#i wish I had someone to cling onto as I finally let it all go n cry for real

[fangswbenefits]

Double-edged Sword

Summary: Miguel knows he has to let you go before you can be his. But it’s not that simple. Especially when you keep on testing his limits…

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 2.2k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessed and jealous Miguel. Soft/inexperienced reader. F*ngering.

Part 1 (if you're just starting out) - Previous part

By the time Miguel rose from his slumber, he was met with a pair of curious eyes glaring at him.

"You snore."

A sleepy yawn worked its way out of his throat as he lifted his wrist to assess the time. It was still fairly early in the morning, and he allowed himself to relax against your soft pillows.

You were on your side, both hands tucked under your head, and your trademark sweet smile curling your lips.

"Did you sleep well?"

Miguel nodded, mustering the will to sit up against the bed rest. He soon realised he had fallen asleep on top of the comforter with just a blanket covering him, whereas you were nicely tucked inside your bedsheets.

A distinct barrier between you two.

He looked down at you through sleepy eyes, wishing he could plant a soft kiss to your temple.

You looked so peaceful and it brought a sense of calmness to him as well.

"I was thinking of meeting Tom today.." you began, as you flopped onto your back. "Think you can get someone to cover for me? Just for a while?"

And just like that, Miguel's stomach turned uncomfortably. "Today? Already?"

Your head turned to him. "Why? Do you think I should wait? Do we have something important today?"

"Maybe you should wait a little longer," he said with a sigh. "Take some time to figure out the best approach."

"I've been waiting for months... I just... I really need this," you whispered, now facing away from him.

In reality, Miguel knew there wasn't much he could say to deter you from this. He couldn't really blame you from wanting to set things right with someone who meant so much to you.

He would have given everything to be able to get that opportunity with Gabriella.

However, the less rational side of him was seething with jealousy. After all, you had revealed you had feelings for him.

But what truly fueled his escalating jealousy was what had happened last night. The kiss, him touching himself in front of you, and you touching yourself in front of him. Intimacy had engulfed you both so unexpectedly, that he wondered if it had been a mistake.

He dreaded that thought, so he promptly pushed it away.

"Sure. Take your time."

You then shifted to sit next to him, your shirt briefly clinging to your breasts, letting him know you were braless.

Of course.

He groaned inwardly at the sight of the small protuberances on each nipple.

And you caught him staring, arching a brow in amusement. "Want to see them again?"

He cleared his throat and shook his head. The last thing he needed now was a raging boner.

But it seemed that you were hellbent on torturing him, so when you got on your knees, briefly crawling to him, and finally settling on his lap, he knew he was fucked.

You were wearing nothing but a shirt and sleeping shorts, and when you looped your arms around his neck, he instinctively closed his eyes, bracing himself for yet another erection.

He had expected you to lean in for a kiss, but you remained still, eyeing him with utmost interest.

"This place can be so isolating," you sighed.

Miguel gripped your hips, adjusting you back to prevent having you seating on his crotch.

"Nueva York is overflowing with spiders, yet you still feel so lonely, you know?"

He did know.

It was lonely at the top.

While many spiders had relationships of their own and managed to build their lives around them, Miguel had nearly forgotten how used to being alone he had gotten.

"So you feel lonely here?"

You seemed unsure. "I have you to keep me company, though I figure that doesn't really count. you were forced to babysit me when I forgot got here."

"I wasn't forced to do anything," he corrected, slightly frowning. "I saw the potential in you and wanted to harness that."

Your fingers were absentmindedly caressing the nape of his neck. "I feel really comfortable around you."

That caught him slightly off guard.

"I never thought I'd be able to reveal that secret to anyone... you whispered, shifting to sit on his growing erection. "And last night.."

The not knowing was killing him. On one hand, he was scared to find out that it had been nothing but a hear of the moment thing, but he yearned for more than that... and that part of him needed to kn more.

"Was is because of loneliness, then?"

You pressed your lips tightly together.

"Well, I suppose loneliness gets the best of us, eventually," he sighed, trying his best to seem as casual as possible. "Sometimes, using your hand just doesn't quite do it."

At this, you widened your eyes, before averting your gaze. "It wasn't because I felt lonely... I... I just... you're really attractive and.."

Miguel decided that was enough.

He brought his hand to the back of hour neck and pulled you closer until your lips grazed along his.

"Can I kiss you?"

You swallowed, pressing yourself down on him. "Do you always get this.. excited so easily?"

He gripped your chin between his fingers, tilting your head to have your eyes meet his. "Only for you."

It was a simple confession mixed with desire, but it was enough to startle you.

Fuck.

You leaned back as if snapped from a daydream. "Do you mean that? Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

Miguel took a deep breath. "I mean that, and you can feel it," he proved his point with a roll of his hips.

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut and mouth dropping open.

His sweet girl was so, so responsive...

Instinctively, you tried to match the sway of his hips, but it felt clumsy and Miguel brought both hands to your hips, gripping them tightly.

Your breaths were coming out shaky as he guided you on his clothed cock, guiding you on how to move your body alongside his.

"Does that feel good?" he asked seductively.

"Yes..." you gasped. "I... I'm.."

Miguel felt the first beads of precum drip from his tip. "You're what?"

Your hands came to grip his shoulders, and you took a deep breath before one of them slid down to your

body.

Miguel immediately knew what you meant, but he intended on having things go differently this time.

" can do that for you... he offered, gripping your wrist gently, as your fingers prepared to slide inside your shorts.

You bit your lip, eyes still squeezed shut. "You have to...”

"I want to," he said firmly.

Nodding, you brought your hand up to his shoulder again, and he took the chance to gently slip his fingers past the waistband.

You immediately shuddered and leaned to rest your face against his neck.

He trailed down carefully and his cock twitched once he reached your clit.

"Is this okay?"

You moaned in response, wrapping your arms around him.

Your clit was already swollen and Miguel felt his fangs threatening to drop once he began to slowly roll the pad of his finger around it.

It didn't take long until he felt your wetness seeping through the layers of fabric and staining his suit.

"Please... Miguel..." you groaned, now jerking your hips against his touch.

He began to drag your wetness along your folds to coat your clit with it. You were soaked for him, your body already working on preparing you to take his COCk.

But he would have to be gentle.

He would have you riding his fingers first.

"Please what, sweet girl?" he cooed, planting a kiss to your temple."

You answered by trying to have his finger slide down to your entrance.

So eager...

"Can you take one finger?"

You halted your hips and took a few seconds to nod.

"I can take it..."

He could cum just from your shaky voice and how much you craved him.

As one finger reached your opening, he felt you tense up lightly.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, tracing the sensitive spot. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

"Don't stop..."

He pressed yet another kiss on your flushed skin, and slipped the tip of one finger inside, feeling you immediately squeeze around him.

Miguel realised that if he were to be your first, he would be utterly fucked. The way you gripped his fingers with your walls nearly tipped him over the edge. He couldn't imagine how ridiculously good it'd feel to have his cock inside you instead.

"Try to relax.."

And you did try.

Until his thumb pressed down on your clit.

Your hips immediately bucked into him, encasing his finger inside you until he was buried knuckle-deep.

"Easy..." he growled, his fangs emerging right away from the overload of sensation.

He doubted you'd be able to take another thick finger of his, so he settled for having just one sliding in and out, drawing the sweetest gasps from you.

"You're doing so well.." he praised.

You rolled your hips instinctively, fucking yourself on his finger as best as inexperience allowed you.

"Take... take your... suit..." you pleaded, clawing at his chest with one hand.

The digital layer vanished down to his waist. He didn't want set his cock free or he would cum in an instant.

Then, he saw you roll up your shirt with trembling fingers, exposing your breasts.

He nearly came rigth there and then.

But nothing could have prepared him for what you were about to do.

You desperately brought your pierced nipples to graze against his bare chest, slowly raising your before sinking down around his finger.

Miguel was now certain that you would be the death of him.

He felt your wetness dribbling down his hand, but kept a steady pressure on your pulsing clit. With each undulation of your body, he was able to feel the cool metal of your piercings digging into his skin, and couldn't fight back the growl that emerged from deep within him.

As expected, he was embarrassingly close, and needed to do something about it.

"Lift your hips."

You groaned in response, stilling for a moment.

"Wait….. why?"

"I'm close.."

You slowly clenched around his finger, and his hand came to grip your hip tight.

"Too close..

The beginning of a pout settled on your face, but you did as requested, finally putting a stop to the near excruciating pleasure he was feeling.

Now he could focus on you.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck to anchor your with each flick of his finger and with each sway of your hips.

"Are you okay?"

You didn't answer, but he could tell from your erratic breathing that you were nearing your peak. Your whimpers increased in intensity, as you clumsily rode his finger, chasing after your bliss.

The sound of his watch beeping broke the rhythm for a second, but Miguel ignored it.

As long as no canon event was involve, he wouldn't shift his attention from you.

It beeped again.

But you were so close.

"I... I think I'm.."

He didn't need your words, your body language spoke to him in ways he didn't know he craved.

The movement you started convulsing against him and tightening your grip around his neck, he knew you were coming undone. Your walls clenched around his finger as the orgasm tore through your body.

Another beep, which Miguel ignored again.

Miguel allowed himself to enjoy your tightness, realising you would need far more preparation than this if you were to take his cock.

Your legs were shaking slightly, as he kept pressing the pad of his thumb against your pulsing clit.

But what really made his cock twitch was the way you kept mumbling his name in between sobs, eventually slumping against his chest.

He slowly withdrew his finger, earning a deep sigh from you.

<CANON EVENT IMMINENT: ANOMALY DETECTED>

Miguel's heart nearly burst out of his chest from the unexpected announcement, and you jolted into him, still descending from your peak.

Instant bones killer.

Much against his will, he brought himself to suit up and carefully set you aside on your bed with a kiss pressed to your forehead, before jumping to his feet, quickly clicking through his watch.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled hurriedly, glazing at you as he neared the bedroom window.

You were a panting mess, but quickly tried to gather yourself. "Don't apologise. Just go."

He hopped onto the window sill and took a deep breath, throwing you a final glance. "TIl find you once I'm done."

"You don't have to... I have to do this on my own."

He nodded. "Don't deactivate your mic."

Your straightened your shirt before sitting on mattress. "Miguel... it'll be fine."

"Do as I say."

You eventually nodded.

He hated having to part from you, but his duty came first, and he couldn't step away from it.

Not even for his sweet girl.

"Lyla, summon squad 12, and give me the readings on the anomaly."

Before swinging into the cool morning air of Nueva York, Miguel saw you crossing your legs and stare at him with those sweet eyes that he was so addicted to.

But he would be there for you again.

He would find you.

And he would make sure your devotion would he his.

Not Tom's.

Once Miguel was done with the canon disruption, he threw himself into a portal to get to you.

Your mic wasn't working, and your bio readings weren't available, and he could only assume you had switched off your watch.

Luckily, he had checked Tom's file before deleting it as you had requested.

He knew exactly where to go.

The sun had began to set on the horizon, engulfing the city in shades of orange that helped mask his movements across the innumerous rooftops. He refrained from using his web often, as the laser-like flashes would draw too much attention.

So he took it to jumping and clawing his way up the steep walls of the building opposite to where he lived on all fours, already being able to pick up some interference coming from your mic.

You were close.

"... you want me to leave."

Miguel reached the metal railing of an emergency exit, and balanced himself on it, feeling his heart stammering against his chest.

"You're so good at that, so go ahead."

From there, he was able to spot you in his apartments, near a window. He caugjt a glimpse of Tom and immediately decided he hated him.

He was scowling deeply at you, arms crossed, and words sharp as knives.

How dare he?

His claws were digging into the railing, and Miguel felt droplets of venom spill from his fangs.

This Tom individual wasn't even attractive to begin with, so he figured your previous attraction to him had to based on something else.

"You hurt me! You cannot do this and expect me to pretend nothing happened."

Clearly not based on personality.

Your voice was so low, Miguel was barely able to make it through the mic. "Tom... it was also hard for me..."

Miguel was visibly seething at this pint, wishing he could just drag you out of there. You deserved better than someome who didn't bother listening to you.

"Please leave."

There was a long pause and Miguel held his breath, not wanting to miss out on your reply.

"Don't do this..." you whispered, and he could hear the sadness in your words.

It was itching him to put an end to it.

But...

Deep down, Miguel knew you needed this. Closure. Even if things didn't go as you had hoped, you had tried your best to remedy this situation.

His heart hadn't wanted you to go visit Tom, but his mind spoke differently. He had to let you go to him, to have you as his.

A double-edged sword.

"You left me for months. Ignored me for months. You don't get to do this without a decent explanation," the idiot went on, further angering Miguel. "And since you don't want to tell me the truth, I want you gone."

This time, you cleared your throat and stormed out of the room, not exchanging another word.

Miguel considered dealing with Tom in his own way, but you came first.

He plunged from the rooftop and into a deserted alley, pacing quickly to meet you as you exited through the door, zipping up the hoodie that hid your suit underneath.

Miguel called after you, but you didn't turn to face him.

"I don't want to talk, Miguel."

Not wanting to be spotted by some passer-by, he urged you to walk into another alley.

"I heard some of it," he said softly once you were both out of sight.

You pressed your back against the wall, looking absolutely defeated. It was almost criminal that someone like you had to ever feel this way.

"You did what you could," he went on, placing one hand on your shoulder. "Maybe one day he'll understand."

Miguel didn't want him to be near you ever again, but he had to comfort you somehow.

You lowered your gaze and fixed it on a small puddle of water at your feet. "I deserve this."

"You do not."

"I don't want your pity."

He shook his head. "You won't have it."

In fact, he was willing to give you his heart if you'd take it. But he wouldn't dare say that out loud. Not in this moment.

He waited for your to make a move, but you remained quiet.

"Let's go back to Nueva York," he suggested, placing one hand on your shoulder.

You sobbed softly, and he saw a couple of teardrops drip from your face.

He just couldn't bear seeing you like this, so he took a step closer and you quickly wrapped your arms around him.

"Thank you... thank you, thank you..." you kept on repeating in between sniffles.

He held you tightly in absolute adoration and devotion. "I'm here for you."

"You're a great friend, Miguel..."

Friend.

That word made his heart sink violently.

"Just as a friend?"

There it was... his obsession for you creeping in.

You pulled away from his grip, teary eyes narrowing at him. "Oh... with benefits?"

That was somehow even worse.

Your face twisted into something else as you patted your face dry. "What do you want from me, Miguel?"

Anything.

Everything.

"Anything you're willing to give me," he said truthfully.

Maybe he shouldn't have been so straightforward, but he was merely answering your question. He didn't want to lie, and didn't want to go back to having to hide how he truly felt.

"I don't know if I can give you much more than this."

Your words lingered in the air after hitting him hard and he felt as though his body had been plunged into freezing water.

"Why?"

Your gaze wavered and you began chewing your lip. "Because I don't know if I'm ready for anything serious..."

Miguel straightened to his full height. "Anything you can give me... I'll take it."

He sounded desperate, and deep down he knew that it was probably working against him. Being intimate with you only could only satisfy him for so long if nothing was to come of it.

As much as his body yearned for you touch, his heart was seeking something that wasn’t skin-deep.

"Can I ask for something?"

Anything.

Everything.

He would give it all to you.

You cleared your throat. "I need time."

He could definitely work with that.

However...

"Do you... like being with me?" Miguel carefully asked. "And I'm not talking about being with me like earlier today." Your fluttering orgasm was proof enough.

Your eyes widened and he could tell you had not expected his bluntness. "Of course I do... I... just need time."

He pressed his lips together into a fine line. In truth, he didn't want to be just friends with you. He didn't crave that level of human connection. He needed much more than that from you.

"You only want me as a friend."

It wasn’t a question, and it sounded more like an accusation.

Was he being fair with you? Was he being fair with himself? These questions kept on looping inside his head, but his emotions had a stronger hold on him.

"I trust you," you said in a whisper. "I don't trust people easily."

That did ease some of the uneasiness within him, but he still wanted more. The grip of his obsession for you was tightening around him viciously, and it was getting harder for him to keep it at bay.

"Maybe I want more than that."

"Miguel..."

He leaned in, bending his head just enough for his lips to almost meet yours, searching for the comfort of your warmth.

He could feel you slipping through his fingers again.

You turned your head lightly and pressed a lingering kiss on his cheek instead.

His eyes fluttered shut, and the dreadful feeling that you were parting from him suddenly overcame him.

"Maybe you should go back..." you said after parting from him. "I'll stay here for a little while..."

"Because of Tom?" he could feel the poison dripping from his words.

You shook your head vehemently. "Because of me."

Part 7

Masterlist

[dropitpunk]

oliver quick being obsessed with you

tw: dark nsfw, saltburn's oliver quick x gn!reader, dubcon kissing, blackmailing, stalking, cheating (you're felix's partner), sexual themes, voyeurism, he's a creepy lil dude overall.

when he first saw you, you were sitting on felix's lap. a long arm wrapped loosely around your waist, lips stuffing promises into your ears and a coy smile plastered on your face. you looked happy, satisfied to be with felix.

he paid attention to you and to felix, how you would smooth out your hair and clothes countless times before seeing him, hiding behind a wall so he wouldn't see even the smallest flaw in your appearance.

you were all smiles around felix, squeezing his biceps when he made a joke, hearts swimming in your eyes after he kissed you. you didn't even let your smile falter when felix told you for the third time that week that he was too busy to hang out.

you looked fake, or perhaps insecure to be around someone that stole the spotlight every single time, and oliver was interested in how to break your facade.

oliver wanted to change everything in you, make things so messy and confusing you just wouldn't be around felix anymore.

befriending felix was easy when he had so much information on his life, on your life. he knew what to say to make felix intrigued, to enter his circle of friends in a way felix wouldn't be able to get him out.

getting to you was just the next natural step.

you were friendly when your boyfriend introduced oliver to you at the library, curious enough about the new friend that felix was so interested in.

you smiled at him, almost the same way you smiled at felix, and oliver could feel his stomach burn, breath quickening in desire.

"it's nice to finally meet you! i don't know what took so long." you glanced at felix as you shook hands with oliver, not seeming to notice his fingers lingering on your skin longer than the usual person would.

"you're just a busy person, it seems." oliver smiled back, sitting in front of you and felix.

oliver knew you were having relationship issues. you weren't busy, he watched you from the window in your room enough to know you kept your phone by your side at all times, just waiting for felix to call you, to invite you to anything.

"it seems so." you answered, forcing a happy face again, poor concealed resentment all over your pretty features.

of course, felix didn't notice, he didn't notice anything about you. not like oliver did, anyway.

he didn't notice the way you tapped your fingers on the page of your book before turning it, how your eyes seemed to cling onto every word, trying to memorize it. the first buttons of your shirt were open, a necklace with the first letter of your name over your soft skin.

oliver's eyes were locked in for a moment, imagining tugging on it to make you kiss him. or maybe he would pull you closer by your thighs, your legs were just restless under the table. you crossed and uncrossed them over and over again, and oliver wished he was sitting in felix's place so he could make you calm, let a hand wander on your inner thighs and ask you what was making you anxious.

perhaps it was the story you were reading, he knew that was your favorite book, you had quotes of it on the walls in your room. oliver bought the book and read it in two days so he could ask you about it, make you talk to him with your melodic voice.

but the more oliver looked at you, the less he wanted to interrupt your reading.

oliver knew he wasn't good at pretending not to look, so it didn't come as a surprise when you seemed to be embarrassed under his attention. eyes darting between him and felix with confusion, your lips parted with questions at the tip of your tongue, but oliver was quicker.

he silenced you with a finger in his mouth, smiling as if you two now shared a secret. you frowned, but didn't say anything, going back to your book with a gulp.

that was the moment oliver knew he could have you, he just needed planning.

but keeping a straight plan was so hard with you looking so beautiful.

he followed you to your dorm every night, making sure you were safe and everything was fine before he took his place at the tree next to your window. you were always too distracted to notice, writing about felix in your diary and then ripping the pages, dancing to the music in your record player or having a hand down your underwear.

the last seemed more common to you now that you didn't have felix's undivided attention.

oliver knew your routine, you would drop your bag on the floor, sighing away your problems and then sit on your bed, touching your neck, your chest, your stomach, licking your lips before opening your legs a little and taking your pants off. oliver allowed himself to open his zipper, touching his bulge over his boxers, almost tasting your skin on his tongue.

he would bite his fingers so the only thing he could hear was your moans, your breath heavier as you got closer to your climax. he wanted to cum with you, so he held the base of his cock until you were arching your back off the bed, fingers moist from your release.

his cum would paint the walls of your dorm, blood pooling on his tongue from how hard he would bite it to restrain himself.

oliver watched you until you fell asleep, then he would open your window and hear your soft snores. he would take your hand carefully and lick each one of your fingers, swearing he could still taste how sweet you were. he would kiss your cheek and play with your hair as a boyfriend would, touching the fading marks felix left on your skin.

"soon enough i'm gonna be laying with you right here, my dear." he patted your bed, smelling the sheets and smiling to himself.

the only thing that wasn't according to plan was the perfect opportunity falling right onto his lap.

"i don't know what to do anymore, he just won't talk to me and tell me what i did wrong." you came to him one afternoon, face all droopy and pouty, eyes glistening with tears and flushed cheeks.

oliver's heart ached for you, eyes traveling over your trembling hands and disheveled appearance. you were desperate, and your only solution to fix things with felix was to ask for help from his new best friend.

"i don't know what i can do to help you." oliver needed to know more, to have you more docile, more pliant. you almost started to cry again and he put a hand on your shoulder, trying to encourage you.

"i just... it's been weeks of felix avoiding me and it's only getting worse. i think he's going to break up with me." your lower lip trembled and you almost lost oliver's attention from your eyes. he smiled, feigning a gentleness that wasn't all there at that moment.

"where should we talk about this?"

"we can go to my room." right where he wanted. your eyes were full of hope, looking at him as if he was the savior of your relationship.

your knees were touching and that was all oliver could think about, he had to concentrate twice as hard on your lips to actually understand what you were saying about felix but that was just worse.

you were too preoccupied to notice his body getting closer to yours, his absent nodding being more frequent and his glossed over eyes studying your form.

"i could really talk to him, you know. make him listen to you." oliver just said the obvious, what you wanted to hear, but that seemed to be enough to bring you relief.

"really?! but isn't it gonna be too on his face?" you worried and he shrugged.

"i can be discreet, he won't even know you asked." you nodded at his words, trusting and too afraid of a break up to even question the honesty in his tone. he wouldn't talk to felix, he didn't care.

"but i need you to do something for me."

"of course... anything." you were too grateful and that was naive.

"give me a kiss." oliver smiled.

you stood up, betrayal all over your face, "how could you ask me that? are you out of your mind?"

"it's a simple wish, really." he made himself comfortable in your bed, watching your every move. you were suddenly self aware and aware of his presence, a chill ran down your spine.

"you want me to tell felix that you were cheating on him with his best mate in your room?"

"you're crazy, i would never do that. i have a boyfriend." barely, oliver wanted to say and be cruel to you.

"what? i didn't..." you got as away from him as you could, your back hitting the wall as he stood up, taking slow steps towards you.

he smiled at you and you shivered, his cologne making you dizzy. he cornered you with his body after cornering you with his words, you had no way of escaping.

"he wouldn't believe you." you said meekly.

"you know that's not true," he whispered in your ear, caressing your face with the back of his hand, enjoying your soft skin under his fingertips. "you're not on good terms and rumors spread quickly around here."

you could feel his breath on your face, blue eyes overtaken by dilated pupils, full lips pouting a little to mirror your expression. you pushed at his chest, weak and uncertain, his voice penetrating your psyche.

felix didn't like you as much anymore, it was too easy for him to use that as an excuse to break up with you.

you closed your eyes, feeling oliver kiss your forehead and temple, lips dragging all over your face before hovering over your mouth.

"always knew you were smart," he murmured.

a hand behind your neck made your lips touch, your arms falling limp on your sides. his lips were soft, the kiss starting slow until his tongue was exploring your mouth, messy and eager. his other hand went to your waist, bringing you closer and closer and your only option was to hold onto his shoulders.

he was strong, firm, and kissed you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do.

his hand squeezed your waist, stopping at the curve of your ass, fingers resting under your shirt. he tugged at your hair, making you gasp, and smirked against your mouth.

he kissed you until you were panting heavy, stomach clenching against your will, not so concerned about your boyfriend anymore.

all according to plan.

a/n: this is mild but his yandere potential is crazy. i also love barry keoghan.

[buckets-and-trees]

Prepare For Takeoff

Title: Prepare For Takeoff Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 1.5k

Content Warnings: vaginal fingering, dubious existing engagement

Logistical Notes: Another piece early in the days of the I'm Your Man AU.

Author Note: I started this AU when I was at an airport, and my recent trip had me thinking of these two again, and it had me wishing I were Andy's to spoil.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

While you aren’t used to being chauffeured to every aspect of your life (nor did you want to get used to it, the driver and vehicle yet another element that Andy insisted on in the new life he inserted you into), you know a security checkpoint where your driver had to stop and speak to someone else is not part of the typical route back to the palatial Barber Estate. You sit up straighter in your seat, looking first to the men in the front, but neither of them give anything away, your bodyguard Shep’s face is the same stoic expression as ever, and your driver Mark only glances into the rear view mirror to meet your eyes briefly.

Your brows furrow and you look out the window. You can only see large white buildings on either side of the SUV, and the overwhelmingly industrial feel has you at a loss for guessing the where and why of your location.

That is until you reach the end of the building and the car pulls around the corner. Now you see these large white industrial walls make up the sides of a row of aircraft hangars. While your jaw doesn’t drop, your mouth opens slightly. The jaw dropping moments as a character in the life of Andy Barber are so frequent, but you are starting to control your reactions a bit more.

The SUV pulls up smoothly to the side of a private jet, sleek and black, the late afternoon sun shining off its metal sides. Mark stops the vehicle, and as Shep opens your door, you are not surprised to see you are stepping out exactly onto a long, blue carpet that leads from the SUV to the bottom of a set of white stairs. At the top of them, Andy emerges from the plane, nodding to you. You smooth down the front of your clothing and glare up at him.

“What is this?” You call up loudly.

“You know what it is.”

“Where are we going?”

“Away for the weekend. Now, don’t be difficult, sweetheart, you’re going to love this.”

You feel a sting in your eyes but quickly blink it away.

You hate this because you know he is right.

Yet again he will undoubtedly give you exactly what you want and go beyond what you could even imagine for it, but because he wants to, not because you want any of it.

That is the constant curse in this relationship.

Everything you want, but all your choices stolen from you before you can make them.

You concentrate on taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase, mustering the strength that you will need for this. You have to armor yourself against his charm and his cunning. Every moment with him is dangerous.

“I thought it was time to take you away, make you forget the everyday. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress.”

You blink, open your mouth, then shut it again. He is the source of the stress, but you don’t trust what would happen if you said that.

He smirks, then sweeps you into a kiss that immediately sends tingles all through your body, from where his lips press insistently against yours, tongue teasing into your mouth, to the hand he plants possessively onto you hip and the other on your back, pressing you flush against him, down to your toes, legs feeling unstable as he takes your breath away. You are helpless but to cling to his shoulders and kiss him back, because your traitorous body willingly surrenders to him, damn near craves him.

He finally lets you breathe again when you tap against his chest and turn your head, gasping for air.

He kisses your cheek, then your neck just beneath your ear.

Getting your breath back, you give a small huff. “So, what? I don’t even get to pack? You just have whatever I need for the flight and when we get wherever we’re going, I’ll just arrive to a closet full of new clothes and accessories?”

“Naturally.” You can feel his smirk against your skin for a moment before he bites at your delicate flesh.

“This is insane.” You push away from him and step through the open door of the jet.

“It’s not insane,” he says, stalking close behind you.

The interior of the plane is sleek, minimal, but the flavor of the furniture and decor evoke the same feeling as the common spaces of his estate with lush leather and dark wood.

The fact that there’s furniture…

“It’s not normal.”

Hand to your back, Andy ushers you further into the plane. “You’re never going to be subjected to normal again in your life.”

“But what if I liked normal?”

He sits on a leather loveseat and pulls you down immediately next to him, nearly in his lap. He counters, “You liked needing to get to the airport early, check your bags or haul them through security with your three-ounces-or-less limit on liquids, take off your shoes, and trek through the terminals to your gate?”

You sigh and look straight ahead.

He chuckles and beckons over a gentleman who offers a tray of drinks.

“Bourbon or champagne?”

“Thank you,” Andy says, and takes a glass of the dark bourbon.

“No, thank you,” you decline.

“The captain says we are clear for take off on your word, Mr. Barber.”

Andy nods. “Wheels up then. We’ll take dinner in ninety minutes. You can leave us until that point.”

“Call if you need anything, sir.”

You hear the click of a door as the man disappears. Andy takes a slow drink, then presses the glass to your lips, forcing you to take a sip before he sets the glass aside.

You feel the jet begin to move and then turn toward the runway.

“You deserve more than normal,” Andy says, eyes on you, returning to your conversation from moments before.

“Andy…” you hedge.

“I will whisk you away anywhere in the world. I’ll give you everything you want. You’re mine to spoil. You’re going to live a beautiful life with me.”

“Andy,” you start again, but unsure how to counter.

He growls your name and yanks you abruptly into his lap. He cuts any argument you were about to launch into by biting at your lower lip and grinding you down onto his hard bulge.

You whimper and throw your head back.

Andy assaults your bared neck with heated kisses. He knows he’ll have you a pliant mess for him to slake his lust in a matter of moments.

You know it, too.

And you know he’ll overwhelm you with pleasure of your own, never a selfish lover even though every other bit of him is selfish.

His fingers slip under the fabric covering your core without hesitation, and he strokes your labia, gathering more and more of your arousal as the plane picks up speed. Slow strokes back and forth, back and forth. The pad of his forefinger circles your clit and you bite back a whimper.

“Mmm, you know I love those noises you make.” He circles your bundle of nerves again, this time with his thumb, letting two of his fingers dip just slightly into your slick channel. “Give me what I want,” he coos, coaxing with another circle, and another, and you finally break, moaning openly for him.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me know how good I make you feel.”

He pumps his fingers full into the knuckle now, and not like anyone else you’d ever been with intimately before. It’s only been a few weeks, but Andy has taken every opportunity to become a master of your body and coax and command pleasure out of every inch of you. He knows just how much pressure to apply when fucking you with his fingers, and he pushes into that spongy spot at the front of you walls insistently, repeatedly as the jet leaves the ground, making you cry out and shake on an abrupt orgasm.

You sink forward, hanging your head on his shoulder, but it’s only the first orgasm he plans to ply from your body on this flight. He draws your left hand to his mouth, and hums as he places a kiss first against the band of your engagement ring on your finger and then into your palm, before trailing his lips to your wrist. He eases you down to the floor, and you lay back and watch as he shucks off his pants above you before descending down to sheath himself inside you next, demanding more.

And as he fucks you there, then on another of the chairs, then takes you back to the sleeping quarters for yet more, you bend to his will and his demands and his lust, overcome with everything he is and everything he makes you feel, lost in the complexity of what he’s confined you into. His spoiled and ruined sweetheart.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

go to the next part: DON'T LOOK TOO FARI'm Your Man Collection Masterlist

[heartfullofleeches]

best friend yans partner making reader cry and yan realizes that it’s not their arms that reader runs to for comfort anymore🫢

You're happy for them.

In the beginning, it was just you and them. Growing up, they had always been a quiet kid. Clung to the hip of the first person who gave them the time of day. You didn't regret your decision then and you don't now. The years you had together were some of the best and you could only wish them happiness going forward. You were so proud of them for building the courage to broaden their friend group... You only wish they let new people in without shutting the old out.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cry when you found out you had to share them with someone else. You promised you wouldn't cry when they cancelled plans to focus on their new relationship. You promised you wouldn't cry when they finally replied to all your calls and texts just to put an end to your life long friendship.

You don't blame them for saying goodbye. It'd hurt less if they had done it in person, but you're adults now - friendships and silly promises are secondary when you've found true love. That's what they said this was in their final message to you- and so you believe them. Won't have much time for movie nights and hanging out like you used to while they're building a life with someone else, so you were bound to drift apart anyway. Everyone always said a bond like yours would stand the test of time, but clearly they were wrong. The best thing you can do for them and yourself is keep your chin high and swallow the tears. As much as it hurts, you won't cry. You won't cry.

"Ugh.. are you are stalker now? It's kind of pathetic for you to cling onto someone you never dated When will it get through your thick skull - they don't need you anymore."

You won't cry. It was pure coincidence that you ran into them again. It makes sense after all the time you've spent together the places you frequented would align. Your old best friend and their new lover had taken a trip to the mall on the day your new acquaintance had taken you to your old stomping grounds to cheer you up. Their partner was like a vulture - watching you from afar and awaiting the second you both were alone to strike. Honestly, it seemed like they didn't even notice you which only teared down another layer of your fragile defense. You want to go home, but you had to wait for your companion. Unlike others - you'd never leave anyone behind.

"They told me all about what it was like when you were younger. How you sucked up every minute of their time and made every thought they had all about you. You're honestly disgusting, you know that?"

Your throat tightens as you're backed into a metaphorical corner. That's not true. You tried to be there for them. They're the one that rejected everyone that wasn't you. Is that really how they viewed you? How they felt about you? Sharp intakes of air build up to the first exasperated wail that rips itself from you. It all crumbles from there. Tears pour from your tired eyes and spent heart. You try so hard to keep it in, wiping at your face and muffling your cries with quivering lips - but they only flood harder. Your aggressor attempts to flee from the scene of the crime as two pairs of footsteps quickly approach.

"Y/n?....."

"Y/n!...."

Sneakers squeak along the mall floor as one sprints to your side, going out of their way to jam their elbow in the ribs of your aggressor as they squeeze past them to get to you. The other stands stagnant as their lover nears - watching as you fall weightless into their arms. They draw back the foot pointed in your direction at first witness to your cries.

"Baby, what happened! Are you okay? This is why I told you to come into the store with me. Calm down, breathe. It's okay. I'm here."

Soft fingers brush away your tears. They dry quicker against someone else's skin. Your head falls to their chest, ears tuned to the gentle beat of their heart to calm the frantic beats in your own. Your companion takes their hand in yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as you follow their instruction and breathe in slowly.

"That's it.... I'm right here. I'll always be right here for you."

Their words are like a dagger to those unfortunate to listen. A blade dug deeper by your redden eyes and the small smile that forms as you gently squeeze your savior's hand. Once upon a time, it was their hand you held when at your worse - just as yours had pulled them out of the wreck their life was before they meet you. You used to be each other's shoulder to cry on. Safe houses from a world that never understood you or bothered to care. They long for that moment in time, but in that instance it all felt too perfect. If they hadn't let you go and found comfort elsewhere they'd only hurt you in the end - crush and buried beneath the weight of the ever-changing, conflicting tide of their feelings for you.

Laughter draws them back to the cruel reality they now face as punishment for their selfish decision.

"I'm fine now - I swear!"

"Nope! Since you won't tell me what's wrong, we ain't stopping until you're all smiles. We're going to hit up every store in this mall until it closes and you find something that completely takes your mind off whatever got you down. As your new best friend, it's my duty to make sure your heart is in good shape.... So I can steal it later on."

"You're such a dick...." Nudging their arm with your elbow, you giggle - then sigh. "Well, if you're paying, I guess I can't complain. Best be on our way then."

A passing glances comes not from you, but from the victor of this scenario. Your new best friend locks an arm around your waist, placing a kiss to your hair before mouthing a single word over your shoulder.

"mine."

A hand reaches out as you disappear into the crowd. It's falls not into the grasp of the one its heart truly desires, and instead into the iron grip of the person they chose as a cheap imitation.

"Can you believe those two?"

".... I'm going to fucking kill that bastard."

[rebelfell]

Okay, I have some final (for now) thoughts on the two of them… 18+, MDNI 4.5k

older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson

cw: blood/minor injury, pregnancy scare

eddie's interlude here, index here

The guilt is practically dripping off you as you slip back inside the house. It clings onto you like your damp dress, thick and viscous like Eddie’s spend that sticks between your thighs. It falls off of you in heavy droplets that splatter on the hardwood floors, creaking deafeningly loud when you try and make a break for it up the stairs.

The dishwasher is running in the kitchen, its low hum and the agitating water inside the only sounds in the darkened, still house.

Until someone clears their throat. 

“You have a nice walk?”

Your foot hovers over the bottom step and you flinch as a lone light flicks on in the living room, illuminating Vivian where she sits on the couch. And you don’t even attempt to explain yourself.

Because in less than a second, your sister seems to have surmised everything.

From one glance of you standing there dripping wet in her foyer, the dress that she bought you basically ruined, she can easily guess at your litany of crimes against decency. 

It’s why she was the Valedictorian and you weren’t voted Most Likely To anything.

She stands and strides towards you, the shiny material of her silk pajama set swishing around her legs with every step. Every inch of your skin burns with white hot humiliation under her gaze.

“Viv, I…”

She lifts her hand and you fall silent at the sight of the folded piece of paper between her fingers.

Instantly, you want to touch the pocket you thought you had slipped the note inside, even knowing it must be empty. She looks you over with stern eyes and holds it out for you to take.

“Get cleaned up and come back down,” she says.

You take advantage of her vagueness by getting in the shower. You let the scalding water run over your skin until it’s starting to tingle approaching numbness. You scrub Eddie from between your legs until he’s swirling down the drain along with the mud and bits of grass stuck to your feet.

You never meant to be gone as long as you were.

It wasn’t a plan. You really, genuinely believed you could go say a decent goodbye to Eddie and still be back to help Viv clear the table before she even noticed you were gone. 

And maybe you would have, had you not been so reluctant to leave his side.

You could have laid there forever with your head on his chest, listening to the rain with one ear and the beat of his heart with the other. With his hand cradling your head, his fingers stroking the nape of your neck like he was playing a song.

He didn’t try to convince you not to leave—at least not in so many words.

He said ‘I wish’ a lot, almost like he was casting a spell. I wish you could stay. I wish I could go with you. I wish things were different.

But his incantation doesn’t change anything.

He’s still got school to finish. Not to mention his friends, his band, his uncle—his life.

It’s all here and yours is there.

The hot water won’t hold out long enough for you to avoid what’s waiting for you downstairs, so you finally pull a waffle weave robe over your raw skin and tie it too tight around your waist.

When you return, Vivian is waiting in her seat at the far end of the dining room table. 

In front of her sit two glasses, clear crystal ones filled with two fingers of brown liquor. It’s not the garnet-colored port she takes in the evening, and you can smell the oaky top notes of some surely expensive bourbon that’s probably been in a decanter in John’s office for years.

She says nothing when she sees you, just nods at the seat adjacent to hers. 

You take it and sit there silently, waiting for all the admonishments you know are coming.

It’s all the same things you’ve been hearing in your head the entire summer—any spare moment that wasn’t filled with Eddie was riddled with that bitter, berating voice that sounded suspiciously like your mother’s coming from deep in the furthest recesses of your mind.

What were you thinking? How could you do this? You’re humiliating our family, you’re destroying our reputation, you’re making a mockery of all that we’ve built—everything we’ve worked for. You might as well go to the cemetery and spit on your father’s grave. That’s how much respect for him you’re showing, you spoiled, selfish—

“Did I ever tell you about my swim lessons?”

Her voice is soft. So soft, you have to look at her to be sure she really spoke. 

And even then, you’re not entirely convinced.

“Your…” You shake your head, confused. “Viv, you were all-state in swimming. What are you—”

“It was the summer we had the pool resurfaced. I started going to the country club with the girls instead. And there was this lifeguard.”

She swirls the glass on the table in front of her, the facets in the crystal catching the low light.

“He was young. Handsome. He came on to me so strongly, he was so…brazen.” The corners of her lips curled in a barely-there smile at the thought. “And I knew it was inappropriate, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. I liked the attention too much, I suppose.”

You study the side of your sister’s face as she raises her glass and drinks. You knew things with her and John weren’t ideal, much as she tried to pretend they were. But you never imagined…

“He said he could give me private lessons. That he knew a hotel where we could meet with a pool we could use. It, um…it went on much longer than I’m proud to admit.”

She downs another swallow of her bourbon, finishing off the glass. You stare down at yours with tears threatening to well in your eyes as you speak and you try not to let them fall.

“It’s not just about attention, Viv,” you say. “He’s special. He’s important.”

Her lips purse and she nods mutely. 

“Maybe so. But you’re not stupid.” She tilts her head at you, coaxing you to meet her eye line. “I think you know this can’t happen. I think that’s why you’ve still got that look on your face.”

The next day, you make the drive back to the city. Alone.

You get the keys to your new place and spend your first night eating pizza on the one piece of furniture in it—a mattress that had belonged to the old tenants, who left it for you so they didn’t have to haul it away. It’s not bad, considering it was free, and you weren’t exactly in a position to turn it down when your bed is being slept in by your ex and his mistress girlfriend.

On Saturday, you sit on the front porch and read, waiting for Steve to arrive in the U-Haul with the rest of your boxes and the scant amount of furniture salvaged from your old life. 

You wave when he pulls up, only for your hand and face to fall when a familiar head of dark curls tied down underneath his skull bandana pops out of the cab from the opposite side door.

His smile is as nervous as yours feels when he gives you a tiny wave, and you do your best to act normal as the three of you start to unload. You fail miserably, though, when you go to pass him a box and his hand grazes yours, nearly making it drop.

You don’t say more than two words to one another the entire morning, never managing to find a moment where Steve is out of earshot. But you feel his eyes on you and can hardly keep your own off of him. By the afternoon, his white tank is nearly translucent with sweat, darkened patches of it sticking to his spine and ribs, the lines of his tattoos showing through the soaked material.

He stops periodically to tug it from his chest, trying to get some airflow. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to torture you.

Steve finally takes a break, sitting outside on the porch swing and draining a bottle of water. You’re in the kitchen, unpacking boxes of dishes when you feel Eddie’s familiar presence behind you.

Tucked away into the little nook in front of the door that leads out to the garage, you’re only just out of sight of the living room. It’s the first time all day Eddie’s felt safe enough to approach you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, coming to stand beside you. “He just asked if I was busy today. I swear, I didn’t know what we were doing until I got there.”

You glance over your shoulder, keeping an eye and an ear out for your nephew, and look back at Eddie with your skeptical brow and discerning eyes. God, how he’s missed that look. It takes everything in him not to kiss it off your face.

“And you didn’t try to get out of it?” you ask.

“I did,” he smirks. “Just not very hard.”

“Eddie—”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckles, his voice and gaze softening as he licks his lips and stares at yours. “I just…I wanted to see where you live. I wanna know you’re gonna be okay.”

Shit. 

There’s a pang in the center of your chest at his words, a jolt that runs through all the nerves in your hand as if it’s fighting to reach out for him. But the sound of Steve’s footsteps makes you shrink, pulling away. Eddie swallows hard and nods resolutely before he turns to leave.

As he does, his pinky just barely grazes yours. 

So light, you might not have believed it happened had you not seen it with your own eyes.

You feel that jolt again, that tiny tremor in your muscles as your brain demands for your hand to reach out and wrap around his wrist, dragging him back into you. But the screen door slams, jarring you out of your swirling thoughts.

Steve huffs as he drops one of the boxes in your living room and pokes his head into the kitchen.

“Coffee table is the last thing,” he announces.

“Shit, shit, shit—FUCK!”

Expletives fly out of both Steve and Eddie’s mouths as the table slips from Steve’s grasp. It makes Eddie wince as the rough wood digs into his hand and the sting of splinters makes him lose his grip. Its legs hit the floor and Eddie stumbles forward, his hand coming down on the glass top that shatters almost instantly. Blood dribbles from his hand and Steve stares in shock.

Panic makes your chest seize and you swoop in, helping Eddie to steady himself.

He doesn’t make a sound, but his arm trembles as you hold it tenderly to assess the damage. The deepest cut is across his palm and there are some others scratches and scrapes along his wrist, but nothing deep enough to warrant stitches and no glass embedded in them that you can see.

“Steve, drugstore—bandages,” you order curtly.

He grabs your car keys, already out the door as you’re leading Eddie to the kitchen.

At the sink, you rinse his arm and hand as best you can, but it’s difficult to see if there’s any glass or splinters in them as it’s still bleeding. Pressing a paper towel against it and telling him to hold it there, you leave to look for your tweezers and return with them and a bottle of antiseptic from the bathroom. You rinse the wounds again and clean them. Eddie hisses at the sting, but he doesn’t pull his hand back, leaving it laying in yours as you bend close to study his palm.

Out of your peripheral, you can see the way his chest expands as he inhales the scent coming off the top of your head. He swallows the urge to tell you how he missed that smell so much he bought a bottle of your shampoo. But it still doesn’t smell quite right. There’s something missing.

Something specifically, unmistakably you.

“I’m sorry about your table,” he whispers.

“Don’t be,” you chuckle. “You did me a favor, I kind of hated that thing.”

Eddie smirks, thinking you were trying to make him feel better, but it isn’t a lie.

The thing was hideous. A wedding present from some relative or another you’ve always secretly suspected hated you. But of course Viv would never let you throw away a gift…

He hisses again and winces as you pull out a shard of wood. You shush him gently, rubbing small circles with your thumb over the pulse point in his wrist, feeling how his was racing. Your own isn’t doing much better, still thrumming with the spike of adrenaline when you saw him fall, when the sound of class cracking blotted out all other thoughts besides HELP HIM.

It was so loud in the moment, but now it’s too quiet. The room is too still and he’s far too close for you not to be thinking about all of the other times he’s been this close. It’s all you can do to keep your mind on the task in front of you until you hear his soft intake of breath.

“You know,” he starts quietly, “you’re not that far from Hawkins…”

“Hold still,” you say, even though he didn’t move. 

“But I could visit you, we could still—”

“Eddie, please.”

The brokenness of your voice quiets him for the moment as you grab one of your clean dish cloths and start to wrap it around his hand, letting his blood seep into it. Staining it forever.

“This will do until Steve gets back,” you murmur, tying it off. “Too tight?”

He curls his fingers, testing it. You still can’t look directly at him, especially not when he speaks.

“Tell me why,” he says softly, his good hand coming up to brush the hair from your face with his knuckles. “I know you wanna be with me too, I just…I need to hear why not once and for all.”

His hand covers the side of your face, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb across the apple of your cheek. He watches your lashes, waiting for your eyes to lift and meet his, but you refuse to let them. They flutter as you stare at his other hand still being held delicately in yours, eyes stinging with tears you blame on the isopropyl alcohol.

“You’re so young,” you sigh. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You should be out in the world, you should be making the memories you’re gonna look back on when you’re my age.”

Eddie’s head shakes and his hand slips smoothly under the warm curtain of your hair. He grips the back of your neck and dips his head down to make you look him in the eye.

“What good are they if you’re not in them?”

The edge of the countertop digs into your ass as he presses you up against it. He fists the back of your shirt in his injured hand, bunching up the material as he kisses you ferociously. It’s the last ditch effort, the Hail Mary pass with no thought or logic behind it—just pure, unbridled hope.

There’s no noise that can make it to your brain over your heartbeat pounding in your ears—just the sound of please, please, please whispered against your lips in between feverish kisses and sighs you can’t stifle as his knee slots between your own. He grinds his thigh against your heat, relishing the way your body unravels for him—shuddering, clenching, convulsing with need.

Neither of you hear the door.

“What the fuck is this?!”

Yours and Eddie’s heads snap sideways, your lips breaking apart but your hands still grappling and tangled up in one another. Steve stands in the kitchen door, the plastic bag he got from the pharmacy on the floor with the gauze and medical tape rolling across the tiles.

“It’s her?!” he exclaims, his eyes so big it’s like they’re exploding. “She’s who you’ve been losing your goddamn mind over? You’ve been sneaking around behind my fucking back?!”

“Steve, listen—”

“It’s not what you—”

Both yours and Eddie’s pleas fall on deaf ears. Steve backs away, holding out his hands as if to strike nothing and then raking them through his hair and dragging it back as his mind spirals.

“Stop, stop! This is so fucked, this is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy—”

He’s shouting at nothing in particular, not even able to look at either of you, but jerking his hands away when you try and reach for him. It seems to bring him back to the moment, horrifying as it is, and he turns his crazed eyes back on you, face overflowing with anger and shock.

“How could you do this?! What the hell were you thinking?!” 

He looks back and forth between you and Eddie and neither of you is sure who his question is even directed at. You can tell he wants to leave, wants to run, wants to drive home and maybe never look you or Eddie in the eye ever again. But he can’t. Because even when he’s the maddest at Eddie he’s ever been…he can’t leave his friend behind with no way home.

Or maybe he’s just staunchly opposed to leaving the two of you alone.

“Just finish up so we can go,” he snarls, crossing his arms across his puffed up chest.

He stands over you, fuming and glowering at you both as you wrap Eddie’s hand in gauze. None of you say a word. And once you’re done, Steve just shakes his head and stomps outside to the truck. Eddie’s head hangs low as he follows, stopping to squeeze your hand one last time.

Later that night the phone rings and you snatch it up off the cradle, clutching it to your ear. 

The drive helped Steve calm down, though he threatened to make Eddie get out and walk about a half-dozen times. His friend evidently spared him the grittier details, and he took responsibility for all of it—flirting with you, going after you so relentlessly, doing whatever he could to see you.

You stare down at the dishcloth still stained with blood and the guilt forms a lump in your throat. 

“He says he loves you,” Steve mutters into the phone. “Do you…I mean, are you…”

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him quickly. “And this isn’t Eddie’s fault, either. I was supposed to be the one looking out for you and I let you down. I never should have let it go as far as it did.”

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself by gripping the frame of the door.

“I’m so, so sorry, Steve. I never meant for this to happen. I never meant for you to get hurt.”

The line goes quiet as Steve thinks. You can hear the heavy puffs of air he’s pushing through his nose and you bite down on your lip, fingers twisting up the phone cord as you wait.

“So it’s over, then?” he asks at last.

And there’s no way you could know this…but somehow you can sense that Eddie is there. 

You can almost see him sitting in the kitchen, his elbows on the table, hands folded into a fist he’s resting his chin on, kissing his knuckles as he listens to the conversation.

You look one last time at the rag beside you.

The blood has darkened in the past few hours, oxidized from exposure to the air. No bright red pulsing life left in it. Dead.

“Yes,” you say firmly. “It’s over.”

It takes a couple weeks for Eddie to stop calling.

The first few times, it’s just to check on you. To make sure you’re doing okay. To see how school’s going. It’s mostly harmless. But you know it will do so much more damage if you don’t cut it off now. So you finally find the fortitude you never managed to in the summer and tell him you shouldn’t talk anymore. That you can’t.

That it’s only going to make it worse.

You’ll forget, you tell yourself.

Eventually you’ll forget how his rough hands felt running up and down your sides; or how he would squeeze and grip you as he took you from behind, pulling you up so your body was flush with his and you would stretch your neck to kiss him over your shoulder; how he would cover his mouth to block a moan as you took him into your mouth and he would look at you with those eyes.

Those big, round, pretty eyes you can’t help but to see in every cup of coffee you pour. And by the next time you visit your sister, his smell will have been washed out of the guest room sheets.

Ironically, it’s right after you tell him you can’t talk to him anymore that you realize you’re late.

You know there’s no way that you’re pregnant. Between birth control and your age, the chances are infinitesimal. You know it has to be stress. You know it’s all in your head, this odd and off-putting sensation in your body. And the test you take is just a precaution, nothing more.

Still, you can’t help but cry when it’s negative.

Not because you wanted a different result, but because it makes you realize the only way you might have wanted a kid is if it was his.

Time goes by. You visit Hawkins for some holidays, but you don’t see Eddie. Viv finds out (and passes on to you as subtly as she can) that after he graduated he and his band decided to go on tour, heading for California and playing at any dive bar that will book them along the way.

Every couple months, Steve sends a postcard from whatever country he and Robin are currently terrorizing on their post-grad “summer abroad” that’s now going on two years. He doesn’t write much, lots of different thoughts strung together, things he saw that made him think of you. 

Always trying to say he was sorry without coming out and saying it.

Eddie’s name only gets mentioned once, after he met up with them at a music festival in Berlin. 

You sort of love the thought of him there.

You think he must fit in well with all of the other eclectics, the artists, the musicians. Months later, you get a package in the mail with foreign stamps on it. There’s no name or note inside, just a teddy bear in a shirt that says “I ♡ Deustchland.”

It sits in your bathroom window until the golden brown fur on his back half is bleached beige.

You date here and there. You even fall in love once in a while. It’s not forever, though. You don’t know if you even believe in “forever” anymore.

Or if you ever did.

You get back into the hobbies you let fall by the wayside after you got married. You finish a novel and the University Press wants to publish it. You get some money for it. Not a lot, but enough that when the head of your department is retiring and asks if you want to buy the house you’ve been renting, you can swing the down payment.

You paint and decorate every room precisely how you like it, with absolutely no one’s opinion to worry about besides your own.

You hang string lights in the backyard and host garden parties that are mostly a flimsy excuse to drink wine with your fellow professors and gossip about how all the other departments aren’t nearly as fun as yours. It’s during one of these you find out you’re on the short list for tenure.

It’s not a bad life. It’s a good life, even.

Full and realized and complete.

There are bad days and better days, but some things are always consistent. Leaves turn color in the fall. They pile on the ground under branches that are barren by winter, only to bud again in the spring. And summer always comes back around, the days getting warmer and longer.

It’s at the end of one of those days you find yourself still at school catching up on grading. Summer vacation has all but begun, most of the campus deserted with everyone scattering on all their varied adventures once finals were done.

Your feet are aching in your heels as you slump into the seat behind the desk up at the front of the classroom, the pile of exams making your eyes tense with a burgeoning migraine.

One not helped at all by the stifling heat.

Your department’s building is so ancient—in desperate need of some updates and lacking in all modern amenities like air-conditioning. You flap a hand in front of your face the whole way over to the window. It squeals in protest as it opens and chipped paint flies off in little shards of white.

A breeze wafts across your face, the scent of freshly cut grass filling your nose. It’s one you’ve always loved, but still can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness when you smell it now. The sound of a weed whacker below draws your eyes to the man using it, trimming the grass along the edges of the concrete path that runs between your building and the one next door.

And he is just…stunning.

Still young, but older now. Muscles still taught and defined in most areas, but getting softer in others. Instead of ratty cut-off shorts and a tank top touting some metal band, he’s dressed in dark coveralls emblazoned with the logo of a landscaping company—Fantasy Greenscapes.

His company, in case you couldn’t guess by the silhouette of a dragon on the logo.

The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, flashing familiar glimpses of black ink on alabaster skin. His hair is still long and wild, but he’s got it tied back and pushed out of his face with a pair of protective earmuffs. A pair of sunglasses shield his eyes, but the mirrored lenses are just about the same shade as the deep brown pools you know are behind them.

The blades on the weed whacker slow and stop completely when he pauses, taking a moment to take off his glasses and wipe his face with a skull bandana you’d know anywhere.

And as he does, his eyes drift up towards your classroom window. He smiles when he sees you, teeth flashing in that same grin you see every night in your dreams, and he lifts his hand to wiggle his fingers at you in a wave.

prev┃next

I just wanna say thank you to everyone who read this story, particularly those who took the time to reblog and comment with your thoughts/reactions. It's only because of you that this vague, nebulous idea somehow morphed into this thing that contains some of my favorite writing I've ever done.

And for that, I'm eternally grateful. I hope you enjoyed this final part. Love you, mean it xx

[readychilledwine]

Bound by Fate pt 8

Summary - When Kaylee Archeron meets Azriel, her world turns upside down. Between balancing her trauma, new powers, a mating bond, and war looming over her new home, Kaylee learns that everything is not as little as it once seemed.

Warnings - Violence, a tiny dragon, Elain being mean, sappy batboys trying to get their Kaylee home

A/n - Sheeeeees baaaaaack. I cut this into a part 8 and part 9 because I felt the ending was dramatic enough alone. Also, I am hoping I got all of you on the taglist, but please let me know if you want to be added or if I missed you. I am hitting my tag limit with this story, so I apologize for the reblog that's about to come.

Also, thank you @sarawritestories for cheering me on through my love hate relationship with this chapter

Series Masterlist ✨️ Azriel Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist

Azriel had never felt more broken than he did right now.

She was lonely.

His mate was lonely.

He moved to her slowly, kneeling before her and stroking her cheek. “Let me take you home, Kaylee. It's going to get too cold here. You hate being cold.”

Kaylee wouldn't look at him. She didn't move from his touch, but she didn't acknowledge him either. It stung him to his core to see her like this. “Kaylee, starlight, please, come home. I will bring you back tomorrow if I must, just please come home.”

“Did you do it?” 

Azriel knew immediately what she meant. His stomach dropped as he got closer, finally feeling her soft skin under his. “No. I never touched her. You are mine, Kaylee. I am yours." He took her chin in his hand, forcing her face to his. "You are the only female I will ever want. I've waited over 500 years for you.”

And those long years wishing to the lost souls during Starfall and to every twinkling piece of starlight felt so miniscule now. What was 500 years compared to the eternity he was fated to have with Kaylee. Beautiful, kind, and innocent Kaylee. “I would never risk losing you.”  He almost jumped as the drake huffed, golden brown eyes opening to stare at the 3 males before snuggling into Kaylee. 

Azriel tentatively reached out, patting the nose of the beast resting his head in Kaylee's lap. “He is fairly attached to you already.” 

“Can you blame him?” Cassian took a small step towards Kaylee, gently tilting her head up. “Have you ever met someone like our Kaylee?”

Rhysand then moved closer to. “Such pure souls are rare. And it appears we all made a mistake while dealing with this one.” His hand brushed her golden hair back. “Come home, little sister.”

She shook her head, eyes watering as she snuggled into the drake's snoot and kissed it. “He is so lonely.” Another soft huff came. Then, the scent of magic. Where a large drake once laid, a small one now sat in Kaylee's hands. Wide blue eyes turned to Rhysand, a pout already forming and triggering a distant memory he didn't dare linger on for too long. “Can we keep him?” 

An otter, a drake, a rabbit, a fox. Azriel had lost track of the animals sneaking into Kaylee's room to join her as she slept soundly in his arms. She had never said she forgave him, never asked for more of an explanation, but she knew she did not want him to leave again. She knew she wanted him in her bed, even if a small scaled creature now shared her pillow. 

He pulled her close, breathing in her freshly cleaned hair. The scent of strawberries was clinging to her, but it was not her. Her natural scent had started to change, and Azriel could not complain. It now reminded him of a soft rain mixing with lilac, as if she was becoming nature itself.

He smiled as she turned over, hooking her leg over his. He pulled her closer, sighing softly at the same time she did. For the first time since she left with Lucien, Azriel found himself drifting off to sleep. Even if a creature he should have feared was currently crawling onto his mate and curling up on her side near him. 

Kaylee hated mornings, but she especially hated waking up alone after asking her mate to stay. As if he knew, Azriel walked into the room a tray in his hands as gray pants rested low on his hips. “Good morning,” he sent a small plate on the floor, watching as the unnamed drake went to the raw meat. His attention was then solely on her as he set the tray down and offered her his arm, leading her to the sitting area of her lavish room. 

Rhys had decorated it with pillows and throw blankets. She remembered him sparkling with pride as the mix of deep blues and golds, as if decorating so simply was a difficult task. She has praised him nonetheless, cherishing the budding relationship with her new big brother, and somehow sensing he needed a little sister to tell him how fantastic he truly was. She did just notice, though, how they matched Azriel's siphons. “This doesn't count as accepting the bond, right?”

Azriel chuckled softly as he gave Kaylee oatmeal and fruits, “Not unless you plan on feeding or serving me. Do you want to talk now or eat first?” They both jumped as the sound of blowing fire filled the room before a heavy munching noise. “Well that answers that question.”

He watched her as she ate. He memorized little things. How she swayed when she ate. How her nose would crinkle, smile going wide when she tasted something she was really enjoying. How her mouth would twitch when she smelled things. “You understand now why we wouldn't eat your food?”

Kaylee smiled as she rolled her eyes, “I cooked that meal.”

He clocked her nose twitch, noting it for later. “You did? Is that a preview of my future? Because if it is, I will prepare my own mating meal and just have you serve it."

Her jaw fell open before she threw a grape at him. “You are so mean.” 

“Tasted like shit.”

“Then I guess it's good I didn't actually make it.”

“Thank the Mother. I was concerned for my stomach." Kaylee smiled before leaning in to kiss bis cheek. "

Your nose twitches when you lie.” He watched her face fall slightly. “I noticed it when you told Feyre you would be okay after that first dinner. Then again, when she left after the first meeting. You also dance when you eat. When you sleep, your legs move until you find the perfect spot for them.”

Kaylee felt herself flushing, hearing all his little observations of her smallest habits, and Azriel smirked before he continued. “You whisper when you read, sounding out each word until you know you're correct. That's how we realized you couldn't read. You braid your hair when you get nervous. Rhys found that one for me as he was teaching you. You do all these simple little things that make me believe you are the most beautiful precious thing.” 

He grabbed her hands, holding them in his own. “I am sorry.” She nodded, brows raising to indicate to continue. He noted that as well, predicted this would not be his last apology to his mate. “I allowed myself to put duty before you, and it put us in a situation where you felt I was someone you could no longer trust. Rhysand and I have discussed his part in this, and he will apologize later, but my part hurt you more.” 

Kaylee felt herself losing her will to hold on to what little anger she had as he moved, kneeling before her. “I am sorry I was ever in her room. I am sorry I was too shocked to leave. I am sorry I did not speak with you right away that morning.”

“It's okay.” She could hardly blink before he kneeled for her. “Az-”

“It's not okay, Kaylee.” He listened to her heart as he touched her lower thighs. “I hurt you. I failed to protect you. I failed you as your mate.”

“Azriel-”

“Let me finish.” He brushed the tears falling on her face and sighed. “My job as your mate is to ensure you feel loved, that you are safe, and that you know we are equals in everything. I have allowed myself to be pulled away from you, and you needed me much more than your sisters did, didn't you?”

Kaylee looked to the ceiling, the door, anywhere but the male who she knew could feel every raw emotion she had. He squeezed her thighs softly, bringing her back to him. “Your silence is enough of an answer for me to know I have failed you. If you believe I am worthy of a third chance, I will not fail you again. I will be a male worthy of your love.” She was silent, too stunned to speak. “Kaylee, my love, please.”

Kaylee had to admit, Azriel looked pretty on his knees. He looked pretty begging for forgiveness over something that he didn't do. Over something she was learned was planned by her own sisters. 

Azriel kissed her palms, holding her hands so tightly it was as if he feared she'd disappear like the wind. "Whatever I have to do, whatever you need me to be, whatever you need. I will do anything to be worthy of holding you again. Kaylee, please." 

Kaylee just sighed, cupping his cheek as she did and stared into those desperate hazel eyes. “We have two weeks to put a strong united front.” He nodded in agreement, but his brows knit in confusion over the statement. “I want to also have a better relationship with you within two weeks. Just to shove it to Eris. But that also means you have to allow me to do something first.” He jumped her without hesitation, crashing her lips to his and delighting in her laughter. 

He would give Kaylee the world, live and breathe solely for the purpose of her happiness, and now he had to prove it.

Dinner that night was silent as Kaylee watched Elain watching Azriel. He had not left Kaylee's side since long slow kisses were shared in her room. They had only stopped when Rhys and Feyre came, knocking on the door after their late breakfast. The Lord and Lady laughed as Kaylee answered the door, hair a tangled mess from Azriel's hands while he laid panting on her bed in a state of bliss. 

He had not even left her as Rhysand trained her powers, watching as she called forth every beast and creature in her collection and communicated with them. Her powers had grown quickly, almost too quickly. The warning was still visible on her discolored fingers.

Kaylee had access to levels of magic that had not been granted since the first fae, levels that were hand given out by the Gods to their chosen few and carrying along those bloodlines in the rarest form. Lucien's warning rang in his and Rhysand's head, a warning of the former tamer who turned more beast than fae before walking off into the forest to never been seen again. 

It festered in the thoughts of both males as they communicated silently, involving Amren as they all looked to the youngest sister's discolored fingertips. It's as if the magic I'd eating at her body, Amren was studying her like a hawk. I will look into the Books.

Kaylee cut into her potato, smiling slightly as Azriel traded her steamed vegetables for the serving of meat she had not touched. “Kaylee, we're going to have to find a way to supplement proteins in your diet.”

Nesta shook her head and spoke softly, “She will get over it.” Nesta had been Kaylee's first fight since learning the truth. Her oldest sister had folded immediately. All cattiness out of her body as soon as they were alone together. Broken together.

And Nesta was broken. A simple fact Kaylee had known for a while. Her oldest sister had not thought of the consequences. She had just wanted Kaylee to hurt as much as she was, and watching her thrive, watching her grow, it had been too much. Kaylee allowed Nesta to hold her to whisper each apology. An apology for not protecting her, for what happened to them, for failing as a sister, and Kaylee accepted each one. It was a side of Nesta reserved only for Kaylee. The side of Nesta she told Cassian about and prayed had not been stolen from them. 

Nesta smiled to Kaylee, “She did this even when we were-” the sentence trailed off with the fond memory. “Azriel, the earring you bought Kaylee are lovely.”

“They are, aren't they?” Rhys moved to brush blonde hair behind a pointed ear. “They work well with the sapphires.” Small diamond twinkled next to the earring Azriel had given her before the Cauldron, sparkling in the light and showing off her newest piercing. 

Azriel maintained his mask, but moved a hand to her thigh under the table. “Only the best for my mate.” 

“And if she doesn't actually want you?” The question hung in the air. “Or if you don't truly want her? You two are forced together. Do you not deserve a choice, Azriel?"

“Elain,” Lucien's warning was a whisper. “Thread carefully.”

Lucien watched as the young Archeron put her silverware down. He watched her take out those mentioned earrings as everything paused as Feyre moved closer to Rhysand and away from Elain. 

“Mother fuck!” Cassian jumped back as Kaylee jumped Elain and chaos ensued. Nesta was the first to her two younger sisters, trying to pull the small wild animal that had taken Kaylee's place off of Elain as Mor and Amren watched with amused smiles. Rhys was next, touching Nesta's shoulder, stating he would handle it, only to be met with a well placed elbow from the now smirking eldest sister.

Azriel and Lucien stared at each other, both rapidly motioning for the other to do something as Kaylee landed a solid punch on Elain's shoulder. "You first. I insist," Lucien motioned towards them. "I already am missing one eye. I would like to keep the other." It was instantly noted by all in the room how the youngest sister was refusing to truly hurt Elain, to damage her more as tears of frustration and anger poured down Kaylee's face.

It was Cassian who finally took the youngest, throwing her over her shoulder and leaving the room with her. Kaylee watched each of his graceful steps, knowing where they were going as she clung to his leathers crying. He sunk her into the training ring, stepping back a few feet before getting into a stance and nodding. 

He braced himself for her sloppy attacks, knowing more than anything to cover his face, but knowing this was nothing. This was nothing compared to her anger when she first woke up. The only difference between the Kaylee before him and the one who begged to be trained was precision. He saw his opening, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her back to his chest. “Breathe, Kaylee.” He kissed the back of her head as her thrashing stopped. “Just breathe.” 

She could not see Cassian as the sobs slowed. She could not see the concern on his face as he looked to the skies.

Flying there in its full glory, circling above them like a predator searching for prey, was her drake, and Cassian was just hoping he, and no one in Velaris, was about to be it's next meal.

@impossibelle @luvmoo @wallacewillow0773638 @nightless

Bound by Fate:

@cat-or-kitten @knmendiola @holb32

@mis-lil-red @minakay @whatsupb18 @deeshag @justdreamstars @pyrostatic @acourtofmarvels @no1massassin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @acourtofbatboydreams @mich0731 @thelov3lybookworm @going-through-shit

@coralseacourt @snoopyspace @tothestarsandwhateverend @st4r-girl-official @brieflyclassymortal @nickishadow139 @julesofvolterra @isa1b2h3 @awkward-mystic-beauty @12358 @throneofsmut @inloveallthetime @throneofsapphics @hnnybee0 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @vermillionwinter @mybestfriendmademe @mrstepes @darling006 @mich0731 @wallacewillow0773638 @hnyclover

[pinklemonslices]

wrote a little hurt/comfort thing because of the cancellation and the fact that i won’t see my glorious queen niko ever again, ft. a very sad edwin & established payneland :’)

—

“I miss Niko,” Edwin says one day, barely louder than a whisper, when there are no cases to be solved and the rain pouring outside the office is particularly heavy. And, it’s one thing to think it — god knows he’s always thinking it — but saying it aloud is another thing entirely.

There is a feeling of grief that hangs over him like the rain clouds outside, that never really leaves, always eating away at his soul like the awful, hungry thing it is. Sometimes he worries that, eventually, there won’t be anything left for it to eat, and he will simply cease to exist.

The grief is always there, but today, it’s worse than usual. It’s unbearable.

If Edwin needed air, he would be short of it. His chair is the most uncomfortable thing in the world, at the moment, as his hands clench into fists around the fabric of his trousers repeatedly. His mind focuses solely on the grief, in a way he rarely ever allows.

“I know,” Charles tells him finally, and “I do too,” is communicated just as clearly. Charles gets up from his spot on their sofa — that really is too low to the ground for either of them — and makes his way over to the desk.

For a moment, Edwin thinks he is going to perch on the edge of it, as he usually does, but instead he steps closer, leans down, peppers gentle, sorry kisses on the top of Edwin’s head. Edwin takes ahold of Charles’s burgundy polo shirt, and clings to it like a lifeline. But that’s what it is, isn’t it? Charles is the only thing keeping him from falling completely apart.

Charles wraps strong arms around Edwin, pulling him into an embrace, so tight it feels like he’s trying to somehow crush Edwin’s pain, and that’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Edwin has never been one to cry, not outside of Hell, at least, but Hell was something entirely different. Now though, his tears spill over as if he had just been torn to shreds again, as if he were still stuck in the worst place, with the worst people, as if he were still being tortured, as if crying was something he did regularly.

Niko would have tried to cheer him — them — up, if she were here, but if she were, well they would not be sad at all. Edwin wishes sorely that he did not have to be sad.

It is unfair, is what it is. It is unfair that Niko is dead. Someone as kind, and caring, and charming as Niko did not deserve to die, to be killed.

It is unfair that Edwin was given a friend, only for her to be ripped away from him. Only for him to have to watch it happen.

Edwin holds onto Charles a little tighter.

He doesn’t keep track of how long they stay like that, but at some point Charles starts crying too, and at another, the both of them manage to stop. Sometime after that, Edwin is able to let go of Charles’s shirt, and Charles pulls away enough to see Edwin’s face. He is sure it isn’t a pretty sight to behold.

And yet Charles smiles a sad sort of smile, and presses a kiss to Edwin’s lips. Edwin’s stomach swoops and his still heart flutters, the way it always does when they kiss. He does not think he will ever get used to it, but he is alright with that.

Niko would have cheered. She would have grinned so wide, and lamented about her inability to take a picture of them. Edwin’s eyes sting, but the tears don’t return.

“She would have loved this — us,” He says, when they eventually break apart. The sound of his voice is like nails on a chalkboard. “She would have been so happy. I told her of my confession in Hell, you know. I wish I could have told her of this. I wish she could see us now.” I wish I could see her now.

Charles kisses his nose. “I bet she can, love. Bet she’s smiling.”

Edwin opens his mouth to say something, once, twice, too many times, to no success. Instead, he offers a small nod.

He recalls something he told her on the roof of the Tongue & Tail, the day everything happened. The day he lost her. “No one is ever gone,” He had said. Maybe she is looking down on them. Maybe she really is smiling.

It is a proper nice thought, but it doesn’t fix the part of him that longs to see her again. It doesn’t fix the part of him that longs to watch Scooby Doo with her, and solve the cases before the characters manage to. It doesn’t fix his longing to hear her voice again, to hug her again, to be with her again.

He kisses Charles once more, and misses Niko still.

[areislol]

"gonna hold you, gonna kiss you in my arms"

ft— anyone

warning — major character death, angst with no comfort (?) kinda rushed

a/n— im too lazy to add anything so here is this plain format :) i felt like writing angst so here this is, i should be studying right now </3 i also forgot to eat dinner

wordcount. 748

can you imagine the gut wrenching pain of knowing that you are about to take your last breath in your lover's arms?

can you imagine the ache in your heart as you feel the life slipping away from you, the unbearable pain of leaving behind the one you love the most in the world. this is not how you imagined the way your life would be ending, but fate has brought you to this moment, and there is nothing you can do but surrender to it?

as you look into your lover's eyes, you see the agony and desperation in their gaze. they are holding on to you tightly, as if they were trying to keep you from leaving this world if they just hold on hard enough. thinking that if they held onto you tightly, the cruel gods wouldn't take you, the universe wouldn't take you. but you know that it's time to let go.

your lover's face becomes a blur as tears cloud your vision. you try to speak, but the words won't come out. the pain in your chest intensifies, and you know that your time is running out. you feel a sense of regret for all the things you didn't do and all the words left unsaid. you wish you could go back and make things right, but it's too late now.

and in your final moments, you think about all the things you wished you could have done differently. you wish you had told your lover how much they meant to you more often, but now.. it's too late.

your lover's arms are the only thing that brings you comfort in your final moments. the warmth of their embrace and the sound of their voice soothe your soul yet hurts you so much, their cracking voice, the way they're hyperventilating, the way their whole body is shaking, the way they look at you with such.. scared and confused eyes. you feel safe and loved. But as much as their presence helps ease the pain, it also magnifies it. the thought of leaving them behind is too much to bear.

at first, they're screaming, wailing, begging for you to stay awake, begging the gods to not take you away from him. their hot and angry tears dropping onto your clothes, their tears seeping into your clothes, forming wet splotches.

but as your breathing becomes shallow and ragged, your lover leans in closer to you, some what accepting the fate, whispering words of comfort and love. you can feel their tears falling on your face as they hold you tighter, not wanting to let go. but eventually, they have to accept that it's time to say goodbye.

as you feel your life slipping away, you cling onto your lover's arm with all your strength, hoping that it will somehow prolong your existence. the world around you fades away, and all you can hear is the sound of your own labored breathing and the faint voices of your lover. in that moment, all the trivial things that used to matter to you suddenly become insignificant, and all that you care about is the person holding you.

you close your eyes and take one last deep breath, knowing that your lover will be there until the very end. you feel the coldness creeping into your body, and the darkness closing in around you.

your last breath leaves your body, and your lover feels your heart stop beating against their chest, their world comes crashing down, their eyes wide and dull, confused about what had just happened, did you.. really go? they are left alone with their grief, holding on to the memory of the person they loved most in this cruel and wretched world.

the pain of losing someone so dear to you is gut-wrenching, and it will take time for them to heal. but even in death, your love for them lives on. they will always carry a piece of you with them, and they will never forget the way it felt to hold you in their arms as you passed from this world to the next.

and all you can do is hope that your love for them will live on after you're gone. you could only wish that they find someone better than you, someone who they will live their life to the fullest with, but you have an aching feeling that... they will never. with you gone, there is nothing to look for.

i made myself cry. guilty.

[satorulovebot]

THE GREAT WAR.

♱ genre. tragedy, WWI au, 18+

♱ summary. in the midst of world war I, satoru gojou drafted and sent off to the western front, leaving behind the love of his life with the promise of marrying her when he returned. he clings to the thoughts of a future with her and the letters she sends him in hopes of reuniting with her.

♱ pairings. satoru gojou, fem!reader

♱ word count. 8k

♱ tags/warnings. violence, suggestive content, major character death, profanity, mentions of drug use, weapon use, + more

♱ notes. this wasn't meant to be long or anything or fully fleshed out but i decided to share it anyways. i lowkey hate this but what can i say. i also made myself upset because of course i did. anyways likes and rb's always appreciated :)

December 1, 1917

My Dearest Love,

I hope my letter reaches you before we move further down the front and getting letters out becomes harder. I hope you’re sound asleep in our bed, enjoying dreamland with Charlie. 

I wanted to let you know that I think of you every day. I keep replaying our last night together in my mind. It was so precious, and I wish I could be there with you now. We talked about our future together. Even now, even here, I still dream of that future. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.

This war has shown me things I can’t forget, things I’ll never forget. I worry for Suguru too as he’s losing himself. Baby I can’t lie to you, it’s hard out here. If something happens to me and I don’t make it back, please remember how much I love you. I love you more than words can say. 

Please stay strong for me, my love. I’ll hold onto the hope that we’ll be together again someday.

With all my love,

Satoru

May 18, 1917

The radio crackles faintly as you twist the dial, trying to find the right station. The sound of distorted voices filled the small living room of your home. You are sitting on the worn couch that you and Satoru had spent countless nights on, talking about everything and nothing. Satoru sits beside you with his arm draped over your shoulders, his hand resting on your upper arm, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on your skin. It’s a small gesture, one that he’s done a thousand times before, but tonight it feels… different.

You finally find the station you’ve been looking for, and the voice on the radio comes through, clear and steady.

“…the President has announced that the United States will be joining the war in Europe. All eligible men between the ages of 21 and 30 are to be drafted into military service…”

You freeze at the words, like a winter chill had seeped into your bones. You feel a sharp, involuntary intake of breath, your hand tightening around the knob of the radio as if holding on to it will somehow keep the world from spinning out of control.

“They’re really doing it,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry, and force yourself to speak. “We talked about this, but…” The words feel strange on your tongue as if they belong to someone else. “Hearing it…hearing it makes it real.”

Satoru nods, but he doesn’t say anything.

Finally, he speaks, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What are we going to do?”

The question hangs in the air, unanswered, because you don’t know the answer. How could you? You want to say something, anything, to reassure him, to reassure yourself, but the words would not come. Instead, you reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his, holding on as tightly as you can, as if it might somehow keep the world from falling apart.

Satoru’s grip tightens around yours, and for a moment, you can feel the fear in him, the uncertainty. You’ve always known him as strong and always in control, but now, in this moment, he’s just as lost as you are.

“We’ll figure it out, baby. I promise,” He whispered.

Satoru pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you as you buried your face in his chest. You breathed in the familiar scent of him, trying to memorize every detail as if it was the last time you would ever get to hold him like this. His lips press against the top of your head, a gentle, lingering kiss that speaks of promises made and promises that will be broken.

June 3, 1917

Tomorrow is the day that Satoru is set to leave for the Western front.

The golden light of the late afternoon filtered through the windows, casting long, melancholy shadows across the bedroom. It was a room you had filled with so many memories—laughter, love, late-night conversations that had lasted until the early hours of the morning. But now, the only thing that seemed to be there was a half-packed duffel bag lying open on the bed.

You stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching as Satoru moved about the room gathering the the last couple of items he would need. He was quiet the entire time he packed his bags. You could see the way his shoulders were stiff and the subtle tremor in his hands as he reached for another piece of clothing.

Between the two of you, Satoru had always been the strong one. The one who could face anything with a smile, it was the thing that had drawn you to him in the first place.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He paused at the sound of your voice, his hands hovering over the duffel bag. Slowly, he turned to face you, His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw the fear he was trying so hard to hide.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Satoru finally admitted, his voice rough, like it had been scraped raw from holding back so much. “I don’t know how to leave you.”

His confession broke something inside of you like a dam of emotions had finally been let loose. Before you knew it, you were across the room, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could, burying your face in his chest. His arms came around you instantly, pulling you close, holding on as if you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” you whispered. “Not with me.”

“I’m scared,” he admitted, the words muffled against your hair. “I’m so scared, and I hate that I’m leaving you and Charlie like this.”

Your heart ached at his words. It was a side of him he rarely showed anyone, even you.  You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands cupping his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m scared too.”

“Do you remember the first time we talked about the war?” Satoru asked suddenly.

You nodded, remembering the day that the news had broke about the conflict in Europe. It was just another story on the radio, something that had felt so far away. The two of you had been sitting in the same room, listening to the same radio, with your hands entwined talking about the life you wanted to build together.

“It felt like something that could never touch us. Like it was happening in another world, to people we’d never know.”

Satoru sighed, “And now, it’s all too real.”

When you looked up at him, you could see the same look in his eyes that you had seen when the draft letter first arrived.

You felt your tears start to fall as you reached up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his features, trying to commit them to memory. “So do I,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. “But no matter what happens, I’ll be here when you come back. I’ll be waiting for you.”

​​Satoru closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. I’m going to miss you so much,” he murmured. “Every single day.”

You pulled him down into a kiss, slow and lingering, pouring all of your love, your fear, your hope into that one moment, trying to convey everything you couldn’t put into words. Satoru’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that made your heart ache once more.

“I love you,” you could hear him say as he continued to latch his mouth onto yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Without breaking the kiss, Satoru guided you towards the bed, his hands moving to your waist as he lifted you, laying you down gently on the mattress. The duffel bag was pushed to the side, forgotten for now, as he climbed on top of you, his body pressing down against yours, relishing the taste of his buttery lips on yours.

June 4, 1917

“Are you ready?” His voice broke the silence.

You turned to face him, your throat tight with the words you wanted to say but couldn’t find. Instead, you nodded, though nothing about you felt ready—least of all your heart.

Satoru approached you slowly as if he wasn’t sure how to comfort you without breaking down. His warm hand reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“You know I have to do this,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s my duty. I can’t—”

“Please don’t go,” you interrupted, the words spilling out before you could stop them. Your voice cracked, you were desperate to make him stay. You knew you were asking the impossible, that no matter how much you begged, he couldn’t stay. But the thought of losing him, of not knowing if he would ever come back, was too much to bear.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he could shield you from the reality you had both come to face.

“I wish I could stay,” he murmured against your hair. “More than anything, I wish I could stay here with you. But I have to go. I have to.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his uniform as if you could keep him there, with you, if you just held on tight enough. “But what if you don’t come back? What if—”

“I will come back.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, the look almost pleading. “I promise you, baby, I will come back. And when I do, I’m going to marry you, and we’ll have that life we always talked about. We’ll have a family, a home...everything.”

“What if something happens?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What if—”

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice was gentle, and soothing, as he cupped your face in both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were now streaming down your cheeks. “Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’ll be careful, I’ll keep my head down, and I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

His words were meant to comfort you, but they only made the pain worse. Because deep down, no matter how much he promised, there was no guarantee that he would come back. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say that. So instead, you nodded, forcing yourself to believe, if only for his sake. “Promise me you’ll write,” you said, your voice trembling. “Every chance you get.”

“I will,” he assured you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Every chance I get, I’ll write to you. And I want you to write to me too, okay? Tell me everything, don’t leave anything out. I want to know everything that’s going on with you, no matter how small it might seem.”

You nodded again, a small, shaky smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I will. I promise.”

Satoru sighed, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I have to go.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. Satoru gave you one last, long look as if trying to memorize every detail of your face before he finally turned and picked up his duffel bag.

You walked the man you love to the door, your steps were slow, each one feeling like a goodbye. When you reached the threshold, Satoru stopped, turning to face you one last time. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was full of everything you couldn’t say—fear, hope, love, and the desperate need to hold on to this moment, to him, for as long as you could. When he finally pulled away, you could see the tears in his eyes, tears he was trying so hard to hold back.

“I’ll see you soon.”

And then he was gone, walking out the door and down the path that led to the street, where a car was waiting to take him to the docks. You stood in the doorway, watching as he walked away. When he reached the car, he turned back one last time, raising his hand in a small wave, a sad smile on his lips.

You raised your hand in return, your vision blurred by tears, your body shaking with the force of the sobs you were holding back. And then he was gone, the car driving away, taking him further and further from you, until he was just a speck on the horizon, and then nothing at all.

Finally, when you couldn’t stand it any longer, you sank to the floor, your body shaking with sobs that you could no longer hold back. You cried for what felt like an eternity with Charlie at your side, your tears soaking into the wood beneath you, your cries echoing in the empty house. 

When you finally had no tears left, when your body was too exhausted to cry anymore, you lay there, curled up on the floor, clutching the memory of Satoru close to your heart, the only thing you had left of him.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” you whispered into the silence, your voice hoarse from crying. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here when you come back.”

September 7, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I wish more than anything that I could be there with you, to hold your hand and tell you that everything will be okay. But since I can’t, I’m sending you all the love I have, wrapped up in these words.

Life here is quiet without you. The days seem longer, and the nights feel emptier, but I’m doing my best to keep busy. I’ve been tending to our plants you always loved, you won’t believe how much they’ve grown! The roses have bloomed beautifully this year, and I think of you every time I see them. I imagine you coming home and us standing together in the kitchen, just like we used to, with Charlie at our feet.

Speaking of Charlie, he’s been such a comfort to me in your absence. He’s still the same playful pup, always chasing his tail and trying to catch the birds that come too close. But I think he misses you just as much as I do. Sometimes, he will sit by the door, staring out as if he is waiting for you to walk through it. I take him on long walks, and every time we pass by the places we used to go together, he pulls at the leash, looking around as if he expects to see you there. I can’t help but smile and cry a little at the same time. He’s such a good dog, Satoru, and I know he’ll be so happy to see you when you come home.

I dream about the day you’ll come home, the day we’ll finally be together again. I dream of the life we’ll have, the family we’ll build, all the things we talked about before you left. And until that day comes, I’ll be here, waiting for you, loving you with everything I have. I’ll keep writing to you, and I hope that these letters bring you some comfort, some reminder of the life waiting for you here.

Please take care of yourself, Satoru. Stay safe, stay strong, and know that I’m counting down the days until you return. I love you more than words can say, and I’m so proud of you. Come back to us soon.

With all my love,

Y/N

October 12, 1917

The train clacked along the tracks, the noise doing little to soothe the nerves of the men inside. Satoru was sat by the window, his thoughts a thousand miles away.

Satoru’s hand slipped into his pocket, fingers closing around the worn edges of a small, creased photograph. He pulled it out, his eyes softening as he looked at the image of the woman who had captured his heart. Your eyes held all the warmth of a summer day, and your smile—oh, that smile—was the beacon that guided him. He could almost hear your voice, talking about the latest gossip or news.

As the train jolted along the tracks, Satoru’s thoughts drifted back to the last time he had seen you, the way you had clung to him, the way your tears soaked his uniform as you begged him not to go.

A soft voice broke through his reverie, pulling him back to the present. “Is that your wife?”

Satoru glanced up to see the soldier sitting next to him, a young man barely out of his teens, with wide, innocent eyes. He was looking at the photograph in Satoru’s hand with curiosity.

Satoru managed a small, bittersweet smile, his thumb brushing over the face of the woman in the photograph. “No,” he replied softly. “We never got the chance to marry.”

The young soldier’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Satoru sighed, leaning back against the hard, uncomfortable seat. His gaze drifted back to the photograph. “I was going to,” he began, his voice distant as he spoke, almost as if he were talking more to himself than to the young soldier beside him. “We talked about it, even picked out a date... But then the war came, and everything changed. I didn’t want to leave her, but there wasn’t enough time.”

He paused, his eyes clouding with the memories of that fateful day. The tears in your eyes as you pleaded with him to stay to marry you. But he had refused, not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you a widow, of making you wait for a man who might never come back. It had been the hardest decision of his life, and now, as he sat on this train bound for the front lines, he wondered if he had made the right one.

“She must be something special,” he said quietly.

“She is,” Satoru replied, his voice softening as he thought of you. “She’s everything. The strongest, most loving person I’ve ever known. She’s the reason I’m doing this, the reason I’m still standing.”

He fell silent, his mind drifting back to the countless nights the two of you had spent talking about your future. You had dreamed of growing old together, maybe moving out to the countryside and live in a little house.

“What’s her name?” the young soldier asked, his voice pulling Satoru back from his thoughts.

“Y/N,” Satoru said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he spoke your name. “She’s waiting for me to come back.”

“You’ll make it back to her. I know you will.”

Satoru nodded, though deep down, he wasn’t so sure. 

The train jerked to a stop, the shrill whistle signaling their arrival at the next station. The soldiers began to stand, gathering their gear as they prepared to disembark. Satoru carefully folded the photograph and slipped it back into his pocket, close to his heart, where it belonged.

​​As he stepped off the train, the cold air hit him like a slap in the face. The station was a bleak and desolate place filled with soldiers. Satoru pulled his coat tighter around him, his eyes scanning the crowd, searching for something, anything, that would remind him of home.

But there was nothing.

He glanced back at the train, at the young soldier who had spoken to him. Their eyes met for a brief moment, then the young soldier raised his hand and, in a small almost hesitant wave said, “Take care of yourself!”

Satoru nodded, though he couldn’t bring himself to say the words in return. He turned and began walking, the weight of his rifle heavy on his shoulder.

The journey to the front lines was grueling, to put it lightly. It was something that tested the physical and mental limits of every man in the company. The landscape was a reflection of the war: the fields now lay barren, scarred by craters and the remnants of past battles. Trees stood like charred skeletons against the gray sky, their branches reaching out like twisted fingers. It was a place that seemed to exist outside of time, where the seasons had no hold.

Satoru walked near the front of the column, though his thoughts were universes away. He had stopped trying to make sense of the war around him, instead, his mind clung to the thought of his girlfriend and his home. Every so often, his hand would drift to his pocket, where the photograph of his beloved remained safely tucked away. It was his anchor, the one thing that kept him grounded in a world that seemed to have lost all meaning.

Throughout the journey, there were brief breaks from the march. Moments where men could catch their breath and rest their sore legs. During these breaks, the sliders would drop to the ground wherever they could find space. Some lit cigarettes, the tiny glowing embers flickering in the dim light, while others simply stared into the distance.

Satoru usually found a spot a little apart from the others, leaning against the trunk of a withered tree or sitting on a flat rock. Once on a break, the company rested by the narrow road that cut through a ruined village. Satoru found himself staring at the crumbling remains of a church. The steeple had collapsed, the once-proud structure now reduced to a pile of rubble. A few scattered graves dotted the ground nearby, their markers leaning at odd angles as if they, too, had given up the fight against the ravages of war.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of voices approaching from down the road. Another company was making its way toward them, the soldiers’ weary faces reflecting the same one that Satoru saw on his men. 

Satoru glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the unfamiliar faces. Most of the men looked just as worn and weary as his own comrades, their uniforms stained with mud. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure that made him pause, his heart skipping a beat. 

It couldn’t be—but it was.

Suguru Getou stood a little apart from the rest of his company, his back against the remnants of a low stone wall. He was staring off into the distance, seemingly unaware of the world around him, lost in thoughts that Satoru could only guess at. His face was thinner than Satoru remembered, his features more drawn, but there was no mistaking those sharp, dark eyes, or the way his long, black hair fell in loose strands around his face.

For a moment, Satoru was frozen in place. He hadn’t seen Suguru since before the war before they had been sent away from their families and to different parts of the front. Suguru had been sent to the front lines before Satoru did and Satoru had often wondered if he was even still alive, if he had somehow managed to survive on the front lines. 

Now, seeing him here, in the flesh, was both a shock and a relief.

“Suguru,” Satoru called out, his voice breaking the silence between them.

Suguru’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as they focused on Satoru. For a moment, there was no recognition in his gaze, just the cold, hard stare of a soldier who had seen too much. But then something shifted in Suguru’s expression, and his eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Satoru, you bastard,” Suguru replied, pushing himself away from the wall and making his way over to where Satoru stood. There was a moment of hesitation as if they weren’t quite sure how to greet each other after all this time, but then Satoru reached out and clapped a hand on Suguru’s shoulder.

“Still alive, huh?”

“Barely. It’s good to see you, Satoru.”

“And you,” Satoru said.

Suguru’s gaze then drifted to the photograph clutched in Satoru’s hand. “Is that her?” he asked quietly, nodding toward the picture.

Satoru followed his gaze, his expression softening as he looked down at the image of the woman he loved. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the one keeping me sane out here.”

Suguru nodded, his expression unreadable as he looked at the photograph. “You’re lucky, you know,” he said after a moment. “Not everyone has someone to go home to.”

“And you? How are you holding up?”

Suguru shrugged. “I’m still here,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters, right?”

Satoru wanted to say something, to offer some kind of comfort or reassurance, but the words wouldn’t come. What could he say that would make any of this easier? What could he offer that would ease the burden they both carried?

After a while, the call to move out came, and the soldiers began to gather their gear, preparing to resume their march to the front lines.

“Take care of yourself, Suguru.”

“And you, Satoru,” Suguru replied, his expression softening for just a moment. “We’ll see each other again. We have to.”

As the two companies parted ways, Satoru glanced back one last time, watching as Suguru’s figure grew smaller and smaller in the distance. He slipped the photograph back into his pocket, his fingers lingering on it for just a moment too long.

December 1, 1917

The trenches were a whole other world themselves. They were a labyrinth of mud, blood, and despair that stretched across the landscape like a festering wound. Satoru had been there for weeks now, but time had lost all meaning. Day and night blurred together into an endless cycle of fear and exhaustion. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, a sickly smell that clung to everything, seeping into the very pores of his skin. 

Satoru had never imagined that war could be like this. He had heard stories, of course—everyone had—but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of life in the trenches. The constant threat of death, the gnawing hunger—it was a living nightmare, a hell on earth from which there was no escape.

He had lost count of how many men had fallen, their bodies left to rot in the no man's land between the trenches. Friends, comrades, men he had shared laughs and meals with—they were all gone now, their lives snuffed out in an instant by a stray bullet or a well-placed shell. And with each death, a piece of Satoru died with them, his heart growing harder, his soul more numb.

At first, he tried to keep up the letters, pouring his thoughts and fears into the carefully penned words he sent back to you. He had written about the camaraderie among the men, the small moments of joy they found amid the horror, and the hope that one day, this war would end and they would be together again. He had clung to that hope, letting it buoy him up when the darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, the words had become harder and harder to find. What could he possibly say to her now, after all he had seen, after all he had done? How could he put into words the horrors that haunted his every waking moment, the nightmares that chased him even in the few moments of sleep he managed to get?

He had started a dozen letters, each one more difficult than the last. He would sit in the dim light of the trench, his hands trembling as he tried to hold the pen steady, the paper before him smudged with dirt and blood. But the words wouldn’t come. Every time he tried to write, the memories would flood back—images of shattered bodies, of men screaming in pain, of the deafening roar of the guns that never seemed to stop. And then he would see your face, smiling up at him from the photograph he kept tucked inside his jacket, and the guilt would crash over him like a wave, drowning him in its icy grip.

How could he write to her about any of this? How could he tell her about the nightmares that kept him awake at night, the fear that gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog? How could he explain that he wasn’t the same man who had left her behind all those months ago, that the war had changed him in ways he could never have imagined?

Satoru had never felt so alone.

The men around him were suffering just as he was, but there was a wall between them now, an invisible barrier that kept him apart from the others. They still laughed, still shared stories and jokes to pass the time, but Satoru found himself withdrawing more and more, retreating into the silence of his own mind. He couldn’t bring himself to join in their conversations, couldn’t find the strength to pretend that everything was okay when nothing was okay.

It was during one of these quiet moments, when the guns had fallen that Satoru found himself staring at the photograph again. He traced the outline of your face with his thumb, the edges of the picture worn and frayed from being handled so often. You looked so happy, so full of life—everything that he wasn’t anymore. He wondered if she would even recognize him when this was all over if he ever made it out of this hell alive.

The thought made his chest tighten, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart. What if he didn’t make it back? What if this was where his story ended, in a cold, muddy trench on the other side of the world? Would she remember him as the man he used to be, or would she forget him altogether, moving on with her life as if he had never existed?

He shoved the photograph back into his pocket, the thoughts too painful to bear. He needed to write to her, to tell her how much he loved her, how much he missed her, but the words refused to come. The pen felt heavy in his hand, the paper staring back at him like an accusation.

The sound of footsteps approaching pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see one of the other soldiers, a young man named Thomas, standing over him. Thomas had joined their company a few weeks ago, fresh-faced and full of energy, but the war had already taken its toll on him. His eyes were sunken, his cheeks hollow, and there was a haunted look in his gaze that Satoru recognized all too well.

“Hey,” Thomas said, his voice rough from disuse. “You alright, Satoru?”

Satoru nodded, though he didn’t trust himself to speak. He knew that if he opened his mouth, the words that would spill out would be anything but alright.

Thomas glanced down at the paper in Satoru’s lap, the empty lines stark against the dirty page. “Having trouble writing?”

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to say anymore.”

“It’s hard,” he said quietly. “Hard to find the words when everything around you is…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the trench, at the world beyond it. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be about all this,” he continued after a moment. “Maybe just…tell her you miss her. Tell her you’re thinking about her. Sometimes, that’s enough.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Satoru whispered.

Thomas crouched down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can,” he said firmly. “You have to. For her. For you.”

He knew Thomas was right—he had to find the strength to write to her, to keep that connection alive, no matter how difficult it was. Because if he lost that, if he let the war take that from him too, there would be nothing left.

With a deep breath, Satoru picked up the pen again, his hand still trembling. He stared at the blank page for a long moment, his thoughts a jumble of emotions and memories, before finally, the words began to flow.

They weren’t perfect, and they certainly didn’t capture everything he was feeling, but they were honest. He wrote about how much he missed her, how he thought of her every day, and how the memory of her smile was the only thing keeping him sane. He told her about the men he was serving with, about the small moments of kindness and he told her that no matter how dark things got, he would find his way back to her.

By the time he finished, his hand was aching, and the paper was smudged with dirt and sweat, but the weight on his chest had lifted just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

The war had taken so much from him, had stripped him of his innocence, his peace of mind, and so many of the men he had called friends. But it hadn’t taken her. Not yet.

And as long as he had her, as long as there was still a chance that he could hold her in his arms again, he would keep fighting. He would keep going, one day at a time, one step at a time, until this nightmare was over.

Because he had to believe that there was still a future out there, a future where the two of them could be together, away from the mud and the blood and the death. A future where they could build the life they had dreamed of, where he could make good on all the promises he had whispered to her in the dark.

Satoru clutched the letter to his chest for a moment, closing his eyes and letting himself imagine that future—a small house, a warm fire, your laughter filling the air. It was a dream, maybe a foolish one, but it was all he had left to hold on to.

When he finally opened his eyes, the trench seemed a little less dark, the air a little less suffocating. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Satoru allowed himself to believe that he would make it through this, that he would survive this war and return to the woman he loved.

December 25, 1917

My Dearest Satoru,

Merry Christmas, my love. I wish I could say that it feels like the holiday season here, but without you by my side, it all seems so different. The tree in the living room is smaller this year, just a simple little thing I picked up from the market. I decorated it with the old ornaments we’ve collected over the years, though they don’t shine as brightly without you here to admire them.

Charlie and I spent the day together. He’s grown so much since you last saw him, you wouldn’t believe it! He still waits by the door every evening, his ears perked up like he’s expecting you to walk through any moment. I think he misses you almost as much as I do. We went for a long walk this morning, just the two of us. The air was crisp and cold, and there was a light dusting of snow on the ground. It reminded me of the first Christmas we spent together when you insisted on making snow angels and pulling me into that ridiculous snowball fight. I laughed so hard that day, and I haven’t laughed quite the same way since you left.

I cooked a small dinner tonight—nothing fancy, just some of your favorite dishes. I set a place for you at the table, even though I knew you wouldn’t be there to fill it. I like to think that, wherever you are, you can feel the warmth of home and know that you’re always in my thoughts. The house is quiet now, almost too quiet. I find myself talking to you sometimes, as if you were still here with me, sitting in your favorite chair with that mischievous smile of yours. I can almost hear your voice, teasing me, comforting me, telling me that everything will be alright.

But it’s hard, Satoru. It’s so hard being here without you, especially on days like this when the world seems so full of love and joy, and all I can think about is how much I miss you. I try to be strong, for you, for us, but there are moments when the loneliness is overwhelming. I lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering where you are if you’re safe if you’re thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you.

I know I shouldn’t burden you with my worries, especially when you’re facing so much over there. But I promised you that I would always be honest with you, and the truth is my love, I miss you more than words can say. I miss your laughter, your touch, the way you would pull me close when the world felt too big and frightening. I miss the sound of your voice, the warmth of your arms around me, the simple comfort of knowing that you were near.

I don’t know what this Christmas is like for you, if you’ve had a moment of peace, or if the war continues to rage on, even on this holy day. But I want you to know that I’m here, waiting for you, loving you with all my heart.

Until that day comes, I’ll hold on to the memories we’ve made, and I’ll keep you in my heart, always. I’ll keep sending you my love, in every letter, in every thought, in every prayer. And I’ll be here, waiting for the day when you come home to me.

Merry Christmas, Satoru. I love you more than words could ever express.

Yours always and forever,

Y/N

January 1918

The flickering light of the oil lamp cast shadows on the rough, earthen walls of the trench as Satoru unfolded the letter with trembling hands. The cold bit at his fingers, but the warmth of her words was all he felt. He leaned back against the wooden planks, his breath visible in the frigid air, and began to re

He could almost see her, sitting by the small tree, Charlie at her feet, the house filled with the scent of pine and home-cooked food. The image was so vivid that he could hear the crackle of the fire, feel the softness of your hand in his, and taste the warmth of the cocoa you always made too sweet.

When he finished the letter, he folded it carefully, placing it back into the envelope before tucking it into his jacket, close to his heart. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, trying to hold on to the image of her, of home, for just a little longer.

"Someday," he whispered to himself, "I’ll go back to you."

But that "someday" felt so far away.

Satoru was exhausted. He was so exhausted. And despite the cold and the ever-present danger, Satoru found himself drifting off to sleep. He dreamed of you and Charlie, of a small house and a garden, a real one, and maybe a little one.

But that dream was shattered all too quickly.

The ground shook violently, and Satoru was yanked from his sleep by the deafening roar of artillery fire. The once-peaceful night had erupted into chaos. He scrambled to his feet, the world around him a blur of noise and confusion. Mud and debris rained down as shells exploded nearby, turning the trench into a hellscape of smoke and fire.

"Satoru! Get up!" A voice yelled from somewhere in the darkness, but it was nearly drowned out by the barrage.

His heart raced as he grabbed his rifle, instincts taking over. The letter, the warmth of her words, the image of her waiting for him—all of it was shoved to the back of his mind as survival became his only focus. He could barely see through the smoke, but he knew what was coming.

"Over the top! They’re coming!"

Satoru fought desperately alongside his comrades. The world had become a blur of smoke, fire, and the metallic scent of blood. He barely felt the cold anymore—only the burning need to survive, to push through the horror and get back to the life he had left behind.

But even as he fired his rifle, the enemy pushing ever closer, a gnawing fear settled deep in his chest. It wasn’t the fear of dying, though that was always there, lurking beneath the surface. It was the fear of breaking his promise to her, of never seeing her again, never holding her in his arms, never telling her one last time how much he loved her.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed to his right—a mortar shell exploding far too close. The force of it threw him to the ground, his head slamming against the hard earth. Everything went dark for a moment, and when he opened his eyes, the world was spinning. He could barely hear over the ringing in his ears, his vision blurry as he struggled to push himself up.

But before he could regain his bearings, he felt a sharp pain in his side, followed by a searing heat that spread across his body. He looked down, his hand coming away sticky with blood. Panic surged through him as he realized the wound was deep, too deep.

"Satoru!" someone shouted, but it felt distant as if it were coming from another world.

He tried to move, tried to fight, but his body wouldn’t respond. His strength was draining away, the edges of his vision darkening as the pain grew overwhelming. He reached for the photo in his pocket, fumbling with weak fingers until he could pull it out. The edges were crumpled, dirtied from being carried with him through every battle, but her face was still there, smiling up at him.

"I’m sorry baby…" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of battle. He wasn’t sure if the words were meant for her or himself, but they were all he could manage.

As he lay there, the sounds of war fading into the background, another soldier—a younger man from his company—dropped to his knees beside Satoru. The man was injured, blood seeping from a wound in his leg, but his focus was entirely on Satoru.

"No… no, no, no," the soldier muttered, his voice choked with panic. He saw the wound, saw the blood, and knew there was nothing he could do. "Satoru, stay with me, please!"

Satoru’s grip on the photo loosened, and the young soldier gently took it from him, his hands shaking. He saw the woman in the picture, the one Satoru had talked about so often, and his heart sank. "Is… is this her?"

Satoru nodded weakly, the effort taking everything he had left. He tried to speak, to say her name, to tell the soldier to take care of her, but the words wouldn’t come. His chest felt tight, every breath a struggle.

"Don’t worry, I’ll… I’ll make sure she knows," the soldier promised, though his voice cracked with the weight of it. He fumbled with Satoru’s jacket, pulling out the dog tags, and pressed them into his own pocket, along with the photo. "I’ll tell her… everything."

Satoru’s vision darkened further, the world slipping away from him. All he could see was her face, all he could think about was the future they had dreamed of. But that future was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand.

"I’m sorry," he whispered one last time before the darkness took him completely.

Weeks passed, though they felt like an eternity. The war continued on, but Satoru’s company was eventually pulled back from the front lines, many of them injured, exhausted, or worse. The young soldier who had taken Satoru’s photo was among those who were discharged, his leg injury severe enough to send him home. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight he carried in his heart.

When the company finally reached the docks, it was a scene of bittersweet reunions. Families and loved ones gathered, waiting anxiously for a glimpse of their soldiers. You were among them, your heart pounding in your chest as you scanned the crowd, searching desperately for Satoru’s familiar face.

But you couldn’t find him.

The minutes dragged on, and panic began to set in. Where was he? Had something happened? You tried to reassure yourself, telling yourself that he would appear any moment, that he was just delayed, that everything was fine.

Then you saw a man hobbling toward you on crutches, his face pale and drawn. You recongnized the man as in the letters Satoru had described him as a friend, a comrade. But where was Satoru? Why wasn’t he with him?

Your breath caught in your throat as the soldier stopped in front of you, his eyes filled with a sorrow that made your blood run cold. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled photograph, the one you had given to Satoru before he left. And then, with trembling hands, he held out Satoru’s dog tags.

"I’m so sorry," the soldier said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "He… he didn’t make it."

The world around you seemed to crumble, the ground shifting beneath your feet as the words sank in. You stared at the photo, and the dog tags, unable to comprehend what he was saying. It couldn’t be true. Satoru had promised you. He had promised he would come back.

"No…" The word fell from your lips, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes. "No, he… he promised…"

The soldier reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder, but the gesture did nothing to comfort you. "He loved you so much," he said softly, his own eyes filling with tears. "He… he talked about you all the time. Right up until…"

You didn’t let him finish. The pain in your chest was too much to bear, and the sobs broke free, your body shaking as you clutched the photograph to your chest. The world around you blurred, the sounds of the docks fading away as all you could think about was him—his smile, his laugh, the way he had held you that last night before he left.

He was gone. Satoru was gone.

The soldier stayed with you, his own heart breaking as he watched you fall to your knees, your cries of grief echoing through the crowd. But there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do to ease the pain of your loss.

And so the war took one more life, one more love story cut short by the horrors of battle. The future you had dreamed of, the life you had planned, was gone—lost in the mud and blood of a distant country.

All that remained were memories and the cold, hard reality that he would never come home to you.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[allaboutnayeli]

Cute aggression with Elisa I FKN BEEEEEEGGGGGGGGG

SHE SOOO FKN CUUUUTE I JUST AGAHAHHXHFHDHDHEHRHRGCHFHDFGGFHFBFNFJHDDHHCBGTTDT

I love her way too much

can't help myself [e.de almeida x reader]

summary: elisa is always so cute you just have to show her that you love that about her in an overly aggressive way.

author notes: this is such a cute request! love you anon for this one. enjoy it y'all!

elisa is many things. a skilled footballer, a chaotic girlfriend, an absolute family person, and a cat mama. she is also the cutest thing you have ever seen and half of the time she doesn't even know it.

there are so many moments where elisa is just absentmindedly pouting about something or cuddling up to you two's black cat, lily. the times where she's too tired to function are the best. the pouting, groans of annoyance when you move away from her, and the "c'mon, stop, babe" when you start laughing at how irritated she looks. it's so adorable of her.

elisa is such a cutie and that makes you internally want to just bite her or squeeze her cheeks so hard she whines and pushes you away. the cute aggression when it comes to your girlfriend is unmatched.

the cute aggression towards elisa is always an all time high when she comes back from away games. from the moment you pick her up to her head hits the pillow she's adorable.

it's around eight am when paris saint germain make their way back to paris from a champions league match against roma with a win. you sit on the sorta uncomfortable seats in the airport near where the team should be coming out. a warm smile curls up your lips as you spot elisa coming out behind sakina. anyone could see how tired she was from a mile away. elisa smiles softly once she spots you. opening up her free arm, the other is pulling her suitcase, to pull you close as she reaches where you are sitting. she lets go out of her suitcase for a moment to wrap her arms fully around you and nuzzle her face into your neck. letting out a small sigh.

you chuckle as she says, "sometimes i wish the champions league didn't exist." the genuine annoyance in her words makes you laugh even more. "that's not true. you love playing in the champions league and traveling was one of your top reasons, so what changed now, miss de almeida?" you pull away from her grasp which makes her groan and frown at you. the sight was so cute you almost screamed, but held in it because public decency and all that jazz. "that was past elisa. current elisa is tired and about to pass out so can we go home already?" the footballer groans again as you pinch her cheek. you had to get that elisa-induced aggression out of your system somehow. "hm. i don't knoww. i wanted to talk to jackie and korbin for a minute or two before going," you say. smiling once you see the small eye roll your girlfriend does.

"babee," elisa pouts, "i'm serious. let's go home." you sigh out a small fine before grabbing onto her suitcase as she goes back to clinging onto you. she waves goodbye to her teammates still lingering around. knowing damn well at the next practice they were going to be teasing her relentlessly, but at the moment all elisa could think about was bed, you, and sleep. that's it, nothing else.

"c'mon, babygirl," you say playfully as you two come out of the airport and to your car. elisa lets out a sound of mock annoyance at the nickname. she hated it, but you always found a way to say it. usually she would give you a light hit on the shoulder, but was too tired to truly care about the petname so you are let off scotch free for now.

it takes a bit of time to get into the car with elisa refusing to let you go. groaning and pulling you closer every time you tried to get into the driver's seat. finally you sigh out of frustration and say, "what if someone who knows you see this, elisa? stop being a baby and get in the car so we can go home like you wanted."

your words make elisa sigh out dramatically before letting you go and going over to the passenger side. crossing her arms across her chest once she snaps on her seatbelt and gets all comfortable. "elisa, it is never that serious," you laugh as you slip into the driver's seat. snapping in your seatbelt before pulling off. the footballer just lets out a small hmph before turning away from you as best as she could and leaning her head against the window. elisa is fast asleep only five minutes into the ride.

her eyebrows are slightly furrowed as her lips are in a small pout. somehow her hair is still perfect as her face sits half against the glass of the window, half against the actual door. elisa's arms are still across her chest as she sleeps.

you nearly crash the car as you look over to see how adorable she's being. the strong urge to just pinch her cheek again almost gets you, but you rather not be under the wrath of an exhausted elisa, so you resist; for now.

when you two reach home, elisa is back on her clingy stuff. as you set her suitcase by the couch she refuses to let you go. almost making you both trip as you try to walk over to the kitchen to grab a juice. "oh my god, elisa.." you whine softly as you try to reach the fridge with all of elisa's weight on you. the woman is still half asleep so she hardly reacts. basically being like dead weight. "i love you i swear, but please let me go. you need to change anyways," you try to pull her arms from around your waist, but she puts that footballer strength to use even while half sleep. "elisa..i'm serious," she groans as she finally pulls away. turning to go towards the bedroom. a small hmph can be heard as elisa slips into the room.

you let out a sigh of relief as you can finally move freely. grabbing some juice for yourself and a water for elisa. you set them down on the counter as you go to look into the cabinets for some popcorn. a small movie marathon was promised by elisa when she would come back and now she's back, it's time for that. even though you knew she would just be sleeping throughout all of the movies you have planned.

just as you put the automatic popcorn bag into the microwave, a small groan fills the otherwise silence of the apartment. you look behind you to see a grumpy looking elisa. her arms are crossed across her chest as she pouts and gives you a small glare.

"we are supposed to be cuddling right now," the footballer mumbles. you just chuckle as you come over to her. the cuteness levels right now were so high, you couldn't help it as you go to pull her close. squeezing her so hard until she tries to pull away. "why are you trying to suffocate me, babee?" she whines as she tries to pull out of your grasp. you don't let her as you squeeze her again.

"you're just too cute right now," you say as you finally let her go. giving her ass a small squeeze before fully pulling away. elisa gives your arm a light slap as you move to go back over to the kitchen. "yeah, yeah, whatever. just hurry up," she pouts. turning around to go slip into you two's bedroom once again.

the sound of the popcorn finally slows as you come over to the microwave. stopping it and taking the popcorn out. you put it into a large bowl before going into the bedroom. ready to cuddle and snack while old nickelodeon movies play.

"already so cozy? without me?" you tease as elisa looks at you from the bed. she is tucked in and looking very comfortable. her eyes are basically closed as she looks at you. "shut up and hurry up," elisa mumbles. you just roll your eyes as you set the bowl of popcorn on the bed. elisa reaches her arm out to try and pull her onto the bed but you move back fast enough. "nuh uh. i have to change first," you chuckle as she lets out a small groan. "c'mon, babe, hurry.."

you roll your eyes at how she keeps rushing you, but still you slip into your pajamas as quick as possible before getting into bed beside her. the moment you're in the bed, elisa pulls you close and nuzzles her face into your neck. "finally.." she says softly as her arm goes to wrap around your waist. trying to pull you closer if that was even possible. you move slightly, which makes her groan out in annoyance, to grab the bowl of popcorn. setting it on top of you two before grabbing the remote that is on the other side of elisa's body.

once all settled, elisa slips back off to sleep. clinging to your body with a strong grip.

you end up falling asleep an hour later, in the middle of the hey arnold movie. the now empty bowl of popcorn is long forgotten. laying on the floor.

it's around one am when you wake back up, suddenly needing to pee. you try to pull out of elisa's grasp, but again that footballer strength is unmatched. "babe.." you say softly, still trying to pull away.

"no.. where are you going?" elisa murmurs, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes stay closed. "bathroom," elisa just lets out a hmph of annoyance as you reply. still not allowing you to get out of bed. it's an adorable sight truly that makes your cuteness aggression so bad, but you still need to pee. one idea pops into your head that can help both of those problems.

you lean your head down a bit before biting down on elisa's cheek. "babe, what the fuck!" she shouts as loud as a half asleep person can. pushing you away enough that you end up falling off the bed. elisa sits up and leans over to look at you. "damn, elisa. it wasn't even that bad!" you say as you get up. "you bit me!" she reasons.

"and? you were like a koala and i had to use the bathroom, so it's your fault," you argue back. she just sticks the middle finger up at you before going back to laying in bed. "whatever. just hurry up," elisa says as hugs onto your pillow.

still so goddamn adorable.

[alkaisen]

𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐃𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

— fluff, mission, william confesses, you cover him in lipstick

"lord william is certainly the very epitome of gentlemanliness out there, isn't he?"

"ladies...-"

"of course, lady adelaide! not only is he kind and gentle, but also smart, good-looking and..." chirping from noblewomen fade into the background. william exhales slowly, looking down at his pocket watch.

forty six minutes.

in forty six minutes he'd have to open up an entrance for his colleagues to slide in and go forth with their mission for tonight; however, with the way things were going on, women from high society clinging onto him—it certain proved to be very difficult.

"hm.." william hums absentmindedly, gaze searching for you in the crowd. he seems to be doing this more often than usual these past few months. he tells himself it's because he's looking out for you-another colleague of his, but he knows the way he looks at you is different than the way he looks at others.

did he perhaps like you...? no way. certainly not.

"looking for someone?"

you pop up behind him, hands behind your back and a cheery smile on your lips. he stares at you too long, though, and you can't help but ask: "william?"

"ah, yes. i..." he clears his throat. "there is something i wish to talk to you about." he glances back at the noblewomen all looking curiously at you two, eager to listen in to your conversation. a sigh. "privately."

"oh." you nod. "okay, sure. let us go, then?"

william gives you the smallest twitch of a smile and turns to the noblewomen with a bow to excuse himself, "pardon me, ladies. i will be right back."

"exactly where are we going, by the way?" you question the blond when the two of you are scurrying away from the party with long, fast steps.

"somewhere private."

"not much of a hint, willie."

"please."

"it was a joke."

you could tell he was fidgety than usual. had something gone wrong with the plan? his calculations? what was the issue here? unable to ask and wanting to co-operate, you follow him silently.

"woah. pretty." you look around when you finally enter a tall but cramped room, dark and heavy purple silk curtains draping everywhere, accompanied by the sense of incense, a table in the middle with cards along with a hand-held mirror atop it and an.. orb?

"it's a fortune reading room." william explains when he reads the confusion and curiosity on your face.

"mm.. well," your fingers travel across the fabrics of the purple silk lazily. "what are we doing here?"

"do you have lipstick on you?"

you pat the hidden pocket on your dress. "yep."

"kiss me."

you freeze. a brief, almost painful pause.

"...what?"

"kiss me." he repeats, like the first one wasn't clear enough. "..for the success of the mission, of course. being swarmed by a horde of noble ladies would prevent me from entering the men's club and opening a route for fred to infiltrate, thus dropping the success rate from a whole 100 percent to-"

"okay, okay, okay." you throw your hands up in the air. "i understand. just, y'know, don't speak maths."

"my apologies."

you make your way to the round table, take your seat, hold up the handheld mirror, pull out your lipstick and start painting your lips red. occasionally you'd happen to peek at the reflection from the mirror to william and what you'd see was:

a strange expression. heavy-yet not sad. contemplative-yet not harsh. soft and hazy-yet focused on you. fond; the way he looked at you.

"okay, i'm done." you stand up and make your way to a william staring at you with folded arms, leaning against a wall. "how.. do i look?"

you can't help but ask.

and he can't help but answer: "ravishing."

as always. he'd add, but that would be too much.

"here i go, then." you lean in and william leans his head downwards. your heart beats are loud, drumming past your chest and into the open and..

a soft, barely there kiss, no-a peck on the cheek.

"..." that ended too quickly for william. he seems almost disappointed when you pull back and away.

you hand him the hand held mirror and he observes the light mark of your red lips on his right cheek.

although it was a mark enough and visible to the naked eye, it wasn't enough. for him, to be exact.

a single kiss on the cheek isn't enough for him.

"that won't cut it. we need to be convincing, (name). as much as possible." he leans back in towards you, pulling you back to him gently by your wrist. perhaps he was being too selfish. "let me have some more."

"..alright." but it didn't matter anymore. especially when he feels the touch of your soft lips bless his skin once more. it starts innocent; a kiss on his nose first, then his cheeks again, one on his brow and-

"ah," your lips press somewhere on his neck, somewhere that makes him shiver-somewhere that causes the adam's apple on his neck to move.

"oh-oops. too much?"

were you teasing him?

william looks down at you dizzily, pupils dilated and his voice is slightly hoarser, rougher when he begins speaking once again. "no.. please continue."

and so you go on with your charity of kisses, placing them wherever his bare skin laid; more and more. bolder, harder, passionately. hotter and hotter-he feels his composure, the one he was knownto hold during all difficulties snap in an instant with you.

a loud crash. and then silence.

"...liam?"

william's knee is between your legs, pushing you up against a wall-your wrists pinned against it's cold, hard texture by his long, slender hands.

"haa.. haa.." hot breaths tainting each other's skin; panting and panting. there's a look in his eyes; wild and feral, almost teetering on animalistic. his gaze falls to your lips; those soft, alluring lips of yours inviting him in for a bite. william gulps, licks his lips, contemplates, hesitates. and then pulls back shakily.

"sorry." he mumbles hoarsely, staggering a step back in shock of his own actions. he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. "i'm sorry, (name)."

he'd almost gone and done it. he almost, almost kissed you. almost pulled you in by your waist. almost ruined whatever relationship the two of you had-

william's eyes widen in surprise. hot, wet lips against his own trembling ones. you take a step further, fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeves, pushing yourself onto your tiptoes all the while you're stepping on his shoes. but he doesn't seem to mind.

not one bit.

he leans his head down, angles his lips to your own lips, holds you by the hips and kisses you back with the same passion, the same heat and desperation.

you pull back for air. "if you're going to do it, go all the way. don't back down-that's not like you."

"..haha." he's too drunk in your shared kisses, hechuckles half consciously; gaze hazy and nips on your bottom lip teasingly. your hands loop around his neck and attack him with more of your heated kisses.

and they go on for a while; lips smushed sloppily against each other-stopping only when the two of you head voices outside of the room, making you both flinch and bringing yourselves to a halt.

"before we go out.." he whispers lowly, forehead resting atop yours; his eyes are closed-his expression calm, but it was clear from his thundering heartbeat that it was the opposite.

"i must tell you something i've hidden too deep in the crevices of my heart for far too long." a deep breath. "i do not remember when you first made an appearance in my life, all i know is you been there since-with and without your presence; you have made a home for you to live in every inch of me. every hour, every minute and every second i spend thinking and drowning in a possibility of you and me."

and then he presses his lips against your own for the last time; infinitely softer. "i love you dearly, (name)."

he pulls back, detaching himself away from you.

both of your appearances are messy when you return from your secret little rendezvous, messy hair, half crumpled clothes and lipstick smudges everywhere. it is certainly a sight to look at and you realize nobles-men and women alike are practically gawking at the two of you. william slips past for a few minutes to finally clear a secret pathway for his colleagues to enter through and follow on with their mission, all while noblewomen swarm you with questions.

"my god, lady (name)! did you truly kiss lord william?"

"are the lipstick marks on him yours?"

"what is going on between the two of you?"

an arm wraps around your shoulder. william's back.

"i must apologise for my curtness, ladies. but i must ask that we all be calm with our queries and curiosities. can we do that? my darling seems to be feeling a little under the weather, you see."

"p-pardon? 'darling'? then-!" the noblewomen feel their eyes practically fall out of their sockets.

"yes," he smiles kindly at the noblewomen. "if i'm allowed to, and would certainly feel honoured to, i can answer any questions you have in my her stead."

click.

all lights go off. people shriek. they are here.

and you are nothing but glad because at least in the dark nobody can see how red your face is burning up in embarrassment and fluster, especially when the blond pulls you in close to him protectively.

[irishmammonagenda]

Hii!! 🧚‍♀️It's Wee Emo anon 🍾

Really liked your last work, so here i am again

Can i request brothers reaction on MC who cry over small things?

Like they see little kitten on the street and - WHOOP! - they're bubbling sobbing mess

I'm kinda can't cry (sounds dramatic lol) and wanna MC to feel it instead of me 😬

Love your works, keep going bestie💐🏃‍♂️

HI WEE EMO <3 please ignore the fact you sent me this on april 27th and its now june i had gcses to prepare for 😔✊

anyway, who let you into my house 😧🤨

no seriously i've cried at multiple south park episodes. south park. sometimes i wanna cry when i see my dog i cannot be trusted i tear up so easily especially when im writing🙁

for not being able to cry that is not very good for you fr:

i used to not be able to cry + still only really tear up, some tears drip down and let out like 2 sobbing sounds before im good again, i dont even have to try and stop crying, two sobs and im done, but my biggest tip is, get tired like really sleepy to the point where your eyes water bc of tiredness then watch something really sad.

i ha to literally train myself to be able to cry again bro dw, i wish i could have a big long cry but like 3 mins of crying is better than none, trust me wee emo you'll feel better

#dontbottleupyouremotions

ANYWAY:

this was very hard to imagine their reactions to idk why, but i tried so 😔✊

grma wee emo for requesting <3 and grma everyone else for reading <3

Obey Me Brothers With a Sensitive MC <3

It was safe to say you were sensitive, back when Melanie Martinez's music was a lot better, you really could say that the song 'Crybaby' pretty much encapsulated your entire being, it still did, but you liked to think you were more mature in your music taste now. (You weren't)

Being suddenly catapulted into the Devildom did a number on your emotions, and you found yourself quite numb. But as you adjusted, and bonded with the others, you found that you were back to your usual self, which was a crybaby.

So then how do the brothers react?

LUCIFER

Great. Two Mammons.

At least Mammon No.2 (you) isnt a tsundere about it.

Lucifer does not like seeing you cry. Even if its because something is cute, (although he does find it quite adorable, not that he'd admit it)

This demon is of the opinion that tears should never disgrace your beautiful eyes.

He will invite you to listen to his records with him and purposely put on sad ones or really sweet ones so you grip onto him while you tear up,

He is a demon, after all. ;)

MAMMON

Finally. Someone who cries more than him!

It actually makes him feel safer around you, like you wont bully him for being more sensitive than his brothers.

Actually ends up dropping a lot of his tsundere act around you.

You watch movies together, but always have to check the Devildom version of 'doesthedogdie.com'

Idk, I feel like Mammon would give you a bit of bother for it at first but then slowly start to like, open up more, because he really does see himself in you like that.

LEVIATHAN

He blanks.

One day you start crying because of how cute the anime you both were watching was, Levi thought you were geniunely upset, so he tried to cheer you up.

You end up thinking that its really sweet and start crying harder.

Leviathan PANICKS.

Even now, he still gets really nervous when you start crying, and has popped into his demon form more times than he can count when you grab onto him and sniffle.

Please he's already so awkward he can't handle how cute you are.

You might make him start crying as well :(

SATAN

Satan 100% gets so angry he starts crying so he can kind of understand it.

He's just glad you cry over positive things :)

His favourite moment was definetly when you teared up over a small kitten. (He took several photos and also took the kitten home)

Like Lucifer he 100% invites you to read with him and picks the fluffiest most adorable romance he can find, or the saddest most heartbreaking romance he can find.

He likes when you cling onto him and look up at him with those big teary eyes.

He's a demon. What did you expect, ;)

ASMODEUS

He thinks you're adorable.

Any emotion on your face is adorable to him actually. <3

If you wear makeup he makes sure to get you waterproof mascara and other eye makeup so your beautiful tears dont ruin your beautiful makeup <3

If any of you remember that crying girl makeup trend? Yeah he deffo starts that up in the Devildom (a) to make you feel less embarrassed about it and (b) because he thinks youre so beautiful when you express yourself.

BEELZEBUB

He doesn't cry a lot, it's not exactly something that comes naturally to him at all.

Its not that he CANT cry or that he holds his tears back, its just that he doesn't normally process or reaction to things with tears.

Only in serious serious situations will he cry.

So when he sees you crying over one of those little onigiri things that are literally adorable, he thinks that you've somehow hurt yourself. (i nabbed this off of pinterest)

Beel panics, and mentally goes over the ingredients in his head, did he order something with an ingredient that was dangerous to humans?

He calms down when he realises that you're crying because it looks cute.

He feels you with that.

Makes an effort to take you to more places with food items displayed in cute ways.

Though you do have to look away while Beel cuts them up for you, otherwise you wouldnt be able to eat it.

BELPHEGOR

He laughs at you.

Point blank.

Originally when he's in the attic he uses your sensitivity as a way to manipulate you.

But post lesson 16, he really starts to appreciate it more.

This bastard will use his powers as the youngest sibling against you, he'll dress up in cute onesies and give you puppy eyes, all to coax you into taking naps with him.

Which you do.

I have no idea how half of these fuckheads would react tbh

[krokusplays]

The Kindest Thing

Jing Yuan x Reader

Rating: Gen

Words: 611

Tags: Angst, no happy ending, rejection, sometimes love just isn't enough, Reader is human

Author's note: I've been hit by Jing Yuan feels, but I've been in an angsty mood. I just couldn't get this out of my head. I hope you like it.

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

The words pierced your heart like shards of ice. The cold they left behind prickled along your spine, wiped your mind blank until nothing but a numbing ache remained that found its way deep inside your soul.

“Forgive me. While I am deeply grateful for the joy you’ve brought to my life and I do find myself longing for these tender emotions, I cannot allow myself to pursue this path for us.”

These words repeated themselves in your head over and over again as you stood in front of him. Each time the meaning behind them settled deeper within your soul. Tears sprang free from your eyes before you even noticed the burning sensation but there was nothing you could do or say for a long time.

You wanted to ask why, wanted to know what’s stopping him. If the feelings were mutual, then why would he not…? Yet, not a single word left your lips.

It felt so selfish to you. Would he rather spend his time thinking about what could have been instead of experiencing it himself? Why not indulge, why not embrace these feelings and spend your time with someone by your side?

But…

Weren’t you just as selfish?

Clinging to his words, to his confession, disregarding anything else he has told you, ignoring everything you knew about him and his life.

He’s been through too much.

You would spend a - your - lifetime with him and one day find your end after a happy and fulfilling life, while he had to go on. He had to live with the grief of losing the one he loved with centuries that lay ahead of him and a hole in his heart that might never be filled again.

How could you dare to want him to put aside all his worries, all his fears, and the sole wish to not get hurt again, because you couldn’t stand the thought of being apart from him?

After all these years of witnessing loved ones leave and die, he wanted to save himself from the inevitable pain after your passing. He knew how heavy this pain could be and if he made the decision that a few years of happiness did not outweigh the cost, then you had no right to push him onto another path.

You bit your lower lip but inhaled audibly, trying to keep yourself from breaking into sobs and for the tears to stop.

When you finally dared to look up at him again you saw all the anguish, the guilt, the longing, the love, and the intensity of it rendered you breathless. All it left you with was a powerful and yet, agonizingly painful realization that this hurt him just as much as it hurt you.

But he was strong enough to push it all aside, to burden you both with the pain of a goodbye, knowing that it would come to pass, that it would not linger like the hole a gone loved one left behind.

Even though it tore your heart apart, you smiled up at him. A genuine and heartfelt gesture that didn’t manage to hide how you felt with your skin flushed and the trails of your tears still on your cheeks. But you held your ground. For the kindest thing you could do for him now was to let him go and spare him the inevitable pain of losing you one day.

“Goodbye, Jing Yuan,” you said softly but with a steady voice.

If he ever came to regret it you would never know.

Yet, you would never forget the look of sorrow in those golden, beautiful eyes as you turned around and left.

[justmeinadaze]

I Miss the Misery Part 2 (Steve X You)

Part One Here

Warnings: Toxic Daddy Stevie (but he wants to be better)/ Slightly Toxic Fem sub reader, SMUT, dirty talk, rough play, daddy kink (cause im me), choking, spanking, degrading, Slight Fluff, she loves him and he loves her but they both struggle with their feelings, ANGST, Jealous Steve AND Reader, Steve gets drunk after a bad experience with his father (he talks about it; elaborated), They both try to verbally hurt each so they say mean things to each other ( they call each other names, bring up past behavior, etc.) , cliff hanger ending!

Word Count: 7058

It had been a couple of weeks since your incident with your ex Steve Harrington. When you came home that night your boyfriend was still up waiting for you. You talked things through like any normal couple would and that night you both went to bed happy. Well, he did. You laid there for hours replaying the nights events in your head. 

You could still feel Steve’s hands on your hips where he clung to you as he thrust his big, thick cock into you roughly till your eyes rolled back. You could still hear his grunts and pants warming your ear as his sweaty body fell on top of yours. 

But more than anything, you kept going back to the conversation after. 

“Yeah, well, if we’re toxic then I’d rather go down with you than anyone else.”

“I just kept wishing they were you.”

“I feel like we can make this work.”

You had always believed the two of you could make your relationship work but the problem always was that he could never commit to it. He had you for two years in high school and he, quite literally, let you slip away. It wasn’t fair to you for him to think he could just show up one day and you’d drop everything to be with him especially when you knew it would end badly. 

A strong hand reached out from the darkness of an open door and yanked you into the room before slamming it shut. 

“What’s this I’m hearing about you going on a date with Ben Lomax?”, Steve asked sternly as he glared down at you. 

“Well, hello to you to, Harrington. I hope you had a good weekend.”

“Don’t play with me, Y/N.”

“What do you care? We’re not dating right? I can go out with whoever I want to.”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you watch his jealously rise. You liked amping him up like this so he’d take what’s his. 

“You’re mine, little girl.”

“Then claim me, Daddy. Make me yours.”

It felt so good having him take control the way he did even though you knew it wasn’t healthy. No… you couldn’t allow him to win this time. This time you needed to do what was right for you and Jacob. Rolling over onto your side, you wrapped your arms around his torso and pressed your face into his back, clinging to normality tightly as you finally drifted off to sleep. 

***

“Hey, baby.”, your boyfriend grinned as you sat beside him at his desk and he handed you some items in a grocery bag. “Thank you for coming by. You know how my mom is. I’d give her back these things myself but this project…”

“I know, honey. You’ve been working really hard.”, you reply encouragingly as you softly smile. 

The smell of his cologne hit you before the sound of his voice. Glancing down the hallway, you watched as Steve argued with someone over the phone as he sauntered confidently towards you both. Your body and attitude prepared for the battle that was sure to come but to your surprise he walked right past you as if you weren’t there. After angrily hanging up his phone, his face changed to a much softer demeanor as he grinned, opening his arms wide as a blond young lady eagerly jumped into them. 

“That’s Mr. Harrington’s new girlfriend I hear.”, Jacob whispers. “She’s a lot younger than him but I guess that’s expected when you have all the money in the world.”

You hadn’t heard a word he said, the fury bubbling in your stomach up to your chest. 

“I can play this game better.”

Fucking asshole. He wants to pretend I’m not here and try to make me jealous, go ahead! I’m not the same girl I was in high school. This won’t work. 

“Baby? Are you ok?”

“Hm? Yeah, sweetheart. I’m fine, just tired.”

“I understand. Hey, tonight we’re meeting at the bar downtown. It’s just going to be the team here. Would you want to go?”

Shifting you gaze their way again, you watched as Steve beamed down at the girl before tenderly kissing her lips. 

“Yeah, I think that sounds fun.”

########

“So Y/N, how is the new book coming along?”, Jacob’s coworker asked as you took a sip from the alcohol in your glass. 

“Good, thank you. I’m having some writers block but it’s not a big deal. Not as big a deal as what you guys have been working on.”

“Yeah, thankfully we’re almost near the end.”, another girl at the table sighs. “Mr. Harrington has really helped us out. He’s been buying us lunch for the office every day.”

“And letting us leave early on Fridays so we can have a bit of a break. He stays in the office to make up the time.”

You couldn’t help but smile at their praise. Steve had always been a complete asshole but even during your relationship with him you saw the compassion and kindness that hid under the snark.

“Y/N? Honey, are you alright?”, he cooed as he sat on the bench beside you. His long fingers tenderly reached out to dry the tears that were still falling down your cheeks. 

“I’m fine, Steve. You don’t have to…”, you tried to dismiss him as you waved your hand. 

“I know I don’t have to. You know me. You know I don’t do anything I don’t want to.” Steve firmly grabbed your wrists and turned your body to face him a bit more. “Now, what’s going on, babe?”

“My, uh, my grandfather died.”

At your revelation, you began to cry harder and he collected you in his arms, pressing your head to his chest. 

“Shit, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I know you two were really close. Everything’s ok, pretty girl. I’m right here.”

“Speak of the devil…Mr. Harrington! Hey! Why don’t you come sit with us?!”, one of Jacob’s friends shouted bringing you back to reality. 

Steve Harrington was the devil indeed with how delicious he looked dressed in his jeans and black button up shirt. His signature smile blinded the table as he grabbed his dates arm and headed towards you. 

“Hey guys. You don’t have to invite me. I’m sure you’re tired of dealing me for 40+ hours a week already.”

“Oh, come on. Join us. It’s no problem at all.”

The sound of your glass slamming into the table startled everyone including Steve as he finally gave you his attention. 

“Yeah, Steven. Not a problem at all. Take a seat.”

His head ticked to the side in amusement before taking a seat and pulling his date onto his lap making you cringe in annoyance. 

“Y/N apparently went to school with Mr. Harrington here.”, Jacob explained to his coworkers who were still fairly wide eyed at the way you addressed him. 

“That’s pretty cool. You two were friends?”

“Nope. Hardly even knew each other. Right, Harrington?”, you sassed. 

Turning away from you, he focused on the original question. 

“I wouldn’t say friends. We definitely knew of each other. Everyone in Hawkins did with it being a small town and all.”

Throughout the rest of the night, you constantly fumed in his direction every time he opened his mouth. His hands constantly roamed his date’s skin driving you insane every time she would lean back and nuzzle her face into his neck. In retaliation you tried to do the same with Jacob but you knew that was a lost cause because he wasn’t very keen on the PDA. 

You drank more and more until the world around you got hazy.

“How long have you two been together?”, someone asked as they gestured towards him and his date. 

“Um, about two weeks I believe.”

“Hm. About how long she’s been in the world.”, you hiccupped as you knocked back a shot on the table. “I mean…look at you, Barbie. You’re basically a fetus.”

“Y/N.”, Jacob whispered. “That was rude.”

“No, no Jacob. It’s ok. I see she hasn’t changed much. Y/N here had kind of a reputation for being bratty at school.”

“And Steve Harrington had a reputation for being a man slut.”

“Alright, I think we’re going to go home. Come on, babe.”, you boyfriend said sternly, gripping your arm. 

“How about you guys come to my house? It’s a lot closer and you can get her to bed so she can sober up.”, Steve replied casually. 

“Oh, Mr. Harrington, we couldn’t impose.”

“I insist. Come on, honey.”, he grins as he slaps the girl’s ass playfully. “It was nice spending time with you guys. Jacob, just follow me.”

***

It took you awhile to catch your bearings when your groggy eyes opened and you realized you weren’t at home. 

“Jacob?”

Glancing beside you, you noticed his peacefully sleeping frame beside you so you left him be as you got up to find a bathroom. Wherever you were it was a very nice place with the updated furnishings and new home smell. 

It took you a moment to find a bathroom but after you did, you shut the door and ran the cool water over you face. 

What happened last night? I remember Steve showing up at the bar…a dizzying car ride…lips on mine…angry eyes. Maybe Jacob was upset for how I behaved. I need to make it up to him. He doesn’t deserve me acting like a drunk fool in front of his friends. 

Sighing, you opened the door to head back to bed but was met with a strong hand around your throat pushing you backwards into the bathroom and closing the door. 

“Are we sober now, little girl? Good because I really want this to sink in.”, Steve growled as his face hovered above yours. “If you ever disrespect me like that again I’ll throw you over my knee and spank you till you can’t handle it. I don’t care where we are or if your fucking boyfriend is in the room. Do I make myself clear?”

“What…what…I don’t remember…”

“You don’t…don’t…remember?”, he mocked. “Well, let me refresh your memory. I told your idiot boyfriend to bring you back to my house so you could rest because you were insulting my girlfriend and embarrassing yourself in front of his coworkers. When we got here, I showed him my spare rooms and left you guys alone. While I was getting ready for bed myself, the door was open and you were on your fucking knees IN MY HOUSE sucking another man’s dick AND CALLING HIM DADDY!”, Steve scolded roughly in your ear through clenched teeth.

Finally gathering your faculties, you pushed at his chest causing him to release you but only long enough to invade your space again as his face hovered just above your own. 

“I’M your Daddy.”

“Not anymore.”

“Oh? Did you also forget that you showed up at my office two weeks ago begging for my cock and calling me Daddy? Or was that some other pathetic little girl?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised with how many women you’ve fucked in your lifetime.”

“Said the whore. Let’s not forget how many guys you were with in Hawkins.”

“I wasn’t with anyone! I went on dates but the only person I ever fucked was you!”

“Yeah right. Do you expect me to believe that? Hell, you cheated on your boyfriend with me!”

“Like it matters if you believe me or not. Technically I was single in school. You couldn’t bother to be seen with me because I was fucking poor. Jesus. You say I’m pathetic but the truth is you are; a pathetic little daddy’s boy. Couldn’t even start or find a company of your own. You had to play sloppy seconds to his business!”

Steve’s palm covered your mouth roughly as he pushed you forcefully against the wall. His breathing became erratic as he heavily panted trying to control his temper. His eyes stared daggers into yours for what felt like forever till something in the air snapped and he replaced his hand with his lips. 

It was a rough kiss fueled by anger and you felt your pussy flutter at the notion. Riled up Steve was always one of your favorite versions of him because he claimed what was his in the best way possible. This is what you wanted. You wanted him to realize that he hated the idea of you not being his and fought to have you by his side. The problem was he did claim you but never truly made you his. 

Your arms pushed at his chest but his grip tightened as he held your wrists to your sides. Moving them to one hand, he utilized his now free palm to smack you before grabbing your cheeks with his fingers. 

“Do you want to stop? Say the word and we’ll stop.”, he growled. “Answer me.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, I don’t want you to stop.”

“I didn’t think so.”

Aggressively, he turned you around and pushed your body against the sink as he moved aside your panties while freeing his cock from his boxers. After spitting into his hand and stroking it along his shaft, you both groaned as he guided himself into you promptly setting a rough pace. 

“Baby?”

Your eyes widen at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice on the other side of the bathroom door and you see Steve smirk from his reflection in the mirror. 

“Y-Yeah?”

“Are you ok? I woke up and you weren’t there.”

The man inside you slowed his rhythm, dragging his length pleasantly along your tight walls before slamming himself back into your pussy making your eyes roll as your nails dug into the arm he had around your stomach.

“I-I’m okay, Jacob. Ahhh… I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, you will, baby girl. You’ll—mmm—crawl back in beside him full of my cum like the fucking whore you are.”, Steve whispers, his lips attaching to your neck as your head falls against his shoulder. 

“Okay. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Picking up his pace again, his cock overwhelmed your senses as you tried to control yourself from screaming his name. 

“YES! I’m fine. I’ll be right there!”

“Alright, honey. I love you.”

Steve’s eyes met yours in the mirror, softening slightly when he saw pain flash through them. 

“I love you to.”

He knew you weren’t saying it to your boyfriend but to him, however, Jacob thinking your love was meant for him infuriated Steve as he spanked your ass hard before wrapping both arms around you to hold you still as he slammed his lower half into your own. 

“Who’s your Daddy, little girl?”

“You are, Steve, please.”

“Say it again so I know you fucking understand.”

“You are, Daddy. Please. Let me cum. I’ll—fuck—I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“No you won’t but that’s ok. I don’t mind putting you in your place.”

As his fingers find their way to your clit, you bite your bottom lip to stifle the loud moan that wants to break free. Placing your arms and hands over his own, you cling to him as your body trembles and you cum hard around him. His rhythm falters and you hear him grunt in your ear before you feel his release spill inside of you. 

Steve pants as his softening cock pulls out of your aching hole and tucks himself back into his boxers as he takes a seat on the edge of the tub. Maybe it was the headspace you were still in or just seeing him look so upset hit that soft spot in your heart but you couldn’t help it when you lowered yourself to your knees and crawled to his side, placing your head on his thigh as you hugged his legs. 

“I’m sorry I called him Daddy.”

His large palm reached out to pet your head making you sigh as you closed your eyes. 

“No, you’re not. Yeah you were drunk but your subconscious definitely wanted to hurt me and that would be the way to do it. It’s not like I didn’t do the same thing by bringing a young, beautiful girl around. I knew she’d piss you off.”

“Why do we have to be this way to each other, Steve?”

“I think the real question, sweetheart, is why do we like it?”

“Why do I like it so much with you?”, you whisper. As your tears begin to fall, he leans down to collect you in his arms and places you on his lap. “I tried, whatever the fuck this is, with other men and every time I got hurt. They were you times 10. Then I met Jacob and—”

“He’s the exact opposite.” 

“And not in a good way.”, you sigh as you caress his face with your palm. “Steve, I didn’t have sex with anyone else when we were in school. The first time I was every with someone who wasn’t you was after I left. I hated it… he was too rough and almost every conversation we had was a fight.” Turning his face towards you, you tenderly kiss his forehead. “I swear, I never called any of them Daddy. They would beg me to but it always felt wrong. Only you ever knew how to take care of me like that. I just wish you could have taken care of me in every other way.”

After softly kissing his lips, you crawled off his lap and headed back to bed to curl up in your boyfriend’s arms that you wished were Steve’s.

##################

Another week went by in uneventful domestic bliss as you continued to be the best girlfriend you could. Today Jacob and his coworkers were celebrating finishing the project they had been working on with a camping trip up north. He had invited you to come along but after what happened you thought it best to stay put. You also weren’t really a fan of sleeping outdoors without AC but you kept that little tidbit to yourself. 

You utilized the alone time to work on your novel and get things done around the house but after a couple of hours, you found yourself extremely bored. Throwing on your jacket and grabbing your keys, you headed to a bar down the way ordering the strongest drink you could think of. 

Once again, the smell caught your attention first before the snarky laugh that followed. 

“Of course. Of course. Of fucking course, YOU of all people would be here.”, Steve giggled drunkenly as he knocked back his beverage and signaled the bartender for a refill. 

He looked completely disheveled, his hair a mess due to his fingers running frustratingly through it. The suit jacket he had worn was hanging on the back of the chair while his white button up shirt was untucked and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. 

“Steve? What happened?”

“Like you care.”

You should have walked away; left him there to wallow by himself but this nagging in your stomach wouldn’t allow you to as your worry for him took control. 

“I do care. Come on, Steve, talk to me.”

Spinning in his seat, he leaned his side obnoxiously over the bar as his glassy eyes met yours. 

“What happened. Hm…Y/N wants to know what the fuck happened. Well, we finished our project at work today. Managed to sign a huge fucking client worth millions! But does that impress my father? Oh, no. Fucker has to fly up here just to berate me and scold me on what we need to do next. This isn’t my first day on the job. I’ve watched that asshole work my entire life and he can’t even let go for one God damn second to see I did something good!”

“You’re right. I remember he was always hard on you. I saw him scream at you once after a game even though the team won and you made the most points. He said you didn’t try hard enough.” He nods at the memory, chugging the content of the glass and again asking for more. You discreetly signaled to the bartender that this was the last one as you focus your attention back on the broken man in front of you. “I hope you know he’s wrong. I know how hard you worked on this.”

“Yup. I know, Y/N. I’m not a fucking idiot. Why are you even here? I’m toxic remember?”

“You are but that doesn’t mean I want anything bad to happen to you. Let me take you home.”

“Fuck you. I can fucking take myself home.”, he growls, finishing the last of his beverage. 

“Ok. Can you at least text me and let me know you got home safely?”

After rubbing his shoulder comfortingly, you put on your jacket and pay for your drink but as you turn to leave, a warm palm abruptly grabs your wrist. 

“Y/N, um… C-Can you come home with me? I promise I won’t make a move or anything. I just… don’t want to be alone.”

***

“Oh shit!”, he laughs as he falls through the door after turning the key. 

“Where’s your girlfriend tonight?”, you ask as you guide him towards his bedroom, holding his waist as he stumbles from side to side. 

“Girlfriend? Oh, you mean Barbie?”

“That’s not really her name is it?”

Steve snorts as he chuckles, throwing himself onto the mattress and throwing his arm over his eyes. 

“No…it’s, um, Tiffany. No, Erica…Fuck, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since you and your idiot spent the night.”

After you flashed him a sassy smirk he didn’t see, you began getting him ready for bed starting with his shoes. You thought he had finally passed out but when you grabbed his arm to take off his watch and class ring from college, his eyes opened, and he tilted his head to watch you. 

“Where can I put these?”, you murmur with a soft smile.

Silently, he gestures towards the bedside table and you reach for the drawer to delicately place them inside. Something catches your eye, however, as you pull out a well, worn picture of the two of you in high school. Steve rarely ever took photos with you back then. Nothing the two of you ever did was ever genuinely photo worthy since you two were sneaking around most of the time. When this image was taken, you were supposed to take pictures for a class project and brought the camera with you to his house after your photoshoot with your group.

“Why do you have a camera? I thought you wanted to be a writer.”, he asks after noticing it in your bag and taking it out.

“Oh, so you ARE listening to me when I talk?”

“A ha ha. You’re so funny, Y/N.”

“It’s for a class project we’re working on.”, you giggle.

“Is the project sexy basketball captains?”, Steve joked as he held the device high in the air away from your reach. “Handsome Men at Hawkins High? Oh! Or Gods in Bed?”

“No. It’s a project about Hawkins jerks who steal stuff and are TERRIBLE in bed.”

You playfully tackle him onto the mattress and lightly wrestle with him till he has both arms around you with your face against his chest. Gently tugging your hair, his lips land on your forehead before traveling down to your own for a tender kiss. 

Holding his arm high above you both, he presses his cheek to your own as you both smile and the flash blinds your eyes. 

“Where did you get this?”, you whisper as he bends towards you and squints his eyes at the image. 

“Ummmm… stole it from your room…snuck in.”, Steve sighs as he rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. “You were…gone…vanish from…Hawkins.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you turn off his bed side lamp but as you begin to stand, his slurred voice fills your ears. 

“Please don’t go…”

Grabbing a throw blanket, you toss it over you both as you curl up into his side and rest your palm on his chest, letting the comforting rhythm of his breathing lull you to sleep.

############

The feeling of lips on your shoulder causes your eyes to flutter open.

You had rolled over in the night and were currently facing Steve’s bland, gray bedroom wall as soft hands roamed your skin. Pretending to still be asleep, you melted into his touch as you pushed your back into his chest. Fingers gently caressed your stomach and up your shirt as his mouth continued to travel towards your neck. 

Quickly moving some of your hair away from your face, Steve kissed your cheek as his palm massaged your breasts briefly before gliding back down to your stomach. You could feel his eyes watching you as you subtly moaned, the bulge in his slacks pressing against your clothed ass. 

You allowed your lower half to grind against him as his groan grumbled low in your ear. Moving one of his arms above your head, you reached up to intertwine your fingers with his as his other hand slipped through the waistband of your pants and under your panties. 

“Daddy.”, you panted as he guided his middle and ring fingers inside of your core. 

Steve didn’t respond verbally, his teeth gently grazing your earlobe as he rolled his hips against you matching the pace of his digits.

“Fuck, yes. Please… Talk to me, baby.”, you beg. 

Again, he doesn’t answer, releasing your hand to wrap his arm around your chest and hold you to him as he moved his fingers so fast between your legs that the sound of your slick filled the room. 

Your body trembles against his as the dam breaks and your nails dig into his skin as you cum. 

Rolling over on to your back, your eyes try to find his but he hastily diverts them as he focuses on pulling down your pants. Gripping his chin, you force him to look at you. 

“Talk to me, baby.”, you repeat. 

“Why are you here?”

His question genuinely threw you off as you scanned his face searching for a reason. 

“You asked me to. You said you didn’t want to be alone.”

“Yeah but WHY are you here, Y/N? You left me, you have a boyfriend, you think I’m a bad person yet you’re here.”

“I thought you wanted to be with me. That’s why you said what you said a few weeks ago. Why do you care? I’m just the girl you fuck to feel better right? RIGHT?!”

“THAT’S RIGHT!”, Steve shouts but even he realizes he sounds insincere. “You should go home.”

“What if I don’t want to go home.”

“I wasn’t asking. Get your shit and get out of my house.”

“No.”

Angrily, he rolled out of bed and grabbed your ankle, tugging you to the edge of the bed. Before he could take hold of your arm to lift you, you smacked his cheek blind siding him as you ran out of the bedroom and towards a guest room with the intent of shutting him out. 

Steve was much faster than you, wrapping his arm around your waist and lifting you off your feet as he carried you down the hall towards the stairs. 

“Why do you do this, Steve?! Why do you push me away?!”

“Because, little girl, like you said, I’m toxic. I’m just like my father and I’m sorry to say, honey, you aren’t at the level of my mother. You’re the side piece trash my dad throws out when he’s done.”

As soon as he reaches the bottom step, you take hold of the banister and manage to wiggle out of his hold, running towards the kitchen to allow for the barrier of the island between you two. 

“Said the man who has a picture of me in his nightstand. It seemed pretty worn too, Harrington. How long have you had it? How many times have you taken it out to look at over the years?”

“I look at it when I need a reminder of how low I sunk when it came to women back then. Thankfully I do much better now.”

“Oh yeah? Like Barbie? Wait, I mean Tiffany…Erica?”, you snicker sarcastically. “Couldn’t even bother to remember her name. Do you remember any of their names? Hell, was I the longest ‘relationship’ you had?!”

He lunges to the side but you duck out of the way just in time as you move around the island. 

“Oh shit, Steven. I was wasn’t I? Even in school you had all these women at your side but they were never yours. Why is that? Because if you had been in a real relationship, I never would have continued whatever the fuck we had. Didn’t have the balls to?”

You watch his face with immense satisfaction as his eyes get darker, filling with even more fury. 

“And that’s what pisses you off the most, huh? You say I’m the side piece but the fact of the matter is you are… and that scares you. I could throw you away just like your dad did to his whores… just like he does with you… Yet instead of standing up for yourself and claiming me; proving to me you can be a good man; you act like a child. You couldn’t even tell your daddy to fuck off which is why you went to the bar to get wasted.”

Shaking your head, you size him up and down with your eyes in disgust. 

“You’re not my Daddy, little boy.”

The calmness that washed over his face frighted you a bit, signaling to you that you needed to tread carefully. You had only ever seen him this way once before back in high school…the first time.

“Steve?”

“Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck do you want?!”, the boy growls from his place on the bleachers in the now empty gymnasium.

“I don’t mean to bother you. I don’t know if you remember me but we have a couple of classes together—”

“Wonderful. Go away.”

His gruff tone shakes you a bit but you were determined to say what you wanted to say. 

“Ok. I, um, I just wanted to tell you that I heard what your parents…your dad… said and I just wanted you to know that…he’s wrong. I think you did amazing out there tonight. Honestly, I think you do awesome every game but…”

The jock’s angry yes shoot up to look at you as he scans you over. 

“Yeah. Thanks…”

“Y/N. No problem. I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you be now.”

Reaching out abruptly, his hand grips your wrist and yanks you in one motion on to his lap so you were straddling his waist facing him. You should have gasped and hit him, called him a pervert or asshole, and immediately got away from him but the way he was looking up at you with those heart broken eyes… 

“You’re a very nice pretty girl, aren’t you?” You blushed at his calm, seductive tone as your hands balanced yourself on his shoulders. “Can I return the favor?”

He fucked you right there on the bleachers not caring if any one saw either of you or if you were embarrassed by someone walking in and catching you two. Steve used you till he was spent and he wasn’t gentle by any means. You loved it and he knew it as he smirked up or down at you every time you came. 

He didn’t chase you this time as you left the kitchen and ran down the hall. You didn’t know why until the man rounded a sudden corner and wrapped his palm around your throat. Pushing you backwards, he guided you towards the sofa before taking a seat and hurling your front half over his lap.

You squirmed as he held you down, yelping when his hand came down hard on your behind. 

“It’s been too long since you’ve been punished properly, little girl. Between the disrespect, attitude, and being a little whore, I think it’s time I put you in your place.” You wiggled against his hold but he was firm as one of his arms pressed into your shoulder blades. “Stop moving!”, Steve shouted as his hand came down harder than before. 

“Ow…Steve…”

You yelped as his palm came down again a couple more times. 

“It seems, Y/N, that you keep forgetting who I am but don’t worry. We’ll make sure it sticks this time. If this is the only way to get through to you, so be it.”

“Steve…please…OW!”, you whine when he spanks you again. 

“Don’t act like this isn’t turning you on. I bet if we pull off these panties, you’d be dripping like the little disobedient slut you are.”

After hitting you again, he yanks down your underwear making you groan as he slides his finger through your slick. 

“See? Didn’t I just make you cum? Look how wet you are. I told you before, honey. Pissing each other off is the shit that really gets us going.”

Minutes passed but it felt like hours as he continued to spank you turning you into a sobbing mess. Your ass was extremely sore and marked up enough that you would need to come up with an excuse if Jacob saw them. 

“Steve, please…”, you begged. “How many more?”

“However…many…more…it…takes!”, he shouted near your ear as he hit your behind between each word. “Who am I, Y/N?”

Circling his thumb along your clit, he didn’t allow you a moment to breathe as he built you up and your brain blanked. 

“Answer me, little girl!”

“DADDY! You’re Daddy, Steve.”

“Damn right. I’m not some side piece you throw away. I’m fucking Daddy.”, he growled. “People like you and my parents think I’m nothing but I’m NOT. Women scream my name almost every night. I’m the CEO of a huge firm. I make a ton of fucking money. Why isn’t that enough, huh?!”

As his palm connected with your red, bruised skin, you came drenching his lap with your arousal. His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths as he tried to calm down, Steve’s gaze shifting to you when he heard your small sniffles. 

As carefully as he could, he lifted you up and turned you around till you were sitting properly on his lap with your face in the nook near his shoulder. While you continued to cry, his hands massaged your arms while he tenderly played with your hair. 

“What color are you at right now, honey?”

One of your arms rose to circle around his neck as you softly kissed his skin.

“Green, Daddy.”, you whisper. 

Steve curtly nodded as his eyes remained forward while he continued to pet your head, allowing you time to come back down. 

“Are you ok?”, he asked in a tone you had never heard from him before. He sounded almost…afraid. Lifting your head, your palm reaches for his cheek and turns his face so his eyes can meet yours. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cross a line. I didn’t mean to…hurt you.”

Placing your forehead on his, he sighs as your fingertips run along the slight stubble over his chin and up to his lips. 

“I don’t mind you hurting me.”

“You’re not supposed to lie to me, baby girl, remember?”, he smirks as a breathy laugh escapes his chest. “You like when I’m rough with you in bed. You like pushing me to rile me up just like I do with you to see if you will because I know you’re a fucking brat.”

Steve’s grin grows as you blush, knowing he’s telling the truth. 

“The problem is you and I don’t know where the line is. It always seeped out into our day to day and into my insecurities. That’s what you don’t like. You don’t like me using you and breaking your heart. Just like I don’t like watching you cry. Not like this anyway.”

Lifting you into his arms, he carried you back to his bedroom and into the bathroom where you marveled at his massive clawfoot tub. After getting the bath ready, he holds your hand as he guides you but you pause before you sit. 

“Will you sit with me, Daddy?”

“Yeah, honey, I can do that.”

After waiting patiently for him to disrobe, you allow him to climb in behind you and take a seat as you lean against his chest. His large palms run along your shoulders and down your arms making you sigh as you tilt back to kiss his cheek. 

“You were always enough for me, Steve Harrington.” His eyes meet your own as you continue. “The problem was I was never enough for you.”

“Y/N, I’m moving to New York.” Your eyes widen as move away from him and scan his face for lies. “I was only supposed to be here for this project and then run the company as a whole from over there. I…I never expected to see you again. I…”, he pauses as he tries to collect his thoughts. “I want you to come with me.”

“Steve…I can’t…”

“Yes you can. I feel like we can work on this if we can be together. I know we can learn the line and just keep this in the bedroom without going too far and being toxic.”

“We had so many more problems than you being jealous and screaming things at me.”

“Y/N, I don’t want anyone else. I’m not the same guy I was. I won’t cheat. I won’t hurt you. I’ll claim you… I DO claim you. You’re mine, baby.”

“You just told me an hour ago that I’m just the girl you fuck and I should get the fuck out of your house.”

“I’m not perfect. Truth be told, like you said, I AM afraid of losing you again so I lashed out. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“I don’t believe you.”, you whisper. 

“Then why are you here?”

“You said—”

“No. You’re your own woman with your own free will. You still could have gone home. You still love me and I love you, sweetheart…so fucking much.”

His arms wrapped around you, hugging you to him as you began to disassociate. You did still love him; you always had even after you left but you left for a reason. You stayed away for a reason. If you and he were having this discussion 5 years ago you would know immediately that he was just doing whatever he could to appease you without really hearing you and hurt you again a few weeks later. What killed you was if this was 5 years ago and he said he was moving you would have said yes without thinking. 

Now you were overthinking and fear was taking over. 

What if things just went back to the way they were? He seems sincere but a lot of his behavior has been the same. But he said he wanted to work on that and with me. Steve said he was finally ready to claim me and that he loved me…

But what about Jacob? He’s been such a caring and patient good man. I can’t hurt him like this especially if there’s a chance Steve could hurt me again. 

You should have voiced your concerns to him and talked about it like adults. You should have sat on his couch and heard out his plans for success when it came to your relationship together. You should have listened and expressed everything you needed to but you didn’t.

“You knew what this was…”

Steve’s entire demeanor stiffened as you whispered the words he screamed at you the night before you left. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t quite catch that. Do you have the balls to say it louder?”

Rising to your feet, you grabbed a nearby towel, wincing when it grazed your behind as you wrapped it around your body.

“I said you knew what this was. It’s not my fault you caught feelings.”

He laughed to himself as he climbed out of the tub allowing the water to drench his bathroom as he headed for the bedroom. 

“Keeping going, honey. But really twist the knife and make it hurt. That’s what it will take for what you’re doing to work.” Grabbing your clothes off the floor, he tossed them in your direction as your eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to hurt me, right? To push me away because you’re scared of actually taking that leap and giving me a chance?”

Your glassy eyes shifted away from him as you threw your shirt over your head and pulled on your underwear. 

“Because that’s what I did.” You froze as he continued, slowly moving your way as he spoke. “Why do you think I fucked Lori that night? Y/N, you told me you loved me and it scared the hell out of me. I was a popular, rich, Harrington… I was supposed to become my father. I was supposed to cheat, run a business, and make a ton of money by any means necessary.”

Stopping at your side, his fingers gripped your chin forcing you to turn and look at him. 

“All I wanted to do was run away with you… but I panicked and hurt you instead causing you to run away without me. Y/N, I knew I fucked up when I climbed through your window and you were gone. I lost the one person that actually gave a damn about me and who I genuinely cared about. I’d like another chance and I promise you won’t regret it.”

“I already do.”, you murmured as you buttoned your jeans and began walking down his stairs towards his front door.

“Oh, Y/N?”, he called nonchalantly.

“What, Steven!?”, you shout as you glare up at his still naked frame leaning over the second-floor banister. 

“You forgot your phone.”, he says calmly flashing you the screen that was currently illuminating a picture of you and your boyfriend as his call came through. Panic flowed through your entire body as his thumb moved the green dot. 

“Y/N’s phone, this is Steve Harrington.”

####################

@daysinthephoenix @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @livosssblog

[unformula1]

dear oscar (OP81 x LS2)

dear oscar (OP81 x LS2)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ synopsis: Logan writes a letter to help him manage his feelings, it does everything BUT manage feelings. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pairing: logan sargeant x oscar piastri w/c: 892 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a/n: this is day FOUR (lando's number) of loscar posts until we get a loscar podium!! some angst today!! might make this a series very much inspired from https://archiveofourown.org/works/54754315 masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ taglist: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan crushes the sheet of paper and throws it into the pile of already crushed papers. He puts down the pen and cracks his fingers, again.

He’s been at this for hours and he hates it knowing he’s terrible at expressing himself and Oscar’s probably not going to even look at this. 

Logan takes a deep breath once again and picks up his pen.

Dear Oscar,

I’m not very good at expressing my feelings but I’ll try my best.

I’ve missed you lately and I miss all our late night conversations, my nights feel empty without them. I miss our friendship and the very long conversations we had. 

When you asked me how I was doing and I said “it’s been alright.” That was a blatant lie. I’ve been doing absolutely horrible. I haven’t seen a good day in months and every morning I ask myself why I’m doing this to myself, I ask if everything I left behind was worth it. Should I have given up?

 I’m glad you’re doing well and winning trophies, I’ve never been happier for you. Remember when your rookie year was being compared to Hamilton’s? That was amazing. 

Great, now he’s gone off track again, absolutely perfect. Logan’s pen left the paper again and he contemplated crushing this one up. He eventually decided against it and his pen tip touched the paper again.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to write anymore but he doesn’t care. He just wants to let his feelings out.

I hate how we don’t talk anymore. I hate how life has to pull its strings on us. I hate how we walk past each other as if we never knew each other. I’ve been trying my hardest, I really have.

I want to talk to you. I want to hear your voice again. 

I’ve been making wishes on every shooting star I’ve seen and been throwing in a penny for every wishing well I’ve come across, just wishing you were my friend again, wishing that I could go back in time and relive those moments in PREMA.

I didn’t treasure those times enough.

Every single time I see any McLaren video, I stop and stare, imagining that it could’ve been you and I. Believe me, I love how you and Lando have developed one of the closest bonds ever and trust me, I think Alex is a perfect teammate. 

But I just wish that we had another chance and I wouldn’t fuck it up this time. I really wish I did.

Every single time Lando calls you “Osc”, it makes me shiver just knowing that I could never be half the person Lando was. I do everything and risk it all just trying to be more like Lando or just someone who you would bother to look at

His mind flashes back to every single time he and Oscar have done anything together, watch movies, do stupid promotional videos, even sad times came back and made him wish he took those moments better.

He tears up slightly, but wipes his tears away before they spill onto the paper. Lando’s voice saying “Osc” rings in his head like an annoying bell which kills him slightly every time it repeats. 

Osc.

Osc.

Osc.

He slams his hand into the table, causing everything to jolt, even getting startled by his own actions. Logan isn’t even on Lando’s level, not even a quarter of the way there.

Lando’s better in every way, definitely much better teammate than Logan would’ve been.

His tears resurface but he doesn’t wipe them away this time, he lets them trickle down his cheek, cling on to his skin at his chin and finally drop down onto the paper, causing a stain.

More tears cause stains on the bottom part of the paper before Logan wipes them all away.

Please…

I miss you Oscar.

Regards Love

Logan

He places the pen down and looks at the letter, which has tear stains, but Logan couldn’t care less. He puts the letter down and folds it neatly in half, slotting it into a brown envelope. He seals the envelope tight, wrinkling the paper from pressing too hardly. 

He takes his pen up again and the tip floats above the paper.

He takes a few seconds before writing.

To: Oscar Piastri

His throat stings from crying. He didn’t even cry for that long but it hurts him. His own words repeat in his head like a knife twisting into his body.

He opens up Oscar’s chat on his phone, his last message being left on Seen.

3 weeks ago Great race :)

He hasn’t even given Oscar a message for the Australian Grand Prix but Logan couldn’t care less.

His fingers hover over his keyboard.

Can we meet sometime soon?

He hesitates about sending it.

Osc.

Osc.

Osc.

Osc.

He turns off his phone and takes a deep breath. 

He sits on his couch and leans back. The thoughts endlessly flying around in his head, like phantoms of his past haunting him again.

He closes his eyes and keeps them shut, imagining whatever makes him feel happy. 

Oscar.

Oscar.

Oscar.

Osc.

The tears squeeze their way past his eyelids and slide down his cheek. It’s a devastating feeling. 

He covers his head with a pillow and keeps his eyes tightly shut, crying himself to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ there will be a part 2 (hopefully) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[iliketangerines]

Kotal Kahn with a reader who’s just a simple marketer in the outworld markets- like maybe she sells fruits or clothes-

the simple peasant

a/n: i hate kotal kahn, but yes, i do need him

pairing: kotal kahn x gn!reader

warnings: none :)

he walks through the markets, browsing the wares, but he’s searching for something

for you

he remembers how Jade had visited him in the flesh pits, talking about you, how you were kind and gentle and soft and always so kind to others

she was so smitten with you, and she had wished that he could meet you and come out of the flesh pits to talk to you and fall in love as she did

almost every day she had gone to see you, and then she died in Sindel’s attack and Kotal was freed to work alongside Mileena

and now, finally free from paperwork and training and practice, he strolls through the markets and looks for you

Jade always described you so fondly, saying that you were unmistakable, rough hands from washing and picking fruit every day

and yet they were so gentle with them, like they were precious rubies and gems, and that you always handled them with care

your voice firm but gentle as you haggled prices with Jade every day and the other customers, but you always gave the local kids a free piece of fruit

Kotal looks for you in markets and pauses when he hears someone yelling and screaming about something

drawing his weapon, Kotal finds someone hitting a customer with a hat, kicking them in the shins as they buckle over in pain

the warrior rushes over and pulls someone off the person, and they struggle in his arms as they kick and scream at the person

he tells them to calm down before he makes them, and finally, they calm down before saying that the person laying on the floor had tried to steal your wares and then threaten a kid to try and get something for free

Kotal looks at the person laying on the floor, and then back at the person in their arms and sets them down, picking up the beaten robber by the scruff

they sniffle and ask to be taken away, they don’t want to deal with the crazy marketplace seller

Kotal sighs and sets them down and holds onto their shoulder, and he asks for the seller’s name

they repeat your name, and something clicks in his brain as he watches you brush dust off yourself and grumble and scowl

patting him on the arm roughly, you say your thanks and go back to your stand, checking on the produce and making sure that everything was okay

he walks over to you, towering over your figure, and you turn to him and ask if he wants to buy something and if not, that he should scram

Kotal purses his lips and wonders how Jade could ever like you, but he asks if you know of a Jade and that she had gone to your stand often

almost immediately, your eyes brighten up, and you ask if he knows her and that you hadn’t seen her in forever

the warrior sighs, clenching his fist, before he tells in you in a low voice that she had passed away fighting a great evil

your shoulders stiffen, and your smile drops as you let out a quiet oh

there is only silence as Kotal bows and takes his leave, and he takes a glance back at you to see you wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand

he takes the robber to the prisons, and he spends the rest of the day thinking about you

you were not gentle or soft, more like rough and prickly all over with too much anger for that one body, and yet, he wanted to go back

unfortunately for him, you were the last memory he had of Jade, and he was desperate to cling onto it for as long as he could

the next day, he finds you, purse heavy with coin, and he finds you haggling prices with a customer and counting the money before handing them the fruit

he walks up to the front, looking at the fruits, picking one up in his hands and peering at it for any blemishes

you recognize him, head tilting to the side and shoulders tensing up, but you treat him just as any customer and tell him the prices and give your sale

he buys some and then waits for you to finish with the others, waiting for a lull in time to talk to you about Jade

finally, the dust settles, and it’s only you standing with your cart and he walks over to you with the freshly peeled fruit and hands one over to you

smiling at him, you push it away and say that it’s his, that he bought it, and you go back to washing the fruit in the barrel behind you for selling

he stands there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say, and so he sits next to you and washes as you wash the fruit

you’re careful, inspecting them all with a knowing eye, and you throw out the ones that even have the slightest blemishes

Kotal just watches, but you don’t even seem to mind as he watches, as though you are familiar with someone watching as you washed the fruit

and then, suddenly you speak up and say to Kotal that you know he wants to talk about Jade and that it isn’t healthy to hold onto her like that

he furrows his brows in surprise and then he says what, unsure of what you mean

you say that it seems Jade has been gone for quite a while and you had accepted that she was gone a long time ago, only holding on to a thread of hope that she was alive

but you have made your peace, and he should too, make some new memories, never forget Jade but keep her in your heart and move on

Kotal tenses in his seat, but he knows there are truth to your words and they sit heavy in his gut and stab at him

you sigh and stop your washing for a second, wiping your hands dry on your robe and take one of his large hands into his own

it’s a comical sight, his hand engulfing yours as you comfort him

but it doesn’t deter you as you sit right next to him and tell him that you’re here for him, losing someone you love is always hard but the heart will heal if you let it

Kotal listens and sits and finally grieves, you by his side