#posts brought to you be me watching beyond again

[parapsychoiogy]

i know beyond was a good movie as any to put AOS on pause but if i dont get a forth movie in the next few years im going to start smashing things

[redheadspark]

Bliss

Summary - Druig knows how to bring you bliss

*Got the idea for this one shot from this Gif*

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is 18+, NO MINORS ALLOWED FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer by trade, so bear with me :D

You fell back into the bed, your breath barely on your lips as your thighs were trembling and your orgasm was now dwindling to a small simmer.  Sweat itched along your skin, thanks to the solid body on top of you that was holding you close and still buried deep inside of you, watching your body shake from your post orgasm.  His eyes were wide, nearly black with no evidence of the sapphire blue they naturally were, his lisp plump to almost crimson in the moonlight, and his skin with its sheen of sweat along his porcelain skin.  

"That was…..I can't even talk" You tried to say, but your voice was nearly gone with a small smile on your lips as the man above you merely chuckled and ruffled his own brown hair from his eyes.

"Don't say a single word, darlin'." He hummed, leaning back down to have his arms on the mattress below you, digging his forehead against your shoulder as he rolled his hips deeply and slowly.  You mewled, arching into him as you clung onto his shoulders, knowing fully well that he was not done with you.

Neither you were done, not with what you went through.

This was not the first time you two were in bed together, nor would it be the last.  But it felt like your first time, not with the intensity and the lust that was seeping under your skin as you both were gasping for air and pouring your love to one another, but with the intense love you both had for one another for centuries and centuries on end.  

Being together on the Domo for some time as friends before realizing your feelings for one another brought your paths together as lovers, then as a married couple.  You never thought in your wildest dreams that the Mind Controlling Eternal, the very one who was aloof to outsiders and sarcastic by nature, would fall head over heels in love with someone like you. He was wrapped around your heart so naturally and organically that before you knew it, you realized that your heart was taken by him and there was no way to be without him.  

You both went along with the evolution of humans, seeing the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Even within your own family of Eternals and how straining it was getting with one another, you both stayed side by side.  Druig's heart was beyond massive for the sake of the humans, for wishing them peace and tranquility on that small and fragile planet.  So when he decided to walk away after seeing a genocide unfold in front of his eyes, you joined him. How could you stay behind and let the love of your life walk away?  He was part of your soul, half of your heart, and neither one of you wished to be parted. 

"Uggh….Oh fuck Druig," you moaned against his head as his hips were staying consistent, rolling sleep and slow as you felt his cock slide in and out of you.  You were feeling that tension again, the burning in your thigh muscles since your legs were bracketing Druig's hips with ease, your arms shaking while you clung onto his muscular shoulders, and your core finding that flicker of pleasure again while he kissed your skin over and over.  One of his hands moved from under the pillow where you were, bracing your jawline to have your head stay in one spot while he was still fucking you deeply.  You loved when he did this, his actions were both filthy and intimate at the same time.  Holding you close as you fucked, perhaps thinking that you two could blend into one as he made you cum multiple times.  

This was how he loved you: showing you with his actions along with his words how he loved you and would never stop loving you.

You moved your head to kiss his palm that was against your jawline, feeling him thrust again to have you moan silently and feel his thumb trace your lower lip.  Without you thinking about it and merely thinking about the pleasure that was now etched within you, you slide his thumb into your mouth.  He moaned against your neck.

"Fuck," he growled, his thrust never slowing as your hand moved down to grasp at his ass through the thin sheet that was covering it.  He huffed and moved his head to gaze at you with heavy eyes, seeing his thumb in your mouth as you locked eyes with him with a blissed-out face, "You want me to make you cum again, don't ya?"

Releasing his thumb with a pop, you grinned as he gave a particularly hard thrust, you moaned out, "Do it,"

His eyes narrowed: challenged accepted.

Having this kind of love with Druig was nothing short of amazing.  Built on the solid foundation of friendship and devotion, you both could take on the world if you wanted to.  Yet you and Druig didn't wish for that, you both instead settled for your little village in the Amazon.  A slice of paradise amongst the soldiers that followed Druig, underneath the massive trees, and hidden from the rest of the world.  The love that was blossoming over time between you and Druig was now thriving and evolving, spending mornings in bed together and long walks amongst the trees.  Druig never strayed from you, and he proved it again and again.

Druig loved running the village and caring for the families that were growing as the years went by, and you saw the new side of Druig that was hidden for so long because of his inability to step in and help humans.  It made you proud to see him care for his villagers, to see the brightness in his eyes and within his tone, and you wished that would never go away.  

Even after 500 years when your Eternals family came back to find you two to stop the ending of the world with them, nothing seemed to slow the pair of you down.

Moans were filling the room for the pair of you now as Druig was now determined to make you cum again, you letting him as his hips were now snapping and his eyes never leaving your face as you were melting with the sensation.  You felt that drive in his hold along your body, in his whimpers along his lips,  and in his eyes as he was watching you get closer and closer to teetering over the edge.  He knew just how to make you cum: his rough fingers along your body or inside of you, his sweet and yet filthy words in your ear, and even his cock that was perfect in length and girth that seemed to be created to only fit inside of you.  Inwardly, you thanked your lucky stars that you both were Eternals with extended energy, being able to fuck all night without a single need for a break.  

This led to your record: 14 straight hours back in the Amazon when you two went off together on your anniversary back in 1869.

This time, this was more than a simple act of love or fuck session.  The world almost ended, and you all almost lost everything you knew thanks to Arishem and his need to bring Tiamut to life and a new balance to the universe.  Yet you all stopped it, not wishing to let this planet go to waste since you grew to love it over the centuries. It was a relief that there was no more danger for any of you to worry about, and to think that you were so close to losing Druig at the hands of Ikaris, you thought of the worst.  

Seeing him walk up to you with a few cuts and bruises, yet alive and well, you had to hold him close and engrain him in your mind.

He must have felt the same, whisking you away from the rest of your group. Which then brought you to your current predicament.

"I'm close…I'm close Druig…" You moaned against his head as he was not slowing down with his hips and his open-mouth kisses against your jawline.  He hummed, his spare hand moving down to rub his thumb against your clit as he was thrusting deeper and deeper.  You moan hotly from the touch, your legs sprawling out at this point as he keeps the adrenaline going.  

"You don't have to tell me, I can feel ya flutterin' against my cock," he growled as you were feeling that sensation in your toes moving up to be along your spine, "I know your body and what makes ya tick, right?  I know where to touch, where to lick, where to….where to fuck," 

He rubbed your clit hard, making you moan with no abandon as he chuckled to pause and sit up a bit.  He looked down at your body, seeing him undone you were yet at the same time tight wound.  Your hair askew, your breast etched in hickies and exposed for him to savor, even the gorgeous sight of where you two were connected along your hips.  

But what got him was your eyes, the same eyes that he fell for when he first saw you on the Domo.  The same eyes that saw his painful and tear-jerking moments throughout the years but never repeated.  The same eyes that poured love into his own when he felt he was undeserving.  He swore a long time ago when he first kissed you at sunset, he would do anything and everything in his power to keep you in his life.  

Centuries later, he held onto that promise. 

"I love you," He hummed, the tone of lust simmered as you gazed up at him with lust in your own eyes.  You felt that love seep under your skin, even in the heat of fucking you both would find a way to have another layer of intimacy with each other.  Perhaps you were thinking that he was going to die because of Ikaris, or that was world was so close to ending, but you two looked at one another as if nothing else existed in the world, or in that little room.  

You leaned up, moaning as you did since he was involuntarily thrusting in you to make you tremble.  Druig moaned too, though it was silenced by you kissing him softly.  He kissed you back,  feeling that gentleness along your lips as you framed his face in your hands.  Although you knew of it being a distraction, moving one hand to be placed in his chest to give him a push.

Within a second, he was sprawled on his back as you were now riding him.  He grinned as you gently grasped his throat, feeling him gulp as you too locked eyes with that intensity again.

"Love you more," You replied, then giving one hard roll.  Druig moaned loudly as his eyes rolled back in bliss.

The End

tagging - @a-lumos-in-the-nox @heliosphere8 @virtueassassin @pemberlyy @botanicalbarnes @reader6898 @eternalslover

[penkura]

First Mother's Day

Note: I decided to do a special post in what is now my OP Men as Dads series, and do a Mother's Day headcanon/blurb post. I understand this day can be rough for some, but I hope that whether you celebrate or not, whether your mom is in your life or not, that you have a lovely day otherwise and if this isn't your cup of tea, I hope there's something else that can entertain you today. <3

If you'd like my thoughts on other OP men as dads (Shanks, Kid, Usopp, etc.), please just ask and I'll give an answer! I'll include Luffy in this despite my viewing him as a son or brother, but it probably won't be x Reader based. Requests are being worked on as well.

I am using baby Ace image to break up this and the actual content from now on lol. He's just so cute. 🥺

Ace is going to go all out for your first Mother’s Day. He’s buying flowers, candies, and cards, all from him and your daughter. Even if you tell him you don’t want anything except a quiet day at home with the two of them, he’s buying you gifts.

He’ll likely buy you a bracelet with your daughter’s name on it, or maybe a charm bracelet with her birthstone, so you can add any more in the future if/when you have more children. Ace will try to make you breakfast in bed, but he ends up burning the bacon to the point your smoke alarm goes off, and you have to open all the windows to air out the house the rest of the day (at least it’s a nice day out). He orders out breakfast from a nearby diner to make sure you have something that morning, he’ll even try to take your daughter out for a walk or to Luffy and Sabo’s place for the day to give you a break, but you insist on going along.

“You should have the day off though!”

“Ace, I don’t want a day off. Rogue is only three month’s old, and I’d much rather spend the day with you and her than alone. That’s not a fun Mother’s Day to me.”

The three of you end up at Luffy and Sabo’s place, the two uncles absolutely adoring their niece as she coos and lets them hold her without any crying or fussing. When you get home later that night, Ace watches you get Rogue ready for bed. He knew from the start that you would be a great mother, and sometimes, he just wishes his own mother was around to see it, and to meet her granddaughter.

~~

Law has a plan that gets thrown off when your son decides to be born a week earlier than expected, on Mother’s Day itself. He still tries to do something for you, even though the original plan of taking you out for brunch and giving you a quiet day at home while you waited for your baby to be born was now out the window. He should’ve known, ever since he met Luffy all his plans go haywire at some point. At least it led to you two meeting eventually.

Once you’ve gone to sleep and your son Rosi is in the nursery at the hospital, Law slips out to quickly put something together. He has a gift for you, a mother’s ring that will fit into your wedding band, he just needs flowers, or chocolate, or something to add to it. He doesn’t really like to be cliché, but he ends up with flowers, at least they’re something pretty you can have in your hospital room and when you’re released to take your baby boy home.

The girl in the hospital gift shops tells him he looks happy, even if Law doesn’t really show it. She swears it’s just something in the way he speaks while he asks her to pull together a small bouquet for you. He is happy, beyond that actually, knowing you two have a son, you both are healthy and safe. He has a family again, his very own. The flowers and ring aren’t enough to convey his gratitude to you for giving him a family to call his own, but it’s a start. There will be plenty more times for him to do so in the future.

When Law gets back to your room, you’re awake again and in the middle of nursing your son, a nurse helping you when you need it. She notices the flowers he’s brought and leaves you both with a smile, saying she’ll come back in a few minutes.

“Where’d you get off to?”

“Had to get something,” Law comes over and presses a kiss to your forehead, giving you a smile, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

~~

Penguin has thought of what to do every day since your daughter Wren was born. He’s come up with multiple ways to celebrate your first Mother’s Day, but nothing seems just right to him. He’s thought of brunch, breakfast in bed, giving you a day out with your friends while he watches your daughter, or even a weekend trip away, leaving your baby with her grandparents, but nothing works out. Restaurants and diners he calls are all booked up already, you hate eating in bed because of crumbs, your friends all had plans either with their own mothers or their spouses and kids, and your own parents were out of town for the next two weeks.

He ends up with no real plans for the day and feels terrible about it as it approaches. Its going to be another normal Sunday for the three of you, he hates the idea of that because it’s your first Mother’s Day, it should be special, shouldn’t it?

When the day finally comes around, Penguin is up first, hearing Wren’s little babbles through the baby monitor, and going to pick her up. At nine-months-old she’s figured out how to stand up on her own, still no steps being taken by herself, but when she sees Penguin enter the nursery, she grins and starts bouncing up and down, holding the rail of her crib and shouting “da” over and over. It makes Penguin smile as he picks her up, kissing her chubby cheek which makes her squeal.

“Good morning, Wren! Let’s keep quiet, mommy’s still asleep, okay?”

“Da!”

He laughs a bit, lifting her up over his head to make her giggle again, as she reaches her little hands towards his face.

“You know…a great gift would be for you to say ‘mama’ for the first time, yeah?”

“Ma?”

“Yeah, you’re close! Now, just say ‘mama’.”

Wren sticks her tongue out while she tries to speak, Penguin helping her along for several minutes until she finally says something close to ‘mama’.

“Mm…ma.”

Penguin sighs a bit, but nods as he brings Wren down and kisses her cheek again, making her giggle as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“You two sure have been having fun.”

Both look to you in the doorway, no shortage of smiles among the three of you, as Wren lights up and starts to reach for you, trying to say she wants you to hold her. You both take just a moment too long to get her to you, and it makes her fuss and kick her legs a bit.

“Ma…ma!”

You didn’t even get her in your arms, you and Penguin both freezing in place for a moment while Wren continues to fuss and whine, almost in tears since you haven’t held her yet.

“Mama!”

“I—”

“Her first word!!” You quickly take Wren from Penguin and hug her close, kissing her cheeks and forehead telling her how proud you are of your little girl. “This is the best Mother’s Day gift!”

At least that worked out, even if he didn’t have a plan in mind.

~~

Sanji wouldn’t have waited nearly a year to celebrate you as a mother if you hadn’t forced him to. With fraternal twins to now take care of and raise, you’ve both been through bouts of exhaustion and elation over the two babies you brought into the world. Sora and Angel, your precious blessings, were nearly a year old, and you’d already started planning a birthday party for them, completely ignoring the fact Mother’s Day was a few weeks prior to their turning one-year-old.

Sanji didn’t forget, he had a plan, one that included your twins scribbling away to make cards for you, though he didn’t expect the two to be so fussy about it and mark each other up more than the papers. He learned very quickly to not give babies or toddlers markers, unless they were washable. You still don’t fully realize how Sora ended up with a bright green mark over his right eye and Angel had a hot pink line down her left arm.

The rest was simple, breakfast in bed, made by your professional chef husband of course, and whatever else you wanted for the rest of the day. If you want to lay in bed and watch TV without interruption, he’d put your twins in the stroller and take them to the park. If you wanted to turn your phone off and sleep the day away, he’d take over and leave you alone until you needed anything. Whatever you want, it’s a day to celebrate you as the mother of his children, he wasn’t going to deny you anything.

But when you do tell him what you want, after finishing off breakfast, Sanji’s a bit surprised.

“Are you…sure?”

“Mm-hm,” you nod and try to keep Sora from grabbing the butter knife on the tray, making him whine while Angel slept in Sanji’s arms, “I want to spend the day with the three of you.”

“You…do that every day though, my love.”

“So?” smiling, you kiss the top of Sora’s head and watch Angel as she starts to stir awake, rubbing her eyes with her tiny hands, “You guys are my family. I hate the idea of not being with the three of you today, so I’d rather just spend it like we always do.”

Sanji nods a bit, seeming to understand, greeting Angel when she wakes up fully with a kiss to the forehead. It makes you happy to watch him with both your children, but especially your daughter. How could he ever think you’d want to spend the day alone? Not when you had these two blessings as your children and Sanji as your husband.

“We could still take these two to the park later, maybe burn off some energy so they nap at a decent time.”

“Of course! Whatever you want, my love.”

~~

Zoro doesn’t even fully realize that its Mother’s Day until Nami says something to him. The past few weeks with your son have been exhausting for both of you, but he can’t believe he forgot that this was a thing. He has nothing planned and isn’t sure what to do. He’s running out of time, it’s literally just a few hours away before Nami offers to take you out for the day wherever the Sunny docks in the morning. Zoro will stay with your son on the ship, and you’ll get a day off from being a mom and wife, the two think it’s the best thing to give you on such short notice, though Nami does up the interest on his debt again for this.

You don’t even get to say good morning to your husband or son before Nami has dragged you off to whatever she has planned, its really just a normal girl’s day out with shopping and lunch. Most of what you buy isn’t even for you, it’s baby items that you need or clothes you think are adorable. It just ended up making you miss your son more as the day went on.

When you do get back to the ship, your son is wailing and no one has been able to calm him down, not even Zoro while he tries his hardest and lightly bounces your baby as he shushes him gently. As soon as you drop your bags you’re taking him from your husband and holding him close to calm him down.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, mommy’s here, Keitaro. I’m back.”

He slowly calms down once he realizes its you, burying his little face in your shoulder and keeping a tight grip on your shirt. When you ask Zoro what the deal was with Nami dragging you off the ship so early, before you even had the chance to hold Keitaro that day, he explains the situation and it just makes you tilt your head.

“…it’s Mother’s Day?”

You hadn’t even realized it. That just makes Zoro feel bad that it caused your son such distress, and he and Nami both apologize for not talking to you about it beforehand. They both assumed the other had discussed it with you. You didn’t really care to celebrate, all that mattered was being with your husband and son, the rest of your day spent with just the two of them.

Note 2: Out here dropping names like I didn't say I'd make a post about that at some point lol. So, the firstborns in order of character are Portgas D. Rogue, Trafalgar D. Rosinante (called Rosi cause it's too damn cute), Wren, Sora and Angel, and Roronoa Keitaro.

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat - 3

Requested By: No One. Original Work.

CW: Post-Impostor SAGAU,

Summary: Focalors apologizes

Note: This is so late and I apologize for that!

If vou haven't finished the Fontaine Archon quest, please exit stage left.

Part One Part Two Part Four

The rain drops pelted the windows. It seemed never-ending. The sky still looked tormented by the thick overcast of gray clouds that blocked the morning sun. Fontaine hadn’t seen a day of sunshine in days and the Chief Justice couldn’t bring himself to work another day in a row.

No many how many hours he wasted staring at the file created for your case, it did nothing to relieve the amount of sadness he had in his heart. Neuvillette is the most trusted and respected person in the entire nation but even he couldn’t see past the empty accusations the Hydro Archon made.

Once the trial began and he saw your face he had his doubts, your physical appearance was beyond comparison. He didn’t want to believe that you were an imposter, that you had ill intentions but he couldn’t let his personal feelings get in the way of justice.

He wasn’t the only one with these thoughts, people who sat in the audience began to whisper amongst themselves wondering if you really were a fake.

However a few words from Furina were enough to get many people on board.

‘Do not let yourselves be fooled by their appearance my dear people, they want us to let our guard down! I will personally reveal the truth behind their deceit.’

Yet you do not stand trial, you ask to duel for your innocence and he accepts.

That was his biggest mistake.

He knew that you were no match for Clorinde and he knew that he could’ve intervened at any time, but he didn’t.

You laid on the dueling grounds blood quickly poured from your body. Medical staff and Clorinde were quick to carry you away from the public but Neuvillette will never forgive his inaction.

Suddenly he blinks as a raindrop slides down his cheek.

-

Just like she promised, Furina returned to your room at daybreak. Once you were in her line of sight she bows slightly speaking in a soft tone.

“Your Grace, thank you for allowing me to return.”

You say nothing, watching the people down below navigate through the weather with their parasols in hand.

She takes a step forward. Would you allow her to get close to you again? The last thing she wants is for you to yell even if she deserves it. She takes small steps forward, paying close attention to your face taking note of any displeasure you may feel from her presence.

Eventually she was close enough to touch you, she readjusts her hat slightly before kneeling down resting her hand on top of yours. The Archon smiles slightly feeling a sense of relief wash over her.

“I am a fool,” Furina breathes out, “I should’ve been the first to recognize you but I didn’t and now I will pay the price…”

She feels her lips tremble. Was she going to shed tears in front of her God again?

“I know that there’s no way I can fix this but-“

“You’re right Furina,” you interject, “there’s no way you can fix this.”

She looks up at you with watery eyes.

“But I was doing some thinking last night and I want to move on from this.” You finally look down at her examining her expression. “that doesn’t mean I forgive you and I definitely won’t forget what you did.”

Furina let’s out a breath, you truly were a benevolent being. She was ready to do anything for you to give her another chance, even if she had to pull her gnosis out of her chest.

“Thank you for this opportunity Your Grace,” she gives you a smile, “I will do everything in my power to prove my loyalty to you again.”

You decide not to respond to her statement instead turning your gaze to the bundle of flowers on your bedside table. The stems were going limp and the color of the petals were fading. Whoever brought them must’ve forgotten to water them, they’re almost dead now.

Furina stands up wiping her wet cheeks as she gives you a small smile. “Your Grace, would it be alright if I show you around Fontaine? I know everyone would be very happy to see that you’re doing okay.”

You look out the window once more, she was right. There was a large crowd of people who stood outside the building you were in. Many of them holding gifts that they hope to give to you.

You open your mouth to respond but another voice cuts you off.

“Lady Furina that’s not a good idea…”

Clorinde leaned against the threshold of the door, she had dark circles under her eyes as she stared at the two of you. “Their Grace’s wounds are still healing. Walking for extended periods of time could be dangerous.”

Furina pouts slightly at her words but she knew Clorinde was right. If you were to tear your stitches you might not survive another operation, and the mere thought of you dying sends shivers down the Archon’s spine.

“You should let them get plenty of rest for now.” Clorinde suggests, “The medical staff will return tomorrow to change their bandages and give an update on their condition.“

You can see Furina visibly deflate at her words, “I know, I know…”

With a bit more pushing, Furina soon left with Clorinde leaving you alone in the room once again. Suddenly you feel a wave a fatigue wash over you, maybe not getting any sleep throughout the night was a bad idea. You stand from the windowsill and walk slowly over to the bed sinking into the soft material. A sigh leaves your mouth as you close your eyes listening to the sounds of rain against the glass until you eventually fell asleep.

-

You wake up to the sound of small footsteps, their voices are hushed as they walk around the room. You decide to keep your eyes closed, curious what their intentions of coming here were.

“Let’s change the flowers before they wake up. We don’t want to get caught.”

Hmm. So they’re the ones bringing the flowers.

You open your eyes sitting up in bed and your meet with…

…a Melusine?

“Oh no! We’ve been caught!”

The two hang their heads down sadly, as if they were were just caught by their parent.

“So you two were the ones who brought flowers to my bed?”

The Melusine look at each other then at you.

“Monsieur Neuvillette asked us to bring these to you.” One of them confessed.

You blink, “Neuvillette? He asked you to bring these?”

She nods holding the flowers out to you, “will you take them? It would make him really happy if you did.”

You hesitate for a moment, staring at the bouquet in the Melusine’s hands. Even if you couldn’t forgive any of them now for what happened. What good would holding a grudge do?

You take the flowers bringing them to your face to smell the sweet scent. “Thank you for bringing these to me, tell Neuvillette I said thank you.”

The Melusine give you a closed eye smile nodding as they walk towards the door. However before they were fully out of earshot, you hear one of them say:

“Maybe we’ll have some better weather now.”

You look down at the flowers, they truly were beautiful. They were Romaritime flowers, ones they could only be picked with the hydro element. You feel a small smile spread on your face as you replace the other bouquet with the new one. With a busy schedule like his, Neuvillette must’ve went out of his way to get these for you.

-

-

Underneath the cover a darkness, a large ship docks right outside the court of Fontaine.

It was unusual for a ship to come at this time but there was no mistaking that symbol that steered any citizen away as quickly as possible.

“Lady Harbinger, we’ve arrived.”

The Knave stands from her seat, she wasn’t here for diplomatic reasons or for her comrade that rotted in Fontaine’s prison. Her reasons for returning home were purely selfish.

She steps off the boat her heel landing in a puddle the was slowly drying from the warm breeze Sumeru’s desert nearby. The Knave looks up expecting to see rain clouds but is met with thousands of stars spread across the night sky. It was a clear night.

“All of you head to the Northland Bank and do not reveal our true reason for coming here to anyone. I will retrieve Their Grace myself.”

-

© avocad1s 2023

Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys

If your @ is bolded, for some reason I cannot tag you! :(

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[kierahn]

DRIVEN. [ y ! assassin x m ! reader ]

[ nsfw, minors DNI ]

yandere! assassin x journalist! male reader

warnings :

nsfw

forced non-con [in bold letters]

dead dove

reader death

slight torture warning

semi-necrophilia ?

hi, i'm back after three months of dying🧍‍♂️ it might take me awhile before i post a fic again, but here's an update for you guys.

malachi was a man whose services could be availed with just the right amount of money. he isn't the type to settle for less, confident that he was beyond excellent at doing his job.

ask him to dispose of someone and it would be as if they never existed in the first place. most of his victims' bodies had never been found. that, or they would be beyond recognizable when found. traces of his victims' existence would be gone in a pull of a trigger, with only their names to be remembered by their loved ones.

you were a journalist, renowned for your boldness and endless pursuit for the truth. unlike malachi, your silence can't be bought by any amount of money. you never hesitated to shed light on several issues which made you a formidable force in the eyes of the elite. after all, a journalist who values transparency above anything is someone to be feared by their kind; shrouded with secrets that they dare not reveal to the media.

you were well aware of the risks that came with your job, but that never once detered your work. truly remarkable, but idiotic in a sense.

you knew that it would all come to bite you back someday. with all those companies that you had brought down and names that you have ruined; maybe this was your karma catching up to you.

even as you stood at the receiving end of malachi's gun, regret never once entered your mind. you will never regret challenging the elites. they were nothing but a bunch of cowards, hiding behind their status and disposing of anything that threatened to destroy it.

over the past few months he had been keeping a watchful eye on you, malachi hadn't expected you to barely flinch despite having a gun pressed against your forehead.

"what an interesting reaction," the male on the other end mused as his calculating gaze studied your unfazed expression.

you truly were a bold one, always so headstrong and indifferent. even when threatened with a bullet through your skull, you stood your ground, not even a yell for help or a plead for him to spare you.

"why am i not surprised," a sound of amusement escaped malachi's lips. "you've always been so fearless. perhaps, you were already expecting this to happen."

he wasn't entirely wrong, you've long envisioned this scenario inside your head.

you stood with an oddly placid expression before the barrel of his gun, but your hands told a completely different story. they trembled against your sides, a stark contrast to your calm demeanor.

you were scared.

you could only hope that he could do it quickly to save you from further embarrassment.

"there's no point in prolonging this, is there ?" you spat out in spite, opening the door for death who stood at your doorstep.

your eyes were always so full of challenge, malachi wanted to rip that away from you. he had always wanted to see you with a different expression; whether it was fear or something more.

"a shame," he slightly lowered the gun in his hand, now pointed right where your heart lies. "i've grown quite fond of you, journalist." malachi shamelessly confessed.

something you two had in common was being highly driven by your work. unfortunately for you, malachi still had a job he was committed to.

‘ bang! ‘

he didn't fret over the possibility of the gunshot being heard by a passerby. if anyone were to investigate the source of the sound, he would simply dispose of them too.

malachi watched intently as you dropped to the ground.

and there it was. your fearful expression.

your eyes were wide with tears as you clutched your side where the bullet lodged itself, your breathing laboured as your mind quickly worked to try and numb out the excruciating pain you felt. curses left your lips, the warmth of your own blood trickling down your wrist.

he wasn't quite contented in ending things there. normally, he would go for a swift kill and dispose of his victims afterwards. however, he had purposely shot you in a spot that didn't instantly put you to rest.

the sound of footsteps nearing your fallen form reached your ears before your hand was forcefully ripped away from your bleeding side and pinned beside your head, leaving you more vulnerable than you intially were as your killer straddles your bloodied waist.

malachi's eyes scanned your tearful expression with a hint of content. absentmindedly, his free hand moved to caress your open wound.

"!!" an excruciating scream left your lips when malachi suddenly dug his finger through your bullet wound.

his grip around your wrist tightened when you started to thrash around under him, your survival instincts kicking in. you tried to throw him off of you, but your frantic movements only caused your wound to open up more.

malachi clicked his tongue in disapproval, removing his finger from your wound. "now you're just making things harder for yourself."

“HN!– ha.. f.. uck you,” you curse him through gritted teeth. your expression hardened as you shut your teary eyes tightly, trying to minimize the pain.

he leans down to move his face close to yours, examining the tears that slid down your reddened cheeks and the saliva that trickled down your chin. malachi drew his hand that was stained with your blood, brushing it under your eye and leaving a streak of crimson red.

"you know," he starts softly, feeling you tremble underneath him. "this look suits you better than the stoic one that you always wore.”

"i bet i can make you show so much more than that," malachi chuckled darkly, his words holding anticipation. "consider this a parting gift for my dear journalist."

the male roughly grabbed your cheeks to prevent you from struggling when he leans in to capture your lips into a forced kiss. his other hand left your limp wrist to rest, slipping under your bloodied shirt and brushing over the bullet wound up to your chest.

his touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the tight grip on your cheeks. anyone could tell that malachi was, to some degree, fond of the man under him.

he soon broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck. his lips land on your shoulder where he suddenly bit down to leave his mark, making you flinch and let out a pained groan.

malachi pulled his lips away and gently licked the bleeding bitemark to try and soothe you in a way. he straightened back up to examine his handiwork.

your eyes seemed to be in a daze, your breathing slowing down. it was a clear indication that your conciousness was beginning to slip. but before life could completely escape you, malachi lands a harsh slap to your cheek.

"don't be so ungrateful, y/n." he warns, grabbing your cheeks roughly once more, his hand that was under your shirt leaving to grasp onto your thigh. "leaving without accepting my gift. no, no. i won’t let you do that.”

malachi released his grasp on your cheeks by roughly tossing your head to the side, he worked to unbuckle your belt before slipping your trousers down to your knees. he was seething. you couldn't leave him just yet, not without him seeing your expressions as he's (literally) fucking the life out of you.

your vision swayed as the blood loss eventually made you cease your struggles. the light in your eyes was slowly fading and so was your warmth.

but that didn't stop malachi from getting his entertainment. after pulling down his own trousers, malachi rammed himself into you in one single thrust, leaving you with no preparation as you jolt at the sudden intrusion.

you weakly claw at the male's clothed chest. there was just so much pain, from the bullet wound on your side to the bitemark on your shoulder, and now the size that stretched you out dry. you could feel something warm trickling down your thighs, a a texture you could recognize.

you sobbed quietly as the pain doubled when malachi started to move without giving you the time adjust to his size. the tip of his cock worked its way on your insides, trying to find the spot that would make you melt under him.

his eyes watched as your pained expressions turn into one of hesitance. readjusting himself, malachi sets his pace. he knew that he finally found the right spot when he felt your thigh twitch in his grasp and your walls tighten around his dick. lo and behold, your look of hesitance contorted into a disturbed one as you quickly throw an arm over your face to cover yourself.

a shameful moan escaped your lips as soon as he finally hits the spot that broke it all for you. it wasn't long before you turned into a hot mess under him. your chest rose and fell in a rapid rate as you whimpered and moaned under him.

malachi's free hand roughly removed the arm that covered your slutty expressions. you looked so lewd with his cock inside you, drool spilling from your lips and your eyes rolled back in undeniable pleasure.

now this was the sight he had been longing to see.

the pain from your wound was long gone as intense pleasure eventually replaced it. malachi quickened his pace when he noticed how your cock twitched, indicating that you were near your climax. he wasn't that cruel to deny you of orgasm in your last moments.

or maybe he was.

before the knot in your lower abdomen could come undone, malachi grabbed a hold of his gun and shot you straight in between your eyes, lodging a bullet through your skull and finally putting you to rest.

your warm blood stained his lower abdomen, trickling down to his cock that continued to drive into you who had long went limp under him, your eyes deprived of life.

he gave a few more thrusts before finally spilling his warm seed inside of your ass. his breaths were heavy as he kept his cock buried inside your now freezing and stiff body.

malachi soon pulled out of your corpse, fixing his trousers and standing back up. he sheated his gun back on its holster as he gazed down at your limp body.

he knew he was fucked up, but this was on another level.

he smiled smugly.

maybe you should've picked another job in the first place.

[satorusugurugurl]

okay so 1st of all i love your posts

can you do nanami with a breeding kink plsss

ty <3333

First off thank you so so much!!

And secondly heck yes!! 😏

More Than Words

Summary: Your husband, Nanami Kento decides he’s ready to take your marriage to the next level.

Pairing: Nanami Kento x FAB!Reader

Warnings: Teeth rotting fluff! Super romantic, language, dirty talk, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2,704

A/N: This, this did things to me. But I liked it 🥵

Nanami watched you closely from the kitchen. You sat outside on the porch, sipping tea as you scrolled through your phone. The two of you made it a point to spend the evenings outside, enjoying the setting sun and breathing fresh air. He had just been outside with you but excused himself to try and settle his nerves.

He would ask you tonight if you were ready to start trying for a baby.

The thought of having a child hadn’t crossed his mind in your two years of marriage until last weekend. You two had gone to dinner with one of your coworkers, who had just been blessed with a baby boy. You were practically glowing as you held the little boy in your arms. The way you spoke softly, gently rocking them while humming? It was a side of you Nanami had never seen before.

The raw awe and amazement etched on your face was a look he desperately needed to see again. To see you staring at the child you both made would be a sight that would forever linger in his daydreams until he made sure it came true. To step in that direction, he needed to bring it up with you.

You weren’t on birth control. Every single form you tried since you were seventeen made you sick. From the pills to the shots, you considered trying the IUD, but you chicken out at the last second. The entirety of your sexual relationship with Nanami had always been with the use of condoms. So, if you agreed with him, that would mean you’d be doing it raw for the first time in either of your lives.

So he was nervous beyond all words, from wanting to bring a child into the world to experiencing having sex at its rawest form. Thoughts swarmed his mind in a slurry. There was a lot for both of you to consider. Both of you. Nanami couldn’t move forward without talking to you.

With a deep exhale, Nanami headed back outside, shutting the door behind him. “Sorry about that.” He whispered as he sat next to you on the outdoor couch.

“Mmm,” you immediately snuggled next to him, “I was about to call for a search party.” You teased, putting your phone away. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Mhmm,” You could easily see through that heavily played hum. Something was on his mind.

“Nanami Kento, I hate to break it to you, but I know you better than you know yourself. You have something on your mind.” Tilting your head up, you watched the tips of his ears flush before spreading down the nape of his neck. “So, you might as well talk to me.” You paused, “You know, seeing that I’m your wife.” You wiggled your left hand in front of his face—your wedding ring sparkling in the pastel colors of the setting sun.

“My wife.”

Your breath hitched as Nanami’s larger hand wrapped around your smaller one. Bringing your ring to his lips, pressing a kiss against it. His eyes were shut; he looked handsome, pondering whatever clouded his mind. Feeling your gaze on him, Nanami slowly opened his eyes, looking down at you.

“But you’re so much more than just my wife Y/N.” His fingers trailed slowly over your palm, tracing the lines over your skin. “You’re my best friend, partner, the love of my life.” Nanami brought your palm to his mouth, retracing the path of his fingers with his lips. “You’re my purpose, my reason to keep going.”

“Kento.” You whispered in awe as he turned the both of you so you were facing each other head-on.

“My soul.” He placed both hands on yours. “My strength.” You shuddered as his heated palm moved up your arms, trailing them slowly towards your shoulders. “My everything.” You moaned as his hands that so lovingly traced over your arms gently cupped your face. “But I hate to admit that I want more.”

His thumbs lovingly caressed your cheeks, bringing you flush against his chest. “More?” You followed his lead, running your hands slowly down his pecs and over his ab’s, heading towards his crotch. “How much more?” The groan that left his lips was deep and full of unfiltered need.

“I don’t just want you to be my best friend, partner, or wife, Y/N.” His lips were centimeters from yours. Your breath mingled with his as you breathed slowly in the last fragments of sunlight. “I want you to be the mother of my children.”

Kento saw the way your eyes lit up. A glimmering sparkle in Y/E/C irises. Just like you knew him, Kento knew you better than yourself. The way you melted against him, drawing yourself as close as you could on the small loveseat, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind.

The irrational fears and hesitation vanished as you whimpered. “I want that so bad, Ken; I want to be the moth—“ your husband silenced you with a searing kiss.

You followed his lead, kissing him as his gentle touch turned into something more needy, more primal. There was a desire he’d never felt before boiling deep within his chest. Kento needed you, needed to be buried inside of you, filling you with his cum, ensuring that you would be, without a doubt, pregnant with his child.

He was going to breed you.

Pulling away, you gasped for air, a string of saliva connected between your lips. Nanami’s chest rose and fell with each strangled breath as he so desperately tried to refrain from destroying you. Seeing the conflicted expression on his face, you decided to help. What kind of wife would you be if you didn’t? Dropping to your knees, you slowly pulled the waistband of his lounge pants down.

“Y/N love, what are you doing?”

“Shh~” you glanced at him, “you need to relax. Let me help clear your mind.”

Your delicate fingers traced the v-line of his crotch up and down. His hips jerked up, cock throbbing within his boxers. His brown eyes followed your hands, watching you tug his boxers down. His already hard, throbbing cock smacked against his stomach with a smack, his pre-cum smearing over his toned skin. The sight of his thick length had your mouth watering. Wrapping your hand around the base, you slowly stroked up and down, smearing his pre-cum over his entire length.

“Fuucck,” Nanami’s voice was almost inaudible as he groaned. Hearing him curse like that’s had your cunt throbbing, your slick coating your panties. “Fuck Y/N, that’s feels so fucking good.”

“Oh, my darling husband,” He peered down at you through half-lidded eyes, “you haven’t felt anything yet.” You took him in your mouth, and the salty yet sweet taste of him hit your tastebuds, making you whine around him. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, coating the throbbing tip with your saliva before you moved further down his shaft, gagging as his cock hit the back of your throat.

You slowly lifted your head back up when his hand wrapped into your hair. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for him to slam your back down around his throbbing length. Much to your surprise, he did the complete opposite. Yanking your hair, he practically had to pry you off of him, his chest heaving as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Did you not understand what I said earlier?” He stood, releasing his grip on your hair.

“I did; you want to make babies with me.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, taking your hand in his helping you to your feet. “And how do you suppose I do that if I cum down your throat.” Nanami didn’t even allow you to consider an answer. “Looks like I need to give you a thorough demonstration of how it works.”

“Oh my god!” You laughed as Kento lifted you, carrying you inside towards your bedroom. “I guess a demonstration would be beneficial in this case.” You breathed out breathlessly as he tossed you onto the bed. “Just so you know, I might need several demonstrations.”

“I agree; the more demonstrations, the better.” Your husband grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head before tossing it to the floor. “To start, we need to remove these pesky clothes.”

You tried to keep a serious face as you followed his lead. Shirts, pants, and underwear piled on the floor around your bed. Only once the two of you were bare, Kento situated between your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his hips. The giggling and joking around subsided into a comfortable silence. While the room was thick with tension, it didn’t change the fact that both of you were ready for this. To experience making love without a pesky condom.

“Y/N.” Nanami drew your attention to his face as he spoke. “I love you.” His fingers rubbed small lazy circles over your clit. The sensation had you bucking against his hand, eager for more than the gentle caressing he was giving you.

“I-fuck feels good. I love you too, Kento.”

His fingers began moving faster, the circles tighter as his eyes trailed over your body. He was taking a mental picture of you in this moment, imagining how you’d look several months down the road. Breast and belly swollen with the child he put inside of you. You’d be even more gorgeous than you already were, which seemed utterly unfathomable to him. The images of you, pregnant with your child, God, it was more pornographic than any movie or book he’s seen. A lot of it had to be because of you. Nanami was so fucked up over the thought of breeding you.

“Ke-Kento, I-I’m gonna cum!” Your whimpers and whines brought him back to the moment. “Stop. I wanna cum with you inside of me.”

He leaned down, kissing you softly, his hand slowing down. You lazily kissed him back before gasping as you felt his leaking tip rub up and down your slit. Without the condom, you could feel just how hot and hard he was. Kento’s arms were caging around your head. His wide eyes mirrored what you imagined you looked like. The feeling of your bare wet pussy felt-ten times better than he imagined. And he wasn’t even inside you yet.

“You’re so wet,” his eyes fluttered shut, “you felt good every time I slid into you before, but this, god, this is going to be a whole new experience.”

“Y-Yeah feels good, though.”

“Very good.”

Nanami continued gritting his teeth as he slowly slid into you. Your silky wet, warm walls hugged his cock in a way he could never experience with condoms before. The raw feeling had him clenching his fists into the covers, furrowing his brows together as he desperately tried not to cum inside of you like a virgin. He needed to focus on something other than your pussy, so he focused his attention on your face.

Which was a major mistake on his part.

Cheeks flushed; your mouth was frozen in an ‘O’ shape. And fuck, the whimpers and way your chest heaved it made his knees weak. “S-So hot, oh my god Kento your cock is so hot and velvety.” His eyes were as wide as saucers as you slowly began rocking against him, trying to get his thick, cock deeper inside of you. “Please don’t stop, fuck me, please fuck me. Need to feel you, I need more.” Between your cunt squeezing him and the needy tone of your voice, Nanami lost all self control.

His hips slammed against your, causing a scream to escape you as your arched your back off the bed. As soon as he was buried deep inside your wet pussy, he was pulling out before slamming back inside your tight spongy walls. You were hit with a sudden wave or revelation as to why people hated wearing condoms. They prevent you from feeling the velvety smooth pull of your husband cock as he slammed into you over and over again. You could feel his cock throbbing, leaking inside of you, God it felt so good to be fucking you raw like this.

“Fuck your pussy is perfect, so fucking wet, so tight just for me.” His lips pressed against your, his thrusts finding the perfect rhythm as you cried into his mouth.

“Yes Ken, yes, fuck me, fuck me!”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll get pregnant off the first try.” He chuckled his hands groping your breasts, kneading them. Nanami whined, picturing them swollen with milk. “Even if that happens, I’m just going to keep fucking you full of me cum, just to be safe. God fuck Y/N!” His shameless words had you drowning in pleasure as you twitched around his perfect cock. “Ah~ fuck I felt you twitch. You like knowing that your husband is going to stop at nothing, until your breed?”

“Oh, oh fuck, yes, I want it, I want it!”

“Such a sweet girl, you want it?” He groaned in your ear, feeling you clamp down harder around him as his thrusts losing his rhythm. “Tell me you want me to breed you. Tell me you want me to be the first and only man to fill your tight cunt with cum.”

“Kento~ nngh, yes, breed me, make me yours in every way you can! Cum inside me, please, please!” Your begging, the moans, only had him whining and growling louder, fucking into you like he never had before. So rough, so passionately, it was perfect. All through subsided as you cried out Nanami had angled his hips to brush against your g-spot before pressing directly into your cervix. “Holy fuck yes, fill me up Ken!”

More dirty words and curses spilled from your tongue as you felt yourself approaching your orgasm. The tightening coil in your lower abdomen, had your withering under your husband. Your squirming had Nanami fucking harder into you, His mouth on yours as he made love to you like the world was going to end. In his horny brain it might just happen if he didn’t fuck his cum into you soon.

“That’s it, good girl, good fucking girl~ take it, fucking take all of it.” His thrusts were jerky, his balls tightening as your dug your heels into his ass, successfully pulling his deeper inside of you. “Ah fuck! You’re such a good girl, so eager to be the future mother of my children.” All you were capable of doing was nodding as you cried out around him with each deep thrust. “Fuck, get pregnant Y/N, cum on my cock, and milk me for all that I’m worth.”

“K-Kento! Ken!”

“That’s it, love~ fuckin’ cum, cum all over me, good girl.”

“Nnngh!!” A scream ripped through your throat as Kento sped up, his thumb rubbing your clit as you came, extending your orgasm.

Your cum coated his cock, the warm slickness and you throbbing walls urged him to do exactly what he had been promising to do. “Get pregnant, take it, take all my cum. I’m cumming, oh my god I’m cumm-“ Kento cut himself off by slamming his lips against your, his tongue slid into your mouth as he moaned. His cock spurted and spurted, filling you full of his cum the sensation was strange, warm, and new.

But it felt so fucking good.

Pulling away from you, Kento gasped for air as he reached up gentle caressing your face as you both tried to catch your breath. Once Nanami managed to swallow down enough air to slow his heart rate, he beamed down at you. “Y/N I love you.” He didn’t say anything else, because his loving touch, and the gentle kisses he peppered over your face spoke volumes.

Those strong loving arms held you close, pulling you onto your sides. His cock keeping your bodies connected as he spooned you. Your husband loved you more than words could describe. The mere gentleness of this moment, had you praying that if you were to get pregnant, this was the moment it happened.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 11) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 4.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Background Relationships; Medical Appointments; Suggestive Comments; Discussion of Mental Health (Depression, Anxiety, Post-Partum); Discussions of Goose and Carole; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake move in together and attend your twenty-week appointment.

Series Master List

Master List

A week and a half later, you were moving into Jake’s apartment officially. The two of you, with some help from Phoenix and Coyote, had already moved all of the smaller items out of your apartment. Bradley and Mav also stopped by—when Jake wasn’t there—to take some of the more sentimental items to hold onto for you in their bigger homes. 

So, all that was left were a few pieces of furniture. You sold some of your furniture but decided to either keep or store or give away the other pieces. And that meant that someone had to drag it down the stairs and shove it into the back of Jake’s truck or the trailer that Maverick brought. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Jake stated, watching as you rearranged the chairs around the table. 

“What?”

“You’re not carrying anything. It’s all heavy and we’re not risking you hurting yourself,” Jake insisted, walking over to you. “Just relax.”

“I think I can drag a chair a few inches,” you stated, shooting Jake a playful look. “But I won’t carry anything heavy. Promise.”

“Thank you,” Jake replied softly. “How’re they today?”

“I think I’m feeling flutters, but I don’t really know. I only seem to feel them when I’m trying to sleep, so I don’t know if I’m imaging them.”

Your twenty-week appointment was about a week away and both of you were a bit anxious about it. Of course, every first-time parent worried about the worst case-scenario at that appointment. That they were going to get some kind of news that would change the little fairytale that they built up in their mind. 

“Only when you’re trying to sleep?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?” 

“It’s like they’re teasing you. Or trying to stress you out more.” 

“They’re stubborn, that’s all.”

“They get it from both sides,” Jake replied, brushing his fingers down your bump. 

“Hopefully, they’re not too stubborn coming out,” you stated, glancing down at your bump as Jake took a step closer to you. Smiling up at him, you let out a chuckle. “What?”

“I’m just thinking about all the gas I’ll save when I don’t have to drive over here anymore," he explained, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“The gas, of course,” you hummed. 

You let out a louder giggle as Jake leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek and then down your neck. The two of you, since your kiss in the kitchen, had gotten a lot more comfortable and handsy with each other over the next few days. You hadn’t taken it all the way yet, both of you were still cautious about pushing too hard too fast, but you seemed to be moving in that direction. It was starting to remind you of how the two of you were before you found out that you were pregnant. 

Jake pressed a lingering kiss to your lips as his strong arms pulled you closer. And as you tangled your hand in his hair, returning the kiss, you heard the door to your apartment open. You turned your head and reflexively pushed Jake off of you when you saw Maverick standing there. 

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted awkwardly, running a hand through your hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Though you looked as if you weren’t expecting company,” Maverick quipped, working on his key ring. 

“I can explain,” Jake stated, causing Maverick to shake his head. 

“You already got her pregnant, Jake. There’s not much left to explain beyond that.”

“Mav,” you sighed, feeling like a teenager again. 

“Trailer’s parked out front. I didn’t know how you wanted to divide things up. Penny said that she would bring lunch over to your new apartment. And Bradley told me that he was leaving a couple minutes ago.”

“Great,” Jake replied dryly. 

“There's not too much left at least,” you stated, trying to perk Jake up. “But I have to give the key back to my landlord, Mav.”

Maverick pulled your spare key off of his chain and handed it over to you before turning to Jake. The two of them started to carry stuff downstairs to the trailer or Jake’s truck while you started to sweep up and do your final round of cleaning so that your landlord didn’t charge you extra. 

Jake and Maverick were out by the trailer, sliding your dresser into the back when Rooster walked over with his keys in hand. Leaning on the trailer wall, Rooster and Jake shared a glare before Bradley turned to Maverick. 

“Emma’s going to meet us there with Penny. I’ll text her when we’re finished up here.”

“We’ve still got a few trips left before that,” Maverick reported, walking over to Bradley. “We’re going to do the couch next.”

Bradley nodded and turned to head inside with Mav, leaving Jake to walk by himself. Jake wasn’t too perturbed. He was expecting the treatment from Bradley and the fact that Maverick hadn’t pushed him down the stairs after seeing the two of you together felt like a small victory. 

You were wiping down the counters when they returned to your apartment. You moved to greet your brother before the three of them walked over to your couch. You stood a bit nervously by the door, holding it open for them. 

“Please don’t hurt yourselves,” you told them as they started to carry it out. 

“We’ll be fine,” Jake assured you as he passed by. 

You watched them go before shutting the door. Moving over to the window, you sat down and watched for them. It was only three floors, but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to focus until the three of them emerged together. You weren’t so worried that the couch would be too heavy or anything like that. You were more concerned that they would use it to hurt each other. 

Jake and Bradley carried the ends of the couch while Maverick stood in the middle. Bradley stood on the lower set of stairs, simply because Jake wasn’t stupid and refused to step down first. Otherwise, he wasn’t confident that he would make it down to the bottom of the stairs. Not without a crack in the back of his head. Again, he wasn’t stupid. 

“Lift it up more,” Bradley grunted as they tried to turn one of the last corners. 

“I am,” Jake huffed back at him. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if you just did it,” Bradley snapped at Jake.

“Just lift, both of you,” Maverick stated firmly, shooting them both a look. 

They managed to walk around the corner with the couch and down the last set of stairs before setting the couch down on the floor to catch their breath and relieve their muscles. Bradley leaned on the couch, glaring over at Jake as Jake stretched his arms casually. Maverick was silent, but he was clearly watching them. 

“So, why are we moving my sister into your tiny apartment again, Hangman?” 

“Her lease is up and we’re having a baby together,” Hangman stated, like Rooster was as dumb as a brick. 

“And you couldn’t even get an apartment with enough room for a crib in it?” 

“Bradley,” Maverick stated, shooting him a look.  

“There’s enough room for a crib,” Jake snapped back at Bradley. “We already mapped it out. We wrote down the exact dimensions that we need. And even if we didn’t, it’s none of your fucking business, Rooster.” 

“Jake,” Maverick sighed, turning to the annoyed aviator. 

“It is my business when it involves my sister and my niece or nephew.” Bradley straightened up, staring Jake down. “She told me that you were looking at houses, but yet she said that she hasn’t been to any house showings. Why is that?” 

“None of your fucking business, Rooster.” 

“It’s not? Because it sounds like you’re selling a fantasy to my sister that you’re never actually going to deliver.” 

“That’s enough,” Maverick replied to both of them. 

“You would want your sister to just move into the first house that we found and could close on?” Jake stated, staring Bradley down. “We’re looking. But there’s other things that are more pressing that we have to deal with. But again, it’s none of your fucking business.” 

“And does she know that? Have you told her that?” 

“Alright, pick up your ends, let’s get it put into the trailer,” Maverick snapped, effectively ending the argument. 

You watched from above as Jake, Bradley, and Maverick walked out to the trailer with the couch. Letting out a breath of relief, you got up and turned to clean once again. There was just the tables, chairs, and another small dresser left, which Jake, Bradley, and Maverick carried down in three more trips. 

When it was all cleaned up, you took a moment to walk through the empty rooms, reminiscing about the memories that the place brought you. It was a sanctuary for you for a time. An escape, really. But it was an apartment for a version of you that was quickly disappearing and in a few short months would be gone completely.

You had grown out of it. And it was time to move on. 

“You alright?” Jake asked softly, standing at the threshold of the apartment.

“Yeah,” you replied, turning to him with a small smile. “I’m okay.” 

Picking up the keys, you walked over to Jake, pressed a kiss to his lips, and headed out. And into the new phase of your life. 

~~~~~

You and Jake arrived at your shared apartment first, since Maverick and Bradley were dropping off some stuff at their respective houses first. Penny was waiting for you in the parking lot and Jake assured you that he would be fine carrying everything himself. 

“So, how’d moving out go?” Penny asked you as you walked up the stairs. Your now shared apartment was on the third floor, so it was one less set of stairs than your previous apartment. “Pete gave me a brief overview.” 

“He probably knows better than me. He was the one who was dealing with them,” you sighed, pulling out your new set of keys. “I just want them to be able to coexist. They don’t have to like each other. Hell, they don’t even need to speak to each other. I just need them to be able to sit in the same room and not try to kill each other.” 

“They’re both stubborn and set in their ways,” Penny replied, shaking her head. “Have you talked to Emma about Bradley?” 

“Yeah, but there’s only so much she can do. Ever since Mom died, he’s always felt the need to be so protective over me. And I appreciated it sometimes but now I don’t need it now. I just want him to be happy for me. For us, me and Jake.” 

“He will. Maybe he just needs to see Jake supporting you—not that he isn’t already—for that to start to happen.” 

“He better get over it by the time I have this baby or I swear,” you muttered, moving to unlock your front door. You turned to Penny with less annoyance in your features. “You know, I really want to make Bradley and Emma the baby’s godparents. And the baby’s guardians if something were to happen to the both of us and—” 

“—Don’t talk like that,” Penny interrupted you, grabbing your shoulders. 

“Penny,” you sighed as the door shut behind her, “I’m not living in some delusion where I don’t think that bad things can happen. And I want it all written down and signed and everything before I give birth or just in case Jake gets dragged away.” Placing a hand on your bump, you looked down. “I want to be prepared.” 

“Hey, today is a happy occasion. You can focus on that stuff at another time. Right now, just enjoy the fact that everyone is healthy and that you’re moving forward in your relationship with Jake, okay?” You nodded slowly and Penny pulled you in for a tight motherly hug. “And that’s why I got you a gift.” 

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Penny.” 

“I know, but I saw it and just thought of you,” Penny replied, pulling away and reaching into the bag that she brought. 

“And you definitely didn’t need to wrap it,” you mused, taking the box from her hand. 

Gently tearing at the wrapping paper, you glanced up when the door opened and Jake walked in, carrying your nightstand and dragging a suitcase behind him. You shot him a smile as he glanced curiously down at the gift in your hands. 

“What’s that?” 

“Just a small gift,” Penny insisted, smiling kindly. 

You tore away the rest of the wrapping paper and pulled out a rectangular plaque. You were a bit confused when you noted the three raised squares, but when you read the painted letters above them, it all clicked.

The message of ‘Daddy’ + ‘Mommy’ = ‘Baby’ was so simple, yet so emotionally overwhelming.  

“You’re supposed to put your handprints here,” Penny explained, pointing at the squares. “Jake can put his handprint here and then you can put yours there and then when your baby comes, you can put their handprint there. They recommended red and white for your hands if it’s a girl, so that her handprint is pink. Or white and a darker blue if it’s a boy, so that his handprint would be a baby blue. And you can paint the baby’s name below the square too, right there.” 

“I love it,” you croaked out, emotions quickly bursting to the surface. “Thank you, Penny. I love it, I love it so much.” 

You pulled Penny back in for a tight hug, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. Jake looked on, concerned, but Penny gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed that it was alright. And when Jake continued to look concerned, Penny whispered ‘hormones’ to him. Jake nodded slowly and gently took the plaque from your hands. 

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you breathed out, wiping them away hastily. “It just hit me all of a sudden.” 

“It’s been a long day. You’re making big steps. It’s a lot to take in all at once.” 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, trying to get a reign on your emotions again. Turning back to Jake, who was still staring at you with a measure of concern. “Where do you think we should put it up, once it’s complete?” 

“Somewhere everyone can see it,” Jake suggested, causing you to smile and nod in agreement. 

~~~~~

Since most of your stuff was already at Jake’s apartment, it didn’t take too much longer to fully make it your shared space. And you already made space in the living room for baby stuff. It was still early, you knew, but the alternative was researching about what horrible things you could find out at your twenty-week appointment, so you kept on decorating. 

But today was the day, so you supposed that you couldn’t push it off anymore. 

Waiting a bit anxiously in your car, you let out a breath when you spotted Jake’s truck pull into the lot. You grabbed your purse and slipped out of your car, walking over to where Jake parked. He got out of his truck, dressed in his day uniform, and quickly moved to your side. Pulling you in for a gentle hug, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Are you alright?” he asked you, causing you to nod against his chest. “Everything’s going to be fine. Whatever we find out, it’s going to be fine, okay?” 

Jake locked up his truck before the two of you headed inside the office. You checked in and sat down, filling out some paperwork while Jake rested his arm behind your back. And when your name was called, the two of you silently walked back to the exam room. Laying back on the exam table, you stared at the ceiling as Jake rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb. 

A knock at the door made you sit up and move to the edge of the examination table. Your obstetrician walked inside the room with a kind smile. It started off as any regular doctor’s appointment would. You went over your symptoms, your pains, your bloodwork, and everything else before moving onto the ultrasound. 

You immediately reached for Jake as the wand touched your belly and he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. She moved it around, typing away at her computer, taking a few images and measurements, before turning to you with a reassuring smile. 

“Your baby’s growing normally and as they should. Everything is measuring normal. They’re a little smaller than average, but nothing to be concerned about. They’re still a perfectly healthy and normal size.” She typed something else before turning back to you and Jake. “Do you still want to wait to know the baby’s sex?” 

“Yes, please,” you answered quickly.

“Alright, well, I’m just going to turn the screen briefly,” your obstetrician replied, hiding the information from you and Jake. 

“You can tell?” you asked quietly.

“Yes, but all the files are marked to keep that information completely private. Unless you change your mind, of course.” 

You nodded and shared a look with Jake, who pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Your obstetrician typed away again before moving the screen back to your view. And as she continued to tell you that everything was normal and healthy, you sunk in and started to relax and enjoy the moment. 

“Your baby seems to be a bit stubborn,” your obstetrician noted, trying to move the wand around your belly again to take some more measurements. “They start to cooperate and then seem to decide not to about three seconds later.”

“That’s not shocking,” you mused, watching the movement of your child on the screen. “Stubbornness is probably genetic for them.” 

After a few more pictures, your belly was wiped off and you sat up once again. Your obstetrician smiled kindly as she sat down on her stool in front of you. Jake sat beside you, more relaxed than when he walked in, but still alert, as your obstetrician turned to you.

“Alright, there’s just a few more screening questions and then we’re all set.” 

“Of course,” you agreed, nodding slowly.

“Mr. Seresin,” your obstetrician stated, causing Jake to turn to her. “Did you want to go and grab the ultrasound photos? A tech can bring you back there. And you can ask them any questions of your own about the process.” 

Jake hesitated for a moment but agreed and got up from his seat. You squeezed his hand in goodbye before he exited the room with one of the techs. Your obstetrician waited until he was gone before turning to you.

“At the twenty week appointment, we usually perform a screening of your mental health.” After you nodded, she began. “Have you ever had a history of mental illness? Anxiety? Depression? Eating disorders? Anything like that?”

“Yes,” you answered softly. “Depression and anxiety.” 

“When?” she asked, poised to type down the information.

“My mother passed away when I was twelve. And after that, I was diagnosed with depression and put in talk therapy for a time. But I stopped that when I was eighteen. And they put me on anti-anxiety medication when I was sixteen.” 

“Are you still on that medication?”

“No, I stopped it about a year afterwards. I was just going through a lot at the time and talk therapy wasn’t working completely. It was just to get me through that time and then I didn’t need it anymore.” 

“Have you had any flare ups since then?” 

“A few times,” you answered honestly. 

“You didn’t go back to talk therapy or medication or anything?”

“No, I just . . . waited for it to get better, I suppose. Probably wasn't the best decision, but I survived.” 

“Can I ask why you didn’t return to therapy or medication?” 

“Honestly, the only reason I went to therapy or went on medication when I was a teenager was because I had people in my family push me in that direction. But when I was an adult, I just . . . I wanted to just handle it quietly.” 

“Well, please document if you feel any depression or anxiety during your pregnancy and your postpartum period. It’s an overwhelming time for anyone and there’s no shame in asking for help of any kind.” Your obstetrician paused before asking softly, “Do you trust your partner to help you if you feel depressed or anxious?” 

“Yeah,” you answered honestly, nodding along. 

“And are you two living together?”

“Yes, we are.” 

“And you feel safe in that living situation? Do you feel safe and confident about bringing your baby into that environment?” 

“Yes, completely.” 

“Alright, well, please just document if you feel anxious or depressed.” She stood up and grabbed a pamphlet and handed it to you. ���You can always call our office or there’s a helpline that you can call at any time. And there’s no shame in any of it.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, thumbing through the pamphlet. 

~~~~~

That night, you and Jake laid in bed, looking at the photos from your ultrasound together. You were curled up on his chest, resting most of your weight on him as Jake wrapped his arm around your waist, cupping your continuously growing bump with his hand. 

“Were you a small baby?” you asked Jake softly, staring at the ultrasound picture of your baby. 

“What?” he questioned, turning to you with some confusion.

“Were you a small baby when you were born?” you repeated for him. “She said that the baby was smaller than average.” 

“I never asked,” Jake replied, a bit elusively. 

“I was normal weight, according to my mom,” you stated, still staring at the photo. “Bradley was a large baby with a big fat head, but I was normal weight and size. Mav said that after I was born, my mom told my dad that she wished that I was born first. It would have been an easier delivery, she told him.” 

“You think that they’ll stay smaller?” 

“I hope so,” you mused with a smile. “I’d prefer a six pound baby to a ten pound baby, thank you very much.” You turned to Jake with a soft look in your eye, resting your head on his shoulder. “Your mom never complained to you about how big your head was or how you were overactive in her belly or anything like that?” 

“No,” Jake replied shortly. 

Your smile slipped a bit and you turned back to the ultrasound photo. Jake rubbed his hand slowly up and down your bump, soothing you in one way but making another part of you wander from his side. 

“Can I take this one?” Jake asked, causing you to turn back to him.

“What?”

“Can I take this one with me?” Jake asked you again, pointing at one photo from the roll. “I was thinking about putting a photo from the ultrasound in my cockpit. If that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, nodding to him and offering him a smile. “I think that’s sweet.” 

Jake nodded in return and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The two of you turned in for the night shortly afterwards. Rolling onto your side, you rested your head on your hand, staring out at the window. Jake gave your bump one last loving squeeze before moving away to fall asleep. And although you were exhausted and needed sleep, your mind kept you awake.

Staring at the window again, you paused when you felt that little flutter again. You smiled to yourself and glanced down at your bump.

“Right as I’m trying to go to sleep? Again?” you teased quietly. 

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[gentrychild]

An anon who was rereading Anyone asked me what would have happened if Izuku didn't like eggs and how you tell a supervillain you don't like what he made and that you want something. I have bravely tried to answer said ask but Tumblr laughed at my pain, so here is it, on a new post.

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

When confronted with the super villain Izuku had accidentally broken out of the most secured prison in the country, a man who had basically walked out of said prison as soon as he hadn’t been restrained anymore, Izuku did the only thing any rational person would do.

He ran like hell. No shoes, no plan, nothing except Full Cowl roaring in his veins and he fled.

At least, he tried to.

Strong tendrils stopped him dead, then hands picked him up by his shoulders and suddenly, his feet weren't touching the ground and he was forcibly brought to the kitchen table.

''No, no, no,'' All for One said with the tone one would employ with a disobedient pet or a very young child. ''Your breakfast is going to get cold and we have so much to talk about. Sit. Enjoy the eggs. If you don't like them, I can make something else.''

And he dropped him on his chair, before putting the plate in front of him. Then, he sat at the other end of the table, facing Izuku, his own plate in front of him and he started to eat. Slowly, his manners perfect, while Izuku was dying of sheer stress over there.

Then, he looked at Izuku. Then at Izuku's plate.

''You're not eating?''

Izuku looked at the man who had literally reduced people to paste last night and then at his plate of eggs and bacon, then back at the lunatic who was probably going to skin him alive soon enough. He needed to do something, to get the time to find a way out of this mess.

Now, any reasonable human being would have eaten a bit of eggs and bacon – well, eaten the bacon in Izuku’s case – but he had just woken up, was in a pre-caffeinated state and truly, Izuku had never claimed to have the slightest working relationship with sanity.

“I don’t like eggs,” he blurted out.

The supervillain, the very same man who had literally gone through a prison riot of fellow villains like he was running through wet paper, was startled so badly by those four words that he dropped his fork.

“What do you mean, you don’t like eggs???” he asked like this was a ludicrous notion, like everyone’s favorite breakfast should be eggs and bacon.

“Never liked them,” Izuku lied, by pure spirit of contradiction, far more developed than for most people, for it had been left with quite the amount of room after the disappearance of all his survival instinct.

And it was indeed a lie because, once upon a time, it had been his favorite comfort food, but when he had been a kid, during one of those weeks where his mom was gone and the neighbor supposed to watch over him was busy forgetting his existence, he had gorged himself on it at every meal until he had gotten so sick of it that he had been unable to eat them ever again.

All for One watched him with something that went beyond annoyance, it was the patented look of someone who knew one was messing with him and the words “You’re a goddamn liar” were probably fighting to be left out but he had no proof that Izuku was bullshitting him and if even if he somehow had a lie-detecting-quirk, Izuku would keep denying it because he probably wasn’t making it out alive anyway so why deprive himself of the chance of annoying his would-be-killer?

And actually, why wait?

“I prefer waffles,” Izuku informed him because, after all, All for One had offered him to make him something else.

All for One stared at him without saying anything, probably thinking about all the ways he could have killed Izuku back when they were in Tartarus. Meanwhile, Izuku gave the illusion to be staring back at him when he was actually thinking about the fact the window made a faster exit but All for One would have the time to catch him before he landed seven floors lower while the door offered him more options.

All for One eventually abandoned his plate and started to rummage through the cupboards, going straight to the place where Izuku and his mom usually put the baking ingredients. Either everyone organized their kitchen the same way, or All for One had broken in so many homes that he was just a pro at using any kitchen he found himself into.

“Do you have flour?” the lunatic called out. “I can’t find it.”

Izuku had already flowed out of his chair and was making his way to the door by walking backwards, trying to radiate nonchalance and not the need to RUN AWAY WITHOUT LOOKING BACK.

“Try the highest shelves,” Izuku helpfully suggested, his hand on the doorknob.

It was where his mom put the heaviest pots and pans they usually didn’t use, since everyone in this household needed to climb a chair to access it. With a little luck, they would all fall on All for One.

Izuku left the apartment, not even bothering to fully close the door behind him, and he ran. He was in his pajamas, had found his sneakers by the door and they were still in his hands as he booked it out of his neighborhood as fast as Full Cowl could carry him and he didn’t stop until his building wasn’t in sight anymore. Then, he stopped on a bench, the couple flirting on it deciding they could do that somewhere else when they saw him approaching, and he put his sneakers on, took a deep breath, and decided to run some more, still in the opposite direction of where Todoroki was living, and then, he would figure out a plan.

Unfortunately, liquid shadows chose this moment to appear right in front of him, revealing All for One, who was holding a bag from Waffle Palace in one of his hands.

“I didn’t find any flour or sugar so I just ordered in.”

Some people would have screamed or been startled but Izuku had already ripped the bench from the ground and thrown it at All for One. The villain batted it away with his empty hand but it didn’t matter because Izuku was already half way through the park, or at least until black tendrils grabbed him and yanked him back.

 “Your waffles are going to get cold,” All for One sternly informed him before grabbing him by the back of his shirt and he warped again, this time with Izuku under his arm.

[notjoelmiller]

the protector

MDNI

joel miller x tess's sister!reader (not blood related) summary: Joel promised Tess he would take care of you. It's fine until he finds himself infatuated with you and Ellie accuses him of replacing Tess. wordcount: 5.0k warnings: smut (unprotected p-in-v), unspecified age gap, canon character death, spoilers up to episode 3, background character death, violence, joel is not a good person in this

Tess asks him one night as he stitches her up. Negotiations went wrong, and Joel tends to her carefully. He always does. It was his way of setting things right.

Joel had to carry her back to their apartment. Her skin lost its rosy hue in the process, and she shivered in his arms the whole way back. Joel thought he lost her. He almost did.

With the apartment illuminated by the streams of moonlight peeking through the window, he puts her back together. Needle and threat prod and pull at her skin. The makeshift infirmary that their apartment has become reeks of iron and alcohol.

He killed earlier, with his bare hands. He’s only done that a few times before. He liked using guns or knives, but he beat that man who hurt Tess. Crushed his eye socket just to watch him bleed. It was irresponsible and reckless. His hands tremble with the lingering adrenaline mixed with newfound anxiety. Tess is alive, he tries telling himself. It doesn’t quell the shakes.

He has only two stitches left when Tess speaks for the first and only time that night. Her words come out slowly, either from the blood loss or careful consideration. 

“If anything happens to me, take care of my sister, okay?” She asks.

Joel pauses, needle hanging just above her skin. His fingers are caked in Tess’s blood, maybe some of a stranger. He’s sure it’s gonna be there in the morning, no matter how much he scrubs his skin raw. 

“Okay,” he says.

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

They don’t mention it. Years pass before she asks him to make another promise– to take care of an infected girl. He swears to her again, and when he does he remembers: the farm in western Massachusetts circled on a map, the mysterious kid sister Tess always talks about, the promise he made with blood caked under his nails.

As smoke from the capitol building pollutes the blue sky, Joel wonders if Tess remembers it. Perhaps, while grappling with her last lucid moments before the infection takes over, it brought her peace– the thought of her sister’s safety.

Save who you can save.

Once things calm down, and distance muffles the screeches of the infected, Ellie asks where they’re going.

***

Joel doesn’t see the resemblance. Ellie says she does. It’s in the eyes, she tells him. That determination. Scary shit. Joel can’t deny it, you do have that intense Tess-stare. But the expression is about where the resemblance ends.

In fact, the moment he lays eyes on you, he realizes that when Tess said “sister”, it was an expression– a bond beyond blood. Even if you weren’t related, you were important to her.

“Tess is dead,” he says minutes after you welcome him and Ellie into your home. “Asked me to look after you.”

You excuse yourself after Joel tells you. Ellie elbows him in the ribs when you disappear into the upstairs section of the house. It was a disturbing delivery, evident by your quiet gasps and sobs in the other room, but it was fact. Tess is gone, and Joel has a promise to fulfill. Sugarcoating it won’t change anything.

You fail to emerge from your room before sundown. Ellie tells him that they should clear out and let you grieve, but something keeps him planted in your living room. 

It’s cozy, not just by post-infection standards. You somehow keep the place neat, but it still looks lived in. Polaroids sit in frames on top of the fireplace. Most of them are you and Tess. In some of them, she’s younger, before Joel met her in the quarantine zone. Though, others were more recent. If Joel had to guess, the newest photo was taken in the last two years. He never knew how much Tess came out to see you. How much you really meant to her.

You don’t reemerge until the stars come out. Even then, with puffy, but dry, eyes and a monotonous voice you tell the strangers where they can sleep. Hospitable, despite the waves of grief that radiate from your frame.

As you set up the guest rooms, Joel explains that they’re leaving in the morning. He offers you the choice of staying, but tells you that you have a better chance out there than here alone, with nobody watching over you. He doesn’t know if that’s true, but he knows that Tess would have wanted you under his protection.

Ellie tries comforting you in the only way her emotionally-stunted self can. She cracks jokes, tries her best to break the tension. It doesn’t make you laugh. Hell, you don’t even smile. Ellie’s curls into herself, embarrassed, but only because she misses the way your shoulders droop and eyes soften. Joel does see it.

After the pair are settled into the spare rooms, you disappear again. When they wake the next morning, you’re back to normal. Somewhat. You flutter around the house with a backpack and a duffle, shoving personal items and essentials in. You don’t greet your guests, instead you start by ordering Ellie to bring non-perishables from the kitchen to the truck. She nods dumbly and gets straight to work. Joel frowns at her obedience until your eyes land on him.

You lower your voice, “The photos.” Your voice is hoarse at that volume, no doubt exacerbated by your night of grief. “I can’t take them all. If you want one you can– I mean, you don’t need to. Tess didn’t talk much about you, but she sent you after me, didn’t she?” You chuckle. It’s humorless. “I guess you two trusted each other.” You nod to the mantle. Only a few photos remain. 

He frowns. Had Tess not told you about them? He had assumed that in thirteen years, you would have said something. His hands clench. “Photos ain’t gonna change a thing,” he states.

Your face crumples like he’s just spitten on your sister’s grave. “Maybe.” You turn away. “I’ll help Ellie with the food. Then we can go.”

You work with Ellie to clear out the rest of the food supply. She talks your ear off the entire time you pack. Apparently, she’s thrilled to have you joining her and Joel, though you fear she isn’t actually interested in your company. You think she only talks to you so enthusiastically because you're more responsive than Joel. 

Despite your hesitance, you find yourself anticipating joining the pair. It’s not like you have much of a choice in the matter, though. Tess kept you stocked. She kept you safe. With her gone, and her partner heading west, you were alone. In a few months time, you would be out of bullets and meds, and with the winter approaching, the odds would be against you.

Ellie knocks on the side of Joel’s truck. “Do you know how to drive?” She asks, flipping a knife in her hands with a bit too much ease for your liking. You wonder how long she’s had that thing. Thankfully, it looks relatively unused. “Joel doesn’t wanna teach me… but maybe you could give me lessons. It’ll be really fuckin’ cool– plus I could help you guys out and take some driving shifts.”

You shrug, tucking the last pile of cans in the truck bed. Ellie’s standing on the wheel, looking at you with wide, expectant eyes. “So?” She asks, leaning forward so much, you think she’ll fall into the bed.

Joel comes out before you can make that promise. He stomps down the porch steps, telling you and Ellie to get in the car. There’s no urgency to his orders. For that you’re grateful. Driving off in that car means the end of the last twenty years of your life. No more of the farm, no more New England, no more Tess. 

You wait for anxiety to come, but it doesn’t. Somehow, you’ve made peace with it all. With Ellie and Joel, your new companions.

Ellie seems attached to you. She’s been chatting your ear off for the better part of the hour. It’s nice. She keeps your mind off grief.

You wonder if this is how Tess felt, when she first found you and took you under her wing. Sure, you were less chatty than Ellie, but you find yourself feeling a strange possessiveness over the girl. You’ve never had to be a role model, someone for a young girl to look up to. You think about Tess, all she did to make sure you were well-adjusted in this world. Ellie seems like a good kid. You just hope that you’ll be able to guide her like Tess did you.

Joel seems less excited to have you, more like he’s carrying out a duty. You suppose that is the case, that Tess sent him to you in her absence. You don’t understand why she kept him around for so many years. He doesn’t appear to be the best company. He’s quiet, though when he chooses to speak it’s curt, leaving a bad taste in your mouth. 

He’s not bad on the eyes, though. Maybe that’s why she kept him around.

Ellie nudges your shin with her foot. She stares at you with wide, expectant eyes. “You can sit shotgun,” she says.

You smile, “Thanks, kid.”

***

Joel dreams about Tess. He dreams she’s still with him. Everything’s the same– he's left Boston, Bill and Frank are gone –except you’re absent. Back on the farm, perhaps, doing whatever the hell it was you did there.

Ellie’s still in his dreams, at least most of the time. Sometimes she’s not. Some nights, she’s taller, with a head of curly hair. She’s got the same snark, but less of a tendency to use profanities.

The dreams keep him up. When he eventually falls asleep, it isn’t for long. The dreams come, and Tess says something too close to that day in the capitol or he catches a head of curly hair. Then he’s up, breathing heavily and sweating hard. You notice, of course you do. Tess was like that. She always had an inkling whenever something was eating at Joel. You ask if he wants to talk about it.

Of course I do.

But Joel just shrugs. He wants that companionship, that person to lean on in his struggles, but not in you. You’re not the person he wants to burden.

***

You grieve differently than Joel. You actually take time to talk about Tess, tell stories about her– good and bad. Ellie loves it, grateful to learn more about the woman she could only be with for a short time. The woman who saved her life.

It helps Joel learn about your relationship. He gathers that you came together at the start of the infection. You grew together, learning from each other. You were younger than her, he guesses by at least a decade, and had grown into your own under her guidance.

You and Tess parted ways months before she met Joel. You wanted autonomy, a place to call your own. You wanted the openness of the country and the ability to live off the land, not on FEDRA rations. Tess needed security. She needed to know that she wouldn’t be ripped apart by clickers in her sleep. She wanted a quarantine zone. So, you split up.

But there was– is –no bitterness in that disagreement, Joel finds. When you recall that parting of ways and your desires for different lives, you seem content. It irks him that you have such a strange peace with that, after knowing the fate of your sister, while you stand with him now, alive and well.

There are glimpses of Tess in you. He admits that to Ellie one night after you’ve gone to sleep, hardly a week after you joined the duo. What he doesn’t admit to Ellie is how much of Tess he really sees in you, and that sometimes, he has to stop himself from calling you by her name.

But of course, he slips up. It happens only once. You’re walking behind him, telling some story about a poor sucker who gave you trouble back on the farm. It’s a good story, but coming from your lips? Joel is captivated.

He goes to respond to some gruesome detail of the story, but her name comes out of his mouth. Not yours. Tess. Ellie whips her head around unbelievably fast, eyes so wide he can practically hear her thoughts screaming at him, what the hell Joel?

He’s quick to cover it up. “Tess… she said something like that happened to her once, too.”

Joel’s glad you’re behind him. You can’t see the way his face crumples in shame. Though, he can’t see whether or not you caught it.

When you’re out of earshot, Ellie calls it a Freudian slip. Joel tells her to watch her mouth.

***

You’re softer than Tess from all that time on the farm. Sure, you have your fair share of trouble with raiders and stray infected, and you know your way around a fight. But you’ve never stepped foot in a quarantine zone. You’ve never had to deal with the Fireflies, the grifters, or even FEDRA.

Tess had gone through all of that. She internalized it– let it change her. It roughened her edges enough that even the thought of submitting to Joel made her hackles raise. Not you, though.

You don’t just accept his touch. You practically melt at it. She let him touch her, being intimate physically in ways he could never verbalize, but she never reveled in it. She would never sigh and lean into his hand on her cheek. She couldn’t let her muscles relax in his embrace, but she’d always accept it. After all, she was his.

You’re not, but you take and cherish all that Joel has to give you. You live for it. You could forget about all of your troubles with him. He sees it in the way your hands linger on his when he helps you up after a fight, and he often feels the back of his neck burning with your stares. He likes the attention you give him.

You don’t have to kill much, but Joel’s tendency to protect Ellie from death has rubbed off on you. You kill when needed, and each time, once the body lays still, Joel notices you pause. You take time to observe the life you took, and a profound sadness overtakes you. Not remorse, though. Joel has found that you don’t regret what you had to do. He thinks you got that from Tess.

Unfortunately, that habit of yours teaches him how thoroughly fucked he is.

Joel gets knocked to the ground by a hunter. His head snaps back against the ground. Not hard enough to concuss, but it rattles him to the point that he can’t get the damn guy off of him. In the haze, he doesn’t feel the knife resting on the skin of his neck.

You see it, though, and in moments, you're on the hunter. 

Joel is too dazed to realize what had occurred until you’re leaning over him, cupping his jaw gently as you examine his face. 

His eyes dance between you and the hunter just inches away. He’s a pile of bloodied flesh. You don’t care. There’s blood on you. It’s thick and coats your arms and torso. All you do is ask Joel questions. Are you alright? Do you think you’re concussed? Do you need help getting up? Your eyes are on him– him alone.

He tries keeping up with your questions. Not just because they’re important, but because he wants to please you. You– who put aside your morals just to dote on him. You– the woman he vowed to protect. You– the new object of Joel’s infatuation.

***

The first time he really touches you, you’re speechless.

You’ve felt his touch before. It’s unavoidable– a graze of calloused fingertips over a wound you can’t reach, a helping hand lifting you over a high ledge, fingers lingering just a moment after handing rations. But this time, it’s different. It’s not accidental, nor the result of your forced proximity.

Ellie’s asleep, snoring softly just a few feet away.

You and Joel had an argument. A minor disagreement, really. He refuses to let you take the night watch and let him sleep. So, you sit in silence.

He’s tearing himself apart with his martyrdom. He sacrifices his sleep so he can take watch instead of you. He takes all the heat in fights, leaving you and Ellie unscathed, but him with unsavory injuries. He gives you and Ellie larger shares of food. You swear he’s lost weight since you’ve joined them. You pointed this all out to him earlier in the night. And he didn’t take it well.

You two don’t argue frequently. For that, you’re grateful. Joel’s not the best company, even by today’s standards, but you’ve come to enjoy having him by your side. He’s courteous, helpful, and has an unexpectedly good sense of humor. But when you get into a disagreement, you wonder why you joined him in the first place. He becomes something else, cold and detached. He’s so venomous and vile that you find your chest hurting with frustration.

You’re both still recovering from earlier. It was a tame disagreement by your standards. Both of you managed to get over it just enough to sit next to each other by the fire. For warmth, you both agreed.

Hours after the sun disappears, the moon and stars being the only light in the sky, Joel shifts. You almost ask what’s the matter, then he takes his hand in yours, resting it on his thigh.

You don’t tense. You don’t look at him. You don’t signal in any way that he’s actually touching you. His fingers brush over your knuckles, calluses scratching against taught skin over joints, and strangely, your heart flutters. He falls asleep like that, your hand in his.

A week later, under the blanket of night, Joel fucks you against a tree.

There’s no tenderness in it, but it’s not like you expected anything different. 

He tells you to keep it down. It's an obscene request that he makes as though his hands aren’t up your shirt, grabbing at you like you’re the only person in the world. He makes it seem like the drilling of his hips into you doesn’t make it near-impossible to keep it down.

He makes quick work of you. His fingers deftly rub at your clit until you're swallowing the noises of your orgasm. Joel doesn’t last much longer, pulling out and spilling himself on your thighs. 

You don’t talk about it the next morning. You keep the appearance of “normalcy”, for Ellie’s sake. You just hope she doesn’t notice the smiles you share behind her back.

***

His dreams change. Now most nights, he’s back in Boston in his shitty bed that cost way too many ration cards. That doesn’t matter though, because it’s peaceful. 

Sunlight peeks through the curtain and warms the skin of his face. The streets outside are quiet. He’s warm, satisfied, and safe.

He’s alone in bed, but someone flitters around the apartment out of view. He hears it: footsteps all around the space, the quiet clang of dishes being stacked on top of each other, a feminine humming.

He can’t move in those dreams, forced to keep his eyes on the bright window– the one with the butterfly.

He wants to call her name. Tess, Tess, Tess. The syllable sits on the tip of his tongue, yet he can’t manage to say it. The word refuses to leave his lips. It’s like his body knows something he doesn’t.

It knows that something is wrong.

***

With every brush of Joel’s fingers against yours, Ellie is watching. 

She’s waiting to pounce. Joel knows it. One wrong move and Ellie’s going to say it, accuse him of what he knows she’s thinking.

So, you two like a…

Pass.

Ellie wasn’t stupid. She knew what that meant. Ellie saw it in his eyes when they left Tess at the state house. As he watched it burn with Tess inside. 

Not to feel the way I felt…

She read that letter from Bill.

The girl is a quintessential post-outbreak kid. She’s anxious for a fight, angry, and emotionally repressed. But the girl was also raised in a military school, and it made her observant. So every touch your way, every smile at you, and every thought he makes, Ellie knows.

Joel avoids Ellie for a long time, but she manages to get through. 

You’re somewhere in West Virginia. You’ve been with Joel and Ellie for about a month, just enough time for fall to settle in. 

It isn’t as bad as in Boston where, by the time the leaves turned, the days were too cold to even enjoy the beauty of it. West Virginia, though, sure the nights were chilly, but the days were pleasing.

It reminds him of Austin. Austin never really had a true autumn. The season came with the bloom of red, orange, and yellow leaves, but there was no chill of the impending winter. In Austin, it looked different, but felt just the same– or close enough. He loved it. He misses it.

Joel holds a photo in his hand. The one he took from your mantle the morning you abandoned the farm. It’s you and Tess, beaming at the camera. He keeps it folded in his pocket at all times in case he needs it to bring comfort. Currently he does.

The photo has rubbed away at the seam of the fold. If Joel ever decided to unfold it, to look at you two as one, there would be a white crease in the middle. A divide. He doesn’t, though. Joel never unfolds it and resorts to looking at either of you one at a time.

Now, it’s you staring back at him. A moment ago, it was Tess.

Ellie sits on the opposite side of the fire. You’re sleeping off the last of a fever you managed to catch. 

He wants to reach out to you, pull you in his arms until the fever breaks. The urge gnaws at him, makes something twist and burn deep in his gut. He should think. He needs to think. Not with Ellie watching him, though. He needs her off his back.

Here goes nothing.

He says her name, once, curtly. Her eyes widen slightly, just for a moment, but composes herself. She sits up tall. Joel lets her speak first. It takes her a moment, but she speaks like she’s been considering her words for a long time.

“Tess said you didn’t feel the way she felt.”

“I cared for her. For Tess.” Ellie frowns, eyes squinted as she bores into his very being. “A lot,” Joel adds.

“Does her sister know that?”

Joel says Ellie’s name, quietly. It’s meant to be a warning, but as it passes through his lips he can’t help but think it sounds pathetic. Pathetic, like you fucking Tess’s kid sister. His jaw ticks as something putrid curdles in his stomach.

No. No. He refuses to let a child judge him. What does she know about relationships? What does she know about love?

Love? No, not love. Not love. Physical relationships, that’s what this is about. Not love. No, Joel doesn’t love. Not Tess. And certainly not you, not that you matter in this case, because Tess has nothing to do with you.

He looks back at the photo in his hand. Tess stares back at him.

“You’re replacing her, Joel.”

***

Joel isn’t a man to cherish. He loves nothing– nobody. You’ve seen him kill more times than you can count, and not all of those deaths were deserving. 

He reveals himself in pieces and only on rare occasions. You learn of his past slowly. He was a hunter. He has a brother, one who left him years ago. He may have had a child at one point. He wanted to be a singer when he was a boy.

You’ve known one thing from the start, and it’s that he tends to you like you’re the only thing that matters.

You found a settlement. Just for the night, they let you stay in a house– a real one, with showers, working locks, nice furniture, and all. You almost cry when you rub the homemade soap bar against your skin. You feel like a new person when you step out of the shower, your skin soft and glowing in a way you haven’t experienced in years.

If you had to be honest, the separate bedrooms are your favorite part.

You’re not even out of the shower for a minute before Joel has you beneath him on the bed. 

He fists a hand into your still dripping hair and tugs. His tongue pushes its way into your mouth, and you welcome the taste of him– it’s fresh, like the toothpaste you had traded for once you came to town. You chase his lips as he pulls back. 

“Couldn’t wait for you to come out, baby.” He adds, “Need you.” You believe it. You believe it wholeheartedly and it makes heat wash through your body. Joel has a way of making you feel like that.

His jean-clad hips rut into your plush thigh. The buckle digs into your skin, nearly camouflaging the sensation of his cock. 

The towel you wrapped yourself in has unfolded, leaving you exposed to the cold air of the bedroom. Your nipples stiffen. Joel takes one between his fingers, twisting and pulling as he groans into your mouth. His spare hand works on removing his pants. You explore the expanse of his back.

Deft fingers move from your breasts to your core. Joel’s thumb rubs at your clit, while two fingers trace the seam of your entrance. His fingers are cold, you clench around nothing as they tease you. Joel doesn’t get many opportunities to drag things out, to tease you until tears are running down your face. You love that side of him. It helps you imagine what it would be like to be with him before the infection. But tonight isn’t the time. 

You swat his hand away, murmuring, “Don’t need that,” you swat his hands. “Just want you.”

Joel hesitates. You do need that, and he knows you know that fact. It’s been a few weeks since you last fucked. It was sure to be a stretch. His eyes wash over your face, searching for any uncertainty before he nods and notches himself at your entrance.

It’s not a smooth coupling by any means. You rushed into things too fast. His length rubs unpleasantly against your walls as he pushes in. Though, you pull him closer with your legs. You just needed to feel him.

He holds your hips up as he pistons into you. He moves slowly tonight. There’s no urgency, no threat that Ellie might come around the corner and catch you in the act. You indulge in the rare intimacy.

You dig your face into the crook of his neck. Every inhale you take is purely him. “Driving me crazy, Miller,” you whisper.

“Good,” Joel laughs. He’s never laughed during sex before. You figured he wasn’t the type, that letting loose like that in the act wasn’t his style. Apparently not.

You reach your peak quicker than expected. It washes over you in lazy waves, softening your muscles and melting you into the bed beneath you. It drains you. Or maybe the luxury of the bed beneath you is causing your exhaustion.

Luckily, Joel’s not far behind, pulling out and working himself to his peak. He cums on your stomach, your newly cleaned skin now dirtied with your sweat and his seed. You’re too tired and too blissed out to care though. You can always shower again in the morning.

Joel takes your discarded towel to clean your stomach. He throws it to the ground before settling himself at your side. You roll over, letting him adhere to your back.

Your eyes are drawn to the towel. Next to it are Joel’s discarded jeans. Something sticks out of his pocket. You squint.

It’s Tess– one of the pictures of her you had on your mantle. You were in that photo too, but it was folded in half, and now you had to stare at your deceased sister. The photo was one you had offered to Joel. Photos ain’t gonna change a thing, he had said back then on the farm. It irked you. It irked you for so long that you had been hesitant at the start of your relationship– if that's what you could call this. Back then, you had been afraid of getting attached to him. You were scared he wouldn’t ever call you his.

But he had the photo, and it’s… somewhat disturbing. He had been so cold then when you asked him. You only offered it because you thought he and Tess were closer. After all, she asked him to take care of you, and he listened. Then he turned it down, and you realized– assumed –you misinterpreted them. You accepted it as the truth.

He has it now, though. However many months later he has that photo.

Joel’s arm tightens around your waist, pulling your back closer to his chest. “What are you thinkin’ about?” He sounds tired. 

You thought he was asleep, assuming the relative safety of the settlement and your nightly activities would be enough to knock him out. You’re tired too. Part of you wants to forget it, lean back into Joel’s arms and fall asleep. Then you see her staring back at you, her smile frozen in time. 

You wonder if Joel buried her. You wonder if Joel shot her. He didn’t tell you much about her passing, only that she had been infected, and chose to end it before turning. He never said how it ended.

“Were you and Tess together?”

It’s a simple question. So simple, and yet Joel hesitates. You count the seconds it takes him to answer you. One, two, three, four, five, six–

“No.”

Six seconds.

“Okay.”

Tess smiles back at you.

[saint-siren]

Sugar

summary: cooking for someone is the sweetest expression of love.

pairing: mark grayson x gn!reader

content warnings: soft yan!reader, poisoning, gaslighting, caretaking, fluffy if you ignore that reader is a lil crazy

author’s note: I never posted this here but in honor of s2 of invincible, here’s this fic I wrote after s1 😵‍💫 my first mark fic

Mark remembered his mom making pancakes on the weekends. It was his favorite breakfast when he was a kid. There was less time for sit down breakfasts as he grew older and spent more time outside the house working, going to school or hanging out with William, it remained a nostalgic thing for him. The smell of butter, the sizzle of the batter hitting the hot pan, he hadn’t realized he missed it.

Not until he woke up to the clattering of pans downstairs. Debbie was out for the day already, busying herself with work. As of late, the house had become stifling and she felt ill at ease. Mark was mostly left to his own devices for food and Mark being Mark, mostly subsisted on take out.

You had slept over (in the guest room, per Debbie’s request) and woken up early to make breakfast. Into the dry ingredients, you added a vial of powder as white as flour. You sprinkled it all in, hand inside the bowl, careful not to let it spill anywhere. You mixed carefully. With a focus as complete as ever, batter dropped onto the pan, sizzling. 

“Making breakfast?” His voice almost made you jump. You thought you were used to him sneaking up on you.

“Good morning to you too, Mark” You smiled to yourself, not looking up at him. “And yes, I’m making you pancakes.”

You didn’t look up but you could tell he was surprised by the pause and the awkward shift of his silhouette.

“I didn't…I know I only eat out these days but I don’t need you to cook for me, I feel kind of like an asshole watching you cook for me in my own house” He mumbled, looking away.

“I know I don’t need to, I want to. I’d feel better if you didn’t eat pizza everyday for breakfast.” 

“It’s not everyday, just…most of the time” He was embarrassed you’d noticed. “Are you not gonna have some?” He changed the topic. 

“I had four bowls of captain crunch at 5am, I’m not exactly sure more sugar is a good idea for me right now.”

You flipped the pancakes onto a plate, sliced a pat of butter onto the top and poured the syrup. Mark, even in his quest to be somewhat gentlemanly, could not resist. The first bite of the buttery pancakes drenched in the syrup evoked strong feelings. Longing, gratitude and love. The yearning for an innocence abandoned and the feeling of being loved was so strong he could cry.

Mark, like most teenage boys, could eat. You silently kept cooking pancakes and he kept eating them. It was a lovely morning, the air was sweet and the sky was a vibrant blue. You spent the day in Mark’s room, in pajamas, tracing shapes over his skin with your fingertips as you watched a marathon of movies he liked. He eagerly explained every gag and bit of trivia. But as the sky began to darken with the day’s end, Mark’s energy declined.

He was sluggish and he felt a bit warm. When he insisted he was alright, you still stayed by his side. A comfort he was secretly grateful for. Even when Debbie came home, fatigued, you kindly asserted that you would stay up with Mark and watch over him. It was only right, Debbie already had enough to deal with and she fussed over Mark until the early hours. If there was anyone she could trust Mark to, it would be you, just while she got some sleep at least.

You wiped the sweat from Mark’s brow with a gentle hand. You brought him water and aspirin, you rubbed his tender muscles, you changed his sheets soaked by sweat. Mark felt like shit but knowing you were there, unperturbed by his frequent vomiting, was a comfort beyond words. You even slept in the same bed as him now, holding his hand, rubbing over it with your fingers. He felt like a kid again, cared for and safe.

Even though after more than a week, Debbie wanted to bring him to the hospital, you waved away her concerns. “Part of this might be coming from Mark’s emotional state after what happened, maybe we have grief to blame for this, in part. Mark doesn’t need a hospital, his symptoms aren’t worse than the stomach flu, he just needs to be cared for” you had said, so convincingly, so knowingly, that it made her hesitate. You only had his best interests at heart. Mark even spoke up and said he didn’t need to go to the hospital. He had been in the hospital so often, he was sick of it. Even the memory of the strong antiseptic smell brought a sense of dread. He would rather be with you, at home being touched by your familiar, healing, hands.

He loved you so much, and told you as much very often. When you were showering with him, washing him because he was too winded; your wet, warm skin carefully cleaning his, he murmured ‘I love you.’ He was vulnerable, tender, worn and tired but he was certain of one thing. He couldn’t live without your warmth. Everyone else counted on him, they needed something from him and if he failed to deliver he’d be letting them down. It’d be another fuck up to add to the roster and yet another time someone he loved would look at him like a loser. But with you, he felt the closest thing to unconditional love he had ever experienced from anyone besides his mom. You didn’t care who he decided to help or what he messed up, you would always accept him. Even if you weren’t always pleased with what he did, you never judged him harshly for his mistakes. For his wins or his fails, you loved him. Mark thought it was way more than he deserved and part of him really did regret his actions more in the face of your forgiveness. He did feel like such an asshole when he found comfort in your acceptance, when you consoled him as if he really deserved it. But fuck if he didn’t need it.

He obviously couldn’t rush off saving people like he had, so he stayed safely inside. His world was small and manageable. His body was whole, if aching and feverish. That was what you intended. For Mark to be safe. He was always putting himself in danger like it didn’t matter, running off to save the world like no one else. Sometimes he would come back intact and sometimes he wouldn’t. Sometimes he was a hair’s breadth away from death. But Mark didn’t want to stay put, you weren’t strong enough to protect him directly and you couldn’t order him to. What were you to do?

A bit of poison wouldn’t do him in, in fact, you were certain it wouldn’t even keep him down very long. But buying even this amount of time was a blessing. You wanted to keep him safe, keep him inside forever if that’s what it took but that wouldn’t work. For now, you were just buying a little time and some peace of mind. You tell yourself you were driven to this.

A few days later, Mark’s strength had recovered somewhat. You fed him soup and he kept all of it down. He was relieved to be recovering even though he would miss being babied by you and Debbie’s worries eased meaning you were safe from her suspicion. He went back to school, back to saving the world eventually. You waited until enough time passed. Until you could return things to how they should be.

The moment came six months later, the previous night you two had been out with William and Eve. He’d rushed off to the city with Eve while you were in the middle of eating at some greasy pizza joint. Your heart fluttered as you gazed at the empty space next to you in the booth. At least Eve was with him, though it was a poor consolation. They were fighting the same aliens they were overwhelmed by a few weeks ago. He came home in one piece, thankfully, but he had been fighting so much lately. Cecil asked so much of him, he’d been flying off to this and that attack. He was bound to be hurt again soon, even just that month there had been threats he’d barely escaped from. It was your misfortune to fall in love with a hero, it meant that he would never really be safe and neither would you.

You called Mark to sleep over at yours when he came back that night. Your mother worked late or sometimes, simply didn’t want to come home so the house was yours. The two of you watched mafia movies, argued about whether the godfather was overrated or not and ate an ungodly amount of popcorn. The following morning, you cooked a big breakfast, muffins, bacon, omelets. Pancakes. 

He ate so hungrily it hurt your heart. He truly did love your cooking. Even though Debbie had gradually started making dinner for him again months ago, he had really missed your cooking. It wasn’t that her’s wasn't delicious, it was just…there was something that made him warm inside about the idea that you should make something for him. That you thought about him, cared about him enough. That much effort wasn’t necessarily a given in a high school relationship. It was new and nice to be with someone who showed their love for him so frankly.

You watched him eat with such a sweet look on your face. You ate with him, an omelette and bacon, for the sake of appearance. Planned out in anticipation of Mark’s tastes and in the interest of keeping suspicion to a minimum, you added your remedy to both the muffins and the pancakes. The muffins had less of it, as you knew Mark would be likely to eat more pancakes than muffins but if he chose to forgo that for the opposite, he would still be made ill. You even had plans for the unlikely event that he chose to eat neither. But Mark wasn’t rude enough to pass up food made for him by someone he loves.

Shortly after breakfast, Mark was in the bathroom vomiting. It seemed far more likely that the pizza joint with the sticky seats and chain smoking cooks gave him food poisoning than anything having been wrong with your food. In his head, it didn’t even occur to him. When you helped him into bed, he felt grateful that he was with you. It was such a relief not to say that he was fine, not to have to be brave. Nobody cared for him as gently as you did. 

Your sheets and your pillows smelled like you. Mark felt weird smelling your things but it was nice to be surrounded by comfort. You washed him in your soap so he smelled like you too. He couldn’t have wanted you more in that moment, he wanted your skin against yours. He wanted your voice, the brush of your fingertips against his. When he was well, he wanted to be someone you would be proud to be with. To be that hero you deserve. When he was this sick, he still had that desire lingering somewhere in the background but he melted down into the barest of wants. And what remained was a need for you, an uncomplicated desire. He felt as if he’d dissolve into your mattress if he couldn’t feel you.

“I’m right here, Mark” You murmured, cleaning the sweat from his chest with a cloth. You have such gentle hands, your eyes stay on his to make sure you’re not hurting him. Under your loving attention, a few tears roll down Mark’s cheek. He can’t help it, you’re always there for him. Without you, who does he have to lean on like this? His mom was already a wreck, Eve had her own problems, William had no idea how to deal with something as big as what he went through — he doesn’t even know how to deal with it. He cannot live without you, who doesn’t understand what he went through but understands what he needs better than anyone.

“What’s the matter? Does something hurt?” You asked, panicked at his tears. Mark didn’t cry easily, you hadn’t meant to put him in so much pain he’d cry. You had added just enough, you always operated on that balance. Just enough pain, just enough sickness, just enough time.

“No, it’s just-” Mark’s voice was raw. “I’m glad I’m with you, that’s all.”

You softened. Hearing him say that made you melt into a puddle of sticky sweet syrup. It only strengthened your resolve and you were overcome with the need to keep him safe. And with the knowledge that if something happened to him, you would die. When the savage, gruesome fight happened, your stomach was in knots for days while you heard no news. Your heart squeezed painfully as if you were going to have a heart attack and it went on for days. When you slept to escape the constant anxiety, you had nightmares. You didn’t even go to school, you couldn’t get out of bed for anything other than checking whether or not he’d come home. For weeks you lived in hell, thinking you would lose him. And although he was alright that time, a piece of that moment lived in you every time he flew off toward danger. 

“I love you so much, Mark” You bowed your head and rested it against his chest, hearing his strong heart beating. You pressed a kiss there, along the contours of his chest, right over his heart.

“I love you too” He mumbled weakly. There couldn’t be anything sweeter than you.

Your love was falling over him like powdered sugar. These moments, without knowing it, he had come to need them. Being sick was the only time he was allowed to fully be human. No one needed or expected anything of him. Under your care, he could be briefly vulnerable. 

That was all you needed to ease that inkling of guilt that rose in the back of your mind. Who was protecting him like he protected everyone else? No one but you. It was why you had to resort to using underhanded methods, if everyone was trying to protect him, if they only cared — you wouldn’t need to. That was what you reasoned, anyway.

Mark needed you, anyone with eyes could see that. And you had no intention of abandoning him. Whatever you had to do, in your eyes it was all the desperation of a powerless human trying to save the man they love. It was romantic, even. You anticipated the moment where Mark might put two and two together. It made you anxious and you had practiced the speech you’d give him a thousand times. “I love you and I’m scared. I’m so scared for you. I always am." But you soothed yourself with the knowledge that Mark would understand, above anyone else, you’d earned the benefit of the doubt.

Because Mark knew what he needed, even if it was something he couldn’t have expressed on his own. Even if it was something that he shouldn’t. He was only human — even if he was half viltrumite — could he really deny your feelings and his own? No. Not when you were his saving grace. How could he not understand what you were trying to do when his sentiments were nearly the same?

You were watching Mark sleep, laying next to him, his arm around you. His skin was warm and his breaths were labored. You reassured yourself as you pulled the blanket up to his chest. You would take good care of him, he knew that. He had to, he had to know. He just had to.

[fizzyxcustard]

Under Your Spell

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, insecurity, a little angst (with a happy ending)

Word count: 1571

Comments/Notes: From the imagine, "You put a spell on Thorin to make him fall in love with you, but as the spell wears off, you find out that he has always loved you." Requested by @asgardianhobbit98

Written while listening to Journey's Greatest Hits.

I hope you like the fic. As always, like, reblog and comment if you enjoy. If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know.

Thank you to everyone who supported me during my posting hiatus. I felt like it was needed to get back into a better mindset after I become incredibly overwhelmed by another one of my fics' reception.

The last twenty four hours had been beyond perfect. The spell which you had been keeping for the last few months, ready for the chance to use, had worked better than you could have imagined. Thorin had declared undying love to you as the sun set; the two of you having just shared dinner together with a large group. Then once on your own together, he had been so open in his affection toward you, blushing and smiling as the words tumbled out of his mouth. 

“I love you more than anything,” he had told you, confident and bold. He had taken your hand, kissed it, then asked for you to join him on the royal balcony. 

The two of you had sipped wine, while Thorin gazed at you over the top of the glass, unable to tear his gaze from you. 

You shared tender kisses, hand holding, and Thorin had held you as you fell asleep. Then you woke in his arms, warm and content. He had been watching you, and as you woke from your slumber, he smiled at you and kissed your head. 

All of that day and you had remained in Thorin’s presence, sharing meals, conversations, kisses. 

“Would you join me again tonight on the balcony? It is forecast that we should have a clear night sky.”

“Of course,” you had replied. Only now, sadness began to seep from your words, unable to hide any further. The realisation that all of this would be over at sundown was growing heavy in your heart and gut. The spell would only last for one twenty four hour period, and could only ever be used on one person once in their life. After sundown, and Thorin would return to his former self, purely a friend to you and your King, nothing more than that. 

It was almost sundown, and you excused yourself from Thorin’s chambers, telling him that you wished to quickly write a letter to a friend. He just smiled at you, his eyes so full of adoration, as you disappeared out of the door. 

As you walked the corridors back to your bed chamber, you felt tears fall down your cheeks. The pain was so heavy and hot in your chest. Just to have Thorin adore you for twenty four hours had been perfect beyond any kind of comprehension. However, the fall back to reality was going to be excruciating. In time, another woman would have Thorin fall for them, and this time it would be of his own choice.  

You lit your candles and sat down on the edge of your bed, staring at the vase of roses that Thorin had had brought to your chamber. They could now be disposed of as they would just serve as a reminder of your pathetic need to have Thorin love you. 

All sense of time slipped away from you as you fell asleep on your bed, still fully dressed. Once you had lay out on your bed, you had not moved. Tears had flowed, pulling you into your subconscious world where you could be happy temporarily. 

Dreams came and went, flickering pictures of far off lands that you had explored with the Company, months earlier, where you had fallen for their leader. Flashes of sunlight bouncing off swords and the calls of armies became a jumble in your mind. 

Your eyes opened slowly, adjusting. The candles had gone out hours ago. There was a dull thump behind your eyes and you winced, blinking hard. 

For a second, you felt as if you were still in a dream somewhere. You could feel something resting on your waist, curled around. Blinking again, you looked down and could make out a hand. On the middle finger was a ring. 

You gasped and shifted away suddenly, almost dropping out of bed. “What?” you choked. 

Thorin was lying on your bed, and was now rousing. His eyes opened slowly and he smiled at the sight of you. “Come back to bed, my love,” he said sleepily. “It’s still early.” 

“But…how?”

He just smiled again and sat up. “You think a spell could make me love you?” 

“How did you know about it?” 

“I’ve known about it quite some time now,” he replied. “I will not name any names, but I was made aware that you acquired the spell from someone in Lake-town, did you not?”

Shame hit you hard and you lowered your head, feeling the tears fall once again. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. “And now you are playing along to mock me; the spell wore off at night fall yesterday.” 

Thorin got up from the bed and followed the edge of it towards you. “Why would you think I’d ever mock you?” He stood before you, his head to once side in question and disbelief that you could ever think such a thing. 

“I was stupid to ever think you could love me,” you hissed. 

Anger flared in Thorin’s eyes and on impulse he grabbed your hip and threw you both into a kiss. It was hot, demanding, needing. So much unlike the day earlier. All you could do in your weakness was cling to him, your backside resting against your dresser. He was pressing into you harder now, his tongue desperate in your mouth. 

Thorin drew back from you, his blue eyes ablaze. They were no longer soft like the day before, but they were on fire. That had always been the true Thorin, and as you had known him for the last six months: passionate, on fire. He pressed his forehead to you and then kissed it. 

You closed your eyes as you felt his hand become buried in your hair. His other hand was still on your hip. There was a desperation in his actions. The day earlier and he had wanted to be in your company, to look upon you. Now, he needed to touch you. 

The two of you kissed again, hard and needing. You could feel your inhibitions let go, and your hands became tangled up in his hair, your breath lost, your heart pounding. 

He whispered your name, needing you. 

Within minutes and the two of you were back on your bed, disrobed and exploring each other. Thorin’s lips caressed every inch of you, and when he was kissing down the inside of your thigh, he looked up at you. “Why did you ever think you needed a spell to capture my heart? It was always yours.” 

The two of you joined, exhaling in relief at the pent up frustration. Thorin was over you, his one hand gripping yours. To feel him connected with you, feel him inside you, giving himself over to you by choice, that was the true magic. 

Your bodies were synchronised, moving together in rhythm so well. 

Each and every time Thorin’s gaze connected with yours, and you could see the love for you there. It burned. The spell you had cast had diluted his true love, and his gaze the day earlier had been as if he weren’t quite in the room with you. Now he was present for every second. 

Every thrust was now making you build upward towards climax. The sensations feeling as if waves were cascading down your body, until the last one took hold. It came from the base of your stomach, and shattered outward. You shook, and as you rode out that one spectacular wave, Thorin kept his gaze locked on you. 

The sensation of you gripping Thorin’s girth in your plateau pushed him over the edge, and he spilled. He dug his head against your neck, groaning at the wondrous pleasure that washed over him. 

Both of you fell down beside each other, panting and sweating. Thorin reached for you, and you rolled over to him, and put your head on his chest. “Is that what true love feels like?” you gasped. 

“No spell could ever replicate that,” Thorin said softly. “When you first placed the spell on me, it was as if I couldn’t control my words, and no longer could I keep my feelings for you secret. But the expression of my love for you, it…I cannot describe it. It was as if it was dulled, and when dusk came, the spell having ended, my heart and my body burned for you again, like it always had. The spell stopped me feeling that love in a true sense.” 

“Why did you never tell me how you felt?” you asked, propping yourself up on your arm. 

“I was terrified of rejection. The spell at least took away my cowardice.” 

“You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known, and yet you couldn’t tell me you loved me?” you asked, not quite able to believe such a revelation. “You lead a kingdom, and armies, yet you couldn’t tell me three simple words.” 

Thorin sighed. “You did not tell me either.” 

“I had reason not to,” you scoffed. “You’re a king. Declaring your love to a king and expecting them to love you in return is just ridiculous.” 

You saw that anger flare in Thorin’s eyes again, and his jaw clenched. “I am a king in name and by my birth right. But I am no different to you in heart. There is only one that I bow to, and that is my wife and Queen. And those positions will only ever be filled by one person…you.” 

***

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[pandorasfavorite]

The Silent Love

AN: After 5,000 words I managed to write you guys something a little longer for fun.

The large beaming lights in the center of the ring felt so natural to you. From the young age of 6, the dream of being a wrestler was branded on your heart. And now that you are standing in the middle of the ring with spotlights on you and thousands of people cheering you on. Your dream actually felt completely real, that this is what you were destined to do with your life. No one could stop you from getting what you wanted out of life. Though you couldn’t deny the level of intensity your job brought….Every Friday thru Monday you get ready for work. Sometimes you weren't needed but the new storyline was hot and you just so happen got thrown in the middle of it. Rey Mysterio’s son turned heel and the whole WWE community was astonished at the change. Especially since Dominik was so loyal…and so dedicated to his father's work. As crazy as that was, it didn’t matter to you in the slightest. Dominik Mysterio and his father had nothing to do with you; none of that did.

You were brand new to WWE with no enemies, till Rhea Ripley changed the course of your career. After many matches (and wins), you seemed unstoppable; but you knew better than to let the success get to your head. What played to your advantage was your wrestling persona. You spoke no words, and when push came to shove you still stayed silent. The world has yet to know how you sound when you speak, and they would be waiting a long time. This silent streak was intimidating and many believed you could one day pose a match to Rhea Ripley (the current woman’s champion). You were astonished at the whispers. If anything you admired Rhea and how well she retained her title, yet she wasn’t as happy to be associated with you.

So you couldn’t help but be surprised at her intent to fight you next Friday just to show no one can top her. Partial fear coursed through you at the thought of fighting a champion only a few months into your career. Rhea was beyond adamant and a force to be reckoned with; she wasn’t a person you wanted problems with. Although she did do some things you opposed to. Thursday night was the worst, and Friday morning was no better. You felt terrified to put it simply. This match was going to be huge, Dominik Mysterio was still a fresh member in the Judgement Day meaning he was going to be glued to Rhea’s side. You had no one to back you up; just you, yourself, and the silence you accompanied. 

Now you stood in the middle of the ring, trying to act confident; though you really wanted to curl up and hide. She came out of the threshold with Dominik right beside her, you should’ve been looking at her but you couldn't look away from the man beside her. He was obviously out of practice and was adorning a frown that didn’t really suit his face. He was just a step behind Rhea and she was already starting her speech on how no one could take her place. Yet your eyes followed him the whole time and that only pissed her off worse, “Look at me!” she yelled at you now that she was standing right in front of you in the ring. You pulled your gaze away from him but not without difficulty.

You looked at her and managed to hold eye contact. “Do you have something to say?”, she laughed and got in your face. You said nothing and let your eyes flicker behind her, back to Dominik who was watching with no expression. You felt paralyzed when you had been pushed back, Rhea had picked you up and tossed you onto the floor like a bag of flour. On the floor you squeeze your eyes shut and roll over to avoid her hits, you knew this would hurt; but not like this. You are picked up again and draped over the post of the ring to be pushed off of, your cold and clammy hands only make getting your grip on things worse. Your body smacks on the ring again and you swear your head is ringing from the chorus of cheers. You lay flat on your back only to open your eyes to see Rhea standing above you grinning like a maniac. She kicks your side and you fold into yourself with a hiss of pain. She turns around and starts hyping herself up and pointing towards her belt.

With all the strength in your body, you rose up with one hand around the center of your stomach. When Rhea turned around you backhanded her across the face with all the strength you could muster. A sour expression sunk onto her face and before you knew it she performed her finisher on you. You knew that the chances of winning were below 1%, but at least you got a hit in. She pinned you and you laid there waiting for it to be over, though as you lay on the ground you turned your head to meet Dominik’s eyes again. He swallowed hard and looked away, fixing his composure. Then that was it, they left and you went right after them. You wanted to be alone after such a humiliating match you didn’t even want to do in the first place. You wanted to sit with your thoughts that kept revolving around the guy that you hardly knew.

You turned the corner about to go into the dressing room when you crashed into something hard. You looked up with an apologetic expression only for it to drop instantly when you saw it was Dominik. He shifts awkwardly on his feet as if he is nervous to speak, though he apologizes to Rhea, “I’m sorry she shouldn’t have done that”. You had said nothing and only looked at him with wide eyes. This was the last thing you imagined would happen. You nodded at him and smiled slightly to show that you were grateful for his apology. You were still clutching your stomach, but the pain was ignored in his presence. Though Dominik noticed, he frowned and stared, “Can I walk you to the infirmary?”. He said in a concerned voice but it was also laced with guilt. Surely he didn’t think this was his fault? You wanted to deny the offer and just deal with the pain on your own. But the more attention that was drawn to the ache only made it more painful. You sigh and nod, letting him lead the way.

You both walked side by side with no more words exchanged. And when you made it to the room Dominik rubbed his neck nervously, “Well this is it”. You nodded and looked at him all the same. He clears his throat and looks away from your piercing gaze; yet for some reason, his heart pumps faster. He turns to walk away but before leaving you completely he waved goodbye. You had to do the same. From that point on Dominik had to fight the thoughts of you out of his brain. It was like those small interactions were consuming his mind and making it hard for him to function. He hasn’t even heard you speak yet you already managed to get a hold of him. 

A week passed and your next match wasn’t until Monday. You were excited for more reasons than one. Firstly, you felt fully revived and ready to show off some of the new moves that you came up with. Secondly, Rhea hasn’t released any more statements and your fanbase has only grown since the match. And thirdly, everyone was going to be in for a surprise. You intended to be one of the most creepiest wrestlers out there.

Meaning your silence was going to be a magnet of fear if anything. Your eerily music rang through the stadium and all the lights completely shut off so you could roll out from under the ring and stand in the middle. The lights flickered and after a loud screech, they turned back on to show you in the middle. You were dressed in black attire with dark makeup that only emphasized the horror-type look. You heard whistles and cheers at the sight of you, honestly, it felt like floating in many ways.

You didn’t give a single fuck about who you matched today; you knew with confidence the win was yours. So when Baliey stepped out and rolled into the ring you looked at her with wide creepy eyes ( as the commenters put it). You let Baliey go on her stupid rant while you thought of the best way to shut her up. The match started with punches flying, if Baliey hit you she got a punch right back and so forth. You managed to get an upper hand by kicking her feet from under her. Bailey landed harshly on her back. You picked her up as high as you could and put her on your shoulders. She held onto the top of your head with absolute fear at the fall ahead of her. Just as you were about to drop her another loud blast of music startles you. You were still holding Baliey up when you saw two silhouettes walk out of the opening.

 But you continuously reminded yourself to stay focused and ignore the new people. Their interruption was not close to worthy enough for a loss on your part. Instead of dripping Bailey, you summersault with her on your shoulders. She slams onto the ring and ends up behind her, holding her legs over her head to pin her. Bailey squirms and kicks out on two. You stand up and survey the area for Rhea, you knew it was her just by the music that blasted through the stadium. She was standing at the side of the ring with Dominik to the side of her. You wrinkled your nose in disgust at the pair together. All the respect you had for her was lost.

Then again you looked straight through Dominik, his eyes widened when Baliey came running up behind you. You hold back a smirk at his unintentional warning, and you spin around just in time to punch her across the jaw. She steps back holding the side of her face with a shocked expression. You walk up to her and grab her by the shoulders to bring her stomach down on your knee. She groans loudly and exhales a hard breath, you throw her to the side to lay her down on her back. You pin her and after 3 lengthy counts, the win was yours. Rhea claps slowly and sarcastically to bring your attention to her. You glare unkindly and roll your eyes when she picks up a microphone.

 Again Dominik watches like a little puppy following their owner. You did what Rhea hated most, you ignored her and slid out of the ring to begin walking backstage. Only to come to an instant halt at Dominik’s hesitant voice. “It’s not what you think”, he says but it is drowned out by all the yells and boo’s thrown his way. Dominik looks side to side with annoyance. “Listen-”, he tries again but gets the same response to the same effect. He throws his hands up and just gives the mic back to Rhea, you are tempted to turn around and ignore her once again but Dominik’s pleading look roots you to the ground. She takes the mic but it seems as if it is hard for her to say what is necessary, “Join the Judgement Day” she finally rattles off. You scoff instantaneously.

The next few weeks are to the same effect. Rhea and Dominik interrupt your matches to convince you to join the group. They are hoping to wear down your resolve to the best of their ability. Eventually,,,, Damian and Finn also come out to pester you and in truth,,,, it is getting hard for you to hold your tongue. After another tiring day of constant interruption and nagging from the group, you manage to get away and inside of your dressing room. The moment you plop down onto the couch for a moment of rest, there is a knock on the door.

You groan as loud as possible so the person can hear how much they are inconveniencing you. You sat and hoped they would go away after the clear noise of annoyance. But another soft knock comes from the other side of the door. You take a steady breath and propel yourself off the couch to open the door. Yet you were surprised to see Dominik and Dominik alone on the other side of the door. He bites the inside of his cheek but leans on the doorframe as if he is not nervous. He motions inside, “Can I come in?”, you sigh and nod pushing the door open for him.

For some odd reason you felt drawn to him, and after weeks of looking at him and hearing him (or attempting to) plead for you to join, you kind of developed a small crush on him. Dominik walked in and lingered in the middle of the room, switching from foot to foot while he waited for you to close the door. You closed it shut and spun around to look at him, a small laugh fell from your lips at his awkward composure. Dominik’s heart instantly started to race and he recognized his chest getting warm at the sound.

You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. He blows out a nervous breath but takes a seat beside you anyway, he fiddles with his hands before rushing out what he came to ask you. “Have you thought about joining?”. You slightly shake your head but in all honesty that was all you thought about these past few weeks. You wouldn’t mind being closer to Dominik, and he would love that as well. But one thing kept you from making the decision. He rubs his face in mild disappointment, “Why not?” it almost sounded like a whine.

You pull your lips to the side, not wanting to share the true reason because Dominik surely wouldn’t appreciate it. You shrug and look at him in the most neutral way you could, though he knew. He always knew. “It’s Rhea right?”, he sighs and scratches his eyebrow. Your eyes fly open and you look panicked at being caught, you shake your head no in an attempt to deny it. Dominik clicks his tongue, “I know it is, Hermosa”. Did he just call you beautiful??? The name made your heart race faster than what is considered healthy.

You blush and drop your head to avoid his understanding eyes. Noticeably Dominik has changed since that first night you saw him, he has gotten more influence in his group. He is less nervous to be around you and more confident in himself. So maybe that's why he took your hands in his, you raised your head to look at him in confusion. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop her that night. But she will never hurt you or humiliate you like that again. I swear”, he says with serenity and positivity.

Dominik was convinced that Rhea would cause you no harm anymore. You close your eyes to process; you knew that if you looked at Dominik too long you’d have to say yes. Time and time again you told yourself no. No this wasn’t going to work out and no he wasn’t worth the trouble. Things change though. And Dominik holding your hands and consoling you was a change that helped you make up your mind. You open your eyes and give him a short and small nod. Dominik beams with dilated pupils at your acceptance. He lost control of his body which made him pull you directly into his arms.

 He wraps his arms around you and both of you share a similar feeling of embarrassment. Dominik pulls back and he looks mortified at what he had done. He pops up off the couch and mutter something along the lines of “I have to go tell everyone” and then he slips out of the room casually. Yet you could hear him running down the hallway. The long day was eventful and you just signed part of your career away because you were beginning to love a man. “Fuck”, you finally say and bury your head into your hands.

The next time you seen Dominik was in the Judgment Day dressing room, conveniently enough your name was also written on the door. You walked in with your head held high and confidence spilling from your body. You had been prepared for the worst which was ridicule and rude behavior. Yet you heard laughter. It was Dominik and Damian while Finn and Rhea sat with smiles on their face at the exchange. Rhea’s expression hardened when she turned to look at you, you gave her the same hard look and crossed your arms defensively.

Dominik noticed the tension and stopped laughing at the exchange. He rushed over to you and held you by the arm. He coughs to bring the attention to himself, “15 minutes till guys” was all he said before Finn cheered. Finn pops up off the couch and walks over to Damian to smack him on the shoulder, “The Judgment Day rules, right Damian?”. Damian responds with a simple, “Yea” and puts an arm around his friend. Rhea stands up and walks over to you and Dominik, you are noticeably tense under Dominik’s hand.

Dominik felt the nervous energy radiating off of you. He’s not sure why he does it but he finds his arm slipping around you shoulders. The tension in your face goes away in relief at the feeling of protection from him. “Ready then?”, Rhea asks you while quirking her eyebrow. You nod a bit apprehensively. “Still not talking?”, she asks with a smirk. You raise your eyes playfully, trying to be nice. She gives you a small smile back and pats you on the shoulder. Dominik lights up at the pleasant reaction and he can hardly stand still with excitement. You smile to yourself, just maybe you could get used to this. 

A month passes and things are only getting better, you still haven't spoken a word to anyone. But Judgement Day doesn’t seem to mind. They have found themselves accommodating to your silence, therefore they only ask questions that are yes and no. You appreciate their effort, but your silence was a choice of protection for yourself in a way. When you completely trusted someone you would speak to them, and the time came for that to happen.

 But Dominik would be first to hear, he deserved that much. Monday night 20 minutes before his match you pulled him into a closet, away from listening ears. He looks down at you; his hands almost reach out to hold your arms in comfort. You are currently working up the courage to speak by looking into his eyes; they were always so deep with emotion. “Everything okay Hermosa?”, he asks; though his eyes drop down to your lips frequently.

“Yes”, you whisper but it sounded more like a croak from how long it has been. Dominik’s jaw went slack and his shoulders dropped in awe. He couldn’t believe his ears, so much so he rubbed one of them to make sure he was hearing right. “W-what?”, he wants you to speak again, so so badly it hurts. You bite your lips; holding back from laughing at his insane and surprised expression. “Dominik”, you say. He shakes a sharp intake of breath and steps back; only to step forward right back into his previous spot.

He points at your lips and he looks astonished, “You just talked- I mean really spoke”. He shakes his head in disbelief and runs a hand down his face. You nod; the corners of your mouth going up. You knew he would react strongly but this was just perfect. He looks crazed to keep hearing you, and his hands finally find the sides of your arms; “Well don’t stop now! Your voice is so- I don’t even know how to put this… angelic”. He is shaking in excitement, you laugh and touch his chest with one of your hands.

His heart was nearly beating out of his chest as well. “When we go back out you have to pretend like nothing was said”, you remind him because surely he wanted to tell all of his friends. He opens his mouth without speaking and exhales heavily. “You're talking”, he pushes out… he has never felt this way before. The emotions he was going through right now were crushing in the best way. He wanted to kiss you and listen to you talk for days/ maybe even months. He never wants to see you nod again, he just wants to hear the soft sound of your voice. He was so struck, and so happy he had to pull you into his chest and wrap his arms around you in a hug.

 You hide your blush and smile into his chest, you suppose you could give him time to calm down and process. After a few more minutes he lets go and asks for you, “Ready?”. “Are you?”, you giggle and push him a bit. He stares for a moment, “You're killing me” he puts his forehead on your shoulder. You touch his hair and you tap his head, motioning with your head towards the door. “Okay I’m ready”, he mutters but makes no move for the handle. You nod and Dominik swallows hard at the denial of another word.

You both step out into the hallway and begin walking towards the group. They all turn around and sigh breathes of relief. “Where have you guys been?”, Rhea says in a strict voice. “Sorry, we got held up by the camera crew. Finn shrugs and looks away but Rhea and Damian aren’t as easily as convinced. They will ignore it for another day…they guess. 

Yet another week passes and Dominik has taken advantage of his privilege of hearing you speak. More often than not he would find time in the hectic day to hear your sickly sweet voice. But today, he could get very few words out of you. It was Wrestlemania and you had a surprise match. Meaning the type of match and who it was with was completely and utterly sheltered from you. You were anticipating the worst as always, but at the end of the day, you were going to make the most of it. Now your match was 8 minutes away and Dominik quickly pulled you into a janitor's closet, “Good luck” he rushed out as if he was nervous for you.

You look up at him from your lashes, “Thank you, see you after?”, you affirmed. “Yeah”, he said like he was breathless. You quirked your brow at him in confusion but time was running out, and a strike of confidence hit you. You rose up to kiss his cheek and you left the closet with a minute to spare.

 Your music blasted and the arena went dark as always, only to flicker when you finally made it to center stage. You stood in the middle with your arms raised in the air and a sinister creepy smile plastered directly on your face. You circled the ring only to come to a complete stop when the music played. Your face dropped and you already felt the tears of betrayal burn your eyes; it was Rhea’s music. She came out alone with her title thrown over her shoulders and you felt no fear.

You felt sick to your stomach, the man you loved had to have known. They all knew and none of them told you a word. You start blinking quickly to wish away the tears, yet the moment Rhea towered over you with a victorious smile. A tear happened to roll down your cheek for the world to see. You whipped it away harshly and gritted your teeth at her quick look of pity. The match started and you grabbed her by the shoulders and punched her across the face 3 times. All your pain and sorrow flowed out of you the entire match. Each kick and push was with hatred for what she did to you.

Worst of all, as you lay flat on the floor with blinding tears; all you could think of was Dominik. You were back in the same position as the first time, thinking of him as you lost. Every piercing pain in your body was nothing compared to how your heartfelt. And when Rhea’s arm was raised into the air, you rolled out of the ring and moved as quickly as you could muster to the dressing room. You pushed the door open so hard it rattled the hinges but you weren’t intending to confront anyone. You wanted to grab your things and get the fuck out of there.

You had been expecting all the boys to be in the room but it was just Dominik. His face was crestfallen and he stood up as soon as you walked in. You spared him no look, your hands fumbled with every article of clothing you had in the room. And you walked right past him to grab all your makeup. You had no use leaving it there anymore; there’s no way you’d be back. Finally, you turned to Dominik with your bags in hand and just stared at him with a quivering lip. You wanted him to see how bad it hurt. He can barely look at you, “I couldn’t tell you”. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit is what screamed in your head.

Your eyes were empty and your silence made him finally look at you. Tears are flowing down your face uncontrollably and Dominik looks just as wounded as he feels. He knew he fucked up, but there may be no coming back from this. “I’m sorry”, he whispers what he can get out. Your hands shake at the apology. You wanted to smack him, you wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, you wanted to scream until your throat burned and you collapsed. He only got closer to you, 3 steps away to be exact.

Your throat burned in disgust, his eyes filled with tears much like yours. “You don’t know how sorry I am, what can I do?”, he was on the verge of sinking to his knees and pleading at your feet. His knees felt weak and he cursed himself for not telling you like he was going to days before. You shake your head at him; no words would be enough. His breathing has gotten fast and your silence is hitting him hard, “Say something. Fuck just say something” he pleads. You swallow hard, “What do you want me to say, Dominik?”. His glossy eyes widen when you take a step closer to him with fury deep in your eyes.

“You want me to tell you about how you broke my fucking heart?”, you take another step towards him. “Or how you betrayed me? The ONLY person I trust?”, you take the final third step towards him and you push him back harshly. Dominik clutches his chest because it feels like his heart is shattered. He fucked up, he fucked up, he fucked up. You're leaving and he can’t stop you, he can’t get you back… he ruined his life. “I tried to tell you-”, he croaked and moved towards you again. He held your arms carefully just like he used to, only to be pushed back roughly again, “Don’t touch me!”. He sinks to his knees and begs you to stay, “I need you please, please, please don’t leave me”.

Your breath caught in your throat and your lip quivered again, your face was flushed with tears and your throat felt tight. “Tell me why”, you demand him and harshly wipe the tears again. He looks down shamefully. “Tell me”, you grit out. He stands up on shaky legs and breathes carefully, “It was a contract when you first joined. This was planned since the beginning. But things changed, you changed me Hermosa”.

You scoffed and clenched your fists. You grab your bags off the floor and turn around to leave with a broken heart. ��I LOVE YOU! Is that what you wanted to hear?!?! I love you” he yelled in hysteria after you. You sucked in a shaky breath at his confession; because after it all you loved him so much more. You turned your head to look at his crestfallen face, “Not enough” you replied. He clenched his hands and a lonely tear rolled down his face, “Hate me”. Your body stood still in awe, “What?” you gasped out.

He took another prodding step, “Hate me but don’t leave it like this. Don’t leave us like this”. “You’re my everything” his voice cracked with his last notion of hope. Your voice shook and so did your body; one thing was for sure you loved him. You couldn’t let go no matter how much it hurt, “I need time”. He nodded instantly, he would give you anything now that he lost everything.

Your lips pressed together and a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks, “I love you and I need you but not like this” you sniffle. “I love you”, he says back in one breath though his hands were shaking to stop your tears. Part of you knew you’d come back to him in time but for now, you leave the room and shut the door. “I love you”, you hear from behind the closed door; you turn around. 

[sugoi-and-spice]

Commission for the AMAZINGLY patient @i-likebread . Thank you so much for such a fun idea and again, for your patience during my summer writing dry spell. ^_^

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader, Yuji Itadori x Reader

Summary: At the end of the day, curses were trophic beings. Sukuna? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed. Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. The prey.

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

CW: Dub-Con, Non-Con, Rape by Deception, Cuckholding, Rough Sex, Virginity Loss, Painful Virginity Loss, Manipulation, mentions of Ero-Guro

If you're interested in getting your own Commission done, please refer to my Commission Sheet and shoot me a DM or e-mail! ^_^

Cross-Posted on AO3.

Everyone had told Yuji Itadori that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea. After all, just dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer at all came with its fair share of risks. Dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer while sharing a body with the King of Curses? It should’ve rendered him completely celibate. But to go beyond that, to not only date, but to date a normal, powerless girl with absolutely no knowledge of the existence of Jujutsu society and curses?

Now that was downright stupid.

Those were Gojo’s words too! Satoru Gojo’s — the stupid idea savant! That had certainly gotten Yuji to second guess things. When he left to meet her for their first official date, he’d gone there with all the intentions of breaking things off. But then…

Well, there wasn’t any big revelation. She’d just been her. And he just couldn’t let her go. There were very few moments in his life these days that were able to be just sweet and simple. So any he could have, he knew that he had to cling to, and cling to tight. And moments spent with her? They made him feel like life would never be complicated again.

So six months later, here they were at the matsuri of a temple near her school. And boy, watching her knelt over the shateki stall, silly little tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated so deeply on the balloon she was aiming at, could he not regret it any less. Especially not when she looked so damn cute in that yukata.

POP!

 “I got it!” she jumped back from the carnival game with a squeal, accidentally knocking Yuji in the chest with the pellet gun.

“Oomf—!”

She gasped, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” and rushed forward to check his chest, almost hitting him in the face this time, “Are you hurt?!”

He was able to anticipate it this time though, catching the muzzle of the rifle in his palm with a laugh, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just put this down, alright?”

She relinquished it immediately, bringing her hands to her face to try and cover her blush as she nodded frantically. The moment had finally caught up to her, the fact that she’d almost taken him out twice with the toy rifle and got completely in his face, touching his chest. And the cutest embarrassment came along with it. 

That was one of the things he really liked about her. She was shy and soft-spoken, but that didn’t stop her from ever living or hiding her true feelings when push came to shove. Especially when they involved other people. She often got ahead of herself, feet moving before her brain, throwing manners out the window if it meant helping somebody in need, blurting out the silliest little nonsensicals to try to ease an awkward silence. But never failing to revert back to that shyness and feel embarrassed about it in a way that always brought a smile to his face.

“Your prize, Miss.”

They both turned back to the game-tender, and Yuji instantly froze when he saw the prize being handed to her.

A little yarn doll, just big enough to be a keychain, and it— holy shit, it looked like—

“Aww, look at him Yuji!” she beamed, holding the doll up next to his face, “It looks just like you!”

He could feel his heart freeze with dread, his stomach twisting.

“W-What are you talking about?! No it doesn’t! It’s got tattoos!”

“Yeah. And four arms,” she rolled her eyes, “But look! It’s got your hair and eyes and that mischievous little smirk,” she wiggled it closer to his cheek, “That’s all troublemaker. All Yuji Itadori.” 

He swatted the little doll away from his face, growing more and more prickly the longer she held it so close to him, “Is not!”

She giggled, taking his whining as embarrassment over being teased rather than anything serious,and pulled the doll back to clutch into her own palms lovingly.

“And it’s cute…” she blushed a little as she whispered, “...just like you.”

Yuji softened at the sight. 

He needed to take it easy. It’s not like she could know the history there, the thing it actually looked like — he’d made absolute sure that she hadn’t, after all.

But still, the question remained:

“What’s it supposed to be anyway?” he asked, “A mascot or something?”

He had to know, it was just uncanny how much it looked like Sukuna. And this temple didn’t have any ties to the Jujutsu world that he knew of. Not that he knew a lot. But he hadn’t seen any sorcerers or cursed energy residuals in the area. If anything, it was weird how few curses — even flyheads — were in this area, considering how old the temple was.

“I guess it’s the guardian spirit of this temple,” she answered.

Yuji’s eyes widened. No. No, there was no freaking way.

“This thing?” he pressed in disbelief, “But he— I mean it looks more like a demon than a guardian spirit.”

“That’s kind of the interesting thing!” she explained excitedly, “My homeroom teacher was telling us about it last week. I think the story goes, that in a war between spirits and humans, the peasants this temple served were constantly caught in the crossfire. That is, until a dedicated, benevolent demon came along and vowed to protect the temple even while the rest of the world burnt around it.”

She presented the doll to him, “This little guy is that demon.”

It was all Yuji could do to not roll his eyes at her. Okay. Now he knew it was just a coincidence. Because sure. Benevolent. That’s what Sukuna was. 

What a bunch of crap.

Oi. Sukuna suddenly gruffed in his head. I’m plenty fucking benevolent. 

Yuji went rigid. Sukuna didn’t talk to him often. And honestly, he preferred it that way. He could nap and plot and flit away the time however he did in his own soul, while Yuji enjoyed the life surrounding his. Rarely did he actually tune in and observe Yuji’s life unless there was a battle or an… opportunity at hand.

So the fact that he seemed to be paying attention now was more than a bit worrying. 

What, you gonna tell me that the story is true or something? Yuji snapped right back at his squatter bodymate. That you actually protected a temple?

Could be.

Yuji’s breath hitched.

O-Oh yeah? he demanded, trying to not reveal his wavering confidence. And what was the catch? There’s no way you were some guardian out of the goodness of your heart.

He could practically hear Sukuna smirk inside his head and it unnerved him. Sukuna was privy to all kinds of information about curses and Jujutsu that Yuji learned at school, a lot of which even involved the King of Curses himself. Yet he hardly had anything to comment on then. So why was he so damn talkative about this story?

I protected the shrine… Never said shit about the people in it. And then that horrible, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s echoed in his head.

“Shut up!”

“Huh?”

Yuji snapped back to his girlfriend, who stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Shit. He said that outloud, didn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up— no way they’ve got fluffy ice!” he tried to save, pointing past her to a nearby stall, “We gotta get some!”

She looked behind her, following his finger, and then laughed, relieved that it was something as simple as that rather than something she might have said, “I swear, all you ever think about is food, Yuji.”

“That’s not true… I think about you a lot.”

…is what Yuji would’ve said if he were smoother, more confident, and convinced that a line like that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. But of course, he wasn’t any of those things. So he just rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh and nodded when she suggested they go get in line for some.

He wanted to just enjoy the night, to forget about curses and Jujutsu and most of all Sukuna — he practically dared the curse to make another fucking remark, to get all of his unwelcome commentary out now while he could. But the inside of his head had gone, thankfully, radio silent. So he made peace with the fact that Sukuna had gotten bored with all of this and had gone back into his own soul to sleep.

But no. Sukuna was not gone, nor bored. Far from it.

He was hungry.

Sukuna watched Yuji’s little girlfriend through his host’s eyes.

He’d excused himself to go use the restroom soon after they’d gotten their fluffy ice to split, and now he’d just stopped to watch her, sitting on a bench near the edge of the temple, the mouth of the forest, and enjoying her frozen treat with childish glee. The lovestruck fool was living in the moment, watching her with a heart full of warmth and just wanting to take it all in.

For Sukuna however, his stare was full of a hunger growing more and more ravenous with every second.

Of course she looked delicious at all times.  In her school uniform (girl’s uniforms were one of the few innovations of this era he could fully get behind), in her gym clothes the times she and Yuji went jogging together. Even that little floral sundress number she’d worn on their last date had really gotten his motor going. She was just a gorgeous little thing, and exactly his type.

Sickeningly sweet and salaciously stupid.

 But there was something about her right now, dolled up in a snow white yukata, walking under the warm glow of the traditional lanterns, down the path of a temple he once called home — she looked like she could have existed just like this, a thousand years ago. That she could’ve encountered him when he was at the height of his power, looking just like this.

It took everything in him not to utter “Extension” and tear her to pieces in front of every pair of prying eyes right here on this stone path. 

But no. He had to control himself.

He had to plan his moves carefully, he couldn’t just cause havoc willy-nilly, not without raising an unignorable alarm for the Jujutsu Sorcerers to put Yuji Itadori and himself down like Old Yeller. No, now was not the time to rape and pillage and have his fun.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it, though.

Somehow, there was something even worse about not being able to have his way in this form then it had been when his soul was fractured for a thousand years. At least before he’d manifested, he was held back by the fact that it was impossible to do anything else — he literally couldn’t have physically let loose even if he wanted to. He was essentially stuck in purgatory.

But now, when he had the full ability to ravage but had to keep himself in check, with only himself and his self-preservation to answer to? God, it practically fucking burned. It wasn’t right. If he didn’t get some kind of outlet soon, he was going to go crazy. 

It was like he was a dog, kept chained and locked up within the cage of his own skin. But that’s not what he was. He wasn’t a fucking housepet. He was a hunter, a predator.

And a damned good one at that.

There was a huge difference between other Curses and Sukuna. The sorcerers had decided to define this difference by grades. But Sukuna believed that the real explanation was much less academic, much more simple.

After all, just because a curse was “Special Grade” didn’t mean that it was worth a damn. It could have all the cursed energy in the world, but if it didn’t know how to properly hunt? It’d be lucky to last a century. 

They were trophic beings at the end of the day.

Low-level Curses, like flyheads? They were, at best, Primary Consumers. If he were being blunt, most of them were Producers, barely above algae. They tended to draw in more Jujutsu Sorcerers than they were worth. Sitting fucking ducks.

That waste of space from the Juvenile Detention Center? A Secondary Consumer. He could pick off the herbivores that were humans. Injured zebras falling behind the herd like his host and the little girl with the hammer.

And the little patchwork punk? The one that dared to put his pathetic mitts on his soul twice? Sukuna would be generous and call him a Tertiary Consumer. He sure did give that Seven to Three Sorcerer and his host a run for their money.

But Sukuna, himself? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed.

Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. 

The prey.

…

Okay, so maybe she was some low-hanging fruit, but it’s not like he could be too choosy. And boy was she ripe for the picking.

Besides, a top of the food chain hunter such as himself knew how to make some fun, a chase out of anything. 

Yes, little Yuji Itadori should’ve listened to his teachers. Dating a non-sorcerer, bringing such a tempting piece of meat into his eyeline and waving it around so proudly was a very bad idea.

And Sukuna lived for bad ideas.

“Extension.”

She perked up as Yuji re-approached, “Hey—!” then paused, head cocking as she noticed something… different about him.

“What’s with the…?” she gestured over her face, indicating the black marks now running across his skin.

“They were doing some face-painting at one of the booths,” he answered simply, lowly, “Looks good, right?”

She flushed a bit at the timber of his voice, eyes dropping to the cup of fluffy ice in her hands. Even imitating Itadori, there was a huskiness, a darkness in Sukuna’s voice that couldn’t be masked. And it sent shivers straight up his prey’s lovely spine.

“Y-Yeah… Looks really good.”

He smirked. Trap set.

“Really good, huh?” he purred, sitting on the bench not only next to her, but with his legs pressing hard against hers.

Her cheeks flushed, giggling as he slid his arm behind her shoulders on the bench, and giddy embarrassment set her body afloat. She liked this, liked it a lot. She always wanted Yuji to sweet-talk and touch her like this, more than she really should honestly. But she was way too embarrassed to ever admit that herself. So this extra flirty mood he seemed to be in at the moment was sending her straight to Cloud 9.

“...Uh— Uh-huh. R-Really good.”

She hazarded a look at his face again, the intensity, the uninhibited desire burning like coal in those lazy-lidded eyes sending an all new feeling of excitement through her body. One she’d been denying for a while.

With a squeak, she looked back forward, jutting the cup of fluffy ice over in his general direction, “D-Do you want some more?!”

He barely paid the measly little treat any mind, far more invested in the delicacy so pretty and wrapped up in an obi for him. 

“Yeah, why not.”

She turned towards him, eyes focussing on his tight chest rather than his sinful eyes, so that she could pick up the spoon and feed him. But before she could even touch the utensil, he reached past it, towards her, and caught a little drip of sweet syrup at the corner of her mouth with his thumb. 

Her breath hitched, loud and embarrassingly. But this only seemed to spur him on. He brushed it slowly along the length of her lower lip, pressing it in ever so slightly when he got to the center, kissing the pad of his thumb to her teeth. He could feel everything about her through this, the way her throat bobbed anxiously, the shuttering breath against his skin, the way her tongue sank forward instinctually to meet him. 

She couldn’t help it, the hypnotic lull that it pulled her into. Her eyes started to shutter closed, but in doing so she noticed something.

His nails.

Sukuna clocked this almost simultaneously, whipping his hand back before she completely lost her stupor and bringing the thumb to his own lips, nails hidden from sight. He made a show of licking the residuals of sweetness off of it, eyes boring straight into hers.

“Tastes even better this way,” he purred.

She flushed and turned away quickly and completely, her back to him, beyond embarrassed, “Y-Yuji—!”

“What?”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she squeaked.

“What do you mean?” he husked, leaning in from above her, pressing impossibly closer into her back, “What’s so embarrassing about loving the way you taste?”

Sukuna could feel her cheeks heat up as he slotted his nose into her shoulder, “In fact…”

He pressed his mouth, motionless, into the nape of her neck. He breathed into it, doing everything in his power to get a whisper of a taste of that skin, without devouring her whole.

“I’d love to taste more.”

He ran his hands down her arms, nails catching on every goosebump. They were going slow, teasing, but they weren’t stopping. No, they were not stopping their descent. Not until they got to—

“Y-Yuji,” she gasped out an embarrassed laugh as his hands slipped down to cover her own over the cup, sticky and cold from the fluffy ice dripping forgotten over them, “Come on, there are people around…”

“And?” Sukuna’s fingers weaved with her own squeezing tight, his hips slanting flush against her ass, “If there weren’t people around?”

She tilted her head back, startled by how close his lips were to hers when she did so. Startled, but not scared off. No. Intoxicated. Caught in the center of the spider’s web.

Trapped. Right where he wanted her.

Sukuna’s smirk widened and he caught her lips, all pretense gone. He was going in for the kill.

There was a reason why she was easy prey, and it wasn’t just because she was meek and malleable, easy for Sukuna to overwhelm even without powers.

It was because she wanted this from Yuji, had wanted it for a while, actually. If he didn’t know from all the needing looks and batting lashes she’d sent his way over the last six months — a virgin whore if he’d ever seen one —  it was more than obvious now. The way she grinded against him, gasped excitedly as he shoved her against a tree, back arching as he turned the top of her yukata into a belt, exposing her bare chest to his rough, relentless palms.

He was brought back to the other fucks he’d had under this very tree, when he’d been able to dig his claws into the flesh of shrine maidens until he felt bone. Or that village girl whose spine he’d snapped in half as he came.

This wasn’t nearly as physically exhilarating as those times, but there was something oddly even more exciting about it on a sentimental level. Of course, it was his first fuck in over a millennia, and a virgin at that (his fucking favorite), but she was Yuji’s too. 

Yuji’s girlfriend, Yuji’s love, Yuji’s prize to be won — and he’d stolen her right under the brat’s nose. The only thing that would make it better would be if Yuji could actually see it right now.

He could let that go for now though, especially considering how pliant and eager she was, the way she held back her yelps and locked down any complaints as they slipped down to the cold, crackly ground, her bare back grinding hard into the bark. He knew that it hurt her, he could smell the blood and feel the way her breath hitched in his mouth, and yet miraculously, she didn’t say a word. She wanted this to happen, she wanted to make him happy. And she was too shy to voice anything that might result in otherwise.

“You ready?” he purred, already shoving his pants down to his knees and giving himself a few preparatory pumps, regardless of her answer.

She gulped, and nodded hurriedly.

As soon as he moved her panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance exploratorily, Sukuna knew she was lying. Her body was clearly not quite there. She was plenty wet, sure, but she was still tense from the nerves, and shallow from the lack of prep. 

That was fine though. Actually, it was great. That added ring of resistance? That’s what made virgins and victims the absolute perfect prey, that’s what made them intoxicating.

He couldn’t have held back if he wanted to.

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips forward, fucking her fully.

She cried out with a volume that was clearly not all from joy. She was hurt. And he almost came on the spot at the sound.

“Are you okay?” he asked, just to keep in character. He didn’t care either way.

“Mm—! Mm-hmm!” she nodded frantically, tears clear in her eyes and hesitant to open her mouth, lest she reveal the actual pain she was in.

Oh, a little tough girl, huh? He could fucking fall in love.

Sukuna kept a serious face, but inside he was splitting in two, smiling.

“You sure? Do you want me to stop?” he insisted. It’s not like he would, even if she wanted to. But the idea of her powering through the pain, begging him to keep going even as he broke her? It was just too good to pass up.

“Y-Yes,” she yelped out in such a sweet, strained voice, “P-Please, keep going Yuji!”

He reached forward, running a hand through her hair, that once perfect little updo now frazzled and ruined with leaves and dirt, “I’ll be gentle, okay?”

She sniffled and put on a brave, quivering smile, nodding. He dragged out of her to the tip, slowly, expertly, pulling from her the first little gasp of pleasure.

Then he bottomed out inside her.

She cried out loudly, nails clinging into his back with vicelock strength as he fucked her, truly fucked her. She tried to make those cries sound pleasured, like moans. But she couldn’t hide the screams they truly were. She pulled him closer so that she could try and muffle them into his shoulder. 

But that wouldn’t do. No, that would not fucking do.

The hand in her hair tightened, pulling her head back harshly so that she had nowhere to direct her noise but into the night sky as he pounded into her. She bit her lip, trying to keep them at bay.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” he groaned, genuinely, “What about you, baby? Do you feel good?”

She tried to just get away with nodding and whining.

“Tell me baby,” he pressed, “Tell me it feels good.”

“I-It… It feels good!” she finally cried out, desperate for him to stop, “Y-Yuji, it feels so good!”

He pressed his lips into her cheek, almost cumming on the spot as the streams of tears down her skin touched his tongue.

“I love you so much,” he growled shamelessly.

She smiled a face-splitting smile, eyes wide and puffy, and body completely open and raw, as she tried to love away the pain.

“M-Me too!” she almost gagged, “I love you too!!”

In this life, the previous, or even the next, Sukuna was sure he’d never cum as hard as he did when he saw that face. 

Yuji stared down at her in absolute horror. What had he done? No, what had he done?!

His girlfriend, that pure, perfect girl, the one true light of his life, was laid out beneath him, a complete mess. Covered in dirt, hickeys, and a sheen of her own sweat and tears. 

Raped.

Her bare chest rose and fell heavily (he could be thankful for that at least), and her cheek rested against the twisting roots of the tree they were under as she tried to catch her breath.

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her eyes blinked open as she felt a splash against her flesh, pulling her from her post-sex daze. She turned to look up at Yuji, instantly shocked to see him hunched over her and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Yuji?” she gasped, “Yuji what’s wrong?”

“I… I-I just—” he choked, trying desperately not to throw up. His fingers ran shakily across the divots in her skin, the scratches and bitemarks, “Are you o-okay?”

She followed his stroking hands to her marred shoulders and whipped back to him with a gasp.

“Ohhh, sweetie no— don’t worry about those! I’m fine!”

“A-Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Of course!” she pulled him down into a tight embrace, “I loved it, Yuji.”

Those words stabbed him harder and hotter than anything else she could’ve said. Made it all so much worse.

“I absolutely loved it.”

Like what you read? Consider getting your own Commission! ^_^

[runningfrom2am]

michigan cherry // part one

summary: walking into a saloon in a nowhere town, billy meets a singer who he just can't get off his mind after she slips through his fingers; onto another town, another show- following nothing but the stars in her path. until he sees her again. another nowhere town and equally dusty saloon, but this time, the band of kids who made up her family is nowhere to be found. he's running away from something, and she is storming full speed toward something else, and tangling into each other's lives may just get both of them exactly where they want to be.

pairing: william h. bonney x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: singer!reader (she’s giving very much lucy gray), probably a little bit ooc billy but hey i tried- anyway he’s a sweetheart, use of guns and violence, murder and violence but i try to keep it non-descript, oh also she’s an orphan sorry (once again, lucy gray vibes), strangers to friends to lovers trope eee

the song in this chapter is "Second Child, Restless Child" by The Oh Hellos !!

a/n: heyyyy part one here we are!! i was going to post requiem first BUT the second part of btk s2 came out today so i couldn't resist posting this first :) playlist will be up very soon too!! hope you guys enjoy!!

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // pinterest board // playlist

It was muggy outside when Billy tied up his horse, and even hotter inside the saloon when he entered through its creaky swinging doors.

It was his current life as a bit of a lone wolf that brought him to this town he stumbled across by mistake, in search of a place to camp the night or ideally- a warm bed, but unsure if that was in the cards for him tonight, he decided to grab a drink instead.

He could hear the music before he saw the band, considering the whole town had apparently turned up to hear them play. Or, it was a Saturday night and no one had much of a better idea of what to do. He wasn't sure, until over the loud chatter and obnoxious shouts of men at the bar he could make out the sweet, damn close to angelic tones of the lead singer.

She was beyond anything he had ever seen, when he finally got a look at the owner of that beautiful voice, his blue eyes lit up in the dim light of the saloon. He flicked up the brim of his hat to get a better view as he leans back against the wall, absolutely mesmerized by the rapid pace at which the young woman's fingers strum over the strings of her guitar with expert precision.

"They saw trouble in my eyes, they were quick to recognize the devil in me."

With every word she sang, the smile he had to resist threatened to make itself seen. He could see the trouble in her eyes, even as they scanned the room- crinkled from the grin on her cheeks. It took Billy a few moments to even register that she wasn't the only one up on that old wooden stage- she wasn't the only one playing.

It surprised him even more when he tore his eyes off her to actually take notice of her band, that it was comprised almost entirely of children. Other than her and one boy behind her with light hair and hauntingly dark eyes who was dedicated well enough to his bass, none of the others seemed to be over fifteen.

A boy and a girl, who seemed to be just about the same age side by side playing little hip drums, and a blonde girl on a fiddle who appeared to be just a few years younger than the beautiful young woman taking up front and centre.

The smell of cigar smoke hits Billy's nose and brings him back to focus on where he was. He's not the only one watching this performance, as much as he felt the tunnel vision pulling him in on the girl with the skirt that spun almost as prettily as she did while she danced to her own music.

Completely lost in the song and the noises of the bar, she does a spin holding firm onto the guitar slung over her shoulder. Her hair flares out around her the same way her skirt does, and she has to steady herself as she stops, facing the old and abused microphone again to continue with the next verse.

"Can you hear it hanging on the wind? Can you feel it underneath your skin?"

Her eyes lock with Billy's as she looks around, the wide smile on her face hardly faltering even as his heart quits for a moment. She gives the man with striking blue eyes a small nod, not missing a beat of the song she was singing.

She was absolutely breathtaking to him. His eyes were stuck on every movement she made, every note she sang, and every word she uttered. He had seen pretty women before, but there was something about this girl that was different.

He couldn't help but notice how well she carried herself; with such confidence, and there was also a certain charm to her little nod as her eyes met his. The song and dance of the band were captivating, but his eyes were glued to her.

He raised up one eyebrow and gave her a little smile as he tilted his head curiously. Her voice somehow gave him a sense of home he hadn't felt since his ma passed. A sweet comfort he hadn't had in years.

He was being crazy, he knew as much- so he shakes his head of the feeling and peels himself off the wall to head over to the bar.

When the song was done, your chest was rising and falling heavily as you smile out at the crowd, waving to a few people before moving to set your well-loved guitar down.

"That's all we've got for y'all tonight. Thank you for listenin' to us take up your space tonight, but I sure hope at least a couple of y'all enjoyed it." You say into the mic with a smile, letting out a slight laugh as the crowd does with you.

"My name is Y/N and this is the Covey, and on behalf of all of us, have a good night! But not so good you don't make it home safe." You wink, signalling the end of our set and giving a quick bow to the crowd before stepping back to pack up.

Despite the shouts from saloon-goers and the usual sounds of the space echoing through, it seems quieter now to Billy without her beautiful voice, and he watches until her guitar case is closed and she passes it off the stage to her older bandmate who was helping collect the instruments.

As a matter of fact, he was staring into his whiskey and debating on whether or not he should even bother trying to talk to her when he's blessed by hearing her pretty voice again.

"Excuse me, miss!"

She's calling out to the busy bartender, leaning over the wood surface and resting her arm across it in front of her.

Now or never, Billy supposed.

"You've got quite the voice," He comments, voice rich and dripping with his unique mish-mash of accents- never having quite committed to one from moving around so much in his youth. "I'd wager you could melt even the coldest of hearts."

She turns her head to look at him, giving up attracting the attention of the barkeep. Up close, her eyes pull him in deeper.

"I'm Billy." He continues, extending a hand to her. It was out of character for him immediately- to offer up his name to someone he'd just met without them asking, but something about her made him unafraid to do so. Or... it was the unfamiliar jitters of nerves lowering his inhibitions.

A smile tugs at your lips as you quickly look him over, recognizing him as the man who had been leaning against the back wall while you were performing. You give his hand a quick and polite shake before responding.

"Y/N." You introduce yourself with a smile, despite having just done so on stage. "Was your heart cold 'til tonight then, Billy? Is that what I'm hearin'?"

"It was pretty cold." He admits, laughing. "But it seems like I've stumbled across just the fire to warm it up."

He looks you over again subtly, taking in how you still seem almost a little breathless from the performance you had just finished. It's interrupted by you laughing, shoulders shrugging as you adjust your top a bit, rolling up your sleeves.

"That's a good one, I must say." You giggle, shaking your head.

"Thanks, came up with it myself." Billy chuckles, mindlessly tapping at his almost empty glass. He figured he should at least come by it honestly if you were going to pick up on him so quick. "Tell me something, though. You're not from here, are ya? What brought you in? This isn't exactly the centre of the entertainment industry."

You look around at his final statement, nodding a bit in agreement. "Well, we're musicians by trade- travel about as we see fit. We're not really... city folks." You answer, looking back over your shoulder toward your band as they pack up and the kids play around on the stage.

"I hear that." Billy agrees, following your gaze. "Cities are too cramped for me."

"A bit of fresh air is good for the soul." You hum as you watch little Harvey and Josie chase each other around and behind the wooden stage and Max tries to wrangle them up. Business as usual.

Billy smiles as his eyes drift from the kids back over to you, letting your statement settle in before he spoke again. "Could I buy you a drink?"

You turn back to him again and nod, your smile returning in full. "I was waitin' for you to ask." You grin, waving again for the bartender who this time sees you and begins to make her way over.

He's a little shocked by your confidence in eagerly accepting a drink, but it just makes him more intrigued as he tilts his head at you. "Alright, then, darlin', what's your poison?" He asks, sliding over his glass and nodding to the woman running the bar for a refill of his whiskey.

"Water with a shot of warm honey aside, if ya got it." You smile to the bartender instead of answering Billy directly. "Please and thank you."

You had always had men offering to buy you drinks after your little shows, this wasn't anything new, but you always found a little bit of fun in seeing their subtle reactions to you ordering your water. Sometimes disappointment, occasionally even anger- but this Billy was the first one to ever smile.

"Well ain't you a fancy one." He chuckles, a small smirk on his face as his glass slides back to him over the countertop and he takes it with a nod of thank you to the woman behind the bar. "You one of those religious temperance girls?" He asks, purely out of curiosity.

Your nose scrunches up in response to the thought alone and you shake your head. "Nah." You take the cup of water and the shot glass full of warm honey from the bartender and thank her again quietly. "Just a girl who's overindulged herself one too many times."

Billy takes a sip of his whiskey and nods, watching curiously as you take the honey shot and lick the sweet liquid off your lips delicately.

In theory, that sounded so messy- but you handled it with such grace it honestly could have blown his mind. You must do that often.

"A bit of restraint never hurt anyone." He agrees, watching you dip your finger into what honey clung to the inside of the tiny cup and lick it off your finger before taking your first sip of water to rinse it down. "Hell, sometimes I could use more myself."

You shrug and let out a small laugh at his little joke, looking over at him again and smile as the sounds of the bar are swallowed by the invisible bell jar that seems to have engulfed you both.

"You, uh..." Billy speaks again after a moment, shaking his head a bit to clear his mind. "That song, you write it?"

"That I did." You smile proudly, nodding.

"Ah," He nods, spinning the glass on the counter in front of him. "So, I should ask, do you really have the devil in you?"

The reference to your lyrics makes you smile more and you shrug, taking another sip of your water. "I'd sure hope so." You tease. "I sold my soul to him in an even exchange for our music."

"So your voice is the devil's work, hey?" He laughed, sipping at his glass of whiskey once again.

He took a moment to study you, the way you wiped the inside of the shot glass clean with one delicate finger and licked it free of the stickiness. It drove him crazy just to look at you.

He leaned in a little closer as he continued. "Or are you saying that the whole you is the devil's work? Because I'd agree that you're certainly a little bit of trouble. As the song said, of course."

"That's certainly what I've heard." You giggle, shrugging softly as you put the empty shot glass down. "But I promise you I get into no trouble. We keep to ourselves, The Covey and me."

He smiled at you, the hint of mischief that danced in your eyes, that smile on your face sending chills up his spine.

"Well," He says, leaning in close to you, "You know what they say. The best things in life are dangerous. At least, I'm sure I've heard that somewhere." He chuckles a bit and it comes across with a hint of nervousness as he leans back away from you, not wanting to come across as too forward.

"Says the man with a gun on his hip and two in his coat." You say with a small smirk, nodding toward the inside of his jacket where he had hidden weapons.

He chuckled, admiring your perceptiveness.

There was an understanding about you, one that he was coming to enjoy. It was a quality that was hard to put his finger on.

All he knew was what he had at first glance; a gut instinct about you that screamed, "this will be worth it."

He took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes glued to your own. "You notice everything."

"Trick of the trade." You shrug, bringing your glass up to your lips again and not looking away from him either.

"What trade?" He asks with a slightly confused laugh. "Does singin' come along with a lot of gunfights or..?"

For the first time while interacting with men at these saloons all across the country, you laughed at one of their jokes. For the first time, it was genuine.

It even catches the ears of your band, who give each other confused but knowing looks as Billy's eyes light up with your laughter, knowing he prompted it to fall from your beautiful lips.

"I didn't take you for a funny one, Billy." You admit after a moment, still giggling as your hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"You've got a cute laugh," He said honestly, almost without realizing he'd said it out loud.

He sees your band mates in the corner of his eyes, watching the interaction unfolding before them, and smiled just a little more. He wanted the whole damn saloon to see that he was winning you over right in front of their eyes.

"I could have the worst laugh in the world and you'd still compliment it. You can't trust a man who's tryin' to charm your skirts off." You say, laugh devolving into giggles as you tip your glass toward him.

"Oh, and here I thought my intentions were genuine, and not just to get in your skirts," He said, laughing again. "Is that what you think I am, some kind of creepy bastard with ill intentions?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, surprised that when it's falling from his lips- you actually believe the denial.

"Men often lose themselves in pursuit of provisional pleasures." You comment, tilting your head at him. "It makes it hard to tell when once in a blue moon there's one who means what they say."

He was intrigued. Not necessarily by the comment itself, but more by the intelligence behind those pretty eyes of yours.

He was usually able to play these kinds of games easily, but you seemed to see right through them at every turn.

"Fair play." He says, giving you a nod of acknowledgement, "How do I know I'm the first man you've told that exact little poem to?"

"You just have to trust me." You say with a small smile. "If it helps, I wrote every word in those songs you heard earlier. I only speak when I have somethin' to say, and singin' is much of the same. You don't gotta believe me, but I'll tell you now it's not your wisest move to imply you don't think I'm smart enough to own the words I speak."

He couldn't deny that he had a weak spot for pretty, assertive women. But you were sweet, too, covered in it like the honey you just shot back a few minutes ago.

Those words, that tone, spoke volumes to him.

His lips curled up in a grin, and the tone of his voice took on a slightly more flirtatious edge. "I guess I should just count my lucky stars then. You don't happen to write songs about sweet talking men you meet in nowhere towns, do you?"

"Only about how they're venomous without the correct antidote on hand." You say, leaning against the counter and shifting your weight onto one hip.

He chuckles, his eyes glued on yours, not looking away.

God, he was in trouble.

The alcohol was making him cocky, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel. "And what if I came to you, hat in hand, asking for a cure? Begging you for a cure, because I'd been bitten by this sweet speaking cowgirl who's left me weak at the knees?"

"I'd tell you the nearest damn thing to anti-venom is just to run." You advise him, taking another drink before putting the glass down and sliding it across the bar. "And you'll find the real thing in the next dead end town you call a home, and then the cycle begins again."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Damn it, she had him. He couldn't even argue with that one.

He wanted to kiss her so bad right now, respectfully, of course, but he knew he should wait for some kind of signal from her. So instead he played it cool, grinning back at her.

"Okay, okay. What if," He said, watching with a smile as you raised an eyebrow at him over the edge of your glass, waiting for him to continue while you polished off your water. "And I'm just saying hypothetical here, theoretically, if he promised to stay in that next dinky ass town for a month just to see the woman he fell for again?"

"Then that would make you a fool." You answer. "Theoretically, of course." You add with a wink, standing up straight again.

You wanted to stay, to talk until last call and learn all his secrets- but you knew better than to fall for it all.

"Well, it sure was nice to meet you, Billy."

His heart drops at the words and he sighs, his expression softening as he saw you standing up from the bar.

He should keep it casual, he reminded himself. Be nice. Don't mess this up.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, darlin'." He stood up again slowly, his eyes lingering on yours for a few seconds, before he spoke again. "I hope we run into each other again, if only for a moment. Take care of yourself, Miss..."

"I don't doubt we will." You smile, giving him a small punctuating bow as your bandmates wave you back over.

You glance back at him over your shoulder as you walk away, giving him one of your winning smiles before picking up your guitar case and following your friends out the back door.

Billy stood there in the saloon for a few moments, watching you go with a wistful, almost regretful look on his face.

There was something about you that made him want to do stupid things.

"Run after her," his other half shouted. "I don't care if you look like a damn fool."

But he just stood there, like a damn fool, until he finally shook his head and muttered to himself. "Damn it."

no taglist this time around!! my fics usually get over a hundred requests to be added to the taglist so instead i made a library! follow me over on @runningfrom2am-library and turn on notifs to get updates when i post new parts!!

[solarmorrigan]

May I request a thrupple for the angst quote prompt?

“Please I just… really need space right now.”

With ChissyxStevexEddie. If not the thrupple then a pair of your choice from those three characters.

Hello! I'm sorry, I didn't quite manage to work Chrissy into this one. Honestly, this particular fill argued with me so much I'm kind of glad I even got Eddie and Steve in there. I hope this is okay, anyway!

[post-S3 Steddie AU; CW: Deals with the aftermath of torture, heavily discusses non-consensual touching (not inherently sexual, not between Eddie and Steve), contains the theme of trying to help someone through trauma. This is very soft, though, I promise]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

The Steve Harrington who comes home to Eddie from the hospital on the fifth of July is not the same one who had kissed him goodbye before his shift at that shitty ice cream parlor two days prior.

He’s still Eddie’s Steve, of course he is, but he’s also – he’s withdrawn, and he’s jumpy, and he’s so, so hurt.

Eddie had seen the aftermath of that fight with Hargrove (who hadn’t? Though Eddie had even had the privilege of watching the last of the bruises fade from up close as he and Steve became friends), but this is worse. Eddie can’t articulate how at first, but it is.

At least back in November, Steve had been able to talk about how he’d gotten his injuries; this time, he has to hide behind some fucked up cover story – because bull-fucking-shit had he gotten hurt by falling debris in a freak mall fire.

Debris hadn’t left marks like fucking boot prints on Steve’s back and chest. It hadn’t bruised and rubbed his wrists red and raw. It hadn’t left the distinct shape of fingers in purple and blue, wrapped around his arms on both sides.

Eddie had tried exactly once to address this, when he’d first seen the extent of the damage hidden under Steve’s shirt. He’d tried to demand answers, tried to get out of Steve who had laid their fucking hands on him, but Steve had gone grey under his bruises and shook his head.

“It was a fire, Eddie. Nothing else. I need you to understand that,” Steve had said, more serious than Eddie had ever heard him, his one good eye wide with urgent anxiety – with something almost like fear. “It was just a fire.”

Eddie hasn’t brought it up again.

It makes him burn to know that someone had done this to Steve and that he can’t do a goddamn thing about it. It makes him want to scream, it makes him want to find whoever had been responsible and make them hurt, but more than anything–

More than anything, it terrifies him.

Because this Steve is different – his Steve is different now, and Eddie doesn’t know what to do.

It scares him to see Steve slinking around the trailer like it isn’t his home (more of a home than his parents’ house has ever been). It scares him when he forgets that Steve’s left is his bad side and that if he comes up on him too fast, he’ll startle the shit out of him. It scares him that Steve has a bad side. It scares him when he reaches for him, unthinkingly going for the contact that Steve has always been so hungry for, has been so comforted by in the past, and instead Steve flinches away.

Eddie has never really had to take care of someone else, and he feels like he’s fucking it up at every turn. He feels like he’s hurting Steve even more, that he’s no better than whoever did this to him, no better than Billy fucking Hargrove, no better than Steve’s parents; he’s afraid he’s going to ruin things, break Steve beyond repair, because he doesn’t know how to care for this new version of him.

The only thing that gives him hope that he isn’t doing too badly is the fact that Steve is staying. He still wants to be in Eddie’s company, still reaches out sometimes and tentatively slides his hand over Eddie’s while they’re watching TV together, still shares Eddie’s bed at night. He’s been stubbornly insisting that he’s fine, he’s fine, he just needs time to heal, but beyond a refusal to admit that anything is wrong, he still trusts Eddie to help when he’s not at his best.

Of course, no matter what he says, Steve isn’t actually fine, and even if that weren’t made apparent just by looking at him, it becomes abundantly clear when the lights go out and they lie down to sleep – when the nightmares hit.

Sometimes, they’re small things: quickened breath and inaudible murmuring, furrowed brows that eventually smooth out as Steve is released back into deeper, more peaceful sleep.

Sometimes, though, they’re loud and sharp and violent.

Sometimes, like tonight.

Steve is half twisted in the sheets, struggling in a way his broken ribs really can’t afford, arms flailing and jerking as he tries to fight something off, as he mutters no and stop and please. Eddie sort of wants to cry, thinking about what could be making Steve beg, but more than anything he wants to wake Steve up.

He shakes him by the shoulder, dodging the jerk of his arm, and hopes he can call louder than whatever’s going on in Steve’s head.

“Steve. Steve, c’mon, wake up,” Eddie shakes Steve again and Steve jerks away with a wounded noise. “It’s just a nightmare, baby, come on. Steve!”

Steve’s eyes snap open with a sharp gasp, like he’s been holding his breath, but his gaze is still hazy. He’s awake, but he isn’t present, and he immediately starts shoving at Eddie’s hands, trying to scoot away on the bed.

“No, no, get off– get off me!” he shouts, managing to make it as far as the edge of the bed before the tangle of the sheets holds him in place.

“Steve it’s– it’s just me, it’s Eddie, it was a nightmare, you’re–” as reassuring as Eddie is trying to be, he can’t help the distressed crack in his voice. “Baby, you’re safe, I fucking swear.”

Finally, Steve stops struggling. He lies against the mattress for a moment, breathing heavily, before he ventures a small, “Eddie?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m right here,” Eddie promises.

He shuffles closer on his knees, reaching out for Steve, hoping to comfort or soothe or ground or something, but Steve flinches away, tossing up an arm to halt Eddie in his tracks with a quickly barked, “No.”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes out, and he doesn’t mean to sound so fucking broken, but he should be the one person Steve is never afraid of, and he’s fucking that up.

“I… Please, I just…” Steve stutters out, still catching his breath, trying to sit himself up against the wall that the head of the bed is pressed to, “…really need space right now. Just– just leave me alone for a while.”

And all at once, even if Eddie knows nothing else, he knows that isn’t right.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now, sweetheart.”

Steve, now propped up against the wall, lets his head hang with a heavy sigh. “Eddie…”

“No, look, I’m not–” Eddie scrambles off the bed and moves across the small room, until he’s got his back to the opposite wall. “I’m not gonna touch you, I’ll stay over here, you don’t even have to look at me, but I’m not going to leave you by yourself.”

Steve had never wanted to be left alone when things were bad before. When he was alone, his anxiety would consume him; without the anchor of another person, it would carry him away, and Eddie is certain the same thing will happen now if he leaves Steve to deal with the aftermath of his nightmare in solitude.

For a long moment, Steve stares at him, eyes wide and wet with unshed tears in the low light of the bedroom, but he eventually looks away again. He says nothing, just curling in on himself in a way that must be hell on his ribs as he leans back against the wall, and Eddie takes that as the best permission he’s going to get.

He slides down the wall and sits on the floor, his knees pulled up in front of him in a loose mirror of Steve’s position. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, but he’s there, and he has to believe that’s worth something.

It startles him when, some thirty minutes in (probably the longest Eddie’s ever been able to sit in silence without something to occupy him), Steve speaks.

“I can still feel their hands on me.”

His voice is a quiet rasp, but the words hit Eddie like hailstones. He wants to ask who, he wants to demand what, but he knows if he says anything now, Steve will clam up, so Eddie keeps his mouth shut, and he waits.

“Even before they– before they started hitting me.” Steve isn’t looking at Eddie, instead addressing the wall, gaze distant and unblinking. “They grabbed me and… searched me, cuffed me, they kept – putting their hands on my face, grabbing my hair, and I couldn’t…”

Couldn’t stop them.

Eddie feels a little sick.

Steve is quiet for so long after that that Eddie begins to wonder if he should say something, but Steve breaks the silence before he has to figure out what.

“Out of everything, I don’t know why that… why that left the biggest impression, but I–” he breaks off, turning and finally looking at Eddie. “I want to feel you again, but any time someone touches me, I can only see them.”

Eddie doesn’t think he’s going to survive this. His heart is going to fucking break.

He needs to do something, he needs to help, and maybe he has no clue what he’s doing, but this is his Steve, and he has to try.

Slowly, Eddie levers himself up off the floor and moves towards the door, where he hits the switch for the overhead lights, making the entire room go bright.

Steve winces at the sudden change, turning a wary look on Eddie as he approaches the bed.

“Eddie, what…”

“Just– just trust me. Let me try,” Eddie says, soft and earnest, holding Steve’s gaze as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Please?”

It takes a long moment, but Steve gives a hesitant nod, and Eddie scoots closer. He leaves space between them, still, but he gets close enough that he could reach out and take Steve’s hands – which is exactly what he intends to do.

“Look at me,” Eddie says, quiet and firm. “Just look at me, nowhere else.”

Steve does as he’s told, and Eddie manages a smirk.

“Just pretend I’m the most interesting thing in the room,” he tries to tease. “Like there’s nothing else you’d ever wanna look at.”

“Don’t have to pretend,” Steve murmurs, eyes locked on Eddie’s face, and Eddie’s smile melts into something more genuine.

“There you are,” he says softly.

He reaches for Steve’s hands, and slowly, Steve unwraps them from where he’s been clutching firm around his legs, and lets Eddie touch him.

His hands are cold in spite of the summer heat that invades the trailer no matter how hard their crappy little air conditioner works, and they’re trembling slightly, but Steve doesn’t pull back. He stares right at Eddie and holds on.

Eddie brings one hand up, cradled in his own, and presses a gentle kiss to the knuckles. The bruises there have already faded (their presence had been the least distressing out of all the damage; Eddie likes knowing that Steve had at least gotten a few hits in), but he attends carefully to each knuckle, anyway. He kisses the back of Steve’s hand, feeling a little like a courtly lord from one of his own campaigns. Steve is starting to look at him like he might be one.

The bruises around Steve’s wrists are taking longer to heal; the damage is deeper, and the colors still paint livid rainbow circles on his skin (his face is going to take longer, still; Steve says the doctor told him he’d lucked out with a minor fracture to his orbital bone that will heal on its own with time. Eddie looks at the discoloration there and feels like he has some choice words for the doctor). Eddie moves his attention up, brushing his lips featherlight across the top of Steve’s wrist before turning his hand over and paying the same devotion to the underside.

“Eddie…” Steve breathes, and Eddie presses one last kiss to the palm of Steve’s hand.

“It’s me,” Eddie promises, bringing Steve’s other hand up now. “Watch me, sweetheart, it’s just me.”

He keeps eye contact as he lavishes Steve’s left hand with the same attention he’d given the right, and it occurs to him that he’s been inside the boy in front of him, but this is somehow the most intimate thing they’ve ever done.

Eddie doesn’t move beyond Steve’s wrists, doesn’t push any more than he already has, and Steve’s eyes are still on him by the time he finishes, wide and soft and glassy.

“Okay?” Eddie asks softly, dropping his hands to hold both of Steve’s in his lap.

Slowly, Steve nods. He looks away at last, turning his eyes to their joined hands, and tightens his fingers until he’s holding onto Eddie properly.

They sit like that for a long time, quiet and close, until Eddie can feel himself flagging and he can see Steve’s eyelids drooping.

“Let’s try to get some more sleep,” Eddie says around a stifled yawn. “You do need your beauty rest, after all.”

Steve laughs, a little huff of a thing, and casts a quick glance up at Eddie. “Can– can we leave the light on?” He rushes the words out, like he hates to even ask, but Eddie only nods.

“Whatever you need, Steve,” he promises – and he means it.

Maybe he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing, but he’s not going anywhere until he figures it out.

And when Steve settles down beside him in bed, and scooches just close enough that their arms are pressed together, Eddie figures maybe he’s not doing too badly, after all.

[kookygranger]

Is This Desire?

Firefighter!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Steve Harrington falls for you a little harder every time he meets you. Now you're free to live your life and he's ready to make a move on the girl he thinks about every day.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut-ish (allusions to sex), secondary character death, witchcraft, reader is a town outcast, fem!reader, no upside down/no hawkins au

Word count: 2k

Author's note: This story is inspired by a trippy and vividly detailed dream I had, minus the lovechild because that's not my vibe but good for dream me I guess.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Chapter One: When Under Ether

1979

The first time Steve Harrington saw you was on a brisk fall night. Brown leaves lifted in small whirlpools down the street as children’s laughter and sugar-induced screams permeated the air. It was Halloween.

Steve wanted to dress up as Robin Hood, his outfit complete with feathered cap and fox tail sitting on his navy-blue bedspread at home, but his friends thought trying was lame now – so he settled for a ripped shirt and a half-assed green face paint job. He wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to be a zombie or Frankenstein’s monster.

He’d done that a lot lately. Changed things about himself that others his age suddenly found uncool or only suitable behaviour for babies. He may not have known as much as the kids that sat up the front of class, but he knew one thing for sure, he didn’t want to be thought of as a baby.

Maybe that’s why he was stood in front of the rotting wooden gate that led up to the house at the end of Maple Street, so far away from the rest of the neighbours that it could only barely be counted. Unless it was to get its own street name entirely, which right now Steve felt like it could, as far away from safety as possible to his small legs.

See, the old Ravenwood house was only spoken about in whispers, its history revealed in rumours perpetuated by ghost story obsessed children for as long as anyone can even remember the house being occupied. And with its peeling paint, overgrown and weed-riddled front yard, and creaking front porch, it was a ripe opportunity for a young boy to prove that he was no scaredy cat on All Hallows’ Eve.

Steve walked up the sunken stone path with his two friends in tow. Tommy, the boy who’d suggested the dare earlier in the night brought up the rear of the small group, knobbly knees knocking together.

Steve was wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans when a flurry of bats, unnative to this part of the world, flew into their path, screeching only slightly higher than the two boys behind him who ran straight back through the front gate. His heart battered against his ribcage as he squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath like his grandma had taught him to when he’d get mad or upset, and when he opened his eyes he saw you.

Watching curiously through the second-floor window, where you sat perched inside, a warm glow framing your small body. Steve thought you looked to be the same age as him, but he’d never seen you before. He smiled that charming Harrington grin he’d been told he possessed, then waved – you, more shyly returned the gesture. Then he’d heard his name called somewhere back beyond the threshold of this strange house, and he’d returned to his friends. Brushing off the ill attempt at machismo with talks of scoring candy.

When Steve’s head hit his pillow that night, veins pumping with sugar, he thought of you. He would never forget about the girl in the window. A beacon of light that dissolved his fears.

***

1986

The second time Steve saw you everything faded away into the background.

He’d been swapping occupational war stories with Robin at the bar in town, the one that didn’t refuse service based on age but based on your likeability according to the bartender. He’d made his way up to the bar through the lively post-work week crowd to order another round when he saw you. Through the far from sober bodies, tucked away on a barstool up against the wall, your hands playing with a sodden beer mat as your eyes wandered, people watching, Steve Harrington swore he saw the face of an angel.

Although time had changed you both, bodies growing up and through awkward stages, arms and chests filling out to be hugged now by the scratchy material of Steve’s striped polo and the soft cotton of your dress, your legs strong enough to bring a grown man to his knees (as far as Steve was concerned), the glint of a thin silver chain on the wrist that supported his big hands enough to capture the attention of almost all the girls in town – Steve had still known. It was you. By looks alone, you may have been a far cry from the little girl in the window, but he knew.

Inexplicably, for he could not cite the hairs on his toned arms raising at the sight of your eyes gazing back at his, or the warm, tight feeling in his chest he’d only ever felt once before as proper methods of identification. But your shy smile and hitched breathing as he drew near only confirmed it for him.

And before he knew it, his lips oh so close to yours, shining after his tongue had poked out to wet them were asking if you wanted to get out of there.

“Yes.”

Robin would later get more than her fair share of making up for his total abandonment of her without so much as a goodbye, but in that moment he couldn’t think of anything else but you.

How he could taste the bitterness of your perfume on your skin when he kissed your bare shoulder, how you sounded when he sucked on the skin under your ear and the vibrations you made together when he swallowed your moans, how you squeezed his hand that held yours beside your head laying on the pillow that wouldn’t be rid of your scent for a week after, and how you kissed him deeply after the seventh time he’d asked if you were still okay, if you still wanted this as much as he did.

When you left him, asleep with kissed lips parted in soft snores and hair mussed, the marks he’d left on your neck and thighs would serve you as a sweet reminder. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla followed you as you snuck back into your house through the back door, the quiet creak masked by the singing cicadas. Your uncle exactly where you'd left him, still sleeping off the extra spoonful of valerian extract and dried chamomile you’d steeped with his tea to buy yourself a little more time out there.

Where magic was forbidden. Where children threw cruel comments and the adults they’d overheard them from ushered them across the other side of the street. Out there where people would never be understanding of you, and boys who could trick you into giving up your power ran rampant.

You’d thought – hoped, dreamed – that maybe on your eighteenth birthday you could get a kiss. A moment of normalcy outside of your life stuck in this house but what you got was so much better.

What you got was imprinted on your skin with the lingering feeling of his lips.

***

1993

The third time you meet Steve, you breathe in your first taste of free air.

Steve had volunteered to take a ride with the EMT to transport a body to the morgue, on an otherwise slow shift at the firehouse. The only other one in town had called in sick and the nearest hospital was a town over.

When the bus turned down Maple Street, Steve immediately felt off. A sense of dread washed over him and only increased when the car continued off the main street and down the dirt road that led to the Ravenwood house. As the vehicle kicked up stones and a cloud of dust in its wake he’d been hit with a sudden wave of déjà vu, remembering dreams that felt as real as memories of walking up this path only to find himself back at the start over and over again.

When the bus finally came to a stop in the driveway Steve barrelled out, running up to the front door in a panic, his raised fist ready to knock it down before it abruptly opened. Exhaling quickly at the site of you, the sinking feeling in his stomach alleviated as he took you in for the first time in years.

You’re dressed for mourning. A soft black dress and scuffed boots, hair pulled back to reveal a bare face that Steve had the sudden urge to kiss.

“H-Hi.” He managed to stammer out a greeting as his colleague finally caught up to him, walking up the creaking steps to your front porch.

“He’s in the bedroom.” You held open the front door, moving aside to let them in. Voice small, smelling of lemon, cedarwood and white musk and Steve had to physically keep himself moving as he brushed past you.

Your uncle laid stiff on a double bed, on top of the covers and dressed in a tattered corduroy suit as if ready for viewing, his body now an empty vessel left only for a ceremonial send-off. A white handkerchief covered his face, a small bundle of dried cypress and sweet cicely perched on his forehead. A breeze from the open window across the room swayed the hem of your skirt as you stared at him.

Steve pointed to the handkerchief, asking you if they could move it but stopped his movements right away when you tensed. His colleague tells you it’ll have to come off during the autopsy and you fold, asking if it can at least go back on afterwards.

“Once we drop him off he’s out of our hands ma’am.”

“I’ll make sure it does,” Steve placates you and you offer him a small nod in thanks. He barely remembers to breathe.

You followed the stretcher out to the bus, a rumbling of thunder catching the two men’s gaze up to the sky when the back doors thud shut. The view was clear when they entered the house, no forecast for rain on this mild summer’s day. Now fat drops began to hit the ground with the rolling in of grey clouds. Steve looked down and noticed a small smile on your face.

You took a deep breath in with eyes softly shut. “I think I’m gonna go for a walk.” You took off down the front path, stopping at the front gate when Steve called after you, asking if you were sure as the rain only intensified.

You just turn and smile at him, waving with a fixed mind. “It’s cleansing.” Only to disappear into the tall grass fields across from your house in a blur of black. Walking away, a free woman.

The front door creaked closed, making Steve’s companion jump.

“Freaky.”

After that day Steve hears of regular sightings of the girl who grew up in that house. Gossip of blooming, bright lavender and bluebells, buzzing bees – life where there once was nothing but rot and death. A fixed white picket fence and carefully laid stone-path that led up to a now bright and welcoming looking house at the end of Maple Street. But this was still a small town and generational rumours took more than a fresh coat of paint to cover up. The witch who lived at the old Ravenwood house was still feared among small minds.

***

The fourth time Steve Harrington saw you he was dropping Robin’s overdue books off at the library on his way to work. Navy blue t-shirt hugging his biceps, tucked neatly into his uniform pants, the stomp of his steel-capped boots muffled by the scratchy charcoal carpet.

Robin had sent him in the hopes that he could get her late fees waived. He’d spritzed an extra spray of his cologne on before leaving their shared apartment, Harrington charm plastered on his face as he prepared to win over an elderly lady who was reminded of her husband when they first met. Only, the person behind the counter wasn’t wearing a blouse with a frilly collar or sporting a purple rinse quaff.

The person who greeted Steve was wearing a well-loved PJ Harvey shirt, with long braids running down her back, flashing a timid smile that ripped through his chest.

“Hi, Steve.”

End note: If you want dedicatedly researched, heart-wrenching witch core you should go read @storiesbyrhi's Eddie fic Burning Yarrow. I'd also recommend @rosewaterandivy's S.H. x witch!reader story, which is just blow me down gorgeous. Their words probably inspired the dream that inspired this story ✨

Thank you for reading! x

Steve edit by @/vasguett on pinterest