test for you two.

Partnership, battle-proven in the public sphere. 

But this is the final straw that you’ve been keeping safe and special. Telling Katsuki you loved him would push things to a deeper level than you felt the term ‘boyfriend’ afforded you both at thirty years old. In loving him, and no one else, you just wanted to call him ‘yours’ already and be done with searching for the One.

Since he doesn’t speak, you busy yourself elsewhere. He may not answer nearly as quickly as you given how on-the-spot he mulls in currently… but he hasn’t let go of you, which is a good sign. Good enough for you.

Your mind veers a bit in the quiet. You think to yourself about what feels nicest when you've had your helmet on too long; athletes deal with it, racers deal with it.. Anyone who wears a support item with internal padding giving cushion around the head is bound to force unnatural pressure on every angle for the sake of protection. 

On you, this tension lies just behind the ears. 

To soothe it, you’d usually draw a sun: a half circle design, zigzagging up and down with your fingertips, creating lines of relief along the tender sides of your head. It's to help the blood flow, and the scratches crackle nicely to the ear canal. Acts as white noise to the senses which is often a welcome change to the low thrum of a headache or grating road noise.

So with careful fingers, a mind set on comfort and a heartful of soft love for this man, you draw twin suns deep within Katsuki's hair.

…within seconds, he wept.

Bakugou softly cries and he holds you close. He turns in his seat, pulling you to fit even tighter between his knees with no gap of room between you.

When he can regulate his breaths down to calm blows from his lips, he shares more what's on his mind, down the space between you.

"...that feels really good."

"I hoped so~. So your head bothers you too, after a while. Having them in all the time?"

He turns his head finally to rest on one side, the functionally deaf side leaning into your chest... listening out for a heartbeat it seems.

“N’it’s all inside, so it’s hard to touch it unless I pump myself full of horsepills… makes m’stomach hurt."

From head to toe, he’s being honest about what this means for him. "The thing that’s meant to help, hurts? I’m sorry, hon."

He's still swallowing back his emotions, so you don't press for what he wants to say when it's clear he's focused on getting good rhythm back.

"My arm gets numb sometimes, too."

You're surprised at this, as more pieces fit together you didn’t know were necessarily missing, "-Yeah?"

"It's somethin' in the tendons. Can fight fine, but small moves are weird. I can't pick up a fucking piece of paper right. N'holding my phone hurts some days."

With a kiss to his hair, you see the teed-up ‘in’ to make him laugh,

"Well, who're you gonna be texting anyway, now that I won't be blowing up your phone?"

He tuffs. Joking aside, you hugged you close. “Gotta to back to that dumbass doctor, don't I."

"They can check your nerve endings with a scan. See if there's a reason for it."

Bakugou accepts this and continues his baring of his heart. He mentions old pains, some new ones, even some random details about which oscillating fans he likes on or off because of how warm he runs. Some of it relates to his work, some not, but you take it all in. Each little snippet he offers up reminds you of penguin pebbling. 

Satisfaction rang through you with the news that caused the biggest physical response in him: he confessed after all that he hadn’t wanted to ignore you at all, and it shows.

His hands massage at you– never getting enough.

“V’missed your voice too,” Bakugou’s voice finally seeps back in- that low, growly rumble of the chest you wanted to play on loop, “But I know I needed that break. I wanted 'em out, just for a little while. Even if I didn’t want to miss the good that comes from keepin’ em in.”

“That’s fine to want. Anytime you need.”

Bakugou turns exploratory with his hand. With the one not locked around your waist keeping you to him, he gives long scritches across your back, up front to hold your side- rooting him. 

“N’for the record, not everyone knows. It’s probably in a record somewhere, so it’s not really been taboo or anything. No one’s ever banned me from fighting; not yet at least. It’s not a secret. But… s’been so long, I’ve… never had to explain them to anyone. Sure as shit don't tell the public.”

Tender fingers seek out the soft inner side of your wrist, just a small touch.

“But you…I didn’t know how to open that up. Seems like a random ass thing to drop on you.”

You understand, and think it sweet that he at least had contemplated telling you at some point– but now, you could only look to his future and knew this would only help you moving forward.

"Nothing’s random if it’s important to you. So head scratches are a yes. Fast food is a yes, keeps you out of the stores. Anything else I should keep in mind to help?"

Bakugou thinks, but just holds onto you with a little nuzzle, "Not now. Yer doin’ it."

Happy and soft, you smile, "Okey~"

After a minute, he's matched your breathing, and you only move when he lifts his head to chin up at you from his spot. You smile expectantly seeing him less harsh around the edges and looking at you on the softer side of pitiful. Like he's looking to you for the solution-- neck bared and showing a rare vulnerability.

"You're my hero, Kats," you dote on him. Hands through his hair, scritching at the base, "y'know that right?"

"Damn right."

"And you aren't anywhere near throwing in the towel over this."

His smirk returned, "Damn right."

Bakugou’s neck received more soothing treatment again– making his eyes flutter, 

"Because my Lord Explosion has way too many baddies left to murder before he allows anyone get to his getaway driver, right?"

Finally showing signs of his spark back, Bakugou growls his pleasure. 

"Y'talking about murder does things to a man, baby."

"Thought it might... I mean every word though. You take such good care of me, Kats. Let me do the same for you sometimes, ok?"

"... Yeah alright," he finally caves easily with tepid palms smoothing over the back of your thighs. Still keeping you close, forehead falling to rest against you, you feel finally content that your presence has helped him. 

All your one-sided concerns now settled, you feel glad that your update to Kirishima later will share that Bakugou’s okay– and will likely add in a fair heads-up that he might still be pissy with him come Monday.

After some cursory scratches across his shoulders, you remember to hold out a hand by his eye level. Bakugou hums when he notices it, and raises his hand to hold yours-- only for you to dodge it, and keep it open.

Let me have it, silly.

After checking ‘what on earth you were getting at’, he tilts to see your fingers open again. The blond head of hair at your chest sighs, decides, then takes the lone hearing aid out and returns it into your open palm. With careful depositing, you set it on the counter behind you with the note-to-self to put it back with its mate– and return your hands to yours.

Bakugou centered himself by breathing you in. Once he had you snug in his arms again, he pressed a firm kiss through your shirt, hoping you felt everything he couldn’t say behind a tight throat. 

You thought it silly, but with him resting fairly tame right on your chest, you thought you'd try a little enrichment for him:

That stupid song from the pop-up takeaway truck was still stuck in your head, so you started humming it to him. 

With how high you stood above him doling out scritches to his temple, you missed how his eyes opened for a flash in recognition of today’s current brainrot love ballad; but you didn't miss how he pressed in closer to you and really listened.

[freshlove-sturn]

house on the cape III

pt1 pt2 pt3 pt4

summary: when the triplets come back home from la, they reunite with their favorite summer tradition, staying in the house on the cape. amidst all of the familiar laughter, and reminiscing on old memories, y/n can’t ignore the feeling stirring in her heart. something that went deeper than friendship. as she grapples with the fact that her feelings for her lifelong best friend, matt, are more than what’s just at the surface, she must learn to navigate and balance the unspoken feelings, and the gut wrenching fear of risking it all.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

i stand there in shock for a moment. the fact that he had a moment that i held so deeply in my heart permanently tattooed on his body was something that i couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“no way? really?” i ask. i try playing it cool, but it’s no use, really. matt could read me like an open book, he’s always been able to. my poker face didn’t stand a chance whenever he was around.

“yeah.” he laughs awkwardly. “sorry if that’s weird or anything i just-“ he clears his throat. “you’re my best friend and i wanted to get something to honor you and-“

“you don’t have to explain yourself matt.” i cut him off to reassure him. “i love it. that’s really sweet.” i smile up at him.

he doesn’t say anything, just smiles sweetly back at me.

we don’t talk the rest of the walk home, we didn’t need to. the presence of one another spoke in volume that words couldn’t.

volumes that i don’t think i’ll ever be able to profess to him. i just let the universe speak for me, in hopes that maybe one day he will catch on, and if i’m lucky, maybe he feels the same.

surely it didn’t mean near as much as i wanted to. people get tattoos for their best friends all the time, i was reading too far into it. how was matt supposed to know the significance of that moment anyway?

once we get inside, we bid our second goodnight. i toss and turn all night. every time i check the clock, only 3 minutes had gone by since the last time i checked, praying for it to be daylight so i could have the others to distract my ever racing mind.

the deafening sound of my alarm wakes me out of the sleep it felt like i had just fallen into. i slap my hand around lazily on the nightstand feeling around for my phone to turn the alarm off, too tired to open my eyes.

once i click stop, i run the tiredness from my eyes and stretch, sitting up in bed. i heard foot steps walking past my door, down the hall. i knew it wasn’t any of the triplets, no way they were waking up this early. i knew it was nathan.

i slide out of bed, running my brush through my hair quickly, before walking out into the living room, nate was sitting in the recliner on his phone.

“morning” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes to shake the remnants of the sleep he clearly just woke up from by the way his hair was sticking all in opposite directions.

“morning.” i reply, sitting down on the couch closest to him.

“did you leave last night? i could’ve sworn i heard yours and matt’s voicing coming back inside last night.” nate asks. my mind was instantly flooded with the memories of last night. how matt and i’s faces were just mere inches from each other, the way matt didn’t skip a beat to dive below the surface to find my necklace after i lost it, and of course, the tattoo.

“yeah, we went to the beach. we couldn’t sleep.” i tell him.

nate raises his eyebrows at me. he knows my feelings for matt. i confessed then to him the day the triplets first moved to boston. ever since then, he has been a wingman of sorts. always listening to every interaction i had with matt that i had romanticized in my head, which was practically all of them, give or take.

“ooooh, you and matt went to the beach alone in the middle of the night.” he teases, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

i roll my eyes and throw a pillow at him, to which he deflects and throws it back at me. “can i tell you something?”

i had to tell him about the tattoo thing. i couldn’t keep this information to myself. nate was always the one i confided in when i couldn’t confide in matt.

“hit me.” he leans back in the chair, folding his hands behind his head.

“so y’know matt’s shell tattoo?” nate nods.

“well, last night he told me that it’s actually the shell from this necklace.” i grab the shell that laid around my neck, nate staring intently.

“you didn’t know that?” he furrows his brows.

“you did?!” my voice involuntarily raises an octave from our quiet speaking. was this common knowledge to everyone but me? why didn’t matt tell me until now?

but i don’t have much room to talk, i harbored my own share of secrets.

just before nathan can explain himself, i hear a bedroom door open and shut, footsteps padding down the hallway, shutting both of us up.

“morning.” chris appears from around the corner, his hair messy, stretching his arms over his head while speaking through a yawn.

“good morning.” nate and i repeat in unison. nick follows lazily, plopping down on the couch.

about a half hour later, nate, nick, chris, and myself are still the only ones up, matt was sound asleep.

“what do yall wanna do today?” nick asks opening the fridge, grabbing milk for his cereal.

chris and nate start throwing out ideas, i stand up and start heading off towards the bedrooms. “i’m gonna go wake matt up.” i tell them, disguising as it as if i wanted to make sure he was apart of making the plans. while that may be part of it, majority of my motive was for my own benefit.

the door was already cracked, i open it the rest of the way slowly, and once again leaving it cracked behind me. i quietly make my way to the side of the bed. shaking his shoulder gently.

“matt, wake up. we’re talking about what we’re gonna do today” my voice soft. he stirs in his sleep a bit, but ultimately ignores me. i repeat his name again, this time earning the fluttering open of his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth when he grabs my arm, pulling me down into the bed.

“matt!” i pretend to protest. positive i’m not at all masking the fact that would lay her forever with him.

“five more minutes.” he chuckles, throwing part of the blanket over me after wrapping his arms tightly around me.

cuddling wasn’t exactly unfamiliar territory with us. our mothers telling us growing up that we were attached at the hip, following it up with how even that was an understatement.

he closes his eyes, but that doesn’t tear my attention away from his beautiful features. all of them complimenting each other perfectly in such harmony.

“matt.” i whisper, i knew i had to get him up and moving, after telling the others that those were my intentions.

his eyes open again, staring back down into mine. my stomach feels like it’s doing backflips, and my heart beating as if i had just finished running a marathon. something about the way he was looking at me, all the while his hands rest on the small of my back holding me firmly to his hip, had me swooning. if i didn’t know any better i swear i had heart eyes, with hearts swirling around my head like in the cartoons.

one of his arms releases its grip, his hand coming up to my face, brushing the hair that had fallen into my eyes out of the way. the pads of his fingers gently caressing my skin. his hand lingers for a moment on the side of my face. our faces seemed ever closer than they were the night in the ocean, i could almost feel the flutter of his eyelashes when he blinks. the booming of chris yelling for him to wake up interrupts.

“we should probably go out there, he’s been ready to go all morning.” i say softly.

“i can’t stand that kid sometimes.” matt groans.

i roll off the bed, pulling the covers off of matt. “i know you can’t.” i tell him as he slowly gets out of the bed.

we make our way into the living room, nate of course immediately shoots me a cheeky grin, i give him warning look, and he puts his hands up in defense.

if the truth didn’t come out through me, it would surely come out by nate’s not so discreet teasing.

thankfully, everyone else stays oblivious to this interaction.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

we winded up deciding on grabbing a bite to eat at a small cafe. i sit sandwiched between nate and matt. nate and chris were discussing what they were gonna order while nick vlogged, piping into conversation every once in a while. matt’s hand brushes against my thigh, sending a jolt of electricity throughout my entire body. he lets it rest there for a moment before the camera pans to him. he was always cautious about the way he interacted with me in videos, anything to prevent hate from jealous fans.

part of me understood and appreciated that, but another part of me wishes he wouldn’t hold back.

but i could never tell matt that.

our food arrives shortly after we order, everyone scarfs it down within a few minutes, eager to set off on our next adventure, hiking.

the check comes and i pull out my wallet to cover my share of the bill, before i can even get any money out, matt grabs my wrist.

“absolutely not.” he tells me, placing enough money on the table to cover mine and his meal.

“matt stop it, you never let me pay.” i protest.

“i think you should know by now that you’re never paying for anything in my presence.” he tells me. i roll my eyes, shaking my head. a gentle smile plastered across my face.

he leans down, his voice just low enough to where only the two of us could hear it. “pretty girls never pay.”

i look up at him, but he had already struck up a conversation with nick, completely disregarding the comment he had just made that is the reason my cheeks are flushed with a bright pink color.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the 5 of us trot down the dirt path through the woods, down to a lake that was in the clearing.

we were at an incline, so our steps were quick and not entirely balanced. of course given this fact, i’d be the one to stub my toe on a tree root and lose my footing, stumbling forward.

a pair of arms grab my waist, steadying my body.

“careful.” matt says.

again, our touch lingers just a second too long. a second too long to just be “friendly”.

seconds that probably all in all meant nothing, but nonetheless were part of the foundation i had anchored my hopes on.

once we get down to the lake, after matt channels his inner bird expert, as well as 12 year old boy screaming penis so loud it probably woke up a small village across the ocean, matt and i break off from the rest of the group. something we were no strangers to doing. we walk side by side, careful not to stray too far from the rest, but just far enough to have our own privacy.

we walked so close our hands touched with each step. neither of us bothered to alter the situation.

matt slows down to a stop. his blue eyes catching mine. the sun was just beginning to set, rays of light beaming between the openings of tree branches.

“this is like, my favorite place to be ever.” he says, looking out over the water. “and even more so because i’m with you.” his eyes meet mine again. i smile up at him, praying the hotness of my cheeks is strictly internal, and not making it painfully obvious to the boy in front of me that im in love with him.

i don’t say anything, i didn’t need to. his voice cuts through the comfortable silence again.

“i know that probably sounds cheesy but it’s true. it’s like, i don’t know how to explain it really. just whenever im around you it’s like nothing else matters. i forget all about anything that’s been weighing down on me and stressing me out. you’re like a breath of fresh air. if that makes any sense.”

every word he said was so close yet so far from the words i yearn to hear him speak.

i’d give anything just to hear it just once. even if it was a lie.

it’s just 3 words.

we had said it to each other countless times. but the meaning behind it was never was i longed for. i see the way he looks at me. the things he says, the way our accidental touches linger, and sometimes, much like right now, i think that maybe, just maybe he feels the same way.

but what if i’m wrong?

taglist: @ribread03 @billy9669 @lovesturni0l0s @p4lxouterbanks @blablablabla2525 @bbernard-03 @sturniololvrrr @hayhjelmstad15

[lovra974]

Slow burn

Bakugo and relationship, it's only fluff, somewhere on the ace spectrum.

Bakugo isn't one for irrational actions. In his hero work, he learned to think fast. In his personal life, he was a casual kind of guy. Didn't mean he was not passionate, passion and determination were core values for him. He knew now he showed love through act of service and quality time.

He readed a lot of romance. Like a lot. But he never felt overwhelmed. He has very strong feelings, it's part of who he is. But the bubbling mind, the butterflies, the flushed cheeks every two minutes, he never felt. But still, it didn't mean he had not strong feelings.

He would shake the hell out of Deku if he told him he felt like a bad hero. He would do the groceries for his parents or with his father every few weeks. He would, without a second of hesitation take a bullet for that damn idiot with shitty hair.

His love life was quite desert for a long time. It was not his priority after all. But when he began to date, he waited the feelings to wash over him. It didn't.

He was interested, he felt comfortable, he felt better definitely but nothing about the craving, the addiction of the other. It destroyed most of his romantic relationship when they would inevitably ask "How much do you love me?" and none of the truths sounded like the good answer. He never lied.

He mets you and bounded slowly with you. Your relationship was how he liked it, casual. The friendship deepen each time he saw you. Until someone would ask him if there was something between the two of you and point out how much like a couple you acted.

Yes, you spoke every day. And you invited the other over every week. Yes you had a serie you watch together and together only. Indeed, you planned your calendar depending on the other. Yes... he missed you when he couldn't saw you but he was fine !

It bothered him. He didn't like when people put their nose in his business. He felt confortable with you. You supported each other. Was the butterflies really needed ?

Did you really need to put a label on ?

Kirishima questioned him to know if he was okay that someone ask you out.

"Why would they say yes ?"

"You know... Maybe they want to date, to have a life partner?"

This kept Bakugo thinking at night. Did you you really want that? And him, what did he want ?

He didn't want you to leave him. Really, he couldn't imagine his life without you in it. Would you go to someone's place and watch series ? Would you planned dates and go to your parents with them ? Would you cuddle with them at night, a smile on your face and safety in your heart ?

He wanted that domesticity with you, only you, if you wanted him too. Just like you were doing.

He felt pretty possessive toward you and it made him feel strange. He really was not used to it.

Through the days, his thoughts grew. It became good to think about you like that. It woke a yearning he did not anticipate. But the fear, the possibility of getting rejected, of destroying the balance you've built. It was gut wrenching.

"So, what are we watching?" you asked, the remote pointed toward the television.

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants before sitting next to you, tense.

"Don't know."

"Mmh... What about that one?"

He nodded without watching. You looked at his far away eyes, noticing his posture on the couch.

"Hey, you're okay?"

"Yeah, why ?"

"Oh, come on ! I asked if you wanted to watch a documentary without heroes in it and you said yes !"

You got closer, your warmth washing over him and soothing his nerves. He sighed.

"What do you think about dating ?"

He grimaced once he said the sentence. But you didn't laugh. It was a good point.

"What do you mean, what do I think about dating ?"

"Do you think it's a good thing ? Do you want it ?"

He was getting frustrated, thankfully you knew him well.

"I think it's a good thing only if you want it. If you think it will make you happy then yes it's a good thing."

"And do you want to date someone?"

You took your time to think.

"Honestly, aren't we? If you're not comfortable with the label I'm okay to keep it like that."

"Wait... You're saying... You want to-to date me ?"

You smiled, loving his disbelieved face. You got even closer.

"I said it was a good thing only if you wanted it too. Do you want it ?"

His eyes went down to your lips. You pecked his once, testing the waters. You knew he needed time with PDA. He did it a few second after, trying to gauge if he liked it. You were soft, pliant against him. You let him kiss you, slowly at first, learning how you liked to get kissed.

There was no butterfly in his stomach. But he felt relief in his bones. The kiss became more intense, and Bakugo decided he liked it. He liked how you felt against him. He liked the safety and warmth you wrapped him in.

This was more precious than the addiction he heard about.

"I've got you Katsuki, whatever this is I'm okay with it as long as your okay too."

[aangelinakii]

WHAT MUSIC THEY WOULD LISTEN TO.

characters written about in this piece : bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, damian wayne, barbara gordon, duke thomas, stephanie brown, cassandra cain

not proofread !

note : if you actually went and read through all of this i will actually smooch you

BRUCE WAYNE

bruce isn't an average music enjoyer, so he doesn't really have many preferences to what he listens to. all i know is that he doesn't like music that is too upbeat, like many pop songs.

perhaps in his angsty emo the batman 2022 phase, he would listen to metal, heavy guitars and drums, similar to jason. but as he develops as a philanthropist and vigilante, he would sway towards classical music without words. it helps him concentrate in many situations, and different artists or albums can convey so many different emotions in their music.

this music often plays within his office at wayne enterprises, the batcave whilst he's researching on the computer, or even just throughout the manor whilst he's doing bruce wayne shit.

songs i think he would like :

jazz suite no. 2: vi. waltz 2, dmitri shostakovich

12 études op.25: no. 11 in a minor "winter wind", frédéric chopin

vi. lacrimosa dies illa, slovak philharmonic

tango - bof "kuduz", goran bregović

le cygne (arr. for harp and cello), camille saint-saëns

le nozze di figaro k.492: overture, wolfgang amadeus mozart

DICK GRAYSON

i can see dick as someone who incorporates music a lot into his every day life; playing something on his alexa as he cooks dinner, listening to something in airpods as he walks around gotham during the day, hums or whistles a tune as he surveys the streets of blüdhaven at night. i don't think he would have taken up learning any instruments, but he's a very musical person, knows how to hold a rhythm as well.

he's into more modern music, very much frank ocean. he likes chill music with a good beat and maybe some good vocals. as long as the song overall sounds good, he doesn't really pay attention to lyrics. if a song he likes has weird lyrics, he'll only notice it one random day as he's singing along, and begin to overthink them in the shower and wonder why they were written in the first place.

songs i think he would like :

swim good, frank ocean

she, tyler the creator & frank ocean

novacane, frank ocean

dance now, joey valence & brae

wet dreamz, j cole

mysëlf, yeat

JASON TODD

i actually have a jason playlist here !

i think jason enjoys darker sounding music, but it can go one of two ways; either loud guitar, or absolutely gut wrenching vocals. i'm talking lyrics mixed with the perfect pleading voice to make you feel just numb inside.

jason has experienced a lot of loss and trauma in his life, so sometimes he may feel numb and just need to amp it up with a loud deftones song, or he is feeling too much, and needs a mellow, yet depressing mitski song to bring him back down. granted, neither are the happiest options, but it's what works for him.

songs i think he would like :

xerces, deftones

danger, south arcade

i don't smoke, mitski

come home to god, amaarae

smoke sprite, so!yoon!

dagger, slowdive

TIM DRAKE

LMAO i think this guy would be such a closeted theatre kid. he's watched all the heathers slime videos and watched hamilton and newsies on disney plus. he loves it, it just evokes an entirely different feeling. he would never tell anybody about this side though, which is why these playlists are kept privateee on his spotify.

so when he's with other people he shows that he listens to more mainstream artists, but likes an experimental sound, so maybe some tyler here and some carti there, but they aren't his go-to artists.

songs i think he would like :

boyfriend, tyler the creator

flex, playboi carti

non-stop, broadway cast of hamilton

once upon a december, broadway cast of anastasia

meet the plastics, broadway cast of mean girls

miso, edv & bigbabygucci

DAMIAN WAYNE

this little shit only exclusively listens to either classical music (aww look at him taking after his own papa) or the heaviest, scariest rock metal you've ever heard. bonus points if it's metal with classical undertones !!! he loves that shit, not that he would show it.

when he does his homework or falls asleep, he listens to heavyyy heavy metal. when he's eating a sandwich in the kitchen, or training in the batcave he'll be listening to classical music. see? it's not exactly linear.

songs i think he would like :

carnival of the animals: aquarium, camille saint-saëns

romeo and juliet op.64 - act 1: balcony scene - romeo's variation - love dance, sergei prokofiev

the isle of the dead op.29, sergei rachmaninoff

immortal rites, morbid angel

them bones, alice in chains

BARBARA GORDON

barbara is a woman on the quieter side, despite herself. i feel towards others she is more outgoing and reliable, but when she's with herself, she likes to wind down and just sit with her thoughts. she likes jazz, slow and soft, and the type of music you would find in music from the 50s and 60s. there's something wistful about it that she just loves.

this type of music can help her concentrate. she listens to music whilst reading, or whilst sitting behind the computer as oracle during less high-tension moments.

songs i think she would like :

the shadows of paris, elsie bianchi trio

piano and strings, henry mancini

a night to remember, beabadoobee & laufey

la javanaise, serge gainsbourg

jane b, jane birkin

my favourite game, the cardigans

DUKE THOMAS

we can all agree that duke is one of the more positive members in the family, trying his best to keep his optimistic outlook despite the rest of the world, and the rest of gotham especially. he likes songs with meaning, although hidden behind a happy instrumental and youthful vocals, but he also enjoys just plain old happy-go-lucky sounding songs.

i also think he's a very musical person, always got headphones on. he probably gets that one notification at least once a week telling him his volume is too high in his ears.

he loves to dance, so songs that he can get lost in and have a little jam sesh in his bedroom are a must!!!

songs i think he would like :

useless, omar apollo

the magic number, de la soul

batshit, dominic fike

breadwinner, floyd fuji & topaz jones

the violence, childish gambino

smokin out the window, silk sonic

STEPHANIE BROWN

as for stephanie, this girl listens to EVERYTHING. she listens to kpop, shoegaze, indie, rnb, 2010s pop, jazz likeeeee she will literally listen to anything. she doesn't have playlists she just fr adds every song she likes to "liked songs" and listens to it on shuffle, and whatever comes up she listens to without an issue. almost never skips songs because she's so open to anything and everything.

like one minute she could be listening to her fav red velvet album, and then the next min she's on the verge of tears listening to phillipa soo sing burn on the hamilton soundtrack.

songs i think she would like :

so good, red velvet

cola head, willow kayne

if you want to, beabadoobee

call me maybe, carly rae jepsen

xxl, young posse

unchained memory, cafuné

CASSANDRA CAIN

following her quieter nature, i can't see cass listening to anything too upbeat or loud. she'll like a softer instrumental but with an emotional vocal line, almost as if getting to express the things she may not be fully able to towards her family and friends.

may enjoy a good old shoegaze or indie song here and there, especially if she's feeling more emotional, as she feels the sound of the song encapsulates her emotions.

songs i think she would like :

only, lee hi

chocolate and mint, duster

slow burn, infinity song

gaia, lexie liu

emo song, beabadoobee

chaos angel, maya hawke

[hotgirlgraps]

So if you feel like writing this, I had a little idea and I really don’t write that well, but I love everything you put your creativity and talent into.

So I have a crippling fear of airplanes and I just thought a cute idea is if you’re on the plane and it’s your first time flying, and you get seated next to Hook (who you don’t know) and he notices all the nervous and anxious things going on with you and helps you through them? Him being really sweet and comforting and helping you calm down?

this is actually so cute i love this idea and i hope you love what i turned it into!!

-

Everybody goes on planes at some point in their lives, but you were hoping you’d be an exception to that. Unfortunately for you, that just wasn’t the case.

Everyone filed up the steps like they’ve done it a million and one times, but you could’ve swore your knees were going to buckle the second you stepped off the concrete.

Your clammy hands were trembling, heart was aggressively pounding in your chest, and you tried your best to soothe yourself but there was no use.

As soon as you sat down, it all sunk in. You were about to be trapped on that plane, suspended in the air for seven straight hours and there was no changing that now.

You closed your eyes and did your best to inhale a deep, hopefully calming breath, but it only felt like the oxygen in your lungs was being snatched out too soon.

Your shaking hands needed something to hold onto, and your armrest sufficed for that, but you didn’t feel any more secure.

You looked around at all the people surrounding you. Some putting in headphones and reclining their seats back, ready to doze off for the duration of the flight. Others were on their phones or pulling out a book to read, and nobody at all seemed the least bit nervous.

A couple minutes went by that you kept your eyes closed for. You wanted to attempt to sleep through everything and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You’d just wake up when you land and not have to remember what it looks like to stare down at clouds instead of up at them.

But you felt someone sit down next to you and immediately opened your eyes, finding that a guy with a black hoodie and sunglasses masking his face had occupied your space.

He stuffed some snacks in the pocket of the back of the seat in front of him before he glanced over at you, letting a small smile grace his lips.

“Hey.” he nods his chin as he removes his sunglasses and pulls his hood down, exposing his deep brown eyes and wildly disheveled hair.

“Hi.” you managed to shoot him your best smile, but it was shaky when it pulled across your lips.

Just then, you heard the announcement that the plane was taking off in just five minutes, and you suddenly felt that gut wrenching twist in your stomach all over again.

You rested your head back and closed your eyes again, attempting to take a couple deep breaths but, once again, they felt more suffocating than anything else.

That’s when you heard the sound of a bag loudly crumbling and glanced down to see the man sitting next to you, pulling out a bag of doritos and a bag of gummy bears from his little stash.

He opened the bag of gummy bears first and tilted them towards you. “You want some?” he offered, but you politely declined. The last thing you could think about in that moment was eating anything. You couldn’t even have breakfast that morning without feeling sick.

He shrugged and reached in the bag, grabbing a couple of the gummy bears and plopping them in his mouth.

You lolled your head to the side and tried to close your eyes again, but the second announcement rang through the plane and you felt like you wanted to bolt.

Suddenly your chest felt like someone double your size was sitting on it and the walls of the plane felt like they were closing in.

The second you felt the plane start moving you meant to grab the armrest, but the man next to you had claimed it.

He glanced down at your hand gripping his arm for dear life, and he didn’t pull away. He looked up at you with a bit of a confused look on his face before he noticed the way you were breathing unevenly, your cheeks were a bit flushed and you had the look of fear in your eyes.

“Is this your first time on a plane?” he asks, and all you can do is nod. You only realized it then, that you’d been gripping that stranger’s arm instead of the armrest and immediately pulled away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to just grab you like that” you managed to apologize even though you felt like your throat was as dry as bone.

“It’s okay” he says as he keeps his eyes trained on you. He noticed the way your skin was getting paler by the passing second and reached down into his stash of treats to pull out one of the three water bottles he had.

“Here, you should drink this.” he says as he hands you the bottle. His brows knitted together as he watched your trembling hand struggle to twist the cap, and took it upon himself to open it for you before he passed it back.

You took a couple sips and felt the slightest bit of refreshment afterwards, but you were still shaking like a leaf and anybody would be able to see that.

“I’m Tyler” you heard the man blurt out. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n” you weakly replied as you clutch the water bottle like your life depended on it. Glancing out the window was your first mistake. All you saw was the city below getting smaller and smaller, clouds beginning to cover the rooftops.

“Whats your favorite color?” The man asks another question, one that was more random than anything else. You pulled your eyes off of the frightening view and over to him, noticing the rather perplexed look that crossed his face.

“Um… I don’t know, honestly. Maybe red? Blue? I don’t really have one.”

“Favorite snack?” he fires another question, “I probably have it in here.” he reaches down and pulls out an abundance of bags of candies, spreading them out across his lap. “Take your pick.”

You looked down at the various snacks, one in particular did seem more appealing than the rest of them, but you didn’t think you’d be able to stomach anything.

“I’m okay, but thank you.” you politely declined again.

He eyed you for a second, taking note that you looked a bit less pale than you did when the plane first took off. He nodded before he gathered those snacks back together and stuffed them in the pocket in front of him.

“Well if you want any later, help yourself.” he says as he slouches down a little in his seat, stretching his legs as much as he can.

He was trying to think of another random question he could ask in an attempt to distract you.

You couldn’t help but to look back out the window, but now all that you could see were the mists of the clouds. No buildings or roads or anything else in sight.

You nearly felt dizzy when you let yourself comprehend just how high above ground you were, and decided it was best if you just didn’t keep looking out that small window anymore.

Tyler saw you starting to get worked up again when you laid your head back and screwed your eyes shut, doing your best not to let your anxiety get the best of you this time.

He glanced down at your hands gripping the armrests and up at your lip being bit down on so hard that he was sure you’d make it bleed.

“Wanna listen to some music?” You heard him ask, peering your eyes open to see that he was extending an airpod.

You almost shook your head, thinking that coupled with everything you’re feeling, adding music in your ear to the mix might make you way too overstimulated, but you just grabbed the airpod and tucked it in your ear, because at this point you were willing to try anything that just might distract you.

He leaned in a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as he showed you his playlist.

“I don’t know what all you like to listen to, but I have a little bit of everything on here.” he tells you as he slowly scrolls down.

“Anything, it doesn’t matter” you say back, and he nods as he scrolls back up to the top and hits shuffle.

A couple Metallica songs here, Asap songs there, a few artists you’d never heard of, and a few you hadn’t heard since you were young played for about an hour, the two of you sitting in silence as you listened to the music.

“How you feelin?” He asked as he pressed pause at the end of a song and looked over at you.

“Better, actually.” you tell him. “It’s not that bad. It’s just being so high up- i don’t know-“

“Yeah, it’s the thought of it that’s the worst part. Once you get on though, it’s nothing to be scared of.” he shrugs easily, “I’ve probably been on about a hundred flights this year alone. Once you get used to it, it’s just another thing.”

“That’s a lot of flights” you gaped, “You travel for work or something?”

His brows knitted together slightly before a wide smile played on his face, followed by a chuckle.

“Yeah, usually. I’m a pro wrestler. I’m always traveling for that and some other stuff I do on the side.”

“Pro wrestler? Wow, I bet that’s a fun career to have. You do like- shows and stuff?”

Another chuckle slipped past his lips as he nodded, “Yeah, shows on tv, actually. You ever heard of All Elite Wrestling?”

It rung a bell with you, but you never really watched it. You nodded and then shrugged as you said, “Somewhat familiar.”

“Well that’s the company I work for.”

“That’s cool, i’ve never really watched it, to be honest. I mean, I watched WWE a good bit when I was a kid but, I got older and never really had the time. Maybe I’ll start watching one day.”

“I mean, I don’t want to sound like like i’m promoting or anything, but I think you should. Or maybe you could come out to one of the shows and experience it live. It’s better when you’re there in person.”

“Maybe i’ll do that” you say, watching as a boyish grin spreads across his lips, a bashful smile that ends in him doing his best to hide it by looking down at his phone, realizing that he hadn’t been playing the music because he got too caught up in the conversation.

You noticed the countdown on the screen ahead of you decreasing significantly. Somehow you’d been on that plane for almost three hours already and thanks to Tyler keeping you occupied it felt like you’d been on for no more than thirty minutes at most.

“So is that why you’re on here now?” you asked when the conversation died. “Do you have a show soon?”

“Yeah, tomorrow night.” he says, locking his phone and once again forgetting about the music he was supposed to be playing. “Usually it’s on wednesday nights, but sometimes Saturdays now too. Every once in a while I’m apart of a pay-per-view show and that’s on sundays. My schedule is kind of all over the place right now but, yeah, tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but to smile at the way he rambled.

“What about you?” He asked. “Why are you on here?”

“Visiting some family.” You tell him as you finally start to feel that weight being completely lifted off of your chest, able to actually breathe again without feeling like your lungs were being squeezed.

“Usually I drive, but I didn’t have the time to get there and back before I have to go back to work. So, unfortunately, I had to hop on a last minute flight and face the one fear i’ve had since I was a kid.”

“Well, you’re facing it.” He shrugs with a grin, “You should be pretty proud of yourself for that.”

He looked down at his phone and realized then that the music was still paused, and you’d forgotten all about it yourself, until he pressed play and the intro to a rock song you were vaguely familiar with started playing in your ear.

You reclined your seat a tad bit, keeping your head turned so that you didn’t manage to steal a glimpse out the window.

He reclined his seat back and crossed his arms over his chest, looking past you, out onto the clouds that floated below the plane.

“You cold?” He asks when you rub your hands over your arms. It was just a way to keep yourself composed, but before you could respond, he was already calling the flight attendant over.

She came back a couple moments later and handed him a thick, white blanket that he opened up and passed one side over to you, keeping the other half of it draped loosely over his waist.

The simple gesture made your heart melt, but you did your best to hide that.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you clutched the blanket against your chest, reveling in the warmth of it.

“You’re welcome.” He grins. You could see his eyes getting heavy, and maybe that was contagious, because as soon as you got comfortable, you could hardly keep your eyes open.

The music being played through the airpod turned into nothing short of a sweet lullaby and before you knew it, you’d drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, your head was resting on his shoulder. It took a moment for you to realize it, but once you did, you quickly sat yourself up, only to find him already awake, scrolling mindlessly on his phone.

“Sorry- I didn’t mean to lay all over you like that.” You tell him, but all he does is look over at you with that same, boyish grin.

“It’s okay, didn’t bother me at all.”

You felt your cheeks starting to burn, unable to contain the smile spreading across your lips so you turned your head, and that’s when you saw that the ground was rapidly approaching.

You looked at the screen ahead of you and realized that you’d slept through the whole other half of that flight. Part of you was glad that you did, but the other part of you wished you would’ve woke up a little sooner. Maybe talked to the sweet stranger next to you a little bit more.

You reached up and pulled the airpod out your ear, handing it over to him. He was already gathering his snacks that he hadn’t finished and a couple other random items he brought with him.

“Hey?” You blurted out before you actually meant to, but you caused him to stop what he was doing and look over at you.

“I just wanted to say thank you for calming me down earlier. I was honestly terrified, but it really wasn’t bad at all. I actually think… I don’t know, I think I might like planes now.”

You watched a smile spread across his lips and felt your heart fluttering back.

“Im glad I could help.” He grins, “And, I don’t know if you were serious about possibly attending one of the shows, but if you were, you should let me know when you plan on going.”

He clicked a few things on his phone before he passed it over to you, having the new contact screen pulled up for you to give him your number.

You couldn’t help but smile as you typed your name and number, and he couldn’t help but smile when he watched you do it.

He sent you a text that you read later on that night, simply stating his name and a link to all of the upcoming shows, dates and locations, but after that, another text followed, and you couldn’t help but to grin ear to ear when you read it.

“but if you’d rather not come to a show, we can always go out to dinner instead.”

[carrionhearted]

Im gonna infodump about my ocs because I can’t stop thinking about them. This will be a book… One day. Read on with caution, this is a horror book with very dark subject matter and mild body horror.

There are two mcs, a closeted gay trans man (Eden), and a severely repressed cis gay man (Harlow). Both raised in a hyper-conservative hyper-religious Deep South town IN THE 80S.

Their story is about the deadly consequences of repression, the cycle of abuse, learned hatred and destructive coping mechanisms. Harlow grew up with an INCREDIBLY toxic father who drilled toxic masculinity into him (having feelings is shameful) as well as homophobia. He only ever demonstrated "solving" problems with violence. Harlow was never given the tools or space to unpack any of his feelings ever. So he grew up to become this repressed, horribly frustrated and confused adult who could not understand his attraction towards other men.

Being gay wasn't even a thought in his mind, it wasn't a possibility to him. His father constructed this impenetrable wall of “us” vs “them” in Harlow’s mind- and like a plant deprived of sunlight, he never grew tall enough to see over it.

All he knew was this gut-wrenching hunger, this insatiable craving for other men’s bodies which he couldn't place- something about the flesh, the warmth, he hungered for it in a way which became unbearable. This did not register to him as sexual, again, that wasn't even an option… but he didn’t know what it was. And when you don’t know how to process your own emotions, it all eventually turns into frustration/ rage. So he solved this problem in the only way he was ever taught how- with violence! He killed men, initially choosing those he deemed deserving of death, and he ate them. An attempt to satiate the hunger. This became a habitual thing and he just… kept doing it. Not because it brought him any real satisfaction, it just snowballed into an addiction and he needed his fix. His town caught on to the string of murders, but he was flying completely under everyone’s radar. We’re talking about a 6’ mullet-having yeehaw dude who’s generally reserved and works for his family’s farm, nobody was really looking at him here.

Important backstory tidbit: Harlow was taught how to hunt as a kid. His father took him on outings, which were maybe the only positive memories he had of that man- and they would hunt deer together. He was taught to always use the whole animal, never let anything go to waste- because everything is valuable.

Everything is a gift. “It’s only murder if you waste the animal” (this heavily influenced his later cannibal ways).

One day as a young teen, he found himself alone for a trip. That's when he was approached by this deer- it looked sickly, almost like it was rotting while alive (it had Chronic Wasting Disease). It was clearly suffering, made clear by its complete lack of survival instincts. It walked right up to his gun. It was in pain. He shot it to put it out of its misery, but he did not take the meat. What was he supposed to do? It was useless to him,, he couldn't eat the rotting meat, and despite that he still felt an immense guilt for leaving it behind. Killing, and just abandoning the body. It registered to him as murder. He carried that feeling of guilt with him for the rest of his life. He vowed to never discard a body again.

Eden is a trans man who knows he's trans, but is out to practically nobody during the story. He’s the youngest in his family, with four older brothers. His parents were NOT suited to be parents- they were self centred people who treated their children like accessories. The parents obsessively kept up this “picturesque good Christian family” facade to the world, but that became harder to maintain as they had more kids. They started having to cut corners financially, to the detriment of those kids. That said, every one of their children was planned. The reason they kept having kids despite their situation was because the mother wanted a daughter. Then, Eden was born, assigned female at birth. Since his birth Eden had been treated like a precious doll more so than a child- he was sheltered and only received direct attention from his parents when they needed to dress him up all pretty for Sunday service. There was an incredible amount of pressure on him to be what everyone wanted. He was also raised VERY religiously, all of which MAJORLY contributed to his inner-turmoil abt being trans. He didn’t even have a word for it, to be “trans”. Only this unmistakable discomfort, guilt and shame, feeling like something is wrong with him, feeling like god made a mistake with him. Again, conservative religious south, he has no space to explore these feelings safely. He's pushed it all down and let it fester inside until it started gnawing away at his very being.

A few years prior to the story, this began to manifest physically as a literal rot. This spot of decay on his chest that's been growing and sinking deeper into his body for years. Sloooowly eating away at him, on track to continue until there is nothing left to devour. By the start of the book it’s claimed most of the flesh on his chest- his ribcage is sparsely covered with any skin at all- and the organs beneath are made vulnerable by it. However, he is horrified to seek medical attention. He sees the rot as a marking of his sin, god has stamped his body with this ugly decay to let everyone else know he's defective.

He hides it beneath layers of clothing. Being on his chest, it’s in a place that only an intimate partner would ever see- considering he's perceived by the world as a "woman".

In a… complicated series of events involving ✨societal pressure and coercion✨, an "intimate partner" does end up seeing his chest (Eden is not clear minded when these events are taking place).

This partner reacts with repulsion and violence, to the extreme that Eden fears for his life. He kills the other man in self Defense. (This sequence alludes to the “trans panic” legal defense which is still permitted by many US courts. If you pursue someone intimately, don’t like what you see beneath their clothes, and you KILL THEM- you can claim “I panicked because I didn’t know they were trans” and get a lesser sentence. It’s bullshit and I’m gonna attempt to very delicately write this scene to highlight how bizarre and unwarranted the male partner’s violent response is. The rot in this instance is symbolic of the perceived defect).

In disposing of the body, he runs into Harlow. They find eachother in a (undecided) remote, secretive location.

You’ll never guess what Harlow is doing! Also disposing of remains (bones n guts), at the same place, face hidden while he does so. They have a mutual deer-in-headlights standoff. There IS an open case of serial murders in their small town… Harlow is responsible. Eden realizes this after a short exchange of stunned words, and totally breaks down. Heavy dialogue exchange, Eden feels completely defeated and destroyed by guilt, he just begs Harlow to kill him. Harlow responds by saying he only kills men (Eden is closeted and passes as a woman). This pushes Eden over the edge and he snaps, he shouts that he is a man, this is the first time he’s ever said it out loud. Harlow is… confused, but intrigued. He doesn’t want to kill Eden, but he’s not sure what he does want to do. He decides to knock Eden out… which he does very easily.

Eden wakes up in a different location. Some not so great smelling farmhouse of sorts. Harlow enters the room eventually and explains… “I disposed of that body for you, don’t worry about that right now. I bruised your head pretty bad when I knocked you out, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to use that much force. I made you some soup! It’ll help. The meat is pork. Don’t worry about it. Let’s talk. :3” They’re still both very unsure of each other but neither have much to lose (they also have mutual blackmail) so they start talking. AND BOOM

COMPLICATED SERIES OF EVENTS

ENSUES AND THEY BOND OVER SHARED EXPERIENCES, TEACH EACH OTHER TO UNLEARN THEIR TOXIC AND DESTRUCTIVE WAYS, HAVE A ROMANCE WHICH SERVES AS A VALIDATION ARC FOR EDEN AND A SELF-ACCEPTANCE ARC FOR HARLOW AND YADA YADA. They are both profoundly disturbed individuals who have done terrible things but the whole point is to hold a magnifying glass to their actions and point out HOW and WHY they fucked up. To condemn that path, the mindset behind it, and the people who carried on those abusive cycles before them. I want to thoroughly examine and chip away at the layers of external influence that lead these characters to their lowest life points- and reveal the truth beneath them. These were once children, full of love and openness as we all once were- the problem is larger than the individual, it’s a societal issue of passed down bigotry and stubborn refusal to progress. It’s a toxic cycle of violence with very real, very deadly consequences for all involved. The characters both do BAD things, that’s the POINT.

Important backstory tidbit: In Eden’s childhood, he found a baby bird fallen a long ways from its nest. It was hurt, and he brought it inside to a small cage. He figured the cage would serve as protection for the bird as it grew- it was so delicate, it needed the shelter. But that cage was tiny. He fed the bird, tried to take care of it and gave it all its base survival needs. The bird was offered food, water and a cage. But that is all. That’s all Eden was given in his home, he thought that meant it was enough. He watched it grow into a young dove, but as it aged it only got sicker. This bird was deteriorating before his eyes and he couldn't understand why- he feared it would die in that cage. As soon as it became old enough to fly, Eden made the decision to release the bird. It was sicker than ever, Eden knew it didn't have long. He knew releasing it would practically be a death sentence, but it was going to die soon either way. He did not want the bird to die in the cage.

When released, the dove didn't even know how to flap its wings properly. The cage was too small to stretch them out, it had never even had the chance to learn how to fly. It didn't know how to find food. It didn’t know how to identify danger. And on the next morning, Eden found that bird on the ground outside of his house, dead. It was being picked away at by a vulture.

Eden felt relief.

The bird had died. It didn't make it. But it brought him peace to know it didn't die in that cage. That bird had never known the love of its mother, or siblings, it had never known what it was like to be wanted and cherished. That role was left to the vulture, who had never turned away from the unsightly or damaged. It had swooped in with the unconditional love of an angel, and carried the dove off into the sky above- its stomach, a chariot to heaven. It was gruesome watching the vulture feast- but it had such a tender appreciation in its eyes. It kept the circle of life in motion. In a way, Eden found this ending happy.

Eden’s symbolic bird is a dove, Harlow’s symbolic bird is a vulture.

They both die at the end of the story.

They'd become very close over the span of it though- they resolved their issues together, but in doing that they found themselves further ostracized from the world around them. They backed themselves further and further away from the world, until they finally hit a corner. Their past destructive actions were also catching up to them- the murders that is, they ended up on the run from police. It all came back to bite them.

The rot on Eden’s chest had spread throughout his entire body, and it was past the point of no return. No medical intervention would help at this point. One night, after a close encounter with police left them both wounded- Eden and Harlow both realized that these were Eden’s last few hours.

His body was decayed and rotted, he was sick, he was injured, he was visibly suffering. He would die soon, it was inevitable. Harlow decides to put him out of his misery. But he couldn’t stand the thought of discarding the body. He didn’t want him to die unloved.

Reaching into Eden's exposed ribcage, Harlow removed his heart from his chest. He knew this would be a death sentence, but he was going to die either way. He didn't want him to die in the cage.

He ate the heart, rotting and tainted as it was, he saw every part of his lover as a gift. Nothing goes to waste, for every rotting animal there is a grateful vulture. One which will see your defect and cherish you all the same.

Is now a good time to address the name Eden? I feel like most people are familiar with the gay love = forbidden fruit and/or cannibalism = forbidden fruit metaphor… yk, the embrace of supposed sin, being arbitrarily kept from the sweet, nutritious fruit of the garden. Passing through the gates of Eden (ribcage again) and eating the apple (his heart).

:3 anyways

Harlowstayed with the body until he also died (unrelated wounds from the chase). Decades later they would be found as skeletons in an unmistakable embrace, none of the flesh which made people scorn them during their lives. They were seen as lovers then, and were finally understood.

ALSO ALSO SO SYMBOLISM RIGHT. RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM??? REMEMBER HOW EDEN WAS RAISED AS HYPER-RELIGIOUS???

So cannibalism as a metaphor for QUEERNESS now. A craving for the forbidden flesh. To partake in another's body in the most intimate and fulfilling way. But living in a world that sees it as repulsive…

Right? You with me?

Ok and then the inherent divinity of transness. To partake in the act of creation alongside God, to resculpt yourself in divine image. Jesus was not simply born of genetic material (yk how transphobes love to say “blah blah blah you can’t change your chromosomes!!” Like… if we use that logic, Jesus is trans. He’d have XX chromosomes because... miraculous conception.

No sperm, which provides the Y chromosome, which creates a male body. BUT OBVIOUSLY THAT DOESNT FUCKING MATTER BECAUSE HES A MAN REGARDLESS!!!! JESUS WAS A DUDE!!!). He was created by WILL.

The will of god, a version of himself, to BE!!! Fully human, fully god, flesh and blood in an image he himself designed. Holy trinity being the same entity and all, Jesus’s body was his own design in a way.

YOU WITH ME???

OK

OKAY AND SO.

GAY CANNIBALISM… TRANS LOVER.

TO

TO PARTAKE IN THE BLOOD AND BODY OF CHRIST. THEOPHAGY.

THE ULTIMATE HOLY COMMUNION.

TO CONSUME YOUR LOVER AS AN ACT OF WORSHIP, CONVEYING YOUR LOVE FOR EVERY PART OF THE BODY THEY'VE GROWN TO DISPISE. TAKING A PHYSICAL PIECE OF THEIR LIFE INTO YOURS AND UNITING YOUR VERY BEINGS. UNCONDITIONAL AND ETERNAL LOVE, DESPITE ONE’S FLAWS.

TO THINK OF YOURSELF AS CARRION AND BE FOUND BY THE MOST GRATEFUL VULTURE.

A DEAD AND ROTTING GOD STILL BRINGS LIFE TO THE MAGGOTS WHICH FEED ON ITS CORPSE!!!

RAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m unwell I’m unwell I’m unwell I need to actually get to writing this NOW

[webslingingslasher]

I'm craving angst right now. like I want my heart to hurt. probably sounding insane right now lmao. brb I'm gonna read your fics to feel the hurt. hope you're doing well <3

does this work? i almost teared up reading this, my brother is going through a really tough break up so this hits different (taylors version.)

You know what part of a break up they never talk about? 

They prepare you for the heartache, and it goes beyond what anyone could try to prepare you for. It’s a pain you’ve never felt before, it was weird experiencing such intense emotional pain it caused physical pain. Everything hurt, your knees were wobbly but your feet felt like lead. Your head was dizzy and painful, your chest was tight and burning, your stomach was in knots. 

It was the worst six weeks of your life. You’d never wish it on anyone, not even your worst enemy, no human should ever experience something that agonizing, ever. 

But the real kicker, the real true gut wrenching, awful, excruciating thing about a break up? 

Is watching them move on. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the gut punch you felt when you saw Peter holding hands with another girl, the air left your lungs entirely. You clawed at your throat gasping for air, you felt like you were about to pass out. 

Because it hit, reality hit. 

Peter wasn’t yours. 

He wasn’t yours anymore and you can’t pretend he would come back, he may have broken up with you but there was always that silent prayer that he’d come back, begging for a second chance, pleading that he didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t mean it. 

That would never happen, he has someone else now. 

Someone who’s going to touch him like you did, someone who’s going to feel like arms tracing down your body like he did, someones who’s going to laugh at him like you did, someone who’s going to hold his hand and kiss his face and give him hugs and play with his hair and wear his clothes and go on dates and feel his skin. 

Someone’s who's going to love him like you do. 

It wasn’t right, you felt betrayed, how could he do this? 

Doesn’t he know he’s not supposed to move on until both people fall out of love? 

Doesn’t he know you’re never going to fall out of love? 

You feel like you’re about to have a panic attack, how did he do it? How did he just leave it all behind? How can he act like it didn’t affect him too, like the meteor strike didn’t hit? 

You need to go home, you need to go home and crawl into bed and not leave until you can mentally prepare yourself enough to see him, see him with another girl. 

See him happy. 

Didn’t he know you were supposed to be the one that made him happy? 

He was the one that made you happy, you haven’t smiled in months. 

Peter left and took your joy with him, he’s given it to someone else now. 

You feel your legs move but you’re not in control, flight is taking control and you’re backpedaling out of the school doors, you take yourself all the way home and curl under the blankets, nothing feels right or normal or fine. 

And no matter how hard you try, you can’t stop watching them hold hands, can’t stop seeing Peter’s thumb swipe across the back of her hand like he did yours, six weeks ago. Even the tears seeping out couldn’t blur the vision. 

You wanted to text him. 

You’d imagine what you’d say. 

How did you move on so quickly? 

Do you ever miss us? 

Why did it happen like that? 

What happened to us? 

Did the love affair maim you too? 

I haven’t slept since that Tuesday you ended it. 

No, they wouldn’t bring closure, and you needed that, didn’t you? 

You pick up your phone, his contact still has a heart by it.

 The day you erase it is the day you die.

You give in, maybe if he knows how much you’re willing to change it’ll work. 

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t make you happy anymore, but I tried.’ 

‘I know you did.’ 

You didn’t need to say anything else, he already did. 

It wasn’t enough. 

[writingforatwistedworld]

I saw you're opening request! Can i have a self-aware au for the yandere savanaclaw boys, where fem reader says "i wish i can enter in your world, so that i can marry you"

I don’t really do genders in requests so this is neutral.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, kidnapping, unhealthy relationship, imprisonment, violence, murder, abuse, obsession, class systems, inequality, marriage

Leona Kingscholar/Ruggie Bucchi/Jack Howl-“I wish could enter your world to marry you…”

My poor man over here is probably not having the best sight on marriage

I mean, it is totally normal in kingdoms with older customs that royalty gets married early so that the bloodline is guaranteed to continue so I wouldn’t be surprised if his brother married very young

(And look at Checka. Thats not a baby but a child. Who knows how early they had him)

But let us set the scene for “the drama”

He was just standing there, basking in your gaze whilst talking to your vessel, Yuu…

Something about not wanting to get involved in Azul schemes…

Then you suddenly are just staring at him

And here he thought he was the creepy one with seeing you in his dreams all the time, imagining how it would be if you would only belong to him…

Cue to him not answering to what Ace just said

Oh? You want to know why? Well you just said “I wish could enter your world to marry you…”

The redhead is actually getting worried for his seniors health, seeing how the dorm leader is looking like he could pass out any second now…

What a sight to see!

But yeah, he won’t recover from that so easily

Tries to be all suave and pretend like he is sleeping whilst in truth he is screaming in his head

He is not disliking what you said.

Quite the contrary but imagine someone of his caliber of obsession who is not the biggest fan of marriage suddenly gets that dropped onto them

But you seem to want this. Seems like he needs to talk to the dorm leader of Diasonia (*gasp* what does he want to do??!) and get you into their world. He will make sure that you have a comfortable life in luxury… just him… and you… and him… and the corpse of that fool who dared to look at you for too long….

I think his sight on marriage would neither be negative nor positive?

He already takes care of the people in the slums so I doubt that a family (even if it’s just you two) would be something he would be against

Only downside would be that marriage can be quite expensive but let us talk about that when the time is right

So our the hyena was just trying to get away from Rook who eyed his tail like he was ready to take the pelt off of his tail, for “le foulard” or whatever…

And then suddenly he hears a few certain words… “I wish could enter your world to marry you…”

You see, there is class difference between Leona and him. Leona is admiring you, you who gave the King of Beasts a chance and in return for him to grant a chance to the lowest of the low, the hyenas

So his admoration for you is on a whole other level

If you were to ask he would make “le foulard” himself

Mhm totally not gut wrenching…

But what can he bring to the table? Yes, he may be good at doing work of all kinds but in the eyes of most he is nothing more than a lowly, dirty, useless hyena from the slums

From that point on he is trying even harder to earn money, take care of everyone and now even to climb the ladder up as well

Whenever he returns home he is also having that distant look in his eyes, imagining how it would be to have you here

But then again, he is a lowly hyena… nope, he might appear like it’s not bothering him but in truth it does hurt him somewhere in there

But when he talks to the kids in the slums and tells them stories about you they have changed

Before… that he was always saying how just you were and how great it was that you didn’t see people as who they were born but rather as who they are on the inside

Now he is getting that gentle tone in his voice, telling them of kindness as well

Oh what he would do have you with him… Maybe in another life outside of the slums…

Since Jack is from the Shaftlands his view on you is a completely different one

The people from there don’t see you as someone so lax like someone who is fighting for equality

In their eyes you are perfection... which means that you are also that on his

The good thing is that he is not a perfection or beauty fanatic like Vil and Rook

So... the whole not-so-healthy thing is more passive than agressive

Also, I can see him wanting a partner in his life

Don't know why, I just know

So here he was, doing sports... and then faceplanted into the ground, taking a shrieking Vil with him

Had he heard you just right??! You wanted to marry him??!

Ring the bells! Get the cake and be ready to never see the light of the sun again, yes, we are going that route

If only there was a way to get you to him

Maybe, and I use the word “maybe” very lightly here, he overheard a certain group of people in green talking about a way to get you into their world

Mhm, the house you will spend the rest of your life in is already prepared and the only thing missing is you

He is ready for that peaceful life in the middle of the woods with some children and if you have to adopt them then that doesn't make any difference

He just wants the picture-perfect life, ok? White fence, a kid (or two), a golden retriever and the happy parents

Now don't jump out of line though! Otherwise he has to “fix” you again and you know how much he hates to hurt you

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Track Marks And Dial Tones I

Summary: A late night call from your informant sets off an unexpected avalanche of gut-wrenching events…

Pairing: Clay Roach x fem!cop!Reader

Word Content: ~ 2.5k

Content Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat!, 18+!, Lots Of Hurt And Hardly Any Comfort, Slow Burn, Addiction (Duh), Substance Abuse (Obviously), Used Needles, A Belt Used As Tourniquet, Clay's Disgusting Living Situation, Clay Being Absolutely Fucking Miserable, Crying…So Much Crying, Talk About A Wilfully Induced OD, ANGSTY AF

A/N: The dove isn't just dead anymore, it actually started decomposing a while ago…

I'll add the appropriate content warnings with the progress of this story!

For anybody interested: I've made a Spotify playlist to go along with the fic!

Find Part II here!

Tagging the horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @r0ttenmess @doddernix @svgarcaine

Somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite

I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?

It's harder and harder to get you to listen

More I get through the gears

Incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas

- Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? By Arctic Monkeys

"Shitbum." Pale, white letters on the screen of your vibrating phone proclaimed for the 3rd time tonight.

With each new buzz of vibrations passing by, your eyes narrowed down on the display. There wouldn't be anything good in store for you if you picked up, that much you knew for sure, but him calling three times in the span of an hour and not in one manic rush of back to back calls that ended in nothing but halfway nodded out gibberish on your voicemail was something new. Not one singular voicemail had been left so far and after your mobile phone fell back into motionless silence you waited for a notification to pop up, for the screen to inform you that "You have one unattended voicemail by Caller ID: Shitbum." But nothing like that happened. Just another unanswered call in the purgatory of your push-up notifications.

With curiously arched brows, you forced yourself to take your gaze from the phone and redirect it to your bedtime read. It wasn’t an entirely fruitless attempt, you even managed to read half a page before the screen of your phone flickered up again. You saw the display glowing in the corner of your eye and all of your attention shot right back to the device.

"Jesus, fuck…" You muttered under your breath as you rolled your tired eyes at yourself while practically snatching the phone from the nightstand.

"I need you, please." The message read as soon as you unlocked the display.

For a moment you just stared at the words, frowning and your lips subconscious pursing slightly.

"Help." The cold casing vibrated again in your touch and you felt your stomach dropping.

Clay had never asked for help before, never, not once. He might have been a dope-sick informant but he always carried his head high in his very own way of snarky arrogance and stubbornness.

"Shit, Clay. What did you do?" It shot right out of your mouth as you slid out from underneath your warm duvet and reached for your thick police jacket.

Right now you couldn't be bothered to change out of your checkered PJs, everything happened automatically; your phone got shoved into the jacket while your other hand searched through a drawer as your feet pushed themselves into a pair of sturdy winter boots.

Your fingers held onto as many clean rigs as they could while your pockets got stuffed with FTS kits, the usual you brought with you when you stopped by to check in on Clay. It happened maybe once or twice a month and absolutely nobody at the Boston PD would be pleased with knowing about it but you didn't really care. You saw something in him, something more than just a fucked up addict.

The pockets of your jacked nearly teared open with how full you had stuffed them as you leaned down to tie your shoes before rushing downstairs to grab the keys to your car from the kitchen table. Your mind was almost blank, no thoughts just operating as you threw the door behind you shut and nearly ran towards your car.

At this time of night the streets were practically empty and you very clearly speeded down the set of blocks separating you from Clay's flat...if you could even call it that. His housing situation was that of a stuffy, damp bunker that's been trashed and vandalized for god knows how long. Clean or organized were attributes that didn't exist in his realm of clutter, debris and moldy dishes.

Cold wind hit you right in the face as you left the comforting warmth of your car and hastily stepped down a flight of stairs to the subterranean flat.

"Clay? It's me. Can I come in?" You spoke through the old, creaky door and knocked loudly to make your presence known.

No response. You knocked again.

"Clay?" You heard the tremble in your own voice and you were met with nothing but silence again.

"Fuck that shit." You huffed, took a step back and kicked your heavy boot against the door with such vigor that it easily cracked out of its lock.

The fact that your intrusion wasn't accompanied by just any reaction whatsoever had your stomach dropping and twitching in every possible direction. Jumping right into that nervous cramping right beneath your lungs, a pungent yet sweet stench of decay swept out of the open door right into your nostrils.

"Oh god..", You gagged and dry heaved, stumbling back and coughing a lump of saliva onto the wet pavement, "Oh fuck…ew."

You tried to cover your mouth and nose with the sleeve of your jacket but it was little to no avail, the foul odor nearly burned in your nose as you took careful steps through the trash filled hallway.

"Clay?" You called out again, receiving no answer once more.

As soon as you turned a corner into the hellhole that could be described as his "living room", you learned why.

"Oh no! You better fucking not you fucking idiot!" It rambled out of your trembling lips as you saw his statue propped against the wall, head dangling to the side, unresponsive.

With your heart hammering against your ribcage, you practically jumped over all the rubbish piles and crouched down in front of him.

"Clay! Hey!" Your hand touched his sweaty, cold to the touch cheek before all your self-control left you and you smacked him right in the face. No reaction.

"You better fucking talk to me, Clay!" Your fingers searched for his pulse point under strands of knotted, unkempt hair as your professionalism crumbled into nothingness and a flash of tears dreaded to erupt from your lower lash line. You forced them back with every ounce of countenance you could gather whilst a sharp breath escaped your mouth as you felt his pulse. Low and slow, but still very much there.

"The fuck you think nodding out on me like that, shitbum?" You scoffed, plopping down on your ass with a heavy sigh, a bunch of music and TV magazines crumpling under you.

"Let's get this mess here sorted out.." With a wrinkled nose and furrowed brows, your gaze wandered to his left arm, the sleeve being rolled up until above the crook of his elbow.

"Okay, here we go…" You murmured, hoping, imagining that he could hear you as you raised your fingers to slowly loosen up and carefully pull the black leather belt, he had used as a tourniquet, off his arm.

"Almost done…" You placed the belt next to you before you turned back to him and drew the plastic body of an empty syringe out of his arm.

For a brief moment you just looked at it, in anger and in fear to equal parts, fighting the inner urge to just smash the needle into the ground until it would break. Instead, you placed it with the belt and sat back down, taking a look around. The flat was…bad, even for Clay's standards downright messy. It gave the heavy impression that he'd lost the plot since the last time you had seen him about 2 weeks ago. Your mind hardly knew how to respond to your eyes recognising his floor being littered with used fentanyl test strips but it brought an awkwardly lopsided, faint smile to your lips. At least something. He was using them for a minimum of harm reduction.

As you let your eyes roam through the room, you eventually discovered the source of the deathlike stench filling the flat. Even from afar you saw a thick layer of not only green but black mold practically growing out and eating through the thick paper package of some Chinese takeaway you'd brought him 2 weeks ago.

"I paid for those noodles, asshole." You huffed under your breath, a desperate attempt to ease yourself from some of the relentless anxiety raging in your chest.

The box of rotten noodles wasn't the only thing that doused this room in its odor. Countless small cardboard boxes of strawberry milk with their counterpart straws were piled up high in a corner close to the open arch leading into the dirty misery that had been something resembling a kitchen once.

From early on, you had learned that cheap stir-fried noodles and strawberry milk of all things acted as the two main pillars of Clay's cranky diet and you never really tried to change anything about it. Who were you to tell him what to do only because he worked as your informant? Overall, you just felt content knowing that his still severely malnourished body got any sort of culinary input at all.

"What am I gonna do with you now, huh? Jesus, Clay. Freaked the shit out of me." You turned your body back towards his statue, your fingers carefully rolling his sweater back down to his wrist, your fingertips lingering on his sweaty hand for a moment before pulling back.

For a good few minutes, you just looked at him and pondered over what to do now. He'd freak the hell out if you'd drive him to the ER and the ER would most likely just not give much of a fuck since he wasn't straight up ODing. You also didn’t want to leave him here like that. There must’ve been a reason for him to call and text you the way he had and you'd do jackshit before you knew what all this was about.

"Mhmmm…." Your ears perked up the very second you heard the dragged out, low groan trickling out of Clay's mouth.

"Hey there…" You practically whispered to him, careful not to spook him.

"The fuck…are you doing here?" His speech was a little slurred but he seemed to come back slowly.

"You called and texted me, Clay." You answered to him calmly whilst pulling your phone from your pocket.

Before you turned the unlocked display towards his face, you tuned down the brightness.

"Remember?" He swiped his hair out of his face and squinted at the screen, pupils blown out wide.

Clay didn't answer right away, his fogged up mind trying to piece together what had happened during the last 2 hours. The expression on his face told you that he clearly didn't like what his jumbled thoughts came up with.

"Oh….oh, no…." He stammered, sluggishly trying to sit himself up straight again, the features of his face contorting into a pained frown.

While still holding up your phone, you looked at him attentively, following how he clenched his jaws as his eyes got covered by a watery sheene, indicating the growing distress he found himself in.

"It's okay, I promise. I'm here now and I'll help you." You sought to calm him down as you put the phone back into your jacket and tried to smile at him.

It wasn’t a happy smile by far but one of affirmation and understanding.

"No…no, no…" Clay suddenly started to scurry away from you, unaware that his back was already pressed against the lifeless concrete wall.

"No, what? Please talk to me." You felt your brows arching up in worry.

"This is pathetic.", It ruptured out of his mouth in a choked back sob, "You shouldn't…I wasn't…fuck."

"Hey, now.", You carefully scooted a little closer to the dirty mess of a mattress he was sitting on, "Clay, take a breath and please talk to me about what's going on."

"Fuck off!" He spat back, turning his head away from you but you still could see a few vagrant tears running down his cheeks.

"No." You stated bluntly, stopping in your movements to give him room.

"I-...I can't do this shit anymore..", Clay's voice rendered sore and out of breath with every word, "Fuck…I-...I wasn't supposed to wake up."

At his sudden confession all the pieces in your mind fell into place and you were painfully sure to feel something breaking inside of you. A jolt of emotional hurt and plain dread ruptured through your chest, threatening to knock the air out of your lungs as the man in front of you lost his posture entirely and slumped into you, wailing and crying violently.

You caught him in a loose embrace, you recognised your body doing it but your mind could hardly catch up with what was happening.

"Oh God…I should've texted you back. Should've picked up the damn phone. Fucking hell, shit, Clay, I'm so sorry." Your own voice started cracking and flailing dangerously as the weight of what had presumably happened doubled down on you.

"No…no. I'm not your…not your problem." He sniffled into your shoulder, his weak body shaking with every heavy sob erupting from the depths of his lungs.

His croaked out words served yet another fatal hit against your already rapidly crumbling composure. You felt like simply breaking down right here, too, the need for crying and screaming all the pain and guilt out of you growing stronger with every desperate whimper of his that cut right to your bones. However, you forced yourself to keep your shit together, simply had to for Clay right now.

"Issok…", You hummed into the crown of his head, carefully tightening your embrace around his slender shoulders, "You're not a problem or a burden to me. Don't you ever think that, Clay."

Your tender words were only met by a new, reckless wave of breathless cries.

"Help me, please, help me." He whined out, the realization about the reality of his own situation heavy in his voice.

"I will, I promise. You heard that?! I promise!"

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now being treated with greater severity, with many being subject to the same penalties as crimes against humans. While anti-android attitudes are on the decline, transforming the mindset of an entire city is no simple task.

A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' prompt a shift in perspective?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Smut

Word Count: 3.3K

Gavin wondered if maybe he was seeing things. That the haunting familiarity of the face, along with the dark hair and powerful physique, was simply coincidental. The shared manifestation of his weary mind and blighted focus. 

A bloodied pipe was clutched in the hand of the man above him as the other continued to grip his jaw. The object drew closer, and he flinched back instinctively, only to feel its blunt edge run across his cheek. Trailed with deliberate slowness. He strained to pull away, but a firm hold anchored him in place.

Then he met the eyes of his assailant, alight with cruel intent.

"Alex."

A smirk played on the man's lips as his eyes rolled disdainfully. “Don’t look so surprised. Did you honestly think someone like me would be interested in someone like you?”

In retrospect, he should have known the moment he had heard the Reaper’s voice. It had all the same distinct inflexions, with little effort made to disguise them. An accent he had never been able to shift—

His mind was charged with more questions than he could process, exacerbating the raw ache in the back of his head. Through hesitant lips, a prevailing thought managed to escape. 

"What the fuck." 

Alex paused, his brow arching at the expletive. With a sigh, he abandoned the pipe, the hollow metal clanking against the concrete. 

"I don't know why I expected anything more articulate from you." He looked down his nose with palpable disgust. "Charging headfirst into an unfamiliar setting, seeking out a known threat. You've made this too easy."

Gavin's eyes swept the floor, noting the fine streak of blood that had been left from his initial violent impact. He could feel the liquid beneath his head beginning to spread, fanning towards it. "What happened to your M.O. of just hurting androids? Did blue get old, you sick bastard?"

Alex brought down his knee in a sharp, jerking movement. It was propelled into the other man's body, lodging uncomfortably into his gut. "I have never hurt a human who didn't deserve it. You only have yourself to blame for this."

Wheezing as the air was knocked from his lungs, Gavin grappled with a sudden wave of nausea. Reaching out to hold his stomach, the movement was promptly halted. Alex grabbed his wrist, wrenching it to the side at an unnatural angle.

"After you told that idiot Scott your name, he wouldn't shut up about you. Brought it up at meetings for weeks. You and your little plastic pet."

"So you fuckers really do meet up for coffee", Gavin teased, echoing the theory Fowler had presented several weeks prior. "Guess even parasites need something to keep ‘em going." 

"Don't act so high and mighty. From what I'd understood, I was hoping we might see eye to eye."

"Why the fuck would you think that?"

"‘It gets a little zesty when it needs an oil change.’" A sadistic grin spread across the killer's face, stretching ear to ear. He grasped Gavin's second wrist and pinned them both above his head. "Does that sound familiar, Detective? It should. Or do you express such sentiments with enough frequency that you'd simply forgotten?"

Gavin could feel his bravado beginning to dissipate. “...Things change”, he seethed, withering at the unpleasant memory as nausea continued to churn his stomach.

"I highly doubt that," Alex dismissed, his mocking smile curling down into a disapproving grimace. "You fell into the same trap as so many other degenerates in this godless city. Why invest the time and effort into winning the affections of a human when you can simply bed a machine?" 

"Nines said Scott and Finch didn't know who you were. That none of them knew who you were. How did they trick him?"

"They didn't." The disgust on the other man's face only grew more pronounced. "They weren't the only mentally challenged members of their organisation. I wasn't about to reveal myself with such transparency, and no one ever asked questions. If there is one thing the group values, it is anonymity."

"Well, isn't that lovely?" Gavin replied dryly. "Got to look out for your own, right?" 

"They served their purposes." His knee, which was still positioned against the detective’s stomach, pushed itself in a second time with targeted strength. "It really is horrifying just how much you can find out about a person with a little digging. Joined the force at 23, and a Detective by 26. Very impressive, I'm sure your father must be proud."

The words hurt more than any of the physical anguish that Alex was subjecting him to—and the knowing twinkle in the other man's eyes told Gavin he was aware of this. Unable to contain his fury, he lunged towards him, snarling like an untamed animal. 

"You piece of shit, I'll fucking kill you."

His defiance was rewarded with a harsh strike across the face. Alex seemed to revel in how he reeled from the impact, his head lulling back before flopping to its original position. 

"I am speaking. Be quiet and listen". The words carried with them a disquieting nonchalance. "Of course, you hardly have a squeaky clean reputation. Quite a contentious figure, even within your local community—and that was before I bypassed the laughable encryption on your DPD database."

"Oh wow, so clever." Gavin’s voice dripped with sarcasm, intermingling with the blood that poured from his lips. "I'm really impressed."

"Lengthy disciplinary record, including repeated ‘property damage’," Alex continued, the twisted smile returning. "Very much opposed to the ‘robot helpers' your department employed when doing the job yourselves proved too tasking."

"I'm sure this all gets you super rock hard, but what does it have to do with anything?"

"I don't like having to repeat myself. Be quiet, you won't get another warning."

Gavin’s jaw hardened defiantly as he levelled his attacker with a narrowed glare. He was growing tired of just how much the killer seemed to be enjoying himself, dragging out every twisted revelation.

"I was unable to access the files on my own work, which was frustrating—but I had learnt enough about you to know that I could secure them through other means." 

The grip on his wrists seemed to tighten, the flesh being squeezed with bruising ferocity.  

"Interesting result on the most recent police census, wasn't it? Turns out that your love for machines isn't the only deviancy you're partial to." 

Through a wince, the detective laughed before rolling his eyes in flagrant dismissal. "It's 2039, and we're still hating on the gays? Go fuck yourself." 

Alex let go of his wrists, seeming to take some time to deliberate on his next move. His fingers curled into tightened fists, and before Gavin could react, one of them descended—striking his nose with a sickening crunch.

"It was no surprise to see you were single. I assumed you'd be the sort of person who would use something like USwipe. From there, it was just a matter of finding and seducing you."

"Didn't work though, did it?" Gavin hissed back, wheezing through the pain as flecks of red propelled from his lips. "I threw your ass out."

"Forgive me if I don't think much of your taste." He gripped the other man's jaw, his eyes narrowing with predatory focus. "It's a pity. You could've been useful… in exchange for your compliance, I could've given you what you wanted."

A thumb trailed languidly across his lips, and Gavin felt his stomach twist. It made him sick, just how willing Alex was to abandon his own demented convictions for the sake of furthering his goals.

"Pleasure, fulfilment—"

His snarling mouth lunged for the thumb, threatening to capture it between his teeth. "Don't touch me."

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands." 

The hold on his jaw trailed up, capturing his face in a stifling vice. Excruciating pressure was applied to either side of his nose. Gavin attempted to pull the hand away, but his limbs felt heavy and weak.

"Tell me where the machine is, or better yet, lead it to me, and I might be willing to give you another chance."

"I'd rather die."

The pressure increased, and the detective howled, writhing in agony. Warm trails of blood poured from his nose, passing through gaping lips. 

"I tried to warn you, Gavin, that nothing good would come from your sordid affair. You didn't listen, and now it's too late."

"You—don't scare—me." The words were spat in bitter fragments, mingling with the warm swell of copper filling the back of his throat.

"I should." Alex shifted his weight to intensify the pressure on his already aching ribs. Their bodies were close—too close—as powerful hands found his neck and began to squeeze. "I gave you a choice. Perhaps I wouldn't have had to kill that RK900 and his blood traitor whore if you'd simply made the right one." 

"There was—never any—choice", Gavin challenged, wheezing as the pressure increased. You would have carried on killing—regardless of what I did—Miles and the rest."

"Oh no, Detective, that was personal." Alex shot back, chuckling darkly. "I needed to send you and your partner a message so you'd understand the fates that awaited you. Their blood is on your hands."

"Don't try to—guilt me—” The wheezing escalated to chokes as his throat began to close. "This was all part of your game—they were just toys. Ones you decided to—tease us with—after you'd broken them."

Then Alex slackened his grip just enough to allow Gavin to breathe. Cracks were beginning to form in his unnervingly calm demeanour, betraying hints of frustration.

"So narrow-minded. To equate my puzzle to a child playing with toys”. He spat the words as though they lingered with an unpleasant taste on his tongue. "Don't try to convince me that you would have been able to solve it alone. Some vulgar, braindead alcoholic, all washed up before the age of 40."

"There was never any grand puzzle; you just wanted to pretend like there was. Scattered jumbles and fucking brainteasers sprinkled around to make you feel clever."

Gavin’s head was pulled forward, wrenched up by his throat before being harshly thrust back, slamming against the concrete.

"Perhaps you're right. There was never a test for you because there was never any hope that you could understand my message."

His vision filled with stars as he reeled from the impact. Despite this, he stayed resolute, chin jutted in defiance. He refused to lie back, quietly allowing the Reaper his moment of triumph. 

Scoffing through his split lips, he flashed a mocking sneer. "You can't accept that your big fucking 'message' has all the depth of a kid playing make-believe. You have no morals, no grand code of ethics. You're just a fucking lunatic."

It was evident that Alex was tired of playing games. His hand dove into his pocket, and a glint of light caught against something metal. The barrel of a gun emerged before being pressed to Gavin's temple. 

"You may not have been my intended prize, but your android-loving blood will make a fine anointment." 

As the cold steel brushed his skin, he shuddered in morbid anticipation. His tortured subconscious appeared to seek comfort as his mind became awash with memories. The sound of laughter, the smell of popcorn, and the shared warmth found underneath a throw blanket. As he cowered away from a flickering television, his father laughed, holding him close and shielding his eyes. 

At least I get to see him again.  

A finger traced along the trigger of the gun, ready to pull, as Gavin glared back at him. Unyielding and unafraid. He could only hope that Hank and Connor would find them soon—to complete his objective where he had failed. 

Give this fucker hell, guys. 

Then, there was a rogue shuffle coming from the other end of the warehouse—followed by a voice. While muffled by the thick walls and reinforced steel of the door, it was still audible. Calling out to him—low and growled with frustration: 

 

"Reed…? Oh fucking Christ, where has he gone?"

"He must be close. I am beginning to pick up on some vital signs."

 

Alex’s finger, which had been poised in place, promptly stalled. A flicker of confusion passed his face before it gave way to stony realisation. "So you didn't come alone."

A weighty pause hung in the air as the figures beyond the door fell silent. Then, one of them spoke again, with audible trepidation:

 

"...Hank, there's two sets of vitals. He isn't alone."

"Ho’ shit, that ain't good."

 

The killer appeared to have lost interest in his awaiting prey as Gavin felt the pressure on his forehead begin to slacken. A malicious glint shone in his eyes as he looked across the room, suggesting that his target had shifted. "I know that voice...an RK800. Not the one I wanted, but a prize I will happily claim."

A spark of hope rekindled as Gavin, seeing his opportunity, was quick to grasp it. With shaky hands, he reached up and pressed a palm to the side of the barrel, angling it away from his head. In the same movement, he enclosed himself around Alex, yanking harshly to one side. The unexpected force caught the other man off balance, and he was sent hurtling onto the concrete with a harsh thud. 

The momentum left the detective reeling as his fraught mind sought to catch up—but he pressed forward, knowing he needed to act fast. Spotting his weapon by a nearby shelving unit, he struggled to his feet, legs quivering. He hobbled towards the gun and, with a triumphant hiss, reached down to claim it.

Having recovered from the shock of the strike, Alex had composed himself and was raising his weapon once again. Gavin was able to act first—and with a desperate, thunderous cry, he fired off a shot. It was done so blindly, eyes unfocused, as his weakened body reeled from the force—but it still succeeded in hitting its mark. 

The bullet lodged into the other man's leg, and he hissed in agony, doubling over as he used his free hand to cup the wound. "You bastard." His darkened gaze stared at him, brimming with hatred. With focused intent, he pulled the trigger. 

There was pain. Like white hot shrapnel, piercing the numbing rush of adrenaline. Gavin’s trembling hand reached over and lightly touched the front of his chest. Pulling away, he was greeted by a thick sheen of red that had coated his palm and fingers. 

Oh, shit.

Despite his best efforts, buckling knees began to give way, and he collapsed to the ground in a slumped heap.

A loud crash emanated from the other end of the room as the steely door of the warehouse was promptly slammed open. Hurried footsteps came charging through, and Gavin saw Connor appear from around the corner—gun in hand, raised offensively. "Detroit Police, stand down!" 

Alex made a strange huffing noise—caught somewhere between frustration and satisfaction. Despite his injury, he was quick, lunging towards the android—his own weapon primed, aimed at the crucial components in his chest. The attempt was quickly evaded as Connor darted to one side, and the bullet fired through a box on one of the shelves. 

Gavin watched on from his curled position on the floor, at a loss to do anything but grapple for oxygen through increasingly laboured breaths. Connor, catching sight of him, stilled temporarily, his brown eyes blown in horror. Quivering lips opened to speak, but the detective stopped him, reaching out to point in a weakened gesture. "Behind you."

The man sprang forward, closing the distance between them, and shoved the barrel of the weapon firmly into Connor’s back. The android anticipated this, reaching back and grabbing his wrist—angling the shot towards the ceiling and causing it to fire harmlessly into the air. 

As the officer tightened his grip, Alex cried out. He grappled to maintain his hold through increasingly crushing pressure until another hand reached around and yanked the gun from his grasp—tossing it to one side.

In an attempt to knock Connor off balance, the killer threw himself back, pulling the android with him. Once both figures had fallen to the floor, he sought to establish a distance between them. Frenzied eyes canvassed the room in search of a weapon before settling on the weighty pipe that he had previously discarded. 

Having armed himself once again, he reached up, aiming to strike through his target's head. Then Hank, who had been standing in wait, emerged from behind one of the shelving units and pointed his weapon towards his hand. "I don't think so, scumbag."

With another shot, the flesh of his wrist was pierced, and the pipe slipped from his weakened grasp. In a final act of desperation—and seemingly spurred by nothing but hatred—Alex promptly abandoned strategy. He charged at Connor full force as grappling hands sought out the junction between his head and throat. 

Synthetic skin peeled back to a wave of exposed white before the android moved again. He switched their positions in a deft twist of bodies, settling behind Alex—arm enclosed around his neck. 

As the human struggled, he held him tight before aiming a sharp chop at the point between his shoulder and neck. His writhing body stilled before slumping down weakly. 

The android let go and allowed the unconscious man to slip silently onto the floor. Hank reached down to restrain him, retrieving a set of handcuffs from his jacket pocket. 

"Guess the machines win this time, eh, buddy?" 

Connor seemed to take a moment to revel in their victory, smiling pridefully. However, the triumphant expression quickly dropped upon hearing a strained gurgle that leaked from Gavin's lips.

The room around him started to spin, exacerbated by a sudden blur of movement, as the android rushed for him. Delicate pressure was applied to his head before it was gently hoisted up. 

"Detective Reed…?" When the response was not immediate, Connor spoke louder, shaking his body. "Gavin, can you hear me?"

"You’re two inches from my ear, dipshit. So yeah, I can hear you." 

The strain of the words spurred on a wave of violent, rattling coughs as Gavin struggled to breathe. With the exertion came several speckles of red, which dotted the front of Connor's suit. 

"I'm going to scan you to assess your injuries; try not to move." Upon completion, the android's lips pulled inwards in a disconcerting look of unease before he turned to his partner. "We need to get him to a hospital immediately."

The older man cursed under his breath, clearly put out by the urgency with which the android said this. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, before frantically swiping across the screen. "Okay, okay, I got it."

"Immediately, huh? That’s not soundin’ like a great prognosis…" Gavin laughed weakly, punctuated by laboured gasps. His vision was growing increasingly blurred as he bared his teeth in a bloodied smile. "Hey, Connor. Can you do something for me?"

Through the haze, he saw the android lean in closer, brow furrowed in concentration. "What?" 

"Look after Nines”, he rasped as a powerful surge of pain shot its way through his ribs. "I know you will just…make sure he’s safe."

His head flopped against Connor’s grasp. He felt tired, desperate to sleep, as his eyelids started to droop. 

"...Gavin?" He felt someone tapping against his cheek. Lightly at first before building in intensity. "We're going to get you help, but you need to hang on."

As he faded further into his subconscious, the sounds around him grew muffled and distant, mingling into waves of static. Through the buzz, one noise broke through—a loud thump which resonated throughout the room. 

When a distant chatter of voices broke out, he wondered if he might be hallucinating. His head was slowly dropped and pressed against the concrete. It felt cold and bracing against his skin, but this no longer bothered him.  

"Sooner—I tried to get—" 

Shit. Hank only just made the call, right? That’s got to be the quickest dispatch in history. 

But something didn’t seem right. There was not enough movement, no rush of people spurred to action. Instead, he was being lifted again, cradled in somebody's arms.  

Through cracked eyes, everything appeared pale and distant—but he made out flashes of red as the figure held him close. The intimacy of the exchange had been unexpected. Of all the people to embrace him as he began to fade, Connor seemed unlikely. 

Then he saw another figure walk into sight. Through an indistinct blur of features, he made out a prominent stroke of grey—distinctive of the clothes that Connor had been wearing.

Well fuck, guess I’m seeing double. 

"I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’m here." The tones were rich and smooth. Whispered softly into his ear, seeking to comfort him. Despite this, there was palpable rawness. A despaired vulnerability that could not be disguised.

Wait. 

He focused on the figure's eyes and noted that the rich brown was absent, replaced instead by steely grey. "Nines?" 

The android spoke again, and it took a moment for Gavin to realise he was addressing him. With what remained of his dwindling strength, he focused solely on Nines. Drowning out everything else. He could feel a hand run down his cheek, nursing it with featherlight strokes. 

"Don't try to speak. Save your strength."

His fingers twitched as he attempted to lift his arm, to clasp their hands together, but the limb lay still and unresponsive—despite how fervently he compelled it. Heavy lids stooped further, shadowing what remained of the dimming light around him. 

Nines' typically level tones trembled with desperation. His instructions came with greater urgency until they had escalated to anguished pleas. "Keep looking at me. Don't close your eyes. Please, you have to stay awake."

Gavin struggled to maintain focus—to keep his eyes open—but his lingering tethers to the world around him were beginning to slip. His breathing grew increasingly shallow, the exertion becoming too much for his beaten body to handle. 

Nines lost what remained of his composure as his voice broke away to a harsh, choked sob. "I'm sorry, Gavin. I'm so sorry." He held him close, pressing their foreheads together, as tears began to run down his face. "I love you. Please don't go."

Then everything went black.

[lloydfrontera]

Im so curious

What about BK Moon gives you so much beef with him like the misogyny I understand but you talk about him like there's more

it's all the untapped potential. that's all it is. bk moon can be such a good writer at times and there's some genuinely interesting and fascinating ideas in his work, but man do they get buried under some of the most bizarre and tedious plots he can come up with.

he comes up with some amazing dynamics, concepts and characters and then does shit with them. he writes incredibly passionate and heart-wrenching relationships between his male protagonists and then shoves them into the most boring and/or underdeveloped straight romances possible. he describes utterly horrifying scenarios (affectionate) with such vivid detail you can almost see them play out perfectly in your head and then goes on and on about very boring topics with too much detail that you can skip without losing anything for it.

his novels could be so good... if only they were good. there's something there but you have to grab a shovel and dig them up by yourself because he's not gonna help you do it.

he's a good writer! but he could so much better. and that's what makes it so infuriating! because i see the potential, i see the seeds being planted, i see what could've been... and i can't do anything about it but make silly little posts about it! i wanna be his editor and beta-reader soooo bad.

but to be clear i don't have,, real beef with the man. like. i don't know him. i just read what he writes and sometimes stalk his fb but that's it. my feelings about him are completely based on what his writing and his novels tell me and nothing more. and i do like his writing! i genuinely do enjoy his style and the way he writes! some times more than others but nonetheless!

and also sometimes i just like being dramatic. sometimes i'm mildly annoyed by one of his writing decision and i say i'll stab a man. doesn't mean i actually hate his guts or anything aksjhdka

i will even admit that maybe if his novels were better i wouldn't be so into them as i am. take orv for example. i love it, i definitely binge-read it, cried my heart out and it remains one of my favorite webnovels of all time. but i didn't dedicate two years of my life to talk about it, y'know? it's so good i don't really have anything to add to the conversation. unlike with tged and cpsm where i have entirely too much to say about them.

i guess i just... mourn the wasted potential of his writing. and like with a lot of other authors i can't help but be bitter about the hetero/amatonormativity that seeps into it. if he were just a little bit more open to write his protagonists as anything else than straight or at least stopped adding romance for romance sake, his novels would stand out from many others even with his rather run-of-the-mill plots.

also i'm salty that he keeps catering to whiny dudebros with such fragile egos they can't handle an emotional scene without calling it cringe. when he could be catering to me instead <3 i, unlike them, do appreciate how he writes incredibly deep and passionate friendships between men willing to risk the whole world for one another <33

tldr: he gives me brain worms. and i'm mad about it. he needs a better editor and it should be me.