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tragedy-of-commons · 3 days

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lay your life down and pretty

various hsr x gn!reader | wc: ~2k

In which you die (or they've already lost you).

tags/warnings: character death (reader), it's implied in dh's part but explicit and semi-graphic in hanya's, descriptions of mara and the insanity that comes with it, hardcore angst, hurt no comfort, there may be Lore Inaccuracies

notes: this was originally supposed to be four parts. i'm sorry it's only two but it's just been uhhh... hope you enjoy & thanks for the incredible support lately <3

Dan Heng makes the best pancakes.

You’ve expressed this undeniable fact to his face multiple times, louder in their progression just to see the tips of his ears burn that endearing red. These declarations are reserved for breakfast. At this time you also chide him for trying to weasel his way out of eating the most important meal of the day!

And he’d sigh, letting you hound him about food options until he’d crack under the weight of your grin and end up mixing batter at 7:30 in the morning.

(“I tried flipping them in the air once and the pancake slapped me in the face,” you’d regaled, head resting idly on your fist.

Dan Heng stared into the black of the skillet. “...Somehow, I don’t doubt it.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” you huffed.

He almost let not-quite laugh slip then, but because of his stuck-uppery, he just managed to look peeved. “I would appreciate it if you passed me the butter.”)

Instead it is around 9:00 in the morning, and Dan Heng is alone.

He’d stayed up late the night before doing some reading, causing him to oversleep and rush the process today. He’s almost burned his hand on the stove eye twice, nearly dropped an egg on the floor, and has just narrowly avoided burning the batch. Dan Heng is not clumsy (not like you were), and he is painfully aware that he is late.

After he plates the food, the oven clock reads 9:19. He gathers everything, including two sets of utensils and one awkward wad of napkins - before setting the table by heart. Your plate goes in front of the chair closest to the window, and his goes in front of the one adjacent to yours.

The rhythm of distributing each item eventually leaves him with empty hands. Everything is ready, but there is still something colossal missing from the scene.

Dan Heng stares hard at your empty seat before taking his own.

The pancakes are blackened around the edges, but it’s nothing a good heaping portion of syrup can’t fix, and the smell that wafts upward is sweet and inviting. The sun’s rays shining in from the outside world paint the kitchen in flecks of light that occasionally catch on his arm when he brings his fork to his mouth.

Resigned, his silverware clatters noisily to the table.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I’m sorry that I was late.”

Predictably, there’s no response. Dan Heng’s throat feels like it’s closing up on him, and the syrup definitely isn’t helping. He dabs his mouth with his napkin for a good long while.

He is sorry. It wasn’t enough that he’d stayed up late the night before, but that he deliberately kept glancing at the clock and counting the hours until daylight arrived - reminding himself that if he drifted off, the next day would come much sooner.

He isn’t the type to procrastinate either. Even when you’re not here anymore, you seem to have a profound effect on his character. Dan Heng pinches the bridge of his nose. The sound of his voice echoing off the walls of the lonely kitchen is unwelcome. “Happy birthday.”

It’s strained, imperfect, and painful; which only serves to remind him of your insistence on celebrating his birthday as well. You had practically prostrated yourself at his feet, begging him to let you fuss over him - even if it made his vision hazy and palms sweaty. He needs to return the favor, even if the mere idea of another important date passing him up without you makes him want to hide.

So here he is.

Here he is, floundering terribly, missing you terribly, loving you terribly. Dan Heng wrenches his hand from its secure position in his lap to drum on the table.

“I got you something,” he says. “I… I didn’t know which color you’d prefer more, so…”

You’d tease him into an early grave if you were able to see the knitted oven mitt he’d picked out over two months ago. It’s an almost hideous shade of teal that he’s sure you’d love, especially since you forced him to bake with you regularly.

(He was shopping with March 7th when he’d seen it and then reflexively dumped it into his basket. His companion only asked him if he was planning on using it as kindling for the fireplace.)

Dan Heng closes his eyes and slides it over to your placement. For a second, he almost fools himself into thinking you might magically appear to brush fingers when you accept the gift with a bright smile. He has no such luck.

Your breakfast is getting colder, and there’s nothing to be done today; his friends, as much as he can say he appreciates them - also meddle quite a bit. His schedule was mysteriously cleared up and he was gently encouraged to go home and take the day off. The feeling of three pairs of eyes drilling holes into his back as he complied was a bit too potent to be coincidental.

So he sits there and pretends he’s eating with you for as long as he can. The stutters in the familiar rhythm that comes with today are things he can smooth out over time, even if it feels like a betrayal to you. You would never see it like that, which is why he can even live in a home without you in it at all.

(The oven mitt rests beside your full plate until the afternoon, because he cannot bring himself to clean up just yet. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready to.)

Dan Heng is not a man who can afford to hope, but he’s already been in debt since the moment of his birth. If just one of his prayers is granted, he hopes it’s the one he runs through his mind every night:

In the next life, please let us cross paths again. And if there’s room for it, please let me love you for as long as I can.

He’s never been one for optimism, but it’s all he looks forward to.

Hanya’s hands cradle the expanse of your face.

Her fingers ghost over any healthy glow remaining in your cheeks. You’re slipping, rightfully so, but does it make her a monster if she wants to claw and rifle through the sands of time to search for any universe where you were spared from this cruel fate?

(She thinks it does.)

You can’t get the words out, but there’s a resigned film that glazes over your eyes - one that tells her that she needn’t lie about where you’ll be going. Your mouth forms silent syllables punctuated by wheezes that will surely send her careening under the depths of the unconscious at record speed.

“Han.. ya,” you croak, “Stay.”

“I will,” she promises, because she needs to - over and over, until you remember it always, even when you’re gone. Even when you’re suffering through the last moments of your fledgling life. “I will remain here.”

Her duty as a Judge of the Ten-Lords Commission is to oversee life and death on the Xianzhou. When Hanya drifts aimlessly like a spectre between inky darkness and blinding daylight, it has occasionally struck her that one day she might have to oversee yours.

Presently, your mind is being swallowed by the maw of mara, a madness that she’s all too familiar with; faced with her dull countenance, she must have witnessed thousands succumb to the fate of infernal life.

“D-Don’t cry,” you beseech. There isn’t much time until you’re no longer Hanya’s secret reprieve, but instead a writhing abomination - and she only has herself to blame. Had she not embraced you so tightly, would you be free of this curse? Would you still be smiling and dragging her by the hand through Exalting Sanctum?

“I will not send you there,” she breathes, “You are not deserving of—”

The agonizing cry you let out next is still beautiful. Even now you can mitigate the emptiness that’s dug its claws in her heart so deep that it’s become symbiotic with the organ. However, instead of the empty, Hanya feels its distant relative: the pins and needles. The hollow white noise crackles until she’s pierced with an arsenal of skeletal knives.

She could take it, and she would take it, if it meant that you weren’t about to die and then awaken again as a monster that desecrates the very concept of you.

She releases your now matching tear-stricken cheeks before seizing both of your arms. The thrashing has crept in, meaning that there isn’t much time before you start sprouting leaves and weeds like a statue abandoned by its devotees.

A sharp inhale through clenched teeth. “You have… to. M’gonna hurt—” you convulse in her grasp, “—somebody...”

Of course you’re worrying about others right now. Kindness is a relic of the past that you’ve somehow managed to exhume, restore to its full glory, and gift to Hanya like she deserves to touch others’ lives in the same way you have.

Every shopkeep knows your name, face, voice, and smile. Your warmth is infectious - even before she knew you in person, she knew of you by word of mouth. Xueyi had told her that the reason Huohuo was so resolute in her duties lately was because of “the person who defeated a bunch of reprobate hooligan bullies tormenting her”.

If her big sister held you in high regard, she figured you were one she wouldn’t mind exchanging greetings with if you ever crossed paths. However, the thing about you is that you always give more than you take; you too eventually gave her your smile over tea, your opinion on her writing, and a perspective from the light she usually only smothers upon first contact.

It seems that it was just a matter of time before Hanya extinguished you.

“You are not ready,” she begs pitifully, “You are not!”

She knows it’s never about being ready. Bad things always happen to good people - to sons, daughters, friends, big sisters, and lovers.

Lovers.

The word is foreign on the tip of her tongue. It’s strange to be actualized and even stranger to ascribe that label to your relationship, but Hanya doesn’t know what else to think when the knives stab her over and over to the elegy of I love you, I love you, I love you.

The trek from Fyxestroll Garden to the Alchemy Commission is sizable. The Dragon Lady could see you and do her best, but she’s seen where that’s led; best efforts gone to waste, inconsolable loved ones given false hope because they were too stubborn to let go.

Is that what she is? Too stubborn to let you go, even when she’s brought this karma upon you?

(Yes, something ugly whispers, this is your penance. Now it’s theirs too.)

“I...” you let out a strangled groan, and when your chest jerks upwards, it barely registers that you brush your lips against hers. There’s tears and snot everywhere, and you’re getting stronger - too strong for her to hold. Hanya’s forearms ache with the strain as gingko leaves begin to ravage your humanity and rip you apart.

The transformation process is cruel, but she promised to remain by your side. Twigs protrude from your neck, nestled between thorny brambles that poke and prod. You are not a Cloud Knight, so your screams aren’t muffled by armor - or muted by the numbness she feels when dealing with other cases.

It’s too real, it’s too much, and it’s not enough.

Drowned out by the previous mantra of I love you, the background vocals of I’m so sorry peter off into whispers that are soon lost among the sickening squelch of Xueyi’s blade cutting through you in one clean motion. The tip of the sword rests over Hanya’s heart, stained with your blood.

“...That’s not them anymore,” her sister says. It’s off-kilter, the way her brow is furrowed in a silent apology.

One can only hope.

taglist: @flower-yi, @moineauz, @aphrodict, @nomazee

#—stellaronhvnters.#dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #hanya x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr hanya x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #danheng x reader #dan heng hsr x reader #hanya hsr x reader #hsr dan heng #hsr hanya #honkai star rail #✧ my works

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bellasprettywords · 2 days

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A different way to say I love you (Spencer Reid x Reader)

As always, this is not proofread because of who I am as a person

My masterlist

Warnings: Little mentions of alcohol and overall fluff

Word count: 1,037 (ish because there are emojis)

y/n – your name

Gender-neutral reader

The first time Spencer Reid told you he loved you, he didn’t do it with words…

It was Penelope’s birthday and the whole gang went out clubbing. You were a little more drunk than you normally would’ve liked considering you were out with your bosses, and your best friend who at the same time was the man you loved: Spencer Reid. Spencer was on y/n watch duty, considering he has always been protective of you, that he didn’t drink much, and that public settings like clubs made him on edge.

“We should get going, sweetie” you heard Spencer whisper in your ear

“I don’t wanna go yeeeet, I feel like daaancing” you said standing from the barstool and pulling Spencer’s arm into the dancefloor

“Woah woah, I’m not much of a dancer” he said nervously

“Just relax, let me lead you” you said as you placed his hands on your waist and danced wrapped around the arms of the man you loved from a distance. After a couple of hours, you were beat, so finally agreed to Spencer’s suggestion and accepted to share a cab with your best friend.

The two of you were in the back of the taxi, your head leaning on your best friend’s shoulder and you could perfectly smell the intoxication scent of wood, musk, and a little of alcohol that more than one person had spilled over Spencer at the club. You were holding hands, which wasn’t weird, as you pretty much had gotten Spence used to physical touch, and since he had become comfortable with it, the two of you were always touching some part of each other

“Is everything okay?” Spencer asked, tilting his head so he could get a better looked at you

“Yeah, I’m just a little tired” you said giving Spencer a small smile, there was something conforming about being there, next to each other, just softly caressing each other, without saying anything. At that moment, you felt Spencer squeezing your hand softly three times.

Spencer helped you up to your apartment, you were still tipsy from the night out, and he wanted to make sure you got safely to bed. Stumbling, Spencer opened the door of your apartment, and helped you in

“Let’s get you to bed, sweetie” Spencer said chucking at the sight of you walking through your furniture, trying not to stumble

“Thank you for taking such good care of me” you said, gifting Spencer a lazy smile

“Come on, we have to tuck you in” Spencer said leading you into your room, the same room he had been at least a thousand times, at the end of the day, being your best friend meant constantly coming over

“Wait, I have to get on my jammies” you said pulling away from Spencer

“Alright, I’m going to leave you for a while, so you can get changed” he said, leaving your room, closing the door behind him, and feeling his cheeks getting red and hot at the thought of you changing.

You were taking off your pants, when you stumbled and fell to the side of your bed; and with the sound of the stumble, Reid entered your room swiftly, helping you up

“Are you okay?” Spencer looked concerned, scanning your body trying to make sure you were alright after the stumble

“I’m fine, you shouldn’t worry too much, mighty Doctor Reid” you said, burying your face into Spencer’s neck and chuckling at the situation. Spencer was now sitting on your bed, with your pantless body plastered over his, at this moment, you were just inches from his lips, and you could feel his eyes, scanning your face, and body

“Come on, let me help you get changed” Spencer said gulping loudly, feeling his cheeks burning up

“Fine, you can help me, but no peaking” you said and both of you shared a laugh, as Spencer helped you get into your pjs

“I’m going to head out” Spencer said standing next to the door frame of your bedroom

“Don’t leave just yet, lay down with me for a little while” you pleaded Spencer making room on your bed for him

“I’ll stay, but only for a little while, I have to get back home” he said, taking off his shoes and getting into bed with you. You could feel Spencer’s arms around you, caressing you and making you feel safe

“Can I ask you something?” you said, turning to him so you could face him

“Of course, anything for you” he replied fixing a strand of your hair

“Why do you squeeze my hand three times? It’s not the first time I feel you doing it” you asked, and you felt Spencer’s hand reach to you

“It means: I. Love. You” Spencer said, squeezing your hand one time per word

“In that case: I. Love. You. Too” you replied, squeezing Spencer’s hand four times

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Life was great for Doctor Spencer Reid lately, his social abilities had increased, you were finally a couple after quite a while of pining over each other, and he was finally feeling like he fit in somewhere. Nonetheless, anxiety was an immense part of Spencer Reid’s life. Especially because working at the BAU, his genius mind would constantly speed, and sometimes, without even realizing it, he would spiral into horrific scenarios. Sure,

You were on a briefing. JJ and Hotch were explaining the details of the new case you’d work on, and you could tell something was off with Spencer. When cases involved children, he’d get overly anxious, and as you were holding hands, you could feel his palms getting sweatier and sweatier. You didn’t want to give away the fact that Spencer was struggling with coping as the case was being revising, so you did the one thing you knew would make him feel better:

You squeezed his hand three times; and when you felt him squeezing your hand four times in return, you searched for Spencer’s eyes, and once you found them, you gave him a reassuring smile, just to let him know everything would be okay.

The meeting ended and Spencer and you left the room together, to prepare your bags as Hotch called wheels on 30 minutes. Spencer and you were picking your stuff from your adjacent desks when you heard him saying:

“I always hoped I would be lucky enough to find someone who I could say “I love you”, even when words are too much”

"I love you too, Spence" you said, placing a soft kiss on your boyfriend's lips before departing

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m4nj1r0s · 3 days

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Ran Haitani relationship headcannons

- Was probably only using you for entertainment, and was 100% planning on leaving you after about a month.

- Since you two weren’t serious in his mind, mf was a MENACE.

- Got you a COLD pack when you were on your period and had cramps.

- Like my Hanma post, gives bad girl advice to Rindou.

- “Girls prefer cold packs when they’re on their period, it helps the cramps.”

- Like a week before he was going to break up with you, he noticed a rival of his making lovey-dovey eyes at you. He postponed breaking up with you just to spite his rival.

- Was extra affectionate with you if he ever saw the guy JUST to be petty to the max but he found himself doing it privately too. And.. he liked it. Rindou helped him come to the conclusion he genuinely liked you!!

- But now you can’t leave him, ever :(

- You guys have dates where you just nap together. I’m not talking like you just came over and you two were bored so you took a nap. No, no, no like this is an actual PLANNED date. It’s marked on his calendar and everything as ‘date night’ with a bunch of hearts made with red sharpie. Ran probably gets Rindou to go out so you guys can have some peace and quiet.

- “Isn’t this nice, baby?”

- “I can feel you trying to interlock our toes.”

- Probably took Rindou a while to warm up to you, but the real ice breaker is when Rindou came home drunk whilst Ran was asleep so you guys played video games and did karaoke.

- Ran wanted to tear his hair out at Rindou’s singing but he said yours was like a lullaby. 🤗

- Probably has a picture of Nahoya and Souya that he throws darts at in his room. 😭😭

- If you’re shorter than him, he loves putting things you need on a high shelf so you have to ask him to get it.

- And he does this whilst you’re using it. ☹️

- Backfires when you just ask Rindou..

- Expects you to have his picture as your lock screen and refuses to put yours as his. His lock screen is a picture of his bed.

- When you got upset he refused to have your picture as his lock screen, he tried to make it up to you by taping a picture of you to his fighting baton.

- “This is practically the same thing, actually, it’s better! Would you rather I tape it to my uniform instead??”

- He’s genuinely asking.

- You’re saved in his phone as smth like “Honeycomb suckle sugar plum pumpkin pie ❤️💜🤍🤎💚🧡💝😫”

- Wants to learn a new language with you just so you guys can talk about stuff without Rindou eavesdropping (I hc Rindou has a bad habit of this).

- He is IMPOSSIBLE to wake up, like you could try everything and he would still be fast asleep.

- Literally the only thing that makes him wake up is the smell of breakfast or any food in general

- Has a black hole as a stomach (metaphorically)

- It’s cute since you guys can have that thing together where if you can’t finish your food he will just finish it for you :)

- Type of guy to lay on his side with a rose in his mouth and his head propped up with his hand when you come home from work or whatever with careless whisper playing on in the background

- Backfires when he cuts his lip with a thorn 😭

- “I’m never doing this romantic shit again.”

————————————————————————————

I was debating making this a yandere hc post but it feels more of a normal one

It’s a pretty short hc post but I’m back now 🤭

And I will get to requests that are already in my ask box in the next few weeks, since it’s close to exam season for me 😓

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torialefay · 2 days

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comments and thoughts on the channie content from today's jpn fanmeet?

He’s been so into his “cutie boy” era and I’m honestly here for it. And ofc I love his curly hair the most, but I am really liking the straightened hairstyle he’s had over the last little bit. It actually has been feeding my delusions bc remember him talking about how he’d love to wear his hair out more, but he just doesn’t know how to style it? Well I could figure out the curly routine, but his straightened style??? Easy. Like lemme do it for you baby 🥺 Plus the video of him almost kissing Binnie’s hand ughhhhh

Because imagine having a lazy morning with Channie & you end up doing his hair 🥺🫶🏼

The two of you had stayed up late playing games, drinking, telling stories, and talking into the darkest hours of the night.

When you’d woken up in the morning, the sun was peaking through the back of the blackout curtains in Chan’s bedroom. Your movements woke him up as well.

“Morning baby,” he’d whispered sweetly in his crackly morning voice before reaching his arms around you to pull you in closer to him. You’d let your head rest in his chest as he nuzzled his chin onto your forehead with a smile.

“Good morning,” you’d tried to say back, the words getting lost in the barrier of his bare skin. Your brain was still foggy, but your heart was content beating next to his.

“What do you wanna do today?” he’d mumbled, squeezing you a bit harder before resting with you in an even tighter embrace.

“This,” you smiled, planting a soft kiss to the skin in the middle of his chest.

“Mmm good,” he whispered, moving one hand to hold taut to the area between your lower back and your ass. “Back to bed, angel,” he managed to get out while grinning to himself.

A few hours later, once you’d both began to stir, Chan checked his phone, scrolling through the notifications, one after one. He’d absentmindedly opened TikTok to start watching videos with you. It’s something you’d done time and time again. Chan’s algorithm was different than yours to say the least. Random gaming videos, sports reels, music stuff, etc. The one thing you had in common on the platform was recommended STAY edits. And every time Chan skipped a sexy edit of himself, you pouted until he went back and let you watch it. Of course you had to tease him a bit afterwards, rubbing your hand up and down his torso. “Look at my fine mannn,” you’d teased, pulling back with a big smile on your face.

“Hush,” Chan rolled his eyes, lazily grinning before pulling you back to him so you couldn’t say another word.

Later, he’d received a text from Felix saying that a few of the boys wanted to check out a new gallery that had opened up about an hour away. He’d asked if you and Chan would like to go.

“I’m more than content with just laying here with you, baby,” Chan said, leaving the decision up to you.

“I am too… But it could be fun if you wanna go,” you looked at him with big eyes, excited that you’d been included in the plans.

“We’d better get ready then,” he’d said before stretching his arms out above his head. “I think they’re wanting to leave in a little over an hour.”

45 minutes later, and you were finishing your makep as you saw Chris walk out of the bathroom toward his closet, wearing only his shorts. You watched the outline of his back from your makeup mirror as he sorted through shirts before pulling one over his head and down his torso. He grabbed a beanie from the shelf and chucked it on as well. The way his muscles flexed as they were reaching up was a sight you’d never get over. After giving himself a one-over in his long mirror, he walked behind you and plopped onto the bed, waiting for you to be ready.

One final brush stroke of mascara and you were done. You turned in your chair to face your boyfriend. “Your hair is so cute baby. Why don’t you wear it out today?”

Chan blushed a bit before looking down. He always got like this when the hair conversation came up.

“You know I don’t know how to style my hair,” his voice went up as he spoke, still feeling shy. “It’s got a mind of it’s own right now… And every other day as well.”

“Well lucky for youuu-“ you dragged out as you stood and walked to stand in front of your boyfriend. “I can do it for you! Please please pleaseeee,” you plead, grabbing his hands to squeeze them.

He giggled, giving into you waving his hands up and down. “Okay, okay, you can give it a go. I trust you to do me right, yeah?” he joked.

Your whole face perked up at his agreeance, giving a couple of quick claps before running into the bathroom. You sorted through your things before returning to the bed where he was sat.

“Okay SO, there’s good news and bad news. Bad news is that I only have stuff to straighten hair. Good news is we can go buy some curly hair products once we get done with the boys!” you said excitedly, reveling in your new-found service. “We’re gonna curly girl method you! I’ve always wanted to try it!”

“You’re gonna do what to me?” Chan asked, half laughing but half squinting his eyes in confusion.

“You’ll see.” You walked to the bed to grab a pillow and set it in the floor just between the bed and your makeup table.

“Alright baby,” you said as you plugged your straightener into the outlet, “you sit on the pillow and I’ll get you all squared away.”

Chan did as he was told and shimmied down to sit cross-legged on the pillow. As you situated yourself into the bed behind him, you instructed him to lean back into you, wrapping your legs around him in the process. “Gotta hold you still for good measure,” you grinned.

After peeling Chan’s beanie off, you gave his scalp a quick rub, earning a light moan in response. You took your time combing through his hair, adding some heat protection and a silkening gloss before running the styling tool through it. You made sure you were on the lowest heat setting and were as gentle as you could be. You didn’t want to throw his natural pattern too far off.

Once you’d finished, you made sure to add some holding spray to make sure it would last him the day. “Alright, final check,” you said, swooping your feet out and turning them so you could land in front of him. You let yourself fall down to your knees so that you were straddling his lap. “Okay now look at me,” you instructed. Without really giving him time to cooperate, you placed your hands at his jaw to tilt his head up to eye level with you.

“Perfect,” you smiled, admiring how handsome he looked with his hair on display. “Now tell me-“ you strained as you reached backward to grab a mirror off of your table. “If there’s anything you want me to change,” you said, holding the mirror out to Chan.

He took it carefully before bringing it to his head. He swerved it around, making sure to check every angle. “Wow,” he smiled before lowering the mirror, “you did a good job, babe. It looks really good. Thank you,” he said sweetly before reaching out to grab your hand. He held it so softly, so tenderly before holding it up in front of his lips. He pressed a small kiss onto the back of your hand as he watched you, thanking you again silently with his eyes.

The gesture put a wide grin on your face. You squeezed onto his hand again before leaning into a hug. “You don’t need to thank me, I’d do it any day. But next time…” you said, pulling back, “we’re leaving your curls, okay?” You lightly scratched the back of his neck.

A little smile spread across him. “If you think you can manage it.”

“Oh, you’re gonna love it by the time I’m done with you,” you teased.

Chan wrapped one arm around your waist, letting the other hand trail down to rest on your ass. He held tightly as he pulled you closer on his lap. “I like the sound of that.”

#bangchan fluff #bangchan imagines #bangchan scenarios #bangchan stray kids #bangchan x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz scenarios #skz soft thoughts #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x you #bangchan soft thoughts

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beenbaanbuun · 16 hours

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the ghost - opposites attract universe

in front of the fire stands a broad shouldered man dressed in furs, staring down at your rug as if it means just as much to him as it does you. you don’t recognise him as a friend of your lovers, although it’s possible that you just haven’t met this one yet. you wrack your brain for names they might have mentioned, but each one that pops up in your mind is someone you’ve met before. that means that this man is a stranger.

you want to call out to him, ask him what the fuck he was doing in your home. perhaps you’d grab yeosang’s attention at the same time; the werewolf may be just a few steps behind you, but he is surprisingly unaware of his surroundings. maybe he’d leap into action, chase the intruder out of the house. but then you blink and the man is gone, completely vanished like he’s some sort of…

ghost…

“did you just see that?” you ask yeosang, the werewolf slowly coming to a stop behind you with a strip of jerky hanging lazily between his lips. he really hasn’t been paying attention to much other than the way your hair shines prettily under the dim candles that light the home, so it’s safe to say that he has no idea what it is you’re talking about. he gives you a questioning hum as he rips the jerky with his teeth.

“see what?” his voice is muffled by the meat that he insists on chewing as he speaks. the sound of his lips smacking sends an unsatisfying shiver down your spine, and your mouth tugs into a frown.

“so i guess the answers no?” you scoff, crossing your arms in irritation, “some guard dog you are; i don’t think you’d be able to spot an intruder if he came up to you and gave you a handshake!”

yeosang doesn’t respond to your insult, merely rolling his eyes before tugging you over to jongho, the rug, to cuddle. always so dramatic, he thinks to himself as he flops onto the floor and gestures for you to join him. you do, lying straight on his chest in a way that seems to force all the air out of his lungs. normally, he’d pin you for that, holding you to the floor until you’re promising him to be more gentle through your honestly insulting giggles. though, he finds that with the lack of air in his lungs, it’s rather difficult to flip the two of you over. next time, he concludes before wrapping his tail protectively around your thigh.

a few hours later, you find yourself in the greenhouse with seonghwa, watching the graceful man tend to his plants as he hums out a pretty tune. yeosang is long gone, deciding to take some alone time after listening to you ramble about your most recent interest, book binding, for as long as he could stand to. he gave you some fake excuse of needing to ask hongjoong about something, but you aren’t quite dumb enough to believe that. especially when you watched him walk in the opposite direction of the office you knew your daddy was in.

still, you don’t really mind having your time away from your friend. it gives you the opportunity to spend time with your lovers without the grumpy mutt offering his snarky comments every few sentences.

“hey, seonghwa?” you say, voice lilting with curiosity as you push yourself up to sit on his work bench. there’s a grimace on his face as he watches your thighs press down against the dirt covered wood, the compost and debris no doubt rubbing into the material of your denim shorts. its fine, he tells himself; it’ll come out with a little manpower… hopefully.

“what is it, lamb?” seonghwa hums as he tugs his cotton gardening gloves from his hands and lays them perfectly straight on the table. his fingertips are painted with a deep shake of purple today, done by hongjoong’s fair hands just the night before. as he lays a hand on your exposed thigh, you can’t help but think that the colour looks pretty against your skin.

“do you think ghosts are real?”

the question takes seonghwa by surprise, you can see by the way his eyes go wide and his blinks slow for just a moment or two. he lets out an inquisitive hum, lips pursing slightly as he tries to think of an answer.

“well, i know they’re real,” seonghwa purrs as he gently spreads your thighs, stepping between them so he can look you in the eyes. he’s pretty from this close up—not that he isn’t always pretty—with his wide eyes twinkling and pink lips so beautifully plush. you so badly want to steal a kiss from him, but you also want to know the answer to your question. you hold back for now; there’ll be plenty of time for kissing later. “why are you asking?”

you almost tell him, but just before the words fall from your lips, you hold back. perhaps telling one of your lovers that you saw a man in their living room would be cause for concern. whilst you’re almost entirely convinced that he was a ghost, the only proof you have is that one moment he was there and the next he wasn’t. it’s very plausible that he was just really good at hiding, or maybe he was just a figment of your imagination. if either of those turn out to be the case, seonghwa will worry. you don’t want that, so you keep your theory to yourself.

“i’m just curious, hwa,” you offer him a smile, but you can tell he sees through it. he gives you a low hum, a single eyebrow cocking an question. the fake smile remains on your face, so he lets it go, understanding that he’s not going to get the truth out of you so easily.

“well, what do you want to know, my darling lamb?” he asks, using a long finger to hook some hair behind your ear, “you never know, i might just have the answers, hm?” the same hand settles on your cheek, palm cupping your face like you’re the most precious thing on earth.

you pause for a moment. what do you want to know about ghosts? you’d come to seonghwa with just the one question in mind; did they exist? he’d answered that one with ease and now you’re stuck on where to go next. realistically, you should probably focus on trying to find out whether the man in the living room was one or not; how on earth are you supposed to do that without revealing the truth?

seonghwa chuckles as he watches your expression contort onto one of concentration. it’s adorable, the way that your worry lines look between your brows. the way you tug on your bottom lip with your teeth, the white enamel now lined with the pretty pink gloss you reapplied not too long ago. if he didn’t think you looked entirely too cute like that, perhaps he’d tell you about it so you could wipe it away. for now, though, he’s happy to sit and bask in your sweetness.

“what’s so difficult about thinking up a question?” seonghwa leans forward to place a kiss to the tip of your nose when he finds that he can no longer hold himself back. the grin on his face as he pulls away is wide. “i can think of a million off the top of my head.”

you me face relaxes as he teases you. a deadpan glare is thrown in his direction, but it does nothing to faze him. he’s still watching you like you hold the world in your hands.

“like what?” you retaliate, mock annoyance laced through your tone.

“like,” he pauses for a second, pouting as he sorts through the wide array of cryptid knowledge that’s stored itself in his brain. you can practically see the lightbulb pop up above his head a few seconds later as he lands on something. “how do ghosts come into existence?”

“someone dies?” you shrug, and seonghwa lets out a chuckle.

“yes, but it’s so much more than that, lamb,” he smiles. there’s a hint of amusement in his face with the way the corners of his lips tilt up, but you ignore it in favour of looking into his adoring eyes. they’re mostly pupil, and the way the light bounces off of them causes them to shine like a hunk of whitby jet. you suck in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart. it almost aches with how much you love him. “if you died right now, there would have to be some sort of physical remains tying you to the real world; a lock of hair, or a splatter of blood.”

or the skin of an onikuma…

oh…

“jongho,” you mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling your chest grow tight at the realisation.

“your rug?” seonghwa tilts his head, “what about it?”

you gulp down the lump in your throat, letting it sit in your stomach as an uneasy ball of emotions instead. you don’t have the time nor energy to sift through them or unpack each of them individually. you’re so close to reaching the bottom of the mystery you’d stumbled upon; you won’t let feelings fuck it up now.

“he’s a demon,” you say, looking into seonghwa’s eyes for confirmation. he nods, “and hongjoong said demons have human forms too?”

“sometimes,” seonghwa concludes, “the onikuma… it’s probable that he disguised himself as a villager from time to time. it would’ve helped him scope his hunting ground better.”

jongho probably had a human form. that ball of emotions—is that excitement?—grows bigger.

“and if you were to kill a onikuma and, i don’t know, keep its hide as a trophy, would he come back as a ghost? do demons even have souls? do you even need a soul to be a ghost? what exactly is a soul?”

a hand slips over your racing mouth, effectively cutting your rambles short, shutting you up. seonghwa relaxedly sighs at the moment of peace.

“not even i understand the ins and outs of everything, my silly little lamb,” he snickers, a teasing smirk playing on his lips, “but i do think i understand what you’re trying to ask in your odd, roundabout way.” he pauses to slowly pull his hand away from your lips. his actions say that he trusts you to remain silent, the pace he’s going at tells you that he’s prepared to put his hand right back where it was if you start rambling again. it pleases him to see your lips sealed in a thin, annoyed line. he hums in amusement, “you know, your precious onikuma will probably come back if you call for him; ghosts like to know that the living still have a need for them.”

“you think?” you ask. seonghwa presses another short kiss to your lips, barely giving you time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away again.

“i know,” he murmurs, “now, go and talk to your bear; leave me to work in peace!”

——————————————

that’s how you end up back in the living room, cross legged on jongho’s back like you have been so many times before. the fire crackles behind you, filling the otherwise silent room with the comforting sound of burning wood. you take a deep breath through your nose, pushing it out through your mouth as you try and expel the anxiety that’s muddled itself with the excitement in your stomach.

“jongho?” you say, speaking the name given to him by you; his real name remained a mystery to you. there’s a cold blast of air behind you, and your neck twists at a whiplash pace, eyes landing on the fireplace. there’s nothing there but the white-hot logs and the flames dancing back and forth across them. it must’ve been a gust of wind down the chimney or something. nothing to frighten you at all.

you huff out a breath of relief before letting your head twist slowly back around…

“is that me?” a voice says as your eyes make contact with a pair of pupils that sit a little too close to be comfortable. you scramble back, a little squeak coming from your lips as you move away from the figure that has appeared in front of you. you come to a step just a foot or two away, chest heaving at the sudden fright the man had given you. if it weren’t for the mop of fuzzy brown hair that resembled the fur on your favourite rug a little too closely to be coincidence perhaps you’d have screamed for help. “jongho, i mean… is that my name?”

he tilts his head like a confused animal, tugging at the brown fur hide that rests upon his shoulders as if the action brings him some sort of comfort. and as you look into his eyes, you realise that he probably needs it. they’re wet, glittering with unshed tears of confusion and stress. he keeps blinking them away, but they come back almost instantly. it’s no surprise to you when the first one rolls down his cheek. he wastes no time in wiping it away.

“does that upset you?” you ask, cautiously, “that i’ve given you a name?”

he shakes his head vigorously.

“i’ve never had a name before,” he clarifies; the thought makes your chest ache. to be given a name is to be loved and this poor creature has none. no names, and therefore no love. you think for a moment about how long he’s lived with no love, but it only makes it hurt more. he was slain hundreds of years ago, and he was probably alive for hundreds more. your eyes begin to burn so you push that thought deep down inside of you. “jongho is a nice one to have as my first.”

your heart breaks for the creature. you’d have to have a talk with hongjoong later; how cruel of him to let his resident ghost go uncared for for so long.

“it is,” you try not to take notice of how strained your voice sounds, “and its yours; you’re jongho, if you’d like be.

the man nods, although the tension in his body doesn’t seem to seep away just yet. his shoulders are still hunched up by his ears, and his fingers still twirl the fur he’s wearing mindlessly. you find yourself grateful that it’s just you and him; you can’t bear to think how nervous he’d be if there was a werewolf looming over your shoulder.

“and… who are you?” he asks shyly, and you take a moment to think. within a few seconds, you settle on an answer and smile to yourself.

“a friend,” you reply.

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #yeosang x reader #matz x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #opposites attract universe #poly ateez #poly ateez x reader

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7ndipity · 2 days

Text

Mornings/Evenings With Jimin

Jimin x Reader

Summary: just some headcanons and a lil blurb about morning/evening moments w Jimin

Warnings, lil suggestive, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to my lovely Star anon who requested this! It's a lil random, but I hope you'll still like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Mornings with Jimin tend to actually start more in the afternoon, due to his slanted sleep schedule, but they’re still cozy nonetheless.

He’s very slow to wake, burying his face in your back or neck as he clings to sleep for just a little longer.

“Five more minutes.” “You said that fifteen minutes ago.” “I mean it this time.”

Once you get up, he usually follows suit, albeit reluctantly.

He’s basically your shadow for the first little bit, trailing after you to the kitchen to help make breakfast(though he mostly just clings to you and steals part of your coffee)

Most days, when things are more rushed and you’re both just trying to get out the door on time, he makes a point to stop for a few seconds, pulling you to follow suit if he has to, meeting your eyes for a moment before giving you a sweet kiss.

It’s a little thing, but sometimes those ten seconds are the only moments you get to have together during the day, and so he makes sure to never miss them.

Evenings are much slower and quieter, again partly due to how late his schedules tend to be.

A lot of nights, you’re already in bed by the time he gets home, and so he quietly runs through his evening routine before slipping under the covers with you.

On the nights when you’re both still awake and able to spend more time together make him so happy, even if it’s just getting ready for bed together. He loves those quiet little moments with you.

Sleepily brushing your teeth together, him leaning against you when he feels extra tired.

He’s said before that it takes him a while to fall asleep, so I see him really enjoying just laying in bed talking about the day's events with you. Words just flow a lot easier when he’s buried in the pillows with you.

Tbh, his bed is one of his favorite places. He loves any excuse for you to just lay together, talking about anything and everything, without having to worry about work or schedules, just you and him being your most true, relaxed selves.

At the end of the day, nothing else matters to him, so long as he gets to fall asleep next to you.

Jimin nuzzled in close to you as he climbed into bed as quietly as possible, his hands creeping along your curves.

It was well past midnight, the room dimly lit by the bedside lamp you’d left on before falling asleep.

“Y/n.” He whispered, his breath brushing over the exposed skin of your neck, raising goosebumps.

“Chim, quit it, ‘m tired.” You mumbled sleepily, trying feebly to shake his hands off.

“I’m not trying to start anything, Angel, ” He promised, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I just need my goodnight kiss before I go to sleep.”

If your eyes had been open, you might have rolled them at him. You played along though, rolling over so he could reach your lips more easily, feeling his arms instantly wrap around you tightly.

He quickly connected his mouth to yours, swallowing your quiet squeak of surprise at his intensity, his lips moving slowly but firmly against yours.

You shivered as he slipped one hand beneath the fabric of your pajama top, the cool contrast of his fingers causing goosebumps to raise on your warm skin, the other coming to cradle the back of your head, drawing you closer.

All too soon, he pulled away, staring down at you with dark eyes.

“Better?” You asked, slightly breathless.

“Mmh, thank you.” He hummed, pecking your lips a few more times.

You were acutely aware of his hands still on you, his fingers digging into your side, causing you to squirm slightly beneath him, earning a questioning look from him.

“I thought you said you were tired?” He asked, giving you a knowing smirk.

“Things change.” You replied, pulling him back down to you.

He chuckled against your lips, kissing you for another long moment, before pulling back again.

“It’s late, you need sleep.” He said softly, shifting the two of you to rest more comfortably, pulling you to rest against his chest.

“Tease.” You grumbled, furthering his amusement.

“Love you too.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard

#jimin scenarios #jimin headcanons #jimin blurb #jimin fluff #jimin x y/n #jimin x reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts headcanons #bts blurbs #bts requests #bts scenarios #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts fluff #7ndipity #⭐anon

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dcxdpdabbles · 3 days

Note

Wow you have a lot of series in your master post. Cave boy has been great.

I was wanting to know what would be next for Congratulations! It’s Triplets! ? Jason was horrified at the idea he passed on pit rage to his kids. But I reblogged how I thought that spiral would go. So how about him trying to explain or make it up to Jazz and the kiddos? with a twist of comedic twist of miscommunication and misinterpretation?

Though, there is no way there isn’t a media frenzy on the second Wayne son being a baby daddy. Even if there isn’t a photo there would be a story written. And that definitely limits Jason’s options in how he can try to make up for the disastrous zoo trip, as they have to lay low.

Oh the Wayne PR team will only be able to handle gossip so far so they need a long term plan for that too. Heh if they do decide on a public announcement then Bruce may be able to hang up his play boy persona and exchange it for the “grandpa that always has a hundred pictures of his grandkids on hand.” Or a gradual transition between those two personas.

Jazz was just momently thrown by the paparazzi. She is not used to the idea that she will be hounded just because she had a one-night stand with Jason.

Once she gets her wits about her, she'll treat it like Amity Park when her parents were out ghost hunting. Yes, she'll be called names in the media, but she's been called names all her life. She'll handle it.

Meanwhile, Jason will try to explain it, but he doesn't want to involve them in the nightlife, so he doesn't name it. Jazz will just assume he is talking about a mental illness that could be passed to the kids- like a meta version of bipolar or something.

Since the kids aren't really his—just a close copy of a dimension overdue—she doesn't think the three kids will have it. She doesn't mention it, though, because she doesn't want to mix the Waynes up in Ghost Politics.

The media will lose their minds, but everyone sort of knows Jason Todd was in witness protection for a while- that's why he disappeared when he was a teen, and Bruce even had a fake funeral- so they assume Jazz is from that time.

What gets most people's attention is Bruce Wayne being a dotting grandpa and the triplets being... unsettling. Jazz will eventually fall out of the limelight because she can be boring. (There are no big scandals for them to exploit. She didn't exist beforehand, so they can't dig into her past.)

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Congratulations! It’s Triplets!#Spoliers???#More of a outline really

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lis-likes-fics · 2 days

Text

aaron hotchner drabble

tw: none, fluff. 750 words

Aaron is a light sleeper. It just comes with being in his line of work. When he married you, sleep became a little easier to indulge in. He loves holding you as he sleeps, an arm around your waist, his nose nuzzled in your hair. You're a warmth he adores, and one he welcomes.

And you're also really funny.

Sometimes in a worrying kind of way.

The bed dips next to him sometime in the middle of the night, and Aaron is warmed by the movement and the chill that follows. His eyelids part heavily as he orders them to open like the agents he orders on the field. His sleepy gaze follows you out of the door of your bedroom, closing it behind you as you do. He lets out a groggy sigh, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Aaron shuffles the covers off his body and stands to his feet. He opens the door you closed and walks after you.

He comes up carefully behind you as you stand in the living room with a pillow in your hands. You're tapping on it like it's a tablet, giggling about something under your breath and then “typing” something out.

“Hey, honey,” he whispers, setting a hand on your waist so gently and he turns you to look at him. Your eyes are open, but you seem to look right through him, even as you snake a hand around his own waist. “What did you find?” he asks as he takes the pillow from you.

For a moment, he gets worried. Because as soon as you hear him, your smile drops and you look annoyed.

“I don't want to hear your excuses.” You give up the pillow, staring past him as you shake your head.

Oh?

“I'm sorry,” is what he says, wanting you to elaborate without accidentally upsetting you.

“You can't just give me wet-willies.”

Oh.

If the pillow hadn't proved it, your reprimand just did. Never in his life has he ever given you, or anyone for that matter, a wet-willy. You're sleepwalking again.

“Okay,” he chuckles lightly. “No more wet-willies.”

He rubs your back as you lean into him. You make no move to walk, so he just holds you.

“What about the baby?” you ask randomly.

He raises a brow, wondering what's going on in your head. You could be talking about Jack, but you've never called him “the baby” before. “What about the baby?” he counters.

You tilt your head. “Did you tell them?”

“Tell them what?”

You scoff, blinking strangely. “The goose bit a bug on the baby.”

Your nonsensical words amuse him to no end. Part of him feels guilty for finding this so entertaining. You've been a tad stressed lately, which is why you've been sleepwalking a little more than usual. But it's nothing the two of you can't handle.

“Is the baby okay?” he asks as he guides you slowly back to the room before Jack wakes up at the sounds of your voices.

You scoff again. “It's a baby.”

While that does answer his question, he takes it anyway. “Well, let's talk about it in bed,” he says.

You walk with him, though your words protest. “We can't.”

“Why not?”

“The zombies.”

Wow.

Aaron can't help the little chuckle that slips past his lips. He looks at you, “Where are the zombies, honey?”

“On the toaster.”

He loves you.

“How'd they get there?”

“Tap dance.”

“Tap dance?”

“On the sofa. Like this.” You raise your hand, wiggle your fingers, and then give a thumbs up. When you've finished, you drop it again at your side.

“That's really good,” he laughs, trying to be quiet as he leads you into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot. You hum in response.

“Lay down,” he murmurs at your side of the bed.

“On the plank?”

He nods, his smile hurting his cheeks. “Yes, on the plank.”

“But there are sharks.”

He kisses your forehead fondly. “I'll protect you from sharks.”

“Okay.” You lay in bed, and he pulls the covers over your body and rounds to his side. When he's securely at your back, he wraps his arms around you once again and pulls you into his chest.

“Goodnight, honey,” he whispers into the back of your head. He kisses your shoulder, sighing gently. “I love you.”

“Love,” you mutter distantly, “like loaf. Bread.”

He smiles against your hair, rubbing your side. “Yes,” he says, lulling you back to sleep with soft touches. “Bread.”

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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chrispeycream33 · 2 days

Text

Best friend!Matt x best friend!reader

Warnings: smut ,kissing, making out, touchy!Matt, public kissing, getting caught, orgasm denial unprotected sex, p in v best friends to lovers

Summery: the triplets and a couple friends go on a camping trip and well having a fire you and Matt get left alone (horny and alone) 🥴

Blue=Matt

Pink=y/n

Orange=Chris

Purple=Nick

Red=Nate

Green=Madi

Not proofread

🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵

You were packing for a camping trip you and the triplets and a couple friends were going to

“Hey, you almost done packing were gonna go soon”you hear a familiar voice behind you

“Yeah, I just need to grab my toothbrush and stuff”you say going to the bathroom that’s attached to nicks bedroom,to grab your skincare and toothbrush

“Alright perfect, we will be in the car”Matt says giving a slight smile before walking out

You grab your toiletries and stuffed them in your bag, and sprint downstairs, to go to the car

Matt’s driving it’s only like a hour long drive there, chris was in the front

Madi and nick in the way back back, Nate and i in the center me behind matt and nate behind chris

“Y/n what song do you want to listen to?”chris says looking down at his phone

“Can we listen to drowning?”i say looking towards Chris, “by who?” Chris says with a confused look

“A boogie wid a hoodie”

“Oh yeah I know that one” Nate Chris and Matt all say in unison

“Okay, perfect” i say under a fit of laughter from all of them saying it at the same time

“Ay, after this we should listen to Low by SZA”nick yells from the back

“YESSSSS” madi says says earning her and nick to laugh

“WRIST SO ICEY WONDER WHY SHE LIKE ME BITCH IM DROWNING”I sang with the song

Time skip

We get to the campsite to our cabin we all walk in and tag bedrooms

“Im sharing with Madi” nick yells as him and Madi run upstairs

“I’ll share with Nate” Chris yells running in the cabin

Me and Matt just stair at each other in a slight smile at how crazy everyone was acting

“Guess that means we’re sharing a bedroom” Matt say walking towards me “i Guess so” I say with a small smile

“Wanna go see the room?” Matt says nodding his head towards the stairs, i nod and we start walking upstairs

Matt opens the door and is met with one bed in the center, he stairs at you and you look at him then stair back at the bed

“I’ll sleep on the couch” Matt says nudging me with his shoulder and has a slight smile

“No don’t be ridiculous we can share it’s two nights” i say shrugging and walking in the room fully Matt following not to far behind

“Yeah, maybe it won’t be too bad” Matt says grabbing your waist and nuzzling his face in your neck from behind

“Matt stoop” i say pushing him by his shoulder laughing,i place my bag down on the bed and start unpack and putting things away

“Hey you guys wanna have a fire?”you hear Chrises voice from behind you

“Oh yeah that sounds fun, imma change quick, I’ll meet you out there” i say smiling and Chris walks away

“Matt I’m gonna change” i say in a sarcastic obvious voice

“I know” Matt says laying on the bed “I won’t look”

“Okay, you promise” I say looking back at him a with a questionable scoul

“I promise”Matt says with a sly smile on his face

Matt’s POV:

Of course I’m gonna look how could you not, sure she’s my best friend but I also have had a crush on her since middle school

Y/n turns around and I pretend not to look, her back is facing me and I see her take her shirt of revealing the back of her black Lacey bra

She throws on a cropped tank top and then turns around to look in her bag, my head immediately goes down to look at my phone

End of Matt’s POV:

I turn around to look for something in my bag, I swear I caught Matt staring, not that I care, I’ve had a crush on him since middle school i just don’t know he feels the same

“Ugh I forgot a hoodie do you have one I could borrow?”i say looking through my bag

“Here I might have one” Matt says standing off the bed and going towards his bag that lays next to the nightstand

He pulls out a fresh love hoodie and throws it towards me “ thank you so much”I say catching the hoodie

“No problem,sweetheart” you melt at the nickname,Matt was always kinda flirty towards you but that’s how he was with everyone

You throw the hoodie on and walk downstairs Matt following behind you, you see everyone outside around a fire

You walk outside and sit down “AYY, took you guys long enough” chris says as he roasting a marshmallow

“ yeh what we’re you all doin’?” Nate say with a mischievous smile

“ I had to change into something more comfortable”i say truthfully

“What about Matt what was he doing?”madi says holding in giggles, Madi knew I had a crush on Matt but would never tell a soul

“He was-“ “I was using the bathroom”he says before I finish my sentence

“Mhmm” nick says suspicious

“I don’t believe it for a second”Nate says his Boston accent heavy on the Dont

“ it’s true he was” i say trying to cover up for the lie I wasn’t sure why he lied, we’ve changed in the same room before but I guess we were younger.

Time skip

Everyone was talking and laughing around the fire until everyone was tired “me and Madi are gonna go to bed now night everyone” nick say as him and madi go into the cabin

“Yeh I’m pretty tired too imma go to sleep” “ yeh i’m gonna go too”

“Good night” you and Matt say in unison, we’re staying out a little longer, we’re both sitting on a log that’s in front of the fire, im holding Matt’s arm for warmth

You move closer to Matt and rest your head on his shoulder, he kisses the top of your head, sure Matt’s flirted but never kissed the top of my head before!

I lift my head to look at him, he looks down and at me and kisses my forehead

“Matt-“ i say in a low voice and a light blush that you pray he can’t see from the dark outside

“Yes?” He says as he kisses down to my cheek and to my neck, I move my head so he has better access to my neck

“Kiss me” I say and he waste no time crashing his lips to mine, it was gentle at first very slow and romantic, but it quick got sloppy Matt grabs my leg and rest it on his

He slips his tongue into my mouth and our tongues fight for dominance, Matt obviously winning

He grabs my neck and rest his thumb under my chin as we both taste each others mouth and explore deeper until Matt pulls away

“Wanna go inside?” He says smirking, i nod and we both head inside and sprint upstairs giggling

We go into the room and he pushes me on the bed and straddles me as he makes out with me again I feel his boner on my core and i moan at the feeling

“Mm you sound so pretty making those noises”he says pulling away for second and going down to my neck

He slips his hand up my shirt and plays with my boob through my bra, i wrap my legs around his slutty waist, and start to grind on him, looking for any sorta friction I can get

He takes the hint and start grinding down on my core even harder, we both moan and grunt at the feeling, heavy breathing coming from our mouths

“Oh Matt, I need more” he starts unbuttoning his pants when-

“Hey you guys-“ “oh shit,sorry uhm I-“ Chris stutters, his eyes wide

“Get out” Matt says throwing something at him

“Sorry I’ll get out now” Chris say embarrassed and leaves and shuts the door

You can hear Nate and him giggling through the door, “anyway, do want to keep going or are you turned of now?” Matt says looking down at her

“I want to keep going” y/n says as she grabs his neck and pulls him down he waste no time kissing her back they start grinding agian and Matt goes back to unbuttoning his pants

He gets up on his knees and pulls down his pants, his boner visible in his boxers, he leans down again his arm right above your head as he pulls down his pants the rest of the way

You start palming him through this boxers and he grunts at the feeling “so impatient” he say as he kisses your neck some more

He pulls away and starts playing with the bottom of your shirt asking to take it off,you nod impatiently and he take off you shirts and throws it somewhere in the room

“Hey you should lock the door”

“Okay yeah good idea”he gets up and on his way to the door he takes off his shirt and drops it on the floor he locks the door and walks back, your eyes fixated on his boner

Gets back on top of you and kisses you some more before play with your sweatpants, he rips them off and you whimper at the loss of clothes

He kisses your neck and goes down to your chest then all over your stomach, he kisses your lower stomach before coming back up Leaving another trail of kisses

“Matt please I need you please” you beg and he slides his hand down your underwear and starts rubbing your clit while making out with you

“Oh my god-“ you say in a moan and Matt smirks down at you, his fingers go lower down your pussy and make way to your entrance

He sticks his middle finger in you stretching you out a little, you moan at the feeling, Matt slips a second finger in you and starts scissoring you

“Okay you ready for my dick?” He asks and you nod frantically, he grabs your hips and flips you over so you in all fours in front of him

He starts kissing your ass cheeks and needing them with his hands, he pulled down his boxers and moved your panties to side and tease your entrance with his dick

“Matt please” you moan out in need of his dick “so impatient” he says slamming his cock into you, you moan at the feeling

“Shhhhhh, we don’t want the others to here us do we now”you shake your head no and put your face in the pillow your back arching perfectly, matt starts thrusting into you his dick kissing your g spot every time

Your moans muffled by the pillow, Matt bends over and kisses your back leaving a trail going down to your ass

You hear him grunting very time he thrusts which makes you almost finish right there

You start clenching around him as you are almost about to cum

“You gonna cum?” Matt says in a low voice, you just nod in response thinking that’s enough but for Matt it wasn’t

He grabs you hair and pulls your head up from the pillow

“Use your pretty words princess”

You struggle to usher the words out through moans as he thrust in you

“ i- ye- yes I- I’m gonna cum”

“Hold it” Matt’s says in a deep voice

“ wh- what?” You say on the verge of tears “ i said hold it” he pulls out and flips you over so your on your back and spreads your legs, he slams into you, he starts thrusting at an ungodly pace

He lifts your leg over his shoulder so he’s at a better angle, the new angle makes him hit all the right places, he leans down and kisses you

You can barely kiss back from how fucked out you are he pulls away and drops your leg, he looks down at your stomach and sees how deep he is

He places his hand on your lower stomach and presses down on it feeling how deep his dick is inside of you

You moan loud at the feeling, which is immediately muffled by Matt kissing me again his tongue entering my mouth as I try to kiss back

“ oh Matt I’m I- I’m coming”

“Yeah me too, finish on my cock” he says still thrusting,

“Oh oh oh my g-god” Matt says finishing after me he pulls out and kisses me

“Your on the pill right?”matt asks

“Yes I’m I- am-“i say panting and trying to calm down

“Good”Matt says as he gets up to grab his t shirt he uses it to clean around my pussy that has his seed coming out of it

He wipes his cock and and grabs his boxers and puts them on and grabs his sweater that I was wearing and puts it on me

“You alright?” He asks as he sees me still fucked out

“Yeh I’m great, that was amazing Matt”I say sitting up a bit

“Hey y/n?”matt says in a sweet voice

“Yeah?”

“I really like you a lot, like a lot I’ve liked you since like middle school”

“Really Matt?”I say sweetly

“ I like you too”i say grabbing his chin and kissing him softly

We both pull away from the kiss and lay down, “wanna go out sometime,like on a date?”

“Yes Matt I would love too”

We both lay under the comforter and cuddle until we fell asleep

The end

🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵🪵

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo fire #chris sturniolo smut #nate doe #bambi slxt #solersturniolo #matt sturniolo x y/n #y0urm4m

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seolpsy · 2 days

Text

ZEROBASEONE # THEIR LOVE LANGUAGES !

notes: sooo sleepy writing this but hope u guys enjoy :)) i’m obsessed w gyuvin like it’s not even funny…

word count: 644

warnings: none

% KIM JIWOONG !

words of affirmation

even though jiwoong doesn’t talk much, it doesn’t stop him from telling you how much he values you. he’ll continuously remind you of his gratefulness and love towards you. aside from this, jiwoong likes to drop sneaky flirts, causally saying things like “you look so good” or “i love that outfit on you” out of the blue.

% ZHANG HAO !

physical touch

hao likes subtle physical touch with you. he’s not the type to kiss you in public, but he’s constantly intertwining your fingers or wrapping an arm around your waist. when you guys are sitting next to each other, your knees tend to touch and hao puts his hand on your knee to show his affection. when these moments happen, it’s just you two and no one else.

% SUNG HANBIN !

acts of service

hanbin is your boyfriend and mother in one. he’s always taking care of things before you even have time to worry about them. he’s dreamy in the sense that he loves to make you breakfast in bed simply because he wants to and he gives you his jacket when he sees that you’re cold. being with hanbin is the epitome of “to be loved is to be seen.”

% SEOK MATTHEW !

quality time

you guys aren’t great at showing your feelings but time with one another is top tier. adventures with you and matt are so much fun. you guys never focus on the outside world, only the bubble you two are in. matt loves to spend every moment focusing on you (he doesn’t even check his phone once when he’s with you). you guys love to talk from night to day.

% KIM TAERAE !

quality time

if there’s one thing that taerae loves most in this world, it’s spending time with you. it doesn’t matter if it’s shopping, singing, or just laying in bed with you, he adores it. taerae uses all of his free time, hanging out with you. if he has schedules, he wishes for them to go by quickly so he can see you again. time with you is never unimportant to taerae.

% SHEN RICKY !

gift-giving

ricky’s awkward when it comes to expressing his feelings so he loves to buy you gifts instead. he’s willing to spend any amount of money on you because seeing you happy makes him happy. ricky likes surprising you with gifts, he believes you deserve one always. every gift is thought out (if it reminds him of you or he thinks you’ll like it, he’ll buy it!) and filled with the love and care of his heart.

% KIM GYUVIN !

physical touch

are we surprised that gyuvin can never take his hands off of you? he’s always up in your face, begging you to hug him, kiss him, love him! when you two are apart, he craves your touch so badly. he’s always whining to his members about how much he misses your sweet scent or the warmth of your embrace. you guys are stuck together like glue.

% PARK GUNWOOK !

words of affirmation

there’s never a moment when gunwook doesn’t tell you how much he appreciates and loves you. unlike others, he doesn’t shy away and communicates his feelings for you directly. along with the reassurance of his love for you, he compliments you 24/7, constantly hyping you up. gunwook will always find a way to make you feel loved with his words.

% HAN YUJIN !

acts of service

yujin isn’t much of a touchy or talkative guy so he likes to show his love through his actions. he buys your favorite pastries to share or listens to you after a stressful day. he enjoys helping you complete house chores, not thinking of it as an inconvenience but as a way to help you out. if there’s something to do, yujin has done it before you can even notice.

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artethyst · 2 days

Text

~ Some random headcannons about Eris + his Mate (Rhysand’s Sister!Reader/OC) ~

Eris never has to worry about overheating again with her sprawled all over him as they sleep, her “cold-blooded night court” limbs digging into his warm skin (he secretly loves it).

He loves laying his head in her lap as she plays with his hair just like one of the hounds, reading softly to him whatever book Nesta has just recommended (more often than not the book gets abandoned because Eris becomes more interested in reenacting its smutty contents).

She bathes him because he still suffers the trauma of having to scrub clean the wounds his father inflicted.

He loves it when she takes her role as High Lady seriously and in fact prefers watching her take charge and put male Advisors in their place…Perhaps a little too much.

Makes sure her throne is more ornate that his.

Pretends to hate when she makes little braids in his cropped hair but always leaves them in and tells her he simply forgot but she caught him playing with them once when he was stressing over paperwork and never lets him live it down.

He cried when she accepted the bond.

He cried at their Mating Ceremony.

He cried when she gave birth.

He’s a crier.

She cried when he cut his hair.

He feigns exasperation whenever she begs him to use his magic when they fuck but loves nothing more than the blissed out look on her face when his fire crawls across her flushed skin.

He cried during the Mating Frenzy.

Secretly jealous of Lucien’s closeness with her but will never show it. (It is very obvious and they both know so only use it to annoy him further).

She was confused why he was so adamant they fuck in Rhys’ office only to understand when she saw her brother’s horror stricken face when he scented her Mate all over his desk the next morning.

Smug because he knows Azriel had a crush on you. Never lets him forget it.

She always makes sure to call him pretty before they fall asleep, peppering his face with drowsy kisses before she’s drooling on his chest, knocked out.

If he has to wake up early, refusing to rob her of rest, he leaves her small inked parchment messages telling her how much he treasures her.

They are so sickly in love.

#fanfic #acotar #acotar fic #acotar x oc #acotar x reader #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris vanserra x oc #eris vanserra x reader #eris x oc #eris x reader #eris

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girlboypersonthingy · 2 days

Note

Could you maybe write a Sally Face One Shot, where Sal developed a huge crush on reader. But he thinks she doesn’t feel the same way. So he writes a love letter in which he puts no hope in, but then she actually tells him she does feel the same.

Does that even make any sense?😭

Yes…it makes sense and I’m weeping over this omggggg 😭😭😭 bruh this had me screaming and kicking in bed as I wrote it omfgggggg. Sal is pretty smart so I know this mf would write some pretty, thought out, poetic type shit

Notes: gn!reader, established friendship, friends to lovers trope

TW: none, just so fucking sappy and fluffy

Sal x reader- Sincerely Sally 💌

Dear (Y/N),

I want to start by telling you that you’re an amazing friend. I’m beyond grateful we’ve met. You’ve always made me feel so comfortable, so wanted, so important. No words could ever truly explain my feelings for you or the thoughts behind them, but I’m going to try.

Since we met, I’ve seen nothing but good in you and I think you’ve made me good, too. You make me feel good. You make me a better person. I don’t know who I’d be without you, but I know who I want to be now.

I want to be the one on your arm when we walk into a room.

I want to be the one you wake up to every morning and fall asleep next to every night.

I want to kiss you every time we say ‘good bye’ and every time we say ‘hello’ again.

I want to be the one you point to with a smile and say ‘him’ when talking to others.

I want to be the one to hold you when you cry.

I want to be the one to hug you when you’re excited.

I want to go every where you go.

I want to slow dance with you.

I want to head bang with you.

I want to paint with you.

I want to sing to you.

I want to hold you.

I want you.

I love you.

I’m in love with you.

And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Sally <3

Sal felt like a total loser while sneaking over to your place, which was just down the street from Todd’s house, and slipping the letter in your mailbox. He felt like he could puke just from writing the letter, there’s no way he could ever say these things to your face. He couldn’t help but hesitate, staring at the mailbox as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. ‘They’re going to hate me. I’m gonna ruin everything. What the hell am I doing?’ Sal thinks to himself, staying frozen in place for a good few minutes as thousands of thoughts race through his mind, shaky hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets.

He jumps a bit when he notices the light in your bedroom flick on through your window. He ducks his head and turns to leave, not wanting to get caught lurking around your house in the middle of the night. As he rushes back home, the panic begins to set in because now he realizes he left it…he left the letter behind. It was done. No turning back. He felt sick to his stomach and like he was already grieving the loss of your friendship.

Sal tip toes back in the house, praying neither Neil nor Todd would catch him sneaking in so late and ask questions. He trudges to his room, shedding his clothes before flopping onto his bed. Sal lays on his side and after taking his prosthetic off, stares at the wall for hours thinking about all the ways this could go wrong, all the ways you could reject him, every excuse and lie he could use later to act like it wasn’t even serious, like it was a dumb joke or something. Finally, after his brain had tortured him enough, he drifts off to sleep just before the sun begins to rise.

~next morning~

‘Holy shit…’ You think as you hold the piece of lined note book paper in your shaky hands. “No way…no way!” A giddy smile grows on your face as you clumsily drop all the other mail you had in your hands, besides Sal’s letter, on the ground and take off running for him. It was early in the morning and you were in pajamas still but nothing could stop you now. His house was not far at all and you were too excited not to immediately run to him and profess your love for him.

You and Sal had been friends almost as long as he has with Larry and Todd. You’ve slowly fallen in love with him just as hard as he has with you- the issue is that you are both dummies and think the other person sees you as a friend and a friend only. You’d find yourself dreaming of Sal, not knowing he was dreaming of you too. You’d absentmindedly doodle his name on piece of paper and blush, he’d find a strand of your hair on his shirt and smile so big under his mask. You two have been pining for so long but both so afraid to wreck the relationship you already have. Eventually, Sal felt like he couldn’t get anything done, couldn’t focus on his studies or the ghosts or even eating throughout the day. His brain was full, flooded even, with thoughts of you. He just had to get it out, he had to say it to you now or he would be haunted by it forever. Unbeknownst to Sal…you felt the exact same way.

Bouncing up to his doorstep with an uncontrollable smile on your face, cheeks aching and turning red, you knock on the door and ball your fists up out of excitement. Finally, Todd answers the door, smiling at you before greeting you. “(Y/N)! What are you doing here so early? We-“ “Sal! I-I’m sorry. I need to talk to Sal.” You interrupt, your crazy smile making Todd chuckle softly just as Neil comes up behind him. “Morning, (Y/N)! Sal isn’t up yet. He’s still-“

You weren’t trying to be rude, you adored Todd and Neil but you were currently completely 100% hyperfixated on the sleeping blue haired poet behind the door at the end of the hall way and you just had to see him immediately. “I-I’m sorry…” You laugh softly as you push past them, sprinting for his door, gripping the knob excitedly before swinging the door open. The sound of the door swinging back against the door frame stirs Sally from his sleep, making him groan and glance over at the doorway. Before he can react to you being in his bedroom, in your pajamas still with bed head and an adorable love sick smile on your face, you’re jumping into his blankets with arms wide open. As you practically belly flop on top of him, he huffs softly then chuckles, groggily blinking at you.

“Uh…morning…” He mumbles just before you place the folded love letter on his chest, giving him a small smirk. His eyes open wider now, his prosthetic eye not in its usual socket. Sal scrambles nervously to sit up more, his breath hitching in his throat. He was so half asleep for a moment there, he had forgotten all about the letter he planted in your mailbox last night. “Oh I uh….yeah uh-uhm-“ Sal can’t seem to move his mouth correctly, can’t focus his brain on the words he wants to say. And he just breaks down even more when he realizes you’re in his bed, still in pajamas with the cutest messiest bed head. He can’t deal with the cuteness and his gnawing anxiety…So you speak up instead.

“I love you too.” You smile sweetly before pulling yourself up closer to his scarred face and rubbing your nose against his. Sal lets out a whiny little hum as he lets his nervous hands very slowly move up to rest on your back, smiling like a sappy dork as he hugs you softly. He’s not sure what exactly he was expecting to happen after giving you that letter but this is most definitely the best case scenario. “Let’s just…fucking kiss already.” You say with a cheeky smile, eyes half lidded as you lean in closer. Sal sucks in a breath before letting his eyes close along with yours, pursing his lips out as his hands move up your arms and to your cheeks. His big palms caress your face so perfectly, his thumbs sliding back and forth over your skin as you lock lips, gently moving your mouths together as soft sighs leave both of you.

As his hands pull your face closer, your hands wander up and down his bare arms, legs tangled up in his blankets along with him now, you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh against his lips. “I’m glad you finally told me…that letter was so beautiful.” You whisper, lips gently ghosting against his now. Sal keeps his eyes closed but smiles brightly. “I wrote 153 of those letters.” He confesses, face burning bright red. “No you didn’t.” You scoff, looking down at him, finding this fact hilarious and also adorable and flattering.

“Oh yes he did!” Todd and Neil are leaning in the open doorway. Oops…you got so excited you didn’t shut the door behind you when you ran in. “Proof!” Neil laughs out loudly as he points to Sal’s trash can in the corner of the room, overflowing with balled up pieces of paper. You laugh as you look over, Neil and Todd laughing along with you. Sal drapes an arm over his face, trying to hold back his flustered smile and embarrassed expression. “Stoopppp.” He complains before you’re standing and playfully glaring at the two boys in the doorway. “That’s enough teasing. Shoo!” You grin at Todd before shutting the door on them and turning back to Sal.

“153, huh? Wow. That’s some dedication, lover boy.” You climb back into his bed, sitting cross legged beside him. “Why didn’t you just tell me in person, Sal? Would’ve been way easier.” You scoot closer to him and run your fingers through his tangled hair. “Uh, I totally disagree. I nearly had a panic attack just putting that letter in your mailbox and then having to walk away from it.” A laugh rings out from you as you toss your head back. “Ha! So, What? You’re afraid to say you love me but not afraid of ghosts or demons or cults?” You taunt him before leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a second. “You’re strange. And I love that about you.” You rest there with him for a moment before a fantastic idea hits you, making you sit up and gasp excitedly.

“Can I read the other ones too?!” Before Sal can answer, you’ve jumped up and ran to the rejected pile of love letters in the corner. “No! (Y/N)! No no nononononono!” Sal jumps up and runs to tackle you, his face blushing so red from his ears and down his neck. You laugh loudly as he wraps his arms around your waist and tries to pull you away from all the other embarrassing things he wrote and considered saying to you. “They’re…in the trash…for a reason!” He laughs and huffs as you you push forward, trying to reach even just one crumpled up piece of paper. “Pleeaaassseeeee?” You plead but your strength leaves you as Sal tickles you and has you cackling on the ground instantly.

And the next 10 minutes are spent wrestling with him on the floor of his bedroom while laughing like drunk idiots and occasionally pressing a kiss to the other’s lips. Eventually, you do get ahold of a few of the discarded love letter drafts and they are either like Shakespeare poetry type shit, or so fucking dorky and corny, full of puns and shit. Larry probably tried to help him with that one lol

#sally face x reader #sally face fanfic #sally face fanfiction #sal sally face #sally face sal #sally x reader #sal x reader #sal fisher #sally fisher #sally face #sal fisher x you #sal fisher x reader #sf sal #sally face fluff #sal fisher x y/n

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 hours

Text

The Bastard’s Mistress ~ A Don John x Servant!Reader Fic

So I caught the don John brain rot this weekend…very contagious, 10/10 recommend. This might be @scarlettspectra ’s fault, from all her beautiful gifs she’s been posting!😆 I didn’t go full Shakespearean here but had some fun with the syntax. I apologize in advance. Reader is properly deferential for the time, but she’s got a little spunk.😬

Warnings: the line between dubcon and noncon here is VERRRY thin. I don’t even know. So if that bothers you do NOT read this! What else. Period correct misogyny and degradation. Corruption. I’m so bad at itemizing these things. Please take care. If u have squiks i probs wouldn’t read this…

You are a chambermaid in His Excellency don Alejandro’s hacienda. It gives you a certain distance from things, as you come and go, doing your best to keep the country house clean and stay out of sight. But don Alejandro’s bastard, the fire-eyed boy with such a burning contempt for the world, has always seen you.

When you were young children, don John would play with you all, the offspring of the servants who were too young to work. Not because he enjoyed your company, but because he delighted in ordering you all about. Luckily in those days he ignored you as often as he tormented you.

Then there was a time, when the two of you hovered on the precipice between childhood and adult responsibilities, that you had almost been friends. Or at least, not enemies. He, the bitter outsider with the privileges of a full blooded son, but none of the standing. You, unmoored in your fatherlessness, the fever having taken your sire when you were just a babe.

Don John goaded you into shirking your chores one day to go play in the hills. He’d only taunted you a little, as you played your silly games, which mostly consisted of him manipulating you, ordering you to do this and that, always testing just how far he could go before being met with rebellion. It was still better than working your hands raw in the laundry. “We should run away,” he’d said in that devil-may-care way brash young boys have, so sure the world is destined to fold for them. You, however, had begged to go home, for all it won you. Upon returning your mother absolutely tanned your backside, and you never associated with Don John in such a familiar way again.

You saw him around the grounds, of course, as you scurried from one backbreaking chore to the next, and as he went through the motions of learning how to become a gentleman. Amidst his riding lessons he would wink at you from astride his fine black horse, but the cruel turn of his mouth never failed to halt you in returning it, even if your heart quickened in your chest.

That did not mean you didn’t think of him later though, on your lumpy cot of straw, as urges began to awaken in your body that was well on its way to becoming a woman’s. You saw his face at night, so achingly handsome you could hardly contain your longing. It felt like madness, and so you shoved it down in the deepest dungeon of your heart, as far as it could go.

It was not helpful, or good, the times when young don John passed you in the halls, and you felt that he would like to just eat you up. He would tug at your apron strings with a smirk before striding on to whatever lark he plotted for the day. The unholy feelings just a look from that man called up in you had you reaching for your rosary–and late at night, when all others lay asleep, between your legs.

You’d felt a certain relief when he went off to war with don Pedro. Even though your heart ached for the inevitable change, a part of you hoped he would never return.

As it turns out, your hopes were not to be realized. He has returned to his father’s country house, on the tails of some scandal in Messina. His temper is even fouler than you remember. His scowl, crueler. He has met with some disappointment, out in the world. You hope he will not take it out on you blameless servants.

Perhaps that is too much to ask of the upper caste.

You feel his eyes upon you again, as in the old days, but different. There is a weight in his gaze that makes you uncomfortable in your own skin, as though it no longer fits upon your own bones. It makes you ache for something no pious unmarried girl should yearn for, something you cannot name, only feel in the darkest hours of night when you lay awake on your mattress of straw, your sinful fingers exploring the bud of flesh between your legs.

You decide don John carries the flames of Hell in his burning dark eyes.

You dream of him, as though he has possessed your flesh in your sleeping hours.

He corners you one day, as you are changing the linens in one of the many airy rooms of the hacienda. You eye him warily, as he shuts the door, his large and forbidding form blocking your exit. His dark eyes upon you are black as night.

“What a flower you have blossomed into, y/n,” he muses, stepping slowly into the room with the measured calculation of a predator stalking prey. “No longer the knees and elbows girl I remember.”

“You…have also changed, my lord,” you offer cautiously. No longer the awkward, rail thin youth, his shoulders have the breadth of a man who rides a charger and wields a sword. You have tried not to notice.

“How so?” he fishes, canting his head with a smirk.

Your face feels as though you have caught on fire. “You are…taller,” you offer, winning a cruel little chuckle.

“Oh? I do like the sound of that. What else?” Another step closer, his booted heel clicking on the floor, and you are veritably boxed in between the walls and the oversized bed.

“My lord?” you stall, mortified.

“Did you miss me, y/n?”

This question also takes you aback, and perhaps that is why you answer honestly.

“Sometimes.”

“Well. That is more than any of my relations here will bother to claim,” he answers bitterly. In that moment you still see a boy just striving, yearning for his father’s recognition. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but you always felt bad for him, in a way.

“Did you hear the happy news? Don Pedro has taken a wife, and opts to dwell in Messina,” snarls don John with a mocking brightness.

“How…fortunate for him.”

The man before you makes a sound that suggests he barely restrained himself from spitting upon the floor in his half brother’s name.

“Indeed.” He takes one more step, and you know you are done for, your heart in your chest. There will be no escaping now. “What of you, fair y/n? Assumed the yoke of marriage yet?” The disdain in his words hangs bitter in the air.

You are tempted to lie, but know no good should come of it. “No, my lord,” you answer, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“How fortunate for you.”

Perhaps in your fear, you forget yourself. “John, please–”

He moves to strike, and you are but a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, quick but not quick enough to evade him. His arm is like a band of iron about your waist, lifting you off the floor in his fury. He slams you down–albeit upon the feather mattress–a luxury you’ve never experienced for yourself, your back accustomed to scratchy tick straw.

“Insouciant wench! How familiar you are, to address me so.” He sounds so cruelly delighted by it, wedging his lean body like a knife between your legs, his narrow hips locked against yours. When you attempt to sit up he easily pins you down, his large hand spanning two of your wrists with ease, his other pressed lightly over your throat. You can hardly hear, hardly think, over the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. He can surely feel it in your pulse, fluttering against his fingers. You are filled with fear–and the sharp ache of desire, God save you.

“Please, my lord…”

He makes a low sound in his throat, his lips tracing your jaw. “Please what, pretty maid? I have a mind to make a meal of you.”

“Please…don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? That is up to you, my dear. I will have you. Sweetly, or by force, tis your choice.” Your heart lodges in your throat. Your mother warned you about this, time and again. Men are dogs and gentlemen the worst of them. Never let them catch you alone.

And in your darkest heart of hearts, you know that a part of you hoped don John might do just that.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, surprisingly gently for such a villain, but you attempt to turn away. It only wins his annoyance, his large hand turning your face back to him. Before he can press his mouth to yours you say, “You merely seek to make sport of me in your boredom here. It is not right.”

He laughs at that. “Sport, I shall make,” he muses, hiking your skirts above your thighs. “Let us test the truth of your righteous outrage?” Boldly his fingers climb the trail of your leg, to the apex where he finds the damning evidence of your treacherous loins. “My lovely girl, so wet for such a reluctant quarry.” His long fingers dip inside your weeping center, and the sound you make does not resemble protest at all. He smirks down at you like the very devil. “And a virgin my little rabbit is not.”

Javi the stableboy took care of that for you, in a quick and disappointing tumble in the hay. His touch…had felt nothing like this, if truth you tell.

Ashamed, and burning, you look away. Tears trail out of your eyes, and a part of you wishes it shall just be over soon. He frowns at the shining tracks of water upon your cheeks, a menacing scowl that makes your eyes screw shut tight.

“Do not seek to engage my sympathy or my better nature, for you know I have none,” he growls above the dip of your throat, his lips searing as a brand upon your chest.

“That wasn’t always true,” you dare, winning naught but a growl from this ravenous beast of a man above you.

“You are the only one who thinks so.” For the barest moment you see a flash of vulnerability in his eyes–the ghost of the memory of the boy he once was, there and gone like ripples in a pool. It is as though this second of softness spurs him on in his deed, as though he must shove it aside to enjoy his sordid pleasure.

Clever fingers tear at the laces of your stays; you are freed to breathe, but you are bared to his hungry gaze as he tugs down your shift for his delectation. “Such lovely fruits, just ripe for picking,” he muses, cupping your breast in his hand, suckling upon a nipple.

You never knew how such a thing could make your insides clench, your sinning cunt tightening in its aching emptiness. Your hips move against his of their own accord, your legs wrapping about him as you mindlessly seek some relief from this madness. He withdraws with a dramatic pop, laughing at your body’s treachery.

“You are a fiend.”

“Pray, tell me,” he taunts you.

“I hate you.”

“Is that any way to speak to your master?”

He is enjoying this far too much.

“You forget your place, don John, as ever.”

That is when he slaps you. Not hard, nay, your own mother has hit you harder, but it certainly gets your attention. “I will rule here someday, y/n. Have a care with that tongue. I can think of better uses for it.” His piercing eyes fix upon your lips, a moment before he falls upon you, kissing you as though he means to devour you. You tense, thinking to bite him for being so cruel, so conniving, for just using you for no other reason other than he can.

He plays a very dirty trick on you, though.

That dexterous hand slips under your skirts again, swiping up your slick before circling that small nub of flesh that causes you such great tumult and shame. You moan into his mouth, and you feel him smile wickedly against you.

This man is the very devil, you are sure of it.

“Now who is ready to forget?” he taunts you, rubbing you in slow circles that drive you mad, make you writhe for the unbearable tightness coiling between your legs.

You can only manage a small cry, words escaping you. You’ve never felt anything like this, not at your own hands, and certainly not with Javi the stableboy.

“Please,” is all you can manage, and you’re not even entirely sure you know what you’re begging for.

“I like to hear you beg so sweetly.” He reaches to free himself from his breeches, his swollen tip hovering at your entrance. “So beg, wench, what favour is it you ask of me?”

You should entreat him to leave you be–you should beg for his mercy. But the delicious weight of him atop you, this dastardly man whose touch is such sweet sin–you are not sure you wish for him to leave you be. Your whole life has been such a march of drudgery. Even just the possibility of feeling something that is not pain or exhaustion makes you willfully forget every lesson your mother ever taught you, every fiery sermon the Padre ever flung down from his pulpit. Tis easy to renounce the Devil, until temptation has you in its clutches.

“I know not what to ask for,” you answer cautiously, and that at least is true.

Don John smirks down at you, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

“Ask for my cock, you stupid girl, and if your quim pleases me perhaps I may be moved to share in the spoils.”

“Yes.” You strain your hips towards him, craving that satisfying, stretching burn of a man’s first thrust. That, atleast, you know something about.

“Yes, what?” he taunts you, delighting in your torment as he holds himself just out of reach.

“Yes, my lord,” you whimper, hating yourself as much as him in that moment. “May I have your cock?”

His smile widens in his devilish delight, almost showing teeth. “Remember that you asked for it.” But he taunts you no further, his thick head penetrating your weeping hole, the fullness of him stealing the very breath from your lungs. He groans once fully inside you, burying his face in your neck.

“I’ve always known you would have the sweetest little cunt in the sierra,” he growls against your skin, and he begins to thrust.

If there is one thing you have always known about don John, it is that he loves to hear himself talk.

“You are mine, little maid,” he goes on, filling you so deeply you fear he must be in your belly. You are not sure you like it, and you only whimper in answer, straining for a better angle against him, seeking that certain friction that made you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, understanding what you seek very well. You whine, turning your eyes to the ceiling. You know you are a mere peasant, and you know you do not own anything, much less yourself. Yet some small defiance rises in you, for his demanding tone.

“Perhaps I shall, if you make it so.”

You wait for him to strike you again, but to your surprise he smirks with a sort of dark delight, only turning your gaze back to his with a rough hand upon your jaw. “There is the saucy wench I remember of our youth. Do you remember how you used to defy me?”

You don’t very much, recalling that he usually always emerged the master and victor of your games.

“No, my lord.”

“You do not recall striking me with a stick, in defense of a hapless bird?”

You blink, finding it rather unfair of this man to expect you to command the capacity to think in this situation. But then you do recall. You had all been small children. The boys sought amusement in throwing rocks at an injured sparrow. You had taken exception to it.

Don John had sworn he would tell his father and have you executed.

You’d cried for days, but the sword never fell.

You’d nearly forgotten all about it, perhaps willfully burying the memory out of shame and fear. Mostly fear.

The bastard had deserved it.

He never forgot a slight, it seems.

“I always told myself I would have my revenge for that,” he tells you with a smirk, pressing his thumb into your mouth. You try to shrink away, but he has you like a fish on a hook. “Suck,” he commands you. You do not understand why those jetty black eyes boring into yours, paired with that unyielding tone, makes your needy cunt clench around him, only that it is extremely satisfying to see his eyes flutter closed, even if just for a moment.

You do as you’re told.

He uses your own saliva against you, reaching between your legs with that spit-wet thumb to touch you again.

You forget everything else, but the carnal heaven that is his clever fingers with his manhood inside you. The sounds the two of you make are barely human, as you strain and writhe against each other, chasing your release from this hell. Those full lips made for sin devour you–his mouth on your breasts makes you see God, a searing pleasure crashing through you in a spine-cracking rush. How can something that feels so wonderful be so forbidden? Only then does don John truly let himself go, the sound of flesh striking flesh filling the room as he takes you with all his pent up fury. It is not long before he roars his release, filling you with ropes of his hot seed, his powerful body trembling in its tangle of limbs with yours.

For just a moment you wished would last, his fingers lace with yours rather than pin you, his head heavy on your chest as he catches his breath. Yet when he lifts his gaze to you, his eyes gleam with their usual malevolence.

“You will come to my chambers tonight,” he orders you. “For I am not finished with you yet by half.”

When your mouth opens–indeed to give protest–he silences you with a hard but heart-melting kiss, his long fingers tangled unforgivingly in your now loosened hair.

“Do as I say, servant girl. Though if you don’t, I may enjoy making you.” That proud mouth ticks as he seems to imagine it, that fire igniting once more in his mesmerizing eyes. The thought simultaneously makes your blood run cold–and a thrill of desire run raucous down your spine.

This man is the very devil. You are as sure of it now, as you know when the household goes to sleep, you will find your way back to his merciless embrace.

#don john #much ado about nothing #don john x reader #don john keanu reeves #keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanuverse fic

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bloody-bee-tea · 1 day

Text

It was love all along

Satoru is in his favourite spot in the whole wide world. He’s stretched out on top of Suguru, who’s laying on the couch, their legs tangled, Suguru’s heartbeat in his ear and Suguru’s fingers in his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

There might or might not be a movie playing, but it’s not as if Satoru is paying attention, as if he could pay attention with Suguru’s steady heartbeat drowning everything else out.

Satoru only notices that something changed at all when Suguru speaks up.

“If you’re going to be a hater, then do it quietly,” he says, his voice pleasantly rumbling through his chest and Satoru presses closer, trying to chase that sound even as he frowns.

Why am I being a hater? he wonders, wants to ask, but before he can convince his mouth to work, the couch jostles and then Shoko speaks up.

He didn’t even hear her come in.

“You’re such freaks,” she says and it’s more fond than anything.

Satoru turns his head, presses his other ear to Suguru’s chest as soon as he can again, and then he blinks up at Shoko, who has her arms crossed on the back of the couch, her head pillowed on them even as she stares at them.

“Takes one to know one,” Satoru mutters, barely able to find his own voice with how good it feels to have Suguru scratch at his scalp more insistently.

Seems he didn’t like it much when Satoru moved.

“What are you even doing?” Shoko asks, one eyebrow raised and Satoru smiles slightly when Suguru speaks again.

He does love hearing his voice like this, all rumbly, straight in his ear.

“Watching a movie,” Suguru replies and Shoko snorts out a laugh.

“Yeah, right. Watching,” she mocks them. “What’s even happening in it?” she wants to know and Satoru certainly doesn’t have an answer for her, because he wasn’t even aware that a movie was running in the first place.

“Things,” Suguru says after a short pause and Satoru smiles slightly. Suguru clearly wasn’t paying that much attention either.

“You and your stupid need to be as wrapped up in each other as you can possibly be,” she mutters and pointedly looks at Suguru’s hand in Satoru’s hair. “It’s sickening.”

“You’re just jealous,” Satoru mutters, and Suguru hums, sending shivers down Satoru’s back.

“Maybe I am,” Shoko easily gives back, “but it’s still not normal what you two are doing,” she tacks on and then climbs over the back of the couch to lay down on top of Satoru.

It presses him even more into Suguru, makes the sound of his heart almost unbearably loud in his ears and Satoru thinks that if he would die right this second, he wouldn’t even mind.

“This okay?” Shoko asks, probably more for Suguru’s sake than Satoru’s, because it’s Suguru who has to bear both of their weights now, who is being pressed into the couch.

Satoru still hums in answer, more content than even before and Suguru also makes a happy sound in the back of his throat.

“’s good,” he mutters, not once ceasing the steady motion of his hands and Satoru can feel how Shoko rolls her eyes.

“Weirdos,” she mutters, but she doesn’t get up or move otherwise away.

Satoru smiles at that, because she can complain as much as she wants, but she’s in this as well and that makes her just as much of a weirdo as it does Suguru and him.

Satoru goes back to concentrating on the sound of Suguru’s heartbeat, on the feeling of his fingers against his skin and he floats for a bit, happy and content with where he is right now.

He’s so content in fact, that he doesn’t notice the niggling feeling at the back of his mind until much later.

~*~*~

They do, eventually, have to get up and go to bed, even though all three of them are perfectly comfortable where they are. But if Yaga finds them piled on the couch like this in the middle of the night when they have missions the next day, hell is going to break loose and no one dares to tempt that.

“Time for bed,” Shoko mutters as she pushes herself off Satoru, rolling off the couch and barely getting her feet under her before she hits the ground. “You should go to bed, too.” She pauses as she regards them. “Preferably to your own ones, but I’m not holding my breath for that,” she then quietly adds and it makes Satoru frown.

“Why go to my own bed, when I can go to Suguru’s?” he asks, turning his head around again to be able to make his frown work better.

Not that it ever works on her.

“Exactly my point,” she sighs out. “Well, I already knew you’re not normal—” she points at Satoru “—but he came as a surprise.” She moves her finger to Suguru and Satoru takes offense to that.

Suguru is perfectly normal.

“Don’t be mean to him,” he chides her, causing Suguru to chuckle under him and Satoru feels as if he’s melting when the sound travels through his entire body.

“She was insulting you, too, you know,” Suguru informs him, but really, Satoru couldn’t care less about that.

He draws the line at people insulting Suguru, though.

“Shoko, take it back what you said about Suguru,” he says, as if he didn’t even hear Suguru, who lets out a fond sigh.

“I will, if you sleep in your own bed tonight. Alone,” she stresses and before Satoru can even open his mouth, Suguru speaks up.

“Not happening,” he decisively says and that’s that, it seems, because Shoko heaves out a huge sigh and then waves at them.

“Thought so. Anything else would have been a surprise with how up in each other’s business you two are,” she says as she walks away from them and it leaves Satoru with a frown.

That niggling feeling is back, more insistent now and he doesn’t like it; doesn’t like it one bit, because it makes it hard to enjoy the head scratches he’s still getting from Suguru.

“We should go to bed, too, though, she’s right about that,” Suguru eventually mumbles and Satoru presses himself closer to Suguru.

“Don’t wanna,” he whines out and smiles when Suguru chuckles again.

“We just have to relocate to bed,” Suguru tries to cajole him, “and then we can go right back to this.”

As if to drive his point home, he scratches at a particularly sensitive spot low on Satoru’s neck and really, that’s not helping at all.

“You’re gonna make my bones melt like that,” Satoru complaints and curses himself when Suguru immediately stops.

“Can’t have that until we’re in bed,” he says and then—because Suguru is cruel and mean and has no regard for Satoru’s safety—he pushes him off himself and the couch.

“Ouch, Suguru,” Satoru whines out, rubbing the aching spot on his butt that met the ground first but he can’t really be mad, because Suguru is smiling down at him as he reaches out and pushes a few strands of hair out of Satoru’s face.

“Sorry,” he easily says and Satoru knows that he’s not sorry at all.

“Whatever,” Satoru grumbles as he picks himself off the ground and just because he can he flicks Suguru’s forehead. “Let’s go then.”

Now that he’s up and away from Suguru he realises just how cold the room as gotten and goose bumps break out all over his arms.

“You’re the one stalling us,” Suguru easily gives back, getting off the couch and simply walking out on Satoru, who is quick to follow him as if there’s a leash tethering him to Suguru.

It isn’t until they are in Suguru’s room—Satoru having followed him there without a second thought—that he hesitates.

Suguru doesn’t notice immediately, because he changes into his sleeping clothes and slides right into bed, but when he finally realises that Satoru is not doing the same, he frowns.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” he wants to know, and Satoru doesn’t know what to say.

“I think—maybe I should—” he starts and points over his shoulder at the door. He doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do, but Shoko’s words shook something loose in him and now there’s this pit of worry in his gut that he can’t seem to shake. “You know, my own bed,” he finishes lamely and it doesn’t help when Suguru simply continues to stare at him.

“What’s going on?” he finally asks and Satoru shuffles on his feet.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just—” Satoru trails off with a shrug.

“Do you want to go to your own bed?” Suguru wants to know and just thinking about it—laying in his own bed, cold and alone with Suguru too far away from him—makes Satoru’s eyes burn as if he’s going to burst into tears.

He doesn’t trust his voice anymore so he shakes his head and Suguru’s face softens.

“Satoru. Satoru, come here,” he gently says and lifts the blanket to invite Satoru in, and really, how is Satoru supposed to say no to that offer?

He’s across the room with two big strides of his legs and back in Suguru’s arms a heartbeat later.

Strangely enough it feels like coming home and Satoru tries not to think too much about it.

“There, that’s better,” Suguru softly says, sounding just as content as Satoru feels and he arranges them to his liking, until they are in the same position as they were the entire evening. “Now, is this about what Shoko said?” Suguru asks while scratching Satoru’s scalp again and Satoru hides his face in Suguru’s chest.

“It’s just—she’s right, isn’t she?” Satoru dares to ask when Suguru doesn’t offer anything else and Suguru sighs.

“Is she?” he wants to know in turn and it’s not an answer, it’s not even helping anything, so Satoru picks his face out of Suguru’s chest to glare at him. “There you are,” Suguru mutters and moves his hand so he can cup Satoru’s cheek in it. “She’s only right if it bothers either one of us,” he then says and Satoru pouts at him.

“But doesn’t it? Bother you? I mean, she’s right about me, I’m all kinds of fucked up and I’m just—doesn’t it bother you that she thinks the same about you?”

“She’s right, though,” Suguru easily says as if it doesn’t mean anything to him. “You being as touch starved as you are isn’t really a surprise with your upbringing and your technique but you both forget that I’m from a normal family.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Satoru wants to know and he doesn’t even have it in him to deny the touch starved part.

It’s true after all.

“Being able to see curses and not knowing when to shut up about it doesn’t make for a lot of friends,” Suguru tells him. “It doesn’t even make for a lot of affection from your parents, not when they are low-key weirded out by you, too. I didn’t have any friends as a child and even later, when I learned to keep my mouth shut about what I could see it never felt as if I could truly open up to someone. I could never be myself with anyone else; not until I came here.”

“Not until you met us,” Satoru says in understanding and frowns in confusion when Suguru shakes his head.

“Not until I met you,” he corrects him. “Shoko’s great and all, but I don’t click with her like I do with you,” he admits and Satoru feels himself go hot all over at hearing that. “I don’t mind being touchy with her, or having her with us like today, but it’s not the same. I wouldn’t want to do this with just her. That’s all you.”

“It feels right, doesn’t it?” Satoru dares to ask, his heart beating nervously in his chest and it only settles when Suguru smiles at him.

“It does. That’s why I don’t mind. She can call us weirdos and freaks and co-dependant all she wants; as long as it doesn’t bother either of us, I really don’t mind. As long as I’m being lumped in with you, it’s all good.”

Satoru doesn’t know what’s happening to him anymore, but he feels so warm all over, his heart is beating heavily in his chest and he feels as if he just has to do something about all of this so he leans forward and presses his lips against Suguru’s.

It’s only when he moves back that he realises what he did and panic grabs at his heart, turning everything that was soft and warm just a moment ago cold and hard. He knows he has to say something, anything, but his voice is failing him and his panic must be pretty visible on his face because Suguru smiles reassuringly at him.

“Satoru, as long as it’s you, it’s all good,” he says, reiterates that point again and then uses the hand that is still on Satoru’s face to bring him closer once more. “So don’t worry.”

The last part is whispered right against Satoru’s lips, before he kisses him and Satoru simply melts.

“Still feels right?” Suguru asks when they part as if Satoru wasn’t the one who did it first and he’s just so overwhelmed he has to hide his face in Suguru’s neck.

“Still feels right,” he then agrees, because he knows he has to say something and Suguru goes back to scratching at his scalp as if nothing even happened.

“Good,” Suguru whispers, pressing his lips to Satoru’s head and he sounds so content, so happy that it wipes all of Satoru’s worries away.

“Maybe Shoko will find us more normal now,” Satoru mutters. “Maybe it’ll make more sense to her when we tell her we’re together.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to make sense to her at all,” Suguru replies. “Maybe it’s just important that it makes sense to us.”

Satoru knows that he should just take this, should be happy with this, because it does make sense to him to do this with Suguru too but yet again he can’t help the little worry that pokes at his brain. Satoru thinks he couldn’t stand it if Suguru wants to do this without labelling them and it doesn’t make sense because there’s no label for them anyway, and yet—

“I really didn’t know you to be such an overthinker,” Suguru fondly says, turning them around so they can lay on their sides, their foreheads pressed together. “Usually it’s me, overthinking things and worrying about nothing.”

It seems he can read Satoru better than he even thought he could and while it makes him flush it also makes him feel seen in the best kind of ways.

“Maybe you just bring out all of my worst sides,” he shoots back but he can’t deny that he needs Suguru to acknowledge what they are.

“Mh, wouldn’t want that now,” Suguru mutters and brushes their noses together. “Satoru, it’s us. Always. As friends, as partners, as boyfriends. No matter what, it’s always us. And I love you in all instances.”

“Oh,” Satoru breathes out because this is a little bit more than he dared to hope for but it finally melts all his worries and useless, stupid overthinking thoughts away. “Yeah, same.”

“Gods, you’re so lame,” Suguru laughs out and Satoru should be offended—would be with anyone else, really—but Suguru is laughing and he looks so happy that Satoru kind of forgets about that.

“Well, you love me, so that makes you lame, too,” he confidently says and Suguru gives him that one smile Satoru loves so much, the one that softens his entire face, the one that makes his eyes turn into crescent moons.

“As long as we’re lame together,” he gives back and Satoru moves in for another kiss before he chokes on all his happiness.

“Of course we are,” he then says and snuggles close to Suguru, slotting his body against his and brushing his lips over his throat. “I love you, too. No matter what.”

“See, there you go,” Suguru proudly says and buries a hand in Satoru’s hair again. “Shoko will probably be even more disgusted with us now than before.”

It makes Satoru laugh and he has to agree. If she found them annoying and strange before, it will now only make things worse.

“Well, she’ll have to deal.”

“She sure will,” Suguru agrees and then falls asleep between one breath and the next, his hand still in Satoru’s hair, his lips pressed against Satoru’s forehead and if Satoru didn’t know it would wake him back up again he would flail and squirm around with his happiness.

Since that is out of the question, he settles for pressing that little bit closer to Suguru and falling asleep to Suguru’s steady heartbeat, letting him know that it was love all along.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #shoko ieiri #getting together #cuddling and snuggling #codependency #love confessions #first kiss

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etherial-moon-blog · 2 days

Text

What could have been

Description- When reader discovers Lo’ak kissing Tisreya, she is left heartbroken and a shell of her former self. With some help from Neteyam, she slowly picks up the pieces of her broken heart. As time goes on Neteyam considers her more than just a friend but is unable to tell her before tragedy strikes, leaving him heartbroken and devastated. Strangely, he finds that his brother is going through the same ordeal and they both find solace in wondering what could've been.

Pairing: Lo’ak x Avatar!Reader | Neteyam x Avatar!Reader Warnings: Angst Crying, Brief mentions of depression Wordcount: 2k

Na’vi dictionary: Mauri- woven hut | Tweng- loincloth

All characters depicted in this fic at 18+ minors dni

“...I see you.” When those words left her mouth, you felt your heart shatter. However, the next thing that happened ground those pieces into dust. Lo’ak leaned down and pressed his lips against Tsireya’s. The lips you had fantasized about pressing against yours were currently pressed against another girl.

Slowly, you back out of your hiding spot and hurriedly leave the area, hand covering your mouth so that a sob doesn't slip out. That night you don’t return to the Sully mauri until late. You spent most of the night on a secluded part of the beach crying out your broken heart.

It truly was broken, wasn’t it? Thoughts swirled around in your brain making your heart hurt worse than it already was. It was your fault. You should’ve confessed to him sooner, maybe if you had only confessed to him back in the forest, your heart wouldn't be laying shattered in your chest.

It felt silly in a way, pining for a boy that you never thought you’d have a chance with. You loved him when you were still human and your love never changed when you became a Na’vi. You thought that your new boy would have him see you as more than his sister's best friend or as his best friend's sister. But it seemed he only saw you for what you were…..his friend. And despite your yearning to be more, the realization that he never saw you as anything more than that broke you.

You cry for what feels like hours, exhausting your tears until you can’t anymore. Looking up from where you were crying into your legs, you see the sun has long since set. Wiping your face, you stand and make your way back to the mauri, silently hoping that nobody looked too hard at your face when you arrived.

Making your way onto the woven pathway, your body robotically carries you toward the Sully mauri. Your hopes of going unnoticed were smashed into pieces when you see Jake, waiting at the entrance for you. A small sigh passes your lips as you near, ready to hear the lecture he was bound to give you.

“(y/n) Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you since dinner.” His tone is harsh but you can hear the undercurrent of worry in his words. Judging by how he sounded you knew you’d been out longer than you thought and had missed dinner.

Gripping the strap of your bag anxiously, you only mumble out an apology while not looking at him. Unfortunately, Jake is too observant and notices your tear-streaked face and slightly red eyes. He sighs and pulls you into a hug.

“Listen, I know it's hard having to leave behind everything especially when you’re doing it in a new body. But I swear it gets easier and in time you’ll adjust and then you’ll wonder how you ever lived differently.”

Right, he assumed you were crying because of your not being able to adjust to your new body which while true to an extent, wasn't the cause of your tears. Not wanting to admit what happened, you half-heartedly return the hug that Jake gives in earnest. He pulls away and gives you a small smile while rubbing your arms before releasing you to go inside.

As you walk in you notice that everyone aside from Tuk is still awake. It made you feel worse honestly. Knowing that you caused everyone to worry about you so much that they stayed up to look for you. Kiri is the first to greet you at the door and presents you with food she saved for you.

“Saved you some food, I figured you’d be hungry,” Kiri says. The sympathetic and concerned look she's giving you lets you know that she knows something is wrong but isn't willing to press it. Thankful and aware of the eyes on you, you take the food and make your way over to your little corner of the pod. If anybody wants to say something to you they don't, instead opting to get themselves ready for bed. You pick at the food, only taking small bites before setting it aside and getting ready for bed yourself.

Kiri watched as you laid your mat closer to hers instead of being near her brother like usual. Though she didn’t say anything, the cogs in her brain were slowly turning and as she watched you lay down, she couldn’t help but notice your body shaking slightly.

~ Some time later~

The days blurred together as you went about your life on the island. You spent as little time as possible around Lo’ak and Tisreya. Despite your best efforts, every interaction you saw of the two drove the knife deeper, and not wanting to let your heartbreak known you decide the best way is to avoid them.

Being around them when you had to was torture. Every interaction they had you noticed the subtle ways he showed his affection for her. You saw how much more touchy he was with her. He was always physically affectionate, always standing close or having his arm wrapped around your shoulders but with her it was different.

With her, his touch was gentler, more affectionate. Whenever he hugged her he would linger as though he was basking in the warmth of her hug and it stung. You tear your eyes away from the scene in front of you and stand suddenly, causing everyone to look at you.

“You good bro?” Lo’ak asks as he and everyone else watches you grab your bag and pull it over your head.

“M’fine. I have to go.” You mumble before quickly making your exit from where the group was sitting, tears forming in your eyes. You quickly make your way towards your secluded spot on the beach and immediately plop behind the first rock you see.

The tears now flow freely as sobs begin to rack your body. You wanted to scream, but nothing would come out but the strangled sounds of your despair. You were crying so hard and so loudly that you barely heard the footsteps approaching and it wasn’t until you felt a hand on your shoulder that you realized someone else was there.

You nearly jumped out of your skin once the hand made contact with you. Jumping away, you furiously wipe at your eyes until you realize that you know who touched you.

“N-Neteyam…what are you doing here?” Your voice was very obviously hoarse and it cracked as you spoke, causing you to wince.

Neteyam, hands held up in surrender and brow furrowed began to speak. “When you took off I followed you to make sure you were okay. When I heard you crying I knew you weren’t okay. What’s going on? What happened back there?”

You swallow thickly. Somebody had finally caught you crying and it was Neteyam of all people. He wouldn’t leave you alone until he was sure you were alright which is the last thing you wanted right now.

“I-I….” What were you supposed to say? ‘Hey, you caught me crying over your brother. He didn’t reject me, I was just too chickenshit to actually confess and now the sight of him and Tisreya makes me want to peel my own skin off and scream until I’m hoarse. Don’t worry tho I’m fine.’

Wiping your eyes again you swallow once more and begin to talk. “I’m sorry I just…I really miss Spider and Home. It’s been hard adjusting to Spider going missing, getting a new body, and moving in such a short time span.” Okay, you just lied to him. Not everything you said was a lie but you weren’t going to tell Neteyam you were crying over his brother.

“Do you…would you like to talk about it?” He asks hesitantly. He’s trying his best to comfort you and despite lying to him just now, you feel the need to convince him you’re alright.

“Thanks but no thanks. I really don’t wanna talk about it. The crying was my way of getting it all out you know?” Neteyam nodded as you spoke, seemingly understanding your desire to cry it out instead of talking about it.

He outstretches his hand and gently places it on your shoulder. “If you want, you could cry if you need to now.” He seems to have a sudden realization and quickly removes his hand before adding, “I-if you want to that is”

Your hand flies to your mouth and you turn from him. He sees your shoulders shaking and begins to panic. He begins to rapidly throw out apologies and words of affirmation until he hears your stifled laughter and calms.

It takes a moment for you to fully calm down but when you do, you turn to him, hand still covering your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I swear I’m not laughing at what you said…” A giggle slips out. “...just how you said it. Who knew the great Neteyam Sully was so awkward?” You say with a smile.

Neteyam cracks a smile and shakes his head. “You caught me. I’m not great at everything, just at most things.”

You let out a faux scandalized gasp and Neteyam laughs in response. “I know right? Kinda shocking that I’m not the best at comforting people who aren't eight.”

With a laugh, you shove him playfully. “I don’t know, I think you’re doing a decent enough job.”

“Only okay? My pride is hurt” He says placing a hand over his heart as he attempts to sound hurt.

“You’re doing a decent job. I don’t wanna give you an ego” You say as you turn to look at the ocean. If Neteyam wants to say something he doesn’t, instead option to let the conversation lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments you reach over to your bag and pull out your well-worn journal, you flip until you find a blank page and begin to sketch.

Neteyam, curious leans over but you lean away from him as he tries to peek. “Uh uh. No peeking, don’t you know it's bad luck to watch an artist draw?’ You say with a smile. He gives you a look but does as you ask, instead looking out at the vast expanse of the ocean in the light of the evening sun.

After what feels like forever, you nudge him gently, journal turned towards him. “I’m not the best but I think I captured it well no?” Neteyam takes the journal from your hands and looks at the drawing in awe. In front of his eyes laid a perfect sketch of…him. You had gotten everything correct. His nose, his eyes, everything right down to how his braids sat over his shoulder. As he sat in awe of your drawing, you shifted a bit from your spot in the sand.

“I know it isn't the best bu..” As you were speaking you were cut off by Neteyam

“Sorry, this is just amazing. I can’t believe you drew this of me” The amazement and wonder in his voice caused a smile to spread across your face. You turn your journal back around and begin to tear the page out and once you're done you hold it out for him to take.

He stares at your hand holding the drawing before shaking his head. “No. No, I can’t take this.” He says pushing your hand back. “Dude c’mon you have to take it, I’ve already ripped the page out so I can’t put it back.” You shake the page in his direction. “Take it” He wordlessly takes the page from you, admiring it one last time before folding it neatly and tucking it away into the waterproof pouch on his tweng.

He gives you a small smile before looking out into the direction of the sea. “We should probably get going, dinner is starting soon and we don’t want to be late.” He stands and dusts himself off before offering you a hand.”

“Actually I think I’ll stay here for a little while longer, but I’ll be there soon.” You give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. If he notices he doesn't say anything and gives you a smile and a nod before walking back towards the village.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, you heave a heavy sigh and put away your sketchbook. You pull your knees up to your chest and rest your chin atop your knees. Looking out onto the open ocean, you can’t help but wonder what your life could've been if you had confessed earlier……..

Authors Note: This fic is part one of a two part fic. That might change later but it depends on how motivated I am to write lol. If you made it this far I hope you enjoyed! :) Dividers by cafekitsune

Taglist: @melllinaa @fev0ir @iaratezaewa @hotdsworld @zaddyskye69 @kasai-https @darktyrantwinner @doctorswife221b @atxxokirina @iameatingmyhair @thepineapplesimp @lo707 @lyra997 @shadydreamlanddetective @atokirina-writings @plooto @luvv4j4ybe11 @xylianasblog @criticallybella

#avatar #atwow #avatar way of water #reader insert #avatar fandom #lo'ak x reader #neteyam x reader #light angst #angst

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pedroscurls · 1 day

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chance encounters | pt. 2

character(s): we got all the Triple Frontier boys in this chapter (obvi except Tom). Benny Miller, Will "Ironhead" Miller, Santiago "Pope" Garcia, Frankie "Catfish" Morales, fem!Reader summary: Days blend together and it's become three months since you started training with Benny, and you use fighting and training as a distraction from your grief. It's when you're alone when things become too much. Luckily, Benny books you your first fight and your mind remains focused on winning (rather than dealing with the loss of your best friend). word count: 4.1k a/n: While I do train muay thai/kickboxing, I don't think I'd ever be able to fight (even when sparring in class I'm always so nervous lol), anyway... I hope you guys enjoy. We're going to delve deeper into Reader's grief in the next upcoming chapters and a certain someone might be able to help... warnings: grief (and Reader doing a poorly job at coping with the loss), violence - it's Reader's first fight!, mutual pining between Frankie and Reader series masterlist | ultimate masterlist

It had been three months. Three months since you started training with Benny at his gym. Three months since you started fighting again.

But that also meant it had been a total of six months since you lost your best friend. They say that days get better, that they get easier, but why does it feel like you haven’t gotten any better at all? You’re stuck in this same pattern where the only joy and excitement you feel is when you step foot into Benny’s gym. When your glove hits the heavy bag. When your leg connects with the pads that Benny holds. But as soon as you leave, you’re back to square one.

Every morning and every night, you lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your mind refuses to shut off. You’re afraid to close your eyes because when you do, all you see is your best friend. You can hear his laugh. You can see his smile. You can imagine him here.

And you hate it. You hate it because when you do open your eyes, you’re back to reality. You won’t ever be able to hear his laugh or his voice again. You won’t ever be able to see him smile or have him physically here with you.

All he is now is just a memory, haunting you day and night.

Benny has been so patient with you and you had gotten to know more about the three men you saw three months ago. The other blue-eyed man turned out to be his older brother, Will. He was quiet and reserved, but just like Benny, whenever he smiled, you felt a sense of comfort and security.

Then, there was Santiago… or Santi, he liked to say. He was just as outgoing as Benny was and he certainly wasn’t afraid to let you know how attractive he thought you were. It was meant to be a compliment and it would have usually made you blush and smile, but instead, it just earned him a curt nod before you walked past him to start training with Benny. Since then, though, Santiago had always tried to make you smile or laugh and there had been a few times where he succeeded, but as soon as the smile touched your lips or the laugh escaped you, you shut down. It didn’t feel right being happy.

And lastly, there was Frankie. He was just as quiet and reserved as Will was, but there was something about him that was soft and welcoming. You couldn’t explain it. In fact, he was the only one you hadn’t really spoken to. He liked to keep to himself, but there were certain gestures or actions that made you feel safe with him. He would hand you your duffle bag when you were getting ready to go home, give you a towel when you were drenched in sweat, and he even went so far to order food one night when you had mumbled that you hadn’t eaten all day.

Today, just like any other day, you step into Benny’s gym. Music is quietly playing and you see all four men wrestling on the mats. It didn’t seem like they were taking it seriously and you can hear their laughter echo the walls of the gym. It makes your heart flutter for a moment because even in the midst of your own grief, these four men managed to sneak into your life and begin to make a home. In fact, you couldn’t even begin to imagine life without them. You knew your best friend would have gotten along with them just fine, especially Benny. And it pains you because your best friend isn’t here to enjoy this with you.

“Oh, hey!” Santiago calls out, finally being overpowered by Benny as he lands on his back with a thud. “We were just messing around.”

“And I won,” Benny grins, climbing off of Santiago and standing up.

“You’re like thirty pounds heavier than I am. Of course you won.” Santiago rolls his eyes, but lets out a chuckle.

“It’s all about technique,” Benny winks. “Anyway, I thought I had you scheduled to start in an hour.” He says to you.

“Right,” you sigh. “I just figured I could come in early and hit the bag. If that’s okay?”

“You sure you won’t be tired?” Will says, sitting up as he and Frankie both try to catch their breaths. “You’re always training. Are you getting any rest?”

“Trying,” you admit quietly.

Frankie’s eyes soften immediately. Since the moment he saw you, he could see the sadness in your eyes, the void that is now left within you after finding out that you had lost your best friend. Loss was something he and the rest of the guys were all too familiar with, especially with being in their line of service, but that didn’t make it any easier. Frankie had numbed his grief and his pain with drugs and alcohol that it got to a point where he almost lost everything, he almost lost himself and it was his friends that brought him back to life. It wasn’t easy, but without them, he knew he wouldn’t have made it.

“Well, we’ll get out of your way. Go ahead and warm up,” Benny says. He and the rest of the guys stand up to give you space on the mat and Frankie is the last one to brush past you. He hears you let out a shaky breath and for a moment he pauses, stands right next to you.

“Hey, are you–” he quietly begins.

“Gotta train,” you interrupt, moving past him.

Frankie sighs and nods, following the rest of the guys towards Benny’s office in the back. Once inside, Benny hands him a bottle of water and sits down on the couch along the wall, glancing over at the door every so often.

“What’s up, Fish?” Santiago asks, arching a brow.

“I don’t think she’s okay,” Frankie points out.

“I’d have to agree with you there,” Benny says. “But if she doesn’t want to share, then we can’t force her. We all know what that’s like. You especially, Fish.”

Frankie tightens his jaw, running a hand through his unruly curls. “She’s struggling. You guys saw me struggle and still forced me to–”

“That’s because we have history, hermano,” Santiago interrupts. “We’ve only known her for a few months. We can’t just– We can’t just insert ourselves in her life when she’s made it clear that we’re all just… Acquaintances?”

“I was going to surprise her, think maybe it’ll cheer her up, but I booked her first fight for this Friday.” Benny says. “I think we’re all more than just acquaintances, but it’s her grief and we can’t push her on it.”

Will nods. “We all grieve differently. We all know this. Just give her time. If she wants to talk, she’ll reach out to one of us.”

“And how are you sure?” Frankie asks.

Santiago, Will, and Benny all share a look with each other before they turn their attention to Frankie. They can all visibly see the concern in his features and it’s only then that they realize that’s probably something more to this.

“Okay, what’s really going on, Frankie?” Santiago asks.

“Nothing,” Frankie waves off. “I’m just– We’ve all been in her shoes and we had each other to get us through it.”

“You like her,” Benny slowly grins. “You’ve barely talked to her and you like her.”

“Oh, shut up. I barely know her.”

Will chuckles. “But you like her?”

“I’m just trying to be nice, okay?” Frankie sighs. “It’s nothing like that.”

“You like her,” Santiago chuckles. “To be honest though, she does stare at you a little longer than everyone else.”

Frankie rolls his eyes. “Okay, you know what, I’m leaving.”

“But wait,” Benny chuckles. “You gonna say bye to her?”

Frankie’s jaw tightens and he playfully punches Benny’s arm, shaking his head. “You guys are assholes.”

“But you love us,” Santiago grins.

“Debatable,” he mumbles. “I just think… Maybe it’d be nice if we got her some flowers or cake or a card? I don’t fuckin’ know.”

“She doesn’t seem like the flowers kind of girl and she can’t have cake.” Benny says. “A card might be a good start," he teases.

“Great, you’ll be in charge of that, Fish,” Santiago winks.

“Bye,” Frankie says with a shake of his head as he leaves Benny’s office. He walks down the hallway and hears the sounds of the bag and exhaled breaths. He sees you hitting the bag with such speed and precision; Benny was right. You did have potential to become a legitimate fighter. Frankie enjoys watching you train because you’re so dialed in, so focused that everything around you just seems to disappear. Just like it is now, you’re light on your feet, bouncing on your toes as you deliver punches and hooks to the bag, finishing with a knee or a high kick. It’s impressive. You’re impressive.

He doesn’t stay long, doesn’t notice the way that your shoulders sag forward when the round ends. It’s almost like your body reminds you of the grief that encompasses your entire being. To be honest, fighting was a way for you to distract yourself from the grief and loss of your best friend. You’re not dealing with your grief. Instead, you’re pushing it as far back as you can, trying to focus on other things because you know that if you put your attention on the fact that your best friend died, you won’t be able to pull yourself out of it.

—

Friday rolls around and you’re in the locker room, warming up. It’s your first fight and Benny seems more nervous than you are. Your hands are already wrapped and you’re shadowboxing to keep your muscles warm, bouncing on your toes and switching stances from orthodox to southpaw. Frankie, Will, and Santiago enter the locker room just a few minutes before your fight begins.

“We wanna wish you luck,” Will says, pulling you into a gentle hug. “We know you’re gonna do great.”

“Thank you, Will.”

Santiago looks at you and smiles. “Make sure this pretty face doesn’t get beat up, yeah?”

You roll your eyes, the corner of your lips lifting just slightly. “You never quit, do you?”

Santiago chuckles. “With you? Never.” He winks.

Frankie then walks towards you. He’s wearing his Standard Heating Oil cap as usual and he lets a small smile line his lips. “Be safe, okay, hermosa?”

Hermosa. The pet name slips and Frankie bites his lower lip. The tops of his ears begin to burn, turning red in slight embarrassment. He brings a hand to rub the back of his neck and even you are taken by surprise by the pet name. It brings a sense of warmth in the pit of your belly though and instead of waiting for Frankie to pull you into a hug, you wrap your arms around him and let out a shaky exhale. With Frankie, it’s almost like he can tell what you’re feeling, can read how you’re doing, and right now, Frankie’s arms tighten just enough around you that makes you feel safe, that makes you feel like things are going to be okay.

“Alright, my little warrior,” Benny grins. “Let’s get out there.”

My little warrior. There’s an immediate shift in you and you pull away from Frankie immediately. He goes to say something, but he notices the look on your face, the distance in your eyes. You’re no longer here with him, with them, and he knows that your mind is elsewhere.

But he can also see the way your eyes glaze over with unshed tears, threatening to spill out. Instead, you take a deep breath and put in your mouth guard, allowing Benny to slide on your gloves.

You’re walking out of the locker room and down the hallway, eyes focused straight ahead of you as the four men remain behind you. You’re supposed to feel excited, thrilled for your first fight, but all you can think about is your best friend and how he wasn’t there to be able to watch you. You clench your hands into fists, your gloves tightening around your hands and you shake your arms loose, seeing the octagon as the crowd cheers and boos.

The cutman inspects you, making sure that you have your mouthguard in and your gloves tight and secure. Afterwards, the cutman then spreads petroleum jelly across your face - your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, your forehead, your chin. They are the most common areas to be hit so the petroleum jelly is to help prevent cuts and tears from the impact that you’re sure you’re about to take in this fight.

Once the cutman finishes, you turn to Benny and he pulls you into a tight hug. You’re closest to him, especially with him being your coach, but he hasn’t yet known your full story yet. “Stay focused,” he says, pulling away. “You got this.”

You nod and gently tap his chest with your gloves before you turn to see Will, Santiago, and Frankie flash you a thumbs up from their seats in the front. You enter the octagon and let out a deep breath, your opponent staring down at you with narrowed eyes. You feel the nerves settle in, leaning back against the cage of the octagon as the announcer begins to announce your opponent’s name and her current record. You’re obviously the underdog, with this being your first fight, no one in the crowd (except for Benny and the rest of the guys) believe you can win.

“The Warrior!” you hear the announcer exclaim and immediately, you feel a shift within you. All you can do is focus on the woman on the other end of the octagon, eyes staring straight into her and the rest of the crowd disappears. The referee calls the both of you into the middle of the ring and you step forward, shifting between your feet as you keep your eyes solely on the woman in front of you.

“Are we clear?” the referee says after having told you both the rules. You both nod and you reach out to touch her gloves, but she just rolls her eyes and steps away, not bothering to give you the respect you had given her.

You both move back to your corner of the ring and within seconds, the bell rings to signal the start of the first round. You move closer to the middle of the ring, seeing her do the same as you keep your hands close to your face. She delivers several low kicks that take you a while to check, your leading leg beginning to throb in pain.

“Check those kicks!” You hear Benny yell from your corner of the octagon. It’s taking you a while to get the groove of things, still bouncing on your toes. You notice the woman has a habit of dropping her hands every time she kicks you and you know that you just need to time it right.

Your leg is beginning to bruise and it’s becoming a bit difficult to stand on it, so you switch stances to southpaw, keeping most of your weight on your right leg now.

“Come on!”

“Just end the fight already!”

“She’s not even that good!”

You can hear the crowd and it only fuels you even further. You try to remember Benny’s training, try to remember your best friend’s teachings, and they both had told you to be patient. The right moment will present itself.

There’s fifteen seconds left in the first round and so far, you know you’re losing. You’ve only thrown a few punches that haven’t landed. You can hear Benny screaming, begging for you to just do something instead of standing there and taking the hits that you don’t need to take.

The woman puts more pressure and backs you into the corner of the octagon. She clinches her hands around your neck, pulling you close enough to deliver a knee to your abdomen. It hits you straight in your core, knocking the wind out of you that you drop to your knees, falling backwards just as soon as the round ends.

You stand up slowly, walking towards your corner and sit on the seat that Benny sets down for you. You’re breathing heavily and it hurts, dripping with sweat as your abdomen begins to bruise and throb in addition to your left leg.

“You’re losing,” Benny says, lifting the bottle of water to your lips to give you a gulp. “You said you wanted this. You said you wanted to fight. What the hell is goin’ on?!”

You shake your head, tightening your jaw as you keep your eyes straight ahead, focused on the other woman and her team.

“Those kicks–” you begin. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’ll do better. I’ll finish it in this round.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous.”

You stand up from the seat, even with twenty seconds of rest left. “She drops her hands when she delivers a kick, Benny. I’m trying to find an opening.”

“You’re gonna get your ass kicked just waiting for something to happen. Be proactive. You know you’re fast. You know you’ve got the power. I know you can win this fight. Do you?”

You nod and look up at Benny. “Yes, I do.”

“Then fuckin’ win!”

The referee waves in your direction, signaling that the next round is about to begin. Benny looks down at you and his eyes soften for a moment.

“You can do this,” he says. “Believe in yourself.”

You nod and begin to bounce on your toes, the pain you’re feeling taking a backseat as you stare at the other woman with a tightened jaw and narrowed eyes.

Then, the bell rings and the second round begins.

The other woman rushes towards you and you use your footwork to easily move away from her punches. You see her leg begin to lift and her hands drop. This is your moment. You deliver a quick jab that connects with her face and she stumbles backward. It isn’t enough to drop her, so you push forward.

“There you go!” Benny exclaims. “Just a 1-2! She felt that!”

You remain focused, delivering just a simple 1-2 punch that continues to connect with her face. You step back to give you enough space to deliver a high kick to her right side, seeing her drop her hands to block the kick which gives you an opening to deliver a hard left hook across her chin.

You put as much strength as you could behind the hook, hearing the sound of your glove connecting with her chin echo throughout the building. She falls immediately on her back and you quickly scramble to mount her. Her arms cover her face as you just begin to ground and pound, delivering hammer fists to her face.

Then, you feel the referee come between the both of you, waving his hands in the air to stop the fight.

You won. Holy shit, you won!

Benny runs inside of the octagon and lifts you up, cheering and laughing. “You did it!” The rest of the guys rush inside as well, staring at you with excited eyes and grins.

The other woman finally stands up and the referee holds each of your wrists, waiting for the announcer to announce you as the winner. Once your hand is raised in the air, you feel tears threatening to spill over. The other woman comes to you and reaches out to give you a one-armed hug.

“Great job,” she says. “That was a great fight.”

“I’m sure my leg is gonna hurt like hell for the next few days,” you say with a slight smile.

The other woman chuckles and nods, turning around to walk out of the octagon with her team.

You turn around and look at Benny, Will, Santiago, and Frankie. Seeing them stare at you with smiles finally makes the dam break and tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. Benny’s the first one to pull you into a hug, holding you so tight that it provides the comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“Your best friend would be proud,” he whispers and it only makes you cry even harder. He and the rest of the guys lead you out of the octagon, hearing the applause and cheers from the crowd as you begin to make your way back to the locker room.

—

After your fight - and after freshening up and taking a shower - you meet the guys at the local bar that they normally frequent. You’re limping slightly, the bruise on your left leg a painful reminder of the leg kicks you endured during the fight. With each breath, you feel your side twinge with pain from the knee your opponent delivered at the end of the first round.

You keep your hair down and past your shoulders, dressed in a black slip dress that reaches past your knees and sandals. You’re glad that your face didn’t take much damage, but you’re sure that your body is going to be in a lot more pain tomorrow.

Tonight, you feel like you can celebrate… But also because you didn’t want to be alone.

Stepping into the bar, you see the four men in a booth in the corner and they spot you immediately. Their eyes slightly widen at the sight of you and you can’t help but let out a quiet chuckle, your cheeks heating up at the way they’re looking at you.

“You clean up nice,” Benny chuckles.

“I’m not in spandex shorts and a shirt, drenched in sweat,” you tease, sliding into the booth next to Frankie.

“You look great,” Frankie blurts out.

“Thank you, Frankie,” you say quietly, looking over at him.

Santiago, Will, and Benny look between the both of you and arch a brow before the three of them stand up to walk towards the bar. “First round will be on me,” Will says. “What can we get for you?”

“Glass of white wine, please,” you answer.

When the three of them leave, there’s an uncomfortable and awkward silence that fills the air between you and Frankie. He scoots closer to the inside of the booth to give you some space and he lifts the glass of beer to his lips.

“You were great out there tonight,” he finally says.

“I got my ass handed to me in the first round.”

Frankie chuckles. “But you didn’t give up and you came back in the second round.”

“Guess you can call it luck.”

“It wasn’t luck.”

You shrug and look down at your hands. “I just saw an opening and took it.”

“You work hard and it paid off,” Frankie says.

“Trying to,” you mumble. “It’s been hard.”

Frankie leans forward, elbows resting on the table as he looks over at you. “Benny mentioned your best friend…” he begins quietly, eyeing you to make sure that he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries. When he realizes you weren’t going to stop him and change the subject, he continues. “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Even six months later, that phrase still frustrates you. Even though it’s meant as a way to offer condolences, it’s never brought you any comfort.

“Yeah,” you shrug.

“I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt. “I try not to think about it, about him.”

Frankie nods. “You know, all four of us are prior military. Special Forces.”

“Really?” you ask, brows arching. You didn’t know that, but it does explain how close and tight knit they are.

Frankie nods again. “We lost one of our buddies a couple of years ago. There used to be five of us and now,” he sighs. “Anyway, I just– If you ever need anyone to talk to, we’re all willing to listen.”

“You ever get through it?” You ask. “It’s been six months and I feel… Stuck.”

Frankie shrugs. “You just learn how to deal with it. Learn how to live life without them.”

“But what if you can’t?” you say quietly. “What if you aren’t sure how to deal with it? How to live life without them? Then what?”

Frankie sighs. “I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Would your best friend want you to move forward? Would he want you to be happy?”

“I don’t know. I can’t ask him.” You sigh quietly and gently reach out to rest a hand on Frankie’s arm, feeling the muscles flex underneath your fingertips. “I’m sorry. I don’t–”

“Don’t worry about it,” Frankie says softly, reaching over to rest a hand over your own. “We all deal with it in our own way. I hope you know, though, that we’re all here for you.” He looks into your eyes, staring deeply. “I’m here for you.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #garrett hedlund #garrett hendlund character #oscar isaac character #oscar isaac #charlie hunnam character #charlie hunnam #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #will ironhead miller #santiago pope garcia #benny miller #frankie cat #story: chance encounters

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