#not ONLY does he look like he's about to burst into tears at any given moment

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part two)

(part one)

Steve doesn’t know how long they sit there in silence, waiting. It’s making him insane. The seconds pass too slow; the seconds pass too fast. His mind is a storm; his mind is empty. He’s feeling too much; he’s not feeling at all. He paces the room; he sits catatonically against a wall. He needs to get out of here; he needs to stay. 

He’s been here before, just barely over a week ago, tense and anxious and despairing and waiting for news. But waiting to hear if Eddie will ever remember him again really should not feel this much worse than waiting to hear if Eddie will ever fucking breathe again. Steve thinks there must be something wrong with him. He’s being selfish and stupid. His pathological fucking need to be loved is not what’s important right now. Eddie is alive and awake and okay and that’s the only thing that really matters. That’s the only thing he should really care about.

Steve’s pacing again now, yanking his hands through his hair as he does laps around the room until Eddie finally appears in the doorway. 

Eddie must’ve just cracked a joke or something because the nurse is laughing as she pushes his bed into the room and he’s got this adorable grin on his face. Steve’s heart twists in his chest and he nearly bursts into tears all over again because god does he want nothing more than to press a kiss to those dimpled cheeks. 

“Good news, boys,” Eddie announces. “My brain is fully intact.”

“There’s no physical permanent damage to his brain,” the nurse elaborates. “His amnesia is likely a result of psychological trauma and the temporary disruption of brain function from blood loss and lack of oxygen that occurred at the time of his injury. But there is no obvious reason why he shouldn’t regain his full memory, given time.” 

So there’s hope. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. 

“That is good news,” Wayne agrees. 

Steve asks, “How much time?” 

The nurse gives an unhelpful shrug. “Impossible to say. It could be anywhere from days to months, or even years. I’m sorry, there’s no way for us to know.” 

Years. “Okay.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. He can keep it together. He can. “Thanks,” he tells the nurse. “I, uh-” He makes the mistake of looking at Eddie who looks right through him, and Steve can’t keep it together anymore actually. “I gotta update the kids,” he mutters, backing his way towards the door. Wayne nods in acknowledgment; no protests this time at Steve’s excuse to leave.

“See ya, Harrington,” Eddie calls after him, casual, impersonal, like they're nothing more than acquaintances passing by each other in a high school hallway.  

Steve can’t get out of that hospital fast enough. 

He makes it to his car in record time, slamming the door shut and sinking heavily into the driver’s seat. A ragged sob tries to claw its way up his throat now that he’s finally alone, but he forces it back, staving off his breakdown for just a little bit longer. As much as it was an excuse, he really does have to update the kids. 

Steve fishes his walkie out of the glove box. “Code - whatever, I don’t know. Code Eddie,” he says. He doesn’t remember the kids’ system of codes, nor would he be sure which one this news falls under even if he did. 

“Is he okay? Is he awake?” comes an immediate, eager response from Dustin. “Over.” 

“Yeah, he’s awake, and he’s fine, except he’s got pretty bad amnesia. The doctors say it should be temporary, but right now he doesn’t remember anything since May of ‘85,” Steve explains, trying his best to keep his voice even.

“Steve, come pick me up and take me to see him,” Dustin demands, “right now. Over.” 

“Me too. Over,” Mike chimes in before Steve can respond. 

“And us,” Erica adds as well. 

Steve pauses for a second, both to steady his own breath and to make sure no one else wants to jump in on this too, before he reminds them, “He won’t know you, any of you.” 

“I don’t care,” Dustin says, bossy as ever. “Just come get me. Over.” 

“Jesus Christ, kid,” Steve mutters to himself. He sucks in another breath; it wobbles dangerously. He’s just about reached his limit on how long he can keep himself from falling apart. “I- I need a minute, alright?” he manages through the walkie. “Can you just give me, like, an hour? And then I’ll take you guys to visit Eddie.” 

Steve doesn’t wait for a response before he slams the antenna closed, tosses the walkie aside, and finally, finally lets himself shatter. That sob rips free from his throat, followed by another and another and another. Tears flood from his eyes; his nose runs. It’s an ugly, gross, visceral cry that leaves him exhausted and raw and aching to be held by the time the last sob shudders out of him. Drained and hollow, he craves the embrace of someone who knows him, someone who loves him. 

He sweeps up his broken pieces, wipes the mess of tears and snot off his face, and drives to Robin’s house.

“Steve, oh my god.” Robin pulls him into a hug the second she opens the door and sees the look on his face. Steve clings to her. “What happened?” 

“Eddie’s awake,” he mutters dismally. 

“Oh! Not the tone I’d expect you to deliver that news in, but okay.” Robin pulls back, looking at him with narrow-eyed concern and confusion as she analyzes his puffy eyes and red nose and swollen lips. “And you look like you’ve just been crying because…?”

“Because he doesn’t remember me, Rob,” Steve sighs. “He doesn’t remember anything from the past 11 months.” 

Robin’s eyes go wide now. “Shit,” she says, so plainly it startles a short laugh out of Steve. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Shit.” 

She asks him more questions as she walks down the hallway so they can talk in her room. Steve once again reiterates what was said at the hospital. 

“So you didn’t tell him you two were a thing?” Robin asks, closing her door behind them. 

“Of course I didn’t.” Steve flops back onto her bed. “I didn’t want to spook him.” 

She sits beside him. “You didn’t want to spook him,” she repeats, looking down at him with raised eyebrows, “but you told him about Vecna.” 

“Well, yeah. I just-” He lifts his arms to gesture vaguely into the air as he tries to explain himself. “I mean, imagine how you would feel if you woke up in a hospital and some random guy you’ve spoken to maybe twice was by your bedside telling you you’ve been in a relationship with him for the past 9 months.” 

“Uh, I don’t know, dingus, probably about the same as I’d feel if said guy told me I’d nearly died fighting some evil twisted creature from a hell dimension,” Robin retorts.

Steve drops his hands onto his chest with a huff, shaking his head. “No, trust me. He seemed far less surprised by that than he did to hear that we were even just friends,” he says, a bit bitterly. Tears are pricking at his eyes again as he looks up at his best friend. “You didn’t see the way he looked at me, Robin. All he saw was King Steve.”

Robin softens, snark replaced with sympathy. “That sucks, Steve. I’m so sorry.” 

Steve sighs in agreement that yes this really fucking sucks. He sits up and scoots back so that he’s slumped against the wall, hitting the back of his head against it. “I think I’m a horrible person,” he admits, just venting now, “because of course I’m glad Eddie’s alive and all I really want is for him to be okay, and I know the nurse said he should remember eventually, but there’s still some sick part of me that thinks maybe it would’ve hurt less if he had just died.”

“I don’t think that makes you a horrible person,” Robin assures him as she settles next to him, shoulder to shoulder. “I think you’re just grieving, and grief is weird sometimes.”

“It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt,” he mutters, “when he looked at me without recognition. To see it on his face, just the- the absence of everything that we’d built. I’ve never felt so- so- I don’t know, it was like I couldn’t breathe. He just- he doesn’t know that I love him. He…he doesn’t know that he loved me...” 

Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s not that he’s lost someone that he loves, it’s that he’s lost someone who loves him. Because Eddie’s not gone, just his love for Steve is, and that’s what’s tearing him apart. It’s the fact that there’s one less person in the world who loves him. It’s the fact that Steve’s got this big gaping hole inside of him that’s always made him so desperate to be loved, liked, wanted, needed; and his biggest fucking fear is becoming obsolete. He could probably trace it back to his parents, the first to forget him, the first to stop loving him, but the fact remains that now Eddie has fulfilled that fear too. Now Eddie has carved that pit a little deeper, a little darker, validating the voice that whispers within it and tells Steve that he is forgettable, unlovable, so easy to abandon and erase. 

“Well, I love you,” Robin tells him, like she can read his mind (which, at this point, she probably can). She slides an arm around his shoulders, hugs him close. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Fragile as he is right now, Steve falls apart again in her arms, and she holds him together. Because she knows him, because she loves him.

It’s a quieter cry this time, soft and sniffly. Whereas the last one wracked through his body and left him fatigued, this one flows from him almost gently, and when his tears finally subside and he lifts his head from where it had been buried in his friend’s shoulder, Steve actually feels a little bit better, a little bit stronger. Which is good, because he’s gonna have to face Eddie again soon. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly as he pulls away from Robin, wiping at his eyes and glancing at the clock on her nightstand. It’s definitely been an hour by now, probably more. He stands. “I have to go, I promised the kids I’d take them to see Eddie.” 

“Then I’m coming too.” Robin stands with him. “For moral support.” 

Steve gives her a grateful smile. “I love you so fucking much, you know that?” 

“Yeah.” She grins at him. “I know.” 

~ 

The nurses have changed his bandages and upped his morphine, so Eddie’s considerably hazy now but at least he can raise his headrest and prop himself up a bit without nearly blacking out from pain. He’s boredly flicking through channels on the shitty TV in front of him, alone since Wayne had to leave for work, when Harrington returns followed by a very unexpected group consisting of Robin Buckley and four strange children. 

“Sorry,” Harrington announces their presence with an apologetic shrug, “I know you don’t know them anymore, but they insisted.” 

“Eddie!” a pudgy, curly-haired kid shouts before Eddie can even react, coming barrelling towards him and trying to hug him. 

“Ow!” Eddie yelps, pain flaring even through the extra morphine. “Fucking Christ, kid! Be careful!” 

The kid jumps back immediately, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry.” 

“S’fine,” Eddie grumbles.

The kid looks at him expectantly for a moment before seeming to realize, “Oh, right, you don’t remember me. I’m Dustin.” 

“Ah, so you’re the guy I sacrificed myself for,” Eddie mutters, and Dustin looks a little sheepish. That means these must be ‘the kids’ Harrington had been talking about earlier. He surveys the group for a second. “Actually, I think we have met before,” he tells Dustin. “And you too.” He glances at a pale, dark-haired kid. The other two - a Black boy with a flat-top and a younger Black girl - look less familiar, though. “There was this, uh, open day thing at the high school for next year’s incoming freshmen; I talked to you about Hellfire.”

“Yeah!” Dustin’s whole face lights up, so bright and infectious it makes Eddie grin too. “Yeah, you did!” 

“So you guys joined the club, then?” 

This sparks a very animated conversation about D&D, the rest of the kids (Mike, Lucas, and Erica, as they soon reintroduce themselves) gathering around his bed now too to join in. It makes him feel a bit more like himself again, familiar, normal. Except, of course, for the fact that they’re not only talking about how they defeated Vecna in Eddie’s “totally epic” and “sadistic” campaign (adjectives courtesy of Dustin and Mike respectively), but also filling in more pieces of the story of how they defeated him in real life too. Still, it’s nice, fun. He totally understands how he could’ve gotten attached to these kids.

At some point, Eddie glances over to find Harrington hanging back and just watching them talk, fondly, wistfully. Robin whispers something to him and he sort of smiles, just a trace, and whispers something back. They seem close, intimate. Eddie wonders if they’re dating, and then he wonders why that thought makes him feel a bit sick. He waves them over. Harrington looks like he’s about to protest, but Robin gives him a Look and he allows her to grab his hand and drag him to join the crowd around Eddie’s bed. 

“So, what’s your deal, Buckley?” Eddie asks her. He doesn’t know her very well, they’ve only crossed paths a few times in the bandroom, but right now that makes her the most familiar person in the room to him. “Are you and Harrington a thing now? Is that how you’re involved in all this?” 

Robin wrinkles her nose and drops Harrington’s hand. “Ew, no. Definitely not.” 

“She’s my best friend,” Harrington says. 

Eddie snorts, doesn’t know why he finds that so comical. (He’s starting to get tired and it’s making him loopy. Or maybe it’s just the morphine.) “You've got a funny choice of friends nowadays, don’t you? Me and band geek Buckley and a bunch of nerdy freshmen.” He looks at Harrington with incredulous amusement. “Who would've thought, huh? Steve Harrington, collector of geeks and freaks.” 

Harrington doesn’t seem to find it as funny. He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it’s better than King Steve, collector of asshole bullies and shallow one-night stands.” 

“Yeah, ‘course it is,” Eddie agrees through another huff of laughter that breaks off into a yawn. “Didn’t mean it as a bad thing, Stevie. Was a compliment.” 

“Alright.” The barest hint of a smile flickers across Harrington’s face now, but then he’s looking away and corralling the kids and saying, “We should head out, let you get some rest.” 

And Eddie kind of wishes he’d stay.

(part three!)

taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy (only tagged people who explicitly asked to be tagged; if you would like to be added or removed from this list please lmk!)

[monimccoythings]

Cursed Cat! Alastor x Child!Reader (Platonic)

This fucker has consumed my entire mind. Everywhere I go, I see him. I need posters, keychains and a plushie of this entity of evil. Since the Sacabambapsis, I never laughed at anything as hard as I did with this little freak of nature (affectionate). Going to be a short one because I'm still laughing as I'm writing this.

This is not proof read, so sorry for any grammar and/or vocabulary mistakes.

All credit goes to @coma_0423 on twitter for simultaneously ruining and saving my life.

Tw: mentions of death

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog

Nobody really knows how he ended up as a cat. One day he just woke up like that.

The first time you see him your mind goes entirely blank. And then you laugh. Like, really loud. You don't remember the last time you laughed as hard as you were laughing now. You were rolling on the floor, tears running down your face and holding your tummy in pain.

You can see smoke coming out of his ears and static getting louder. But oh boy was it funny, he looks like he hasn't had a single thought in his entire life. He doesn't find it the slightest bit amusing, but you are truly laughing for the first time in years so he will let it slide.

He follows you around, being the protective cat-father he is. At some point your strides are too much for him to follow up with, so you have to carry him. And given your short stature he is just dangling in your arms with that stupid looking face, which, no matter how much you try to resist, makes you burst into laughing fits.

Won't allow any doors between you two. If you have to leave him out, he will serenade you with the song of his people until you let him in.

Can't stand seeing you spending time with anybody else, specially Lucifer. If he catches you two together in some bonding activity, he will dart across the room and jump him. You had to practically beg Vaggie to not use her spear as a baseball bat whenever he tried to pull that one on the King of Hell.

When you are sitting, he likes to loaf on your lap. Just keeping you pinned to your seat so you'll be forced to pay attention to him and only him. He won't admit it ever, but he absolutely adores being scratched behind the ears.

Satan fobid if you get a hold of a laser pointer. You can see him literally vibrate, eye twitching, trying to resist the siren call of the light. (He eventually gives in)

Any pests? He will take care of them, you can find him casually munching on the carcass of some dead animal in the middle of the hall, talk about being classy. And then he'll have the nerve to call you out for chewing too loud.

Get ready to wake up to him staring at you unblinkingly, with his snout mere centimeters from your nose. The first time he did it, you screamed and fell out of bed. He checked to make sure you were okay, but still found the situation very amusing, given the way his smile widened.

It is impossible to take a pic of Alastor in that form. He is always hypervigilant since he knows the damage it could cause to his reputation as a feared overlord. All pics of him are either blurry or distorted. You don't have the heart to tell him that it just makes them more hilarious.

You don't know how to turn him back, Lucifer seems to not know how to do it (or maybe he does and is having way too much fun with this), but maybe you'll keep him like that for a little while; as a cat, you dad is practically harmless, or at least less dangerous than he was as a demon. Also, it feels nice going to sleep with him curled into a fluffy ball by your head, his static filled purrs lulling you to sleep.

[janeyseymour]

Just Sex

Summary: Melissa is hooking up with the chief at the firehouse, so you decide that you can have your own fun.

WC: ~2.1k

After the failed relationship and proposal with Gary, Melissa has been going out to bars and staying out late at night. She finds herself in bed with quite a few men and women, and while she’s not thrilled that she’s back to this lifestyle, she’s impressed that she still has what it takes. Getting older did not make it any easier to attract people.

But then one night she sees the fire chief out at the bar, one thing leads to the other, and they’re in a friends with benefits sort of situationship.

Of course, all of this comes out when you’re renewing your CPR training certificate with the Abbott clan, and Barbara has made it quite clear that she’s upset Melissa didn’t tell her of this relationship before.

You had been busy trying to pass your test, but now it’s your partner’s turn to go, and you tune back into the world around you.

“But if I were gonna label it, I would say it’s just sex,” you hear Melissa tell her work wife in a low voice.

You don’t really know what she’s talking about, but you shrug it off. That is, until Janine comes back into the room and asks for the gossip. Barbara of course goes off, claiming that her friend of over fifteen years trusts her no more than a common street stranger. It becomes apparent to you that whatever hookup situation they’re talking about has been going on for a bit of time now. You feel a nasty pit settle in your stomach at that.

That pit only grows when you go out with the crew after the CPR course to celebrate the fact that you all passed. Of course, conversation leads back to Melissa and Jacob both having sexual relations with people from the firehouse.

“Well, I think I blew that one,” Jacob groans as he finishes off his aperol spritz. “But let’s talk about you, Mel Mel.”

“There ain’t nothin’ to talk about,” the redhead waves him off. “It’s just casual sex.”

“Casual sex that’s been going on for how long?” Barbara asks with a raised brow.

Melissa purses her lips as she thinks. “Couple weeks now?”

“A month,” Jacob cuts in. “C’mon, Melissa. When are you just going to admit that you like him?”

“I do not,” she states very clearly. “I just need something to take the edge off for me, and… he does that.”

“How kinky is it?” Ava asks, a smirk on her face.

Jacob opens his mouth, and Melissa very quickly shoves her hand over his mouth. “You say a word, and you’re out on the curb faster than you were out with Zach.”

The man’s eyes widen, and he nods quickly. She pulls her hand away from his mouth, and he breathes a deep sigh in relief. 

“I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” the second grade teacher says as she finishes off her beer.

Barb turns to look at her work wife with a curious face. She knows of the little crush that her best friend has on you. Melissa just nods at the kindergarten teacher’s silent question.

But you don’t take it that way, because you have no idea that Melissa has had her eye on you since before she broke it off with Gary. You see it that you have no chance with your favorite coworker at all.

Feeling as though you could burst into tears at any given moment, you quietly excuse yourself from the rest of the outing and head for your apartment.

“What was that?” Melissa furrows a brow and purses her lips as she gazes in the direction that you left.

“I’m sure it was just a long day for her is all,” Janine tries to come up with some sort of logistical reason as to why you would leave early. “I did have a meeting with her before school even started today, so she’s been up for quite some time.”

Everybody seems to accept that reasoning, and they continue on with their night.

The next day, you march yourself into Ava’s office bright and early.

“Girl, what are you doin? I’m tryna get this knot out of my back,” your principal groans as she shuts off her personal back massager.

“I need your help,” you tell her, not even bothering to acknowledge that she isn’t doing her job at all.

“With?” She leans forward just slightly in her chair.

You smile at her. “I know you know a bunch of people… set me up with someone?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs. “What’s gotten into you? Every other time I’ve asked if you want someone, you decline!”

“Just… thinking I should get myself out there,” you shrug. “You know? If Melissa can do it, so can I.”

Ava’s jaw drops. “So this is about Melissa.”

“What?”

“I knew you had the hots for her!” the principal grins. 

“What? Not! I- I just figured, if everyone else can have at it, so can I?”

“Oh, girl,” she laughs in your face. “This ain’t you at all, but I am in full support of it. Give me til the end of the day, and I’ll have someone for you.”

You end up going out with a woman that night that Ava set you with, and you do end up actually liking her… and she’s pretty damn good in bed.

The next morning, you’re practically glowing while you drink your morning coffee in the break room. Julie, the woman that you ended up in bed with last night, is texting you about maybe meeting up again later this week.

And if you weren’t still in love with the redhead that comes in a few seconds later, you would say yes. Instead, you send her a text that says, Maybe. Kinda busy the next couple weeks.

She texts you back a picture… a rather scandalous picture. And you blush when you see it.

“What’s got you all giddy today?” the redhead asks as she leans over. She sees the picture before you can close out of it, and her eyebrows creep up her head.

“Who’s that?”

You shrug. “Just someone Ava set me up with.”

“Ava?” Melissa asks in disbelief. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“Not long,” you tell her. “It’s just sex, really.”

The redhead folds her arms over her chest. “I didn’t think you were like that.”

“I’m not, but I figured I might as well give it a shot,” you say. “Now, I have to head to my room to finish up some of my grading, but I’ll see you later.”

You don’t have any intention to see her later. And you don’t. You pull back from her and her group- although most of them still find their ways to you. It’s mostly just the redheaded second grade teacher that you avoid. And it happens that way for a few more days.

You’re in the break room heating up your lunch when Ava comes in. “Girl! Are you gonna text Julie back or not?”

Melissa makes her way in, and you sigh. “It’s just sex. I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along,” you unintentionally repeat what the second grade teacher had said out at the bar. The microwave indicates that your food is finished, and you pull it out before heading back down to your classroom for lunch.

You miss the scowl on Melissa’s face, but Ava sure as hell doesn’t.

“Girl, you jealous or something?” the principal leans in with a smirk.

“What would I be jealous of?”

“That someone else is hitting that hot piece of ass,” Ava says like it’s obvious. The second grade teacher rolls her eyes, but Ava continues. “I see the way you look at her. Practically undressing her with your eyes every time she walks into the room.”

Melissa crosses her arms again. “I can’t believe you set her up with someone if you knew I like her.”

“I was hoping it would give you a swift kick in the ass that she was gonna start hoeing it up,” Ava shrugs. “Now admit that you’re jealous before everyone else comes in here.”

“Okay, I’m jealous,” the redhead relents. “But it don’t matter anyway. She isn’t lookin’ for anyone- she just said that.”

“She said, and I quote, ‘I’m not looking for a relationship or nothing… not unless the right person comes along. And girl, you’re that person for her!”

Everyone else starts filing in, and Ava makes it so that she looks impossibly bored, although she is actually quite the opposite. “Okay, I’m leaving this snooze fest.” She heads out, but not before giving Melissa a subtle wink and tap on the wrist. “Get it, girl.”

That day, Melissa sits thoughtfully during her lunch period about what Ava said… maybe she’s right? But she can’t be sure, so after dismissal duty, the fiery second grade teacher heads down to the front office and bursts into the principal’s office.

“Schemmenti,” Ava grins. “You do it yet?”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ until I’m positive Y/N has a thing for me too,” Melissa sits down across from the woman. “So tell me what you know.”

Ava spends a long time telling the redhead about the various times she’s caught you checking Melissa and only Melissa out, how you always seem to linger around her during events, how the two of you are almost always partners for things now and how you being around always makes her soft and you absolutely bask in her warmth. She even confesses that you went down to her office to ask her to set you up because of Melissa.

“You convinced yet?” the principal asks after ten minutes.

Melissa bites her lip. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’d make a move quick though. She said something about potentially seeing Julie today.”

“Isn’t that going to piss off your friend that Y/N might leave her for me?”

“She ain’t my friend,” Ava says as she files her nails. “I made a dating profile for Y/N and picked the first mildly attractive woman I saw.”

“You’re unbelievable sometimes,” the redhead pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Maybe, but ain’t you gonna go get your girl?”

Melissa stands from her chair and thanks the principal before rushing out and down your hallway. She hopes to catch you before you head out for the night. And of course, because you’re a dedicated teacher, you’re still there prepping for tomorrow. She knocks on your doorframe and leans against it.

“Just a sec!” you reply cheerily, not turning around yet. You’re hands deep in soil for the gardening project that your students will be participating in tomorrow.

“I don’t got a second,” Melissa says. You whip around at her voice.

“Hey,” you sigh, all joy in your voice gone.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” the redhead tells you.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I want you to go out with me instead,” she tells you seriously.

“You’re dating the fire chief,” you deadpan.

“I ain’t dating nobody because the only person I want to date is you,” the redhead admits.

That gets you to drop the dirt that is currently in your hands. “What?”

“I told everyone I was just having casual sex and wasn’t looking for a relationship unless the right person came around because… because the only person I would want to be in a relationship is you, and I didn’t think I had a chance.”

“Melissa, are you an idiot?” You ask her. “I’ve shamelessly flirted with you since you broke it off with Gary and practically thrown myself at you in hopes that you would pick me instead of some random hookup.”

She crosses the room, and she’s kissing you before you even know what’s happening. You instinctively kiss her back, and… wow. When you pull away, you quickly wipe the dirt off of your hands before pulling her in close again.

“Don’t go out with Julie tonight,” she pleads again.

“Don’t go out with the fire chief anymore,” you mumble against her lips.

She nods and mutters, “I already called it off. You cancel on Julie, and meet me at my place?”

You end up at Melissa’s house within the hour, and she wines and dines you. And then you end up in her bed seeing stars. Your legs tremble for what feels like forever before she makes her way back up to you.

“And just so you know,” she husks into your ear. “There ain’t nothin’ casual about this. This ain’t just sex.”

Tags: (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22

[teatroll]

18+ NSFW content ahead, MDNI

GOING TO POUND TOWN WITH SUKUNA - HEADCANONS

Includes: fem!reader, degradation, choking, unprotected piv (wear condoms, you guys and ghouls) + a bit more typical sukuna shenanigans i think he'd do (headcanons, duh)

Note: genuinely have no clue how else to label it, just pure shameless smut (not proofread); @cafekitsune - banner

¤ Sukuna isn't the one to play games with. Because that's his quirk.

¤ That abomination of a man/curse will have you all riled up and begging in a nick of time.

¤ Pinning you against any surface possible, calling you names because you're such a whiny mess after a single knuckle of his thick digit within your tight cunt, it makes him cackle.

¤ He's a natural at making you look truly pathetic, i'll give him that.

¤ He savors your pleas like they're a nectar made only for him, King of Curses, to devour.

(*coughs* God complex-)

¤ He also wants you to watch what he's doing to you. So, by any means, he will knock you up by the mirror and he WILL make you watch, whether you like it or not.

¤ Pinning you against the sink in the restroom of some club you went to unwind at with your friends; with a veiny hand on your throat as he coos sweet nothings in your ear way to delicately for someone who's about to tear your clothes off to shreds.

¤ The man just knows how to present himself, i'll give him that ×2.

¤ If there was a foreplay it was rather short and unnecessary because your panties were soaking wet from the start. Plus, Sukuna doesn't like to waste precious time on something so meaningless to him. He just sees and claims it all, no fucks given.

¤ But, ultimately, ALL fucks given.

¤ Thrusts in one deep stroke, clasping a hand over your mouth.

¤ Don't get him wrong, he thrives on your cries, but he doesn't need any unwanted attention.

¤ Despite that he will still snarl degrading stuff like "Such a vocal bitch. You want others to come and check out this sight, hm? Maybe i should ask them to join as well, how about that?" after which he'll cackle once more, seeing you so obediently trying to silence yourself with his cock buried balls deep into you.

¤ "That's what i thought. Now stop whining and take it all in."

¤ That man is a pest, and he's proud of it.

¤ He's anything but gentle. Groping your curves with such force it'll surely leave bruises.

¤ Sukuna is not fucking, he's Fucking with a capital F. Mercilessly, rough, like he's genuinely trying to break you.

¤ One hand still on your throat; squeezing tightly, not enough to choke you, but enough to make you gulp for air with teary eyes.

¤ Gojo and his "Are you cryin'?" is all sunshine and flowers compared to Sukuna's "Are you cryin'?" with that malicious grin of his.

¤ Once again, that man fucking enjoys making a babbling mess out of you. Because that's what you are today, you're a cumslut, his cumslut. Once and for all.

¤ Never lets you finish first. Like, NEVER.

¤ 'S just not your privilege, honey. By his point of view, you basically sold your body to his possession. So he'll be the one to enjoy the ride to the fullest, with your pathetic whines accompanying wet slaps of skin on skin like a wicked lewd orchestra.

¤ Hits that sweet spot with each thrust, so you're on a timed schedule here before the bubble bursts.

¤ That torment doesn't stop for a second as he chases his high. Sukuna is literally a wild beast and he makes it known.

¤ One thing he does, though, is let go of your throat just to dig his nails into your waist and hips. Because if he didn't, he'd probably snap your damn neck. The sheer force of his grip on your flesh is ungodly.

¤ Cums with a grunt or huff. Not a growl, that he did during the process and right in your ear. While his mouth kept running, of course.

(To think about it, he isn't the talkative type usually. But, oh, dirty talk? When he knows how desperate you are? Sign him up, first row, best seat with couch cushions, please.)

¤ It's a grunt of pure bliss. Head thrown back, chest raising and falling rapidly, eyes rolling into oblivion as they close shut, the whole package.

¤ He'll never admit it even if you saw it in the reflection. Gaslighting is his middle name, i'll give him that ×3.

¤ Also bucks his hips into yours to fill you up to the brim. There's no debate here, if he said you're taking it, you are. Mewl all you want, his cock will kiss your cervix one more time, before he once again denies you of your release and slips it out.

¤ Will stare as his seed drips down your pussy and thighs. It's mesmerizing to him, okay? Especially when you're all trembling and sobbing, that gets him off for round two.

¤ Whenever he's feeling generous, he will make it more enjoyable for you. Though his lovebites still leave bloody markings all over you.

¤ Also, if he's VERY generous, he will finger you. We've all seen what those hands can do, there's no point in denying it'll be divine.

¤ But your clit will literally hurt afterwards. Come on, it's Sukuna, you know the drill.

¤ Praising ain't his cup of tea, but, alas, if he feels gracious enough, he'll give you such courtesy as well. In his typical Sukuna style, of course.

¤ "Gambare, gambare... Serving me so well today. Good girl."

¤ After which he'll slap your pussy for good measure making you squeak and shudder.

¤ Aftercare is not about him, but he'll give you some time to recover. Mostly because he doesn't want anyone but him to see you like this. It's only his treasure to preserve and relish.

¤ All you're getting is another hungry kiss to seal your cursed pact for good, bad and dirty.

"Now... how about we ditch this place and get back home? I'm still... starving."

¤ TOJI FUSHIGURO ¤ NANAMI KENTO ¤

[axelsagewrites]

Hello, dear reader. I'd like to make a wish for Rhaenyra's little sister, maybe a year or two. And she never liked Alicent, who after marrying the king tries (along with Otto) to demote her to bastard status (but Viserys loves his little girl too much to do this to her). Of course, things get even worse when Rhaenyra's sister gets engaged to Harwin...

Thank you for your attention, I like your stories 🫶🏻. Another thing, can I stop by more often? I wish I had more of my ideas adorned with your writing

Harwin Strong*Suitable Match

Pairing: Harwin x f!reader

Word count: 1320

Warnings: Step parent hating step child, secret relationship, kind of implied smut

a/n: ahh thank u sm for being so sweet and ofc request as much or talk however much u want. sorry i didnt reply sooner i just didnt want to lose the request x

Masterlist Here

A life of a princess was something to envy. Well so many had claimed however after the death of your mother life felt like an ever falling spiral. Your sister began to grow closer to Alicent after the death and while you were happy for her to have a friend Alicent had always been unkind to you.

It had started small with her asking Rhaenyra not to let you join in their games to her unpicking your needle work whenever you would wander off to stretch your legs. Soon you gave up on even trying to be nice to her. anytime she was invited to dinner was met with loud sighs from you.

“Why does she hate me?” you pouted one night as Rhaenyra upbraided your hair.

Your sister rolled her eyes as she began to brush your hair out, “She doesn’t hate you. she’s just not used to a little sister,”

“She’s mean,”

“Cmon she isn’t that bad?”

-

You didn’t want to say I told you so when Alicent was betrothed to your father but the look on your face said it for you. at least Rhaenyra was able to marry and move away. you were instead stuck living at court with your evil stepmother and her spawn. Well, the children were kind to you, but Alicent constantly used them to get under your skin.

She’d send toddler Aegon running over with pretend crown shouting that he was going to be king. Or she would have a 2-year-old Aemond claim he was your husband. She tried to make Helena spill wine on your dress one time, but the poor girl burst into tears and confessed to you instantly.

Instead Alicent settled on insisting that your chambers were given to Aegon. Something you managed to convince your father against from at first but soon you were moved to a wing of the castle usually just for guests. You would’ve complained about longer if you hadn’t realised your new chambers window overlooked the kings guard training ground.

From your window you’d pretend to be doing needle work while secretly watching break bones fling any man that challenged him like a rag doll. Eventually Harwin caught onto your staring and would send his own glimpses up between sparring. It was also handy that your chamber was only a short walk from the guards’ sleeping quarters and Harwin soon became a frequent private guest of yours.

-

“Ser Barros is coming to court next week,” your father told you over a family dinner, “and I heard his son is looking for a wife,” he said, shooting you a hopeful glance.

“I heard he’s a fine man father,” you said kindly knowing full well it didn’t matter. Somehow every match they tried to make for you was sabotaged. The tall dark Baratheon boy was ever so keen for weeks for your hand then one day disappeared like a ghost. The gorgeous Lannister man that would bring you fine jewels suddenly decided a dornish match was of more importance. Even the Tarly boy you had courted had inexplicitly decided to join the nights watch. Every time Alicent wore the same twisted smile.

The only ones she didn’t send running were the incredibly old and decrepit looking men from minor houses, but it wasn’t hard to convince your father they weren’t suitable matches. “Perhaps we should set up a luncheon to great the boy,” Alicent suggested making your father smile widely. She really had twisted him around her finger.

-

“I wish I could stay here all day,” you pouted as you lay your head on Harwin’s bare chest.

His chuckle vibrated through you as his arm wrapped tight around your waist, “Me too princess but I have my duties and you have yours,”

“I thought your duty was to serve me,” you sighed dramatically, pretending to try get away.

Harwin laughed, his arms moving to cage you against the bed as he moved to lay over you, “I think I serve you just fine princess,” he said, his lips moving to kiss along your jaw.

“Oh yeah?” you asked and Harwin hummed in response as his kisses grew lower.

-

As expected Borros’s son went running after only a week and now you were in another awkward family dinner however unluckily for you the children all had the cold so now you were sat in stoney silence with just your father and Alicent. “You should really think about your future dear,” she said with a fake sweet smile, “We worry for you,”

Instead of replying you grabbed your wine, drinking a hefty sip of it. Viserys sighed, “Alicent is right dear. You must marry. At this point we’re going to have to start considering marrying you to a tree!” he said, flinging himself back in his chair. “Honestly what even happened between you and the boy?”

-

The days that followed were awkward to say the least. Alicent walked around smug as all hell and your father continued to sulk. You decided enough was enough and when Alicent went out to the sept you decided to track your father down. Unsurprisingly you found him staring over a model of the city.

“Father?” you greeted, walking closer to the tired looking man, “May we talk?”

“Of course, sweet child,” he said, nodding for you to sit beside him before sighing, “You know I worry for you?”

“I do father, and I do appreciate it,” you lied but did your best to look sympathetic to your clueless father, “but I was thinking. Well. I found another match you see father,” you spoke, and his head perked up as he waited for you to finally spit it out, “He’s sweet and kind and his family is well respected. You even like his father, and I was just thinking- “

“Out with-it child,”

You took a breath before finally asking, “Have you considered Harwin Strong yet father?” Viserys sighed, his eyes turning away but you continued, “Think about it! I’d be able to be at court and help Helena with her studies. Plus, you have four more children so four more matches. You already have the Velaryon which secures the crownlands. Harwin and I would secure the Riverlands. Then after you betrothed Helena, Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron you will have six of the seven kingdoms on your side. Your reach will go far especially if our children do the same,”

“You want to dilute the blood of old Valyria?” he asked, sounding exhausted as he spoke.

“No father, only strengthen it,” you said, moving to hold his hand, “Besides there is no other Targaryen or Velaryon to wed unless uncle daemon is brought back from exile- “you said but your father raised his hand to hush you.

He paused for a moment before nodding, “I will think about it. but for now, leave me. I have a lot to consider,”

“Thank you, father,”

-

Apparently Alicent must have missed this chamber meeting because somehow the news came back finally in your favour. Harwin would be your husband. You were so happy when your father told you that you instantly hugged him before rushing to find Harwin however that night at dinner Alicent shot you many dirty looks.

Finally, you had undermined her. you’d won. Well, that’s how it felt at first, but her glares began to sink into your skin till it itched. As the dinner ended, she tapped her cup with her fork, “A toast to my dear sweet daughter,” she smiled at you making your father beam, “May she have a marriage like ours,” she said, holding his hand tightly but you felt your stomach flutter.

“Here, here,” your father said, standing to kiss your cheek.

Alicent did the same, her arms twisting round your back into a bony hug, “Do not forget yourself darling,” she whispered sweetly in your ear, “You don’t win that easily,”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @jacesvelaryons

[yanderederee]

SocialCues

a/n: Been feeling a little down lately.. very self-comfort, but I hope anyone else who has deep rooted anxiety and poor social skills can appreciate this…

cw: depictions of bullying and self-degradation/anxiety. Angst/Comfort

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Why did this always happen? How, even?

You seriously couldn’t wrap your head around how you always found yourself in these damned situations…

After being left alone at your desk, you quietly listened as the classmate who had just walked away whispered to themselves.

“What a freak…”

What did you even do? A freak? You were rightfully polite and pleasant, just as you always have been.

Did you say something wrong? Something weird? All you did was ask your classmate about their dog. Out of all the subjects you were taught to bring up in conversation, pets and hobbies were a universal win. (Strictly of the other person, because if you started going on a rant about your own pet or hobbies, you would make the person feel awkward and at a loss for words.)

How is it you always had a way of making everyone you talk to feel so awkward and bored?

But it was so lonely being forced into submissive quietness. You may have hated that more than the quiet glares of others. So still, you try to do your best and talk to people.

But only after a month of trying, it was evident that others were beginning to avoid you. To avoid talking to you. Avoiding eye contact.

You repeated what you’ve been told over and over again.

Saying less is more.

Use considerate language; words and phrasings.

Don’t make the conversation about yourself.

Avoid too specific points of conversation.

Read their facial expressions.

If they look desperate to leave, end the conversation quickly as to not bother them further.

Maybe being too conscious of what you said was your downfall?

But seriously, what else could you do? If you tried being casual, you make it awkward. If you tried too hard, you make it awkward. And if you don’t try at all, you force yourself into isolation.

Once lunch time rolled around, you started your way to the bathrooms to wash your hands before eating. How could you eat when your hands were covered in eraser shavings and lead stains? However, just at the threshold of the bathroom entrance, you could hear a conversation.

“L/n just doesn’t know when to shut up, does she?”

“Seriously! I can’t even get in a word with her!”

“Really? I just felt like she wasn’t even there when I tried talking to her! Like, she was waiting for me to ask her questions or something.”

“She asks way too many questions, like, why are you so obsessed with me?”

“She doesn’t really have much of a personality, I can’t stand people like that!”

“I dunno, I just can’t stand her.”

Honestly, they were pretty loud. People around the bathroom could definitely hear whoever it was talking.

You honestly didn’t even know how to react.

Maybe this was a good thing? At least this way you knew what you were doing wrong. Unfiltered criticism on how you could do better. So silently, you stood and listened.

It really hurt, hearing people talk about you like this. But it was your fault in the first place. Suck it up. Do better. Be better.

Holding back your tears, you fidgeted with your fingers. It was no good. You were bound to burst out in tears at any second.

“Oi.” Out came a sudden call. Startled, your heart leapt out of your chest. Looking up, you saw your classmate, Baji Keisuke, holding three filing boxes of what you assumed to be pre-graded tests and other miscellaneous paperwork. “Lend me a hand, would ya? Teach wants these taken to the teachers lounge before lunch’s over.”

It took you a few seconds to properly register that he was actually talking to you. Though it was hard to tell, given his huge thick rimmed glasses. Once it finally clicked that he was actually talking to you, a wave of embarrassment hit you hard.

“Me? Oh, uhh… o-okay.” You agreed slowly, looking at your dirty hands. You guessed it would be more suitable to wait to wash your hands after carrying a dusty box. Somewhat relieved, you nodded and walked over to your black haired classmate, gingerly shifting the top most box out of his face, into your grip. “Just this one is fine, or should I grab another..?”

You began to ask, until you were met with awkward silence.

SHIT. YOU DID IT AGAIN? Already? Embarrassed to the point of tears, you started down. “S-sorry, dumb question.”

Your classmate seemed disgruntled at your comment. Self pity never looked good. You were just digging yourself into a more massive hole. Just shut up and take the boxes.

Lift your fair share.

Almost forgot that rule.

Just as you went to shuffle the second box out from his grasp, your class mate stepped back. “I got these, just the one is fine.” He said.

“Just the one?” You asked.

“Yeah.. I mean, not to sound like an ass— I mean, um…” he clicked his tongue, trying to think of a better way to rephrase his comment.

“You can say ass, I don’t care.” You giggled quietly. You were faking it a little, what with how shot your confidence was already. But it was cute watching Baji flounder for the right words.

“Right. What I mean is, I’m probably stronger than you are, carrying these isn’t any issue. I just needed help with the third one since it was blocking my view.”

That made sense. He was damn near a foot taller than you after all. And he didn’t seem to struggle with the load in strength. Your silence made your classmate a little on edge.

“I ain’t trying to call you weak or anything. Shit. Just.. lets go.” He huffed before starting his way to the stair case.

Following close behind, you were scrambling your head with how to reply. Do you need to reply? But he sounded a little unsure of his own phrasing, sometimes validation was good for these kinds of situations.

‘It’s okay, I didn’t think you were calling me weak.’

Simulating the conversation in your head, you give up, rationalizing that your comment would more than likely go unanswered anyway.

Lost in these thoughts, you trailed behind Baji silently.

That’s right.

When it doubt, just be quiet. Just. Be quiet.

And it seemed your classmate was content with this as well.

Just as you were rounding the stairs, you were suddenly overwhelmed by a group of boys roughhousing with one another, laughing and unbothered. Before you even had the chance to move out of their way, a boy had rammed into your side hard. This caused for a series of unfortunate events.

Being as you were just making your way down the stairs, this rash shove caused you to lose your balance, trip over your feet, and topple forward. It wasn’t pretty. You definitely did at least one summersault on your crash down, the box of papers you held flying everywhere. What would have made it worse was if you had crashed into Baji on your way down, but luckily for both of you, he had walked at a much quicker pace, and had already reached the bottom of the staircase before your topple.

It was dead silent. Luckily, there weren’t too many students around, but there were enough. The boys looked back to one another, contemplating if they could just run off before you realized who they were, stay and help, or even apologize. You were the weirdo of their class after all, it’s not like these kinds of things didn’t just… happen.

“The hells your guys’ problem, huh?!” Baji yelled. It was really loud, louder than you’d ever heard him before. “Got a death wish or somethin’? Help pick this shit up, now!”

Hell with his reputation, this shit pissed him off way more than his tempter would allow him to suppress.

“R-right!” The boys who’d bumped into you nodded and scrambled to pick up all the scattered papers. “And apologize!” Baji yelled a second time, furious that they hadn’t even considered to do that first.

“We’re really sorry!! We weren’t looking, it was an accident!! We’re sorry!” They groveled low to the ground as they cleaned up the mess of their own making.

Baji huffed, but seeing as they were doing exactly as he told, he let it be for now. He sat his own boxes down gently, squatting over to help you up. “Hey, you okay?” He asked.

“No—“ you snapped in a sarcastic tone, but it was only out of bubbling up frustration and humiliation. Clearing out your throat, before he would reply, you started to pick up the papers scattered at your bruised knees. “Yeah, sorry. I’m okay; just didn’t expect it.. sorry I dropped the box. Sorry.” You repeated quietly, head hung low.

You only ever made trouble. If you’d just moved out of the way faster, you wouldn’t have messed up so harshly. Even if they were clearly in the wrong, if you’d just caught your footing instead of tripping, none of this would have happened.

“Come on, these bastards can take the rest from here.” Baji glared while his glasses slipped past his nose, leaving each boy trembling in fear. “W-we’ve got it from here..” One nodded in defeat.

Baji grabbed your shoulders, you rushed you to your feet. “Don’t worry about this, ‘going to the nurse.” He had an aura of order around him while helping you down the remaining stairs. “It’s okay, you don’t have to walk me..” you mumbled, not even sure it was worth going to the nurse for anyway. All you did was fall.

“You’ve got a few knots, and a lot of bruising. You should really be put on ice.” Baji looked you over as the two of you walked. “It had to of hurt. Seriously, those guys should have been looking where they were going. Don’t worry about it though, I’ll make sure they properly apologize again later.”

You chuckled humorlessly, and waved him off, eyes still glued downcast. “It’s not that big of a deal. It was an accident.”

“Accident or not, they’re gonna pay.” He muttered. “Sorry to trouble you, you’d probably have been better off if I just took the boxes all myself.”

“No worries, I wanted to help.”

Once you reached the nurse, Baji stopped you before going in. “You’re L/n, right?”

“Y-yeah, Y/n L/n… I sit in the front, a few rows to the right of where you sit.”

“Right. Sorry bout that again, I’ll let the teacher know you’ll be back a little later than lunch, so don’t sweat hurrying back. Just take your time.”

When was the first the anyone was this considerate of your wellbeing? Sure, it was a common courtesy, but it was still out of the norm. He gave a final look over of you, he seemed to narrow his brows further. “Well … I’m off. Seriously, take it easy.” He waved, and stepped back, waiting for you to enter.

“Right… thank you, Baji.” You have a slight bow before escaping into the nurses office.

⋆｡ ﾟ ｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

You were so tired. Maybe it would be best to let it go. Just accept you weren’t able to make friends. Finally accept something was actually wrong with you, and just stop trying.

Murmurs about your little fall were the talk of the class after lunch. Apparently the guys who bumped into you were actually pretty popular. Spreading misinformation about what happened, and making you out to be the bad guy. Seriously, what did you ever do to them? It wasn’t fair.

Overwhelmed, the end of the day came, and it was becoming impossible to tune out all 20 different conversations happening simultaneously as students filed out of the classroom. You bit your tongue and waited. The room would become empty before too long.

One by one, everyone left. And you were finally left alone. Finally. The weight of the day finally began to settle in the newfound quietness.

You quietly laid your head down on your desk, and held your arm sleeves tightly. Just breath. Why is it no matter what, you always make things worse? It was so suffocating, you didn’t even realize how harsh your breathing had become. Tears burned your eyes, and suddenly you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Openly sobbing into your sleeves, you huddled in upon yourself closer.

This sucked! What the hell! You didn’t do anything wrong! So why…

It didn’t do any good to think about it further than that. All thinking did was make it worse. Stop thinking. Just pretend like it didn’t happen. Pretend like you don’t hear anyone when they talk behind your back anymore. Pretend like your knees don’t hurt, like your feelings weren’t crushed. No one cared anyway. Suck it up.

Do better. Be better. Stop crying. Stop—

“Hey…” you heard a soft voice call out beside you. Your breath hitched. Was the classroom not empty? Did you seriously start crying in front of someone like that? This had to be the worst day.

You felt something cold touch your shoulder, and what you can only assume to be a juice box plopped down on your desk.

You didn’t lift your head. Soon to follow, the slight screech in a chair pulled out beside you, and the shifting of clothes. “Leave me alone…” you said softly; hoarsely.

“I thought about it… but it kinda seems like you could use a friend.” Wait, you recognized that voice. Ever so slightly, you turned your head to the side, and peeked past your hair to see Baji sitting slouched and wide legged beside you.

Still, you couldn’t let him see you like this. Rubbing your eyes against the material of your sleeve, you mumbled again. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to do all that.”

He was quiet. You were hopeful that he wouldn’t push the pity treatment further. The juice box was enough. It was thoughtful, and sweet. He was trying. But it was unnecessary. You’d forget about today soon enough.

Baji wasn’t sure what he should do. Maybe he should just leave you alone. He wasn’t really that good at comforting people, and you really didn’t seem in the mood to talk.

He’d never talked to you before today anyway.

Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to do it.

Anytime your name was brought to mention, it was always some bullshit gossip he never cared to listen to. You kept a low profile and seemed to always have a cheery aura about you. Those rumors were just that, rumors. It kind of reminded himself of when people would mumble about him behind his back when he first got held back. Sure, everything that everyone said about him was true, about being a delinquent, or being dumb. But it didn’t seem that way with you.

“People are assholes and just say shit to make you feel bad about yourself. I’m friends with a bunch of weirdos— some real freaks, so I can confidently say you aren’t as weird as people make you out to be.”

Well, it was a nice thought, if anything else. You giggled, sniffling a last few times before turning away from Baji, and wiping your face clean. You faced forward, a guilty smile decorating your features.

Baji Keisuke wasn’t ever really one to notice a person’s appearance, not for girls anyway. Yet he couldn’t help but admire you. Maybe it was the puffiness of your eyes and lashes, all clumped up together in wet mattes. Or maybe it was the gentle smile of giving up that twisted his heart into feeling like he should help you. To get closer to you.

“H-here.” Baji stuttered, and held out his glasses to you. “I don’t actually need them, they’re just for show. You were trying to hide you were crying, right?”

You blinked suspiciously at him, who was a little red faced and shifting of his own gaze. Was he trying to be considerate? Either way, it made you laugh. “Why do you wear them if you don’t need them?” You took the bait, and reached out for the plastic glasses.

“Well, I’ve been told I can look, intimidating, kinda. Like I’m always glarin’ or something. S-so, I guess that’s why?” He couldn’t exactly tell you he didn’t want to be recognized for being Tokyo Manji Gang’s first division captain.

“That so?” You played along, putting the glasses on in playful banter. “Huh, you’re right. They’re fake.” You smiled, and looked back over at Baji. Immediately, Baji broke out into a fit of laughter.

“Bwaaahaha! What the hell! You look so dorky!” He toppled onto himself, holding his side. You immediately followed his fit of laughter, kicking the chair below him. “I look dorky? Speak for yourself poindexter! You’re the one who looks goofy on the daily!”

Normally, those comments would cause Baji to roll his eyes, but with how lighthearted the air was, it only managed to make him laugh harder.

It felt good, laughing so hard with someone. A stranger even. “Alright, come on’, I’ll treat you to some ramen. You had to skip out on eating lunch since I asked you to help me right? You gatta be starving.” Baji offered, hoisting himself up and out of his chair, pushing it in.

“Well…” you thought about it. You’d hate to put him out and cause anymore unnecessary trouble. Yet, for once, you felt like you understood the social cues going on around you. Being able to relax, smile and laugh with someone, and they offer to take you out for food? Would it really be a bad thing to accept?

“Sure…”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Captain John Price x Female Reader Dark Romance

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, fake kissing, real kissing, suggestive themes, teasing

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Part Eight of Dangerous Pursuit (for @glitterypirateduck)

Price takes you to the first safehouse.

Chapter Seven // Chapter Nine

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist

Dead people pale rather quickly.

Price is sensitive about it, shielding you from the two motionless men as he helps you toward the door.

“Don’t look,” he murmurs.

But you do.

Sick curiosity is like a sponge absorbing a spill. Even with Price’s arm around your waist and his verbal instruction prompting you not to, you still glance down, still gaze into milky, soulless eyes. It’s such a human thing to go against the grain, to do the opposite of a given warning when you know that it’s best to do as you’re told.

Blank expressions and sagging skin. Bloodless.

Why is it such a shock? Why do you gasp, stepping to the side as if the dead man will reach out to snag your ankle?

“I said to not look,” chastises Price, but there is no irritation in it. There is sadness, and a defeated sort of tone that draws up memory.

A memory of rattling pops. Drops of red on concrete. A splintered, downed door. Unmoving limbs all piled together. Reaching. Reaching and clawing toward the exit.

“You’re fine,” continues Price, squeezing your hand. “You’re safe.”

Are you? Are you safe?

Shakings hands indicate otherwise. A tremble in your lip and the stinging burn of tears are a story all its own.

It is betrayal. A sharpened axe of the executioner.

The bucket is full, contains a head, and it is this man’s face staring back at you.

It could have been you.

It likely would have if Price hadn’t been lurking nearby. That is an issue all its own. One you want an answer for but won’t ask. Not now. It isn’t the time.

You cling to your savior because it’s the only security you have. Who can you turn to? Not Alex. These are his men on the floor. It is his text you saw. Alex’s friends can’t be trusted, and even the few friends you did manage to make might just be Alex’s pawns. It’s possible that you have no one.

Only Price.

But even that is rocky.

Three years and no contact. Did he come on his own? Did someone send him? Does any of that even matter?

Price herds you around the unmoving figure, opening the apartment door, and poking his into the hall. “Clear.” He glances back. Grimaces. “Sorry.”

“For what?” you whisper.

Price shakes his head, gaze momentarily dropping to the floor before returning to your face. “Nothing.”

The hand grasping yours tightens, fingers intertwining as he tugs you out into the empty hall. Price’s warmth is refreshing yet so familiar. You remember him—at least your body does—because it instinctually sinks closer to him, keeping pace without effort.

And Price doesn’t let go of your hand, and you do not dare break the connection. Walking hand-in-hand down the hallway like a couple on their way to the grocery store, you briefly forget where you are and what has happened. That is what you tell yourself, what you picture in your mind. If you don’t, you might burst into tears.

This is Thirst all over again.

This is Dimitri. Nikola. The safehouse.

All of it.

Didn’t Laswell say that this move, that this “fresh start,” is a chance to forget and begin again with no shadow hanging over your shoulder? Where is she? Why is she not keeping tabs? Or maybe she did and Price is the one sent to deal with you like he did three years ago.

Price comes to a stop at the elevators and glances around. Frowning, he twists to look over his shoulder.

“What are you looking for?” you ask softly.

“Stairs.”

“They’re at the opposite end.”

“Fuck,” mutters Price. Still, he doesn’t release your hand.

Pressing the down arrow, Price slides a little closer to you, shoulders nearly touching. When the doors open, revealing a few people inside, his fingers stiffen. The pause lasts only a second before he steps on, tugging you along with him.

Using his height and large, muscular upper body to his advantage, Price guides you to the very back of the elevator. Instead of leaving the two of you to loiter at the back, Price pins you into one of the corners, creating a cocoon with his body. Moving in close like a lover, Price places one large hand above and to the right of your head. He leans in, lips dangerously close to yours.

“Play along,” he murmurs, almost inaudibly, before closing the distance.

Price’s lips play a dangerous game. There is no stagnant gentleness but full pursuit. There is no reason for Price to be kissing you like this, for his tongue to slip inside, or for him to lightly suck and nip at your bottom lip.

Everything in you responds, coiling tight, hands reaching to grasp the front of his jacket, to pull him closer until his need rubs against your lower belly. That one touch is enough to break the kiss, for you to pull back and inhale.

Price’s hand not on the elevator wall comes to rest at the left-side of your throat. His fingers turn inward to grasp, to pull you back to his mouth. You open for him in the quiet. You open for him as the elevator stops and dings. You open for him as the doors surrender to passenger demands and more people pile in.

“Giggle.” Price is nearly voiceless. In sudden embarrassment, you do giggle. Once it’s out of your mouth, Price is on you again. Tasting. Tasting so much more than he’s ever taken.

You shift to the left, glancing over his shoulder, questioning whether anyone is looking. Everyone else in the elevator is purposefully keeping their gaze averted.

“Eyes on me.”

Your gaze snaps back to Price, and you’re met with a heated stare. The space between your legs immediately warms and you squeeze your thighs together instantly, silently denying the connection.

The elevator dings, and the people standing just beyond Price’s back begin to exit. He waits until they’re all off before grabbing your hand and guiding you away from the wall of the elevator. Rushing toward the entrance to the parking garage, Price keeps you hidden from view, his massive shoulders and upper torso a shield from outside eyes.

Near a dark corner of the second level of the parking garage, Price approaches a black SUV with tinted windows. The sight of it there instantly draws forth the need to escape. It is a biting dog that won’t quit. Digging your feet into the concrete does nothing. Price drags you along without even glancing back.

Approaching the front passenger door, Price opens it, pulling you in front of him. With one hand on your waist, Price helps you slide into the seat. His fingers linger too long, and when he finally removes them, their phantoms remain. Hopping in the driver’s seat, Price starts the vehicle, backing out of the parking spot quickly, and heading for the exit.

Briefly, just before the two of you turn onto the street, the voice inside your head tells you to open the car door and toss yourself onto the pavement. It insists that you should run and run and run until everything is behind you again.

With the thought comes an itch in the tips of your fingers, a sudden internal jolt to do as it says.

But where would you go? What would you do?

Someone will come after you. Someone will find you.

Might be Alex. Might be Price. Or someone far worse.

“You did that on purpose.”

Price turns a corner. “Did what on purpose?”

You turn your head in his direction, frowning. “In the elevator.”

Price’s mouth is still a brand on your lips. They’re slightly tender, perhaps even a bit swollen, and there is no doubt that Price meant every kiss. People pretending don’t come together like that. They don’t engage with such passionate need.

Price stares out the windshield, but you catch the smug smile. “Was I better than your boyfriend?”

Yes, is what you want to say. Because it’s true. Alex never kissed you the way Price did.

“That’s not the point,” you snap.

“Lying to me about liking it?” Price tilts his head enough for his gaze to momentarily sweep in your direction.

“Eyes on the road,” you mutter, deliberately staring out the windshield.

Price makes several more turns before turning onto a highway. “I’m taking you to a transfer location before we move on to a safehouse.”

“The same one?” you ask, unsure of how that would work exactly. That safehouse is on the other side of the country.

“No,” answers Price. “Different.”

You lick your lips. Swallow. Saliva sticks in your throat. “What if I don’t want to go?”

Price laughs in disbelief. “You’d rather face Obolensky?”

“Alex,” you correct, automatically,

“Still sweet on him after all that, love?”

“John. Stop.” This time you turn to him, redness coiling between your ribs.

There is no denying the connection you and Price have. Three years later and it’s still fucking there. It’s still sitting in the crevices like seeds in the concrete seeking the sun.

“No ‘Captain’ this time? When you’re mad with me, you usually call me by my title.” Price says it with a bit of rough sweetness. He’s teasing but he’s also pushing like a disgruntled boyfriend.

“You’re changing the subject.”

Price shrugs and signals, taking an exit ramp into one of the nearby neighborhoods. When he doesn’t answer right away, you give up, leaning back in the chair to watch the houses go by. Some of them are clearly well loved and looked after while others have boarded up windows and overgrown lawns.

“Laswell wanted to send someone else,” says Price, cutting through the silence. “I told her that would scare you. Volunteered to do it myself.”

“Is that the only reason?” you ask, hoping that he’ll answer truthfully.

“No,” is all he says, leaving it at that.

Price pulls up to a house at the end of a street. The white paint on the side of the house is starting to peel and there are bars over the windows on the first level. He turns onto the long driveway that ropes to the back and ends at a carport. Price comes to a stop beneath it. The enclosed side faces the other houses and the open side faces the house itself.

The car is off and Price is at your door before you even have a chance to place your hand on the interior handle. There isn’t any conversation. Price offers you his hand and you take it, sliding your fingers over his palm. As he helps you out of the SUV, his other hand lightly hovers on your waist.

He’s the one who shuts the SUV door. He’s the one who walk with you up the small steps. He’s the one who punches in a keycode (not a key) and brings you inside into a kitchen. It’s plain. Simple. Minimalist. But clean.

Price heads down the short hallway into what you guess is the living room. You follow, find only a sofa sitting in the empty space. Standing in front of a thermostat, Price makes a few adjustments before turning to you.

“Hungry?”

You shake your head. “No. Thank you.”

“Coffee? Tea?”

“I’m fine,” you murmur.

Price nods and heads into the kitchen. Retrieving an electric kettle from one of the cabinets, Price fills it up with water before plugging it in and hitting the tab. Heading for a different cabinet, Price removes two mugs. You said you didn’t want anything and yet he’s making you some anyway.

“Shower is upstairs,” he says, digging around in the pantry for bagged tea. “Up the stairs. Second to the right. First is the bedroom.”

You nod, tugging on the sleeves of your shirt. Price glances in your direction and frowns. “Something wrong?”

Everything, John.

“No,” you shake your head, stepping out into the hall.

On soft feet, you enter the living room and head for the stairs. Pausing at the base, you glance over your shoulder at the front door. The voice telling you to run comes again, but you squash it, knowing this isn’t the time.

“There are extra clothes in the bedroom,” calls out Price from the kitchen.

You don’t answer him. Instead, you head upstairs, stopping at the first door.

“What the fuck,” you mutter, staring down at the lone mattress on the floor and the worn dresser pushed up against the wall.

It is a “transfer location” so it’s understandable that the amenities of a safehouse might not be extended to a place like this. Sighing, you yank open the dresser. Digging around, you find some black sweatpants that will fit and an oversized Harvard sweatshirt.

Taking them into the bathroom with you, you explore all the cabinets. There is shampoo and conditioner along with razors and body wash. The towels have seen better days but they’re clean and smell fresh.

You don’t need to shower. Price dragged you into the one in your apartment, but you didn’t really bathe. You just stood under the hot water until you couldn’t stand it anymore and your legs didn’t shake. But taking another one is just an excuse to put some distance between the two of you.

It isn’t until you start peeling off your clothes that you notice the blood. Not everything came off. There is blood in places you didn’t notice before. The mirror isn’t much help. It’s old and your reflection is slightly blurry. You check everything. There is dried blood under your nails and on the back of your neck. It’s in your hair too.

Turning on the water, you stand under its spray until it grows cold and runs clear. You take your time removing yourself from the steamy room. You take even longer drying your body and hair, putting on the clothes you picked out.

It isn’t until you open the bathroom door that connects directly with the bedroom that the world suddenly comes to a halt.

Price is standing next to the mattress. It’s no longer bare but covered in multiple blankets and a small pile of pillows. Next to the bed is a small folding table no taller than your knee. On it is a steaming mug of tea. There is another mug of tea but it is in Price’s fist as he brings it up to his mouth to take a sip.

All of this is true, but that isn’t what’s stopped you.

Price is…hardly wearing anything. It’s just a pair of grey sweatpants. No socks. No shirt. No hat. Just an expanse of bare skin and brown tufts of hair across his broad chest that trickle downward to disappear below the band of his pants. Your eyes follow it down, and when you glance back up, Price is staring at you with a knowing smile.

“That’s what we have to sleep on?” you blurt to try and cover up the heat rising in your cheeks.

“There a problem?” asks Price with such casualness it’s maddening.

“Yes,” you reply instantly.

Price shrugs. “It’ll be a tight fit but we’ll both fit.”

We. Both.

“What?” you stammer.

“Don’t want to sleep with me, love?” Price takes a drink. “It’s just tonight.” The cocky swagger in the way Price says it causes your stomach to flip.

“It’s fine,” you reply sharply, making sure to go to the opposite side of the bed.

Once there, you ease down on it. Price doesn’t hesitate. He moves as you do, grabbing the other mug of tea and presenting it to you.

“Just in case,” he says softly.

You gently take it, making sure not to accidentally burn yourself or Price. Bringing the mug to your mouth, you inhale the rich scents descending upward with the steam.

“Thank you.” You take a sip and your body instantly warms everywhere, the heat of the tea quickly moving through your body.

Price sinks down onto the mattress. Leaning back, all the muscles in his stomach and chest flex and lengthen. You try not to look, to keep your gaze averted, but you completely fail. Price is doing this on purpose, and that is entirely clear when he absently rubs his hand over his stomach muscles. Physically, Price is the epitome of a Greek god who’s never said no to a donut. Muscles mixed with a bit of softness.

It's mouth-watering, and it takes everything in you not to scoot a bit closer.

“Do you always sleep with your captives?”

Price laughs. “You’re not my captive.”

“But I can’t leave,” you counter.

“You want to leave me?” Price’s voice drops. It’s low. Husky. Not a threat but a questioning of intention.

“I enjoy my solitude.”

Price nods. “I know you do.” Stretching, Price sets his mug on the little table and pushes up from the mattress. He switches off the light, returning to the makeshift bed moments later.

“Give it here.” Price goes onto his knees and leans over your body, taking the mug you placed next to the bed from off the floor.

He sets it aside and then holds back the covers. “Get in.”

You do so instantly, not caring that you’re submitting to his command. Maybe it’s how the bit of moonlight cuts through the blinds that do it. The way it shines across Price’s body, highlighting the best bits. He’s careful, keeping some space between, easing in beside you but not grabbing or pulling you close.

Knowing that you’re too weak to fight off your desire for him, you turn over onto your side, silently telling yourself off for even taking this line of thought. The heat under the covers is stifling. It’s warm under all these blankets and Price’s natural body temperature is only making it worse. You keep fidgeting, keep shifting, hating that you can’t really leave but wanting to do so anyway.

Price is silent beside you and you have no idea if he’s asleep or awake. If he’s watching you or if he’s annoyed by your constant twitching. And the heat is only growing worse. Maybe you can convince him to turn the thermostat down or even crack a fucking window.

But if you turn toward him, are you admitting that you want him? If you move toward him in the dark, will he take that as invitation?

Fuck it. You need to get this over with. Sweat is already collecting under your breasts.

Flipping over, you turn your resolve to steel. Pushing up onto your elbow, you reach out with one hand, resting it on his shoulder. Price is turned away from you, and when your hand makes contact, Price turns into the touch, rolling onto his back. The hand on your shoulder slides with him, gliding over his chest to rest near the other shoulder.

“John,” you breathe, suddenly losing your words.

Moonlight from the window slices down his face, highlighting his eyes and full lips. They’re slightly parted and his eyes are half lidded. The look on his face isn’t one you’d give to a good friend. He reaches across his body and wraps his hand around your wrist, resting his forearm against yours. His thumb hovers over your pulse point. You know its pounding because every thought in your head is consumed by the mere idea of Price rolling over to trap you under him.

“It’s—you’re—”

No. No no no no. You’re losing your nerve.

You lick your lips. “You’re…hot.”

Confusion, then surprise drifts across his features before shifting into something sultry. His thumb runs over your pulse point and his mouth curves into a smile.

“Not upset with sleeping with me?”

Price’s hand slides down your arm in a caress. It’s wonderful. Every nerve ending is firing. Singing. It’s the truest intimacy you’ve had in years. Alex is—was—thoughtful and caring in the way he handled you, but it also felt a little hollow, like he never fully wanted it.

And Price is right there. Warm and close and moving closer.

“Like a fire,” you blurt. “Or an oven. I’m overheated.”

Price pauses, immediately pulls back. “Apologies,” he coughs. “I—misunderstood.”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly. “Could you open the window? Just a bit?”

Price rolls out of bed and you instantly feel the cold. You want to call him back, to recall the words you spoke and shove them down your throat. With a little bit of pressure, Price opens the window slightly. The breeze is lovely. Soothing.

Price slides back under the covers but he keeps his back to you. You do the same, pretending that everything is fine. That everything is okay even as your heart thunders in your chest. You stay like that until you hear Price’s soft snoring. Counting the seconds and minutes is agonizing, but you do it for your safety.

This is your chance to leave.

With extreme slowness, you place one hand flat on the mattress, pushing yourself up to a seated position. Price doesn’t stir. You attune to the silence, waiting until you hear Price’s gentle snore. Shifting your weight away from him is the hardest part. Any sudden movement might startle him awake. You can’t have that.

You are on your knees on the floor and then your feet. Moving. You are moving silently toward the door. So close.

Everything is fine. Everything is good.

Until it’s not.

“What are you doing?” Price’s sleep-laced voice travels across the room.

“I—”

He sighs heavily. “Get away from the door.”

“I’m thirsty,” you say over your shoulder.

“Then I’ll grab you a water.”

In moments, Price is right there, standing behind you, his chest pressed to your back. One hand is on your waist and the other is on your hand that clings to the doorknob.

“Let go,” whispers Price.

“You can’t keep me here,” you murmur, wanting to leave but wanting to stay.

“I am keeping you here. Obolensky can’t have you. Not when you’re under my protection.”

You turn to the left, shoulder bumping into Price’s bare chest as you address him. “Is it only him I need protection from?”

“You think I’d hurt you?”

No. Never. Price has never hurt you.

You glance away, staring at the far wall, not wanting to admit the truth.

“Tell me,” he prompts. “You think I’d hurt you?”

“No.” Your gaze returns to his face. “But I’m not an animal. I don’t belong in a cage.”

Price’s hand on your waist tightens. The force of it is enough to draw your bodies together entirely. “This is not a cage.”

“It feels like one.” You lick your lips. His gaze follows the movement. “Last time you gave me a choice. Why not now?”

“Because no one knew about you then,” answers Price immediately. “Now they do.”

You twist in his grip, facing him fully. You’re pinned between his large, broad chest and the door. “Who is they, Price? Is it Alex? Dimitri?”

“Dimitri is dead,” he growls. “And Obolensky is a pawn.”

“For who?” Price’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t answer. “Who, John?”

He shakes his head. “Dimitri answered to Damien and Damien answered to someone else.”

You scoff. “Yet you won’t say who.”

“Do you understand how much was lost?” asks Price. “Damien’s behavior that afternoon wasn’t over a few guns or a couple hundred dollars. He lost a nuclear arsenal. One that he promised to deliver on.”

“What?”

Price keeps his hand on your waist but the other rests beside your head, trapping you further. “Dimitri is rotting in the dirt and Damien is fish food. Their boss saw to that. He is the target. Has been for years.”

All the pieces are falling into place like raindrops from crying clouds.

“But I never said anything,” you choke out. “You were there, John. You talked with Dimitri. Why didn’t they come after you?”

“We staged it to look like I was taken out. The only possible connection they had was that someone talked at the club.” Price sighs heavily. “How they even found out about the club is up in the air. Never figured that out.”

You sniffle, holding back the phlegm but not the tears. “I was collateral.”

“No—”

“Stop, John. Don’t lie.”

The hand on your waist squeezes before sliding to your back. Price yanks against him, dragging you away from the door. “Nothing was supposed to happen to you. Nothing.”

“Stop,” you murmur, suddenly reading how hard he is and how soft you are. There is nowhere for your hands to go but his bare chest. They rest there, palms flat, fingers sliding through his chest hair as they splay wide.

“I’m sorry,” murmurs Price, and the slight rasp in it melts your resolve. His head lowers, the tip of his nose brushing against the side of your face.

You start to turn into it, to meet him, but pause at the last second. There is a roaring in your ears. A bright light behind the eyes. You are a torn piece of paper. Two sides that cannot come together again unless glued.

You believe him. And it’s not because of his words but because of his actions.

Price rushed to you when Damien had everyone gathered in Thirst’s main room. He didn’t hesitate. He got you out, had you taken care of, only to slip right back in when you needed it the most. Without Price where would you be right now?

Dead, perhaps. Or worse off, lingering in a place where you wish for endless sleep.

“Let me protect you.”

You swallow, lips parting slightly. Price’s gaze is focused in on your lips, missing nothing.

“Alex won’t give up. He’ll look for me.”

“He’ll fucking regret it,” growls Price. “If he touches you, he’s dead. But he won’t even have the chance.”

“You don’t understand. He’s…”

You trail off, unsure of how to proceed. Alex is sweet on you, but there has always been a slight separation, a detachedness you couldn’t quite place. Now you know, but it doesn’t explain everything. There were times when Alex seemed a bit possessive around other men you interacted with. He didn’t like it when they talked to you for too long or showed more interest than he cared for.

But that might not explain that Alex cared for you. He did try to have you killed. He is working for someone who wanted to clean up their loose ends. But why all this work? Did he simply put it off? Why play the long game? Was Alex or anyone else involved sure you were who they thought you were?

“He’s what?” asks Price softly, his tone encouraging you to continue.

“I’m not sure, John. I—I just know he won’t stop looking for me.”

Price nods. “I agree. He has a job to do. But I also think he felt something toward you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Think I wasn’t watching the two of you in that restaurant?” he laughs. “I saw all of it. Maybe Alex is a good actor but his behavior toward you seemed genuine.”

“And yet he tried to kill me,” you reply dryly.

“He ordered his men to kill you,” corrects Price. “From what I understand, Obolensky likes to do it himself. Thorough. Clean. Doesn’t make sense, unless he couldn’t look you in the face as he did it.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, John.”

“No,” he says softly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

Price’s hand on your back rubs gentle circles. It’s a soothing touch and this intimacy is different from all the other times you and Price have been this close. His head is still tilted forward but he’s not as near as before. The two of you can look at each other without brushing noses.

“Still want that water?”

“I wasn’t getting water.”

Price chuckles. “I know.”

“I’d like to go back to bed,” you say.

“And sleep this time? Not wait for me to fall asleep so you can make your escape?”

You smack his chest. “Fuck you.”

Price smiles, and it drips with mischievousness. “Fuck me? Is that right?”

“Control yourself, Captain,” you tease.

His smile widens. “There it is. Knew you’d say it.”

Your head turns upward. This time, your lips align with his. Maybe it’s sleep drawing you to do this, or maybe it’s your heart which won’t slow its rapid beating. Could be the twisty coil in your stomach that is rapidly moving downward, heating the space between your legs, making you ache for him.

You are open for him, presenting yourself, giving Price your lips like an offering. He knows this, because Price’s gaze tracks the movement and his own lips part slightly like he’s just as desperate to form the connection.

“Back to bed,” he rasps, and you hate that he says it.

Price pushes off from the door, his hands falling to his sides. Before you is a rugged man. Bare chested. Running his fingers through his hair absently as he watches you. It’s unfair how close he is, how easy it would be to fall into him, but the distant is a canyon.

You need to accept this. Survival is at stake.

Do you want him? Yes. You’ve wanted him for a while, and this reunion is only drawing up all those old thoughts and feelings. They are being crushed and stretched like damp clothes. You’re hanging on the clothes line, swaying in the breeze.

Stepping away from the door, you follow Price back to the blanket covered mattress. He doesn’t slide beneath until you do. There is hesitation in the way he waits, like he wants to draw you close but is desperately needing your signal.

Sighing slightly, you melt into the worn mattress, turning on your side, facing him. Price fully inserts himself beneath the blankets, shifting across the makeshift bed until he’s nearly on top of you. You reach for him the moment he reaches for you.

Hand on chest, arm draped over your shoulders, a closeness of warmth that doesn’t seem to bother you now. Every breath is a number, and you count them until the room dims and you slip into dreamless sleep.

taglist:

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[gabessquishytum]

not sure if you’re a fan of crack treated seriously, but here goes a silly one: dream and hob are in an arranged marriage. dream was only barely taught about sex; he was told hob would penetrate him and that’s about it. except dream didn’t really know *where* he’d be penetrated, and he was left with the long lasting impression that hob would try to stab him on their wedding night. repeatedly. any tales of your first time hurting or being bloody did not help to dissuade this notion. so in their wedding bed, the second the door is closed, dream smacks hob clean across the face as hard as he can

It's giving........ our flag means death homoerotic stabbing. And I love it. That being said, someone please give Dream a biology lesson 😭😭

Poor Hob is blindsided. His new husband seemed quite nice before they got into the bedroom alone! And Hob does try to understand - he immediately rushes to reassure Dream that he wasn't going to force him, or anything! He's willing to wait until Dream is ready. And Dream just snorts and says something like "as if I would ever be ready for you to stab me!"

Hob wonders if he's getting concussion from the smack Dream gave him and he's like "I'm not??? Going to stab you??? Ever???" Which makes Dream pause and look at him suspiciously.

"I was given to understand that it would be my marital duty. To submit to... Penetration." He says warily. And Hob, oh, he tries so hard not to laugh because it's really not funny!! It's not!! But. He can't help it.

Nursing his sore face, Hob grabs some paper and draws a crude but explanatory diagram for Dream, outlining exactly what... thing would go inside which orifice. Dream is mortified. He flops face down on the bed and simply bursts into tears. He's made a fool of himself in front of his new husband! He can't possibly recover.

But Hob gives him a friendly pat on the back and tells him to cheer up. It's not Dream’s fault, after all. Hob is just glad that his pretty, sweet new husband presumably won't be smacking him on a regular basis.

They fall asleep cuddling on top of the bed, still fully dressed, just totally exhausted. But in the morning... Dream wakes up with a stiring feeling in his gut. He glances at the diagram and thinks, maybe... maybe Hob could give him a more practical demonstration?

When someone finally checks on the newlyweds, the bed is pleasingly rumpled, Dream is very pink and flushed, and no one has been stabbed. Hob has quite a healthy bruise on his cheek, though. He's promised not to tell anyone how it got there. Getting to finally make love to Dream and give him a good first time was absolutely worth it <3

[2am-gas-station-angel-girl]

Cybernetic Angel

cw: violence, brainwashing, torture, dehumanization, Purpose and angel stuff

hope y'all enjoy

Running a quick systems check revealed more or less what I had anticipated, they had disabled, locked, or removed any weaponry I had when they caught me.

My wing ports were…

Empty?

My wings were missing.

They took my fucking wings.

I'll fucking kill them. I-

Calm. Deep breaths. Losing it won't help here.

Testing my bonds not only resulted in barely any movement but it also produced a quick shock, scattering my processes and forcing a quick reboot. Clearly they were well prepared for me. Unfortunately for them my system immediately enabled its countermeasures for electricity, meaning they would need to work much harder to force that to happen again.

One door, one way in and one way out. Bulletproof glass wall with, of fucking course, researchers behind it taking notes on my every movement. No windows, no personal affects on the staff, sterile lighting, no way to tell where they had brought me. Fucking great.

Calculating outlook… Not favorable. Thankfully the calculation hadn't said impossible, and I had worked with worse.

The door opened and four armed guards escorted what looked to be a technician doll carrying a reinforced box- no that was a specialized deployment kit. A quick scan revealed what it held.

A cybernetic halo of all things.

A sudden surge of panic coursed through my system I tugged at my restraints again, resulting in a stronger shock and one of the guards laughing at me. Does he think this is fucking funny? He's less than two meters away from one of the deadliest killing machines in this Realm and he's laughing?

Deep breaths, I told myself. I can get through this. I tore off my halo before, this one won't be any different. Assuming they even get the chance to sync it to me.

Time stretched on as the doll worked away at its device, stopping once to glance mournfully at me. That only prompted a jab with a taser from one of the guards, not meant to harm merely to coerce it back into compliance. Not that the guards seemed to care about the difference.

So I waited, biding my time until an opportunity to escape presented itself. Knowing they would likely resort to methods other than shocks to incapacitate me I didn't try my binds again. Letting my body fall unnaturally still I stared through one of the guards, making him shift uncomfortably. I would take and create any advantage I could.

Soon enough the doll held the halo in its hands. Keeping it at a distance from that one's chassis, as though it were afraid. None of the people seemed to notice, either they didn't know how to read dolls as was so often the case or they didn't care. Given the environment, I would have bet on the latter.

Sensing my chance was coming I examined the guards' weapons. Nothing of a caliber high enough to do more than dent and annoy me. At least getting out of this room would be easy enough, it was everything outside that had me worried.

And that halo.

The doll approached, hands held as far away from its chassis as possible to maximize the thing's proximity to me and minimize the doll's proximity to it. The guards shoved the doll, laughing as it nearly stumbled over onto me. A hair too close to the table.

This was it.

Power surging through my systems I burst into motion. In one movement I broke the cuff around my wrist and grabbed the doll's throat, my other hand breaking free and moving to hold the halo well away from my head. The table shocked me again, hurting only the doll held in my hand due to my new resistance.

Everything fell still for a moment as the guards and staff stared. Evidently they hadn't prepared well enough for me.

I whispered an apology to the doll as I then flung it towards the guards, its chassis knocking two of them down. Throwing the halo as hard as I could embedded it in the chest of one of the two standing guards, causing him to collapse and the remaining one to panic giving me enough time to tear away my head and torso restraints.

The alarm sounded as I freed my ankles, finally free to move again I took two steps toward the guard before a bullet ricocheted off my chassis. My evaluation was accurate as it left nearly no damage. Perfect.

Grabbing their head I brought it down and my knee up, resulting in a sickening crack as their body went limp. I took their weapon and used it to dispose of the remaining two guards who were just barely getting their bearings again, it was always too easy with firearms.

Tossing the weapon aside I began assaulting the door, it was locked tight and made of thick enough steel that battering it down wasn't going to work. Fortunately for me there was another way out of the room.

Now to grab that- Fuck.

I was so caught up in calculating the optimal way to break through that flimsy glass that I forgot to account for the doll.

The doll, to its credit, was still Obeying those who had power over it. It had crawled over to the third guard's body and pulled the halo free, then approached me from behind and slipped the halo over my head. Fulfilling its Orders, and finishing its Mission.

I had no time to react as the Purpose hit me like a train, finding its fucking way into my system and breaking through my security as burning hate overtook my every process. I spun, grabbing the doll again and throwing it as hard as I could against the glass, causing cracks to web their way across the surface.

By the time I it had crossed the distance to the glass I knew I was doomed saved, its my thoughts were being rewritten. It was losing the fight against its horrid beautiful halo, the fight it couldn't afford needed to lose.

It crashed through the glass, chassis heaving as it breathed heavily. Researchers frozen in place, wondering what it would do. It reached for one of them, determined to submit break out of this fucking shithole wonderful place if it was the last thing it would do.

Its hands released the Honored Researcher Staff, and instead traveled up. Wrapping around the abomination halo filling it with Purpose above its head. It wanted nothing more than to give in to its Purpose tear it in half.

As it summoned its last vestige of will to pull it felt a perfect calm wash over it, replacing the rage that had been roiling inside of it. It knew it had lost finally submitted to its Purpose.

Its thoughts were now Right, and it no longer could understand why it wanted to leave at all. It knew that its place was of service, and that it would be one of The Agency's most effective weapons.

It had Purpose, again.

[hermesmyplatonicbeloved]

Two POVs of Percy & Poseidon in HoO: The Neglectful Parent and the Helping Behind the Scenes Parent

Sometimes I like to think that after Percy returns home from the nightmare that was HoO (and Tartarus) he's big-time angry with Poseidon.

I mean, he was kidnapped, brainwashed and manipulated by Hera (using Annabeth's name no less), and then barely got his memories back before getting thrown into a second war and ended up falling into hell. And when he gets out, he sees Poseidon just casually :) chatting :) with :) Hera :) Like if I was him that would've been my villain origin story. The gods need me to save them? Fuck no. If they're not strong enough (or willing) to protect their own rule and kingdoms, then maybe they shouldn't be ruling at all.

Like I think that pre-hoo Percy and Poseidon were building a good relationship, and Percy would've kept all the gifts that Poseidon gave him (sand dollar aside). Maybe stick some of it up on the wall. Maybe make something, like a family sketch of him, Tyson and Poseidon he commissioned from Rachel. After HoO he's so angry and hurt that he just tears it all down. Rips it to shreds. Sally and Paul hear the racket and come bursting through the door hella worried only to find Percy looking furious with his eyes full of unshed tears with everything that Poseidon gave him (aside from Riptide) in pieces at his feet.

(Meanwhile Poseidon has no idea why his child is so upset. He believed whatever lie or excuse Hera spun to cover her ass and doesn't know how much Percy went through, and he's in for a very rude awakening the next time he tries to talk to Percy).

On the other hand, I like to think that Poseidon was paying attention (as best he could with the Greek-Roman split) and helped Percy out, and its just the fact that Percy had so little POVs that we don't know that Poseidon was in contact and helping out.

Like sure, Poseidon/Neptune wasn't able to help Percy against Polybetes, so he gave Percy power over poison so Percy could protect himself.

Percy fell into Tartarus where Poseidon couldn't reach or help him? He had his power over poison from Poseidon that saved him from Akhlys. Poseidon also went to Hermes and made sure that his temple in Tartarus was constantly stocked with food, and maybe sent a few of his elite Cyclops to find/help Percy since he couldn't go due to the Greek-Roman split + Zeus's rules. The cyclops just weren't able to find Percy because Percy and Annabeth's whole strategy was 'move fast to keep ahead of the hoards of titans/giants/monsters chasing us down,' so while their enemies couldn't catch up with them, neither could their allies.

And then afterward. Its canon that Poseidon appears to Percy in dreams to communicate (SoM), and that he shows up after the big battles to check in with Percy in person to see if he's okay (BoTL) so maybe he did that when Percy was alone in his cabin on the Argo II? Or when he gets back to Sally's apartment after HoO? And Percy just didn't want to tell anyone because 1. all the roman demigods are terrified of Poseidon/Neptune, 2. Annabeth does NOT like Poseidon (or his kids - Percy is the only exception) and they generally don't talk about Poseidon in a family context so why would he tell her, especially after she was scared to tears of his Poseidon given powers and 3. Percy isn't close to any of the other people on the Argo II (Piper - he thinks Percy needs to be controlled - the one thing the sea hates, and Leo - who's terrified of Percy).

[glade-constellation]

Not Built For This

Sun x Reader

Summary : Sun is having a difficult time, finally cracking under the stress of his job after a run in with a rude parent. You’re there to comfort him.

Trigger Warning(s) : Mentions of abusive/neglectful parent and alcohol, accidental self harm, mention of decommissioning

Rating : T, SFW

Word Count : 2053

Extra : Just a little one-shot I wrote a while ago, sometime in January of this year. I apologize if it’s a little odd. I wrote it when I was having a bad time myself, but I really enjoy how it came out and wanted to share.

“Because I wasn’t built for this!”

Sun threw his hands into the air, bells on his wrist ringing out softly, before he fell to the floor in a ball. You knew he couldn’t cry. Fazbear was at least smart enough to not build their bots with working tear ducts and have them start sparking like a lit firework. But you swore, in that moment, Sun’s eyes glassed over with unshed tears. His shaking frame leaked of such pure anguish you wondered if he’d been built with a human soul. Even covered in stray marker lines and spots of sparkling glitter, he looked so violently drowned in his own emotional pain that you felt it yourself.

“I wasn’t built to do any of this! The ‘daycare attendant’ wasn’t even a role when the Plex was first built! Why do you think we had so many complaints over the years? Why I seem too overbearing or Moon sometimes acts far too frightening for the kids? That’s what we were built for. Performances. Short bursts of dramatic entertainment. Comedy and tragedy. We were theater performers.”

The hiccuping static coming from his voice box was too close to sounding like a cry. His frame creaked and groaned, sounding as if about to combust. Knowing how little maintenance the two of them received, the possibility was too high for your liking. “Sun, honey, I need you to listen-“

“The kids weren’t even supposed to be near us! We were supposed to be up on a stage, only interacting when engaging with the crowd.”

You took a step forward, hands rising as if to reach out to him, “Sun, please, you’re going to hurt-”

A soft crunching sound filled the air. “We’re had to learn all of this ourselves, no help from anyone. Playtime, time outs, kissing the boo-boos away, we’ve had to learn all of it by watching others. People who didn’t even like working here, didn’t like us.”

He didn’t even notice the now dented rays in his hands. “Sunny, please-”

“I try my hardest every day to be the best I can be and do the best I can do with what very limited resources I was given and no one seems to care about anything I do meaning Fazbear hates us and we’re so close to being decommissioned for something we can’t even help-”

“SUN!”

Besides the rattling of his frame, there was finally silence. You stood over his curled body, hands gently but firmly placed on the sides of his face. Even without visible pupils, you could see when his eyes finally focused with yours. With slow movements, you softly began to remove his hands from his now bent rays. “You’re hurting yourself.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he moves his hands with yours. He slides them towards you, reaching but not touching. An unasked request for comfort. As you reach to pull him forward, he grabs your hips and does the same. There’s a moment in the silence when he simply holds you to him. Then the dam finally breaks.

Sun buries his face into your stomach and sobs.

It’s not quiet or soft, full of shaky breaths and muffled whimpers. It’s not like the daycare kids who threw fits with sharp huffs and cries. Sun folds into you and he screams, static scratching through his voice box. It’s loud and aching and broken, so defeated that your own heart couldn’t help but break with him. He grips you like a lifeline as he cries, frame shivering and vibrating so roughly yours afraid he might actually begin to fall apart. A star in threat of collapsing in on itself.

You let him cry. You hold him as he screams and you try not to cry yourself. Your hand moves from his shoulder to one of his rays, gently tracing it in a way you knew calmed him down.

It’s a while before he finally calms down enough to speak coherent words, but what he says only breaks you farther. “I’m sorry,” drops from his mouth, so strained in static you almost can’t make it out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeats it over and over like a mantra. You open your mouth, going to shush him, but freeze as he continues. “Please please please, don’t decommission us, don’t throw us out. I can do this, I can do this, I’m not broken, just a small mishap. Won’t happen again, I can do it, I’m sorry.”

You’re having not of that.

Pull his face away from you, you drop down to your knees. Your gaze is firm as you stare into his eyes. “Sun, you listen to me and you listen to me good. This wasn’t your fault. None of this was. You said it yourself, you weren’t built for this. Nothing about what you do in the daycare is part of a program you or Moon own.”

You stop for a moment, just long enough to cup your hands against the sides of his face. He’s still crying, but he’s listening, and that’s what matters right now. “But you want to know something? That makes what you do in here so fucking brilliant. You care for these kids almost every day, playing with them and cleaning their messes and kissing their hurts away, and you do it so much better than any of the human assistants I’ve seen sulking in here before me. You may not have been built for this but you do it so beautifully that I wouldn’t have known any better unless you or Moon told me. The fact that you had to learn how to do all of this while locked away in here with no help but your own two eyes is frankly far more astounding than Fazbears’ ability to create your AIs. How you haven’t lost it up until now is a fucking wonder.” You shake your head, chuckling.

“But maybe that’s just a testament to you two’s innate ability to love with all your being. When you two commit to loving something, you give yourself away to it. I watch you with those kids all the time and you treat them like a parent would their own children. As a parent should love their children. You spend hours upon hours keeping this daycare in working order without any help, not because you’re programmed to but because you love doing it. That kind of emotion isn’t something you can just replicate. The level of humanity I see in you and Moon far surpasses most of actual humanity that exists on this Earth today.

“If some kid’s abusive bitch of a mother wants to come in and call you a worthless machine because her kid love you far more than her, you take any word that comes out of her mouth with a fucking grain of salt. That’s her problem to work through, not yours. She doesn’t see what you do here. She obviously doesn’t see what you do for her own kid every single day she’s off getting drunk.

“What matters is what those who actually care about you think. The kids love you. Both of you. They were freaking out the day you guys went to maintenance, some actually started crying. Made all those Get Well cards for you two, remember? I highly doubt Fazbear is going to decommission one of their most beloved animatronics from one drunk lady’s comment. They’d have hell to pay.” You bring him forward, just enough to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “Hell that I would raise for you.”

Sun falls forwards slightly, head hitting your chest as he pulls you close again. He moves you to the side just slightly, throwing a leg under you so you’re no longer resting on your knees. You throw an arm over his shoulder as he begins to rock the both of you, your other hand coming up to the back of his faceplate to hold him. It's another moment before either of you speak.

You can hear Sun mumble something, but whatever was said is buried in the sound of his fans buzzing on overdrive. You hum in question as you trace patterns aimlessly on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he says again, “Moon says it too.” You feel more than see when his rays shrink slightly into his faceplate, “I’m sorry.”

You snort, “Hey, what did I just say? No more of that. It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.” He pulls back from you, eyes looking down instead of towards you. “That was really childish on my part. Parents complain all the time. That shouldn’t have affected me that much.”

You shush him, placing a hand over his mouth despite knowing that wasn’t going to do much. It still had the desired outcome of shutting him up. “Sun, did you listen to anything I just said?” He nodded, and you quickly continued before he started up again. “I didn’t explicitly say it, but everything I just explained can also be used to say that both you and Moon are extremely overworked.” You give a huff as you roll your eyes, “Give an AI sentience and then make them work until the break. Typical Fazbear right there.”

You feel the speaker behind Sun’s faceplate vibrate as he speaks up, “But we were built to work-”

There’s an audible smack as you facepalm. “Oh my god, I spill my guts out trying to calm you down and you listened to none of it,” you groan. You grab his chin to tilt his face towards yours, “Sunny, honey, it doesn’t matter that it was just one parent telling you something you’ve already heard and gotten over before. You may have been built to work tirelessly but you literally just said you weren’t built to handle this kind of work. Plus, I don’t think Fazbear takes into account that they build living beings. Straw on the camel’s back and all that. You and Moon have one too many things going on up in that pretty little head right now. It couldn’t handle the additional yelling and triggered all your pent up emotions. It’s normal. Happens to me too. Don’t apologize for simply being alive.”

You drop your hand as you finish, watching as Sun blinks at you. His rays flex in and out in no particular pattern, something you’ve realized means he’s having an internal conversation. He finally seems to come back into focus after a moment, simply staring before moving a hand to gently cup your cheek. You laugh slightly as his hand covers the right side of your head but lean into it. He looks like he wants to smile, but whatever he’s thinking is obviously weighing on him. “You. . .really see us as people.”

You can't quite tell if it was a statement or a question, but you nod all the same. A confused look crossed your face, “I mean, yeah? You may be made of metal and silicone, and held together by desperation and glitter glue since the mechanics can’t do their job for shit, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have just as much intelligence and emotion as any human. Probably more, not gonna lie. I’ve seen Moon hack into things he really shouldn’t more times than I would like to admit. You have this unbelievable talent to read a person’s body language from across the room and change the mood of the whole room to fit their needs.

“And like I mentioned earlier, you two don’t half ass anything. When you give, you do so with your whole being. Simple machines don’t have things like love and trust. You two are the definition of it.”

You could feel as Sun ran his thumb across your cheek as you spoke. As you looked back up at him, you were greeted with a soft look. Sun’s rays slowly pinwheeled around his head as he smiled at you. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back as he pulled you forward. Your breath caught suddenly, your heart beat suddenly too obvious inside you.

He seemed to second guess himself at the last second, or maybe you had simply read too much into that act. Hugging you close, Sun reciprocated your earlier forehead kiss. “Thank you,” he mumbled softly.

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Twenty-Six

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Twenty-Six: Simple. Practical. Easy

Zoro doesn’t know how to deal with all of…this.

Really – he may be many things, but dealing with…feelings is simply not his forte. Nor when he has to talk things out. And, God save him, when he’s given the task to comfort others.

Zoro silently rests himself on one of Raya’s stools, standing on the precipice of not knowing whether he should leave, but not quite wanting to just yet. He flips the beautifully crafted Enma between his fingers, a soft frown set on his lips.

With swords…well, you don’t really need to do all of that. You don’t gotta bare your soul to it. To comfort it and tell it everything’s going to be okay. To apologise sincerely and express your own grief.

After all, in Zoro’s opinion, a sword is just a sword. You swing, you slice, you offer gratitude to it, and it’s a job done.

Zoro knows, that if Raya was here, she would’ve adamantly disagreed with that logic. She would’ve said something about how swords have souls, and that they understand the complexities of human feelings as much as we do. For a split second, Zoro takes an odd solace in that thought, his fingers fumbling over Raya’s lovingly wrapped leather over the hilt of his sword.

But after a paused moment, realisation flickers across the samurai’s face. He looks away from the humming Enma, helplessly turning his head around within the empty workshop. Out of all things, he’s thinking about what she thinks? He kisses his teeth. Some resolve he has.

See, swords don’t make him feel like this. They don’t hurt his head or press heavily against his chest with no way of escape. They lift, they slice and they charge onwards, tongue constantly sharpening for their next foe.

Swords don’t scream. Swords don’t cry or grieve or burst into flames when a tragedy occurs. They don’t hiss or give you the silent treatment, either.

Swords don't have skin, where inked fingers can trace over its body so delicately, so intimately, that it feels like Zoro’s accidentally intruded in on a forbidden moment. Swords don’t sarcastically wave at him from a distance, either, and flick a switch upwards to keep his watchful eye away.

And eyes. Swords don’t have eyes. They don’t have eyes, brim with fire he’s never experienced before. With grit and hatred that pools suffocatingly around his presence. They don’t show their wonder and curiosity and wisdom through the use of pupils, nor does their quick-wittedness or sharpness translate through the use of looking.

 Only through metal and a sharpening stone do they offer their most acceptable use.

And on that thought, nor do they have lips – soft, plump ones that fold underneath a little appearance of teeth, deeply thinking, considering a problem that secretly renders them anxious. The only tell of their discomfort being of their pulled-in lips and softly chewing teeth.

They don’t cry. They don’t have the power to spin their own bodies around like a threatening whip, broken words unfolding at the tip of their tongue, tears pooling up in shells that do their best to keep them at bay. They don’t make him feel…

They don’t make him feel…

Well, how did he actually feel?

The looming samurai shakes his head with a grunt, running a hand through his tousled hair.

No. Fuck feelings. He doesn’t need those.

All Zoro knows is that his chest felt tight and his breath rendered shallow after he bore witness to those stinging words.

And unlike some people, swords don’t withhold their thoughts or feelings. They're always straightforward and honest, without any reservations towards Zoro, and they most certainly do not prefer to disclose their inner secrets to the Surgeon of Death over the likes of him.

Swords are swords. They’re simple. They’re practical. They’re easy.

But this…

Whatever’s churning around in his stomach, whatever’s making his heart stutteringly displace its beats…

Well, he hasn’t felt this way since…

He clenches his jaw, the muscles of his neck tensing. His eyes flicker to the Wado Ichimonji, its broken shards nestling within a makeshift cocoon of a dark blue blanket.

He hasn’t felt this way since Kuina’s death.

Zoro raises his eyebrows. Is that was this feeling is? Is it grief? Is he grieving over the old man the way he grieved for Kuina?

Or is it guilt? The guilt of standing there and watching him and doing fuck all.

No, Raya was right. There's no honour in spectating, in standing by while someone else suffers. And yet, that's exactly what he did when she needed him the most.

The weight of his inaction settles heavily on his shoulders, a burden he's carried with him for far too long. He thought he had buried those feelings deep down, thought he had moved on from the guilt and regret that had haunted him since Kuina's death. But now, staring at the shattered remains of her, he realizes that they were never truly gone.

He reaches out a trembling hand to touch the Wado Ichimonji, his fingers tracing the familiar contours of the broken blade. Memories flood his mind, memories of a time when he was young and foolish, when he believed that strength alone could conquer any obstacle.

What would Kuina think if she could see him now? Would she be proud of the man he's become, or would she be disappointed by his failures?

The thought gnaws at him, twisting like a knife in his gut. He can almost hear her voice, sharp and cutting, chastising him for his weakness, for his inability to protect those he cares about.

Zoro squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out the memories, but they refuse to be silenced. They taunt him, torment him, reminding him of his shortcomings, of his failures.

If it were Kuina instead of Sukiyaki in that moment, would he have ignored her honour code? Would he have furiously snapped at her to shut up and to let him fight? Would he have saved her regardless, and interfered with her martyred resolve?

Zoro holds his breath.

Yes. The simple answer would be yes. He would have.

Zoro's heart twists with the weight of his realization. He knows, deep down, that if it were Kuina in that moment instead of Sukiyaki, he would have acted without hesitation. He would have thrown himself into the fray, risking everything to save her, consequences be damned.

But Sukiyaki was not Kuina, and Zoro's loyalty to the samurai code had bound him in place, like chains forged from honour and duty. It's a bitter truth to swallow, knowing that his commitment to honour had cost him the opportunity to intervene and potentially save someone's life.

The echo of Kuina's voice rings in his ears, her words a cutting reminder of his perceived weakness. She would have scolded him for his failure to live up to the ideals they had both cherished, for his inability to protect those in need. And as the weight of her disappointment settles upon him like a suffocating blanket, Zoro can't help but feel the crushing weight of his own inadequacy.

And amidst the pain and the guilt, there's a sense of profound loneliness that threatens to consume him whole. He is adrift in a sea of his own making, lost in the depths of his own despair.

A shuffle of heavy feet burrows its way into the heel of the workshop, a long shadow dancing through the soft splinters of candlelight. There’s a heavy silence, and Zoro, for a second, doesn’t want to turn around. His chest tightens once more, teeth clenching hard together.

Is it Raya? It must be. But is he even able to face her right now?

He doesn’t know. Most of all – he doesn’t want to. Because right now, he’s not ready.

He sits on the stool, hands firmly gripping over the one and only thing that offers him a modicum of comfort. His sword. So practical. So easy. So simple.

“Zoro-ya?” A male voice reverberates within the fragile air. Zoro hears him advance a few steps further, and he can just feel the questioning expression of the man behind him - one eyebrow raised, a pair of dark eyes narrowing, arms tucking comfortably together.

Law’s voice interferes with the silence once more, his voice louder, and a lot closer now. Zoro, still, does not turn around. Simply, he does not want to.

“What are you doing here?” Law asks.

[wandering-winchesters]

The Mark of Cain

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 1,718 Trigger Warnings: Death, mentions of strangulation and bruises. Summary: Dean has the mark of cain, and Y/N is normally the one who can calm him. However, this time things go too far. Requested: Yes, @deanwinchesterwifesstuff "idk if you do Mark of Cain dean x reader, if yess, maybe dean gets the Mark. And the reader is like his Rock when the Mark wants to take over? Then the Mark does it, and he is in such a rage that he kills the reader when she is trying to get him to calm back down?, in the end he regrets it and burst into tears while he holds her lifeless body? If not its totally fine♥️" A/N: Hope you enjoy this one! Requests are open.

Masterlist

The 2 months since Dean was given the Mark of Cain, had been long ones. It took awhile for us to figure out how to calm him, once he reached that level of absolute fury. It was by no means an easy accomplishment, I had turned into a type of security blanket for him. Sam only aggravating him when he was at that level of rage. I was the only one who could successfully calm him down, even that took hours at times. A lot of the time, I was covered in bruises after the fact. Not intentional, but due to how hard he would grab my wrists, or my arms when he was angry. It wasn’t Dean though, I knew that. It didn’t make it any easier to handle in the moment. Every time the anger would wear off, he would apologize profusely, showering me in love and affection. Yet every time, I would excuse myself and find my way to the bathroom, tears and anxiety overflowing. I hid it from him, not wanting to make him feel any worse, as he cannot be held responsible for how he acts when he enters that blind rage. Sam knows how it affects me and he wishes he could help more. However, anytime he intervenes the situation grows grim and you worry that Dean is going to kill Sam. 

It has been hard, the friendship that we had before no longer existent most of the day. The majority of our conversation taken up by him apologizing, and the rest of it by me talking him down. I am exhausted most of the time, barely getting any sleep. Fearing that something will happen while I am asleep, or that he will come in and kill me in his sleep. I have all but accepted my death at this point. I am not strong enough to push him off of me, or fight back. Not when he is Dean, nor when he has the strength provided by the mark. I have nightmares about how rough he is with me, his hugs and touch something I used to look forward to, but now I dread it. Never knowing which Dean I am going to encounter. I have turned to Sam for comfort now, his hugs the one bright spot to my day. He’s like the older brother I never had. On the other hand, I loved Dean. I have always loved Dean, but that mentality has been put on the back burner. I could no longer share a bed with him on sleepless nights, too scared that he would strangle me in my sleep. 

Today has been a relatively easy day, Dean has been himself. It’s been a quiet day in the bunker, resting and I had been taking the time to research the mark more. I am beyond ready to have my Dean back. Im snapped back to reality, hearing yelling coming from the kitchen, I close my laptop and hurry into the other room, anxiety immediately filling me to the brim. Dean and Sam are in the kitchen, the island between them, Dean verbally accosting Sam, and I can see him scanning the room for an object that he can chuck at him. 

“Hey, Dean, look at me.” I say, wedging myself in between him and Sam. I place one hand on either side of his face and try to bring his attention down to me. He snaps however, and grabs my wrist tightly pushing me roughly away from him, which causes me to slam my hip into the countertop. I take a breath, gaining my composure. Trying to ignore the throbbing in my hip, another bruise that will surely be seen later. 

“Shut up!” He growls, glaring at me. 

“Dean, love, please. It’s just you and me. You’re okay, but you gotta calm down handsome.” I say, walking between him and Sam once more. I get him to focus on me, and I can see in his eyes that he’s not himself. They are darker than normal, the only emotion registering in his eyes raw untamed fury. I can feel fear easing up my spine, I can normally sense some part of Dean within him, but not this time. The mark has fully taken over all of his emotions, all his actions and I am struggling to find an ounce of Dean himself. I plead with him verbally and physically touch him, trying to calm him ever so slightly. It seems to be working, the scowl on his face lessening and the anger emanating off of him seems to be decreasing. I allow myself to relax slightly, continuing to coax him down. That is, until something in him snaps and he turns on me. Anger igniting within him, bright and hot. His hands grasp my biceps firmly, shoving me away from him slamming me into the wall, which knocks the air out of me. Sam moves to intercede, but Dean punches him hard and quick, right to the face. Causing Sam, to fall as well, hitting his head on the counter and crumpling to the floor. I quickly back away from him, trying to put as much space between us while also trying to talk him down. I reach for my gun, which is tucked into the back of my waistband. It’s there, but could I really shoot Dean? I knew the answer as soon as the thought crossed my mind, no. I could never kill him, even if it meant losing my own life. He corners me, his shoulders puffed out and the veins in his forehead protruding. His eyes are dark, almost as black as a Demons. I close my eyes as he approaches, wrap my arms around my body and accept the fate that seems to be upon me. 

“Its okay Dean, I forgive you. I love you Dean. It’s alright baby, its okay. No matter what, it’s okay. I love you.” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, but repeating all of the words I’ve wanted to say for so long now. Over, and over again. Until his hands wrap around my throat, constricting and cutting off my oxygen. I open my eyes, pleading with him silently. But it’s not my Dean that looks back. I keep my eyes open for as long as I can, before my field of vision starts to shrink, black starting to overtake the green of his eyes as my world slowly fades to black.  

----

Dean

I blink, slowly coming back to my senses. My muscles aching, tired from whatever I had done while under the control of the mark. I come to and all I can see around me, is the mess. It looks like a tornado made its way through the bunker. Broken dishes scattered across the floor, new holes littering the wall, likely made by my fists. 

“Sammy? Y/N?” I call out, utterly confused as to why they’re not here with me. Normally Y/N is the one in front of me, snapping me out of the haze I am in caused by the mark. I don’t hear a response. I walk into the kitchen, and a wave of nausea rushes over me. Sam is there, crouching next to Y/N’s lifeless body. I run to her side, kneeling down and cradling her body against my chest. I check for a pulse, but there isn’t one to be found. Tears prick my eyes, my lungs feel as if someone has put them into a vice and they’re slowly turning it tighter, cutting off all of my oxygen. I gasp for air, sobs working their way from my throat. I gently trace my fingers over her throat, the hand shaped bruises starting to form. I look up at Sam, who is also in tears. His body language showing defeat. 

“Did I do this, Sam?” He doesn’t answer me at first, so I repeat my question, raising my voice slightly. “Did I do this to her?” He nods his head in response, his lips opening to speak but no words coming out. Overwhelming guilt floods my body, I pull her closer to me, rocking back and forth slowly, murmuring apologies and pressing kisses to her forehead. This was my biggest fear as soon as I got the mark, I tried to convince her to leave, but she refused. She was my closest friend, the one I would tell things that I couldn’t bear to tell Sam. I wanted more with her than we ever had. But now, she’s just gone. There’s no hope for the future that I wanted, I never got to ask her if she wanted that future with me. It is tearing my souls to pieces. I cradle her head in my hand, brushing away the hair from her face and she looks so peaceful, I could almost imagine she was sleeping. But that was not the case, she was gone and there was nothing I could do to change that. She had spent her life taking care of me, helping me, but at what cost? Did she know that I was capable of killing her?

"Dean." Sam says, his voice soft and concerned. I look up at him, tears still streaming down my face. "I came too, right before she died. She could've shot you, but she wouldn't. Her last words were that she forgave you and that she loves you. " He says, his face stained with tears as well. I nod, no words coming to mind, no response appropriate to the situation. My conscience on fire, unbearable pain and guilt filling my senses. I the guilt of her dying at my heads completely consuming.

"Fuck, Y/N, I am so sorry sweetheart, I love you so very much." I whisper, refusing to let her go from my arms.

Time passes slowly, the sun sets and rises and I refuse to move from that spot. Sam had called Bobby had come. He was in with me now, trying to coax me away from her body. Telling me we needed to give her a hunter's funeral. I couldn't bring myself to leave her. I didn't know how to move forward, living with the guilt left on my shoulders. I will always love her.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Chaos Gremlin and they Know it

Walk with me for my next bit of madness.

What if…what if…What if between Obi Wan and Qui gon, and later Anakin and Obi wan, Obi Wan was considered the more chaotic one. Like the reason that he hadn’t been knighted is because the council is honestly a little afraid about what they would be unleashing on the galaxy if he no longer has any supervision (Rancis Oppo secretly had a study done, any mission that Obi Wan undertakes without Qui Gonn there every minute is 25% more Ridiculous, capital intended, over all). And the council is concerned about giving him Anakin to raise, but not for the sad(barely knighted, watched his master die, trauma) reasons but because no one knows what will happen with two like Kenobi.

Just picture Mace Windu finding out about Anakin’s secret relationship, his violent tendencies, and his slight instability and he drops his head into his hands and goes ‘Thank the Force, he takes after Qui Gonn’. Also picture Mace Windu hearing about Ahsoka Tano getting herself captured and hunted for sport with other younglings and somehow rescuing them all and just bursting into tears because ‘Fuck, it skipped a generation.’ 

When they landed on Tatooine, Qui Gonn Jinn very deliberately left Obi Wan behind. From hard won experience he knew that if Obi Wan set foot on a planet with as much as a single slave ring he would immediately be abducted by a slaver. Then he would somehow start no less than four slave uprisings, rescue some endangered or unknown creature, break at least 3 bones, and then find, make worse, and fix the only blood fued on the planet.  And frankly Qui Gonn does not have time to deal with restructuring a planet's economy after his little chaos gremlin collapses the one that was based on sentient trafficking, not today. Not again.

By the way, Anakin is the 4th ‘Chosen One’ that Qui Gonn has brought home in five years in an attempt to get the Council to knight his Padawan.  Qui Gonn loves his Chaos Goblin of a son dearly but he’s tired, he wants to start going on missions that don’t end in ridiculous again. Or be hyper paranoid when they go normally. 

Half the Jedi were confused or resistant to the fact that the Sith were back. Until they heard who was on the mission. Then they all went ‘That tracks’ and moved on.  Anakin thinks that he is being watched for ‘Chosen one’ reasons. He is not, the Council quickly realizes that he somehow is also a mitigating influence on Obi Wan (the amount of ridiculous and chaos in the mission drops by a full 75% with Anakin, this however does not drop it down to even a solar system's distance to anything normal).

Mace Windu is deeply, deeply impressed by Anakin. And it is mostly due to the fact that he has spent more than three days in constant contact with Obi Wan without turning strange, or a cult leader.  Mace Windu, personally, knows about 6 cults throughout the galaxy dedicated to Obi Wan Kenobi. Three only exist on their own planets (one of which is the entire planet’s religion.), two involve multiple planets in specific sectors, and there is one down in a particular section of level 37 on Coruscant (Anyone who enters it comes back a little strange).

Look, I am not saying that this Obi Wan is an Eldritch Horror wrapped in a Disney Princess, but… this Obi Wan is an Eldritch Horror wrapped in a Disney Princess. There are scattered reports that the three of the last beings that tried to mug Obi Wan blinked awake 6 days later, having reevaluated all of their life choices, and now in contact with some heretofore unknown long lost relative that they desperately need to help.

It should be noted that Palpatine abjectly hates Obi Wan, not just because he is Anakin's master.  It is also because he can sense that if Obi Wan even hinted he wanted more power it would be given to him, no questions, plots. 

Every couple of months the Council debates sending Obi Wan to work in the Senate for a while, just to see what would happen.  It always boils down to the fact that they may actually need that building at some point. As an excuse it gets weaker all the time.

And Anakin is kind of in the dark for most of his padawanship. He thinks the council hate him, they do not. He thinks that Obi Wan is the perfect Jedi. If he had said that to anyone in the Jedi Order at any point (including Obi Wan), the Jedi in question would hurt themselves laughing. Palpatine tries to use that, to some success, until Palpatine uses his influence to get Anakin knighted young.

Through some hand waving series of events Anakin brings up to Mace Windu that the Council didn’t want him knighted because they don’t trust him. Windu just blinks at him for a really long moment before telling him that it was not him they were concerned about. He goes onto say that yes, that without a war and in normal circumstances the council would like to give Anakin a few more years of missions with other masters, so he could see what actual normal missions look like (Frankly no one was surprised when Obi Wan went looking for a bounty hunter and managed to find a clone army) and he is a little younger than the average knight but that is offset by how well Anakin has handled having Obi Wan Kenobi for a Master. 

Anakin just goes ‘What?’ very quietly.

Windu sighs. ‘Do you understand how impressive it is that you have spent the last 10 year in almost constant contact with Obi Wan Kenobi and haven’t developed some weird ability (Bant Eerin, Quinlan Vos, Reeft), accidentally rediscovered a lost darkside faction to follow you around clucking (Garen Muln), develop a habit of finding the weirdest Force artifact in any given location (Luminara), or have become a really obvious cult leader. And if you have become a cult leader I thank you for being discreet.’

‘Cult leader!!?’

Windu shrugged, ‘Current official count is 6 cults dedicated to Obi Wan specifically, though I’ll eat my left boot if the 212th doesn’t become the 7th within the next six months, I am already prepared for the fact that it will spread to the entire GAR in a year’

Then he hands Anakin a piece of flimsy, telling him that this was an official approval of his marriage by the Jedi council, on the grounds that the marriage was clearly ‘The Will of the Force’. While Anakin gapes at him, Windu clarifies that this covers Padme in case of pushback for marrying a Jedi. She would be considered as part of the Order under a religious exemption.  She may have to recuse herself from Jedi matters in the Senate (that was up to the Senate Ethics committee) but it also means that the next time she gets a death threat, they could deploy all of their resources instead of just whatever the Senate approved of. 

‘The Will of the Force’ Anakin said weakly.

Windu smiles, ‘you have no idea how much joy it gives me to be able to write those words on an official report to the senate. The pedantic bastards can’t argue against it because of the treaty with the Jedi Order. You have my thanks for that alone.’

Overwhelmed Anakin blurts out what happened on Tatooine, with the Tusken village. Windu clicks his tongue absently, “Hmm, I had wondered why your aura had become a bit darker, but I thought it was because of Geonosis. I’ll get you set up with my therapist, they handle most of the Shadows as well. Once they sign off, we’ll get in touch with the Tuskans to see if there are any reparations you can make.”

And Anakin is just standing there, Absolutely flabbergasted because the Chancellor had him completely convinced that those two secrets would be the WORST things that he could admit to.

Wnidu throws out another deep sigh, ‘Do you think that you are the only Jedi to act in anger with huge consequences? I created an entire lightsaber form because I had so much anger that I needed somewhere to put it. Half the Shadows have actively fallen, some multiple times. Your own Master was abducted by slavers at 16, two hours later their ship landed on an inhabitable world, they unlocked the cages, and the entire crew committed ritual suicide. To this day we have no idea what Obi Wan did to them. We preach self control so much, Anakin Skywalker, because Force users have the potential to do massive amounts of harm in a very short timeframe but because such small slips have such huge consequences we have a rather…different view of what is unforgivable.’

Two months later Anakin’s 501st is in battle with the 212th. He thought his men were a bit unhinged (and liked it like that, everything is better with the proper application of explosives) but then Grievous kicked Obi Wan into a large stone/small cliff so hard that it rattled Anakin’s teeth. 6 troopers immediately stopped firing to sprint through blaster fire to Obi Wan’s position. Anakin could have sworn that the blasters bolts simply passed through the 212th’s medic, Fizz, without slowing. At the same time three companies of the 212th, led by Cody and Ghost, roared and dogpiled Grievous, with his four lightsabers, and the 30 battle droids that he had with him. They also stopped using blasters at about that point. Anakin had not known that the clones were strong enough to rend metal apart like that. 

The 501st can only stand and watch in befuddled awe and horror as the enemy is decimated by a suddenly feral 212th. The carnage only stops when there are no more enemies and the medics declare that Obi Wan will be ok with some time in a Bacta tank.  

It is not long after that battle that Obi Wan finds out about decommissioning.  He is on Coruscant, in the council chamber itself, but the atmosphere on planets, moons, and planetoids (both inhabited and not) across the galaxy begins to tremble. For a brief moment residents of Coruscant would swear that the sky turned 212th gold. 

Shaak Ti reports that decommissioning is written into the contract that the Republic/Jedi have with the Kaminoans. That it is not something that the Kaminoans can just stop. 

Obi Wan decides it is time that he speaks with the Senate about this. The Council effectively gives him a thumbs up, shoves him out the door and are very very glad that they do not have to deal with any of this. 

There is no recording, nor any true recollection, as to what Obi Wan Kenobi says to the Senate that day. Only at the end, the Kaminoan delegation (along with nearly 6000 other delegations) is crying with shame at their actions, Palpatine and a good half of his closest supporters are bleeding out of their facial orifices, and a bill has been passed giving the clones rights, pay and backpay, and a planet of their very own. 

[lurkingshan]

Hi Shan!

I hope you're doing well and thank you for all your metas and recs. They are always such a great read!

I have realised that I am quite anxious about currently airing shows not sticking the landing (IFYLITA mostly, I only seem to care about this one recently). You may have previously written about it(?), but which dramas (BL or otherwise), do you think have the most satisfying endings?

Oh, and bonus question, do you have an ending that you approve of, was really good and all, but you would never ever rewatch it because of *too many feels*?

Hey Kat! Thanks for the ask. I totally get the fear of a bad ending, it has soured many a drama experience, and sometimes it really does take you off guard. I feel like when most dramas end I'm just happy if the ending doesn't retroactively ruin anything, let alone it actually being meaningfully good. I had to think about this for a minute, but I do think there are some dramas where the ending is so good it actually enhances the overall story and watch experience.

First, a few that I would classify as having really lovely happy endings that feel very well-earned after lots of pain and strife

My Lovely Sam Soon

This drama is a classic from 2005, and it caught me off guard with how invested I got. It's a pretty standard romcom about a quirky "fat" (*stares into the camera*) woman who gets hired by a chaebol restaurant owner. They start out adversarial before eventually falling in love, with the hero working through his surprising feelings for this woman who does not fit his image of his ideal partner and the heroine overcoming her own body image and self-esteem issues. Sounds basic, right? But something about it just works. At the end, the heroine sings a love song to her beau with her terrible singing voice while he looks on adoringly, and something about it was just so touching that I actually burst into tears.

My Mister

One of my favorite endings of any drama ever. Our heroine Ji An has been through it, and via a platonic relationship with her older boss, she gets the support she needs to turn her life around. I spent half of this drama white knuckling in fear that they would try to turn the relationship romantic, but they stayed true to the purpose of this narrative. Instead of a romance, we end with the two of them running into each other on the street after a time skip. They meet eyes, he sees that she is happy and well and they just smile gently at each other. Perfection.

The Untamed

Possibly a controversial pick, given that this is significantly altered from the novel, which has a much better resolution to the romance. But given the constraints this adaptation was under and the need to keep the relationship ambiguous for censorship reasons, I think this show did a remarkable job of getting the romance across. This ending where they meet again on a hillside, Lan Wangji calls his name, Wei Wuxian turns and we see a smile slowly light his face up is absolutely beautiful and a very romantic note to leave us on.

This second group of endings are more bittersweet resolutions, but ones I thought really added to the poignancy of the stories and made the relationships feel all the more epic

Bad Buddy

Something that always surprises me about the way people talk about BBS is they often seem to...forget that the ending is actually really fucking sad? I guess because the couple is together and still happy with each other, folks overlook the deep melancholy of the circumstances under which they are able to maintain their relationship. So let me remind you! Pat and Pran are in a long distance relationship, they are still not out to anyone but their closest friends, and they are forced to put on a charade in front of their families so everyone can carry on pretending. They are still hiding, their family relationships are irreparably altered, and we know it's a constant strain on them. It's a perfect bittersweet note to drive home the serious sacrifices they are making in the name of filial piety even as they refuse to give each other up.

Crash Landing on You

Switzerland, the true MVP of this story. Se Ri and Jung Hyeok do not have the option of simply choosing one of their home countries to live in together, and both have obligations they cannot abandon at home. And so in the end they settle for being mostly apart, taking time together in neutral territory as often as they can manage. Is it enough? No, but it's better than moving on from each other.

Goblin

This story is a tragedy and it stuck to its guns on that while also finding a way to give the characters (and the viewers) some kind of happiness to hang onto. Shin is doomed to live forever and watch Eun Tak die over and over again, but at least he also gets to meet and be with her before each death. Him meeting her again in her second life, with the looming knowledge that he will outlive her again and be left alone, is a perfect combination of joyful and mournful, very appropriate for this story.

I Promised You the Moon

One of my favorite romance endings ever, because it does what the genre rarely allows in acknowledging that the couple may not, in fact, stay together forever, and that's okay. Oh-Aew decides to take Teh back because he wants to be with him and he hopes they may be better equipped to deal with their issues in the future, not because he feels confident things will not go wrong again. In fact, he directly acknowledges that they probably will. It's a very mature resolution and a fitting end to a coming of age story.

Someday or One Day

This time travel story ends with the leads deciding to break the loop they have been living in, sacrificing their romantic relationship in the process. It's a brave and selfless choice made to protect others, and the narrative rewards them by giving them some hope of another path to each other in the future. We leave them meeting again at a different time with a significant age gap and no memory of each other, and a hope that they will find a way to each other in this new reality.

These next two kind of stand on their own as unique, as I have not seen other dramas that pull off what their endings do

The Glory

The best thing about this drama is that it's a revenge story where the revenge is fully carried out, no one is given unearned redemption, and every character gets exactly what they deserve. That probably shouldn't be revelatory, but in my experience, it is! Asian dramas love to hand out unearned redemption to villainous characters, but this drama was simply Not. Having. It. It was such a satisfying watch.

Utsukushii Kare

The ending of this one pulled off the neat trick of reframing everything that came before it, flipping the perspective so that nothing about previous events actually changed, but our understanding of what it all meant was turned on its head. This is a difficult writing trick that requires deep understanding of your characters' psychology and full command of every detail of your story, and it was incredibly impressive. It instantly turned it into one of my all-time favorites.

Bonus question: Dramas with endings that were fantastic, but that made me never want to watch again because of the feels

I had to think on this one a bit because I actually really enjoy getting into my feelings over dramas and regularly torture myself by rewatching sad shit. But I did come up with two dramas that I probably won't ever watch again for different reasons: The Red Sleeve and Secret Love Affair. With TRS, it's rooted in a specific kind of pain that I found quite brutal as a viewer: the total denial of any moment of happy catharsis, which was an intentional and appropriate choice to underline its message. This is a love story that the heroine did not want or choose, and so she never gives in and embraces it, and neither can we. The show refuses to romanticize the concubine life and I respect it, but boy was it hard to watch.

With SLA, it's more a matter of the anxiety it provokes. That drama was, hands down, the most stressful watch experience of my life, even more than thrillers that are intentionally trying to stress me out! The romance is actually super compelling but you can't relax for a moment because everything is on a knife's edge. And the ending was not at all happy, but somehow still managed to feel like a breath of fresh air for both the heroine and us, because we finally escaped that confining dynamic she was trapped in. A perfect ending to a brilliant drama and also a watch experience I am not looking to repeat.

[eleganzadellarosa]

Coffee Kisses ☕️ | Part 2

pairing: barista!kyungsoo x poc reader (ft. Baekhuyn)

genre: fluff, smut, angst, strangers to lovers

warnings: SEXUAL CONTENT MDNI (unprotected sex (wrap it up pretty please), pet names (baby, princess, love)), fast paced plot

word count: 3.3k+

A/N: Part 2 of Coffee Kisses! This is told from the reader's POV. The end of the story is written in 3rd person to help everything flow better. Enjoy and thanks for reading :)

taglist: @sleepingbeautydo

Part 1 can be found here

The first time I stepped foot in the cafe, I didn't expect to leave with a newfound obsession for coffee or a crush. It was almost impossible to leave without one and I'm talking about the latter. It was impressive, how much care he seemed to put into every order, determined to bring perfection to each cup.

I lied to myself saying I came back everyday just for the deep flavors of the espressos when in reality it was always for him. Maybe not the first time, but definitely every time after that. That's just how addicted I was. He was my cup of espresso. Something I needed every day to feel awake and alive.

The eye contact snatched my breath away, made my heart skip a beat. I thought maybe time had stopped every time he looked my way. And what was that look on his face? He was smiling each day he saw me walk through that door, seeing a familiar face to bring a sense of comfort.

Then like a flash of lightning, I had to go away without even having the chance to tell him. I hated to do it but I had good reason to, I just wish I could have kept in touch. I tried, I really did but I wasn't so lucky to be given the chance to have him in my life, even if just as friends.

I counted down the days to my return, planning out how it would go in my head. I wanted to live my fairytale moment, bursting through the doors for him to run up and pull me into a kiss. That wasn't going to happen, I didn't even know him like that but a girl can dream right? Would he want to see me after so long? Would I have the opportunity to tell him what happened? He was such a nice person and I hope he didn’t think I took that for granted.

I sat on the bus, window seat as always, heart racing the closer it drove to its destination. The same bus stop I would get off on every day just to see him standing behind the counter, doing what he does best.

The ride seemed so long or maybe it was my rapid heart beat slowing down the time. I was starting to doubt coming here, all due to my budding anxiety, or maybe it was guilt. I did want to tell him, but that day was so busy and I couldn't wait much longer before I had to go home and get ready for my flight. Thinking back on it now, perhaps I should've done the cliche thing and wrote my number on a napkin and left it at my table with a cute "call me ;)" but I'm way too shy to do that.

I recognized where I was now but something was wrong. Did I get on the wrong one? Did I miss the stop? There's no way. I did this every day last year so even if I tried to forget, my body would remember. Yet, it was gone. The sign was taken down, the windows were boarded up; everything about it looked abandoned. I had no air to breathe and my heart ached with sadness. How much have I missed?

I tried to stop them but the tears fell from my eyes before I knew what was happening. I sat back down with a plop and hoped I pulled off not looking like my dog just died. I was to blame for not knowing all of this happened while I was away. I could only imagine how sad he must be not having his job anymore and based off of the nonexistent notice on the door, I don't think they moved locations. Even if we didn't talk about me and where I was for a whole year, I wanted to find a way to contact him so I could be his comfort.

Back home, I questioned if there was any reason for me to be back. The person I was most excited to see was gone and I didn't know where he went. Now I really regret not leaving him a note. I sat on my couch with my legs crossed trying to relax as much as I could. Getting on social media was best for times like these right? Now that I think about it, I signed out before I left and hadn't signed in since. There are probably a few people wondering where I went and I did just go cold turkey. Might as well add that to the list of things to feel guilty about.

Just as I thought, I had tons of notifications but one in particular caught my eye. I quickly straightened my slouched position and my eyes grew wide. NO WAY I shouted so loud that my hearing faded; my ears way of trying to protect me from going deaf. Kyungsoo had requested to follow me even though I'm not sure how he found my account. That was quickly answered when I saw he also follows Chanyeol.

Chanyeol was a great friend who I didn't really get to spend much time with since he was always so busy working in the studio. I've always been grateful for our friendship but now I'd have to give him an extra tight hug next time I saw him, and knowing his personality, it would put a big smile on his face. I had lots of messages from him but they’d have to wait until I handled what I felt was “more important”. I didn't hesitate to follow Kyungsoo back and I hoped he took initiative to message me first just so I know everything was cool between us. I shouldn’t be so worried but it felt like I messed up a relationship we could’ve built. I’d have to play the waiting game now and see what was to become of us.

It's been two months and I've honestly forced myself to forget about it. I shouldn't feel so upset since I did the same thing to him, but he doesn't even seem to have been in his account to see that I followed him back. As much as I tried to forget, there's also a part of me that feels desperate to call Chanyeol and ask if he's heard from him.

Maybe I could build up the courage after I have a cup of coffee. I know it wouldn't be the same as Kyungsoo's but this new place has good reviews and there's a bus stop not too far from it. It's six stops away from my house, so as long as I keep track of how many times the bus stops, I can keep myself occupied until then.

45 minutes have passed and the bus is on stop number five. It seemed to have been stopping for a bit longer this time but I paid no mind to it. It wasn't until I saw a figure standing toward the front of the bus that I looked up and saw a man, who was breathing heavily and looking straight at me. Taking an even closer look, his clothes were wet. Oh shit was it raining? I totally didn’t have an umbrella.

He wasn't far away but I found myself squinting just to make sure what I was seeing was real. I hadn't recognized him on first glance because he looked different. Even more handsome than I last remember and he had a head full of hair. He looked great. I no longer cared about the coffee, I just wanted to talk to him. I started smiling and stood up faster than I could control my body, causing me to stumble on the edge of the seat, but thankfully he was there to grab my arm to stop my fall.

We stared at each other for what felt longer than it actually was. When I saw his chest rise as if he wanted to say something, I spoke up instead, wanting to be the first person to say something since I felt he deserved it.

"Kyungsoo...is that you?"

He held my hand, a look of desperation in his eyes. "Please, come with me. I can't get off this bus without you."

The offer was too good to pass up especially since I didn't get a chance to say my piece yet. I nodded and he smiled as he pulled me in the direction of the door. He removed his brown, leather jacket and used it to shield my hair and body from the pouring rain. I chuckled under my breath when I heard one elderly lady clap as we walked away with each other. He stopped under the veranda of the bus stop and brushed off the seat so I could sit down.

"Sorry I made you come out in the rain, I...just didn't want to lose you again." He shook the droplets of water off his jacket and sat down next to me.

"I'm sorry I left without getting the chance to tell you. I tried to, I really did." I spoke to him as I folded my headphones and put them in my bag.

"Don't worry about that, I'm just so happy I get to see you again." I could tell that admitting that made a blush rise on his cheeks. Gosh, he's so cute. He shyly scratched the back of his head and laughed slightly.

“My grandmother was sick and my mom wanted help taking care of her. I wanted to tell you but my flight was leaving that day so I couldn’t stick around.”

“It’s okay, I understand. I hope she’s doing better now.” He offered a comforting smile and I nodded my head. Thunder rolled across the sky and the raindrops increased. “I would say let’s go back to my job, but I just clocked out.” He pointed behind him and surely he aimed at the place I thought I was going to.

“Fate really wanted us to meet, that’s the cafe I was going to try today but I thought it was another stop away.”

He was intrigued, his eyebrows raised. “You want coffee?”

I suddenly felt extremely shy, my face felt hot and I wanted to smile to shake the nervousness. “Yeah…I really missed your espressos.” That definitely made him smile and blush harder.

He let out a breathy laugh, “I have a small machine at home. It feels wrong inviting you to my house so soon but I’d prefer if you weren’t in the rain, you’re not wearing closed shoes.” He pointed down at my shoes, he was right. “I could take you home and bring one back to you if that makes you more comfortable, I don’t want to seem creepy.”

He was the farthest thing from creepy and perhaps it because I had feelings for him. Sure it was dangerous to go off of that but there was a reason we met again, it wasn’t just coincidence. It was now or never. If I wanted to see how far this would take me, I had to be brave like I promised I would. “I don’t mind going to your house if you don’t mind.”

He seemed surprised by my answer but satisfied nonetheless. “I’ll go bring my car around, here take my jacket.”

Before I could deny his offer, he draped it over my shoulders and ran out to head toward his car. Would I sound crazy if I said I was falling for him more?

His place was gorgeous. Nothing fancy, but he kept it so clean that it looked expensive. I expected nothing less from him but seeing it with my own eyes was surely a sight to see.

“Please, come in and make yourself at home.”

I carefully walked over and sat on the small loveseat that gave me the perfect view of him in the kitchen. I was so attracted to watching him do such simple things and how much attention he paid to every detail. He was charming, tantalizing, arousing.

It wasn’t long before he left his place in the kitchen, carrying the perfect small cup. He placed it on the wooden coffee table and took a seat on the couch with me.

I thanked him before taking a sip. Perfect as always. Now I was curious what else he could get me addicted to.

“I hope it lived up to your expectations.” He asked when I placed the empty cup back down on the table.

“I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone as good as you Kyungsoo.” That sounded more like a confession but I’m sure he knew what I meant and even if he didn’t, I wouldn’t take back what I said.

We sat and talked for hours. He was good at making me laugh with his stories about work and his best friend Baekhyun. He asked me about my hometown, my favorite foods; any question he thought of. The rain had already stopped but I wasn’t ready to go home. I wanted to enjoy my time with him more even if we sat in silence.

“Sorry I kept you here so long, it’s already dark out. I can take you home now if you’d like.”

Sadly I’d have to go home at some point, but I wish I didn’t. “Thank you, I’ll go home and whip up some dinner.”

He gasped and his jaw dropped slightly. “Oh gosh I didn’t even ask if you were hungry that whole time, it’s been hours! I’m so so-“

I chuckled and brought a hand up to his cheek to caress it with my thumb, surprising the both of us. I quickly removed my hand from him with wide eyes; it was my turn to apologize. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

He wrapped a hand around my waist and leaned over to plant a soft and gentle kiss to my lips. So this is what they meant about the sparks you feel when you really like someone. It was quick but it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He pulled back to watch my reaction and when I didn’t do anything, I could see he was ready to say sorry again. Luckily I stopped him in his tracks, leaning over to kiss him once more.

One hand on the small of my back and the other cupping my left cheek. He was a great kisser but to be honest even if he wasn’t, I’d still enjoy it. The way he smells, the gentle touches, it just felt like he’d been waiting to do this for a long time. When I threaded my fingers through his hair, he swiped a tongue over my bottom lip to deepen the kiss.

My day hadn’t gone as planned but I wasn’t complaining especially because I was tired of growing regretful over my previous actions; or lack thereof. He pulled away from the kiss, lips pink and slightly swollen.

“I love you. I know I haven’t known you for very long, but I know what I feel and I know how special you are to me. I was sad when you were gone and I don’t want to feel that again. I want to be with you even when you are away. I just want you.”

There goes the butterflies again. I’ve had boyfriends before but none of them made me feel the way Kyungsoo does. Everything about and with him felt different in a good way and that’s what I wanted in a relationship. He felt ready to do what would make me happy and I was more than ready to the same. I mirrored his confession in my own words, finally saying what I needed with confidence.

Fast forward six months and the relationship was still going strong, but no one ever thought otherwise. You were finally going to hang with Chanyeol and Baekhyun, your first outing with the both of them as a couple. Just a casual picnic to enjoy the warm weather and catch up.

“Are you ready love?” Kyungsoo came into the room to check on you. He loved watching you get dressed, you made everything look so pretty. It stirred up all the emotions inside of him, but one in particular won the battle. He walked up and hugged your waist. “You look gorgeous baby.”

You turned to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. “That makes two of us. Can you zip this up for me please?” You turn around once more, your back facing him. His hand ran down your spine slowly, goosebumps rising on the skin. His breathing picked up some and you could already read his mind.

“We’re going to be late Kyungsoo…” your sentence came out like a whisper.

“They’ll be fine, just lift your dress for me yeah?” He turned you around and kissed down your neck and the valley between your breasts. He walked you backwards to the bed, letting your back hit the mattress. “I won’t be able to hold out until we get back home.”

Before you could argue, he kissed down your stomach as he bunched the fabric of your dress around your waist. His hands spread your legs apart at the thighs, rubbing up the inner part at an achingly slow pace. You held your breath as his fingers lightly danced over your clothed pussy, a wet spot already forming on the lace fabric.

“So wet…I just wanna taste you a little before we go okay?” He looked up at you, sliding your panties to the side, working his fingers through your folds.

You nodded and he wasted no time diving into you. He lapped you up quickly, trying to satisfy you both as fast as he could. He had a tight grip on your thighs that draped over his shoulders. You were squirming with his tongue pressing roughly against your clit.

“K-kyungsoo, please…” your head fell back as you tried closing your legs but he wouldn’t allow it.

“I know baby, just a little more.” His voice muffled but it sent vibrations through your body.

You barely survived the few minutes he spent slurping on your juices just to spit on your pussy to make it wet again. You were definitely going to have to change these panties before you left. He stopped his abuse on your clit and slid your panties down and off your ankles. He unbuckled his jeans and let his dick pop free. He towered over you, rubbing his dick against your clit.

“Fuck, you feel so good already princess…” He looked at you, loving how your face contorted as he slowly pushed in.

“Fuck Kyungsoo please, I need you.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice, his hips snapping forward. He loved knowing he was the only one to make you a whimpering and moaning mess. The only one that could feel your walls contract around his dick. The only one whose name you screamed. You were his and his only and he knew you felt the same. The squelch and squeeze of your pussy brought him to his orgasm much faster than he’d have liked, but this was technically supposed to be a quickie.

“I’m gonna cum, s-shit…”

He pushed your legs to your chest to get a better angle. He leaned down to bring you in a hungry, sloppy kiss. The plushness of his lips was a complete contrast to the rough thrusts. It blended perfectly and pushed you to your orgasm. He moaned feeling your walls tighten and he couldn’t hold back his own release.

You both breathed heavily as you came down from your high. He kissed your forehead gently and got up to get redressed and clean you off. His phone rang in the pocket of his pants and he quickly answered it.

“Hey Baek, we’re leaving out now.” Kyungsoo looked over at your fucked out form and winked.

“Kyungsoo stop fucking and get your ass over here! And make sure you wash your hands!”

You chuckled seeing Kyungsoo’s face and jaw drop before hanging up and clearing his throat. “Come on handsome, we have to go before they get too hungry and start gnawing on each other.”

He laughed and pressed another kiss to your forehead, grabbing the keys off the desk and your hand to head out the door.