#this was more angsty than i was going for?

[esmedelacroix]

All the ways I defy you.

pairing: exboyfriend!miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: Since the end of your relationship, Miguel has been acting strange. At home, at work, and even around his own friends. He even goes so far as to break work rules all, for you?

cw: very angsty, depressive behaviors, tiny suggestive part

a/n: Hey! Just wanted to say thanks so much for all the love on the first part I uploaded a while ago! This is coming to you very late I know. I was a bit stressed with finals and moving out of my dorm. Here's part two, I hope you enjoy it! A comment, like, or repost is always appreciated.

previous part | miguel masterlist

*listen to this song on loop for the best experience !

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Of course, when I thought that I could rid her of my life for good, the universe sent her flying in my direction. I do not want to be near her. Not because I hate her but because I know I make her upset. I don't want her to be around someone she associates terrible feelings with(me). Yet there she was drenched at our front door.

"I'm currently on the hunt for an apartment, but I didn't know this was going to happen—so—sniff—I'll have to stay here for a while. Is that okay?" my sweet girl asked as she averted her eyes. Drenched in rain, runny mascara, and her tears. Voice quivering and body shaking.

"Yes, of course, yeah, come in," I responded a bit too quickly, opening my door wider for her to enter. I stepped aside and rummaged through the bathroom getting her a warm fluffy towel.

"Um, I'll take the couch so you can sleep in our—my room," I said, correcting myself. Which only made her tears spill more.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes, you'll catch a cold if you don't," I assured.

"Do you even care?" she muttered under her breath.

Yes, Of course I do baby you're my everything.

"I'll be in my office if you need anything," I sighed.

. . .

Sleeping uncomfortably on your couch is not for that week. But that didn't compare to the feeling of hearing my ex-girlfriend crying herself to sleep in the bed we once shared. Our physical proximity was so close. All I had to do was get up, open the door, and cuddle her. Tell her everything is going to be okay.

How can one be so close to someone but so far at the same time? The paradox of my situation with my ex-girlfriend tore my heart, mind, and body apart.

Just then her cries and sniffs died down and I could hear her familiar soft snore that she swore she didn't have. When I closed my eyes to sleep, the first thought that came to my head was her. Her sleeping form. How peaceful her face looked. The way her chest rose and fell as she breathed. My perfect girl was the first and last thing I thought about. Her mere existence in my imagination had lulled me to sleep. Fuck, I made a mistake letting her go, I thought to myself.

. . .

"Hobie Brown," I said sternly.

"I already know, I get it, but things happen, mate," he shrugged, foreseeing the lecture he was about to receive from me.

"No, I don't think you 'get it' because you broke one of the only three key rules you have to follow here," I interjected.

"Just let him off the hook this time," Gwen interrupted.

"No. I can't. You, Miles, and Pavitr could learn from this as well. Don't disrupt the canon, report to me after every single mission, and never, ever, ever leave your post," I lectured.

"What if something important happens?" Miles questions.

"Nothing is more important than keeping the canon intact," I snapped.

"At this rate, you and your girlfriend will break up before I finish my written report. She must really enjoy your relationship; If you could even call it that," Hobie smirked as he walked away.

That shut me up. Because what he predicted was not far from reality. Are my rules too much? I couldn't say anything back to him because he might have been correct. For the first time ever Hobie Brown got the last word. The rest of the afternoon I reflected on myself and my rules. Not leaving your post is important, I told myself.

. . .

"I got your text," Peter B sighed as he took a seat next to Miguel in the cafeteria.

"You broke up with her?" he asked, quivering a brow.

"Yeah, it was just too much," I sighed, rubbing my hand along my face.

"What do you mean? She's like the best thing to ever happen to you. The first time I ever saw you genuinely laugh was the day you brought her to work and she kept cracking the worst dad jokes. And you're telling me you broke up with her?" he rambled.

"Peter, I was making her unhappy," I admitted.

"Then just stop making her unhappy. It's as easy as that. Knowing her, she probably communicated what was bothering her with you too," he said sternly.

"I can't just stop following protocol," I said, stating the obvious.

"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," Peter sighed. My lungs felt like they had been attacked by a million bees. Palms were sweating buckets at the mere thought of experiencing my baby Gabriella disappear in my arms again. Her painful screams filled my ears. The grief-stricken reality that her daddy, her "hero", couldn't save her. Amid my miniature panic attack, Peter placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. Successfully pulled me from the nightmare I was reliving back into the present.

"But, Peter, Gabi, I—I can't let that happen again. What if a parent, just like me and you, loses their kid the same way I did? I just-I can't do it. I have to keep the canon undisturbed," I said, stumbling over my words.

"Miguel, that isn't going to happen again, you have us now. You have help," Peter said a little softer, noticing that he hit a nerve.

"I would never forgive myself if millions of families, partners, and could-have-been end or cease to exist because of me," I admitted.

"Miguel, if you were to leave your post, you would have someone fill in for you. You give yourself all of these extra jobs that you don't need to be doing," Peter insisted.

"But if I don't do it, someone's going to make a mistake," I insisted.

"Or you can trust in the people that you hand-picked for this job," Peter suggested.

"It's more complicated than that," I rebutted.

"No, it really isn't. You're just making it more complicated. You need to trust in your team," he finished.

"And maybe get your girl back?" he suggested as he got up to get Mayday from Gwen's lap to go change her diapers.

. . .

You called out of work sick. Truthfully, you were glued to the bed. You didn't have the desire to get up or do much of anything. You hadn't showered that morning or eaten breakfast. All you did was stare at the ceiling, out the window, and the framed photo of you and Miguel that he hadn't put away yet.

Tears stained your cheeks, your eyes swelled to oblivion, and your stomach was empty and practically eating itself. The refrigerator called out to me but I didn't answer. I couldn't. Does he even care like I do? You asked yourself.

Staring blankly at the limewash accent wall of your once-shared room that you were considered a guest in. Just then your phone rang. You shot up and immediately checked who it was. You shamelessly smiled when the contact name "my miguel 💕" popped up on your screen. You clicked the answer button after taking a deep breath.

"Hello?" you said.

"Hi, you're probably at work right now, sorry to be a bother," he started.

"No, not at all. I called out today. I've been feeling under the weather," you assured.

"Do you want me to bring you anything for dinner? I'm going to get Chinese takeout tonight," he said.

"Yeah, I'll have whatever you're having," you responded.

"Okay, I'll be back around 7:00 with dinner. You know where the medicine is, take care of yourself please," he assured.

"Okay, I'll be expecting you," you replied before hanging up first.

He told you he'd be home around seven but you didn't count on it. He broke most promises anyway.

You decided to finally shower and have a small snack. You sat on the couch with your Kindle in hand. The couch smelled like him. The throw pillows smelled like his lavender-scented shampoo. You couldn’t help but wrap yourself in the blankets he had used the night before. It didn’t compare his hugs but it was good enough for now.

You spent some time reading some romance novels. Putting yourself in the shoes of the heroine and pretending that the love interest was him. Pretending that it was Miguel who ran all the way to your house while it was raining to hold you and wipe your tears in the dead of the night. Instead, you sat in your living room wondering whether or not he would actually do that for you.

You heard keys in the door and it opened soon after. You got up and slowly approached it with a pillow in hand as a weapon. You had no idea who could be dropping by the apartment at this time. Just then Miguel turned the corner takeout in hand and you wound up to hit the perpetrator. “Whoa calm down, it’s just me,” Miguel chuckled.

You let out a long exhale in relief. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be home so early,” he sighed as you put the pillow back on the couch.

“What do you mean? I said I’d be here around this time and you said and I quote, ‘I’ll be expecting you’,” he teased.

“Well I’m just kind of used to you saying things and not delivering,” you said under your breath loud enough for him to hear as you helped him unpack the food he got and set it on the living room coffee table.

“Well I decided to be less of a dick today,” he quipped.

“Should’ve done that when we were still together,” you answered half-joking.

He gave you an apologetic look. His mouth opened then closed. Like he wanted to say something but he stopped himself. Like he always did. I wish you could tell me what’s on your mind, you thought to yourself.

“I’ve been pretty shitty huh?” he said with a pained expression on his face.

“It’s not your fault,” you assured taking a seat next to him.

He put something random on Netflix to watch while you got water for the two of you. As usual, he never read the synopsis of anything he watched and accidentally put on 365 days. Classic Miguel. “Oh god, this is a bit inappropriate,” he commented, almost choking on his lo mien.

“It’s nothing we’ve never done before,” you smirked.

You watched his cheeks flush out of the corner of your eyes. He hugged the my melody plush you had gifted him a while ago a little tighter. He adjusted his glasses sheepishly.

You recalled the time you asked him about his glasses. Him being ashamed when he admitted that he needed to use glasses whenever he looked at a screen because played too many video games as a kid.

Suddenly, the TV blended in with all the other noises in the background. The sounds of cars honking on the streets outside the window, the rain constantly hitting the top of the air conditioner, the soft hum of the drying machine, and the—tick—tock—of the clock on the wall.

It was just you and Miguel in that room then. Stealing glances at each other. Contemplating whether or not you should release the many unspoken words bottled up inside. “I’m moving out in 2 days. I found a place,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Oh, that’s….great. Seriously, good for you,” he says looking away. What you didn’t know was that Miguel wasn’t congratulating you. He was trying to convince himself that you leaving was a good thing. That it was good for you and for him. That it was everything he wanted.

You could hear the pain in his voice and although you could see his face. You knew the downcast expression that was painted on it.

. . .

Two days went by way too quickly. Two days of sleeping on the couch. Two days of coming home early and on time to spend time with my loved ones before she left. Two days of baking sweet treats while we watched Romance movies. Two days of soaking in her presence before it was completely gone from my life.

As soon as I knew it, that morning when I decided to help her move her things out instead of going to work. I put Jess in charge of the morning instead which she was ecstatic about.

Once the final box was loaded in the moving truck we faced each other at the front door. The front door I’ve her drunk body through. The front door we used to kiss at when we couldn’t wait to get in our house. The front door she knocked at with all of her stuff when we decided to move in together. The front door where I would chase after her after an argument. The front door I revealed I was Spiderman at. The front door she came to drenched with rain in tears the day I broke up with her. Which was now the front door that we would say our last goodbyes at.

We looked into each other's eyes for a good 30 seconds. Tears filled her eyes and mine. "Just, come here big guy," she sighed, opening her arms to me.

I was hesitant. If I touched I was afraid I wouldn't want to let go and I would hold on forever. All I could control was the now. So I pushed those thoughts of fear away and I held her. Her arms wrapped around my waist. One of my hands rested on her back while the other was on the back of her head caressing her hair. For once I built up the courage to say what was on my mind without holding myself back. I took a deep breath in before admitting, "I'll miss you,"

"I still love you," she replied before letting go and walking out the door for the last time.

I heard the door click and it was final. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

. . .

I felt lighter as I walked down the hallway to my office. Memories of her still played endlessly in my head but I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulder when I took Peter's advice and split my jobs up with my coworkers.

Today most of the spider society would be in Pavitr's universe catching any extra anomalies that slipped under our radar. As well as closing the quantum hole that was starting to form. We had almost all hands on deck in this assignment and I would be leading it.

The mission reached a new height for us when a Prowler variant from a different universe was found. Gwen and I were on him while also trying to keep the streets and civilians safe. Peter joined us soon after he finished his task. Just when we had cornered him, my watch began to ring. The contact name appeared as "Mi Corazon" and my heart dropped. My heart dropped because the only way she could call me on my watch was with the emergency one I had made for her. She was in trouble. I looked around at Peter and Gwen and they both urged me to answer. "If you need to go, you should go," Peter said, fighting off the Prowler who took this as an advantage to strike.

"Don't worry about us, we got this," Gwen called out, giving Peter a hand while looking back at me.

"But, I can leave my post. I made that rule," I stuttered as the ringing of my watch heightened my nerves. Peter gave me a look

"For her? For the women you love? You should be able to," the words played through my head as the worst possible time.

I can't, I can't do it. I have to stay, I thought to myself.

"You should be able to," I told myself.

As I battled with myself in my head, Peter snapped me out of it. "Answer that call, Miguel. I'm sure you'll regret it later if you don't. We got it covered. Trust in us? Please?" he called out.

Every cell in my body and even my brain told me not to answer the call and not to leave my post. But every beat in my heart and whisper of my soul told me to answer the damn call. So I did.

. . .

I had never swung through the streets of Nueva York faster than I was now. Her little voice fueled me even though biologically I should have no energy right now.

"Miguel I need you, I need you right now,"

If a branch was in my way I simply swung through. They would hit my body and bruise me a bit but none of that mattered right now.

"Someone broke into my house,"

Tears began to form in my eyes wondering if she was okay. If she was safe. “ You still there baby?” I asked as I swung past building upon building.

“Yeah—sniff—I’m here,” she replied. I let out a relieved sigh.

“Just wait right there, baby. Stay on the line, I’m almost there,” I breathed out.

. . .

You didn’t expect him to drop everything at an important mission for you. That's why you didn’t tell him that you knew who robbed your house.

That’s why you didn’t tell him that your ex-boyfriend had texted you the moment he found you that you and Miguel split up. The same ex was the reason why Miguel had to help you tighten your home security before you moved in with him.

So when Miguel found you on the ground a mess with tears still streaming down your face. You felt as though you had to tell him. "This was Kyle wasn't it?" he asked.

"How'd you know?" you asked, looking up at him, his arms still wrapped around you.

"I had a bodyguard follow you around for a while just to make sure you were okay while I figured out a time to help you install some security here. They noticed a guy was loitering outside of your apartment building a lot but they assumed he was a resident," he explained.

"I'm sorry I called you for this, I'm a mess and you were doing something important, probably," you rambled.

"No, nothing is more important than your safety and your happiness," he interrupted.

"Miguel, you don't have to say that to make me feel better. I know how important holding the Spider-Verse together is to you," you admitted.

"You're more important. So much more important. I'd sit and watch the whole Spider-Verse crumble and burn as long as I’m watching it with you safe in my arms," he confessed, holding you tighter.

"I'm sorry I never told you that sooner. Or showed that in my actions when we were together. There hasn't been a single day I haven't thought about you since I first met you. I thought that by breaking up with you, you'd be happier and you'd be free of me. It's hard being in a relationship with me and it's even harder to love me because I'm so flawed," he continued.

All the things he wanted to say but never dared to say to you spilled out at once.

"I just didn't want you to think I'm weak," he admitted sheepishly.

Shock struck your face. He's been struggling so much and you didn't know. "Oh Miguel, I could never think that. You are the strongest man I know. Once I had to bike up a very steep hill to get a bandage for my little brother who scraped his knee, it was really hard. Another time, I took a test that had 120 multiple-choice questions and two essays in two hours. That—was really hard. But the easiest thing I've ever had to do..." you started as you cupped his cheeks with both of your hands.

"...is love you. It's a pleasure—to love you, Miguel. You are not an inconvenience to me" you assured.

The two of you held each other on the floor of your trashed apartment. For the first time out of many to come, Miguel defied his protocols and the canon for you. He challenged his way of being for you. And he conquered his fear of opening up all to be a better man for you.

"I know it's hard for you to talk to me about what goes on in your head, and we'll work on it but this is a really good start. Thank you," you said.

"Does this mean we're back together? You really want to be with me after all this?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," you chuckled.

"I love you to the moon and back," he sighed.

. . .

to be continued ?

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taglist: @truth-dare-spin-bottles @hobiebrowns-wife @lazyjellyfish300 @scaryplanetdestroyer @lauraolar14 @reader-1290 @prettygirleli @spicydonut25

[chloewriteswhenshewantsto]

Afterglow

Authors Note: It’s me. Hi. I’m back with another attempt at “writing”. This is an angsty one this time. I felt I should learn to write something that pulls at the heartstrings. I hope this doesn’t disappoint.

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton X Female! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Period Specific Sexism

Word Count: 2.9K

Anthony looks up from his desk, rubbing his tired eyes as he calls out a gruff. "Who is it?"

The rain outside continues to batter the windows, the sound muffled but still audible through the thick oak door of his office.

Anthony's expression softens immediately as he sees you standing in the doorway. He smiles, setting down his pen and pushing himself away from the desk.

"Love, what are you doing up at this hour?" he asks, his tone gentle as he looks over to you. "You should be in bed."

“I couldn’t fall asleep without you.” you admit sheepishly. “The bed doesn’t feel the same without you in it.”

Anthony's smile widens, his heart swelling with a tender affection as he hears your admission. He steps closer to you, his hands coming up to tenderly frame your face.

"You know I'd rather be in bed with you too, darling," he murmurs, his voice gravelly with tiredness. "But the ledgers won't balance themselves, I'm afraid."

“Surly you can do them in the morning, you’ve been working so hard lately, my love.”

Anthony lets out a weary sigh, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he holds your gaze.

"You know I'd love nothing more, sweetheart," he admits, his exhaustion clear in his voice. "But there's so much work to do. I've been neglecting my duties, thanks to our trip to the country"

“You have been in here all day, it is past midnight surly you can rest now.” you say frustratedly. Your husband is a hard worker, but the dark circles under his eyes betray him. He needs to rest.

Anthony flinches slightly at the tone in your voice, the frustration in your words evident. He lets out another sigh, his hands dropping from your face and going to his hips.

"I know I've been working late, darling," he says, his voice quieter now. "But there's just so much to do. The ton relies on me to keep the estate running smoothly, and with the ball coming up, there's so much to prepare for-"

“Then let me help you lighten the load, I might not know how to balance the books but teach me I am a quick learner. Surly two heads will be better than one.” you say, pleading with your husband to let you help ease his burden.

It is not a woman’s job to deal with finances, you know this, and your husband is a proud man that will want to take the pressure off everyone but himself. You can only hope that he is too tired to argue with you tonight.

Anthony hesitates for a moment, torn between his natural instinct to handle everything himself and the desire to please you.

"Darling, it's not your job to help me with all this," he starts hesitantly, his gaze flickering between you and the papers scattered on his desk. "I'm supposed to take care of everything, that's my responsibility as the viscount-"

“And what of my responsibility as your wife?” you interrupt him sharply. “Is it not part of my duties to help you when you are struggling.”

Anthony falls silent for a moment, your sharp words cutting through the air like a knife. He looks at you carefully, his expression a mixture of surprise and contemplation.

"Of course it is," he admits quietly, his shoulders deflating a fraction. "Be that as it may, these are things that I'm supposed to handle, sweetheart. The estate, the financial planning-"

“I wish to help, I wish to spend time with my husband outside this office!” you frustratedly plea.

Anthony's expression darkens, his shoulders tensing as he struggles to keep his own temper in check.

"You know I wish I could spend more time with you, darling," he snaps back.

"You think I don't want that too?" he retorts, his voice rising slightly. "You think I enjoy spending every waking moment in this damn office, bogged down by paperwork and figures? But it's my job, my responsibility-"

Anthony continues to rant, his frustration and exhaustion getting the better of him as he snaps at you.

"I don't need another problem to deal with. I don't need you hovering over me, trying to help, when I'm the one who has to carry the weight of this estate on my shoulders. You're already distracting me enough as it is."

The words hang in the air like a poison, their harshness cutting deep.

"You need to stop being so bloody needy!" he snaps, his tone sharp and frustrated. "I'm doing the best I can, but there's only so much I can handle! You're asking me to do the impossible. Besides, what on earth could you possibly know about running an estate? All you know is dresses and tea parties and silly little gossip rings, you don't know the first thing about what I’m going through-"

Anthony immediately regrets his words the moment they leave his mouth, his eyes widening in alarm as he realizes the damage his words have done. His lack of sleep and his patience that has been holding on by a thread that has finally snapped.

The words hang in the air like a poison, their harshness cutting deep into your heart.

Anthony's face softens immediately as he sees the tears welling up in your eyes. His anger and frustration disappear, replaced by regret and guilt as he realizes the impact of his words.

"Wait, darling, I didn't-" he starts, reaching out a hand towards you.

“I am sorry I didn’t realise I was another problem that you had to deal with, my lord.” you say stonily, taking a step back from his reach. “I shall leave you be.”

Anthony winces at your formal address, the coldness in your tone cutting through him like a knife.

"Wait, no, that's not what I meant-" he tries to explain, his voice filled with remorse.

Anthony stands there, frozen, as the door swings shut behind you. The sound of the rain outside is suddenly deafening, drowning out the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.

"Shit," he mutters, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. "I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean it...fuck." he curses out, swiping the papers of his desk in anger.

Anthony storms over to the corner of the office, pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey. He downs it in one gulp before pouring himself another, the whiskey burning its way down his throat and into his stomach. He paces the room, his mind a maelstrom of guilt and self-recrimination.

Anthony spends most of the night in his office, drowning himself in paperwork and the bottle of whiskey by his side. He tries to focus on the figures in front of him, but his mind keeps drifting back to you.

He can still hear the echo of your hurt and angered voice in his ears, the way you'd shut the door behind you with a sharp click. It pains him how callous and cold he'd been to you, how he'd let his frustration spill out in the worst possible way…

As the first rays of sunlight start to filter through his office windows, Anthony finally falls asleep at his desk, head resting on his arms, his dreams plagued with visions of you. Countless apologetic notions fill his thoughts, he will make things better. He has too.

———————————————————————

Anthony groans, as daylight makes its way through his office windows. Lifting his head off the desk, memories of last night come rushing back, and with them, the sharp pang of guilt. His head is pounding from the liquor, his neck aching from the awkward position he slept in. He sits up, rubbing his temples with a weary groan, the events of the previous night playing over in his mind on repeat.

"Bloody hell," he mutters to himself, shoving a hand through his disheveled hair.

Anthony spots a maid walking down the hall as he emerges from his office, his expression still weary and guilt-ridden. He stops her, and with a gruff in his voice from tiredness, he asks her.

"Excuse me, have you seen my wife this morning? Where is she?"

The maid, a young woman with a cheerful smile, gives Anthony a puzzled look as he stops her in the hallway.

"Good morning, my lord," she says, a little taken aback by his weary and disheveled appearance.

Anthony runs a hand through his hair, attempting to straighten it but failing.

“I have not seen the viscountess this morning, my lord. Would you like me to check with the other maids on her whereabouts?” she respectfully responds.

His heart sinks at the maid's response. He had hoped that he would find you wandering the halls, ready for him to apologize and make things right. But instead, he is left with a sense of confusion and growing dread as to your whereabouts.

"Yes, please. Anything you can find out would be greatly appreciated. I need to speak with her urgently." he says tiredly.

The maid nods her head in understanding as Anthony dismisses himself to ascends the stairs with a heavy heart, his mind still spinning with guilt and worry. As he reaches the door to his bedroom, he hesitates for a moment, taking a deep breath as he mentally prepares himself to face you.

He quietly pushes the door open, peering into the bedroom to see if you are there.

Anthony's heart drops as he sees that the bed is still made and empty. You are nowhere to be found, and he immediately starts to panic.

"Damn it, where is she?" he mutters, stepping further into the room as he looks around frantically trying to find clean clothing to change into.

Stepping out of his room, Anthony runs through the hallways of the estate, calling out your name frantically as he looks in every room and corridor, his footsteps echoing loudly. He checks the library, the study, the drawing room, anywhere he can think of where you might be, but you are nowhere to be found.

"Damn it, where are you?" he repeats, his voice ragged and desperate. "Please, love, where are you?"

As Anthony is running through the estate, he is stopped by a staff member who approaches him urgently. His eyes immediately snap to theirs, a flicker of hope and desperation in his gaze.

"What is it? Where is she?" he asks urgently, his voice betraying his anxiety.

Anthony listens intently to the staff member's words, his heart hammering in his chest as he hears the words "gardens". Without a moment's hesitation, he spins on his heel and takes off in that direction, his steps quick and determined.

Anthony's heart stutters in his chest as he sees you, tucked away in a tranquil corner of the gardens, reading a book. Relief floods through him, but it is quickly replaced by guilt and worry. He pauses, watching you for a moment, his eyes taking in your figure, the sight of you a balm to his weary heart.

Taking a deep breath, he steels himself and starts to walk towards you. Your eyes meet his, and he is struck by the sight of you, sitting there under the tree, reading like nothing had happened between you. His heart clenches in his chest, and he opens his mouth to speak.

"Darling," he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

“I suppose so, if you are not too busy that is.” you dryly respond looking up at him.

Anthony flinches slightly at the cold tone in your voice, but he doesn't blame you for being angry. He takes a seat on the grass next to you, rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion and regret.

"I am never too busy for you," he replies softly, his gaze fixed on yours. "I... I wanted to talk to you, to apologize for last night."

Your expression does not give him hope that this will be an easy conversation for them to have. Feeling nervous he gestures towards the book in your lap, his expression softening.

"May I ask what you're reading?" he inquired, his voice quieter now, almost nervous.

“It is a book on mathematics, I thought it would be smart to fill my brain with things other than dresses and endless gossip.” you respond hitting back at him for his earlier words.

He winces at your words, his shoulders visibly tense as he absorbs the sting in them. He knows he deserves it, after everything he said to you last night. But still, the reminder of his careless words hurts.

"I deserved that," he admits quietly, his eyes downcast. "And I am sorry, for what I said yesterday. It was careless and cruel, and I didn't mean it, truly. You are not another problem, love. You are my partner, my wife. I was just... frustrated, overwhelmed."

Releasing a sigh you meet his eyes. You can see how tired he looks, how vulnerable.

“I know that, which is why I wanted to help. I never meant to become another issue that you had to deal with when you are already so busy.”

Anthony's heart aches as he sees the hurt in your eyes. He reaches out a hand, tentatively resting it on your knee.

"You are not an issue," he says firmly. "You are the furthest thing from it. I was out of line, love, and I'm sorry. I... I should have let you help, should have been grateful that you cared enough to ask. I know how difficult it is for you, sitting at home while I'm stuck in that office day in and day out."

“You hurt me you know, with your words,” you say sadly. “I went to bed alone last night and I cried for what seemed like hours. Then I thought of how angry I was with your stubbornness, so I woke up this morning and went straight to the library because as much as I am upset with you I still love you too much to see you end up in an early grave because you worked yourself to death.”

Anthony's heart clenches as he hears your words, knowing he is the cause of your pain. He lets out a shaky breath, his hand tightening on your knee as he hangs his head in shame.

"I know," he says quietly, his voice thick with regret. "And I don't blame you for being angry with me, I was a fool for saying those things to you. You have no idea how much I regretted those words as soon as they left my mouth. I hurt you, and for that, I am truly sorry. Tell me how can I make it better."

“If you wish to make things up to me you may sit with me and teach me what you know of accounts. I do not wish to have this argument again so I wish to know so I may lend a hand when you truly need it.”

Anthony's eyes widen in surprise at your suggestion, but he quickly composes himself, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He nods slowly, his hand still resting on your knee, a warm and reassuring presence.

"I'd be happy to teach you," he says softly. "And I promise, I will never be that careless again, love. I'll ask for your help next time, I swear it."

“Hmmm, you better.” you gently smile at him. “Also if I am to help you I would like a desk. A large one.”

Anthony chuckles weakly at your request, a mix of relief and amusement at your stubbornness. He nods, his gaze fixed on you.

"Of course, love. You'll have your very own desk, right next to mine. And I'll make sure to explain everything to you, I promise."

You lean over to kiss him gently. Placing a hand on his cheek. You can never stay mad at him for long you blame his face.

“You know if we are to spend more time together in your office, we might need to think of a way to destress after all our hard work.”

Anthony raises an eyebrow at your words, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Oh, and what do you suggest we do to... 'destress', love?" he asks, his voice dropping lower, a hint of something dark and suggestive in his tone.

“Hmmm something like this prehaps.” you say as you climb upon his lap giggling.

Anthony's breath hitches as you climb onto his lap, and he instinctively puts his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. His eyes darken with desire as he looks up at you, a smirk on his lips.

"I like the way you think, love," he laughs, his hands traveling up your waist.

The staff can't help but overhear the sound of laughing and joyous voices coming from the gardens, and a wave of relief washes over them. After all, witnessing the viscount and viscountess argue and bicker wasn't a comforting sight for them. As they continue about their work, they can't help but feel glad that the tension between you and Anthony has been lifted, replaced instead by playful banter and laughter. A happy couple suited the viscount and viscountess a far lot better than a bickering one.

[brainrot-of-a-thot]

Oi oi can’t get kaji being in a fight and absolutely loosing it and he can‘t let go of his rage so hiragi has to go get reader so she can calm hin and snap him out of it out of my head

welcome back. [kaji]

you were scared of a lot of things — the dark, bugs, long alleyways, sudden loud noises, violence; kaji, on the other hand, wasn’t scared of anything. he had no issues walking through the dark, didn’t mind when bugs flew by him, braved alleyways as if it was no different than taking a stroll through the park, never winced at a loud noise, and didn’t shirk away from violence like you did. how ironic (yet on par with the pattern) it was that the one thing you didn’t fear happened to be the only thing kaji did.

a/n: okay so this is also sorta combining two similar requests (one was more angsty so I added some angst in here) but like… I just love this idea??? like oml I’m falling hard for kaji like head over heels and back again.

wc: 1.3k

c/w: fem!reader, established relationships, angst, hurt/comfort w generously sprinkled fluff, fairly graphic depictions of violence/blood, kaji 🫠, language, I think I tagged everything but if you notice something pls lmk

you were scared of a lot of things — the dark, bugs, long alleyways, sudden loud noises, violence; kaji, on the other hand, wasn’t scared of anything. he had no issues walking through the dark, didn’t mind when bugs flew by him, braved alleyways as if it was no different than taking a stroll through the park, never winced at a loud noise, and didn’t shirk away from violence like you did. how ironic (yet on par with the pattern) it was that the one thing you didn’t fear happened to be the only thing kaji did.

kaji had briefly expressed this fear to you; but when he did so, it never seemed to feel very deep to you — like it was only something that affected him on a surface level, not something that had burrowed deep into his bones and constricted his very being on a day to day basis.

it wasn’t until a battered-looking hiragi had dragged you nearly half-way across town and straight to a scene that would have been more appropriate within a horror movie than in the middle of a sunset-drenched town that you realized just how cavernous this fear of kaji’s was — and why.

“what is—?” you could barely even produce words — your eyes were wide as you took in the sight before you; battered bodies lay scattered across the street, and if it weren’t for the multiple groans rising from them you would have assumed them cadavers, what with the amount of blood that covered them — and in the center of the carnage was none other than kaji. your muscles felt as though they were gripped by large, icy claws, chilled and immovable.

his headphones had been discarded from his head, laying feet away from him, the plastic cracked and scuffed from an obvious rough impact. thwacks and cracks split through the air as kaji rained a fist down on the face of the man he was currently straddling; the man was clearly unconscious, body limp and lips producing no audible sounds. even from the distance, you could see the sheer damage inflicted to the man’s face, and it was mortifying.

if kaji didn’t stop, he was going to kill him.

“I haven’t been able to snap him out of it,” hiragi panted beside you. “when I tried he just — turned on me. I was thinking if you called out to him, it might work.”

“what?” you croaked — you couldn’t understand why, but your throat felt thick, and your eyes burned with heat. you felt like you couldn’t breathe — was this fear? it felt similar, but…

“there’s no time, okay?! just call his name, quick!” hiragi barked, and you shook yourself harshly. you could do this — you just had to call out to him. kaji would listen to you. he would.

“kaji,” you tried, but your voice came out weak — small, as if your body didn’t want it to be heard. damn it, if you didn’t do something… why were you even scared? this was kaji!

“kaji!” you screamed, and the fist that was poised in the air stilled — kaji didn’t look in your direction, but the fact that he hadn’t yet thrown the punch meant something, didn’t it?

that weight atop your chest lightened and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. your lip quivered slightly when you gently ventured, “it’s over now, kaji. just come back, okay?”

kaji didn’t move. his entire body was frozen. that feeling that had frozen your feet to the cement seemed to disappear entirely, and you took a few steps towards kaji —

hiragi’s hand flashed out as quick as lightning and his fingers wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea just ye—”

hiragi wasn’t able to finish his sentence; in what seemed like less than a second kaji had abandoned the man he was straddling and was now right in front of hiragi, his hand crushing his wrist in a brutal grip.

“don’t you fucking touch her,” kaji snarled, lips drawn back — from this proximity, you could see liquid saccharine of blood smeared across his lips; but he had no visible cuts, so where had that blood come from?

you didn’t have any time to worry about that — kaji’s eyes were narrowed, nothing but sharp steel daggers as they locked onto hiragi; with the intent to kill. kaji’s grip had caused hiragi’s fingers to release your wrist, and in a move that you were sure could have been stupid you wrenched yourself between hiragi and kaji.

you wrapped your arms around his ribs and buried your face into his chest — the strong, pungent scent of copper had you wrinkling your nose and your stomach twisting; part of you wanted to wrench away from it, but beneath that overwhelming scent was kaji — sweet powdered sugar and fresh-linen detergent, a combination that had soaked into your pillow from the various nights he’d stayed over. the very scent that cradled you sleep when he wasn’t there. the very scent that, no matter how often it wafted into your nose, you craved to smell in your every waking moment.

this was still kaji.

it was kaji’s heartbeat thundering in your ear, it was kaji’s breath tickling the top of your head, it was kaji’s warmth soaking into your body from beneath kaji’s sweatshirt.

your kaji was still there — you just had to bring him back.

“kaji, it’s okay,” you murmured into his chest. “I’m okay. it’s just hiragi. I’m safe, kaji.”

you weren’t sure why you had worded it that way; it was simply what your rapid heart had told you to do. but it worked — kaji dropped hiragi’s wrist you heard the older boy stumble back with a grunt.

kaji’s arms fell limp to his sides and his breath shuddered his ribcage. you kept your face pressed against his chest and your arms tightly wound around him. something wet plopped onto the fabric of your shirt, soaking into it and wetting your skin.

it took you a moment to realize that that wet warmth was coming from kaji — and that his ribs were shuddering from the force of barely-contained sobs, not heavy breathing.

“kaji?” you whispered, pulling back to look up at him. fat tears rolled down his cheeks and his brows were pinched tightly together — his teeth dug into the plump flesh of his bottom lip; it was an expression of pure agony — but not agony felt on a physical level.

your heart constricted in your chest and your very soul shook, the need to wipe that look away and smother all the pain within overwhelming your entire body. before you could think about it you unwound your arms from his ribs and brought your hands up to cradle his face.

you surged upwards and slotted your lips against his; you may have been squeezing his cheeks a little too hard within your palms, and you knew that the salt you were tasting on your tongue wasn’t from kaji’s tears alone — but you had to tell him. you didn’t know what you had to tell him; but you prayed with every fiber of your being that he’d hear it, that he would understand and believe it.

kaji seemed to, at least on some level, because his shoulders slanted and his hands met the curve of your hips. his fingertips dug into the meat there as if it were a lifeline — and with the way he pressed his lips back against yours, you knew it was.

only when you felt your message had been received loud and clear did you pull your lips from his, but you kept your hands firmly in place on his cheeks. you pulled his face down slightly so that you could press your forehead against his and feel his breath fan over your lips.

“welcome back.” you whispered, a sentiment meant to be shared only between the two of you, one to be understood and deciphered only by kaji— and it was, evident in the way his voice was thick with emotion when he murmured,

“thank you.”

I hope I conveyed what the sentiment is~ I’m not too good at really emotional things like this but it was very very fun to give it a try! I kinda teared up a bit ngl

also, there’s a lot more kaji content to come! I’m so excited for it!

[testrella]

CRAZY RICH ASIANS..! G. SATORU X READER

𝜗𝜚 | CHAPTER THREE : just..friends!

NEXT… CHAPTER FOUR : tutoring.

gojo was reclined on his couch, legs sprawled out everywhere. the comfort of his own home at 17 was a luxury not anybody could afford. yet, it was gifted to him by his grandma on his 16th birthday. a 32 acre estate mansion designed by switzerland’s best architect. a blend of traditional japanese and a mix of modern luxury. despite the mansion being large enough to home a village, it was only filled with servants, gojo and silence.

which is why his father thought it was a great idea to have him take on a responsibility, a quite immense responsibility. 

“who the hell are you?”

gojo glances up from his phone and looks for what voice peeped from the entrance of the lounge room. the large dark oak doors were fully opened yet from his peripheral vision, there was no one there. that was until he looked down at a young boy.

his jet black hair, fair skin and green eyes stood out from any other kid has ever laid his eyes on. a shiver runs down gojo’s spine and goosebumps slowly form on his forearms as he continues to stare at the young boy.

“satoru,” his father’s voice echoed from the hallway, slowly becoming more apparent as he got closer. “this is megumi fushiguro, he will be staying with you from now on.”

the young white haired male’s jaw drops to the very floor as he repeated the last name out loud, “..fushiguro?” he glances at the boy then back at his father before raising an eyebrow, “and why is that?” there was no curiosity in his tone, just genuine concern. 

his father opens his mouth to respond before shutting it as megumi turns around to face him, seeming to have the exact same question. why is he staying with 17 year old gojo satoru?

“his father has..business to take care of. it required him to leave for a certain period of time so i’ve agreed to take him in.”

the explanation was typical; vague and left no room for any further questions. gojo knew better than to further poke the sleeping bear and just nod in agreement. but even though he answered gojo’s question, his eyes told a different answer. there was no doubt the boy’s father got into some trouble and was taken out for good.

gojo shrugged the lingering thoughts away before making his way to megumi. he knelt down to megumi’s height, to come off as less intimidating, and patted his head. “megumi, right? i’m satoru, looks like we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

“i am not sharing a room with you.” megumi spat out while clutching onto a small dog plushie. even if he tried to come off as fearless, gojo couldn’t help but notice the way he was violently shaking. 

he chuckles at megumi before pulling him into a tight and unwarranted hug. “sure man, whatever you say goes.”

the busy streets of tokyo were alive every night, capturing the life of the city and its residents. honking horns, distant chatter, and the same rhythmic footsteps of busy people wanting to get from point A to point B. gojo suggested the two shopping the day after the party, which clearly irritated megumi.

“do we really have to go shopping during rush hour?” megumi grumbled and shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have better things to do.” 

satoru only chuckled at the angsty teen’s behavior. he watched megumi grow from a know it all toddler to a slumped moody teenager. “oh come on megumi! i’ve been meaning to buy you something nice. besides, it’s not like you actually have friends to hang out with.”  

megumi shoots him a glare, “i do have friends, and i could have plans that only involved myself.”

“like what? brooding in your room all day?” gojo teased, ruffling megumi’s hair before he slapped his hand away.

as they entered a high end luxury store, gojo’s attention was immediately caught by a limited edition pair of sneakers. he nudged megumi towards the display before picking it up and carefully inspecting it. “what do you think megumi? these would look great on you!” 

megumi barely glances at the shoe before mumbling a response, “they’re fine i guess. can we get them and go home now?” irritation was written all over the poor boy’s face. 

gojo was able to immediately pick up the teen’s attitude towards him. he rolled his eyes at the moody behavior, “you’re in a mood today. something bothering you?” 

“i don’t know… maybe it's the fact you're texting my teacher and asking her out for dinner again!” he whispered-yelled in the middle of the store.

gojo clicks his tongue. “ah, so that’s what this is about huh?” he said with a stupid smile plastered on his face, “well i happen to think miss. l/n is a lovely person to be around. she’s humble, intelligent and she seems to talk to me like a normal person. she’d be a wonderful friend!”

megumi scoffs and crosses his arms across his chest, “you’re not fooling anyone, you know there’s more to it!”

gojo leaned slightly towards megumi with a slight mischievous look in his eyes, “it’s refreshing to talk to someone who isn’t obsessed with the whole gojo clan nonsense. she’s not stiff and never talks about business.” he leans further into megumi’s personal space, “but you seem to be real caught up on this. are you jealous..?!”

megumi’s face flushed in a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. “i am not jealous! i just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to make plans with my teacher. it’s  weird..” he mumbled the last sentence. 

gojo raises his hand to scratch his chin and pretends he’s in deep thought. “hm, well if it makes you that uncomfortable then i suppose i have no choice but to cut contact.”

“r-really?! you’ve decided that quick?” 

“of course,” gojo said, ruffling his hair once again. “you’re more important to me than making a new friend.”

a small pang of guilt hit megumi’s chest, and his expression softened. “i mean, you don’t have to stop being her friend. just..stop trying to invite her to private dinners.”

“deal!” gojo says with a wide grin, “now, let’s go find some shoes you’ll actually like.” despite megumi’s outburst, he knew he cared for him in his own way. no matter how many times gojo has been a victim of megumi’s prickly demeanor, he would still let him have his way.

the duo exits out the store, with gojo swinging multiple bags over his back, into the bustling streets. the both continued to have a quiet conversation about tonight’s dinner options. just as they turned the corner, a small figure collided with him, again. 

“ah, miss. l/n!” gojo exclaimed, caught completely off guard. standing before them was today’s topic of discussion dressed casually with a few bags in her hand. 

“megumi, mr.gojo! what a lovely surprise to see you two here.” you smiled.

gojo cleared his throat, trying to regain any composure he had left “y-yes, quite a surprise indeed! we were, uh, out shopping for new shoes for megumi.” he tried to reach over to pat megumi’s shoulder, with his eyes on remaining on you, and ends up patting his face.

you glance at the multiple bags being held by gojo, “seems like you guys found something nice.”

“yeah thanks to this idiot.” megumi muttered before swaying gojo’s hand out his face, “he insisted i get new shoes.” 

“well, it was nice seeing you both.” you replied. “i’m actually on my way to a movie. i’ve been meaning to watch the new action movie that recently came out.” 

gojo’s eyes light up at the mention of the film, “oh really?! we were just about to grab something to eat but a movie sounds even better! right megumi?” he glances back at the teenager who seemed to be absolutely mortified by the sudden turn of events. 

“uh, sure but we really shouldn’t intrude-”

“don't be ridiculous!” gojo chuckled before turning to you, “we’d love to join you if that’s okay with you miss. l/n. tickets and snacks on me!” 

you laughed softly at the man’s eagerness, “i don’t mind at all, some company would be nice.” 

megumi gave gojo a “what are you doing?!” look but he was too infatuated with you to even notice. 

as they made their way to the theaters, gojo makes an attempt to make conversation to fill in the comfortable silence. but his nerves seem to hate him.

“s-so, miss. l/n.” gojo’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before attempting again. “i hear that the, uh, curriculum changed throughout the year. i-is it difficult for you? but i mean i wouldn't be surprised if not since someone like you is capable of handling it well..”

you smiled kindly despite being confused at his sudden awkwardness, “it’s just an adjustment. i’m fine as long as the students are.” 

megumi sighed before yanking gojo aside and whispering, “ please stop, you’re embarrassing yourself. can we just-”

“relax megumi, i’m just trying to make conversation.” gojo said while nervously chuckling.

when they reached the ticket counter, gojo confidently stepped in front of both of them. “three adult tickets please, i’ll be paying.”

the young cashier smiled, “sure thing. i’ll be sure to add on tonight's family discount.” she prints out the tickets and hands them over to gojo. “enjoy the movie and your family night out!”

both megumi and gojo froze, processing her words while you chuckled at the misunderstanding.

“we’re not-” megumi started but was quickly cut off. 

“thank you and we will!” gojo said before snatching megumi by his collar. 

as they entered the theater, megumi gave gojo a stern look before muttering “did you seriously go along with that?!” 

gojo only laughed at megumi’s response to the situation. “why not? it’s kind of nice to be seen as a family, don’t you think?” he turned to you, waiting for your approval. 

your eyes softened towards megumi, “the two of you certainly give off the dynamic of a family. it’s cute to see.”

the theater’s lights start to dim and the chatter that was once there starts being hushed. gojo, being sat in between megumi and you, couldn’t help but keep up his playful demeanor. whenever a dramatized scene came on, he would whisper in your ear witty but funny remarks on it. all megumi heard were giggles coming from his teacher, and being caused by his mentor. 

it was annoying enough to see gojo play his classic playboy persona in front of his teacher. that was what he thought until he further inspected him. despite the horrible lighting, he noticed the subtle signs of nervousness.like the way gojo would lightly tap his fingers on the shared armrest, how he would stumble over his words, or the way he constantly looked over at you as if he seeked approval.

no matter how much of a distraction the both of you were, he couldn’t help but find amusement in watching the two of you. it was a rare sight to see gojo, the overly confident playboy, be genuinely flustered. for once, he decided to let gojo’s antics slide. 

once the credits rolled, megumi leaned into gojo’s ear. “you owe me for this.”

and before gojo could question what he meant by that, he sees him turn his attention onto you. “miss. l/n, i’m actually having trouble adjusting to the curriculum you mentioned earlier. would it be okay if you could tutor me at gojo’s house? he’ll pay you!”

and being the dedicated teacher you are, you respond with genuine concern in your tone. “of course! why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” 

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if you’d like to be added, please do the inbox thing! it’ll make it easier on my part. this is the updated tag list (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[satorruubaby]

—𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚍𝚊𝚢 ࣪ 🥥⊹ ࣪ ˖ ☼

Synopsis. You and Gojo decided to spend the day at the beach, savoring each moment. As the sky transformed into a canvas of warm colors, the two of you remind the deep love you shared for each other. Feeling the bond between you grow even stronger with each passing wave.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. All fluffy! Just slightly angsty in the end. Kinda suggestive? fem!reader, not spoiler free! JJK AU, established relationship, He’s love-strucked! Satoru being a cute boyfriend he is, he calls u baby tons, Satoru’s 20 and you’re 18!

W.C 1.6k

A/N. I’ve been gone for 2 months and this draft has been sitting here for like weeks by now, I was just lazy about decorating it….plus this is for ch.261:( I love u Satoru😞 IM SO SORRY IDK WHAT CAME OVER TO ME

On a cloudy, breezy day, you and Satoru arrive at a secluded beach, well he teleported you both there.

The soft pale cream sand warm under your feet. Satoru lays out a blanket, setting up a picnic under a parasol, with a bunch snacks that were mostly his sweets, but he also packed some cute bento lunches for you.

After arranging the mini picnic, Satoru leans back, pressing his hands into the sand behind him. He watches you slowly descend down the shore but you only stop at your ankle level, you were enjoying the view infront of you, the feeling of the wet sand on your feet. Turning slowly, you catch Satoru’s gaze, filled with love and admiration.

Your sundress flutters in the breeze, and he sees that beautiful smile he adores. Oh how could he be so lucky? You looked like an angel, truly the most beautiful girl he’s seen.

————————-⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°—————————

Satoru stood up to make his way to you while unbuttoning his ¥178,861, white polo to reveal his heavenly sculpted abs. Your eyes couldn’t help but betray you as you check him out

“Like what you see love?” He grinned at you, his black-tinted glasses reflecting the horizon behind you

you look away and block his face with your hand“No. Not at all..” you scoff, Satoru’s hand finds its way to your waist, and tugs you forward as he leans down to your ear “Your flushed face tells me otherwise.”

He let out a small chuckle as you made a hmpf sound, “Well, I like what I see.” He shamelessly looked you up and down, the sundress hugged your figure perfectly, and he brought you that dress to make sure it did.

Your death glare made him snap out of his thoughts and quickly placed a kiss on your lips “Baby come on, let’s go for a swim before we start eating” He then suddenly carried you bridal-style which made you gasp “W-wait! I don't wanna get wet yet!” He ignored you as he made his way down the water then dropped you once the water reached above his knee, the hair you worked hours on before leaving the apartment, got wet from the suddenness of his action

“TORU MY HAIR!!!!” You screamed at him as you chased the grinning like-cat down, the water slowing your movement so you just started splashing him with water and he did the same to you but he splashed more water than you did, and that made you want to drown his stupid face. The beautiful horizon was disrupted by you and Satoru’s play-fight.

————————-⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°—————————

“Baby look,” Satoru pointed at a bunny-like slug that was on the wet rocks “It looks like you” he mumbled as his finger gently stroked the little thing “How does it look like me? It’s a slug.” You grumbled, the wet drops of your bodies meeting the wet surface of the rock “Because you look like a bunny and act like a slug, cute but sluggish.”

“How am sluggish?? You’re the one who takes long to get ready because of how infatuated you are with your Nintendo.” You poked his right cheek “Ow!… well don’t act like you don’t take hours to get your hair done Baby!” He defended with a small pout.

————————-⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°—————————

The two of you settled down to eat after Satoru collected shells to receive a ‘Good job’ kiss from you and made sand castles to compete with each other (You won as Satoru whined his loss)

“Babi, does the ocean have likee… brain-eating amoeba?” Satoru muffled with a mouth full of strawberry donuts, “No Toru. Don’t even wanna imagine that right now, and stop talking with your mouth full!” You scolded but that couldn’t stop the white-haired guy from his ill manners “It doesn’t? Then where are they usually found??” Satoru perked up in interest

“Well uhh—They can be found in lakes and rivers or still waters?” Your skin shivered from the thought of deep still-like waters

“REALLY??! oh god, I just recently went to a lake for a mission, and then I was levitating and accidentally fell into the water because of how sleepy I was!!! AM I GOING TO DIE, BABY??” Satoru’s worried-sad face made you chuckle a bit. You had forgotten that when Satoru gets tired and lacks focus, it can cause his infinity to turn off. You learned this about him when he told you how Toji took advantage of his vulnerable state by attacking your poor boyfriend at his blind spot.

“No Toru you wont!.. It's very unlikely to have a brain-eating amoeba. You'll be fine, Mr. Strongest." You rolled your eyes at his worried state. "Are you sure??? I can’t die without having to marry you yet!!" He whined and complained about the thought of dying without having 5,000 kids with you and his last name being yours.

"Satoru, calm down. You won’t die! And I’m sure you're able to have 5,000 kids with me soon, if I don’t die from giving birth to 5,000 babies, that is." You continued eating the sandwich that Satoru made. You couldn't help but notice that there were no bread crusts on the edges. Satoru really did take note of your dislike of bread crust on your first date, the attentive boyfriend he is. You loved him so much.

"HUH??? NO! Okay! Fine! How about 3 babies??" You let out a giggle. "Okay. Just 3 babies." He moved forward to close the distance between you two. "Promise you’ll soon be my wife and that we’ll have 3 kids together?" Satoru had a small pout on his face that made your heart melt. "Promise." You sighed internally, not expecting the mightiest sorcerer to go all love-struck on you.

"Give me a promise kiss then." You raised an eyebrow and took his glasses off before proceeding to plant a small, quick kiss on his lips. Satoru wasn't satisfied enough with it, so he held your waist and tugged you forward, causing your chest to fall against his. His lips quickly closed the distance, leading to a heated make-out session. His long, calloused fingers stroked your hair as he hummed into the kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, and you could taste the strawberry donut he had just eaten.

As the sun began its descent, a soft, rosy glow enveloped the ocean, casting a warm hue upon the scene. The embrace satisfied your cold, wet bodies. Your devoted Satoru persisted in showering you with affectionate kisses.

————————-⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚⋆❀˖°—————————

The bonfire crackled softly in the background, it’s light flickering against the semi-dark sky. Calm waves lapped gently against the shore, providing a tranquil backdrop to the night. As you gently stroked the back of Satoru’s hair, he lay sprawled across you, his face nestled against your chest, exuding a sense of peace and contentment.

“toru—…you perv.” he hummed in response, unable to process your words, so lost was he in the soothing rhythm of your touch.

“…hmm baby?” He slowly lifted his head to gaze up at you, the flickering bonfire casting a warm glow on his pale skin. “stop face planting on my chest.” you pouted at his lazy smile “s’what babyyy…” he lays his head head down again sideways “boobies so comfy like a pillow, or better than a pillow” he mumbled as he rested his eyes once again.

You flicked his forehead, causing him to let out a soft whine. He tightened his hold on you, burying his face deeper into your chest. You sighed, realizing that you could never prevent him from doing perverted things, but then you realized that the day was spent without his glasses most of the time, so you let him have the comfort.

There were moments when Satoru was like this, too exhausted to move, a painful migraine throbbing around his eye. You came to understand this about him after he began spending nights at your place, revealing his vulnerability in those quiet, intimate times.

The exhaustion came from his life as a sorcerer. Ever since his friends left him, even his bestfriend Geto, he had been facing these missions alone, and they were relentless. As Nanami had asserted that Gojo should alone take on these missions, being the strongest, to prevent others from dying due to his perceived selfishness.

You scoffed internally. Nanami and the others didn’t fail to remind Satoru of his responsibilities, and you couldn’t help but loathe them for it. It was already enough that he lost his childhood due to being the Strongest. You loved him even before knowing about his sorcery life, and you wanted to love him more, to give him what he couldn’t have. You just wanted to hold him close and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

The night sky glittered with stars, and a comforting silence enveloped the place. Satoru had passed out on you, and you chuckled at his slightly open mouth. There were also times his drool would get on your chest. The waves lapped gently against the shore, and the fire grew smaller by the soft breeze.

Satoru appreciated and loved you. You were both his best friend and his lover. He couldn't ask for more. You were everything he yearned for, an escape from his sorcery life through moments like this with you, his beautiful, loving girlfriend.

He often wished that times like these would last forever. He just hoped that someday, once someone surpassed him, he could retire. He dreamed of buying the modern Japanese house you always wanted, putting a ring on your finger, having tons of kids running around the house, and growing old with you.

Little did he know what his future held.

Credits for divider- daddldee on tumblr!

𝙼𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘��𝚛𝚍 🥥⊹ ࣪ ˖ ☼

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

hey :’)

would u be willing to write a platonic jason grace and daughter of jupiter! reader? maybe they’re twins and it can either be super wholesome, like just sibling banter and stuff during training. or, super angsty where one of them gets hurt and possibly dies?

just need that sibling love rn 🤧

✮⋆˙ the mario to my luigi - platonic! jason grace x daughter of jupiter! reader blurb

𝜗𝜚 content…platonic! jason grace x daughter of jupiter! reader blurb 𝜗𝜚 warning…none! 𝜗𝜚 letters from the author…i decided to go fluffy with this one bc we do not need more angst on the jason masterlist lmao- also, i know you said during fighting but there is nothing more sibling core than aggressive mario kart frfr

────────── ౨ৎ ──────────

"BANANA BANANA BANANA!" you screeched, hectically turning your controller as to narrowly avoid it.

"HA!" jason mocked from beside you, having purposefully placed it there as he knew you frequented that side of the track. he had recently stolen first place from you, partially due the banana diabolical and a blue shell catastrophe.

"don't get cocky now, grace, still got a lap to go," you grumbled from beside him, turning with your whole body - which was unnecessary - as you rounded a sharp corner.

"please, i've got you right where i want you," called back jason, his eyes locked on the screen as he leaned forwards, his subconscious leading him to believe that might make the character on the screen go ever so slightly faster.

"oh yeah?" you asked, your wide smirk clearly heard in your voice. jason's brows furrowed as his eyes darted around the screen trying to find what could be the cause of your sudden happiness.

"what- OH COME ON!" the blonde boy shouted indignantly, his poor character spinning out from the very banana he placed earlier in the round as yours zoomed past.

"HA HA, SUCKS TO SUCK, LOSER!" you cheered, giggling as he speed away from the scene of the crime

"I STILL HAVE A CHANCE!" jason cried but knew it was all for not as you crossed over the checkered line.

instantly, you were jumping up from your crisscross position, bouncing up and down on the bed, cheering and laughing as loud as can be. jason rolled his eyes as he claimed second, pulling at you legs and sending you falling to the squishy bed and pillows with a small yelp.

"sore loser," your muffled voice came as you dug your way out of the pillows.

"wanna play another round?" jason offered.

"only if your cool with getting your butt handed you. again."

"first place has my name written all over it."

"yeah, okay, bud."

jason just smiled as he turned back to the screen, sparing you a glance as you crawled back to his side, your shoulders playfully bumping together. and he knew that as the sun rose, you two would be soldiers once more, people with responsibilities and duties that required their utmost attention.

but right now? right now, you were just mario and luigi, racing off into the sunset.

[chukys-mouthguard]

#17 Angsty with Mat Barzal

Prompt: “It’s like…you have this power over me, and I-I guess I’m wary of where it might lead.”

Note: writing angst for mat always has me picturing him just being the absolute cockiest asshole on the planet but i love it so much 🫠

“Mat you act like we haven’t been doing this shit for months now! I get wanting to keep some things private for yourself, but it’s like you're ashamed of me or something!”

He sat with his head in his hands as you paced the floor of his apartment. The two of you having just gotten home from an Islanders home game. Though having to drive separate because Mat and you weren’t together, and you couldn’t be seen with one another.

“It’s not that y/n! You know it’s not anything like that!”

He spat back at you before standing up himself, making his way to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“Then what is it? If you’re just looking for a hook up type situation, then I’ll walk out that door right now because I told you from day one that isn’t at all what I wanted. If you’re not interested in me anymore, then fine. But don’t sit here and lie to me when it’s obvious something is going on. You won’t be seen with me. I can’t wear your jersey number, I can’t meet any of the guys or their girlfriends. I’m your secret or something, and I don’t understand why!”

Mat sighed as he saw the tears in your eyes, hating to see you so upset, but he knew this was best. Keeping your relationship like it was. It was better this way, less complicated.

“It’s like…you have this power over me, and I-I guess I’m wary of where it might lead.”

He sipped his beer as you shook your head.

“What the fuck does that even mean? Wary of where it might lead? It’s been eight months at this point Mat, not quite sure where else we are headed.”

He knew he should’ve never let things go on as long as they had, but like he said, you had this power over him. He couldn’t commit to you. But he also couldn’t let you go. Despite how much he cared about you and liked you, he knew this couldn’t be anything more. Not now.

“I can’t put a label on this or introduce you to everyone because god forbid this goes south, I can’t go through that. I need to be focused on my game right now, the second I start introducing you to people and the things that come with that, it’s going to be too much pressure. I don’t want to deal with any of that right now, that’s why I like things where they are at. I get it, it’s been months, you want more. You need more. But I can’t give that right now, and I won’t give you that. I know what I want, and that’s not a label. I don’t need a girlfriend, nor do I want one.”

His words cut through you like a knife. The man you’d fallen for turning out to be nothing you ever thought he was. Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you did your best to suck up your emotions. Mat not deserving another one of your tears.

“So, what was the point? You were just keeping me around for fun? For company? To waste my time when you knew what I wanted?”

Mat simply shrugging as he brought his beer back to his lips for another sip. “I care about you, so fucking much. And I told you, you have this power over me where I can’t just walk away and let you go. I, I want to think it will get better. That things will change. But I’m also not going to give in and change things thinking that we are headed that way. So yeah, maybe I’m being selfish for keeping you around rather than ending this knowing it’s not what you want. But, I still want you here. I still want this with you. As long as you can accept where I stand. If you can’t, then that’s fine too.”

You scoffed as you grabbed your keys, “That’s fine too? You know what….you’re right, I do have power over you. And I’m taking that power to walk away from what a piece of shit you are. Go fuck yourself Mathew Barzal.”

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 23 – POST-CA:CW

i just called to say that we are not never ever getting back together by misura

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 1,028 Tags: Flip Phone, Humor, Flirting

Summary: "You made a sex-ed video and you didn't tell me?"

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, I can't believe that this is what Tony is using the Flip Phone of Manly Man Pain for. Scratch that, I totally can. This fic is hilarious as hell, which is a feat considering that it's post-CW, but it's so funny that not even the slightest bit of angst has a chance to seep in. I love it, and I bet you will too, so I hope you check it out!

The Sweetest of Dreams by iam93percentstardust

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: G Words: 1,081 Tags: Fix-It, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Summary: After coming back to the Compound, Steve takes a moment to breathe and return to his old room. Tony takes a moment to flirt and ask Steve out on their first official date.

Reasons why I love it: I think this might just be the most wholesome post-CW fic I've ever read. I love how MCU and 616 canon are mixed up in this, it gives me so many good vibes. And the Stony flirting is wonderful, they're such dorks in love. Please go and check this one out, it's amazing!

Locked Away by tarialdarion

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 1,326 Tags: Fix-It, Mutual Pining, The Phone

Summary: "Steve realizes he’s in love with Tony two months after Siberia. He sees dark hair, a flash of sunglasses from across the street and has an instant of joy, before disappointment sets in as the man turns around to reveal his face. The visceral feeling of regret and loneliness that follows is so sharp that Steve can’t breathe around it for a moment, swallowing everything down and hurrying away. Tony could always twist him up until he was yelling, laughing, screaming, smiling." or: Steve's always too late but maybe he can get it right this time.

Reasons why I love it: This fic is canon filtered through an angsty Stony lens, and it got me so damn emotional, it's not even funny. It hurts so good, and the ending just feels so right. I love this fic, and I hope you give it a shot for yourself!

they're singing deck the halls (but it's not like christmas at all) by writerkenna

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 5,098 Tags: Christmas, Phone Sex, Mutual Pining

Summary: Tony, as a general rule, doesn't like Christmas very much. But a call from a very important flip phone can help remedy that.

Reasons why I love it: Oh boys, you're such hopeless cases. Though not entirely hopeless, if that phone sex is anything to go by, hot damn. I love how quickly this fic escalates and how they both slowly but surely drop their facades and just tell each other how they feel. It's great, and I hope you give this fic a shot!

Flyover Country (Exes, Aliens and Cupcakes) by Sadisticsparkle (sadisticsparkle)

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: G Words: 3,056 Tags: Crack, Reconciliation, Hopeful Ending

Summary: Because the universe was more into pulp aesthetics than he had thought possible, that was his assigned mission now - find raccoon, ascertain origin, subdue him by any means possible, bring him in. ‘There has been a… development.’ ‘What is it, FRIDAY?’ ‘Captain Rogers seems to be in the area.’

Reasons why I love it: Who knew that Rocket is such a good matchmaker? I love how Steve and Tony go from bickering to 'wait, you like me?' - 'wait, you do too?' in about three seconds flat, it's so much fun. And the ending is super sweet. Definitely check this one out, it's fantastic!

[coichii]

at the dead of night - CHANGBIN

pairing: bf!changbin x genneutral!reader

genre: angst, comfort (changbin receiving)

word count: 0.5k

warnings: mentions of food/food struggles

A/N : this was supposed to take a wayyyy fluffier route… coi try not to make a fic angsty challenge ! feel bad for making this so short but i hated the thought of not having a fic for him when i had one for everyone else so it’s kinda rushed :(( also still rusty after that 6 month break💆🏾‍♀️

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You sighed as the clock strikes 10 pm.

Your boyfriend had been at the studio for much longer than he promised he would. At first, changbin said he was only going to stay until 7, claiming to have just a few more finishing touches on a song he was working on. You obviously held no complaints, allowing him on his way with the assumption he’d be home when promised.

Often times, you’d try to be patient when this happened, it was a rare occurrence after all. Then, something changed. You started to understand this behavior better.

Soon enough, you learned he only lets this happen when he’s stressed.

Really stressed.

After some thought you swiftly got up from your position on the couch and grabbed your belongings, and left the house, planning to visit changbin in the studio yourself.

It was a short 15 minute drive from your apartment, quick enough to grab him a meal before you made it to the office building.

~~

You stood right outside of his studio door now, heart beating anxiously as you gathered the courage to open it. Last time this happened, the sight on the other side of the door was something you never wanted to see again.

Slowly, you turned the knob of the door, pushing yourself in as you took in the studio’s atmosphere.

Your eyes were welcomed to the studio you had seen time and time before. Dim led lights shined along side the walls as deep r&b music played from the speakers.

However the sight of changbin took your full attention.

He was sitting in his studio chair with his hands in his hair, slowly rubbing circles into his temples. He seemed to be extremely frustrated and tired, computer screen showcasing the root of his frustrations.

Taking in this sight, you immediately wondered if leaving him alone would be better for him, scared he would have a negative reaction.

Until your eyes looked into his.

“Hey baby, I was worried about you staying here late so i brought you some food. You realize it’s 10:30 right??” you whispered calmly. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were upset.

“Oh, oh shit y/n i am so sor-“ he began, but you quickly cut him off.

“Changbin. Don’t worry about it, I understand. Just eat please. I know where you get like this you don’t usually take care of yourself” you said as you pushed the box of food towards him.

Quickly, he reacted, taking the food with a timid ‘thank you’. And when he took that first bite, he realized how hungry he truly was. He immediately began to eat quickly, thanking you for the meal between slurps of ramen.

As he began finishing his meal, he started to ponder on where he’d be without you, without his person. He didn’t let it bother him much though, thoughts quickly snapping back to finishing the food infront of him.

But deep inside he knew everything would be ok,

Aslong as he had you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

back to masterlist (skz)

[i-heart-hxh]

i want to thank you for talking about the doomery takes about Gon and Killua's separation with the level of patience & respect you do. i think people sometimes believe they parted on worse terms than they really did and it leads to people asking questions like "why would Killua say that to him?" or "why didn't Gon give a 'proper' apology?" with a preconception that the situation is irreparable. theyre intelligent kids who love each other a lot, so these things can feel really mean or insensitive to us because we see it as such a high stakes situation when in actuality, the characters kind of know what's happening already and can intuit each others feelings or intentions to a reasonable degree.

like, ex: Killua calls Gon stuff like an embarrassing moron frequently and Gon sees its because he's emotionally constipated and not because Killua actually thinks he's stupid. conversely, Killua knows that what Gon said to him in the palace came from an irrational place of lashing out at the only safe person in the room, and the reason why he can make fun of Gon later for it is because its clear he regrets it. they understand each other quite a bit and though the separation makes them really sad, i'm sure they both get, on some level, why it has to be like this for a bit

Thank you very much for the sweet message!

I honestly get exhausted by how many doom and gloom takes exist about HxH in general, and especially around Gon and Killua's relationship. I hope that by talking about my own perceptions of the series after spending all these years thinking about it and pulling it apart, more people can come to the side of having hope about it and being excited about what's ahead for them.

What they went through was immensely painful, and it certainly hurt those of us who love their relationship, too, but there are far more reasons to believe they have a path of healing and reconciliation ahead of them than all the angsty alternatives. They may have more to go through first before they reach that point, but in my opinion it would contradict the themes of the series for them not to have a second chance to rebuild their relationship even better.

That's a good bit of insight about them and how their interactions are much more than just what they're literally saying! I totally agree that they're quite perceptive about each other and aware of at least some of each others' feelings below the surface. There are actually several scenes where they explain things about the other with a surprising amount of insight--for instance, when Killua is talking to Wing about Gon's tendencies after the Gido match, or Gon knowing Killua will reluctantly fold to him if he insists on something when talking to Meleoron. Their relationship is complex and they both have areas where they need to improve with regards to communicating and understanding each other (especially how they see themselves and the way that warps how they see each others' feelings), but they deeply love each other and I'm sure they're going to want to make the changes needed to fix things between them and not have something like Chimera Ant Arc happen again.

The separation has a lot of layers, but it portrays them both as sad to split up even though it's what's needed for now, still hurting about what they went through but grateful for each other nonetheless, comfortable enough with each other still for Killua to tease Gon and Gon to openly mope about it, and they make it clear this isn't forever. Even with the various subtextual things going on (like Gon's use of "nakama" after Killua had a crisis about that very word and Killua saying Gon is now number 2, for instance) don't erase the overall tone of the separation. It's bittersweet and hard for them both, but not on bad terms!

HxH is a story about human connection and second chances and how love transforms people. The two characters at the center of the story epitomize these themes, so having a cynical view of their bond and future feels like having a cynical view of what the series as a whole is saying. There's nothing wrong with exploring or thinking about angsty themes, of course, and I truly love how much darkness, sadness, and trauma HxH explores throughout, but I don't believe the ultimate trajectory of the series is one of hopelessness or cynicism.

I hope those who are concerned about their future can zoom out and look at the series as a whole and see how many reasons there are to be hopeful for them.

[renecdote]

The prompt "sit still and let me take a look!" spoke to me 😌

hiiii frida this has been in my inbox for so long but I finally figured out how to write again so here you go <3 also sorry. I think. it got angsty oops [Read on AO3]

The problem is that Eddie tries to catch the glass. It slips, and he doesn’t want the shattering sound to wake Buck, so he tries to catch it, and—

“Fuck.”

It slips out louder than he means for it to be, the pain catching him by surprise. It slices through his hand and up his arm, reflexive tears springing to his eyes before he blinks them away. Blood blooms on his palm, just a thin line at first, but spreading rapidly, red running over his fingers, his wrist, dripping onto the floor. In the middle of it all, a jagged piece of glass sparkles in the morning light. Eddie curses again.

Sometimes he feels like he has been dealing with emergencies his whole life. He’s good at it—he has to be—but there’s always a moment of hesitation when it’s himself, a split second or a minute, mind and body frozen even though his survival instinct in any other situation is to fight.

This is hardly an emergency, but Eddie feels frozen anyway, his mind blank even though he’s already moving, reaching for the tap. Water gushes out, tepid for the first few seconds, then cold enough that he has to grit his teeth against the ache. The blood isn’t slowing, but it’s turning pink under the water, washed away before Eddie can think about how much of it there is. Cuts usually look worse than they are, he reminds himself.

“Eddie?” Socks shuffling on the linoleum, half asleep still. Then suddenly much more awake: “Shit, are you okay?”

“Yep. Pass me a tea towel?”

There are two hanging from the oven, but Buck goes for the drawer of clean tea towels instead. He passes over a red one—fire engine red, Eddie’s mind automatically supplies—and it could be a coincidence, or it could be because it won’t stain as easily as the lighter ones. Eddie wraps the material awkwardly around his bleeding hand, trying not to move too much so he doesn’t jar the glass and make the cut worse.

“Here,” Buck says, turning a chair around one-handed, “sit down, let me take a look at it.”

Guilt gnaws at Eddie’s stomach.

“I really don’t—”

“Eds.” Serious. Too serious for a broken glass, but just the right amount of serious for the years of history between them. “Please?”

Eddie sighs, and nods, and sits down. He holds out his hand and Buck takes it carefully, fingers gentle under the back of Eddie’s hand, like what he’s holding is something precious. It makes Eddie’s heart quiver in his chest. He has to bite his cheek hard so he doesn’t do something ridiculous like cry. Or kiss his best friend.

“It doesn’t look too deep, I think it’ll be okay if we pull the glass out,” Buck says, the furrow between his brows deep in concentration as he inspects Eddie’s hand from every angle. “Do you have tweezers?”

“First aid kit,” Eddie answers, gesturing towards the hallway with his good hand. It’s not like he needs to explain where the first aid kit is, Buck already knows. Hell, Buck helped him stock it.

“Don’t move,” Buck tells him, that same flash of seriousness in the look that comes with the words.

“Where am I gonna go?” Eddie asks rhetorically.

Buck rolls his eyes. “Just—hold that towel on your hand. I’ll be back in a second.”

Eddie re-wraps the towel carefully around the glass piece and keeps pressure on his hand, holding it up so it’s above his heart, more out of habit than because he thinks it’s necessary. Without Buck, it’s hard to focus on anything except the pain. It’s nothing compared to getting shot, or broken bones, or a dislocated shoulder, or the whole body ache from being at the bottom of a collapsed well, but pain is pain. Eddie stares at the photos on the fridge and tries to put it out of his mind. There’s Christopher’s latest school photo, a shot of Eddie and Chris in Texas last time they visited, another of Buck and Christopher at the zoo, one of the three of them grinning like maniacs at the go-karting place in the desert.

It means nothing and everything, Eddie thinks, that dozens more photos just like them fill the photo albums lined up neatly on the bookshelf in the living room. Mostly nothing. Mostly everything. Sometimes it feels like they were living their lives with a hole left just for Buck to fill before they even met him. Eddie isn’t sure he believes in things like soulmates, or fate, or divine providence, but if he did, he thinks it would be because of Buck. Because of the way they fit together, a neat little family of three.

Except for how they aren’t. Buck will go home to Tommy in a few hours, and Chris is willing to speak to Eddie on the phone these days but he still isn’t ready to come home, so it will just be Eddie in his lonely house, eating a lonely dinner at the empty kitchen table.

He presses a little too hard against his hand and the pain flares, the hard lump of emotion in his throat numbed for a moment by the sting. Eddie presses down again, breathing through the hurt until he feels like he is in control again. It’s harder and harder to keep hold of these days. His eyes feel permanently gritty with exhaustion, a long shift and a heavier heart weighing him down, but sleep as elusive as it has been for the last two months. This isn’t even the first glass he has broken in the last few weeks, just the first to draw blood.

Eddie doesn’t realise how much he has slumped in his chair until he hears the squeak of the hallway floor under returning footsteps and he straightens back up. The first aid kit clatters when Buck sets it on the table, his fingers already flicking up the latch to open it. It’s more cluttered than Eddie remembers it being, and he makes a half-formed mental note to reorganise it when he has a chance. House upkeep hasn’t been his biggest concern recently. Buck has to push aside band-aids and tape and rolls of bandages before he finds the tweezers at the bottom of the box. He tears open an alcohol wipe and sterilises them, then hesitates.

“Should we—?”

“Sink will be less messy,” Eddie agrees before the question is finished, squashing down the part of him that doesn’t really care if he bleeds all over his kitchen.

He stands up awkwardly, even though it isn’t something he really needs his hands for, and Buck’s hand hovers under his elbow for a second before dropping away. Eddie feels the not-quite-contact like a tingling up and down his arm. It tingles, too, when Buck holds his hand to keep it still, the movement of his thumb over Eddie’s fingers almost a caress before his grip settles. The tweezers hang over the cut and Eddie tenses, instinctively bracing for more pain.

“Careful,” he warns, and Buck glances up at him, eyebrows raised.

“Would you rather do this yourself?”

There’s no judgement in his voice. Well, not real judgement. It’s all teasing fondness, the same kind of tone he uses when he gives Chimney shit about his extravagant coffee orders, or gives Eddie shit about his cooking, still, even though he knows his way around the kitchen at least half as well as Bobby by now.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I trust you,” he says, just the right amount of serious for the years of history between them. “Go on, do your worst.”

Buck’s hand is steady around the tweezers. The shard comes out easily and he drops it in the sink. He rinses away the freshly welling blood under the tap, then tilts Eddie’s hand under the light to check for the glint of any smaller pieces of glass hiding in the cut. The look of concentration on his face makes Eddie think of burning buildings and tricky extractions from bad accidents. It’s a little overwhelming, having all that Firefighter Buckley energy directed at a comparatively measly cut.

It’s not that he isn’t used to it by now: Buck taking care of him. It might actually be that he’s too used to it. At some point, it stopped being something that surprised him and became something he’s comfortable with, something he expects, something he can ask for, and… It’s dangerous, the way Buck makes him feel safe and comfortable and cared for, because Eddie’s traitorous heart wants to hold onto that feeling forever.

“Looks like that was all the glass,” Buck says. “Can you wash the cut? I’ll grab the gauze to wrap it.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, relieved to have some control handed back to him.

The antibacterial soap at the sink is gentle enough, so he presses down the pump and braces himself against the sting as it hits the cut. Reflexive tears spring to his eyes and he blinks them back as he cleans his hand thoroughly. He tears a piece of paper towel off the roll one-handed and pats the area dry, then lets Buck take his hand again to press a piece of gauze over the cut and carefully wind a bandage around on top. That familiar furrow of concentration stays between his brows until he tapes the bandage in place and steps back.

“Thanks,” Eddie says quietly.

Buck shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. Maybe it shouldn’t be.

“Do you want me to…?” he gestures towards the counter, the broken pieces of glass still lying there.

Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”

He half expects Buck to push, but he just nods and turns away to pack up the first aid kit instead. He starts organising it without Eddie saying anything and Eddie’s heart throbs, hit with a wave of love so strong it almost takes his legs out from under him. He forces his attention back to the broken glass before he can let that love carry him to his knees and beg Buck to stay forever. He’s pretty sure that would only make Buck worried. He’s also pretty sure it would be nice, letting go and drowning himself in all the gentle care that would come with that worry.

Eddie turns away from temptation instead. He sweeps up the pieces of glass carefully with the dustpan, then folds a catalogue from yesterday’s junk mail around them before dropping it all in the bin. The first aid kit closes with a snap and Buck squeezes past him to carry it out of the kitchen, his body heat there and gone before Eddie can let his heart take control again and lean into it.

There are a hundred reasons he can’t have Buck any more than he already does.

There are a hundred more for why he wants him, why it makes perfect sense. If Eddie was a little less damaged, he might have realised that early enough to do something about it.

Or maybe he would have just fucked it all up; he seems to be good at that.

Eddie flexes his hand, feeling the cut pull under the bandage. He closes his eyes for one second, two, and his hand is hanging back by his side by the time Buck comes back, yawning, and beelines for the coffee machine. He grabs out two mugs, holding one up in offering, and Eddie nods, feeling guilty all over again about waking Buck up.

“Thanks,” he says again. “Sorry I woke you up.”

He’s not even sure why Buck followed him home after shift, only that he did, and it made sense at the time—still makes sense, which doesn’t really make sense at all—and even though Eddie probably should have suggested he go home and nap before whatever date he has planned with Tommy, he just pulled out a spare pillow and blanket and nudged him towards the couch.

“It’s okay,” Buck says easily. “I’m glad I woke up.”

He smiles, gentle and a little lopsided, and it’s the kind of smile that makes Eddie wonder whether Buck has always smiled at him like that. He wonders if it means anything, or if he just wants it to.

It’s dangerous: wanting.

He steps back, reaching for the bloody tea towel, careful not to use his injured hand. “I’m going to—” He gestures vaguely towards the laundry. “Before it stains.”

“Oh,” Buck says. “Yeah. I can—”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”

It’s not running from a situation if the situation is entirely inside your own head, he tells himself. It’s just… doing laundry.

And it doesn’t mean anything when Buck’s hand lingers as he passes over a mug of coffee after Eddie drags his feet back to the kitchen. It never means anything, because if it does—

Well.

“Hey,” Buck says, leaning in close before Eddie can pull away again, his arm warm through the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “We didn’t really get to have breakfast earlier, so I thought we could go out for pancakes? I saw a new place on Instagram that has, like, twenty different flavours.”

Eddie loves him. He shouldn’t, he can’t, but god, he loves his best friend so much it hurts. Why the hell has his heart been hiding that from him for years? He takes a quick sip of coffee and tries to swallow the lump in his throat back down with it.

“Yeah,” he says when he can trust himself to speak. “Sure, pancakes sound good.”

Buck knocks their shoulders gently together, but instead of pulling back he just—stays. He always stays. Eddie closes his eyes, inhaling the steam from his coffee, and carefully, deliberately, he does not think about anything except the bittersweet taste of coffee and creamer on his tongue, and the stinging heat of the mug against his hands.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 25

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 24 🟣 Part 26

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, mentions of drug abuse/overdose, mention of attempted suicide, addiction, tragic backstory, more of August's completely unwarranted hatred of jellybeans, angst, Mike being an idiot.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: So... we'll finally find out about that 'queen' thing, and some more about Mikey (who's also going to cause another angsty moment...) We'll also meet another coven member...

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2 @lizzystuffsthings @manysecrets2020

@sarcasmoverlordxo

“Queen?” you blurted out as you stood there, practically nailed to the floor, eyes wide, mouth open, shocked. Next to you, Mike had his fists clenched tightly at his sides, and a look on his face you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Vampires are a dramatic bunch,” Melot explained patiently. Yeah, you’d noticed. “I’m sure you’ve become at least somewhat familiar with your role in the coven hierarchy?”

You nodded quietly.

“Ours is a small family,” he continued. “But there were — and there undoubtedly still are — covens so large they could populate an entire town. Which they did. In those cases, the coven hierarchy was of paramount importance to keep the peace, and it functioned much like a court, hence the name.”

“As I have told you before,” Sherlock added, “the job of keeping a coven in check typically befalls two individuals. It is common for those individuals to be the eldest vampires in the family.”

“Or,” Charles continued, “as appears to be our case… a pair that connects on another level.”

“No,” Mike muttered in a broken voice. “No!”

All eyes turned to him, but it was you who asked. “What’s wrong, Mikey?”

“He doesn’t get to have you like that, I don’t want it,” he whispered, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“There’s not much you can do, Mike,” Melot said. He reached for Mike’s arm, but it got slapped away by a very upset Mikey.

“Why do I never get her? I found her! Without me, you wouldn’t even know her! And I don’t even get to… Why am I nothing special to you?” Oh, good grief!

“Mike,” you hissed angrily, “not this again!”

“But—”

“Shut up!” you cried out, feeling the strange tinge to your words only after you’d spoken. “You do not get to stand there like a whiny little child and accuse me of lying!”

“I’m not accu—”

“What part of ‘Shut up!’ do you not understand?” You were fuming. Beyond angry. But before you could give Mike the tongue-lashing of the century, you had a chuckling August to deal with. You whipped your head around to look at him and stared him down. “Clearly you won’t act your age, so I’ll have to take a page from Sherlock’s playbook. August, go to your room, and stay there until I’m done here. Now.” He vanished immediately, accompanied by a frustrated groan, and you turned your attention back to Mike.

“When I found out you were all vampires, I pushed everything I’d ever been taught about your kind since I was a child aside in less than a day because I didn’t want to lose you. And when the others asked me to enter into this arrangement with you guys, I held it off because I didn’t want to hurt you. I asked Sherlock if I could give you boyfriend privileges to make this whole thing easier on you. When you ran away because you were shocked I kissed Sherlock, none of them would feed because they missed you, and I suffered because of you. And when August un-vampire-married me from you, I was scared to death because — again — I didn’t want to lose you.” It was a miracle you weren’t crying yet.

“And you have the fucking audacity to ask me why you’re nothing special to me? Are you fucking serious? I owe this all to you, Mike! You are the reason I have my family! You brought me home!” Your voice broke on that very last word, and your next words came out as no more than a whisper. “When I tell you I love you, I mean I love you exactly as much as everyone else. Not in the same way, no, but exactly as much. And every time you try to say that I don’t, or every time you act like you don’t believe that, you’re accusing me of lying. And I don’t appreciate it. So, there.”

He looked at you, but didn’t say anything for a while. “You’re right,” he finally mumbled. “I know you’re right, I just…”

“Shh,” you said as you gently trailed your fingers over his cheekbone. “It’s okay. You can’t help that you feel this way, I know that. But the way you communicate it needs work.”

He leaned into your touch and smiled. “Can I stay with you tonight, please?”

You glanced around at the others, until your eyes reached… August. “I thought I told you to stay away until—”

“You were done here, yes,” August snapped. “You’re done here. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here, princess. I physically couldn’t leave that room.”

“Sweetcheeks please answer my question or I’m going to get really annoying,” Mike said, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“You’re always really annoying, Mike,” August grumbled.

“Stop saying that! He’s not, and you know it! You love him too, August!” You reminded yourself that he’d just dodge whatever object you’d hurl at his head, and stood still. “It wouldn’t kill you to tell him that every once in a while!”

“It just might,” Melot chuckled. “We’ve never pushed it, we have no idea of knowing what would happen.”

“Well, I’m pushing it! You, August” — you poked his cheek — “are going to be nice to my Mikey, or it’s wrist and couch for the foreseeable future, because I can guarantee you I won’t be in the fucking mood!” Yeah. You just said that out loud. In front of everyone.

“Speaking of feeding,” Charles intervened before August could blow up at your threat — and maybe rightfully so; threatening to withhold sex was immature and manipulative, sure. But you didn’t want to sleep with a bully, and that was your right, right? “I’m not asking for your services, sweetheart, I’m merely suggesting we relocate to the kitchen, because the two of us are starving, what with Priya feeling under the weather and all.”

It stung, in a way, that Charles wasn’t asking for your services, despite having only just met him. Melot’s polite nod didn’t help much, because one look in his eyes revealed that he would be more than happy to request your assistance. It bothered you that he didn’t ask…

The kitchen was beautiful; bright, spacious, modern, opening into a large yet cozy dining room with the biggest table you’d ever laid eyes on, with more chairs than the family would ever need. One of them was occupied.

“You must be the new addition to the family,” he said as soon as you saw him, and he rushed towards you, faster than humanly possible, but slow enough for you to see him coming. “Napoleon Solo, enchanté.” You got a hug and a kiss on each cheek from him.

“I must say I’m almost disappointed I’m of a dissimilar predilection than my brother,” he said as he let go of you, only after inhaling deeply. “You smell divine.”

“Eh…” you stammered, feeling heat rise up to your cheeks in a staggering tempo.

“Tone it down, Napoleon,” Melot said. “And nice to have you here, we didn’t hear you come in. Please use the front door next time.”

“I’m sure you knew I was coming, darling,” the man teased. Everything about him was smooth to the point of being slick, and maybe even a little beyond that. “Though it’s incredible what you two little hermits fail to notice when you’re off in your own worlds.” He gestured at two large takeout bags on the kitchen island.

“How…” In a house full of vampires, Napoleon just managed to sneak in himself and a mountain of food, completely undetected?

“Incubus,” August said softly. “They — we, if you must — have a tendency to fly under the radar. No one sees an incubus unless they want to be seen.”

“Oh, God knows I have no problem being seen,” Napoleon said with a flirtatious smile. “Though I’m unusually dressed up for the occasion.”

“You mean you’re wearing pants for a change?” you said before you could stop yourself. What the hell were you doing? You didn’t even know this man! The laughter from the others around you, Napoleon included, told you that you were right, though.

“Please, join us!” Melot gestured at the dining room before reaching for the bags on the counter. “This should be enough food for everyone.”

While a seemingly endless stream of boxes and containers emerged from the bags, your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked a question you’d been carrying around for a good while now — ever since August had mentioned that there had been no need to call Charles and Melot about your visit.

“Oh, that,” Melot himself answered when you finally asked about all the ‘already knows’ that had been thrown around. “I am blessed with the excruciatingly splendid gift of clairvoyance.”

“As in; you can see the future?”

“See would not be a technically apt description, I suppose,” he answered in between greedy bites of the dumplings on his plate, “it’s more of a feeling. But in essence; yes. That’s why there’s a room ready for you. Feel free to do whatever you want with it.”

“Wait… I get my own room?” You’d more or less expected to be sharing with… any of the guys, really.

They all looked at you, clearly confused by your confusion. The silence was a little awkward — something that hadn’t happened in a while back at the apartment.

“As far as we’re concerned, darling,” Sherlock answered, “this is your home as much as it is ours.”

“And we understand the need for privacy and your own space as much as anyone else,” Charles added. “Perhaps even better than most. No matter how close your family is, it’s nice to be able to retreat to a space that is completely your own.”

“Use this summer to make it right for you,” August chimed in. “Melot wasn’t kidding when he said, ‘whatever you want’. Paint, furniture… Just let us know, okay?”

They had to be joking, right? Not that it looked like they were strapped for cash in any way, but… Panic suddenly reared its ugly head, and your thoughts were spiraling. Why did it suddenly feel like you were being abducted by five vampires and two incu— eh… Incubi? Incubuses? Either way… In a big, scary-looking house in the middle of nowhere? You didn’t even know exactly where you were… How would anyone ever find you here? And it’s not like you had family to go back to… You—

“It’s alright, love,” Marshall said, gently patting your arm. Mike, who was sitting to your right, took your hand. “It’s a lot to take in, I suppose?”

You could only answer with a nod.

“Okay, so, you’ll just stay with me tonight, and then we can take a look at the room tomorrow, and we’ll give you a tour of the house, if you want?” Mike squeezed your hand, making you look at him, his bright smile almost bringing you to tears.

“That sounds great, Mike… It’s kinda been a long day.” You sighed, squeezing Mike back before letting yourself fall against him and leaning your head on his shoulder.

“We can watch movies in bed?” he suggested. “I’ll scavenge for snacks!”

“Jelly Beans are in their usual place,” Melot noted dryly while August, clearly fighting to hold back a response, dropped his head into his hands with a loud groan. “Dip is in the fridge, tortilla chips are in the drawer opposite it.”

“How did you kn—” Right. Clairvoyance. Melot smiled back at you. He was handsome, he seemed kind, but he looked so… “How old are you?” you blurted out, much to everyone’s enjoyment.

“I’m sure they’ve mentioned I was born somewhere in the seventh century,” Melot answered, an amused smile faint on his lips. “So I assume you’re referring to my age when I was turned into a vampire?”

You nodded quietly, still scared that you had in any way offended him with your question, even though his behavior suggested nothing of the sort.

“I was just about nineteen when that happened,” he answered, his smile widening. “Don’t worry, I get that question a lot. I’m technically younger than Mike.” August couldn’t hold back a scoff on that one. “August, that’s not fair. I’ve had fourteen hundred years and change to grow up. And to say I grew up in a different time than he did would be quite the understatement.”

“Right. Seventh century…”

“I’m from Cornwall, born and raised in the Dark Ages,” he continued with a smile. “I’d been married for nearly six years when I died. Or… didn’t die. Ask me about all of it, later, I’ll gladly answer any of your questions. Right now, I’m fairly sure Mike needs you.”

Mike’s room was everything you expected it to be: Dark walls, LED-strips in rainbow colors, and more tech than was reasonable for anyone but a guy in his late teens or early twenties. The only thing missing was a TV, but upon closer inspection you formed the suspicion that the outrageously expensive-looking piece of furniture at the foot of the bed would play a major role in the solution to that problem. Seconds later, Mike reached for a remote on the bedside table and… yep. TV ascension commenced immediately.

“Hey,” he said almost apologetically when he saw your ‘this is fucking outrageous’-look. “I used to have one just standing there, but it broke!”

“And what were you doing that caused it to break?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t hard to guess, but it was always fun to watch him squirm and wriggle his way out of the predicaments he created for himself.

“Ehm, I’d rather not say,” he tried, but you were having none of it.

“Who were you fucking?” His eyes widened at the question, and his ears turned red the same way they always did when he was world-class embarrassed.

“Don’t get mad, but…” The perfect recipe to make someone mad in advance, honestly. “I don’t remember their names. It was years ago.”

“Their? Their? Names, plural?” you squealed, hoping the others wouldn’t hear too much of this conversation. Before you left the kitchen, August had been kind enough to let you in on the fact that this house was significantly more sound-proofed than the apartment — it wasn’t much of a surprise: the apartment was a rental, and the walls were barely thicker than a slice of prosciutto — but you weren’t entirely sure what that meant…

“I’m really not sure how you didn’t expect this at least a little,” Mike teased you as he dropped the snacks on his bedside table. “Oh no, the kinky little fucker I’m dating has experience with the odd threesome. Foursome… Actually, I’m pretty sure some of them qualified as orgies, or at least gangbangs, I—”

You lunged forward, pushing him down on the bed and sealing your mouth over his. “Shut up,” you said when you eventually had to come up for air. “I don’t need to know the names, or the stories! You’re mine. You’re my kinky little fucker, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said in a serious voice that he could hang on to for about a tenth of a second before breaking down laughing. “Come on, Sweetcheeks, let’s get snuggling!”

You ended up in a familiar position: snuggled into Mike’s side, in the middle of a comfortable pile of pillows and blankets that he had gathered in the blink of an eye. For the first time since you had arrived at the house — mansion, whatever — you felt at home, although your thoughts kept racing as you tried to process everything that had happened that day. But it was okay. You had your guys, no matter how confused you were on the subject of exactly how many of them there were at this point.

It wasn't too long before one of the ones you were sure were yours — Marshall, to be specific — knocked on the door of Mike's room.

“Everyone dressed?”

“Even if we weren't, you could still come in,” Mike answered.

The door opened slowly, and Marshall carefully stepped into the room, as if he was afraid to disrupt whatever you had going on in here. “Hey,” he said to you, “how are you doing? It's a lot, we know… Maybe we should have given you more of an introduction?”

“I'll be fine,” you assured him. “I just wasn't expecting this house, and then Priya, and the fact that I now have my own room here…” You weren't entirely sure why that got to you the way it did, but it was weird to you in a way. When you moved into the apartment, you'd had your own room —although it had taken some serious work to convince Jenelle and Rose that you weren't, like, moving in-moving in with Mike. Not in that way, anyway. It had been a matter of convenience; they’d had a spare room, and you'd needed one since your bitch of a landlady had decided to kick you to the curb. Back then, you had even insisted it was a temporary solution. It wasn't. Not anymore. And especially not now that you had been given a second room in another house. One you also didn't have to pay for…

“Please don't worry about the money,” Marshall whispered. He was next to you, his arms wrapped around you, and his head resting on your shoulder. “I'll just leave the two of you to it. Get some sleep. Oh, and… Sherlock wanted me to tell you to take any time you need to get used to this, and to get to know the others. No need to rush into anything.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, and then he was gone.

“I know you're already starting to feel it with Mel,” Mike said softly. You couldn't help but feel that he was judging you somehow. “I do get the feeling you're not entirely sure about Charles.”

“August would be ecstatic if that never happened, right?” you chuckled nervously.

“Oh, I don't doubt it. But everything will work itself out on that front in whatever way,” Mike replied. He pulled you closer, tracing soft circles on your back with one of his fingers. It tickled, made you shiver — which, in turn, made him laugh.

“Mike,” you started, somehow almost desperate to change the subject. “Why is your bed in the corner?” Back at the apartment, his bed was in the corner of his room as well, but that was to make room for his desk. This room was big enough to fit a desk on either side of the bed if he put it in the center of the wall.

“Eh…” Mike hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with whatever story was attached to the answer to your question. “Alright. I was homeless for a while, before Marshall turned me. It was right after things went south with Hedwig. I guess I just feel unprotected when I don't have a wall behind me. Or in front of me, that's okay too, weirdly enough.”

“That sounds fair,” you said. “It's not that I thought it was weird, by the way. I was just curious.”

“I know, Sweetcheeks,” he chuckled softly. “Can I tell you the rest of my story?”

You nodded furiously — you were in a curious kind of mood, after all, even after all the information that had already come your way. You just didn't seem to be able to stop yourself.

“I'll spare you the tale of Hedwig and the Downward Spiral, if that's okay with you? It's mostly drugs and partying, anyway… There was this one night that's kind of important, I suppose.” He sighed. “It was May 24th, 1985, I don't know why I remember that, but I do. Things were bad, really bad. You can't imagine how bad, honestly… That particular day, I OD'd on heroin. And before you ask: It wasn't an accident.”

It was like the ground — the bed, everything… — had been taken out from under you and you were freefalling into darkness. “No my God, Mikey!” Turns out that, entirely conform your every expectation, fighting back tears was pointless when the love of your life — one of them, anyway — told you that he'd tried to take his own life at some point.

“It's okay, Sweetcheeks,” Mike said as he put a hand against your cheek, wiping a tear away with his thumb. “In the end, it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Until you showed up, anyway.”

“That's really sweet,” you said, not wanting to ignore that comment, but there were more pressing matters, as far as you were concerned. “But what happened next?”

“Marshall found me,” he said with a smile. “I'm still not entirely sure how I'm still alive… I don't think he knows, either. I remember waking up in his bed. He told me he took me home because he didn't want me to die there. He never really expected that I would survive.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered after you finally sucked in a breath. It was Mike's turn to cry now, and you gently kissed away a tear that ran down his cheek.

“After I woke up, I begged him to kill me. I just couldn’t do it anymore… Obviously he didn’t. Instead, he offered me a way out — a real one. A permanent one. Said he couldn't bear to lose me.” When he inhaled, you noticed how shaky his breath was. It wasn't something you'd heard in his voice yet. “He promised me forever without drugs, and I knew he meant ‘forever’ literally.”

“So, that's when he turned you?” you asked breathlessly.

Mike nodded almost solemnly. “Yep. When we got started, anyway. He helped me stay clean during the process, too.”

“Process?” It only just occurred to you that you'd never bothered to ask how ‘turning into a vampire' actually happened.

“Okay to make this totally weird for a second, because I need that after this complete sob fest of a story,” he said, smiling as he wiped the tears out of his eyes. “You have no idea how accurate your description of garlic as a ‘vampire contraceptive' was. You have to kind of… try. Like you would be trying to conceive, except the end result here was not a baby, but me as a vampire. I'd personally say that's preferable to having a baby, but I'm not sure all the others would agree with me.”

“I’m fairly sure August would propose there's absolutely no difference between the two,” you laughed. “But at least there's no pain involved, right?” Right?

Much to your dismay, Mike laughed. “Ask Marshall about the first time I took a bite out of him. That'll answer your question.” He ran a hand through his hair. “As for the transformation… I can't say it's pleasant, but it sure as hell felt a whole lot better than the aftermath of an overdose of heroin.”

“What does it feel like? Turning into a vampire, I mean. Not overdosing on heroin, I don't think I really want to know.”

“Understandable, it’s pretty brutal — the, eh, the overdosing. But I love your curiosity regarding the other thing.” He winked at you, a cheeky smile on his lips. “I can't explain to you what happens, exactly — but we have a professor who definitely can, so ask him if you want to know — but it kinda feels like… I don't know, it's uncomfortable. The first part feels like the flu, but I got it especially bad because I was also going through withdrawal. That's usually the stage in which people end up at the clinic with Sherlock. The process can be reversed at that point.”

He paused for a moment, screwing his eyes shut, as if he was trying to remember. “After that, I remember the fangs. Wildly uncomfortable sensation, by the way—”

“Your teeth changing? I can imagine…” you interrupted, shivering at the thought. Little did you know…

“Hah! You wish! They're brand new, baby! Which means your old canines are super-duper totally in the way. Remember the last time you lost one of your baby teeth?” You shook your head. That was ages ago. “Right, I didn't remember it either, until it started happening again. And then I also remembered that for those baby teeth it had sucked about ten million percent less. And the amount of fucking time it takes to gain any control over them…”

“How long before you have like… fully functional fangs?”

“Happens over the course of, like, a week, maybe two? Apparently you can feel them forming in your skull, when you're not preoccupied with withdrawal symptoms. Ask Marshall or Sherlock about that. Or Melot, if you dare. I know he had his pulled and/or filed down on several occasions.”

“Sherlock mentioned they grow back,” you remembered.

“They'd fucking better, or you'd starve to death if you lost them,” Mike reminded you. “You need the venom. Can't just suck blood through a straw and hope for the best. Like, with the supplemental approach thing Marshall talked about a while ago, they supplied bags of donated blood, and we had to bite those. It was messy and… Alright, doesn't matter.”

You noticed not only that Mike's storytelling became more and more animated and enthusiastic as he explained more about the process, but also that he'd switched to saying ‘you' — as if he was speaking directly to you. Maybe he was. Maybe you wanted him to.

“So, after they've wormed their way out, your whole face is sore — and then you're left with two completely unmanageable, uncontrollable murder weapons in your mouth… I ate ice cream and apple sauce for at least a month after they first came in: I bit my tongue several times a day, and my lip, too…” He chuckled. “And here's the smart part: The gory cravings kinda stay away until you're mostly done. As if your brain waits for all the equipment to be installed before it flips that switch.”

“And then you ambushed Marshall in a dark alley?” you joked.

Mike shook his head. “Can't ambush him, he can read my mind. Which I didn't know about at that point, by the way. He let me suffer for a week before I finally dared to admit to him that the human food wasn't cutting it anymore.”

“And then you mauled him?”

“Something like that. He told me to give in to my instincts. Apparently, they're usually correct — and they were for me as well, but… In my defense, the instructions were not exactly idiot-proof. When he told me to give in to those instincts, he didn't mean ‘unleash the kraken', but more like… ‘follow the teeth'. That sounds crazy, but I promise… You'll see.” There it was again. You. As in you-you. And you-you wasn't ready to make any promises just yet.

[silenzahra]

So many writing plans! ✨

Since I've been sharing a few snippets of some of my WIPs thanks to this fanfic ask game, I thought of actually making a list of all the stories and ideas I'm working on right now or intend to work on very soon! ✨

-Anything for him: chapter 3. This one is a MUST. I finally finished writing it this week, and since I have a busy weekend ahead, I won't be posting it till next week, but just know for sure, you'll finally be getting the ending of this story after so many months of waiting! If you're curious, you can read a snippet of it here!

-Post-nightmare cuddles fic. I specifically owe this one to @itsavee4117 as he sent me a writing prompt from this ask game back in January, and when I first tried to write it, I couldn't get to it because I wasn't in the mood 😅 But that has changed at last! The fic is almost ready, and I intend to finally post it later this month! You can read a couple of snippets of it here and here if you'd like!

-A Luisley story. I've been meaning to write something for these two for some time now, and now that it's Pride Month, what better date to do so! I happen to have run into an old idea I jotted down a few months ago, and it's given me something to work on, soooo... Since I already wrote a Luaisy and a Mareach first kiss fics, how about another one for our Green Beans now? 🥰💛💚

-A Luaisy wedding fic. Ever since I saw and reblogged this lovely art by @ruart17 a few months ago, I've been wanting to write a story revolving around these two babies getting married. And now that my dear friend @bberetd has shared this wonderful post that you should definitely NOT miss, I may have been VERY inspired 🤭

-Luaisy smut. Just another thing that I've been wanting to write for some time, and for which I finally got inspiration a few days ago as I shared here. This one will still take some time as this is my very first time writing smut, so I really need to work hard on it before I consider it to be ready to share. I'll obviously add the warnings!

-A t4t Luaisy chaptered story. Again I took inspiration from a lovely piece! This one, in this case, and I can't thank my dear friend @itsavee4117 enough for tagging me in it, as the ideas suddenly started coming! This one is going to be in the works for some time as it's still quite vague, but I'm really looking forward to working on it soon!

-Luigi's Mansion 3: a chaptered fic. I started writing this story more than a year ago now, and even though I know how I want it to end, I didn't get to finish it because I decided to focus on my Mario movie fic, which revolves around Luigi's perspective throughout the movie (snippet here!). The LM3 one will also be a chaptered story as it's long, and let me warn you: it IS the most angsty thing I've ever written, so brace yourselves for when I finally start posting it! 😈 (Snippets here and here btw!)

-My very first AU. I already mentioned this one here, and I haven't forgotten about it! Quite the opposite: I keep thinking of it and getting ideas regularly, but since this is gonna be a very long thing, I still don't know when I'll be ready to share it. I can say that it's gonna be cozy and fluffy, as well as funny at some points, though it'll also have some angst!

So this is it! A very long list, am I right 😅 Now I just need to find the time to get to everything 😂 But hey! At least, the first two will be released this month to add to my latest story, so I really hope you'll enjoy them once they're ready! 🥰

@vulpixfairy1985 @peaches2217 @pepperycar @bberetd @itsavee4117

@stripetkattelalala54-gf @keakruiser @kelbreyworshipper @roscolate @megamagimugi Are you guys ready? 🤭💖

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 7/?

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version). (Side Hangster, which is ALSO angsty).

PROLOGUE (He remembers)

HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights - set 2009)

Updating ~weekly (longer chapters).

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

ONE (2000) TWO (2001) THREE (2002) FOUR (2003) FIVE (2004) SIX (2005)

CHAPTER SEVEN – 2006

                It takes some adjusting, having each other there all the time. He admits to himself that Maverick is likely more flexible when it comes accommodating others in his space, but Tom has had small children and Sarah, even if they’ve been divorced for over six years, feels he should be more accommodating when he wants Maverick there in his space so badly. It’s when Maverick is deployed and Tom misses him like a limb, that he realizes not only did he make the right call, but that he’s adjusted to having Maverick there just fine.

                “Ice! I can’t find the oil.”

                Tom sighs, pushes himself back from his desk and heads for the yelling voice coming from the direction of the garage. Because he knows exactly where it is, however if he ever needs to hide something from Maverick on purpose all he’s ever going to have to do is put it about eighteen inches above his sight-line and he’ll be golden. He reaches up and picks up the bottle easily, handing it to Pete and giving him a quick kiss while he has him there, pressed up against the work bench. Pete in jeans, white t-shirt, hot, sweaty and streaked with grease is definitely up there with views he likes to appreciate. And it’s finally where it belongs.

                “What’s it doing all the way up there?”

                “Because I have children who are curious and it’s easier to keep it up there than put child-locks on all my cupboards.”

                “Oh. Yeah that makes sense. Thanks.”

                Tom turns around and his eyebrows go up.

                “Are you changing my oil too?”

                “Yeah, of course. Only made sense to do everything at once. You said you didn’t have any plans to go out.”

                “No, no, I don’t, it’s fine. Just… thank you.”

                “You’re welcome.”

                It’s small things like that which make him appreciate how Maverick just envelopes Tom into his life, like the way he has a hot drink waiting for him at ten every weekend morning. How his uniform now gets to and from the drycleaners without him actually doing it. The first time he’d worried it had been lost, but instead Pete had just said he’d dropped it off. Then he’d picked up groceries. Now they either cook together, or he comes home to a cooked meal, or he cooks when Mav is running late and it’s so domestic and novel and he never thought he’d get to have this. Not with someone he loves as much as he loves Maverick.

                He goes back to his study, still has too much paperwork to read through but his car is getting its needed oil change, a cup of coffee will appear at ten without him doing anything, the girls will be here before lunch and to spend the night and he feels so lucky, that he’s somehow managed the impossible. The doorbell rings and he stands to go and answer it, opens it to find Admiral Paul Dawkinson standing there and he smiles blandly. There goes his good mood.

                “Paul, hello. Can I help you?”

                “Tom. Sorry to bother you at home,” Paul says, and Tom knows he’s not sorry at all. “I was wondering if you had the folder about the Iranian and Russian uranium deal?”

                “Yes. Finished reading it last night actually. Come in and I’ll get it for you,” Tom says, wondering if he has to offer him a drink as Paul follows him back to his office. He’ll give him the file and then offer, see if he really wants to linger. Of course that’s when Maverick walks in with his cup of coffee, his face going from soft to brittle as he takes in Dawkinson and Tom can’t even roll his eyes, just keeps his expression impassive as he thanks Mav for the cup of coffee.

                “Did you want a cup Admiral Dawkinson?”

                “No, thank you. I just came for a file.”

                Maverick leaves and Tom wishes he could follow him, instead fishes out the file from his locked briefcase and passes it over.

                “Captain Mitchell is here.”

                Tom’s immediate response is to stiffen, which is probably the worst thing he can do and he forces himself to relax and remain indifferent.

                “Yes, he’s currently tinkering away in the garage on his bike and my car. Was there something I could help you with?” Tom asks, because he is not at work right now, is not in uniform, and he doesn’t actually respect Admiral Dawkinson as much as people likely think he does.

                “Is Captain Mitchell here often?”

                “Maverick has a house he shares with his godson, however with both of them often away they both prefer to stay here, rather than stay alone,” Tom states, which is a slight stretch, because this is Bradley’s home, maybe more than the other house. “He does stay here most nights. Easier to cook for two,” Tom states. He will outright lie if he has to, but he’s also been making contingency plans and collecting his own information for years. He knows exactly what he can and cannot say around this subject.

                “Hmm. Interesting.”

                “Daddy!”

                Oh thank fuck. He doesn’t say the words out loud of course, but he feels the little body of Petra collide with his side, followed by the much taller body of Tamsin, both hugging him tightly and he places kisses to the tops of both their heads.

                “Is Papa here?” Petra asks and Tom smiles and nods.

                Oh fuck. Dawkinson is watching everything with a shrewd eye, and Tom has to admit it is pretty damning right now. But he cannot snap at his daughter, not for something which is not her fault in the slightest.

                “He’s out in the garage making a mess.”

                Petra runs off, whereas Tamsin makes a beeline for the piano, immediately starting to pluck out a tune because she wants to impress Bradley next time he’s home.

                “Tom? The door was open… Oh, hello.”

                “Hi. Sarah, this is Admiral Dawkinson. Paul, my ex-wife Sarah Kazansky.”

                “Mrs Kazansky.”

                “Sarah, please. Nice to meet you Admiral. Did I hear you say that Pete’s here? That’ll save me a trip to his place if he is. I have some of his and Bradley’s things in the trunk of the car.”

                He loves his ex-wife so much right now, her reading of the situation and immediate improvisation. He needs to send her and Melissa out for a romantic dinner.

                “Do you want a hand? Pete can take them home later.”

                “Yes please. I stupidly offered to fix one shirt of Bradley’s. That somehow ended up changing to hemming four pairs of pants for Pete and seven shirts. I think Bradley chews his buttons.”

                “Bradley is twenty-three. He should be fixing his own damn shirts.”

                “And Pete should probably be hemming his own pants. But it’s a fair trade if I never have to pay someone to change my oil.”

                He starts following Sarah back out to her car, and Dawkinson follows.

                “Sorry Paul. Family. You know how it is. Was there anything else I could help you with?”

                “No. Nothing else. Thank you Tom.”

                Unease prickles in his gut, but he has contingency plans in place, and he has friends in high places, friends who he is pretty sure know exactly the nature of his relationship with Maverick and simply do not give a fuck.

…             …             …

                Sure enough Monday morning he’s called into Admiral Austin’s office and he looks resigned but also a little annoyed.

                “Tom, have a seat. I just wanted to run something by you. As a hypothetical situation.”

                Okay, so that’s how it’s going to play out. He forces himself to relax and unbuttons the bottom button of his jacket before he sits down. The fact that David has called him Tom makes him feel a little more confident that while he’s effectively been called into the principal’s office, the principal is actually on his side. Dawkinson is sitting there looking very fucking smug and Tom keeps his expression completely impassive and uncaring.

                “How can I help sir?”

                “Just seeking your guidance on what you would do if you found out, or suspected, that someone in the Navy was homosexual.”

                “Sir?”

                “Just humor me. Run me through what you would do.”

                “Well, I’d have to be very certain sir. I’d either have to have had them admit it outright, or caught them in a situation that was irrefutable to my own eyes.”

                “And if someone came to you with such a belief?”

                “Well sir, it’s a very serious allegation to throw around. I would be very hesitant to take anyone else’s word. I would need to see the evidence myself, not second hand at all.”

                “Go on.”

                “This is because it will be a case of he said, she said,” Tom states calmly, but there is ice in his veins as he talks. People talk about burning bridges and salting the earth, but he knows his approach can be just as terrifying. “You need to consider what evidence you have. Years of service of the person concerned, who you’re going to accuse. Credible information needs to be ironclad, otherwise you’re in danger of reprisal. Or a court case.”

                “The policy is not just don’t ask, don’t tell. But also don’t harass and don’t pursue. If I were to attempt to gather information I would be in breach of that policy. I would also be asking myself if I have all the information at hand. Are there extenuating circumstances which might be going on which I have no knowledge of? If the information has been brought to me second hand I would also need to consider if there was a personal vendetta between the accused and the person accusing them. Also I’d want to know if the person identified is doing irreparable damage to the Navy. Because for me the reputation and protection of the people are paramount.”

                “Interesting points. Anything else?”

                “While considering their years of service I would also consider the potential possibility that their commanding officers have been or are aware and have simply ignored it due to how the person does their job. Or other people higher up in the chain of command might have knowledge. Then it would be my own job on the line if they were deemed more important than me.” He takes a quick chance then to glance across at Dawkinson and the man is staring at him, looking paler than he was and Tom settles into his chair a little.

                “Do they do their job well, Admiral Austin?”

                “Exemplary.”

                “Have they ever acted in a way which would bring the Navy into disrepute?”

                “No. Never.”

                “Do you trust their judgement?”

                “With regards to everything for the Navy and United States? Yes.”

                “Now, after you have taken all of that into consideration and still wish to move forward, then you need to consider your own situation. Often when someone starts casting stones, they themselves are then looked at more closely. And gambling debts or extra-marital affairs need to be… carefully hidden from view to ensure that you yourself aren’t dragged into anything. Hypothetically of course, sir.”

                “Of course,” Admiral Austin says, and his face is calm and unmoving but Tom has known him for years and the slight twitch of his eye tells him he’s hiding his amusement very well. “Well Admiral Dawkinson, I hope you found that helpful getting a third set of eyes on the issue.”

                “Yes sir.”

                “You’re both dismissed.”

…             …             …

                “Hey, you’re quieter than usual. Everything okay?”

                “Yeah, just a really rough day at work. I love you.”

                “Love you too.”

…             …             …

                Bradley graduates from flight school and he can’t help smiling every time he glances down and sees the wings. Which is pretty often, because he can’t believe that they’re finally there. Like when he graduate from USNA, there are a handful of people there to watch him, all in uniform and with them are also Ice and Maverick, and he introduces them to the friends he’s made, the very small handful who he’s let into his inner circle. Natasha, Sandy, Callie and Billy. They either don’t care about who Bradley’s family is, or they care and it just doesn’t factor into how they treat Bradley.

                By share luck of the draw he’s home for Tamsin’s tenth birthday. She’s opinionated and serious with it, she despairs of her parents and he wonders if she’s hitting the teenage years early or if she’s going to become even more despairing and rebellious. He loves it, the conversations he can have with her now, because she at least thinks that he’s cool and worth her time. Sometimes Maverick falls into that category, but at twenty-four Bradley is definitely the cool older brother. He drops her and Petra off at school, walks them in and introduces himself to the teachers. Petra has started copying Tamsin, saying she’s old enough to do certain things by herself, and sometimes Bradley has to wonder if it’s just Mav’s blood running true because she is an absolute firecracker, to put it nicely. Hellion would be another word. He’s very glad he’s not got any desire to have kids, although Ice’s lips twitch when he voices that opinion out loud.

                He enjoys every moment with them though, he has his first deployment at the beginning of December and he won’t be home for Christmas and he will never take his loved ones fore granted when he knows how easily they can be taken from him. Or him from them he realizes, and he thinks back to the conversation he had with Mav and Ice, about how his mom didn’t want him to become a pilot and…

                Oh shit…

                If he dies then he’s going to leave behind Mav, and Ice, and Tamsin and Petra.

                The people he wants to protect but will hurt the most if he fails.

[unmotivated-artist164]

“The fewer the desires, the more peace.”

Billy Butcher x GN! Reader

CW: Alcohol use, Language, Sexual content/Smut 18+, Sorta Angsty ending.

A/N: Took me forever to finish this, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out. BUTCHER FANS UNITE RAHHHHHH

*Not my gif or dividers, credit goes to the owners.*

Playlist for this fic ^^^

The flashing lights of the underground dive filled Butcher’s vision as the vigilante brought a glass of whiskey to his lips, the golden liquid burning down his throat, making his body buzz with warmth. “Why do I agree to these cunts' ideas?” He rasped silently to himself as he watched members of his small team on the dance floor, getting lost in the sea of bodies, bumping and grinding to the heavy bass filling their ears.

The only individual who had stayed off the dance floor for the time being was Hughie, the anxiety-ridden man drinking a beer, eyes bouncing around. As if looking for something. Butcher swore under his breath and moved over to him.

“Oi, what’s got you more antsy than a teenage boy during his first wank?” Billy inquired with a wicked grin. Hughie slightly jumped, almost dropping his beer, eyes wide at his sudden appearance. “Jesus fuck, Butcher, you can’t just sneak up on someone like that.” He grumbled, hand on his chest as he relaxed.

“But it’s bloody amusin’,” Butcher smirked as he downed the rest of his drink. “But seriously, what’s buzzin’ around in your arse?”

Hughie sighed and returned to gazing at the crowd, scanning. “I lost y/n in the crowd, and I’m trying to find them again. They’re known to….” He broke off, cringing with a shake of his head. “Get into some situations.” He finished while rubbing his arm, concern etched in his gaze. “But I don't want to be an overbearing big brother.”

Butcher frowned at the mention of y/n, Hughies troublesome sibling. At every twist and turn, they have infuriated him to no end, always arguing against mission plans, or calling him out on shite especially when Hughie was involved.

Billy ground his jaw before conceding. “I’ll go look for them, stay here.” He declared before stalking away from the bar, dissolving into the crowd as his keen eyes were peeled for y/n.

As Butcher’s demanding footsteps moved him through the club with an imposing demeanor, he slipped through the curtain of one of the backgrounds, fingers drifting over the flimsy red fabric. The stench of cheap booze and sex permeated the air as his eyes locked onto a familiar figure.

There sat y/n on some random wanker's lap, draped there with a lazy smirk like a damn feline, giggling at the unknown man's hushed words. Their outfit hugged their silhouette like the embodiment of sin, face flushed and rosy with warmth.

Before Butcher could register the feeling, molten fury filled his veins, driving him forward, a dangerous glint filling his eyes as his usual mask of a cocky bastard slipped onto his chiseled face.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Butcher purred as he gazed down at the two of them, y/n finally turning their eyes to him, frustration and annoyance plastering over their expression. “So this is where you ran off to, y/n. Tsk, tsk, tsk, your brother’s awfully worried about you,” Billy finally acknowledged the other man. “And who is your little friend?”

“Go suck your own dick, Butcher, seeing as no one else is willing to do it for you.” Y/n snapped back, tired of his arrogant attitude as they shifted on the stranger's lap, glaring up at him.

The unknown man chuckled sinisterly and gripped their waist tighter. “Thas right, baby. All mine tonight.” Something was off about him……

Butcher’s eyes flickered for half a second before he gave the two of them a wide smile, hand sliding on the arm of the couch mindlessly. “I suppose I'll leave you two lovebirds alone for now. Wrap it before you tap it, as they say.” He winked and turned to walk away before the stranger's voice raised.

“Hey asshole, are you leaving now? Seemed like you had business. But I guess you’re too much of a pussy to do anything! This is MY piece of ass tonight, find your own!” The man taunted drunkenly with a wicked grin before squeezing them to the point it became uncomfortable. Y/n squirmed slightly but ultimately let the interaction play out.

Butcher stopped in his tracks, turning back with a raised eyebrow. “What did you just say, mate?” His voice boomed over the music. “Cause I KNOW you ain’t saying something so demeaning about the person you’re practically dry-humping right now.” He replied in a cool tone, hands in his pockets.

The stranger's face contorted into fury as Butcher's words met his ears. “Why you bast-” He started before Billy cut him off. “Ah, ah, ah,” Butcher waved a finger in the man's face as his lips curled into a threatening leer. “Care to wank off before I cut off your tongue and use it to rim ya own sorry arse?”

The stranger froze and quickly set y/n down on the couch. “Fine! Have 'em, you sicko!” He barked over his shoulder as his cowardly ass scurried out of the V.I.P. room.

Butcher’s dark eyes scanned you from head to toe, surveying injuries, maybe lingering a bit longer than needed.

“You alright, love?” His voice uttered as he straightened his posture. Y/n rose from the sofa with a vexed guise and a slight wobble, moving into his face. “What the FUCK, Butcher!?” They snapped at the sinful man in front of them. “I was having fun, and you had to ruin it!”

“Fun?” Butcher questioned as he evaluated you. “Some limp-dicked wanker trying to get you between the sheets is what you call ‘fun’? I knew you had issues, y/n, but damn.” He breathed with his off-handed comment that drove y/n deeper into an inebriated rage.

“I’m gonna get hic Hughie.” They proclaimed before taking a step forward, losing their balance due to the liquid gold running through their veins. Butcher moved swiftly and caught them by the waist, hoisting them back to their feet.

“Oi, easy does it, troublemaker. Let’s get you outta here.”

Butcher notified M.M. that he was taking y/n home, the straight-headed man nodding as he watched the rest of his friends like a hawk while they enjoyed a night away from their high-stakes lives.

Soon Y/n and Butcher were strapped into their current vehicle, a silver Dodge Ram truck that rolled down the road with ease, windows rolled down with the cool night air filling the cabin. Y/n was starting to stir again in the shotgun seat, groaning and letting their head hang.

“Where’re we?” They mumbled, still a bit tipsy. “Fuck, my head is pounding." Y/n complained. “Yeah, that's what happens when you slam back drinks like you wanted to get piss-faced in about 10 seconds flat." Butcher looked at you as you complained about your pounding head, the words sounding a bit rough.

“You got me away from that creep.” Y/n started quietly, arms coming up as they hugged themselves, sliding down in the seat.

Butcher paused for a second before answering in a gravelly timbre. “Well, I couldn’t exactly let you blow our cover could I?” A beat passed.

“Hughie sent you to get me, didn’t he?” Y/n probed further.

“What, I can’t save me companion from a walking erectile dysfunction?” Butcher quipped with a smug smile, amusement dancing in his stare as his view turned toward y/n. Y/n huffed, disgruntled. “You never do anything JUST because. There’s always a hidden motive with you, Butcher.” “You hurt me tender heart, love,” Butcher murmured with a small smirk. Y/n sighed as their vision still spun, their head resting against the headrest on the seat. “And you almost hurt his….well, everything,” Y/n muttered.

Butcher let out a grunt as they drove closer to their present location, a dingy motel with more drug deals than a college campus during final exams. “Someone needed to save ya cunt from whatever STD that twat has picked up.”

“You’ve never helped me before, though.” Y/n turned in their seat, eyes shining. “You’d sooner let me walk into a fully armed compound than lift a pinky, at times.” They exhaled. “You ultimately hate me.”

“I don’t hate ya, troublemaker.” The vigilante rebutted, fingers tapping on the wheel as he kept his gaze forward, expressionless and collected.

“Bullshit.” Y/n barked, brows furrowing.

A few seconds went by.

“You like black coffee with 3-4 teaspoons of sugar with milk.”

Y/n froze, utterly confused at how that filled into their conversation and the fact that he had been that attentive. “…Yeah? What about it?” They inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“You also blare your music in your ears till ya go deaf. Takes forever to get your attention.” Butcher grumbled under his breath. “You use ASL with Hughie when you want to tell him a snide fuckin’ comment from across the room, giggling about it afterward.”

“Butcher, what does any of this have to do with our previous conversation-”

“You don’t back down from a fight.” He cut y/n off as if they hadn’t spoken at all, glancing out at the passing trees. “That brat attitude of yours calls out bullocks when you see it, including me,” Butcher’s gaze softened. “Nobody has had the brass balls to do that since-” He broke off, shaking his head.

“Doesn’t matter. My point is, even if you make me want to blow me brains out on the pavement during a good day, you’re still just one of us. Tryin’ to get to the next sunrise. Can’t fault somebody for that.”

“Very poetic, Edgar Allen Poe.” Y/n retorted as they took in his words, even as a lightness crept into their chest.

“You’re a dangerous little thing.” He rasped with a rumbling chuckle as his grip on the steering wheel relaxed, the pavement grinding against the wheels of the truck. His eyes held a light of amusement and something deeper. Perhaps….fondness? Or something darker?

Soon the truck was parked and secured as Butcher opened y/n’s door for them. They ungracefully dismounted from their seat, yelping when their intoxicated limbs still wouldn’t cooperate. Before they could eat the pavement, Butcher’s reflexes kicked in and he caught them for the second time that night, one hand on their lower back, the other securing their hip.

Not a single thing moved in a quick moment where all y/n could see was Butcher. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or in light of their recent conversation, but something caused their cheeks to redden in his hold. Butcher had always been attractive in their mind, just never thinking about it too much when his infuriating attitude would get in the way.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Butcher purred as he let them go, stepping back. Y/n rolled their eyes, flipping him off. “Fuck off.”

“Oh, that’s a scorcher, very creative.”

The door to Kimiko, Hughie, and Y/n’s room swung open, hitting the cracking dry plaster as Butcher walked Y/n inside and sat them on their bed. “There we go.” He coaxed quietly. Y/n stretched out on the sheets and kicked their shoes off with ease, sighing as their eyes fluttered.

“I should be gettin’ to our roo-” Butcher paused mid statement and huffed. “Fuck, M.M. has the key, god damn it.”

Y/n sat up and gave him an innocent look, leaning back on their palms. “Why don’t you just stay here till they get back?” They suggested. Butcher grunted in acknowledgment before nodding. “Makes sense. And it means I’ll be keepin’ an eye on you till Hughie gets back.”

The two settled in and Butcher slipped off his signature trench coat, rolling up the sleeves of his cheesy Hawaiian shirt before turning back to y/n with an analyzing gaze. “Alright, time fo’ bed, troublemaker.”

A familiar warmth of desire curled inside of Y/n’s stomach as they studied Butcher, gaze drifting over him, unashamed and brazen from the alcohol, strangely silent. When Butcher moved to help tuck them in, they refused and tried to pull him down. “Only if you join me.” Y/n cooed, seduction lacing their words.

“Oi Y/n, you’re tipsy, love. Ya don’t know what you’re saying.” He gently pulled their hands off him with a shake of his head and stepped away. “I know what i want, Butcher!” Their words fell on deaf ears.

Y/n’s frustration grew and they rose from the bed, following him a few steps, Butcher’s back to them.

“You know you just wanna fuck me! Don’t act like I haven't seen the looks you give me! You’ve been eye-fucking me all night!” Y/n finally blurted out, hands clenched at their sides. His posture visibly froze as silence filled the space between them. Y/n realized what they had said and wilted, stepping back.

“I- I didn’t mean it-”

Everything came to a standstill when the wind was knocked from y/n’s lungs at the impact of their back slamming into the shitty motel wall with Butcher holding them up by the collar. “Shut your fucking trap. Ya don’t know what i want, yeah? Now, climb into bed like a good little thing, before you do anything else you’ll bloody regret.”

“And if I don't regret it?” Y/n whispered. “Just sex?”

Seconds passed that felt like hours, the sword of damocles hanging over Y/n’s head

Butcher finally crashed his lips to y/n’s with a deep grumble in his chest. Teeth and tongue clashed in a hedonistic haze. A gasp of surprise from Y/n was muffled by Butcher’s impatient kiss.

He pulled back for a breath before his lips were on y/n’s neck, grazing their fluttering pulse point. “Just sex.” Butcher growled as his mind raced with every desire he was finally allowing himself to entertain.

Y/n’s breath shook as they gripped his back for stability, knees growing weak under the brunt force of desire coursing through the both of them. “Butcher- fuck.” Y/n moaned quietly and shut their eyes as he started to litter hickeys across their skin, occasionally biting into the flesh. “Fuck, you’re such an asshole.” They hissed through gritted teeth.

Butcher smirked, warm breath tickling their neck as his hand snaked to their hair, letting their head fall into his palm as it tilted back. Thick tension filled the air as Billy didn’t make a single move for a few moments. Then his lips melded to the column of their throat, slowly and sensually.

“I know. But you bloody love it.”

Clothes were haphazardly thrown around the room, Butcher keeping y/n against the wall, hiking one of their legs up around his hips as he ground his hips against theirs.

Butcher's fingers traced the outline of y/n’s entrance before slipping two fingers in, a delicious stretch rippling through their body. “So tight, so perfect. This what ya little body needed? To get fucked like such a good whore?” He mumbled, eyes darkening with an unmistakable heat.

After a few moments and quiet groans, y/n glared daggers at Butcher. “I hate you.”

Butcher’s expressions morphed into a downright menacing grin.

“Then show me how much, love.”

A lit cigarette rested between Butcher’s lips as his palms guided y/n’s hips up and down on him, meticulously and deliciously as his dick drove into the deepest parts of them. The smoke and echoes of moans created a Dionysian atmosphere that was heady and all-encompassing.

“No words left f’me, love? Nothing to tell the man who’s fuckin’ you so good? Much better than that wanker could ever do.” He growled as he held their gaze.

“Fuck, Butcher-”

Butcher took a deep drag from his rolly before gripping the back of y/n’s head, pulling them into a fervent kiss, the smoke filling their mouth as y/n responded to the action, pulling his bottom lip between their teeth. This was everything he needed and more. A good tumble in the sheets.

When they finally parted, Butcher sat up, pulling y/n into his lap, chest to chest as he bucked upwards into them, losing himself in the sensation. “Fuck love, it’s like your body was made for me.” He moaned out as his hands chased to touch every part of them.

Y/n threw their head back, lifting their hips to match his rhythm when Butcher suddenly pushed them over, y/n gasping as they fell back into the cheap mattress. Butcher threw their legs over his shoulders, falling forward until they were chest-to-chest, panting as he ripped moan after moan from y/n. His thrusts grew sharper until he buried himself deeper, grunting when he found their sweet spot, almost busting right then and there.

“Say my name. None of that ‘Butcher’ bollocks. Let the neighbors know who’s makin’ you see fuckin' stars, love.”

“Fuck, Billy!” Y/n’s nails dug into his back as they cried out his name, marring his skin. “I’m so c-close.”

“Me too.” He groaned from his position above them. Butcher crashed his lips against y/n’s in a more loving, gentle kiss that sent the both of them over the edge. He pulled out quickly as he came on their chest, painting their smooth skin white, weeping cock twitching in his calloused palm.

The only sound that filled the room were quick gasps. “You look like a damned angel, but I don't think this is what they meant by angels being decorated in white.” Billy murmured as he kissed their forehead, earning an embarrassed groan from y/n. “Shut up.”

Butcher stood and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, prancing around with a cheeky grin before cleaning them up. He threw the towel across the room before grabbing his clothes off of the floor, dressing himself

Y/n curled under the sheets, pausing at his actions. “You aren’t staying?” They questioned quietly, swallowing down the emotions climbing in their throat. Butcher glanced up as he laced his boots. “Well, ‘course I ain't. Just sex, right?”

Y/n’s eyes flickered before they nodded. “Just sex.” They echoed before Billy gave a gruff nod and sauntered out, closing the door behind him with a click of finality.

A/N: FINALLY, IT'S POSTED! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed! Might make a part 2 if it's requested enough.

[13eyond13]

hello — do you have any death note fic recs that occur in the canon universe? they don’t necessarily need to be canon compliant, and i’d specifically prefer gen or lawlight. thank you so much :) your blog’s really fun to scroll through whilst putting off doing assignments

Aw, thank you anon! I quite like scrolling through my own blog too lol

And you got it, pal. I'd say it's about time I dust off my rusty fic recommending skills (I haven't been reading fanfiction regularly since probably about 2018, so these recs are not going to be the newest of the new, jsyk)...

Also, I'm ASSUMING this is the same anon who asked recently for fics a bit similar to

(X) Nights - youremyqueen [E, 400k+ words] L imprisons Light and then Light imprisons L and then L imprisons Light again. Sometimes they have sex, too.

? If not please forgive me, because I also used that as a guide when picking out these recs.

Also most of these recs are explicit and many of them are dark, so please check the tags and content warnings on the fics before reading them, just in case there's anything listed there that might be a dealbreaker for you! Should go without saying, but it's entirely on YOU if you end up reading something you're not comfortable with linked here, dear reader(s)...

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CANON UNIVERSE + LAWLIGHT FIC RECS

SOME YOTSUBA ARC PWP ONE-SHOTS:

(X) Slap Fight - Shipaholic [E, 2k words] L makes a request. It gets out of hand. -(the girls are fiiiiighting...) (X) Love is an Open Door in My Ass - Shipaholic [E, 4k words] Matsuda gets very excited about an email forward. The task force despairs. -(technically meant to be taking place in the dramaverse, but you can easily imagine it as the anime/manga characters too. Rough sex but done with a lighter/softer tone) (X) Losing - Twyd [E, 2k words] L knows what losing feels like. -(depression!L is having a bit of a bad time... this writer makes L so quiet and sad and cute, and even though that's not often my cup of tea I still love everything they write) (X) Tresemme - Twyd [M, 2k words] L x Light slash. Set when they are handcuffed. Light just wishes L would dry his hair properly. He takes matters into his own hands. -(understated bittersweet fluff-smut) (X) Brilliant Bodies Disintegrate - Tartpants [E, 5k words] "L gives Light flesh made fact. L is the wayward flock for him to tend -- he’s Lucifer, the dawn-bringer, delivering light back to Light. Put bluntly, L’s the one who keeps shit interesting." -(L keeps being a big ho and making Light jealous on purpose to goad him into some rough sex-having, basically? Good if you liked that aspect of Nights...) (X)Trash Note - Tartpants [E, 3k words] "The character whose name is written in this note shall obey the writer’s every trash whim, no matter how out-of-character, preposterous, unsavory, carnal, humiliating, or cracktastic." -(if you ever want some goofy handcuffs smut that isn't taking itself too seriously at some point...)

SOME LONGER CANON UNIVERSE + LAWLIGHT FICS:

(X) Coexistence is Boredom - Sakurazukamori6 [M, 232k words] A new deathnote. A new plan for world sanctity. And an entirely misled Catholic clergy. Raito and L take their respective places on the sides of their own justice. A final battle waged in the Garden of Eden. -(This was my very fave Lawlight fic back in the 2000s, and a lot of it still holds up for me now and has a very special place in my heart even though it never actually got finished. I just love how L and Light and all the other characters are written in it, and appreciate that it can be angsty and suspenseful while still being funny and kinda lighter in tone for a canon universe Lawlight fic - it frequently makes me lol when I'm reading it. From what I remember it was the first fic that convinced me they'd potentially make a good couple beyond just unresolved sexual tension, too) (X) The Lies of Light Yagami - Kildeer [E, 38k words] “You’re pretty good Light, but I don’t see how you could hurt someone more with love than with death.” It was Light’s turn to smile as he leaned back in his chair. “Well then Ryuk, prepare yourself for a good show.” -(a bunch of missing scenes from the canon storyline, mostly smut. Very angsty and well done) (X) A Tithe to Hell - Aja [E, 34k words] Light has thirteen days to find out how it will feel--not just to kill, but to destroy. -(considered a fandom classic. I remember finding it intense and well-written, and that it also has a few interesting twists and turns) (X) Between the Black and White - Serria [M, 103k words] When L captures Light, he finds himself unwilling to relinquish his kindred spirit to the police, and instead has other plans to make Kira atone for his crimes. But the saga of Shinigami, genius intellect and old memories - BB - has only just begun. -(I haven't read it since it was new, and I don't think it ever got finished, but I remember this one being my fave of Serria's fics back in the day when I was a very fussy reader and only wanted to read fics set in the canon universe. Serria wrote a lot of great early Lawlight fics, and was my first friend in the fandom back in 2008 as well!) (X) A Cure for Love - halfpromise [M, 230k words] Light and L fall in love during the Yotsuba arc and Light's master plan is derailed when an assassin steals the Death Note. The threat of Kira is dwarfed when Kira's powers seem to have fallen into the hands of a terrorist organization known as Astraea and Light and L are united to find the culprit, but for how long... -(you've heard of the legendary Hinterland Doctrine fic series, now get ready for what I believe is halfpromise's very first fic? I don't think I actually read this whole thing so I don't know if it's finished, but I remember finding it fun to read her take on the canon characters too, and that what I did read had a pretty interesting plot and at times was quite funny as well)