#next time...shadow's going to show up! i can't wait to write him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jessesluvr · 1 month ago

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heyyy do you write angst? the ending can be whatever you like, even fluff!!!!!! i was thinking of jesse and dina being done for good and jesse and reader are already friends and start trying it out yk dating and stuff and them 2 months later they are so in love and everyone can see it until dina shows up saying she's pregnant and jesse was the last man she been with. reader tries to keep going and accept the situation but she can't help but thinking she can't do this, being a stepmom and knowing that if her and jesse ever get pregnant jesse will already have experienced the whole thing and this makes her sick and sad since she wants kids and has mentioned wanting a boy. she tries to keep going but a few months in jesse and dina says he thinks it's a boy she breaks down and say she can't do this. i think that's messy so i'm sorry

first, not mine | jesse x reader

author's note : to the anon that requested this.. COUNT YOUR DAYS?! you're my number one enemy now. i did this for you ! jk jk, i love you to bits, please enjoy this absolute heart shattering oneshot (at least to me). do other authors SOB at their own works, and feel their heart absolutely break, because mine did.

summary : after falling deeply in love with jesse, the reader’s world quietly unravels when dina reveals she’s pregnant with his child, forcing her to confront a future where she’ll always come second. despite trying to stay, the reader ultimately walks away, unable to bear the weight of a dream that now belongs to someone else.

word count : 3.7k

jackson’s nights were quiet in the way that made people nervous. too much silence often meant a storm was coming — literal or otherwise — but tonight, the wind was easy and the moon was low, casting gentle light on the muddy trails near the stables.

you had the early patrol tomorrow, but you found yourself lingering.

jesse stood beside you, leaning his arms on the top rail of the corral fence, boots scuffed and shirt rolled to the elbows. his skin glowed faintly in the lantern-light, bronze and shadowed, his eyes tracing the horizon like he was waiting for something to arrive. or leave.

neither of you spoke for a while.

not because there was nothing to say — but because there was finally nothing that needed to be said.

“i heard eugene found another old comic stash in the radio tower,” you said eventually, breaking the stillness with a lopsided smile. “swore he wasn’t gonna let anyone touch it, but i think ellie bribed him with jerky.”

jesse huffed a quiet laugh, glancing at you. “she probably threatened to melt his snow globes if he didn’t give her first pick.”

you chuckled, and his grin widened at the sound. there it was again — that little flutter in your stomach. it had been coming more often lately. every time he looked at you too long. every time your hands brushed when passing tools. every time he waited for you after patrol, even when you had nothing to do.

you hadn’t expected it. you’d been friends with jesse for over a year — long enough to know his tells, his sense of humor, the way his mood changed with the weather.

long enough to remember how he looked when he was still with dina.

they’d been over for a while now. nobody talked about it much — not even jesse. they still saw each other around town, made polite nods, exchanged words like they weren’t bitter in the back of their throats.

but jesse hadn’t gone back. he hadn’t waited around, either. instead, he started standing next to you more often. sitting beside you on watch. sharing meals. laughing longer at your jokes.

you didn’t know when friendship became something else — only that it had.

“tomorrow’s gonna suck,” you muttered, tugging your jacket tighter around you. “rain’s supposed to start around sunrise.”

“i’ll bring extra coffee,” jesse said. “you take cream, right?”

you blinked, surprised. “i didn’t know you noticed that.”

“i notice a lot of things,” he said softly, and your stomach turned to heat.

he pushed off the fence then, standing close. not too close — not assuming — but close enough that your hands almost touched in the dark.

you looked up at him.

it should’ve been awkward. but there was nothing unsure about the way jesse looked at you — only warmth, only patience, like he’d been waiting for you to catch up.

so you reached for his hand.

and he let you.

you didn’t tell anyone at first.

it wasn’t about hiding. it was about keeping something soft. something untouched by the rest of the world.

jackson had a way of putting its nose where it didn’t belong. couples were everyone’s business. breakups even more so. and jesse… jesse had always been at the center of things — trusted, reliable, always smiling. it made people curious. gossip slipped like frost through the streets, and you didn’t want to be part of it.

so instead, you kept it simple. quiet touches. shared lunches. books passed back and forth. you kissed only once that first week, in the corner of the library when no one was looking — a hesitant, hopeful thing.

he kissed you like he wasn’t used to being kissed gently.

and you kissed him like you were terrified to wake up from it.

two months later, it didn’t feel like hiding anymore.

it felt like home.

you found comfort in the routines — early morning rides, mid-day fencing repairs, jesse waiting for you with two mugs of bitter coffee and that stupid grin that made your knees wobble. it didn’t matter if the days were long. he made them lighter.

and everyone noticed.

maria had caught you two talking by the greenhouse and raised an eyebrow that said finally. ellie gave you shit for it, but it was the fond kind — the kind that meant she approved, even if she’d never say it directly. tommy started putting you on patrols together more often.

even dina… well, dina hadn’t said much.

she was still around, of course. she never left jackson after the breakup — just stopped being part of your circle. she kept to herself. took late patrols. worked in the armory when you weren’t there.

you crossed paths sometimes. she’d nod. you’d nod. but she never lingered.

it didn’t feel hostile. just distant.

jesse didn’t talk about her much. you never asked him to. but sometimes you caught something in his expression — a flicker of guilt, maybe. regret. not for being with you, but for how much time had passed in the in-between.

still, those thoughts faded when he pulled you into bed at night, hands warm and words soft in the dark.

he touched you like he was grateful you existed. like you were something good in a world that rarely allowed it.

you’d fallen for him so fast, it scared you.

and somehow, he always knew when you needed to be held tighter.

you talked about the future once.

lying in the tall grass behind the orchard, sun high overhead, a blanket beneath you and jesse’s hand tangled in yours.

he was telling a dumb story — something about ellie mistaking a raccoon for a dog — and you were laughing so hard your stomach hurt. when the laughter faded, you said, without really meaning to:

“i always thought i’d have a little boy someday.”

jesse’s brow arched. “oh yeah?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling softly. “one of those loud, scrappy kids. always falling off things. covered in dirt. would probably drive me crazy.”

jesse grinned. “you’d make a good mom.”

you went still for a moment, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gentle. “you’ve got a big heart. and you’re tougher than half the people in this town. any kid would be lucky to have you.”

you turned your face away before he could see the tears.

you didn’t know what the future held. but for the first time in years, you hoped for something more.

the day started like any other.

light rain fell in the early hours, turning the dirt paths of jackson into soft mud. you’d just finished restocking ammo at the armory when jesse came in, soaked from the waist down and grumbling about wet socks. he looked boyish like that — cheeks flushed, hair a mess, and smiling just for you.

you kissed him behind the workbench, hands resting on his chest, fingers grazing the damp fabric of his jacket. he tasted like rain and warmth and something safe. he hummed against your lips, then whispered something about dinner at his place.

it should’ve stayed that simple.

but then, halfway through your shift, maria stuck her head into the room.

“jesse,” she said, her voice unreadable. “dina needs to speak with you. privately.”

the way she said it made your stomach tighten.

jesse straightened slowly, brushing his hands on his jeans. “where?”

“she’s over by the supply depot,” maria said. her eyes flicked to you, something hesitant in them. “said it’s urgent.”

you didn’t say anything.

jesse looked at you then — really looked — and offered a soft squeeze to your shoulder before stepping out.

he didn’t come back for an hour.

by the time you got to his house that evening, the rain had stopped. the sky was bruised purple, and smoke curled lazily from the chimney.

you knocked once and let yourself in. his place was warm — always a little messy but lived in. you liked it that way. a guitar leaned against the wall, one of ellie’s old drawings pinned to the fridge. your scarf hung on the back of a chair. you’d forgotten it there days ago.

jesse sat at the kitchen table, elbows resting on the wood, head in his hands.

he looked up when you entered.

something in your chest tightened.

you pulled off your coat slowly. “hey… everything okay?”

he didn’t answer at first.

you moved closer, setting your gloves down, brows drawn. “jesse?”

he stood abruptly and walked to you — not urgently, but with that kind of restless energy that made you brace. his hands landed on your arms, grounding you, and his expression was conflicted. kind, but distant.

“i didn’t know how to tell you,” he said quietly.

“what happened?”

his jaw flexed. “it’s… dina.”

your stomach dropped.

“she said she’s pregnant.”

silence. cold. breath caught somewhere in your chest.

you stared at him, unsure if you’d heard correctly.

“she—what?”

jesse exhaled hard, his grip tightening slightly. “she said she didn’t say anything sooner because she didn’t know for sure. she’s a couple months along. she said… i was the last person she was with.”

your thoughts were slow. sticky. refusing to form the right shapes.

“she’s been here. in jackson. this whole time.”

jesse nodded once. “yeah. i didn’t know either. i mean, i saw her around, but… i figured she just wanted space. she didn’t even look at me. until today.”

something cold crawled down your spine.

it wasn’t betrayal. he hadn’t done anything wrong. but still, you couldn’t breathe right.

you took a step back, folding your arms, trying not to show how shaky you were.

“are you sure it’s yours?”

“she’s sure,” he said, quietly. “and i believe her.”

you nodded slowly. once. twice. “okay.”

jesse stepped forward, alarm in his eyes. “hey—no. i don’t want this to change anything between us. i’m with you. that hasn’t changed. i didn’t know.”

you nodded again, tighter this time. “i know.”

“i mean it,” he said, reaching for you. his hand hovered at your waist. “we’ve built something together. i’m not walking away from that.”

you leaned into his touch before your body could betray how sick you felt.

a baby.

dina was pregnant.

and jesse was going to be a father.

you remembered the orchard. the tall grass. that quiet moment when you said you wanted a boy someday. the way he smiled at you and said you’d make a good mom.

you wondered if he still believed that.

or if that dream — the one you barely let yourself whisper aloud — had already come true for someone else.

not you.

her.

“i’m okay,” you said, and it sounded almost convincing.

jesse’s face softened. “you sure?”

you kissed him before he could ask again. just once. just to stop the words.

but deep in your chest, something cracked.

you didn’t cry that night.

you lay in jesse’s bed with his arm around you, your cheek against his shoulder, and listened to the rhythm of his breathing. you studied the pattern of his freckles in the moonlight. counted the beats between heartbeats.

his child. growing in someone else.

you wanted to want to be strong.

but all you could think about was how your first time wouldn’t be his first time. how when your child came — if they ever came — it wouldn’t be something new. something shared. it would be second. a repeat. a retread of footsteps you’d never walked.

you closed your eyes.

and for the first time in a long while, you wished you hadn’t let yourself hope for more.

you didn’t leave him.

not right away.

you stayed, because you loved him — because jesse was kind, and steady, and still looked at you like you hung the stars. and for a while, that was enough to keep the ache from swallowing you whole.

you helped him fix up his place in preparation for the baby. just little things: building shelves, reinforcing the porch railing, collecting blankets that didn’t smell like old mold and leather.

you didn’t go with him to see dina. that was an unspoken agreement. their conversations happened quietly, behind closed doors. jesse always told you afterward — not everything, but enough. you never asked for more.

he said dina was calm. mature about it. that she didn’t want to interfere in his life, or with you. she only wanted what was best for the child.

you believed that.

it didn’t make it easier.

dina never said a cruel word. never glared. never got in your way.

but she didn’t have to.

her presence was enough.

you saw her more often now. brief glimpses — around the greenhouses, at the bartering stalls, in the hallway after patrol meetings. she never approached, but her eyes followed you. not with bitterness.

just... quiet knowing.

and you hated that it made you feel small.

jesse was gentle.

he made tea when your hands were shaking. left notes on your pillow when he had early shifts. made you laugh even when your heart felt bruised.

he’d talk about baby things sometimes — like he didn’t notice the way your body tensed.

“they’re measuring a little ahead,” he told you one night over dinner, stirring stew with the back of his spoon. “dina thinks it’s a boy.”

you nodded, and your throat closed so tight you couldn’t speak.

“she said she’s sure. don’t know how, but… i kind of believe her.”

you smiled. or tried to.

“that’s good,” you said, eyes on your bowl.

jesse reached across the table to touch your hand.

“you’re not saying much.”

you forced a breath. “i’m just tired.”

he watched you for a long moment.

but he didn’t press.

the nightmares came back.

not the kind with blood or clickers or fire — but the quiet ones. dreams of holding a child who never opened his eyes. of standing behind glass, watching jesse with someone else’s family. of telling a boy he wasn’t yours.

you stopped talking about kids.

jesse noticed.

but he didn’t know what to do.

you kept trying. you really did. you helped him sort baby supplies, sat with him when he read parenting books he borrowed from the library, helped repaint a dresser drawer he said might be good for diapers.

you held it together when people smiled at the two of you and said things like “he’s gonna be such a good dad” and “you’ll make a great stepmom.”

you nodded and smiled and bled on the inside.

the worst part?

you were starting to believe that maybe this was your role now.

not mother. not first love. not partner in some new chapter.

just support.

just next.

a few months passed.

dina was showing now. she wore loose clothes, but it was obvious — the slight curve of her stomach, the way she moved slower, how people started offering to carry her baskets.

jesse was with her more often. not alone — not like that — but enough to make your chest ache when you saw them talking outside the food hall. close. familiar. once in love.

he always came home to you.

but you stopped asking what they talked about.

you didn’t want to know.

the night it broke, everything felt too normal.

you and jesse were curled up on the couch. he had his arm around you, warm and steady, thumbing through a well-worn map. you were half-asleep, your head on his shoulder, when he murmured:

“she’s still sure it’s a boy.”

you stilled.

“she said she had a dream,” he continued, smiling faintly. “said he looked just like me.”

you sat up slowly.

he didn’t notice at first. “kind of funny, huh? wonder if he’ll have my stupid hair.”

you stared at him.

your mouth moved before you could stop it.

“i can’t do this.”

jesse’s smile faltered. “what?”

you stood, suddenly too warm, too raw, wrapping your arms around yourself. the room spun a little. you took a shaky breath.

“i thought i could,” you whispered. “i really, really thought i could. but i can’t.”

jesse sat up straighter, alarmed. “hey—hey, what’s going on?”

tears came before words did.

“i can’t be the one who comes second,” you said. “i can’t smile and pretend i’m okay while you’re… while you’re having all of this with someone else.”

jesse stood, moving toward you. “you’re not second—”

“i am,” you cut in, voice cracking. “i’m after. i’m everything that comes after. you’re already doing it, jesse. you’re already becoming a father. you’re getting the firsts. the first son. the first baby. the first experience. and it’s not with me.”

silence.

you tried to breathe.

“i wanted that,” you said, quieter now. “i told you once, remember? that i wanted a boy someday. a messy, loud little kid that looked like you. and you smiled, like it was something we might share.”

jesse’s voice was hoarse. “we still can—”

“but it won’t be first,” you said. “it won’t be ours. you’ll have already done it. and i’ll always know. i’ll always wonder if it compares. if i compare.”

you looked at him, eyes wet and broken.

“i love you,” you said. “i love you so much it hurts. but i’m not strong enough for this. i thought i was. i really tried to be.”

jesse stepped forward, face pale, throat working.

“don’t walk away,” he said, voice shaking. “please.”

you wanted to run into his arms. god, you wanted to forget everything and stay wrapped in his warmth.

but the ache in your chest had grown roots.

and you couldn’t unfeel it.

not anymore.

you didn’t pack much when you left jesse’s place.

a scarf. a few books. the necklace he’d carved for you — a wooden bead shaped like a little star, now tucked in the bottom of your coat pocket like a secret you didn’t have the heart to throw away.

you didn’t move far — just a cabin on the east side of town, near the lookout post. it was smaller, colder, and lonelier than the warmth of his bed and his arms and his steady heartbeat at night. but it was quiet. and you needed quiet now more than anything.

jackson was too small for heartbreak.

people noticed.

they tried not to stare when they passed you in the market, or when you sat alone by the firepit outside the dining hall. but the whispers came anyway.

“did you hear…?”

“she was with him after dina, right?”

“i thought they were solid.”

you hated how much your own name sounded like a question now. like an interruption in a story that had already been written without you.

dina never gloated. never rubbed it in. but you saw her sometimes — out walking slow, one hand cradling her growing belly. jesse was always a few steps away. close, but never touching.

he still looked for you.

every time you crossed paths — every time your eyes met across the yard, or inside the town hall, or at the stables before patrol — he looked at you like someone trying to wake from a bad dream. like if he blinked hard enough, you might still be there.

but you weren’t.

you couldn’t be.

not when your chest still ached every time someone said “the baby.”

not when you still dreamed of a son with jesse’s smile — a dream that now belonged to someone else.

the worst part was that you missed him even in the anger.

even when you tried to build a wall out of everything you’d felt — the jealousy, the loss, the fear of not being enough — some part of you still ached for him in the quiet moments.

when the first snow fell, you thought of how jesse used to race you back to the porch, brushing flakes from your hair and calling you slowpoke with a grin.

when you found a bent nail in the fencepost, you thought of how he always had a spare tucked behind his ear, ready to fix things with those calloused, gentle hands.

when you heard music drifting from ellie’s porch one night, you remembered jesse’s laugh — the sound he made when you pretended to hate his singing, even though you secretly loved every off-key second.

you didn’t go to him.

but god, you missed him.

weeks passed.

spring threatened the edges of the sky, melting the frost from the windows. the smell of wet earth returned.

and then came the letter.

a note, folded twice, slipped under your door.

meet me at the orchard. please. just once.

you stared at it for an hour before moving.

the orchard was just starting to bloom.

not fully, not yet — but the buds were there, small and pink and brave.

jesse stood beneath the same tree where he’d kissed you that first time. the same one where you’d told him you wanted a boy. the same one where he’d said me too.

he looked older now. tired.

but still jesse.

you stopped a few feet away. said nothing.

he spoke first.

“i know i don’t have the right to ask for anything.”

you stared at the bark.

“i just… i wanted to say that i’m sorry. for everything i put you through.”

your throat tightened.

“i didn’t know how much it was hurting you,” he said. “i thought… if i just kept choosing you, that it would be enough. that maybe you wouldn’t feel second. but i get it now.”

you closed your eyes. the wind stirred the branches above.

“i never meant to make you feel replaceable,” jesse whispered. “you never were. you aren’t.”

silence.

when you finally spoke, your voice was softer than you meant it to be.

“i know.”

he stepped forward once.

“i still love you,” he said, simply.

you didn’t answer right away.

because you loved him too.

but love isn’t always enough to heal the parts that broke.

“i believe you,” you said at last. “but i can’t come back. not yet.”

jesse nodded.

“i’ll wait,” he said. “as long as it takes.”

you looked up at him then — this man who had been your warmth, your safety, your home. and for the first time in weeks, you smiled. it hurt, but it was real.

“take care of your son,” you whispered.

he nodded once. “i will.”

you turned and walked away, heart full and empty all at once.

because some stories don’t end with a kiss.

some end beneath a blooming tree, where the ghosts of what could’ve been still linger like petals in the wind.

and maybe, one day, you’d walk this path again.

but not today.

today, you kept walking.

and let yourself mourn the boy you never got to name.

#jesse x reader #tlou jesse x reader #jesse tlou #tlou jesse #jesse oneshot #jesse tlou x reader #jesse tlou imagines #tlou jesse oneshot #tlou fanfics

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damnfeelings09 · 5 months ago

Text

VALENTINE'S DAY COUNTDOWN

You're in love - Leon S. Kennedy x fem reader

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x female reader Tags: fluff, comfort, love, love, love, stablished relationship, memories, cheesy stuff. Word count: Prompt: you and Leon have been together for 10 years, yet every day still feels like the first. One day while Leon’s not home you find your old diary and find yourself reliving your love story. Notes: The tears/shivers/emotions I felt while writing this I can't compare to anything. I loved this one so much I'm totally writting one for Shadow just like this. It makes me very happy to be able to express my feelings and “relive” them even if only in this way, hopefully someday I and everyone will find a person who loves us just like in the books, until then I will keep pouring my heart in my writing.

The summer heat was present in your home. The sunlight reflected colorful flashes as they hit the window. The floor was littered with boxes, some marked with “fragile” others with “Leon stuff” but your attention was on the box with your name on it. In it you had found your childhood stuffed animal, pictures of your family, a few unused stickers and an old notebook. You recognized it perfectly, there was no way you could forget that beautiful blue notebook with green hearts that had been with you for so long. Having a diary sounded childish, but for you it was important to keep your memories somewhere safe and if you ever wanted to relive them you could do it. For more than half an hour you had been rereading all your witticisms, the stale jokes you made with yourself, the desires and goals you had set for yourself when you got to college. Almost halfway through the journal you found a sheet of paper with your name and Leon's name on it with a big heart around it. Of course you knew where that drawing was from, you had drawn it the first time you had seen Leon, turning the page you found the entry for that day:

02/02/1998

The University of Illinois is really nice! I am so excited to leave for the summer. Mom says she's not ready for me to leave home but she's secretly happy for me. We visited some stores, museums, but the best part of the trip was going to the Italian restaurant Olio e Piú. Our waiter was sooooo cute. His name is Leon Scott Kennedy, he is 21 years old and just finished the police academy, he said that being a waiter was only temporary while he was waiting for the draft to know where he would be sent. I almost fell out of my chair when I saw that on the bill was his number written. Of course I didn't waste a second and sent him a message on my way out of the restaurant. We are still here for 3 more days and he offered to show me around. I don't want to sound urgent but I think Ms. Kennedy sounds great.

You chuckled. Back then you were so love-struck and dreamy. Your younger self had so much faith in life, wanting to take it in hand, and besides, you were right about one thing, Ms. Kennedy sounded so good in you. You kept turning the pages until you found an important date, once again a heart adorned the page, this time only with Leon's name.

25/04/1998

I'm on my way to Ilinois again, I know, I know, you'll say I'm crazy, that we're going too fast because we've actually only been on 2 dates, but Leon and I text to each other every day. He understands me, laughs at my witticisms and I love his dad jokes. It may be soon but I would love for it to be him. I had to lie to my parents that I would be staying with my Aunt Sarah for the next 10 days, actually I will be staying with Leon, don't judge me, Aunt Sarah was the one who insisted on covering for me. I am very excited, Leon will pick me up at the bus station and take me to a special place. I'll tell you later how it went.

12:45 am

He asked me to be his girlfriend! There were candles, roses, strawberries and stars. I couldn't ask for anything more. I think I am in love with him.

At that moment you didn't really know what it meant to be in love, it wasn't just the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, it wasn't just the happiness of having him close to you or the excitement you felt every time you kissed him. Love was something very complicated to understand, even more to explain. It was like an invisible force that attracted you to him, altering all your senses, making you addicted to that feeling, excited, but at the same time it managed to keep the other emotions at bay, you felt protected, comfortable, whole.

11/29/1998

We had a fight. Leon told me he had to report to his new job in Raccon City, today! Today of all days. He knew how important it was to me that he come to this party with me and he didn't care. Right now he must be on his way or whatever. Idiot

06/29/2001

Leon is working. It’s almost been a year since the last time we saw each other and I don't know how long I can go on enduring it. It is unfair that all this has happened, stupid pharmaceuticals and their greed. If it wasn't for them we would be together now living in an apartment in Raccon City. I feel bad, I miss him so much, I miss his kisses and his kind smile, but I can't tell him. The last time I saw him his expression had changed, his eyes didn't look friendly anymore, they turned cold, he looked calculating, as if he was waiting for something to happen. I can't judge him, he has been through a lot, only the gods know how he is still in one piece after the massacre he lived through. I'm happy he's still with me, but I keep wondering if he's still the same Leon I fell in love with.

The Raccon City incident had changed the jovial, awkward, fun-loving Leon into a distant, apathetic, dry one. He had confided in you all that had happened, or at least a little more than the government had allowed him to say. He had cried in your shoulder lamenting for those people he had been unable to save, trying to justify his every action as self-defense. You had listened to him, wiped away his tears, stroked his back as he let it all out. You had shown him that no matter what had happened you loved him unconditionally, you had even encouraged him to take the job offered to him by the U.S. government assuring him that you would wait for him and you did.

11/11/2004

He came back. Three days ago, as I opened the door to take out the garbage, Leon was there, with his travel bag in hand and a bandage covering half of his right shoulder. I know he said he would, but part of me didn't believe it. The state he's in, gods, you don't know how I regret encouraging him take this job. Sometimes he wakes up screaming babbling about “the plagues”, when that happens he reaches for my chest, lies on me and holds his ear close to my heart, he says it calms him. I'm just glad he's back home with me, I don't know how or how long it will take but I'll help him put all his pieces back together, I love him, I can't stand seeing him like this.

When he left for spain, the fear of not knowing anything about his where abouts for almost a month was unbearable, then one day he shows up on your door. Beaten, bruised, tired, haggard and thinner than the last time you saw him, but alive, yes a few cuts and his shoulder bandaged but he was there. You couldn't help but run into his arms, he catches you in the air, and then both fell to the grass as you filled his face with kisses. The following days you took care of him, his nightmares were recurrent but your touch always managed to bring him back to the real world. The necklace you had given him before he left, a locket with his favorite picture of you and the phrase “Love, always” engraved on it, always in place, just like you did with yours, a small reminder of the love between you two.

05/06/2006

I said yes.

I can't believe it really happened. Seven years ago I dreamed it as I watched him clean the tables and today that dream came true. I know we are not perfect, I know Leon's line of work will keep him away from me more than I would like to, but I can't imagine my life with anyone else. I chose him long before I knew what would happen and even if I did back then I would do it all over again.

Leon recreated our first date, rented a cabin in Georgia, brought a blanket, a basket with candles, wine, glasses and strawberries. We sat under the stars and when I least expected it he got down on one knee in front of me, told me that I was the woman of his dreams, that he couldn't live without me even if he tried, that I was the only good thing in his crappy world, that all he thought about when he fought those B.O.W's was that he was making the world a little safer for me and that it didn't matter how many zombies he had to take down as long as he came home to me.

Of course I said yes. No matter what, he's the one.

You closed the diary, hugging it tightly, trying to push those memories into your heart again. Yes, things had been difficult, complex, sometimes the cost had been high, the tears, the anger and the loneliness had been more constant than you wanted to admit, but you wouldn't change any of it because somehow, the little piece of heaven seeing Leon's smile every time he came home, his scent enveloping your senses as he took you in his arms, was enough.

The sound of the door opening brought you back to reality.

“Hey honey, what you doing?” Leon said, putting down the bags he was carrying in his hands and walking towards you “I see someone got distracted and forgot to unpack” he laughed kissing you.

“You've no idea” you smiled intertwining your hands behind his neck, kissing him once more.

#leon kennedy imagine #leon x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #valentinesdaycountdown

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thankskenpenders · 8 months ago

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IDW's Knuckles 30th Anniversary special

I'm still working on finishing Shadow Generations and writing up a big thing about it (yes, yes, it's taken me a month to finish a four hour game, I know), but in the meantime we've got another new Classic era comic out from IDW! Let's talk about that.

The last Classic era release we got was the Fang miniseries earlier this year, which I mostly enjoyed but also found a bit underwhelming. It felt like we were getting diminishing returns with the Classic comics. Ian seemed to be struggling to make the Classic era feel fresh within Sega's current restrictions for that branch of the brand, a branch that by its very nature discourages experimentation and new ideas in a way that the ever-evolving Modern era doesn't. He was mostly just playing the hits, sticking the currently permitted Classic era characters next to each other in straightforward one-off adventures and letting the art team do their thing. We were getting the Ian who was happy to simply be able to take these toys out of the toy box. Again, these comics have been fine, and the art's always a treat, but the novelty of simply seeing a comic with the old character designs was wearing off for me when the stories didn't have as much meat as Ian's (or Evan's) excellent Modern era work.

And then along comes this Knuckles 30th Anniversary special, which is by far my favorite Classic Sonic comic Ian's written for IDW.

...I can't really talk about why it's so good without getting into spoilers, though. The short version is that it's a really nice little story about Knuckles and another character from the games, who's used as a great foil for him... except the solicit didn't even say which character it is, so I'm hesitant to say here. But if you're a fan of Knuckles, you should definitely just go read this. It's great. This one's mandatory reading to me.

And with that out of the way, let's dig deeper and get into the spoilers.

The spoiler zone

After an opening that very blatantly homages Tyson Hesse's old Knuckles comic (yes, the very same one that helped inspire the name of this blog), Knuckles realizes that Angel Island has drifted near the Northstar Islands from Sonic Superstars, and decides that the Master Emerald must be giving him a mission to train the archipelago's own resident guardian.

Yes, this isn't just a Knuckles comic. It's a Knuckles and Trip comic!

I was really delighted by this. I like Trip a lot, and it's nice to get this chance to expand upon her as a character. I think this is her first speaking role, even? I'm glad to see her stick around, and I'm glad to see her appear in the comics so soon, especially since we're still waiting for the mainline comics to incorporate Sage. She's still clumsy and fairly timid, like in the game, but without the looming thread of Eggman she gets to let loose a little. She's very exuberant and expressive and playful, especially thanks to Aaron Hammerstrom's fantastic art throughout the issue (complemented with inks by Rik Mack and colors by Valentina Pinto). It makes sense why she gets along so well with Amy. I hope we get to see those two interact more in the future!

Anyway, so Knuckles shows up on the Northstar Islands after contemplating his lot in life, and realizes that he and Trip have a lot in common. She's not as strong or confident as him, but they're both the last of their kind, these lone guardians of these ancient magical gemstones. He's showing up under the pretense of training her, but you can tell it's nice for him to have a kindred spirit, someone who might be able to really get him.

And then Trip's like... wait, you think I'm the last of my kind?

Yes, the Northstar Islands have actually been inhabited by a whole civilization of sungazers like Trip the whole time! We just didn't see them in the game because, y'know. Eggman was attacking. So Trip told everyone to find shelter and hide from the Badniks. (This actually makes a lot of sense, since you pass by this very village in Speed Jungle Zone. Somebody's gotta maintain those straw roofs and light those torches, and I can't imagine Trip managing all that upkeep herself.)

This also includes a grandfather for Trip, who's been training her as the archipelago's new guardian. Naturally, this has led to some speculation from fans about the old "mandates." In the wake of the Penders lawsuits and Archie's reboot, Sega declared that the comics could no longer create comic-original relatives for the game characters. Has that changed now?

Well, I'm hesitant to read too much into this. For one, as Ian has tried to drill into peoples' heads for years now, the so-called "mandates" aren't a set of concrete commandments from Sega, they just have some general guidelines for the brand, some of which have more wiggle room than others and some of which have changed over time. There's also the simple fact that Sega is working way more closely with the team at IDW, and that people like Ian and Evan are literally on the official Sonic lore team now. Ian can presumably work with the lore team and Sega to figure out Trip's family, and then go and work what they've decided on into a comic, so it's entirely possible Trip's grandpa isn't considered a comic-original character so much as he's a character conceptualized at Sega who just happens to have appeared in an IDW comic before anything else. The lines are a lot blurrier now with all this cross-pollination, compared to the Archie days when it was a separate creative team and a separate canon.

But, again, I don't want to speculate too heavily about what goes on behind the scenes. Regardless, Ian was able to use this comic to expand upon the world of the games and the characters that inhabit it, and I love it for that. It's the first of these Classic comics that feels like truly mandatory reading for the way it builds upon the games. These days we so rarely get to see communities like this in the Sonic world with their own cultures. It's not like we know anything about "hedgehog culture" or whatever. So this is a nice change of pace. The Northstar Islands feel totally different now that I know they've actually been inhabited the whole time, and knowing that Trip is part of an active community with their own history and customs puts a whole new spin on her as a character.

It also makes her a great foil for Knuckles here. He showed up on the island thinking he'd have a lot to teach Trip as someone who's got more life experience as a lone guardian, only to realize his assumptions about her life were completely wrong. Trip brags to her grandpa that Knuckles is gonna train her, but he quickly realizes he doesn't have much to teach her. She may be kind of cowardly, but she knows her way around the island, she can think on her feet, and she can handle herself well enough in a fight, in her own slapstick way.

He doesn't say as much, but you can tell Knuckles is embarrassed about all this. This clumsy kid is showing him up, even though she won't even really listen to his advice! He's also, perhaps, a bit jealous. It's not like he had a grandfather to train him in the ways of being a guardian. (Not in this continuity, anyway.) He doesn't get a whole village of echidnas to teach him about his heritage. He doesn't get fancy ceremonial armor. It's just him, a big green rock, and his two fists. He thought he had this whole guardian thing figured out, and he'd be able to give a kindred spirit like Trip some advice, but it turns out she's lived a whole different life, making him question if he even knows what he's doing. He quickly gets fed up with both Trip and himself, blowing up at her a little.

After reflecting a bit, Knuckles goes back to Trip and comes clean. He doesn't really know how to train her, because no one ever trained him. He figured things out on his own. If he had anyone there to raise him, they've been gone since he was too young to remember. He just knows he has to protect the Master Emerald. That's it. It's a pretty vulnerable moment for Knuckles, one where his dissatisfaction with his life comes to the surface.

Still, Trip sees things differently. He may be used to the fact that he lives on a giant floating island powered by a giant magic emerald, but she thinks that's, like, the coolest thing in the world. HER islands don't fly! And while Knuckles might wish he had someone to train him, Trip thinks that Knuckles becoming such a fearsome fighter all on his own, without even armor to protect him, makes him super awesome and admirable. With both of them feeling better, Trip takes Knuckles to Golden Capital to talk about her heritage as a guardian of the Northstar Islands a bit more, and Knuckles tells her that he thinks she'll be a great guardian before he heads home, once again feeling pretty good about himself.

While this is a pretty straightforward little story about how the grass is always greener on the other side, it's a very effective and sweet one that I enjoyed reading a ton. Aside from the fun of learning more about Trip and the Northstar Islands, it's just a great showcase for Knuckles. (It's definitely a way better showcase for him than his Paramount+ show, as much as I took sick pleasure in that show's baffling creative decisions.) There are also some fun details about his life in here, such as the fact that Sonic, Tails, and Amy have taken camping trips to hang out with him on Angel Island, and the fact that he trained Amy in using her hammer better.

It's just real good, and it feels like the most meaningful addition to The Canon out of any of these Classic era comics Ian's written. We're still gonna be getting more in the future, so hopefully this is a sign that Ian and the lore team have found that happy middle ground where they can keep the Classic comics familiar and nostalgic while also being able to branch out and expand upon things.

Speaking of future comics!

Coming attractions

The end of this issue confirms some things that are in the works for IDW Sonic. For one, we're getting a Chaotix 30th Anniversary special next year. Neat! They also mention some kind of Shadow one-shot dropping following the movie, however fans seem split on whether this is referring to a new story or just the "Best of Shadow" compilation one-shot that's coming out next month. So don't get your hopes up about that in case it's the latter, I guess.

And while we're still waiting for issue #75 of the main series, the IDW team is already thinking all the way ahead to #100, which should drop sometime during the 35th anniversary of the franchise in 2026. Clearly the team's still confident about the longevity of IDW Sonic and excited for the future. And I am, too! Bring on #75!

#tkp post #IDW thoughts

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sugarushwriting · 1 month ago

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enhypen ot7 — human blood bank series

season 4

prologue

“what if i told you, i want you, but i see your heart is pure?”

jay watched from afar as you celebrated you 21st birthday. his heart fluttered in joy seeing you smiling around your friends, enjoying your time out.

he sat on top of an old building overlooking the main downtown city near campus where all the bars were that the university students would regularly attend.

jake sat next to him.

“jay, times running out.” jake sighed.

jay furrowed his brows. he looked up to the full moon. “she’s not ready yet."

“what if i told you i’m a monster, don’t come closer?”

down below, you giggled at something your bestfriend said, covering your blushing face. not watching were you were going, your feet tripped over one another, landing you into a hard body of someone.

“watch it there,” his deep voice sent chills through your body.

you looked up drunkenly to the man with blonde hair, with a frown, then smiled, “sorry sir.” you saluted.

the mysterious man couldn’t help but chuckle at your golden presence. “watch were you walk sweetheart, didn’t anyone tell you beware of the monsters that lurks in the shadows of the dark?” he smirked, showing off his sharp canines.

“riki.” a female’s voice said from behind him. he turned seeing his younger sister waiting, “heeseung is waiting for us.”

“i’m coming iroha.”

“riki? cool name!” you smiled up at him, and riki himself got chills.

“to you it’s ni-ki.” he grumbled.

“rude you big grump!” you replied when he turned his back to you.

“out in the world you’re just an angel, but here in the dark my sacrifice.”

“jay, we need to know she’ll be willing to give herself to us for eternity before approaching her.” sunghoon paced back and forth in the main house.

jay sat with one leg crossed over the other, a bourbon on the rocks in a glass held tightly in his left hand.

with a scoff he said, “and what exactly do you expect us, me, to do about it? we can't coerce her. she has to be 100% willing to do it on her own.”

“why not just fucking ask her!” jake shot up from his spot on the couch. “worst case scenario she says no, cries, or calls us some blood leeching monsters, then we just need to erase her memory.”

“and we need to do it fast, riki is on her trail.” sunghoon sighed.

“what if riki gets to her first?” jungwon asked.

“oh newbie, you have a lot to learn about nishimura riki, aka ni-ki.” jake shook his head.

“i got desires, baby girl, you got desires too. wanna write my name upon your skin.”

“why her, brother?” iroha rolled her eyes impatiently at her oldest brother as he sat across the table from heeseung.

riki twirled the knife in his hand like it was some toy. “just a desire of mine.” his eyes sparked with excitement. the want and need to mark you.

“nah, there’s something more to her, and you’re not telling us.” wonhee leaned in closer, elbows to knees.

“i just need her before the enhypen brothers.” riki answered softly.

his chair creaked underneath him as he approached the board with pictures of you, your family, friends, yarn, thumbtacks, and post it notes.

heeseung observed from his seat, watching the youngest, but one of the strongest vampires on earth.

“aren’t you two part of the enhypen brothers?” wonhee asked.

heeseung laughed out loud, “that’s comical!”

riki quickly turned around, “we once were.” and with a smirk he turned back around.

wonhee looked at iroha with big eyes.

“long story.” heeseung waved off.

“tell me, all your deepest, all your bad desires.”

i’m going to try MY BEST at a tag list. so please BELOW leave your user if you want to be tagged beginning with part one/chapter one. i cannot promise i will be good at it. 🙃

#fanfiction #engene #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen #enhypen ot7 #enhypen vampire au #human blood bank series #enhypen bad desire #bad desire #work in progress

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xxsycamore · 11 months ago

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SINFUL DESIRES

╰┈➤ 🖤 You have a hard time relaxing on your spontaneous overnight trip with Victor, so he wastes no time showing you he has tons of fun in store for the two of you…

Victor x f!Reader; • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Overnight Trips; Crimes & Criminals; Mentions of Dungeons; Baking Together; Jealousy; Humor; Competition; Kissing; Biting; Mentions of Knife play; Kitchen Sex; Oral Sex; Cunnilingus; Gentle Sex; Embarrassment; Hair-pulling; Hair Kink; Hand Kink; Finger Sucking; Table Sex; Victor briefly makes reader imagine a dangerous situation; Creampie; Post-sex cuddles; Aftercare • wordcount: 3,842 • masterlist

a/n: Here's my fic for the Ikemen Villains Gift Exchange hosted by @aquagirl1978 ! My giftee was @konekotaichou - I'll let you know I had the widest smile on my face finding out I'll be writing for you. I see your name often under my fics so that's just one way of saying thank you for the support~ Hope you enjoy! <3

"We're hoooooome!"

You should be used to the loud exclamations of your dear Victor by now, but there are still some occasions where you can't help but jump at the sheer volume of them. No, no, you have a very valid reason for your reaction right now! It's because you're still linking arms with him - you have been doing so ever since setting a foot out of the carriage - and this close up, his cheerful greetings directed at no one in particular are even louder.

But it's also because this is not your home at all. It's the vacant ex-base of some criminal group, the estate now seized by Her Majesty.

"Victor… are you sure this is a suitable destination for an overnight trip…? What if there's a dungeon right under our feet filled with—"

"Worry not, my darling! Even if there was such a thing here, right now it would be nothing more than just another empty room with no other purpose but to make things a little more thrilling while we walk above. But you haven't come here before on a mission, have you? I'll let you know - there's nothing like a dungeon in this building!"

Victor's words are very reassuring, if only there weren't another dozen adjacent possibilities to utilize a base that you want to ask about. Whatever. Even on the off-chance that someone was lurking inside the shadows of the place, Victor's noisy and nonchalant barging in has surely scared them way more than it scared you.

Your beautiful Grim Reaper makes himself busy lighting candles left and right, making the place more livable, even if just for the short duration of your trip. It all happened so spontaneously. Just earlier in the day, you mentioned how nice it would be to go somewhere for a change, just the two of you, and in the next moment Victor swept you right off your feet and declared that it's been decided. Being an Aide of the Queen definitely comes with its perks, you just weren't aware that borrowing one of the numerous properties of her Majesty was one of them. He's been very convincing at telling you not to sweat over the details and enjoy the impromptu trip, painting picture after picture with his words earlier while in the carriage, of all the nice sights to be seen around the estate… Though, that would be left for the next day. Right now it's only you and Victor and the empty halls that he's trying to fill with his exuberant presence.

"May I have your attention?"

While distracted with your own thoughts, Victor has entered another room so you hurry to follow his voice to what seems like the kitchen. As if waiting for a spotlight to land on him, Victor's smile widens upon finding your gaze on him. He opens his jacket to reveal…

"Are we going to bake?!"

At least it's not doves taking flight or anything else alive, but that doesn't make the contents of his inner pockets less bewildering as he takes the items out on the counter one by one.

"Ahahahaha! Are you surprised? I came here prepared! I've brought flour, milk, sugar, and butter! Yaay!"

"Scones?!"

"Scones!"

Of course it's scones. But what compels him to enter another's home and bake scones?

Your chemistry must be very good because the look on your face is always enough for Victor to read your mind. Sadly, you can't say the same about the numerous shades of a grin that typically occupy his features, but you're still learning.

"You see, I was thinking of allll the exciting ways to use our privacy, now that we're here. And there's always been one thing I've wanted you to indulge in without limits…"

Victor's eyes shine with a strange light, and you find yourself sinking into their alluring amethyst waters until the meaning behind his words gets all twisted and tangled in the mess of your thoughts. Heat creeps up to your cheeks.

"Like what?..."

"Like stuffing yourself full of scones, of course! As much as I loooove my dear fellow Crown members, these just disappear awfully quickly when they're around!"

Ah, true.

You fight the urge to shake your head and with that shoo away any other unwelcome thoughts like the one you just had. Victor, now stripped down to his black dress shirt, does the next step of preparing himself for the self-appointed task and gathers his long, luxurious dark hair into a ponytail. It's your cue to do some prep of your own, and by habit, you look around for an apron… But of course there'd be no extras like an apron here, the people who used to live in that place were criminals! The mental image of them using the kitchen as intended is somehow comical and it definitely distracts you from the eerie energy gathering around the place. Admittedly, Victor does a great job at it as well, you remind yourself as you sneak a peek of him with a hair ribbon in his mouth - a rare instance of him being quiet, due to the obstacle preventing him from speaking. The giggle finally falls from your lips, and you realize you're having a good time here.

"Oh? Did something funny happen?"

"No, I'm just excited to share this moment of privacy with you. Though, Victor, I can't help but worry a little… Would the others be alright without you? What if they get into a fight with each other… I'm sure William is going to miss you too, you barely warned anyone about us leaving so abruptly! And besides—"

Before the name of another Crown member could fall from your lips, a tall figure towers over you; a pair of hands grab your shoulders and turn you around with the gentleness of a courting dance step. Your rear presses into the counter, and you realize Victor has trapped you in between it and his body. The smile is still on his face, but it's not a grin - it's something lighter, a tad more modest.

"You talk about being excited to have privacy with me, but you're thinking about other men, my little robin? Tsk, tsk, tsk…"

The clicking of his tongue lacks the usual eccentricity that he dresses his manners with. It sounds more threatening than anything, even if you know better than to feel intimidated by the slight change in his tone. It's something else that catches your attention, the tang of jealousy where you least expected to find it. It truly wasn’t your intention, and you probably should find your words and speak up-

"Not that I could blame you. I think about my boys too, haha! But tonight, will you let it be just the two of us?"

His gaze softens, and you can breathe again. The lungful of air is enough to make your chest expand and touch Victor's front, and you realize how tightly he's pressing you into him with his current proximity. It doesn't last long, because Victor steps away the very next second.

"Why don't we play a little game while we're here? There's always room for more fun to be had and I just thought of the perfect thing in our current arrangement."

You remain backed against the counter, just for the sake of the support you didn’t know you needed in the first place. "What kind of game?"

"There are quite a few drawers and cabinets around here, and we have to retrieve all utensils needed for preparing our scones… We will search for each one of them on our own, but whoever finds it first wins one wish to be granted by the other. How does that sound to you?"

Now, this is unexpected. Even though your partner always has a few tricks up his sleeve to spice things up between the two of you, he's still astonishing you with his ideas. You think about it for a second. If you take his word for granted, he must be as unfamiliar with the terrain as you are, putting you on equal grounds for this little game. Besides, you might have a wish ready for him - something small and intimate and fitting for the purpose of utilizing the privacy you just talked about.

"Okay, let's do this! Bring it on! What do we need first?"

Victor finishes starting the coal oven in no time before readying himself for the search and announcing, "A bowl, of course!"

You give each other a brief competitive look before going into opposite directions of the cabinet-lined space, hands reaching out in a rush. Victor uses his height advantage to check the upper shelves first, while you aim for one that is near the sink.

Bingo.

"Here, a bowl!"

Blinking in yet-realized defeat, Victor stares at your triumphant face and then chuckles in his usual tone.

"My, aren't you quick! You better start thinking of a wish, I'm afraid we're having a limited time for goofing around!"

Oh, you're not going to waste any more of it. Or at least no more than enough for the duration of one longed-for kiss.

Victor's expression goes through another change when you pull him down by the collar, and you close your eyes to let it linger in your mind when his lips crash down into yours. You savor them slowly, risking the intended innocence for the sake of enjoying him just a little longer. Soon he's out of breath, and it comes out in the form of a moan - and instead of letting go, it makes you want to kiss him breathless for a little longer. So you do. Because he's so irresistible when he lets you take the lead, when he stays still and pretends to be caught off-guard and lets you have him. He must have held back just for that - else he'd kiss you as soon as setting foot inside the house, he can't fool you that he wasn't awaiting this moment as much as you did.

His jealousy-tinted remark earlier, and this little game… they tell you he might have waited for you to make the first step and show him how much you missed his kisses, his embrace. It doesn't tarnish your victory one bit, for it is still your victory as long as you get what you want.

Victor hisses into the kiss as you realize you got a little too lost in it and bit his lower lip. You withdraw, drawing a breath of your own that you didn’t know you needed this much, but not without placing an apologetic little peck over his lip. The distance between you grows a bit more and looking him in the eye suddenly robs you of the courage you just demonstrated. Even if his cheeks are noticeably tinted pink by the endeavour.

"Next, we'll need a knife."

Your imagination fills with corset ties cut by a sharp blade and garter belts following them, and you fail to consider the task at hand, involuntarily giving Victor an advantage. It only takes two or maybe three drawers for him to find where the cutlery is stored, and he turns back to face you with the glint of a silvery surface catching abundant candlelight.

"First."

Victor gains himself the right to a wish, and you know you'll do anything he says at that moment. He's still carrying a small smile on his face, without showing teeth, just menacing enough to pin you to the counter from a distance. He still prefers the more hands-on approach, and so he takes those few steps to where you're standing, knife still in hand.

He tosses it somewhere on the counter and it lacks the decorum otherwise accompanying his every action. Instead, the hands that crawl all over you are warm and gentle, nothing like the cold blade of a knife. They don’t cut through clothing, but rather make it fall undone in a slower, more lascavious manner.

"Let's take this off…"

To think you were worried about putting on an apron earlier… Victor leaves you down to your underwear, and the last bits of your patience have crumbled to dust by the time he noses your exposed neck. You press yourself more into him, embarrassed at the mewling sounds that fall from your parted lips every time he kisses or sucks at the sensitive skin. He always makes sure to love you throughoutly, no matter how starved he might seem - the gleam in his eyes might trick you into thinking him a beast, but his actions always prove the opposite. His hands run all over your body, grasping and caressing where you want him most, but it's only when he puts you on top of the counter that he strips you down completely in order to please you properly.

He parts your legs with his big sturdy hands, and the trademark chuckle reaches your ears again.

"Ahahaha! Aren't you a dirty girl, getting wet so easily for me? When did that happen? When you kissed me so passionately, or perhaps even earlier? Could it be as soon as we got here?"

Moving to close your legs proves to be futile as Victor's grasp on them prevents you from doing so. There's no point in hiding the obvious, so even with your head turned to the side, you give him an answer.

"I don't know what's gotten into me, I just… I need you, Victor."

"Hmmm…" Victor hums and the sound vibrates low in his throat, "I believe it was my turn to have my wish granted, no?"

You squeeze your eyes shut when his fingertips dance on your belly, making their way down lower and lower.

"And what do you- wish for?" You ask between breaths, trying not to just grab his hand and place it directly where you want it.

Victor looks at you and smiles. "Why, to make you relax of course! Now, if you'd be so kind to let me…"

Unceremoniously, Victor leans down and buries his face between your legs, sending your senses to overdrive with a single sweep of his wicked tongue right across your swollen nub. You groan out his name, but it comes out meekly, troubled by the imaginary danger of someone overhearing you. Even through the fog of immense pleasure coming from Victor's newly-set steady pace, you remind yourself that this shouldn't be the case now - but you still can't let your voice out. It doesn't take long for Victor to notice, and he interrupts his actions to look at you.

"My dear, I need you to tell me how good I'm making you feel."

His gentle voice coaxing the sounds out of you is contrasting with his actions as he shows no mercy on your hot center, making your juices seep out and coat his tongue as he drinks them down hungrily. Victor is a great lover, able to send your head in the clouds with ease, ready to pleasure you for hours on as long as you're able to take more.

You keep your hand in front of your mouth but make sure it doesn't block out the noise, your fingers grazing into the skin of your knuckle just for the sheer need of finding an anchor in this whirlwind of pleasure. You can't stop looking down at Victor, his beautiful long lashes, the slight blush on his smooth cheeks…

"V-Victor- Nhhh, Victor~!" The sound of your own voice embarrasses you as you're not used to hearing it out loud, wanton and obscene like that, and you curl the last syllable into something meeker, softer. It makes him chuckle.

"If that's too much for you, you know how to make me stop." He sing-songs, even if it does little to hide the desire rasping his voice. It awakens a new need inside you, now that you're bare and exposed and things are so unfair - from this angle you don't have a chance of spotting his own arousal and you have to know you're not alone in this uncontrollable desire, heightened by the thrill of the unknown place you found yourself at. It's this that convinces you to make him let go instead of grinding down on his tongue until you find your peak.

Bitting on your bottom lip, you reach out a hand to perform the familiar gesture as Victor laps at you again and again. Your hesitation grants you a bolt of pleasure that drives you dangerously close to the edge, and it's all you need to finally reach for his ponytail and yank him off of you.

"Ahh…" Victor moans at the sensation, knowing fully well he was the one who asked for it and still falling prey to the tantalizing act he loves so much. He straightens himself back up and his lips are glistening with your liquid arousal, so you can't help tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, caressing over the beauty mark. He takes the initiative and kisses you on the spot.

His sweet kiss serves only to distract as Victor makes a quick work of unfastening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. Warm arms wrap around your middle and in answer your snake yours around his neck, whining at the sensation of his diamond-hard cock pressing against your folds so close to where you need it. But Victor doesn't take you just yet, because his strong arms carry you to the table instead.

Your back meets the wooden surface and your legs are spread apart at the knees by a pair of large hands as Victor looks down at you, open and dripping and ready for him. His smile never leaves his face as you sense him giving himself a couple of pumps before aiming for your aching hole.

"Remember to scream my name loudly!"

Victor's sizeable hardness is gradually stuffed inside your tight hole as you find yourself doing anything to prevent his kind request.

"Ahh—"

One of his hands comes to brush yours away but instead you take a strong hold of it, almost enough to bruise him with little crescents left by your nails, in an attempt to keep it over your mouth. As Victor takes his time getting you used to his cock, you put his index finger in your mouth, looking him in the eye as you both test the limits of your patience.

"Be careful now, I don't want you choking on that when I start loving you in the earnest!"

The promise of what is to come sends a shiver down your spine as your mouth is left agape even after the loss of his finger.

"Nhhhh- Victor!" You shout his name as he suddenly picks up the speed, fucking you onto the table and holding you securely into place. You toss your head back and stare at the ceiling, unable to catch your breath as the head of his cock repeatedly prods at your deepest parts.

"My, aren't you starting to relax at long last!" Victor exclaims between heavy breaths, not being one to hide his own sounds of arousal, "Being fucked on the table where such dangerous men used to sit, plotting their next crime…"

Your eyes snap open, insides clenching tightly around Victor's cock, a mere instinct and nothing you have control over. The words sink in, even if you're mostly unable to think straight with your current circumstances. Your brain, high on pleasure hormones, gets creative against your will, until you can almost see playing cards being passed around on the table right where you lay bare; drunken shouts and crude remarks birthing shrill laughter and cigarette smoke dancing in the air to leech thickly onto the curtains.

Your body convulses, but it only serves to shake away the unpleasant visual as it all dissipates like a fog around you until only Victor remains. It makes you want to scream his name louder, to feel his presence domineering over every silly thought in your head. Perhaps it was his plan all along. It's so easy to lower your guard around Victor, around Victor's hearty laugher, around Victor's ever-smiling eyes-

"Nhnnn— Ahhh!! More, give me more!"

You lock your legs around Victor, and the hand reaching out to his shoulder quickly gets naughtier as you tug at the ribbon holding his hair together. Long strands cascade down and frame his form, the ends of it pooling just over your belly and tickling you softly in a very familiar manner - you can't help but miss the dark veil of his hair falling over you every time he's taking you from the front like that. It also makes it easier to tug down on it and make him groan.

"Ahh— You're too naughty, aren't you?"

You can't help it, feeling your climax approaching, wanting to drag Victor into that pit along with you. You chant his name as you care little about letting your voice out anymore, focusing only on the man in front of you and how badly you need to feel him erupt inside you. Your legs locked around his torso prevent him any escape that you know he won't look for anyway, because he only fucks you harder and faster, losing all demure and rhythm as he moans your name in return.

"I'm coming—"

His warning sends you over the edge as hot-white takes over your vision, nerves sparkling with pure pleasure all over as your whole body tremors in copious amounts of ecstasy upon feeling Victor join you suit, his come painting your insides spurt after spurt. He keeps fucking you through it all, half-broken I love you's whispered among other not-so-sweet things that still somehow keep his gentleman persona intact when combined with the soft caresses he places over the small of your back, your body arched and unnoticeably raised from the table to meet his thrusts. He lays you back down carefully, but your arms are still held out and inviting for another embrace, a freshly fucked-out but pouty look on your face to match.

"Hahaha. I'm not going anywhere, cute little robin!"

Still catching your breath, you press clumsy kisses all over his cheeks as he hugs you, and he does the same.

"Victor, that felt…somehow sinful."

"But so good?"

You hum out a sound of agreement, and he giggles in your neck like a naughty child. The peace doesn't last for long, because his next whisper alerts your senses anew.

"What about making something even more sinful now?"

You ask with hesitation and just a tad of curiosity in the mix.

"Like what?"

Victor grins, withdrawing so you can clearly see his closed-eye grin.

"Like adding some eeeeextra butter to those scones! It could be our dirty secret!"

Oh. Your heart should be signaled to calm down now, but the truth is, this is one thing you can't pretend to be a saint about, not when your mouth waters at his words. There's little left to do than to answer your partner in a fashion that matches his antics.

"Yaaaay!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita @justpeachyteastea Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains victor #ikevil victor #ikemen victor #ikemen villains fanfic #ikevil fanfic #ikevil smut #ikemen villains smut #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen series #ikeseries #cybird #otome #otome games

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lianadelune · 8 months ago

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pairing: alastor x reader

author's notes: sorry for the long wait 😭 college hates me and i started a new internship and i don't even have time to think about writing... but i finished another chapter, i don't know if it's good but i hope you like it, hopefully the next one is longer but i can't make any promises ;)

part 1

“what’s wrong?” charlie asked with a worried tone.

“nothing you have to concern your little head about it” alastor forced a smile, he knew none of them would believe him but he needed a couple hours alone to think about the letter “now… if there’s nothing more to be said, i will be going”

and before any of them could ask more questions alastor blended into the shadows and transported himself to his room in the hotel.

letting his smile drop a little he sat on his bed and stared at the letter in his hands.

why were they doing this to him?

sure, he’s not exactly the best person out there but he at least tried to be somewhat civil, between helping charlie with this excuse of a hotel and trying to not infringe on the terms of the deal he made long ago.

but this… this put everything he spent the last decades building in jeopardy.

if alastor could he would simply tear this letter apart and burn it, never thinking about those words again.

the demon stepped in front of his fireplace with the letter in hands ready to ignore and completely forget about it, but the tight grip on his hands didn’t let the letter fall in the flames.

he couldn’t.

after staring at the letter for what felt like hours, alastor finally set it aside. he could see the angels’ game as clear as day: they were setting him up to fail, counting on his nature to make it impossible for anyone, much less a human, to see him as anything more than a monster

and with that he was setting the hotel to fail spectacularly and that certainly wasn’t his deal with lilith all those years before.

that’s why she sent him the letter.

threatening everything he had accomplished with her help, either alastor likes to admit it or not.

but alastor was nothing if not stubborn, he wouldn’t let this stupid joke from heaven and lilith destroy everything for him, and, as much as he hates to admit, for charlie as well, and he wasn’t about to play the angels’ little game without a twist of his own.

after alastor’s initial attempts to charm you—mostly involving unsettling gifts, eerie glances, and his “radio smile” lingering far too long—he began to realize that his usual tactics weren't working. he’d appear in mirrors, whisper eerie compliments from dark corners, and once even serenaded you with a distorted, old-timey song that left you rattled. and yet, instead of getting closer, you were pulling away, more suspicious than ever.

seeing his frustration, the crew decided to intervene.

“look, al,” angel dust said one afternoon as he watched alastor pace around the lobby. “you can’t just be creepy and expect a girl to swoon. romance isn’t about lurking around like some horror movie villain.”

alastor frowned, his smile flickering. “romance isn’t exactly my expertise,” he admitted, crossing his arms. “but I was certain that she’d appreciate a little…mystique.”

“maybe tone down the ‘i’m watching you from the shadows’ vibe,” charlie suggested gently. “why don’t you just…be there for her? show up, help her out, maybe smile a little less, um…serial-killer-y?”

husk snorted, shaking his head. “yeah, or just act like a normal person for once. no haunting, no creeping.”

alastor grimaced, but, reluctantly, he took their advice. the next time he appeared, it was during the day, while you were organizing books on the shelf. he simply knocked on the door—a sharp, polite rap that startled you. when you turned, he was standing there with an unreadable expression, his hands behind his back.

“good afternoon,” he said, his voice smooth, though still holding that eerie undertone. “i thought perhaps I could assist you…if you’d allow.”

you looked at him with a puzzled expression, was he joking? after almost scaring you to death all those days and making you actually consider moving out of the very nice house you didn’t actually pay rent to now being polite as if he’s a sort of roomate of yours wanting to make peace after an argument?

you scoffed but still allowed him to help, at least he could make himself useful after everything.

“so…” you said after a while, still side-eyeing him, expecting your ghostly intruder to do something suspicious “what are you exactly?”

alastor stopped on his tracks, still with a book on his hands halfway through to be put on the shelf.

“well, me dear” you noticed the static on voice had toned down significantly after your first encounters “i am a demon”

“a demon, huh” you squinted, why the hell didn’t your grandmother tell you she had a freaking demon living in her house? “do you have a name, demon?”

alastor’s smile faltered a little, back in hell he would never let anyone talk to him like this, but here he was swallowing the harsh words he wanted to say at the cost of his life... or even better not-life.

“no name?” you insisted, making him wake up from his daydream.

“the name’s alastor” the deer-man turned towards you, the pile of books on his hand gone and the room feeling less like a mess “and what is your name?”

“you are haunting me and don't even know my name?” you crossed your arms on your chest, laughing at the idea.

alastor opened his mouth to send a snarky remark in your direction but you were faster.

“my name is (y/n)... (y/n) (y/l/n)”

after you introduced yourself, alastor’s expression flickered briefly, he had heard your name before he was sure he had but why couldn’t he place it from where? it’s not usual for alastor to forget things like this, he made a mental note to talk to charlie about it, maybe she would know.

“well, (y/n), i must say,” alastor began “it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance properly.” he extended a hand in an oddly formal gesture, as if you were meeting at a tea party rather than dealing with an uninvited demon in your grandmother’s home.

despite yourself, you almost felt a pang of amusement at his attempt at chivalry, and with a smirk, you took his hand. his touch was cool, yet strangely grounding. but the moment you released his hand, that unnerving cheshire grin of his was back.

“now that we’re formally introduced,” he said, leaning in with an amused gleam in his eye, “perhaps you’ll stop looking at me like a poltergeist?”

“maybe if you stop acting like one,” you countered, rolling your eyes but finding yourself oddly charmed by his persistence.

taglist: @vxllys

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor

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wlntrsldler · 1 year ago

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poisoned mercury | close as strangers (post chb)

a/n: okayyyy so i didn't give them an angst ending but i had to give into the angst monster at least once for this series so here's a bonus chapter for poisoned mercury. miscommunication galore. long distance is hard! two dumbasses in love!

song: close as strangers by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

"i'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" luke whispered, trying not to wake his bandmates up. the tour bus was large enough to house them while they were on the road, but it didn't really give the privacy he hoped for. chris was just across the narrow walkway from him and luke could hear his soft snores through the thin curtain that separated them.

luke felt his heart hammering in his chest when you didn't reply to him. he could still hear your breaths through the phone and you were just talking to him a second ago, so he knew you were still awake. you both had equally busy lives which meant that your phone calls were getting shorter and shorter each day. luke knew it was because you were booked with school and tournaments for field hockey and he was always exhausted after each meeting now that the band was working on their second album. luke knew all of this, but it didn't stop him from missing you. he was lucky to get a ten-minute call with you nowadays.

"baby?" he tried again, chewing on his bottom lip. he turned to face the ceiling of his bunk, the light from his phone casting a shadow on his face as he waited for you to say something. anything. "can i call you tomorrow?"

you sighed, "i don't know, luke. i have a busy day. it's a travel game tomorrow so i don't know if i'll be up late."

"oh," he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment. he felt a little stupid that there were tears pooling in his eyes. so you can't talk tomorrow, it shouldn't be a big deal, right? except that luke felt like you were pulling away from him. little by little. and he didn't know how to stop it. it wasn't like he could drop everything to show up at your doorstep and fix things with you. if it was up to him, he would do it in a heartbeat, but you'd probably get mad at him for it, for abandoning his responsibilities as the lead singer of the most popular band in the world. not to mention the boys would be livid and mr. d and his mom would be equally furious.

"sorry, maybe next week?"

"yeah, sure," he replied, thankful that you weren't on facetime tonight. he didn't want you to see his face. "alright, i'll let you get some rest. go kill it tomorrow. g'night, five star."

"goodnight," you said, ending the call as soon as the last syllable left your lips.

luke groaned quietly, tossing his phone on the foot of his bed. he knew long distance was going to be difficult. it's been months since he last saw you, months since he was at camp half blood, sleeping in your bed and waking up to the feeling of your lips peppering kisses on his face. maybe he shouldn't have gotten so attached so fast, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.

he got out from his bunk, tucking his feet into his slippers and made his way to the living room area of the bus. he sat on the couch, peering out the window to watch the empty roads ahead. they were on their way to nashville to meet with a producer that mr. d recommended. the second album was almost done, but it was missing something and none of them wanted to put out a record that didn't meet their expectations.

mr. d was already in tennessee waiting for them. he'd flown in from houston a few days ago with luke's mom and the rest of the poisoned mercury team while the boys were in atlanta for a movie premiere. they decided that a road trip was needed to de-stress after the glitz and buzz of the red carpet. it was nice to have some alone time with the boys. in their tour bus, luke felt like they were back in connecticut, just four friends fucking around, writing music, and eating junk food until their stomachs hurt.

he turned on the tv, switching to some random channel that he wasn't paying attention to. he just needed some noise to drown out his thoughts, but that didn't seem to work. all he could think of was you, his five star, and how much he missed you. luke wondered if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing. maybe he'd been too optimistic about things; maybe you weren't on the same page as he was; maybe you realized that it was too difficult to be with him.

a shiver ran down his spine as he spiraled into his thoughts. admitting to himself that something was wrong between the two of you left a bitter taste in his mouth because he didn't want to believe it. he saw you as his endgame, like nobody else in the world could compare to you, and to think that you may not feel the same about him... well, it was a difficult pill to swallow.

he wondered if he came on too strong, showed his cards too early, and seemed too clingy and lovestruck before it was deemed appropriate. you'd only been together, officially at least, for four months, most of which were long distance, but luke knew he was a goner for you way before that.

he silently cursed as the chill of the december air hit his skin. he should've worn a hoodie. he grabbed the small throw blanket draped over the armchair and placed it around his shoulders. he wished he got to see you over thanksgiving break because maybe you two wouldn't be in this rocky situation right now, but your coach ordered you and clarisse to stay on campus over break to sharpen your skills since you missed summer training. luke and chris were less than pleased with the idea, but they knew it was out of their control.

luke fell asleep on the couch that night after succumbing to the tiredness in his body. the sun was beginning to rise by the time his eyelids fluttered shut. he hoped that he'd wake up to a text from you, but when he woke up to the sound of the bus screeching to a halt in nashville, he realized it was the hope that kills.

“are you guys going to the fall concert?” silena asked, poking her head out of the bathroom. she was part of the planning committee for the unc fall semester concert and she’d been stressing over the logistics of it for weeks.

“lena, if we even tried to miss it, you’d kill us,” clarisse chuckled, putting on a coat of mascara. “you’ve been talking about this since we got back.”

the three of you were getting ready in your dorm. you and clarisse were roommates this year, thank gods for athlete privileges, and silena lived in the building next door in a single since she was an ra. how she had the time to be an ra, be a member of the music festival planning committee, and be a full-time student was truly beyond your comprehension.

“lena, calm down. it’ll be good,” you squeezed her shoulders as you passed by behind her, grabbing your lipgloss from the counter. “and even if it sucks, half the people in the crowd are either drunk or high or both and will probably not remember it.”

“true,” she snorted, curling the final piece of her hair. she unplugged her hair curler and gave herself one last look in the mirror, “i’ll see you guys there? i gotta go make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.”

you and clarisse nodded as silena said her goodbyes. you dabbed on some lipgloss, glancing down at your phone every few seconds. clarisse side-eyed you, unable to hide her smile, “you waitin’ for a text?”

“shut up,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. she didn't really know that your relationship was a little muddy at the moment. you weren’t the best at talking about your feelings and it felt wrong to talk about your relationship drama when clarisse and chris seemed to be going strong. “they’re supposed to land in los angeles ten minutes ago.”

“their flight probably got delayed, y/n,” she replied, “happens all the time.”

“no, i know, but just wanna make sure they’re safe, y’know?”

clarisse crossed her arms over her chest, “they’re safe or he’s safe?”

you ignored her question, opting to busy yourself with the weather app on your phone to avoid any follow-up questions, “how are you not checking your phone for a text from chris right now?”

she shrugged, “he always knocks out on long flights so i don’t expect a text until he gets to their hotel.”

“how are you and chris, by the way? i know we live together and shit, but i feel like we haven’t gotten to talk about it in detail since we’re always so tired from school and practice.”

“we’re good,” clarisse hummed, “just miss him loads, though. i haven’t seen him since we left camp– what? four, almost five, months ago?”

you were in the same boat, kind of. you and luke hadn’t seen each other in months and you were getting antsy. they’d been on the road for the past few months, meeting with producers and fulfilling their contractual obligations. they hadn’t been in a set location long enough for you to be able to fly out to see luke, even just for a weekend.

at first, there were movie dates where you’d order each other food and eat and watch the movie on facetime together. there were weekly phone calls and daily texts, but nothing compares to the real thing. being with luke in person was something that you were craving. camp half blood spoiled you with having him all for yourself and now that you were back in school and he’s out in the world, it was beginning to weigh on you.

you missed him. a lot.

you missed kissing him and feeling his lips break out into a smile when you’d mumble something stupid. you missed feeling his arms around you, hugging you from behind while you got ready for the day. you even missed waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of him scribbling random lyrics on pieces of scrap paper he found in your room when he slept over.

long distance is hard and sure, luke wouldn’t be the type to cheat or do anything to jeopardize your relationship, but it still didn’t stop a knot from forming in your stomach every time a picture of him or the band popped up on your social media with a gorgeous singer, actor, or model that they ran into on the red carpet. what if he realizes one day that he wants someone who lives the same life as him? wild and adventurous, not tied down by school or sports?

a part of you felt silly for being so insecure about things. it was too early in the relationship to have this conversation, isn’t it? you knew that your avoidance of the topic was starting to affect your relationship with luke, as much as you wished it didn’t, but what if the minute you voice your concerns, he’ll realize that being with you was more than he bargained for? after all, you weren’t the same five star with all the time in her hands, care-free, and relaxed that he met at camp. there was a chance that luke would call it quits on this if you said anything and it felt like too big of a risk to take.

your phone buzzed on the counter, indicating a text.

from: luke <3

‘landed and jetlagged. gonna sleep for a few. enjoy the concert babe!’

you hearted the message and slipped your phone into your back pocket after sending him a quick goodnight text. the three dots popped up for a second, then in a blink, they disappeared. read at 8:43 pm.

“you ready?”

you snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of clarisse’s voice. you nodded and grabbed your small purse before heading out the door. you ran into a group of your teammates who were heading to the amphitheater across campus for the concert. the walk seemed to fly by as they cracked jokes and shared stories about random things. you stayed silent for the most part, only laughing along when it seemed like the right time, but your mind was somewhere else. your mind was in los angeles.

by the time you got to the venue, you and clarisse separated from the group to enter the vip tent, courtesy of silena. a small crowd was beginning to form in front of the stage, taking up the grassy field. charlie was already at the tent, sipping on an ipa when he saw the two of you. his face broke out into a wide smile, giving you and clarisse a quick hug before leading you to the seats he saved.

“season’s looking promising for you guys, charlie,” you commented, accepting the high noon he offered. “the team’s looking good out there.”

“thanks,” he beamed, “don’t think we’re on the level of national champs just yet like you guys, but we’re trying!”

“you guys are doing great,” clarisse chimed in, “the energy in the stadium is electric this year. makes me love college.”

“are you telling me the papers and tests aren’t what makes you love college, la rue?” charlie teased.

she snorted, “oh yeah, because i just love staying up until 1 am writing a paper on greek mythology for classics 101.”

the three of you fell into a comfortable conversation about the class you were all taking. it was a prerequisite class that most athletes choose to take because the professor was flexible with deadlines when it came to athletes. it was helpful especially when a team has to play beyond their season for tournaments or championships. about ten minutes before the opening act got on stage, silena rushed into the tent.

“guys, please you need to come with me. i need your help,” she said frantically. she was nervously tugging on her ‘staff’ badge around her neck, already halfway out of the tent as she waited for the three of you to follow her. “please, it’s an emergency.”

“woah, lena, what’s going on?” you asked, getting up to comfort her. you followed her through the crowd, grabbing clarisse’s hand to keep her close.

silena shook her head, continuing her march through the sea of people, “just come with me, i’ll explain when we get backstage.”

you and clarisse looked at each other, feeling bad for silena. she put in her blood, sweat, and tears into this concert and you knew that she would beat herself up over it if something went wrong. silena always put her all into the projects she’s passionate about, but sometimes things outside of her control happen and unfortunately, she blames herself for it.

in the whirlwind of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’, the four of you managed to make your way backstage. it was chaotic. people were running around everywhere making sure everything was set for the opening act. the girl who was opening the concert was waiting by the wings, her guitar strapped across her chest as she took some deep breaths. the crowd wasn’t full yet, but you knew that if you were in that position, you’d still be sweating buckets. going out there on stage to perform for strangers was nerve-racking. you didn’t know how luke did it. you admired that about him.

“lena, are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” clarisse questioned, picking up the pace of her steps to match silena.

silena stopped in front of a door, slowly turning to face you and clarisse. suddenly, her stressed facade faded as she twisted the doorknob, “why don’t you see for yourself?”

if you weren’t so confused about what was going on, you would’ve seen charlie lift his can up to his lips to hide his smile at how proud he was of his girlfriend for her acting skills. when the door opened, your heart stopped.

luke was here.

he stood in the middle of the room beside chris with a nervous smile on his face. he was wearing a black leather jacket on top of a white tank top and black pants. his poisoned mercury chain hung from his neck, shining under the overhead lights. his hands were stuffed in his front pockets, shy and timid, as he waited for your reaction.

clarisse screamed when it hit her that chris was actually here. she ran to him and nearly tackled him to the floor. chris wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and laughed as she giggled into his neck. the two of them shared a heartfelt reunion before rushing out of the room to get some privacy. the sound of the door shutting behind you made you blink.

luke cleared his throat, right hand scratching the back of his neck, “hey, five star.”

the nickname brought you back to your senses. you ran to him, engulfing him in a tight hug with an ‘umph.’ at first, luke was tense under your touch, unsure if you’d be happy with his surprise, but quickly, he melted into you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing in content as your familiar scent surrounded him. he felt sparks coursing through his veins as you hugged him tighter and all he could think about was how good it felt to have you in his arms again. his mind was still reeling at your reaction. he didn’t expect you to run to him like this, especially not when it felt like you’d been avoiding his calls over the last few weeks.

“what are you doing here?” you asked him, pulling away to hold his face in your hands. your eyes twinkled as you raked over his face, still in disbelief that he was actually in front of you. “you’re supposed to be in la.”

luke couldn’t stop the lopsided smile on his face, “well, i lied? we were in nashville recording with your dad and he mentioned that he didn’t schedule a session for us this weekend in case me and chris wanted to take a trip to north carolina, so here we are.”

you ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, whispering, “here you are.”

“god, i missed you so much,” he said, voice breaking. “you have no idea how hard it’s been.”

you gulped, your hold on his face faltering a bit. if luke wasn’t on edge, he wouldn’t have noticed the falter in your step, but he felt the slight hesitation in your actions. your warm touch slowly peeled away from his face and he instantly regretted saying those words. here he goes being clingy again. he removed his hands from your waist, clearing his throat. he sat on the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him. he tried to keep his hands to himself when you left a space between the two of you.

“i still can’t believe you’re really here,” you said, staring at him. you wanted to lean over and hold him in your arms again, but there was a weird tension in the air that made you feel queasy. “i feel like i’m dreaming right now.”

“i hope you’re not mad that i’m here,” luke looked down at his lap, flexing his hands. he had to keep his hands busy or else he’d surely reach for yours and he didn’t want to come on too strong. he had to keep his distance. he didn’t want to scare you off any more than he already did. “there was just an opening in the schedule and i-i wanted to see you.”

“i’m not mad at all.”

“good, good,” he replied. silence. he forced himself to look up from his lap, twisting his body to face you. he bit his bottom lip, trying to build up the courage to ask his next question. “are we okay?”

“we’re okay.”

“okay because i feel like things have been different between us lately,” he pursed his lips, looking at you with sad eyes. his tongue poked out the corner of his lips, eyes darting between you and the wall behind you. “i don’t know. i feel like we haven’t talked in ages, y’know? and i know you’re busy and you have a great life here that i’m not really a part of, but uh, i wanna be, y’know? i don’t know much about school or field hockey, but it’s important to you and you’re important to me so i wanna hear about it.”

he was met with more silence. luke continued, “maybe i’m asking for too much when i ask you to let me be a part of this life, but uh, i miss you? and i just feel like i’m losing you and that’s the last thing i want. so you gotta give me something, five star. tell me what i can do to be better.”

“if you need me to back off, i’ll do it, you know? you call the shots. you tell me what you need from me, and i’ll do it, okay? i just– i can’t lose this. i don’t wanna lose you,” luke mumbled. “maybe this is all in my head too. i don’t know anymore.”

you shuddered, lip quivering, “i feel like i’m holding you back.”

“what?”

“come on, luke,” you flicked away the tear that trickled down your cheek, “you’re out there in the world doing what you love. meeting new people. living your life and i don’t want to hold you back from that. we met each other when i didn’t have all these responsibilities and who i was at camp is not who i am here and i know you love those impromptu adventures and trips and spontaneity. a-and i can’t give that to you.”

“you deserve someone who can live this life with you and i’m stuck here for two more years, luke. i can’t do that,” it was getting hard to breathe. your throat felt like it was closing up, cutting off your airflow. you’d been putting off this conversation for weeks. it didn’t feel right to talk about this over the phone, and you thought that you had a few more weeks to figure out what to say to him when you saw him for winter break, but he was here now. “you deserve more than facetime calls and text messages, and that’s all i can offer.”

“is this–” he paused, licking his lips. “is this not what you want anymore?”

“what?”

“this, us? is this just not what you want anymore?”

an involuntary laugh escaped you as you wiped under your eye, “castellan, i don’t think i could stop wanting you even if i wanted to. and you know when we first met, i really wanted to.”

luke moved closer to you, just an inch or two, trying to gauge your reaction. you didn’t move away, which he took as a good sign, “i’m confused. why do you sound like you want to end this then?”

“i don’t want you to settle for this,” you sighed, “i know what you deserve and it isn’t this.”

“bullshit.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief, “what?”

“i’m sorry, five star, but that’s bullshit,” a small smile was tugging on his lips. he reached over to place a hand over yours. his fingers traced your knuckles, running the pads of his fingers across the familiar ridges of your skin. “i don’t understand how after all this time you still don’t realize that all i want is you. it’s ridiculous, really.”

“it’s ridiculous?”

“it’s ridiculous,” he chuckled wetly. his other hand rubbed at his eyes, clearing his foggy vision. “our situation isn’t ideal, i know that, but i’d take long distance with you over anything else with anyone else. don’t you get it, five star? you’re it for me. if this isn’t what you want anymore, i’ll accept that. but if you’re only doing this because you don’t think i want this… five star, i want it all with you. long distance. phone calls. text messages. weekend trips when we can get them. distance has nothing on how i feel about you.”

leave it to luke castellan to make you blush. you shyly looked at him, eyes twinkling with something more than either of you bargained for when you first met in that secret spot you call yours, “how do you feel about me?”

“i’m not gonna say it right now because i don’t want to have the first time be while we’re in a fight,” luke laughed. the air was starting to clear. “but i have a feeling you know.”

“i know,” you squeezed his hand three times, “i do too.”

“will you put me out of my misery and kiss me please?”

“always so fucking dramatic,” you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes, but you leaned over and pressed your lips to his.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n

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azrielbrainrot · 1 year ago

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 5

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: It's time to find your handler and make him answer for what he's done to you.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore (nothing too graphic)

Word Count: 4715

Notes: This took a while to write, I'm sorry about that but life has been kicking my ass. I really hope it makes enough sense because I've found I'm not very good at writing action scenes (but that's also not the main focus). Hope you enjoy!

Part 4 ○ Part 6

The moon was high in the sky, its pale light guiding your way through the forest. The air was strangely quiet, the leaves crunching beneath your feet were the only thing that could be heard between the trees. Even the wind was serene and no animal dared make a sound, as if sensing what was to come. The atmosphere allowed you to keep your composure, any incoming threats would be easier to detect like this. Unfortunately, so would your allies.

It's funny how so much can change in a matter of days. Before, when you were only a relatively low ranking member of the guild, walking through the dark woods as you are doing now would simply be the norm, whether you were on a mission or not, but, after everything you learned, not having Azriel and his shadows near you makes you feel off-kilter, like you can't protect him if he stands too far from you.

If it weren't for the millions of problems that keep piling on, you'd probably sit on this feeling, dissecting it until you realize how peculiar it actually is for you to feel so achingly connected to the shadowsinger who, even if had been your husband during a time of your life you've now forgotten, was essentially a stranger to you now. You've only really known him for about two weeks, not nearly enough time to be feeling like a part of you is missing.

You weren't used to worrying about anyone else at times like these. Even when your missions weren't solo, you didn't actually know your coworkers, much less cared if they survived or not. But now, you can't stop thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, of how Azriel and his family could get hurt because of you. You stayed up thinking about this all night, if this would all be truly worth it just to get your memories back, but had decided that you wanted to know what happened, no matter the cost, and knew that, as much as the Inner Circle was helping you recover your memories, not all their motives were altruistic. They all wanted revenge as much as you did.

All of you had planned this out meticulously, going down to every last detail and considering every possible outcome. Everyone was also extra careful on how to approach using you as bait. You expected it from Azriel - he's been protective of you ever since you stepped foot into his High Lord's home - but seeing the rest of them so worried about you made you want to recover your memories that much more. You want to remember these people, want to know how they all, especially Azriel, came to care for you, so much so that even death didn't stop those feelings.

There had been other plans brought up, ones that didn't involve putting you in such a risky situation, but it was soon decided that the only way to get to Norris would be to show up alone. If he so much as caught a glimpse of anyone else, you know he would simply run and if he truly put his guard up and went into hiding, finding him would be nearly impossible even with Azriel's spies and shadows at his disposal, he hadn't found you after all.

The tree you were looking for comes into view as you get lost in your thoughts, the magic traces left behind on its bark unmistakably familiar. The guild has used this system for as long as you've been a part of it. Every important meeting with your handler had taken place next to any object or area marked with this exact faint magic, enough for the attuned eye to pick up on but not so strong that anyone else might come across them and meddle where they're not welcomed.

You don't have to wait by the marked tree for long before an imposing figure appears beside you. He had probably been watching you for as long as you've winnowed into the edge of the treeline, keeping his eyes on you as you walked to the meeting place. The air shifts, the wind picking up slightly as if sensing the tension threatening to form in your body.

Turning around as casually as possible, you face your former handler, the male you thought had saved your life but you've now learned did quite the opposite. Not that there had been any particularly fond feelings between you and him, but it still hurts to know how easily the male manipulated you and turned your entire life around with no remorse.

He was mostly covered with a black hood, only a bit of his face being visible through the shadow it cast, enough to meet his eyes. You've only seen him without it a few times, you know that dark brown hair lays under the hood and a few scars adorn his face. Truthfully, you're not even sure if this isn't some intricate glamour. Nothing that comes from this male should be trusted.

His form gives nothing away, no nerves or suspicions, but his brown eyes rake over your body, searching for something. Since he thinks you've just crawled out of a cell or worse, he's probably looking for any signs of injury, or that you've betrayed him and the guild. It's best you don't let him find anything that tells him otherwise.

“Norris,” you greet him as you would any other time, nodding once at him with a passive expression.

He crosses his arms and meets your eyes when he hears your voice. His eyes dart over the forest around you as if he knew Azriel would be lurking in the shadows. His self assured expression doesn't help with your nerves. Norris always seems like he's three steps ahead, and more often than not he was actually four.

“I didn't think I'd see you again,” he finally speaks up.

“I thought so too.”

Norris hums in response. You're not sure if he believes you or not, but short and distant answers are the norm for him. Either way, you need to stick to the plan, there's no turning back now. “How did you escape the Night Court?”

“They thought I was someone else, someone they used to know,” you start, trying to convey some of the confusion you'd experienced the first time they told you who you were. He knows you well enough to expect you to have some trouble maintaining the same level of apathy he so easily displays, he'd warned you multiple times to act more like an assassin and not let your emotions get the best of you. “It eventually led to a fight between the High Lord and his Spymaster. They couldn't agree on what to do with me from what I heard. I managed to escape in the chaos.”

You stop for a second, licking your lips. You decided not to completely lie to him so it would be more believable, this version of events could have come true had you not trusted Azriel, had your feelings not been so suffocating and confusing.

“I waited for a while before contacting you, to make sure they didn't come looking for me,” you continue eventually, the fact that he isn't asking more questions makes your heart pick up ever so slightly.

He turns his head to the side, a faint smirk playing at his lips. You resist the urge to clench your sweaty palms, not wanting to let him see through you. “Who did they think you were?”

“The Spymaster's former wife,” you admitted, hoping you sounded as detached as possible.

“And what do you think about it?”

“What?”

“Do you believe them?” You didn't expect him to ask you outright. It would make more sense for him to try to cover it up, stopping any doubts you might have had before they grew.

“Of course not. I've never been married,” the lie tastes wrong on your tongue but you make sure not to let any of it translate into your body language or your voice. Which is why you're so caught off guard by his next words. “I think you're lying to me.”

Norris turns you around and grabs you to him before you have a chance to react, pulling you flush against his chest and pressing a dagger to your neck, power rumbling under his skin, raising the hairs on the back of your neck at its intensity. This isn't that surprising to you since you were more than aware of how much faster and stronger he was, and that tricking him would be extremely hard, but this means you need to move to plan B. And you were really hoping you could avoid a direct conflict like this.

Azriel is the first one to show himself, emerging from the shadows with deadly calm, hazel eyes never straying from Norris as his hand hovers Truth Teller. As much as you try to keep calm and not give anything away, you know Norris can feel you tense up and hear your heartbeat picking up when you see the shadowsinger walking straight into danger.

You feel another presence behind you, Morrigan, followed by Cassian and Amren on each side. The sisters had stayed behind, despite their many protests. In case anything happened, Velaris needed its High Lady and the Valkyries at least. You also know this is a personal matter for the fae present, you had been their friend and been ripped away from their lives by the male currently holding you at knife point, threatening to end your life once again, for good this time.

They all start walking slowly to you, effectively forming a circle around the two of you, getting ready to attack if Norris hurts you or tries to run. He appeared as calm as if he had just been caught on a night stroll, his heartbeat never rising in tempo against your back even under Azriel's chilling stare. He had been expecting your betrayal, and had been ready for them.

You could feel the fury in the air, could see it written in Azriel's eyes as he studied every single one of Norris' movements. You had been worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his composure since he was against this plan from the start, in fear of this exact situation coming true. But he seemed completely focused, not even risking looking at you too long in case he'd get distracted. This made you relax ever so slightly. You'd planned out for this situation and even if you ended up hurt or worse, you know Azriel won't let Norris go unharmed. You would get your revenge one way or another, you just hoped you could spare the male in front of you any more pain.

Rhysand winnows in next to Azriel moments later, darkness clinging to him as he takes a few steps closer to you nonchalantly. Talons scratching your mental walls before checking in on you. All according to plan.

“I would say it's a pleasure to meet you but even I can't spin a lie so effortlessly,” he starts, arrogance dripping in every word. You'd never admit it, much less to him, but Rhysand was every bit the perfect High Lord, especially at times like these. It showed in the way he carried himself down to the seemingly bottomless pit of power at his disposal. No matter how strong Norris is, anyone with even a little of self preservation would think twice on how to handle him.

“I came prepared for your little tricks, High Lord.”

You frown at his words, confusion settling over you before you realize what it meant. Rhysand must have tried getting inside his mind as soon as he appeared. Norris had expected him to, had put up walls to ensure it didn't happen. This would only make things harder.

“Skipping pleasantries, are we?” Rhysand's face gives nothing away, but as he drops said pleasantries, it gives way to some of the anger bubbling under the surface, the next words coming out in a serious tone. “You're not walking out of here, Norris.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Norris says as he leans in closer to your ear, voice dropping to a whisper, “Did you think I would come on my own?”

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach as you watch dark figures manifesting all around you, far outnumbering your group. You recognize some of them, know their clothes and masks mean they're assassins from the guild.

A fight breaks out right before your eyes, causing you to struggle desperately for the first time in Norris' arms. He tries to keep you in place by letting the blade touch your skin as a warning, a few drops of blood escaping the small wound. You know he could easily kill you, but you're also aware that if he did the chances of him escaping would drop to zero. That's the only reason you're still breathing, so he can use you as a shield.

Your eyes were following Azriel's shadow covered form as he fought against multiple attackers, the feeling of helplessness rising with each clank of his sword. You can't stand there and wait any longer, so you grab the blade still positioned dangerously close to your throat and wrap your fingers around it tightly so it cuts your hand instead of your neck while swinging your elbow back to try to push off of Norris. Just as you expected, you weren't strong enough and he pulled the knife back from your grasp, intending to stab your stomach to stop you, but you had a new trick up your sleeve.

Azriel's shadows had moved to you as soon as Norris grabbed you, crawling up your legs discreetly in the dark of night, where they stayed waiting for your signal. And, as they tasted your blood in the air, they engulfed Norris, giving you enough room to push back and to elbow him a few more times, also letting off some of your power and finally being able to release yourself from his hold.

The shadows aren't enough to keep him away from you for long, the lack of visibility barely slowing him down as he attacks you before you even have the chance to take a breath. Luckily, your little helpers' singer rushes in, getting between you and deflecting Norris' strike. He hands you a sword so you can fight back with him and pushes back against Norris without wasting a single moment.

The three of you enter a match, barely being able to pay attention to what's happening around you, though you can tell everyone is in the same predicament. Even between you and Azriel, keeping up with Norris proves difficult, he's not only an exceedingly proficient fighter but he's also familiar with your attacks and style, making it easier for him to avoid your attacks and focus more on Azriel's.

The fight goes on for longer than you'd like. Even with your and Azriel's joint efforts, you had barely managed to wound Norris. The bastard was too strong and experienced, he was one of the guild's oldest assassins for a reason.

Suddenly the sickening scent of blood reaches your nostrils, in a concentration you haven't experienced before. It makes you falter in your movements, but luckily it has the same effect on Norris, leaving him open to Azriel's attacks, who seems undisturbed by it. You risk a glance behind you, but all you can see is the rest of the Inner Circle watching the battle, while the ground and their bodies, even the trees around them, are covered in blood. You're not exactly sure what happened, what they did to completely obliterate the assassins to a point not even their bodies were left, but you don't have more time to linger on this as Azriel finally manages to get a few good hits in, leaving Norris stumbling back away from him.

Rhysand is next to you in the blink of an eye, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath. You move to help Azriel, hoping to distract Norris enough for him to be able to infiltrate his mind. It doesn't take much longer before Norris finally drops unconscious at your feet, and you immediately let out a relieved breath. Azriel's shadows move to tie him up so he has no chance of escaping.

Your plan had always been to catch Norris off guard or wear him down enough so that Rhysand would be able to infiltrate his mind, successfully knocking him out so you could take him back to the Night Court for interrogation. And, as much as you'd planned for the possibility of him bringing backup, the assassins had made this harder to achieve. You all had been worn down more than expected, but, as you look around, you see no one seems to be gravely injured.

Cassian smiles and nods at you when he notices you eyeing the blood trickling down his shoulder, it wasn't too deep of a wound and the blood was already stopping from the looks of it. Azriel did tell you Illyrians heal faster than most fae. Speaking of, you feel scarred fingers wrap around your wrist as you give Cassian a tentative smile of your own.

Your focus is stolen by Azriel, your eyes finding his instantly as he holds up your hand carefully, examining the wound and the blood that had been smeared all around you during the fight. He's wearing a conflicted expression, pain visible in his eyes. You've found Azriel shoulders too much guilt, even when what happened wasn't his fault.

His other hand reaches out to touch your neck, where a small cut overlaps with the pronounced scar on your skin. He's been blaming himself for your death for over a century, he must have been terrified of not being able to stop it again, even if it was happening right in front of him.

“I'm alright, Azriel,” you smile up at him, hoping to calm him down, “This will be gone by tomorrow.”

“We need to take you to a healer.” You shake your head, not wanting to stay behind and leave them to deal with Norris by themselves. Gently prying Azriel's hands away from you, you go to tell him as much.

“He's right,” Morrigan interjects, “I can take you to Madja and she'll fix it for you in an instant. I can bring you back right after.”

“It's just my hand.” You don't understand why they're making such a big deal out of it. This wouldn't need a healer, aside from some discomfort it won't hinder you in any way. They all have small wounds of their own that they seem to be ignoring.

“You're hurt.” There's a finality in Azriel's tone that is starting to rub you the wrong way. You understand he's concerned, you've tried to be considerate of his complicated feelings ever since you found out you had been his wife and the tragic way in which he had lost you, but that doesn't mean he can order you around.

“Barely.” You try to keep your voice leveled, pointing at Norris' unconscious form still covered in shadows. “And this is a lot more important. I need to know what he did.”

“I'll tell you everything we find. You don't need to go with us.”

“What?” You can feel the confusion taking over your features. Azriel has been forthcoming with any and every bit of information, you don't understand why he's trying to keep you away now.

“It's best if you don't come to the dungeon. You don't need to see that,” he offers, his face becoming irritatingly blank, the mask you know he uses as the Night Court's Spymaster. This only makes your anger spike even faster.

“See what?,” you challenged, head tilting to the side, “Do you think I never tortured anyone?” Your voice rises with every word, annoyance taking over your body. “I know the female you married was much different from what I am now, and I don't know if she let you order her around like this, but I'm not her.”

“I'm not ordering you-” Azriel's face falls at your words but you're too far gone to even try to interpret what it's written in his eyes, to even listen to what he has to say.

“It sure sounds like you are.”

Rhysand stands between you two before the argument can escalate further. “This is not the time to be fighting. We need to take him to a safe place before he regains conscience. I can only keep him down for so long.” He eyes Azriel for a moment, studying his features as some sort of understanding takes over his own. “Mor will take you to a healer,” he holds up a hand as you open your mouth to argue back, “It will only take a moment and then you can meet us in the dungeon. We won't start without you. I promise.”

By the expression on his face and authority behind his words, you know trying to argue with the High Lord won't take you anywhere right now. He's too used to calling all the shots and you can't change his mind in a matter of minutes, not when there's a much more pressing situation on your hands. You need to choose your battles.

You simply turn to Morrigan, ignoring the hazel eyes staring straight into your soul. “Take me to your healer then. The sooner I get this done the better.” She nods at you, extending her hand as she winnows you both back to Velaris.

The adrenaline of the fight started wearing off as the healer, Madja, worked on your hand, stitching skin back together with expert ease. As much as it had annoyed you to be sent to the infirmary, you could admit the pain had been worse than you expected as your body calmed down. It still wouldn't have been much of a problem to warrant that amount of concern.

Morrigan simply watches as the old fae works on you. She tried to talk to you about Azriel but you pushed her away, not wanting to hear any explanations from her. He's old enough to speak for himself, and you'll probably be eager to hear what he has to say after this whole situation is worked out. Right now, you only want to go back to where they're holding Norris so you can finally understand what he did to you and hopefully learn how to fix it.

Just as Madja is wrapping your hand in a white bandage, keeping the strong smelling ointment she spread in place, the healer speaks up for what feels like the first time tonight. “That boy loves you more than anything. Give him a chance to explain. I'm sure he never meant to hurt you,” she finishes as she pats your hand softly. “All done.”

Her words give you pause. It does make you wonder how obvious your and Azriel's love had been that everyone seems to have no doubt in their minds that he would do anything for you. He seems to be very private in his affairs, especially personal ones. It also makes you curious if you'd known her before, it's more than likely since she's the Inner Circle's healer. You push those thoughts away, knowing you wouldn't ask the old healer about your relationship before anyway. You were so close to getting your memories, you needed to focus on that.

“Thank you.” She gives you one more smile before gathering her things, making you stand up and rush to Morrigan, who has a somewhat nostalgic and understanding smile on her face. She holds onto your shoulder before you even have the chance to say anything, knowing what your next words were going to be.

As soon as you winnow in, you understand why they called this place a dungeon. There really was no other way to describe the dark, stone covered space. The air was thick with humidity and blood, the kind you know has lingered for centuries and will never be completely washed out. You have to blink a few times to let your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, it was truly close to pitch black inside, the perfect environment to torment someone in, especially when you're the shadowsinger.

You never let your eyes meet Azriel's when you walk in, even as he turned to you, only allowing yourself to focus on your former handler, heavy chains on each of his wrists as he stood on his knees in the middle of a cell. He was already awake, it seems they did start without you. Rhysand speaks into your mind, sensing the incoming protest. He woke up sooner than we expected. He's been trained for this.

A sigh almost escapes you. Norris was trained for every possibility, this was going to be a gruesome session. As much as you were arguing with Azriel to stay, the truth is this is not something you ever enjoyed. So many in the guild did this sort of thing for pleasure but you only ever tortured anyone when it was strictly necessary and they had truly done something awful to warrant it. You can only hope it at least gives you the information you've been searching for and the freedom you never even dared to dream about.

“I almost thought you weren't going to show your face again.” It's infuriating how unaffected Norris sounds even though his blood already stains Azriel's favorite dagger.

“Wouldn't miss this show for the world,” you admit. He was one of the few individuals you believed deserved this and much worse, for all he has done to not only you but so many others. You're almost certain your conscience won't bother you for this.

Up until tonight your feelings for him were passive. You never particularly liked him, but you always felt obligated to show him respect as your superior, there were also less than ideal consequences if you let your true feelings show. Still, there had been some small, stupid hope that he didn't really do all those awful things to you. He trained you and taught you a lot, knowledge that you know has helped you in a lot of bad situations, that has kept you alive through them, and will continue to do so in the future.

A sickening smirk overtakes his face at your response. “I always liked you better when you acted like one of us.” Fury and shame travels across your body, but Azriel moves before you get the chance to, slashing his blade across Norris' chest, a sharp noise of pain escaping him. The gesture almost makes you smile, as twisted as that may sound.

“You'd do well to watch your mouth. My Spymaster doesn't take well to disrespect,” Rhysand's voice sounds different, arrogant but nothing short of furious.

“Still hung up on her? Since you stopped searching I thought you found yourself a new shiny toy.” Azriel's fist connects with Norris' jaw as he gets the last words out, a laugh escaping him despite the flow of blood rushing through his teeth for being able to rattle the shadowsinger.

You decide to step in, not wanting to let Azriel speak or act for you when you're more than capable of doing it yourself. And knowing how much he blames himself for your situation, for stopping his search when you were alive all this time. You'd be damned if you let Norris hurt him in any way. He's done more than enough.

“So you admit you were the one who found me.” You walk until you're standing over Norris' beaten body, right next to Azriel, close enough he has to adjust his wings not to touch you.

“Of course, you were one of my finest projects.” You let out an acknowledging hum, temperature dropping around you as your icy power rose to your fingertips. The pain would be a lot worse if you kept his body temperature down, you want his whole body to ache. This was going to be a long night, thankfully hurting Norris was nothing short of enjoyable.

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ruedesu · 6 months ago

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Bakugou x reader, experimenting with writing this au, might continue it depending on the brainrot.

cw: death, descriptions of death, silly

Heavily heavilyy inspired by the manga Re-Living My Life with a Boyfriend Who Doesn't Remember Me

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Stay with me."

Katsuki's hand winds around your waist pulling you closer to him.

"Stay with me for the rest of the night."

A warm breeze blows through the leaves of the courtyard trees, and shadows of leaves dance across his face. Spring is here, and that means graduation is right around the corner.

"Katsuki, I-"

His lips interrupt yours as he kisses you. A dance of need and passion; his hands go to your neck, angling your head for a deeper kiss.

He steals the breath from your lungs as if there is nothing easier in this world for him to do.

You could die happily in this very moment as long as he never lets you go.

Smiling, you pull away, and his lips chase you. You grant him one more kiss before pulling away again, this time spinning just out of his reach.

"I would love nothing more than to continue, but I have to go to the supplemental class Aizawa is teaching, or I won't graduate."

His shoulders slump, "You can't skip, just this once?"

You raise your eyebrows, "Is Bakugou Katsuki asking me to skip a class?"

He rolls his eyes and looks away from you, giving you a perfect angle of his lower lip puff out in annoyance, but his hand reaches for yours. His heart shows you his true colors.

"I want to talk about what happens after we graduate..."

It's hard to hide the smile on your face, "We will, tonight I promise. But first, I have to actually graduate."

His eyes turn back to you, and his thumb draws circles on the back of your palm.

There's something swirling in his mind, a worry that you don't know how to quench, until he blinks it away, banishing it from his mind.

"Find me right after, okay?"

You nod quickly, "Right after, I promise."

His hand, still holding yours, pulls you into his embrace. His strong arms wrap around you, squeezing you so tightly you can barely use your arms to hug him back.

"I'll be in the lounge in the west wing waiting." He whispers, kissing your hairline.

He releases you from his hug prison, his fingertips trace the length of your arm until his fingers lock with yours again.

Your heart thumps in your chest. He's being so clingy you're going to explode.

"Katsuki, is there-"

Across the courtyard, the bell tower strikes four. The loud chimes echo in your ear as you curse. "Shit, we'll talk tonight. I promise."

You quickly gather your bag from the base of the tree and run back to Bakugou for another kiss.

"The west lounge, I won't forget."

"You better not." He says begrudgingly, but with a small smile in the corner of his pout.

You just one more smqll kiss and then run to Mr. Aizawa's lesson.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Oh it's so late, I hope Katsuki's not worried.

Your boots splash through puddles as you try to dodge the large raindrops.

You make it to the west wing and dry yourself off as you climb the stairs with haste in your step.

The lounge door opens with a small creak, and your lungs are instantly filled with warmth.

The lounge is a medium-sized room with tables lining the walls and a hearth directly opposite the door with two lounging chairs in front of it.

The room is empty except for the small spikes of blonde you can see poking up from the lounging chairs.

You set your things down and walk around the chair, ready to be met with an annoyed but relieved gaze, but instead, his eyes are closed, and his head rests against the back of the chair.

He fell asleep waiting for you. Your heart nearly grows two sizes, and you're mentally screaming your love for him over and over again.

You sit down on the floor next to his leg and rest your head against his thigh.

You're expecting his usual warmth to reach you, to seep into your bones and wash away all your worries, but instead, you're met with cold.

Lightning flashes through the window, and the crack of the thunder jumpstarts your anxiety.

"Katsuki?"

You pick your head up, scanning his body for any type of movement.

"Katsuki?!"

You rush to check his chest, his heart, and it's silent. Cold.

You panic. How? Adrenaline courses through you, and you carefully pull your lover from his chair to the floor.

You scream for help as you unbutton his shirt, looking for any signs of trauma or blood.

"Please, please," you beg, your own lungs struggling to take in enough air.

"Someone! Help him!"

Lightning flashes again, the bright light illuminating his body, and sears the macabre scene into your memory.

"Help!" You shout again before a cough takes hold of you, and you clutch your throat. Your lungs are filling with fire.

Your vision starts to blur, no, no, no.

You try to yell, to scream, but no sound comes out.

I have to save him... I have to...

You look to the door, and back to Katsuki.

Please.

You try to crawl, but your arms can't support the weight.

Please.

I have to save him.

Thunder booms as your eyes close.

Please.

You stretch your hand out to reach Katsuki one last time.

Please.

A shock pierces through you, and then the world fades to black.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Gasping for air, you bolt upright.

What was that? A dream? That was way too real to be just a dream. I was in love, almost graduated... until... oh my god.

You push your mind to remember every detail, pulling every memory from a fog so that you won't forget.

Katsuki...

Your heart yearns for him. Is he alive? Where is he?

And for that matter, where are you?

You look around the room and the realizationshocks you. No... no way.

You get out of bed, run to the mirror in the corner of the room, and look at your reflection.

This can not be happening. You pinch your cheeks, no. You slap your cheeks, absolutely not.

And then there's a knock on your door calling your name, "Are you going to spend your tenth birthday in your room? Come out for breakfast!"

I went back in time?!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

a/n: thanks for reading!! I've had this stuck in my head for days and had to get it out. Def go check out the original book if you're craving more of this trope. I might write more because I am living for it. If I do write more I'll probably add more details about the setting but I think this is a good start!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #💕.katsuki

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millerillusions · 8 days ago

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★ June Fic Recommendations ★

| ★ | hi! very sorry this is late, i've just gotten back home; it was a really busy June. unfortunately didn't get as much reading in as I would've liked this month, but there's always July!!

| ★ | there was some incredible writing this month- be sure to check out each of the authors and their incredible work, they’re all extremely talented and deserve all the love!

🪡 angst, 💋 smut, 🪷 fluff, 🪶 darker themes

| Joel Miller |

★ | It’s just a cigarette by @bluetimeombre | 💋

Your dad wasn't around so Joel had to step up and be the man. When he catches you with a cigarette between your lips, it was only right he should punish you, right?

★ | In My T-Shirt by @mountainsandmayhem | 🪷, 💋

★ | Need You Now by @pandapetals | 🪷, 💋

Months of lingering touches, long looks, and unspoken words finally come to a head when you can’t hold back anymore.

★ | Stay A While by @hauntedbyjoel | 🪷, 💋

You rent a guesthouse by the beach, needing space to figure things out. He lives in the main house - quiet, distant, and kind in ways that surprise you. Slowly, something shifts.

★ | the coldest girl in coldtown by @netherfeildren | 💋, 🪶

do murder and mutilation count if you're just a girl and bad men deserve it?

★ | Sunday Rides by @joelmillerswife9 | 💋

You and your biker boyfriend Joel go on a picnic that ends with the two of you making love in the rain

★ | Not Yours by @shaunasrabbit | 💋

You end up hurt and Joel's not too happy about it.

★ | just for you by @silverskyeline | 🪷

joel admits his feelings to you the only way he knows how. OR joel plays guitar for you.

★ | Hard Bargain by @youthereader | 💋

You can’t pay Joel in ration cards — not this time. He delivers what you asked for anyway. What happens next isn’t a favor. It’s a transaction. And Joel takes payment in full.

★ | what you can't have (series) by @rosharanfiction | 💋

Hooking up with your cameraman is the last thing you should be doing as the lead of Mr. Right. But when Joel Miller is assigned to be your personal shadow, it's impossible to deny your attraction. He's the guy you want, and the only one on set that you can't have.

★ | The right side of my neck by @ishestillapunk | 🪡

You never meant to end up alone with the patroller, but two nights, snowed in between silence and shared space, leave you both with a bond too fragile to name and very dangerous to keep.

★ | Honey by @whocaresstillthelouvre | 💋

"Golden honey glistens on his sun-kissed skin, tempting you to take a taste, and when you bend forward, licking up the syrup. Joel tastes sweet and salty. Sweat and honey."

★ | Hands behind your back by @tagged-by-trauma | 💋

After a long day and a very relaxing shower Joel waits for you sitting on your bed. He shows you just how tough his day was between quiet groans and dirty glances.

| Harry Castillo |

★ | love at last by @pedroscurls | 🪷

harry’s never been in love before… until he meets you, which awakens a part of him that he never thought he was capable of.

★ | Glory Box by @inbred-eater | 💋

working as an art curator, you meet harry as he’s accompanying his brother to an art show, immediately taking a liking to him

★ | BULLSHIT by @thatcorporategirlie | 🪷

You've been Harry Castillo’s driver for three years, so when Lucy dumps him, you casually invite him to your brother’s law school graduation party in Queens to get his mind off it. You never expect him to come. But then he actually shows up.

| Oberyn Martell |

★ | party 4 u by @almostempty | 🪡, 💋

you only threw this party for him

| ★ | dividers by @/saradika-graphics

| ★ | my Masterlist, if you're interested <3

#ficrecs #kady’s fic recommendations #june fic recs #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #hbo the last of us #clint flood #freaky tales #oberyn martell #game of thrones #clint freaky tales #fic recommendations

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celestialprincesse · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! Can you write Lieutenant Ghost x Colonel or Captain reader, please! And take your time with it! Thank you 💗💗

I really did take my time with getting around to this whoopsie🥴 Anyways !

John Price retired four months ago, and to the surprise of everyone in TF141, had been replaced externally, instead of by one of them. Ghost, in particular, had not been thrilled with that information. Until he met you.

You'd been one of Laswell's most trusted associates, worked alongside her for years in all different military and CIA branches. Truly the cream of the crop. Despite all your acclaim, the 141 had always been a tight knit family, held together by Captain John Price. What if you couldn't fill his shoes? Keep them running like a well oiled machine?

He'd be the first to admit that despite he and Price's similarity in age, his Captain had been the closest thing to a paternal figure he'd ever had, in his own weird, fucked up and emotionally distant way.

Admittedly, you're beautiful, funny and completely magnetic - but you're not Price. Something about how - how seemingly flawless you are seems to only make you less approachable to Simon, like he'll say one wrong thing to you and not be enough.

You feel the exact same way about him.

Realistically, you know he's your lieutenant, he was Price's too. He should've been the next choice for captain. All of them could've been better for the position than you. Gaz had shadowed Price for as long as he was in the 141. Johnny was the youngest ever to pass the SAS recruitment test. Ghost was noted as exceptionally physically proficient on his file, and had been in the military since he was legally able. Not to mention, Laswell had raved about him to you. You can see why now.

When he lurches at your back, seeing you safely to your office like some loyal guard dog, you can't help but to feel so immensely comforted, like he's a storm, in which you've somehow found yourself in the eye, protected fro, the world outside. And Ghost, loyal as he is, will always protect his team.

The others had taken to you so well, instinctively protective towards the only woman on their team, although you've shown them time and time again that you can hold your own. Simon, however, is on a different level entirely. It's stayed the same since day one. Something in him calls to something in you, and vice versa, and where you go, he goes.

At first, you had thought maybe he was trying to suck up to you, earn your favour, but when he'd started getting in your space, memorising your coffee order and helping you with everything you could imagine, you'd quickly realised that your lieutenant, the big, brave Simon 'ghost' Riley, has a big fat crush on you.

The feeling is mutual.

Obviously, you've got to be careful with the way you go about showing it, especially in a professional environment where fraternisation is frowned upon. It's clear to the both of you though, the pining isn't one sided.

Maybe when you're fully comfortable in your position as captain, well settled into the team, and sure that no one will think that to only way you achieved your position was by blowing someone higher up, maybe then you'll act on your feelings. God forbid you want to. One thing you've fortunately learned in your months working with Ghost, however, is that he's a patient man. He's willing to wait, to let you get comfortable.

Good thing you're patient too.

But until then, you'll settle for the stolen glances with soft eyes, or the way he's always checking on you when you're in the field together. You'll savour the gentle hands patching you up, or the moments between sparring sessions when you sit there sweaty beside one another, just breathing, touching, being.

Pining!! Mutually!! fuck yeah!! They can't have each other!! (yet)😛

still in love though

just subtly

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blueberrypancakesworld · 13 days ago

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You can't leave

Joel x girlfriend!reader

warning : possesed Joel, kissing, cuddling, mention of suicide, no use of Y/n

Summary : She couldn't have been happier, Joel and her together in the small town, a happy life together in his small but nice apartment...until the shadow crept into her life and a suicide case turned into something bigger and darker. Something unnatural that would never let go of her, not as a creature and not as Joel.

info : I didn't know what to write at first, so Kyle is being brought out of the box again. I've been wanting to write something like this for a while, enjoy reading :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who could have guessed that the day she had her interview at the law firm across from the police station would be the day she would run into him.

The charming young police officer with his loyal dog by his side, who held the door open for her when she was struggling to open it with her arms full of files and bags of papers.

His smile showed amusement, “Have a nice day” he said as he left, and his dog barked happily as she called after him in thanks, not knowing that holding the door open would become a daily ritual.

They met every day, she arrived and he came out of the office with stamped files and new entries, the greetings in the first few days turned into small talk, then into short conversations, and they both laughed about how a few months ago she wasn't even a lawyer.

Perhaps it was these normal encounters, this mix-up, and the way the two of them were connected through their jobs that led to one afternoon when they were spending their lunch break together.

She heard him ask, “Say, would you like to go out for lunch today?” Joel hastily took a sip of his coffee as if the question had robbed him of his voice.

It was a question that filled her with joy when the whirlwind of thoughts stopped spinning and she replied with a smile, “I'd love to, Joel, thank you” as the lawyer and the police officer continued to eat their coffee and sandwiches side by side on the bench.

Maybe they had grown a little closer, maybe their eyes had met a little too often, and maybe when they left the restaurant, it was Joel's hand that gently rested on her cheek.

“Thanks...for having dinner with me,” he said so quietly that it was barely audible in the still noisy city around them, but she had heard him, had heard everything he had said.

She had seen every glance and returned every accidental touch, but instead of answering, she let the last bit of hesitation between them overcome her.

It was the first kiss they shared that evening, and it couldn't have been more perfect as he held her gently against him.

She didn't want to let Joel go, didn't want to leave the nice, sweet, friendly man she had fallen in love with...and neither of them let go of each other.

They grew even closer when she moved out of her small shared apartment and moved in with Joel and his dog.

It was a life that couldn't have been better, with their morning walks together, the drive to work, knowing they would see each other during their lunch breaks.

They ate dinner together, and she would wait for him when he worked late, “Catch the bad guy!” she would call after him, laughing, when he was called to a job, knowing that he thought it was cute when she called him her hero.

Joel had been her hero from the moment he held the door open for her, from the moment he held her gently, he had become her hero...until that evening when, instead of his usual joyful entrance, his steps were quiet, almost shuffling.

There was no joyful greeting from the dog and no hug and kiss like he usually gave her. “Joel? What's wrong?” she asked him as she turned toward him on the couch, almost shocked by the empty expression in his eyes.

Instead, he reached for the small whiskey bottle for the first time and poured himself a drink as he sat down next to her and just stared at the glass after taking a sip.

“Extended suicide...the whole family, the children...he burned the children” his voice was so quiet, so uncertain and bitter that she immediately pulled him into an embrace, kissed his cheek, and stroked his back.

The image that formed in her head, the smell of burnt flesh and dripping blood made her shudder, she had seen enough pictures in the files to have an idea of what the perpetrator looked like.

Joel leaned against her and the two of them just sat there silently, exchanging a few caring words until the dark atmosphere seemed to pass, at least for that evening.

In the weeks that followed, these suicides, fires, and murders seemed to spread throughout the city with increasing frequency.

She received more and more files, Joel seemed more and more disturbed, and no one in the city knew what was going on or whether it was something human after all.

Who could have guessed when this evil moved in his direction, that her partner, her love, would become something else when she fell asleep on the couch one night after another case.

She wanted to stay awake to greet him, to be there for him...instead, she was slightly startled when he stood next to the kitchen counter, half-hidden by the shadow cast by the moon.

She got up slowly, her inner voice telling her that something was wrong, “Joel, darling, what happened? Another suicide case?” she asked, moving toward him, her hand reaching out to him when he suddenly grabbed her tightly, Joel pulling her toward him, yet there was no gentleness behind it.

It was no gentleness like when they had their first date, he gripped her harshly almost too rough, his nails digging into her skin.

When she looked into his bright eyes, she saw what almost seemed like an attempt at joy, but at the same time his gaze seemed empty. “I just wanted to come back to you” Joel answered, the embrace he pulled her into was so unfamiliar, as if she had never known him.

Her attempt to return the gesture was prevented by his almost crushing grip, “Let go, please, I'll make us something to eat” she tried to get away from him.

His arms encircled her body, stroking her back as if he had never felt her before.

Trying to convince herself that he was perhaps in shock, that it was a natural reaktion of fear and not knowing what to do, yet the smile on his lips gave her goose bumps, letting her know that it was something else.

Joel smiled, grinning at her, showing no other emotion except that smile, except for his grip on her, not letting her...escape.

“Let's just be together, me by your side...just the two of us” he continued, finally letting go of her hand only to place it on her cheek, gave her no chance to back down.

To feel how much strength he actually had, as his fingers pressed lightly against her skin, it scared her.

Knowing that she couldn't fight him, couldn't fight this thing that seemed to possess him, realizing that no matter how hard she pushed him away and used all her strength, the warning hand on her throat told her what he was going to do.

His expression, was of nothing, but his touch as if he still wanted something from her. As if as soon as he let go of her, the object of his desire would leave him...as if that something would not get its destination.

What this thing was capable of.

As the realization slowly dawned on her that whatever was standing there in front of her looked like her Joel, like her love, his touch and kiss were just as cold as the unknown inside him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@gulnarsultan , @angelsanarchy , @mythicalea , @bonesgirl11

#smile movie #smile 2022 #smile joel #smile joel x reader #joel x reader #male x female #reader is female

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trash-monkey · 5 months ago

Text

LETTERS

A/N: Just trying something different!

Summary: It's 1917 and you decide to write to a random man in the war hoping what words you give can him will help him, although no response back you continue to send letters and doing this you never have expected this nameless man to fall for your words.

"Although I don't know her face but I do know her soul through the words she has written to me in the letters she has send, they are the reason I have any sanity left" - Thomas Shelby

"TOMMY! GOT ANOTHER LETTEA FOR YA!" A man with a thick accent and dirty war uniform yelled down into the barely lite hole causing a very dirty man in what was a white T-shirt and brown trousers to appear at the bottom of the ladder with a very confused expression, he already got his usual letter from Aunt Polly yesterday.

"Thanks" Thomas mumbled after taking the letter he climbed up the ladder for and wipe his dirty hands on his already dirty trousers before taking said letter, once back down he immediately got next to the small oil lamp in the small underground tunnel and turned it on a tad so he can read.

"What's that?" Danny asked as he watches Thomas opens the letter.

"Don't know" He takes the folded paper out of the envelope and carefully unfolded it before holding it up closer to the lamp.

Dear Thomas Shelby,

I know I don't know you and that you don't know me as I have randomly picked from the enlistment list I have taken off the board although every worn and barely readable as it had been hanging there for months, I saw it everyday until I finally got the courage to take it and write. I hope you do not mind that I am as I hope my words helps give a little light during these dark times and please understand I do not expect it in return as I'm very sure you are quite busy, only having enough time to read I suppose. I also understand you might not be reading these as you very likely can't for whatever reason and that is alright, I also want to thank you for what you are doing despite whatever past you have left behind. For you, all, and the lost I'm dearly thankful for what you have sacrificed as I understand that this horrific experience will always be with you for the rest of your life, in the shadows waiting to strike when you show weakness.

With barely any men left the streets are a uneasy quiet and the children don't even dare to break it as if a sound is made something horrible will happen, I pray not. So much as changed before we could see it and yet nothing at all, smoke from the factories near by is still here but filled with depression and hopeless instead.

With all the able men gone us women have to pick up where they left off as some continuing the jobs they had before like teaching and other work in factories but I'm guess you already knew that, I'm one of many of the unfortunate women being put to work in the factories and I know I should be glad for the pay for hard labor but I can't bring myself to be no matter how many time I tell myself it could be worse. Like many I push through hoping that each day that passes will be the one that ends the war so you brave men can come back home to your families and no sadly I do not have a husband or fiance marching with you, I'm no whore either as I'm just a woman trying to survive this world like many others in a more honest way.

There I go rambling again so I better end it here before I accidentally write three papers of pure nonsense and I expect you not wanting to read through it.

Sincerely

(Your name)

By the end there is a tiny small in the corners of his lips as he gently folds the letter back up and into it's envelope again before slip it into the band of letters from Aunt Polly, he put the stack into his waistband again thinking about this mysteries women for a moment.

"Tommy?" Danny questions curiously as Edward comes back down from up top.

"It's nothing to worry about." With that Thomas turns the oil lamp off plunger them all back into the darkness once again

_______________________________________________

#fanfic #female reader #female y/n #tv shows #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #letters #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky fucking blinders #tommy shelby

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the-sinful-voice-witch · 6 months ago

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Here's my SONIC 3 input:

Ehem, first: KYAAAAAAAAA SHADOW AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MARIA KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAA POST CREDIT SCENE KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

And now... To hell with the theories I wrote years ago after the second movie because I didn't write a single thing right 😂😂😂, well no... I got one wish coming true at least, Keanu reeves as Shadow 😍😍😍 .

Now I'm going to comment about how the thing with Shadow and Maria was handled and I'm going to theorize a bit again about the next movie... See if this time I get something right🥲🥲🥲 well anyway the old posts are still in my profile if anyone wants to read an alternative storyline and now... Spoilers under the cut:

I should be mad given how adamant I was about this but I'm not because thankfully everything made sense and it was well written though I can't help to feel a bit disappointed... I'm a shadamy fan what did you expect 😂😂😂? But no shadamy for us because it wasn't Amy the one who changed Shadow's mind but fortunately unlike that disgraceful time in Sonic X this time there was no tag along human involved, it was Sonic himself who did it and in this context it was perfect. You see the movie version of Maria wasn't even a sick girl, she was a healthy cheerful kid that... To me had a personality that felt like a combination of Sonic's (movie version) and Amy Rose's (current Amy in general because we don't know yet about her movie version) personalities like for real all the silly things she does is something Sonic or Amy would do, is like if Sonic and Amy had a kid she would have this version of Maria's personality 🥰🥰 and girl... Unlike the original, Maria doesn't even get to say any last words to Shadow before dying because this time the shooting instead caused an explosion that killed her instantly 😭😭😭 somehow that made it even worse! And she wasn't sick! She had all live ahead of her and G.U.N motherfuckers took it away! SHE PLAYED THE GUITAR 😭 Shadow remember her playing! This was a massive heartbreak...💔💔💔💔

Anyway... Shadow hurts Tom thinking it was another specific person (also feel bad about him, he actually tried to stop the idiot from shooting and considered Shadow a kid like Maria), that triggered Sonic into wanting revenge and somehow Shadow in a way feels validation on his vengeful feelings and accepts his fate wanting Sonic to finish him but Sonic obviously won't give him that satisfaction and instead teaches him about focusing and validating healthier feelings: Even though Maria and Longclaw aren't here anymore the love we had still remains and Shadow then remembered the conversation he had we Maria watching the Stars, even though the star is gone it's light remains and that's how he changed his mind so yeah no Amy no Shadamy but how can I be mad at this?🥹🥹🥹🥹 It was perfect. So even though there's no Shadamy... at that doesn't mean there's no Amy because.... THIS HAPPENED IN THE THE POST CREDIT SCENE: 👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇

OMG I CAN'T BREATHE! THAT ENTRANCE!!! YESSSSS MY GIRL AMY ROSE IS OFFICIALLY PART OF THE MOVIES KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SHE IS SO CUTE SO CUTE🥹🫠🫠❤️ I LOVE HER!!! I HATE WE CAN'T SEE HER FULL OUTFIT😖😖😖😖

Finally finally FINALLY ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️��🔥❤️‍🔥, well she finally here so is time tooooooooo THEORIZE!!!😂😂😂, she if I get something right this time:

Well first Amy wasn't the only one showing up in that scene... We also have the introduction of Metal Sonic and that means everything makes sense and is connected my guess is that next movie could be a mix between the Sonic game in which Amy and Metal Sonic were introduced and the game Sonic heroes.

So, in the games Amy and Metal Sonic were introduced together and Amy was waiting in a specific place because the tarot cards told her and then se meets Sonic and metal Sonic, last one kidnappes her, Sonic saves her and then she falls in love with him and in the Sonic heroes game Metal Sonic shows up again and Sonic team along other characters team has to defeat it, then what exactly happened in the post credit scene? Multiple Metal Sonics attack him and he is struggling because he is outnumbered and then Amy Rose steps up and using her hammer as a boomerang saves him.

We have some changes, obviously Amy has her movie version of her current games version and not the look she had when she was introduced in the games though they might show us that look in a flashback or an eater egg, then this time instead of facing one metal Sonic we have a group of them and instead of Sonic rescuing Amy it's her who helps him being already a fighter, I'm going to assume she knew where to go thanks to her tarot cards like in the game what I don't know is if she is simply there because the cards guided her and after seeing what was happening she wants to help or if she has an specific mission. Another guess is that she is not going to fall in love immediately, I think Sonic will be the first one crushing for the sheer factor of Amy being the second Hedgehog he ever met but the first female hedgehog and she probably has seen other hedgehogs before 😂😂😂 so with the personality he has in the movies I think he will be: "I wanna look cool to her but I'm being a clumsy fool, earth swallow me please" 🫠🫠🫠like... Movie Sonic is a freaking teenager actually acting like a teenager, Amy will like him too but she won't be as obvious as she used to be and she won't be that clumsy because she looks like she's probably used to interact with other alien furros.

As for Metal Sonic, seeing his robotics clones is like he is taking Shadow's place in Sonic heroes who is you don't remember had multiple robotic clones of him, probably none of those clones were the original Metal Sonic also his existence makes an excuse for Omega to exist and wanting to eradicate all eggmans robots as revenge for setting him aside when obviously he is the superior robot 😂, we love you Omega 🥰🥰 also at the end of the movie we know that Shadow is alive as you remember he was still super Shadow and was hit by the explosion in the space and that must have knocked out all the chaos emeralds and spilled them around the universe and that will be the reason for ROUGE my dear waifu to appear! She probably found one and as the treasure hunter she is she will want to gather all of them as a result we have all the pieces we need for TEAM DARK! I don't think we're going to have team rose, we'll have to accept Team Sonic and Team dark, I think that's enough for a good Sonic heroes references along metal Sonic who obviously will be the final boss becoming a giant robomonster at the end.

I'll add an extra, I expect Knuckles to tease the hell out of Sonic because of his crush on Amy only to get the tables turned on him when they meet... The sexy bat thief ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 and Tails complaining that they're gross 😂😂😂 and obviously I want Amy to show interest In Shadow and I want Sonic jealous... I'm not asking too much 🤡🤡🤡

End of theories, hope you like them, see you in another post 🤪🤪😂😂

#sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #knuckles the echidna #shadow the hedgehog #sonic #sonamy #shadamy #rouge the bat #sonic movie #sonic movie 3 #sega #knouge #idw sonic #sonic idw

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her0ine1983 · 2 hours ago

Text

Lost in your touch

explicit rpf below, please don't interact if you are not comfortable with this MDNI!!!

description: After Joost's show in Berlin, you meet him by chance at a club there. It doesn't take much for you two to end up at your place, but the rest of the night goes a little differently than you expected. cw: alcohol, fingering, handjob, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv (pill mentioned), creampie, premature ejaculation word count: 5556

a/n: It wasn't supposed to take that long. I already had part of it written, so I figured finishing the whole thing would take me like two days, but nope... I got so into the story, I actually started feeling the characters' emotions for real and instead of just the pure porn I planned at the beginning, it turned into a mix of smut, angst and fluff all in one. There's no specific time setting, just imagine one of his shows taking place in Berlin. It doesn't have to be this one from the tour, no need to rush off to another city. This story touches on something that might be a pretty sensitive topic, but I've wanted to write about it for a while. We're all human, not robots, things like that can happen to any man, and nobody should be made fun of for it, please keep that in mind. Love <3

You can't believe this.

You can't believe this is actually happening.

It's the middle of the night, but you're buzzing with more energy than you've felt in ages. You still want to dance, to sing, to scream. You'd been counting down to his show ever since you and your friends decided to buy tickets months ago. But nothing, absolutely nothing, could've prepared you for this moment. Not even in your wildest dreams did you think you'd see him afterwards. Not in some random club in Berlin, of all places.

And there he is.

Joost. Standing alone on the other side of the bar, phone in one hand, drink in the other.

You try so hard to look away, you really do, but then he suddenly looks up, his face turning directly toward you. His eyes meet yours and he gives you a small, sincere smile that curls at his plump lips.

Fuck, there's no going back now. It's now or never. Heart pounding. Legs shaky. Mouth dry. You walk up to him slowly, trying to look cool and not like you're about to pass out.

"Your show tonight… was totally insane", you say, somehow managing not to stutter, trying not to blurt out something stupid and unnecessary.

Joost lets out a soft giggle, tilting his head like he's shy, like he's not used to compliments, even though you know girls throw themselves at him daily, constantly thirsting over him.

"Dankjewel. Thank you, I really appreciate that, thank you", he keeps repeating in the sweetest way possible, folding in half and patting his chest.

One thing leads to another, and before you even realize it, you're sitting on his lap, sipping some fancy, overpriced cocktail he ordered for you, nestled into the corner of the VIP booth he's sharing with his crew. And even though neither of you is drunk, you're both just tipsy enough to let yourselves blur the lines. Bold enough to go for more...

The dim, red lights paint his face in soft shadows as your fingers trail along the edge of his jaw, your other hand tangled in the messy, bleached strands at the back of his head. He's watching you now with his blue eyes, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, like he's waiting for your next move.

"What do you think about… us getting out of here? I mean… just you and me", you ask, out of nowhere, so eager to kiss him now, but not wanting to push your luck. Not here. Not so soon.

"You're so cute, it'd be a crime to say no", Joost murmurs in low, teasing voice, leaning in a little closer, trying to speak over a pounding music, "But we'd have to go to your place. I didn't bother with hotels this time, I'm crashing at Tantu's and... I don't think he'd appreciate walking in on us", he gives you a crooked smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief, like he's already picturing what's to come.

"Fine by me", you reply smoothly, feeling a subtle twitch in his pants, a silent confirmation that he wants this just as badly as you do.

You tip your glass back and down the rest of your cocktail while Joost throws one last glance toward his crew, raising his hand in a casual goodbye. You rush over to your friends, who are definitely going to ask questions later, and blurt out a quick apology, something vague about getting tired and heading home. Meanwhile, Joost is already on the phone, calling his driver.

"So... let's go, baby", he says just as a black car with tinted windows slows to a stop at the curb by the club's entrance. Joost steps forward and pulls the door open for you, flashing you that crooked little grin that makes your knees weak.

You slide onto the leather backseat as he settles in next to you, slamming the door shut behind him. He asks the driver to turn the music up a bit and angles his body toward you, placing his big, warm hand on your knee for a moment before deliberately sliding it up your bare thigh. His fingertips trace along your inner skin, moving gently, up and down, just barely brushing the seams of your shorts, making you let out a muffled gasp. Joost leans in close to your ear, whispering how beautiful you are, how badly he needs you, how you'll be screaming his name tonight. His words send a bolt of heat straight to your core and your thighs shake in response. You can already feel how wet you are and you're sure he does too.

You're seconds from throwing your leg over his and giving him a full access right here, right now, when the car suddenly shifts. With a slow turn, you finally reach your place.

As you step onto your floor, you're struggling to open your purse and get your damn keys out. The zipper's stuck and your trembling fingers aren't helping at all, especially with him standing behind you, his hands on your hips, kissing the side of your neck, pressing the rough fabric of his jeans right against your ass.

"Need some help, sweetheart?", he whispers into your skin, but before you can even answer, the zipper finally gives in.

You're both too desperate to waste even a second, so the moment you manage to unlock the door, you grab his wrist and pull him inside, leading him straight to your bedroom.

You kick off your boots, then pull off your top and bra in one swift motion, tossing them to the floor. Joost does the same with his Osiris shoes and white football tee. You fall back onto the bed as he leans over you, hovering with his tattooed arms on either side of your body, your bare chests barely touching, his silver necklace with a pearl pendant dangling above you. Your eyes land on the side of his neck, right where his Lola Bunny tattoo sits. The sight alone makes your mouth water. Without hesitation, you start leaving love bites on that sensitive spot, a little reminder of you and the night you're spending together, pressing your lips to his skin and sucking at the pulsing, visible veins. He hisses through his teeth from the sensation, but he doesn't stop you – he tilts his head just a bit more, giving you space, letting you mark his skin with your little work of art.

Soon after, his lips find yours in a kiss and you open your mouth in anticipation, thrilled to have him here, fucking Joost Klein, in your bedroom, leaving the scent of his body between your sheets. He's kissing you like he means it, deep and sloppy, sucking on your tongue, his wet muscle teasing your teeth while your fingertips drift lazily through the soft, light hair on his chest.

You know he's the freaky one, so there's no doubt he's going to do everything he promised you back in the leather backseat. This thought hits you just as you break the kiss to catch your breath. You glance up at his face, blue eyes now dark with lust, pouty lips swollen and stained with your pink lipstick, crooked glasses that you finally decide to take off and place on your nightstand. Still holding your gaze, he slides one hand along your side, slowly tracing every curve until he reaches your boobs, cupping them softly, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive, perked nipples.

"Godverdomme... je bent de mooiste, schatje", Joost groans against your collarbone, placing warm, open-mouthed kisses all over your chest, lingering on your nipples. You don't care if he says those same Dutch phrases to every girl he hooks up with – it doesn't really matter right now. The sound of sweet praises mixed with his eager touch makes your back arch as you pull him closer, fingers tangling in his curls, tugging gently, encouraging him to keep going. He's so impatient, so needy, his free hand already slipping lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts, craving more of you.

"Can I take it off now? I mean... this one too?", he asks, pointing at your panties peeking out from under your shorts.

"Yes, please", you smile, the words barely out before you're lifting your hips, giving him the green light.

Joost shifts up, dragging his hands down to your waist, warm and firm, before peeling both your shorts and panties down in one deliberate move, revealing your bare pussy. He stays there for a second, cheeks flushed, just staring like he's about to lose his mind. One of his hands comes to rest on your calf, nudging it gently to part your legs a little wider, just enough for him to fully take in the view. His fingers trail down to your folds and the moment he touches your sensitive bundle of nerves, you let out a quiet moan, then quickly bite it back, embarrassed.

"Hey, don't be shy, princess...", Joost chuckles, eyes locked on yours as his fingers move again, "I wanna hear all the sounds coming from that pretty mouth of yours...", you feel his digits, slow and messy, gliding through your already dripping heat.

He slides effortlessly over your clit, spreading the wetness in slick, sinful circles. It's obscene how easily his thick fingers disappear inside you – the middle one dips in first, shallow and teasing, just enough to make your back arch again. Then a second one follows and that's already too much – you gasp at the sudden stretch, your hips jerking forward, your whole body pulsing with pure eagerness. You lift yourself up slightly as you reach for him, hands wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull him closer, completely undone.

"Joost... fuck, can't wait anymore", you plead, voice cracking, "I wanna... I wanna feel you. I need you inside me... I need your cock. Now. Please…"

"Anything you want, liefje", he breaths, placing a kiss at the corner of your mouth in response, "You have any condoms?"

"No. But I'm clean. And on the pill. Please, Joost, trust me... I wanna feel you... feel you raw, please...", you whisper, watching his face closely to see if he really hears you, if he knows how badly you mean it.

You see the effect your words have on him instantly. He is already worked up, not just the flush on his cheeks, but the light sheen of sweat clinging to his skin, his damp bangs sticking to his forehead. And now? Hearing that from you? He looks like he might lose it completely. His eyes darken, jaw clenches and he swallows hard, visibly turned on even more. You feel the tension ripple through him, like he's trying not to come from just the idea of being inside you bare.

Joost gets out of your bed and you notice the way his hands move to his jeans – fingers trembling just slightly, fumbling at the button like he's both in a hurry and nervous all at once. And when he pushes his pants down, your breath stills.

His boxers cling to him, a wet stain darkening the front, and through the thin, black fabric you can see the full outline of his hard dick, begging to be touched. The moment he tugs them off too and lets them drop to the floor, your eyes drink in the sight.

Because his cock is beautiful – thick, veiny and big enough to make you scream. The tip, a soft shade of pink, glistens with a glossy bead of precum, catching the low light like something out of a dream.

As he stands in front of you, completely naked now, one of his hands moves instinctively to cover himself. There's a flicker of something vulnerable and awakward in his posture, like he's suddenly unsure of himself, like he doesn't quite know what to do with all that want burning through his body.

"Who's shy now?", you giggle, biting your lip, wondering what happened to that bold guy who had you melting in the backseat not even an hour ago. The one who said he was gonna fuck the shit out of you.

Joost crawls back into bed, and the second your fingers wrap around him, his cock jerks hard in your palm. You barely even touch him and he's already leaking, wet enough that your hand glides effortlessly along his full length. You stroke him slow, teasing, spreading his arousal up and down his shaft. The sounds your hand makes moving over him are downright filthy, filling the room with pornographic, sticky slaps. You don't need lube, you don't need anything, he's just this ready for you.

You give him a few more deliberate pumps and lean down, lips parting, ready to taste him, to have him sink into the warmth of your mouth... But his voice cuts through the tension.

"Don't– I mean…", he stutters, clearly struggling with himself, "Don't waste time... turn around. Get on your hands and knees for me..."

The command shoots straight through you. You love being taken like that – the angle, the way it makes your body feel owned, the way it lets him take everything single inch of you. So you oblige, thinking maybe he's not ready to look you in the eyes while he fucks you. Maybe he can't. But at least this way, he'll be able to reach you so deep.

You arch your back, putting yourself fully on display for him, and Joost lets out something between a groan and a curse. You hear the rustle of movement behind you, his breathing ragged as he grabs his cock, gives it a few slow strokes and lines himself up with your entrance. He's right there, thick and glistening, and when he presses just the tip inside, stretching you with a deliberate push, you gasp, aching for more. The way your body takes him makes him curse again under his breath. His fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts forward just a little, trying to ease in deeper, to bury himself all the way inside you, but then he suddenly stops with a loud moan falling from his mouth.

"Shit... oh, shit! Fuck... shit, no, no.... no", he cries, voice shaking almost in panic. Like his body is betraying him. Like something's not going to plan.

You turn your head toward him, still hazy, not quite sure what just happened, but then you feel it... That thick, warm stickiness between your thighs, dripping onto the sheets beneath you and suddenly everything makes sense.

He came.

You shift your whole body to face him and the sight is more than enough to confirm it. His dick is still in his hand, slowly softening, slick and covered in white release, just like your pussy.

"Sorry, schat. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... it wasn't supposed to be like this. Fuck– I'm sorry...", he's stammering now, avoiding your gaze, his voice barely holding itself together.

Joost looks like a kicked dog – wide eyes, full of guilt, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his face like he's searching for somewhere to hide, one breath away from falling apart.

Like he braces for you to lash out.

Like he thinks you're about to mock him.

Tell him to get the fuck out.

And he wouldn't blame you for it.

The only person he could ever blame is himself.

"Don't worry, baby, don't worry... I'm here for you", your voice is soft as you reach out and caress his hand, thumb brushing along his knuckles like you're trying to calm him with nothing but your touch.

You open your arms and he slips into them instantly. Joost folds into you, pressing his body against yours with quiet desperation, like he needs to disappear inside your warmth just to feel okay again.

"I'm so sorry...", he chokes out, breath ragged against your skin, "I didn't wanna let you down. I swear, I just wanted to make you feel good. That's all I wanted, oh god–", his voice breaks, "–but fuck, what kind of man does that? What kind of man am I?"

Joost buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hands clutching at your sides, not rough, not steady, just trembling.

"I'd understand", he whispers, barely audible, "If you told me to get dressed and leave right now... I'd just… go and leave you alone..."

He hates himself for being like this.

For getting excited so easily.

For the way his body betrays him before his mind can even up.

The last time he gathered enough courage to talk to a beautiful woman, someone who seemed kind and sweet, it ended the same way...

They flirted a little, laughed too much and he felt that buzz of hope inside him, the kind that doesn't come around often. She ended up in his bed that night and during a heated makeout session, while she was trying to stroke him through his boxers, he came inside them. Just like that. No warning. No control. His face burned and he tried to stammer out an apology, completely mortified, but she didn't even want to listen. Just pulled her shirt back on, called him a "schoolboy", told him to "grow the fuck up" and walked out. No goodbye. No second chance. Only humilation.

He spent the entire night curled up in bed, shame digging into his chest like a dull knife. Didn't leave his apartment the whole next day. Didn't respond to anyone's texts. After that, he stopped trying. And whenever some girl looked at him with interest, he flinched and got shy.

Until now.

Until you.

And the worst part is he was scared this might end the same way. That he'd fuck it up and never see you again. But despite everything, he let himself trust you.

What scares him even more now… is how much he already cares.

This wasn't supposed to be anything serious.

Just a night. A moment. A nice memory. Nothing more than a hook up.

But somewhere between the way you said his name and smiled at him... something changed.

And now... it doesn't feel like a one-night stand anymore.

"I'm not kicking you out, you silly... don't even think like that", you say gently, your voice steady as you smile and caress his bare back.

"I'm gonna make it up to you... sooner or later", he whispers, barely louder than a breath, "I promise..."

"Shhh, that's okay, baby", you soothe, pressing your lips to his temple, your palm spreading over the warmth of his skin.

"Maybe I work too much, maybe… I don't– I really don't know what's wrong with me", his voice cracks and then a soft, helpless sob escapes him. A single tear rolls down his cheek as you catch it with your thumb, brushing it gently away as you cradle his face in your hand.

"Joost...", you murmur, "Joost, look at me", he hesitates for a moment, but finally, his eyes lift to meet yours – red-rimmed and full of shame.

"Listen…", your voice is firm, but full of kindness, "I'm not mad at you. Not even a little. Please stop blaming yourself. Sometimes these things just… happen. It doesn't make you broken. It doesn't make you less of a man. It makes you a human..."

He nods, small, uncertain, and gives you the faintest smile. You can't quite wrap your head around the fact that this night ended like this. Not breathless from sex. But holding him. Listening to his apologies.

You glance down at him, this tall, tattooed mess of a man curled into you like a boy, and realize you don't mind staying like this. All night. All morning. As long as he needs. Running your fingers through his hair, humming soft reassurances into his ear, letting him fall asleep with your heartbeat as a lullaby.

Because there's something about having a big boy melt in your embrace.

Something about being the one he needs when everything else falls apart.

Something that makes you want to protect him and kiss away all the shame from his face.

Something devastatingly sweet about the weight of his body pressed against yours, his heart somehow lighter just because you didn't push him away.

But Joost seems to have other plans for the rest of the night.

Just when you think he's about to fall asleep in your arms, his head lifts slightly. And before you can ask what he's doing, he's already shifting, crawling lower, pressing kisses down your stomach like a quiet apology.

"Joost...?", you whisper, confused, breath catching in your throat. But instead of giving you an answer, he just slips between your thighs like he belongs there. And then you feel it – his tongue, warm and unhurried, diving into your folds. He starts to clean you up with his mouth, slow and deliberate, licking up every last drop of his release from your pussy.

"Joost...", this time you wince, your voice cracking from the intensity, but he only looks up at you with a smug little smirk on his face.

His lips and mustache are a mess, glistening with his own cum and your slick, a filthy mix of juices shining on his chin. He sticks out his coated tongue, showing it to you like a trophy, then closes his mouth and swallows. When he opens it again, his tongue is clean... and his eyes are locked on yours, searching for your reaction.

"Joost…", you gasp, stunned, your whole body pulsing, "You're really a fucking freak..."

That sight alone nearly sends you over the edge. The way he looks, the way he savors both of you like it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. It turns you on so badly, you could cum just from that.

Your hand flies to his hair, fingers tangling deep, grabbing a fistful at the back of his head. You pull him in with a desperation, your hips rising to meet his mouth. His grip tighten around your thighs, anchoring you to the bed like he needs you to stay here for him forever.

"Don't stop", you growl, low and needy, "Fuck, Joost... don't you dare stop", and the way he groans at your words, feral and pleased, you know he won't. Not until he's got you falling apart all over his tongue.

He grinds his hips against the mattress, his leaking cock searching for any kind of friction as he devours you like a man starved, eating you like his last meal. His tongue moves frantically yet skillfully, slick as it laps at your folds, his whole mouth working you over like he's worshipping every inch of your swollen, sensitive cunt.

You've never felt anything like this before. Moans start slipping out of you, louder and louder, as Joost goes even deeper, more deliberate. Then, without warning, he adds a finger, curling it inside you just right. His lips leave you only for a second as he gasps for air, and the moment it does, his hot exhale hits your soaked pussy, making your body jolt. But he doesn't give you second to breathe. He's back on you, tongue flicking, finger thrusting, and suddenly that familiar heat begins blooming low in your belly. This tight, pulsing pressure that makes your thighs squeeze. It's coming fast, faster than you can handle, and still he keeps going, like he wants to ruin you with his mouth.

No one's ever taken care of you like this.

No one's ever made your pleasure feel like their mission.

You manage to rise your head just enough to look at him between your thighs. His face is wrecked, hair plastered to his forehead, lips swollen, mustache glistening with your wetness and faint traces of his own cum still clinging to his chin. But it's his eyes that make you whimper, heavy with lust, completely lost in the taste of you.

And in that one moment, that single glance, you know, he's enjoying this just as much as you are. Maybe even more. You drop your head back on a pillow, crying out his name and all you can think is: he loves this, he fucking lives for this.

"Oh, Joost... just like that… I'm close, so close...", you moan over and over, your fingers tightening in his damp, blond strands. Your other hand clutches at the sheets like it's the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

His tongue moves faster, more precise, and you can feel him rutting harder against the bed, desperate and panting, squelching sounds of his mouth between your thighs echoing inside your brain like a dirty song.

Your orgasm hits you like a storm.

You let out a loud, unrestrained whimper, legs clenching instinctively around his head. Your hand slips from his hair, but Joost doesn't pull away. His palms stay on you, relaxed now, thumbs stroking soothing lines along your thighs, grounding you through the aftershocks – until he places one last tender kiss on your overstimulated pussy and rises to his knees on the mattress, lips glossy, eyes dark and blown-out.

"Schatje–", he breathes, barely louder than the quiet hum of your heartbeat still echoing in your ears, "If you still want this… I think... I think I'm ready again. Can… can we try?"

Almost hesitantly, Joost shows you his cock, hard and throbbing in his hand. There's a flicker of vulnerability on his face as he glances down.

"Could you give me just one more chance to feel you… to feel you inside?", he asks, eyes searching yours, pleading for your consent, for the last chance.

"Yes, please... now", you nod, more certain than ever.

He climbs over you slowly, carefully settling between your thighs, hovering like he's afraid to press too much weight on you. You part your legs wider for him and he lines himself up with an unsteady hand. The flushed tip of his cock nudges at your entrance and then he starts to push in, painfully slow and cautious. He slides into you so easily, your core still slick from your last orgasm and the lingering heat of his mouth. That first stretch makes you gasp, your walls fluttering as you begin to feel every thick inch of him filling you.

He watches himself disappear into you, a little more with each deliberate thrust, until he bottoms out. But he doesn't look at your face. Not yet. His gaze fixed between your connected bodies, like he can't quite believe he's really inside you. His brows furrow as he focuses all his energy just to stay in control, terrified of letting go too soon again. He starts to move with more confidence now, his hips rolling into you deeper with each stroke, though every thrust is still carefully restrained. His muscles are drawn taut like a bowstring – tension coiling in his arms, his back, his thighs – all of him flexing with the effort of holding back.

"Joost...", you whisper between moans, your voice trembling with pleasure as your thumb brushes across his lower lip, trying to pull him back from wherever his mind is spiraling, "Joost, are you with me?"

"Yeah... you feel so good, oh god, so fucking good", he nods shakily, eyes dazed and half-lidded.

"Look at me, please", he does as you ask him, his shy, beautiful gaze locking with yours now.

"Come closer", you say, arms reaching out with invitation, "Come on… just relax, baby..."

Your hands stroke softly over his back as he leans down, the silver chain around his neck swinging above your face, catching the low light before his full weight finally sinks into you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, feeling him press even deeper. The way your bodies fit together like this, skin to skin, heart to heart, makes you melt beneath him.

"You still with me, Joost?", you murmur, lips brushing his ear, "You're doing so well. So fucking well...", you feel him shudder, like your words are the only thing holding him together.

"Yes, Joost, yes... you're amazing. Please... harder, deeper... I want all of you", you keep moaning against his bare, pale skin, words tumbling out between gasps, not just because you're close again, but because you mean them.

And it feels like fucking heaven.

The way Joost moves inside you, purposeful, like he's finally let go of the fear and let himself feel everything you're giving him. With every delightful grind of his hips, you know you're not going to last much longer. The pressure in your core tightens again, sharp and overwhelming. His cock hits that perfect spot, over and over, and you're clawing at his back, breath ragged, vision blurring with tears of building pleasure.

"Joost, oh my god...", your pussy clenches around him, squeezing tight and he groans from deep in his chest, barely holding it together.

"I've got you", he pants, his voice thick and breathless, "Come for me again, schatje, please…"

It crashes over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs. You cry out, hips jerking beneath him as he kisses you, his moans half-muffled against your lips, swallowing every sound you make like he wants to keep them inside him forever. Your body still pulses around his length and you can feel he's right there too, teetering on the edge.

"Fuck–", he gasps, pulling out with one final thrust.

Joost throws his head back and then spills all over you, hot ropes of his load painting your belly, some of it splattering higher, leaving sticky droplets on your breasts. His voice breaks with a mix of Dutch curses and ragged breath.

Without thinking twice, he collapses on top of you, chest pressed against your cum-slicked body, his cheek settling over your heartbeat like it's the only steady thing in the world. He doesn't care that everything is sticky now, that you're both covered in sweat and the mess of each other. He just wraps his arms around you and in that moment – bodies tangled, breath shared, hearts racing in sync – you know neither of you will ever forget this night.

You're utterly spent, too weak to move an inch, your body heavy and limp against the mattress. But Joost rises smoothly and scoops you up in his strong arms, holding you close as if you weigh nothing.

"Tell me where your bathroom is", he mutters, his moustache tickling the crook of your neck.

"To the right...", you manage to whisper, eyes heavy, your cheek resting on his chest.

Joost carries you carefully through the quiet apartment, the heat of his body grounding you, until he gently sets you down beneath the shower.

"I'm gonna help you clean up", he says softly, brushing a strand of damp hair from your face, "Mind if I join you? I'm just as sticky as you are…", he gives you a shy smile that makes your heart twist – so polite, like he didn't fuck you a few minutes ago.

You nod, too tired to speak, and he steps in beside you, closing the glass door behind him. The water streams down, warm and soothing, washing away the sweat clinging to your skin. You melt into the sensation of his hands, massaging your sore muscles, fingers gentle as they trace your curves. He holds you steady at the waist, making sure you don't slip from exhaustion, his touch tender and careful as he cleans between your thighs, trying not to overstimulate you. It's a real moment of sacred intimacy, more meaningful than anything you've done together.

Once he finishes washing you, Joost quickly cleans himself, then helps you step out of the shower. You don't argue when he sits you on the closed toilet lid, drying you off and wrapping you in a fluffy towel.

"You don't have to, Joost. I do these things by myself all the time", you murmur with a soft smile, but the tiredness in your eyes gives you away.

"I don't doubt that, liefde", he replies gently, returning your smile, "But I want to..."

And before you can say more, he's already scooping you up again, cradling you against his chest like you're something fragile. He carries you back to bed and lowers you onto the mattress, tucking the comforter around your tired body, his hands lingering a little longer as if making sure you're safe.

"Joost… come here", you whisper, patting the space beside you.

He moves silently, sliding in next to you, his body molding perfectly to yours as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling your back closer to his chest.

"I'm still sorry for earlier", he murmurs into your hair, his voice rough with sleep, "I hope I made it up to you. Even just a little. Slaap lekker, mijn schat...", he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

You don't get the chance to reply. Sleep pulls you under before the words can form, your body giving in to his embrace. You drift off with a smile on your lips, dreaming that maybe you won't have to convince him to stay in Berlin more often.

Because maybe, just maybe… he's already found a home.

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