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wishlistcharles · 3 days

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secrets we keep (pt1) → mv1

max verstappen x perez!fem reader

genre: one night stand, teammates sister, pregnancy

cw: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (male receiving), p in v, slight spit play, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy, pls let me know if i am forgetting anything

word count: 3.1k

song: too sweet - hozier

sidenote: hi everyone! finally a new fic is here and it's a max one! this is going to be a two parter, so keep an eye out for the next one! please let me know if y'all have any ideas or requests for a fic (I write for all drivers), also not beta read. hope you all enjoy <3

♡♡♡♡

The roars of the crowd were loud as Max crossed the finish line, followed closely by Sergio. For a second there you had thought your brother would overtake the world champion, but nonetheless he fought hard and gave the team what they wanted, a 1-2 finish.

It wasn’t often you got to go to your brother's races, maybe only a handful a year but you were lucky to be able to get the time off to join your niece and nephews for the Japanese Grand Prix. Sergio would topple over if he knew you had the hots for his teammate. Every time you have met with Max, it’s been very cordial. Polite hellos, asking how life in Mexico is, what you have been up to since he last saw you.

A part of you wondered why he was so timid with you. Was it because of Sergio? Being the baby of the family left him feeling protective of you, but you don’t think that would affect how Max interacted with you. I mean you barely saw him.

Watching the pair on the podium set tears in your eyes. You were extremely proud of your big brother and his teammate.

Your dad absolutely adored max and had invited him to join us for a celebratory dinner after the race. Which to your surprise he happily accepted.

You were staying at the same hotel that both the bulls were at, so reconnecting for dinner would not be difficult. After the race you decided to head back to freshen up and change your clothes into something a little more fancy. At the race you were wearing a white tennis skirt with a red bull polo tucked in. For dinner you decided to wear a black over the shoulder dress that fit you perfectly. Finally ready you walk down and see that only Max is waiting in the lobby. Your stomach turns at the thought of being alone with him.

Picking his head up from looking down at his phone he notices you walking toward him and waves shyly. “Hi y/n, looks like it’s only us ready” he said in a tiny voice. You are always so used to him being outspoken it kinda scares you a little. “hi maxie, you know how my family is with time management, they should be down here soon” you said with a laugh, not even acknowledging the nickname that slipped from your mouth.

A sudden tinge of pink washes over Max’s cheeks and you feel heat radiating up your neck. Act cool, you keep telling yourself but you are so nervous. Max was all you ever wanted in a guy. Handsome, sweet, confident, the list could go on. You knew deep down though your worlds would never clash well. You lived in Mexico with your parents - working as a teacher. Max lived in Monaco and raced for one of the best teams in formula one history, surrounded by models throwing themselves at him. You couldn’t blame them, you would do the same, if you thought you ever had a chance.

“No worries, I always have to wait for Checo to come to our team meetings” he laughed. “I bet, if there’s one thing my brother isn’t know for it’s being on time, thank you for coming to dinner with us though, we really appreciate it, I know my dad and brother do a lot”

With a smirk on his face something shifts “oh just your dad and brother, not you?”. You feel the breath knocked out of your lungs, just as you are about to open your mouth to respond, tiny roars make notice in the room and you almost fall at your nephew running to you, so you could pick him up. Silently you thank your nephew for the interruption.

Dinner goes smoothly. You sat at the opposite end of the table with the kids, while your brother, dad, and max were deep in conversation. You swore that Max kept looking at you though, sneaking glances.

As the check gets situated, all of you make your way out onto the busy streets of Japan. You hear your brother speak up “Y/N are you gonna come get ice cream with us” and while you were deeply contemplating it, you decided to pass up the offer and head back to the hotel.

“No I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel and pack, I want to take the kids to get breakfast tomorrow morning before we leave” you say.

“no puedes caminar solo es tarde en la noche” (you can't walk alone, it's late at night) your brother worries.

“Sergio, I'm fine, it's not that far from the hotel, I'll grab a taxi” before he could protest, Max jumped in.

“I can take a taxi back with y/n, I'm super tired after the race, and I'll make sure she makes it to her hotel room”

“Are you sure Max?” Sergio asks.

“Yes I'm sure, it was a lovely evening, thank you for inviting me”

Your family bids their farewells and walks away, leaving just the two of you waiting for a taxi. As you guys are picked up, you both don't say a word in the car, sitting in an uncomfortable silence. Max pays the driver and you thank him quietly. Making your way up to the floor where both of your rooms are, you stop at his first. “Thank you for bringing me back Max, I appreciate it”

“Of course it's no problem, hey I'm actually not really that tired, do you wanna play Fifa or watch a movie?” he asks. Something deep down is telling you to decline. Spending time with him is just going to dig you deeper in a hole with how you feel about him, nonetheless, you can't let this opportunity go and accept this offer.

Walking in you notice the room is ten times bigger than yours, with a balcony and jacuzzi tub in the middle of the bathroom. Max must notice your awe because he says “I don't know why they give us such big rooms, we are hardly ever even in here”

“Haha it's nice for Checo because the kids get to play around”

“You are really close with them, aren't you?”

“They are practically my own, when their mom is out doing business I usually keep them, I also help homeschool them”

“Well that's very sweet of you” he says while taking a seat on the bed, while motioning you to do the same.

“Do you want something to drink” he offers

“No I'm okay” you politely decline. You still can't believe this, you are in Max Verstappen's room all alone.

“Okay let's put on a movie! What are you up for, should we do action” you sense a sudden shift in his mood, you can't quite place it, maybe excitement. You believe he can probably sense that you are nervous. The mention of action makes your ears perk up.“Can we please watch fast and the furious, I am on a mission to have all my friends watch it”

Max doesn't protest, just laughs quietly and nods, setting the movie in place. You make yourself comfortable and take off your big hoop earrings and heels- even though they werent big by any means they still hurt you. Once you are back in bed with him, you notice him looking at you.

“Is there something on my face?” You laugh

“No i just guess I never noticed how different but similar you look from checo”

“Really? How so?” You question

“Well for one, you are very pretty, but you have the same freckles that Checo does covering your cheeks and nose” Max’s comment has you feeling shy, you know you must be sporting a prominent blush across your face and neck.

“well thank you Max, it's funny because growing up, i never had freckles, but i think being out in the sun for races and the kids karting tournaments have really brought them to surface”

“That's interesting, I admire how close to your family you are, something I wish I had” he says so quietly you almost miss it. You don't know what possesses you to do this but you place your hand over his and say “you are always welcome in this family max, we all love you, and no matter where sergio goes next year- you will always be welcomed with open arms”

He stares at you with a blank face- unable to tell what he's thinking you begin to think that was the wrong thing to say when suddenly he leans down a plants a gentle kiss over your lips. You gasp at the touch. Max pulls back with wide eyes and says “shit I shouldn't have done that, Checo will kill me if he found out”. Instead of agreeing with him, you keep your hand held tightly over his and whisper “he doesn't have to know”. That's all it seems to take for max to lean back in and start kissing you.

You grab the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric in your hands. His palm cups your jaw, slowly deepening the kiss. Once his tongue makes his way in, you let out a quiet moan.

Grabbing your hips, Max shifts your position so that you are laying on the bed while he towers over you. “You are so pretty y/n, been wanting to do this forever” he says while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. While you want to pour your heart out, your nerves stop you and all you can do is nod and say “want you so bad max”.

He continues to kiss you, tracing his mouth up and down your neck and along the junction between your shoulder and neck placing feather-like kisses. There’s nothing more that you want then for him to leave a big bruise plastered for everyone to see but you knew that wasn’t possible.

You grab his head and place your lips back on his. Moving his hand to your hair he grips it tightly, keeping you in his control. Slowly he rocks his hips down to meet yours, creating a union of moans to spill from the both of you. This must be the breaking point for max because he stops to take off his shirt and grabs your dress to do the same. Not before asking “is this okay”.

“Of course it’s okay, I want all of you” you whisper out. His pants also come off in the process. Both of you left in your underwear. You could feel yourself soaked through your panties. Max moves his hand so that his thumb is slowly running along your slit through the fabric. A moan is pushed out of you with a quiet plea of more.

Growing impatient you tug the straps of your bra down your shoulders exposing your breasts to him. This catches his attention because Max is on them immediately. Sucking and kissing them, basically worshiping them. “Fuck, these tits are perfect. They were practically popping out of your dress earlier, wanted to take you to the bathroom at the restaurant and just suck on them for hours”

You would have never guessed Max to be into dirty talk but it’s a pleasant surprise. “I want you in me Max, please, I’ve been waiting for this”

“How can I deny such a pretty girl? '' With that being said, Max gets up and walks to his bag to pull out what seems to be a condom. While he’s doing that, you shimmy your underwear down your legs and throw it somewhere in the room. Before he approaches the bed, Max takes his underwear off and you see his cock spring free. Your mouth instantly waters at the sight. He’s big, just like you thought he would be. Pale and veiny. Pink and wet at the tip.

You wanted him in you but not before you got a taste of him. You motion him up towards your mouth, so that his legs are on both sides of your shoulders. “I want to taste you, can I Max?” You said hoping your voice and eyes truly show the desire you have burning for him.

“Go ahead sweetie, suck me off”

That’s all you needed to hear before taking the tip in your mouth, lightly sucking. Max groans at the sensation and places a hand behind your head for support. Popping yourself off the tip, you lick a long strip under his shaft, following the prominent vein that lies there. You place feather-like kisses on the head hoping to tease him. As you look up at him, you see his mouth slightly agape, eyes stuck on you. “Don't tease me baby, c'mon”.

You start to bob your head, up and down, making sure you move your tongue back and forth. You palm at his balls and hear a hiss, thinking he must be sensitive.

“Fuck, you suck me off so good, this mouth was made for me, wasn't it y/n”

You whimper at the words and try to push yourself further down his cock. Grabbing your head, he pulls you off and says “I need to get in you”.

You nod your head fast and practically beg “please Max, please want you in me”.

As he positioned himself between your legs, he's looking directly at your core, you start to feel a bit insecure and try to close your legs, but he uses both his to keep them open. “You have such a pretty pussy, want to absolutely devour it” what he does next has you almost combust. He hovers his mouth over your core and lets a string of spit come done to coat you. Taking his index and middle finger he holds you open and lets another drop of spit fall on you. You are moaning so loud, you place your hand over your mouth to try and keep yourself quiet.

Max places two fingers in you while simultaneously rubbing slow circles over your clit. You are desperate for him to get in you. “Max I'm good, you can get in me”.

That's all he needs to hear before he puts his condom on and sinks into you. The burn is unlike anything you have felt before. You were definitely not used to his size but the stretch was addicting. As he builds up pace, you place your hands over his back, your fingernails gripping onto his shoulders, it feels so so good. “Faster” you whisper. Max listens. You could already feel the coil in your stomach about to snap, what pushes you over the edge is Max’s dirty talk. “You wrap around me so good, best pussy I've ever had, what would people think if they saw my roommate's sister coming all over my cock” you can't respond, all you can do is moan.

Finally catching your breath you say “you feel so good Max, you are gonna make me cum” and you tuck your head into his neck licking a fat stripe near his Adams apple. “I'm gonna come too, come with me y/n”.

The next couple of minutes go by in a blur, you feel yourself clenching on his cock, cumming while he pumps in and out of you with his hand rubbing at your clit. He kisses you hard as he groans into your mouth. “Fuck that was good” he states and all you can do is nod.

Max takes off his condom, and goes to the bathroom, returning in his underwear, with a warm washcloth. You feel embarrassed but you let him clean you up. You are left undressed so you ask if he could hand you your dress. The room is filled with an awkward tension. Max can tell because he lays down on the bed and pats it for you to lay with him.

You feel like you should decline and be on your way, not wanting to overstay your welcome. But you genuinely don't think this will ever happen again and want to cherish what little time you have in the same proximity. You lay with your head on his chest and his arm thrown over you with the tv playing in the background. Time passes quickly and within 30 minutes you hear soft snores coming out of max. You take this as your cue to leave. You slip yourself away and gather your belongings. Taking one last glance at him you smile and quietly make your way out of the room.

You don't have a lot of time to reflect once you get back to your room because you have to shower, and pack for your flight in the morning. You don't know if you and Max will ever reconnect like that, but you are grateful for the time you shared.

You don't see or hear from Max before you leave Japan, but maybe it's for the best. Your brother didn't expect anything and you are determined to keep it that way.

The first couple of weeks back in Mexico were rough, slowly recovering from your trip. Around 6 weeks after being home and two more grand prix taking place, you feel sick, like a stomach bug has really knocked you down. It was so bad that you weren't able to go to the Miami gp like you wanted.

Deciding it has been lingering for far too long you decide to go to the doctor. The first thing they ask you is if it's possible if you are pregnant. Your first thought is no, but you remember you and Max had hooked up around two months ago. You feel a pit in your stomach and your heart rate speeds up. You couldn't be right, he wore a condom, and you hadn't had sex for like a year prior to that.

After you take your pee test, you have never been more scared or felt more alone. You want your mom here. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor came in with a smile and sat down. “Congratulations y/n you are pregnant”. The world came to a stand still and all you can do is cry.

Because how in the hell are you going to tell your brother you are pregnant with his teammate's baby. How are you going to tell Max that you are pregnant?

Simple. You won't.

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thewritetofreespeech · 3 days

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May I request Nanami and Gojo finding out their s/o got disowned by her father, who is one of the higher-ups, because she showed mercy and defended Yuuji?

Nanami Kento

It was late at night when he got the knock at the door. So late, in fact, that Nanami was just about to go to bed, already in his pajamas with his teeth brushed, when he heard it.

“[Y/N]?” He asked curiously when he saw them there. Standing in front of his door, looking a mixture of distraught, sad, and just hopeless. A strange case given that they were usually so confident and strong as a Special Grade Sorcerer. “What’s wrong? Has someone died?”

“No. No one has died. I guess that’s the problem.” Nanami arched a brow at their cryptic comment, before they let out a shaky sigh. “Can I stay here tonight?”

He of course let them in. Offering tea or some kind of comforting drink, although they don’t take him up on the offer. “Will you tell me what’s wrong, please?”

They eventually break down and tell him everything. About the boy that ate one of Sukuna’s fingers. How he was slated for execution, which was cruel but reasonable in their world, and how that idiot had them stick their neck out to vouch for the boy’s hold even though they didn’t know a thing about him. Of course, Nanami knew that they would speak up for him. They had an incredible sense of morality and standing up for the weak. ‘That’s the job, isn’t it?’ They had told him that more than once.

Apparently not everyone shared their noble heart, it seemed. Not even those in her own family. For standing up to the higher ups and ‘embarrassing’ the family her father kicked her out with threats of disownment and banishment. Whether or not he meant to follow through would be a problem for tomorrow, but right now she was out on the street. Which in his opinion was unforgiveable already.

“You can stay here as long as you like.” Nanami told them. Amending their original request from earlier to stay the night.

[Y/N] sniffle once, but seem hell bent on refusing to cry. Nanami told them to take a shower if they wanted and he would find them some clothes to sleep in. They literally had nothing on them. So they would have to make do.

Both of them now in pajamas with their teeth brushed, [Y/N] curled up beside him and tried to get some sleep. It seemed a struggle, but the emotional exhaustion took hold, he thinks, and they both try to get the best night sleep possible for the hell that was to greet them in the morning.

Gojo Satoru

Gojo whistled down the hall as he made his way from one part of campus to the other. He was quite pleased with himself.

It wasn’t every day he got to ridicule and humiliate the higher-ups; despite his attempts and life’s goal to make it an everyday occurrence on his part. Those old fools didn’t know what hit ‘em when Gojo plead his case and told them what happened. He might not have gotten this Yuji kid off scot-free, but he bought him some time. That’s all he needed for Gojo’s master plan to come to fruition (whatever it was).

He passed a familiar doorway and saw a light was on. Thinking it had been left on by mistake, he invited himself in and was surprised to see [Y/N] there. Boxes on their desk as they were throwing things into it.

“Hey, isn’t it a little early for spring cleaning?”

“Not for me.” They told him. “I have to be out of here by morning.” Gojo tilted his head to the side, so they explained further. “I’ve been sacked.”

Gojo’s face was one of alarm. “Wait. What are you talking about?” They couldn’t have been fired. Really? For what??

“Apparently my behavior at the council meeting was ‘unbecoming of an educator at this institution’.”

Gojo growled in his throat. “That’s bullshit! I was there too, and it was my idea! I did all the talking!”

“Yes, but I don’t have the Gojo name to defend me.” His ire and shoulder fell. Oh shit….

“They seriously fired you?” [Y/N] nodded. He clicked his teeth. “Can’t you do something? Your dad maybe?” He’d hate to ask him for any favors, but if it kept [Y/N] here they should take it.

“Who do you think signed my ‘death warrant’?”

He wanted to say he was surprised, but he wasn’t.

“I’m sorry [Y/N]. I didn’t realize that you might –“you did the right thing Satoru. Even if it was originally for selfish reasons.” He sighed. So he guessed they knew that the only reason he initially did this was to piss this old coots off. They lifted the box and put in on their hip. “I’ll be fine. I’m not exiled entirely. Not yet. I’m still a Special Grade. Still can go on missions.”

“Yeah. Ones that will get you killed.” They all knew what happened to people who weren’t Gojo that stood up to the council. They were given mission in far off places and then ‘died under mysterious circumstances’ while in Brazil or Cameroon or something.

[Y/N] let out a bitter chuckle. “They’d have to catch me first. For now, I need to find a place to stay. Get an apartment. They took away my professor housing too, and I obviously can’t go home to dear-old-dad.”

“You’re staying with me.” Gojo cut in quickly.

[Y/N] seemed surprised, but quickly schooled it into coy. “Ooo….I never thought we’d be in a point in our relationship where we were moving in together.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Gojo grabbed the box they were carrying and helped carry it out. “I really am sorry.” He apologized on the way.

“I know.” They told him. But that was all they said this time. No ‘you had a good reason’, ‘you did what you could’, ‘it’s not your fault’. He suddenly felt all the more guilty. He had to remember more often that just because things couldn’t touch him, that other people weren’t as lucky. Collateral damage was something he never thought of. He’d need to think about that more in the future. Especially with his new student.

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dyaz-stories · 2 days

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open the blinds, let me see your face || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: After the death of one of his former students, Satoru insists he's fine. He's lying.

word count: 1k

cw: canon compliant, teacher!reader, angst, minor character death, hurt/comfort, implied fwb relationship with gojo

a/n: reader is the same as in say my name and everything just stops (smut, please only read if you're comfortable with that)

soundtrack

You stand by the door of the morgue, leaning against the wall, arms folded against your chest. Less than an hour ago, you received Ijichi’s report. Factual, direct, stern words. A curse was misclassed. The exorcist sent to deal somehow still managed to complete the job, but passed away as he was being taken back. It’s a story you’ve heard before; it’s a story you’ll hear again.

Except this time, you knew that name.

Of course, you have a good knowledge of most registered exorcists in Japan. Your job requires that. This particular exorcist, you hadn’t met personally — but you’d heard stories.

He was one of the students Gojo taught during his first year as a teacher at Jujutsu High.

You know he’s already inside, and you don’t want to interrupt him at a time of grieving, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away.

Just a few minutes ago, Shoko passed by you, giving you a polite nod. She looked tired, unlit cigarette hanging from her lips as she entered the room. You know it’s only a matter of time before she starts handling the body, which means any moment now, Gojo will come out.

You’re not sure what you will do, not really sure why you’re here. You suppose what it comes down to is that you don’t know that he’ll have anyone else. The idea of him being alone, at such a time, makes your heart ache.

So you wait.

It’s a few minutes more before he steps out. He looks the same as he always does: blindfold on, hair an elegant mess, shoulders relaxed. A smile forms on his lips when he sees you, with just an instant of delay, just a moment too late, and in a few steps, he reaches you.

“Aw, did you miss me already?”

His tone is light, his body language playful, in the way he leans forward to tower over you.

You know better than to buy into it.

“I came to check on you,” you say. “I got Ijichi’s report.”

“Ah, about that?” he asks, pointing towards the closed doors. “That’s handled, don’t worry about it. Unfortunately,” a heavy sigh, “I’m afraid I got some things to take care of now, so I’m going to have to cut this short.”

He pulls away so fast all you can do is blink, turning away from you to keep walking. You follow after him, struggling to keep up with his wide strides.

“I’m fine,” he lies without so much as glancing in your direction. “It’s not the first person we lose.”

“Satoru,” you say, and he pauses for a second, tilting his head to look at you.

“Aw,” he teases, “pulling out the ‘Satoru’? You’re really worried aren’t ya?”

Annoyance bubbles inside of you, but you know that’s why he’s doing this. It would be so easy to throw your hands up and decide that he is fine and you should just let him be.

Except if you do that, he’ll truly be alone.

“I am,” you answer genuinely. It’s the best way you’ve found to deal with this. Honest, direct answers, engaging with what he means instead of his tone or behavior. You watch him swallow, and you know you’ve made the right call.

“I’m fine,” he says, a little colder this time.

“Satoru…” you say again, reaching out to touch his face — except your hand stops, a few inches away from his body.

It takes you a second to understand what happened, and once you do, cold washes over you. Outside of sparring session, he’s never used the Infinity to shut you out. You’re aware that the spell is active at all times. You’re also aware that he can choose what he does and does not let in.

“I really do have to go,” he tells you, no longer playful, but he does nothing to move away.

You don’t remove your hand.

After a few seconds, during which neither of you move, he sighs, and the spell allows you in. Gently, your fingers brush against his cheek, and he leans into your touch, ever so slightly.

“I’m fine,” he repeats for a third time, voice even weaker.

There is no need for you to be the strongest right now,’ you want to say. ‘You get to be weak, too,’ you want to say.

“You don’t have to be,” you say instead, cupping his cheek and lightly stroking it. The moment feels fragile. This is not what your relationship is supposed to be — but then again, it had never been just sex, either.

With a trembling sigh, Gojo’s body melts into you. His arms wrap around you, he buries his face in your neck, and he relaxes fully. The hallway is empty except for the two of you, and on another day maybe you would worry about getting caught. Today, it doesn’t matter, and you just close your arms around him, and let him be.

When he pulls away, long fingers tilt your head towards him, only the fingertips brushing against your skin, as if you were made of porcelain and he feared breaking you. He kisses you oh so softly, a caress of his mouth against yours. You press your lips back against his, tilting your head back to give him a better access. It only lasts a second — a second during which you can feel him containing himself — before he takes a step back.

“I need to go check that there’s nothing left out there,” he says, composing himself once more. “But I’ll make sure to visit you when I get back, m’kay?”

He points a finger at you, and you’re sure he’d be winking, if not for the blindfold.

You roll your eyes and scoff, letting him put the mask back on. It’s not the first time someone he knows dies, it won’t be the last either. Everyone, in this line of work, has come to terms with that — but Satoru Gojo is one of the few who never gets a moment to grieve, before he’s needed elsewhere.

“If you must.”

“Oh, but I must, you’d miss me too much if I didn’t, right?”

“If you wake me up, I swear you’ll regret it.”

“A small price to pay,” he grins. “I’ll see you soon.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, and you’re left standing in the hallway, alone.

He was right. You would have missed him.

just a quick little thing, hope you liked it! please consider reblogging and commenting to support me if you enjoy my work and would like to see more of it ^-^

you can find more of my gojo x reader writing here if you're interested

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #gojo imagine #gojo drabble #jujutsu kaisen drabble #my writing #jjk imagine #jjk x y/n

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rninies · 8 hours

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✮ she looks just like a dream

౨ৎ sunday x reader. fluff, fem!reader, ceo!sunday is really hot idc, inspired by tears of themis marius card (iykyk), sunday might be ooc im sorry </3 — wc: 2,836

notes. guys i love sunday i want him so bad please

you hold on to the folds of your dress as you look around at the throng of people around you. two days ago, sunday extended an invitation to you to come to a charity auction he would be hosting tonight. one of his assistants had picked you up soon after you had finished with your paperwork, and here you are, taking in the wondrous architecture of a famous resort’s lobby.

everything looks so expensive here, you think, a grim expression on your face. rich people do have it easy, huh.

“please wait here a moment,” his assistant tells you. “i’ll get your registration finalized for you.”

“thank you.” you smile at him, watching her round the corner and leave you alone. again. you desperately want to give sunday a call, but you know he must be busy greeting guests and taking care of the preparations, so with a heavy sigh, you decide against it.

as you watch the stream of wealthy-looking people come in, a conversation catches your interest.

“who does sunday think he is? ordering people around like that!” you turn your head to see two people, seemingly a bit older than you, talking to each other. “i’ve been in the family's corporations longer than him, so there’s nothing to be afraid of!”

you are just about to approach them, but his assistant bustles back with papers. “your registration is done. come with me, i’ll lead you to the venue.” you turn your head back, about to protest, but causing a scene would be more than you bargained for, so you reluctantly follow him into the elevator.

an awkward silence engulfs the metal box you both are standing in before the assistant breaks it. “you don’t have to worry about what he said. he’s been like this for a long time.”

“eh?” you chirp, shocked. “y-you heard that?”

“yes,” he chuckles. “it’s quite common, i would say. i’m quite used to hearing those awful remarks they say about master sunday. he said he doesn’t mind, anyway, so it’s no use trying to defend him.”

you smile a bit at that. typical, indifferent sunday. “yeah… that’s true,” you murmur as the elevator comes to a halt. when you step out, you immediately feel overwhelmed by the flood of people greeting you.

maybe it’s because you’re used to only seeing a few people in the law firm and the fact that you don’t go out to parties often that you feel nauseous at the sight of the overcrowded room. you tried searching for sunday through the mass, but your height makes it harder for you to see above people’s heads.

you eventually spot him reclining in a chair, talking to a few people you recognize as the VIPs of the event. he looks like he isn’t going to finish any time soon, so you wave your hand and mouth that you’ll be waiting for him as sunday glances at you. your boyfriend gives you a small smile before turning his attention back to the group.

there is something different about sunday on this occasion, you decide. you’re used to seeing him in suits at important events, but the fact that his family crest is embossed on the suit makes it so much different. he looks so… different.

“y/n?” sunday's voice knocks you out of your daydream and back into reality. “why do you look so dazed? do i look so attractive that you aren’t able to take your eyes off me?”

your face flushes red, quickly turning away. “w-what are you talking about? you don’t look attractive. i was simply thinking about what drink to get,” you say, regaining your composure. though, you aren’t able to deny the fact that sunday is indeed attractive, even in his normal attire.

curse him and his family genes, you think to yourself.

“eh? love, why are you so mean to me these days?” sunday whines, his infamous puppy dog eyes coming into play. he always uses them on you, knowing they have such an effect on you. there isn’t a single moment in which the use of his puppy dog eyes doesn't make you tell the truth or agree to something he suggested. you, however, learned how to resist sunday's temptations.

“never mind that, mr. sunday,” you remark, a twinkle in your eyes as you look up at him. “if you were busy, you didn’t have to come to me. it looks like people are still wanting to talk to you,” you say, looking around at the throng almost surrounding you both. sunday gives a little chuckle.

“mm, that’s true. i’m quite famous, aren’t i?” sunday returns rather smugly, making you frown. “i’m just kidding! either way, i’m pretty sure they already understand that if I am currently talking to you, i don’t want to be disturbed because no one is trying to disturb-”

“excuse me, master sunday,” sunday's assistant appears, cutting sunday off abruptly. “there’s someone here who’d like to speak to you.”

the heir of the family sighs. “you really had to choose the worst timing,” he grumbles, running a hand through his hair. “okay, i’ll be back, so stay put,” sunday continues, leaving to follow his assistant. you watch him until he’s out of sight, getting up to choose a drink. refreshers in every shade of color are laid out on the table that you almost don’t know which to pick.

“are you having trouble choosing a drink, my lady?” an unfamiliar voice emerges behind you, and turning around you realize that it is one of the men complaining about sunday in the lobby. “you don’t look too familiar with these drinks so how about you let me help you, hm?”

you cringe slightly at the attempt to flirt, but you offer him a smile in hopes of being polite. “oh, um, no thank you. i can get someone else to help me.”

the man shows no signs of leaving you alone, making you even more uncomfortable. “are you sure? all of the staff are busy as of the moment, so i can help.”

i might as well accept his offer. he doesn’t look like he’ll take no as an answer, you grimace before forcing a pleasant smile on your face. “okay, sure. which drink should-”

“ah, there you are!” sunday materializes, wrapping a hand around your waist and leaning over you. “i’ve been looking all over for you, sweetheart,” he drawls, you raise an eyebrow at the use of the new pet name. you soon catch up with the fact that he’s trying to help you out of this awkward situation.

“sunday! sorry for disappearing. i got thirsty and wanted to get something to drink so here i am,” you take a look at the man beside you, who lets out a ‘tch’ with a scowl on his face and leaves, allowing you to let your breath go. “thanks, sunday. he wouldn’t leave me alone ever since i got to this table.”

“yuki, huh,” sunday mutters, arm still around you. “he’s always been trying to get on my nerves. ever since i was revealed to be the heir to family corporation, that is.”

“really?” you query, surprise crossing over your face. “i overheard him- oh!” an exclamation leaves your sentence hanging as a waiter accidentally bumps into you, spilling the drinks he was carrying onto your dress.

“ah! i am so sorry, madam!” the waiter panics, whipping out a few napkins in an attempt to wipe away the mess on your dress. “i wasn’t watching my step, please forgive me!” he looks even more nervous when he glimpses sunday standing beside you with a minuscule frown on his face.

“hey, hey! it’s okay! this happens a lot during parties anyway,” your try at calming the waiter down wasn’t working, so you nudge sunday to help you reassure the former.

“ow!” sunday hisses, tenderly rubbing the area you elbowed. “i-it’s okay. just be more careful of where you’re going next time, okay?”

“yes!” the waiter squeaks out and leaves, but not before gracing you with another ‘sorry!’ for his mistake. as soon as he disappears, a small pout envelops your face.

“aw, now what am i supposed to do?” you wonder, patting your stained dress with a few more tissues sunday offers you. “I don’t have any spare clothes.”

“hehe,” sunday's little laugh catches your attention, and you furrow your eyebrows in reply. “you, my lady, are in luck because you have the sunday as your boyfriend and he’s always prepared for emergencies like this. come on, let’s go to the guest room.”

“why are we going there?” you question. you’re used to sunday and his little surprises, but you never imagined that he would have a spare change of clothes lying around for you to wear.

“to get you to change, of course!” sunday responds enthusiastically, grabbing a hold of your hand. he finds his assistant first, though, “if anyone asks where i am, tell them i have an important matter to take care of.”

you let out a giggle. “really? important matter? how is this important?”

“that’s because you’re always the most important in my eyes,” sunday tells you with his boyish grin, and he says with such ease that your cheeks are dusted pretty pink. you smile to yourself, a giddy grin, feeling as if it were only you and sunday in the world.

“okay, here we are,” sunday says as you arrive at a room, unlocking it with a gold-clasped key he procures from his pocket. “you can go ahead and change. i’ll wait out here.”

you nod in agreement, entering the room and shutting the door behind you. your gaze immediately falls upon a strikingly gorgeous violet dress laid out on the bed before you, adorned with layers and layers of deep purple that glows under the soft moonlight; complimenting the necklace spread out beside it.

at first glance, it seems like a normal necklace anyone could find in jewelry stores, but as you step forward to take a closer look, you let out a soft gasp: your name is engraved on it. you pick it up, noting how the necklace itself feels expensive.

though, you suppose, you should be used to expensive gifts from sunday. the man had been doing this even before they were dating. you let out a fond sigh; a small smile on your face as you take your dirty dress off to change into the one sunday had prepared.

sunday didn’t have to wait long for you, for you soon opens the door. sunday eyes widen, staring at you in the dress and the necklace he had bought two weeks previously. you look stunning.

you look like you had just stepped out of a fantasy royal novel.

a princess.

you look just like a dream. the prettiest girl sunday has ever seen.

“sunday? hello?” you wave a hand in front of his face, pulling him out of his daydream. “h-how do i look?”

“gorgeous,” sunday isn’t able to say anything other than that; his mind malfunctioning faster than his coffee machine had done this morning. “it-it looks really nice on you. i mean, of course it does, i was the one who chose that dress anyway.”

you press a quick, gentle kiss on sunday's lips, causing sunday to freeze on the spot for the second time that evening. “thank you, sunday. i loved the necklace too, by the way.”

sunday gives you a small smile and another peck on the cheek. “let’s go. the auction is about to start soon,” he says, extending his hand to you and feeling his heart flutter as you take it.

the room they had left is filled with even more people, and if you were being honest, it was suffocating you. you take a seat close to the brightly decorated stage, watching sunday take control of the whole room.

“everyone, welcome to the second charity auction event hosted by the family corporation!” sunday exclaims joyously, as the people in the venue applaud politely. “i won’t be taking too much time for tonight’s opening ceremony, so, without further ado, let the event start!” sunday bows, and signals to the auctioneer to take the lead as he returns to your side.

the auction, with quite a few bidders raising the prices of objects you think shouldn’t cost more than a few hundred dollars, goes smoothly until it reaches the last object.

“alright, our last item for tonight! an amethyst hairpin starting at the cost of one thousand dollars!” the auctioneer states, waiting for bids.

“two thousand!” a hand emerges from the crowd.

“tch… three thousand!”

“three thousand five hundred!”

“four thousand!”

“ten thousand,” sunday interrupts smoothly, shocking both you and the audience. you stare wide-eyed at him, in disbelief that he would bid that much in an auction you didn’t expect him to participate in.

“ten thousand dollars from mr. sunday! going once,” counting down, the auctioneer stares around, but no one seems ready to object. “going twice… sold to mr. sunday at ten thousand dollars!” applause erupts from the audience, congratulating sunday for obtaining the hairpin. you clap as well, figuring out who sunday would spend that much money on a hairpin for (though, to be honest, you already have a feeling who it’s for).

you soon find out though - his assistant soon brings the hairpin over to sunday, who inspects it closely, smiling as he hands it over to you. “here, it’s for you.”

“eh?!” you cry out, in shock, that sunday would be giving you something worth more than your whole apartment. “wh-what do you mean? i thought- wait, huh?!”

sunday only laughs gaily at your reaction, eliciting the attention of bystanders. “why are you so shocked? the necklace you’re wearing costs almost as much as this hairpin. plus, this is a thank-you gift. i know you don’t really like going to big events like this but you still came.”

“of course i did,” you beam softly. “you’re my boyfriend after all - wouldn’t miss any of your events for the world. now, did you want to place the hairpin on me?”

sunday nods, sliding the hairpin slowly into your beautiful hair. the light shade of purple the hairpin reflects matches the dress you had on, and the sight makes sunday's heart fill with joy.

there’s something about you that feels different in sunday's eyes. you look so… dazzling and gorgeous that he fumbles for words to express himself.

“hm, it matches you very well as expected,” sunday says, a soft tone engulfing his usual cheeky voice. “now then, would you like to escape, my lady?”

“huh?” the sound barely leaves your mouth before sunday drags you away from the auction site, quickly getting into an elevator and pressing the doors shut before anyone could catch up to them. as soon as it opens again at the lobby, sunday makes a beeline for the exit, you thankfully not tripping on your heels.

sunday spots an empty park up ahead, and as expected sunday dashes across to it, letting go of your hand as you both drop to the grass.

you both lie in silence for a few moments, panting, before bursting into sweet laughter that interrupts the solace of the quiet evening.

“that… was probably one of the most epic moments i had… since forever!” sunday exclaims, turning to you with happiness painted over his face. “i was surprised you didn’t try protesting in the elevator.”

“how could i?” you return, out of breath. “i wanted to get out of there… as well. as much as i liked being with you in the family's events, i’d rather have it this way. just the two of us.”

“hm. just the two of us, huh? aw, you flatter me, baby,” sunday coos at you. he suddenly sits up, fumbling through the folds of his suit and sighing in relief when he holds his phone up. “oh, thank god. i thought i left my phone back there,” giving you a small smile, a familiar song starts playing. “would you like to dance, my lady?”

you take his smooth, outstretched hand, placing both hands on his broad shoulders while sunday places one of his hands on your waist.

you both aren’t doing anything special, barely any experience in dancing, and yet your bodies flow gracefully to the tune of the gentle song across the chilly night wind, dancing slowly under the glow of the moon.

with your foreheads pressed against each other’s, you lock eyes, basking in the beautiful moment together. relaxing never came easy to you both, given your incredibly busy schedules, but once given the chance, you both will take it in a heartbeat.

the familiar worries of being rude don’t cross your mind at all, realizing that you’re too focused on sunday. slow dancing in the dark with only the moon to light their dance floor, away from the chatter of the crowd. absolutely perfect.

the song quickly comes to an end, ending your lover’s dance with a small brush of lips.

“i love you so much, sunday” you whisper softly.

“i love you more, love,” sunday replies, the ghost of a grin upon his lips.

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yuri-is-online · 3 days

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One Sided Love Triangles: Tokyo Debunker

Link to Twisted Wonderland Post

Because I hate when people have to lose. Though I'd be way more comfortable writing a normal love triangle for tdb than twst... there's a few of these bitches who could stand to be knocked down a peg or two.

Haru vs Peekaboo- betrayal never comes from your enemies does it. Haru wants to be happy you get along with his baby, and he's really grateful for your continued help in the anomalous animal sanctuary, really. He even originally found your interactions with Peekabo really cute! He's got a bunch of videos saved on his phone and everything but he can't help but feel just a wee bit bitter. He really wants to be the one with his head in your lap getting scritches and being told how cute he is. Something he'd never say to your face but whines about at the bar enough for Romeo to record and send to you. "For free?" Yeah for free he's had enough of this shit please come get your man MC.

Kaito vs Luca- this one is cannon to a degree I think... Kaito is deeply insecure about how much more confident Luca is around MC compared to him and how the girls on campus seem to like him more. The fact that he's so painfully oblivious doesn't help, meanwhile Luca is just overjoyed that his two best friends are in such a good relationship. You're genuinely perfect for each other, why all these secrecy and making him promise not to tell the other about the nice things you say? Isn't it natural to gush about your partner???

Towa vs Ren- Towa is such a pouty baby who doesn't fully understand his feelings and Ren is just happy to have a friend who understands the concept of a log in bonus. Neither of you fully realize that Towa is attempting to flirt, or would it be closer to say woo? All you know is one minute the two of you are casually chilling and talking about horror movies or something and then *BAM* Towa's thrown some flowers at Ren and pulled you into his lap. He's happy you wiggle to get comfy with him but very upset that you keep up your conversation with Ren. Stop being a good senpai and pay attention to hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim.

Tohma vs Leo- just hear me out. I don't think Tohma really gets jealous? He seems super secure in himself and his abilities so he doesn't have much of a reason to get whiny and silly over MC, that's your role in the relationship. And he knows, logically that this little video Leo uploaded is bait to test the security on campus but it doesn't stop him from damn near cracking his phone in half when he sees it. That's how Leo wants to play this little game? Well fine, Tohma hopes he's ready to be thoroughly humiliated. No one can flirt with another man's partner quite as well as a bitch with a monocle. Leo is totally unaware any of this for the most part, he just assumes the extra irritation he's picking up on from Tohma is because he keeps spying on him and Alan. The fact he keeps teasing MC doesn't even cross his mind, he's just doing that to irritate you.

... as a side note can you imagine how confused everyone would get if Leo and MC kept picking fights about their upcoming "divorce" when no one even thought they were ever technically together. Except for Ritsu who sits you down to seriously try to talk you in to let him being your divorce attorney and still doesn't fully get that it's a joke by the time you're done. Actually while I'm at it:

Leo vs Ritsu- where that's exactly your dynamic but Leo starts catching some genuine feelings when he tries to crack a joke about you cheating on him with your divorce attorney only to realize that makes him unironically angry. How dare you, after everything you've been through. Wasn't he he enough? You know he can't treat you like he can. And you're just like "what can't treat me wrong?" And then you have a very toxic make out session Sho has to hear both of you scream about later while he seriously considers taking up a drinking problem.

Taiga vs Haru- this game has one character named Haru (ginger, baby) and one named Haku (green, evil?) Which confuses me an unreasonable amount. I already mentioned I wanted a serious Taiga vs Haku love triangle... but Taiga vs Haru would just be silly. You have MC who loves anomalous animals and hanging out in Jabberwock and Taiga who hates emotional intimacy and his feelings for MC just as much as he hates the idea of you being with anyone else. And of all people why Harry? He thought they were friends... or cool at least even if he won't let him eat that chinchilla thing. And now he's got MC playing defense for it too, it's irritating. He already has to fight himself to remember who you are every time he sees you again and go through the annoyance of recognizing he's a bit in love and now he can't even break into the animal sanctuary without tripping over himself and paying attention to you instead. It's annoying and it's all Haru's fault for having everything he wants. (If you ask he'll say that complaint is about Peekaboo but Haru and Romeo know it's not.) Haru is just trying to get some help from a trusted friend he's so stressed out ;-;

Sho vs Jin- Sho and his excuses... he doesn't want to just invite you to hang out and he doesn't want to ask you to come help him with the food truck because you've got so much else to do. You deserve a chance to rest, and he wants to be who you come to do that with. But Jin... he'd make that so much easier if it was him wouldn't he? He's rich and connected, and you're so sweet he's sure you could thaw that frozen heart enough for him to see you as human and not a gopher. Sho knows you, the moment he started paying attention to you he saw you as a person. But he still hurt you... and Jin didn't really do that did he? Jin doesn't like Sho because he's in Vagastrom and he doesn't trust him with your safety. Sho might see a rival and a better option, but what he's really dealing with is MC's disapproving dad who can't stand that their boyfriend has a leather jacket and a motorbike. He bets he's got tattoos and an arrest record too doesn't he MC, Jin is judging you so hard.

#tokyo debunker #tdb #tokyo debunker x reader #tdb x reader

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ramblingoak · 2 days

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Stolen Frosting

Mushy May in Lucifer's Hollow: Day 2 - Late Night Snacks

Phantom x Swiss

This fic is set in an alternate universe in a town called Lucifer's Hollow. For Mushy May I'll be using the prompts to post little snippets of life for the humans and ghouls that live there 💙 Thank you to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together!

~ In Lucifer's Hollow Phantom owns a bakery, Sweets and Treats, and Swiss is the gym teacher at Lucifer's Hollow High School. ~

Warnings: fluff and that is all, sfw, 500 words (thank you to @ghuleh-recs for the dividers!)

“I know this looks bad.”

Phantom remained still, continuing to stand in the doorway to his kitchen silently. Swiss shifted his weight from foot to foot, his claws tapping the tile softly. Behind him his tail swished rapidly back and forth as he waited for the other ghoul to do something, anything. After another handful of seconds passed, Swiss just gave up, scooping another spoonful up of the absolute heaven he had found in Phantom’s fridge and shoving it in his mouth.

“Really?!”

“I’m sorry!” Swiss’s words were garbled with the spoon still in his mouth and he winced when his fangs clacked against the metal. Quickly he yanked the spoon away, tossing it into the sink and then closed the container. “I was starving and I found this and unholy shit it’s amazing.”

Swiss could tell Phantom was preening under the compliment but the quintessence ghoul was doing his best to hide it. He pouted when Phantom came over and took the container out of his hands, shoving it back in the fridge.

“Frosting isn’t food.”

“It is if I eat enough of it, lemme have the rest.” Swiss attempted to get at the door handle but Phantom hip checked him. “Where’d you buy that anyway?”

“I made it.” Swiss froze in his attempts to get into the fridge, staring in disbelief at Phantom. The ghoul suddenly became shy, his cheeks pinking up adorably. “Did you forget what I do for a living?”

“No, of course not.” How could he when Phantom smelled like sugar and cinnamon and a thousand other amazing things all the time? “I guess I just didn’t think you’d make frosting from scratch.”

“I make everything from scratch.” Lucifer, Phantom looked too damn cute standing there all proud of himself. Swiss leaned in and quickly kissed him, enjoying the taste of frosting and Phantom on his lips. When he pulled away the ghoul looked both surprised and pleased. “What was that for?”

“Being adorable.” The blush was back and Swiss couldn’t help but wrap an arm around Phantom’s waist to pull him closer. “And the frosting, of course.”

“The stolen frosting.” Swiss’s stomach chose that moment to growl and it was the multi ghoul’s turn to blush. “Still hungry?”

“Famished.”

Their eyes met and something unsaid passed between them, something that had been brewing for days now. Swiss lowered his head to kiss Phantom again, as gently as he could manage. He was lucky Phantom had let him stay the night and he didn’t want to push him. If all he could do was kiss Phantom in this kitchen for the rest of his days he’d be happy.

“I could make you something?” Phantom pulled away and grabbed an apron hanging off the wall quickly tying it around his waist. “Cupcakes?”

“Marry me.” Oh shit, Swiss's eyes widened and he immediately held his hands up, “Sorry, I mea—“

“Let’s make them first.” Phantom flashed him a smile and then wandered over with an apron for Swiss. As he walked around him to tie it at the back he leaned up close to Swiss's ear, “You can decide if they’re worth marriage after trying one.”

Swiss spun around, reaching up to gently hold Phantom's head in his hands.

"Baby, you had me at the frosting."

If you'd like to be added/removed from the tag list (or if I accidentally left your name off) of this fic or any of my others please leave a comment or send me a dm! Thank you 💙

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

More snippets from this verse are on my masterlist under "Ongoing Series"!

#mushy may 2024 #swiss x phantom #swiss x aeon #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfic #tales from lucifer's hollow #oakie's writing #nameless ghouls

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beary-rambles · 1 day

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Worth it

Summary: your little sister has a big crush on cregan stark, you attempt to help her score him but his eyes seem to be stuck somewhere else.

c.w: reader is older than cregan, reader is 24, cregan, jace and readers sister are 21, tension, fingering (fem), sister is referred to as kit, cregan is taller (not specified how much) not proofread

w.c: 2k

a.n: was asked if i could do modern cregan and im like OFC !! once i open up my requests again i will definitely add cregan to my list !!

masterlist

You just watch as your sister paces around your room with a bored face.

“kit-”

“What am i gonna wear? omg my nails look so bad i knew i should have gotten my nails done yesterday fuck!”

Your sister had gotten an invite to a party tonight but it wasn’t just any party. It was cregan starks party. your sister has had a big crush on cregan since the beginning of this school year. You have seen him around before, living in a college town leads to you seeing most of the college students around. You hated to say it but he was hot.

But you can’t tell that to her, when she showed you his picture you acted like you thought he was ugly to make her happy, knowing she would have lost it if you told her you thought he was hot. He was just your type, a bigger guy that clearly worked out, he was kind from what you had heard about him. But none of that mattered what you did know is your sister was completely delusionally in love with him and wanted to sleep with him tonight.

“Kit it’ll be fine, you’re cute, if he doesn’t like you then he can go fuck him.”

“ugh but i want him to fuck me!” she flops face first onto your bed with a groan and you just roll your eyes. “You’re acting like this over a guy….” “I know i know but you must get it, wanting a guy so badly.” You stop and think to yourself. You’ve been with a couple guys in the past but when you try to think about anyone the only guy that pops up in your head is cregan. No. It must be because your sister was just talking about him.

“I guess? but i promise you will never catch me rolling around like a baby and whining over one.” She lifts her head and pouts at you, “I am not.” “I didn’t even say it was you but if the shoe fits.” She stands mumbling to herself about how much she hates you but you just laugh and fall back.

“Well what are you gonna wear tonight?” “What are you talking about?” “They said i can only come if you come with me.” You sit up and look at her confused, “What?” “That's what Jace said, oh and he asked if we can pick up some booze.” That must be it, but you have no clue why you have to come. and how close was she to these people they know who you are?

“im not a college student kit it would be fucking weird if i showed up.” “Y/n please i really wanna go,” she pouts and you and laces her hands together to beg you. You can’t say no to your sister. Your face must admit defeat because all attempts of arguing with you sister go down the drain as she throws and dress at you and demands you get changed so she can go see if she can try to chat with cregan. Fuck it, you’ll stay for like twenty minutes or atleast until you see cregan and your sister chatting then you’ll leave.

You feel awkward as soon as you walk in, especially since your sister runs away from you basically as soon as you step through the door because she spotted some of her friends. You grip the boxes of beer you have tightly in your hand as you try to glance around to find a kitchen. You walk around a bit and manage to find it, letting out a sigh of relief as you place down the boxes.

“Thanks gorgeous.” You jump and turn around being faced with the man himself. “Cregan.” He had a wide grin on his face, “My reputation proceeds me.” You open and close your mouth trying to come up with something to say. God he was hot. fuck you can think like that. Your eyes drift down and you can see a little bit of his chest due to his unbuttoned shirt and hear him laugh and look back up and you see him just watching you. You take a major step back as you flush.

”I'm sorry-” “Don’t apologize i like you looking at me.” He moves closer to you and you move back until you hit the table and he’s standing right in front of you. “You’re beautiful.” “Thank you..” You look away from him and from where you are you can see you sister chatting with her friends. Your eyes widen and you push his chest making him stumble back from you out of view.

“I can’t talk to you.” He raises one of his eyebrows, the look on his face never dropping. “And why can’t i?” you shake your head trying to move around him so you can leave, “I'm not a student.” “I know.” He keeps on standing in front of you, “ Your kits sister, wanted you here.” You tilt your head, What?

“Huh?” He steps closer and you can feel his breath on your face, “I like you. Wanted you here tonight so i can finally get the chance to talk to you.”

what?

“I can’t.” You can’t do this to your sister could you? She seemingly really likes this guy. No matter how hot you think he is. “Why not?” “My sister likes you.” You blurt out. He doesn’t seem shocked by your reply. as if he already knew this info already. he just looks up to the living room with a shrug, “Doesn’t seem like she likes me much.” You turn your head and see her sitting on some guys lap making out with him. You’re gonna fucking kill her. She was so determined early what happened to that?

“oh..” “come with me.” he offers you his hand, no pressure for you to take it. You shake your head, “im older than you..” “And? that's even better.” you raise your eyebrows at him, finally feeling relaxed for the first time since you stepped through the door. “You into older women?” He shrugs with a smirk on his face, “could be, never been with one. never been with anyone like you.” you flush but try to keep up your attitude. “You couldn’t handle me.”

He leans down and whispers in your ear, “I would love to try,” He presses a kiss on your ear before pulling back and once again offering you his hand. “You don’t have to say yes.” With one more glance at your sister who seems to be eagerly shoving her tongue down that poor guys throat you grab his hand. “fine, but you better make this worth it.” “Believe me, i will.”

You don’t make another sound as he’s leading you up the stairs. you try to keep your face hidden in case you sister just so happened to look in your direction. you don’t look up until you enter a bedroom, standing in the middle of it. You hear a click behind you and you turn around. He grips your face and pulls you into a kiss.

You can feel his facial hair scratching against your skin in a delicious burn. He’s a good kisser, a really good kisser, but you won’t tell him that, it seems like his ego is already high enough. you two walk back until your falling back onto the bed. You watch as he rips the buttons off his shirt and throws it aimlessly on the floor. “You couldn't just unbutton it?” he laughs, “You should take it as a complement i want you so bad.”

That certainly has you pressing your thighs together and he grins before getting on top of you and kissing you once more. One of his hands slide up to your titties and play with them over the fabric of your dress while the other slides down to your core, rubbing you over your underwear. “Fuck you're so wet, all this for me?” “yes, just for you.” He laughs, “your tune as changed from the kitchen.”

He rubs over your clit and you throw your head back, “Shut up and touch me please.” he lets out another chuckle before taking his hand off your titties and bring it to move your underwear aside, “Anything for you.” He suddenly shoves two fingers into you and your hands grip his shoulders. “Fuck you’re so tight.” You can feel him wiggle and press his fingers against your walls. “cregan…” “I know i got you.” His pace is fast enough you are not whining but slow enough to where you are left aching all over. Your dress is far too tight. you are so hot you feel like you can’t breath. you arch your back and try to pull down the zipper on your back to take it off. You hear some mumbled curses from cregan before he reaches his free hand to your back and pulling it down. You let out a sigh of relief that is quickly followed by a loud moan as he plays with your clit with his thumb.

He pulls your dress down far enough with his free hand to free your breasts and lets out some more mumbled curses, admiring you with a shine in his eyes. “You are so gorgeous.” You don't respond. not that you could in your state. He leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth and rubs the other one with his hand.

The stimulation is too much for you to bear, your legs begin to shake which causes cregan to lift his mouth off you and look at you, “You gonna cum?” You nod your head, your eyes closed tight. “cum, fuck i wanna feel it cum.” He does not still even as his hand becomes drenched in your juices. He stops after awhile, letting you ride out your orgasm before he slowly pulls out his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them.

He goes down to unbutton his jeans before there's a knock on his door. “cregan!”

an annoyed look dawns his face as he glares at the door, “What the fuck do you want jace?”

“Kit’s looking for her sister. want’s to tell her shes leaving. you know where she is.” You look at him alarmed and try to sit up but he just pushes you back down. “If i see her ill let her know.” there's some talking outside the door you can’t hear, its your sister and Jace. you hear footsteps fading before a key gets inserted in the lock and his head pops in. cregan lays the blanket over you to cover you.

“Jace i though i told you to fucking cover for me.” Jace just rolls his eyes, “I've been fucking doing it you dipshit, she got worried about her sister when i tried to take her back to mine.” you finally get a good look at him and you realize he's the guy that your sister was making out with on the couch. Cregan just shakes his head and rolls his eyes, “fine fine you leaving?” Jace nods and sends you a smile before you turn your head away embarrassed. “have fun.”

The door clicks with a lock and cregan tosses the blanket off you, “sorry about that.” “did you ask jace to hook up with my sister?” “don’t say it like that he actually likes her.”

he goes back to unbuttoning his jeans, “you still wanna continue?” You nod, reaching your hands over to pull him out of his pants. “You still need to make this worth it you know.”

#cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark smut #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan stark #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd cregan #hotd cregan stark

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shycoconutt · 1 day

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Fantasy Girl (Choso Kamo x Reader)

MDNI (18+)

Choso Kamo was obsessed with you the moment he laid eyes on you. His heart began to pound in his ears, his face flushed a bright cherry red, and he felt a burning arousal in the pit of his stomach.

You weren't just beautiful, no, you were picture-perfect. When he locked eyes on your figure, the way your body swayed when you walked by, your choice of dress, your smooth skin, the contour of your face, the way your hair flowed in the wind, he was instantly transported back to his boyhood.

The nights he would spend alone, listening to music and sketching his ideal lover with pen and paper. He would meticulously pick out all of his favorite aspects of a woman and use his imagination to conjure images of her in different positions. Some were sweet and innocent, but most were highly provocative in nature. Pleased with himself, he would save his drawings in his sketchbook, and still, to this day, pulls them out every once in a while when he wants to get off to something as pure as his deepest, most sincere fantasy.

But, here you are, his woman, his girl, in the flesh. He has the primal urge to kiss the ground you walk on, to worship you like a goddess, to give you whatever you desire and more, oh so much more.

So when he finally gets you into bed, laid out all pretty for him, he can’t resist his desire to touch himself and cum just from looking at you. He owes himself this moment, to drink in your mere existence. Standing at the foot of his bed, he strips in front of you and takes note of the way your eyes trail up and down his body with a lick of your lips.

Wanting to put on a show for you, he brings one hand down to squeeze his pink tip, slowly spreading his pre over the sensitive skin, while his other hand comes up to squeeze his pecks.

“What do you think, pretty girl? Is my body good enough for you? Is it up to your standards?” Choso huffs out, bringing the hand on his cock down to stroke his whole length.

You nod, taking your plush bottom lip in between your teeth. Choso watches as your hands come down to the bottom hem of your shirt, planning to strip for him as well. But that’s not what he wants, not yet at least.

“No, baby, leave everything on,” Choso says between moans, “I want to look at you just as you are.” In this moment, he believes he hasn’t earned you yet, not all of you.

The subtle flash of confusion in your eyes makes him chuckle. You are so sweet, so beautiful, so amazing. Involuntarily, Choso pumps his cock with more ferocity, his ab muscles flexing in response. He is close, and he must act before it’s too late.

“Do me a favor, my love,” Choso nods towards his bedside table, “Open the drawer, take out the sketchbook, and flip through some pages for me.”

He sees your hesitation, but you ultimately comply with his wishes. He watches as your body contorts to reach over to the side of the bed, using the moment to marvel at the curve of your ass. His hand squeezes tighter, imagining what you’d look like bent over in front of him.

Snapping back to reality, he sees the green sketchbook placed on your lap, your fingers about to turn to open a page. “Good girl,” he muses.

Choso makes sure to study your face while you examine the first few pictures, not wanting to miss any emotion that crosses your expression. He feels his hands tingle in anticipation. Do you see it? Do you understand?

He feels like all his prayers have been answered as a small gasp escapes your lips, your eyes widening in surprise.

“Choso…” you begin.

“Yes, baby? Tell me,” Choso is now curling into himself, not letting up on how he pumps his cock, now hot with desperation to release. His long, black hair falls onto his face, which he quickly brushes away with his other hand to keep eye contact with you.

“This is-,” you stutter, “is this me?”

“Yes,” Choso grunts, “yes, sweet girl, it’s you.”

“But we-”

“But we just met?” he finishes for you, “Yes, I know baby. I drew these before you. When I was younger, I would imagine my fantasy girl. The girl I want to give my heart to, give everything to.”

The way your eyes gloss over with emotion, soaking in his words, makes Choso crumble. He notices how you subtly clench your thighs together, rubbing them for friction. You were reacting positively. Good.

“I didn’t know it then, but I wasn’t imagining you, I was envisioning you.” This is it, he is spent, about to release his seed out into his hands. Baring it all for you, like an offering.

What he doesn't anticipate is how you swiftly place the drawings next to you, sitting up on the bed to crawl towards the man. Choso sees a familiar glint in your eye, one of determination and lust. He’s taken aback.

“What are you-”

“I know you want to take your time with me, take things slow, but,” Choso’s grip around his length is carefully peeled off by your small fingers, only to be placed in your hair, “I don’t believe you envisioned just releasing in your hand or on the floor. Tsk, we wouldn’t want to waste it, right baby?”

Choso’s staggered breath catches in his throat as your hands come up to explore his abdomen, slowly grazing each muscle in his defined abs. After making your way down, each hand curls around his shaft, and Choso can’t help the drawn-out moan he gives when you give him a light squeeze.

With half-lidded eyes, he watches as your glossy lips come to kiss him at his tip, sticking out your tongue to lightly lick the pre cum oozing out of his slit. He can’t help but revel in every small movement, body threatening to snap.

“Oh, gods, I can’t-” he gasps, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Only if you promise your dedication to me,” you smirk, looking up at him devilishly, “From here on out, your cum belongs to me. You understand?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise, oh gods, I’m only yours. All of my cum is yours. Now plea-”

In one quick movement, you took Choso’s full length down your throat, releasing your jaw and bobbing aggressively. Your hands leave his cock to grip both sides of his waist, using all your strength to fuck his body into you.

“Nnnn-aaaaaah,” he can’t hold it back any longer, gripping the back of your head, Choso brings you fully flush to his body as he dumps his seed down your throat. His cock pulses with every thick rope that spurts out of him.

After a pause and feeling your throat tighten, he brings your face off of him, watching the tears fall down your cheeks and a string of your spit connect your mouth to his tip. Still, in your exasperated state, you manage to give him the warmest smile he’s ever seen, nose scrunched and eyes closed tightly. Like a magnet, Choso’s hands come up to cradle your face.

No one, absolutely no one, has ever looked this beautiful. He's sure of it.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso kamo #choso x reader #kamo choso #choso x y/n #choso x you #jjk fanfic #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #kamo choso x reader #choso #jjk choso

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kortsitron · 3 days

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Corruption

✮ PARING Hobie Brown × Trans Male! Reader

✮ WARNINGS/TAGS reader realizes he's trans, pre-transition reader, religious themes, christianity, fluff, angst, supportive! hobie, reader is referred to as a girl/daughter in some moments, hobie and reader are both young adults, gender dysphoria, toxic parents, abuse, transphobia, cursing, reader is referred by she/her by his parents, happy ending

✮ SUMMARY A stranger comes to your town and helps you realize who you are

✮ A/N If you know me, you probably know my opinion on Christianity and religion in general, but I won't lie, I kinda like the religious themes. Especially when it's about being taken out of it and realizing that the world has so much to offer once you leave it. I guess it's my type of thing since I have been raised as a catholic little ‘girl’ and now I hate religion with pure passion after having it shown down my throat for years when I was younger. One more thing, if you're not comfortable, please do not read this. I am aware there are people who can be triggered by any of the things mentioned in the warnings/tags. If you decide to read this, I hope you're going to enjoy it! <3

In a way inspired by confessions by @eyesxxyou

ao3 masterlist requests

You were such a perfect girl in everyone's eyes. Always so nice and polite, obedient towards your parents, in church every Sunday. You were so feminine, so lovely. Always wore those pretty dresses and skirts of yours, along with the necklace with virgin Mary on your pretty neck. And your gorgeous long hair. You were a perfection to everyone around you.

But you didn't feel perfect in the slightest.

You felt so wrong for some reason you couldn't quite name. Your body felt like a cage you couldn't get out of and you didn't know why. All you knew was that you wanted to cut your hair, hide your body under some baggy clothing and yell at everyone who called you a girl. But obviously you couldn't do that, no matter how much you wanted to. You didn't want people to look at you weirdly, to call you a freak.

So you decided to stay quiet, knowing that nothing was going to change because you were too scared to do it on your own. Scared of judgment and scared of being abandoned.

All you did was pray that your sinful fantasies would simply go away. But instead of them going away, something else happened. Like the prayers from the depth of your heart have been heard and finally answered.

You saw him after the Sunday mass, as you were standing next to your mother while she was talking with someone else. He was nothing like you've ever seen before. Those piercing glistening in the sunlight just like the spikes on his vest. The distressed pants with patches and chains. And those heavy boots. He was the definition of perfection, definitely not to those around you, but for you without a doubt.

You have caught eye contact with that beautiful stranger. His stunning brown eyes stared into yours as he smirked at you. He probably thought you were just a pretty girl, you assumed. After all, why would he think differently?

“Do not look at him.” Your mother scolded you, grabbing you by your shoulder and turning you to face her. You could see the disgust on her face. You’ve never seen her with that kind of grimace on her face. “I do not want to see you near him. I can already tell he's no good.”

She didn't say it, but you could already tell she saw him as the embodiment of everything that was sinful. And the last thing she wanted was her precious daughter to stray from God's path.

You glanced at the punk for the last time before your mother said that you were going home. He still watched you. He wasn't sure what it was about you that made him want to get to know you. But something inside him told him that you needed him.

Since then you saw him around the town, but you didn't dare to come close to him. You felt a rush of excitement in your stomach every time you saw him, saw that smirk of his. You didn't have anyone who excited you the way he did. But he indeed did excite you, but you couldn't even talk to him, being scared your parents might yell at you.

Everything changed when you were peacefully reading the bible on the bench next to the church. It was so warm and sunny, so you picked a spot under a tree. Your hair was made into a long braid that was getting more loose without you noticing.

You then heard someone sit next to you. You looked up from the bible to see him. That beautiful punk, smirking at you shamelessly. He looked even better up close.

“Hello, luv. I'm Hobie.” His voice was lower than you thought it would be. But it sounded so good, so smooth you could almost melt. His eyes looked from your face to the bible you held your hand, then back to your face. You started wondering what was on his mind. “What's your name, hmm?”

You bashfully told him your name. You weren't sure how to act. Was he expecting you to pretend to be this perfect girl everyone perceived you as? Or maybe he was finally someone that could let you be yourself? Either way, you were scared to find out.

He chuckled at your bashful reaction. Your cheeks got pink so quickly. You were just so adorable. And so… innocent. But you had a feeling he could see right through you. See that all of this was just a facade and under all of it, there was a real you, trying to get to the surface. Trying to be free.

“Have you ever listened to punk rock?” Hobie asked out of nowhere. You blinked. You? Listening to loud, unapologetic music? You could never do that. At least not without worrying about being judged.

Finally you shook your head and his smirk widened. “Darlin’, we have to change that immediately.” He saw you shake your head even more.

You heard about punk rock. The unapologetic and loud music for brutal men who have abandoned God's ways and all the rules. At least that's what you have been told by your mother. “They are good for nothing but corrupting the minds of pretty girls like you. And I cannot let that happen.” She told you and you wondered if Hobie was that type of punk. The type to ruin you and corrupt you.

“I-I can't. I am not allowed to listen to that kind of music.” You looked down at the bible in your hands, you couldn't look Hobie in the eyes. You expected him to think you were weird for not being allowed to listen to what you wanted. But all you wanted was to avoid conflict.

Hobie's face went from confusion to smirk again. “Oh please. I can see that there's a little rebel hidden behind those pretty innocent eyes.” So he indeed could right through you.

You nervously played with your hair, wanting to both agree and refuse. And in a quick moment, your beautiful braid was untied. “Oh no.” You watched your hairband fall onto the grass. Hobie noticed it too. He moved and grabbed it, quickly cleaning it off from all the dirt. “Allow me.” He spoke so softly. You weren't sure if you should allow him to touch you in any way, but he just wanted to help you tie your hair, right?

You decided not to overthink it, sitting with your back facing him, so he could tie your hair. You didn't expect it, but he was so gentle with your hair. No harsh hair pulling. His fingers parted your hand so nicely before he began to braid it. You almost melted.

And soon, you had your pretty braid again. Not as perfect as you could have done it, but it was still really nice. “Thank you so much, Hobie.” You said quietly before excusing yourself and saying you had to go. His eyes softened, he only nodded, asking if he could talk to you again. “I hate to say it, but I can't be seen with you.”

Hobie sighed, his fingertip tapped at his lip ring, he seemed lost in thoughts. “And if we meet in secret?” He looked down at you, you were so short compared to him. “You can come over to my place, no one will know you were with me and I could show you some of my world.” He spoke so proudly when he mentioned introducing you to his world. And even though you technically shouldn't be meeting him, you were more than curious. So you agreed at last.

Obviously, someone saw you with Hobie. Your parents weren't proud of you for talking to him. You had no other choice than to lie, just like you did when it came to who you really felt about yourself.

Yes, I like this dress.

Yes, I like those shoes.

Yes, my hair is so pretty when it's so long.

Yes, I am a girl.

You had to lie, even though you wish you didn't have to. But you hoped that at the end of the day, when you were praying before going to sleep, God would forgive you for lying to everyone around you. He would understand, right?

So, as always, you lied, telling your parents that Hobie asked for some help because he was a newcomer and didn't know the town very well. Your parents weren't happy you talked to him, but knew, or at least believed, you were too good and polite to refuse to help him. They didn't think twice about it, allowing you to go to your room. They didn't mention Hobie braiding your hair, so you just assumed they didn't know about it, so you decided not to mention it either. It was better to keep your mouth shut.

You were careful when the day of visiting Hobie came. You told your parents that you went to study the bible at your friend's house. They didn't suspect a thing. You made sure no one could see you as you made your way to Hobie's apartment. And soon enough, you were in front of the door of his apartment.

You knocked lightly, heard the sound of locks being unlocked and then the door finally opened. You saw Hobie and he looked at you with that same softness like the last time. But this time he rubbed one eye with a cotton pad. You had a look of confusion on your face when you saw that.

“Come in, luv.” He moved so you could come inside, but instead of looking around, you watched him.

“Are you… wiping off your makeup?” The question sounded so stupid in your mind. Men weren't wearing makeup… right?

Hobie chuckled softly before going to the bathroom to wipe the makeup off more precisely in front of the mirror. You saw a few small eyeshadow palettes with bright eyeshadow in them, along with eyeliner and even two lipsticks. Even you didn't own that much makeup, you barely had any makeup since your parents didn't want you to paint your face like a whore.

“Yeah. I have been to a small party outside the town, so I wanted to look me best.” Hobie explained, before throwing a dirty pad into the bin. He then turned to you, it was obvious that you never saw a man wearing makeup before. You've never seen someone like him before. He allowed himself to check you out, you had a long skirt and a cute top that matched the skirt so well. “I am guessing you never wore the kind of makeup I usually go for?”

His hand grabbed one of the eyeshadow palettes and gave it to you, so you could see the inside better. You didn't think much and opened it. You hand one makeup palette and it was mostly light browns, one a little more glittery eyeshadow and two light pinks. But Hobie’s? It was so colorful. Red, blue, green and yellow. All of them so bright and pigmented.

He smiled when he saw your reaction, he felt excitement in his stomach. You looked stunned. “Why don't I finally show you that punk rock?” He left the bathroom and you followed him. His apartment was a little messy. Posters on every wall, some chokers and other jewelry scattered in some places and some clothes laying around. But his room was even better. It was so… him. You could see the room scream Hobie. Even more posters, a guitar. It might have been a little messy, but it had so much character.

Hobie moved to the old cd player and in the matter of seconds, the loud music played. Black Flag on full volume. At first you weren't sure what to think, but soon, you started loving it. You stopped caring about anything when the music played, banging your head to the rhythm. At first a little shyly, but then you were more confident about it, not caring if you were going to mess up your hair. You looked so happy, you felt so happy. It has been since you felt like that.

Even since Hobie came here, he finally saw your smile, the real and sincere smile on that face of yours. But he saw it falter when Can't Decide by the Black Flag started playing.

Sun's coming up and I can't decide

To spill my emotions or keep them inside

Go for a drive, go to the store

I'm looking for something that can't be bought there

I always wear a smile

Because anything but a smile would make me have to explain

And they wouldn't understand anyway

I conceal my feelings so I won't have to explain

What I can't explain anyway

It hit so close to home, you almost started sobbing. Hobie saw it immediately and turned the music off. He sat next to you, one arm around you while he rubbed your arm with the other to comfort you. He barely knew you, but he was so concerned about your well being already. “What happened, dove?” He asked so quietly, almost as if he was scared he might make you start crying just by asking.

But you weren't ready to admit what has been going inside your head for months. And he could see that so well. A few tears went down your cheeks so you asked for a tissue. You smudged your makeup a bit, but luckily Hobie was able to fix it with the only brown palette he owned, the one had forgotten about since he never used it.

You gathered your things and apologized. “Don't apologize, luv. Just know you can come and talk about what's going on in that pretty head of yours.” You only nodded before leaving.

Your parents weren't home by the time you came back, they were probably in the neighbor's house, talking and eating how they did once in a while. Probably praising you how good and obedient you were, and how they were happy to have a daughter like you.

And after that situation at Hobie's place, it became harder to pretend. It became hard not to cry when you were called a perfect daughter, pretty girl and beautiful woman. You couldn't wait any longer, you had to talk with someone about it. And the only person who would not judge you was Hobie.

It has been a while since you talked to him. But you came back, trembling, looking like you were about to start crying at any given moment. Hobie didn't think twice, he just let you in, sat down on the floor while he seated you on his bed. His calloused hands found yours and he caressed them gently in order to comfort you.

And finally, after all this time, you opened up about what has been on your mind for all those months. You explained how you felt trapped in your own body, how you hated being seen as a girl and how much it hurt when you were called and seen as one. How much you just wanted to be yourself.

Hobie's eyes softened, his hand touched your delicate cheek as his thumb stroked it. You didn't flinch away from his touch, instead you leaned into his hand, enjoying the way he touched you. “Darlin’, I think you might be trans.”

“I might be what?” Your nose was already stuffed from all that crying, making your voice sound funny. Hobie sighed before his lips curled into the soften of smiled.

“Trans, hun.” You still looked confused, but he wasn't going to blame you. You've been living in a place where you were too scared to be yourself, you couldn't name your feelings even though you have been feeling them for months. It was obvious these people weren't talking about things like that, at least not in the way that would make you want to explore those feelings.

“It's uh, it's when your body doesn't match how you feel on the inside. Like you, you have been born as a woman, but you don't feel like one, don't you?” You shook your head, of course you didn't feel like a woman. Thinking about yourself as a woman didn't feel right.

Hobie got an idea. “Why don't you go to the bathroom and take all of that off? I'll bring ya some clothes and then you'll tell me how you feel.” He helped you with making your way to the bathroom and closed the door after you. You took off the dress, standing in nothing more than your underwear. It felt a bit less suffocating to not be wearing that stupid dress.

Soon, you heard Hobie knock on the door. “I have some stuff I think might look good on you.” You covered yourself with the towel that was near you, not wanting for Hobie to see your body. But he didn't even peek in, instead he held the clothes for you, letting you grab them before he quickly closed the door behind him.

You looked down at the clothes. Some distressed jeans with patches and studded belt, white shirt with some graffiti, which you assumed was decorated by Hobie himself and even some hand warmers to match the outfit.

You had put on the outfit and left the bathroom, only to see Hobie waiting for you. His eyes sparkled when he saw you. And he could see it in your face that you felt better. He looked so excited for you.

But you still had that long braid. “Let me…” Hobie murmured before you felt him touch your hair again. You weren't sure what he did exactly, but when you stepped in front of the mirror, your hair looked so short. It wasn't perfect, but you loved how your hair looked, way more than it looked in a braid, ponytail or any other hairstyle you were used to. You looked like a boy, and you were so happy.

At that very moment, you knew you couldn't go back to how your life was before. You couldn't go back to wearing dresses, praying to the God that probably never listened to you and did not care about you. You could no longer pretend that you were the perfect girl you were seen as until now.

Hobie's hands grabbed you by your shoulder. “Do you want me to call by a different name?” He asked, glancing at your reflection in the mirror as he rubbed your shoulders. You thought about it for a moment, before looking up at him and speaking up. “Do you think [Name] would suit me?”

Hobie chuckled and nodded. “Definitely, luv. Definitely.” He couldn't help himself and softly kissed your cheek. You were surprised by the sudden affection, but you enjoyed it.

“I want you to cut my hair. I want it short..” You said so suddenly, your voice was a little shaky, but you couldn't wait anymore. You have wanted to cut it for a while and you didn't want anyone else other than Hobie to do it. He was surprised by you. He didn't expect you to want to do it now.

“Are you su–”

“Yes, I am sure.” You cut him off, you didn't want to be mean, but you couldn't wait any longer. “Please… I don't want to go back to what was before. I don't want to pretend to be someone who I am not.” You begged, you sounded so desperate. He couldn't say no to you when you sounded like that.

“Okay.” He said, giving your shoulders a squeeze before he took you to the bathroom. He brought a small stool and seated you on it. He grabbed a scissors, untied your hair, looking at it for the last time before he started cutting it. You squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach swirling with anxiety, as you listened to the sound of the scissors cutting your hair.

Snip! Snip! Snip!

You felt your hair, your hair that you got so many compliments on, tickling your arms and neck before it fell down on the bathroom floor. “Done.” Hobie said, his voice was flat. It made you worry. Did you look bad? Did he mess up your hair? Was it a mistake?

He brushed the cut hair off of you, before you stood up and looked in the mirror. It was not perfect, but it still made you feel good. You started sobbing immediately. “Dove? Are you alright?” Hobie asked, worried and a little panicked.

“I've never felt better.” You sobbed out and he sighed, relieved that you liked it. He hugged you tightly, being so glad to see you happy with who you were.

But it couldn't go on forever. You came home pretty late, still wearing the clothes Hobie gave you earlier. And in the hoodie he gave so you wouldn't be cold while coming back home. You knew confrontation wouldn't be something you were able to avoid . And you knew it wouldn't be a light confrontation either.

Your parents were sitting in the living room. As soon as you closed the front door behind you, you heard your father call you by the name you no longer wished to be called by. You took a deep breath, pulling a hood over your head before you entered the living room. Your parents eyes were immediately on you, your mother gasped loudly.

“What the fuck is that!?” Your father yelled, he stood up and grabbed you by the hood and yanked it off your head. He intended to grab you by your hair, but there was nothing to grab. Your lovely long hair was long gone and there was nothing they could do about it. In a way, that made you proud.

“What have you done to yourself!?” Your mother shouted with tears in her eyes. You've never seen her crying and you didn't expect her to get so emotional. She always seemed so cold. “Where's your hair? Your dress?” She's never been so panicked. “What will we say to the others once they see that your hair is gone? What will they think of us? What will they think of you?”

There was this need to apologize, turn the time back and never let yourself explore who you really were. But you weren't going to let this need win. You have been obedient for way too long. You were pretending for way too long and now? You were tired of it.

“I don't fucking care what are they going to think of me!” You shouted back. Both of your parents were startled by the fact that you just cursed. They never heard you curse, nor did they hear you sound so confident. “I have been pretending to be someone who I wasn't me for way too long. I am not going to let you decide about how I am anymore!”

Slap!

Your father slapped you so hard you fell to the floor. Your cheek was all red already. You and your mother were both shocked. Your father was about to take his belt off and start beating you, but your mother stopped him. “I am sure there's something we can do instead of beating her up. People will notice and they might think we were the one to cut her hair off. We can buy a wig until her hair grows back.”

“I am not growing it back and I am not putting the dresses back on.” You hissed. Maybe you shouldn't have done that, but you ripped off the virgin Mary necklace off your neck and threw it.

Your parents were more than shocked at your action. “She must have been corrupted by that punk!” Your mother cried out. “What are we going to–” Your father lost his temper. Instead of beating you up like he initially planned, he grabbed you and threw you out the door. “I no longer have a daughter!” It was the last thing you heard before he closed the door.

Soon, your father started throwing your things out the window. All those gorgeous dresses and skirts flying out the window. Before you were terrified to even slightly rip them and now? You didn't care that they got dirty, they stopped mattering to you. You only waited for your father to throw your phone. You wanted to catch it, but it fell onto the concrete, the phone screen broke, but luckily for you, you still were able to use it. You grabbed some more important things that your father had thrown and then made your way to Hobie's apartment.

He was concerned, but both of you knew it was better that way. If you stayed, nothing would change and everything would go worse. More praying, more femininity, more pretending. But you weren't going to stay with your parents, luckily Hobie said you could stay with him.

You were laying with Hobie in his bed. You were so lost in your thoughts and he could see it clearly. Hobie laid on his side to face you, the tips of his fingers brushed against your jaw to get your attention. You turned to look at him. “You okay?” You put your hands on your face and sighed.

“I'm fine. It’s just… I've wanted to be myself for a while and I…” You paused for a moment, not looking into Hobie's eyes. In a way, it all felt unreal. Usually, you would now be in your bed, reading the bible or praying. And now, you were laying with a man you didn't know very well, but he gave you everything you could have asked for. Acceptance, help and hope.

Your eyes finally met his again. “I didn't expect that it would actually happen. I thought I was going to be everyone's perfect girl until I die, but you came into my life and changed everything. Thank you so much for that.” You smiled at him, you were so grateful he came into your life. He smiled back at you and leaned to kiss your cheek.

“You're very welcome, luv.”

You both left the town as quickly as you could since that happened. Now, it has been 6 years since the day you met him. Everything has been truly perfect since then. Your transition was going well and you recently had your top surgery.

And Hobie? He was with you the whole time. During the first appointment at the doctor, he helped you take your first testosterone shot and he held your hand both before and after the surgery.

Life couldn't be more perfect and you never felt more perfect.

taglist: @sk3llly

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pjo-hoo-toa-freakazoid · 3 days

Text

A lil rant about my experience with this god forsaken fandom

I made this blog around 2020 when I was 13 years old. This was my first shot at a dedicated fandom blog and I was pretty excited for it, to make friends, draw fanart, post fun stuff and what not.

All fun right? Right, so tell me why was it that literal 20 years olds felt the need to harass me, a then 13 year old girl with a relatively small blog, for the dumbest reasons possible?

What did I do that subjected me to 2 and a half years worth constant daily threats and harassment? Hmm???

You wanna know my crime? Apparently I showed interest in an antagonist character, which is so awful that grown adults felt the need to bully me. And following those adults came young impressionable people my age, that joined the bandwagon of hate against me.

As if other fandoms don’t have people literally dedicating themselves to a villain, no one bats an eye to that. Why did this fandom have such an issue? I also apparently dared to criticise the main character for a few of his flaws. Such a horrible thing to do right? I need to be burnt at the stake for it right?

I didn’t follow the “fixed” standards of the fandom so I was to be sent de*th/r*pe threats daily?? For not following the “rules” I was to be ostracised?

No please someone explain…I’m but a dumb bitch, I don’t understand what I did so terribly wrong to deserve this? Did I start a war? Did I rip open someone’s plush? Did I bully someone for not having the same ideology as me?

No it was but the fandom itself that for some reason found it so fun to bully a 13 year old, send her de*th and r*pe threats all because of not being of pjo fandom standards…let’s go and bombard her with hate!!

Do you realise how fucking stupid…this all sounds? Do you realise how low this is? Was bullying a child so fun? So trendy at the time?

Then came the victim blaming- I laugh everytime I remember people saying I must have done something really bad to get such harassment, that it’s all for attention. What kid wants to get hate everyday of their life for 2 whole fucking years? Tell me?

You know wanna know what I did wrong? Fight back, call the hate anons out for their bigotry. I was vocal about it, that’s what I did wrong right? Stand my ground? People said to ignore it and I did. But I still got bullied daily even if I didn’t respond. What was all this for?

I can imagine people asking why I didn’t simply leave the fandom? Why the fuck should I? I enjoy the stories, I enjoy the characters, they were my escape from real life struggles. It was the bullying I didn’t enjoy. Everyday I’d log on to enjoy posts and a few minutes later when the bigots found out I was active I was sent an anonymous threat.

Many of my oldest friends had to reduce the amount they interacted with me in fear of receiving harassment themselves. The extent of this is bigotry is beyond my understanding.

I did not deserve this much suffering AND ALL FOR WHAT? A STUPID LITTLE REASON THAT HAS BARELY ANY WEIGHT TO IT. Do people even realise the extent of what happened is beyond me. And Idc if I sound selfish, I want a fucking apology from all those bigots. I want compensation for the 2 and a half years of abuse I endured alone. I just want this bigotry to end, which surprise surprise! Still continues to happen.

Why do I bring this up now that it’s all over you ask? I’ve actually brought it up once before, but it was swept under the rug, (My deepest appreciation to the very few people who supported me when I first talked about it) I’m just finally being more vocal, because this has stuck with me. For all those 4 years this has stuck with me. It doesn’t mean if it’s over for now that all the trauma doesn’t linger. It still affects me to this day.

In fact I’m still being stalked by one of the people who sent me hate anons. One of the hate anons was revealed to be one of my bestest friends, they had admitted this to me and had the nerve to beg me to still remain friends. They were also the person who groomed me. They have left the fandom scene and I’ve rid of them from my life but they still continue to stalk me.

What do I get from ranting about all this? A bit of solace, a bit of weight off my shoulders. But nearly not enough for me to actually fucking heal. I also want people to realise how bigoted some are and how horrible the mentality of “fixed fandom standards/ideologies” is and that we as a fandom need to fucking change. Heck I know this issues in every fandom. But can we at least start with ours for a change for once?

Along side all of this there’s also a lot of racism and trans/homophobia that still actively prevails. Just look at what Leah went through when her casting was announced. Did she deserve all of that?? “Not my annabeth” do you realise how horrible that is to say to a CHILD? She is Annabeth whether you like it or not. And you are very welcome to leave if you wish to stick to your stupid racist nonsense.

I bet there are many others who have probably suffered the same may it not be for the same reasons, but everyone of them deserve their apologies and compensation as well.

Idc if I’ll get hate for this. I said what I said. I’m just so done.

#trigger warning #tw hate #I was also informed I was being mocked in group chats and there were sick rumours about me.#i won’t give a fuck if I get harassed again cux this literally shows how low this fandom will get #there’s so many layers to this I haven’t even gone into detail on #but I just want atleast this off of my chest. I was shaking and short of breath as I wrote this #I wish to thank all my oldest moots and friends that stuck by me despite everything. I cannot express how thankful I am to you guys #love you all tons.#what do u mean by compensation? just an apology from the same people who hurt me. which is nearly impossible. but idc I want to find them #and confront them. I need to bring my 13 year old self justice for what she went through. I pushed her feelings aside when this was over #but she never healed. I’m hoping she gets a bit of peace for now.#pjo fandom #percy jackson fandom #fandom toxicity

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rafesslxt · 4 hours

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HOW THEY MET | r. cameron

this is a prequel to my one shot ' miss you ' 💙 - idea to do this is from @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

summary: when you‘re over at your best friends house and her car suddenly breaks down – her brother Rafe has to drive you home

warnings: fluff, I‘m too tired rn to correct any typos, will do later so don‘t be too hard it‘s 5am where i live

words: 2,1k

song i recommend listening to: left hand free by alt-J

It all started when you were over at Sarah‘s. You two drove through outer banks with her car, her telling you that she would drive you home later, but that never happened.

Sitting in her car with her trying to start it, it was clear her car was broken. "Daaad!" she starts shouting outside the car window, getting Ward out of the house. "What‘s wrong?" he asked, walking towards the car. She explained the problem to him and let it try for himself but it didn‘t work still.

"I‘m sorry honey but looks like we have to take your car to the workshop to get it repaired.“ Sarah sighs and looks at her dad. "But Dad I wanted to drive y/n home, we went with my car today." He thinks for a moment. "Rafe shall drive her home okay? He‘s home anyways. Rafe!!" he starts shouting for him. "What? No Dad! I don‘t wanna let her be alone with him! You know how he is!" Ward rolls his eyes and answers his daughter "he is your brother, Sarah." "Yeah, exactly!"

You didn‘t wanna cause any problems so you smiled at them both. "It‘s no problem, really I don‘t mind. But I can also call JJ to get me with his bike." you suggested but Ward shook his head. "No no no sweetheart, it‘s supposed to be raining and I want you to get home safe from here." he says with a warm smile before turning back to the house, shouting his sons name again. "What is this boy doing?" be mumbles to himself. Now Sarah yells too. "RAFE!"

Finally Rafe comes out of the front door with a confused look on his face, yelling back. "what what what?"

" Would you please be nice and drive y/n home? Sarah‘s car broke down and I have a meeting in half an hour." Rafe looks at you, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah.." he just said, nodding while still looking at you. He broke his gaze from you when his dad pat his shoulder and walked back into the house. "Drive like a normal human being." Sarah tells her brother kn a annoyed voice. She walks over to you and gives you a hug. "Tell me when you‘re home, alright?" she mumbles agaknst your hair before letting go of you. You hear Rafe starting his car so you smile at her and nod. "Of course, see ya." You say with a smile before jogging over to him, opening the door and sitting in the passanger seat.

After a few minutes of driving and listening to some music you started a conversation with him, I mean the least you could do was to thank him, right?

"Hey Rafe.." "Hm?" he look over to you for a moment while driving. Your little smile made his knees weak and he never felt this kind of way so he didn‘t knew what to think of it. He always thought you were beautiful, the prettiest girl in outer banks. He loved the way your hair color complimented your skin and eyes, your lips looking soft and shiny with your favorite gloss over it. He just never thought about asking you out since you‘re a pogue and a friend of Sarah. Things would get complicated and to be honest, he didn‘t want to risk that you thought like him and then standing there like a dumb one.

"Thank you for taking me home, I mean I can imagine that you got more important stuff to do.. i told your Dad I could call JJ but he told me it would rain so his bike wouldn‘t be a safe option." you started yapping a little, feeling a bit nervous that you were alone with him. You always thought he‘s handsome.. hot. But he‘s your best friends brother so it‘s kind of a no go.

"No Problem, really. Wasn‘t doin‘ much anyway. And he‘s right 's better with the car – safer." "Yeah still.. thank you." Silent fills the car again for a few minutes until he starts a conversation this time.

"You like driving on bikes?" he asks you. "Yeah, why?" "See ya driving aroung with JJ all the time." he says shrugging his shoulders. " Ya know I have a bike too, right?" You had to smile a little at his almost cocky question. "I do, Rafe." You answer him with raised eyebrows.

"You could ride with me too. Mine‘s faster than JJ‘s" "Don‘t know how Sarah would find that but I‘ll thinl about it." you promised him, seeing his wide grin made you giggle a little.

"Can I put on a song?" "Yeah, here." he unlocks his Iphone (i‘m an apple girl and will NEVER write slmething differnet kn my storys #notsorry) and hands it to you. You search for your favorite song an put it on, looking over to Rafe to see his reaction but again his face was unreadable. You look outside the window, the night air blowing through your hair and putting goosebumps on your skin. Rafe saw it on your arms when he glanced over to you.

"You want me to roll down the window?“ "No I like it." But it didn‘t last long because not even a minute later, rain starts falling from the sky. He chuckles at your scolding face and closes the windows, pushing a little button at the side of his wheel. Suddenly your seat started to get warm, getting rid of the goosebumps.

When he pulls up at your house, JJ and John B stand outside the house, working on his bike while it rains. When they hear a car they look up, eyes going wide when they saw it was Rafe‘s with John B‘s little sister in it. "What the fuck?" he mumbles to JJ who was just as confused as him.

"Thanks again, Rafe. I owe you one." You say smiling at him, already opening the door of his car. "Wait." he quickly leans over and closes the door again which led to you smelling his cologne, the heat rising up your face. "Here take this.." he unbluckles his seatbelt and pulls his hoodie over his head to hand it to you. "It‘s still raining, don‘t want you to get cold." he says when he sees your flustered cheeks, feeling a little proud that he‘s the cause for that.

"I - thank you, again. Wow I really owe you big huh?" you chuckle at him, pulling the hoodie over your head, almost fluttering your eyes when you smelled his cologne on the collar again. "Just think about my offer." he says, scanning you in his hoodie.

"I will. See ya Rafe." You say, this time leaving his car after opening the car door. You don't see him winking at JJ with a smug grin on his face while walking towards him and your brother.

"Why the hell did Rafe Cameron just brought you home?" your brother asked almost furious at the thought of you and Rafe being even near each other. "Don't worry, Sarah's car broke down and he drove me home." you explained, pulling the hood over your head. "And what is that?" JJ joins the conversation, pointing at Rafe's Hoodie. You rolled your eyes at him and pointed at the sky. "It's raining JJ." and with that you left them standing, watching after you walking through your front door.

A few days went by after Rafe drive you home and no matter how often you saw Sarah and had the opportunity to give her her brother's hoodie, you didn't. You wanted to give it to him by yourself. Also the thought of his offer wouldn't leave your mind. You already loved driving JJ's bike, so thinking doing it with Rafe gave you butterfly's.

Then the best thing ever happened to you. Sarah told you she's dating your brother. Of course you were shocked, but not too much since you knew both of them and also weren't stupid enough to not see the tension between them. Besides the fact that you were happy for them tho, you thought of taking Rafe's offer, now that It wouldn't be much different from Sarah being with John B, right?

So you waited a few day's after Sarah told you and drove to her house, knowing she's out with John B and her parents on the Bahamas with Wheezie. You drove up to the garage, walking around the house and ringing at the front door.

It didn't took him long to open the door, smile on his face when he saw it's you. "Hey, Sarah's out somewhere." he says calmly. "I know, I'm here for the ride you offered me." you say with a smug smile on your face. "Oh? Okay, just uh - just let me get the helmets from my room." he says more nervous now, letting you in and disappearing p into his room.

When he came back down he handed you a black helmet, leading you through a door to the garage where his bike stood. "It's pretty.." you say, scanning it. "Pretty?" he chuckles, kicking up the stand and pushing it out of the garage, closing the door of it behind him with a key and a code.

"Yeah pretty." You repeat yourself, giggling quietly. "Why?" "Don't know.. never hear anyone saying pretty to it." he shrugs, sitting down on it and starting it. "Come on, pretty." Your cheeks instantly heat up at the nickname, so you decide to pull the helmet over your head to cover it. You sit down behind him while he puts his helmet on. He turns his head towards you and grins through it. " Ready?" he asks. You nod and wrap your hands around his body for support. He turns back and starts driving off the property. I yelp into my helmet, feeling it's indeed faster than JJ's and has way more power.

I feel his muscles flexing under his shirt which only made my cheeks turn darker again.

You drove around outer banks like that for a while, enjoying the ride and the feeling of somewhat like a little freedom. After about an hour he stopped at a little shop. You both got inside to get something to drink when he asked you "Does Sarah know that you're with me?" "No, didn't tell her." "Why not?" "Well she didn't tell me she's with John B for a while too, so.." His grin widens at your words.

He nods understanding and walk back to his bike with you. "Wanna do it again some time soon?" he asks, taking a sip of his water bottle. You took one from your own when you wondered "What? Driving around?" "Going out with me." You almost chocked on your water when he said that.

"What? Am I that bad?" he jokes, waiting for a answer. " No - no you're not, It's just uh - I didn't expect you to ask me out.." "Well, what do you say?" You remain silent for a few seconds, really thinking about it. On one side it was Rafe, but on the other side Sarah and John B are dating too, he's nice to you and doesn't treat you like trash just because you're a rogue. So why not? "Yeah, I would like that." you answer with a smile.

That's how it began. On the first date you two went to the beach on a more remote spot where nobody would see you two, so you could enjoy your first date. He packed fruits, drinks and a blanked for you two and told you to only bring your pretty face with you.

The date was beautiful. You had a book with you, which ended in you reading to him, his head on your lap and listening to your voice like a lullaby. You two fed each other with fruits, gigging when he didn't score, trying to throw grapes into your mouth.

You stayed there til late, telling the Pogues you had to work late. Only problem was, Sarah wanted to visit you and saw you weren't at work so she confronted you via message, asking you where you really are. You sighed and showed Rafe the messages. "Wanna tell her? Mean she own you for dating your brother, right?" he says.

After your date was over, you told her you would meet her at her house, her already knowing what was going on when she saw you and Rafe getting off his bike together.

After you explained to her and reminded her that the basically does the same, she agreed to keep it a secret and especially not telling John B.

That's how it started that you two went on dates, Sarah always covering you, telling the rest you're at hers or at the country club working. I mean how would they know? They would never go there.

It was the beginning of something sweet and beautiful, even Sarah saw that her brother started to change the longer you two dated each other.Maybe he does have a heart.

thanks for reading 🫶🏻 hope u enjoyed, let me know in the comments! 🤍

also thank u for the request/idea @sublimepenguinpeach-blog <333

my masterlist and my current 1000 followet special

xoxo sarah <3

#rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron masterlist #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #outer banks masterlist #outer banks #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey

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thought--bubble · 2 days

Text

There is still hope Isn't There? Pt 5

Tom Bennett X (Best friend's sister reader)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 1,562

There is still hope masterlist

Tom Bennett Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

Warnings:: None

A/N: Only one or two parts left to this not sure if i'm going to do one long part or two shorter parts. Sorry for the slow update i had to take a slight writing break for my sanity.

Josh sits at the table, chuckling to himself as he watches you and Tom do everything you can to avoid interacting with each other.

He watches as you stare at Tom until Tom looks your way and then watches you quickly pretend you were not looking, just for the cycle to repeat the other way.

"Would you like some tea?" You ask Tom in an uncharacteristically gentle voice, and Tom responds with a very respectful "Yes, please." Which finally sends Josh over the edge, laughing in hysterics.

Both you and Tom look at Josh like he has gone insane.

"Yes, please," Josh mocks between fits of laughter. "Who are you?" Josh continues laughing, wiping the tears from under his eyes. "Would you like some tea?" Josh mimics in a high-pitched voice.

"A bloke can't be polite?!" Tom's voice is laced with aggravation, his face a bright shade of crimson.

"A bloke can yeah. Not you, especially not to my sister. Never ave been. " Josh leans back in his chair, a smug smile on his face and his arms crossed, his eyes shifting between you and Tom.

You can feel your face burning and your chest getting tight, the urge to hurt yourself over the table and strangle your brother growing stronger by the second.

"I gotta go. Ummmm, " Tom stammers while rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, you're also gonna start looking for a job before the sun is even fully up?" Josh laughs again. "You're outta sorts, mate." There is a twinkle in Josh's eyes as he watches Tom scramble for his rucksack and shoot out the door at a record pace.

You sit across the table from your brother, completely mortified the heat in your cheeks unmistakable.

"Don't you look at me like that," he teases. "Any dolt with an ounce of sense in their head can see you two running circles round each other."

You want to deny it, but you can't. You look at Josh and sigh. When your mouth finally opens, you think you are going to deny Josh's allegations. Instead, a very telling question is asked. "It doesn't bother you?"

Josh slightly lifts his eyebrows, the smug smirk never leaving his face. "No, it doesn't bother me." He moves slightly in his chair before continuing."But, if he hurts you or acts like a fool, I will kill him, best friend or not."

You smile, more to yourself than Josh, but he sees it anyway.

"He's grown a fair bit, I know he's a good lad." Josh stands and starts clearing the teacups from the table. "So if I am the reason you two are acting like young children, don't."

You feel the heat collect in your cheeks, your eyes glued to the smooth wooden top of the kitchen table.

Josh chuckles once more before kissing the top of your head and snatching up his own rucksack before heading out the door to work.

"Have a good day!" He yells out on his way out the door.

As soon as he leaves, a comfortable silence settles around you as you sit alone at the kitchen table. Your smile is growing by the second until you finally jump up frin tour chair, and your hands fly over your mouth.

Josh just gave you his blessing, and you can't believe it. You jump and giggle giddily.

You attempt to distract yourself with chores throughout the day, your eyes shifting over to the door at every sound just waiting for Tom to return.

But he never does. The hours tick by, and he doesn't come back. You feel so frustrated, bursting at the seams, wanting to tell him about the conversation you had with Josh. Thinking if he knew Josh was ok with it, he would finally make that move and actually kiss you.

You groan in frustration as you get ready to leave for work, knowing it will be hours before you are able to tell Tom about your conversation with Josh.

You go over the conversation repeatedly in your head as you walk to the pub you work at. Trying to estimate Tom's reactions. You imagine him shocked and then thrilled, excited even. The visual in your head filling you with anticipation.

Right up until the moment you round the corner to get on Main Street, just a few steps from the pub to see Tom. Arm resting against the wall, smiling down at a very pretty woman.

Your eyes burn with tears desperate to escape, but you swallow them down.

Clearly, both you and Josh misread the situation, and you feel stupid. You put your head down as you try to pass them unnoticed.

Tom, of course, recognizes you and slightly recoils from the woman. "Off to work?" He calls out to you.

"Hmmm," you mumble in confirmation, not sparing him a glance. You couldn't stand to look at him in this moment. You fear you would burst into tears. It's your own fault, you think. You built this up so much in your head without knowing how Tom actually felt.

You walk into the pub and set down your bag and jacket, hands slightly shaking. You're frustrated. Upset, but mostly confused. Are you upset with Tom? Or yourself? You didn't even know. All you knew was that tonight was going to be a long, miserable night.

Tom led you on... didn't he? Or are you just so stupid that you saw something that wasn't there?

Your thoughts run rampant all night long through your shift. Your usually sunny disposition is dampened by your disappointment.

When your shift finally ends, you feel relieved quickly gathering your things and offering your coworkers a brief wave before nearly running out of the pub at lightening speed.

You try to focus on the clicking of your heels against the pavement as you start on your trek back home, desperate to keep the thoughts of Tom and his partner for the night at bay.

"Walking home alone, love?" You wince at the sound of his voice coming from behind you.

"Came back to walk ya home and find out ya already left! What you in such a hurry for? Josh, give you a new curfew?" He laughs as he pops a cigarette into his mouth, pulling out a match and lighting it.

"No. I'm tired." Your answer is short and curt. You don't turn to look at him, and the irritation you're feeling is very obvious.

"Right. You alright then? Someone givin you a hard time? I'll sort em. Just let me know who"

You can't help but roll your eyes. Is he really this clueless?

"Thought you had plans for the remainder of the evening. I'm surprised to see you." You start to walk ahead, your pace quick and head held high, not waiting for his response.

He runs a bit to catch up with you while he chuckles. "That what this is all about? The bird from outside the pub? You think I'm a tramp?" He takes a puff off his cigarette as he walks beside you. "I didn't mean to offend your delicate sensibilities, love."

If this were a cartoon, smoke would have shot out of your ears.

"I'm not sensitive, I just don't need to be walked home by a common whore" the words didn't seem as harsh in your head as they sounded when they came out. Although you were so deep in your frustration that you refused to apologize for it.

Tom's eyes go wide in surprise for a moment before he chuckles and stays quiet, simply walking beside you.

When you reach the flat, he clears his throat as if to say something, but with your emotions high, you quickly enter the flat and slam the door behind you, leaving him outside.

Josh looks up at you from his usual spot at the table. "Everything alright?"

"Obviously!" You yell before stomping upstairs, leaving a bewildered Josh sitting at the table.

When Tom finally quietly enters the flat, Josh is still sitting at the table waiting for him.

"Guessing all that was about you?" Josh waves his hand toward the stairs where he watched you stomp away in anger.

"Aye, she called me a whore" Tom forces a smile on his face while looking up the stairs absent mindedly.

Josh nearly spits out his tea while breaking into a laugh. "Did she now? Well, what did ya do to earn that title?"

Tom rolls his eyes, as he leaves the stairs and walks toward the living room.

Josh sighs and groans as he rises from the table to head upstairs to bed. Before going up, he stops and turns back toward the living room.

"Why didn't you just tell her you didn't do anything?" He says toward the darkened room where Tom lies frustrated on the sofa.

"What makes you think I didn't?" Tom retorts rolling his eyes and turning over onto his side.

"Because I still remember your golden rule"

Tom closes his eyes and chuckles, realizing how he has given himself away in this moment.

Josh laughs one last time before starting up the stairs. "You always said. It's rude to leave before morning. Yet here you are, on my sofa"

"Yeah, yeah," Tom mumbles to himself before closing eyes with one final thought.

"I'll tell her in the morning"

To be added to taglists see HERE

#tom bennett x reader #tom bennett #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fanfiction #ewan mitchell verse #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewanverse #ewan nation #ewan mitchell #jess fics

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skzimagines · 3 days

Text

~ part 19 ~

—————————————————————————————

Genre: | Polyamory!relationship |

—————————————————————————————

It’s been three days… three days of not seeing or speaking to either of them. They’ve both called and texted, but you really don’t have the energy for any of it right now. You promised them both that you’d be in touch, but sleep hasn’t been apart of your schedule these past few nights. It’s crazy how quickly you get used to sleeping next to someone, but two people? It’s even more lonely when you’re by yourself. You had told Minho he had you all to himself before he left. But your mind still runs to hyunjin every other second of the day, even though you don’t want it to.

‘Maybe I should text Minho, tell him I’m okay.’ I think to myself. I grab my phone from the night stand and pull up Minhos name. A bunch of unread messages appear on my screen.

1:43pm

Minho🫶🏻: y/n please answer me. I’m worried about you.

3:27pm

Minho🫶🏻: you promised you’d talk to me. 😕

7:54pm

Minho🫶🏻: baby please, I’m begging you. Let me know you’re okay!

9:43pm

Y/n: hey.. I’m okay, just trying to wrap my head around things. I’m sorry I haven’t called or text.

9:43pm

Minho🫶🏻: oh baby, thank god! You can’t worry me like that. 😔

9:44pm

Y/n: I’m sorry 😔

9:45pm

Minho🫶🏻: It’s okay baby, you don’t have to be sorry. I know you’re going through a lot in that pretty head of yours. But I am always here to talk to if you need it. Don’t forget that. 😘

9:50pm

Y/n: Thank you min… it means a lot to me. I wish you could come here. 🥺

9:51pm

Minho🫶🏻: I mean… I can always come steal you for a few hours? 🫣

9:53pm

Y/n: you’d do that? 🥺

9:53pm

Minho🫶🏻: of course I would! I’d murder someone for you. 🔪

9:54pm

Y/n: okay woah sir, that’s a bit much lol

9:54pm

Minho🫶🏻: well I would. So now you know. 🤷🏻‍♂️ get ready baby, I’ll be there in an hour. I love you😘

•

Minho tells me he’ll be here in about 30 minutes or so, so I quickly get ready and sneak downstairs. I’m standing by the front door waiting for him to pull in when I hear a voice behind me. “Where are you going?” Ash asks. “Oh.. um, I-” I stutter, trying to come up with something in my head. But it was too late, Minho’s headlights flash through the windows as he pulls in. “Y/n…. It’s only been three days.” She sighs. “Ash, I know. But I need this. I need to see him.” I say. She shakes her head. “You have to quit putting yourself into these positions.” She says before heading upstairs. I let out a breath before making my way to Minhos car. He gets out of the car as I make my way towards him, he quickly engulfs me into a massive hug. “I miss you so much.” He whispers. I hum in agreement. “Let’s get out of here.” He says, pulling away and opening the car door for me.

•

“Have you talked to hyunjin?” It’s been a few hours since Minho’s picked me up. We’ve been at this park talking and holding one another, trying to make sense of everything, trying to make things okay again. “No, I haven’t,” I state. “You probably should” he says. I look at him confused. “What do you mean?” I ask. “Well, at the end of the day. He’s still one of my best friends. And I know he needs you just as much as I do.” He explains. “You said you wanted it to be just us…” I question. “I know. But him and I have talked and we-” he begins before i cut him off. “You’ve… talked?” I ask. Minho stays silent. “When did this happen?” I ask. “Yesterday…” he says. “I know what I said about him being an insatiable asshole, and all he ever does is bring you down. But, I think he’s actually trying to change this time. He told me he had counseling set up, he’s going to quit drinking. He said he loves you and misses you. He said he’d try to get ahold of you, but he doesn’t want to force anything.” He says.

And like the universe was sending messages through the three of us… my phone starts to ring. I tell Minho to hold on a second, searching through my bag for my phone. “It’s him.” I whisper, showing Minho my phone screen. He gives me a soft smile and nods, telling me to answer. “I’m gonna go to the car, give you some privacy.” He whispers, walking away.

I hit the green button on my phone and bring it to my ear.

“Hello.” I say softly.

“Y/n….” I hear him sniffle over the phone.

“Hey… are you okay?” I ask softly.

“Please…” he begs quietly.

“Jinnie… what’s wrong?” I say, beginning to panic.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” He sobs.

“Hyunjin! What is wrong!” I yell into the phone.

“I can’t do this without you…” he whispers.

“What did you do hyunjin?” I ask in a panic.

“Don’t be mad at me… please.” He begs.

“Where are you?” I ask. There’s silence. “Jinnie… please, tell me where you are.” I say.

“Home.” He whispers.

“I’ll be there soon, okay?” I say, but get nothing in response.

I quickly shove my phone in my bag and run to the car.

“Minho we need to go!” I yell.

“Wh-what’s going on?” He asks, shutting his door and starting the car.

“Hyunjin’s… now! Please hurry!” I yell.

Minho throws the car in reverse, squealing the tires as he pulls away. Thankfully Hyunjin’s house is only ten minutes from the park we were at. We arrive in 5. I quickly unbuckle and slam the door open, running up to his front door not caring to shut the car door. Not bothering knocking, I quickly open his door and run in. “Hyunjin!” I yell, but there’s nothing. “Jinnie.. where are you?” I yell. I run through his house searching through every room. Minho runs in behind me. “Upstairs bathroom.” He whispers, once he realizes I’ve looked everywhere downstairs. My heart sinks at his words. I quickly run upstairs, swinging the bathroom door open. Hyunjin’s laying on the floor, his eyes are closed. I look to the side of him and see a pill bottle laying next to him. “MINHO CALL 911!” I scream. I quickly drop down next to Hyunjin and pull him into my lap as best as I can. I shake him violently. “Hyunjin please!” I yell. “Come on please!” I say lightly slapping his cheek. I let out a sob. “You can’t leave me!” I shake him again. It seems like eternity before I hear sirens making their way down the road. “They’re upstairs!” I hear Minho yell.

—————————————————————————————

Tag list: @greysweaters-blog @mimihwang248 @armystay89 @berryberrytan @multeciahucho @poetrycassie @nobody3210 @straykids5star @mabysblog @yaorzu-blog @elizalabs3 @abby-wanna-bangchan @lyracarvahall @silencionyx

To be continued…

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rush-the-stars · 8 hours

Text

AFFECTION'S EDGE: PART II

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|| alpha!suguru getou x omega!afab reader || E/18+ || wc: 6.5k || ao3 || <- part i || part iii -> coming soon || masterlist ||

minors and ageless blogs do not interact, 18+ only

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“You’ve got it all wrong,” he murmurs, “but what am I to expect from a stray like you? You’ve lived off scraps and abuse your whole life; of course you don’t know what to do now that I’ve given you food and shelter.” Suguru’s fingers ease up towards your neck as he continues, “a warm bed to lie in. Toys to play with. A collar—so you’ll never be lost again. No one’s ever given you this before, hm?”

***

Suguru tries to tame you.

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✧ SPRING FEVER collab masterlist ✧

cw: omegaverse, brat taming, mind games, toxic behavior, yandere suguru getou, yandere reader, biting, blood, marking, one slap from the reader to suguru and he sorta likes it, eventual forced feeding, eventual forced bathing in later parts, eventual smut in later parts; masturbation, voyeurism, a blurring of boundaries, consent as punishment?

a/n: this is the second part of my lil series for @lorelune spring fever collab!!

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The mission that Suguru sends you on is to fetch a book.

At first, you are endlessly irritated with him. A book should be far beneath you; he should’ve had one of his lackeys get it for him.

However, upon finally getting your hands on it–after a nasty fight with both curses and other sorcerers–you realize that perhaps the book is rather important.

Firstly, you can’t open it on your own. It’s imbued with cursed energy and locked tight. And secondly, the energy it gives off is strange.

It fills you with a restless, relentless sort of buzz. You feel like a caged beast with it in your presence. You feel like–

You feel a little off-kilter. A little hungry for a fight.

On the third day, you come home.

You let yourself into Suguru’s quarters.

He’s in his study, at his desk, when you barge in and throw the book down onto the desk.

Suguru picks up his gaze.

“You’re back early,” he muses, drinking you in with greedy eyes, “clearly it was no trouble?”

“Hardly.” You snap, “hoping I’d be away for longer?”

A quirk at the corner of his lips, “not at all. In fact, I was impatient for your return.”

Heat whips the back of your neck.

“Come here,” he hums, “let me see you.”

He offers his hand up. He wants you to step around the desk to stand in front of him, you think.

Tentatively, you go to him, round the desk and step up to him. He turns and settles deeper into the desk chair, spreads his legs so that you may even step up between them.

You slide your hand into his slowly.

He pulls you a step closer. And closer still.

“No injuries?” He asks, eyes skimming over your body.

You swallow and shake your head.

“Good,” he sighs and then he pulls a little harder on your hand. And his other hand suddenly hitches around the back of your knee. All it takes is a little effort on his part, and you’re stumbling into his lap.

You throw your hands out to find balance in his broad shoulders, clinging to him, holding yourself out from him.

“Suguru,” you growl in annoyance, fussing, fighting against him a little.

You can feel his smile the moment he dips his face towards the crook of your neck, “did it help to have my scent on you?”

You dig your nails into his shoulders, as if to be spiteful, despite what you say, “it always does.”

He hums, pleased, and drags his nose along your throat again.

He pulls away to look at you, bristled and embarrassed.

“Go bathe,” he tells you, “and wear my clothes. I want you to stay here tonight.”

You jerk back a little, surprised, “and if I refuse?”

“I wasn’t asking.” He says flippantly.

You scoff, moving to stand, “I’m going back to my room.”

His hand squeezes your waist tightly and prevents you from leaving him, from separating yourself from him, “I see the time away hasn’t made you any softer.”

“Let me go,” you push at his chest, “let me up.”

Instead, he catches one of your wrists, holding it to his chest with his large hand. He nearly drowns your hand, overwhelms it entirely.

“Do as I ask, and I’ll let you go.”

You make a noise of irritation, “I won’t share a bed with you.”

“I’ll be good,” he purrs, but even as he says that, you feel his hips flex beneath yours a little, opening, widening his stance.

“I’m not stupid,” you hiss, trying to lift off him a little, but he’s got too tight of a grip on your waist.

“I’ll rub your tense shoulders,” he torments you, and then, his smile grows like that of a fox, “I know you like to sleep in my bed.”

Your heart rabbits in your chest.

“I’ve never slept in your bed,” you snip.

He laughs, low and soft and outright. “There’s no reason to lie now,” he says, languidly leaning back in his seat a little. “You slept in my bed while I was away.”

Your cheeks prickle with warmth, embarrassment.

“I didn’t–”

“I know you’re embarrassed, but don’t lie to me.” He says it seriously, eyes suddenly going colder.

And just like that, you open your mouth—

“I did once.”

Suguru seems pleased, thumb rubbing over the back of your hand that he still has trapped against his chest. “Now you will again.”

You huff. And you understand there is little to win in this case; you could fight harder, snarl and snap and try to leave on your own.

(But there is that horrendously small and foolish part of you that does want to stay. It wants what he has offered you.)

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

He seems serious in knowing your request—earnest, almost.

Your voice sticks in your throat. You try to form your words carefully, “you won’t do anything—sexual. At all. Not while I’m asleep and—there’s no tricks.”

“What kind of Alpha do you take me for?” Suguru asks innocently and level him with a glare.

“Suguru—“

“No tricks.” He agrees quickly.

“Nothing.” You tell him sternly.

“Not even if you beg for it?”

“I wouldn’t!” You snap, nails flexing back into the meat of his shoulder. The one at his chest bunches in his clothes beneath his own hand.

He laughs a little again, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand to soothe you. “Easy, sweet girl, okay. You have my promise; I won’t do anything sexual. No tricks.”

But the way he says it makes warning bells go off in your mind, distant and wailing. Still, you have his word.

He suddenly takes your chin in hand and guides you to look into his eyes, deeply amethyst, darkly lilac.

“I do mean it.” He says sternly now, and then, “the first time I have you, it will be because you came to me, and begged, with a clear head and open heart.”

You try and jerk your chin from his grasp but he holds tighter, forcing you to stay, “do you understand?”

“I would never—“

“Ah, ah, do you understand?”

“Yes!” You snap and when you jerk away this time, he lets you go. All of you.

You leap from him on unsteady feet, rocking back a little, steadying yourself on the desk.

“Go,” he encourages, “take a bath. And choose any of my clothes you like.”

You swallow hard and glare at him.

“I don’t need your orders.” You grind out.

“Yes, so fearsome you are,” Suguru waves you off and you almost have half a mind to surge back towards him and make him regret saying that. You’re feeling prickly, though, and something inside of you has knocked loose.

You’ve been blaming it on the book.

You’re flushed from the inside out, heated, and frustrated.

You stomp off towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

The bath actually does soothe some of your mood. The bathtub is large and clean; the soaps you used smell faintly of Suguru. The water had been perfect and you’d managed to relax and sink down to your shoulders.

And dressing in his clothes after does more for you than you’re willing to admit. You’re just in an old, soft t-shirt of his. It’s large on your frame and it smells like him, which soothes you in a way that is almost frightening.

When you enter the bedroom, Suguru is not there yet and you assume he is still in his office. You almost hope that he is, that you’ll have time to get comfortable, without his watchful eyes.

You arrange the pillows how you like and when you’re satisfied with your side, you slip beneath the covers and into the cool sheets. You turn and twist a moment, burrowing deeper beneath the blankets, before letting out a little noise of contentment. It slips from you before you can stop it.

And just when you’re beginning to drift off, faintly wondering if Suguru will ever join you, does he finally step into his bedroom. He takes you in and his scent almost changes with it—sweeter, a little darker. You can tell he’s pleased with you.

When he joins you in bed, you go perfectly still. He’s bare chested and you almost want to complain about it—instead, you squirm away from him.

It doesn’t get you far and once he’s beside you, he’s reaching out to lay his hand across the expanse of your waist.

You are about to warn him, bite something out about staying on his side, or to watch himself. But he doesn’t pull you or drag you towards him. He doesn’t roll towards you.

His hand stays, on your waist, drifts to be on your lower back.

The first pass of his hand over your back makes you tense all over, muscles poised to snap or leap away from him. The second, you can feel your breathing tighten up. The third, you realize that this may be it.

You wait, near trembling, as he continues to soothe his hand over your back. Up and down. A slow petting, over the shirt of his you’d worn to bed.

And eventually, you begin to melt; all those tense muscles slowly unwinding.

Then you’re sighing, soft, into the pillow.

Your eyes grow heavy, breath beginning to loosen and even out, slow and deep.

Sleep claims you gently, eases you into its tender embrace, like cooing a baby to sleep, like soothing a stray.

***

In the morning, you wake alone. The bed beside you is empty.

You are almost disheartened to see it. The initial disappointment rears its head, sinks into your stomach, before you try to shoo it away.

But when you listen closely, you can hear him in the kitchen moving about. His footsteps are quiet but there.

Instinctively, the part of you attuned to him, knows he is near.

It soothes you.

You twist a little, throwing some blankets from your body—warmer than usual, a little flushed.

You blame it on the sun streaming through the wide window, the warmth as it seeps into the sheets. You doze again like this, in its beams, covers astray around your legs, curled around one of the several pillows.

In and out of sleep. Hazy, burning flickers of dreams.

When you fully wake again, an hour later, you are even warmer than before.

You feel a little strange. Chilled atop your skin, a little shivery, but so warm from within.

You blame it on nerves; perhaps you don’t want to face Suguru after staying in his bed. Perhaps being away from your own bed has made you anxious, too. As much as you try to hide any of your baser urges, your space is important to you. Your bed is important.

You know you can’t hide from him forever.

More than that, you want water, perhaps. Ice water. You feel parched suddenly. You feel dehydrated.

When you enter the kitchen, you are surprised to find water already out. A bowl of cut up fruit beside it. Suguru is reading in the attached living room.

You look at him. And then at the fruit.

“It’s for you,” he says, without looking up from his book.

You blink at him.

“Why?”

His brows arch upward and he finally pulls his dark eyes away from the page in order to look at you.

“Because you should eat.”

Something inside you, under immense pressure, finally bursts.

“Don’t start doing this shit.” You snap.

Your tone perhaps takes him by surprise. It’s full of vitriol, it’s full of heat and hatred. “Don’t start doing domestic shit for me.”

“And here I was, thinking I’d do something kind after all this tormenting.” He says but it’s really rather amused. Knowing.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” You snarl at him.

He looks you over carefully and something in his face changes—just a small, almost unnoticeable flicker. He asks;

“How do you feel?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“What did you do?” You accuse suddenly.

“What did I do? Nothing. I cut up a bowl of fruit for you.”

You can feel your threads unwinding, fraying at the edges, and can feel the way it unravels inside you.

Your head is beginning to throb.

Your stomach gives a strange churn.

“That’s not—that’s not true. I feel strange and you did something.” You say and your voice is getting tighter, almost distressed.

“Strange how?” He asks coolly.

“I feel—I feel like I’m sick. Maybe.”

He hums softly.

And then, “it’s your Heat.”

A dull, soft roaring in your ears. You swallow and the sound clicks around in your throat, your head.

“No—“ you start, “there’s no way.��

“I can smell it,” he says, “you’ve been on the cusp of it for some time now.”

You frown and feel for your head with your open palm, warm to the touch. Feverish. You want to squirm out of your own skin.

“I haven’t had one in years—there’s no way.” You say again but your voice sounds thinner, less believable.

Your eyes flash upwards, “you did this.”

Suguru looks back at you blankly, “I can’t force your body into Heat.”

“That’s why you wanted me to stay.” You accuse.

“Perhaps I’m feeling territorial.” He agrees.

“No, you wanted me to stay in hopes of it sparking my Heat—you know an Omega’s Heat can be triggered by an Alpha’s presence sometimes.”

Suguru remains even, almost gentle, “and you know that that can only happen when an Omega has a pre-established and trusted relationship with the Alpha. Only if the Omega—in some way—wants the Alpha in their presence.”

You swallow hard. You feel light headed.

“Alphas can’t just spark the Heat of any random Omega.” He adds, watching you carefully.

“But you were hoping for this!” You snap, feeling thin and worn down suddenly, “you—you wanted this.”

“I was curious if it’d work.” He admits.

“You set me up.” Your voice is higher than usual, more distressed, filled with more concern.

“Now, now—“

“I want to go back to my room.” You demand suddenly, “before—before it gets too late. And I don’t want to see you at all until it’s over. I don’t want to see anyone.” You’re beginning to tremble all over.

You can feel your fear mounting as you stare down the realization that you’re going to have your first Heat in years.

Tears prick your eyes.

“You’re staying here.” Suguru says simply.

“No—“ you bite out, all teeth, all fear and aggression. “I’m getting away from you.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Suguru replies coolly, but there’s a sharp, icy edge in his tone, as if dealing with an unruly and temperamental child.

Immediately, you have the urge to start snarling and yelling and stamping your feet. You feel like the unruly child he is treating you as. You can feel your anger and fear like a bubble in your chest, mounting into something horrible, and you’re terrified to let it burst.

Suguru stands slowly, “you’re spiraling—come here.”

“No,” you snap, wincing back from him.

Suguru holds your gaze.

“Then listen to me carefully.”

Your eyes, glassy with fever and fear, a little too bright, collide with his.

“What did I tell you last night?” He asks slowly.

Your flush worsens. You can feel the heat burn and eat through your cheeks. You want to run and hide, you want to lash out and growl.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Take a breath.”

Despite everything, you take in a shuddering, greedy gulp of air.

“What did I tell you last night?”

You rack your mind, forcing yourself to focus on his voice and breathe. What did he say last night that would be of importance today? Now?

You swallow hard when you realize it.

You pick your head up.

“You wouldn’t—do anything—if I wasn’t in my right mind and I’m not.”

“No,” he agrees, “you aren’t. So I will not touch you sexually—” And then he holds your gaze for too long, “not even when you beg me.”

“I will not beg you—“

“I will hold you and care for you. But I will not give you what you so desperately will want.” He says slowly, carefully.

Blindly, you reach—and for what, you aren’t quite sure, “what about you? Will I spark your Rut?”

“I’ve taken a suppressant and will continue to do so.”

“You planned this,” you say again sharply, “you knew.”

“Would you prefer I not take the suppressant? Would you like to see what happens—will it make it fair for you?” Suguru asks calmly, so lax that it makes your hands ball into tight fists.

Pieces of you war and squabble and fight inside of you, opposing forces, opposing ideas. Part of you wants to force him to suffer, too, part of you is angry and hurt that he wouldn’t want to share his Rut with you.

But it also frightens you. You know what would happen then—aren’t too sure it still won’t happen now.

And you’ve never—

You’ve never shared a heat before. Not with an Alpha, an Omega, or a Beta. You have always ran and hid, tucked yourself into small, dark places, and cried and cried alone, hugging yourself. Weathering your own storm.

You can’t decide if it terrifies you more that you won’t be alone or that you don’t want to be alone.

Despite everything, your bitter rationale wins.

“No,” you bite out. “Take your suppressant. And keep your hands to yourself.”

You turn on your heel and storm back into the bedroom.

You slam the door so hard that it slants cockeyed on its hinges, hanging itself in place at a strange angle.

You throw yourself down onto the bed, shoving your face into the pillow you’d once been sleeping peacefully on, and a frustrated scream rips through your throat.

You can feel the pressure of tears.

You curl around the pillow, hugging it closely with your face still shoved into it. Your tears blur and push past all your resolve, which crumbles to dust the moment you let out the first breath, and it’s part sob.

You can’t even properly name why you’re crying—you’re scared, you think. You’re emotional and frustrated and aching. You feel vulnerable and confused and bitter. You feel needy and delicate. You feel suddenly young and foolish, to be lured here like this, but also to be alone and longing.

You’re hardly alone, though.

You can smell his scent still, all over the bed, all over you.

It soothes you.

It sickens you that it soothes you.

So you cry—you cry, holding onto your pillow for dear life, until you exhaust yourself.

Until sleep claims your feverish body again and you welcome it’s darkness gladly.

***

Pain awakens you.

It’s later in the afternoon now, early evening with the way the sun has paved its course through the sky.

Your Heat has gotten significantly worse.

Your body aches, the chill of the fever, and the sickly warmth of your insides make for an awful combination.

Worst of all, you can feel the pressure most between your legs.

You shift them and realize there’s—

There’s a slick glide against your inner thighs.

Oh, god, you think oh, god, oh god, oh god.

You need—

Water. Something.

Suguru—

Your brain freezes to a halt.

His name spins around your mind.

You half hope he won’t be there that if you leave the bedroom in search of water or—

Suppressants.

You roll to the edge of the bed, a wave of dizziness overcomes you. Despite that, you force yourself to stand on wobbling, fawn legs.

You quietly try to crack the door into the smallest of openings, only a peak, a sliver of light from the other room.

But instantly, you are caught.

“You’re awake finally.” Suguru says, “you should drink water, eat a little.”

You don’t budge at first.

“Do you have more suppressants?”

You watch Suguru’s head tilt.

“It's specific to an Alpha’s Rut—it wouldn’t do anything for you.” He answers, “will you come out?”

“No.” You respond, gripping the knob of the door with curled knuckles, tense fingers.

“Will you let me in?”

“No.”

It’s growled, low and sharp. It echoes a little, charged and bristled. Scared.

You slam the door again. It’s not sitting right on its hinges anymore.

You return to the bed, arranging and fluffing pillows how you like them. You build a small wall of them on all sides of you,

You burrow down into them, settling yourself into the small—nest—you’ve made. You try to take a steadying breath, but all that fills your nose is Suguru’s scent, dark fig and full sandalwood, hints of lush cream and walnut. It’s seductive—almost dreamy. It floats around you like a lure, tempting you. You curl inwards on a pillow again and his smell is stronger here. Deeper. More pungent and twinged with something heavier on the nose, a little more spiced, a scent you can’t place. Something you’d find at the nape of his neck.

Without thinking, you rub your thighs together.

A frustrated whine leaks out of you as you turn and toss in his bed.

Your fingers twist in the sheets.

“If I hand you water, will you drink it?” Suguru asks through the door and he is much closer than you thought he’d be now—just outside of it.

“Please go away,” you try to snap, but your voice is strained and wane.

“You need water, at least.” He sighs. “You haven’t eaten anything yet, either.”

You bristle, “stop trying to take care of me.”

“Stop being so stubborn.” Suguru replies, “I’m going to come in.”

“No!” You snarl.

Still, the doorknob twists slowly, gently, as if to not frighten you anymore than you already are. In a heartbeat, the door has creaked open and Suguru steps into your space. He has a glass of water in hand.

You feel your hackles rise, shoulders drawing back and up like an aggressive, bad dog. Your cursed energy ripples around you as you growl and it’s not the humanly sort, but the one you have in your cursed form.

“So fierce, aren’t you?” Suguru muses softly, taking slow steps towards the nest you’ve made. “I’m only here to give you water.”

The closer he gets, the lower the growl gets.

Your muscles are so tense that you’re near trembling, as still as can be—unsure if you’re the prey or predator, some inbetween creature too frightened to do anything but be still, but make low threatening, inhuman noises.

He manages to sit on the edge of the bed.

“And so frightened.” He ducks his head a little in what could be a show of submission if it came from an Omega. “I told you—I’m not going to do anything to you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t you trust me?” He asks and this time, he catches your eyes, a flicker of something darker in them.

“Not like this—” you manage to get out.

“You’re so tense.”

“I’m—” the word catches, breaks from your throat, “scared.”

Suguru softens instantly.

(And if you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s almost pleased. His scent softens, too, sweetens a little.)

“How would you like me to prove myself this time?” Suguru asks lowly, “would you like to make me bleed again? Would you like to scream at me?” He cocks his head, “or would you like me to hold you? And nothing else?”

You’re trembling so hard that your teeth are almost chattering with it.

You realize very keenly that you want to be held. You want to be wrapped up in him, you want to be in his arms. You want.

“N-no.” You manage to get out.

“No?” He asks, “in the least, will you drink water for me?” In his broad hand is a glass of cool water, nearly drowning it with his own easy grip over top of it.

The request is like honey.

It's sweet in the veins, it’s meant to lure you.

Your mouth is dry. And your temples are throbbing.

You feel shaky and suddenly realize how weak you are, a little woozy after everything. Perhaps out of fear. Perhaps because he’s right, you haven’t eaten or drank anything all day. It’s nearly evening now.

Perhaps it’s because of your first Heat in years.

Slowly, you extend your hand to take the glass from him.

It’s shaking. Hard.

“Will you allow me?” Suguru asks.

You bristle, “just—give it to me—”

“You’re shaking so hard, you’ll spill it.” He responds evenly.

“I’m not a child.” You snap.

“You’re acting like one,” he says and there’s a smile in it, a little shadow of torment. And then he lowers his voice, soft and dark, “come here.”

You almost go to him.

“Stop it.” You bite out, “stop trying to do that.”

“What am I doing?” He asks, “trying to help you?”

“No! You know what you’re doing! You’re trying to—to sway me or something!”

Suguru sighs, “come here.” He says again and it’s gentler now.

You glare at him, eyes glassy with fever, with anger and fear.

But he waits patiently. Serenely. He doesn’t give in, he doesn’t waver. You glance at the water in his hands and then back up at his face. He’s so calm, in the face of all your fright and anguish and discomfort. In fact, he seems to revel in it. Bask in it.

Tears build suddenly in your eyes, much to your fury. Much to your frustration. The pressure behind your eyes is enough to leave you aching, a lump forming in your throat.

Instantly, Suguru coos, “oh, what’s wrong?”

You fight the urge to let out a sob or cry harder.

“Why must you humiliate me?” You ask suddenly. The tears fall despite your best attempts at stopping them. “Why must you torment me?”

Suguru sets the glass of water down on the nightstand beside the bed.

In an instant, he’s gathered you into his arms, into his lap. He cradles you, tucks your head beneath his chin and carefully bundles you into the crux of his chest.

This makes a small sob work it’s way out of you.

He shushes you gently, rocks you a little, “I’m not trying to torment you.”

“Yes, you are,” you cry, outright, even as you turn your face into his chest to hide there. Even as you cling to him.

“I’m trying to take care of you—is being taken care of humiliating?”

“Yes,” you get out between another rough sob.

His hand strokes slowly over your back, pressing you deeper into his chest—his scent is strong here. Dark oud. Sandalwood. Fig. It’s rich, as if he’s pleased or content, almost humming with it.

Perhaps to try and soothe you. Perhaps because it really does please him to have you crying, falling apart in his arms.

You can’t stop the emotions that rise inside you like a tidal wave, can’t stop the way you just want to cling to him. It’s horrible, you cry harder, because it does feel good to be held by him. To be cooed to.

Taken care of.

He rocks you like a mother might rock their child.

He rocks you until you settle down, until you’re sniffling and going lax in his arms.

You peak up at him through an angry, wet eye.

“You’re an awful man.”

“I know,” he agrees gently, reaching up to touch carefully at your cheek, to wipe away your tears with his thumb.

“You torment me.”

“I know,” he consoles softly.

Your head is spinning with him, heady, and filled with pressure. You sniffle hard. His arms around you are warm and strong. He’s so broad. He shrouds you in him, tucks you into him where you might feel safer. He smells heavenly—enough that you think about turning your nose into his throat and scenting him. You think of sinking your teeth down into him.

He strokes the hair from your face gently.

You realize keenly that he is not going to leave you.

Not now, during this Heat, or perhaps ever.

You realize that you have gotten yourself straight into the belly of the beast. You have gotten yourself entangled with someone who you don’t think has ever let go of anything in his life. You think he bites and doesn’t release, jaws tight and locked, and you think you have gotten yourself between his teeth this time.

A strange peace settles over you at the knowledge.

He won’t leave you.

And if you left him, he’d chase you down.

How long have you wished for that? For someone to never leave? How long have you wished for some form of peace?

Is this peace?

When he reaches to lift the glass of water again, you do not fight him.

Carefully, he cradles the back of your skull with the crux of his large palm. He holds the glass to your lips. You let him. With a tenderness that makes you feel strange, he lets you drink from the cup. Cool water.

You’re thirstier than you realize.

Your hands come up like you may touch the glass, hold it yourself, but he pulls it away.

God forbid he let you do it on your own.

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. You can’t help but glare at him again—he’d begged to do it for you and now, right when you wanted more, he denies you.

Again, you ask yourself, is this peace?

A cramp rolls through your lower back and the ache between your legs strengthens into a horrible throb.

The whimper that gets torn out of you is a pained and high sound. New tears sting your eyes for entirely different reasons. Your skin feels hypersensitive, prickling with every touch, every place you meet. You shiver. Another cramp, somewhere low in your hip bones, rocks throughout your body.

Your fist tightens in his clothes. You shift with the smallest, most subtle rock in your pelvis. You grit your teeth together.

You realize the ache in your center; the pressure.

“Hurts,” you eke out, breath tight in your chest.

You take a shallow breath.

“Where does it hurt?” He asks, stroking over your arms, your shoulders—petting you.

You narrow your eyes in another weak glare.

“You’re being cruel again.” You get out.

“Tell me where,” he murmurs.

“My lower back—“ you manage to get out, squirming again, “my—my hips,”

He hums lightly in praise and then coaxes, “lay on your stomach?”

You shake your head sharply, “no—what are you going to do?”

“Massage your lower back. Nothing more.” He urges you this time physically, jostling you from the cradle of his arms, from his lap.

“I give you an inch and you take a mile,” you tell him, easing out of his embrace.

He doesn’t let you go far.

“Lay on your stomach for me.” He says again, voice warmer and soft to your ears, like oozing honey.

Against all of the alarm bells rattling and clanging in your mind, you turn and lay on your belly.

You fold your arms beneath your head. You rest your cheek against them.

You try not to squirm as another cramp bears down on you, deep pressure pulsing in your lower hips. You twist a little, a breath of pain working its way out of you, hissing between your clenched teeth.

Suguru takes position behind you and panic seizes you the moment that he straddles the back of your thighs. He almost—

“Suguru—” you warn and the sound is half growl, half whine. Your voice is torn by something terrible and raw. Fear. Anger.

“I’m keeping my word,” he soothes and in a moment, his big hands are fitting to your lower back. You are so tense, you think you’re going to shake apart again, so tense that you’re going to splinter and crack under the pressure. You hold perfectly still.

But just like before, all he does is move his hand over the length of your back.

He coos.

He hushes when you make a noise.

He soothes.

His hands, warm and firm, work their way through stiff muscles, through the awful pain of the cramps.

Slowly, you begin to melt into the bed beneath you. Your head lolls deeper into your folded arms. Your eyes grow heavy, lashes sinking and fluttering, like wings now soaking wet—trying, and failing, to rise.

His hands are careful around the contours of you. He rubs at your neck, but is cautious of your scent glands, and then he dips back down the small arch and curve of your back to dig his thumbs into the meat of your lower back.

It feels good.

And the way he rumbles softly to you, little words of praise or comfort—makes something tightly woven begin to slowly unravel inside of you. You sink into the bed, into his hands that press and massage.

Your body flares into a dull throb.

You try not to squirm.

There’s a deep, horrible pressure between your legs. It’s an ache. A bundle of muscles on the inside of you, squirming and cramping down around nothing—shifting the bones around of your pelvis around, turning your insides over—all in need of—

In need of—

Your head is foggy.

You arch a little into his hands, into his touch, like a cat finally enjoying itself.

“There,” Suguru murmurs and he’s leaning over you slightly, “feels better when you give in, doesn’t it?”

His scent is strong.

You go bleary with it all.

Another cramp twists up your insides. The aching inside you pulls taut.

You roll over onto your back beneath him, belly up and vulnerable. Suguru lifts himself away only momentarily to allow you to do it. And then you’re gazing up at him, reaching for him.

“Suguru—“ your voice pitches, cracks on a desperate, upwards note.

Your fingers tighten in the front of his clothing.

“—need you,”

A hint of a smile.

“But I’m right here.” He tells you, voice lilting with false naïveté.

Your blood sings.

“Don’t be cruel,” you beg again, “you know what I mean—“

“I’m afraid I don’t, darling.”

Tears suddenly build again, the pressure of them sharp and cutting. More pressure in your poor body. More aching and pain.

You twist a little beneath him, hips arching up on their own, searching—

“Suguru,” you whine, pulling at his clothes, pawing at him. And then a word that splinters out unintentionally, “please—“

“Please, what?” He asks, but his eyes are gleaming and sharp.

You curse low and he laughs softly, even as your nails dig into his bicep, his shoulder.

Still, you swallow down all your shyness and fear and embarrassment. You pull at him.

“Please touch me?” You whisper. “It hurts so bad.”

Another shift and squirm of your hips, your body.

“Touch you?” He asks in return, but he’s so—so smug about it. “Is a massage not enough?”

Your anger spikes sharply and you suddenly tighten your hold on him, dig into skin, try to bleed and mark. You hitch your hips up against his and feel—

Feel how hard he is. You tighten your leg around his waist.

“Stop tormenting me.”

Suguru goes perfectly still despite your moving and twisting, hips rocking up against his own.

He detangles you, sitting up to look down on you, pulling his hips away from yours. You squabble to pull him back, digging nails into his muscled forearms. “Suguru—“ you whine, “isn’t this what you wanted?”

He takes a slow breath in through his nose and you think he’s trying to steady himself. He huffs it out. His eyes are so dark—darker than you’ve ever seen before.

“Of course it’s what I wanted,” he tells you and his voice is low, a soft rasp, as he carefully unlatches your hold on him. He presses your hands down into the bed, pins you easily. You melt into the hold blearily, squirming so that you might feel him where you need him—

“But it isn’t what you wanted.” He tells you, voice just a husk. His eyes are lidded as you find them, burning, “remember?”

“Suguru—“

“I promised you.” He continues, “I wouldn’t do a thing, not until you were clear headed.”

You rear back, “what?”

“Are you really so surprised?” He asks, voice lilting and for a moment you grasp to understand him, wading in dark waters, lost. “I warned you, last night.”

Through the fog of your mind, it slowly becomes clear.

He led you here to suffer, with no intention of helping you.

You have walked directly into his trap.

I would never beg, you’d told him.

But he’d made you hear him, loud and clear, while you were in your right mind.

If only to throw the words back in your face now.

Your gaze sharpens on him.

You squirm, fighting his hold until he releases your wrists.

“You’re cruel.” You hiss with as much venom you can muster. “You did this on purpose.”

“Perhaps only slightly.”

You lash out; you strike him. Solidly, your palm connects to his cheek. It cracks to the side, skin blossoming pink almost instantly.

Through the curtain of his hair, you see the sliver of a smug smile. The smarting of his cheek.

“Such a brat,” he rasps and when he pins you this time, there is a strange, unnerving gleam in his eye.

“I should punish you worse for that, hm? You’ve always done better with a guiding hand.” He says.

“You’re punishment enough.” You growl in his face, twisting and turning, trying to dislodge the hold he has on you. The one he’s always had on you. You strain and struggle, wrestling with it, with him.

“The only one who has punished you is yourself.” He replies, letting you fuss and fight, “if you had just given in to what you so clearly want—told me, admitted to it, I could’ve been sharing this with you.”

Then he really exudes his strength, stopping your wrestling almost seamlessly. You cry out with the way he holds you.

“You don’t know my punishments—you only know your own.”

When your eyes meet his, there is a wild gleam to them, one that sparks and sweeps the heat inside of you into an inferno.

“If I suffer this week, I’ll make you suffer, too.” You finally promise.

Suguru smiles, the curve of it sharp and dark like a sickle, a crescent moon.

“You can certainly try.” He agrees and finally rolls off of you.

Cold air sweeps in, leaving you bereft and aching, strangely startled and alone.

He stands. “I’m going to cook for you and then I’ll feed you.” His eyes flicker over you, a mess in his sheets, “I expect the glass of water to be finished when I’ve returned.”

You open your mouth to growl—

“You’ll need the strength,” he then says lightly, “if you’re to make me suffer at all this week.”

There’s a new note in his scent, you catch it now in his absence. It lingers in his place; spiced tobacco. It's warm and thick on the tongue, strange and heady, and—unfortunately, miserably alluring.

The door you have slammed so many times now, remains ajar, wide open, when he finally leaves the bedroom. There is nothing between you.

And you think something is now ajar inside of you, too, wide open, and ripe for the taking.

#suguru getou x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x y/n #jjk x reader #cw: omegaverse #cielo writes!#cielo's writing!

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major-mads · 1 day

Text

Interlude Part 1: The Letter

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: sorry for the depressing stuff, guys...please comment and reblog to tell me what you think!!

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 1.7k

September 23: Thorpe Abbotts AAF, Norwich: 1200 HRS

The roaring of engines filled the air as forts of the 349th, 350th, and 351st squadrons taxied the runway and took off toward Vannes, France. John propped against the concrete wall on the deck of the control tower, his eyes stuck on Buck’s fort as it disappeared into the clouds.

He couldn’t take another loss.

The Major’s hand itched to reach for the flask in his pocket, but there were prying eyes there, eyes that would report him to Harding or Stover…if they hadn’t already. He stood up from the wall and braced his hands against the cool metal railing, the weight of Ruth’s lucky cross around his neck unusually heavy.

He didn’t know why she’d been killed…didn’t understand it. Was it just fate? Was it the universe’s retribution for what he’d done?

A part of him, the part that relied on lucky deuces and jackets, blamed himself. He should’ve forced her to take back the necklace, not taking no for an answer.

He should’ve…

Should’ve.

Before July, should’ve was not in John Egan’s vocabulary. If he wanted to do something, he did it without worrying about the consequences. If he wanted to go to the pub and get drunk, he did it. If he wanted to pretend to be a unicorn with a narwhal tusk, he did it.

Now, he found that the word made up the majority of his thoughts.

I should’ve spent more time with her.

I should’ve spoken kinder to her that night.

I should’ve told her I loved her.

John’s fingers drummed against the railing as he fought to keep his emotions in check. The ever-present ache in his chest threatened to overwhelm him, and he turned to quickly exit the tower.

He needed to get away…needed a drink.

As he rounded the corner toward the steps, a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. He glanced over to see Red standing beside him, his freckled face filled with sympathy.

“How’re you doing, Bucky?” Bowman’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and tinged with concern.

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, Johnny’s facade of strength faltered slightly. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice deepening as he tried to cover the emotion creeping up his throat.

Red arched a skeptical brow, his gaze piercing through Bucky’s facade. “You sure about that?”

John hesitated as his words caught in his throat. He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all. But he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Instead, he forced himself to nod once, the movement stiff and mechanical. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he assured him again.

Staring at him for a moment longer, Bowman didn’t believe him, but he sighed quietly nonetheless. “Alright, Bucky. Let me know if you or Buck need anything, alright.”

With another curt nod, Johnny ended the conversation and took off down the stairs, taking deep breaths. He was unable to resist the urge any longer, and he pulled out his flask, relishing in the burning sensation that seemed to drown out the pain that coursed through him.

It really didn’t get rid of the pain…just masked it, dressed it up in different costumes that gave the illusion it was gone.

John feared the pain of losing Ruth would never go away.

While in the middle of a long swig of whiskey, the side door to the mail office swung open and an orderly with a stack of letters stepped out. John quickly turned around and screwed the lid shut, stashing his only comfort in the pocket of his jacket before facing the man.

“Oh, Major Egan, sir. You have mail,” the orderly smiled politely, flipping through his stack of letters. “Here it is, sir. Handwritin’ is real pretty.”

He held out the letter and John stared at his outstretched hand with a creased brow.

Who could it be? His sisters? His ma?

“You alright, Major?”

Those new replacements didn’t know anything.

John snapped from his trance and took the letter carefully. “Sorry,” he grunted, opening his mouth to speak again as he flipped it over to see the return address.

His world stopped turning for the second time in two days when ‘Berkshire’ stared back at him.

The letter was from Ruth.

The letter burned a hole through his hand as John stood frozen, his eyes unable to tear away from the familiar looping cursive on the envelope. He had no recollection of how long he’d been standing there, but the orderly was nowhere in sight even he finally looked up. With trembling hands and a pounding heart, John carefully tucked the letter into his jacket and turned on his heel.

Much like the day he found out…the day his life changed, his feet led him to one of the only places he felt free, free to be himself, free to be vulnerable. Somewhere to be alone.

The walk to the Muggs’ was short, and before he knew it, he was pulling himself up into the B-17, the familiar scent of cordite and engine oil enveloping him like an old friend. He slouched into the pilot’s seat and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to get his emotions in check.

Removing the letter from his pocket, he traced the lines of each letter on the envelope. For a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to open it, knowing it would be the last he’d ever hear from her, the last words he’d ever get that were meant for him and him alone.

There would be no more late-night conversations on B-17 wings or in the corners of pubs…there would be nothing. Nothing but memories of her.

John fought against his wobbling lip and pressed them tightly together, taking a deep breath. He carefully tore open the envelope and withdrew the letter.

September 20th, 1943

Johnny,

Hey, honey. I’m doing good! Tired, but good! How are you doing? Please be truthful.

I know you’ve got a heavy load on your shoulders, and I just want to say that I meant every word I said the other night. I’m here for you, John Egan. Even when I’m not physically there beside you, know that you are in my thoughts always, and that I pray God will keep you safe and give you the strength to push through this terrible war.

He lowered the letter to his lap as the tears he’d been holding back finally fell, a solitary teardrop landing on the thin paper. She always had a way of telling him what he needed to hear, and without even realizing it, she’d done it again. Hastily wiping the tears from his cheeks, he shakily raised the letter again.

I can’t wait to go to London with you, to finally spend more than a few hours together. There’s so much to see, and it will be even better with you by my side. We both could use a break. I haven’t heard anything from Chief Nurse Dunnam, but I don’t think she’ll have a problem with it. As for you giving her a call, I think your “charm” wouldn’t do much, seeing as she’s been immune to the base pilots’ passes at her. I think I want to keep your charm all to myself, anyway.

I love our picture more than I can even put into words. I’m so glad I finally have something to look at when I start to miss your smiling face.

I’m so thankful that we landed that day, too, hon. Knowing you has changed my life in the best way possible, and I can’t imagine any future without you in it. I’m going to hold you to your promise of meeting my students when we get home. I have a feeling they’re going to be as enamored with you as I am.

Swallowing hard against the sob that clawed its way up his throat, John’s mind flashed with images of the future he’d just begun to imagine. White dresses and rings, houses and keys, early mornings and late nights, children and the pitter-patter of little feet…

Every plan, every hope for the future seemed hollow and meaningless without her, and John wondered if that future was even worth seeing…worth living without her beside him.

We just got word that we’re going on a run, so I’ve got to cut this short although I feel I could write you pages upon pages. I will write you another letter once we return, for I have so much more I want to say to you.

But for now, know you have my heart, my prayers, and my unending support.

Be safe for me, alright? Talk to you soon.

Yours Completely,

Ruth Morgan

P.S. I (don’t) hate to tell you, but the Yankees aren’t as good as you think, Johnny. We’ll have to go to a game one day so you can finally see that.

The Major’s vision blurred as he read her words, the ink on the page swimming before his eyes. Ruth’s voice echoed inside his head, reading every sentence like she was right beside him. Bucky pressed his lips tightly together, his chest heaving with the effort to keep his sobs at bay, but it was futile.

She was gone…

Before he knew what was happening, his body shook with sobs, and nothing but the quiet huffs of his cries filled the air of the cockpit. John closed his eyes and tried to shut out the world, but the woman’s presence lingered like a ghost, haunting him with his lost hopes of a life beyond the war…a life full of love and laughter. In that moment, John Egan felt completely and utterly alone, lost in his grief for the woman he loved.

Ruth was gone, and with her, went any hope of a future worth living.

His hand unconsciously drifted to his pocket where he felt the familiar shape of his flask, and pulled it from his jacket. Raising it to his lips, Johnny hesitated for just a moment.

He’d be sober…cleaned up by the time the boys would return…or at least that’s what he told himself.

John let out a resigned sigh and his eyes as he took a long, deep swig, feeling the liquid fire sear his throat and dull the ache in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked as he reached up to grasp the cross around his neck. “I’m sorry.”

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