#running out of hope so falling back on hatred

[professorlegaspi]

Thinking about how giving up and fighting are synonymous for Quiroz

[rizsu]

ex-husband!gojo, who wakes up every morning to his disappointment. it's been well over a couple months, yet he still extends his arm to feel for you.

ex-husband!gojo, who still has your contact saved as his main emergency contact. he uses this to his advantage— ringing your phone with the excuse of being "too drunk to drive." it works. he isn't exactly high off his brain, but he has alcohol in his system.

ex-husband!gojo, who happened to spot you with another man. who is he? is he your friend? your lover? perhaps you met after the divorce? whatever the status is, it doesn't help to soothe his jealousy. it's not like he can walk up to you — you might issue a restraining order against him.

ex-husband!gojo, who finds himself at your doorstep. it's late, storming, and you're probably asleep. he doesn't move. mind set in chaos as he ponders whether he should leave or ring the bell. he wants to see you, but the look of disgust he might receive is something he isn't ready to face.

ex-husband!gojo, who's shocked that you opened the door. he didn't ring the bell. were you already there? probably. his throat ran dry, unable to speak a word. you're leaning on the door's frame, arms crossed as you tilt your head. "you need something, gojo?" you asked, not willing to receive an answer.

"can i — can i come in?" he stutters, a little shocked at the use of his surname. the little sparkle of hope that you continue using his first name has been dusted.

ex-husband!gojo, who's fidgety in your home. your silence isn't helping him relax. hell, he hasn't known relaxation ever since the divorce. "help yourself to the kitchen. sleep wherever, i'm going back to bed," your voice held no volume of softness. it was as if you were but a stranger, yet he refuses to let you become one.

"then, may i sleep in your room? on the floor, of course," he's hesitant with his request, deciding it's best to justify himself, "i don't know my way around this house."

ex-husband!gojo, who's yet again stunned that you allowed him in your room — let alone your bed. now he's as still as a stick, unable to fall asleep due to his itching urge to pull you into him. you're most likely sound asleep, uncaring to the man you once called your husband.

ex-husband!gojo, who calls out to you, keeping his voice low as he speaks, "can we talk?"

you replied to him, voice still holding its tone of harshness, "what is there to talk about?"

"anything. how's life been for you?" he keeps his speech short, afraid of annoying you. it's a little late for that, however. you're already annoyed by the attempt of useless talks. "just get to the point, gojo."

and so he follows, sighing before he reveals his intentions, "i fucking missed you, that's all."

ex-husband!gojo, who's surprised when you sat up. although your room holds no light due to the black-out curtains, his eyes adjusted to its darkness, being able to see your every feature. your face, hands, neck, collarbone, chest — everything. he misses being able to run his hands through your body ever-so lovingly. when you lowered yourself right above his face, his eyes kept your gaze. your jaw's clenched. why does he look as if he lost everything? wasn't the divorce mutual?

ex-husband!gojo, who's rendered speechless when your voice cracked. he didn't expect it, nor did he expect you to say what you did. "i missed you, too." did you really miss him? he feels as though he's being lied to. raising a hand to cup your cheek, he shares his words, "really? then why not act on it if you're not lying?"

ex-husband!gojo, who happily accepts your kiss, moving his hand from your cheek to your nape. softly pushing you closer to himself — and to deepen the kiss. it's soft but rough. passionate but seeping with hatred. it's everything at once. you're pulling at his hair, purposefully tugging it as if you're using it to distract yourself from the escaping emotions. he's the same. using his other hand to travel along the junction of your neck and shoulder, squeezing it each time he feels to let the tears flow.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Love me some bratty wolverine but I NEED my obedient sweet sub too 😋 wolverine who's just so desperate for praise and being told he's good, needy and never knowing how to properly ask for it and just ending up whining and pleading to near tears.... letting you take all the control and being so frightened and uncertain until you're showering him with reassurance and praise

Logan Howlett x male reader

Headcanons

Super exhausted, we did an event as my new education place (what do you call the place you take a bachelor’s degree in english?) that went until ten in the evening, so I’m still pooped. Hope this is still enjoyable though.

How’s everyone else been doing lately? This ended up being more focused on the comfort and relationship part of it, but I hope that’s good too.

I believe the Wolverine from the Deadpool and Wolverine movie would be the type of Logan you are looking for. He’s been through so much, lost so many people, has been hurt so much and lives with such a deep guilt and self-hatred.

In the beginning he wouldn’t show it, especially if you were someone who knew him, or some variant of him, in the past. He has an image he needs to live up too, or at least that’s what Logan thinks.

To him, he doesn’t deserve anything nice or soft. He doesn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, which in the end just ends up being his Achilles heel. Logan has starved himself so much for any kind of affection or care, that when he starts loving somebody he becomes like a dog.

Not a happy wagging panting dog, no. more a starved, dirty, covered in cuts and sores, kind of dog, desperately pouncing on the tiniest sliver of food you throw his way.

In the beginning, Logan would try to deny these feelings completely. Again, he doesn’t think he deserves to even love somebody, especially not somebody as great as you. So, he tried to suppress it. but that only adds onto it. the stuff we try to suppress only comes back stronger; didn’t you know?

That’s why he tries so hard to stay cold, rude, mean, anything he can to chase you off. If you leave first, then it wont matter, right? But damnit, you stay. And you just seem to cling on tighter the more he struggles, like those dogs so used to fighting and snarling at everything for their own safety, finally being taken in by someone whose patient enough to love them, and wait for them to feel safe.

And when Logan finally starts to feel safe, letting down his walls little by little and oh so slowly reaching out. Then he becomes insatiable. In the beginning its small things like standing closer to you, his leg pressing against yours, him bringing you stuff that reminded him of you.

But soon he can’t help but be all over you, only when you’re alone though. You end up with 300+ lb. of hairy gruff Wolverine, glued to you like he needs to be close to you as much as he needs air to breathe.

This is also where you discover that he completely melts when you run your hand through his hair or beard, his eyes almost rolling back as he arches into your loving touch like a sunflower reaching for the sun.

This dynamic also follows into the bedroom. Here Logan starts out thinking he’s gonna be the one in charge and on top, as he’s always been in past relationships.

But when you show signs that you like to make the orders and tell him what to do, Logan is honestly relieved to let the ropes go, falling to his knees with a lump thump and crack, the floor splitting under his weight and desperation to just be good for you, to be loved.

You never thought you would see Logan of all people cry, but you quickly learn that praise is the way to get him there. You were terrified the first time he started silently crying as he rubbed his face back and forth on your knee, a minor tremble in his shoulders. But you learn it’s because he’s so overwhelmed by the fact that somebody actually still loves him.

Logan has spent all this time being in charge and being on edge, that he’s almost desperate and begging for you to take charge. Hed crawl down the street on a leash if that’s what you wanted, all that matters to him is your love, your praise and acknowledgment.

Of course you wouldn’t do that, and you worry a lot about his comfort and safety. It doesn’t take you long to realize that Logan will bend himself backwards to please you, even go further than he’s normally comfortable with.

This leads to you having to give him a scolding that has the mutant falling to his knees and clinging onto you, as if you were gonna leave him behind too. Communication has been and always will be hard for Logan, but over time you pick up his physical cues.

You still like to have him tell you in words what he wants though, just to be sure, but also for him to practice. Even when he’s near tears in pleasure you still want Logan to tell you what he wants, how, and where.

You two always end your times together with a long cuddle, the cuddling lasting longer than what you did before since Logan soaks up your love like a sponge that just never seems to end. You swear he purrs, even if Logan denies it vehemently.

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty two ⭐︎ Let the world around us just fall apart

Warnings: no warnings, I am not gonna spoil anything, read at your own risk and minors, get outta here as always

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 10.5k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult can you believe we made it here?... feels like we just started planning this story! anyways thank you for helping me proofread and perfecting the story ♡

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

“I don’t know if a dress would make him say yes to a date with his mortal enemy.” 

Billy scoffed at your words, rolling his eyes. 

“Mortal enemy, my ass.”

You were fidgety as you were walking towards the GAP store with your best friend by your side. You looked around you and stopped at the entrance, a sudden nervousness came over you when you looked inside. 

This was insane and it didn’t even feel right. You knew he would say no, not even a pretty dress could change his opinion of you. 

Steve couldn’t stand you, it felt ridiculous to even think of asking him out, knowing how it would end but your best friend put so much hope in you, he encouraged you so strongly, how could you not try?

Billy stood before you, a comforting smile crossed upon his features. 

“I– I can’t…”

You looked into his blue eyes, the kindness that was shining just for you, making your lips twitch. 

He took your hand in his and squeezed it, tilting his head down with a nod, he gestured to the store. 

“You can do it, sweets…”

His words echo in your mind, repeating over and over again, blurring your vision further as you look at the man before you with tears rolling down your cheeks and rain pouring down on you, you’re shaking like a leaf, not from the coldness that envelopes your body like an icy blanket but from all the emotions inside of you. 

And Steve, he stares at you, eyes blurred with tears that even you can see through your own. 

His head is pounding from all the sobs that left his lips, from all the tears he shed over you after what Robin told him about you, about your feelings for him. He feels ready to crumble to his knees as he looks at you now, ready to let those tears spill again, ready to take you back into his arms and try to forget. 

But despite the sadness, the brokenness in him, he also feels anger, not even for you but for himself. 

“What do you want?”

Tears spill from your eyes and your chest aches in pain and fear as you look at the heartbroken, angered boy in front of you. 

You have not heard that voice from him in a long time. That voice that had venom in it, directed only at you. The voice that held dislike, disgust, hatred. The voice that Steve once had towards you… and this time it hurts even worse than it ever did before. 

You see the way he looks at you, so different from how he did this morning and it makes you feel small, just the way it always did and suddenly you want nothing more than to turn around and run again, to leave and spare yourself more pain. 

But this can’t be the ending. 

It just can’t be. 

And the pain in his eyes, his reaction to whatever Robin had said to him fuels the hope that began to dwindle. If he didn’t feel anything for you, he wouldn’t stand here like this. 

Thunder crashes behind you so loudly that it makes you flinch and shut your eyes tightly, for only a second but a second enough for Steve to snap and truly look at the sight before him – the storm that rages behind you, the wind that curses through the forest, the lightning that surges through the sky, illuminating everything around you as loud rumbles vibrate against the ground while the rain pours down on you. 

You are standing here, in the middle of a storm, caught in the rain, you are standing here before him. 

His heart lurches to his throat when he hears your sniffle, sees the tears in your eyes and the way you are shaking as your bottom lip trembles. A broken cough falls from your lips and he instantly steps forward. Worry crosses out every other emotion in him as he reaches for your hand, his gaze softening the longer he looks at you. 

“Blondie! What the fuck are you doing here!? It’s— It’s storming!” He yells through the rain and tries to pull you into the house but you shake your head at him and take a step back, refusing to step inside. 

All the words, all the sentences, everything you had rehearsed and looked forward to all day flet away from you, the confession you planned no longer exists in your mind, it’s all blank. 

“I–I… I need to know… I need to ask… I-I never asked and I feel like I’m losing my mind now–”

A desperate sigh falls from Steve’s lips, he shakes his head at you, begging with his eyes as he moves closer to the doorstep, not understanding a single word you are saying. 

“What…? Blondie, you need to get inside, you’re fucking soaked–”

“No!” You shake your head at him, feeling uncomfortable beneath the pouring rain but refusing to give into the warmth just yet. “I need to… I need to tell you something!”

He can see the way you try your hardest not to cry, the way your glassy eyes look into his so brokenly, the way you look as though you will fall to your knees any second and it only makes the aching in his chest so much worse. 

“W-What?”

You take a deep breath and you almost choke from the sob you have kept inside for too long, that you can no longer hold as it falls from your lips so brokenly. 

“It’s all my fault! All this time, I blamed time and I blamed bad luck but never myself! If I only had said something to you, if only I had even shown you a little bit of what I truly feel, you may have noticed! I-I never tried! I never fought! And I am the only one to blame if I end up broken in the end!” 

Steve shakes his head at you, his tears falling yet again at the sight of you crying and speaking so desperately through your cries. 

“Blondie– you’re– you have to get in–”

He tries to reach for you again but you swat his hand away, sniffling and shaking your head. 

“For years I held it in! Even before the upside down, before joining the group and quarreling like never before with you! Even before any of what we had been doing for the past few months! When you passed me in the hallways, when you sat behind me in science class, when you had your basketball matches and even when I went to parties, I always looked at you!” Your voice cracks when another sob escapes you, and then another before they continue falling uncontrollably, feelings overwhelming you as you finally let them out after years of keeping them locked away. 

And Steve, he stares at you with wide glassy eyes, feeling stunned and frozen in place as his heart stops beating for a moment. 

“And– And now– I can’t hold them in anymore, because I feel like if I keep going like this I will explode– but my gut is telling me that I have to say it… but I’m so afraid… I’m so fucking afraid! I-I can’t lose you, not you, Steve.” 

His knees nearly buckle at your words, at his sudden movement as he finally rushes forward, stepping under the rain with you, not letting you move away from him again as he cradles your face with his hands and tilts your head up to make you look at him. 

It all moved so quickly, he didn’t have the time to properly digest everything that just left your lips but it all was enough to bring him back to you, to start his heart again, to fill it with the hope that he thought was burned to ashes only hours ago. He already saw his grave, he already saw his demise, the death of his heart when he thought that he found out what you had really felt for him. 

But you are here, not caring about the storm above you, not caring about the vulnerability you’re letting come through, not caring about anything but him at this moment. 

He grows desperate too and so does his heart as it calls your name. 

He rubs his thumbs against your cheeks, holding you so tightly as he fears that you will slip through his fingers at any moment, that he might wake up to an empty bed after sobbing himself to sleep, thinking about you but then you wrap your hands around his wrists, clutching them tightly as you cry. 

Now he can see it in your eyes, the look he always searched for but couldn’t find, now he can see it all so very clearly but it still isn’t enough, he needs to hear you say it. 

“Please… Please I beg you to say it… I need to know, baby, please. Y-You don’t have to be afraid anymore… not with me… So please, say it.” 

Your body trembles like it never did before, your heart pounds so strongly in your chest, you blink through your tears and stare up at him, into his hazel eyes that beg for you, the eyes that look at you with so much hope and desperation as tears cascade down his cheeks along with the rain that crashes down on the both of you. 

The boy you never thought could ever feel a sliver of what you feel for him stands in front of you, holds you so tightly as he pleads for you, for your love. 

“Please,” he whispers so brokenly, like your words, your love is the only thing he wants and needs. 

He begs for you and no one else, only you. 

The one you always wanted, the one you would give your life for, the one that had your heart from the very start. 

You take a deep breath and hold onto him tightly, your heart jumps to your throat when you finally, finally whisper those three words. 

“I love you.” 

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat, a weight he didn’t even realize he was carrying falling off his shoulders, his brows furrow as his lips part, fresh tears well up in his eyes and his heart starts beating again. 

He can’t believe that this is real, he can’t believe that he just heard those words coming from your mouth, he can’t believe that you are here, standing right in front of him with no walls built around you any longer, he sees a side of you that he wasn’t sure was there but it is and you let him see, you let him see all of you, the real you, the vulnerable girl that hid from the world, from him.

And now that those words have finally left the sacred place in your heart, you feel an overwhelming sensation taking control over you, your body begins to shake harder than it did before, tears are flowing and sobs continue on falling. 

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you!”

Your voice is so small, yet so loud as you chant those three words through your cries, clinging to him so tightly so you don’t fall to your knees. 

Words that Steve never thought he would hear echo through his driveway, falling from your lips so beautifully, nothing but the truth lingers in your eyes, nothing but vulnerability, nothing but a love he had never thought he would get to feel in this life, let alone from you, you who he had fallen for so unconditionally, so deeply that it hurt not only in his heart but in his soul when he thought that you didn’t feel what he does. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” you whisper, sniffling. “I love you so much, I always did, I–I loved you from the moment I first saw you, I have loved you for more than you can imagine! I have loved you for–”

A choked sob falls from his own lips before he pulls you tightly against him and smashes them against yours, kissing you with everything that he has, pouring every ounce of love into it, enveloping you in his arms, in his embrace, in his warmth. Holding your face in his hands is no longer enough, he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you tightly against him so your chest is pressed against his own. 

You lift your arms up and cup his wet cheeks, kissing him deeply, holding him tightly, not caring about the salty taste on your tongue or his. 

Steve cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss and getting lost in it, not minding the rain or the storm and you don’t either, you don’t even flinch when the thunder crashes. He kisses you hard and he makes you forget about everything around you, everything ceases to exist, everything but him. 

He murmurs something against your lips when you both grow too breathless to continue the kiss. 

He could not begin to describe the emotions that exploded inside of him. 

You love him. 

You love him just the way he loves you. 

You have loved him for absolutely nothing, when he was cruel to you, when he mistreated you, when he gave you nothing but cold gazes and his cruelty. 

You have loved him during times when he felt most unlovable, when he thought he had no one, when not even his parents wanted him, when his first love lied to him, betrayed him, left him only to come back and fill him with false hope again, only to leave him once again. 

You have loved him when you showed up at Scoops Ahoy that day, you have loved him when you jumped into the water to save him, you have loved him through it all, when this started, and when he began falling, you were already in it so deeply. 

But you were so good at hiding it, you were too good, too good at making him and everyone else believe how great your dislike was for him but you were such a good actress, why else would he have believed Robin’s words?

His hands settle on your upper back and he slowly brings them back to your front, sliding them upwards to your shoulders and then your neck. His brows pull together so strongly as the kiss slows down when the lack of air gets to both him and you. 

Your lips tremble against his, your lashes flutter when you open your eyes again, you trace his bottom lip with your thumb, still sniffling, still crying as you look at his pretty face. You feel so relieved now that it’s all said and done, that your feelings are out in the open and no longer hidden underneath all your layers that you protected yourself with, all these years. 

But you don’t know what this means for you now, not even the kiss could lay it out for you. 

But Steve, he stares at you in awe, at the girl he fell so deeply, unconditionally, otherworldly in love with. The girl that stands under the pouring rain with him, the girl that lets nothing stop her from confessing her love to him, not even the thunder, the storm she fears so greatly, the girl that stands in front of him isn’t the one he started this affair with, the one he bickered with, the one with the harsh words, no, this girl is the real you, the one that lost but still gave love a chance, the one that loved despite the blows to her heart he caused, despite the hurt he put her through. 

You felt that way during his worst days, you felt that way when he loved another, you felt that way when he was with other girls, you felt that way when he spit mean words into your face – all these thoughts overwhelm him, a mix of emotions flood through him, he is not sure if he is even deserving of this, of you but he would be a damn fool if he didn’t fight for you back. 

Steve stares at you through his tears, he leans down closer to you, taking shaky breaths as he finally says the words he never thought would leave his lips again. 

“I love you,” he whispers and cradles your cheeks again, “I love you so much and I’m stupid for not saying anything either–”

Your eyes grow wide, shock freezes your whole body as you stare at him. 

You knew there was something, there had to be but love? Love isn’t something you expected him to feel for you. 

“Y-You love me?” 

Your voice sounds so broken, so small, your eyes well up with more tears, your lips tremble harder than before and somehow you look even more vulnerable than you did seconds ago. 

How could he not love you? 

How could he not give his heart to you?

How could he not imagine a future with you? 

You are everything to him, you are his everything. 

His heart melts at your gaze, at the way you're clinging to him, looking at him wide eyed like you are afraid that he isn’t real, that this isn’t real. 

“I’m so fucking in love with you, Blondie,” he whispers, his voice cracking and tears continuing to roll down his cheeks, “keeping it a secret was tearing me apart, even more so when I thought that you didn’t feel the same.”

You can’t name the emotions that burn inside of you, not right now, at least. 

But all that you know is that you feel joy and happiness, like you have never felt before. 

Your heart feels alive. 

You feel alive. 

He loves you, Steve loves you, Steve is in love with you. 

His kind, soft eyes look into yours with nothing but adoration, love and affection. His hair clings to his forehead, his clothes wet just like yours are, he is crying, not from sadness anymore but from happiness, just like you are. 

You can’t help but kiss him again, slamming your lips against his shaky ones, you kiss the man who confessed his love for you, the man you never thought would feel the same. 

He wastes not a single second to kiss you back, your noses bump harshly together but it only makes you smile, it makes you both giggle against each other's lips. Feeling your shaking body against his, Steve wraps his arms around your waist and he pulls you back, leading you into the house without breaking the kiss. 

Your sneakers squeak against the tiles in the hallway, water drips down from the both of you, needy whines and huffs fall from yours and his lips, echoing through his house when he finally closes the door to the storm, he pushes you against the red door, caging you in against it as you grab at the collar of his shirt, pulling him tighter against you as the kiss grows more desperate and hungry. 

Steve feels it too, he feels the desperation, the need to feel you closer than this. Your body against his, your hands in his hair, your tongues clashing together through the feverish kiss isn’t enough, he needs to feel your skin on his, he needs to feel your warmth, he needs to hear your sweet moans, he needs to be inside of you. 

But first, he needs you to know. 

He can feel your tears on his lips, hear your sniffles, feel your pounding heart beneath his palm as he touches your chest. 

You have loved him for so long, you have suffered for so long and he knows that you didn’t understand yet just how deep his feelings are. 

Steve pulls away from the kiss, only enough so he can speak, close enough to still feel your lips against his, he leans his forehead against yours, keeps his nose nuzzled with yours, he rubs your cheeks, wipes your tears away as he pecks your lips again and again. 

You are both panting, both clinging to one another, gazing at each other lovingly. 

“You need to hear this, Blondie,” he whispers, not feeling scared or nervous any longer. “You need to understand my feelings for you. They’re not small, they’re not in the slightest. You are the one I imagine myself buying a white picket fence house with, the one I imagine myself marrying, the one I imagine having a family with, no matter if big or small, anything you give me I will take. You need to know that you’re my future, that I have been wanting you in my future for a long while now. There is no one else for me but you.”

Steve watches the way your eyes brighten, the way they almost turn doe-eyed, a shaky breath escapes you, like you can’t believe the words that just left his mouth. You blink at him, lips curling. “Y-You want kids with me?” 

You have been by his side for so long, you have been his girl from the moment you decided you wanted to be, you have always been the missing puzzle in his life, you have always been the one that was supposed to be here, with him. All this time, you waited, waited for him and he was so blind, so unaware, so focused on anything but the love of his life. It took him time to realize that, it took him too long but he knows now, he knew for a while. 

He smiles, wiping the falling tears from your cheeks as he leans in to give you a soft peck, “as many as you’re willing to have.” 

A giggle falls from your lips and you nuzzle your nose against his, leaning your forehead to his as you wrap your arms around him tightly. 

“I can’t believe that this is real.” 

And you mean every word of that. 

Steve can’t believe that someone could love him like this, so strongly, so unconditionally, not even expecting anything in return, loving him through the war between you, loving him through heartbreak, loving him through it all. 

You have been there. 

You have always been there. 

Tears spill over his lashline and down his cheeks, a watery giggle falls from his lips, the hurt in him disappearing more and more as the light seeps back in, a brighter one that his soul had ever seen before, his heart no longer twists in pain, it beats so strongly, so lively, so happily as nothing but love and joy shines in him. 

“Me neither,” he whispers against your lips, voice shaky and filled with tears, “I can’t believe that you love me, Blondie, that you want me like this.” 

You can’t help but kiss him again, again and again. You cup his cheeks, smiling through your tears as you do something you always wanted to, kiss his pain away, kiss the tears away that stream down his cheeks. You kiss his jaw, his chin, his cheeks, every inch his tears have stained, you kiss it all away. 

“I want you more than anything, Steve Harrington,” you murmur into his skin, making the boy sob against you as he holds you tightly, tighter than he ever did before. You grab his hand and pull it towards your chest, placing it above your beating heart, “my heart belongs to you.” 

Steve could never find the right words to tell you how he felt, no matter how long he’d look for them, he would never find them, they didn’t exist, and no words that do come close to explaining just how deeply he felt for you, not even the I love you’s he gave you already come close. 

So he decides to show you instead. 

He bends down and hooks his arm around the back of your knees while the other comes to rest on your back, he tears a squeal out of you when he picks you up bridal style and carries you upstairs. 

You throw your arms around his neck and hold on tight, giggling at his sudden move. 

He can’t help but smile at the sound that falls from your lips, his heart moving in a way it never has before, a whole new rhythm taking over when he feels the shift of energy in you, when he sees the look in your eyes changing, when you let all your guards down, stripping yourself off each layer. 

You press your lips to his, pecking them softly before you move onto his cheek and then his jaw and finally his neck, kissing him while he continues his way up the stairs, trying not to get too distracted by your touch. 

“I love you, Stevie,” you whisper into his skin, “I love you so much.”

You can’t stop saying those words now that you have finally allowed yourself to let them free. 

Steve has to swallow down the sob that threatens to spill from his lips again, your words bring him so much happiness but he is also so emotional.

Rain water drips from the both of you as he walks through his dark hallway, he is careful not to slip with his wet sneakers, he kicks open the door to his room and walks inside, shutting it again, making it slam. The only source of light now being the lightning that still illuminates the sky every few seconds, the rain paddles down harshly against his windows.

Steve puts you down again so he can undress both you and himself and rid you of the soaked and cold clothes but not before cupping your cheeks and kissing you again, rubbing your wet cheeks as your lips and tongues mingle together in a feverish but passionate kiss. 

He brushes your hair back, tucking it behind your ears, he slips his hands down to your shoulders, removing your jacket and letting it fall to the ground, his fingertips grazing your bare arms that are littered with goosebumps. 

You hum against his lips, hands reaching for his belt, clinking as you unbuckle it. You then pop the button of his jeans and move on to his shirt as he does the same to you.

You both only break the kiss to take the chosen clothing item off, your eyes flutter open, instantly locking with his warm brown ones. You smile at one another as you help each other. 

You raise your arms up when he starts taking your white, now almost see through shirt off, he drops the material and wastes no second to touch your bare skin, staring at you with nothing but awe and adoration, like it is the first time he gets to see you like this. He touches you so delicately, so softly and gently that it brings a new wave of tears to your already sensitive eyes. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers those words to you, followed by your name that always sounds so pretty rolling off his tongue. 

Your heart flutters in your chest, your cold skin heats up beneath his warm touch. 

You take a step closer to him, almost pressing your chest against his now as you go to take his shirt off too, he looks down at you and bites his lip, eyes flashing with a deeper adoration when you rise to your tippy toes to roll the wet material off his skin, messing up his hair further when his shirt gets stuck around his head, making you both giggle. 

You rise up further, trying to pull it off when he mumbles, “don’t say anything now.”

When you finally free him from it, you throw it on the ground next to yours, smiling brightly, “there was a reason I called you Lego–” 

You gasp when he kisses you roughly, not letting you finish the sentence. You don’t hesitate to kiss back, placing your hands on his neck, touching his wet skin and raking your nails down his chest and his stomach, you reach for his belt while he kisses you breathless. 

His own hands travel down to your hips, leaving no space untouched. He feels the way you suck in a sharp breath, hears the way you whine against his lips as you tug at his pants just the way he starts working on popping the button on yours. 

You pull away from the kiss and breathe heavily against his lips, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest. 

He starts pushing down your pants when you stop him by grabbing his wrists. 

“Wait,” you whisper, worrying him with the tightness of your hold on him.

“W-Why? Is something–”

Before he can even question you, you stop him once again by pressing your lips against his, “everything is perfect,” you murmur against his skin, making his heart skip several beats as you continue kissing him, “you’re perfect.” 

He is so close to tears once again, your words match the look in your eyes so perfectly, the love that is and was only ever reserved for him is so strong that he can’t help but wonder how he never saw it before, it’s so clear and so evidently there. 

Steve never saw himself as anything perfect, not even when everyone else thought that about him throughout his short lived ‘reign’, he always had flaws, always saw them in himself, always felt like there was something wrong with him deep inside. But you make him feel special, you make him feel like he is truly something perfect, like he is worth something with the way you look at him and touch him so delicately as you reveal the side of you that wanted to love so desperately but never felt safe to. 

“I want to make you feel good, Steve,” you whisper as you latch your lips onto his neck, slowly kissing your way down to his chest and stomach before you begin to sink to your knees, “please let me.” 

Steve’s eyelashes flutter as his eyes close for a moment, the feeling of your lips kissing his wet body making him shiver in pleasure. He opens his eyes again when you hook your fingers around his belt loops, trying to tear his pants down but he stops you just the way you stopped him, the look you give him nearly makes him crumble, the big and pleading eyes, the pout on your lips, the desperation written all over your face. 

He wants to sink to his knees for you. 

He wants to make you feel good. 

So he leans down and grabs you beneath your armpits, picking you up with ease and throwing you on his bed and despite the sound of your whine, he pulls himself together and takes the rest of your clothes off, tearing off your shoes before he works his way up to your jeans, leaving you in just your underwear. 

He stares at your body in awe and in love, tracing every inch of you with his eyes as he quickly rids himself of his clothes and kicks off his shoes hastily before he gets down before you, wrapping his hand around your ankle, he looks into your eyes and he presses his lips to your skin, slowly kissing his way up to your thighs. 

“Steve,” you whine with a whisper, eyebrows furrowing and pleasure already seeping into your bones. “Please… I want to–”

“Shh, I want to taste you, my love.”

My love. 

My love. 

He called you my love. 

Your heart could burst right this second, it could explode, from joy, from happiness and love. 

You hear nothing but his voice, the smacking of his lips against your skin and the beating of your heart as he loves on you. You no longer hear the howling wind or the crashing thunder, the bolts of lightning only add to the rush you are feeling right now as you look down at him, at the pretty man between your thighs. You throw your hand into his hair, tugging at his wet strands.

“Please, Steve… Baby, I want to taste you too, I want to make you feel good, please let me…” You whine, not feeling ashamed for the desperation in your voice. “W-We can do it at the same time, please…”

Steve’s stomach flutters at your words, he stops moving and looks up at you with a blush making its way up to his cheeks. 

That is something you haven’t done before, not with each other, not with anyone else. 

His blood rushes to his core just at the image of it, his stomach burning with lust as he looks into your eager eyes. 

“You can’t say shit like that, darling,” he nearly growls and pulls away from you to take his boxers off before he moves on top of you, stealing your breath by slamming his lips back against yours, kissing you needily. 

Your moan echoes through his room, getting louder when he grinds against your center, he pushes his hands beneath you so he can unclasp your bra, ridding you off the lacy material, he throws it on the ground before he moves on to your panties. He pulls away for just a second, hooking his fingers around the elastic and helping you get rid of them in a quick motion. His lips slam against yours again as his hands move back up to your waist, grabbing it with both hands, he flips you over so you’re the one on top. 

You press your hands against his shoulders, whining when you feel his cock pressing against your center, thighs already sticking together. 

He moans loudly when he feels your warmth against him, lust swirling inside of him. 

You pull away from one another and he pushes his hands down to your butt, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Turn around, baby…” He whispers and you don’t waste a second to comply.

You take a deep breath and cup the side of his face, pecking his lips softly before you turn around, your knees dig into the mattress, your hands grabbing his thighs roughly when you feel a sense of nervousness rushing through you, your cheeks heat up at the position you are in, fully exposed to him in a new way but that feeling in you subsides and turns into something else when you see his erection, pre-cum rolling down his length and making your mouth water as the need to taste him, to pleasure him grows stronger than before. 

And Steve, his eyes darken with lust and he grabs your hips tightly, already leaning forward, he can’t wait any longer when you’re like this in front of him, fully exposed, your folds soaked with your slick and thighs already glistening too, you are so wet that he can smell it. He gives you a rough squeeze before he leans in and licks a stripe from your clit to your hole, making you gasp out in pleasure, a sound that shoots straight to his dick. 

Your eyes nearly roll back at the feeling of his tongue, of his mouth on you as he dives right in, devouring you so desperately as though he needs it, needs you like air. 

And you need him too. 

You press kisses along his shaft, teasing him by massaging his balls and you slowly flick your hand up and down around him, humming against him as his moans sound through the room, getting more desperate the longer you continue this. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” you promise before you spit down into your palm, wrapping your hand back around his length, a little firmer this time, you jerk him off and swirl your tongue around his leaking tip before you finally wrap your lips around him and take him deeply into your mouth, closing your watery eyes and hollowing your cheeks around him. 

Steve moans loudly against you, sending vibrations through you, he slips his tongue inside of you, holding you tighter than before as he laps at your pussy with desperation, getting lost in the pleasure of tasting you and feeling your warm mouth around him. 

You look so perfect, so fucking sexy with your hair falling down your arched back, your skin glowing beneath the flashing lights of the storm, he can’t help but run his palm up and down your butt, squeezing and grabbing at your skin, moaning even louder when you grind back against his face as you take him deeper and deeper until Steve can feel the back of your throat. 

He whimpers your name, eyes rolling back as he delves deeper into you, slipping two of his fingers into you along with his tongue, he scissors you, spreading you open for him. He can feel you clenching around his fingers, he can feel you drooling all over him. 

Your moan vibrates all around his cock, making you pull it out of your mouth in order to take a breath. Your concentration starts to fail you as his fingers move rapidly inside of you, his tongue lapping at everything he can take that is dripping out of you. You keep moving your hand on him as your hips twitch. 

“S-Stevie…” He doesn’t care that you are not sucking him off right now, he is only caring about your pleasure. He needs you to feel treasured, cared for, and he needs you to feel it with him only. That he is the only one that can bring you all of this, even if it sounds possessive… He wants to be the only one, forever.

You feel your belly burn and you look down at his cock, trying to pull yourself together, trying to forget about the throbbing happening in your pussy. You want to make him feel good. You want to hear him come undone as well. So you open your mouth once more, licking at the head and pressing the tip of your tongue right on the slit. You feel Steve groan against you, and then you finally take him inside once more.

You bop your head, swirling your tongue around him as tears fall from your eyes, you are so deeply lost in the pleasure, you forget everything around you, only he matters. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, you can hear his moans and how much louder they get and you feel your own release approaching as he flicks your clit with his thumb and curls his fingers inside of you, using both his digits and his tongue to unravel you. 

“I know you want to let go for me, darling,” he murmurs against you. 

You can only hum around him, wanting to feel him cumming down your throat. 

“Please do it, cum on my tongue,” he whispers as he drags his fingers in and out of you, making your stomach tense up hotly. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, twisting your wet palm around him as drool continues to roll down his length. You want him to find his release, you want it so badly. 

You grab his knee, holding on tightly as a cry tears from your throat and your legs nearly give out when your high washes over you, shaking through your core and making your body feel tense yet released all at once. His other hand gripping your hip tightly to keep you pressed against his mouth, not letting you move away.

“Mmm,” Steve hums against you as though you are the sweetest thing he ever tasted. 

You wish you could see his face. 

“Just like that,” he praises, giving your butt another squeeze, he laps at your pussy, dragging his tongue along your folds, teasing your already sensitive clit before he moves back to your entrance. 

His own hips almost buck up when you hollow your cheeks further and take him deeper, nearly making him cum too soon for his liking. 

“W-Wait, baby, please… I wanna cum inside of you,” he says with a shaky, pleading voice as he tugs at your waist, trying to pull you off him so he can have you back in his arms, so he can see your face again and feel you around him differently. He would’ve chuckled at the whine falling from your lips if he wasn’t so emotional right now. “Come here,” he whispers, holding you tightly as he turns you around and pulls you onto his lap, straddling him. 

Meeting his eyes again, your lips part when you see the burning desperation in them, his cheeks are flushed and his chin glistens with your release. He looks so beautiful. 

Steve’s hands move from your waist to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as your own hands reach for his shoulders. 

No words need to be said, you both know what you want, what you need as your eager hands reach for one another, trying to pull the other closer and closer until you’re skin to skin, closer than you have ever been before. 

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers, leaning his forehead against yours and wrapping his arm around you, hugging you against him as you place your hand between you both and wrap it around his length again, teasing both him and yourself when you slip it through your sensitive, wet folds. 

Your bottom lip trembles, emotions running deep because of his words. 

You never thought that you would ever hear such words falling from his lips, you never thought you would ever be this blessed. 

You throw your arm around his shoulder and press your lips against his as you slowly sink down on his length, taking him deeper and deeper until you’re fully seated on him, making both yourself and him whimper in pleasure. His fingers dig deeper into your skin, holding you tighter than ever, he stops breathing when he feels you clenching around him, whining as you adjust to his size. 

His heart skips a beat when you place your palm on his chest, resting it there as you press yourself even tighter against him and it hits him – this is it, everything he ever wanted now belongs to him, it’s all his, you are his. 

And he is yours, wholeheartedly and unconditionally yours. 

You start rolling your hips slowly, breathing heavier, holding onto him tighter, gasping and sucking in sharp breaths when he moves with you, pushing his hips up as he fucks into you deeper. 

A sniffle falls from you when you pull away from the kiss, breathing in shakily, you open your eyes slowly to find him looking at you already, a loving, soft gaze flashing in his honey eyes, the love in them not hidden at all, it’s all open for you now, all there for you to see and to feel as he leans into you, pressing his lips to your chin and peppering kissing along your jawline, making his way down to your neck as he murmurs your name sweetly. 

“You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers, followed by your name that rolls off his tongue so beautifully. “I was going crazy, thinking that I didn’t stand a chance with you, honey.” 

He was the only one for you, from the moment you laid your eyes on him, he was the only one. 

“S-Steve,” you whisper as you feel yourself nearing another sob, his words and his touches overwhelming you.

You bury your hands in his hair, combing your fingers through it before you grab it tightly. 

“I don’t think you understand,” he whispers against your collarbones, leaving tender kisses and marking your skin with love bites, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

Your bottom lip quivers, your chest contracts and you can’t hold it in any longer. 

Years of pining and longing, of feeling hopeless and unworthy of him and his love while watching, admiring from afar and wishing for nothing but a chance with him, a piece of his heart, all while losing yourself in a darkness you have found home in, a darkness he took away again. 

He gave you light and warmth and now he gave you more, not only a piece of his heart but he gave you his whole. 

Your tears spill just as strongly as before, an uncontrollable sob falls from your lips, leading you to bury your face in his neck, you wrap your arms around him so tightly, hugging him strongly, breathing in his scent and letting your heart match the beating of his own. 

“I got you,” Steve whispers as he blinks through his own tears, “I got you, darling and I’m not letting you go, not ever.” 

You press your lips to his skin, shutting your eyes tightly. The burning in your chest, in your stomach all feeling too much, you hold onto him, you cling to him, scared of letting go. 

Steve’s heart could burst at any second now, feeling your tears rolling down his skin, your hands, your body clinging to him like you’re afraid to lose him because you are, you are afraid to lose him. 

Someone is afraid to lose him. 

And he nearly let you slip through his fingers. 

A silent cry falls from his lips this time, tears pool in his eyes and he pulls you closer and closer until you’re completely flush against one another, pushing in deeper and deeper to feel you closer, to feel you in the most intimate way as he spreads you open and you pick up the pace, rolling your hips faster, whimpering and gasping into his neck. 

“Please don’t let me go,” you whisper, pressing kisses to his hot skin, “please don’t ever leave me,” you beg despite the promise he just made to you. 

The brokenness in your shaky voice only makes him more desperate to show you just how deeply in love he is with you, how he would do anything for you, how there is nothing and no one that could take him away from you, how he would come crawling back to you over and over again even if you didn’t love him. 

He slides his hand up your body, cupping each side of your face, he urges you to face him, wanting to see you again and you look at him, with big and glassy eyes, you look into his eyes. 

“I will never leave you,” he whispers softly, wiping your tears before he reaches for your hand, bringing it back up to his chest, he places it over his heart, “I’m yours, my heart belongs to you, darling.”

Steve sees it in your eyes, just how long you have wanted this for, how special this moment is to you, how special he is to you, how much love there was hidden in your heart just for him. 

He will worship the ground you walk on for the rest of his life. 

“I love you so much,” you sniffle, unable to say anything else. 

His lips curl into a smile despite the tears that fall down his already wet cheeks, he pulls you against him, bumping his nose against yours accidentally as he pecks your lips, “you make me so fucking happy,” he kisses you, “and I don’t think you even realize that.” Kiss. “I’m so in love with you, honey.” Kiss. “I love you with my whole heart–”

You smash your lips against his, kissing him with everything that you have, moving your lips softly yet roughly with his, parting them with your tongue as you slip it into his mouth, deepening the kiss further. 

He moans against you, placing his large hand on your cheek, he matches your pace and kisses you back hungrily, getting lost in the feeling of you, of your heat and your burning skin against his, your walls that tighten so strongly around him that it makes his mouth water and his cock twitch inside of you, his body screams for release but his heart aches for this moment to never stop, not realizing yet that this is only the beginning of your story. 

Your hands grab at whatever they can reach, his shoulders, his biceps, his face, his messy hair and finally his hands as you pull them away from your chest so you can intertwine your fingers with his. You feel the coil in your stomach growing bigger and bigger, the burning in your thighs intensifying by the second. His moans and whimpers vibrate against your lips when you keep clenching around him.

Filthy sounds take over the room, your whines of desperation, the slick noise of his cock slipping in and out of you as you ride him, the sound of your lips smacking against each other. 

But nothing, nothing about this moment is filthy or dirty. Everything about this is more than special, more than what words could describe this very moment. Your hearts beat the same rhythm, finally finding each other, your souls entwine as your bodies meet in the most intimate way, you are both overwhelmed by the feelings that rush through you and yet you feel peace because you finally are where you were always supposed to be, in each other’s arms, holding one another and making love to each other as everything fades to nothing but the two of you. 

And it feels like forever, neither of you no longer wet from the rain but from the sweat that coats your foreheads, your moans turn into weak whimpers as you’re both panting, your kisses never stopping, not even when you lose your breaths, you are aching, you both are, you are sensitive and in need of release. 

You are shaking and so is he, his cock so hard inside of you, your walls so sensitive as you are twitching. 

He holds you possessively, from the strong hold on your waist to the touch of his hand on your cheeks, he is showing you with his touch that you are his, only his. 

No words need to be shared, no warnings, nothing, you both feel it, you both know what you want, what you need. 

Despite the lack of air, your kiss deepens, your lips moving roughly and needily as his digits work on your sensitive nub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You wrap your arms around him again, hugging him so tightly as you and he finally let go, allowing yourself to bask in the pleasure of coming undone. 

Steve moans so needily, pressing his palm so strongly against your shoulder blade, he keeps you close, whimpering your name against your lips followed by not one but a few ‘I love you’s’ as he fills you up to the brim. 

“S-Stevie,” you whisper shakily, twitching and clenching around him still, even as you slow down, more and more. “I love you.” 

And even when this moment felt forever, it still wasn’t enough, how could it ever be? Not even forever would be enough with you, he needs more, so much more. 

You fall limply against him and rest your head on his shoulder as you try to catch your breath and he holds you through it all, panting just like you as he lies back, taking you with him, and rests his head on the pillows behind him, playing with your hair and running his fingers through it, tracing your skin with the tips of his fingers, making no moves to pull out of you just yet. 

The heat of your skin burns against his own, your hand lays over his heart so perfectly and he takes it in his, raising it up to his lips and kissing your bare ring finger. 

In the arms of the man you love is where you found your home a long time ago but now it no longer feels cold or lonesome, one sided or saddening, it truly feels like home now, filled with light and warmth, love. He found a home in you too, he finally did. 

Seconds and minutes go by and you stay like this, clinging to one another and loving every moment of this. Your cheek is squished against his chest, you are breathing him in, your heart fluttering at the thought that this is the true beginning of it all. 

You open your eyes, your lips curling into a smile when you find him looking down at you, adoration so deep in his beautiful features, his hand still holding yours. 

It’s so dark in the room, the lightning no longer flashing, thunder no longer rumbling, the storm has passed and only the light rain remains. You still see his handsome face, the color of his cheeks, the pretty brown eyes that you adore so much, his kissable lips. 

You cup his cheek and tilt your chin up, moving closer to him so you can press your lips against his cheek. 

“You’re so pretty, Steve Harrington,” you whisper and kiss the corner of his mouth, “pretty baby.” 

Steve doesn’t know why out of all the words you have called him, these are the ones that make him blush the most, his cheeks redden and he feels grateful for the darkness in the room. 

“That’s you, darling,” he whispers and steals a kiss from you, snaking his arm around you further, he smiles when you press your palms against his chest and lean your chin down, staring up at him with love filled eyes. 

“Darling,” you whisper, lips curling into a smile, “I love that.” 

His hands squeeze your waist, his eyes not straying away from you, not for a single second, “yeah?” 

You nod and lean closer to kiss his chin, “mhm.” 

As you lay here on top of him, showering him in kisses, gazing up at him starry eyed, he feels comfort and warmth blossom in him thinking back to a time when he wasn’t even aware of all this, when he didn’t think that it was even possible for anyone to love him, to find out that you did, you out of all people, you who he thought hated his guts more than anything but loved him in secret, a secret you nearly took to your grave. 

Oh, he would have suffered, he would have felt such a tragic loss if you had died that night but it wouldn’t have hit him until weeks or maybe even months later, when he would have finally allowed himself to look at your picture, to remember the memories of you, to remember your voice and your beautiful face, remember the few gentle moments you had with each other, only then would he have felt the truth coming to life, the feelings he always refused and denied, he would have realized that it was you, that it should have been you, that it was always supposed to be you but it would have been too late, you would have been gone and it would’ve broken him, he would have never recovered, he would have never forgiven himself for finding his love for you when it was much too late.

You would have been the loss of his life. 

That thought shouldn’t even plague him right now because you’re here, in his arms, tracing his skin with your finger as you smile up at him. 

“I love you so much,” he whispers instead of tracing those words into your skin like he had gotten used to doing. 

This all still feels like a dream, a way too good of a dream.

The smile that reached your eyes wasn’t one he had ever seen before, no matter how happy, how comfortable you were around him, he had never seen such a bright, happy, relaxing smile on your pretty features. 

He had never felt the touch of your lips in such a soft way, a kiss so delicate that it made his chest vibrate with a new wave of emotions. 

“And I love you,” you murmur against his lips, “I hope you don’t get sick of me saying that.”

Steve scoffs at your words, raising his brows as he stares at you in disbelief, his hand moving up to your upper back, resting them on your shoulder blades as he presses a kiss to your nose, “honey, this is all I ever wanted.”

To hear him say such words only makes the dream-like state you are in much more intense. 

Who would’ve thought that you would hear these words from him? 

“I always had a crush on you,” Steve whispers, admitting something to you that he himself struggled to accept only a few months back. 

This time, it’s your eyebrows that shoot up in surprise, shock flashing in your eyes, “w-what?”

There is no way that Steve ever felt anything other than dislike for you, especially before the upside down. 

Steve chuckles to himself, moving his hand up to your face, he tucks your hair behind your ear and smiles at you. 

“I always watched you too, Blondie,” he admits, watching the way your softened eyes fill with confusion, “but I was an idiot, I-I didn’t know how to talk to you, I knew how to talk to every other girl but you? Fuck,” he sighs, furrowing his brows as he takes a deep breath, “I didn’t know how to talk to you because you made me so fucking nervous, it’s like all my confidence slipped away the moment you looked at me with those pretty eyes.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat at his eyes well up with tears again, words he had kept inside for so long now finally slipping from his lips. 

“And you weren’t… you weren’t–”

“Nice?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, your heart starts pounding again. 

He chuckles for a moment and shakes his head, “no, I– you weren’t supposed to be nice to me, I wasn’t nice to you, but that’s not what I mean, I… You just, I don’t know how to– I always messed up around you and it kept happening so I put on this King Steve persona, especially when I was around you and fuck… Honey, I tried to impress you but I always felt like you weren’t looking at me, no matter what I did, you were never looking at me.”

You don’t know what hit you harder tonight, the three words he repeatedly blessed you with or this revelation. 

All you know is that you feel it in your core, the shock and the confusion. 

You shake your head a little, like you don’t understand a word he said. 

“When we wrote notes to each other, I-I didn’t want to admit it to myself back then but I really fucking hoped that something would come out of it but nothing did… I know you thought that Tommy set me up to it but he didn’t.”

You don’t know what to say, you don’t even know what to think, it’s all so much, it’s all too much for one night. 

“I-I don’t–”

Steve cups your cheeks, shaking his head as he isn’t done yet. 

“No, I waited for you… I waited for you at every game, I always looked around trying to find you in the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of you, even when I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I always waited for you.” 

Your eyes crinkle though they well up with tears again, you couldn’t describe the feelings in you, not even if you tried. 

His hands on your skin feel softer than ever, his eyes shine with tears and his bottom lip quivers.

“I was there, Steve,” you whisper, blinking through your tears, swallowing the nervousness, “I was there.” 

He nods, lips curling into a soft smile, “I know that now b-but I wish I knew back then, I wish I wasn’t so hard on you…”

You know the look in his eyes, the regret, the guilt he feels from that day at the mall and the few other bad ones. 

But they don’t matter anymore, they haven’t mattered for a while now, and they especially don’t matter now. 

Shaking your head, you lean up, cupping his cheek too, you kiss him sweetly, softly, stealing his breath away with tenderness. You place your hand over his, guiding it down to your chest and placing it over your heart. 

“Those days are over, they don’t matter anymore,” you whisper and keep a tight hold on his hand, “you have me now.”

And you have him. 

He is yours, he wants to be yours so badly. 

Steve nods, leaning into the touch of your hand, he blinks his tears away and moves his head, pressing his lips against your palm, and he kisses you there, making you smile. 

“And you have me,” he whispers softly, watching the way your eyes sparkle with happiness, with love. 

You catch him by surprise when you start showering him in kisses, pressing your lips to his face, to his cheeks and his forehead, to his nose and his chin and then finally his lips, making him giggle at the sudden sweet affection and then, you cutely nuzzle your nose against his, giggling through it all yourself. 

You only did this once, on the fourth of July, when you were wasted. Your lips went crazy across his whole face, you kissed him all over, complimented him and looked at him as though he was your own personal sun. 

How could he not see back then? 

How could he not see that it wasn’t the alcohol but the love you already felt for him, the love you couldn’t contain in that moment. 

Steve makes you squeal when he moves too suddenly, grabbing your waist and flipping you over so he is the one on top, he cups your cheeks and leans down, doing what you just did, leaving no spot unkissed. 

“Steve!” You giggle, squeezing your eyes shut as he trails kisses down to your jaw and your neck, tickling you with his hair and the light stubble around his mouth. You grab at his waist, holding on tightly. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” he murmurs into your neck, kissing you there over and over until you grab his face and pull him back up to you. 

He looks down at you, moving his hand up to your face, he tucks away your hair and caresses your cheek, admiring your puffy lips, your beautiful eyes as you look at him with nothing but love in them. 

Everything he ever wanted is now right in front of him, in reach and now all he needs to do is ask. 

“Do you want to go on a date with me, Blondie?” He asks, unable to contain the smile on his face as he watches the way your eyes crinkle and a giggle falls from your lips, you cup each side of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, answering him in the sweetest way.  He only chuckles against your lips, pulling away for just an inch in order to mumble against your lips, “I need words darling…”

And that little word that will change your life forever finally comes out of your lips,

“Yes.”

 ♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs

[brokenmenswhore]

Hey hey! I love your Aegon fics so much that I want to know if you would write a story where after your kid with Aegon passed away, he promised never to touch you again so you wouldn't have to endure bearing more of his kids and witnessing their death. But you yearn for your husband every night and will act dirty to make him touch you again. By acting dirty I mean doing sexy things to instigate him when he's alone with you.

of all the things in this life that i’m good at, being intentionally sexy is NOT one of them, so i’m hoping this isn’t awkward :) my biggest fear is that someone’s gonna not like what i write for their request i’m on my knees pls don’t hate me

all in | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targeryen x fem!reader

warnings: angst, mentions of a deceased child, smut (MDNI 18+)

────── ☾ ──────

It had been three long, dark, and lonely months since the death of your son.

He passed away at only a few weeks of age due to health complications, and both you and your husband, Aegon, were left devastated.

Aegon had a tendency to blame himself for anything negative in his life, his self hatred running through the depths of his soul. Your son was his heir, and he felt as if he lost a piece of himself, and blamed himself for the health issues your child was having. “It must be from me,” he would whisper to himself, almost incapable of accepting that some things he could not be faulted for.

When Grand Maester Orwyle proclaimed your son dead, Aegon broke. He was hysterical, unable to speak, the only sound from his lips was an occasional scream of anger and sadness. You grieved in private, the joy you felt from your son’s birth still so recent that your stomach was still not yet back to a normal state.

The first few weeks were hard on both of you, but you at least attempted to lean on each other. However, Aegon was difficult to console when he got in his own head. You were both laying awake in bed, comforting one another when your hand ran across his chest, toying with his shirt. As difficult as the week had been, you were desperate to feel close to your husband in some capacity other than sadness and grief.

Aegon sighed and moved your hand away, rolling over on his side and turning his back toward you. You stayed stagnant and stared at him for a moment. “Aegon?”

“We can’t.”

“I know this grief is still very new, but I-“

“We can’t, ever.”

You sat in disbelief. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes at his words. You were in need of comfort, as was Aegon, and his declaration frustrated you. “And why not?”

“I refuse to risk putting you through this again.”

You were speechless. You tried to think of something to say, a few small noises leaving your lips as you tried to begin a sentence, but to no avail.

Aegon could hear your attempts. “What you have been through these past few weeks- I cannot watch you bear another one of my children, only to endure the pain of losing them again. I have never seen you happier than the day our son was born, and now-“ Aegon’s voice trailed off, “It is not worth the risk.”

Tears of sadness and frustration were now freely falling, Aegon’s back still to you as you spoke, “you do not seriously intend for us to never be intimate again. For the rest of our lives, Aegon, I need you. I am all in. Are you not? Do you not need me as well?”

“I need to relieve you of this pain more,” he responded, “and there are more than enough whores in King’s Landing.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his final comment. You couldn’t believe he said such a thing. You knew he was hurting, and oftentimes pushed you away when he was, and you decided to assume it was an intentionally harmful comment meant to do just that. You chose to believe that he didn’t really mean it, but you still wished he didn’t say it. You understood his pain, but that didn’t make it alright to take it out on you.

You didn’t dignify his comment with a response, you simply rolled out of bed, fighting to maintain your composure as you walked out of the room, slowly shutting the door behind you.

The next morning, you returned to your shared chambers to ready yourself for the day, and Aegon was already up and dressing.

“Where did you sleep?” he asked.

You untied your robe as you approached the outfit laid out for you by your handmaidens. Handmaidens stopped assisting you and Aegon without being called into the room, as per your marital request.

“Elsewhere,” you stated.

Aegon sighed. “That is not an answer.”

“Why should it matter to you? If you get lonely, you can simply bed your whores,” you spat, throwing his comment from last night back at him.

Aegon didn’t handle you being mad at him very well. He needed everyone to like him at all times, but he didn’t cherish anyone’s opinion of him as much as he did yours. Knowing you were upset with him killed him.

“Do not be upset with me,” he pleaded, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Oh? I thought we were not to touch each other any longer?”

Aegon retracted his arms, moving directly next to you so he could catch your eyes. “I don’t want you to be upset,” he said.

“Then do not promise to deprive me of something you and I both want and need.”

“I cannot put you through this again. Do you not understand that? Whatever is going on within me, it passed something bad down to our child, and if we remain intimate I risk you falling pregnant with another child we will inevitably lose. As your husband, it is my duty to ensure you do not have to go through such a thing again.”

“It is out of your control, Aegon,” you said, your voice low as you held his face in your palms, “and it is not your fault.”

He held onto your wrists, but didn’t move your hands. “This decision is not meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” Aegon was set in his decision, which meant that there was no point in arguing with it right now. You did not have the energy.

────── ☾ ──────

The next several weeks were filled with longing, your heart and body yearning to be close to your husband, now that it had been three whole months since your son passed.

You didn’t press the subject with Aegon, allowing him room to breathe. It was difficult, and you found yourself needing him more and more the longer you went without him.

You knew that despite his decisions, you always had power over Aegon. He was completely enamored with you, and oftentimes changed his mind to match yours. When he made decisions you didn’t agree with, it took a hell of a lot of fighting to get him to falter, but it was not always impossible. This particular instance couldn’t be impossible- you couldn’t survive without him.

“We we supposed to depart last hour!” Aegon called out to you, waiting by the door with his guards for you, the hour getting later and later. House Dondarrion was hosting the Targaryen family for supper at Blackhaven as a gesture of appreciation for the King’s assistance in the Stormlands.

Your handmaidens tightened and tied the final strings of your corset. It was new, and made specifically for you, only this time, you made special requests. It was the standard green and gold, and still kept you covered, but less so than usual. The garment left your chest nearly exposed, just as you had planned.

“They must have forgotten your measurements, Your Grace, there is not nearly enough fabric,” one of your handmaidens spoke, fidgeting with the seam on your cleavage.

“It will do just fine, thank you very much,” you said, “we must be going.”

You were escorted to meet up with your husband, who couldn’t look away from you the moment you came into view.

“What the fuck is this?” he whispered the moment you were next to him.

“What ever do you mean?”

“Everyone here can see too much of you in that,” he continued.

You shrugged your shoulders, playing nonchalantly dumb. “They must have forgotten my measurements.”

You gazed up at him, and he could tell you were playing him. He knew you well enough to tell.

“What are you trying to do?”

You brushed your hair from your neck to behind your shoulder, making even more skin come into view. “Waiting to leave. We are already behind, are we not?”

You started to walk away, but Aegon grabbed your arm and pulled you back. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to let you leave in such a thing.”

“It is not your choice.”

Aegon knew that despite the roles placed on both of you from a very young age, he couldn’t control you if he tried.

Throughout supper, Aegon was on alert to the gazes of other gentlemen upon his wife. Many approached you two to offer their condolences for the loss of your son, making you tense up and your breathing quicken from stress, which only made your chest more obvious.

You could tell Aegon was bothered, but that’s what you wanted, so you made no effort to be modest.

“Rather lewd tonight,” Aemond said, standing behind your chair, greeting you for the first time all night, “don’t you think?”

“Perhaps,“ you responded, taking a sip from your cup.

Aemond leaned down next to your ear and whispered, “What’s he done then, hm?”

You giggled at the question, Aemond smiling as he stood tall and moved to greet the people next to you, ending your interaction. Aegon couldn’t hear what Aemond said, but Aemond being so close to you and whispering in your ear angered him.

“What did he say?” Aegon asked, unable to help the curiosity.

“Nothing of importance,” you said, remaining stoic.

Aegon’s nostrils flared as another member of House Dondarrion approached the table.

Aegon remained observant the entire night, a possessiveness consuming him as he intentionally stared at anyone who gawked at you, his gaze intimidating them into looking away.

When you returned to King’s Landing, you retreated to your shared chambers.

“It does not befit a queen to dress in such a vulgar way. I cannot fathom why you would do such a thing tonight,” Aegon said.

You poured two cups of wine as you replied, “you cannot fathom? Dear husband, I think you can. Take a guess as to why I may behave as such.”

You handed Aegon one of the cups, taking a sip from your own and intentionally tilting it too far upward, the red liquid spilling down your neck and onto your chest.

“Fuck, what a shame,” you spoke, placing the cup down and moving your hair behind your back.

Aegon watched you swipe a thumb over your bottom lip and suck the wine off of it.

“Stop it,” he warned.

“Stop what? You cannot expect me to just stand here covered in wine,” you quipped, “do you happen to have a cloth?”

Aegon retrieved an used cloth from the table next to you, holding it out to you, as if to say ‘here’s the cloth you absolutely knew was there and only made me grab to mess with me.’

“I can’t see my own neck,” you said, “help me?”

Aegon sighed in frustration, moving the cloth to clean your chin, then your neck, moving it lower and lower. He watched the muscles in your neck flex as you swallowed, and he didn’t even think about holding his actions back before his lips were on your neck, cleaning off the wine with his tongue.

Your mouth opened and a small sigh left your lips, the feeling of his mouth on you after so fucking long making you needier than usual.

Aegon moved down to your breasts, licking and kissing the top flesh of one of your breasts before jolting back and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “No.”

“Aegon-“

“Please, I don’t think I’m strong enough for this.”

Aegon dropped the cloth back onto the table and marched out of the room, leaving you worked up and your breasts coated in wine. You let out a disappointed huff as you called your handmaidens in to run you a bath, hoping it would help you relax.

The next morning, Aegon had council business to attend to all day, but he had made an unfortunate mistake when you first wed: he told you that you were always welcome in council meetings, and that he would cut out the tongue of anyone who tried to speak against your presence there.

You swung open the doors to the council room, all heads turning toward you as you walked over to your husband.

“What is it?” Aegon asked, sitting taller and taller the closer you got to him.

“You said I was always welcome in these meetings, Your Grace.”

You seldom ever called Aegon by his title, but you knew that doing so drove him crazy. You noticed him shift slightly in his chair.

“The current matter of discussion is rather important,” he said.

“I would hope so, you’ve been in here all day,” you said, gripping the back of Aegon’s chair and pulling it with all your might, a seated Aegon inching a tiny bit away from the table. You were giving it your all, but could only move the chair a small amount back.

“What are you doing?” he asked, as the rest of the council just watched the scene play out. They knew better than to question you in these meetings.

You then sat yourself directly on Aegon, adjusting yourself so that you were comfortable in his lap, but he could still see the table. You were acting immature, but that was the point.

“This is entirely inappropriate,” he whispered into your ear, evidently tense. He was genuinely annoyed at you for sitting on his lap in the middle of a council meeting, but you didn’t care.

“I thought that was something you liked about me?” you whispered back into his ear.

You made brief eye contact. Aegon didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the Lords at the table, so he maintained a whisper. “Get up.”

You smiled, making the council think you were not in an argument, but rather exchanging a few private sentences before returning to duty. You leaned your head back so you were in his ear again. “No.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Commander of the King’s Guard and Hand of the King, Criston Cole, interrupted, “forgive me, but this is rather urgent.”

“Right then,” Aegon said, turning his attention back to the meeting as you remained on his lap.

The men all began to speak of war strategy and politically advantageous pairings, Aegon’s arm instinctively finding its way around your waist to keep you in place.

Every few minutes, you shifted your positioning, intentionally grinding down on his cock. He gripped your waist to try to stop you every time, but it never worked.

When the meeting was finished, you hopped up and left the room before Aegon could catch you.

Later in the day, he caught you walking alone to the library, and he pulled you into an adjacent hallway.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he warned, “that little stunt you pulled during my council meeting? Never again.”

“I do not know to what you refer,” you said, slowly pulling up one side of your dress, revealing more and more of your thigh until your entire leg was exposed, giving you room to dip your fingers underneath your dress.

“What are you-“

“It seems as though I’ve forgotten to put on anything under this dress,” you said, looking up at Aegon through hooded eyes.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, watching your hand disappear fully underneath your dress.

“Would not have to, if only I found myself a husband to do it for me.”

“Don’t,” Aegon demanded, grabbing your wrist and stilling your hand.

“Please,” you pleaded, desperation in your eyes as Aegon looked at you, nearly breaking.

Instead, he dropped your wrist, walking away from you again and leaving you alone.

────── ☾ ──────

When Aegon entered your chambers that night, you were already bathing. You were resting your head against the cool metal of the bathtub, your knees visible over the water, your body partially covered by the weak bubbles on the water’s surface. You opened your eyes when you heard the door open, and Aegon approached you, pulling one of your handmaiden’s stools next to the tub and taking a seat.

“What is it, Aegon?” you asked, re-relaxing and closing your eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and you didn’t see it, but his eyes ran up and down the length of your body as he spoke.

“Bathing?” you answered, almost more of a question than an answer. What you were doing was blatantly obvious, so the question confused you slightly.

“If this is another one of your dirty tricks, it won’t work.”

You let out a deep breath. “It’s not, I really just wanted to relax.”

You opened your eyes, and Aegon cocked an eyebrow at you. “I’m serious, Aegon. I’ve tried enough, and it has not worked. I give up. That’s what you wanted, right?”

You meant it. You were tired of trying to work him up, instigate something, or be lustful, if it was never going to work. You were tired of throwing yourself at someone who clearly did not want you anymore.

Aegon didn’t respond, he just continued to watch you as you closed your eyes again, relaxing into the water. He could see most of your body beneath the surface of the clear liquid, the bubbles almost entirely dissipated.

You heard a small whisper of your name, but you kept your eyes closed, allowing yourself to continue winding down for the night.

Aegon reached out to run his hand over your knee, and the feeling made you jolt slightly, your eyes opening at the sudden contact. You gave Aegon a confused, somewhat concerned look.

“You would truly risk experiencing the tragedy of losing our son again?” he asked, his voice the smallest you’d ever heard it, “just to have me?”

You placed your hand on top of his. “What happened was out of our control. If the gods did not intend for him to be your heir, so be it. It cannot be a fault of our own. We did not bring it upon him, Aegon. We have no knowledge of what could happen given another heir, and this tragedy is not reason enough for me to give up on having children. I think it unfair of you to make such a drastic decision on my behalf. If you do not wish to be intimate with me because you yourself do not desire it, then so be it, but you do not get to make these decisions for me. I did not choose to be without your touch, Aegon, and it is unfair for you to choose it for me.”

It was the most you’d said at one time since your son died.

“I miss you,” you added.

A tear fell down Aegon’s cheek. “I never want to see you in pain again.”

“There is no guarantee you would. There is not even a guarantee I will fall pregnant again.”

Aegon knew you were right. He was making decisions for you, and he knew he had no right to, he was just so scared. He hated seeing what losing your first son did to you, and he thought he was doing right by you by not risking a pregnancy and then loss of another. He did not realize the damage he was doing.

He was lost in his thoughts, and you took his silence to mean that he was sticking to his word. “Please just let me rest, Aegon, I do not wish to rehash the same argument again.”

You fell back into your relaxed position, removing your hand from Aegon’s and resting both of your hands on either side of the metal tub.

Aegon only spoke a small whisper of your name again before moving his hand down your leg, sinking beneath the water. You maintained your position. He made it clear to you he did not want intimacy anymore, so why would he actually be doing something intimate?

You were caught by surprise when his hand reached between your legs and he ran a finger between your folds. You inhaled a sharp breath, your eyes remaining shut as the feeling was too good. Even if this stopped right now, you needed to make the most of the feeling while you had it.

Only, it didn’t stop. Aegon continued to feel you, circling his finger around your clit, causing your head to fall back even further as a soft whine left your lips. Aegon hadn’t heard the sweet sound of your whines and moans in ages, and one tiny noise from you made him completely forget why he ever vowed to keep himself away from you.

The water was sloshing slightly as Aegon moved his hand, inserting a finger into your hole as his thumb took residence on your clit, keeping the stimulation there as he began to push a finger in and out of you.

He watched you writhe in the water, your hips beginning to grind up into his hand. “A-Aegon,” you tried to catch his attention, but he was so consumed in you that he took it for a moan.

He leaned over you, his face mere inches from yours. “Say my name again.”

“A-Aegon, I was t-“

Aegon cut you off by kissing you, catching you off guard and making you squeal with surprise into the kiss. He began to move his hand faster and faster, the water nearly spilling out of the tub from the movement of his arm.

You moved to grab his wrist, and he pulled away from your mouth briefly to inspect your face and make sure you were alright.

“As much as I want you,” you breathed out, “I don’t want to do anything unless you do as well.”

Aegon didn’t verbally respond, as he often didn’t, but instead kissed you, hard. You held the back of his head, deepening the kiss as he added another finger into you, a moan escaping your throat into the kiss, only egging Aegon on more.

“Fuck,” you whimpered when Aegon pulled away.

He leaned down to kiss your neck, not caring at all about the water hitting the side of his face and drenching his hair.

You moaned and whined as his fingers fucked you at a violent pace, curling when they hit the sweet spot within you that had your breathing nearly stopping for moments at a time.

“Aegon, I’m-“

Aegon lifted his head so that he was looking directly at you. Your eyes squeezed shut as your climax hit you hard, Aegon removing his hand from you to grip either side of your face and kiss you as your orgasm washed over you, your juices mixing with the bath water.

Aegon softened the kiss as he felt your breathing calm down, only pulling away when your muscles released their tension beneath him.

“Thank you,” you sighed.

“Get out of this thing,” Aegon said, standing up and holding out both of his hands to you.

You placed your hands in his, allowing him to help pull you to a standing position. You shivered as the cool air hit your bare, wet skin. You stepped out of the bathtub, anchoring your balance on Aegon. When you stepped onto the ground, Aegon pulled your waist against him so quickly that you nearly fell over.

“If you’re all in, I’m all in,” he spoke.

You gave him a genuine smile. “I’m all in. Always have been.”

Aegon leaned down to kiss you again, backing your bodies up slightly so that you were standing directly next to the stool.

Aegon then became almost carnal, having been without you for so long that he was too impatient now to wait any longer.

Aegon pulled you away from him and spun your body around, pushing you down until you were bent over the stool he was sitting on mere moments ago.

He undid his breeches and pushed his clothing down, leaving his lower half exposed.

He held a hand out in front of your face. “Spit.”

You did as you were told, giving him the lubricant that he spread on the head of his cock as he lined himself up with your entrance. He began to push into you slowly for a moment, before slamming his entire length into you.

You cried out at the feeling. One of his hands gripped your waist while the other fisted into your hair, pulling your neck back as he fucked you from behind. He was snapping his hips from the first thrust on, the pressure causing your body, and subsequently the stool, to shift forward with each hit.

“F-fuck,“ you moaned, “I missed y-you, Y-our Grace.”

The title only made him more feral, his grip on your hips destined to bruise you as he slammed into you viciously. He growled and groaned behind you, subconsciously trying to make up for months of deprivation.

You came again, the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock like a vice pushing him over the edge, despite the sex not lasting long at all. His body was in desperate need of you.

He bottomed out inside of you as he came, spilling his seed within you as he calmed down for a moment before pulling out of you.

He released his grip on your hair, allowing you to push yourself up. You nearly lost your balance, but Aegon caught your waist with his arm.

“I missed you too,” Aegon spoke, “what a fucking idiot I am.”

“Yeah, but that’s not new,” you teased, giving him a sweet kiss to show your forgiveness.

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

Jason deserves to be someone's no. 1 superhero.

(Art by Victioria Palomino)

Red Hood was many things for many people. A criminal, a nuisance, and a threat. Most treated him with disdain, and few tolerated him. But no one claimed to be a fan of him. Not in a sense Superman or Wonder Woman have fans.

You kept your opinion on the man strictly neutral, hoping you'll never find yourself in the same room as him, not out of hatred, but simply a sense of self-preservation.

Until one day, you find yourself unwillingly in the crossfire of Gotham's latest criminal and it's the day you meet your unlikely savior. He's no less imposing or terrifying even as he sets you on the pavement in one of the alleyways.

"I'm not going to bite off your head if that makes you so jumpy."

"Ah! I...uh...sorry. It's just that you're..."

"'S fine, I'm used to that."

At that moment you felt really scummy. There he was risking his life for you and you were acting like has rabies. As you watched him run towards the explosions you promised yourself that you'll thank him properly next time you see him.

That opportunity comes fairly soon. Every day in Gotham is a new threat, this time in the form of sentient crawling vines with razor-sharp thorns. One of them nicks your cheek and others would probably do much worse, but a few well-aimed bullets make them fall limply on the pavement. It's your red-hooded savior and he's sporting several deep gashes as well as a cracked mask.

He barks at you to run so you do, but you linger in the safe distance, hoping to catch one more glimpse of him. When all is said and done, you see a flash of his red hood ducking behind a garbage container. You carefully sidestep the fallen debris and find him sitting on the ground leaning against the wall, clutching his shoulder.

You realize it's not the best time to talk to him, that gets affirmed by the glare he shoots you from underneath the torn hood. The fear makes your heart thump and your tongue gets stuck to the roof of your mouth. Still, you step closer, slowly, ready to back away at any second, as if you're approaching a wild animal backed into a corner, and you might as well.

"Go away." He growls, teeth flashing from the crack in his mask and you visibly shiver. Despite your fear, you crouch right next to him and pull out a couple of bandaids you always have in your mind. With trembling hands, you start to bandage up the feared vigilante. You keep his face for last, just to ignore the intense unflinching stare that's burning into you the whole time.

"The hell are you doing?" He asks, without any bite this time.

You swallow the knot in your throat.

"I...I never got a chance to...thank you." You say, voice getting smaller and smaller with each word.

"Thank me?" He says incredulously.

You meet his gaze for the first time.

"Yes, for saving me."

He lets you finish your work without another word. When you mention the shoulder. He gets up and slams it against the wall, popping the bone back in the socket as you watch in horror. He doesn't even whimper. He thanks you for the bandages and in a moment he's gone again.

Later that night, Jason Todd is lying in bed in his safe base. Staring at the colorful bandaids covering his arm.

Meanwhile, you start to unconsciously pay more attention to this masked vigilante. Whenever you see him in a newspaper, you clip out the part, when you hear his name on TV you pull the volume up. You search his name on the internet, getting what's undoubtedly some really cool shots of him on his motorcycle. Yeah, he's really a badass, the killings and questionable morals notwithstanding.

You're getting more intrigued by the day. Who is he? What made him pick up the guns and the red half-face mask? What's his relation to Batman if he's wearing a version of his symbol on his chest? Does he admire him, or hate him? Is he aware of his reputation? Is he deluded into thinking everything he's doing is ultimately good, or is he brutally self-aware and just doesn't care? His morals are what intrigued you the most. You often wonder if violence is maybe sometimes the answer, considering how many times you and your close ones got hurt or traumatized by Gotham's villains.

You start to wear a black T-shirt with a red bat-like symbol on it. You don't flaunt it, but there is undeniable giddiness when you hold it in your hands, fresh out of transfer press. You had to make it yourself because there's no official Red Hood merch, shame really. Soon a mug and a bracelet follow.

Next time you meet Red Hood, you're the one who saves him. His bike is damaged, and he's running away from cops when you grab him by the hand and pull him to the place you work at. Thankfully, no one of your coworkers is there that day so you don't have to explain to them why there's a masked man armed to teeth in the breakroom. You offer him some tea and biscuits before the coast is clear and he can leave again.

Before he leaves, Red Hood compliments your t-shirt. You look down and realize it's the one you made. You have to duck behind the front desk to hide an explosion of blush on your face, listening to his quiet chuckles. For the rest of the day Red Hood is smiling.

You heard that he is in the neighborhood. You ponder it for a long time before you book it out of the door. When you find him, you stutteringly ask for an autograph. Red Hood stares at you as if you'd gone crazy. He takes the white sharpie and scribbles his name on your back. You take the pen from his limp hand and thank him with a beaming smile. It's then Jason realizes he has a real-life fan.

The next time he sees you, he asks only half-joking if you want to take a photo with him. Your eyes widen at that.

"Y-you're sure?? I don't want to bother..."

"Just look here."

He says as he bends down to put his face next to his. You're too flustered by his proximity to react fast enough as his phone flashes in your eyes. By means unknown to you, the photo is in your phone several hours later. You look like a moron. Wide-eyed, red-faced, and gaping into the camera, but you keep it. It's a selfie with your favorite Gotham knight, after all.

When he saves you this time, he escorts you all the way to the rooftop of your apartment building. Red Hood asks how are you gonna repay him this time. Teasingly backing you up against the wall with one hand pressed to the wall behind you. You're once again reminded how big he is, but this time it does not make you fearful, it makes you flustered. You duck under his arm and tell him to wait. You hand him a plastic container, and he raises a brow at you. You explain to him it's your homemade enchiladas. What you didn't know at the time is that you'll have a hungry vigilante waiting on the rooftop for his next lunch like a stray cat.

With time, the scary vigilante became what you dared to call a friend of yours. You eat together, you talk, sometimes you patch him up and in return, he gives extra care to make your neighborhood safe. You learn a lot about him in several months and yet, you've never seen his face.

It's the end of the year, and you haven't heard from Red Hood for some time. He must be busy. It's not like he owes you anything. He probably has a life outside of vigilante work. Still, you do miss him. You don't hear from him until that fateful fight with Barman. You barely hear the news reporter over the blood rushing in your ears as you watch Red Hood get slammed into through the window of a run-down factory. Without thinking it through, you rush to the location the news reporter mentioned.

You never saw Red Hood so...defeated. He was always so big in your eyes, bigger than life. And now he is slowly bleeding from the neck while shards of glass are littered around him, with Gotham's so-called hero standing over him. You shout you're not exactly sure what, but it makes the Dark Knight freeze. You don't even spare him a glance as you kneel over your hero. His mask is even more cracked than the first time you met him. You can see the black eye and the split lip, but it's the resignation in the healthy eye that makes you unreasonably angry.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!!!"

You shock yourself with the force of that angry roar. Batman takes a step back, arms held up in defeat. Eyes confused, searching but mostly...sad, that surprises you the most. You don't have time to dwell on it as you feel Red behind you trying to get up. Deciding you'll ignore the Bat indefinitely, you support the Hood with your weight. The rest is a blur, police escort you out of the scene, giving you a lecture about civilian safety you barely listen to.

He let him escape. Batman let Red Hood escape the scene. You heard him giving an explanation to the police, lying from under his black mask. You were more perplexed than ever by their relationship.

For the next few days, you barely sleep. Worried sick about Red Hood. He might as well be dead and you wouldn't even know. That thought brings tears to your eyes.

One snowy afternoon, you walk up the stairs from your apartment to the rooftop. You haven't been there for a long time, avoiding that place. Just so you don't have to wait for him, only for him to never come again. When you open the door, you almost pass out. He's there, on your rooftop, flesh and blood. His huge back is facing you, red hood back on.

"Red?" the inaudible croak of his name is carried away by the harsh wind, and yet, he turns around. Only this time he's not wearing a mask. There's a white streak in his hair, a jagged scar runs from his lip all the way to his hairline, and his eyes, unflinching, are fixed on you.

You have never seen such vibrant green.

[darklordofthesimp]

Ipseity (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Part of the "Anything" verse, can be read as a standalone.

Summary: When the 141 has to make a choice between saving you or a fellow sniper, you know that your time has come to an end.

A/N: This was meant to be a short filler and now it's like 4.5k long. Hope you're all happy.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Graphic Language | Graphic Violence | Gun Violence | Graphic Description of Injury

The ringing in your ears woke you up. 

It was a high-pitched squeal that scrambled your thoughts and made your head pound. You couldn't think straight, you couldn't get past the overwhelming dizziness whenever you tried to raise your chin.

Blood stung your eyes. Your chest burned. You hadn’t been in this much pain in years, every pinch of your nerves prodded at long-forgotten childhood memories. They were things that had been left behind from before you enlisted, things that no longer mattered. What mattered was that you were tied to a chair and barely breathing. 

You were going to die here. 

And nobody was coming to save you. 

"Oh,” someone crooned from behind your seat. You didn’t have the strength to turn your neck and you thanked whatever cruel deity was listening that you hadn’t flinched. The least you could do was fake some courage for what was to come. 

“Come back for more?” Your mouth was dry, wretchedly so. You wanted to gag and spit, but there was no moisture in your mouth- it was like sandpaper. 

“There’s not much left in you for me to take, Sol,” Valeria said, her fingers trailing the length of your shoulder. Your body shivered beneath her touch as she slowly circled your chair, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“Oh, I’ve always got something left for you, gorgeous,” you chuckled, flashing the drug lord a weak grin. 

She snorted, the harsh light of the overhead lamp illuminating the edges of her features. She was a sharp woman, Valeria, somebody that you secretly admired. Not for her deeds or the atrocities she’d committed, but for her tenacity and her ambition- there was no stopping her. 

“You’ve always been my favourite sniper, you know,” Valeria mused, pulling her hand from your skin to inspect it. Your blood stained her fingers, thick and warm from where it had oozed from your wounds.

“You usually kill your favourite snipers?” You tried to raise your eyebrow but sharp pain ripped through your face, you realized dimly that the skin of your forehead had been split.

“Only when they steal things that belong to me, Luz,” Valeria whispered, pressing her hands against the armrests and leaning in. “Then, I kill them.” 

“We didn’t do it,” you met her gaze evenly, the false claim falling easily from your lips. 

“You’d die a liar to protect your friends,” she nodded thoughtfully. “It’s unfortunate that they have chosen not to give you the same courtesy.” 

You frowned, taken aback by the statement. You suspected that the 141 wouldn’t be there in time, you’d come to terms with the fact that your journey might end here. But, the way she’d said it… it was as if you were missing something. 

Valeria’s brows raised, eyes wide as she mocked your surprise with a gasp. “Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it earlier.” 

“Mention what?” You ground out through your teeth. 

The drug lord huffed a laugh, pushing off from your seat and standing upright. Sweat began to form in a thin sheen across your skin, anxiety running rampant through your system. 

What did she mean? 

Valeria’s eyes hardened as she tutted under her breath, pulling the blade on her thigh from its sheath. When her attention turned back to you, the malice in her gaze made your spine straighten. 

“What you stole from me,” she began, pointing the knife towards your face, “got someone very close to me killed.” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat like gravel and your tongue like concrete. 

The woman was seething now, the cool facade that she’d worn had melted into pure vitriol and hatred. It was an expression you’d never seen on her but on so many others throughout the years, it was the stare of someone who blamed you for their loss. 

“So, as penance,” Valeria pressed the tip of the blade to rest against your chest, “your Task Force will have to lose one of their own- even after they bring me the information.” 

“What-” 

“We have the other sniper,” the drug lord shrugged. “The little broken one.” 

Your heart stalled in your chest, fear dousing your body like a bucket of ice water. Blood rushed through your ears, loud and roaring and all-consuming with the sound. You couldn’t think straight, the image of your colleague being tortured flashed across your vision like a spotlight. 

“Birdy.” You whispered the name but it sounded like a plea rather than a statement. Valeria must have heard the begging in your voice because she only smiled. 

“Birdy,” she confirmed, with a smug tilt of her head. 

God, please no. 

“Let them go!” You lurched against your restraints. 

The latina's eyes were like stone, hard and unyielding. She was in pain, she was hurting and now it was her chance to hurt you all for what you’d done.

“I will,” she nodded her head soothingly, fingers coming to trace your trembling jaw. You snatched your face from her touch and she raised a brow. When she leaned back with a sigh, you knew what was coming. 

Valeria struck you hard. 

The wounds on your face screamed and it felt like someone was making you gargle molten lava. Your eyes watered but you made no sound, you gave her nothing to indicate that she’d hurt you. 

“The 141 will bring me what they stole,” Valeria sucked in a breath, watching you from beneath her lashes. “But they can only save one of you.” 

Your eyes widened. 

They can only save one of you. 

You knew then that you were going to die here. 

“What’s the matter, pequeño sol?” Valeria spoke with a mocking lilt. Your body trembled. “You don’t think they will come for you?” 

“No.” 

The word was soft and broken and you wondered if the drug lord had even heard it. The way that her smile wavered implied that she did. 

“No,” she nodded, standing straight. “Neither do I.”

If you hadn’t been so shattered, you would have seen the glimmer of pity pass over her features. 

You took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, "will you keep your word?"

"What?" 

"Will you keep your word?" You repeated firmly. No one was stupid enough to trust the word of a drug lord but right there and then you would take it as law. If you were going to die you needed to know that Birdy would be safe. 

Your eyes bore into hers. Valeria swallowed and you could see her hesitation, the desire to spit on the dying flame in your chest and put it out. 

Instead, the woman only nodded. 

"I will." 

Instantly, you relaxed in your seat and leaned your head back with a sigh. You closed your eyes, fighting the tears that had gathered along your lashes. 

This was it. 

This was the end of it. 

You weren't stupid enough to expect anyone to come save you, not when Birdy's life hung in the balance. There was never a doubt about who was more valued on the team, despite your skills you'd never be able to contend with Birdy's spot on the team. 

It wasn't about who was better, it was about who was loved. 

And nobody in the 141 loved you more than they loved Birdy. 

No one. 

Your lips trembled and you fury rose like a volcanic eruption from within your chest. You would not die crying. You would not die without dignity. 

"I'll be leaving to retrieve my package," Valeria sighed, sheathing her knife. "Once the handover is made, my men will put you down."

You grinned.

"After all we've been through," you feigned hurt. "I thought you'd want to do the honors, gorgeous." 

But Valeria didn't bite. She didn't laugh nor did she retaliate, the woman only watched you with an unreadable expression. 

"We are the same, me and you, Sunshine." The drug lord stood tall, "Deberías haber sido valorado. Morir con orgullo."

You blinked dumbly.  "I don't know what the fuck you said but I'm going to assume you think I'm hot and that you regret not sleeping with me before I die." 

Valeria rolled her eyes and turned away. 

"You act tough, Sol. Don't die thinking this is anything but a betrayal."

Betrayal. 

You offered nothing but a snort, laughing the chill of her words off your spine.

The woman left the room and immediately the silence was overwhelming. There was no one to lie to now, no one to throw your facade at. You found yourself almost asking her to stay as she closed the door behind her, biting your tongue to reserve your dignity. But, you didn't want to be alone, not when the end was approaching so quickly.

 Though, you guess you'd done this to yourself. 

Always good, but never enough. König was your best friend, but you knew he'd leave you in a heartbeat to save the sniper he truly loved- you couldn't ask any differently from him. 

After all, if it had been between him and Ghost, you were sure you'd make the same decision. 

A pathetic tragedy in itself considering the feeling wasn't mutual.

Simon Riley loved Birdy, just as the rest of them did.

You would never compare, you'd never come close, not with your ambitious demeanor- not with your shitty attitude. You'd never allowed yourself to view them as family and when they'd tried to include you, you hadn't let them in. 

If your own family had wronged you, your own flesh and blood, what would the 141 do any differently?

By the looks of the situation: nothing. 

No one was coming to save you. 

The burning beneath your lids became so aggressive you wanted to tear the skin from your face. You wanted to gouge out your eyes, just so that the only thing dripping would be blood- not tears. 

Never tears. 

You were not Birdy, you did not cry. 

You were not Birdy. 

You'd never be Birdy. 

The pressure in your chest grew and swelled and suffocated, extinguishing the fire you'd kept burning for years. Through everything, you'd held strong. Through hellfire and brimstone, you'd crawled your way across death and misfortune to emerge from the ashes stronger. 

You did not break. Not until now. 

A scream ripped from your chest, unrecognizable. It wasn't you who wailed, it was the child inside who mourned their life. It was the adult who'd never been loved the way they'd prayed for in the dead of the night.

Never enough.

Never enough for König, the man who always found himself by Birdy's side, chasing for the crumbs of their attention.

Never enough for Simon Riley, who'd taken your heart and crushed it every time he watched you with distaste- with disappointment.   

You were never the priority. 

Never his priority. 

You'd never be anything to Ghost, not the way Birdy was.

But you were not Birdy and you'd not die wishing that you were. 

You pulled at your restraints, thrashing in your chair with renewed energy. While you knew it was unlikely you'd escape, at least you'd be put down fighting. 

"Hey!" One of Valeria's henchmen shouted. 

You struggled harder, the skin of your wrists ripping from beneath the ties. Fresh blood trailed down your fingers and you smeared it wherever you could reach, wetting the braided rope until it was slick with crimson rage.

Your heart jumped as your hands slipped through the restraints, the gory lubrication helping you pull your crumpled fingers free. 

"Stop!" The cool metal of a barrel pressed against your forehead, putting an instant halt on your plans. 

You glared up at the man before you, his eyes were hard but his hand trembled, the weapon jittering against your skull. 

"I will fucking paint this room with your brains," he hissed, the cigarette in his mouth jolting with each word. "Try me, I dare you." 

"If the 141 comes with the package and I'm dead, Valeria will butcher your entire family, cabrón." You were careful as you spoke, enunciating each word as clearly as you could muster. 

The butt of his weapon struck your cheek hard enough to send stars skittering across your vision. 

"I speak," the man hissed, "not you."

"I'm trying to warn you-" 

He hit you again, this time harder. You felt your teeth dislodge from in your mouth and panic gripped your heart as they slid down your throat. 

"I said don't speak!" He shouted, the words warbled as your vision spun. Your head lolled to the side, gagging as you choked on your own bones. Bile speared through your chest as a combination of blood and stomach acid hit the floor weakly. Your teeth clattered across the ground, like dice rolling across the board. 

"Ricky!" The man called over his shoulder. "Alguna palabra sobre el paquete?

"Aún nada, hermano."

"Mierda! ¿Por qué tarda tanto?"

The conversation fell on deaf ears as you fought to keep yourself conscious. Your hands were freed but now the element of surprise was lost and there was a barrel pressed against your face. 

"I should kill you right now," the man spat in English. "You fucking murdered my brothers like a coward."

"They should learn to duck," you shrugged weakly. 

This time when he hit you, it threw your seat backward. You hadn't been able to move your hands in time before the weight of your body and the steel spines of the chair slammed against your forearms. 

A sickening crunch reverberated through the room, echoing like the toll of a church bell and while that was loud, your scream was deafening. 

"Let's be honest with ourselves, Sunshine," the man laughed, watching you as you writhed and sobbed. "Nobody is coming to save you." 

He cocked the weapon slowly, leaning down to press the barrel against your forehead once again. You couldn't even keep your eyes open as you struggled for breath, choking on your own spit and blood as you shrieked. You wanted to watch him, you wanted to go down with defiance- but fear gripped your throat so tightly you were choking on it.

You weren't going to die fighting. 

You were going to die suffering. 

When the gunshot came, your body recoiled so hard that your head smashed the concrete beneath you. In that horrible moment of silence that followed, you wondered if there was no peace even in death. Agony ripped through your nervous system, every inch of your body screamed for relief. 

If this was death, then you were in hell. 

"Think again, cunt."

The distinct cockney accent had your spine straightening and your eyes snapping open. 

The gun clattered beside your head, unfired. 

You weren't dead. 

"Sunshine!"

You were being saved. 

"Talk to me, Sunshine!" 

The voice was so far away, he was too far away, he wasn't going to make it. You weren't going to make it. The man on the floor next to you must have sat back up because you could feel his hands gripping your shoulders, the gun rattling in your ears. 

Fingers gripped your face, jostling you from your semi-conscious state. Your vision was blurred by your own blood and tears, the figure before you a mess of shadows. You screamed, trying to pull your broken arms from beneath the chair to defend yourself until help got to you. 

Searing hot pain ran up the lengths of your arms and stabbed into your neck. You gagged, a low bellow wrenching from your throat as you heaved. 

"Stop! Stop! Don't move!" 

"Get away from me!" You wailed, voice shrill and unhinged. You tugged again and this time his hands came down on your shoulders. 

"SUNSHINE!"

The roar of your name made your entire body freeze, clutching you by the throat with the desperation behind the callsign. You closed your eyes, a whimper falling from your lips to taint your dignity. 

"Jesus." He sounded like Ghost. It couldn't have been him but, God, you wished it was. "Come on, Sweetheart. Look at me." 

"I can't see," you wept. 

His thumbs swept over your face, gloves wiping the blood from where it had settled on your lids and lashes. You tried again, blinking the crimson liquid from your eyes as best you could. You imagined that you looked a sight, the whites of your eyes a deep red, stained with evidence of your injuries. Finally, your vision settled. 

Simon stared back at you, eyes wide. 

You gasped. 

"Simon?" You slurred, his name broken on your lips. 

"Yeah, Sunshine. S'me." He murmured distractedly. His fingers were twitching on your neck, scanning the rest of your body for injuries.

Your heart was beating against your ribs, sudden anxiety flooding your being.  If he was here it meant that they'd brought the package to you rather than to Birdy. 

That meant… 

"No, no, no," you whispered as the Lieutenant lifted the chair with one hand, pulling your broken hands from behind your back. "No, no, Simon, what're you doing here?" 

Ghost recoiled slightly, a frown overtaking his features. "The fuck do you mean?" 

"Birdy," you rasped, a sob building in your chest. "You need to get Birdy. What about Birdy?" 

"Birdy's-" 

You fought to stand up, pushing him out of the way as you stumbled to your feet. Your body swayed side to side as your vision swam, but you weren't going down- not again. 

"Need a gat. Need Birdy- we can't lose Birdy. Everybody needs Birdy-" 

"Sunshine." 

"I can't lose Birdy!" You snapped, reeling on your superior with a broken gaze. 

For a moment, he stood frozen, speechless. You'd never recover if they killed the other sniper, no one would. Everyone would blame you, it'd be your fault.

"König's got Birdy," Ghost said slowly, straightening to stand to his full height. "I've got you, Sunshine."

You gawked at him as though you hadn't understood a single word he'd said. Realistically, you truly hadn't. They'd come for you, knowing that it would put everyone at risk. 

Simon had come for you, leaving Birdy to a man that he hated with every ounce of his being. 

Simon had come for you, not Birdy. 

"You're here?" You whispered and although it sounded fucking stupid, Ghost only nodded. He knew what you were really asking. 

"Of course," he said. "Of course, I am."

"You came for me?" Your voice broke.

The soldier shuffled on his feet, shaking his head as though he thought it was obvious. 

"I'd follow you anywhere. We both know it," he huffed, that dark gaze pinning your soul to your chest. 

You rocked forward at the words, knees buckling from beneath you. Simon shot forward instantly, his arms looping around your waist and hauling you upward. His hand came to grip your chin, fingers slapping your cheek lightly as your eyes rolled backward. 

"Come on, Sweetheart. Stay with it, it's nothin',"  he growled, jostling your body to keep you conscious. Your head fell forward to rest against his shoulder, ears ringing and your mind shattered. "Sunshine, stay awake for me."

You couldn't any longer, you couldn't listen to him. He should have been used to it by now, you'd always been the troublesome one for him. Never directly disobeying him but never doing it the way he asked, always driving him bat-shit fucking crazy- always under his skin. 

But, if Simon couldn't save you, you'd die happy knowing that he'd even tried. 

You'd die happy knowing that somebody loved you. 

—

When you thought of dying, you always had such a visceral image of what would happen. You'd be the last one on your line, and the rest of your unit would be shot down; you'd make a stand on a hill and wipe out the enemy until you were out of ammo. Then, you would fight until you were overwhelmed. 

That was the death you'd imagined. 

Not abandoned and left alone in a warehouse in a sick game of "pick the sniper you like more." 

"They'll fully recover physically," someone sighed from above your head. "Mentally, though…" 

"They'll be right," Simon finished. 

"That's what they said about Birdy," the doctor muttered. "We all know how that ended." 

"Doc-" 

"Saint."

Simon cleared his throat. 

"Saint," the callsign foreign on his tongue, "Sunshine's not Birdy."

To hear it from Simon Riley himself was all the validation you needed. 

You stirred in the bed and immediately all conversation fell quiet, the both of them waiting for you to fully awaken. 

You knew you were in the hospital before your eyes opened. You recognised the doctor who was talking, a medic who had yelled at you often for ‘being reckless.’ The smell of antiseptic was near seared into your memory and the sound of the monitor beeping was too familiar. 

However, the room was brighter than you’d anticipated and you cringed into your pillow with a moan. The overhead light stung your eyes, searing your retinas and making it near impossible for you to think. 

“Get the lights,” Saint ordered, realizing what the issue was. 

The room fell dim, enough for you to finally pry your lids open and have a look around. Your jaw felt heavy like there was cotton in your mouth. As you probed with your tongue, you realised with a pitted stomach that there actually was something stuffed between your teeth. 

You moaned, reaching upward to pull it out. 

It was as though you’d set off a bomb with the movement. Both Simon and Saint immediately shot forward, hands on your arms to rest them by your side gently. They stood on either side of your bed, like two sentries, one dark and one light. 

“Gonna need you to just relax a second for me, spitfire,” Saint chuckled. 

You huffed, fighting the urge to gag on the material in your mouth. Your tongue ran over it, moving to dislodge it from where it had been wedged between your teeth. 

“Now,” the doctor leaned over to adjust your drip. “Do you remember your name and what happened?” 

Rather than respond, you opted to slowly let the gauze fall out of your mouth and onto your chest. Saint watched you with a deadpan expression as you fought with your facial injuries to perform this feat. 

At the end of it, you offered a weak smile. 

A long moment of silence ensued before the doctor sighed, staring at the lumps of bloody fabric sitting on the gown. 

“I’m gonna go grab some shit,” they said. “Maybe a fuckin’ whiskey.” 

They disappeared from the room swiftly, leaving you alone with the Grim Reaper himself. With a harsh sigh through his nose, the Lieutenant reached over and scooped up the gauze, dropping them into the bin. 

“You couldn’t just answer the question?” He muttered, moving to crouch by your head. He wore only his balaclava, his hoodie down for once. 

“Not with that in my mouth,” you rasped, words thick and sickly. 

Simon snorted softly but he said nothing, opting to watch you instead. His gaze ran from your hair to your neck, over and over as if he were committing you to memory. His expression was gentle but there was something hidden that made you think that, at that moment, he was extremely vulnerable. 

Anything you said from this point on would determine the relationship between you both. You remembered what he’d confessed when he found you beaten and bloody on the floor. It was clear as day and imprinted on your brain as though it had been branded on the inside of your skull. 

“I would follow you anywhere. We both know it.” 

You’d both reached the point of no return, no more smoke and mirrors, no more half-truths. Neither of you could get away with hiding your feelings behind hatred anymore. 

Not after he’d chosen you. 

“You came for me,” you whispered. A statement, not a question this time.

“Of course,” he said again, just as he had before. 

You hadn’t realised you were crying until his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping the tears from your cheeks ever so gently. As much as you hated it, as much as you wanted to stop, you couldn’t hold them back. 

The relief was palpable, the understanding that you were valued was freeing. 

Simon Riley knew the kind of person you were, right at your very core, and he still chose to love you. He still chose to hold your hand and dry your tears with nothing but pure reverence in his gaze. 

You realized then and there, that you were valued.

You were enough.

[hyewka]

can i suggest a fic where beomgyu is helping take the reader’s mind off a bad breakup…. by fucking the living SHIT out of her NDJDNDJDJDJ

while i fuck you straight | c.bg

warnings; hard dom best friend!gyu, sub!reader, unprotected + pullout method, breeding kink, a spank or two, praise + degradation (mostly praise), slut shaming, rough marking, a tinge of possessiveness, friends w/ benefits, no romantic feelings involved (or are there?), ruined orgasm, princess pet name, beomgyus an insatiable manwhore lol, needy perv gyu with a lot of spit play, fingering, titty sucking hehe, literal messy filth and also barely proofread on my end

a/n; have to thank jazmine with all my heart for proof reading and giving suggestions, i love you so much 😭 @heart2beom this shouldn’t be a big deal as it is, but it is my first time writing full on dom beomgyu so it is this mini celebration for me and all the dom!gyu enthusiasts (i hope) 😇 reblogs are appreciated, keeps me going

You held your phone above your face, scrolling mindlessly through your socials, though subconsciously, you were really just awaiting a call from your boyfriend. Well, now ex-boyfriend. It's already been a week since you got dumped but no matter what went down that day, you couldn't get over him.

It was pitiful every time you jumped up from your bed at a notification just to find it was in fact not your ex asking to take you back and ...just a random spam email.

Beomgyu had his back against your bed, legs sprawled on the floor, also on his phone. You guys had run out of things to talk about when every conversation spun its way back to your ex- Seen that new marvel movie? You wanted to watch it with your boyfriend. That professor just got fired! You remember your boyfriend used to complain about that class. Gosh, you don’t think you’ll ever get over him.

"You're miserable." Beomgyu suddenly brings up.

You groan, as you repeatedly refresh your feed. "Gee, thanks Beomgyu. That definitely doesn't make me ten times more miserable."

He lets his head fall back on your bed, looking up at you through an upside down lens, abandoning his phone. “No, like truly miserable. I’ve never seen you so up and dry and…sober. Be young, live a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking past your phone for the first time in a while. “…You talk like you’re 80 years old, about to retire and wallow in self pity, having experienced all there is to life. Thanks Gyu but no thanks.”

“I’m an old soul Y/N.” He says patting his chest, and you roll your eyes. Not necessarily refuting it, it’s his entire personality. “Where’s the chick I used to know anyway. The old Y/N would’ve been over this in a day with a quick hookup rebound.”

You finally put your phone down, staring up your ceiling. He was totally right. Who else would be right about you if not Beomgyu? But you don’t want to think about your old self, or you’d start sobbing again. Not like you were a totally great person, but that person wouldn’t be so stuck on someone. Anything but being the lovesick, doting person you would’ve made fun of just a year ago. God, he really changed you hadn’t he?

You kick your feet, whining, falling into the abyss of treasured memories. “You don’t understand, he was different, he—he was the one, you know?”

He ponders for a bit, room silent, staring at you through his soft lashes, and you think that maybe he’ll give it you; sympathize and understand that grieving was the entire process of a first love. The silence is suffocating when finally, he lets out a light scoff, cutting through it. “No, no I don’t know. Bet you just got soft.”

“God, fuck you Beomgyu.”

He grins his stupid grin that the situation definitely doesn’t call for, “You wish.”

You think if he wasn’t with you through thick and thin for the past four years, you would’ve definitely developed some sort of hatred.

You could visibly notice a lightbulb spark above his head with the way he immediately sits up straight. “Hey, hey wait.”

You tentatively watch as he turns his back away from you, laying both his arms on the soft cushion of your mattress. “I think I might’ve just had the best idea ever. Of the century. The idea of the century.”

“I highly doubt that.” You say, blindly feeling the surface for your phone already.

“Just hear me out,” he whines noticing your eagerness to dismiss him. “But also don’t freak out or anything. Promise me.”

You stare at him, hesitant before you give in to his doe eyes. Sighing, you say: “Okay. I promise I won’t ‘freak’ out. What’s your groundbreaking idea?”

“We should like… fuck.”

Your brows are slow to raise, the rapidness of your blinking at what you think you just heard—no, not think, know. Beomgyu’s voice, loud and clear with his diction, your eyes widen at the final click of it all. Before you know it, you’re reaching for the pillow behind you, flinging it at him with all strength.

It’s like he predicted it prior, dodging one… and then another as you throw all remaining pillows on your bed. Instead of missing with your last one, you decide to hold on to it, and attack him with it. His smug demeanor of successfully dodging everything just a second ago, dissipates as he takes cover for protection. “Are you fucking—are you crazy?!” you yell exapserated, more than awake with your wide eyes.

“Ya! You—you promised you wouldn’t freak out!” When that doesn’t stop your mania with the damn pillow, he decides to lay it all out with as much speed as he can’t seem to escape your wrath. “You want to forget him don’t you? I mean, you should! He dumped you, it’s over! Sulking over him is—Ow! So out of character for you—fuck—I promise a one time fuck would get your mind off him.”

Your pillow is mid air, and Beomgyu opens an eye to peek, hands still in protection mode—you sigh, landing a weak hit on his head before loosening your grip. You do want to forget. You’d do anything to get rid of what you’re feeling. But…

“It—it wouldn’t change anything for me. If that’s a worry. You know that no matter what, you’re my best friend.” He finds his footing, collecting himself, looking at you with intensity you could date back to just a few times over the course of your very long friendship. “Someone I care about. I can’t stand seeing you hurt and not being able to do anything. You know that.”

You bite down on your lip, staring at the familiar boy with his familiar brown bed of hair, and his familiar eyes, lips…How fast did he get you to actually give this a thought? Probably a minute or two. Beomgyu had a way with convincing you to do …anything. “I…know. But what if, what if I’m still head over heels in love with him? What if it doesn’t change anything for me?”

A grin gradually takes over his face, one that is once again, not fitting for the situation. “Why—why are you smiling like an idiot? This is—”

“It’ll change.”

You knit your brows together. “What?”

You don’t notice the way Beomgyu’s hand slowly inched to yours but suddenly, his palm was over your hand, squeezing it just a bit. “Having sex with me is a once in a life time opportunity. You’ll forget him. I promise.”

If you weren’t so lost in his eyes, as cliché as it sounds, you would’ve been completely taken out—probably a joke on his sheer confidence because who just says that? But he’s so …hypnotizing as you don’t even take notice of the ‘okay’ that leaves your lips.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You exhale, “Okay. We’re adults. This won’t matter in a few weeks. Let’s do it.”

Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate for more than a few seconds before he was on your bed, crashing his lips on yours, a brief taste of strawberry lip balm, knocking a breath out of you until he slows down, testing the waters, then he stops, noses brushing against each other as he searches for something in your eyes, breathing already heavy, “Is this weird? Was that weird?”

You gulp looking down on his already glistening lips, and you nod. “The—the situation, not …the kiss. Fucking your best friend is an odd situation. The kiss…the kiss was good.” You ramble, your voice barely a whisper but he catches it anyway as you take notice of a small smile before he’s kissing you again, hands once cupping your cheeks already moving down to your tits, ministrating gently—every bit of his action seemed careful, too careful for what you know of the things your friends had told you in heated rants and swoons.

Half of the dictionary could be used to describe Beomgyu, and promiscuous was not an exclusion. You could probably say you already fucked him with the headache inducing details about what being with him in bed was like. Which is why you’re nervous as hell right now. From what you know, Beomgyu was… a lot. More than you could handle now, after an entire year of keeping yourself to one man.

“Jaehyun was worried about you. Was worried about what you’d do to me.” You blurt out randomly when Beomgyus’ moved to peppering feathery kisses along your jawline. He hums against your skin, then stops for a second to whisper, “He was?”

You could feel the smirk on his lips, opening his mouth a tiny amount to slightly suck on your neck at the process of your words—of course Beomgyu would get an ego boost from this. “Why?”

Beomgyu is practically suffocating with how little space he’s giving you, body flush against flush, your chest heaving the rougher he increasingly gets with his marking, his sly hand down to rub between your thighs, right at your core.

“Said you only wanted to get into my pants—h-ha shit, slow down, slow down Gyu.” You were getting teary eyed by his increased speed, friction against your sweats getting you wetter by the second whenever the pad of his finger teased your slit. “You know he—he asked me to stop hanging around you b-because—”

None of this was new to Beomgyu, your past boyfriends have always been worried about him for the exact reason—that he’d convince you to let him fuck you, because apparently women can’t have male best friends without it being more than platonic. But …you guess you aren’t really proving them any wrong now with the way you were letting him have his way, marking messy purple splotches all over, in hungry predatory manner, getting rougher and rougher by the second. You gasp when he abuses the same spot he just visited a few seconds ago, “Beomgyu!”

“Because?”

He presses on your aching core, pending you with the question. He didn’t seem as happy as he was with his smugness prior. “Because he thinks you’re a sleaze.”

An incredulous— mean chuckle from the back of his throat and suddenly his hand was down your panties, abandoning the long game of teasing in matter of seconds. He doesn’t touch you though, which only proves to make you more insane. “That’s dumb. Do you think I’m a sleaze?” You shiver, his deep voice so close to your ears, breath fanning against your cool skin—your eyes could go sore from how hard you’re shutting them closed.

You refuse to give it all to him, it makes you feel embarrassed and small. A new, foreign feeling you never thought you’d experience with Beomgyu of all people. “I-in some ways, yes.”

Not a satisfying response from you, he clicks his tongue like you were a misbehaving child, “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

You don’t get a chance to retort before you feel the pad of his finger prodding your pussy, then moving to gather your wetness.

Suddenly, he freezes his movement, pulling back from your neck, looking at you with an amused glint to his dark eyes. “Shit, you’re fucking drenched. And I barely did anything—”

You think he’s making fun of you so your cheeks quickly flush red, already putting up walls of defence but then he kisses you in the heat of the moment, wiping your frown away and you’re finding yourself reciprocating without a second thought—the kiss so sloppy and messy, string of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away out of breath. “Fuck, that’s so hot princess. You’re so hot.” He breathes in awe of the spit—he truly is the biggest perv.

“Spread your legs for me.” he groans, trying to get better access to your pussy. You obey, admittedly a little slow, but who can blame you? It feels embarrassing regardless of who, but it’s ten folds with your best friend. “Moreee.” he whines, and god you wish you could slap him—can he not see that you’re trying?

“Beomgyu—“

Your voice gets cut off, gasping when he takes it upon himself to pull down your sweatpants with a quick swift motion, taking it off completely, revealing your patterned underwear—and god, now you’re hiding your face…everything was so embarrassing. He takes a second to examine the wet dark spot right in the middle, proof to what he felt earlier, but then you kick your feet. “Stop staring freak!” you shriek.

You can see through the cracks of your fingers the smirk he has on, looking at you with so much intensity you think you’d melt. He reaches out to grab your hand and put it down, even through your resistance, you couldn’t match his strength to your dismay. “I wanna see your face. Have to let me see you fall apart on my fingers like a little slut.”

You’re scandalized at his wording, your cheeks once again quickly heating up. But you let him part your timid legs anyway, big hands gripping the softness of your thighs, spreading your legs as much as he possibly could, to the point you felt yourself cramp up. But even with whines of protest he doesn’t ease up—bunching your panties to the side, impatient when finally he inserts a digit—experimental with his movement before you hear him groan out a curse. “You’re so tight holy shit, did he even fuck you?”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”

Your senses are already overflowing, you could feel his hard on, his erection pressed on your bare skin, you’re hyper aware of the finger inside you—slender and slow with expertise as he pushes in and out, talking to you as if you could respond with anything more than restrained mewls. “Maybe dating him was good, then you had to be monogamous and not whore around with every guy you laid eyes on like you used to.”

“I-I never whored around—shit.” He suddenly speeds up, a merciless grin spread on his face—did he find messing with you funny?

“Yes you did. It was a new guy every…it was weekly, wasn’t it?”

You shake your head at his accusations, tears brimming when his mouth finds it use, suckling harshly on your nipples through your flimsy top—your body extra sensitive with the way you spasm on a singular finger. He pumps in two without warning and you yelp, hand reaching out to grab at his hair. You swear you could cum just from the stretch. “Stop denying it, you’d do anything for dick. I’m surprised you stayed so long with that bitch. Was he any good?”

One thing you won’t do is tell Beomgyu details of your sex life with your ex. You refuse. But Beomgyu is stubborn, and he isn’t one to give up so easily. Especially if he feels like you’re withholding information from him. “Tell me.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

He raises his eyebrows in mocking shock, “No way. He never made you cum?”

Your nostrils flair from pure embarrassment and shock. How’d he know? You quickly try to control your expressions, masking it to not give him a hint that his guess was right, but he knew you too well. You hate that. Especially now.

“Can’t believe you’re hung up on a man—fuck, baby are you close? Hung up on a man that never made you orgasm—shit,” He breathes, rubbing his clothed dick on your thigh, getting off at the sight of your face. You really are falling apart. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll take care of you.”

You tighten your hold on his hair, feeling yourself get close as you grind down on his fingers, chasing your high, choosing for your sanity to ignore all his sweet talkings.

“Gyu, gyu I-I’m gonna—No—no-why? God, fuck you, you’re such a—such a dickhead!”

Beomgyu just ruined your orgasm by completely taking out his fingers, you could practically cry out of frustration and yet he didn’t seem the least bit sorry. Instead, he makes a show of licking his fingers, the ones he just had in you, swirling his tongue and sucking them clean while making direct eye contact. You cower a little but still keep your eyes on him. Now you aren’t sure if you could stay as bitter.

You blink rapidly to collect yourself, because holy shit, you’re getting weak for…Beomgyu. “Why’d you do that? I was close Gyu.” you say exasperated.

He unbuckles his jeans, “I said I’d take care of you, just trust me.” Zipping down his pants, he’s quick to drop it down to his knees before completely abandoning them on the floor.

He flings his cock out of the restrictions of his boxers and you’re practically drooling at the pretty sight. He isn’t the biggest you’ve seen but he definitely has the girth—his tip leaking pre cum down his length, hands trying to lube it with his spit. “Beomgyu, condom.”

“I don’t have one.” He breathes, already on you as he lays wet kisses down your collarbones before he gets irritated with your shirt and takes it off, revealing your bare tits. “God, you’re so sexy.” He drawls, sucking hickeys all over your chest in hunger.

You wish you didn’t have to, but you resist his touch and in turn he lets out an annoyed whine, his voice vibrating against your exposed skin. “Beomgyu, we can’t—we need a condom.”

He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout, the cutest you’ve seen him this entire day. “I’ll pull out, I promise. Please, I need you right now.”

In that moment of weakness, his tone so needy, as if he really did need you made you feel some sort of power—like you were the hottest, sexiest woman in the world. And so you bite your tongue, and trust Beomgyu to not ruin your life. You’ve done that quite a few times.

“Swear you’ll pull out.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I do.” You say with conviction. “I do, obviously. It’s just-”

“I know. Take a breather for me. Said I’ll take care of you, didn’t I?”

You could feel him lining up to your entrance, his tip prodding your hole, and you’re already getting desperate. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” you breathe.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You do, not sure what to expect until Beomgyu spits, letting his saliva slowly fall down in your mouth. “Swallow.” he demands, his low voice making you shiver—dark eyes watching every twitch of your face intensely.

You gulp his saliva down your throat, obeying and suddenly his expression morphs into lust you’ve never been met with before. You don’t even get to process it for longer, bask in the attention you’re getting before he’s pressing your thighs to your body, pushing into you with a deep groan—filling you up to the brim, your cunt not prepared for the aching stretch. You can feel each vein against your walls, you can feel his slight twitching, you can feel everything. “Fuck, fuck you’re made for me. You’re perfect—shit, you’re perfect princess.”

“Gyu—” you cry out, gripping the sheets under you. It was too much, too much for him to already start slamming his hips. “Gyu what—” you’re cut off by your own moan the moment he hits your g-spot, your face scrunched up, hot as you let out lewd sounds with no control of your own, throat strained already. It's not a surprise he manages to find it on his first try, despite it catching you off guard with the sudden wave of pleasure.

“Should’ve fucked you sooner. Get your little pussy molded just for my dick. You would’ve liked that, right princess?” He breathes out in a long winded babble, his hips unrelenting with each thrust, already quickly building up to be in erratic speed. Through your blurry vision you could see his eyes focusing down on the jiggle of your breasts lewdly, drool trickling down the edge of his lips, the brutal slapping sounds of them from his roughness getting his head light with ecstasy. You’re more than aware of what he wanted to do when he lets your legs rest from the ache of angling them so high. Dirty pervert.

You can’t handle him playing with your tits again, you were too sensitive for anything more than you’re getting but you can’t find it in your throat to say anything before Beomgyu gives in to his lust, leaning down to attach his mouth to your sore nipple. Abusing it as he suckles harshly, muffled moans against your breasts.

His pace getting quicker, clearly getting off from sucking your nipples like a dumb baby. It was getting you embarrassingly close, your pussy clenching around his dick. “Princess. My princess is so—mmf—so perfect.”

“Stop calling me that.” You manage to squeak out. Hes been using that nickname the entire time, and though it was easy to ignore everything else, the nickname was affecting you more than you’d like to admit.

He detaches from your tits, slowing his movement, looking up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh? Princess? Why?”

“He—he used to.”

He blinks a few times before his lips draw into a sneer, clearly irritated and you’re about to backtrack, but it’s too late. Your eyes fly wide open, breath stricken when he, with no mercy, picks up his speed again, drilling his dick so far into you, you think there’s probably a bulge showing through your stomach—its when you let the tears stream down, let yourself go as he fucks you dumb with each sharp thrust serving as a punishment. But for what exactly? For mentioning your ex? Did he hate him that much?

“You can replace your memories of him with me princess. I know you can do that, I’ll make sure you do. You’re my princess, and I’m the only one who can call you that. Remember that, yea?”

You nod up and down, and he leans down to give your lips a peck, one then two then three until he loses it and it starts getting heated, tongue messily intertwining, spit exchanged in desperate action. Drilling his dick in and out your sopping pussy, squelching pornographic like sounds filling the room—you think you’re screaming at this point, mind too clouded to be fully present. You’ll definitely hear a word or two from your neighbors.

“Fuck princess, are you close?” he hisses, “I’m close too, so close. Tell me when you get there baby, okay?”

You manage to nod, pressure quickly building up

Suddenly you feel him force in a finger in your pussy, stretching you out to unimaginable degrees. “B-beomgyu—I’m cumming, I’m—” your panicked hands at the intense feeling reach out to grab at his chest, crumbling his shirt’s fabric, using the last bit of your strained voice to moan his name, your orgasm so overwhelming you genuinely start seeing white, body shaking as you try to calm yourself down. “F-fuck.” you breathe out.

The way you still clutch onto his arms pushes Beomgyu to his high too, quick to pull out of your gushing pussy before a mistake happened. It takes only two strokes before he’s spurting his seed all over your tummy, biting down a groan, obsessively taking in each inch of your body’s ruined state.

He did this. He ruined you.

The only thing filling the room being the heavy breaths of you both, Beomgyu’s hair plastered onto his forehead from sweat, yours disheveled, a complete mess. Suddenly, a notification ding goes off, and your attention’s snapped to your side. “It’s my phone.” You awkwardly point out, noticing the light before reaching your arm to get it to you.

He doesn’t move from his position, still practically hovering over you. But you try not to focus too much on it, instead taking a quick look at your notification.

Your brows twitch in surprise at seeing the message on your lock screen. Fuck, it’s your ex! Did he want you back? So miraculously? After fucking your best friend?

Without any thought, you unlock your phone, trying to skim where the ellipses left off. It was a long message and—

“We just fucked. Can’t you wait a few minutes before going on your phone— Are you texting Jaehyun?” His warm smile turning to utter rage gets you stuttering.

“No I—well—yes, but—” you fumble on your words, not knowing how to explain—not knowing why you feel like you should explain, but Beomgyu isn’t one to play around clearly, as he snatches your phone from your hand and throws it to god knows where before your body’s turned around like it was nothing to Beomgyu, like you were some ragdoll. Pushing your hips up to have your ass up in the air with your face pushed into the sheets. “B-beomgyu wha..—”

Slap. Your whole body jerks at the impact of his hand, feeling yourself get teary eyed again. “Beomgyu what the hell?” You shriek, trying to squirm from your position, your ass burning. Then you get another slap, and your legs start to shake, bottom lip wobbling at the painful feeling of his rings.

“I promised you I’d make you forget him. Clearly one fuck wasn’t enough to get your mind off that asshole.”

Your panic only lasts a millisecond at feeling his tip for a second time before you’re abusing your throat again at the oversensitivity of having Beomgyu’s dick slam into your pussy, fucking your juices back in. He’s rougher now, ten times rougher. Maybe this was what all your girlfriends were describing to you, the feeling of having Beomgyu’s dick rut into you like wild feverish dog, fucking you like all you are is a pair of limbs, just for him to hound.

You can’t think straight, not a single word coming out of your mouth is intelligible, all slurred together dumbly as he ruthlessly digs his fingers in your hips, helping you find rhythm, your body reacting on its own as it syncs with his thrusts, moving your hips enough for him to let a hand go to the back of your head, further pushing you into the mattress, drool messy staining your white sheets, loud muffled wails filling the room.

“Fuck, you like this don’t you? Getting fucked like a bitch?” your hear him growl. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth, you don’t know anything right now, because you are being fucked like a bitch while thinking like one too, your nose running with your tongue uselessly out like something out of a porno. “Should I breed you like a bitch too? Huh? Will that make your pretty little head forget?”

At that, you cum again, and he sneers, a mean laugh at noticing your orgasm, “You want me to breed you princess? Make you round with my seed?” he drawls each vowel mockingly like you were a dumb kitten and he had to explain a really simple concept—still ramming your cunt, not giving you a fair chance of responding.

That’s how it goes for you’re not sure how long, Beomgyu switching positions to have your leg draped over his shoulder as he fucks you to oblivion, making you orgasm over and over again, before you really feel like you had blacken out at some point only to find yourself waking up to him still going at it—your entire body sore, down to every inch, your nipples especially swollen from all his sucking. He never cums inside you, instead emptying his load all over your body, making you basically a show of his dried semen.

You trust him, even when his tendency to go far never died down no matter how much he got older. “You awake?”

You flutter your eyes open, a dark room, and Beomgyu. His face is abnormally close to yours. “What happened?” your voice comes out very strained, your throat hard to use. Great, you entirely lost your voice.

“Think I might’ve had my balls in…too deep.”

Even a chuckle hurts every bone in your body, holy shit, how were you going to go to work tomorrow?! “Hey, don’t move around too much, I already cleaned you up. Just try to go back to sleep.”

“I don’t feel sleepy. I can’t.”

Beomgyu suddenly giggles, you could make out the cute small thing he does with his lips when he does. “What?” you ask.

“Your voice sounds funny.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. Of course he’d find it funny. Maybe next time you should peg his ass and see how he’d like to not speak for an entire week.

You feel his all too familiar hand laying on your cheek, and you subtly gulp. You don’t know if he heard. He probably did with how close you guys are, noses practically brushing against each other, his breathing all your hearing can pick up. “You know I’m always here for you, right?”

You nod, until you realize he might not be able to see you properly. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He takes his hand off your cheek, then turns on his back, folding his arms over his chest, staring up the ceiling. So the room won’t fall into an awkward silence, you say: “I have a question.”

He shuffles a little on the bed, letting out a hum in acknowledgment. “What was the I’m perfect for you thing about? We’re definitely not like, compatible or anything.”

He laughs before he turns his head to you in disbelief. “Are you serious? Is that a serious question?”

You nod, “Do I not sound serious?”

“No, you sound like you just had the best fuck of your life.” You roll your eyes in good nature, though exasperated, you were exposed to too much of his ego in one day. If you had the strength and will to come up with something to level his ego down, you would. “It’s called dirty talk if you must know the term fair maiden.”

“God, you’re so silly, I’m going to sleep.” You withstand your pain to turn your back to him, groaning with each movement. But you can’t escape his wrath it seems, because he almost immediately snakes his arm around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, his heartbeat all you can here against your back. “Can’t I find you perfect? You know, like…my dream girl. My princess.”

You rapidly blink a few times trying to process—past the deep rasp of his tired voice that you found yourself incredibly attracted to— his words and how it brewed big unfamiliar emotions, knowing now you won’t be able to get a blink of sleep after this.

“Can I keep calling you that by the way? It really sticks.”

Oh god, the last thing you’re going to do is self sabotage yourself even more and get yourself in a stickier situation than you already put yourself in. “No, that’s definitely staying in the bedroom.”

a/n: i have no idea how this reads, its basically bare of any editing so if the flow is a little choppy i sincerely apologize, i write at the golden time of 10pm-2am 😭

[pretty-little-mind33]

Kraven The Hunter x fem!reader

Summary: You meet a dangerous stranger in the woods...

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: kinda dark but still tame, cheating (reader), unprotected sex (pls use contraceptives in real life!), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, degradation kink, rough sex, riding, he spits in reader's mouth 👀, kissing (duh), fingering, light misogyny, ik he has a name but i use Kraven in this, bad russian google translate maybe (I AM SO SORRY I DID MY BEST—if you speak Russian and have any suggestions… please 🙏 ) LISTEN…I'M SORRY LIKE I COULD NOT RESIST WRITING FOR HIM…HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? Probably NOT comic accurate…

SERGEI KRAVINOFF MASTERLIST

You don't know what you hate more at the moment—your boyfriend or the continuous sweat forming on your hairline from the dampness and heat. It's becoming dark outside, which should cool the air and help with the heat but not as much with how pissed you are at Chris. 

With a small squeal, you stumble on the roots of a tree, gasping as your ankle twists awkwardly in your hiking shoes and the buzz of an insect flies around your ear. You swat your hand near your cheekbone. You're holding the branches you'd found in one arm now as the stickiness of the air makes your skin feel heavy. 

Screw you bugs! 

Screw you woods!

And most of all screw you Chris!

You're too immersed in your hatred that you don't realize you've fallen into an animal trap until it's too late. You scream, the branches falling from your arm as your body folds and the net wraps around you, pulling you up into the air. The rope burns your exposed skin as you squirm. This had to be a nightmare, some sick cruel joke Chris is playing on you. You half hope he'll jump out from behind the bushes and laugh in your face. 

You wait in silence for a moment but your boyfriend doesn't show up. 

"Help!" You scream out helplessly, "Is anyone there? Please, I-I'm trapped," you call. 

"Hmm, yes, that is the point of one of those," a deep voice drawls from behind you and you wince. You try to strain your neck to look at the newcomer but you can't move enough to see who it is. It certainly isn't Chris. Chris doesn't sound like that.

"Please, can you help me?" you plead shamelessly now. 

Your heart is beating so hard. You hear the creak of leaves and dirt as whoever stands behind you walks closer to you. You feel them turn the entire net around and soon you're face to face with dark piercing golden eyes. A color you can only describe as supernatural. 

"Now why would I help you? You stumbled into my trap—that makes you my prize."

The man is tall and strong. His shoulders are broad and his hair curls messily across his forehead. He's wearing an open vest made of brown leather and adorned with fur, thick leather bracers, and a necklace where three animal teeth hang.

You concentrate on the sharpness of the teeth for a while, ignoring how very much shirtless the man is against them, but eventually you lose focus as with a swift motion, he uses a knife he'd taken from his belt to cut the net and you crash to the ground. 

Immediately, the dirt sticks to your sweaty skin as you scramble up onto your feet. You brush hair from your face and stumble back, almost falling again until the man's large, calloused hand finds your forearm and he holds you still. "Calm down," he says hoarsely, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening.

"You don't wanna run from me, gorgeous. Clearly, you don't know your left and right around here but I do. So, stay still for me so I can think about what I'm gonna do with you."

He has a thick accent and you find yourself nodding. He drops your arm and you don't move. You look up at him as he looks around, rubbing his hand over his jaw like he's debating his next moves. You can see his knife, which he has secured into his belt again, glistens with blood and your stomach churns. 

"Please don't hurt me," you whisper.

The man stares at you blankly, his eyebrows crease as he looks you up and down. After a moment, the corners of his lips curl upwards and he moves closer. You squeeze your eyes shut, scared, and you gasp inaudibly as a tear escapes you. 

The man's thumb wipes it away, his hand cupping your cheek and he speaks a language you don't understand—russian you assume—"Я бы никогда не подумал причинить тебе боль, (I would never dream of hurting you)," His tone seems sweeter than how he'd spoken before but all hopes of him translating what he'd said disappear when he asks:

"Why are you out here all alone?"

You recover from his touch as it leaves you and you try and explain, "I'm not alone. My boyfriend," you turn to look behind you but all you see is the trees and hear the rustling of animals in the shadows, "is around here somewhere," you finish.  

"He left you? Alone? Now? It's almost dark," the man accuses as if it had been your choice.

"I- I was supposed to bring branches for the fire," you say quickly, gesturing to the branches that had fallen from your arms. The man looks where you're pointing and chuckles darkly. 

"Oh, милый (darling), those aren't branches. Those aren't even twigs."

You glare at him, not finding it funny at all, "Well, I couldn't carry the heavier ones," you defend and the man interrupts with another chuckle.

"Ah," he smirks, "so why was it you who went out? Can your man not care for you properly?"

You scrunch your nose, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The man's smirk turns into a smile, his teeth showing, and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach as he smiles. He's handsome—almost too handsome for someone who looks like they live in the woods.

"I mean," he drawls, leaning in even closer, "what kind of man allows his woman to do all his labor, leaving her on her lonesome and vulnerable to bad men like me?" Your breath hitches and your eyes widen when he finishes, "Your man is a pathetic little boy who doesn't deserve a woman like you."

Your mind races. You want to defend Chris, tell this man that Chirs is an amazing, loving, boyfriend—but another part of you can't deny Chris had basically coerced you onto this hike, on your birthday nonetheless, and then promptly abandoned you to fend for yourself.

However, those details weren't what your mind latched onto. No. As you stare at the handsome stranger, his words ring in your ears; "bad men like me"

The man can tell and he chuckles, "Don't look so scared. I like you. You're the most entertainment I've had in a while. Come," he beckons you over, turning around and gathering his net over his shoulder. When you don't follow instantly he calls out, "I can offer you shelter and food, and a fire," he adds with a glance over his shoulder, "Unless you'd rather find your way back to your boyfriend. Your choice, милый (darling)."

So, you end up in the man's home. The man—who had finally introduced himself as Kraven— lives in a small cabin that's obviously been worn out by time and weather. All the furniture looks barely used—as if there hasn't been life inside this cabin for a long time. 

Kraven's hospitality is coarse and oddly demanding as he pours you some honey tea he made himself and hands you some bread. You don't complain, you're starving. As Kraven makes a fire, he mumbles things in Russian and occasionally he'll look over at you, sending a shiver up your spine. Your hair is wet from the shower you just had and the strands stick to your cheeks.

Your mind wanders to Chris. Is he okay? It is a warmer night—so he really shouldn't freeze to death. You feel guilty for having accepted Kraven's offer but your thoughts are interrupted by the fire starting and Kraven stands. He runs a hand in his curls and drops his vest on the couch near you. You look up, suddenly extra aware of how shirtless and toned he is. 

"Продолжай смотреть на меня так, и у меня не будет другого выбора, кроме как трахнуть тебя прямо здесь и сейчас, милый, (Keep looking at me like that and I'll have no choice but to fuck you right here and now, darling)," Kraven says in a growl and the only word you recognize is the last one since he's used it a few times.

"What does милый mean?" you ask, attempting to pronounce the word but fumbling it. Kraven smirks and tilts his head as he walks closer until he's sitting next to you. 

"It's a term of endearment," he chuckles, "like darling—or honey."

You feel your cheeks burn. It's almost worse to hear him explain the term rather than just using it. You look down at your hands, feeling Kraven's warmth next to you. He smells like pine-wood and ashes and the scent is invading. You feel safer near him then you'd ever felt in Chris's arms. Guilt settles in your stomach again. 

"Ты так сладко пахнешь. (you smell so sweet)," Kraven says again and his hand comes up to move some stray hairs behind your ear. The air shifts and sexual tension settles around you and the feeling dances across your skin with fervor. 

You don't dare turn your head to look at him, afraid of how he's staring. "What does that all mean? The Russian?" you mutter.

"It means I want to kiss you, doll," Kraven chuckles and his hand cups your chin and he turns your head so you're staring at him. Your eyes are round and he chuckles, "what do you say милый (darling)? Will you indulge me? I wanna see if you taste as good as I think you do."

Your heart jumps in your throat and suddenly you feel very small compared to him. Your eyes flicker to his lips and then up to look into his eyes. They sparkle darkly and you wonder if anyone has ever been able to say no to those eyes. You surely won't be the first. You nod. 

Kraven leans in and captures your lips with passion so fierce you're afraid your lips will bruise. Still, they slide across his easily and it's as if you've been molded for one another. Kraven's hands tighten in your hair, bunching up the strands so he can control your head movements. Control. His entire demeanor screams control.

"Good girl," he mutters with a smirk against your lips and his hands move to grip your hips. You're wearing some shorts and a shirt you found in the bedroom when you changed from your shower.

You gasp as he helps you up and you straddle him now. With a humph, he lifts up his hips and slides his knife holster to the side so it isn't digging into your thigh or his. He grins wolfishly, continuing to kiss you. His lips trail up your neck and near your ear. 

It never felt like this with Chris. Sure, it had been fine—it had been good even in the beginning—but this? No, nothing could compare to this. 

Kraven's hands are large and strong against your skin as he kneads your waist and ass. "Ты такая хорошая девушка для меня (You're such a good girl for me)," he whispers, his voice hoarse, and as attractive as it is, you whine and furrow your brows.

"Please, don't talk in Russian anymore. I can't understand you," you pout, pulling him closer as you unconsciously grind your hips into his for more friction. "I wanna understand you," 

Kraven grips your hips harder and rolls them onto him, earning him a soft moan that falls from your lips. "Alright, darling, alright," he smiles and kisses you again. "Tell me, do'you want more from me? Seems like you do," he grinds your hips again, punctuating his words as he teases you mercilessly. 

You are at loss for words. This is wrong. You're cheating on your boyfriend, you try to remind yourself, with a man you met in the woods. But if this is so wrong, why does it feel so good? You moan. You desperately want to slide your shorts and panties down to allow even more friction on your clit. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you must look so needy. 

Kraven hooks his fingers in your waistband, running his thumb over your hip, reading your mind, "Is this what you want, darling? You wanna rub yourself on me like a little slut?" 

The insult shouldn't be as hot as it is, but when it's followed by a searing kiss, the word is honey on his tongue. You moan and drop your head in the crook of his neck, grasping onto his shoulders as you lift your hips so he can easily slide your panties and shorts down. "Please," you whisper, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. 

Kraven smirks and, as he holds your nape with one hand, he uses the other and finds your pussy. He explores your folds, wanting to make sure you're wet and ready for him. He rubs your clit, earning him smaller, more high pitched sounds from your parted lips as your wetness seeps over his hand. 

Kraven teases you for a little while longer, murmuring praises in your ear until he suddenly spreads his legs and you fall to your knees in front of the couch. You gasp, looking up at him from the ground. 

He looks majestic, sitting there, as if the couch was his throne and he was a King. 

Kraven's smirk widens as he fists one hand in your hair, using his other hand to lick his fingers clean of your arousal and then swiftly unbuckle his belt. He stares at you as he does this and tilts his head. "D'you do this for your boyfriend, gorgeous?" Kraven seems amused by the word boyfriend, as if it's some game to him. 

You nod, sinking onto your heels as you watch Kraven pull out his cock. He's big and hard and your eyes widen. "D'you like doing this?" he asks, his voice low. You catch his eye and shake your head honestly. You didn't like giving Chris head—but Chris's dick didn't look like this. Your eyes snap up to Kraven's cock. 

"You'll like it with me," he adds, smirking, and guides your head to his cock. You let him, having no complaints as you take him in your mouth. You're nervous at first, unsure of what to do, but soon you gain more confidence as you try and take him even deeper. 

You gag a little and Kraven just tightens his hand in your hair. 

"You can take it. I know you can, doll. There," he coos, clearly enjoying your work as you adjust your mouth around him. "There, yeah. That's my good girl." Kraven grunts out the word "my" and warmth pools in your stomach. You moan around his cock, sucking faster as if to respond yes, I am yours.

With a pop, he pulls your head away and tilts your chin. He helps you up to straddle him again, keeping you eye level as he positions his cock at your entrance. He squeezes your cheeks, opening your lips, and then spits into your mouth before claiming your lips again. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him against you and he sinks you down onto him. 

"Can you feel me, милый (darling)?" he grunts, moving you on his cock slowly, torturing you. He chuckles darkly when you whine. 

"Mmh," is the only sound you make as he fills you up. It feels so good. 

"You feel full, hm?" Kraven taunts, moving your hips a little faster as his hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise. He pulls one away a moment and rips your shirt, attaching his lips to your hardened nipples as you squeal. 

"Yes, oh, I feel so full," you whimper, bouncing up on him, helping him so you can go even faster and deeper. "Shit, you're so big."

"Шлюха (slut)," he groans, the word slipping past his lips in ecstasy as he kisses and sucks across your chest. You whine, wanting him to tell you what the word means so you can understand him but Kraven smirks. He kisses your collarbone and then, using his strength, he easily flips you over so you're laying on the couch and he's on top of you now. 

Kraven sinks his cock back into you as he snaps his hips hard. You gasp, wrapping your arms around him and your nails slide up and down his back, and he groans with pleasure at the sting. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck please," you plead, eyes rolling as your body shivers.

"You're so tight around me. As if you were made just for me," he says as he continues to fuck into you. "Does your boyfriend fuck you this good?" Kraven asks, his accent thicker as he loses himself in the pleasure. His hand comes to wrap around your jaw as he holds you in place under him. 

You shake your head. 

"Слова (Words)," he growls but then curses and says, "Words, darling. Tell me."

"N-no. He doesn't fuck me this good," you whisper as Kraven's cock slides into you. You're so wet and he's so hard and this is so so wrong. 

"Yeah? You gonna run back to him now, bunny?" he snarls and nips as your earlobe. He thrusts harder and smirks at the pet name. "Hmm. run little bunny, back to your poor excuse of a boyfriend? No," Kraven grunts, as if he's made a decision, "I'm keeping you, doll. I can take care of you better than he can."

You moan at this and nod, "Please," you whisper, feeling your thighs clench around him as you can feel your orgasm approaching. 

Kraven feels it too. "You're squeezing around me, Шлюха (slut), do you wanna come?" Kraven teases and his thrusts slow. You whine and look at him, your eyes becoming teary from need. You nod.

He laughs and kisses your lips with a grin, "Alright, you can come. Go on, let yourself come all over my cock," he smirks against your skin as his sharp teeth nip at your neck. 

 You whine, letting your body finally relax as you come. You gasp, your eyes rolling from pleasure as your legs feel like jello. Kraven finishes inside you with a grunt and you whimper at the feeling.

He smiles as you sink into the cushions and your eyes flutter. His large hand comes to hold behind your head as he pulls you up and leans you against his chest. 

While Kraven's touch is comforting, it's also possessive and claiming. His thumb strokes over your hair and his lips kiss your head. He's holding you so close you're almost afraid he'll never let you go. You sigh when he slides out and picks you up in his arms as he stands.

"Good girl," he mutters as he walks you to the bathroom and adds, "You did so well for me." You let yourself relax in his arms as he promises he'll be here from now on. You're his now. 

You're so blissed out from your orgasm that your mind doesn't understand what that truly means. Instead, you shut your eyes and let him take care of you and, with a small smile, you think,

Happy. Fucking. Birthday. To. Me.

[watchmegetobsessed]

MISTAKEN HATRED

A/N: okay im veeery nervous about this one bc its the longest story i've written in probably months and it took me sooo long to finish it so im just praying its not utter shit 🙃 anywaysss, happy holidays guys! it's not overly festive, but it has some vibes so im labeling it as my xmas fic haha feedback is always appreciated! 🎄

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

SUMMARY: Things don't go as smooth as you planned with your bakery's opening, but you're doing your best to overcome the struggles. However there is one person who is hating on your business as if it was his job: Harry Styles. You just wish you knew what you did to earn his hatred...

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

This is not how you imagined the last weeks before your official opening. 

You imagined the interrior to be fully done by now so you can focus on the last touches, ordering the right ingredients and promoting the opening.

Instead, you’re staring at what’s supposed to be your eight tables, intact and put together but it’s all in pieces. You specifically remember the website said they would deliver them done and you wouldn’t have to play puzzles. But they arrived six days late and very much not the way they promised. 

Taking a deep breath you stare up at the ceiling and decide to take the trash out before turning your bakery into Ikea.

“It’s alright. I can do this. I can do anything,” you keep telling yourself as you drag out the trash bags that are almost the size of you. 

You knew opening your own business would be tough. Especially in Eroda, the little town you have some of your earliest memories from, where your grandma used to live, the place that was closest to her heart and it breaks yours to know she couldn’t spend her last years here because she was too sick to live on her own. 

She never asked you to come back here, but the moment you found her recipe books the summer after she passed, you just knew what you had to do. Now it’s been three years and you’re finally opening Nana’s that will bring her warmth and love back to Eroda, or you hope so. 

Pushing the door open with your shoulder, you keep dragging the bags to the containers behind the small shop and you’re so deep in your thoughts you don’t even notice the two people just a couple of feet away.

“Hi, Love!”

You recognize Anne’s sweet, chirpy voice and a smile spreads across your face even before you look up, but the moment you see the person standing next to her, all joy just drains from your body. 

Harry Styles is standing as grouchy and arrogant as always next to his mother, hands hidden in the pockets of his fleece jacket, his unruly curls are tucked underneath his beanie and any normal woman would be into the man, but you. Not after he very clearly let you know you don’t belong here and you should take your business back to the city where you came from. 

You expected some resistance, not much has changed in town in the past decades and you had a feeling some might want to keep it that way, but you guessed older people would riot against your bakery, not a thirty years old grown man. 

“Hi Anne,” you smile back and mustering up all your strength you throw one of the bags into the bin, but you overestimated your muscle work, because it only falls to the edge and almost topples right out. Luckily, you grab it just in time and push it in.

“Oh, dear, those bags are bigger than you! Harry, help her!” 

“No, it’s alri–” 

Before you get to protest, Harry strides over to you and grabs the remaining two bags as if they weighed nothing and throws them into the bin without breaking a sweat. 

Of course he is fit, the man probably runs up the hill carrying twice his weight every morning, because that’s how you can imagine him working out. 

Though you shouldn’t be imagining anything about him.

“Thanks,” you purse your lips and square your shoulders as you face the two of them.

“How is everything coming together?”

Anne has been so enthusiastic about your bakery, she comes around probably every other day, checks in on your progress and always offers her help. 

“Um, it is… okay, I guess,” you let out a tired chuckle. Glancing over at Harry you see him looking to the side, as if he wasn’t even listening, but something is telling you he is very much focused on the conversation.

Yeah, that’s right, I’m still here! Not even your arrogance can chase me away!

Anne cranes her neck, peeking into the shop and she spots the pile in the middle.

“Oh, are you planning to put those together by yourself? Harry, why don’t you help her?”

The moment she suggests, you both protest.

“No, there’s no need.”

“Mum, I don’t really have the time,” he says at the same time, but it doesn’t seem to go through. Anne’s phone starts ringing and she excuses herself, leaving the two of you there. 

Great, this is all you were missing today, an awkward, forced situation with the man who wants to see you gone. Perfect.

“Should’ve ordered them done, don’t you think?” he speaks up, nodding towards the shop.

At first, you just blink at him, then close your eyes and when you open them, you have the fakest smile on your twitching face.

“What a wonderful idea! I totally did not think of that!”

“Then send them back and ask them to bring what you ordered.” He rolls his eyes and it’s irking you so much. You definitely don’t need his stupid advices, not when you’re terribly behind your schedule.

“They arrived almost a week later than they should have, if I send them back there’s now ay they will send me the new ones in time for the opening.”

Harry stands there, staring at the pile of furniture pieces inside and for a moment you think he might actually offer his help, which you’re not sure you’d have accepted, but it remains a mystery, because that’s not what he says when he speaks up.

“I’m busy for real. Mum likes to offer my help around without asking me.”

It takes you a couple of moments to figure out what you feel about what he just said. And when you finally do, you see red.

“As I said, I don’t need help. I did everything by myself and I will get this done as well. I don’t need your unwanted, half-assed effort to pretend like you’re helping me.”

You come off rougher than you probably should have, but he’s been bugging you ever since you moved to Eroda. The man knows nothing about you or your business, yet every time he comes near your shop he acts like it physically pains him to even look at it. He’d be the last person you’d ask for help, he doesn’t have to act like he has so much to do and doesn’t have the time to help when he doesn’t actually want to help. 

Harry stares at you with such intensity you almost break and stutter a sorry out, but that’s when Anne returns.

“Ah, we have to run. But I will come by tomorrow, Darling. And Harry can hel–”

“No need for help,” you smile at her as gratefully as you can force yourself to be in this moment. 

“Alright, then see you later,” she waves and you nod at her before your eyes meet Harry’s one last time before they walk away and you return to your shop. 

It takes you six hours to assemble the tables later that day, but you do it.

With no help. 

Moving to Eroda, it hasn’t been your only goal to have your business become part of the town but you also knew you’d have to become one of the locals as well. Only a handful of people know who your grandmother was and you don’t plan to reveal it until the opening. You want them to taste all the baked goods and think of her first and then put the picture together. But this means you’re a total newbie for most people around. Last time you spent more than just a day here was when you were sixteen and you’ve changed a lot since then, so it’s natural people don’t recognize you. 

Anne has been your biggest help in breaking the ice and involving you in as many things as possible so you get to meet the people of Eroda. The weeks leading up to Christmas are usually filled with all kinds of winter activities locals enjoy wholeheartedly. Concert by the town hall, decorating the trees at the main square, collecting donations and cooking for those in need for example. You’ve been to all of these and very much enjoyed being part of the community. This weekend however, you can’t say you’re looking forward to the new festive activity.

Ice-skating on the frozen lake.

It sounds nice and fun, but you’ve ice-skated only once in your life and ended up breaking your wrist. Not your favorite childhood memory for sure and you don’t exactly want to relive it as an adult. 

You arrive with the intention of just sipping some hot tea and watch everyone else skate around until your fingers are falling off and you can go back to the shop to finish putting up the tinker lights at the back. 

Anne however had different ideas about today. Because as soon as you arrive at the lake, she is waving at you, holding up a pair of skates and you know they are not hers, because she’s already wearing those. 

“Kick those boots off, Love, I brought you my old skates! Come join us!” She smiles brightly at you from next to the pier where people get on and off the ice. 

“Oh, no, I don’t skate, Anne, but thank you!”

“Don’t be silly, even Bernie is on the ice!” She nods towards the old man who must be at least eighty, sliding on the ice as if he did this all his life. He might have, you have no idea.

“It’s really not for me, I–”

“Just try it! Come on!” 

She drops the skates by your feet and then slides away, leaving you no chance to protest.

Staring down at the skates, you can feel your stomach churning, but as you look up you see that literally everyone is on the ice, you’d look weird standing on the pier on your own. 

“Fuck,” you mumble under your breath as you give in and sitting down you start peeling your boots off your feet. 

“You’ll break your ankle if you leave it that loose.”

You know the voice and it just adds to your stress even more. You see his black skates in front of you as you’re trying to lace your own up.

“Hi Harry, so good to see you again,” you hiss through your teeth. 

“Tighten it or you’ll fall.”

“I’ll fall either way,” you mumble as you go back and pull the laces tighter. When you’re done you straighten up, but remain sitting on the end of the pier, anxiously string down at your feet. Harry doesn’t speak, but you know he is still there, probably watching you, trying to figure out what’s wrong with you, why you’re not just standing up and going at it like everyone else. 

Your hands are holding onto the wood underneath you for dear life as you picture yourself finally moving, but you never get to actually acting. 

“Do you need help standing up?” Harry speaks up at last and his voice is different this time. It’s not as arrogant, maybe even concerned. Do you look that awful right now?

“N-No.” Your voice cracks and you hate that it’s him who sees you like this. 

“Doesn’t seem like–”

“Would you stop being an asshole for a moment?” you snap at him and finally look up, eyes meeting his examining gaze. You have no idea what he sees in yours, but a few seconds later he breaks eye-contact, looks around as if he is hesitating before he sits beside you at last.

“You don’t have to skate if you don’t want to.”

“Tell that to your mother,” you mumble under your breath and it makes him laugh.

The sound of it is actually nice, surprising, but nice to hear something other than insults coming from his mouth.

“She can be a bit too much, but she’s just too enthusiastic.” You sit in silence for a bit before Harry turns to you. “You really don’t have to skate.”

“I want to take part, I just… I broke my wrist on the ice once when I was a kid and I haven’t tried skating since then.”

You didn’t plan on telling him much, but you felt like you had to explain why you’re being so dramatic. Part of you is expecting him to make fun of you for being scared of skating because of something that happened ages ago, but the arrogant comments never come.

Instead he stands up and when you look up at him he is holding a hand out to you.

“I’ll help you. You won’t fall.”

Any other day you’d think he is plotting against you, that he would get you to trust him and the trip you the first chance he got, but not this time. He looks and sounds genuine and as you take his hand, you put way too much trust into them than you would have ever allowed yourself to. 

You hold onto him with both hands and he keeps you steady as you finally attempt to push yourself up from the edge of the pier. Your knees wobble the moment your weight is on the blades and you instantly feel yourself losing balance, but Harry’s hands wrap around your arms and keep you from falling.

“It’s okay. Relax a bit, you’ll find your balance.” He encourages you and it’s almost strange to hear him so supportive of anything you’re doing, but not breaking your neck keeps you too busy to care about his random act of kindness. 

“Try to move forward.”

“I can’t,” you protest without even trying.

“You can, just relax.”

“Don’t tell me to relax, it’s not gonna help me relax!”

“Y/N, you’re gonna have a panic attack if you don’t relax,” he warns you and you realize how fast you’re breathing and all your blood is being pumped into your head. 

“I-I can’t, I can’t do this, I–”

“Y/N, look at me!” His hands snap to your shoulders and you grab onto his biceps as you look him in the eyes while your chest is still heaving. “I’ve got you, okay? You’re not going to fall. I’m holding you, I promise.”

Focusing on his words you finally forget about your fears and instead, you’re now trying to figure out where this version of Harry came from and why he hid from you all along. 

You’re not one to trust people that easily, but just from this one promise he made, you let go of all your doubts and hesitation. 

“Okay,” you breathe out. Harry nods and his hands slowly slide lower until they rest on your waist. 

“You knew how to skate, right? Before you broke your wrist.” You nod. “Alright, then it will all come back quickly.”

There’s a tiny smile hiding in the corners of his lips and your heart pitter-patters in your chest, but not because of the skating this time. His hands on you are not helping either, because for some reason, you feel heat radiating through the millions of layers you’re wearing where his hands are touching you. 

What is happening?

“Okay, I’ll hold your hand and you just focus on moving forward, yeah?”

You nod and panic rises in your gut for a moment when his hands leave your shoulders, but then they instantly take your hands and you feel safe again. 

Slowly you start moving, inching forward, your hands gripping Harry’s so tight, you’re afraid you might hurt him, but you’d never let go of him, not when you’re getting farther away from the pier. 

“That’s it, you are doing great,” he encourages. “Try to move a bit less rigidly.”

“Easy to say that,” you breathe out shakily. 

It takes time to loosen up even the tiniest bit and not grip Harry’s hand as if you wanted to crush his bones. But as you slowly move around the ice, led by him, you finally get more and more familiar with the feeling of sliding on the ice. 

“See? It’s not that bad,” he smiles when you stop for a short break after circling back to the pier. 

“I still fear for my life, but it’s bearable now,” you nod and he just chuckles.

It looks good on him. His smile is warm and welcoming, it’s a shame it took you so long to see it. You definitely prefer this version of him. 

“Honey, it’s so lovely to see you on the ice!” Anne slides over to you with ease, holding a cup of something warm, probably hot chocolate. 

“Well, it’s not quite my element,” you let out an awkward chuckle.

“You’re doing just fine. Besides, you just snatched up the best skater in town.” Winking, she bumps her hip against Harry’s. Your puzzled look urges her to elaborate. “Harry took over coaching the boys’ hockey team last year, the kids adore him!”

Instantly, you imagine Harry dealing with a bunch of cute kids, cheering on them, teaching them, making them laugh… The image is actually moving something inside you that’s been buried somewhere deep for a while now.

“Y/N, how are things coming together? Everyone is buzzing for the big opening!” Anne does a little dance that makes you laugh, but at the same time, something changes in Harry. 

“Um, it’s going okay. Not how I planned, but I’ll manage.”

“I’m sure everything will fall into place perfectly. And if you need any help just let us know!” She turns to Harry, looking for validation that he is open to lending you a helping hand as well, but his reaction is not quite what she was expecting, probably. 

“Sorry, I gotta go now,” Harry mumbles quickly, his gaze obviously avoiding you or his mother and he skates away so fast you just blink after him. 

“What’s gotten into this boy?” Anne huffs, but she lets go of it fast, starts chatting about something you don’t quite catch, because you just stare after Harry, watching him slalom between the skaters so fast it’s almost aggressive. 

And once again, you feel like you’re back where you began. He hates you and you have no idea what you did against him. 

Theoretically, opening Nana’s two weeks before Christmas was a great idea, because you imagined all the baked goods people would order for the holidays, you knew it would be a great kick start.

Realistically, it means that now you have to do the last touch ups in the harsh winter that’s as cold as the North Pole. Or at least that’s how you imagine the North Pole.

It’s been non stop snowing for the past three days, the fresh, soft looking snow is now covering every bit of Eroda’s breathtaking view and though it’s very festive and nice to look at it from a warm room with something hot to drink, it’s not as relaxing when you’re still working on the bakery, doing the last bits of decorating and starting the first batches of baked goods, because in 24 hours, Nana’s is officially opening its front door to the public. 

You’ve been here since five in the morning, now it’s four in the afternoon but it’s almost entirely pitch dark outside so it feels like it’s nearing ten. The place is not a mess anymore, but the kitchen is, there’s all kinds of dough everywhere, you’re doing everything you can now so there’s less tomorrow, but even with all the work tonight you’ll be here at five in the morning again tomorrow. 

It’s been hours since the last time you looked out the window, so it fully goes over your head how heavy the snowfall has gotten lately, chasing home every soul from the streets. While you’re covered in flour and keep muttering Nana’s recipes to make sure everything is measured right, there is one more person out there who is still not home, battling the weather. 

Harry has been going around town all day, helping out the elderly with either delivering groceries, or repairing the heating, whatever they needed a helping hand with. He’s usually the person one calls in Eroda when something needs to be fixed.

The roads are now not quite safe to be driving around, but with his jeep he’ll be able to get home just before it gets too bad. Or so the thought, but that is until he drives by the bakery and sees the lights on.

At first he keeps driving, telling himself it’s not his business. But the farther he gets the guiltier he feels and then he turns the car around.

You’re too busy to hear the knocking at first, but then you hear it again and know it wasn’t just in your head. Rushing out of the kitchen you stop in front of the door, because through the glass you make out Harry standing there, the snow already covering the top of his head as if he’s been out there for hours. 

“It’s freezing out here, Y/N! Would be nice if you let me in!” he shouts through the glass and you finally snap out of your surprise, unlock the door and Harry practically runs inside. 

“What are you doing here?” You watch him shake the snow off of him and finally turn towards you. For a moment you forget about how you parted ways at the skating, how cold he turned out of the blue after helping you. 

“Funny, I wanted to ask you the same thing. There’s a snowstorm out there, you won’t be able to get home if you stay here!”

“Are you kidding me? I’m opening tomorrow, I have a million things to finish!”

“So you’re risking getting snowed in? Were you planning to sleep here or something?”

“Maybe! Yeah! I need to get a ton of dough ready and I still haven’t put up the tinker lights and I need to clean up…”

Harry stares at you with such a vivid look, you expect him to start screaming at you or something. But he just keeps staring until he finally breaks.

“Okay, where are the lights and where do you want them?”

“What?”

“You’ll spend the night here if you do everything alone. I’ll help and hopefully we’ll be able to leave when it’s all done.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him as he is looking around, searching for the lights to start working, but you can’t really believe he is about to help you out when he could be home by now. On the other hand, you could really use the help and maybe finish earlier than midnight, so after pushing your surprise to the side you start instructing him. While Harry works on the lights, you return to the kitchen. 

To test out the dough for the croissants, the one thing you’re the most nervous about because it used to be Nana’s specialty, you decide to make a few and pop them in the oven while you do everything else. 

It’s hard to believe you’re finally at this point, so close to the opening, turning your biggest dream into reality. You wish Nana would be here with you today.

“Lights are done.”

Harry interrupts your thoughts and you wipe your floury hands into your apron before following him out of the kitchen to see the work he did.

“Oh my God, this looks perfect!” you gasp, seeing all the tinker lights run along the ceiling and walls, lighting up the place like magic. 

Harry just nods, pressing his lips together, as if it was nothing. 

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah, I have a few pictures I want to hang up and then it’s all done–” The timer in the kitchen goes off, letting you know the croissants are done. “Let me take them out and then I’ll show you where I want them.”

You rush back to the kitchen and take the fresh, steaming croissants out of the oven, completely missing that Harry has followed you and he is now watching you curiously as you take the baked goods off the tray one by one.

“That smells like…” he speaks up, but the words die on his tongue and you just smile, placing one onto a plate, holding it out for him.

“Here, try it.”

He hesitates, but takes the plate at last. Though it’s still hot and he should definitely wait a bit, it’s hard to resist, you know that. You watch him take a tentative bite and wait for his reaction as if he is about to tell you your future. 

“So? How is it?”

“It’s… it’s really… good. Really good.”

It’s obvious he is having a hard time admitting you did something right, but his face says it all. You just don’t understand why he looks kind of puzzled, but you think it’s just because he didn’t expect it to be this good. 

“I bet the croissants will be the bestsellers,” you chuckle as Harry takes bite after bite until it’s all gone. He devoured it so fast it’s incredible. You couldn’t help but focus on his pink lips while he ate and those tiny sounds he let slip… they surely planted some thoughts into your head, thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking of when it comes to Harry.

“Come on, I’ll show you the pictures.” It’s your attempt to clear your mind.

You walk out and grab the box that holds all the framed pictures you want to hang on the walls, of course, all of them feature Nana. 

“Okay, so I thought a few could go over here, and then on that wall as well, and these, I want them behind the counter…” You start explaining your vision, but when you turn around you see that he is staring at a photo in shock. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

You step closer and see that it’s the photo that was taken on your tenth birthday. You’re holding up one of the cupcakes Nana made just for you and she is standing behind you, with her hands on your shoulders. It’s a fond memory, one of your favorite birthdays you ever had. 

“Oh, is it the dungarees?” you ask, pointing at your outfit. “I wasn’t quite the fashion icon back then,” you chuckle.

“No, it’s– who’s this?” he asks, pointing at Nana. You give him a puzzled look, because it’s not rocket science to figure out who the woman in the picture is.

“That’s Nana, obviously.”

“But as in… your grandma?” He finally looks up at you and his face is frantic, as if he is solving a lifelong mystery. 

“Of course, Harry, what is goin–”

“Y/N, Nana was your grandma?”

“Yes!” you laugh in confusion. “Of course she was, that’s why I’m opening a bakery under her name with all her recipes she taught me!”

You can’t read the look on Harry’s face as he puts the photo back into the box and then starts walking around with his hands on his hips. 

“Why do you look like you just learned you were adopted or something?”

“Y/N, I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That you’re… Nana’s granddaughter. I had no clue.” He runs a hand through his hair and you try your best not to stare at how his bicep flexes in the movement. 

“What? Harry, why else would I be opening a bakery, named Nana’s right here, out of every possible place on Earth?”

“I don’t know!” he admits, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s why I… Okay, this is why I hated the idea so much. Because I knew Nana, I loved her! She was like… my grandma too! And I thought you just chose this name for fun!”

“Are you kidding me?” you huff in disbelief.

“I felt like you were ruining her memory, that’s why I was so against this place. I had zero clue that you are actually… related to her.”

“Oh my God, Harry!” There’s nothing else you can do other than just… laughing. This whole situation feels oddly comical, like something that only happens in movies. 

“I know, I’m sorry!” He exhales sharply and you truly see the regret on his face. “I was such a dick.”

“Yes you were!” you laugh in agreement. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Well, now at least I know why you were my biggest hater all along.”

“Not anymore!” He holds up his hands and finally breaks a smile that looks so fucking handsome, it makes you forget about everything in a second. 

Turning to the side he stares out the window for a moment before looking back at you.

“The snowing has stopped, let’s wrap things up and go home, alright? Big day tomorrow.”

You both go back to work, Harry finishes quite fast with the pictures so then he helps you clean up in the kitchen and you notice how obviously different the vibes are now. There’s no trace of his usual hostile behavior, in fact he is so open as he asks you about Nana and how the idea of the bakery came. Then he tells you about her as well, how he has known him for so long and after the passing of his stepdad Nana helped him through the toughest time of his life. You’re surprised the two of you never met when you were visiting, but you believe in faith and it must be because it wasn’t the right time. 

It’s almost ten by the time you’re locking up while Harry is scraping the snow off his jeep. It’s rather eerie to see the town so empty, but it’s also pretty, the untouched snow covering every inch of the scenery. 

“Thanks for the help. And the drive home,” you say when he has parked in front of your house. 

“I’ll pick you up in the morning as well.”

“What? There’s no need, Harry–”

“Just accept the help,” he flashes you a crooked smile. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“What if I say you’re forgiven?”

“Then I’ll do it because I want to spend time with you.”

His answer comes so fast and honest, you can’t mask the surprise on your face as you stare at each other in the dark car.

“Um, alright then. See you in the morning.”

“Good night. Y/N.”

You fumble with the belt and then climb out of the car, still feeling kind of giddy from his words. He waits for you to get to the front door and you wave at him before walking in. Through the closed door you hear the engine roar and he drives away, leaving you with quite a lot to digest.

Never in a million years did you imagine the opening of Nana’s to be like this. The small bakery is full to the brim, there are people everywhere, you haven’t stopped thanking everyone for the love and support and your heart leaps in your chest every time you hear someone talk about your beloved grandma. All the pastries are selling well, but as expected, the croissants are the biggest hit. 

But it’s not just the opening that has you smiling ear to ear.

Harry did show up early in the morning and he’s been helping you out all day as if he was getting paid for his work. In the kitchen, at the counter or by the tables, he’s been a one person army and your hero. You couldn’t have done it without him. 

You have just a couple of seconds to breathe between two customers and you peek over the crowd, spotting him right away by the table his mom and her friends occupy. He just made them laugh and he’s basking in their attention as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up, revealing his tattooed arms. 

Fuck, he looks so good, it’s criminal. 

Now that he is not an asshole to you anymore, it’s pretty hard not to notice everything you’ve been trying to ignore about him. His charming dimples, his bouncy curls, the way he throws his head back when he laughs, how his nose moves when he talks, they was his hips sway when he’s walking… there is not one inch on the man you can critique.

The situation would be a lot worse if it was one-sided, but it appears that Harry is just as keen on being around you, always touching your lower back when he walks behind you, or brushing your arm to get your attention. 

“I’m seriously writing you a paycheck when it’s over,” you tell him when he returns behind the counter grabbing some cinnamon rolls to bring to the ladies by the window.

“I thought that we were already over this, Y/N,” he smirks and you bite into your bottom lip as you turn back to the customer in front of you. 

It kind of goes by in a blur, there’s so much happening, you’re always on the move and before you could even process the events, the day is over and Nana’s is closing for the first time. After the constant crowd, it’s weird to see the place empty again, but seeing that everything has sold, it finally settles in your mind: you did it.

As you turn the sign on the door your eyes slide over to the picture on the right. It was taken in Nana’s kitchen, you were about six or seven, the two of you are photographed from behind as you stand on a stool, next to Nana at the counter while she is teaching you how to make bread. The memory still lives vividly in your mind even though it’s been over two decades.

“She would be so proud of you.”

Turning around you find Harry behind you with a soft smile on his lips, his eyes on the photo at first, then they move to you and your heart skips a beat.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he chuckles.

“So, I was serious. I owe you a paycheck after today.”

He rolls his eyes before arching an eyebrow at you.

“And I was serious when I said I don’t want anything in return.”

“You’ve been here since six, Harry!” you huff out a laugh. “I would feel so bad if you just went home without anything.”

He stares at you for long moments and you start to think he’ll just let you suffer with your guilt, but then he speaks up.

“Go on a date with me then.”

You suck on your breath as your eyes lock with his.

“What?” you whisper.

“Go on a date with me, Y/N. Will you?”

“I-If you’re still trying to make up for–” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not. I told you, I want to spend time with you.”

You blink at him once, twice, as if you’re waiting for him to say it was just a joke, but he stands his ground with a serious look.

“Are you gonna leave me hanging?” he smirks, snapping you out of your haze.

“Yes–I mean, yes to the date!” you shake your head, clearing up your answer.

“I was afraid you hated me too much to give me a chance,” he breathes out a shaky laugh.

“I never hated you, I was just confused. You were the one who hated me.”

“I couldn’t hate you, Y/N. And believe me, I tried.” You both laugh at his words. “I was frustrated, because I wanted to hate you and this place so badly, but still… I was drawn to you.”

“You were?” you ask, your voice barely more than just a whisper.

“You have no idea how much,” he admits with a soft smile, stepping closer to you. “When we were skating, I totally forgot about everything and just wanted to hold your hand and help you. It was like a slap across my face when mum brought the opening up and I remembered I was supposed to hate you,” he admits with a chuckle and e inches even closer. “I’m glad I don’t have to try to hate you anymore.”

“I’m glad too.”

He is right in front of you, his face only inches away from yours and you suck on your breath when he reaches up and takes your chin between his index finger and thumb, angling your head further up so your lips are now perfectly lined up with his.

His eyes move down to your mouth, then up to meet your gaze and even without words you know he is asking for your permission to kiss you. You push closer and he is quick to close the distance and press his lips against yours.

You’d be lying if you said you never imagined what it would be like to kiss Harry. Because you did, several times. But nothing compares to having him wrapped around you, his lips so soft yet rough against yours at the same time as he kisses you over and over again while you’re fisting the collar of his shirt so tight your fingers are turning white. 

Maybe you kiss for hours, or maybe it’s just minutes, you have no clue, but when he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, you just know your life is about to turn upside down.

“Changed my mind,” he speaks up at last.

“Huh?”

“About the payment.”

His words sink in slowly and your eyebrows rise.

“Oh.” Harry laughs at your reaction.

“I want my payment in kisses,” he then says with the cheesiest smile you’ve ever seen on his handsome face.

“That could be arranged,” you breathe out when you finally get what he was talking about and grabbing the back of his neck you pull him in for another one. 

And another one.

And some more.

And just like that Nana somehow brought another wonderful thing into your life, even though she is not here anymore.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[galamalion]

𐕣. 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇

summary. time inevitably approaches all, but an otherworldly suitor has other plans for you.

⤷ contents. yandere!vampire!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships, blood // wc. 2.0k

⤷ notes. a very happy birthday to @ddarker-dreams! i wanted to write something cute and evil as a thanks for all the chrollo treats she's given out! hope you enjoy! <3

Dusk began to creep in across the horizon, dimly counting down the few hours before night would fall, allowing the silver moon to take its place among the stars. Golden rays began to dim, passing through the extravagant window in the room you’d been staying in, casting a faint glow across furniture and floor alike. 

Perhaps ‘staying’ wasn’t the correct word to use, though. It made you sound like a visitor, which you certainly were not. The metal lock on the door, the same shade as the setting sun, sealed you into a plush and comfortable tomb, only allowed to wander beneath illuminating moonlight. 

It was the only time he was allowed out too, after all.

You remembered the first time you met that man—Chrollo, as he called himself, though perhaps he had gone by a different name in years past. He called you glorious, a singular rose in a field of boring dandelions, waiting to be plucked and worshiped by a kindred soul. As the daughter of a farmer, his honeyed words made you feel warm inside. Night after night you would meet with him in the woods beside your village, listening to him speak about poetry, books, and the world outside your own quiet one. He made you feel alive—like setting a helpless dove free from a poorly made cage of twigs.

If only he told you the dove was just flying into a golden prison. Maybe you would have run then, told your mother and father about the wicked and beautiful stranger in the woods. But his stories and words wove you into a web too tight to escape, and too alluring to even want to.

You sighed, both out of boredom and out of anguish. Your sleeping habits had changed since you’d been brought to this ancient castle. Now you would wake up just before sunset, giving you time to prepare yourself for Chrollo’s bothersome speeches. Back when you were younger you would have found them poetic—dashing, even. But now, all you wanted was for him to leave you alone. Return you back to your family, your friends, and your village.

The first time you’d ever begged him for that he just smiled, wiping tears off your lashes and running his hand gently through your hair.

“They’re gone,” he had cooed, coaxing your back. “There is nothing for you to return to, my dear.”

His words only brought more tears, and broken sobs along with it. A cacophony of anguished screams and hopeless crying continued night after night, and Chrollo had left you alone for them. He returned on the third night, comforting you through your discordant howling and tears, not saying a single word. Only gently stroking your hair and humming a lullaby ever so softly, bringing your wailing to a whimper as you dozed off to sleep, tears still running down your face.

You should have hated him after those words, hated him until the sun and the moon and every last star in the sky burnt out. Until your bones turned to dust and that dust turned to nothing, as all good things should. But instead, you let him comfort you, as he had done before. You let him hold you and sing to you and your hatred dissipated almost as quickly as it came. Now, the only person you can hate is yourself.

The resounding chime of a bell echoed throughout the castle, finding its way under the door and into your ears, and one look outside confirmed what the bell had just screamed to you. The moon, illustrious and horrid—a grim reminder of your fate, stood proudly amongst its brothers and sisters in the inky sky.

Oh, how you preferred the sun.

A loud knock on the door—one you’d grown to expect—caused you to stretch out of bed and to the middle of the room, throwing the closet open.

Dresses in onyx and sangria were all you had, each only slightly different in design. Some had lace trims, intricately made and without flaws. Others had slits so high you were certain your mother would have chased you out of the village herself. All chosen by Chrollo, of course. You didn’t even know what sangria was before you’d met him, a drink too rich for you to ever experience on your own.

“I’m not decent,” you called out, scanning your limited options. A faint chuckle was barely discernible through the thick wooden door, a sign that Chrollo would wait, though not for long.

You shuffled out of the loose nightgown and tossed it into a basket. With Chrollo breathing down the door you had almost no time to carefully choose your dress of the day—not that it particularly mattered to you. But it was better than letting Chrollo have control over another aspect of your life.

A simple black gown, without lace or an indecent alteration, was your choice. The neckline was plunging—far more than anything you wore—but you had learned to push your own feelings down.

“Modesty only matters when around others,” Chrollo had told you. “But here, it is just you and I. There is nothing to fear, my treasure. I am no beast.”

The fangs that creeped out from his smile warned you otherwise.

With a resigned sigh, you walked over to the door, gently rapping your fist against the thick wood. The door slid open with a loud creak—just like every other antique in the ancient palace. Your gaoler smiled upon seeing you, taking the time to look at your body.

“You resemble an ancient tome of poetry, appreciated only by its author,” Chrollo said, stepping into the room.

“Are you calling me old?”

“I apologize if you took it that way,” he chuckled, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “I merely mean to say that you are a sumptuous artifact, deserving of being remembered by history for all time.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms and ignoring the shiver that never failed to arise when Chrollo was with you.  “I prefer a simpler life, thank you.”

“I believe this one suits you far better. If you gave it a chance, I’m sure you’d come to realize the same.”

“I liked my old one.”

“Come now, my dear,” he sighed, moving a cold hand across your shoulder blades. “You always insist on speaking of the past. Why not look towards the future? It has so much to offer you.”

“Have you grown bored of comforting me?” you spat, pulling away from his touch. “Where are your soothing words, your golden gifts? Have you found a new game to play?”

Chrollo frowned, not bothering to reach for you again. Instead his arms rested at his sides, peacefully. Lifelessly.

“I have grown tired,” he emphasized, “of your refusal to move on. I have given you so much, only for it all to be rejected. I thought time would sway your choice, but it appears that I have failed to consider your…stubbornness.”

His expression had changed in the blink of an eye, now sporting his usual disconcerting smile.

“Walk with me,” he commanded, already stepping out of the room.

Your feet moved against your will, gliding across the floor and after Chrollo. It was something you hated, even more than his smug attitude and unneeded grandiose vocabulary. You could always reject him with your words, but in the end he had the power to cut your actions short. An obnoxious monster, as always.

“I have been thinking,” Chrollo began, trailing the dark halls, “about us. And my offer. I believe that I have been…entertaining your behaviors for too long. Time is a fickle thing for beings like you, and I fear you may not have much left.”

“I’m not dying,” you snorted. “Or are you just worried that I might start wrinkling early?”

Chrollo laughed at your words, “I am not afraid of fine wine, my dear. Just that your behavior will soon spiral out of control. If something were to happen, I would hate to have to chase you down. That is all.”

Your walk ended in the garden, bushes towers high above you and Chrollo. It was a place that, despite its beauty, you weren’t too fond of. It was a maze of Chrollo’s making—intentional, knowing him. If something were to enter through the garden, they would never make it to the castle before Chrollo got to them. And more importantly, you would never make it out.

A clearing stood before you, a wooden pavilion with a dozen chairs surrounding a table. Where fancy ladies would meet for fancy tea and gossip about the fancy going-ons in the palace. Like in storybooks you would read as a child.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chrollo said, approaching the table. Upon it laid a goblet, and, despite the distance separating you, you could make out the sharp gleam of a knife.

“Choices must be made my dear, and I’m afraid that this is one I must make myself. I cannot bear the thought of being without you, and I seek to make our union permanent.”

Chrollo raised a hand in your direction, willing you to stand right before him.

“I could sink my teeth into your throat,” he chuckled. “We would become closer, that way. But you are wearing a 12th century royal Gorteauan gown, and I’d simply hate to ruin it.”

Your blood ran cold as he grabbed the knife, bringing it between you. It was almost as sharp as his fangs, but just as dangerous.

You knew what it was for, undoubtedly. Chrollo had talked about it plenty—about turning you into what he was. About stripping your mortality and bringing you a step closer to eternity. To paradise, to Eden, he claimed. You always pushed against his wishes, though. Insisting you had more life to live, that you were too scared, anything to halt the inevitable. But Chrollo was inevitable, and at the end of the day, his wishes all came true. Never yours.

The knife made purchase with the palm of Chrollo’s hand, causing droplets of crimson blood to spill out from the wound. He brought his hand up to your face, close enough for you to smell the iron from the cut.

“You only need to ingest a little bit. More than a lick, of course. But I’m quite potent,” he smirked.

If you weren’t so terrified, you maybe would have chuckled. Maybe you would have ran.

Chrollo’s smile slowly fell as you continued to do nothing, “Go on. I would hate to force you to do this as well.”

You took a shuddering breath and looked at the pool of blood, “Will…will it hurt?”

“Not a bit,” Chrollo assured you, his smile returning. “It will be painless. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, and your old life will feel like a dream. A rebirth, if you will.”

He continued, “Just think of what you will be now. No longer and Eve, now a Lilith. You will have power, permanence among the living, and me."

“...And it won’t hurt?”

“Not a bit,” he smiled.

You slowly lifted his hand, still freezing cold, closer to your mouth. You let the blood touch your quivering lips, staining them crimson. Perhaps you looked alluring, shaking like a deer with your reddened lips. Especially to a beast like Chrollo. A beast you would soon become. 

With one final anguished cry, you drank of his blood. It was as cold as his body, perhaps even colder. It did nothing to freeze your nerves, nor stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks. Those, too, began to feel colder and colder.

Chrollo held you close, running his free hand along your shoulder, whispering sweet comforts in your ear. Already the world seemed to be getting darker as each touch felt more dull.

“Now, now, my dearest angel. Imagine what new heights we can reach,” he chuckled, wiping stray blood from your face.

“We have all of eternity to see them. Together.”

[lovelyverosika]

The winner takes it all…the loser has to fall

Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader

Part 2 —> Part 1

Warnings: suicide & death

A/N: I wanted to say thank you for all the love on my first fanfic<3 Tbh I never planned a part two since I didn’t expect people to actually enjoy it and I lack of motivation but the support changed it. Also I finished it earlier than expected :) As before I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes. I hope you enjoy it!

3rd POV

All eyes on her, that was the situation she found herself in now. Under normal circumstances she would feel extremely happy. Getting noticed and seen has always been her dream but this was more a nightmare than a dream. Looks of confusion and hatred hit her as soon as she looked around. Humiliation was what she was feeling right now, a feeling she knew very well.

She didn’t even dare to look behind her, scared to face her husband and his reaction but she could feel Lutes stare full of hatred piercing through her body as if she was a sinner on Extermination day. Ironic isn’t it? Back then in hell this day filled her with pure despair. All that blood and screams made her cry every year. Y/N hated her days in hell even more than her days when she was alive. She got out of her trance as she heard Monika laughing from above her. As she looked up she found herself in a familiar situation:

Kneeling on the floor with tears streaming down her cheeks while someone looked down at her. Monika snipped with her fingers,making a picture of Y/N appear. Instead of the optimistic angel shining with happiness everyone could see a demon full of tiredness and sadness in her eyes. "You might wonder how I found out..well for those who knew her from her living days it isn’t rocket science that she killed herself. And we all know suicide is a sin.", Monika laughed as she looks down at Y/N and then at the other angels ,which whisper to each other in the courtroom. Y/N didn’t even noticed that Emily was hugging her,she was too lost in her own mind.

-Flashback-

Y/N was someone people would call a "trophy child", polite,smart and full of happiness,that changed as soon as she hit puberty. She started seeing imperfections she never noticed before, things she loved got boring and her grades were falling. In other words she burned out and lost motivation for basically everything. The only thing she didn’t gave up was dancing, for years she worked really hard for her dream to come true. She wanted to be a star, who can make people happy with her performances and be admired.

At the age of 21 she was faced with the fact that hard work is nothing compared to natural talent. The first time in 6 years she was supposed to be the main star of the show. But that would’ve been too good to be true. On the day of her performance they told her, they founded someone better…a natural talented girl named Monika. She was beautiful like a swan but her personality was rotten..wasted potential in Y/N’s eyes.

"Not everyone is born to be a star.", Monika said while looking down at the woman, who kneeled before her obviously crying. Blinded by rage and envy Y/N interrupted Monikas show,dancing with elegance and grace while Monika acted as if it’s supposed to be happen.

Y/N smiled at the audience as she continued to dance,. "Thank you all so much for your support but I am afraid that was my last show", she spoke as tears run down her cheeks. She thought about it often..just quitting everything including her life. She’s been working so hard her whole life for nothing. It was no secret that she had a fragil heart, being sensitive made her life twice as hard as it was. She couldn’t take it anymore, so she threw the axe she hid into the air right above her. She wanted to leave with an impact no one will forget. Her last words were "Thank you" as the axe hits her as she bowed.

Everyone was shocked especially Monika who stood next to her now lifeless body. Tragic isn’t it? But at least she had the impact she wanted happening,right? She was now know as "The dying swan".

It was too late when she realised that suicide wasn’t and never be the solution and that she wasted her previous life.

With her soul tainted by envy and sin she found herself now in Hell, a place ten times worse than earth.

It was hard but she survived, she found friends who shared a similar fate. Together they helped demons in need for 3 years. On the 4th yearly extermination everything changed. Y/N loved her friends dearly, so seeing one of her friends nearly getting killed by an angel made her act without thinking. Wanting her friend to live she threw herself in front of them. It was painful as the spear pierced right through her heart but it was worth it, after all she protected her friend, didn’t she?

With a smile on her face she made peace with the fact that she’ll die for a second time. What she didn’t expect was that she found herself waking up again, this time in heaven.

It wasn’t long until she befriended a seraphim called Emily, she was such a bundle of joy, which made Y/N feel better in no time.

How she caught the eye of the first man on earth and soul in heaven was a mystery to her but what she knew was that she despised him. He was cocky, rude and so full of himself and the sugar on the cream were the nicknames he gave her…"mini tits" and "sugar tits".

Because of their work they spent more time together and got to know each other. She got used to his antics and behaviour and started to enjoy his company, compared to others he was very nice and respectful to her. It wasn’t long until she fell in love with him. She realised it for the first time when he was actually starting to respect women in general. Respect for women was very important to her and seeing people change for the better out of their own will was something she cherished.

One year later, they started dating and Adam was surprisingly loyal and clingy,she didn’t mind it one bit. He brought light into her small and pathetic life and she cleansed him like a waterfall. All her anger, sadness disappeared while he was not used to all this love. Everyone in heaven knew they were totally smitten with each other. After another year she married him and they lived a happy life in heaven until now.

-Flashback ends-

Y/N buried her head onto Emily’s chest, not wanting to be seen in such a state. Everything was blurry and the voices muffled, all she could hear was her own heart beat loud and clear.

Adam didn’t know what to feel, his wife used to be a demon. Was he supposed to be angry, sad or disappointed, he didn’t know. She promised him to stay with him forever, she promised not to leave him like Lilith and Eve did. He knew that weren’t sweet lies, she was the first one to actually accept him as a whole, so why shouldn’t he accept her either. Sinner or not she was still his sweet and loving wife. The last thing Y/N saw before fainting was Adam standing in front of Monika.

Part 3

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hi hi hi! I've been missing Levi content for a while now so I hope you won't mind if I request one. Like reader is a high ranking officer (higher than him obv) and they kinda hated each other bc of his attitude and stuff but then she kinda saves him and they started realizing their feelings and stuff

Btw I hope you enjoy your vacation!

You're so right honey, that's why we're doing this right now

Levi slowly but surely falling in love with his commander aka you

Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: Levi never understood you, always hated the way you drag your soldiers around while carrying yourself with ease. Until you're out on another mission together, until he is the one who needs to safe you...

Warnings: None really, enemies to lovers in a kind of hurried way since this is a one shot, don't expect full on making out because again, this is only a one shot. Fluff fluff fluff with little errors here and there since I didn't find the time to re-read

I hear y'all, dearest aot fans! If you'd like to read more about attack on titan, feel free to push this fanfic and let me know 🤍

The tension is thick enough to slice through it with your gear as the Survey Corps make their final preparations before heading into Titan territory. The mission is risky, with the odds stacked against all of you as usual, but that has always been the life of a Survey Corps member.

Especially yours. Being the Lieutenant Commander meant taking a lot of responsibility for everything that happened regarding titans and your soldiers, always having to decide between the sake of a mission and those innocent lives that trust you with all their heart. The voices around you roam through the way too crowded room hectically, turn into a hot mess of different opinions and strategies.

In the midst of the chaos, Levi Ackerman stands with his arms crossed, his icy gaze fixed on the woman issuing orders just a few feet away.

You are everything Levi dislikes in an officer: confident to the point of arrogance, with a sharp tongue to match. Your strategies are always sound, often brilliant, but you have a way of getting under his skin like no one else. As a higher-ranking officer, you are technically his superior, which makes his hatred grow even worse.

“Are you sure this is the best course of action?”

Levi’s voice cuts through the chatter, his tone edged with scepticism like usual when he talks to you.

You don’t even look up from the map spread across the table. It would have surprised you if Levi kept his voice low when it’s always him who contradicts you the loudest.

“Unless you have a better idea, Captain, I suggest you stick to what you do best: killing titans”, you reply dryly.

Levi’s jaw clenches in the most uncomfortable way, a wave of anger rushing through his veins just by hearing your confident tone.

“And what you do best is risking lives for the sake of glory.”

You finally meet his gaze, your eyes flashing with irritation. But even though you know him oh so well by now, he never fails to get on your nerves.

“I’m risking lives to save lives. You, of all people, should understand that.”

“I understand that, Lieutenant Commander,” Levi retorts, the title spat out like venom,

“but this mission is reckless. We don’t need to take unnecessary risks.”

“The greatest risk is doing nothing.”

Your voice is cold, authoritative. Without gifting him another glance, you turn your attention back to the map, effectively dismissing him.

He storms out of the room in order to calm down his pounding heart, the images of the past missions with countless dead soldiers running through his mind all at once. Levi simply hates the way you talk, how someone so intelligent can be so infuriatingly stubborn and goddamn beautiful.

Beautiful?

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters to himself.

-the day of the mission-

Everything went smoothly. Getting out of the city, not meeting anything but a few 7 meter class titans who get wiped out by your well-thought line-up. As usual you lead the charge, your orders sharp and precise as you direct the troops with your eyes scanning the area like a hawk. Levi is forced to stay close, not out of any sense of duty to you, but because he knows he needs to be there when your plan inevitably goes south.

And it does.

The titans come out of nowhere, an abnormal horde larger and more coordinated than you anticipated. The battlefield erupts into chaos with your soldiers scattered all over the place before you’re even able to think about an order. Within a few seconds, some struggle to follow your orders while others acting on instinct to survive.

Levi’s instincts scream at him to keep moving, to cut through the titans as he always did. But his eyes keep drifting back to you, holding your ground in the middle of the chaos with your ODM gear flashing as you  maneuver between trees and slice through titan napes with deadly precision.

For a moment, he almost respects you. Almost.

But then, a rogue titan barrels toward you, faster than you could react. An abnormal you didn’t have the chance to see coming, aiming directly for your delicate neck. You turn around, eyes widening, realizing too late that you are out of time. You won’t make it.

Levi doesn’t hesitate. In a split second, he is there, blades slicing through the Titan’s nape with effortless precision. The massive body collapses, narrowly missing your frame as it crashes to the ground lifelessly.

For a second, you forget how to breathe. Blood rushes through your ears violently, your whole body starts shaking. This was the closest you’ve ever been to dying. Right here, on a mission that was supposed to be easy. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be gone by now.

Him.

You look at him, breathless, a mix of shock and something else, something unspoken, flickering in your eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Levi says flatly, retracting his blades.

Fuck, he hates the way his heart almost beats out of his chest. Seeing you almost getting dragged into the disgusting mouth of that demon, that glossy layer of fear glistening in your orbs. Truth is, he can’t imagine what life would look like without you. To be honest, just maybe, he somehow needs you in his life.

You don’t respond immediately, still catching your shaky breath. But when you do, your voice is softer, almost reluctant.

“Thank you.”

He gives a curt nod, about to move on, when another wave of Titans emerges from the trees, cutting off their escape. Fuck, you are trapped with no time to regroup or plan. For a split second, both of you exchangd a glance, a silent understanding passing between you.

In the matter of seconds, that minor spark of weakness disappears out of your orbs, gives way to the hardness of your determination. He can’t help but stare at you, that gorgeous face, how fucking strong you look.

There’s no time to stare at you like an idiot, though. You fight back-to-back, moving in a deadly dance of steel and blood. Levi’s movements are precise and brutal, while yours are fluid and strategic, exploiting every weakness you can find. It doesn’t matter if they are abnormal. At the end of the day, all of them are nothing but titans.

And the man fighting by your side? You allow yourself a single glance at him, how effortlessly he slices through each and every neck. He is the humanity’s strongest soldier, an inspiration even though you’d never say that out loud.

Together, you are unstoppable, a force that tears through the wave of titans with an almost terrifying efficiency.

But despite your efforts, the numbers are overwhelming. Your plan was brilliant, but it hasn’t accounted for this level of resistance. And now you are paying the price.

As you fight, your movements begin to slow, exhaustion creeping into your limbs. Levi notices immediately, his keen eyes catching the subtle tremors in your hands, the slight delay in your attacks. You are reaching her limit.

“Fall back,” Levi orders with sharp voice.

“We can’t retreat now,” you argue, even as your breath comes in ragged gasps.

“We need to—”

“You need to survive,” Levi cuts her off, his tone leaving no room for debate.

“You might be the Lieutenant Commander, but that’s an order. I can’t watch you die here. ”

For a moment, she hesitate, your pride warring with the reality of the situation. But the second you catch that look full of worry on his face, notice the pleading tone in his usual so cool voice, you nod. Together both of you retreat, your ODM gear carrying you away from the swarm of dreadful titans.

You land in a small clearing, both of you breathing heavily. For a long moment, you just stand there, surrounded by the unnerving quiet of the forest, the distant sounds of battle fading into the background.

“You saved my life back there”, you finally mumble into the silence.

Levi doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the ground. When he finally does, his voice is uncharacteristically soft.

“You would have done the same.”

You nod, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“I suppose I would have.”

You just stand there in silence for a while, the adrenaline of battle slowly fading, leaving behind an unexpected calm.

It’s strange, Levi ponders, how the heat of battle has somehow cooled the bitterness between them. Somehow, he doesn’t look at you with hatred filling him up to the brim anymore. Somehow, your beautiful appearance doesn’t provoke him like it did before. In its place, something else holds onto his heart, something he isn’t quite ready to name. Is that…blush creeping up his cheeks?

“I’ve misjudged you. You’re not just a killing machine”, you mutter, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that hits him straight to the core.

Levi raises an eyebrow, too busy to stop himself from blushing to prevent that hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“And you’re not just a reckless strategist.”

You chuckle, a sound that is surprisingly soft, almost gentle. He never heard you laugh, especially not this sincere. What a wonderful sound.

“Maybe we’re both wrong.”

“Maybe.”

Both of you lapse into silence again, but this time more comfortable, less charged with those countless emotions. How is it that a single battle chased away that thick tension of hatred you felt for him just yesterday? Somehow, all you feel now is respect and…

You swallow hard, hungry eyes staring at the ground. Somehow, you feel attraction. Out of instinct, you shake your head in determination, force some sense back into your mind. You’re the Lieutenant Commander, after all.

 “We should get back to the others. They’ll need our help”, you finally speak out while getting up.

Levi nods, but before you move too far away from him, he reaches out, his hand briefly brushing against your arm. Your eyes dart up immediately, heart almost pounding out of your chest.

“Don’t be so quick to throw yourself into the fire next time. You’re no good to anyone dead” he comments with low but firm voice.

When you send a beaming smile his way, Levi almost forgets how to exist. If he had known how gorgeous your lips look, how well smiling suits you.

He’s lost.

“I’ll keep that in mind”, you reply with a sarcastic but warm tone.

-Bonus-

“They give me the ick”, Jean mutters under his breath.

“What? You mean Lieutenant Commander (y/n) and Captain Levi?”, Connie questions.

“Yeah. Didn’t they hate each other? I always thought I might be able to pull her…”

“Something between them changed, I guess”, Mikasa adds, the whole friend group staring at the both of you in sheer disbelief.

“Why are these kids staring at us so stupid”, Levi mutters under his breath, already on his way to confront those brats.

“Don’t.”

Gently, you grab his hand and pull him back towards you.

“Stay with me. That’s an order.”

“An order? You really think you can order me around?”

“Despite being your girlfriend, I’m still your Commander”, you tease him, now placing your hands against his chest.

“Maybe I’ll have to think about that again...”

Tags:

@lees-chaotic-brain @sanicsmut @levislegislation @istglevi-gotmesimping

[attic-club-sandwich]

How they are Handling your Disappearance. Hello all, get ready for some more Nightbringer Angst! This is a little drabble (bullet point style) of how I think the "Present Day Demon Brothers" are handling your sudden disappearance. Honestly I hate thinking too deeply about NB, it brings me to tears. I can't even imagine the pain and anxiety the brothers are feeling without knowing where their beloved human went and why. Anyways, grab your tissues and I hope you enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are super appreciated!

Taglist: @delphi-dreamin @bite-sized-devil @sassykattery @amberrskiies @obey-me-posts @a-hidden-gem @otomefoxystar @siofrantic

Part 2 : Side Characters

Part 3: MC Returns

Rose divider by @/firefly-graphics

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They’ll always remember the exact day and time you disappeared. It was their day off from RAD, and you had been in the Devildom since Solomon had brought you by for some training sessions. You practically begged the sorcerer to allow you to visit the House of Lamentation, and Solomon happily obliged. You really didn't have to convince him too much, though. The brothers were so happy and surprised to see you again so soon, and they had planned on taking you out for dinner that evening. Except you never showed. They spent hours searching for you. Those hours easily turned into days. Then the days turned into weeks. There was no trace of you left behind. Where did you go?

💙Lucifer💙

He’s terrified. He doesn’t know why or how you disappeared, but he feels responsible.

He spends every waking moment looking for signs of you. Trying to piece together what or who took you from him.

Knows he has to be strong for the rest of their brothers.

But when he can no longer feel your bond with you through the pact, he feels the unbearable weight of despair crack through his usual stoic demeanor. 

He cries. He hasn’t cried like this since their fall.

Lucifer hardly sleeps. His brothers notice the bags under his eyes. How he no longer cares what he looks like in front of them. 

He becomes distant again, shutting himself in his room or study. 

If you thought his hatred for Solomon was strong before, it’s infinitely worse now. 

He doesn’t know who else to blame, so the silver haired sorcerer becomes his reasoning for your disappearance. 

The eldest demon has his hands around Solomon’s throat, Mammon and Beel having to pull him off. 

“Lucifer are ya nuts?! We gotta have him alive if we have any hope in finding MC!” Mammon had scolded him as he became limp in Beel’s strong grip.

Solomon promised he’d bring you back.

He better not dare to show his face back here until you are with him, safe and sound. 

💛Mammon💛

The normally confident and self assured demon becomes silent. Angry. Afraid. 

 Aside from their initial searching for you, he doesn’t leave your room. 

He can’t feel your pact with him anymore, and it sends him spiraling. 

He buries himself into your pillows, inhaling your lingering scent.

It’s faint, but he takes what he can get

His eyes are puffy and red from crying, and he can’t stand sitting around doing nothing.

He goes out every night, flying over the Devildom, searching.

When he can’t, Mammon sends his familiars out searching for you too, exploring the areas that he can’t reach. 

The ravens are good at finding things, and if they can’t find you, then he’s screwed. 

Each time they come back with nothing. 

Occasionally, they bring him Grimm they’ve found or a valuable piece of treasure. 

But you’re the only treasure he gives a shit about right now. 

When he goes to retreat back to his room, he runs into Lucifer. 

He looks terrible. 

But Mammon can’t blame him. He probably noticed his swollen face and unwashed hair, too. 

He sends you texts every day. Even if you don’t get them. 

Normally he’d be grossed out by his own sappiness, but he doesn’t care. 

He needs you.

MC, wherever you are, just know I love you. So goddamn much. Please come back.

I miss you.

I hope you’re thinking of me, too. 

🧡Leviathan🧡

Leviathan always told you he wouldn’t know what he’d do without you. 

But he really didn’t want to really experience what life would be without you!

Is this some cruel joke?!

It’s got to be! One of his alternate universe video games went wrong again right?

Except it isn’t. You’re actually gone, and he actually has no idea what to do with himself. 

He cries. Alot. 

To mask his tears from his brothers, he spends a lot of time in his fish tank with Henry 2.0. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Henry, but he longs for you. His soulmate.

He sends Lotan to search the Devildom seas, far and wide. He had asked him to listen for any information of sightings of you. 

 But so far, there’s been nothing. No word. No trace of you.

He lays curled up in his bathtub, a laptop balanced on his lap as he watches anime to try and distract himself from you.

But oh no, is this your favorite episode?! He turns it off, shoving the laptop away and fresh tears falling down his cheeks. 

I’m so useless, he thinks. The Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy, and I can’t even find a human!

Levi’s self depreciative behavior gets worse.

He blames himself for not being with you when you disappeared.

He begins picking at his skin and nails, an old, nervous habit resurfacing from back when he first fell into the Devildom. 

His brothers do what they can to reassure him, but it’s no use. 

He needs you. Please come back home soon, MC.

💚Satan💚

Satan’s temper tantrums are back.

He didn’t ever think he’d revert back to this, but now that you’re gone….

Accidentally lost his temper and in a wrath filled frenzy blew through the wall in the living room. Lucifer threatened to tie him up. 

Normally the prideful demon would have just done it, but something about his older brother was different nowadays.

He feels it too, he thought. The pacts are gone.

Spends sleepless nights in the library reading any book he can find about curses.

Did you become invisible? He had no other explanation.

Was it the work of some demon on the street who decided they didn’t like you that day?

He’s frustrated because he feels like he doesn’t know anything.

He knows nothing of your sudden disappearance

Like Mammon, he sends his cats out looking for you. Any sign of you. 

But they also bring back nothing but a dead mouse here and there. 

Normally he’d be delighted by their gift to him, but it’s lost its appeal.

When he’s worried about you, nothing else matters. 

Lucifer did allow him to keep a cat in the house though. 

Also uses his personal connections from all three realms to look for you. 

But it’s no use. 

When he’s not in the library, he’s shut away in his room. 

His brothers think for a moment that he’s disappeared as well, but they find him asleep on his bed, his cheeks tear stained and a book on his chest. 

Please come home, MC. I need you.

💖Asmodeus💖

Asmo’s love for you rivals the love he feels for himself. 

Now that you are gone, he feels he has no love left to give for anyone.

He feels empty. 

The Avatar of Lust takes pride in his appearance, always making sure he’s presentable and looking his best. 

But not knowing where you are and if you are safe or not is driving him mad. 

His brothers haven’t seen him this way in a long time. 

Asmo’s eyes are puffy and red, his cheeks and nose raw and swollen from the endless tears. 

He spends hours in the bath, thinking of anything he may have said or done to cause you to leave him like this. 

He takes up the habit of sleeping a lot. He wasn’t sure how Belphie could do it all the time. But now he understands. 

Asmo can also throw a good temper tantrum. 

The day he realized he could no longer feel your pact with him sent him over the edge.

But afterwards he felt embarrassed, even though his brothers will never blame him for expressing his feelings for you. 

When Solomon leaves to go find you, he feels hopeful, putting all the trust he has in your master to find you.

But it also hurts. He hasn’t left Solomon’s side since your disappearance, taking comfort in the bond he still has with him.

He’ll never take it for granted again. 

MC, I can’t take this! If you can hear me, please come home, my lost little lamb… I love you…

❤️Beelzebub❤️

Beel is quiet. 

He’s another one that feels responsible for your disappearance.  

His heart is aching, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

Thankfully, he has his twin by his side to reassure him. But it’s not enough. 

He needs to know where you’ve gone. 

He needs to save you. 

Beel’s appetite is all over the place. One minute, he can’t stop eating and the next, he’s not hungry at all. 

His brothers got really concerned when he didn’t eat for 2 whole days.

The only hunger he feels is the need to figure out where you went. 

Not only is he worried about you, he’s worried for his brothers. 

He knows they are suffering too, especially with the noticeable absence of your pact. 

Beel has always been protective of them, after all.

He stops going to the gym. He doesn’t feel like it. 

Instead, he cuddles up in bed with Belphie, holding him close with tears silently rolling down his cheeks. 

Beel you’re squeezing too hard, he hears his twin mumble. But he doesn’t care.

He’s almost lost his brother before, and now your disappearance has him terrified. 

Please, don’t take anyone else away from me. 

I love you, MC, please wherever you are, stay safe…

💜Belphegor💜

Belphie’s temper is a short fuse. More than usual, anyways. 

He doesn’t want to talk to anyone but Beel. 

He tries to retreat to the attic to get some peace and quiet from his brothers losing their collective shit. 

But he ends up drowning in a wave of memories as soon as he walks through the door. 

He collapses on the bed and hugs his cow pillow to his body as he sobs, his body curling in on itself. 

Dammit MC, look at what you do to me…you need to come home…

When he isn’t sleeping, he helps soothe the rest of his brothers to sleep. He sees their dreams, knows the thoughts that are keeping them awake.

He wants to help, but figures this could be the only way he knows how. 

He doesn’t feel your presence at all, though. 

That must mean you aren’t anywhere nearby, or even in the same Realm. He knows your pact with him is gone. 

He felt it break the day you disappeared. 

But sometimes he feels a flutter of something in the place where the mark used to be. 

He can’t explain why. 

Belphie often finds himself slipping into bed with his twin at night. 

They were inseparable before, but even more so now that you aren’t around. 

I can’t lose him too, I have to stay by his side, he thinks. He snuggles into Beel’s chest as his brother holds him close, afraid he might disappear too at any second.

He misses the days when you were nestled comfortably right between the two of them. 

You need to come back MC, you’re our missing piece. 

[s0urw00lf]

I don’t wanna live forever

Part two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Y/n is having a hard time coming to terms with her feelings for the guy she’s supposed to feel nothing more than a friendship with, so instead of confronting those feelings she runs away, which proves to be a mistake for her and him.

Warning: angst, heartbreak, fluff, sad angry Dean because he’s a warning in itself

An: this is my first Dean Winchester fic so i hope it lives up to your expectations. Also this is gonna be a two part series because i got carried away with setting up the plot for this. If you like this flick and the way i write i am taking requests for Sam, dean and cas so feel free to make some. Anywho love ya and i hope you enjoy.

Dean Winchester is the epitome of a girls dream guy. He’s smart, tall, and strong. Not to mention those pretty green eyes that scream ‘walking sex god’ or that cheeky ass smirk he wears when he knows he’s got a girl in his clutch. But thats not what made you fall for him, not the only reason at least. Dean Winchester has been your best friend since you both could walk. Being left to take care of Sammy while your mom and john were out hunting all through your childhood up really sealed your fate, you saw all of his most vulnerable moments and you knew those moments he needed you to break down those walls so he wouldn’t self destruct. But also you saw how much he loved, and how he fought for the people he loved, but he wouldn’t let anyone give that back to him. And thats why you loved him. Because you knew that just like him you’d do anything for him at any moments notice. You’d kill, you’d torture , you’d die If he needed.

So as you sat at a bar sipping on your martini watching dean flirt with the pretty curly headed bartender with a short skirt, your heart felt heavy within your chest and your stomach completely empty despite the large bowl of fries you were sharing with Sam. The feelings that surged through your body weren’t anger, or hatred. It was sadness and longing, knowing that even though you loved everything about that man, even though you knew him better than anyone else. Better than himself. He’d wouldn’t see you how you saw him, and no matter how much you hated it, you couldn’t hate him. Not one bit.

“Y’know if you sulk any harder people are gonna mistake you for a grounded teenager” an amused voice spoke from beside you. Your gaze broke from dean and turned to his brother, “shut up Sam” you said nudging his shoulder softly. A smile crossed the younger winchesters face, “he’s just looking for a distraction” he muttered to you, diverting his gaze over to his brother letting a frown overtake his features. Sam knew how utterly in love you and his brother were with each other, i mean anyone could see it. Except for some reason you two.

“Yeah well sleeping with a random person isn’t exactly what id call ‘a distraction’” you said bitterly, immediately feeling bad even though dean was nowhere around to hear. Sam shook his head at just how blind you were, “ i just don’t understand why he wont open up to us.” You said trying to keep your voice steady, stirring your drink around with your straw “He knows that we know how much loosing john is affecting him. Hell he’s not the only one fucking dealing. We all lost” she said trying not to let the tears forming in her eyes fall. Sam sighed “thats just how he is. It’s how he’s always been. The strong one” he said looking at his friend solemnly.

“Well it’s bullshit and he knows it” you said slamming your hands down on the table as you stood up. “Im going back to the motel” you muttered grabbing you coat from the back of your chair and trying to keep your tears at bay. Sam grabbed your wrist stopping you. “You want me to walk you?” He offered softly. “No it’s fine, i’m fine. I just need some time alone if thats okay” you said. Sam nodded letting go of your wrist, you gave him a hug and a kiss on the forehead, a habit you’d formed when he was only two years old. And with that you exited the bar, not sparing a look in deans direction. You couldn’t stomach it. What you missed was the longing and worried look dean sent you as he weakly excused himself, and made his way over to Sam and began his interrogation.

While you walked your brain was racked with all of these intense emotions. But the most prominent thought was how much it was killing you. Given you’d known that Dean wasn’t the relationship type, i mean the ratio of his hookups to relationships says enough in itself. But you’d grown up together, you knew how much dean craved to be held and loved by a woman, and you were hoping by chance he’d let it be you. But as the months turned into years and years turned into a decade, you were tired. Tired of loving someone who only thought of you as a friend. Tired of loving someone who would shamelessly flirt with other women in front of you, no matter how deeply in love you showed him you were.

By time you reached the motel you’d had your mind made up, you’d apologize to the boys later but you had to go. And you knew that if you told them in person Sam’s puppy dog eyes that always worked and deans broken expression would’ve coaxed you back in. So there you are packing your bags (not that you had much to pack) and hopping into a car you’d managed to break into and Hotwire and began your way to Bobby’s.

When you arrived at Bobby’s he was shocked to see you but ultimately let you in. “Y’look like shit” he greeted looking you up in down taking in your puffy eyes. You laughed “good to see you too”. Bobby looked behind you, curiosity etched into his face “where are the other two idjits?” He asked. Your once happy expression dropped, replaced by a guilty look and you avoided his eyes as best you could. Bobby took a step forward, now concerned “peanut where are the boys” he asked a little more demanding this time. Tears pooled your eyes for what felt like the 100th time that day. “I- i left them in Wyoming” your voice broke as tears began to cascade down your face. “I didn’t tell them, they would’ve convinced me not to go” you explained. Bobby stared at the girl not sure what to do about the girl he saw as a daughter crying so freely in front of him. “Why’d ya leave? Somethin’ happen?” He asked leading you to the couch and taking a seat himself.

You shook your head “no… no nothing happened. I just couldn’t watch it anymore.” You muttered playing with your fingers in your lap trying to put your feelings into words. Bobby watched intently, and he swore he could almost see the cloud of thoughts above your head. It took about five seconds for it to click. Dean. “S’this ‘bout dean?” He leaned forward. You hesitated, finally looking up to meet them and eyes before you nodded. “It was okay before, i mean I’ve had feelings for him since we were 14 so i learned to tune it out mostly. But as we get older its just go hard, i mean I’m 26 now and I’ve seen him during relationships and hookups and its not effected me until now.” You explained, Bobby didn’t say anything, knowing that if he said the wrong thing you’d probably run up to your designated room and act like the conversation never happened.

“i think because i realized just how far id go for him, and with the way things are heating up that flame seems to grow more and more every hunt. But he doesn’t see it, he doesn’t see the raw and utter devotion i hold for him. He doesn’t see how i run off every guy because i know they wont be like him. He doesn’t see how much it hurts me to see him happy with someone else, even if it’s just for a night. And it hurts Bobby, it hurts like hell to love someone who only sees you as his best friend that much” you finished. By that point the tears were streaming down your face and he could hear the heartbreak in your voice. Bobby stood up trying to keep his own tears at bay as he watched the young girl break down in front of him, he grabbed you by your wrist pulling you into a bone crushing hug as you sobbed into his shirt. The two of you stood like that until your sobs subsided, leaving you with sniffles every few seconds.

Bobby pulled away and grabbed your face “you are a smart, strong, beautiful young lady. And after all you’ve been through you deserve all the love in the world, and if dean can’t see that then he’s more of an idjit than i thought” he joked. A small laugh passed your lips and suddenly the need for sleep hit you like a ton of bricks. Bobby seemed to take notice because he sent you on your way upstairs to your room and you made no effort to fight sleep any longer.

just downstairs Bobby pulled out his phone that saw tht he had 14 missed callers from Sam and 27 from dean. He calculated how angry you’d be at him for making the decision he was about to but he’d deal with your anger over heartbreak any day. So he pressed the call back button and listened to the dial tone until deans voice replaced the noise

“Is she with you” he asked urgently, Bobby noted the sound of deans engine in the background as well as Sam asking if it was Bobby that called.

“Yeah she’s here, and you’d better have a damn good excuse for her showing up the way she did” Bobby said in an authoritative tone.

“I’m not 100% sure but i have a theory” dean replied with a distracted tone. “I don’t care what you do or don’t have. You get here and you fix it you understand boy?” “Yes sir” dean answered. Bobby then hung up, dean knew he was in deep shit if he couldn’t make things right with you

[pinkydevil16]

Dark!Aegon Targaryen x Targ! Reader

18+ non con/rape 

Do not read if this will trigger you.

“Bring her to me!” Aegon screamed as he threw his cup roughly against the wall, wine splattering on the stone as soldiers panicked to try to appease the King.

Y/n ran through the corridors, her boots slamming against the stone as she tried to get to the dragonpit, praying she could get to her baby before the guards found her. Her hands grabbing on the wall as she threw herself towards the stairs, almost falling down as she caught herself and continued rushing. 

“Please please.” Y/n begged to herself as she heard the clattering of armour as Knights, guards and anyone who could answered the King’s demands to bring him his Queen. Y/n could feel the blisters ripping open the backs of her feet, stone scraping against delicate skin as she shoved herself off walls to propel herself forward, anything to avoid being captured. She let out a scream as a Guard appeared, his sword drawn as she heard more footsteps behind her.

“NO! Kill me! Kill me if you plan to take me please.” Y/n begged as she turned, Sir Criston Cole staring at her with a smirk as he stared down Rhaenyra’s daughter, his sword drawn as he twirled it.

“My Queen, we would never think of betraying the throne in such a way. Please come with us peacefully, the King requires your presence.” Y/n could feel her heart sink as she surveyed her choices, she would be damned if she was taken easily back to that monster. She heard a chuckle as she spun, Aemond standing there with a cat-like grin.

“Niece, pray tell what are you doing?” Y/n scowled at him as she stood tall and proud.

“You arrogant pest, you despise your King and yet you stand here returning the one thing he covets instead of allowing me to leave. You are as foolish as you are bitter.” Y/n spat her words, Aemond drawing his sword and pointing it towards her as he raised an eyebrow and walked closer.

“I am returning the one thing that controls him, the one thing that he can control, although if you were my Pet this escape attempt would have never happened.” Y/n grit her teeth as Aemond called her a Pet, she was sick and tired of this charade that everyone in the Seven Kingdoms adored Aegon. She despised him as much as Aemond but where his was out of jealousy, hers was pure hatred. 

“You are a coward.” Y/n raised her chin as she spoke the last word, staring deeply into his eye as she felt the sword under her chin.

“And you are not? You could have thrown yourself from a window or poisoned yourself and yet here you are, running in circles for attention.” Y/n grabbed the sword, throwing Aemond off guard as she held the blade tightly, pushing his balance off and grabbing his long white hair. Dragging him to the ground as his sword hit the floor, Criston Cole holding his hand up as the two tousled on the floor before Aemond was ontop. His eyepatch ripped off as he pinned Y/n beneath him, her body thrashing wildly as he held her hands together and used his other hand to grip her hair.

“You fucking whore.” Aemond ground out as he banged her head against the stone flooring, her eyes rolling as she cried out in pain and her wiggling slowed. 

“Atleast someone wants me.” Y/n whispered as she concentrated on Aemond, seeing the fire in his eyes as he climbed off her and forced her up, his grip on her arm bruising as he pushed her back towards the throne room. 

“I hope he strings your body up and your pathetic mother hears of your death.” Y/n spat on his boots before he threw her down in front of the throne, gritting her teeth as her knees slammed against the stone. 

“My beautiful wife!” Aegon cheered as she glared at Aemond before looking up at Aegon with a blank face.

“Aegon.” The King pouted at her coldness, climbing off the throne where he had been lounging and walked towards her with his hands on his hips.

“That is no way to speak to your loving husband Y/n. I was so worried for you.” His eyes wide and innocent as he crouched before her, his hand coming to hold her face tenderly before glaring at Aemond.

“You have bruised her.” Aemond rolled his eye as Y/n moved away from Aegon’s touch, his eyes filled with hurt at her actions.

“My darling, let us retire and i shall look after you.” Y/n was pulled up by guards much gentler than before with their King watching, Aegon linking her arm with his as he walked her towards their quarters.

“My angel why, why did you run?” Aegon questioned Y/n as they walked, her nails digging into her palm as they entered the chambers. The door closing before she was pushed onto the bed, Aegon’s eyes filled with tears as he crawled onto her and stared into her eyes.

“Why, why my darling?” Y/n could only stare back at him as tears fell from his eyes, his body wracked with sobs as he held her.

“I have done nothing but love you, I love you so much it burns me and yet you spur me so.” Y/n laid still as she breathed deeply, his head in her chest as he pinned her with his weight.

“You do not love me Aegon. You are obsessed with me. You are a spoilt brat who became King by being a Usurper, perhaps in another life i could have loved you but not in this one.” Aegon continued to sob as he shook his head, refusing to believe her words.

“No, no, you love me. You told me.” Y/n clenched her fists as Aegon’s sobs turned into gentle kisses across her chest, her body shivering in disgust.

“You told me, you told me you loved me.” He kept repeating to himself as he peppered kissing along her breasts and collarbone, working his way up until he could stare in her eyes. His confidence in her was restored as he wiped his eyes and smiled down at her.

“You told me, do you remember?” Y/n wanted to cry as she watched him in his madness.

“I was 12.” Aegon did not care as he only widely smiled and nodded, his heart soaring at the thought of her holding the memory close.

“Yes! You told me you loved me and that you wished to stay with me.” Y/n felt a tear escape her eye as she recalled the dreaded beginning of his obsession. It was after Aemond had taken Vhagar, and she had told Aegon she loved him as her Uncle and that she wished they could be friends. Instead he had turned her childish words into a declaration. Now the words repulsed her, she could not think of anything worse than saying those words to Aegon, to appease him in such a way. 

“You never have to wish for that again my wife. You will be with me forever.” His kisses turned harsher as he claimed her lips, pressing her into the mattress as his hunger took over, mumbling her name over and over and he pushed up her dress.

“My beautiful wife.”

His hands pushed her legs apart.

“You are stunning.” 

She could feel his forehead against hers as he gripped her hips.

“I love you.” 

She stared at the ceiling as she tried to imagine herself anywhere else. 

“I know you love me.” 

The pain made her wince.

“Gods say you love me.” 

His body was sweaty as he held her close.

“Going to keep you forever.”

His hands fumbled to grab hers as he kissed her.

“So…so beautiful.” 

She could feel him stutter, could tell his hair would be sticking to his forehead and body would be shaking.

“All mine.”

She wanted to sigh in relief as he groaned.

“Say it.” His voice demanded as he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were empty and hollow as she spoke.

“I’m yours.” 

Y/n sat on Aegon’s lap, the crown haphazardly placed on her head as he thrust up into her, her hands trying not to get cut on the iron throne as she stared at the metal behind his head. His moans and words not registering in her mind as he held her hips, forcing her further down as she contained the whimper of pain. 

“Gods you were made for me.” Aegon moaned out, his arms moving to wrap around her waist as he pulled her down, cumming harshly as he forced her to stay on top of him. His breathing evening out as Y/n placed her head on his shoulder in shame, one of his hands coming to push his hair out his face.

“Ride with Vhagar to Rook’s Rest, follow Sir Criston.” 

“Of course brother.”

She was trapped.