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laurfilijames · 4 months

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Bulletproof

Pairing: Jax Teller x female reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Mentions of being shot through a bulletproof vest. Bruises and welts. Swearing. Unprotected intercourse.

Summary: After a close call in a gunfight, Jax turns to you to remind him of all the things in life worth living for.

A/N: I'm sorry I couldn't help it. This is a teeny bit angsty and full of feelings. I needed to write something "short and sweet" (it's neither of those 🤣) to get my writing back on track, and well, here's this... enjoy!!

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The buzz of your phone that sat on the nightstand beside your head woke you from a decent sleep, taking you a few minutes to register it was happening for real and not in a dream, a soft moan passing your lips as you reached over for it and hit the button to accept the call.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice groggy and unable to disguise your sleep, your eyes too heavy and blurred to have read on the screen who was on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me,” Jax’s voice registered in your ear, making you become a little more alert and sit up while running your hand over your hair.

“I’m on my way over,” he explained, his tone short and wired, like he was on edge or adrenaline was pumping through him.

Glancing over at the alarm clock, you simply agreed, not asking any questions, knowing if he was calling you and needing to see you at this hour that something more than just sex was on his mind.

The roar of his Harley came through before he hung up, and flinging the covers off while swinging your legs to the side of the bed, you did the same.

You walked through to the front door, wearing only his Reaper t-shirt that had become your nightly staple, flicking the bolt to unlock it as you leaned against the frame, peeling back the curtain that covered the small window to look out onto the dark street as if he would be rolling in any second despite him having just left to get there.

Letting your eyelids close, you continued to lean, wrapping your arms around yourself to try to keep some of the lingering warmth from your bed on your skin, partly hoping that Jax would be tired and ready for sleep when he arrived.

The familiar rumble of his engine sounded in the distance and grew louder with each second, and an automatic smile tugged at your lips, your heart picking up pace just as his motorcycle did to quicker close the gap between him and you.

You watched through the window, your fingers toying with the thin fabric as you held the curtain aside, seeing him roughly push down the kickstand with his white sneakers before quickly standing up and dismounting his bike, unfastening his helmet at the same time.

The way he was rushing made your pulse hammer, his deliberate strides a clear display of his desperation, and you opened the door for him before he blew through it and knocked it off its hinges, his expression a mix of frenzy and relief as his blue eyes landed on you.

Gloved hands gripped your cheeks roughly, pulling you into him equally as much as he pressed himself into you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss so hard it stole your breath.

A slightly surprised gasp blew out of your mouth when he parted from you and gave you an opportunity to get air back into your lungs, your eyes searching his features with concern as you took in the sweat clinging to his reddened cheeks, his hair damp and darkened.

His chest rose and fell sharply, and tearing off his gloves, he raked his long fingers that held a home for his chunky rings through his messy tresses, exhaling a shaky breath as he looked down at the floor and then back up at you.

“Jax, what happened?”

He shook his head and chuckled falsely, pulling his bottom lip in his teeth before looking at you with what he must have thought was a convincing expression.

“I’m fine.”

His eyebrows sat high on his forehead and brought out the creases on it as he stared at you, and when you held his gaze almost challengingly, he blinked away the moisture that you caught building up in them and moved into you again, his sigh emptying out into your mouth as he kissed you slower this time, but with equal passion.

Your hands slipped up beneath his kutte, the heat of his skin pouring off of him as you rubbed his back in soothing motions, the act comforting yourself as much as it was him.

The familiar taste and smell of smoke assaulted your nose and transferred onto your tongue, knowing whatever stress he was under right now had caused him to light up one cigarette after the other to try to settle his nerves.

As your kiss faded out, Jax rubbed his nose against the side of yours, his breath hot on your cheek, the stickiness of his skin transferring onto yours.

He leaned his forehead against yours, breathing for a moment while he let his hands roam up over your bum and onto the small of your back, bringing your body even closer to his.

Swaying slightly on the spot, he nuzzled his face into yours even more, a moment of softness before he met your lips again, claiming you in another kiss that started slow and quickly increased in fervor.

His breathing became laboured, struggling to draw in enough air as he kissed you harder and with more desperation, his hands gripping at your flesh beneath his worn shirt.

You could feel his hard cock pressing into you as it strained against his jeans, making you rub yourself on it a couple of times with a teasing grind of your hips, your fingers moving down his stomach to work at the button and zipper while he shrugged out of his kutte.

It landed carelessly on the floor beside you, and you couldn’t mistake the slight wince on his face before it disappeared in his hoodie as he lifted his arms and pulled it over his head, immediately moving back to capture your lips again.

He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans, walking forward to force you back and further into your house, your hand rubbing him through his boxers before diving inside the waistband to take hold of his cock, stroking the hot, velvety skin of his length that made you moan into his mouth and him push harder on yours.

Both of you blindly made your way toward your bedroom, only pausing your kisses briefly to peel the white t-shirt that clung to his body off of him, your breath knocking out of you as he slammed you against the wall and began lifting the hem of the shirt still covering your body.

Once your naked form was available to him, he trailed his lips down your neck and along your collarbone while his hands smoothed all along your waist, one moving to your breasts where his fingers plucked one of your peaked nipples, the other traveling downward to slip between your legs.

“Jax…” you breathed, your tone needy and filled with lust, the sensation of his fingers entering and withdrawing from your slick hole making your eyes close and your head knock back on the drywall.

After losing yourself in ecstasy for a couple of minutes, you refocused, needing him more than ever, your thumbs hooking in the band of his boxers to tear them down his legs.

Jax took your hand and turned to lead you the short distance to your room, giving you a view of his back where your eyes were drawn to different spots of dark colouring that weren’t part of the ones that made up the large tattoo that covered almost all of it.

Peppered between the image of the Reaper and letters that spelled out ‘California’ were round bruises, his skin raised with welts, and your heart sank in realization of what had caused them; the impact of the bullets that had hit him unable to be disguised even with the protection of kevlar.

You instinctively reached out to lightly trace each one, counting three in total, a mix of emotions rushing through you that were half grateful and half terrified.

“I’m fine.” He repeated the same lie as before, glancing back at you as he paused in his steps and turned to face you.

You dove into him, wrapping your shaky arms around him to hug him so tight you didn’t care if it hurt, feeling his arms encase you in return and his lips press multiple times on the top of your head.

A sourness crept up your restricted throat, your guts twisting almost painfully at the thought of one of those bullets striking a place the bulletproof vest hadn’t been covering, and you frantically began kissing him everywhere you could reach, starting on his chest and making your way up his neck, your hands moving to cup his cheeks where your thumbs smoothed back and forth on his blond scruff. Your lips met again, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as you transferred all your worry and grief into a display of love, his cock nudging at your core to remind you of what it was he needed right now.

The oncoming tears stung when you squeezed your eyelids together tightly, one slipping out and down your cheek as you retrained your focus on the feel of his tongue tangling with yours instead, the simplicity of needing to just be with him beginning to outweigh anything else.

You finally made it into your room, sitting on the bed and scooching yourself back to lay down with spread legs as he settled between them and sank overtop of you, continuing to kiss you with as much ardor that the skin around your mouth was already beginning to feel raw.

His knee pressed up on your thigh to guide it higher, spreading you out further as he covered your body completely with his, his fingers running along your scalp to send shivers across your skin.

You adjusted your hips, angling yourself to allow for his leaking head to push through your folds, lingering with just the tip of him inside you that somehow already made you feel full.

The skin on his back was tacky as you ran your hands gently up and down it, feeling his muscles flex as he began to move against you, his cock stretching you out inch by inch as he slowly pushed all the way in.

It was ironic; catching glimpses of the silver shell casing that hung from the chain around his neck in the light shining in through the window as it wagged and glided along your chest, filling the space between your hearts that hammered furiously and proved his vitality as if it hadn’t been threatened.

As soon as Jax had pulled into your driveway he felt better, the need to see you and be with you at the forefront of his mind, having bolted out of the clubhouse the minute he had changed out of his tac vest and clothes that were sprayed with holes from the gunshots he could still hear going off in his head.

Now that he had felt your lips against his and the softness of your skin beneath his palms, he was filled with an appreciation for you that he knew he took for granted too many times before, the relief he felt at being with someone who made him feel alive after a close call with death sobering him in a harsh bite of reality.

The way you made him feel was undeniable, giving him a vigor that was too often misplaced and diluted even though you showed him a brighter side to all the darkness that surrounded him, his lack of commitment to anyone but his club wrongly applicable even to you.

He thrusted harder into you, deepening his strokes as he peeled his mouth from yours to watch his cock pump in and out of you, the sound of your pleasure coming out in beautiful whimpers and soft moans while requesting more from him reiterating every reason why he came here tonight in the first place.

Jax dove against your lips again, needing to kiss you in order to stop himself from saying things that he feared may only be a result of how fucking scared he had been earlier, but deep down knowing the words that portrayed how he felt weren’t coming from a place of fear.

It felt different. Crazed and desperate and meaningful, the way he fucked you hinting at something more intent and unwavering than usual.

Sex with Jax was always mind-numbing and intense, but you never let yourself get too far into things knowing he could be gone before you even woke the next day and carrying on without thinking twice about it meaning anything more, his nonchalance always reminding you to take nothing from it other than pleasure.

Gone.

The potency of that little word had your eyes burning again, burrowing an emptiness in your chest that ached to be filled by anything he was generous enough to give.

There were never any labels put on what you were to each other or what this was, but the possibility of losing him at any moment made you desperate to show him what he meant to you, your fingers digging into the flesh on his upper arms so hard as if adding marks of your own on his body would make him stay with you forever.

You reached your face upward to press harder against his mouth, happy when he reciprocated and drove his tongue deeper inside yours, the long, rolling motions of his hips continuing, only now with more calculated force.

Heat bubbled within you, building up into that familiar tingle that taunted to be chased, every nerve in you warning of what drew nearer with each pump and drag of his long cock in and out of you.

The way his hands roamed your body in a calm, but needy way had your mind spinning, like the more he touched you the more it grounded and convinced him that he was still here to enjoy something this good; the gravity of today in no hurry to lose its effectiveness.

Jax paused for a moment, rubbing his hand over your forehead as he searched your eyes for permission or assurance or something more that scared even you, the sound of your panting breaths the only thing audible in the dark quiet of your room. He dipped down to brush your lips again, his scruff holding onto the sweat that had effectively coated every part of his body, lightly teasing with a softer kiss before resuming the purposeful tempo of his hips, the silence between you able to voice that you were both ready to find your high together.

Letting your bodies say what your words couldn't, you met his pace, grinding and rolling deliberately in time with him, the need to help him find his release with the use of your body seeming more important tonight than it ever had.

Jax gripped your face tightly, his fingers squeezing your jawline in an almost frantic way, groaning into your mouth desperately as a signal of his climax.

His thrusts never faltered, continuing to pound you while his hot cum filled you up in aggressive spurts, throwing you into your own orgasm as your clit rubbed against the coarse hairs on his groin. The feel of his cock sliding his thick seed in and out of you drew out your high, prolonging every blissful spark and shudder that tore through your body, the way his sweaty form laid heavily on top of yours a necessary weight that helped you stay rooted in the moment.

He remained buried inside you while you kissed, catching your breaths by sharing each other’s until he slipped from between your legs and crashed onto the covers beside you, his arm falling over his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Despite having just been as close to him as you possibly could be, you felt a vacancy and longing for him, glancing over at him where you watched him close his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly as he drew in sharp breaths.

His necklace fell to the side from where it rested on his pec, hanging in his armpit as he continued to breathe, and you carefully picked it up between your fingers, the silver cold against them and a stark contrast to the heat that radiated off his body.

Even though his eyes remained closed, you couldn’t mistake the pained look on his face, a sort of fear and vulnerability that was rare to see on his features, his mortality shattering the usual invincibility that was layered on falsely by his cockiness.

Your chest felt tight, watching him let everything the adrenaline had prevented him from feeling earlier course through him, and you leaned over and traced your fingertips along the creases beside his mouth before pressing your lips to his, relieved when he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back.

His arms came down to wrap around you, pulling your body to rest more on top of his, his hands carding over your back in a comfortable, soothing way.

You couldn’t recount the times sex with Jax had turned into a quick goodbye between smiling kisses and promises to see each other soon only to have days turn into weeks, convincing yourself and him that this was nothing more than a casual, fun fuck, having to disguise the way your heart ached for him and how many butterflies erupted at the mention of his name alone.

None of that mattered tonight, no longer caring if you let your cards show, the severity of tonight outweighing any need to try to stifle your feelings or bother denying that you felt more for him than you ever intended to let happen.

Jax remained pensive and quiet, his boisterous self clouded by his brush with a graver fate, but with the occasional kiss to the top of your head and the way his heartbeat had steadied in your ear, you knew he was comforted in your embrace.

As you laid entwined in your sheets, your leg hooked over his waist while he held your hand and played with your fingers, interlacing them and listlessly running them through his, you thought how you would never be able to control or guarantee if he would be yours to love forever, the way he lived his reckless life a threat to any sort of assurance.

A soft smile tugged at your lips when Jax shifted slightly lower on the bed to line up your face with his, kissing you slowly and clutching your hand in his where he brought it into his chest.

His nose rubbed against yours a couple of times before he settled his head on your pillow, a quiet hum sounding from his mouth, his blue eyes shining with a vitality and promise that for at least another day, he was yours.

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Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @rhoorl

#jax teller #sons of anarchy #jax teller smut #jax teller x female reader #charlie hunnam #jax teller x reader #sons of anarchy fic #charlie hunnam characters #jax teller fic #samcro

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2knightt · 6 months

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「 you are—unforgettable.」

IN WHICH—you’re them and they’re you!♡ ໋֢ 👒✧

🍵ヾFT. THE GREASERS࿐ྀུ ♡

⌗ 👒 notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅ people in this fic refer to two-bit as ‘keith.’ who cuz who the FUCK says ‘he got his two-bits in🤓’ NOBODY! but in the descriptive parts he will be two-bit. ALSO IF U DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M SAYING LOOK IN THE TAGS!

Ponyboy Curtis ;

his class was gonna watch this movie before reading a book. ‘the outsiders,’ or somethin’.

it was made in the ‘80’s—he didn’t want to even watch it. watching movies in class was the worst!

ponyboy sat at his desk, head in his arms. he heard the music and looked up, chin resting on his arms.

when ponyboy seen you writing down and narrating, he could’ve sworn he died and came back to life. LIKE WHEN HE HEARD YOUR VOICEEE HE GOT A LITTLE BLUSH ON HIS CHEEKS.

his friends beside him noticed, snickering to themselves. they shoved him, asking if that was his future partner. he just pushed them off, quietly telling them to fuck off.

when ponyboy seen you covered in the soot??? phew—he questioned his morals, man. and THEN HE SEEN YOU BEAT UP?? he was getting FED.

ponyboy came out of that school a new man.

his ears were hot, his cheeks were red, and he was already looking up edits of you. ponyboy shoved those almost broken wired apple headphones in his ears and tuned everyone out.

when he got home he ignored any questions darry and soda threw at him and immediately went to his room. ponyboy quietly closed the door before hopping into bed, pulling out his phone, and going on tiktok.

spent like a solid 30 minutes tweaking over edits of you. like full on screaming into his pillow—i’m so serious.

“darry, what the hell is that noise?”

“i dunn—ponyboy?”

“AHHH!!”

when he found out that, outside of the outsiders, you’re decades older than him he was SO HEARTBROKEN.

the gang seen him looking at photos of you and immediately started teasing him. he absolutely tried to back himself up with stutters.

“they’re how much years older than you, bro?”

“NONO HEAR ME OUT, PLEASE! KEITH, BRO, PLEASE.”

reads fanfic. look at me in the eyes and try to tell me that ponyboy motherfucking curtis doesn’t read fanfiction.

you can’t.

like bro he’s so desperate for more content of you to the point where he writes the fics he yearns for—got pretty popular to.

“why the fuck is your phone blowing up?”

“PLEASE don’t ask me any questions about it.”

he’s a freak. he knows everything about you. ponyboy’s even began to watch your interview’s about the movie. and your other movies.

literally a teenage girl.

“THEY’RE SO FINE THOUGH, PLEASE!”

“nuh-uh.”

“FUCK YOU MEAN ‘NUH-UH’?”

Johnny Cade ;

seen you when he was watching random movies at the curtis house. at first he was like, ‘wait!! they’re so me coded😛.’ it never occurred to him that you could be so cute.

he seen you crying and something in him like actually snapped.

“wait….am i getting a crush? they’re kinda…”

when he seen the equivalent of ponyboy in this universe snuggled up to you in the church he was soooo jealous.

yk that one audio where it’s like, “how long is he gon’ be talking to my WIFE.” that’s literally johnny cade when he seen that person kiss the top of your head.

“what the fuck?”

“…what do you mean?”

“nothin’. it’s just kinda bullshit that they swoop in and steal my chance😒.”

“you never had one.”

“okay, pal😐.”

heart broke when he seen you in the hospital bed btw. like was full on gripping onto a pillow with tears in his eyes.

johnny was in such denial when he seen you die😭. ‘bro, no. they literally aren’t dead.’/‘guys!! it’s just a prank!!’

when he got to the scene he was in SHAMBLES. HE WAS INCONSOLABLE. ripping his hair out, screaming, crying, allat.

“stay gold…”

“NOOOOOOO-“

was so pissed when you didn’t come back. was even more pissed when your letter was read out loud.

“HOW COULD THEY KILL THEM OFF?? THEY DIDN’T DESERVE IT!”

“johnny, it’s a movie.”

“this is so unfair. i hate movies.”

gets nervous looking at photos of you. like to the point where he tries to look up your name on pinterest before bailing mid sentence and giggling. like full on throwing his phone across the room, kicking his feet.

will talk for hours about you. thinks your the coolest character ever!! defends you like his life depends on it.

“they killed someone?”

“so?? you’re acting like you wouldn’t do it to🤣🤣 fake ahh friend.”

—

“they legit can’t stand up for themselves. you want someone like that to be out walking them streets?”

“oh, god for bid a person has trauma. and YES I DO🗣️. i hope they walk right into my arms, HO.”

all said online btw. he would never ruin his ego by speaking like this. i am a strong believer johnny cade puts up a strong front online.

johnny literally thinks you’re the cutest person he’s ever seen. like his cheeks get so hot when he thinks about you and he gets a silly little smile on his face.

he looks at photos of you and his friends think he has a little girlfriend.

“who you textin’, johnnycakes?”

“nobody-uh!”

“c’mon—we see that smile!”

and it’s literally just you with blood dripping down your face.

Dallas Winston ;

caught a glimpse of you at some girls house he slept at. literally stopped dead in his tracks as he seen you light a cigarette before mumbling, ‘nothin’ legal, man.’

“i-uh, what movie’s this?”

“huh? oh, the outsiders. pretty good movie.”

he thanked her and threw on his jacket before speed walking to bucks place. he had to watch this movie or he’s actually lose it.

imagine buck’s bar is actually a house, kay? dallas sits his pretty little ass on that couch, flips to whatever streaming service, and turns on ‘the outsiders.’

thought it was all boring until he seen you walk into frame—mocking the main character. at that very moment he was all, ‘wait that’s kinda hot.’

seeing you help the two younger ones run away while still acting tough was so attractive to him. dallas felt like he was losing his mind.

seeing you run in after the two into the church kinda made his knees weak.

“BAE NO!”

“what the hell are you screamin’ ‘bout?”

“nothin’, buck…”

he was so scared that you’d die in the fire. (little did old dallas know am i right fellas!!!!) like i swear to god he was so scared you’d end up like the johnny in this universe.

WHEN HE SEEN YOU FIGHTINGGG. he went feral. dallas was like so flustered. he was trying so hard to hide his blush to the ghosts around him with his hair.

his flush was short lived however. seeing you cry and then literally point a gun at a cashier was lowkey whiplash for him.

“what the fuck is happening?”

dallas figured out what was gonna happen early on and started kinda tearing up. like one tear formed in his eye before he blinked it away. but he was still devastated.

WHEN DALLY HEARD SOMEONE SCREAM “they’re just a kid!” he lost it. like actually. he went limp on the couch and spaced out. like damn…his fiancé, who doesn’t know they’re his fiancé yet, really WAS just a kid.

nobody knows he likes the outsiders OR that he has a crush on you. and they CAN’T know, it’s way too embarrassing. like actually.

when he’s with the gang and he’s just casually scrolling on tiktok and he sees the tags with your name, he immediately favourites it and scrolls. he saved it for later when he’s alone.

also defends you like there’s no tomorrow.

“they were hitting on someone who had a partner??”

“okay?? fucking live a little jesus.”

—

“THEY’RE A FUCKING CRIMINAL?”

“i’m into it tho lmfao”

swears up and down that if you and him were in a room together—you’d have a crush on him. top tier delusion.

like if he gets drunk with keith, he will rant about it.

“no—hear me out. put me in a room with y/n l/n and i swear to god they’re gonna be madly in love with me.”

“no they won’t, dallas.”

“yuh-huh.”

looks at photos of you and probably has you as his pfp on his spam. includes you in every other photo dump.

Sodapop Curtis ;

seen an edit of you on tiktok and audibly gasped. full on went, “WHO IS THATT😜” went to the tags and just scrolled under it for a good long while.

he seen a angst edit of you and made up his mind that he had to watch the movie.

for the while that you weren’t on screen, he was trying to push through. he really was. but deep down—in his head he was screaming, “BORING! SHOW ME THE PRETTY ONE!!”

when sodapop seen you tending to your younger sibling he could’ve sworn he was on cloud 9.

“my turn when :/.”

WHEN SODA SEEN YOU GET OUT OF THE SHOWERRR😭😭. he lost his BREATH like was full on gripping his imaginary pearls.

had to take a breather to walk around the house before unpausing the movie. had a blush across his cheeks, i can’t even lie.

when he learned that you were described as, “movie star attractive,” all he did was nod. like,

“mhm. i always knew my fiancé was good looking.”

SODA WAS APPALLED WHEN HE FOUND OUT THAT YOUR PARTNER CHEATED ON YOU. like jaw was on the FLOOR.

“I COULD TREAT THEM BETTER🗣️🗣️ THEY KNOW WHERE HOME IS!!”

he is so open about his little crush in you—it’s so cute :(

“steve, look at ‘em.”

“i see them—get your fuckin’ phone outta my face.”

“aren’t they so perfect??🤭🤭”

“i guess.”

“well, BACK OFF. we’re already happily married.”

“in your dreams maybe.”

“oh my god.”

soda has you as his pfp on at least two platforms. his name on one platform is “y/n’s boyfriend (REAL!)”

seeing you run out on your siblings after they grouped you into your argument made him just wanna hug you so bad. like he just wanted to tell you it was all gonna be okay.

has a album in his photos where it’s edits of you and photos. giggles and twirls his hair as he looks at it.

Darry Curtis ;

his parents used to watch the movie all the time and you’ve always just been a life long crush of his.

like when younger darry seen you walk into frame, comforting your kid sibling, something in his head snapped.

suddenly everything was in slow motion, there were hearts everywhere, he had rose coloured glasses on, and for some reason—harps play in the background.

as darry grew up it literally never went away. whenever the outsiders comes on when he’s home he always still goes, “woah.😍😍”

like he thinks you’re so fine.

he doesn’t like watch edits, read fanfic—none of that🗣️. but if he gets asked who is celebrity crush is—your name is coming out of his mouth ASAP.

“so, darry, who’s your celebrity cru-“

“y/n l/n.”

“but they’re a character?”

“Y/N L/N.”

he has like ONE printed out photo of you in his room from years ago. he knows exactly where it is and where to hide it, but he still keeps it.

at least once every two months, when everyone’s asleep and he has no work the next day, he’ll stay up just to watch the movie.

he’ll have a budlight in his hand as he watches you absolutely DEMOLISH at the rumble.

“i always knew they’d win.”

“you’ve watch this movie a thousand times.”

“PONYBOY?!”

the gang eventually found out his little crush on you. only light teasing ‘cause they’re so scared they’ll get that darry smoke if they push him further😭😭.

“oh my god! look, darry! you’re little crush is on screen!”

“steve, i will beat some sense into you if you don’t shut up.”

“…okay, bud.”

—

“when’s the weddin’?”

“after your funeral, keith.”

“wow. hater.”

Steve Randle ;

his dad fell asleep on the couch one night with this old movie playing in the background.

steve was about to turn it off before he caught a glimpse of you offering this half naked person some cake. he was all, ‘WAITTTT🙈🙈!!’

like he seen you in that sleeveless jacket and immediately fell in love. literally was on a mission to figure out who you were.

when he did? all he wanted to do was watch the outsiders. WHEN HE SEEN YOU SCOLDING THE MAIN CHARACTER HE SOO KNEW YOU WERE HIS TYPE

“wish they’d scold me like that…damn…😞✊”

was TWEAKING SOO HARD WHEN HE SEEN YOU ALL BLOODY WITH YOUR HEAD THROWN BACK.

“…you think i look tuff?”

“YES BAE!!!”

making his name on like insta or something, “y/n’s HUSBAND.” he puts emphasis on the husband because he believes that you want him so bad.

like actually. he’s fucking delusional.

“guys…they like cake…and I LIKE CAKE! do you see my vision??”

“no??”

“man, fuck you.”

photo dumps on insta of pictures of you with the caption, “from our honeymoon 😍😍😛😛!” his friends are ripping him apart in comments btw.

WOULD GO FOR WAR FOR YOU.

“they’re actually so gross what.”

“YOU’RE GROSS!🗣️ KEEP THEM OUT OF YOUR MOUTH YOU FOOL!!”

—

“they have 0 depth.”

“0 depth to YOU. to ME they’re the love of my life.”

Two-bit Matthews ;

seen the outsiders when he was drunk. he didn’t remember anything that night but the cute lil’ actor who was laughing after flirting with some rich lookin’ kid.

the only thing he remembers saying that night was,

“damn—when is it MY TURN😩😞”

WENT ON A FUCKING HUNT TO FIND THIS MOVIE ISTG. he was looking up shit that didn’t even matter to the plot—so he got different movies each time.

‘cute actor flirting’

‘cute actor in old ass movie’

‘mickey mouse shirt’

‘when was mickey mouse created’

‘who is walt disney’

he got a little distracted but that’s not the point. two-bit found the movie and cried tears of joy. fell to his knees and all😭.

he immediately turned the outsiders on and waited to see you. HE WAS SOO SAD TO FIND OUT YOU HAD LIKE SUCH LITTLE SCREENTIME.

but he worked with it. he was taking SO MUCH PHOTOS OF HIS TV WHEN YOU WERE ON SCREEN LMFAO. they were all so shaky too😭😭.

doesn’t shut the fuck up about you.

“they want me so bad🤣🤣😂😂.”

“they wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, keith.”

“what if i killed myse-”

—

“they’re so find i won’t ‘em.”

“what the fuck are you saying?”

“what are YOU SAYING? back up.”

saves edits of you. he is ABSOLUTELY THE TYPE OF PERSON TO SAY THE MOST OUT OF POCKET SHIT ABOUT YOU IN THE COMMENTS LMFAOOO

‘they could beat the shit out of me and i thank them :3’

‘WHAT?’

‘omg who said that’

you are his profile picture everywhere. and anywhere.

genuinely believe you’re the love of his life. i swear to god he does. KING OF DELUSION ABOVE ALL ELSE!

#the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #darry curtis x reader #two bit x reader #two bit mathews x reader #two bit matthews x reader #steve randle x reader #LUV THIS CONCEPT!!!#like you’re the movie character and he’s the real person #like idk you’re the dallas and he’s the real person giggling over u.#feels so good to write like this again!!! teehee!!

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unholyhelbig · 2 months

Note

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?��

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid.

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

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ashyllum · 2 months

Text

𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 (Yandere! Sunday x Reader)

Gn! Reader (sub/bottom reader)

Desperate Pining series - Sunday edition

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

CW: power play, sexual guilt, desperation, mind fuck, mind break, yandere doing yandere stuff, sunday being sunday, conditioning, sunday molding reader

Play the song for best experience

You had made many mistakes in your life, joining the Iris family, your career choice, but none could compare to falling for Sunday, the Oak family's head, daring to pine for him romantically, while all you were a mere performer, hell, not even an innocent singer or actor, you were a host/hostess in a nightclub, a glorified whore.

You could never forget the day you saw the angel, in the club during your shift, as he entertained some family's guests.

The way he walked, talked, moved, breathed, it cause your brain wiring to fuse in mere seconds. He was holy, divine, just a mere look at him, caused your heartbeat to palpate an unhealthy amount.

And Xipe, in all their glory, gazed your way they day, as you were picked to serve his table, god, his melodious voice left you all tingly, breath heavy.

The way he looked at you with such softness, his pretty smile, making you to whimper unconsciously, your thighs rubbing together in your tiny little bunny suit, your pussy wet / cock already dripping pre cum.

So you found yourself moaning and inside a restroom stall, one hand inside your underwear, other in your mouth, to prevent any noise to escape, albeit you were doing a terrible job in it.

Your vision started swirlling around, purple curvy borders around you, as if you're looking at a screen, your mind entirely consumed by thoughts about Sunday, till the second you orgasmed.

It felt, dirty, dirtier than you were used to feeling, as you knelt on the bathroom floor, panting, heart heavy, longing, your body jittery and mind confused at your actions. But most importantly guilt, guilt for lewding someone so holy, a guilt akin to felt when sinning, yet, double as tempting to repeat.

And all those feeling increased exponentially, as you got out the stall, only for your eyes to meet those golden ones through the reflection in the mirror.

"You make such cute noises, there's no need to hold them back," he said, as he turned around and stepped closer to you, your heartbeats resonating with his footsteps, only for your brain to stop working as he took your hand and kissed the area you had bit earlier, staring deep in your eyes.

From that moment on, you memories remains a blur, the kisses, the touch, the luxury hotel room which you could'nt have ever afford, and the tears.

And God, did that strange guilt scare you off, you don't really remember it yourself how you physically jolted at the thought of him penetrating you, daring to refuse the leader of Penacony, making him settle for a sloppy blow job and a thigh fuck, you barely even touching him, making him do all the work.

Yet, the man was gracious enough to let you stay over in the room for the night, blessing you with the opportunity to wake up next to him.

"Won't you pay me back for this opportunity, little sheep?" He asked you, caressing your cheeks gently, his touch akin to a whisper, light, sight, barely there, reminding you how you dared to reject his affection last night.

So you stayed, helping him get ready, buttoning his shirt for him, as he read some texts on his phone, tying his tie, the way he liked, getting him some coffee and breakfast from the breakfast buffet in lounge, because he's too prestigious to mix in common folk, all while he scrutinized you whenever you didn't do the tasks the exact way he liked.

And the second he left the room, you felt hollow, as if your heart had a gaping hole in between as if he took away a part of your soul with him. So imagine the unfathomable amount of joy you felt when Sunday kept frequenting the club more and more, always picking you to serve his table, giving you that kind look, praising you, doing everything in your power to please him, putting extra effort in everything.

All that, only for your heart to break when you heard the whispers about Sunday starting to indulge in some of your co-workers in bed.

Cause, after all, your sin wasn't craving the angel's attention, but to even think you could ever deserve it.

Your weeks your brain stuck on the thought, if the Sunday will come back in club the next day, if he will ask you to serve or not, or will he ask your co-workers, the one who get to lay with him at night. Will he get disgusted by you soon, get tired of pathetic little you.

But till then, those few hours serving were enough, despite the pain and longing, you were willing to suffer if it meant keeping that damn smile in your life.

All such thoughts spiralling in your head 24/7, causing you to get anxious randomly, to the point, your friends started worrying about you. As your self esteem started dwindled down, day by day, as you kept comparing yourself with him.

So it was a shocker when one day the man showed up near the cramped dingy alleyways you live in, greeting you with the same sweet smile, as the first day, you saw him.

You humored the man for some while, best to your capabilities as your breath started to get heavier and heavier in his presence, only able to look at him with a longing gaze, his words flying over your head, till you both stood in silence for a while, your brain to gushy to realize.

"You know, little lamb, you really need to learn some from Sydney," he said, pulling you out of your daydream, gently brushing your cheek with two fingers, then using them to slap your cheeks lightly.

You winced at the name of your co-worker, the one labeled as 'Sunday's favorite',

"I-"

"Invite me to your apartment," he instructed, cutting you off "It's only polite to continue our conversation, inside, right?"

So there you were in your tiny, cramped, studio apartment, he thought of your living condition to be proud, that much was visible on his face, as you brewed him some tea, the most expensive one you had, which was probably too cheap for Sunday's taste, while he chewed your head off on speaking about random things.

But mostly instructing you how to do things properly, like pouring him tea, how to serve him, how to sit properly, and so on. Which you followed diligently, of course, Mr. Sunday, is a kind soul, teaching someone like you, how to behave.

"(Y/n), replace your black net stockings with white ones" he instructed, referencing to your work uniform, before leaving.

So you did, the next day serving him, like a "good boy/girl" those words causing your face to flush, redder than a tomato.

And you got rewarded alright, as he lead you to the same hotel room, from your first night. This time the experience was more sweeter, gentler, yet you still had a break down at the thought of getting penetrated by him.

Heart pounding hard, you got a full-on panic attack this time, getting coddled by Sunday, as he has you sit on his lap, facing him, his dick rubbing against your pretty hole, as he cooed on you, his one hand patting your back, while caressed your face.

"Darling, you had no problem, jumping on Hudson's dick, what's wrong with me?" he asked, out of nowhere, as his hand now grabbed the behind the back of your neck, causing you to whimper.

"W-who?"

"Ah, so you don't remember your clients, huh? How sweet of you, to happily lay with someone whose name you can't recall, over the man, who's been kind enough to hide you in your stupid mistakes"

He sighed, hitting your cheeks with two of his fingers.

"Tell me, my little lamb, what do you think, when you see me?" He asked, his lips laying on your Adam's apple.

"P-preety" you whispered out.

"That so, doll?" he took whispered, taking your hands, and putting it on his face, "if you think, i'm preety lay your hands on me," Sunday said, as you looked in your eyes, an desperate expression in his gold eyes.

To be continued ~

Have you longed for someone so much so, you start feeling disgusting?

Can't you tell I'm desperate? Can't you tell I'm cheap? You don't gotta love me, we don't have to speak I'll see you in the morning, if you gotta leave I'll see you when I see you You Were a Dream - Artemas

(Excuse me if this was bad, It's my first fic and I'm suffering for horrible period cramps )

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr sunday #sunday #sunday x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere sunday #hsr sunday x reader #yandere sunday x reader #Spotify #yandere #yancore #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yanderecore

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mjolnirswriststrap · 26 days

Text

Just Another Notch

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size F!Reader

Masterlist Part 3/??

Word Count: 1,824

Summary: If Bucky thinks his charms will work on you, then you’re gonna put up one hell of a fight to prove him wrong.

Warnings: Nothing explicit 18+, until later chapters, read at your own discretion. Fat shaming, bully!Steve. Protective!Bruce

Training felt useless. When you made it to the simulation room, you didn’t even power up the hologram tech. You sat in the chair facing the super computer. Seeing your reflection in the monitor screen, cause tears to well in your eyes. You thought you were beautiful, when you looked in the mirror after you got dressed, you felt so confident. The look on Bucky’s face when you emerged from your room boosted that confidence tenfold. You could laugh at yourself now. How quickly things change, it’s the cosmos teasing you. Blowing a long breath out of puckered lips, you drop your forehead, landing it on the cool glass desktop. Maybe you bit off more than you can chew. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to play this kind of game.

You knew you never stepped foot in that gym for a reason. Why did you think today would be different? “You ok?” You raise up, searching the room. “Uh hello?” You say, standing up when you still don’t spot anyone. You see the top of a curly head of hair bent under a desk. Walking up to it, the gym situation leaves your mind instantly. You see Bruce folded up untangling wires underneath a desk. “What a sight.” You laugh. “Yeah, yeah, poke your fun.” He contorts himself free, standing up to press the power button on the monitor screen.

When he’s met with continued darkness, he rolls his eyes and faces you. “Your forehead.” He motions towards his own. You make eye contact with yourself in the mirrored wall behind him. Apparently you’d banged your head harder than you thought. You didn’t feel it but you saw the blood at your hairline. “Oh my.” Your eyes grew to be big like saucers.

You look at the desk to see a large crack down the center of it. “I heard you do it, that’s why I asked if you were okay.” He was looking at you with disbelief that you did that to yourself without noticing. “It didn’t hurt, don’t worry about me.” You brush him off, running to the sink in the corner to wash the blood and sweat from your face.

“I know you have a hard head, my desk though? Priceless and fragile.” He jokes, you can hear the real concern under his voice. “What happened, really?” Bruce steals your rolling chair, sitting below you, looking up intently. His big brown eyes gave you the courage to admit it. “Just the same old, same old.” You kick at one of the wheels to the chair.

“C’mon, you know it’s not good to hold it in. Let the doctor help.” He sounds playful, but you know he’s dead serious. You never considered Bruce one of the main team, so there was no reason to ice him out. He was a scientist more than anything. He spent almost one hundred percent of his time in this simulation room, save for when you both knew you’d rather be training alone. He kept you company, not in the verbal sense.

Most of the time the room was filled with the clicking of keys and hard labored breaths. You both did your own thing, over time you started appreciating each others meekness and opened up. Once you got the man talking, he never stopped. You’re sure his brain is a computer, he soaks up information and spits it back out, corrected. You knew better than to ever lie to him, he was far too smart to fall for whatever you planned to say.

“Tell me.” His smile drops and you feel yourself break a little more. “I embarrassed myself, Bruce.” You look away from his saddening eyes. They were starting to pool with pity, and that’s the last thing you want from him. “Hard to believe, but how?” He says, grabbing your wrist to keep you from running away.

With a deep breath you begin, “I went the the gym with Bucky this morning, mistake one.”. Bruce quickly interjects “Bucky? What are you doing hanging out with him?” He presses his eyebrows together, you can’t discern his expression, was it judgement or something else? “It’s a long story.” You find yourself looking down and away from him again. Like there’s a smudge of guilt and shame creeping in.

“I’ve got time.” He raises his arms in a gesture that conveyed ‘bring it on’. God he wanted the details, why? You glance around the room, finding another chair and rolling it infront of him. “Where should I start?” You giggle, forcing yourself to lighten the mood. “The beginning, please.” He starts to bounce his knee.

“Last night, I was eating my late night cereal in the kitchen, when everyone got home.” Bruce folds his arms and nods. “Bucky joined me in the kitchen and well, he dumped a bowl of milk on me. It was an accident, I think.”

“You think it was an accident? Or you have proof of otherwise?” He says, tilting his head. “Maybe the latter.” You admit. “Okay, so the guy spills milk on you, so you go workout with him?” He was obviously confused. “Not directly after! He apologized and brought me coffee this morning to apologize again, offered to help me out with training.” Bruce rolls his eyes again and you’re sure they’ll fall out the next time.

“Please tell me you didn’t believe he was just innocently apologizing.” He sounds annoyed with you, it kinda stings. You never expected Bruce to get upset with you over it. “What else would he be doing?” You shrug your shoulders at him, genuinely curious if he saw it the same way. “Anyone with eyes here knows, that Casanova, will pull any girl in the building, I’m sure he doesn’t even have a type.”. So Bruce also thinks Bucky was flirting with you.

“I honestly didn’t want to believe it. Why would a guy like him be with me?” You shake your head, trying to throw the thoughts from your mind. “He has been nothing but nice to me, I promise.” You look him in the eyes and you see the tone you’ve been hearing in his voice. Flecks of green shine and then die out instantly, his knee was bouncing faster than before. “If he was so nice then why’d you leave the gym?” His voice wasn’t questioning, it was accusatory.

You choose your next words carefully. “Steve came in, and he said something that wasn’t so nice, so I left. That’s all, Bucky didn’t even do anything, there goes his attempt at sleeping with the whole office.” You try to laugh it off, but Bruce isn’t budging. “What did he say?”

“I was getting a water from the vending machine-“ before you could finish, his knee stopped bouncing, and he unfolded his arms. Now you were worried. “Did he comment on your weight, yes or no?” He stands up, harshly slamming the chair into the desk. You would never lie to Bruce, but the truth might start something you don’t want. “Sorta…” you say, ashamed. He strides past you, and now you’re reaching out for him, “Wait.”.

“No, I’m tired of these pompous assholes doing and saying what they want. I’m not letting it happen, especially to you.”. He looks back before exiting the room, and you feel something in your chest swell. He was so serious right now, you could feel the anger radiating off of him. You didn’t know Bruce felt anything besides casual friendship for you, now you’re starting to think differently.

“I’m coming.” You run to catch up with him, taking long strides behind him as his white lab coat swings behind him, and in front of you. “What makes him think he can even speak on my- on you?” He redirects as he swings the gym door open.

You’re met with Bucky and Steve racing each other in push-ups. “99-100!” “You suck.” “You cheated.” They’re laughing as if you and Bruce didn’t just walk in. “No one cares.” Bruce cuts in. The look of annoyance on his face was enough to confuse the super soldiers. “What are you doing out of the lab?” Steve jokes, but no one laughs. “The next time you even so much as think about Y/N, you’ll be talking to the big guy, not me.”. Steve looks around the gym, wondering who Bruce thinks he is. “Sure, pal.” He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat from his neck. “Tell your girlfriend to lose some weight then.” Before you could even be hurt, all you saw was green.

Hulk was infront of you now, taking heaving breaths. You poke your head out from behind him and see Steve and Bucky holding their hands out as if they were calming a wild boar. “Woah, don’t you think you’re over reacting?” Steve says, stepping back. “Y/N! Call off your dog!.” He says, tripping over his own feet.

Hulk slowly stalks towards both of the men, ready to shred them to pieces. A sinister smile on his face. You feel no pity for Steve, but the thought of Bucky being hurt in the crossfire didn’t sit right with you. Before the jolly green giant could break a bone you pipe up loudly. “Hulk? Hey! Over here!” You wave your hands around in the air.

He can see your tiny form trying to catch his attention, and Hulk has the peace of mind to just ignore you, and do what he knows best, smash. The first fist landed on the gym floor, splinters of wood flew everywhere, a hole to the basement left in its place. “Hulk!” You scream this time and it catches his attention. “Go home!” You demand. You knew better than to have a civilized conversation with him. He knew how to take orders from Fury, so maybe it would work. When he just stands there and looks at you, you double down. With a faux confidence, you looked him in his giant green eyes. “Now, Hulk!” You raise an eyebrow, like a tested mother, as if you were about to count to three.

You don’t know why, the hulk didn’t frighten you one bit, but silly, mean words would make you crumble. He growls one last time at the scared super soldiers before breaking through the door way leading outside. Leaving you alone with the men you almost had killed. Bucky looks in disbelief, like he wasn’t almost used for a human punching bag. “Sorry.” You shy away, stepping on fallen bricks to follow Bruce outside.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” You hear Steve ask, but you’re halfway to the swaying trees before you could hear his response. You don’t really know where Bruce lives, so following him through the woods was your only option. You don’t want him destroying more floor boards on your account. Also, you need to find out why he was so passionate about defending you.

Tag List:

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@winterslove1917

@honestlywork

@calwitch

@missvelvetsstuff

@differenttyphoonwerewolf

@Thewiselionessss

@mcira

@sashaisready

@thejujvtsupost

@toxicteapot

#avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #avengers #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x you #bruce banner #hulk #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you

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lees-chaotic-brain · 9 months

Note

Hii could we have a part 2 of Should've of when the reader finally wakes up from her coma 👉🏽👈🏽

Yep! Hope you enjoy it!

Should've (Gojo x Reader) Part II

You wake up after your heart stops

CW: swearing, mentions of death, angst to fluff, kissing

Part One | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

When you slowly open your eyes, you are thirsty. Moving to sit up, you find that you can't because something is on your chest. Looking down, you find a plethora of wires connecting you to various machines, but that wasn't what was stopping you from moving.

No. You couldn't move because your boyfriend of three years was sleeping with his head on your chest. When you move to brush his disheveled hair back from his face - did he let it air dry? It normally isn't this curly - he shot up.

"Sweetheart?"

"Hi. Are you - umph"

You were cut off by him burying his face in your hair as he pressed your face into his chest.

Starting to open your mouth, you pause as you notice he's trembling, his whole body shaking as he quietly sobs into your hair.

After sitting like this for a couple minutes, your worry builds up until you tentatively nudge him back a bit, so you can look at his face. He looks terrible, with puffy red eyes and eye bags so deep they look like makeup.

"Hey, hey, baby, what's going on, what happened? Last I remember I was on my mission-"

You stop as your memories begin to return.

"Wait, I was badly injured, right? Is that what's going on? You were worried?"

He nods, tears filling his eyes again as he looks down at you lying in the hospital bed.

"Well, you don't have to worry. I'm okay now. I didn't die-"

"You did."

"Huh?"

He spoke so quietly that you couldn't hear him.

"Could you say that again for me 'Toru?"

"You died."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean your heart stopped. Shoko had to resuscitate you. I thought-"

He breaks down sobbing, unable to control himself. Scooching over, you gently tug on his arm until he lays down on the bed next to you. Wrapping your arms around him, you run your hands up and down his back as he sobs into your chest.

"Shhh. Shhh. It's okay."

You soothed, trying to calm him down. You were scared; you had never seen him like this before. Normally he kept his emotions locked deep inside of him. He never broke down, and if he did, certainly not to this extent.

"It's-It's not."

He choked past his tears.

"You were gone. Your heart wasn't beating. You were dead. And I couldn't- I couldn't help. I wasn't there to protect you like I promised. I failed you. You could have slipped away from me, and I wouldn't have been able to stop it. All I could think about was how I should've told you I loved you more, been a better boyfriend."

He rambled on as you held him tighter, knowing he needed to get this out of his system.

"I should've kept my promises. Should've protected you. Should've been there to take that hit for you. Should've made you my wife like I promised myself after our first date. Should've held you tighter while I could-"

"Satoru."

You breathed out cutting him off.

"Even if I had died,"

A low pained whine escaped him, as if the very words physically hurt him.

Taking a deep breath you continued as he squirmed up in your grasp and buried his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling you in.

"Even if I had, which I didn't, I would have died knowing that you love me with everything in you. For fucks sake babe, you only tell me about a million times a day."

You chuckled, and you felt him huff against your neck.

"Hey, look up at me real quick."

Planting a kiss on your skin, he tilted his head up so he could meet your eyes.

"I need you to listen to me. This is important."

He nods.

"Gojo Satoru. I did not die. I am right here with you. That's where I am going to be for as long as you want me to. Because you love me with everything in you, and I know that. And I love you with every part of my heart. Everything in me belongs to you. You got that?"

"Yes."

He breathes, looking up at you, an unidentifiable emotion glittering in his swollen eyes.

"As for everything else, I'm still alive, so you can do all of those things. You can hold me as tight as you want. You can protect me, you can make me your wife, you can do anything you want., with one exception."

Your gaze hardened.

"You are not allowed to take a hit for me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. So how about we make a deal: I don't take hits for you, and you won't take hits for me. Deal?"

He opened his mouth to protest.

"I said, deal."

"Deal."

He grumbled, burying his head back into the crook of your neck.

After a few minutes, he slid up so you were eye to eye and cupped your cheek in one big hand.

"Did you mean what you said?"

"About what?"

"That I could make you my wife?"

You nod, smiling softly at him.

"I did."

"Then, would you make me the happiest person ever, and let me marry you once you're free to leave this bed?"

"Yes."

You breathed, giving him a kiss."

"One million times yes."

Note: That got a lot cheesier than I expected, sorry about that lmao. Also, my requests box is open for anyone who is interested!

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x female reader #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru one shot #i love writing for this man sm #jjk #jjk angst #jjk angst to fluff #gojo satoru angst to fluff #gojo x reader #gojo x reader angst to fluff #lee's brain writes

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tightjeansjavi · 3 months

Text

The Rite of Movement | part six

“I’m sad again, don’t tell my girlfriend”

A/N: fun fact about the little black cat in the moodboard! It’s actually my friend’s cat Artemis 🥺 love that little fur baby to the moon and back! Don’t let the title fool y’all…it’s a little sad of a chapter but don’t worry!! Everything is going to be fine!! I pinky promise 💗

~word count: 4.0k~

Summary: Joel opens up to you about his past at Brazzers and before he met you

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, established relationship, discussions of toxic societal norms, the adult film industry, past relationships, grief, intimacy, communication, unconditional love, unprotected piv, cock warming, mentions of alcohol, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is baby love, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

Calloused fingertips gently pluck wire guitar strings that once were coated in a fine layer of dust. Muscle memory takes over with each gentle thrum of the chords. He hasn’t played in years, the temptation arising, but never fulfilled. He used to play for Sarah, unable to say no when she’d curl up in his lap and watch him lightly pluck the strings. Carmen would watch from the kitchen, a soft smile etched on her face seeing Joel and her daughter bonding so soon.

Whad’ya wanna hear tonight, babygirl? Should we play your ma’s favorite?

Sarah curled up with her cheek pressed against Joel’s chest, his chin came to rest along the top of her head of curls as her small fingers reached out to pluck one of the strings, the baby song, Joelie! She giggled softly, and Joel’s heart melted into a puddle.

I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby…

He can never say no to you, not when you look at him with those eyes, and in a honeyed tone asking him to play you a song while you’re sitting side by side, the comforting crackle and pops from the fire pit, a light quilt draped across your thighs, and Artemis curled up in your lap, purring happily.

“Whad’ya wanna hear, baby love?” He rasps, turning his head to the side, resting his chin along his shoulder as he looks over at you.

“Something that makes you feel, Joel.”

He swallowed the growing lump rising in his throat, glancing downwards towards his fingers lightly plucking the strings, “Somethin’ that makes me…feel?” His throat felt parched, brows furrowed inwards. “Okay.” He said softly, inhaling a lungful of air, clearing his airways. “I’m shit at singin’, jus’ so you know, baby love.”

“Don’t care, Joel. I wanna hear you.” You said softly, knee brushing against his as you rested your cheek against the cushion, a gentle expression on your face, eyes soft and holding adoration.

His fingers trembled under the soft glow from the fire as he began to strum the chords, To Make You Feel My Love. He was a bit rusty at first, missing a few notes here and there, till he fell back into a comfortable familiarity.

When the rain's blowing in your face, and the whole world is on your case, I would offer you a warm embrace, to make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear, and there is no one to dry your tears, I could hold you for a million years, to make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet, but I would never do you wrong, I've known it from the moment that we met, there’s no doubt in my mind where you belong

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue, I'd go crawling down the avenue, there ain't nothing that I wouldn't do, to make you feel my love, mm…

His voice was warm, raspy and lulling. It held a gentle timbre that sent a warm tingle down your spine, tugging on your heartstrings in tandem.

He stumbled over the next verse, voice cracking and fingers losing their grip on the strings. He didn’t realize he was crying, hot wet tears streaming down his cheeks until he felt your gentle palm on his jaw.

Storms— are raging on a rolling sea, down the highway of regret—

“Joel.” You said softly, thumb brushing across his cheekbone, brushing away his tears that were flowing like a river, “Joel, hey. Look at me, baby. Look at me.”

“I—I’m sorry.” He choked, “I-I’m jus’ a bit rusty is all, baby love. S’been years since I’ve played this old thing.” He sniffled, jaw clenching and unclenching as you smoothed your thumb back and forth across his damp skin.

“Joel.” You reiterated soft, yet firm.

“I don’t even understand why I’m cryin’. Where did those tears come from? They weren’t there before. Must jus’ have somethin’ in my eye. Maybe it’s the smoke from the fire—” he rambled on.

“Joel Miller.”

That seemed to catch his attention as he met your gaze, blinking a few times with dark lashes wet and glistening. His lower lip wobbled and you had never seen him like this before, never this vulnerable, never this scared. Never this afraid of judgement that would never fall upon his shoulders, because you loved him unconditionally. No amount of fat tears, or stuttered speech would deter you from loving him.

“C’mere.” You said in understanding, gently prying the guitar from his grasp and coaxed him into your awaiting arms.

He wordlessly wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly with his face buried against your neck. His hands slipped under the back of your hoodie, feeling desperate for skin to skin contact to further soothe his emotions. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, hot breath fanning your neck, tears soaking into the neckline of your hoodie.

“Joel, what are you sorry for? Because of your emotions?…baby, it’s OK. You don’t have to apologize for being emotional. That is nothing to be sorry for.” You said softly, letting one hand rest at the back of his head, gently scratching his scalp with your nails while the other was rubbing circles against his back.

“I know—I jus’, I got caught up in the moment s’all. It really has been years since I last played…” he trailed off.

“Do you want to talk about it?…”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, fingers gently flexing along your lower back. “I do—I jus’ need a minute.”

“It’s okay, Joel. I understand, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” You reassured him.

She loves me, for me. She’s holding me, and wiping my tears. She sees me, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than here in her arms.

“I know.” He whispered, “I ain’t goin’ anywhere either, baby love.”

You nodded in understanding, gently brushing away a loose curl that fell across his forehead. “For all your pretty, and all of your ugly, I’m here.”

He took a few minutes to compose himself, racking through memories in his brain that were flashing like images on a silver screen. When he and Tommy went back home to Austin, Joel had reentered the dating culture expecting success, and was met with the complete opposite. Women in Texas had opposing values compared to the women he encountered in LA. It had gotten to the point where he was beginning to truly believe that he wasn’t deserving of love or partnership.

“If you want women to like you, I suggest that you seriously consider finding a new career that doesn’t exploit women for their bodies. You didn’t actually think that you’d get a free pass, did you?” His date sitting across from him laughed and reached for her purse in a haste.

He felt defeated and beaten down as he sunk further against the the back of the chair, “If you would just let me explain why I chose this career, and that I am not exploiting women for their bodies—”

“You fuck for a living, Joel. It’s disgusting. Good luck to you, cause you’re gonna need it.” She said unkindly, slinging her purse over her shoulder and walked off.

He ground his jaw back and forth, clenching his teeth together as he felt the bitter sting of rejection pierce his heart out that was laid out on his sleeve. He reached for his wallet, suddenly feeling a dozen pairs of eyes on him in the intimate restaurant. Heat spread from his neck to his face in a bright flush of embarrassment and shame.

He paid the bill, apologizing profusely to the waitress both verbally and with a handsome tip. He gathered up his feelings, tucking them back away into a box as he swiped his thumb across the side of his nose, feeling tears begin to prick and pool.

“Joel, you just haven’t met the right one yet.” Tommy tried to explain to him over a couple beers in Joel’s backyard. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Ain’t worth it.”

Joel scoffed under his breath, taking a swig from the beer bottle as he shook his head, “Tommy, you don’t understand. Women like you. They think you’re charming and barely bat an eye when you tell them about your job, but me? As soon as the words ‘adult film industry’’, or ‘pornstar’ come out, the narrative flips. And I am apparently not a feminist, I’m a disgusting person who exploits women for their bodies and I’m a pervert.” He laughed bitterly, feeling angry tears threatening to spill over,

“How is anyone going to see my heart if they’re not willing to look past what I do for a living?” He sniffled, “I jus’ have so much fuckin’ love to give, and no one wants it, Tommy. No one.”

Tommy shakes his head, dejected, devastated for his big brother. "I don't know, Joel. But if anyone is meant for love, real, true love, it's you. So I have to hold out hope."

You continued to gently pet his hair and while he silently worked through gathering his thoughts. You would sit out there with him for hours if he needed more time.

“Do you ever…have memories that jus’ pop up outta nowhere? Like, you’re jus’ goin’ about your day, and you just stop because you remembered something, or a memory pops up?” He suddenly said, eyes flickering to your gaze.

“More often than I’d like to admit.” You confirmed, encouraging him to continue.

“I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I haven’t played guitar in a long time. We’re talkin’ years. I’ve lost track if I’m bein’ honest. Anyway, memories of my past just creep in every now and then, and I want you—to know those pieces of me.”

“And playing guitar brought those memories to the surface? That’s understandable, Joel.”

He nodded, confirming your assumptions. “Yeah, exactly that. Anyway, I don’t know where to start I guess?”

“Wherever you feel most comfortable?” You suggested.

“Well, remember how I told you that I quit Brazzers on my 30th birthday? I did more than just quit. I pulled a complete 180 on my life in a matter of hours.” He started, taking a deep breath before he continued, “I was in a serious relationship at the time with someone who I had seriously considered spending the rest of my life with, y’know?”

“I understand, Joel.” You said softly.

“My girlfriend, Carmen and I were together for a few years. I met her on my 27th birthday at some bar close to the apartment Tommy and I were living in at the time. It started off casual if I’m being honest. I was apprehensive of telling her about my job because I knew that it probably would be poorly received. We just—we clicked. I felt like I could be myself around her and vice versa. We started getting serious at some point, and I finally told her that I was a pornstar. She initially took it a lot better than I expected, but she had a secret of her own to tell me.”

You couldn’t help the smile that was slowly tugging on the corner of your lips as you listened to Joel recounting memories from his past before he met you.

“That secret happened to be her 6 year old daughter, Sarah. She was the sweetest kid, baby love. She was a little shy at first, but I took the possibility of being her stepfather in stride.” He glanced downwards, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was going to smile. “I loved that little girl like she was my own. And I truly wanted Carmen and I to work out, but she never accepted me for who I was. She resented the fact that I was a pornstar, and that ultimately led to me breaking up with her. I didn’t want to fight for someone who wasn’t going to fight for me, y’know?”

“I think it’s completely understandable why you broke up with her, Joel. I think one of the bare minimum expectations in a relationship is acceptance of who you are from your partner. I could see if you were doing something harmful to either yourself or her or others, but she had no right to judge you for the choices you made in your life.” You reached for his hand, interlocking your fingers through his hand gave it a gentle squeeze. “Isn’t that what we all want in life? Is acceptance for who we are?”

“I think it was also only a matter of time before one of us was going to cut the cord. And I truly believe if I didn’t quit Brazzers that day, her and I would have still been together, but I imagine it was inevitable for us to break up. I wasn’t even mad at her for it either. I was…disappointed because I loved her unconditionally. I would have gone to the ends of the earth for her, and I just had to accept that she wouldn’t do the same for me.” He sighed, brushing his thumb across the outside of your hand in a gentle sweep.

“Did you end up telling her that you quit working at Brazzers?”

He shook his head, lips curving downwards into a frown as he met your gaze once more, “no. I never told her that I quit because she would have believed that I quit for her when that wasn’t the case. I didn’t want to compromise who I was just to appease her. And I have a feeling that if I did tell her I quit, we wouldn’t have broken up, and that would have benefited no one. It fuckin’ hurt like hell afterwards though. I jus’ remember Tommy coming back from his smoke break and he found me on my knees outside on the patio just this blubbering fuckin’ mess.” He stifled a chuckle.

“You realized that you deserved better, Joel. Not everyone comes to that realization, but you did. Life’s too short to be with someone who won’t be there for you the way that you were for them. But of course it hurt, and I can only imagine the pain that you felt after the fact because you thought that this person was your endgame. You already had the mindset of fully settling down with her, and then you had to make the tough decision with both her feelings in mind and your own. And you know what? I’m proud of you.”

He had an incredulous look plastered on his face when you said that you were proud of him. “You’re…what? I don’t understand. Why—why are you proud of me for that?”

“Because instead of staying in a relationship that was never going to work out, no matter how hard you tried, you pulled the plug and told yourself that you deserved better. And you do, Joel. It’s no one’s business to know why you chose the career path that you did. To shame and judge you for something that they’ll never understand because society views sex work as something to feel shamed for. It goes against the ideal norms that have been instilled in us since birth. People don’t like that, Joel. And that’s not to say that Carmen wasn’t good to you in some capacity, but the resentment was there and nothing was going to change that.”

“Yeah, and the person who I do deserve is sitting right across from me. I wouldn’t have met you if I didn’t pull the plug when I did. Maybe I would have never quit Brazzers and moved back to Austin to start Miller-Co. Maybe you and I…would have never met. Because you? You—fuckin’ get me. From the second that you and I met, I just got this feeling in my chest that you were going to have a major impact on my life, baby love. And as cliche as it’s gonna fuckin’ sound, I believe that everything happens for a reason.” He breathed out, big brown eyes glassy, his nose twitching as he let out a soft sniffle.

“Alright, who’s cutting the onions now? Is it you, or is it Artie?” You softly giggled, fighting through your own brewing tears because you had never loved someone so deeply till you met Joel. It was surreal to feel an instant connection to someone, but he made things easy in the sense that you could be yourself around him. You found that you could speak your mind, you could be passionate, sad, angry, happy, and he never made you feel small for your larger than life feelings. Never made you feel like you were too much, or too little. His love for you was effortless, unconditional.

“I mean it, baby love. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve never laughed more with another person than I do with you. I’ve never felt more honest with myself and my feelings till you walked into my life. I tried dating here and there shortly after I ended things with Carmen because I just wanted to feel something again, y’know? I just didn’t realize how judgemental people could be till I left LA. It got to the point where I felt like maybe all the women telling me that I should be ashamed, and I’m this disgusting pervert were right. Maybe a man like me isn’t deserving of love. Tommy reassured me that I just hadn’t met the right one, and he was right. I hadn’t met you yet.”

Ring. Ring. Ring. I need a fucking ring. He thought to himself.

This is going to be the man I’m going to marry, right? Please tell me he’s the one. I don’t want to do this all over again with someone else. He’s my person. I know he is. You thought.

Neither of you were sure who leaned in first, or if it was just a gravitational pull between your bodies that drew you both in, but suddenly you felt his hot breath fanning your lips, and those dark espresso colored eyes reflecting the warm glow from the crackling fire staring directly into your soul. If only you had known that he wished at that moment that he had a ring.

And when your lips met, slotting together like two puzzle pieces, it was brief due to a soft meow from your lap and Artemis had crawled her way between you and Joel, swatting playfully at one of the strings on his hoodie. He detached his lips from yours, looking down at his little fur baby with adoration as a warm chuckle slipped past his lips. “You, Missy, are a real cock blocker, y’know that?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and gathered her up in his arms. “I’ll be right back, ‘kay? You want anything to drink? I was gonna open up a nice bottle of Chardonnay? You in, baby love?”

“Oh, a glass of Chardonnay would be lovely, baby. But hurry back, okay? I’m not finished with you yet.” You leaned over the cushion, brushing your lips against the corner of his jaw before settling back into a comfortable position.

“Oh, I ain’t finished with you either, baby love. And that’s a fact.” He winked suggestively and stood up, cradling Artemis against his chest and you watched as he headed back towards the house, and disappeared through the back door.

You let out a content sigh, gazing up at the millions of stars visible on this crystal clear night. Your thoughts consisted of Joel, and how he made you feel like you were always the only person in the room. And how your love for one another was a two way street. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d meet someone like him. And when you heard the back door open and close, and his footsteps approaching, your heart skipped a beat.

You watched as he slowly sank down against the cushion, two wine glass stems held securely in one large palm, and in the other a bottle of Chardonnay.

He looked over at you as he worked the bottle opener corkscrew into the cork, twisting it slowly with the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up over his forearms that were lightly flexing with each twist. Before he could finish opening the bottle, however, you were crawling into his lap, situating your thighs on either side of his hips as you straddled him.

He leaned his back against the cushion, pausing his movements of opening the bottle, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as you looped your arms around his neck, fingers gently playing with the curls at the base of his hairline.

“What’re you doin’, baby love?” He rasped softly.

“Can I sit on it while you finish opening that?”

“You wanna sit on my cock while I pour us a couple glasses of wine? Mmm…I had a feelin’ that’s what you were gonna ask me, baby love.” He chuckled.

“Yeah…I just want to feel you, baby. Do you want that?”

“Of course I want that, baby love. Lucky for you, I went with no underwear this evening.” He wiggled his eyebrows playfully as you giggled, peppering kisses across his jawline and just below his ear.

“Is that so?” You nipped playfully at his earlobe, scraping your teeth against his skin gently.

“Mhmmm.” He rumbled out a response, feeling his cock stir to life in the loose confines of his cotton sweats. “Anytime you want, baby, all of me s'yours.” He confirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You reached between your bodies, gently palming him through the fabric as he lifted his hips upwards so you could pull his cock free. He used his freehand to help you pull your own sweats down just enough that they were over your hips, and he used his thumb to pull your panties to the side, assisting you as you grasped the base of his cock and slowly seated yourself on him.

He let out a low grunt as you shifted your hips to get more comfortable while he finished uncorking the bottle of wine with a soft pop. You felt him grow harder inside of you, the girth of his cock stretching you open as your body accommodated to his size: a perfect fit.

“Feels nice.” You both said in unison letting the feeling of being connected mind, body, and soul, wash between you.

He reached for the two glasses, somehow managing to steadily pour the wine into both and set the bottle down so it wouldn’t tip over. He handed you your glass, clinking them together gently before you both took a sip.

“Hey, Joel?”

“Yeah, baby love?” He had his head tilted back against the cushion, eyes staying locked on yours as he brought the rim of the glass to his lips and took another sip. You felt your walls clench around him just from that simple action alone.

“I think for the next video we film…I want it to be with you and Tommy.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, letting his freehand drop down and grab onto your exposed hip, pressing you in further to him as his cock twitched inside of you, “I think we can arrange that, baby love.”

You let out a soft gasp that was replaced with his warm lips kissing you, tasting the tang and sweetness from the wine on your tongue. And even though you were just sitting on him, enjoying the intertwined feeling of being connected, he dropped his hand from your hip, moving it between your bodies till he found your clit and began to rub the sensitive bud in gentle, orgasm-inducing circles till you were gushing around his cock from the stimulation alone.

He drank down your soft moans, whispering praises and sweet nothings that were only meant for your ears. And even as the fire began to die, and your glasses were empty, wine warming your bellies, you stayed like this, connected as one.

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19burstraat · 3 months

Text

Ok we all know guild me, build me exists due to my artistic abilities being very lacking in the visual arts, so rather than drawing the crows in the komedie brute, I had to write kaz in. however I had ideas for the others that I couldn't get into a fic, so I've put em down here

Kaz: (description ripped from guild me, build me):

a heavy black cape, sewn with stolen chains and jewels so that it jingled upon every movement (...) It was marked up and slit here and there, on the edges and at the collar, to give the impression of crow’s feathers, and it was made of some kind of shiny, velvety fabric that had the oily shine of crow’s plumage. The gloves were the same material, thinner and more embroidered than Kaz would have ever entertained, and the cane was a plain, inaccurate copy– (...) the mask; a silver crow’s head (...) crooked over the eyes and nose, almost like a Kaelish plague mask. But it left the mouth unblocked; of course it did. Dirtyhands needed to talk.

Inej:

Light and flimsy dark (doesn't have to be black; could be blue or grey) fabric for the veil and cloak. Has an element of spiderwebby fraying to it which is a nod to her being... Well, a spider lmao. But also meant to look ghostly and insubstantial, can sometimes see a metal shiny suggestion of knives underneath it. The veil can be parted just down the side of her face, so you can occasionally see a bit of her face, but never the whole thing. Would not be a practical costume to climb or spy in; too long and bothersome, the same way Kaz's Dirtyhands cloak would not be practical to pickpocket in. Sometimes productions get her a few cheap sheath knives.

Jesper:

Rabbit head mask, short cloak in some batshit colour like green or pink, lined w rabbit's fur and threaded with gambling chips, 'lucky' rabbits feet, coins, and stray bullets. Adornments tied on loosely so they swing everywhere when he moves. This way there's also a real risk of the Kaz and Jesper actors getting tangled together if they interact, which is not symbolic, just funny. This is our get-along Komedie Brute costume :) (we are stuck)

Wylan:

A once-fine red cloak with a high ruffly collar-- now tattered and singed and gone to seed. Little bits of wiring or string or pouches of powders etc sewn into it; sneakily embroidered with the Van Eck laurel around the edges. Mask, while elaborate and matching with the cloak, only covers the top half of his face, as if he's not quite as all-in as the others. For similar reasons, the cloak is half-length.

Matthias:

Wolf's head mask ofc, white fur cape a lot longer and more substantial than Jesper's, with heavy furring around the neck (made to bulk out the actor if they're not the right stature, which most will not be). Likely they also weight his boots to make his tread sound more imposing. Possibly a wig if they can afford one, since Druskelle are known for the long hair.

Nina:

Porcelain-doll Venetian style mask (you know the ones!) with a single black tear-- referential both to that bit in CK when they identified themselves that way in the crowd of Mister Crimsons, and the Queen of Mourning thing. Mask is covered with a very light veil, and she wears a long heavy silk cloak with a bit of a hint of a kefta, but not enough to get the Komedie Brute in shit from Ravkan Grisha lmao. Entrance usually heralded with a blue corpselight.

I imagine dependent on the production and the costumier they could look great and beautifully elaborate, or they could look cheap and shit lmao.

Bonus: I got bored and made a mock-up of a page of a Komedie play. I edited over the first folio for this, yes. Sorry to the Big W.S.

#right I think this is all right now. finally #fuckass blue site so glitchy it posts my shit early.#six of crows #soc duology #my fics #my post #grishaverse

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bearw-me · 2 months

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Lute x really flexible/gymnast fem reader with toned abs and legs that she's a little insecure about?

ORRRRR

Idk if you watch helluva boss, but: Lute reacting to her gf snapping a neck/suffocating a demon with her thighs like Millie did to that agent?

Your choice!!! (You might be able to combine these, idk)

i do watch helluva boss! blitzo's probably my spirit animal lmao. So i decided to do both! ( your request also strikes a nerve that may or may not include milly + moxxie )

𝐋𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐆𝐲𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫!

𐐒 includes : lute x fem!reader 𐐒 cw : fluff, hurt/comfort, swearing, lute struggles to be soft, suggestive 𐐒 summary : Lute can tell somethings up with you, she just has to confront you 𐐒 word count : 757 𐐒 note : hcs i wrote at the start of this are included! loved working on this request it just took some time to get out p e r f e c t l y ~

The lieutenant picks a spot next to you on a cool cloud, her black wings folding in on themselves firmly.

"Hey," she starts.

"Hey," you repeat.

And the way she stares at you make you feel like she knows somethings wrong. That classic, sharp stare of hers. It makes you shrink a bit more into yourself, hiding parts of your skin from her as if they were wounded.

Lute looks ahead, mushing the cumulus under her hands as she stares ahead towards the training grounds. You had been watching her train. . . but only watching.

"So, you aren't going to train anymore? You know I-. . ." Lute catches her voice with a hiss. Its so incredibly hard and so awkward for her to get her words out.

WHY

You watch with a little smile as she rips two little chunks of clouds out. Gripping them tightly against her face in frustration.

If she were scolding her army, or telling Adam to watch his mouth, this would be so, easy! But. . . she was talking to you. Her girlfriend, and she knew something was wrong.

Getting there, to that honest softness inside her was- fucking hard!- but she had to try.

With a new found determination, she turned her whole body towards you, eyebrows hardened into a flat line.

"I love you," Lute sat forward, letting her warm hands rest on your legs, "and I want you to tell me what's bothering you. . . You know you can tell me anything. I can handle it." She offered a reassuring smile.

With a shaky sigh, you turned to face her, watching as the dark angel now took your hands in hers, rubbing little circles into your skin. It felt like a barbed wire was clutching at your throat, nerves clamping around your heart.

Maybe she'd think its stupid.

With a long, shaky breath, your lips parted in soft confession.

"I'm just not feeling that confident in. . . in how I look," your tone broke from the weight of the truth, head falling with shame.

Lute let her grip slip of your grasp, the pair of pale hands cupping your face instead, insisting that you looked up at her.

Your eyes popped open with surprise.

The way she was looking at you: her golden eyes held an unspeakable softness to them, edged with those dark lashes that made her intimidating. . .

She's only ever looked at you like that.

And now, there was a little patch of scarlet blooming across the bridge of her nose. The sexiest blush that made your heart speed up.

"So that's why you didn't want to train huh?" Lute tsked you, wiping tears from your eyes you didn't know you had with her thumbs. "You remember that sinner I saw you kill?"

It was your turn to blush this time. Vaguely remembering that guys neck you snapped with your legs. "Oh god," you mumble, trying to hide and squirm from her hands.

"Hey!" Lute laughs, pulling you closer into her lap.

God she's strong.

She lifted your legs over hers, motioning for you to put your arms over her shoulders whilst she nestled hers around your waist. The dark feathers of her wings expanding like a protective wall around her back to yours.

Honesty is a virtue, she reminds herself.

"Seeing you kill that sinner was- literally the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed."

"Lute!"

She laughs, giving your middle a firm squeeze "You're the sexiest thing in heaven, and there's not one thing about you body that I don't worship." This time, she sighs, glancing you shamelessly up and down.

"Gods, I'm horrible at this. . ." Lute lets her head plop into your shoulder, glancing up at you in order to gauge your reaction.

"I love you, and its for a lot of reasons," she mumbles, straightening up in your arms. So close you can feel her breath on your lips. "Just don't forget that."

Lute biting her lip until it bleeds

physical affection all the way with your body (she'd have trouble taking her hands off you when no one else is around)

And to put it simply, she may not tell you all the time that she adores your body, but she definitely shows it

supports you in anyway and always shows up to watch you during practice or competitions (on that note she'd be the one cheering the loudest for you)

she's super proud to be your girlfriend / call you hers

squish her head like a watermelon whattt

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Note

For the requests: heard of hearing and/or partially blind Steve + his parents realizing. Maybe they come home & see how their house has changed to be more accessible for Steve? Or something like that.

HONESTLY THIS ONE HURTED. But as usual, you provide the quality shit!!!! Poor Steve, but also if it ain't hurt/comfort, then did I even write it? Everyone loves Steve. Except his parents. His parents suck. But everyone else? Angels. Hope you love it darling!!! - Mickala ❤️

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

Concussions were a bitch.

Multiple concussions in a three year period were a bitch.

But the worst part was when he noticed he couldn’t hear out of his left ear. Robin had been talking to him at work on his left side, whispering about some customer that was walking down every single aisle as if they didn’t know what movies were out, and he didn’t even notice until she switched sides halfway through a sentence.

He pretended it was fine, that he’d heard her the whole time, but then she asked him a question he couldn’t answer. She walked to his left side and said something, and when he shook his head, she bit her lip, fighting back tears.

“It’s okay, Robs. I can still hear out of the other one,” Steve said to comfort her, but also to comfort himself.

If he lost it in one ear, he could lose it in the other, and then what?

She tried to convince him to get a hearing aid, but he didn’t think he needed one.

“Your parents sent you money for medical expenses, use it for this!”

But he couldn’t.

And then he started getting blurry vision in both eyes. The left was rapidly growing worse, and Dustin noticed.

“Dude, you’re squinting. Do you have a migraine? You could’ve had Eddie drive me.”

“Nah, just tired. Trying to focus.”

Part of that was true. The squinting helped him focus a little, but he knew he had to do something about it.

So he sat down with Robin and came up with a plan.

He hated every fucking second of it.

“You get a scan first, we need to know if this is gonna keep getting worse or what permanent damage is there. You get glasses-“

“I might not need-“

“You get glasses. Then you get fitted for a hearing aid.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve rolled his eyes.

But looking back, he was grateful Robin made him do it.

The doctors had been amazed he was able to talk with the damage done.

“Will I lose my ability to talk?” He asked, realizing that not being able to hear, see, and talk was too much for him to deal with.

“I think we can work through some physical therapy type exercises to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m glad you came in now and not a few years from now.”

Robin never said ‘I told you so,’ probably sensing that Steve wasn’t coping well with the news.

They told him he would most likely lose all hearing over the years, and his vision would progressively get worse, though it would most likely plateau and he wouldn’t lose it completely.

They said he needed to do vocal exercises every day, brain exercises as often as possible, and to come back the moment he recognized any change in his speech.

So he lived with the anxiety of not being able to communicate with anyone he loved every second of every day.

Dustin, Will, Mike, and Max had done research for weeks, finding things they could do to help him live in his house alone. Sure, they were there often, almost enough to be considered roommates, but that wouldn’t always be the case.

They would all grow up and leave.

Max had lost her own vision after Vecna, only able to see light and sometimes movement, but never any detail.

The day he got his glasses, she threatened him with murder if he didn’t wear them.

“The more you strain your eyes, the worse they’ll get. Wear the glasses. I’m sure you look just as cute as always.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that, but he didn’t want to piss Max off, so he wore them all day every day.

Dustin had found a way to wire the doorbell to the lights in the whole house, so if it rang, and somehow Steve couldn’t hear, he’d see the lights flash three times from any room he was in.

He’d done something similar with the walkie, so Steve would know if someone was trying to communicate with him.

Will figured out a light system for the phone, where it flashed with green while it rang and red if he missed a call that went to their voicemail.

It only worked if he was in the kitchen, living room, or his bedroom and paying attention, but the thought behind it made him want to cry.

He got debilitating migraines frequently, which left him bedbound, unable to even get up to use the bathroom on his own sometimes.

They figured out a signal for his walkie that he could push the button in a sort of Morse code to make sure someone knew he needed help.

If he couldn’t get to his walkie for some reason, Dustin programmed buttons on all the phones: *1 called Robin, *2 called Eddie, and *3 called Dustin.

All of his meds were moved to the drawer by his bed, with a reminder note in every room of his house, just in case he forgot.

Which was apparently another thing he had to worry about: his memory.

The doctors seemed to think he would be okay if he stayed active and healthy otherwise, and definitely needed to avoid another concussion, but they did say he could notice some issues as he got older.

Mike looked up what vitamins he needed to help boost his memory and vision, and increased his iron intake to hopefully stave off some of the migraines before they even started. He put the instructions with his medication reminders all over the house.

But what surprised him most was what happened when his parents came home early on a random Thursday morning.

He was dealing with a bit of a migraine hangover, the day before being a blur of calling for help, reaching for his meds, and Eddie arriving to make sure he stayed hydrated and made it to the bathroom as needed.

Eddie was still here, in fact.

So when he heard them banging around downstairs, his eyes flew open and he looked at a still sleeping, very shirtless Eddie next to him in his bed.

Nothing happened obviously. Eddie just ran hot.

But his parents had already been questioning him a lot about not having a girlfriend in a while and hanging out with “queers” like those two things alone could make him gay.

And if they saw Eddie like this, they would make assumptions.

Assumptions that would get him kicked out of the house that everyone just worked so hard to make accessible for him.

So he got up as quickly, but quietly as he could, ignoring the buzz in his ear where his hearing aid was loose from sleeping in it. He wasn’t technically supposed to, but he didn’t like anyone touching his head on migraine days so it stayed in.

Eddie didn’t budge, and he hoped he stayed that way while he tried to keep his parents busy.

Then the lights flashed and he heard the distant high pitched ring of the doorbell.

“What the hell?” His father asked as Steve ran down the stairs.

“Steven?” His mother asked as he flew past them and made it to the front door.

“Steve!” Dustin yelled excitedly as Steve glared at him.

“Dustin, not now.”

“Why? I saw Eddie’s van, so I figured-“

“Who is at the door, Steven?”

Steve closed his eyes and heard Dustin mumble ‘shit’, before he turned around to face his parents.

His glasses were dirty, but he could see that the looks on their faces were not impressed.

“Since when do you wear glasses?” His mom asked.

“Is that a hearing aid?” His dad added.

“Dustin, I’ll call you later.”

“Answer the questions.”

“I started wearing glasses and the hearing aid after a few concussions that caused a lot of damage.”

“What’s going on with the lights? Do they always flicker like that?”

Steve hadn’t really expected them to care much about him, but it still hurt a little how quickly they became concerned about the house instead of him.

“They’re a visual aid so if I’m not wearing my hearing aid or my hearing gets worse, I’ll know when the doorbell rings.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yeah, it is,” Eddie said from the stairs, luckily not shirtless.

“Who the hell are you?” Steve’s dad didn’t waste time with pleasantries, he never did unless someone had something to offer him.

“I’m Eddie. Steve’s friend.”

“His friend?” Steve’s mom was hesitant to be obvious about what she meant, but everyone could understand where she was going with the questioning.

“Yeah, or would you prefer if we were boyfriends?”

Steve couldn’t help the snort he let out.

Eddie wasn’t the type to hide himself away, but he wouldn’t purposely make Steve’s life harder.

“Is there a reason you’re here?”

“I was taking care of him yesterday. It got late so I stayed.”

“Take care of him?” His mother turned back towards him. “Are you sick?”

“I get migraines.”

“We all get migraines, Steven,” his father said as he crossed his arms.

“But we all don’t get the kind that leave us crying and throwing up for hours on end because we can’t even see straight, do we, Richard?” Eddie asked as he walked closer to them.

“I don’t know who you think you are-“

“I told you, I’m Eddie. And as far as I’m concerned, I, and quite a few other people in town, are quite good at taking care of Steve. Unlike his parents.”

“Steve’s a grown man-“

“Yeah, now. But where were you when he wasn’t and got the concussions that caused this?”

Steve could feel his head pulsing, and he knew his migraine would be back at full force if he didn’t rest.

He took his hearing aid out for a bit of relief, the volume of his father and Eddie arguing going down considerably.

He massaged his neck the best he could, knowing that the release of some tension would at least keep the pain at bay until this could be over.

Then, he saw the phone start flashing green.

“What is going on with the phone?”

His mother directed the question at him, but Eddie stopped berating his father long enough to answer her.

“It’s so Steve knows it’s ringing if he happens to have his hearing aid out like he does now. In case no one is here with him and someone needs to reach him.”

“That explains not answering our calls.”

“I think that could just be that you don’t call at all.”

Eddie moved closer to Steve.

“Go upstairs, Stevie,” he said quietly into his right ear. “I can handle them.”

Steve was too tired, too frustrated, too borderline on a migraine to fight.

He walked upstairs, ignoring his father’s protests, his mother’s pleas, and Eddie standing in front of them both raising his voice to be heard.

Everything felt blurry as he removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes when he made it up the stairs.

His room was dark still, the blackout curtains still drawn closed, lights off, like Eddie had suspected it might be a bad day again.

His pills were on the table, a cup of water next to them. He set his glasses down and took them, trusting that Eddie followed the instructions perfectly.

He always did.

He always took such good care of him.

He came at the drop of a hat, even if Robin was already here. He brought Steve’s favorite soda, insisted it helped with migraines even though it probably didn’t. He massaged the spot on Steve’s neck that always held the most tension, pulled him close until he fell asleep on the couch or in the bed, always on his chest.

He’d been learning and teaching everyone sign language too.

Steve had started learning immediately, and so did Robin, but Eddie had insisted on it too, and started teaching the kids. He’d been showing Max one sign at a time, putting her fingers and hands into the movement so she knew how to do it.

And Steve didn’t think he could love Eddie more.

But he figured if Eddie was interested in him, he would have made a move already.

He could very distantly hear Eddie’s voice saying something, but he wasn’t sure what. With his hearing aid out, he usually couldn’t hear anything downstairs from his room.

He closed his eyes, settling under the blankets so he could try to do what Eddie wanted him to.

He drifted in and out, tired, but not quite enough to fall asleep all the way.

At some point, Eddie had made it back to the room and got in bed, his hand running through Steve’s hair gently.

“Eds?”

“It’s alright, Stevie. Your parents are gone. They won’t be back again for a while.”

“Mkay.”

He let himself drift again, safe with Eddie there.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #the party #hurt/comfort #hard of hearing steve harrington #visually impaired steve harrington #steve harrington has terrible parents #he also has migraines #but he also also has the kids and eddie #so thats a plus #requests #ficlet

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jedineedlove · 3 months

Text

Demon Bull King Vs Sun Wukong

I found some things interesting about this fight, please enjoy.

1: The two images were also ones that I felt might be instances but they could be more dramatic then evidence. It was when he rode down his staff and was bashing debris. The wire part was the stone was coming from down below but he still looked up. But again could be more for dramadics or just a weird angle thing the editors were doing.

A: Another image was when he was about to tear the mountain but I could chuck it to turning his gaze to the mountain behind him instead of up.

B: This was weird as well this is when he summons the clone army once again DBK is directly below him why look up, but gain it could be more observing the clone being formed.

C: This was the punch scene this is why it was hard to tell if this was an editor's issue or internal they were some glare in his eyes but I still see his full circle eye turned upwards and the glare at the bottom right of the eye. So why is he looking up and not at DBK why is he watching the punch and not where it's landing?

D: This was a maybe but it was during a terrain fight where the dramatic camera angles were a bit weird to read where any of the two were it's during the staff and axe clashing scene. DBK could have been beside him but the dramatic camera angles made it hard to tell.

This fight made me question a lot of what is going on in this show but where you go from here is up to you.

Thank you for reading :)

==============================================

Someone in the comments made a good point about this being told through a story point of view but in "Great Wall Race" when PIf brings up DBK's "bad experiences with mountains" he gets a flashback where it is cookie cut from the intro just with a blurred surrounded screen.

#lmk #sun wukong #lego monkie kid #fan thoughts #monkey king #lmk princess iron fan #lmk sun wukong #lmk swk #lmk red son #lmk demon bull king #lmk demon bull family #lmk dbk

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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Like Betta Fish Do - Part 11

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts. wc 2942 (Chapter 8 when on ao3)

“So who’s Jason?” Sam asked without preamble after the rest of the topics had wrapped up.

“Jason?” Tucker echoed.

Danny winced.

He had been hoping Jason wouldn’t come back up. He’d know that was complete foolishness, this was Sam, but he’d still been hoping. Because… he didn’t know how to explain Jason.

Being a halfa was Jason’s secret, one that Danny could tell the other was still struggling with. As much as Danny trusted his friends, it wasn’t up to him if Jason should. It wasn’t his secret to tell (no matter how much it affected him too).

There was also the fact that a little part of Danny didn’t want to tell. Being a halfa might have been Jason’s secret, but Jason was his secret too; his bit of his new life in this new place. Sam and Val and Tucker already had whole piles of little things like that from leaving Amity, but Danny didn’t. Nothing for Danny had been new for so long.

And now there was Jason who was new and amazing and completely different—

“Danny?” Tucker prompted.

Danny was regretting giving them a call on the way back from his first lab class.

“Someone I met when I was just out exploring Gotham some,” Danny lied. There was a little bit of truth there. “We’ve eaten together a few times now.” Donuts and take out while Jason was ill but still. “And he’s been showing me some of Gotham.” Or at least telling him about the city for safety reasons.

There was silence on the other end of the call. Shit, did he not sell it well enough? He had thought without being on video he’d be able to get away with the lie.

Finally, suspiciously, Sam asked, “Is he cute?”

“Ancients Sam!”

“It’s a valid question, you’re weak for the cute ones.”

“This is true,” Val spoke from experience.

“It sorta is, dude,” Tucker agreed. His tone completely (and sympathetically) resigned.

“It’s— I don’t— okay, yes. Fine. He’s built like a brick house, okay? He could kill me with his thighs.”

“TMI, my dude,” Tucker teased.

“No, go on,” Val interjected.

“Oh fuck you all.”

Sam gave an amused scoff. “I don’t think it’s us you want to—”

“Okay!” Danny said loudly, talking over Sam which just made the others dissolve into laughter. “He’s just a friend, okay? He’s a Gotham native who’s been nice. He’s fun to hang out with.”

“Sure Danny,” Val said in a tone that made it clear none of them believed him. “Sam and I have to get going for dinner. Give us an update later on the not boyfriend—”

“And a picture.” Sam chimed in.

“And a last name!”

“I’m not letting you stalk him Tucker.”

“Not stalking, background check.” Danny could practically hear the finger guns Tucker must be doing.

“Bye,” Danny said, firmly, though he knew that they knew he was close to laughing, and ended the call before he fished out his keys to get his door open.

“You know,” Danny said as he started at the scene that greeted him. Jason sat on his couch, looking comically large on the small piece of furniture, messing with some wires. “I don’t remember giving you a key to my apartment.”

“You didn’t,” Jason said, words a little muffled by the screwdriver that he held in his mouth.

“Right.” Danny closed his door. He fumbled blindly with the locks, not taking his eyes off Jason. “So you, what, decided Tuesday was a great day for breaking and entering?”

“Yep. Which is why you need better security,” Jason grabbed the screwdriver and pointed it at Danny who’s eyes flicked between it and Jason’s mouth. “Which is what I’m doing. Setting up better security.”

“You remember the whole I’m half dead thing, right?” Danny drawled, but couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. The faint feeling he got off Jason’s forming core was a pleased rumble. Like the purring cat that got the canary. How could he be annoyed in the face of that?

“Don’t need you to end up all the way dead, kingya.”

“Okay…” Danny dropped his backpack (his new, tear free backpack) on the tiny island counter. He had adulted up and gotten a new one right before classes started that week and was glad for it. (It was nice to not have to worry about losing things out of the bottom.) He moved to perch on the clutter free edge of the coffee table. He tucked his knees up to his chest to stay out of the way. “What does kingya mean?”

“Pet goldfish in Japanese.”

Danny just started at him, knowing Jason would explain if he just gave it time. He was getting used to these stupid fish names. They were still weird, but he was getting used to them. (Maybe he liked them, a little.)

Jason glanced up from where he was tightening the screw on a plate and grinned. “’Cause you’re my sensei in all things ghost.”

“Ancients,” Danny groaned. “That is the—” No, he would not laugh. “—worst one yet. How am I both a sensei—” Okay so he was laughing, sue him. “—and a pet. That makes no sense! You are fucking ridiculous.”

Jason just smirked and focused on the electronics in his hand.

Once Danny’s laughter had finally calmed, he leaned in to get a look at everything that was covering his coffee table, part of the couch, and even some of Jason. He’d spent enough years with Tucker to know that it was all very custom and very high end; that meant expensive.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” Danny said. He didn’t know if that was true though. What if Jason’s developing core made it feel like he did?

“Nah. You’re my teacher in ghost, I’m your teacher in Gotham. And rule one of Gotham is if you take precautions you do it. Have you gotten that gas mask yet?” Jason asked, snapping the back back on a camera.

“Jason.”

“Danny.”

“Again. Half dead. I don’t have breathe if I don’t want to.”

Jason blinked at Danny. “What.”

“What what? Like, sure, I have to in human form but I can still hold it for, like, upwards of twenty minutes? I figure that’s long enough to get out of most situations. You could too with practice.”

“Human form,” Jason echoed.

Danny froze. “Oh, shit. I, um, sorta thought that the two forms thing was given.”

Jason rubbed, wearily, at his face. “Fish.”

“I’m sorry!” Danny said, throwing his hands up. “I mean half ghost, half human! What did you think?”

“A mule is half horse half donkey but it doesn’t stop being a mule!”

“Did you know when the horse is the dad it’s called hinney instead?”

“I’m going to stab you with a screwdriver,” Jason grumbled wearily. “Explain, now.”

“Okay. Right. I really thought you knew? I mean I was forced to change when I died. But, right, so,” Danny placed his hands together and tried to gather his thoughts on how explain this. “Ghosts are just, fundamentally different beings than humans. As humans, we take in parts of the word around us— air, water, food— and those things keep us alive as they’re processed by our organs. Ghosts, on the other hand, are the world around them.

“The Infinite Realms—” Danny still struggled sometimes not to call it the Ghost Zone after years of doing so, but he wasn’t going to use a name made up by people who hated ghosts for their home. “—are made up of ectoplasm. Everything there— the structures, the land, the sky, the people— is ectoplasm. Ghosts are too. The closest thing to an organ that ghosts have is their core.”

“You’ve used that word before. When you said you had an ice core,” Jason said. He’d put down the parts he had been messing with and was giving Danny his full attention.

“Probably. Cores are everything for a ghost. If you’re being poetic, you could call it the heart but it’s a bit more like a brain? You have one, but it’s strangled by the corruption. I didn’t want to go too much into it yet when you couldn’t get. Most of it of it would mean nothing to you right now. It would like, I don’t know, trying to explain what a rose smelled like to someone who’s had a stuffed up nose all their life.”

“Right, so, something to come back to,” Jason grumbled.

“Basically. But the core is sort of the only… I guess tangible part of a ghost? But humans have their whole bodies so those two things really aren’t compatible. That’s what makes halfa’s so rare. Somehow the ectoplasm was able to bond with our DNA enough so that our human bodies can handle what our ghost bodies are. But it also made a ghost body for us. It’s a balance.”

Jason leaned back into the couch, arms crossed as he frowned at Danny. “And I’ll get one?”

“Every other halfa has one,” Danny said with a little shrug. “You just don’t have access to it yet I bet if you’ve never changed before. Like, there are some powers or effects that I have access to in this form, but they’re more powerful in my ghost form. So if the corruption are blocking the flow of your ectoplasm and your ability to generate it, you probably just don’t have enough power to change yet.”

Jason’s fingers tapped a restless staccato against his arms as he glare at the other side of the room. Danny tried hard not to fidget as he let Jason absorb the information. He really hadn’t meant to keep something like this from Jason. There were other things he was waiting to talk to Jason about, once they saw how he was developing, but Danny just really hadn’t thought about Jason might have never changed into his ghost form. May it was because he had been buried? Jason was the only half with an actual grave.

Coming out of the portal as Phantom had been everything for Danny. It had been the end of everything. It had also been the beginning of everything. His ghost form had been part of that from the start.

Jason looked back to Danny, who froze under the glacial gaze. “Will you show me?”

Danny’s heart stuttered in his chest.

He’d be revealing Phantom. For the first time, by his own choice, he would be showing someone.

“Hey, fish,” Jason said. He leaned forward and rested a hand on Danny’s knee. “You don’t have to.”

Danny made himself take a breath. He’d stopped breathing.

“Sorry, no, it’s fine.” What would someone in Gotham, home of the Batman, know about a small town hero like Phantom? “I’ve just… I’ve never shown anyone who didn’t already know? I guess it just got to me a for a moment. But, I mean, you do know, you just haven’t see it yet.”

Danny stood up, ‘going ghost’ running his head, as the familiar white rings appeared.

Jason dropped the arm he had raised to block the blinding white light and just stared. He hadn’t known what to expect from Danny changing to his ghost form, but the color change was not part of it. Or the clothing change.

Gone was the black and orange NASA sweater, well worn jeans, and collection of space themed earrings that Danny seemed to love. Instead, Danny wore a tight, long sleeve top that showed off that he was more than just a stick, something that looked a bit like black cargo pants, white combat boots, and white fingerless gloves. There was a white DP was emblazoned on his chest.

He glowed faintly of a blue green that didn’t hold a candle to his bright, bright eyes.

(Jason’s breath caught at the sight of those green eyes.)

“I didn’t know a costume change came as part of the package,” Jason’s mouth said without his permission while he was still trying to process the rest of the details. Like the way that Danny’s now white hair seemed to drift as if gravity had effect on it. It was almost mesmerizing. That was easier to focus on than the green eyes.

Danny rubbed nervously at the back of his neck. What Jason thought must have been a blush crawled up Danny’s cheeks, but it was oddly purple tinted, like this form had a different undertone than blood red.

“Um, yeah. Ghost things for the ghost form? I was stuck in the hazmat suit I had died in for years until I learned to control the ectoplasm that makes up the clothing in this form. It takes some effort to change it but… I didn’t want to be stuck in that any longer.”

Jason resisted the urge to shudder. He couldn’t imagine even being his old Robin outfit for even a moment.

He stood and cross the single step it took to be standing in front of Danny. Smirking, he reached out and flicked Danny’s right ear. “You look naked without your earrings.”

“Yeah, well,” Danny mumbled.

Yep, that purple, magentaish tint was definitely a blush. He felt a little bad for teasing Danny when the other was obviously nervous about this.

“The hair suits yo. It’s a good look,” Jason said. Without really thinking about it, he reached up to run his hands through Danny’s swoop of bangs. The soft strands shifted between his fingers as if they were under water. But his attention went back to the green eyes. “When you’re like this, there’s no…?”

“No what?”

Jason tapped next to his own eye. “Pit Rage. Anger.”

“Oh, no,” Danny said with a thoughtful little frown as he… drifted up?

Holy shit, Danny really was floating. His feet were drifting apart as if they were made of smoke as he rose a few inches up into the air.

“I guess now that I know about ghosts liking to brawl, I can see that a little? Like, I’m more willing to meet a fight if they start it, just like with you, but they also don’t mean any actual harm. Well, most of them don’t,” Danny explained. “The green really is just part of the color change. Some ghosts have red eyes or cyan or something else.”

“Is the white hair a constant?” Jason asked, thinking of his own white streak.

“For halfas it seems to be about being inverted? Like, frootloop has white hair as a human, but it’s black in his ghost form. And Danni matches me. But for full ghosts, lots of them have flaming hair in all sorts of colors. We think that maybe it’s our human half influencing the ghost half. Also maybe why I don’t have blue skin or something.”

“Blue skin?”

“Ghost coloring is weird and very bold,” Danny said with a little shrug. He reached down to grab the not all there foot he had lifted up and just folded his legs under him— sitting cross legged in the air like it was nothing.

“You’re really comfortable like this, aren’t you?”

Danny gave a little shrug. “I mean, yeah. This has been a part of me for eight years. I was a ghost before I was through puberty. But it was a learning curve for sure.”

Jason eyed Danny wearily. “So what haven’t you told me about now?”

“Well, so I mean part of that is that I was a teenager when I changed? So I was a mess in so many ways and we’re— Frostbite and I, I haven’t told anyone else but him about you, not you being a halfa I mean—but we don’t know if you’ll have have the same side effects since Danni didn’t really. But sometimes I would just suddenly go invisible or intangible. The intangibility was the worst because a few times I just… go stuck part way something?”

Jason gave him the flattest stare at that and Danny just grinned bashfully back.

“You don’t have to worry about that yet! You’re no where strong enough, even if those are things that every ghost can do. Frostbite doesn’t think that you’ll really start having any noticeable effects until your core snaps into place anyways. You just might be extra sneaky for a little bit?”

“So it’s just a big mystery?” Jason asked.

“Welcome to being a halfa. I’m sorry.”

He wanted to be mad. It would be so easy to be mad. Danny was keeping things from him. But… a lot of that seemed to be accidental or things they didn’t have a clear answer for or that maybe, actually, didn’t matter yet.

There was enough for him to deal as it was.

And Danny was just so very… Danny. Jason was learning that Danny was earnest, but pretty fucking awful at explaining things. Unless Jason asked specifically, or it came up in conversation, Danny just outright forgot to mention things. There were some problems with that: 1) there was so much to learn about 2) he didn’t know what he didn’t know 3) ghosts were fucking weird

“I promise,” Danny said, a nervous sort of pleading in his words. “I’ll be around for all of it. I’m not saying parts won’t be hard or confusing, but at least you’ll have me here to help?”

Danny was maybe horrible at explaining things and keep missing out details, but he was still trying. Danny was floating right there, offering something that he never had for himself— understanding.

Jason heaved a sigh, leaning into the dramatics of the sound a little. “Fine. Since you can float make yourself useful and help me mount some of the tech in the corners.”

“Sure thing, dead boy.”

Snorting, Jason gathered up one of the cameras. He paused, just briefly, before he turned back to Danny with smirk. “So, does this make you a flying fish?”

The groan he got was worth it.

-----

AN: Danny, raised in a small city in rural Illinois: “Hey I have a fun fact!” I love Danny being so bad at explaining things. He’s trying, he really is, he’s just not great at it. Jason not really mad, he’s just struggling with things a little and coping by making sure that ‘his’ people are safe. Luckily Danny has the friends he does and is used to the odd protectiveness like breaking and entering.

Fun (?) fact: Danny’s black and orange NASA sweater is from the mars rover line the Smithsonian did a few years back. It is very warm and comfy. Anyways, stay delightful darlings!

So, this should be the whole tag list. I’m sure there’s a limit. I’m not sure if I’m over it? So sorry if you’re at the end of the list and not getting pinged! (I removed anyone unabled to be tagged.)

#dp x dc #jason todd #danny fenton #dead on main #dead on main ship #deadonmain #like betta fish do

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 10 months

Text

"Just Friends"

Part of my 900 Followers Celebration!

Request: I'm gonna get another cheeky one in under the wire! 🥰Let's go for "please don't be in line with someone else, please don't have somebody waiting on you" and "We were never just friends..." Biggest congrats to you on the big 900! What a writer! 😘

Roy Kent x Reader

1.1k words

Warnings: Language, drinking, little bit of angst, kind of implied smut at the end?

It had been a great game for Richmond, and especially for Roy. You were so glad you’d been able to attend; it had been a while since you’d last made it to the Dog Track, despite Roy’s begging for you to come. Part of it was that you were unusually busy with work, but you had to admit that part of it was because it was getting harder and harder to spend time with Roy.

Keeley had introduced the two of you at a party, and the two of you clicked, quickly becoming the best of friends. Of course, you initially found him attractive; over time, though, you found yourself desperately in love with him, with the kindness that laid under this gruff exterior and his quick wit and his love for his niece… and about a million other little things.

But he was Roy Kent. You’d seen the models he dated, and you were definitely not his type.

Still, you knew he was happy to see you after the match, when he wrapped you in a big hug on the pitch and insisted you come to the team celebration.

“Be my date,” he’d teased, oblivious of how his words twisted your stomach.

So, there you were, in some club, sticking close to Roy, fully aware of the eyes shooting daggers in your direction. Several women- most of them stunning- had come up to him with flirtatious invitations to dance, but he’d declined. What he did instead was buy you drink after drink and laugh as he watched you joke around with the Greyhounds while he sipped his beer.

Soon enough you were just tipsy enough to start clinging to Roy, beaming up at his smirking face as he brushed some hair off of your face. “Should take you home,” he murmured, eyebrows raised. “You’re pretty fucking plastered.”

Reluctantly, you let Roy load you into a taxi and walk you to your door. He chuckled as he watched you struggle to get your key in the lock and shoved you aside to do it himself. He stood on your porch, the dim streetlight framing him angelically.

“I’m glad you came out,” he murmured, his thumb stroking your cheek. “Fucking missed you lately.” He frowned, ignoring the fact that the taxi was waiting for him. “You been avoiding me?”

You shook your head frantically. “’course not,” you lied.

He nodded, not quite believing you. “Good. Good.” He took a step back, letting his hand fall from your face. “I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright,” you whispered.

Once Roy was gone and your door was locked, you collapsed into bed, flipping your mobile over and over.

You’d lied to Roy. You never lied to Roy. Well, except for all those times when you’d made up an excuse for why you couldn’t hang out or make it to a game. Or the couple of times when he teasingly asked you if you fancied anyone and you vehemently denied being interested in anyone. Other than that, you never lied to Roy.

With a mix of alcohol and guilt in your stomach, you unlocked your phone and hit Roy’s contact before you could talk yourself out of it. It took only two rings before-

“What, you fuckin’ miss me already?” Roy chuckled.

“Please don’t be in love with someone else,” you blurted out, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at the spinning ceiling. “Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”

There was a long pause from his end. “The fuck are you talking about?” he finally asked quietly.

With a giant sigh, you sat up in bed. “I have been avoiding you,” you admitted. “Because I love you, Roy. I fucking love you.” You were close to drunken and embarrassed tears. “And-and I know we’re just friends, and you date models and shit, but I fucking love you.” Your eyes focused on the picture board above your dresser, where there was a rather sweet picture of you and Roy on the pitch at Nelson Road. “I love you.”

“Fuck, I-” Roy cleared his throat. “I gotta fucking go.”

He hung up. He hung up. Roy fucking hung up on you.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you hissed, the tiny part of your brain that was sober realizing what you’d just done. You tried to call Roy back, but he sent you to voicemail.

With a groan, you laid back on the bed, more miserable than you’d ever been in your entire life. You’d done it- you’d ruined your friendship with Roy Kent. Your favorite person in the world. He’d never talk to you again. He’d never look at you again. He’d probably have you banned from Nelson Road. He’d probably laugh with some gorgeous model in bed about how you actually thought you had a chance with Roy Kent. He’d probably-

Ding dong!

Okay, apparently he’d come back to your house to tell you to your face that he never wanted to see you again.

Stumbling more from panic than drunkenness, you made your way through the house as quickly as you could, banging your shoulder into a wall hard enough that you’d probably have a bruise the next morning. You finally managed to yank the door open to reveal Roy on your porch, his face crumbled as he took in your panicked expression.

“You love me?” he rasped, hands balled into fists by his side.

There was no point in lying to Roy Kent ever again. “Yes,” you admitted in your smallest voice. “I’m sorry, I know we’re just friends-”

His hands were cupping your face as he tugged you onto the porch. “Friends?” he repeated incredulously, a laugh escaping his lips. “We were never just friends, you drunk muppet.”

He brought your mouth to his, pressing the smallest, most tentative kiss to your lips; spurred by the realization that you finally had Roy Kent kissing you, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist to pull him closer. His beard tickled your face the way you’d always known it would, and when his tongue skimmed your bottom lip, you thought your heart was going to stop.

Roy pulled back with a smile, hands still grasping your face. He nodded behind him, gesturing to the still-waiting taxicab. “Should I go ahead and let him go?” His raised eyebrows begged you to say yes.

Emboldened by Roy’s kiss, you nodded, taking a step backwards and tugging him towards your open front door. “Think you better. You might be here awhile.”

Waving off the cab driver, Roy reattached his lips to yours, humming with delight as you pulled him inside.

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katerina-marie · 1 month

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Don't Go Slowly, Tell Me If You're Lonely (Series)

Chapter 3

Gojo Satoru x Reader & (past) Geto Suguru x Reader

Your relationship with Geto Suguru came to an end somewhere between the day of his betrayal and the day of his death. Your relationship with Gojo Satoru began somewhere in the midst of it all, even without you realizing.

WC: 6.7k

Content: Canon Divergence, Gojo x Female Reader (referred to as such but left descriptively vague), (past) Geto Suguru x Female Reader, Geto's canonical death, friends to lovers, angst, eventual happy ending, fluff later, reader is a sorcerer (left vague tho), brief and vague allusion to sex, but hardly descriptive, no use of y/n. More notes below.

Chapter Count: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6 (Final)

Notes: A bit of a lighter chapter before we (they) get into it in the next one.

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

Chapter 3: You Left Me to Be (I Am What He Made Me)

It had only taken two days from the conversation in Yaga’s office to find yourself on assignment an ocean apart from home. The world looked much brighter here, more appealing in its vastness when you realized there were parts of it never touched by Suguru. It was liberating, and you set out with intentions to place your feet in all the places he hadn’t, to breathe in air that didn’t smell like home, and to freely meander without running into faces that reminded you of times past. You ignored the persisting thought at the back of your self conscious that was unrelenting in its effort to remind you of the same plans of exploring once made with Suguru. You would squander them, bury those ideas beneath layers of wall until they withered away into dust, the tendency to ignore wholly unlike you but familiar to the person you were now.

I am what he made me.

Acclimating to your hotel room and the city around you had taken a couple of days, but the mindless task of making your temporary dwelling feel like an iota of home was a productive way of expelling restless energy before embarking on your assignment. You replaced the standard hotel sheets with ones that swept away the heat of your body in the night, and the little pot of drying peppermint leaves in the corner of the shower filled the cubicle with scented steam when your hot showers carried on a touch longer than they normally did. A small bowl on the modest desk situated in front of your bed became overloaded with your favorite fruits, and the cabinet underneath was a refuge for the hoarded convenience store snacks you had picked up every other afternoon.

Earlier in the day, when you spotted a familiar bag of chips with a neon logo emblazoned on the front out of the corner of your eye, you nearly whacked your head on a wire rack in your haste to pick them up off the bottom shelf of the back aisle. The bag crinkled in your trembling hand and you threw them into your basket before you could change your mind. You had to fight back tears as you passed them to the clerk scanning your items, and for the entirety of your walk back to the hotel you contemplated hurling the bag into every trash can you passed. But when you sat alone on your bed, having already spent ten minutes sobbing into your pillow perched on bent knees, you forced yourself to rip open the bag and taste a few before disgust had you tossing them aside.

“Where did you even find these, Suguru?” You squinted your eyes in hopes of reading the tiny foreign lettering on the peculiar bag of chips in your grasp. The flavor wasn’t something you were familiar with and the smell radiating from the opening at the top of the bag didn’t incite confidence in your likelihood of enjoying them. Suguru wrinkled his nose as he caught a waft of them from his spot next to you on his bed and you heard Satoru gag from where he lay sprawled out at the foot of it.

“At the back of some random convenience store a couple towns over.” Suguru shrugged, and you plucked a chip out of the bag with a delicate pinch of two fingers.“They’re foreign, and I hadn’t ever seen them before, so I figured it’d be something fun to try.”

You hummed out your disbelief, conscious of the two sets of curious eyes trained on your face, and popped the inoffensive looking chip into your mouth. It took a couple bites before the bitter heat of it traveled down your throat and burned its way up your nostrils, and you were quick to spit the remainder of it out into Suguru’s outstretched hand. Your boyfriend grimaced in disgust, but didn’t say anything as he got up to dispose of the mess.

“That’s horrible,” you croaked, coughing into the crook of your elbow, and you shot Satoru a glare when he erupted into raucous laughter. “It’s not funny!”

“Oh, but it is! You should’ve seen your face!” Your white-haired friend rolled around the bed in his fit of amusement, displacing the dark glasses sitting on his nose, and you used your foot to shove him off the side when he inched too close. His laughter didn’t abate even from the floor, and you snagged another chip out from the bag to wiggle it in his face when he sat back up.

“You try it then,” you taunted, victorious superiority squaring your shoulders when Satoru’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click. His throat bobbed once and you heard Suguru groan from the kitchenette at the front of his room.

“Please, don’t. You know his tolerance for spicy food is worse than most children’s.”

You snickered, and Satoru whipped his head around to gape accusingly at his best friend. “Is not!”

With a sock covered foot, you poked Satoru in the ribs to bring his attention back to you and then dangled a chip in front of his mouth as he glanced down at it with a face full of resigned apprehension. “Do it,” you challenged.

Before Suguru could protest again, Satoru snatched the chip out from between your fingers and shoved it in his mouth, his lips tight with determination as he chewed and swallowed. You watched with wicked elation as his cheeks flared red, his nose scrunched, and the crystal blue of his eyes shined brighter with gathering tears. Satoru managed to hold out one more second before he descended into a coughing fit, and a pained groan that sounded like your boyfriend’s garbled name left his mouth as he folded over himself. You fell back against Suguru’s headboard, arms wrapped around your stomach as it shook with breathless laughter, all the while Satoru sat hacking and gasping in front of you.

“Children, the both of you,” Suguru grumbled as he walked back from the kitchenette with a glass of water in one hand and a bundle of tissues in the other, but there was no mistaking the affection in his voice.

There wasn’t anyone around this time to fetch you water when the burn of the chips made your throat raw or hand you tissues when your nose started to run. You were on your own in tending to your wounds, and what you told Satoru at the funeral only a week ago flitted across your mind.

Grief and mourning found you alone on an assuming Tuesday, and it came in the shape of horribly spiced chips and the memory of echoing laughter.

————————————————

Satoru called you for the first time ten days later while you sat at your desk and jotted down the report for today’s work on your assignment. Your room had been quiet, with the exception of the muffled noise from the busy street outside your window, and the sudden ringing of your phone had your hand skittering across your notebook as your pen left jagged black marks in its wake. You let out a breath of frustration and chose to use the interruption as an excuse to move from your seat for the first time in nearly an hour. Your bottom was aching, and you fell onto your bed stomach-down as you stretched your arm out to grab your phone. Seeing Satoru’s name as it flashed across the screen sent pinpricks of nervous energy throughout your body, and you hesitated for only a moment before swiping your thumb and bringing the phone to your ear.

“There you are!” He exclaimed, not even giving you the chance to say ‘hello’ once he heard the call connect. “You leave without a word and then I don’t hear anything from you in nearly two weeks.”

You winced at the faint hint of accusation in his voice and picked at a loose thread on the comforter as you bounced back and forth between feigning ignorance about the perceived implication or meeting it head-on to deny it with vehemence. Grief had made you tired in ways you hadn’t been before, and for once you believed in the bliss of the ignorant. Confrontation was no longer something you were eager to delve into.

I am what he made me.

“Well,” you started innocently, “you know how things go when Principal Yaga assigns us a mission. There was just no time to waste, and before I knew it, here I was.” You were never proficient as an actor, and never had that once been so obvious as right then.

“Mhm,” Satoru hummed, and skepticism colored every syllable of it. “And where exactly is ‘here’?”

You told him where you were, and there was silence from his end as the recognition of the significant amount of distance between you two settled in. His attitude made you feel guilty, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on exactly what made it so if you had to. Maybe the speed of your departure from the school—with the notable absence of a goodbye for Satoru—could feel akin to running away if one squinted, but you wiped your hands of the blame when you thought back and considered that out of the two of you, Satoru had been the one to first make his grand escape from you on the day of the funeral. If you just happened to be the one to go the extra distance—literally—then that was simply besides the point.

A drawn out sigh from over the phone caught your attention. “You’re not the only one,” Satoru said, and from his tone you were certain he was pouting. “Okkotsu left for Africa two days ago, so now it’s just me, and the underclassmen. Oh, and Nanami too.”

A puff of laughter came out through your nose and you rolled onto your back to stare at the ceiling. “How terrible,” you muttered.

“I know! I have to—,”

“You are not who my sympathies are for.” You were quick to interrupt him, and the petulant whine Satoru let out had you rolling your eyes good-naturedly.

The rest of the conversation flowed similarly, with small bouts of awkward silence and stilted replies making the whole thing barely tolerable, if not a touch uncomfortable. It made you painfully aware of the fact that you and Satoru had seldom ever spoken on the phone with one another. You supposed that there hadn’t really been a need for it, with the two of you always at the school and only separated briefly when out on assignment. Maybe now that Suguru was dead, the finality of losing him was causing a change in the habits of your dynamic where things were no longer seen through the lens of ‘my best friend’s girlfriend’ and ‘my boyfriend’s best friend.’ However, if Satoru were brave enough to venture into territory not yet traveled between the both of you, then you were willing to meet him there too. Afterall, Suguru would never again be back to transverse that space should it never diminish in your combined efforts.

Time ran away with itself as conversation went on, and the shadows in your room creeped further and further as the sun set and night overtook the sky. You made it known to Satoru your desire to rest, and you had just begun to pull the phone away from your ear after his goodbye when you heard him calling your name.

“Yes?” You asked, curious as to what he had to say.

“If you go a couple minutes out of the city, just past an old red brick building that used to be a theater, there’s a quaint little cafe sitting next to a worn down paint store. They have a dessert with your favorite fruit on top. I haven’t ever found something quite like it back home, so let me know if you think it’s as good as I remember, yeah?”

It was the first time Satoru’s ever rendered you speechless, and it wasn’t for anything particularly outlandish, but it still stunned you nonetheless when you realized he remembered something as small as your favorite fruit. Friends you two had been, but you couldn’t say you knew his favorite type of candy or favored dinner spot. You both had a habit of indulging in sweets, but whereas you preferred a lighter, more mild dessert, Satoru was keen to find the most sugary of confections as he possibly could at any given time.

So you smothered the smile on your face with the back of your knuckles and tried to ignore the pleasant flipping of your heart. There was someone who knew you better than you thought, who recalled the minute details of your life that took intentional time to commit to memory, and you had started to worry that the only one who cared to know such things was buried in the ground back home.

I am what he made me.

“Yeah, Satoru. I’ll let you know.”

————————————————

When you had made your way into the sleepy cafe Satoru had mentioned a couple days later, presumably visited by himself during an assignment years prior, you were greeted by a smile from a woman with graying hair and wrinkles weighing down her cheeks. The sun had just recently risen and you were hoping that this little place, with its brown-red booths and aging wood floors, would allow you to indulge in dessert before most people had even left their beds. There must have been something about the lingering tension in your shoulders or the fading purple underneath your eyes that caught the attention of the old woman you assumed owned the cafe. She hadn’t let you finish your request before she had you plopped down into a corner booth by a window overlooking the city street, and you could hear the vintage crackle of a jazz radio channel from the kitchen a few feet behind you. Coffee was poured into a ceramic mug next to you with the promise of only a few minutes wait, and you pulled out your phone to help mind the time. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard that sprung up in the message thread between you and Satoru, ready to inform him of what you were starting your day with, but indecisiveness stilled your thoughts and your fingers.

Since when had you ever spent so much time considering what was about to come out of your mouth? At what point did you begin to fear what the absence of your words—or even the excess of them—would or wouldn’t do to the person receiving them? Would the result have been the same either way? The destruction left in the wake of words said and unsaid had left you insecure, because such ramifications could be found under the shadow of a stone monument marking a grave.

I am what he made me.

The soft clattering of a plate and utensils being placed in front of you brought you out of your new propensity for overthinking, and the old woman with worn hands and a knowing smile brushed a hand over your shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen again. You stared down at your plate with wide eyes, shocked by the sizable portion of what lay before you, and in another time, another world, this would have been shared by two or three. But there was just you and someone an ocean away who was waiting for your judgment, so you snapped a quick picture of the dessert piled high with your favorite fruit and then grabbed your spoon.

Some minutes later, when the plate was halfway cleared and your stomach was full to the point of aching, you took another picture of what remained and sent the two off to Satoru with a brief message underneath describing your marvel at his recommendation. You didn’t think twice about the unreasonable hour at which he would receive them, and figured he would come around to them in his own time. However, you had just managed to take a step out the door of the cafe after paying your bill and promising to return when your phone pinged twice.

Satoru: I’m happy to hear it’s as good as I remember!

Satoru: Maybe next time I’ll be there to finish off your leftovers.

The idea of it was hard to swallow and the smallest bit endearing all at once, and you chewed at your lip as you mulled over the possibility while starting the walk back to your hotel. Once upon a time, there had been someone who always promised to clear what remained on your plate, his stomach seemingly endless in its capacity to fill itself. But Suguru was here no longer, and you struggled to reconcile with the idea of someone else occupying the role you had always imagined him in. You would never call yourself solitary in nature, but when you had envisioned who would permanently take up the space next to you, the person always appeared with warm brown eyes and black hair that never lightened in the sun, leaving you to wonder if you’d always be destined to chase after him. You cursed Suguru for the emptiness he left behind.

I am what he made me.

————————————————

The habit of keeping in contact with one another sprouted from that one phone call and subsequent texts. As weeks went by, you and Satoru formed a comfortable rhythm of leaving each other messages and voicemails detailing each of your day-to-day activities. He’d send you pictures of new desserts he’d find when he was supposed to be working, and you would send a wall of text asking his opinion when a curse you had encountered during that day’s work had done something you’d never seen before. On occasion, Satoru would call you on a slow weekend morning when you were barely coherent enough to understand his rambling, and you would listen half-heartedly while you waited for your coffee to drip into a styrofoam cup.

This time, he was lamenting his latest spat with Megumi, and you offered little bits of advice while you sat with your feet kicked up on your desk. You didn’t have much to say in regards to the tumultuous relationship Satoru had with his reluctant student, but whatever you did say to him would lend itself useful. Later that day, a message lit up your phone, and you couldn’t help smiling at the picture in it. Satoru’s grin was wide enough to reveal his teeth and he had his arm thrown over Megumi’s shoulder as he dragged him in close for the photo. The two must have worked out whatever tiff they had found themselves in this time, and you would say it was for the better, but Megumi’s contemptuous scowl would convince you to think otherwise.

Overkill would lend itself to the passion involved in whatever Gojo Satoru deemed worthy of immersing himself in, but perhaps that was part of his charm.

Unfortunately, as time had proven to you, even the most regular of routines could be disrupted in unexpected ways. Nightmares weren’t something you had been prone to beyond normal infrequence, but grief manifested in peculiar ways and when a multitude of them had cropped up on multiple nights six months into your assignment, you stopped replying to your friend for the first time. You had no idea how to explain to Satoru that seeing his name flash across your phone or hearing his voice in your ear during late night phone calls felt much like digging your finger into a new bruise. It was sore and throbbed, and you scrambled away from the pressure of it, even if you were the one inflicting it on yourself. You were grateful for Satoru’s perceptiveness because he didn’t push as he had a penchant for doing. When you didn’t respond to him for two consecutive days, he went quiet.

You didn’t hold Satoru responsible for the rollercoastering of your emotions, nor would you lay blame on his name for the insurmountable decision he made resulting in the loss of someone significant to both of you. However, you could not scrounge up any explanation that would be palatable to him as to why his presence was suddenly too much for you when a nightmare lingered in front of your eyes all the next day.

They took many different forms. In some, you threw yourself between Satoru and Suguru, if not to take the hit yourself then to deliver the killing blow with your own hand in another. However, the more vicious ones didn’t ever involve the day Suguru left or the night he died. In fact, they could blend in seamlessly with the memories you had of him, and you were never able to untangle to which they belonged.

How it felt to have Suguru on top of you, the weight of him familiar and comforting and never able to be forgotten. He liked to suck marks into the skin below your collarbone and you had a tendency to pinch and scratch at the skin of his back when he moved in a way that overwhelmed your senses. Or after, when the two of you rested against each other and smoothed fingers over the bruised flesh, you would whisper plans for the future into the air you shared, tired in body but eager in mind.

The worst one had you avoiding Satoru for weeks, unable to think of him without feeling like he was the kick to the bruises that scattered over the entirety of you.

You and Suguru sat across from each other in a worn out booth, and familiar music floated out from the kitchen behind you. The cafe was empty, save the old woman, and the remnants of sleep still clung to your unbrushed hair and wrinkled lounge clothes. Morning sun flashed through the window to your right and caught on the brown of his eyes to light them up in a way that you sorely missed. He smiled at you, unburdened and untouched by the disintegration of his mind, and you squirmed with giddy anticipation for the plate of dessert you had been waiting to show him.

“You know sweets are more of a habit belonging to you and Satoru,” Suguru teased, flicking his finger softly against the back of your hand from where it rested on the table next to his. The two of you always spent slow moments twining and tangling your fingers together and against the other’s, and a cozy morning at breakfast was not an exception.

“Yes,” you said back to him, your smile flirty and voice light,“but you know I would prefer to indulge with you.”

Suguru chuckled and the look he shot you sent a shiver of anticipation down your back. You had opened your mouth to see how quickly you could make him blush, but a plate landed in between you two and the old woman had a perceptive twinkle in her eyes.

“Glad you made it back,” she told you, “especially with someone to share your dessert with.”

The alarm on your phone had you blinking into wakefulness, and the dream faded to its place in the realm of endless ‘what ifs.’ You yanked a pillow over your face to muffle your wailing as you despaired at the unfairness of it all. And if you never again sat foot into that sleepy cafe with the best dessert you ever had, you’d tell yourself it was to keep from overindulging, not because you were afraid to see somewhere you could imagine Suguru in so vividly, but would never get the opportunity to watch come to fruition. If tempting yourself into a periodic delusion was a new method in overcoming grief, then you’d simply have to turn the other cheek.

I am what he made me.

————————————————

It took another month after that dream before you could text Satoru again. You sat on the edge of your bed with your phone in hand and lip tucked between your teeth. The text was simple, nothing dramatic or emotionally heavy—a picture of a cupcake with frosting the same blue of his eyes that you found at a different restaurant—and you hoped that he would respond well to the pitiful white flag you offered him. You hit the ‘send’ button before you could delete the whole thing and threw your phone across the bed before you got up to go take a shower.

You’d admit that it was your fault for clinging so tightly to the idea of Satoru as nothing other than your boyfriend’s best friend. He had become your friend as well over time, and you wondered if you had looked at him more closely as his own person, someone worth the space he took up and the energy he brought to your life, if it wouldn’t hurt so terribly to see him without Suguru behind his shoulder. It wasn’t fair to him, not in the slightest, and if you ever wanted the chance to be able to look at him without looking for a ghost, you owed it to the both of you to remove the distinction. As you stepped into the shower and let the hot water ease your body into languidness, you intentionally took the time to think of who Satoru was without Suguru.

Gojo Satoru was your friend. Gojo Satoru was tall, and he always made sure you were aware of it. Gojo Satoru had eyes unlike you had ever seen before. His addiction was anything drenched in sugar and saccharine in taste, not unlike your favor for dessert before dinner, but contradictory in its severity. Gojo Satoru had a tendency to make you laugh in times of your distress, whereas Suguru had always offered verbal comfort first. Neither was more important than the other, just different. Gojo Satoru had high slanting cheek bones and a jaw that was more angled than curved and it made for a handsome face—,

You inhaled so deeply and abruptly that water from the spray above you forced its way down and into your lungs, and you had to hold yourself up against the shower wall from how hard you began to cough. You fumbled your arm out to find the knob that turned the shower off, and when you had regained just enough breath you grabbed your towel from over the glass wall and wrapped it around yourself.

Satoru being handsome wasn’t untrue in its objectivity, and you remember thinking such the first time you met him, but the attractiveness of his appearance wasn’t something you had thought much of past that point. And now, when the idea of it jarred you so suddenly that you nearly drowned in your shower, you couldn’t quite get rid of how it lingered at the back of your mind. However, you saw no sense in dwelling on it, as it couldn’t possibly be pertinent information that your brain had just supplied you with, and made your way out of the bathroom to get dressed. The sight of your phone lighting up with Satoru’s name stopped you dead in your tracks and you swore out loud when you remembered why you had sought solace in the bathroom in the first place. The possibility of not knowing how Satoru would respond to your message was worse than whatever reply he could send back, so you picked up your phone to read what he said.

Satoru: I love that you think of me while you’re out in the wild.

You snorted, and the sense of urgently forthcoming dread vanished.

You: Let’s not lie to ourselves, shall we?

————————————————

When December 24th flashed at you from the screen of your phone on the morning of the first anniversary of Suguru’s death, you were resolute in your decision to accept the magnitude of the day, but forbade it from swallowing your personhood whole.

I am not entirely what he made me.

So, you spent the morning braving the winter weather to gather the meager supplies you could to prepare a holiday feast in the miniature version of a kitchen back in your hotel room. You grabbed a fancy looking bottle of wine from a glass cabinet in the grocery store and popped into a little bakery that caught your eye on the way home. You cooked and sang merrily to the music coming from your phone, all the while cursing the single-pot burner on your poor excuse of a kitchen counter when the water you had been waiting for to boil suddenly burst over the rim in a loud hiss of steam. Luck would have it that no other cooking mishaps occurred after that, and you were able to tuck into your attempt at a feast with a glass of wine in hand just in time for the sun to begin setting.

The first couple bites took some effort to swallow as your mind wandered back to what was going on just a year ago, a time that felt so confusedly distant but vivid all at once, and you could at least acknowledge how Suguru’s death had indisputably changed the trajectory of your life. Some ways were more obvious to you as you sat alone on Christmas Eve in a country far from home, but the others unknown to you had you contemplating what could be next when you ultimately had the bravery to pursue them.

And then your phone rang, always disturbing what little peace you had left, and you weren’t surprised this time when you saw Satoru’s name. He answered with his usual exaggerated enthusiasm and for once it made you smile. Hearing him chatter away in your ear, you pushed away from where you sat at your desk, wine still in hand, and situated yourself against the pillows on your bed to listen to him recount the events of whatever holiday gathering he had subjected Nanami and the students to. You laughed where appropriate, and chastised him when necessary, and you forgot all about the meal you had painstakingly worked on all day. You refilled your wine glass once and then again as the two of you went back and forth in easy conversation, and it wasn’t until your eyes started to grow heavy that you let it slip from your mouth.

“I miss him,” you whispered, interrupting Satoru in the middle of whatever tale he was recounting about his latest mission. He went quiet, and you instantly regretted bringing up what had been lingering at the edge of your minds this whole time.

Satoru finally responded before you could spiral into panic. “I miss him too.”

Hearing the same despondency in his voice that you were feeling slither into your chest helped ease the sting of tears in your eyes, and you were proud when you only had to wipe away one or two from your cheeks instead of descending into a blubbering mess. In an effort to continue, you cleared your throat and probed Satoru with another question about his mission, thankful when he threw himself right back into the story with the same level of theatrics from before you interrupted him. And if you closed your eyes to listen to him in an attempt to feel like he was right next to you instead of an ocean away…well, you wouldn’t probably remember doing so in the morning.

When you did wake up, hours later and your room still blue in the early twilight, your phone was next to your ear from where it had slipped out of your hand once you had drifted off to sleep. The call wasn’t still connected, but there was an awaiting message from Satoru along with a low battery percentage warning.

Satoru: You know you snore when you sleep?

The text had you sitting up in a hurry. You didn’t feel the need to confirm or deny that fact, not when you already knew whether you were affected by that particular habit (Suguru had long ago told you) and you simply responded with a snarky reply and a well wish for his day before getting up to tidy last night’s mess of food and pots and pans. It wasn’t until later in the afternoon when you took your phone from the charger to call Shoko and wish her a happy holiday that you caught a glimpse of the previous day’s call history. To your utter bewilderment, the call log indicated that Satoru stayed on the phone at least an hour more after you last recalled checking the time before you fell asleep. And if he hadn’t succumbed to sleep himself and instead listened to the quiet or whatever there was on your end of the line, then there was suddenly one more person in the world who knew something about you that only Suguru previously had been privy to.

————————————————

A week later, nearly an exact year from your departure on assignment, Gojo Satoru called you in the middle of the night to beckon you home.

“Do you have any idea of what time it is here?” You hissed, dazed in a way that could only come from being abruptly woken from deep sleep, and you just barely propped yourself up in bed on your elbows.

“Absolutely,” he chirped, sounding none at all ashamed, “but that’s not really important right now. I—,”

“I would beg to differ, Satoru.”

“ As I was saying,” he continued, enunciation heavy on that first word, “I wanted to know if you could be on the first flight home in the morning?”

You blinked a couple times, truly aghast at the nerve he had. “I’m going to hang up.”

“Wait! I need your help!”

The urgency in his voice, however faint, had you sitting up in bed and partially more inclined to stay on the phone. “What happened?” You asked cautiously.

There was a tired sigh from Satoru’s end of the phone. “I have a new student. Good kid, but he swallowed a cursed object and—,”

“Oh, god,” you groaned, throwing your head back against your pillows and slapping a hand over your eyes before it slid down your face, “not another one.”

Satoru was silent and you were just as stunned at the outburst that left your mouth. For as talented as Suguru was, you never quite got over the disturbing fact that he ate curses. Even thinking about it now made your skin crawl, and you were not keen on having to watch it happen again.

Before you could offer some mumbled apology—for what, you weren’t even sure—Satoru erupted into loud, full-bellied laughter, and the sound of it proved to be gloriously infectious. In seconds you were laughing alongside him, and the simple joy of it made a pleasant tingle in your stomach.

“I swear,” Satoru gasped, breathless sounding in the best of ways, “it’s not like that. Or not exactly anyways. There’s plenty to explain, but I could really use your help. There’s a lot going on and I’d hate to admit I might be in over my head.”

The idea of never returning home hadn’t ever crossed your mind, even in the worst of your grief, but you hadn’t quite yet planned out when you intended to come back to Jujutsu High. You figured time would have decided for you in some sort or fashion, and you couldn’t ignore the inkling in your gut that maybe this was it.

“I’d need a couple days to wrap things up here, Satoru…but yeah, I think it’s time I come home.” You felt more optimistic about the idea by the time it left your mouth, and it certainly didn’t hurt when the strongest sorcerer let out an ecstatic ‘whoop’ on the other end of the phone.

With a promise to call him back at a more appropriate hour, you bid your friend goodbye and nestled deeper into the cocoon of your blankets to catch a couple more hours of sleep. The prospect of returning back home had you wiggling in excitement, and it occurred to your sleep-addled brain that it wasn’t the yearning for a familiar bed or your favorite home cooked meal that drove your desire to go back. Instead, in something you were scarcely ready to admit but unable to deny, the allure of home took form in delightfully rich laughter and a pair of pretty blue eyes.

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Satoru didn’t need to be here. There were trains that would get you back to the school in only half an hour, and if you didn’t want to have to participate in the publicness of it all, a taxi would do the job at minimal cost. So no, Satoru didn’t need to be standing outside the entrance of the airport as he waited for your flight to deplane, but he had wanted to, and that had been enough motivation for him to deal with the hecticness of evening traffic and pay for overpriced parking just so he could transport you and your luggage home.

He hadn’t necessarily told you that he had planned to be present when you took your first steps back onto home soil, and you didn’t indicate that you expected him to be there to assist in any way. In fact, Satoru was mildly concerned that you wouldn’t exactly be pleased that he would be the first familiar face you see upon walking out of the airport, and the possibility of that happening nearly had him turning around to flee back home. But he was nothing if not impractical in his persistence and he rooted his feet to the ground until he could gain sense of you. It was a long held habit that he started with Suguru, always being aware of his best friend’s presence even if he wasn’t consciously seeking it out, and that range had extended to you at some point in your relationship with him. So now, even when there was face after face that passed by him in whirls of conversation and scuffling feet, he could feel the exact moment your foot touched down outside the terminal and began to close the distance between you and him.

In an effort to stand out in the midst of the crowd, Satoru straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin just slightly above being level with the ground to ensure he was the first thing you noticed when you stepped out past the doors. He could feel the steadiness of your heart beating and heard the bumping of the wheels on your luggage as you pulled it behind you. Each step closer was a shot of adrenaline straight to his veins and he could feel the anticipation swell in his chest. With a burst of other people, he watched as you pushed past the exit doors, eyes sweeping across the pavement in front of you until they caught on his own (he had intentionally left this black eye band in the car).

Satoru swore he wasn’t being dramatic when time seemed to slow ever-so-slightly. He saw your gaze widen in the same moment a deep breath lifted and expanded your chest, and the expression of surprise coloring your face might have been a touch overwhelmed. He took a step towards you and lifted a hand to wave only to be stopped when he saw your mouth begin to stretch into a shy smile. You bit at the corner of your lip as if to try and hide it, but the white of your teeth flashed and your eyes were bright with excitement, and the way you bounced lightly on the tips of your toes to wave at him had a jolt of energy traveling from the hair on his head to the bottoms of his feet.

When Satoru’s heart leapt in his chest at the sight of you, stunning as you always had been and enticing in ways he hadn’t allowed you to be to him before, he had a startling realization that the feelings he was experiencing weren’t to be labeled under the guise of a reunited friendship, but instead something exhilarating and terrifyingly new.

And oh, he was in so much trouble.

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The calm before the storm, so to speak. I'm very excited to write the next chapter, so let's hope it delivers!

Brief ramblings from myself: I've intentionally written this fic to have the time gaps/skips it does mostly because a.) I was worried about the tedious repetetiveness of trying to include slower moving parts into a longer, more drawn out story and b.) there's supposed to be a sense of development going on between the lines/scenes. I've tried to hint at that and what it looks like, but not sure if I'm succeeding. Moral of such ramblings: writing is hard for me, and I am very grateful for anyone who is reading this <3

Taglist: @paprikaquinn & @kafanizdakicokiyi

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #geto x you #geto x reader

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