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nicolinocolino · 7 days

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@wolfstarmicrofic | May prompt #3: love confession | word count: 882

“I dare us—“

Remus’s stomach swoops.

“—to drink this,” Sirius punctuates by setting a delicate glass vial of clear liquid onto the table between them.

“Veritaserum?” Remus asks. Dizziness overtakes him.

A spontaneous game of truth or dare in the Gryffindor common room ended moments ago with Lily daring James to go to bed. It earned laughs all around, although James took it as a euphemism instead of his right cue to leave her alone. It left him with a mouth hexed shut.

Now, with the stragglers headed to their dorms, Sirius and Remus are the only two left.

Sirius looks smug. “Brewed it myself.”

“Why?”

“Just to see if I could.”

They lock eyes with a long, dangerously charged glare.

“Okay,” Remus agrees, his rare Gryffindor courage taking over.

Sirius throws him a wicked grin that has him second guessing.

Remus drinks the potion first, just a sip to coat his tongue, then passes it to Sirius who does not break eye contact when pressing the vial to his lips.

“Is it working?” Sirius asks.

“Yes.” The truth leaves Remus immediately. This will be tricky.

Sirius leans forward, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. Ringed fingers cradle his face. “You go first,” he decides.

Remus swallows. He’s strung up like a kite. “All right. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you really brew the Veritaserum?”

“To move this along.” Sirius waves his hand dramatically in the air between them.

“This?”

“Us.”

Remus notices the first hitch he thinks he’s ever seen in Sirius Black’s throat, as if Sirius himself is startled by how reckless the truth feels coming up with no control.

“Truth or dare?” Sirius continues before Remus can respond.

“Dare,” Remus chooses, afraid.

“Really?” Sirius questions him. He sounds annoyed. “Fine then. I dare you to kiss me.”

The space between them shrinks. Sirius, on the opposite couch, still has his chin in his hands. His smile is sly and his movements coltish, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Having fun, even.

Remus does not move.

“What? Don’t want to?”

“No, I want to,” Remus confesses, then groans. “Don’t do that, Pads.”

“Do what?”

“Cheat.”

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Are you going to play or not, Moony?”

Remus stands up, crosses the distance, and sits next to Sirius on the opposite couch. He can feel his heart beat behind his teeth it’s so fervid; his hand shakes as he gently cups Sirius’s cheek. It’s difficult to think of anything more anxiety inducing than the moments before his transformation every full moon, but this comes awfully close.

“Well, Moons?” Sirius repeats in a whisper. His grey eyes bounce between Remus’s, wide and hopeful.

“Yes, I’ll play.” Remus tucks a strand of Sirius’s hair behind his ear and leans in.

Their lips barely meet before Sirius responds with earnest, smile blooming. Remus’s fingers drift back to comb through curls, tugging slightly. It’s rapacious. Sirius gasps and laughs. Remus can’t do this for much longer before the point of no return will ruin him forever.

“Truth or dare?” Remus pants, pulling away with a wild expression.

“Truth,” Sirius chooses. His lips are shiny, eyes dark. Remus wants to devour him.

“Am I a good kisser?”

“Yes. That was the best kiss of my life.”

Remus has to put some space between them soon before that point of no return opens up like a black chasm and becomes an inescapable void. He gets up quickly, awkwardly, and goes back to the opposite couch. The fire in the fireplace gives a sharp, crackled pop.

Sirius looks disappointed, rejected, almost angry. “Truth or dare?” He snaps.

“Dare,” Remus chooses again.

Sirius sets his jaw tight, exasperated. “I dare you to tell me how you really feel about me.”

Remus takes a deep breath. “I’m in love with you,” he whispers, the truth ringing in his ears after he says it. He hides his hot face in his hands and lets out a strangled, muffled scream. “You clever git. That’s cheating. Merlin, you really are bold tonight.” He risks a peek through his fingers at Sirius opposite him. Face unreadable, the weak flames of the fireplace dancing golden and scarlet across his face.

“Now ask me,” Sirius says softly.

“What?”

“Ask me,” he repeats. “The same.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Remus hesitates. “How do you really feel about me?”

“I’m in love with you too,” Sirius is saying, already halfway off the couch, approaching Remus, tucking in next to him on his knees and grabbing his face with force, kissing him for the second time that night.

Love and hunger and relief and joy. And a little bit of panic. They pull at each other, kiss like they can’t get enough.

Remus breaks away. “For how long?” Veritaserum still coursing through them, he will milk the powerful truth potion for all it’s worth.

Sirius does not let their lips be apart for very long. “Moons,” he says through an open mouth. “It’s been all year.”

Remus melts.

“And you?” Sirius continues. “How long?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” Remus confesses.

Sirius slides a hand down Remus’s chest. He feels how heavy and quick it beats under his palm.

“It’s been so long, I don’t remember,” Remus repeats.

It must be the truth.

#don’t get used to this 🫣#sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #marauders #the marauders #wolfstar fic #wolfstar microfic #remus x sirius #*#i’m aware veritaserum truth or dare is probably overdone but this wouldn’t get out of my head

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luveline · 2 years

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Hiii I literally love you and your writing especially your Eddie writing!!! Anywaysss, could I request a shy!reader where they and Eddie are dating but they kinda kept it on the down low but reader was having a bad day and was being all clingy and like everyone found out and the hellfire club was just like 😮

hi i love u ty for ur request! hope this okay ♥️ shy!fem!reader | 1k words

You know you shouldn’t go to his club. It’s not fair of you. Hellfire is one of his sacred nerd rituals. As soon as he sees you like this he’ll put it on pause, and you also know – one of the only things you do know about Dungeons and Dragons — that stopping in the middle of a game interrupts the flow.

Still. You’re feeling a little selfish and a lot strung out. Today has sucked and all you’ve done is wish he was there to make you feel better, so you walk down the hallway to the club room and stand at the door, trying to summon the courage to open it.

On the other side, Mike Wheeler catches a flash of your clothes through the small glass panel and frowns. He jabs Dustin Henderson hard in the side, earning a, “What the fuck, dude?” that Mike quickly shushes.

“There’s a girl outside,” he says.

Girls are… uncommon, at Hellfire.

Dustin leans forward to look around Mike’s torso and forgets to whisper. “Is she crying?”

Eddie looks up, annoyed at being interrupted by the newbies and about to delve into a speech on respecting your dungeon master when his gaze slides past them. He spots your torso, your hands pulled up to your chest, and he knows it’s you. From the curve of your arm alone.

He’s half standing when you knock.

The rest of the group gawp as he stands. Usually, Eddie would either ignore whoever it is or have someone else answer, and his sudden willingness is downright shocking.

He cracks the door open. He’s barely had time to take in your tear stained cheeks when you’re whispering apologies. “I’m really sorry,” you say quickly, pulling the sleeves of your soft cardigan down over your hands. “I needed to see you.”

“What happened?” he asks, trying for hushed like you but missing the mark.

Mike and Dustin make incredulous faces at each other, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Who the fuck is that?” Mike asks.

Lucas Sinclair grins from across the table. “Who do you think?”

“You know her?” Dustin questions. He sounds pissed to have been kept out of the loop.

“Nope,” Lucas says, elbows sliding over the crinkling paper of his character sheet as he pulls in his chair. “I’ve never seen her before in my life. But that’s definitely his girlfriend.”

A handful of laughs from around the table. “Yeah, right,” Gareth says.

Lucas leans in even closer, practically conspiratorial as he points to Eddie’s dirty-white sneakers. “Look, see how close they’re standing?” When nobody looks convinced, Lucas glares. “I know what I’m talking about!”

He really does. The toes of your shoes are a hair's-width from Eddie’s, face to the ground as you scrub your wet cheeks. Telling him about your bad day has made it somehow feel better and worse, and your breathing comes shallow.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I know you’re playing your- um, your game.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder. The large majority of the group whip their faces back to their sheets, caught. He shoots a scowl at them all, though any annoyance slips away when he turns back to you. You look so sad.

Eddie doesn’t really think about it. He steps out into the hall and lets the door close behind him, arms wrapping around you placatingly. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s been a really shitty day,” you say hoarsely.

“I know,” he murmurs, rubbing your back. Your shoulders tremble under his palm. “You should’ve found me earlier.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your game.”

“You haven’t. They’re on break,” he promises.

It’s a total lie but he couldn't care less about the campaign, not when you’ve come unraveled. You nod into his chest and worm your shaking hand around his waist, squeezing so tightly it aches. His head tucks over yours like it was made to and he wills some stillness into you, perturbed by your shuddering. He hates when you get like this. You're so wound up you can’t calm yourself down.

Inside the club room, there’s a riot of whispering, some quieter than others.

Lucas sits back in his chair smugly. “Dude, you have a girlfriend. You shouldn’t be so surprised,” he says to Mike.

Mike peers through the glass door with a mild disgust. “Me and my girlfriend don’t do that.”

“That is not true.”

“We don’t-“

“No, they really don’t,” Dustin agrees. “They’re too busy trying to swallow each other.

Anyone who’d been listening starts to laugh, worse when Mike’s cheeks flare red and he flips them all the bird. The laughter quickly dies when the door opens and Eddie returns, his sad maybe-girlfriend trailing behind him.

“Someone get a chair for Y/N,” is all he says.

You look like you might burst into flames on the spot. Everyone’s eyes are on you. You hate it.

“Thank you,” you say, though you aren’t sure who you’re thanking as somebody passes you a chair. Eddie sits back in his ‘throne’ and you sit beside him, cheeks dry but eyes still red and face downtrodden.

Eddie leans back and rolls his eyes at the silence. “She’s my assistant for today's session,” he says concisely, before any of them think they have the right to ask.

Eddie can’t hold your hand and you don’t think you could survive it in front of so many people, but when the game starts back up and everyone is distracted he pushes his foot behind your calf and pulls your leg toward him. There’s a smile on his face as he orchestrates the next dungeon, his pen scratching down notes you don’t understand.

He rips a page from his notebook and passes it to you covertly.

You take it and let it lie against your thighs. When you read it, you struggle to suppress a giddy smile.

Prettiest assistant ever. Think she'll let me take her out tonight?

He likes his chances.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x reader blurb #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson oneshot

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crescentbelle · 1 year

Text

Liability

Miguel O’Hara x Fem Reader

Angst

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: After a failed solo mission, Miguel’s punishment makes you feel as if you’ve become a liability.

finished this at 4am with my botchy Spanish skills so please forgive me.

It had been two weeks since your last fight, and equally two weeks since you had stepped foot out the careful watch of your boss, Miguel O’Hara. You weren’t given the luxury to mistake his hovering. His mindset was clear, you weren’t to be trusted.

One slip of a web was all it took, the anomaly you spent the last month tracking down slipped away, snatching your travel watch on the way out. You let the time pass crying out of frustration and being pushed down by a glitch each time you rose from the cracked pavement.

Maybe it was the amount of time it took for you to muster up the courage to tell Miguel you lost him again, or the fact that he then spent the next two days cleaning up the mess the escapee made. Either way, you had committed your biggest mistake since joining the famous group of vigilantes. Not that you could say their band together was infamous to any universe, but that’s what they were to you, and you had utterly failed.

One of Miguel’s star players had let him down, made a mistake so embarrassing to his reputation, that he couldn’t trust you outside his view. Banished to the filing of any and all reports that came through; that was the dignified job you took on. The only thing keeping you sane was to believe it was all just a humiliation tactic from his end, the more you fought against it, the more he succeeded. At this point you didn’t know what to think. The man barely spoke to you, even on his rarely chipper days.

Sat crossed-legged in a chair; you continued the boredom-striking task. Click drag. Click drag. You missed the moments when Hobie came to visit, the small times where you got genuine interaction and not awkward stares.

“you’re free to go now.”

Silence strung together with tension rose thick in the air. Will that ever fade?

He didn’t turn to look at you, his broad frame still turned to his own screen, eyes cold and cruel as ever. God, he really did find you pathetic after this one.

A beat passed. You always wondered if you should thank him, but that just seemed stupid. Thank you so much Mr. Miguel O’Hara for another silent day stuck at your brooding side. You chose the silent approach, slowly uncurling from your awkward position.

Making your way to the door, you heard him call on Lyla, muttering about a mission he needed to put another man on, one that wasn’t you.

“Just take her name off as an option, I don’t want her out right now.”

The words broke you down, weirdly in a way that no other snide comment from the man had before. Since you arrived all you strived for was the acknowledgment of your skills, to show you could become useful. Now, it feels like the rug had been pulled from under you. How long until you get sent back home? How long until Miguel admits you have become a liability?

Please just say anything else, anything so I know you don’t hate-

Miguel calls your name, sharp and devoid of any readable emotion.

“you’ve forgotten your day pass. That’s the second time this week.”

You gritted your teeth, “Thank you.”

“Try not to do that again, you’re glitching has gotten worse.”

That was it, The final stroke. Storming forward, you swipe the scanner off the desk, cheeks burning red with emotion. “You don’t have to scold me like I’m a child, Miguel.”

“Trust me, I know I don't.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not doing this right now, you can leave.”

Beat.

“It was one mistake! How does that constitute shunning me away?” Your body was hot, a magma bubbling into adrenaline. With a racing heart, you refused to back down. Everyday sitting in his office like a lap dog for all your friends and accomplices to watch, you couldn’t take it.

The man’s shoulders stiffen, his body toughening to a cold, ridged stance. Slowly, his gaze fell onto you. There they were, those piercing eyes.

That silent tension melted into something thicker and harder to hide from, fear. Fear that radiated off you in waves he could sense like a strike to the face.

“You don’t get to make those choices,” His voice spoke as a mutter, like he was hiding a seething tone from slipping out. “You don’t get to tell me how I choose to keep you safe.”

“You don’t get to talk about me like I’m not right here! I’ve always been on top of things- ever since I got here. Why do I slip up once and you get to treat me like I’m in idiot? Am I that humiliating for you?”

Beat. This one is too long, his eyes shift for just a moment, caught between thoughts. It’s a second of weakness that makes you apprehensive.

“I’m not letting you on any more missions.”

No-

“You’re sending me back.”

He shakes his head, dejected. “No, I’m not- just shit. Please don't make this harder than it has to be. For your sake.”

“Are you kidding me? You're asking me to never fight again!”

“Please-”

You take another step forward. “You’re asking me to throw away what I was built for! This is my meaning, why are you doing this to me?”

With the confidence he had left to muster up, Miguel stalked over to your frame. This was the closest you had been since he picked you up out of the alleyway you pathetically collapsed in, and the desperate feeling followed. To beg and kick like a child until he let you back in. It felt horrific and you wondered if he felt it too.

“I cant help it. Por favor, no te quiero lastimar. Please don't make me risk you again.” His hand moved up, close enough to your cheek that it makes your senses tingle, before its dropped down to his side again. “Please.”

“You’re hurting me.”

Beat.

With what feels like an instant, you’re being pulled into his chest. his broad arms caught you in his embrace, a hand coming to rest against your temple. Its simple, but it makes your heart ache. Never have either of you come this close. This is that desperate feeling bubbling up again.

You wonder if you should have pushed away; told him he's pathetic and walked away from this cryptic language you now share. But you cant anymore, not with his touch like this.

“I’m sorry.” The mumble of his words reverberated through your body like a purr.

A single drop of a hot liquid hits your forehead and manages to roll down onto his thumb. You scan up to his face. That stoic stare he managed to always hold stood strong, staring off into a void like there's something better to worry about. But his eyes watered and the trail of a tear glimmered on his pronounced cheek.

He guided your head back down to lay against him again and moved his gaze to the side, anywhere to avoid the way you look at him now.

“Don't leave, okay?”

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spider-verse spoilers #spiderman #angst #fanfic #fanfiction

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vxiphoid · 11 months

Text

SERENE SHENANIGANS

❨ summary ❩ twst › waking them up to tell them stories that don’t make sense

tags ✧ fluff, crack, savanaclaw boys, defo not proofread its like 7 am, cursing but nothing out of the ordinary, ooc(?), ruggie calls you a little shit like once (affectionate), jack is whipped for you

amanuensis’ message ⊹ I LITERALLY LOVE DOING THIS??? my friends hate me for it. but anyways hiii im back after like my month hiatus, how are thy sleeplings?😋 mb guys writers block has been really kicking my ass, i was spitting blanks on paper… i’m gonna hopefully post another pastry emporium soon for scarabia so stay tuned for that‼️

⌜ 300+ e/chara ⌟

♫ sunset boulevard - hohyun

twst masterlist

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

— “leona… pspsps….”

— he hums gruffly when his name was called the first time, only opening his eye thinking you called him a second time when it was really just noise that you would make to get the attention of a house cat. he instantly pins his ears back. how dare you. “hmm?”

— “so i took our snail for a walk and i had accidentally left my feet here to wash the dishes because the grass was blue.”

— huh? you could see him trying to process everything you just said as you explained, his lips parting and eyebrows furrowing. it took everything in you not to laugh. he does one of those blinks, the really delayed ones, one eye opens before the other…

— he’s half asleep too so the confusion is just adding up altogether. if chicken scratch wasn’t a writing term, this is literally it in words. its like the books back at home he picks up to read (derogatory) its, what, 4 am? dont do this to him😭

— you’ve never seen him so expressive💀 this definitely makes his eye and ear twitch at the same time. what type of fucked up fever dream is this?? its usually a blessing seeing you as the first thing he wakes up to, not when you wake him up with some bull strung up in a sentence with your beady eyes staring at him while he sleeps. he loves you, yes, but what does he even say to this…

— “what…”

— your forehead met with his chest as you struggled not to laugh at the uncharacteristic break in leona’s voice. how many cups of coffee did you drink? he asks you to repeat yourself even though it kinda a mind mush decision so you did and by the end of it, he looks absolutely restless.

— “that’s… yes. that’s great, herbivore. can we go to bed now?”

— you note that leona is surprisingly patient when half asleep

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

JACK HOWL

— deep sleeper. tug his ear. though he practically springs up before your hand makes contact, giving himself whiplash.

— “jack?”

— almost instantly relaxes when he realizes its you, tail wagging subtly☹️ “hi, baby. s’something wrong?”

— “hiii, do you remember a year ahead ago when i had to go to the dentist to get my spine fixed and the cats were barking at the flying dogs because the sky was in the water?”

— bro feels like he just had a stroke💀 he’s blinking rapidly, rubbing nose bridge as you explain. he really wants to understand, he does, but wtf did you just say??? it was the innocent “hi” before you unapologetically bashed his head in with the entire dictionary. its so ridiculous he couldn’t help but laugh.

— “jack, this is serious.” even as you told him that, your voice was not steady at all which made his shoulders shake violently in silent laughter.

— “im listening, i swear. tell me one more time?” yk his ass is not listening. he pulls you into his lap while his thumbs idly rubbed your sides, responding to your stories with “uh-huh” and “yeah?” with a lovesick smile on his face.

— eventually holds your face and starts pressing heart squeezing, fluffy kisses all over your face which truly made you more tired then you were. you honestly start forgetting what and where the story was going.

— jack only pauses his kissing attack to respond when you take a small break but even then he doesn’t pull away fully, he’s just speaking against your skin

— “—and the duck had my arm while i was taking it on a walk because gran tammy was in a flying shopping cart.”

— “oh wow. and then?”

— he’s listening but he’s not, mostly because he’s like two seconds away from dreamland and his brain isn’t registering half the shit you’re saying. he wants to see how many stories you can jumble up.

— “yeah, i think it’s bedtime for us…”

┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢

RUGGIE BUCCHI

— omfg he wakes up like a mom. like yk how you would barely touch them and they would gasp like they were just given cpr?? he wakes up like that.

— and you’re just standing there awkwardly 👁️👁️

— takes a quick look around before looking at you. “what happened? is it time to wake up leona already?” you shake your head and ruggie flops back, an arm draped over his eyes. “you scared me… come, lay down with me?” he held his free arm out for you and you did take your place cozied up against his side. to your surprise, you did actually scare the living shit out of him from how fast his heart was racing.

— “ruggie, yk i just found out you’re related to turtles, right? and i had to take uncle bobby to the vet to get a dna test because the fish drowned in air.”

— slow roblox turn towards you but instead its his head as he cranes it down to stare at you. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning and you literally could not look at him or you’d blow your cover.🧍🏾

— “i’m sorry,, what the fuck??”

— he’s genuinely confused, asking you questions about your story while his brain tries to put together the pieces. each question he asks, the more its harder to speak in full sentences other than wheezes

— “what are you laughing at, ya little shit? explain this to me!”

— “i’m trying!”

— and you are😭 its like when you have to explain the family tree really slow bc you cant say, “my father’s girlfriend’s son” without him like ???? and you’re trying to explain it to him slowly, eventually forgetting what you said in the first place…

— “…and the fish drowned in air.”

— “yes.”

— “sweetheart, you still haven’t explained how i’m related to turtles—”

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seravphs · 1 year

Text

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO x FEM READER

Gojo's a brat.

wc — 1k

tags — been reading a lot of shoujo manga lately which is its own warning, jealous Gojo spoiling reader

Snap.

You hiss between your teeth, annoyed and barely restraining yourself from murder. The sting of the elastic jolts you out of your studies, but after a quick break to glare at the headache sitting next to you, you dive right back into your work. Patience is one of your strong suits. It’s why Yaga worked so hard to steal - in his words, ‘recruit’ - you from the Kyoto campus. Someone has to set a good example for the kids. He knows it’s not going to be Gojo.

Speaking of-

Snap.

This time, you feel the brush of his cold fingers against your skin as well. You yelp in shock, both at the sudden change in temperature and at the way your skin smarts. Gojo takes a break from his triple sized blue raspberry slushee to laugh at you hysterically, clutching his sides. It’s not even that funny. You wish all kinds of illnesses on him with fervor.

One more time. Just one more time, you promise yourself, and you’ll-

Snap goes the hair tie on your wrist against your skin.

You don’t even let him withdraw his fingers before you leap over the chair to punish him.

“You little punk,” you snarl, catching his collar in your hand and throttling him with it. It’s a rare day where he’s wearing business casual, which he doesn’t even do for meetings with the elders.

“I’m older than you,” he says. “Gotta respect your elders.”

“Yeah? I’ll show you respect!”

You’re already reaching out to pinch his cheek, only to come into contact with infinity. This comes with the realization that he must have had it turned off earlier, if you could have choked him. Why does the thought make you happy?

“Men don’t like women who are so high strung,” he teases.

“Tell that to my roster of Hinge dates,” you snort (lying through your teeth). You’re admittedly popular, but you’ve stopped seeing anyone in recent months for a reason you don’t want to explore further. That’s a stone you’re willing to leave unturned.

“Oh, yeah?” You can only tell his voice is just slightly huskier because you spend so much time with him these days that you can catch the slight changes in his mood. It’s for lesson plans, of course.

That doesn’t stop you from swallowing hard. Jealousy looks good on him. He had the kind of looks that could drive women crazy, but combined with his unfiltered attention on you? It was a difficult to fight the urge to provoke him further.

“Yeah. As for me, I don’t like men who are a pain in the ass,” you smooth down his collar once you realize you’ve still been holding it.

The tension breaks. Gojo never stays serious for long. You’ve only caught fleeting glimpses of the god that lurks within his skin, trapped and turbulent.

“Aw, come on. I’m not so bad, am I? Can I make it up to you?”

“Depends,” you sniff, highlighting a important sentence in your textbook. You’ll have to remember that for class later. Nobara had asked about it. You should really tell him to go away, he’s distracting you so much, but you rarely do tell him off no matter what he does.

“I happen to have a reservation-“

So that explains why he’s dressed so nicely, though you wouldn’t put it past him to show up to Michelin star restaurants in sweatpants and get his way. You have to remind yourself not to get excited that he’s doing this for you. If you do, you lose.

“Happen to, is it? What if I don’t want your leftovers?”

“Don’t be that way,” he wheedles. “I’ll pay for everything.”

“As if I was going to.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“You can do better than that,” you retort. This is almost fun, like negotiating with Yaga to raise your salary. Utahime thinks there’s something wrong with you for enjoying workplace politics so much, but maybe that’s why you can tolerate Gojo’s company so well when no one else can. You have to be a little crazy to put up with him.

“Hmm,” he says. You see right through him. He’s only pretending to think. In fact, every second of this conversation was predetermined. It’s all part of a bit you’ve done before. “Last offer, then. You can max out my card getting ready.”

And your answer, therefore, is also already prepared. You don’t even deign to give him one, simply holding out your hand.

“Who says I’m giving it to you?” Gojo’s eyes sparkle. He’s being particularly difficult today, so much so you’re tempted to just slap him across his pretty face so you can kiss the hurt away afterwards. He’d like that, though. “Don’t you need someone to carry your bags?”

This is the game he likes to play, messing with you so he can apologize with extravagant gifts. Just once, you wish he could be straightforward about it. You’re not bragging, but everyone knows he likes you. It would make everyone’s life easier if he could just be mature about it, but instead, Gojo insists on acting like a teenager with a crush.

Whatever. You can put up with it for a while longer. You’re not particularly opposed to this situation. He spoils you with attention and lavish gifts; you spoil him by being the only one who can tolerate him.

Besides, you’re keeping secrets too, a big one that Utahime had whispered to you the other day over lunch. She had been so excited to have something to hold over Gojo that she hadn’t even registered the look on your face when she told you.

The other reason Yaga tried so hard to steal you from Kyoto?

Gojo asked him for a favor.

#sera writes #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fluff

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patheticdarling · 9 months

Text

Doubt

Summary: We all know how it went last time Steve fell in love, well everyone except Y/N, hence why she had no issue confessing her feelings to her boyfriend. But Steve’s anxiety has a habit of getting the best of him.

Warnings: angst/relationship doubts/fluff/cussing

Word Count: 852

*NOT MY GIF*

“This is fucking insane,” Steve muttered as the two of you took your shift of watching Max for a portion of the night.

You shook your head, “Poor Max. I can’t imagine how scared she must be. If we weren’t here, who knows-”

“But we are here,” Steve reassured you, squeezing your hand in his.

You exchanged small smiles as you laid your head on his shoulder. The two of you sitting in the comfortable silence as you looked over all the sleeping kids.

“Steve?” you whispered.

“Yeah?” his voice low.

You let out a soft sigh, “I love you.”

Even if your head hadn’t been on his shoulder, you would be able to feel how tense Steve became at your words. And when another moment passed and he hadn’t said anything back, your heart sank to your stomach.

“I-I,” you struggled to figure out what to say next, “I’m sorry.” Before he could stop you, you were halfway up the basement stairs.

Steve tried to call out for you, causing some of the kids to stir a bit which made him quiet back down. He wanted to punch himself in the face for his reaction. He knew how he felt, why couldn’t he just say it?

You found yourself seated on the front porch of the Wheelers’ house, small tears streaming down your face as you tried your best to cry quietly.

“Y/N?” you looked up and saw a very tired Robin with a blanket wrapped around her.

You quickly attempted to wipe away your tears, “Oh, hey, Robin,” you gave her a half-hearted smile, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah,” she shook her head as she took a seat next to you, “Dustin’s snoring,” a small chuckle leaving both of you, “What’re you doing out here? And why’re you crying?”

You let out a shaky sigh, “I told Steve I loved him.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed before a smile spread across her lips, “It’s about time, really. I was wondering when one of you would finally just use the “L” word-”

“He didn’t say it back,” you cut her off, “You should’ve seen the look on his face, Robin. You would’ve thought I told him I was cursed too.” The tears built in your eyes again, “I thought he felt the same way. I thought he loved me. But I was wrong. God, I feel like such an idiot.”

“Hey,” she strung her arm around you, “You are not an idiot. Steve might be though. He does love you, Y/N. I know he does.”

“Then why couldn’t he say it back?” you cried softly.

Robin sighed, “Y/N, how much did you know about Nancy and Steve’s relationship?”

“What?” you were so confused, “Only a bit. I just knew they dated for a few months before they broke up and she got together with Jonathan.”

“That’s the short version anyway,” Robin explained, “What drove their breakup and sort of pushed Jonathan and Nancy together was something a bit deeper.”

“What happened?”

“Nancy didn’t love Steve. In some drunken stupor she basically told him that their whole relationship was bullshit and that them being in love was bullshit too,” your heart broke for Steve, knowing exactly how he must’ve felt, “The next day or something when Nancy was sober, Steve asked her if she loved him, and Nancy didn’t say it back. Then some time later, she ends up with Jonathan and you know that those two are definitely in love. Bottom line is, I think Steve is just scared that if he tells you that he loves you, you’ll end up thinking it’s all bullshit too.”

You let out a heavy sigh, “I could never think that, Robin. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, you know that.”

“Me neither,” a voice came from around the corner, Steve appearing in front of you and Robin.

She looked between the two of you, “Well, I think I should head back to bed,” she gave your shoulder a squeeze and a small smile before heading back into the house.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered.

“Steve, you don’t have to-”

“No, Y/N,” he cut you off, “Robin’s right, I’m a complete dingus. The only reason I couldn’t say it back was because I was terrified. Terrified that it was too good to be true. Terrified that the minute I told you how I felt, you’d leave. And if I lost you,” Steve choked back sobs, “I-I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I couldn’t risk that.”

You brought your hand to his stubbled cheek, pulling his teary gaze to you, “I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise you.”

Steve didn’t hesitate to pull your lips together, he had never felt safer than he did in your touch. Tears of relief leaving his eyes as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry. I love you, Y/N. I love you. God, I love you so much,” Steve uttered and repeated like a prayer.

You nodded, laughing with relief as the tears dried, “I love you, Steve.”

#steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #stranger things s4 #fem reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #y/n

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sixosix · 1 year

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indebted | mikage reo

( ? ) reo spends money on someone who refuses to be indebted to anyone, FLUFF I SWEAR

( A/N ) why are my bllk fics literally about meeting again i think i have some strange obsession with this trope. ANW THIS FIC IS SOOO CLICHE but i think reo is cheesy like that

the sky is a pretty shade of blue, birds are chirping sweet songs from where they’re perched on branches, and cherry blossom leaves are floating along the wind; some are even pooling around his feet. love is in the air, one could say. pluck out every element you could see in a high school-inspired love song music video, and you’ll get precisely what reo is experiencing.

but none of those are what reo is looking at right now.

no, not when you’re standing before him, and his pulse is unsteady.

“i like you,” you say. “i want to go out with you.”

reo’s eyes go round, spluttering syllables that are strung together hastily. he settles with a: “w-whuuu…”

the small group of students who decided to tag along with reo all gasped and ooh?. reo doesn’t know why he’s the one feeling mortified, heat crawling up across his cheeks.

you’re staring at him with a fierce expression, refusing to back down and shy away despite the crowd. it’s like you don’t care what they think or say so long as you get your words across. he honestly respects it.

reo scratches the back of his neck, guilty for some unfamiliar reason. he’s gently rejected countless others before, so he’s unsure why he’s so reluctant this time. maybe it’s because you’re looking at him like you know what you want, and it’s making him feel flustered in a way he hasn’t felt before.

“don’t just stand there, reo!” someone butts in, as if it’s his business. as if he’s confessing or being confessed to.

you and reo turn to glare venom at the guy, who shrinks under both your gazes.

reo’s gaze finds yours once again, trying for a comforting smile.

“i’m sorry. i can’t accept your confession,” he murmurs and winces at the feigned cries of the people around him. his heart pangs painfully in his chest when he sees your crestfallen expression. “i really am sorry!” and he is. “i bet you’re nice—“

you hold up a hand, a universal sign to shut the hell up, you’re making it worse, idiot. “it’s fine. you don’t have to say anything else aside from a ‘no’, reo-san.” the smile you give him is pretty painful. or is it painfully pretty? “thank you for your time.”

reo blinks when you swivel around. he feels incredibly horrible, to be frank.

reo watches you leave until you’re out of sight, only snapping out of it when nagi shoulders him to tune back into the laughter of his classmates, teasing him relentlessly about the confession.

“man, are you always this nice to your fans?” one of them snickers. “you’re sick for leading the l/n y/n on.”

reo frowns. “i’m not leading them on, i’m just trying not to be an ass to people who admire me, unlike some people.”

“oooh…”

reo sighs, leaning against nagi’s terrifyingly solid figure. “y/n, huh?” he mumbles.

the hallways are unusually empty today. reo is usually swarmed by students from his class or even others, especially during the hour of lunch break.

there seems to be an influx of students crowding downstairs, though, judging by the faint cheers he can hear all the way from the fourth floor.

someone passes him, brushing his forearm, and reo almost ignores it.

“oh, hi, reo-san!” the voice says, and it snaps him right out of his wondering.

reo blinks, doing a double take. “ah, y/n.”

you skid to a halt, facing him over your shoulder with a pleasantly surprised expression. “you know my name already?”

reo feels caught, somehow. he doesn’t know what to say, so he nods and smoothly switches subjects. “where are you runnin’ off to?”

you don’t move from where you’ve stopped, and reo feels the need to catch up, so he jogs like an obedient dog. the nearly terrifying grin you shoot him does little to cover your amusement. “you’ve been spacing out during class, top of the class? there’s a parade going on right now for the school festival, i’m heading down to watch.”

oh. so that’s where everyone went.

in reo’s defense, he went to the bathroom minutes before break—most likely when the teacher announced anything regarding a parade. and nagi is nowhere to be seen to inform him about it. knowing nagi, he’s hiding away on some random floor’s stairs to play games on his phones quietly.

reo nudges you with an elbow and realizes halfway through that he never asked if you’re even okay with him doing that. he clears his throat, “let me come with you, then.”

“c’mon, pretty boy.” you pick up the pace, and he could’ve tripped on air hearing that. “don’t make me miss out on the fun waiting for a snail like you.”

reo makes a show of scoffing, but he can’t hide the smile in his voice.

you both make your way downstairs, chatting idly all the while. it’s small talk—mindless, almost, but reo finds himself relaxing quickly in your presence like he didn’t just meet you yesterday. like you didn’t just ask him out, and he rejected you yesterday.

“ahh, the stalls are up already?” you frown, scanning the area and onto the line of students swarming the field. “i thought they wouldn’t be serving anything this early.”

“if it’s what you’re worried about, it’ll be my treat,” reo finds himself offering without thinking.

“will it, now?”

minutes later, you two find yourselves walking out of the line of stalls with bags of snacks and street foods (even trinkets you weren’t planning to buy but reo wanted you to have). it was all a blur. reo didn’t know he could start from roaming the hallways to having a nearly empty wallet with you by his side.

blinking incredulously at the heap of bags slung over your forearms, you say, “i’ll pay next time.”

reo shrugs, pleased with himself but trying so hard not to show it. “it’s fine.”

“what? no, it’s not fine. i’ll pay you back,” you say, stern. there is no room for dispute.

“it’s really no big deal…” and it’s not. he gets enough money to fill up his wallet easily once more. upon seeing your glare, he concedes. “fine, do what you want.”

your bright smile at that response makes him realize something about you.

reo is ashamed to say it, but ever since yesterday, he’s been noticing you more and more often.

it’s embarrassing to admit that he hasn’t paid attention before, but it’s even more embarrassing to realize that he keeps finding you everywhere—it’s almost incredulous to think that he has never met you earlier.

what’s worse is that reo is excited when he does catch sight of you.

images of your moment with him come to him in a flash, and he almost fucks it all up by approaching you out of nowhere—he could, but he doesn’t know what you still think of him after that. he, for one, would feel as if he’s being pitied when the person he confessed his feelings to starts coming up to him without any good reason.

that’s the thing: reo can’t think of a good reason.

“stop overthinking,” is all nagi says to reo’s mindless rambling of his current crisis (read: above). “you shouldn’t look too deep into it, idiot. if y/n can confess to you just because, then y/n can tell you to screw off if you make things weird.”

that is surprisingly a piece of very reasonable and thought-provoking advice.

“okay,” reo says. it makes sense.

he doesn’t have to do anything, though, because nagi looks up from his phone, sees something, and tells him reo can just text him what happens because he’s heading straight home.

“what? what? where are you going, nagi?”

“reo-san—” reo jumps in surprise, “—sorry, did i scare you? haha, that was cute!” he turns and sees you grinning up at him, impudent like you hear precisely what is going in his head.

“y/n,” he says, horrified to feel sudden warmth crawling up his cheeks. how do you keep doing that? “when did you…”

“are you free? i still have to pay you back, don’t i?”

he wants to say that if you feel like you owe something, you don’t, and reo doesn’t care about the money he spent on you, seeing how much fun you had yesterday. yet the excitement evident in your voice kills off the rebuttal on the tip of his tongue.

reo finds himself laughing, mostly out of disbelief. “alright.”

you beam, his expression softens, and the sunset is beautiful this afternoon.

“come on, i know this really good place,” you tell him, reaching for his hand like it’s natural. reo’s eye catches on the charm dangling on your bag. his heart does something weird when he realizes it’s what he picked out for you. “you mentioned you like ichibo steak yesterday, right? you’re in luck.”

reo should really get checked up. he’s been feeling incredibly warm lately.

you two decide to ride a taxi. reo texts nagi that he is out on a platonic—emphasized platonic, in bold, italic, and even underlined—date with you, as friends, and all because you felt guilty. the sticker nagi sends in return says he does not care.

along the way, you two fall into easy conversation once again. reo feels so relaxed that he doesn’t realize until later how wide his grin is. and when he does, it’s when he starts to notice everything else, too.

“it’s weird! i just passed them, and they gave me weird looks. i wanted to square up and ask, what? you wanna fight? i would beat them, no doubt,” you say, huffing. reo chuckles a little. at the sound, you pout. “what’re you laughing at? you don’t believe me?”

“of course i believe you.”

you grin. “that’s right.”

the car stops, and you pay for the ride before reo could even blink and lead him outside. your enthusiasm is endearing, reo has to admit. it feels like you actually like him and like being with him.

the gentle hold you have on him, the way your fingers are absentmindedly rubbing circles on his skin, the way his brain is melting out of his ears—when did he get so soft like this? it’s insane.

it probably means he is happy to have you as a friend, right?

in a seat for four people, reo pointedly decides to sit next to you because sitting across would make it look weird—it will feel like an actual date, and reo is not sure how he can handle the thought of that.

you don’t question it, and reo feels embarrassed to think you probably think he’s so strange that you don’t blink at it. instead, you tug him closer by the sleeve, pointing at his favorite food with sparkling eyes. it’s adorable. you’re so damn excited that it’s rubbing off on him.

reo’s mouth again runs off before his brain can catch up. “are you alright with us hanging out like this? after…”

you understand immediately. reo can’t quite see your expression properly because you’re leaning down to study the menu; however, your answer seems unfazed: “i don’t mind. i like you, don’t i? you already knew that, so that’s a silly question.”

you turn to him, smiling. “of course i’d like being with you, too.”

“ah.” reo’s face is on fire. “so… why did you even like me?”

“hm.” you make a motion of rubbing your index finger and thumb together. “money.”

reo eyes you with a scrunched nose, speechless.

you laugh brightly. “kidding! kidding! kind of.” reo nudges your knee with his as a warning. “okay, okay. i thought you’re cute, alright?”

“really?”

“really.”

it’s almost enough to make him forget how your face fell when he rejected you. almost.

is it normal to think about that so much?

(no. the answer is no, obviously. but reo doesn’t want to think about the reason why it’s a no.)

reo slouches against the seat, his arm brushing against your side. “oh.”

“that was so good,” reo groans. he burps inelegantly afterward, laughing along with you. “fuck, you were right. i’m coming back here again.”

you snort, waving your fork around. “i told you! i’m never wrong, don’t doubt me about anything ever again.” there’s sauce on the side of your mouth; reo brushes it off with his thumb without thinking, as if in a trance.

you pause, going still. you’re staring at him wide-eyed, flustered, and reo finds himself thinking that he likes that look on you.

he snaps out of it the second after, blushing profusely. “sorry, i don’t—” to save himself from explaining, he calls for the waiter for the bill instead. real smooth, reo. did it like a real rich kid.

“hey, wait, why are you paying?” you ask, frowning.

“you already paid for the ride earlier, remember? you don’t owe me anything right now, so let me pay.”

“reo—”

the waiter comes, reo scans the receipt quickly, and slips money in. he also tells them to keep the change, to which the waiter starts bowing and thanking him for, which probably means he paid them more than he’s supposed to.

you slump, bottom lip jutted out. “now i’m indebted to you again.”

reo grins. “i know.”

you become something else to him entirely. more than friends, though not quite lovers. tip-toeing lines, ready to risk it all, but never crossing over.

reo laments this to nagi, who he realizes suddenly becomes an expert.

“for someone who didn’t hesitate to reject y/n, you’re quick to regret it every day,” nagi remarks. “don’t be stupid, reo. the answer is right there— oh, i lost.” nagi is sad now, not that reo can see it because he’s having a crisis.

by the time reo realizes that what he feels for you is more than a simple crush, it’s far too late. he’s on the bus, your last message with him is a goodbye, and his life is flipped upside down.

TIMESKIP

reo sits alone on a bench in the middle of a public park, holding a popsicle and checking his watch occasionally. his knee bounces, impatient, but his last text will stay as: i’ll wait for you no matter how long.

he sighs, his head slowly tilting up to face the sky.

it’s as beautiful as he remembers it—the day he regrets more than anything. all that’s left is for birds to chirp and leaves to dance around his feet.

he had to reject his friends’ offer to go out, as it’s not often blue lock members are given off days. however, it’s a small price to pay if he gets to see you again.

“i’m here!”

reo nearly jolts in surprise, his whole body instinctively preening at the familiar melody of your voice. he turns, and his heart bursts.

it’s been so long. too long. yet every detail about you is still the same as he daydreams about when it gets a little too lonely: from your smile to the way you’re looking at him with overwhelming fondness. there’s no mistaking it—the happiness tickling his chest says more than words could.

he is so fucking in love.

you stand there, a little nervous and hesitant like you’re ready to run with one wrong move.

so reo won’t fuck this up. not anymore or ever.

“y/n,” he breathes, tugging you by the arm to pull you closer. “i missed you.”

“i missed you, too,” you say, melting in his grasp. “i didn’t think you’d— i didn’t expect you to still want to see me after high school.”

“don’t be stupid,” he chides, gently flicking your forehead. “of course i’d want to see you.” your gaze shifts to the plastic he’s holding in his other hand, and he almost smacks his face for forgetting. “right, here. i bought you ice cream because it’s a bit hot today. thought you’d like it.”

“so thoughtful,” you coo, poking his cheek before gratefully taking the popsicle from him.

he pats the vacant spot next to him. it took all his willpower and rationality to not gesture his lap.

“um,” you fidget, tongue darting out quickly to lick on the icy treat. reo is not getting distracted, he’s not. “what was the question you said you wanted to ask? that text almost made me want to chuck my phone across the room, you know? we haven’t talked for months, and that’s the first thing you send me.”

“sorry,” reo can’t help but chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “i just want to do this before i regret anything again.”

“you have regrets with me?” you frown, hurt.

reo nods, and fuck it, reaches out to cup your chin. there’s a smidge of melted ice cream; he swipes it away with a thumb. “the day we met,” he says distractedly.

there’s a moment where you can only look at him incredulously, a little offended. but understanding dawns on your face soon after. “that was the day i confessed.”

he nods, proud. “you’re still indebted to me, aren’t you?”

“yes? you made sure you were the last one to pay for anything when you won me that plushie at the arcade a week before you left,” you recall fondly.

“alright, then.” reo takes your free hand to pull you closer to him, stunning you to silence. the popsicle starts melting at the sides—it could be from the heat or from how intense reo is staring at you. “pay me back by going out with me. as your boyfriend.”

THIS IS SO RUSHED I KNOWWW but take it and appreciate it please i dont even kno where the reo brainworms came from

#606:BLLK #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage x you #x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo imagines #mikage reo fluff #bllk fanfic #blue lock fluff

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loservernon · 5 months

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𐙚⊹₊⋆☆ my dream | sim jake

𐙚 idol!jake x student!reader (she/her)

𐙚 angst, fluff at end, part two to nice guy

𐙚 1.5k, not proofread sorry, swearing, panic attack tw

𐙚 note // it doesn’t get happy until the very end but i promise it does get happy lol. a second part as promised. i wrote this with lowkey no plan and one half hour sitting, so shitty writing ahead. also idk their dorm arrangements. enjoy nonetheless ~3~

“what do you want?” is the first thing jay says upon opening the door to their dorms. considering the fact that it was half past four in the morning, jake couldn’t blame the guy for the obvious peeve in his voice.

still, he can’t bring himself to say anything and instead just pushes past his groupmate into the dorms. jay seems to catch the gist of the situation from that alone, following suit and letting the door slam shut behind him without seeming to mind.

“was it your fault again?”

en route to the room he shared with jungwon, jake stops in his tracks. he doesn’t turn to look in jay’s direction, and he presses his lips into a thin line. “what do you mean by ‘again’?”

“i mean, last time you yelled at her for talking to that guy from her math class. i was just wondering what it was this time.”

at this, jake turns around abruptly, “you know i’m in a bad mood already. can you not rub it in my face that i’m a shit boyfriend?”

jay gives him a straight face. the tension between the two guys is strung high but he resolves it promptly and simply by responding, “i’m sorry if i overstepped and asked too much, but it’s not fair to take out your frustrations about being an asshole on me.”

neither of them break the stare for a few moments before jake caves, looking away whilst admitting, “i bought a drink for some girl at the bar we were at yesterday.”

“you what?”

jay’s immediate disbelief is jake’s affirmation that he’d truly gone too far this time. it made him feel dumb, really, for so fervently trying to defend his actions when they were so clearly viewed as wrong to those around him. jake turns his gaze to the ground, shaking his head in resignation.

“she kicked you out?”

with his eyes still on the floor, he replies drily and belatedly.

“yeah, something like that.”

in his top bunk later that night, jake stares at the ceiling that hangs two feet above his face. jungwon’s snores from below and the clacking of heeseung’s loud ass gaming keyboard two doors down should be enough noise to drown out all his thoughts, but it’s far from it. jake’s thoughts are loud enough to consume him whole.

he did not get kicked out of your apartment. jake knows you don’t have the heart to do that to him, not when he helps with the rent and not when he unofficially lives there. but jake can’t stand being there without your presence.

earlier that night, he was brushing his teeth to get ready for bed but there was no you next to him, trying to mimic his actions until he caught on and laughed at your imitation of him. when he turned off the lights and made his way to the bed, jake caught himself saying, “goodnight, love you,” to an empty room. it was embarrassing, sure, but it was even more so heartbreaking when he slid into the sheets and instinctively reached out for your warmth, only to be met with the coldness of your absence.

so jake kicked himself out. because staying in your room, where your scent lingered everywhere, ate away at his conscience until he had to physically remove himself from anything remotely related to you.

he still remembers with a heavy heart the last time the two of you had fought. without a sorry and only his angry words ringing in your ears, jake remembers how you’d tried to discreetly slip out of bed late in the night. immediately sensing your absence in bed, jake shot upright and asked where you were going.

“to the couch,” you had said. “i need some space.”

you had turned away from him before he even uttered his feeble, “i see,” the air around him stilling where your breath had once been. jake felt the palms of his hand grow cold, and the edges of his eyes stung with the threat of tears. he doesn’t cry, not even infrequently or on special occasions. but in that moment, jake swore he’d never felt closer to tears.

it’s these suffocating memories of his failures that make the ceiling above him seem as if it’s closing in on him, inch by inch. it seems it will smother him flat, squeezing shut his airways. any minute now, any moment now. he lays there unmoving, accepting his fate and in anticipation of his last breath. but the ceiling remains sedentary. instead, jake is gasping for air, breaking out into a sob so sudden that he barely registers what’s happening.

he kicks off the blankets, for he’s breaking out into a sweat. though he’s breathing hard and fast, there doesn’t seem to be enough oxygen. the sounds of his roommates diminish into nothing. his vision of the dark room blurs further into nothing, and his face is wet with oncoming tears that lack an end in sight.

it is a matter of fight or flight for jake as he scrambles to find his phone, clambering clumsily down the steps of the ladder on the bunk bed. once he reaches the bathroom with the door shut and behind his back, jake fumbles to press his speed dial.

each ring that goes unanswered feels like another step closer to death for him, thus it’s fortunate enough that his call was received on the third ring. the line on the other end is quiet, however, and only the sound of jake’s labored breathing and choked sobs fill the silence.

“jake? are you okay?”

he doesn’t stop crying until the moment he hears your voice. even his breathing manages to even itself out for the half second it takes for him to weakly respond. “i’m okay.”

“are you sure?”

as he returns from the climax of his panic attack, jake reassures you, “i’m okay now.”

“do you want me to come?”

it’s so sudden, the way the feeling dawns upon him. jake loves you. he’s sure of it all the time, but he feels it so strongly right this moment. if he thinks too hard about it, he could cry again. he is crying again. he’s crying at the way you pick up with no hesitation, even though it’s six in the morning. he’s crying at the tenderness in your voice, the warmth, the concern with which you speak. he’s crying because you’re upset at him — to the point at which you can’t stand being in your own apartment with him — but one sign of his distress and you’re asking if he needs you by his side. jake says yes. he needs you.

“i need you. come home, please. i– i can’t stand myself. why can’t i just be good to you? i just… want to be good for you.”

the lines goes silent, save for the occasional sniffles on jake’s end. he knows this isn’t the apology you deserve. he wishes he could do more for you instead of this emotional and unwarranted plea that probably woke you up. but this is his best. jake hopes it’s enough.

“i know,” you rejoin, “i know you’re just doing your best. and your best will always be enough for me.”

his world goes back to normal when you say that. whatever havoc he’d wrecked has been rectified, and jake is no longer seeking to fight or flee the cage he’s built himself. and in this way, you’ve saved him from himself.

“i love you.”

jake thinks he hears a laugh from the other end. he smiles.

you laugh again, and it’s definite this time. “i love you too, silly. i’ll be home after class today, so just let me know when your schedules end.”

“can i see you now?”

“really? me over work?”

your doubt is incredulous to him, “of course. you over everything.”

normally, you’d take that as is and move on, though you decide to play along with him a little more, “that’s nonsense. being an idol is your dream.”

“no,” there’s a dead seriousness to his voice that you don’t expect, “you’re my dream.”

caught off guard, you only manage to muster a, “what?” in response.

“when i’m seventy and wrinkled, i’m not gonna be dancing and singing in front of a bunch of screaming teenage girls. i’m gonna be with you, telling you lame jokes and doing indecent stuff at funerals.”

you don’t need jake to repent for his wrongdoings when his intentions are so clearly written out for you. even when he hurts you — which you acknowledge is inevitable in every entanglement — you know he loves you twice if not three times as much.

“you’re my dream.”

#enhypen jake #enhypen fics #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #jake fics #enhypen scenarios #jake fluff #jake angst #jake sim #enhypen

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raina-at · 21 days

Text

Fall

Warning: If suicidal thoughts trigger you, please proceed with caution.

It’s not the fall that kills you, it’s the landing.

Five minutes. From the time he got out of the taxi until he saw Sherlock’s lifeless body lie on the pavement, five minutes passed. At most.

John has lived through these five minutes countless times. Endless times. If you strung up every time he sees these five minutes play before his closed eyes - in dreams, in memory, in penance - you could reach the next century. At least that’s what it feels like.

How did he do it?

Why?

How did I not see?

These questions haunt him, derail him, consume him.

He walks by Barts at every hour of the day, he studies the police report, he looks at the crime scene photos.

How could I be so stupid?

He was devastated when Sherlock jumped. He was traumatised and grieving and barely functional for so long. He pulled himself out of a deep dark black hole by the skin of his teeth and the ridiculous thought that he had to live on to preserve Sherlock’s legacy. That he needed the world to see how brilliant he was, how loveable. How human.

How deeply, bitingly ironic, then, that Sherlock’s return from the not quite as dead as you thought after all has derailed him completely. Sent him into a tailspin he sees no way out of.

He barely eats, he kips on the sofa in his office. He only notices Mary’s thrown him out because one day, all his earthly belongings are dumped in a heap in front of his office door.

He doesn’t care. More time to devote to the one thought he cares about. How? Why?

He replays these five minutes in front of his mental eyes so often. He takes pictures, he tries to find witnesses. He does all the things he should have done after Sherlock jumped, if he hadn’t been so stupid. So paralysed with grief.

It didn’t even occur to him. That it could be fake. Because Sherlock wouldn’t. He would never.

What a fucking idiot he was. Maybe that’s why Sherlock did it. To get rid of him. To be free of the bumbling fool blogger running after him like a puppy.

Alex, his boss, puts him on medical leave when she finds him at the surgery at three in the morning, pacing his office, muttering to himself.

He doesn’t tell her he has nowhere to go. He just shows up at Murray’s house, who lets him sleep on the sofa in the basement and doesn’t bother him otherwise.

It’s a grey December day when he stands on a roof, diagonally across the street from Barts. Mycroft told him about the snipers, and he imagines what it must have looked like, from way up here.

He imagines watching Sherlock jump from this angle. Imagines the crosshairs of the rifle mark the place where the bullet would have entered John’s skull. Spends a visceral moment feeling it, wanting it. Wanting this all to end.

It would be so ironic, he thinks. If he actually did it. If he jumped. Like Sherlock did(n’t). Maybe then he would know. Maybe then he would understand.

It’s easy to sneak up on the roof at Barts. Easier than it should be, after a suicide.

It’s freezing up here. The wind cuts through his clothes. He shivers with cold and fear and a ringing sort of despair. What do you do when the only person you truly loved fucked you over this badly? What do you do when you’re not even worth a good lie?

He should have seen it. A thing like this isn’t easy to do. There had to have been cables, or a body switch, or some sort of catching device. He should have seen it. He didn’t, because he’s stupid and worthless and Sherlock never loved him, never wanted him, never cared.

The windchill freezes the tears on his face. He steps up to the ledge.

“Please don’t.”

Sherlock’s voice is raw and tired and rough with cold.

John isn’t surprised. Not really. He knows he’s being watched all the time.

He hasn’t spoken to anyone in days. He has to clear his throat before he can answer. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not worth it,” Sherlock answers. He sounds as hollowed out as John feels. As tired. As desperate.

John turns around. Sherlock looks like shit. He’s pale and wan and so thin, and John can see the lines the last two years have cut into his face. His nose is red from the wind and there are tears in his eyes.

“How did you do it?” John asks. I should make you watch, he thinks. Like you made me watch. Maybe then you would understand.

“Does it matter?” Sherlock asks, weary and sad.

“Maybe, just for this once, I can decide what fucking matters,” John yells, his throat raw, the words like barbed wires, ripping him up from inside. “Maybe just this one time, I matter!”

“You always matter!” Sherlock answers, “Please believe me. You always, always matter.”

“Two years,” John whispers, unbelieving. “Two fucking years.”

“I know,” Sherlock answers, his voice as raw as John’s, holding John’s eyes. “I know.”

“What does that even fucking mean?” John yells. He’s shivering with cold and anger as he takes a step towards Sherlock.

“Two years,” Sherlock says quietly, reaching out to gently touch the tear tracks on John’s face with ice-cold fingertips, his voice shaking with unshed tears. “I’ve missed you so much.”

John tries to bite down on a sob, but he can’t hold on anymore, he’s been biting down on that bullet for over two years, and he can’t do it one more single fucking second.

Sherlock’s there, wrapping him up in warmth and safety and that Baker Street home smell as John sobs out two years of grief and anger and sorrow into Sherlock’s ridiculously expensive coat. John can feel Sherlock lose control as he cries into John’s shoulder, muttering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again, but John doesn’t need to hear it anymore.

He can feel it.

He finally, finally understands.

“Let’s go home,” he whispers into Sherlock’s hair. He’s done with this place. “Let’s finally go home.”

------

I promise happy fluff tomorrow to make up for the pain.

Tags under the cut as usual.

@calaisreno @peanitbear @meetinginsamarra @totallysilvergirl @jolieblack @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @jrow @salmonsown

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #my fic #ficlet #careful this gets dark #may prompts 2024 #fall

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petricorah · 1 year

Text

Zukka Week Day 5—Tending Wounds

“You don’t have to do this.”

They were sitting in the ambassador’s quarters. Well, Sokka was sitting. Zuko was kneeling in front of him, wrapping his injured knee with a soft touch that made Sokka's heart sputter in his ribcage.

Sometimes, it was hard to believe. Sokka remembered when this man chased them all the way across the world trying to burn them to ash, and now those same hands were dressing his wounds.

And Zuko had other responsibilities, better things to do than be here, with him. Sokka was fine. His life wasn’t in danger, he was good. It was just an old injury exacerbated by a fight.

“Seriously,” Sokka said. “You really don’t.”

“I know,” Zuko said.

He moved Sokka’s leg to get a better angle, and Sokka sucked in air through his teeth.

“Apologies."

Sokka shook his head, jaw clenched in pain. “Not your fault. It’s just stiff.” He looked away, and quickly strung along his next sentence. “I’ve kinda…been skipping my exercises.”

Zuko glared up.

“They hurt!” he said.

“That’s the point,” Zuko said crossly. “That's how it gets better.”

Zuko’s thumb smoothed over the bandages, and Sokka’s heart lurched in his chest, a blush scraping over his cheeks.

“You really don’t have to do more,” he prattled out. “It feels better, now, really—”

“Sokka,” he said in a stern voice. It was the one Sokka heard in meetings, the one that stopped his advisors completely. “I said I would do it, and I meant it.”

Sokka closed his mouth, and Zuko kept going until he had used up all the bandages.

“Can I…try something?” Zuko said.

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “…What?”

“Ever since you injured your knee the first time, re-injuring it has been easier. But this time seems really…bad. Like, worse than the other times. It’s been a week and a half and you still can barely use it. You’re weaker.”

“Wow,” Sokka said dourly. “That sure is helpful. Keep it up.”

“No,” Zuko said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not…I always say the wrong thing. Especially around…you, but that’s not what I meant.” He huffed, looking to the side, bangs falling into his eyes. “It’s just…your knee is worse because Katara’s not here, right? When she’s around, she can do her healing bending, but when she’s gone, it has to heal naturally. But I…I can help. I think.”

“Look, I appreciate it, but I don’t think the pain is going to go away if you set my leg on fire.”

“That’s not what I’m going to do!” he snapped. “I practiced,” he said. “Uncle was correct, about bending becoming stronger when you use tactics from other elements. So I went to the Northern Water tribe, and asked the healers to…teach me.”

Sokka snorted, waving his hand. “What, with that classroom of six year olds?”

Zuko stared at him sincerely. “Yes.”

Sokka blinked. Oh.

“It’s not the same as what Katara does, but I think it could still help.”

Sokka narrowed his eyes. “When did you even do that?”

“After you hurt it for the first time.” Zuko wasn’t quite looking at him, making himself busy with straightening the bandages, even though they were already perfect. “But Katara had it handled, so I never mentioned it.”

Sokka stared at him. “Oh,” he said softly. “Sure, then.”

Zuko perked up, a smile flashing across his features. “Good,” he said. “I’ve been practicing on people in the palace and after I host training,” he said. “And I only burned one person.”

“W-what?” Sokka drew his shoulders up.

“I’m joking,” he said blankly.

Sokka used his good leg to kick Zuko on the side, making him chuckle.

“It’ll work,” Zuko said. The eagerness was apparent in his tone. “Heat increases blood flow and helps tense muscles. It will also help with flexibility and pain.”

Sokka could barely hear him explaining it. He was just enamored in how he looked. Whenever Zuko got excited and let his emotions show—which was a rare occurrence—a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes shined. He could be surprisingly excitable when he was comfortable around someone.

“…And so if that sounds good, we’ll begin."

“Y-yeah,” he said. “Sounds great.”

Sokka watched Zuko’s hand glow a bright orange, and the light reflecting on his features. Between his fingertips, flickers of flame began to circle in the palm of his hand. The fire was a variety of colors, spinning with a bright rainbow. Even from far away, Sokka could feel the warmth on his face.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “These flames won’t hurt. Trust me.”

Sokka slowly nodded, and Zuko placed his hand against his knee.

Relief washed over him instantly, and the pain that had been stabbing into his leg for the past week slowly subsiding in waves as Zuko’s flames warmed him.

Sokka let out a slight gasp, and closed his eyes. He was afraid if he opened them, and saw the care in Zuko's expression, he would completely fall apart.

“There,” Zuko said finally, his voice a low whisper.

Sokka opened one eye.

The flames dissipated from Zuko's hand, the warm lighting vanished. He looked up at him, golden eyes still bright, and Sokka’s entire chest squeezed like Appa was laying on him. “That feel better?”

The pain was distant now, and the throbbing in his knee had faded. Even the swelling had gone down. He was able to bend it back a bit easier, even though it was still a bit stiff.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Zuko said. He stood and brushed off his robes. Sokka didn’t miss the small smile on his lips.

“And to think,” Sokka said. “I voted to leave you to freeze to death in the snow.”

Zuko blinked. “…Well, I’m…glad you didn’t do that.”

Sokka laughed. “Me too. For a multitude of reasons. But thank you,” he said. “Again.”

Zuko shrugged and gathered up the rest of the materials. He didn’t let Sokka help, telling him to just rest.

But he hesitated in the doorway.

“About…how this happened—”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Sokka said, shooing him with his hand. “I’m just glad you’re here to help.”

Zuko dipped his head, and left.

Sokka’s knee was still warm from his touch. Zuko had helped, but Sokka wasn’t sure if it was because of the bending or because of…him.

Sokka leaned back, staring at the ceiling.

This was going to be a problem, wasn’t it.

It became a habit over the next few days. Zuko taking care of his bandages, using his hands to reduce his pain, just being there for him. And every time he touched him, it almost sent Sokka into cardiac arrest.

It was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

For the sake of his injury, of course.

Today was no different. They were outside, sitting near the turtle duck pond. Sokka’s mobility had improved enough to where he could use the crutches without much pain. He was starting to get a little stir crazy staying inside, and needed some fresh air, and thought the pond would be a good idea.

Unfortunately, in the grass, Zuko was even closer than normal. He was sitting by his side, his shoulder brushing against Sokka’s, and Sokka was finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the faint smell of cinders in Zuko’s hair.

“Okay,” Zuko said, and with a flick of his wrist, he stopped the fire. “Is that better?”

He turned to him, and he was close.

Sokka’s face flushed, and he blinked back at him.

“Sokka,” he said. “Is that enough?”

Sokka nodded, snapping back to reality. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it’s totally great.”

Zuko suddenly frowned, peering at him. “Were the flames really that hot?” he said. “Your face is all red and botchy.”

Sokka’s cheeks flooded, redness no doubt spreading. He was praying Zuko wouldn’t notice the blushing. It wasn’t his fault. Zuko had spent the last half hour touching him, leaning against him. How was he supposed to react?

“I…It’s nothing.”

“Maybe I should stay,” Zuko said. “Make sure you don’t faint.”

“No,” he said. “I just…my room was cold last night. Maybe I’m just a little under the weather.”

Zuko hummed, unconvinced, and reached forward, feeling Sokka’s forehead with the back of his hand.

He was close.

Sokka’s face burned, eyes wide. “Does that…work?” he said in a frail voice. “You being a…fire bender and all.”

“I can still feel,” Zuko said. “Fire benders run hot. We don’t only feel warm things.”

“Yeah,” Sokka said. “You’re definitely hot.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow.

The blood drained from Sokka’s face. “That’s not…”

Shit. Fuck. Why is he looking at me like that?

“I should go.” He shoved up on his bad knee, scrambling to get up. Pain overwhelmed him, and he pushed through it.

“What? Sokka—”

Sokka stepped back on wobbly legs, and pain instantly shot through him. He staggered, suddenly feeling like his brain was spinning inside his skull, as his entire leg screamed in pain, and gave out.

“Sokka!”

Zuko caught him in time, his hands on his shoulders to steady him.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” Sokka said, clutching Zuko’s forearms tightly. He was half bent, his head hung as the world stopped spinning and the pain receded slightly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. You can just go.”

“Go?” Zuko echoed. “You can barely stand. What is with you?” he said. “You’ve been acting weird all week. The past few days you’ve barely looked me in the eye, and every time I want to do stay and talk, you say no. I thought I was helping, but maybe I should just quit. If it’s not doing good, you should just tell me.”

“N-no,” Sokka said. He wanted to flee, but his crutches were still laying in the grass, and he was pretty sure if Zuko let go of him he would lose his balance and fall flat on his face. Not to mention the blaring pain everywhere. “It helps. It does.”

“Then what is it?” Zuko said.

Sokka didn’t answer. How could he say it? That he loved him, and it was impossible to be near him without wanting to blurt out that friendship-ruining fact?

Zuko glanced away, fringe hiding his face. He let go of him, and Sokka almost collapsed, but managed to hobble on one foot.

“Is this because you got injured because of me?”

Sokka’s blood froze, splintering inside him. What?

Zuko’s flames flickered in his hand. “I knew it.”

“No,” he whispered out. “Of course not. No. Zuko, I don’t regret that. It’s not your fault people tried to assassinate you!”

Zuko shook his head. “I knew this was a mistake. I didn’t want you to get hurt for me. You shouldn’t have done that. You should have just left—”

“I wasn’t going to leave you!” Sokka shouted. His foot was barely on the ground, just enough to steady him, but the pain in his knee was nothing compared to the panic stirring in his chest. “I’m glad I was there. I made a choice. And I would make it again, even if it meant I wasn’t standing here right now at all.”

Zuko’s head jerked back, shock rolling across his expression.

“I-is that why you’ve been helping me?” Sokka’s voice broke. “You just feel guilty?”

“Of course not,” Zuko snapped. He stepped forward angrily, the flames singing the grass under his feet. “I did it because I care about you, and I don’t like seeing you in pain. How could you think that?”

“How could you think I should leave you?”

“Because I would rather something happen to me than you, and you just said you were willing to die for me!”

They both glared at each other. Smoke curled from under Zuko’s hands, and Sokka felt like he was going to topple over.

“Can I have my crutches?” he said, unable to think about anything clearly other than he was about to wipe out. “I’m going to fall.”

Zuko blinked, and bent to pick them up, hurrying so quickly he thrust them against Sokka’s chest enough to almost push him over.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he said softly. “I’m not so injured I can’t still beat the crap out of you. I told you this wasn’t your fault, and I meant it.”

Sokka wasn’t sure if he saw glassy tears in Zuko’s eyes, or if he was imagining it. The wind pushed his hair in his face, and for a long moment, Zuko didn’t move.

“So it sounds like we’re even,” Sokka said slowly. “We both don’t want to see the other hurt. So can we just…move on from this already?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Come on, I’ll help you back.”

They walked slowly, Zuko's guiding hand on his back to make sure he didn’t slip.

“If I say this isn’t necessary, is that going to stop you?” Sokka said. He was trying to inject some sense of normalcy into this conversation.

“Not in the slightest,” Zuko said roughly. “...Have you been doing the exercises?”

“Yes,” he said. “Mostly. I mean…”

Zuko glared at him, fire blazing in his eyes, and Sokka held back a laugh, amusement in his eyes.

“It’s really hard to find you threatening when you’re telling me to take care of myself.”

Zuko grumbled under his breath. “Just shut up and do them.”

They stopped at his door, and Zuko let go.

“Can you make it to your bed alright?”

“Yeah,” Sokka said.

Zuko moved to leave.

“Wait!"

Zuko looked back at him, cocking his head.

“To be honest,” Sokka said slowly. “I didn’t even get it a second thought. I haven’t thought about it all week. I mean, you’ve risked your life for me countless times. We’ve been through way worse situations together, and the only reason I got injured at all was because my knee is prone to getting hurt. So I haven’t been thinking about it. And I didn’t mean to be distant. It’s just…the only thing I’ve been thinking about all week is…”

Zuko was staring at him expectantly, and Sokka felt the blush creep up on his cheeks again.

“Uh…”

Shit, he was losing his nerve. He just had to say it. Blurt it out. If Zuko rejected him, he could say he got brain damage from the fight. He just had to say it.

“What?” Zuko said.

“I’ve just been thinking about…you.” He swallowed. “And how…close you are to me.”

Zuko’s brow furrowed. “Oh,” he said. He took a clear step back, withdrawing completely. The spot where he was touching his back felt cold as he let go. “Okay—”

“No, it’s not a bad thing,” he said quickly. “It’s good. I like it. When you’re close to me.” He stared helplessly, Zuko’s blank face staring back at him. “You’re…hot,” he blurted out.

“If you’re cold, I can have the attendants bring more blankets—”

“No! You’re not…warm, you’re just.” His eyes flicked back and forth, but Zuko wasn't helping this torture at all. “I like spending time with you.”

“You’ve been distant because you…like spending time with me?”

“Yes?”

Zuko squinted. “Okay. I’m going to let you…get some rest.” He turned, and started to walk down the hallway.

“I love you!”

Zuko stopped in his tracks, his back toward Sokka.

Sokka stiffened.

“I…”

“What did you just say?” Zuko said, still facing away from him.

“IthinkIhaveaconcussion.”

“…No,” Zuko said, turning slowly. “You just said you loved me.”

Sokka gulped. He’d gotten pretty good at reading Zuko’s features. He knew his pouty glare from his annoyed one. He knew when Zuko was truly angry, and when he was just low on sleep, and when you should run the hell away. But now, Zuko’s expression was unreadable.

“Is that…one of your jokes?”

Sokka’s shoulders dropped against the crutches. He let out a long breath. “No. It’s not.”

“You…love me?”

Sokka’s skin pricked, and he was starting to feel faint. Why couldn’t he ever just keep his mouth shut? He should have just held his damn tongue—

“I love you, too.”

“W-what?”

“I love you, Sokka.”

“You love me,” he repeated. The grin spread across his face. “You love me back?”

“Yes,” Zuko said. “I do.”

“You love me. You love me—”

He repeated it until Zuko closed the gap between them, hugging him in a warm embrace, and almost knocked them both down.

Sokka laughed, almost tripping up on the crutches.

“I can’t hold you back like this—”

But Zuko just smiled, hugging him tighter, then kissed him.

Sokka let go of the crutches, and pulled him closer.

He was sure if he fell, Zuko would catch him.

----

@zukkaweek

this was my first time writing something a tiny bit longer. I hope people enjoy!

#this was all written today as i desperately tried to do it on time #i feel like it would do it more justice with more time for description pacing etc but i wanted to actually do something the correct day #i hope people still enjoy!#zukka #myfic #zukkaweek #zukka fic

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mellowswriting · 1 year

Note

i work this weekend so i’m sending this in early but; Soap with a breeding kink 😩 he wants a huge family idc

babe. you are so right. don’t even get me started on how crazy he would be when you’re actually pregnant 😩

sinful sunday

Johnny talks about it constantly. He muses about what life would look like with a few little ones running amok; a full house, the sound of little feet stampeding through the halls, raising little warriors that look like the two of you. He doesn’t push or pressure you, of course. He’s more than willing to wait until you’re ready - but that doesn’t stop him from waxing poetic about how amazing it will be. The moment you tell him you’re ready to start trying, his brain bluescreens from the rush of different emotions.

“Dinnae say that to me, hen.” He whispers, eyes wide. “Not unless you really mean it.”

“Well, I stopped taking the pill and I saw my doctor.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders as you settle in his lap. He looks at you like you’re blowing his mind and giving him the entire universe all at once. His hands come to rest at your waist, his touch gentle and reverent. “Plus, both my calendar and the test I just took say I’m ovulating.”

John blinks up at you, still buffering as he processes. “So… you really mean it?”

“Yeah, you dork. I really mean it.”

Your over-preparedness was a necessity because you knew for a fact that the moment you told him, he would not rest until he knocked you up. Getting everything squared away meant all that pent-up eagerness would be put to good use - and boy, does John really use it.

It’s been at least thirty-six hours since you’ve seen anything besides the four walls of the bedroom you share with your baby fever stricken husband. You feel hot, your body wracked with trembles as his softening cock slips out of your well-fucked pussy. Fuck, you never knew it was possible to feel so empty yet so full at the same time. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s fucked you, how many orgasms he’s pulled from your strung out body, how many times he’s buried himself deep and filled you with his seed.

“There you go, that’s my girl.” Johnny sighs, honeyed reverence dripping from his lips. His big, warm palms slide up your thighs and squeeze gently, tenderly helping you come down from the rigorous way he’s worked you over. His eyes are bright with affection as he looks over you for even the slightest sign of pain or discomfort. “You look so pretty full of my cum. Gonna look even prettier with my baby in your belly.”

“Fuck, John…” The roughness of your voice makes him smile. He’s always had a thing about this - you all sweaty and fucked out, your voice hoarse from screaming his name, your body prone and trembling beneath him. John thrives on being a good husband and right now, that means knocking up his pretty little wife. His cock twitches, already half hard and nudging your thigh. You give him an incredulous look and huff out a disbelieving laugh. “How are you still hard?”

“Can ya blame me?” John’s eyes trail down your body and he shakes his head. “I mean, look at you… my gorgeous wife, all fucked full a’ me…”

His praise sends you flush with warmth, stokes the flames of arousal in your belly. The effect he has on you is intoxicating. Your body aches with overstimulation yet John gives you that appreciative look, his eyes bright with desire, and you ache for more. His hand slips down to trace the mess he’s made of you and you concede to him, spread your thighs and welcome the pleasure-pain of his touch.

“Just one more, hen. One more and I’ll let ya rest. Gotta make sure it takes, don’t we?” He babbles as he presses close and hooks your legs around his waist. The kiss he drags you into is messy, all spit and tongue and desperation. He drinks in the sound of your cry as he slides into your abused pussy, meeting no resistance as his cum leaks out around his cock. “ I’ll do all the work, you just lay back and let me make you feel good, yeah? That’s it, good girl…”

#sinful sunday #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john mactavish x reader smut #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #john mactavish smut

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honeydippedwaffles · 8 months

Text

Request: Our Intertwined Fates

Request Information: A set of possibly two or three parts surrounding one my mutual's favourite, non-companion characters in the game: Rolan. This in a look at how Rolan and Tav's relationship builds over the course of the story from a friendship to something more.

Tav is not referred to by name.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 2.1k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

The scent of rust mingled awfully with the flowering bushes surrounding the grove. Something felt wrong about strolling into such a place with goblin blood still drying on her armour and the cling of an abduction over her shoulders.

She did so regardless, muscles strung tight from a battle nearly lost and an argument she could scarcely defuse. Who knew helping somebody out would cause such trouble.

“We’re off to a great start,” she said to nobody in particular. “Barely free of some wretched pod and already we’re wrapped up in another conflict.”

Her companions and her had crashed into this isolated area of coastline just the very morning they stumbled into this grove. How they’d managed to get themselves involved in whatever impossible argument was occurring between tieflings and druids escaped her understanding.

“This really isn’t our business,” she admitted to them when they looked at her. “But I suppose if we’re going there anyway, the least we can do is talk to the head druid? It won’t do any harm.”

She lied to herself like that sometimes.

If somebody asked her for help, she’d never been able to turn them down. Offering her assistance felt negligible in the grand scheme of things and this conflict really seemed to have a solution she could find. It would help also, to have the grove’s knowledge on her side.

Those excuses really didn’t feel genuine when the threat of a tadpole behind her eyes lingered.

Yet despite having it in mind, when she overheard an argument, she couldn’t help herself but stop to listen. The trio of tieflings sounded so irritated with one another as they fought about whether they should remain with the group or forge their own path to the city. A fight they’d clearly gone over before if the exasperation said anything.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we don’t even know these people. I’m not sticking my neck out for every person we come across. With my magic, we have nothing to fear about the path to Baldur’s Gate as long as we leave now.”

“Just because we don’t know them doesn’t mean we should abandon them here. What use are all our spells and blades if we don’t even use them to help people.”

She listened curiously, not planning on interjecting but also wondering about the goal of Baldur’s Gate. Some things unfortunately rarely changed and she couldn’t help but worry for this group. “Does Baldur’s Gate welcome tieflings at all?”

Her question directed itself at nobody in particular and yet, she must have spoken loud enough for them to hear as the three all turned to her with various expressions of disinterest or appreciation. She shifted uncomfortably beneath their gazes and smiled to show she hadn’t meant to get involved.

“More so than other cities,” one of the tieflings answered. “Perhaps they’ll stare but nobody will pull a blade out. It doesn’t really matter either way because I’ll be welcomed. You’re speaking to the recently accepted apprentice of the great wizard Lorroakan.”

Tall, haughty, and certainly pretty enough to be a wizard rather than a fighter, she could tell he had a great deal of trust in what he said.

Maybe even too much.

Lorroakan sounded familiar but she couldn’t place why it felt wrong. A wizard certainly but not one whose name carried very good rumours alongside it. She could share what she knew but to do so felt wrong and so she smiled.

“Congratulations,” she urged. “You must certainly be very talented to earn yourself such a grand apprenticeship.”

“I assure you, I am.”

“Then it sounds as though your help could be invaluable to these people who are blessed with neither magic nor fighting skill.” Her gaze drifted to where children and others attempted to spar with sloppily created training dummies. “Honestly, I believe they’ll need all the help they can get.”

He frowned; caught in the small trap she’d created through his own confidence. She felt a little bad for taking advantage of his arrogance but she hadn’t been lying when she commented on the tieflings.

They probably wouldn’t survive a day against the goblins.

“That’s what I’ve been saying. We have to stay and help.”

The wizard looked between her and the others before he threw his hands up in agitation. “Fine but if we end up rotting on a road because of this, it’ll all be your fault.”

He stormed off and she glanced awkwardly at the others. Perhaps she had overestimated their skills but she doubted their chances even more if they split from the group and tried to do it alone.

But if they died, the weight would never lift from her shoulders.

“Thank you for intervening. Rolan can get obnoxiously stubborn at times but he’s a good person. He’d have regretted choosing to leave later.”

She laughed awkwardly, unsure how to respond beyond offering her name as a means of introduction before hurrying off. They had so many problems to face, far more dangerous than even taking on a slew of unending goblins. Such a thing could wait until after the worm got removed.

One poisoning later and another child rescued and they took on the very task she’d tried to avoid, regardless of Astarion’s unimpressed complaints about it.

They ended up fighting through a, quite frankly, impossible number of goblins after rescuing a massive druid from the dungeons. Followed it with a battle against shadow druids who were disguising themselves as rats. And then still ended up standing exhausted at a party with the blood not fully washed from her hair.

As tired as she was, she couldn’t skulk away into her tent so early into the night. Everybody wanted to speak to her and she was now avoiding Lae’zel as best she could after the gith caught her off-guard with the strangest proposition she’d ever heard. Flattered, but uninterested, she looked around for help and eventually caught Lia’s eyes.

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“Rolan’s going to put on a show for us,” Lia told her, excited and a little teasing. She, like many of the others, appeared a little tipsy as she gestured to her brother. “Watch.”

“Patience,” Rolan chided. “You have no respect for showmanship.”

“Performance issues,” Cal whispered to her and she laughed behind a palm despite the wizard’s glare.

After all the near misses with fireballs through the day though… well, she really hoped whatever magic he wanted to use involved snow or water. Anything she didn’t have to dodge.

He surprised her pleasantly with neither and the small cascade of dancing lights lit up the sky in pretty shades of blue. She’d seen children do similar magic when first learning of their abilities and it never failed to make her smile.

“He can also make them purple,” Cal told her proudly.

She politely clapped and tried to keep her expression supportive of the tiefling trio. Rolan had skill enough to make something of himself in Baldur’s Gate… if his tutor held up to his expectations.

And, of course, the group had to get there first but she had faith. Zevlor, if nobody else, looked well equipped to shield his group from danger.

“You’ll do brilliantly with the proper training,” she complimented when she noticed Rolan’s gaze hover over her for a second longer. “You can ask Gale about some spare scrolls we found while exploring. They may come in use during your travels.”

Rolan straightened his spine beneath the praise, pleased with his successful show. “I have no need for scrolls but I thank you for the offer.”

She laughed and raised her glass to him. “If you say so. The offer still stands.”

She bid the three siblings good luck with their further travel and stepped away to clear her head, finally seeing an opportunity to seek peace and quiet. The shadows provided some solace as she made her way into the forest.

When she came across a small clearing, she settled on a log. It had been a long day filled with unending waves of enemies and her eyes felt heavier than ever.

She’d almost drifted off when she heard footsteps behind her. Footsteps, clumsy and unused to stalking through the dark. At least she knew it not to be an assassin, she imagined.

Although she’d expected Karlach or Gale rather than the tiefling she saw.

“Rolan?” she asked, confused as to why the wizard had followed her and now hovered uncomfortably at the edge of the clearing.

“Lia made a very good point,” he said, straightening imaginary creases from his robes as he spoke. “Scrolls could be useful if we get into a situation where my magic is lacking.”

She frowned for a second before she remembered her offer and waved back at the party with a smile. “Oh, right. Those are with Gale or one of the others. I don’t know what spells they have but any magic is useful, right?”

“Obviously but they’re mainly for Lia’s peace of mind. I don’t think we’ll have any problems when I have my thunderwave to handle threats.”

She smiled. “I’m sure. Make certain to aim for the nearest cliff.”

A wince followed as she remembered shoving a goblin from one of the rafters earlier in the day. She hadn’t appreciated the crunch of bones or the smear of blood… she hadn’t cleared out a goblin camp before the day and it really didn’t suit her.

“With any hope, you’ll have no need of spells at all,” she said. “I think the path to Baldur’s Gate should be open.”

“If it wasn’t, I don’t think they’d be singing your praises so highly,” he scoffed.

He took a few seconds to place the strange jealousy in his voice as not related to handling the goblin camp but rather the heroism of it. Strange, she’d never thought of a battle as something to be envious of. She certainly left with a great deal of pain in her ribs to show for it and little else.

“Something wrong?” she asked, fixing him with a soft gaze.

Rolan shrugged but she noticed the way his tail flicked, irritated, back and forth. He watched everything besides herself, not truly meeting her eyes as he gazed around the clearing.

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just hoping you haven’t given my siblings any ridiculous notions about going off and being a hero. They’re not the type to walk through a goblin camp with no problem.”

She smiled, understanding his concerns. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. It’s not about being a hero, it’s about giving help where it’s needed and… I suppose it was selfish too. I needed a healer and Halsin was my only option.”

“A healer?” he repeated, gaze lingering over her bruises. “Did he manage to fix whatever’s wrong with you?”

Her heart thudded a little and her stomach sank. He hadn’t been able to do anything for her. Halsin pointed her in a direction and promised to help but he couldn’t remove the tadpole from her head. Every day, she ended up closer than ever to becoming a creature from her worst nightmares and she could do nothing.

Honestly, it may have contributed more to her mood surrounding the party than the actual exhaustion had.

“No, then?” Rolan asked.

She shook her head and tried to shake free of the worries. “Unfortunately, my condition goes a bit beyond his talents but he did give me a way forward. We’re heading toward Moonrise Towers to look for answers.”

‘You don’t sound confident.”

“It’s hard to be sometimes,” she admitted. “But I don’t really have much of a choice in what I do next.”

He coughed, a little awkward as he shifted his weight from side to side. “Well, I mean you’re clearly more than capable of handling things. I’m sure getting to wherever will be easy enough for your little group of heroes.”

She laughed at the unexpected and strange praise. “Thank you, Rolan.”

He nodded and seemed about to turn around and leave so she stood and the movement momentarily froze him. She leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to cheek in thanks.

“You’re going to do great with your studies,” she said. “I’ll be sure to brag to everyone I know once your name becomes renowned.”

Somebody once told her tieflings couldn’t blush but she swore she saw colour darken the tops of his cheeks even in the dim light of the forest.

Taglist: @miwn8

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #rolan/tav

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strawberryya · 1 year

Text

I want it all (and more)

jun x reader

synopsis: You love teasing your boyfriend by turning him on whenever you can, however, what you love even more is what he does to you after you've riled him up enough. He is the devil after all.

word count: 2.2k

genre/contains: smut, established relationship, satan/devil!Jun, dom!jun, sub!reader, light(?) bdsm, edging, cum eating, oral(f-recieving), afab/fem!reader, unprotected sex (he’s a supernatural being I feel like the rules don’t apply here but you shouldn’t do it), tiny moment of strength kink, use of tail

rating: 18+

a/n: @idyllic-ghost thank u for the banner and for proofing <333333

[navigation post!]

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

“Wanna give up already? Do you not wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Please,” you whimpered, you wanted to cum - you needed to cum.

“Have I not been good for you? Why are you not giving me what I want?” Jun said, lifting your chin up so you would meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be good.”

Your voice was weak, and your legs were even weaker after having stood up for the past hour. Above you, your hands were strung up, tied together by a smooth silk ribbon connected to the canopy bed frame. You felt the edge of the soft mattress against the back of your legs and felt yourself long for whenever Jun would let you fall onto it.

When you had begun dating the actual devil you hadn’t really thought too much about it. Now, however, you felt that you should’ve expected this. It would have made you want to fuck him so much faster if you had only known how he could go on for hours turning torture into bliss.

“So? Are you ready to give up?”

“Yes, sir.” you whined out when his tail dragged between your wet folds before he brought it up to his mouth to lick it clean with one stroke of his tongue.

He smiled now, he had such a pretty smile, but this one was deceitful. This smile meant he was satisfied, but not enough to not have some more fun with you.

“You taste so sweet, angel.”

Your eyes, which had been watching the way his expression shifted from serious to menacingly sweet, couldn’t help but wander away from his face. Instead following his pretty tail as it slowly dragged down his neck and torso until it only just touched the bulge hiding behind the black fabric of Jun’s pants. Instinctively your legs squeezed shut. You needed to feel something, your core aching from how your boyfriend had been edging you for what felt like an eternity.

But just a moment later, your legs moved closer. The tail you had watched so closely came down with a smack on the side of your thigh. The sting elicited a deep moan from your lips. At this point, anything would be enough to send you over the edge, and Jun knew it. You could see it in the way desire flashed through his dark eyes. They were almost maroon now, the black having faded away long ago.

“Who said you could do that?” he questioned, while actually pouting a bit. “Are you really going to keep disobeying me, angel?”

“No, sir! I’m sorry, I’ll be so good from now on. I just…” you trailed off, knowing that whatever his reaction would be if you said what you were about to say would likely be worse than having just to stand there.

Suddenly you felt a warm touch landing lightly on your shoulder, then on your neck, and tracing slowly down to your chest. You shuddered under his touch, need flooding to your core yet again. You wanted him to fuck you more than you knew you could want anyone to before you had felt his length inside you for the first time all those months ago. It was an addiction at this point, needing to be fucked at all times of the day, taking every chance you could to try and get him hard under your touch.

Sometimes it worked out for you, other times it turned into this. You, completely naked and dripping down your thighs as Jun played with your emotions, touching you only so long that your orgasm would build up to the breaking point just before he took it away from you; all while looking like the prettiest angel in disguise anyone could imagine.

“Go on, you just…” he said while the pad of his thumb circled your erect nipple, making your back arch and press your tit into the palm of his hand. To your surprise, he didn’t remove his hand. Instead, he continued playing with your nipple, rolling it lightly between his fingers. The sensation makes your breath shallow, “I just, I really want to cum.”

“Yeah? Have you been patient enough?” he questioned, looking at your face as you nodded and pleaded with your eyes.

“Maybe you do deserve something for being such a good girl after all.”

“Thank you, sir, thank you,” you cried out, without even knowing what he was going to do, earring a smirk and a slap to your tit that made you gasp in pleasure before Jun disappeared from your vision. He had dropped to his knees, lips now kissing your inner thigh while his pretty eyes continued staring at how you fought to remain composed as his hot breath hit your aching cunt.

He licked a single stripe along the slit of your pussy, collecting the juices that were dripping out of you on his tongue. Your knees buckled at the sensation of his tongue passing by your swollen clit in one swift motion. You began pleading, begging him for more over and over again until he seemed more than satisfied as he gave you a soft smile that hid just how mischievous he was feeling. He lapped and licked at the puffy lips of your pussy, sucking gently at your clit while he held your hips from grinding your slopping cunt onto his face.

You were seeing stars, but a flick of his tail onto the back of your ass told you that he wanted you to keep your gaze on him. You looked down and almost came from seeing his pretty maroon eyes glancing up at you as he lapped hungrily at your pussy, all you saw were those dark red eyes and the pretty black horns that were peeking out of his blonde hair on the top of his head. He was absolutely gorgeous, you thought briefly before you felt yourself come so close to falling apart on his tongue that had begun prodding at your entrance. You felt your pussy pulsating like crazy and your orgasm was seconds away from washing over you. Would he let you cum this time? You wondered, but the question was obsolete the second you felt him pull back right before you could cum. You cried out as his perfect mouth left your cunt, pleading with him that he could let you cum just this once and you would be such a good girl forever if he would just let you cum this once, but it was to no avail. It did please him, however, as he licked his lips clean from the juices that were covering his entire chin and almost dripping down his neck you noticed.

You momentarily moaned as you saw his long tongue lick your slick of his pretty face but as you felt his fingers tracing across your skin and up to your hardened nipples you couldn’t help but continue whining in need of his touch and permission to finally cum.

You whined when he continued rising, not wanting him to leave you wanting yet again. Your hands were pulling at the soft ribbon around your wrists, hoping he would finally let you down so you could feel him inside you finally.

“Open.”

Your mouth fell open without hesitation, lips wrapping around his fingers and tongue swirling around them, licking the juices of your own pussy from them. A smile showed at the corner of his mouth and in his eyes when you moaned around his digits.

“Such an eager angel,” he cooed, “Ready to come down?”

At this, your eyes shot open, and you hummed eagerly around his fingers.

With a swift movement, Jun reached up to easily untie the ribbon from the bedframe. Your hands were still tied together as he caught your body from falling to the ground now that you no longer had the support of the bondage and the bed frame. He pressed your naked body against his own. You could finally feel his erection pressing against your skin through his pants. Knowing he had begun feeling the effects of edging you as well, you let your arms fall around his neck and rest completely against him. He held you up effortlessly, your body nothing against his angelic - or rather devilish - supernatural strength.

It always made your stomach flutter when his seemingly fragile body was able to hint at the power he kept hidden below the surface whenever he did things like these.

Jun moved you onto the bed, and you were finally able to relax your body, feeling just how exhausted you had become from having stood tried up for so long. It was worth it though because now your hands were wrapped up in his hair, occasionally stroking the horns peeking out from it gently. The gently touch seemingly earring you some favor with Jun, who had let you wrap your legs around his waist while he kissed you slowly and

The heat continuously pooling in your abdomen was too much for you to take without feeling his cock pushing its way inside of you immediately. You could feel him taking it out of its constraints, the head of his length now poking your wet folds without entering you as you needed him to.

“Please, Junnie, I need it so bad, I’ve been so patient, please,” you begged, tears pricking your eyes as you tried to push your core up to meet his leaking cock. He needed you too, it was obvious, but you knew he wanted to hear you plead for it.

“You’re right, angel, you have been so very good to me. You think you can take some more then?”

“I can! I can take it all, I want it.”

Jun gave you a pleased smile, his eyes flashing even redder as he let his hips push forward and his cock stretched your dripping cunt open.

You were screaming in pleasure, already close to your orgasm after having been edged over and over so many times. The stretch was so delicious you felt lightheaded as you gripped his hair tighter, pulling on his hair only so slightly, making him moan into your ear as he found his pace. His strokes were deep and hungry and absolutely everything you needed right now.

“So fucking perfect for me,” he breathlessly groaned into your ear, making you whine underneath him as his voice echoing through your mind pulled you even closer to falling off the edge of your orgasm.

“I’m your perfect angel,” you moaned back, earning hungry kisses to your neck as he hummed and sent vibrations across your skin.

“My perfect angel…”

You screamed out in pleasure as you came, wrapping your legs tightly around Jun as your walls clamped down on his cock, making him groan as he felt your cunt cream his length. He continued pounding into you, riding your orgasm out until his hips began stuttering as he fucked into you. He was close, your own mind was still busy calming down from your high and you were mindlessly patting the back of Jun’s neck, letting your fingers slide through his soft locks and subsequently accidentally driving Jun right into his own orgasm.

You felt him fill you up so perfectly, stuffing you with his cock and now his cum until you felt so full all you could do was continue mumbling out little thank you’s and even more I love you’s into Jun’s ear as he rested his body on yours.

You felt so good right now, so safe, so loved, and so incredibly satisfied. It wasn't until you came to again that you noticed you had dozed off for just a moment in his safe embrace, and that your hands were still holding onto Jun’s pretty blonde hair as he kissed down your body again. “More angel?” he questioned in a hum against your skin and you met his dark eyes and gave him a lazy smile in return. “Yes please.”

He was lapping at your pussy, licking your folds clean of the cum still leaking out of you. He seemed more like a good little kitten when he was like this than the devil he actually was.

Your entire body arched when his tongue poked at your entrance, easily dipping inside over and over again. The gentle motion drove you absolutely mad.

You were writhing under his gentle touch, too overstimulated to differentiate between pleasure and pain. All you wanted was for him to hold you close. Your hands pulling on his arms now that he was just sloppily making out with your puffy cunt. “Hold me, please Junnie,” you whimpered and without hesitation, your devilish boyfriend made his way up to hold you close in his warm embrace.

“You did so good for me today baby,” he said as he kissed your entire face softly and slowly, covering every inch of the face he loves so much with tiny kisses. You smiled at his words as your hands sleepily traced over the soft and firm muscles on Jun’s back. You could stay in his arms forever, and you intended to do just that.

.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・.

#svthub #kvanity #k-labels #kwritersworldnet #junhui smut #jun smut #jun seventeen #seventeen smut #wen junhui #jun x reader #seventeen wen junhui #seventeen x reader #fem reader #jun #junhui #junhui x reader #svt #svt smut

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peachesofteal · 10 months

Note

ok but hear me, this can either be dead disco or the baby trap.

Simon and Johnny either following Darling around scared they gonna leave or one of them always HAS to be near them.

Darling escaped once and they won’t let it happen again

Screams! I love this. Love your brain. I took this in a slight different direction also, but these themes still persist. 🩵

Mature Themes / disco baby au

Simon and Johnny are a mess.

They haven’t always been like this. Hovering and overly watchful, like this. Bordering on paranoid, anxious, high strung. Jumpy, almost. They don’t let you out of their sight. They don’t let you go anywhere without at least one of the them. They won’t even let you go down to the front door to grab the Chinese delivery.

At first you didn’t notice anything different, really. They’ve always been very attuned to you, very attached. It wasn’t abnormal for Johnny to cling to you like a barnacle for days after coming home from an op, only peeling away when he absolutely had to. They’ve always been around whenever you needed something, always been able to anticipate your wants and desires, always taken care of you, when they’re home. But this… this is different.

But now, it’s all starting to feel… suffocating. Just a little.

It started with your commute to work. You usually walk the few blocks to the train stop, and then ride the E line all the way in to your office, reverse for the way home. You’ve always gotten to work this way, without issue, and you’ve never considered it to pose one, until the morning Johnny walked you the entire way.

“What’re you doing?” You eye him curiously as you slide on your black boots, the ones with the short, chunky heel, the height just enough to keep your pants elevated from the wet sidewalks and streets.

“Walking to the stop with ye?” He quips, like it’s obvious, and you can feel the tug of the sour frown on your lips. Why is he walking you to the train? He never does that.

“You don’t need to… I’m fine on my own.” The last sip of decaf washes down your throat, and you reach for your bag.

“I know, still…” he trails off, and his hand folds over yours, rubbing a thumb across your knuckles before sliding your grip free, and pulling the black bag into his own. He steps closer, and closer, until you can feel the heat of his breath, the warmth of his skin on yours. He cups a hand over your belly, sliding up and down before lowering his mouth to yours sweetly, pressing his lips against for you a long kiss. “Gotta take care of you two.” He says when he pulls away, and you can’t stop the playful eye roll that comes as a response.

“Okay, fine.”

You let it go, because you didn’t mind the extra company, and it wasn’t like he was getting on the train with you. Just walking you to and from the stop. Every day. Rain or shine.

You had assured them both, a week later, that no one needed to walk the few blocks with you, but Simon shook his head immediately, squashing your insistence, and you dropped it.

And then, a few days later, you tried to go to the grocery store.

“Don’t cry, love. Please don’t cry.” Johnny begs, eyes wide with concern, while Simon sits next to you, soft hand on your neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just… I have all these emotions and they feel so strong right now.” Hormones. That’s what you blamed mostly everything on right now, the baby making you feel somewhat crazy, crazier than you normally feel.

“It’s alright.” Simon tries to soothe you, and you nod before leaning over into his chest. There’s some shifting, and then Johnny is cuddled up on your other side, arms holding you firmly.

You sit there for a while, until you feel composed, until your heart rate is normal, your breathing even and head clear.

“Okay.” You sniffle and wipe your nose with a laugh. “Okay. I’m okay. I’m going to get going.”

“Get going?” Simon poses the question with an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I was going to the grocery store… remember?” You gesture to the pile of canvas bags on the table, and Johnny frowns.

“I can go for you, darling.”

“No, I want to go. It’ll be good, get some fresh air. Get out of the flat.” Simon stills, muscles zinging into stone, lines of his face shifting until they’re frozen. The scar on his chin shines in the low light of the lamp, and you watch the sheen of the pink flesh move when his teeth grind.

“I’ll go with you.”

“You hate the store. And it’s not-“

“I don’t mind.” He responds instantly, and you shrug.

He keeps a hand on you the entire time. Firm pressure on the small of your back as you walk, arm around your waist as you stand in front of the dairy fridge. He takes up so much space, it makes everyone else circumvent around you, and when he scowls at them, they scurry in opposite directions.

“Are you… is everything, okay?” You’re hesitant with the question, and he looks down in concern.

“Of course, are you alright?”

“I’m fine… you just seem. On edge.” He rolls his neck and then shakes his head no, before pulling the now full canvas bag from your hands.

“Everything is alright, darling. Don’t worry.” You can’t help but give him a skeptical look, before sighing, turning away to start towards the yogurt. You rub your belly absentmindedly, eyeing the ice cream, when you feel something bump you, the hard edge of metal in your back, like a trolley, and you turn to see a teenager with a gobsmacked look on his face.

“So sorry, I didn’t mean-“ the kid tries to get out his apology but it’s far too late, Simon’s already corralling you in his arms, pulling you away and into him while openly glaring at the scared teen.

“Watch where yer bloody walking.” He hisses, and you can see the harsh line of his jaw just beneath the mask, veins in his arms flaring to life with his anger.

“Hey, Si.” You rub his forearm, trying to pull his attention from where the kid stands, practically shaking in fear. “I’m fine. Nothing happened.” You give the kid a jerk of your head, the ‘get lost’ signal, and he scampers off without another word. “I’m okay. He hardly bumped me.” You whisper, folding your hand into his and tugging him closer. His gaze is locked to the teenager’s retreating back, until he snaps out of it, eyes finding yours with soft relief. “See?” You flourish your arms like you’re on display, and he rubs his face tiredly.

“Yeah. I see.”

After that… everything seemed to ramp up. Johnny would ride the train with you now, not just walk you to the stop. If you went for a walk, like your doctor instructed you should still be doing, they were hot on your heels. If you wanted to go out for something, like to run an errand, one of them was with you, like a shadow. It was consistent. Non stop. Suffocating.

And you let it build up. You let the hovering and following and everything go on and on until you couldn’t anymore. Until it all exploded.

You stop dead on the path, gravel crunching under the heel of your sneaker.

“What is going on with you two?” You demand, turning to face them both, fully. Johnny holds a water bottle out to you helplessly, like he thinks it will help quell your irritation, and you glare at it.

“What do you mean?”

“Something is wrong. Or off. You’re both… hovering. More than usual. More than… well, normal.”

“No we’re not.” Johnny denies and you scoff.

“Yeah, okay. Why are you lying?” When they stay silent, observing you, withholding from you, you feel the tears start to sting along your waterline.

“Oh darling, no. Please, don’t cry.”

“I thought we’re supposed to b-be honest with each other, and that’s clearly not what’s happening here.” You cry, fat tears now dripping down your cheeks, pressure in your chest mounting as you grapple with whatever it could be that they’re hiding.

“It’s not-“ Johnny starts but is cut off by Simon.

“We’re worried.”

“About what?”

“You. Us. Everything thing… it’s, this. Is a lot. For anyone.” A lot. A lot? A lot for you, maybe. Not so much for them. The bitter thought sinks like lead in your stomach. This was an accident. No one meant for this to happen, relax.

Still, it’s not like they were pregnant.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“We just worry, about everything. About you, and the baby. If something were to happen…” Johnny trails off, uncomfortable look on his face.

“We worry about you, darling.” Simon approaches you softly. “We worry it’s too much, about how you’re faring, if you’re overwhelmed, if you’re feeling like this is too much, if you might want to run-“

Oh.

They’re worried you might bolt. Worried you might pack up and leave.

“I see.” The truth can sting, sometimes. When it comes from them, when it feels like they have so little faith in you.

You don’t respond, just rub an anxious palm over your belly while you wipe your tears with your free hand and hiccup through your tears.

“That’s what you think of me? That I’ll just… up and leave?” You leave the ‘again’ off the end of that question, because no one needs the reminder.

“No!”

“No.” Simon shakes his head. “No, darling. We’re sorry. We’re just… on edge. It’s a big thing, that’s happening.” You laugh a little, and step forward, just close enough for touch. Simon rubs your back, while Johnny rests your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah. Really big thing… we’re having a baby.”

#peaches asks #mothcelestial #peaches writes #disco baby au

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dancingtotuyo · 3 months

Text

Before | 2. feel the tide turning

A Woman Story

Rating: Mature

Summary: consumption of alcohol, implied smut

Tags: backstory, Woman Universe, romance, Jackson Life, TLOU

Words: 1227

Series Masterlist | Woman Masterlist | Author Masterlist

It’s an odd sight. You’re still getting used to life around people again. It’s only been a week. Alongside the group, you’ve made substantial progress on reviving Jackson. So when a couple of the guys found old booze, got a generator running, and gathered up enough weak gas they decided to turn the Tipsy Bison, an old restaurant, into Party Central.

Lights are strung up through the rafters, your first peak at electricity in years. An old record player turns in the corner. Your worn copy of Rumours sits in the stack of vinyl records, the only thing you brought with you when you came to Jackson except for clothes and a few photographs. You haven’t heard it in years, but something in you couldn’t leave it behind.

People dance to the music and laugh. The air burns with electricity and excitement, yet you sit there with your finger of whiskey watching from the sidelines. Your brain can’t make sense of it all. How can they be so happy? So carefree?

“Not even a party can make you smile, Doleful.” Gabe smiles brightly, taking up the stool next to you. The swelling in his eye has gone down almost completely, the scratches down his cheek nothing but flakey scabs.

You roll your eyes slightly. “Not much to celebrate.”

“We’ve been wandering a long time. Finding a place to stay is a lot to celebrate.”

“I don’t understand it.”

“You're starting to sound like a broken record.” Gabe raises his eyebrows at you. “Gotta get that smile out of you again.”

“Sorry, I only smile once a year.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” You take a sip of your drink, finding yourself fighting a smile. “Come back in 51 weeks for a sighting.”

He tilts his head to the side. “I think I can pull another one out of you before then.”

“Oh really?”

“You can bet I’m gonna try.” He winks.

You bite your lip, feeling a smile threaten to break through. He’s figuring you out, much worse, you’re letting him. The human interactions feel nice and warm, thawing out your heart.

“How long has it been since you danced?”

“Take a wild guess, Romeo.”

“Romeo? Does that make you my Juliet?”

You can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks “And what would give you that impression?”

He shrugs, grinning at you. “You’re the one who called me Romeo.”

You finish off your drink with a sigh. Your eyes drift back over the room. The dance floor has grown. The room is warmer, or maybe that’s the alcohol in your veins. It still feels odd to see, like a glimpse into the past. You feel like you’re an outsider looking in, like someone watching a snow globe as it settles. You wonder if there’s a way in. You think you want it, but will you always feel like an outsider with them? Like you can’t experience life as they do.

Gabe kicks his stool back, moving into your line of vision. He offers his non-injured hand, smile overtaking his face. “Come on, Doleful. Dance with me.”

You hesitate, staring at his hand like it’ll burn you. Why does this feel like a leap of faith? You’re moving into uncharted territory.

“Unlike you, I won’t bite."

“I didn’t bite you.”

“No, just maimed,” he laughs. It’s good to see he doesn’t harbor any bad feelings about the injuries you inflicted. “Take my hand. Let yourself live just a little bit.”

He looks so earnest, hopeful like a little kid waiting for their slice of birthday cake. Before you know it, your hand is in his. He pulls you out, navigating through other couples until he’s satisfied with a spot off to the side. He tugs you close, one hand in yours and another on your waist. It feels almost foreign, but you think you could get used to it.

Your movements are stiff, uncoordinated. Your body is used to running and fighting for survival. The easy sway of dancing is gone from your bones.

“Now, I know you have better moves than what you’re showing me,” Gabe says.

“I haven’t danced in years. I’m out of practice.”

“Ease your hips into it.”

You try, but it feels awkward and off beat compared to Gabe’s. “How are you so good at this?”

“This isn’t my first dance,” Gabe chuckles. “Let me help you.” He moves both hands to your hips, easing your body into more fluid movements.

Heat spreads through your body, searing where he touches making it difficult to concentrate. Gabe smiles at you, encouraging you. You feel the easiness come back slowly. As you sink into it, your muscles loosen up swaying to the music.

“There you go,” Gabe encourages. “I knew you had moves in you.”

“Aren’t you just the knower of all things.” Your hands slide around his shoulders.

“Well I was right about your smile, and your dance moves.”

“My dancing is subpar at best.”

He looks between your eyes. He tugs you a little closer, your body flush against him now. Your skin prickles with excitement as you fall into rhythm with him. It’s not something you’re used to. Desire has had no place in your life since the day the world collapsed. What might it be like to experience something beyond survival? You think it might be there now, blooming under the surface so unfamiliar, but natural.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Gabe asks.

“My thoughts are worth more than that.”

Gabe chuckles, spinning you around with a few quick moves before you fall back into him. “I suppose they are.”

Your lips flash to his lips, slightly chapped but inviting nonetheless. Then, the song ends. The air feels hot and thick around you as you stay in his arms, breath mingling with eachother’s.

A slow smirk spreads across Gabe’s face. “Your thoughts are getting easier to read, Doleful.”

Your pulse beats in your ears, adrenaline and want and need course through your veins like it hasn’t in years. You lean your weight into him more. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His thumb caresses your bottom lip, oblivious to the people around you, but they’re oblivious to you too. “Make you smile.”

You let out a breathy laugh, a smile hiding behind the flash of faux annoyance. “Among other things I hope.”

Heat flashes behind his eyes. He’s tempted to do it here, but he won’t. Once he starts, he doesn’t want to stop. His lips dip to your ear. “Grab your coat.”

You smirk, pushing off of him. His long, determined strides follow you. You wave to Maria as you grab your coat, a smile on your face. She clocks it immediately, a moment of shock rolling across her face that settles into a smirk. You roll your eyes at her. You’re really starting to warm up to the woman.

Gabe’s hand is warm on your lower back, pushing you toward the house he’s occupied for the past week. He kisses you on the front porch, your uninhibited laughter filling the night before he hulls you inside.

When he wakes up the next morning, the bed is empty, your clothes are gone, and there’s nothing but dirt where you left your boots last night.

It’s only a week before you fall into his bed again, but months before you smile.

#the last of us #joel miller x reader #tlou #woman (joel’s version)#woman (joel miller)

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