#And he liked the six enough to admit to himself that he would miss their antics but still considered them colleagues

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: Usual mentions of brief violence/killing. It's Doflamingo, he's his own warning. Descriptions of illness

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,824

A/N: Health stuff and non-stop interruptions have been keeping me from writing but some of it is calming down a little so I can get some writing done while I can. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and hopefully the next one won't be as long of a wait.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine(here)| Chapter Ten(coming soon)

——————

For two days after the kiss, you and Doflamingo both acted like the incident hadn’t happened. As far as you both let on, everything was completely normal, or rather normal by your standards. Still you threw attitude and disrespect his way while he tried to kill you. Normal. Just how you both wanted it. Because pretending that the kiss never happened was better than admitting it still constantly played on your minds. Even now when you both sat across from each other at the small table in your living quarters Doflamingo’s eyes continually fell to your lips even though he kept forcing himself to look away over and over. Thanks to the dark red lenses the direction of his stare was hidden. As he sipped at his coffee he watched as you stared blankly at the same page of the newspaper, realising you hadn’t turned the page in a while. “Well, what’s got you so interested?”

At the sound of his voice you blinked and your stare sharpened on the words on the page before meeting his relaxed, grinning face. With a frown you glanced at the paper again and set it on the table, sitting back and shaking your head slightly. “Nothing, honestly I was zoned out. Wasn’t even reading.” You explained while reaching for your drink only to stop and instead push it a little further from you. “What kind of poison did you put in my breakfast today? It’s different.”

“No poison today.” Doflamingo explained with a low chuckle building in his chest. “Haven’t tampered with your food or drink for a while now. You trying to say you miss it?”

“Well it seems like it did give a nice kick, must have gotten used to it without realising.” You teased slightly only to scowl suspiciously when the Warlord’s usually broad grin had lessened. “What?”

“Something wrong?” 

“Apart from the fact I’m strangely used to you putting poison in my food?” You asked before giving a tired sigh. “I didn’t sleep great. You didn’t interfere with my bed did you?”

“Your accusation hurts.” Doflamingo returned your teasing remark with one of his own. “I promised you I’d never mess with your sleep again didn’t I?” At that you nodded. He’d promised and so far had kept to his word that your sleep had never suffered because of him or any of those in his command. Even on the mornings you were sleeping in the servants avoided waking you because of the young master’s orders.

Normally you loved the bed you’d been given and found sleep so easily when lying in it but the previous night barely anything seemed to work. You just couldn’t get comfortable long enough to properly fall over to truly restful sleep and when you did fall asleep you were awake after a couple hours and right back to tossing and turning again. You were still feeling the effects now, drained and tired but not entirely like you had when Doflamingo had been on his quest to keep you awake for as long as he could. “I’ll try and fit in a nap or two in between my busy schedule and I’ll be back to my charming, wonderful self by tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to say something to reassure him but the words were out of your mouth before you could think about it. Still it was strange for him to outwardly be concerned over something as small as you not getting a good night’s sleep. Even with the grin on Doflamingo’s face you knew he wasn’t entirely convinced and you could feel his sharp stare fixed on you, searching your features. The last time he’d looked at you so strongly was the night you’d kissed and not wanting to open that particular can of worms you grabbed your mug and took a drink, looking out the window. It wasn’t long before fanfare could be heard from the city.

“Bit early for fireworks isn’t it?” You asked, your gaze going to the Coliseum in the distance where the noise seemed to be coming from. “What’s so special about today?”

“Nothing really. Diamante felt like throwing a tournament.” Doflamingo chuckled. “Something to break in and introduce the new additions to the arena.”

“You really think they’ll last long in there?” Your lips couldn’t help but curve into a cold smirk. “They weren’t exactly an impressive bunch of pirates.” Doflamingo laughed at your observation.

“Do you even find any pirates impressive?”

“Are you going to be jealous if I don’t say you?” You asked turning your head to look at him again. 

“I don’t get jealous.” Doflamingo answered with his grin spreading when disbelief shaped your features and a subtle look of amusement began to creep into you gaze. “C’mon tell me who.”

“But leaving you wondering seems so much more fun.”

“You have a cruel streak in you, you know that?” Doflamingo laughed only to stop when a single knock sounded at the door and a servant hurried in. Their face was apologetic but his stare zeroed in on the white and blue den-den mushi in their hands. The Marines were calling.

———

For Doflamingo’s call with the Marines, going through the motions of being a Warlord you had left him to talk into private. You knew you didn’t have to leave but felt it would be best. Plus it gave you a while to get some fresh air and have some space from the Warlord. The plan of acting like the kiss had never happened meant having to continue being in his presence which irritated you because of how it was bringing new problems for you. In the beginning it was irritation and dislike that made you speak openly and antagonistically with the man but now you could tell you were both speaking to each other with a little more playfulness and almost civility. You’d accepted your fate as Doflamingo’s prisoner and his eventual victim when he found out a way to kill you with no resistance when you were first brought to Dressrosa. 

Now though? Now you almost felt settled that this was your new life and that disturbed you more than anything. The kiss you wished hadn’t helped matters. It felt like another sign that your mind and body were starting to give in to being the Warlord’s soulmate. This wasn’t how it was meant to be and you had to try harder to keep things as they were. Your hand brushed against the cold metal of a door and you snapped out of your thoughts and mindless wandering to all but curse yourself. You were now outside Doflamingo’s personal office, your body moving there out of instinct or pure subconscious habit. Sighing sharply you forced yourself to step away from the door and continue down the corridors, making sure you were more aware of your actions. 

Thankfully you ran into a servant who seemed relieved to see you and began to talk to you. Normally you embraced talking to someone normal and who wasn’t a pirate but you began to grow confused when it wasn’t idle conversation they wanted to speak to you on, but instead they started to report to you the chores completed for the day and discuss minor issues with the Palace upkeep and some tasks. 

When they asked for your opinion on how best to handle the problems it took a moment for you to snap out of your confusion and shock. You offered your advice as best as you could, seeming relieved when the servant immediately smiled and thanked you, beginning to set off to act on your words. “Wait, don’t you want to double check with Doflamingo or your superior?”

“The young master’s busy.” The servant explained with a small smile, looking at you like this should be obvious. “After him, you’re the next in charge. Thank you again!”

You could only watch the servant hurry off with a smile, unable to catch your mind up fast enough to call after them and tell them that you being second in command wasn’t true. Instead you were frozen in shock and extremely confused. Feeling a headache begin to form rapidly, you shook your head and continued on your aimless walk through the palace, the servant’s casual declaration still repeating in your mind. You didn’t even think anyone was second in command, as far as you ever saw things Doflamingo’s word was law and the only time the elite officers of his ‘family’ gave orders was when they came from Doflamingo or when they told the servants what they wanted to eat for their meals but that wasn’t the same as being in charge. 

Now even more drained than you had been, you turned to make your way back to your room. You’d jokingly said you’d nap but now it was seeming like a good idea. As you approached your quarters you stopped to see Doflamingo casually strolling towards you. “Well? When do you go?”

“Were you eavesdropping?” Doflamingo asked with his broad grin in place. Part of him was confused why you’d need to be sneaky and listen in to a conversation you were more than welcome to stay in the room for. He turned to walk beside you as you continued on your way back to your quarters.

“No, I just know this is normally the time of year they’d be calling you and the other Warlords in for a meeting.” You explained with a shrug.

“The time of year?” Doflamingo repeated in interest.

“If there’s no pressing issue they need you and the Warlords to deal with they usually call a meeting to have you in the Marine building for some visiting nobles or royalty to see you.” You explained as you stepped into your room and shrugged, settling down on your sofa. “A way to reassure them that the Marine’s are in power I suppose. What better way to show that than for them to see pirates of the Warlord rank?” Doflamingo chuckled and perched himself on the back of the sofa, looking down at you as you got comfortable. He’d always known the Marine’s patterns and habits and liked to play dumb but it was oddly surprising and refreshing for you to have noticed it too. “So when do you go?”

“Soon.” Doflamingo answered your repeated question. “Won’t be gone too long.”

“Guess I’ll have to fit in as much destruction as possible then while you’re gone.” You smirked, idly rubbing your temple as you felt the headache from earlier still nag at you. “Want to try and kill me before you go? You didn’t try today.”

“Aw aren’t you sweet?” Doflamingo grinned, leaning down to poke the centre of your head and coax you to lie back more against the sofa. “Sadly, it’s not as enjoyable when you’re tired. Rest and I’ll double my efforts when I’m back to make up for the time away.”

“Big talk.” You grinned, the pain seeming to dissipate slightly in the brief moment Doflamingo’s fingers were against your forehead. “If I wasn’t already lying down I’d be swooning. Go on, have fun annoying Warlords and Marines. See you when you get back.”

———

As expected the Warlord meeting was a complete bore, the only entertainment for Doflamingo came from him purposely agitating those who shared the title of Warlord with him and the Marines ‘in charge’ or leading the meeting and navigating the pirates through the halls. As you had already predicted there just so happened to be visiting dignitaries also walking the corridors at the same time. It was all theatre really. Designed to look as mere coincidence the paths were crossed. On their way to the large banquet room, Doflamingo’s curiosity was piqued at the sound of some high ranked Marines deep in conversation. Normally he wouldn’t care what they had to say but the name of the island they were talking about caught his attention. The island he crossed paths with you. It felt so long ago since that night the warehouse exploded and he came across you. Feeling nostalgic he listened in on their conversation. 

“The sickness is ramping up, they’re at a complete loss what to do.” One Marine told the other.

“The numbers are rising with each day. How did this even happen?” The commander asked in annoyance.

“The virus has a long incubation period. No one realised until the first infected finally started showing signs. We should have a better idea soon now that the source of the virus has been dealt with but it’s not looking good for those already infected. Mortality rate is already severe.”

“Such a mess but I suppose there's one thing to be thankful for.”

“Sir?”

“We lost a full unit there a while ago.” The commander explained. “They would have been infected too given how long they were stationed there. Better we lost them fighting criminals than falling to a virus.” For a heavy moment Doflamingo was rooted in the spot as he absorbed the information, processing what he’d just heard. He hadn’t misheard the name of the island, he knew he didn’t and it was reinforced when they spoke of an entire unit being wiped out. Your unit. 

Snapping into action he began moving once more and strode passed the other Warlords as they were entering the banquet hall. He ignored the Marine officer trying to tell him to not stray too far or wander around so freely. Had it been any other day he would have cut the worm to ribbons for even suggesting he couldn’t go or do as he wished. He only kept the ‘protection’ that the Warlord title gave for mere enjoyment. Kicking open the balcony door he leapt onto the railing and wordlessly left, his strings pulling him through the air as fast as he could to return to Dressrosa.

———

It had been a full day since Doflamingo had left Dressrosa and in that time you’d felt yourself feel worse and worse. Originally you’d put it up to the lack of sleep and not eating much but now you were sure something nasty was working its way through your system. You weren’t sure just how common flus or colds were in Dressrosa or if this was the season for them but anything was possible. With such a crowded city you could have caught the flu from a civilian you passed in the street or touched something already contaminated in one of the stores. You also considered the possibility of one of the pirates you killed having been sick with something and you didn’t realise you’d caught it until now. What you did know was that even with this being the beginning of the flu it felt worse than anything you’d had before.

You’d tried going to bed early and couldn’t rest even though your body felt more exhausted than ever. Everything was tense and ached as if you’d endured punishing training and battles all at once. The pressure against your lungs made even taking a breath difficult and you trembled as your temperature rushed from one extreme to the other. Your head felt like it was being crushed in a vice and stabbed, the pain growing and throbbing against your skull. The effort it took for you to push yourself up in the bed and drag yourself over to the bedside table seemed like scaling a mountain but somehow you managed to do it. With shaking hands and unfocussed eyes you grabbed the glass of water and forced yourself to take a small, painful sip in the hopes the cold liquid would soothe the mixture of fire and shards of glass that seemed to cling to your throat but it only seemed to flare the pain. You needed something to help. Even if it was getting the room to cool down you would take it. 

Struggling against your mind and body you stubbornly rose from the bed and swayed immediately. Your vision swam and the room tilted and spun so violently that your legs buckled almost immediately. In that moment you wished you had a Devil Fruit like Doflamingo’s, something that could open the window or anything to help you now. Hellbent on feeling the cool night air on your skin, you staggered clumsily to the balcony doors and fumbled to get them open. The second they did and you managed the last couple of steps to the railing you hung your head weakly and tried to take a full breath but could only manage a small, broke rasp as anything bigger would have caused more pain and discomfort. Slowly you lifted your head and prepared to make the struggle back to your bed but the sudden motion and your vision swirling at the sight of Dressrosa’s lights in the distance overwhelmed you and too weak to stop it from happening you tumbled over the railing.

———————————————-

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[soobnny]

stay (forever, if you’d like) — lee know x reader ; the six times he asks you to stay (2.3k words)

happy bday lee know, you are my light

one.

There’s this thing about Minho—in the way his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes sharp, and lips always in a tight line. It’s why they call him cold, unapproachable. The same people that have intrigue and intimidation written on their faces when they lay eyes on the boy.

They just don’t know him.

His eyes are a lot softer than they describe. They’re wide, wonder-like, and they shine with something you can’t quite identify, but there. Present. There is so much you can decipher with a single look—mischief, pain, sincerity, love.

Those same eyes are looking at you right now. Almost pleading, but painfully trying not to look obvious.

“It’s getting dark outside.” He acts as if he isn’t the reason you’re still at his dorm.

Attempts at leaving, all in vain, flash before your eyes. You have to admit, your best friend is nothing but convincing, and a little manipulative in how he keeps you captive until there is reason for you to stay. “You should stay.”

You can hear the kettle whistling from a distance. It’s water for tea with measurements for two, like he knew you wouldn’t leave.

“Min.” You let out a breathy laugh. He’s almost detached himself from the couch he’d sprawled himself on earlier, inching closer and closer and closer until he gets the answer that he wants.

It’s obviously for your safety, it’s dangerous walking along at night. You would be stupid not to stay. That’s what he tells himself, but there is a feeling in his stomach telling him there’s more to it. He really really doesn’t want to think about it right now.

“Fine,” you sigh.

“Good decision. It seems that you value your life after all,” he says. There’s a hint of a smile playing on his lips that he doesn’t quite show. You can always tell, though. It’s usually when he gets something he wants.

“But I’m leaving first thing in the morning.”

(You won’t.)

two.

seungmin (2:03am): pls pick minho up. drunk

You have to look at Seungmin’s message twice before it properly registers.

You remember Minho telling you he wouldn’t be drinking tonight, but it seems there’s been slight changes to his plans. You wonder if Jisung’s peer pressure finally worked on him tonight.

yn (2:05am): omw

Your dorm is only a few minutes away from where they’re drinking, and your best friend had asked you to come with him earlier, but you’d decided against it. You weren’t in the mood for the stench of alcohol in your nasal cavity.

Though, with your sudden task of picking the boy up, it seems unavoidable now.

It isn’t difficult to spot him. The moment you’re merely a block away, you find Minho just outside with a sleeping Felix on his shoulder. Their backs are slouched, and his eyes look like they’re fighting not to close.

“(Name)!” Seungmin calls out for you first, and it’s hard to miss Minho’s head pointed directly in your direction the moment your name slips out of his friend’s mouth, like he’s been looking there this whole time.

“It was fun to have blackmail material at first, but now I’m just tired.” The younger boy sighs.

You laugh, and something bitter bubbles in the sitting boy’s stomach. He lets himself sit on the feeling for quite a while. Jealousy is an ugly monster, but he doesn’t know that yet. “Please take care of him.”

When you crouch in front of Minho, the scowl on his face softens.

“You’re here.” He mumbles, exhaustion dripping from his voice. He reaches out to you, and Seungmin mutters something you don’t quite hear.

“Did you have fun?”

“Mmm,” he hums. He’s really drunk. And by his curtained eyes and his lack of dignity, you can tell he’s a goner. And so is the sleeping boy next to him.

You look around to see if there’s a convenience store nearby. Water would be a good buffer to the eventual hangover that’s waiting for them in the morning.

“‘M just gonna buy some wat—”

“Stay.” He interrupts you, just loud enough that you get a whiff of the whiskey he’d been drinking.

“You’ll feel better if you drink water.” Your eyes flicker to the convenience store for a moment before refocusing on your best friend.

A visible frown crosses his features, and his skin is flushed out from drinking. “You just arrived. Stay, please?” The way he begs entices you, because it’s not often that your best friend pleads.

“You’re saying please? You must be really drunk.” You laugh before falling to sit next to him in resignation. There is no arguing with him, not when he’s gripping the bottom of your shirt and tugging for you to stay with him for a moment.

Then there’s a sudden weight on your shoulder. He mirrors the way Felix is laying on him.

Five minutes pass.

“Wanna nap.” He mumbles. Minho feels so much like a child like this.

“You can sleep at my dorm tonight.”

“You’ll stay with me there?” He asks, almost innocent. He lifts his head from your shoulder momentarily and looks at you—eyes hazy and hair fucked out from the harsh winds of the early morning. And yet, he still looked pretty. Even at 2 in the morning.

“Mhm, but we have to go now.” Minho groans when your warmth suddenly leaves him, but he doesn’t have time to dwell when your hand meets his vision, outstretched for him to hold.

Seungmin whisks Felix awake.

“Okay.” He grabs your hand with a tired grip, and your bones rattle at how he intertwines your fingers. As if he’s always held your hand that way. And he keeps it that way until you arrive just ten minutes after.

Minho crashes on your couch before you can even hand him a glass of water.

three.

“Stay.” Stone cold sternness.

Minho doesn’t boss you around, at least, never seriously. He knows you hate being told what to do, but there is something about the circumstances right now, something in the fear of your voice, that has him using imperatives.

“Just—” He cuts himself off, trying to keep himself calm.

Even through a phone call, you know what face he’s pulling. That scowl, lips shut, eyes angry. “Stay with Chan. I’m on my way.”

“I don’t know why he’s here.” Fear drips from your voice far too easily and your painstricken words make it difficult for the boy not to speed. Your ex-boyfriend has always tried keeping contact with you despite your obvious distaste. He makes you uncomfortable, and he has aggression tendencies.

The thought of him makes Minho step on his accelerator. He’s thankful Chan is with you. Had he not, Minho would’ve been in deep trouble with the law enforcement.

“You’re with Chan, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

When he arrives, he asks his friend to lead you to his car.

Minho is really angry, and the sight of your ex-boyfriend kicks things up a higher notch. You don’t know what he’s about to do, but he’s scary when he’s upset. Chan tries to take your attention away, but the dynamic in Minho’s voice is too loud. It’s the one he doesn’t like to use on anyone he cares about.

“You’re lucky we’re in public. If you so much as look at my best friend, I’m going to kill you.” There is no remorse when he speaks, and his fists are balled up tight. He’s trying his best not to use them. “Fuck you.”

He returns to you and Chan no longer than five minutes, but definitely long enough to scare off your ex-boyfriend. Chan hands him his car keys, and Minho says nothing the entire ride home. His anger is still evident, almost seething off of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks long after Chan is gone, and it’s only the two of you just outside your dorm. The night air is crisp, cold in contrast to the overwhelming heat he’d felt earlier. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn—”

Minho shuts his mouth when you suddenly wrap your arms around him. “Thank you.”

The rage melts from his face, features softening. He brings his own arms around you.

He stays the night at your dorm.

four.

They’re so pretty!”

Your face stands out in the sea of spring’s flowers. You’re unaware of the way he’s looking at you, eyes shifting in excitement.

“I hope the bees sting you.” You roll your eyes at him, dropping your vision to continue admiring the fields of flowers. They’ve bloomed so beautifully.

Minho disappears for a moment, but you don’t worry too much. He was probably looking for the nearest bench. You’d dragged him out after all. He hasn’t changed at all since you’d gotten together. He was still stubborn, and yet sickeningly sweet when he wanted to.

Your boyfriend comes back with his hands behind his back, and it has you squinting at him. What could he be up to this time?

He’s suddenly standing impossibly close to you, and you almost lose the rhythm of your breathing with how close he is. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this. “Stay still.”

His hand reaches out towards you, fingers pushing a few strands of your hair away. A quiet heartbeat later, he pulls back, and the only difference you feel is something pinched just behind your ear. You wonder if it’s what you think it is.

(It is. An unassuming flower decorates the side of your face.)

Minho’s heart softens at the sight. “Pretty.”

The sight of you brings spring’s flowers to shame, he thinks.

five.

Arguing has always been something that wasn’t easy for the both of you, especially Minho. He hated fighting, but sometimes, it couldn’t be helped.

It’s how you found yourselves with puffy eyes and red noses. You barely remember what you were arguing about in the first place, but you have an overwhelming urge to leave. You think it’s so the fight doesn’t escalate, and because you don’t like that look on his face.

You say nothing when you move to open the door.

“What are you doing?” He sighs. He’s hesitant if he should step forward or not.

“I’m leaving.”

“You can’t.”

“I can, and I will.” You sniffle, a hand coming up to wipe your stubborn tears before planting on the doorknob of your shared apartment. “I hate it when we fight.”

“You don’t think I hate it too?” He frowns, hand hovering over yours. “But leaving isn’t the right option right now. Just stay, and we’ll talk about it more in the morning. I know you’re tired, but please. Stay.”

You cry even more into his chest, but he couldn’t be less bothered at the snot that’s staining his shirt. He brings you closer by your waist, hand patting down on your hair to quietly try and soothe you. He regrets letting the argument escalate this far. “I’m sorry.”

“‘M sorry for ruining your shirt.” You pull away, eyes trained on the big wet stain decorating the shirt he’s wearing.

“It’ll dry by tomorrow morning.” He reassures you, swaying the both of you gently. “Please don’t ever think about leaving.”

There’s something about the pain in his eyes that has your heart breaking further, and the way he bends down to cup your cheeks softly in his hands. He doesn’t reek of frustration anymore.

“Wasn’t gonna.” You mutter.

“You scared me for a second.” He shakes your head in his palms slowly before pressing a wet kiss on your lips. Your face is warm from crying. “Just… stay.”

(Forever, if you can. If you’d like.)

six.

You wake up to find him already looking at you, though he’s barely awake himself.

A greeting sits on his tongue, of your third anniversary, but he swallows it down for a moment. “Did you sleep well?” He asks instead, voice a little husky from the morning air.

“Hmmm.” You yawn, feeling something tickle just behind you. You know it’s one of the cats. They’ve grown into the habit of joining you and Minho in bed lately.

He smiles at you softly, arms reaching out to tug you back against his warm, very shirtless chest. And while you’d hate to ruin the quiet of the morning, you know you have to leave in a bit. You’d promised to run a quick errand.

“Baby, have to go.” You giggle when his grip only tightens around you. It’s never easy peeling yourself out of bed with Minho.

“How mean, already trying to leave me on our anniversary.” You know he’s pouting by the way he talks to you. You can only laugh—breathy and genuinely happy.

“I’ll be quick.” You whisper, and you hear a quiet ‘meow’ from your left.

“The babies would hate to see you go.” He whines.

“How classy of you to use them against me.” He smirks quite proudly, limbs still heavy over you. He refuses to let you go, not when your skin on his is a reminder of the things that had happened the night before, not when it feels this comfortable.

The sun continues to seep through the blinds to join the both of you, a taunting reminder that you really had to leave. You try to tug your arm free, but his fingers dig deeper into your skin.

“I’ll be right back.” You try to convince him, but all he does is plant a kiss on your neck before burying his face back into the scent of your hair. You know there’s no talking this out with Minho.

“Stay.” You can’t help the way your heart swells at a single word. “You won’t regret it.”

You have a feeling there’s a different connotation to his words. You think you know what.

“Fine.” You know there was never a chance that he’d let you go, even if you tried to wriggle yourself out.

He smiles. “Just wanna stay like this a little bit longer.”

Minho meets your lips like it’s the perfect time to do so. It is, always. He kisses you sweetly, gently, like there wasn’t anything else to do. He doesn’t make a move even when his phone rings somewhere in the room.

And you’ll stay. And stay, and stay, and stay.

Forever.

You think you’d like that.

[foolinafable]

ordinary

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Synopsis: A normal morning with Five Word Count: 1.2k Tags: Fluff, Season 4 fix it fic Note: wanted to write for five in my tipsy stupor and this was born. Also, send requests!

He wouldn’t change this for anything, six years with you had been as close to heaven as he could ever hope to get.

Five had done a lot of bad things in his life- he was sure he was as close to the devil as one could get but you had always been there, the sun to his moon, the smile to his frown, the Hera to his Zeus. All he had ever wanted was for time to stop, for him not to be worrying about his family and an upcoming apocalypse and that is all he had up until now. the complete freedom from that aspect of his life finally allowed him to have his retirement. Until he got bored and applied for the CIA.

Getting the job was something Diego may have envied but you fully supported it because while he may have the memories and mind of a much older man psychically he didn’t look any older than eighteen and neither did you thanks to his mess-up with the calculations a whole three apocalypses ago. He had spent twenty-six years by your side now and still didn’t seem long enough in his opinion.

Waking up by your side was a gift he hoped he never had to give up. Watching you sleep with a soft smile as he realised that this was his reality now- the world was safe, you were safe. He never needed to worry about something coming to take you and his family away again- it had been six years of peace and he can only look forward to even more. 

He hated waking you up in the morning but also knew that you would be sad if he left for work before you could give him a kiss goodbye, something he wouldn't admit to also missing if he ever dared to leave you asleep in bed. Luckily, today he had the day off as did you for it was little Grace's birthday a day the young girl was very excited for because her "favourite auntie and uncle" would make an appearance her voice echoing in his head from when you had called Lila for a chat yesterday and confirmed to very happy Grace Stanley Hargreeves that the two of you wouldn’t dare miss her birthday party after she had threatened that her father would come and kidnap the pair of you if you dared to miss her most special day. It was later on in the day in the afternoon as Lila had claimed annoyed that it couldn’t be too early as she needed time to not only get the twins ready but also set up the party as the kids club it was going to be located at so he got to watch you for the first time in whoever knows how long sleep in and not feel bad for not waking you up.

Eventually, he could feel the need for coffee overwhelm him knowing that if he didn't get some in his system he would soon become a ‘grumpy old man’ as you liked to say so he slowly unwrapped his hands from around you and gave a soft kiss to your forehead as he departed from the warm of your embrace and made his way towards the kitchen his main goal to make himself a cup of goddam coffee. 

You grumbled slightly at the feeling of his lips on your head trying to snuggle back into his neck when you noticed his removal from the haven of your warm bed causing you to groan at the loss of him.

Ever since saving the world more than once you found it hard to sleep without him the fear of living in a world without him haunts you on darker days and frightening nights so it was of no surprise to you when your eyes quickly blinked open at the loss of him in the bed luckily his side was still warm calming your brain as you slowly and annoyingly began to awaken a lot earlier than you would’ve wished for on your day off.

After a few minutes of rolling around in the bed hoping you could convince yourself to go back to sleep you deceitfully trudged yourself away leaving the safety of your covers in order to find your lover. Yawning as you made your way from your bedroom into the kitchen smelling the coffee from a mile away giving his location away easily you found him sitting at the breakfast table sipping coffee smiling softly as he saw you appear from the door you smiled back lazily as you dropped into the chair opposite his, head resting on your hands as he strokes your face with his thumb in an apology for waking you up you simply hummed in understanding- he can’t be awake too long without coffee otherwise he will become irritable and you couldn’t have that with Grace’s birthday party being at two o'clock.

Luther had called yesterday letting you know that he would be picking up Ben from prison as he was finally getting released today, he also mentioned that Victor was planning on making an appearance. A fact that left you and Five shocked barely hearing from the Hargreeves sibling since you had split off after Alison reset the timeline.

Five stopped stroking your face as he got up from his chair walking into the living room before quickly returning with the crossword puzzle book you had gifted him for his birthday, he made a point to do one puzzle every morning before he did anything else, except have his coffee that is, claiming that it made him feel ready for the day and feel as though you were with him on the days he set off for work before you had even awoken a fact that made you smile as you looked at the boy- a man as he now liked to claim as he looked down at his puzzle his eyebrows furrowed as he completed it with ease only meeting your gase once he had finished today crossword eyebrows raising as you smiled at him before reaching to tuck the hairs in front of his face behind his ears as they usually go in his eyes. Something that while it annoyed him he wouldn’t dare cut his hair any shorter especially after you had spoken of your fondness over this overgrown style. His hands grabbed at your wrists before you could pull away from him, using this as leverage he drew you closer to press a slow kiss to your lips smiling as you hummed in content at the contact of his lips on yours, his hands stroking at your wrists making butterflies erupt in your stomach as if he hadn’t been doing this for the past two decades. You smiled as you parted your hand coming to rest on his jaw where his dimple sat among his freckles, he smiled back at you his eyes not daring to leave yours.

You both were sure that while this day was going to be as ordinary as the others had these past six years it would be special just because you were here together. 

[legobiwan]

This is such a telling page for Ford. Not only does he detail his social missteps and admit to being lonely in Gravity Falls, despite the scientific wonder of the place, but he also uses what I call "Fordese 2," a scrambled version of the "Fordese 1" code we were first introduced to in Journal 3 to label himself a "six-fingered freak" and to state that "Stanley would have made her laugh." (Her, being the waitress Ford tries out his nerdy science joke on, which goes down like a lead balloon despite the fact that it is legitimately funny, given the right audience).

It's like Bill says. "Ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated..." (Funny enough, Bill could probably turn those exact words on himself, as well.)

Ford so wanted Gravity Falls to be the place where he'd finally fit in, the puzzle to his misshapen puzzle piece.

And as we see in the missing Journal pages from BoB, that was not to be the case. And worst of all? Ford blames it on his hands at first, but the reality is that he says that "Stanley could make her laugh," meaning Ford's "freakishness" (as he would put it) has less to do with his six fingers and much more to do with Ford's personality and the way he interacts with others.

This is actually worse. Fingers, you can fix, if you want to. By the time you're an adult, most people probably wouldn't care. But to Ford, his fingers seem to be more a manifestation of something internal, something he feels is fundamentally broken about him and that's just the absolute worst hell to be stuck in.

So yeah, it's hardly surprising Ford fell so hard for Bill's shenanigans (and you can define "fell so hard" however you want, although that karaoke page in BoB is especially damning). Here's an interdimensional being who not only can guide you to unlocking the secrets of the universe and propel you towards scientific fame and glory (and thus shoving every taunt, invective, side-eye, and eye roll ever hurled at you over the decades down your tormentors' throats) - but he's (on the surface) completely glib about being a freak himself.

For Ford, this must have been like finding a shady, sparkling oasis after thirty years of trawling through the desert (especially after Stanley's "betrayal" - Stanley, who along with Fiddleford, being the only person Ford felt like he could be himself around and still be accepted as a human being).

Now, is Bill trying way too hard to show how much he doesn't care? Uhhh, yeah. Bill has almost the same hangups as Ford. Labeled a freak for a genetic mutation and ostracized by his peers. Has a rare gift in that he can see not only into the third dimension but can see even past that, into possible dimensions and futures, which is a wild skill to have. Compare this with Ford's gigantic science brain and academic overachievement. Same deal. And not only this! Bill, in an attempt to prove what he can do with his "freakishness," to prove his worth and place in the universe - he tries to show off something to the denizens of his dimension (we don't know yet what Bill did), only to end up slaughtering his entire dimension. Ford was a hair's breath away from doing the exact same thing with the portal. Because we know from Journal 3 that part of his motivation is to be famous and get accolades for his work, and that maybe "girls will finally talk to me." (Which, Fordsy, let's be real here - I don't think you're actually into these "girls" for real, but you want the acceptance that comes with fitting in with societal standards, and getting a state-sanctioned girlfriend is exactly the type of thing Ford would want to make himself feel "normal.")

Anyway, the point being that if Ford had succeeded with his initial portal attempt, he would have basically wiped out his own dimension. Just. Like. Bill. And it makes you wonder - yeah, yeah, Bill wanted to party, Bill needed out of the Nightmare Realm, Bill's a psychopath who enjoys destruction.

But honestly? I think part it all was that Bill wanted someone like him. His own puzzle piece. Another monster. A being whose collateral damage in the quest to justify their existence in this universe ends in wholesale slaughter.

And Ford had the capacity to easily fit that mould.

[moonstruckme]

hey lovely! I was wondering if I could request a remus or poly! marauders where the boys (or just remus) are keeping his werewolf thing a secret from whimsical!reader bc remus is scared she’ll be scared of him, but she secretly already knows. I feel like she’d just KNOW(you know? lol) and one day hints that she does to Remus saying that it’s going to be a full moon soon as like a warning or something and he and the boys kinda look at her like….what does she mean by that? lol idk I hope that makes sense.

Thanks for requesting sweetheart <3

poly!marauders x whimsical!reader ♡ 1k words

They’re all always on edge as the full moon grows closer, but James thinks Sirius might be faring the worst. Two days out, he won’t let Remus so much as make his own tea, and when you’re still not home a couple of hours after you’re supposed to be, James has to talk him down from calling the police. 

Now, Remus is comforting him, though neither of them will admit it, the ailing boy’s arms banded securely around Sirius’ midsection where they lie on the couch. Every now and again, Sirius turns his head to kiss Remus’ chin as if to make up for it. James watches them both from the kitchen, wondering if he could get away with slipping some of the anti-anxiety tea you got Remus into Sirius’ brew. 

When they hear your key in the front door, he thinks he hears a relieved sigh go up from the couch. 

“Hi, angel.” James arrests you at the door, beckoning you into the kitchen. “Been missing you.” 

“Hey Jamie.” You set a couple of bags on the counter, letting him pull you in by the waist for a kiss. “Whatcha making?” 

“Lentil soup,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to keep you close. “Be extra nice to Sirius,” he whispers near your ear. “He’s been worrying himself crazy about you.” 

You pull back to look at him, lips parting bemusedly, but James just pecks you on the side of your head. “Go,” he urges. 

You do as he says, padding over to the couch. “Hi, Siri,” you say, kneeling by the couch. “How’s your—day been?” Your words become muffled halfway through when Sirius wraps his arms around you, pressing your face to his shoulder despite the awkward angle. 

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, worry inlaid with fondness. Remus’ hand migrates to the dip of his waist, pacifying. “You didn’t leave a note or anything.” 

“Sorry,” you say, slipping free of his grip so you can see him. Your fingers find a piece of his hair, running the satiny tress through your fingers distractedly. “I didn’t expect to be so long, but I couldn’t find Remus’ chocolate anywhere. I think it must be the holiday.” 

Sirius pauses. 

“You were gone all that time getting the chocolate Rem likes?” James asks. He peers inside the bag you’ve left on the counter, and sure enough—bags and bags of it, enough to last for months. 

“Mhm, I had to go to six stores. I saw you were getting low,” you say, now to Remus, “and I thought you might be wanting it.” 

James lowers the heat on his soup, setting a lid on the pot so he can join you all in the living room. Remus’ expression is wavering somewhere between guilty and lovestruck. Sirius looks plainly besotted.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Remus says, reaching over Sirius to stroke at your cheek. “Thanks, dove.” 

You lean into his touch, cheeks dimpling. “It’s no problem,” you promise. Sirius has a look on his face like he wants to eat you. James feels similarly. “Oh,” you say abruptly, “I set up my diffuser in the bedroom earlier, but since it looks like you’re going to be out here for a while, would you mind if I brought it out?”

Remus’ eyebrows twitch towards each other. “Course not. But what did you have it in my room for?” 

“I put some rosemary oil in it.” You get up, aiming for the bedroom. “I thought it might be good for your headaches.” 

When you return, Sirius apparently decides he can’t contain himself any longer. He sits up on the couch, opening his arms for a proper hug. You set up the diffuser hastily and go to them, letting him squeeze the life out of you without complaint. Your eyes slip closed. 

“Sorry I scared you,” you say softly. 

“You’re forgiven.” Sirius stamps a kiss on the side of your head, rubbing your back roughly. “You’re pretty hard to stay mad at, you know that?”

“That’s the goal,” you reply breezily. James laughs. 

“How’d you know I had a headache today?” Remus asks, watching you and Sirius amusedly. 

You hum into Sirius’ shoulder, not opening your eyes. “Well, it’s only two days until the full moon.” 

Remus goes shock still. So does Sirius, cutting a look James’ way over your shoulder. What the hell is that supposed to mean? 

James shakes his head, shrugging. He hasn’t let anything slip, though he does think it’d be easier if you knew. He and Sirius have tried to coax Remus into telling you a few times now, but the other boy is obstinate. He’s been spurned too much in his life to willingly open himself up to the possibility of it, even if they all know you could never be afraid of him. He’s just not ready yet. 

Still, James thinks sitting here in petrified silence is as likely to give him away as anything else. 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” James asks you. 

“Mm, nothing,” you hum blissfully, seemingly too content in Sirius’ hold to think about much else. He thinks he can hear Remus’ breath shake a bit on the way out. 

“Right,” James says. “Would you mind helping me in the kitchen for a bit? I could use someone chopping while I stir, or the other way around.” 

“Sure.” You open your eyes, gently easing yourself from Sirius’ clutches. The raven-haired boy eyes you curiously as you go, quirking an eyebrow at James like What do you think she’s on about? James can only shrug again, putting a hand on the small of your back while he follows you into the kitchen. 

As he goes by, he looks again in the bags you’ve brought home. 

“Angel, why did you buy so many bandages?” 

You shrug, taking up a paring knife and beginning to chop celery with careful, even strokes. “We were running out of those, too. Usually you and Siri are more on top of this stuff, but I figured it’s time I started pitching in. I know it’s a difficult time of the month.” 

There’s a dull slapping sound from the couch, and James looks over to see Sirius with one hand covering his mouth, the other stroking soothingly at Remus’ hair. 

“Right.” James swallows. He glances back at you, but you’re just chopping celery, placid as can be. “Thanks for, uh, taking up the mantle.” 

You toss him an easy smile. “Anytime.”

[righteousruin]

WHAT DO YOU WISH YOU COULD SAY?

"please, PLEASE want to know me."

you keep quite literally everything bottled up, don't you? you try to be there for everyone else, but nobody has ever asked about you. you have a mental list in your head of things that you wish beyond wishing that people would ask to know about you, but nobody has. you're afraid that if you tell them, you won't get the response you crave, which gets more and more mysterious and gut-wrenchingly necessary with every day that goes by in silence. it feels like you aren't allowed to exist

[miniy00ng1]

Home

Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader

wc: 1189

warnings: swearing, lila likes five (ew), lmk if i missed anything!

find my masterlist here

hiiii lovelies! it felt like i wrote more than i actually did, butttt whatever. please ignore any grammar errors and i hope everyone enjoys! thank you <3

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

He dreams of you every night. Thinks about you during his every waking moment. He longs to see your beautiful face again. To hold you tight in his arms and never let you go.

Your relationship with Five is one he could only dream of having. He met you during the apocalypse. You were severely injured and stuck under rubble but, you were alive when he stumbled across you.  

Five had nursed you back to health and in return you provided him company for what would have been 45 very lonely years. During that time, you and Five had fallen in love and had married.

Since arriving in the new timeline 6 years ago, you and Five had started to build a normal life together, just like Five had wished for. But now he’s found himself stuck in a neverending hellscape with the last person he’d ever want to be stuck with.

Six years had gone by since he last saw you and all of them were agony. Five tried to find a way back to you and vowed he wouldn’t stop trying until you were back in his arms. There were times where he wasn’t sure he would ever see you again and it broke his heart–he would never admit this to anyone.

“I cannot stand to eat another subway rat.” Lila says, scrunching her nose up in disgust. The pair were sat on the floor of the station cooking yet another rodent. “Maybe…we could rest up for a bit at the greenhouse we found the other day? The place wasn’t too bad.” Lila glances at Five with a hopeful look in her eyes. Five ponders the idea, he wouldn’t mind a soft bed to sleep in and definitely wouldn’t miss getting shot at. He nods at Lila, “Only for a couple of days.” 

A few days had turned into weeks which turned into months. And soon enough the pair had been there for three months. The greenhouse and surrounding area had provided a sufficient source of living and was considerably more comfortable than the subway station floor.

Five was watering the strawberries in the greenhouse when he felt something hit his back. He could hear Lila giggle and felt another thud, “Quit it Lila, you’re wasting produce. We’re not going to have enough for the winter if you keep throwing them at me.” Lila continued to toss strawberries as she approached Five, “Oh please, we’ll have plenty and we aren’t staying tha–”

Lila tripped over her feet causing Five to drop his watering can and catch her. The two were face to face, he could feel Lila’s breath and her eyes staring at his lips. He quickly pushed Lila to her feet and distanced himself from her. “Look Lila, I know we’ve been here a long time and you’re not happy with my brother but I love Y/N. And I just want to get back to her.” Five was never the kindest man but in that moment he had hoped he let her down gently.

Lila nodded quickly, tucking her lips as her eyes welled with tears, “No, yeah, I get it. I’m sorry. It’s just–what if we never get home?” Five shook his head, “That’s not happening. I’m never going to stop until I get us home.”

Five left the greenhouse to give Lila some space. In the meantime, he returned to the subway station and decided to take a ride to clear his head. As he sat on the grimey seat he tried to think about how you might try to decipher the station–you were always just as smart as he was, helping solve equations in the apocalypse. You had even told him his calculations were off but he would never listen, he smiled to himself thinking about you.

The train let out a ding signifying he had reached the next stop. As the doors opened he heard the sound of footsteps fading. What the hell? he thought to himself. He shot out of his chair with urgency, following the direction of the footsteps and calling out for the mystery person to stop. 

Five came to a halt, his eyes widening at the bright sign and the warm presence of a restaurant. If he wasn’t confused before, he sure as hell was now. Five neared the door with caution, but as he entered the deli he was awestruck. He was surrounded by himself, some workers and some patrons of the deli.

“Hey, you! Yeah, you! Come sit with me” A voice called out, his voice, but he wasn’t speaking. He glanced around to see who was calling for him when he saw himself in a booth waving him over. Five approached the table and slid into his seat.

“So you’ve made it.” Booth Five says enthusiastically. Five looks at himself quizzically, raising an eyebrow he asks, “And where exactly are we?” “It’s where we all come when we’ve given up.” “Given up?” Five questions. “I haven’t given up. I need to get home to Y/N.” Murmurs erupt at the sound of your name. Many surrounding Fives sigh or give a sad smile.

“We here don’t have our version of your Y/N anymore. We lost everyone, including her. As soon as we did, majority of us gave up trying to save the world.” Booth Five states, a sad gleam in his eyes. “I’ve saved the world three times already. I don’t plan on doing it again anytime soon. I just want to get home to her. So do me a favor and tell me how to get home.”

Booth Five gives a call out to Waiter Five. Waiter Five brings over a notebook and hands it to Five. As Five inspects the journal, his eyes widen. “Holy shit…it’s a cipher. This is how I get back.” Five immediately gets up. As he leaves Booth Five calls out,

“We’ll see you soon.”

Upon returning to the greenhouse Five starts to gather everything in preparation to make his return home. “Lila!” He calls out, “Lila! Where are you? Get ready to leave, we’re going home!” Lila bursts through the door looking disheveled.

“You–You’re not fucking with me are you? Because if you are, I will kill you.” Five shakes his head and Lila squeals running over to hug Five. “Let’s go home.”

The pair arrives at Diego and Lila’s house. Lila excitedly runs up to the door and throws it open. As she disappears into the house Five begins to approach. As he gets closer, he can hear you giggle as Lila envelops you in a bear hug. 

Lila eventually lets you go and that’s when you notice Five’s presence at the entryway. You make your way over to him with your beautiful smile. You throw your hands around his neck and pull him down slightly as he is a couple inches taller than you. Five snakes his hands around your waist, face in your hair as he breathes you in.

You go to pull away but Five’s grip tightens. You let out a laugh, “Someone must’ve missed me.” “You have no idea” He whispers.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey feel free to ignore this if its too dark but could u do ford x reader where he comes back from the portal and finds out reader died while he was gone

The moment Ford uttered you name he should’ve known something was wrong, especially the way Stan eyes didn’t meet his, his face was set in a look that told him that whatever happened to you he still wasn’t in complete acceptance of it.

‘Stanley,’ Ford said as he stepped closer to his twin brother, who has evening uncharacteristically silent the entire time, ‘where’s y/n?’

Stan fiddled with his fez hat as he debated whether or not he should tell Ford a lie, or tell him the truth that to this day he himself was still very much in denial over, but he decided that his brother should know regardless even if it did hurt him to admit it. ‘Y/n’s dead Stanford.’ Stan finally said and could hear Ford gasp in the silence that followed afterwards.

‘What? When?’ Ford asked, looking over at his desk and at a framed picture of you and him in your youth with a hairline fracture on the glass cutting across your face. He wished this was some joke but Ford knew his brother well enough to know that he’d never joke about you or death in the same breathe, you were their friend since childhood, and his childhood sweetheart; So to find out thirty years later that you were no longer living hurt Ford in ways he couldn’t fathom, it was like his heart had been violently ripped out of his chest and smashed into a million pieces, the air left his lungs as quickly as the news came and he had to find something to sit down on.

‘They died last this day last month…they held out hope that you’d come back one day, said they had something they’ve always wanted to tell you but before I could ask what…they passed away…I’m so sorry.’ Stan told him as he went to sit next to his brother who had tears silently streaming down his cheeks. You and Stanford meant a lot to Stanley- and a hell of a a lot at that- you were the only person in New Jersey who didn’t give a shit about Ford’s six fingers, or being labelled as weird because of your association with them, you just didn’t care enough about those things and instead encouraged them to keep being who they were without shame.

Stanley also knew that Ford had a thing for you and still has from how he kept things you left at their parent’s house when you were younger, it was fun to tease him about it until he started actively encouraging Ford to say something to you, anything! Lucky you did go out for a bit but it wasn’t until everything blew up between and only then did your relationship fracture and fall off. With Ford dedicated all of his time and effort to his work rather than your crumbling relationship, it had gotten to the point where you just left without a trace, assuming that he’d be off in the woods on his latest monster chase.

Stan tried to keep telling you to hold on, just until Ford came home, but your health had rapidly declined so severely that there was nothing anyone could’ve done to prevent it. It hurt Stan to loose his best friend and his unofficial but in his heart of hearts official in law, he couldn’t help but think of how Ford would react upon hearing that the person he still longed for had died with a heart heavy with regret. You wanted to marry Ford, it was your biggest hopes for the future but unfortunately that future didn’t come nearly as soon as either you or Stan would’ve liked.

‘And we ended on less than satisfactory terms too.’ Ford said sombrely, feeling deep within his chest that something was missing, he felt hollow and empty knowing that he had missed out on setting things right with you. He had missed the chance to marry you happily like he saw his alternate self did in a dimension that he visited briefly, and looking back at it now only caused Ford more heartbreak. ‘There’s so much I have yet to tell them,’ he trails off as he looked to Stanley who had now started to tear up at this point, ‘I still love them Stanley.’ He admits and Stanley clenched the fabric of his pants within his firsts. ‘I know and they loved- no-still love you too, right until their very last breath all they could think about was you.’ Was all he said.

‘I wanted to marry them Stanley.’ Ford said weakly as all the future prospects he had for you and him slowly slipping from his grasp, one by one.

‘I know.’ Stan replied.

‘I wanted to spend the rest of my life with them.’

‘I know, they did too.’

‘I wanted them.’ Ford cried

‘And they wanted you just as much.’ Stan said as he brought his brother into his side as he wept while clutching at his chest as though his heart was burning him from the inside out. it hurt Stanley to see his brother in pain, such pain that it brought him to his knees, begging and pleading for a god that doesn’t exist to bring you back to him. Stan hated knowing that you and Ford could’ve had a happy ending, only to end up with a tragic one instead; So he remained by Ford’s side in solidarity as he cried and shouted until his throat was raw and he feel asleep due to exhaustion.

‘You deserved better,’ Stan said to no one in particular, ‘you both did.’

[zablife]

Earth Angel

Benny Cross x gf reader

Summary: After running from the one person who's ever truly loved him, Benny returns to see if you'll take him back, but there's a surprise waiting.

Warnings: language, pregnancy, angst but ends with fluff

A/N: A short imagine I couldn't stop thinking about. If you like it, pls let me know in all the usual ways. Comments are love 💕

No spoilers here!

Benny Cross Masterlist

Benny loved you. It had only ever been you. He knew that now that he was returning home as fast as his bike could carry him. The past six months he’d spent running from it were a mistake he deeply regretted and he only hoped you would forgive him.

If he was honest with himself, the unconditional love you’d shown scared him and he knew he’d eventually fuck it up, the way he always did. So he packed his shit and left in the night without explanation.

Afterward, you’d spent many hours crying for your lost love so when Johnny met him on the road, he relayed your sadness. The shame of it burned deep to Benny's core. It was only made worse by Johnny’s words of your continued devotion. “She still loves ya, kid…Always will.”

The chance meeting reminded him of your goodness, the nickname for you still on the tip of his tongue. Earth angel he'd always called you, a woman too good for this world. You deserved better than him, but if his presence made you happy, he would vow to try again.

That's how he found himself on the long stretch of highway toward home, eager to lay eyes on your beautiful face once more and see for himself if Johnny was right. Would you take him back? he wondered.

When his tired body pushed off his bike and out toward the back yard where you hung the laundry, he could hardly believe the sight that greeted him.

There you stood in the golden afternoon sunlight, hair piled atop your head and sundress flowing in the breeze. He called your name and you turned to face him, eyes wide with surprise.

His breath hitched as he caught sight of your swollen stomach, suddenly realizing all he’d missed in his long absence from home. Rushing to greet you, he swept you off your feet, a wide grin spreading across his face as you opened your arms to accept him.

“Careful, Benny!” you cried as he spun you in a circle, overcome with joy.

He placed you on the ground gently as a chuckle erupted from deep within his chest, a look of complete awe sparkling in his eyes.

Then as the adrenaline subsided, he pulled you close enough to nuzzle your neck, inhaling the floral notes of your perfume and the crisp clean cotton from the wash. One hand resting over your bump, he suddenly grew quiet, voice hushed as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me, angel?”

You stroked the blonde curls at the nape of his neck as you shook your head sadly, “Didn’t have the chance.”

Benny raised his head to meet your gaze, tears in his eyes as thought of you scared and alone, “I would’ve never left you like this.” He let out a shaky breath as he added, “There isn’t a day I didn’t think about you, you know.”

With those words, you melted into his arms, head resting against his shoulder as you admitted, “I missed you too, baby. I’m glad you’re home.”

Hearing the sweet tone of your voice relaxed any lingering tension, his arms softening their grip. His large hand reached to cup your cheek, Benny’s blue eyes glistening as he begged for your forgiveness. “I mean it, I’m so sorry, angel.”

“You’re here now,” you told him, inhaling a deep breath which he emulated with steady resolve.

“And I’ll never leave you again,” he murmured, leaning in to seal his promise with a kiss.

[sundays-mutt]

there's a lot of discussion and speculation about the fact john doesn't speak of arthur in rdr1. logistically it's not hard to understand that rdr1 just came out years before rdr2 and thats why but . But.

but when you think of rdr1 with the additional context two, there is something quite... in line with john trying to forget arthur. wanting to. or burying him. not just in metaphor or in soil but in his memories and in some way failing to do it but in another succeeding

you think of john and his commitment to his son and wife and you think of his willingness to do anything for them. moral or not. righteous or not. and you think of the fact that john didn't know at the time the sort of man arthur believed him to be, but he perhaps modeled himself in the image of his older brother. near incidental. he has so little in common with arthur really. john's broody and lacking remorse and at twenty-six he's inconsiderate entirely in a way arthur never was.

but time is a thief and one day, he turns 38. he's older than arthur when he dies. and john doesn't remember well what he looks like, and all he can feel when he thinks of arthur is grief. grief that never ends. thats the thing about all of it, you'll realize - is that john knows arthur best in the retroactive.

the sort of complicated, odd man arthur was revealed to him in the creases of pages and keepsakes. in the carving of his guns that john finds after arthur is gone. in the ring of the woman arthur loved long ago. in the confessionals to his son isaac and the regret in the letters he wrote to their psuedo father. you realize john knows more of arthurs stagnant ghost that can't guide john into manhood the way he so desperately needs. and it's all he has to go by to make a man of himself.

john never finds out what kind of man arthur believed him to be and he has to infer the real good man arthur was. in grief there is love. john loved arthur enough to want to be like him. and in burying the living, breathing man arthur was he's forced to cling to his spirit. has to piece together the kindness of his older brother through memories and diary entries and secondhand stories. and that's how he models himself in rdr1 to me. where arthur is moral john becomes dutiful and where arthur is kind, john is helpful. he becomes the shadow of arthurs best qualities. he can never be arthur. no one could ever be arthur, even if arthur had given them the page by page instructions of how to do so. this is all he has. all he knows. all he can do.

john misses his brother. so he tries to embody him. but he can't really in the same way he can't grieve him. so he makes a home for arthurs ghost to return to in himself. john never mentions arthur because it dregs up painful what-ifs, but they share so many mannerisms and bastardized qualities. john has fashioned himself based on those loose memories.

one day, a stranger meets john and says. "why would you remember me, friend? you've forgotten far more important people than me" and john will remember all the ghosts he's ever loved briefly. there will be a blurry face and a forgiving voice and it will sound like a memory and it will linger in johns ribcage like a moth. and john won't remember. he won't. he can't. he buried his brother without ever doing it.

john says a lot of things. feels a lot of things. he shoots his gun to the stranger who calls his memory into question and the thing jams and the bastard roams free. john will taste blood in his mouth. he'll feel a cough in his lungs and well, he won't remember his brother still. buried men must stay buried.

of course. of course john never mentions arthur. he can't remember him, even though he's inherited so much of his manner. to speak it of him would be admitting to his existence. its admitting: i miss you. im sorry. it was my fault.

of course john never mentions arthur. he's made all this effort in forgetting him that even when his body and his gesture and his character betray the fact he's forgotten - his mind will soothe the pain and blur out his face.

and instead of remembering in life even once, he'll die the same way arthur did. alone. protective. contented. redeemed. john loves arthur like most brothers do - with muscle memory.

even if john cuts the necrosis of arthurs memory off of him, his body will twitch at the phantom feeling of his existence. john remembers even when he can't. arthur his only brother. the most important man he's ever forgotten.

[certified-pumi]

Unloved Beloved

One person already shared their idea for @itsabouttimex2’s platonic yan AU, “Not The Beloved” (go check it out if you haven’t already) so I’m here to share mine too, inspired by their “Not The Beloved” fic. An ‘what if’ scenario if you will.

warnings: spoilers for lmk season 5, gender neutral reader, child neglect, parentification, favouritism, yandere platonic/familial characters, kidnapping, likely OOC writing.

Following close to canon, Xiangliu was the one responsible for MK’s egg hatching prematurely. Thus, also allowing for the Shadowpeach family to finally have their perfect monkey baby!

One day for whatever reason, Xiangliu ends up on the Flower Fruit mountain. Recognising where he is, he decides to pay a quick visit to the little harbinger that he had set free.

He didn’t have to look for long, as he noticed two small, monkey silhouettes on the beach. Approaching them, he immediately recognised MK, the little ball of sunshine as energetic as ever. He played with who appeared to be another monkey, only somewhat much taller than him in stature.

However, upon closer inspection, Xiangliu realized that it wasn’t another monkey that MK played with. As the young child took off their hood, the demon was met with a pair of innocent, large eyes that stared back at him.

A human.

Curious enough, he approaches you both. Despite your cautiousness about this strange new face, you easily let your guard down once he convinces you that he’s an old friend of Sun Wukong’s.

He quickly learns that you’re MK’s older sibling and Wukong’s and Macaque’s adopted human child. When Xiangliu asks about your parents’ whereabouts, he’s surprised to learn that both of them are away. “And you’re taking care of the little one all by yourself? Your brother sure seems lucky to have such a reliable older sibling,” he comments. He doesn’t miss the way you try to hide your frown and then nod along.

Naturally, Xiangliu doesn’t stick around for too long. He leaves and once your fathers return, you mention your father’s “old friend” visiting and describe him as best as you can.

Not recognising anyone by that description, Sun Wukong and Macaque brush it off as you having an imaginary friend.

As for Xiangliu himself, he had to admit that he didn’t expect for Sun Wukong and his mate to be present at the right time to adopt the future Harbinger of Chaos. Or that the Great Sun Wukong would also adopt a human child beforehand. Knowing the potential risk to his plans if the Harbinger was being raised by the Monkey King and the Six Eared Macaque, the nine headed demon decides to drop by more frequently.

He knew that he couldn’t directly approach baby MK. The fact that Sun Wukong and his spouse were fussing over him would mean that he had no opening for talking to the mystic baby monkey without having to talk to them.

And that’s where you come in like a blessing.

By befriending and gaining your trust first, Xiangliu could indirectly learn more about what the rest of your family has been up to. He’d have to put in a little effort not to be noticed by your fathers, sure, but as long as he could use you to keep an eye on MK’s development under the Great Sage, it’ll be worth it.

In the next few years that follow, Xiangliu has observed the dynamics that were in your family in order to befriend you. To him, it became obvious fast how there was a clear favoritism directed towards the youngest child in the family. Of course, he’d use that distance that your fathers were making to let himself close to you.

Each time you were left alone with MK, Xiangliu would appear. Knowing that your parents considered his existence just as imaginary, he decided to play under that guise. He made sure to always remain friendly towards you and MK, offering to play with you both. The best part of all of it to you was that he didn’t treat you differently than MK.

Along with your friendship with Xiangliu prolonging, he started to notice how your fathers’ treatment of MK started to affect you further into your childhood. He didn’t have to intertwine or even talk to you to see it, since your fathers didn’t have to put any effort in making it more obvious.

Whenever he’d attempt to talk to you alone, you’d have to apologize, saying that you’re too tired to talk. The reasons being going to school and then having to babysit MK. It seemed that your fathers completely forgot how the demon toddler’s stamina was much more vast compared to that of a human child.

 And when you weren’t tired, it was during the times that you had your fathers drag you along to wherever MK wanted to go. You never had time to talk to Xiangliu anymore or to even do your own hobbies. 

And like a salt to the wound, the demon could also see all the brand new gifts that MK had each time he’d have some time to observe the boy. Compared to him, you still had your hand-me-downs from your Papa. It didn’t help that  along with them, patched slits for nonexistent ears and tail remained on those clothes. Like a cruel reminder to the reason for your father’s selfish treatment.

It was baffling how both of your fathers prioritized your brother’s feelings over your being. Your entire existence was limited to wherever your parents decided that MK needed something more.

When you tried to reach out to any other adults or to any other kids about your state at home, you were either brushed off or met with disdain. Other people in your life told you to grow out of it and stop being ungrateful. You were the adopted child of Great Sage and his loyal partner, after all. What more do you want, when you already have what many other children don’t?

The more he watched, the more that Xiangliu started to feel an ounce of remorse towards you. While he watched your social life crumble due to having to put MK’s needs before your own, he started to wonder if he made the right choice by letting the boy be adopted by two enabling monkeys.

One time, he caught you quietly crying to yourself. With no one around, Xiangliu had a rare opportunity to comfort you.

“I hate it! Everyone keeps saying how I should be grateful for being adopted by the great, famous warriors like baba and papa… but-! It’s like they don’t love me. Not as much as MK anyway,” as you sniffle, the demon reaches out to stroke your hair.

His touch is gentle while he watches you with a stern frown.

“You must really hate MK, don’t you child?” Xiangliu asks, “To be completely robbed of your freedom, all because both of your parents prioritize his wishes and needs over your own. That must’ve been so difficult for a child like you.” 

As you wipe away your tears, you look at your ‘imaginary friend’.

“I… I don’t,” you admit, “It’s not that I hate MK, it’s just… I-I don’t like how both baba and papa brush me off. When I tell them I’m too tired, I can rest only after all of us go to the arcade that MK wanted to go to. I can’t even play or go to my friends on my own! MK always wants me to play with him or else he’d get upset. And both of them hate to see him cry…”

Xiangliu was quiet as your lower lip started to wobble again. More of your tears fell, making the nine headed demon pull you in a hug.

“It’s not fair, it’s not! Why do they care more about what MK wants? He always gets anything he asks! But I want new things too! Why do I have to work for them and MK doesn’t?!” you wail. “Why is MK their favorite?! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Oh, I know, I know, child…” 

“It’s not fair, it’s not fair!!”

Feeling his resentment for your family growing, Xiangliu doesn’t say anything. He just lets you cry your little heart out.

Once you’re all tuckered out from crying, Xiangliu has no heart to put you back in your bed. He was still fixated on you, safe and peaceful in his arms. Your tear stained face and swollen eyes were something that he couldn’t look away from without feeling resentment.

As a so-called hero and warrior, he couldn’t help but to laugh bitterly each time Wukong referred to himself as your baba. Xiangliu saw how many clones he summoned to take care of MK the moment the boy got sick with the slightest cold. Yet he nor his partner could spare one glance at you, who was waiting for them while being late to school.

He hated the way Macaque missed your potential over the sake of training MK. While he taught the boy how to shadow travel, he completely missed the way you tried to get his attention by trying to perfect one of his signature moves. He only ever patted your head and told you not to bother with it, while going to then teach and praise MK for trying that exact same move.

It seemed that the privileges from Nuwa never left MK, despite him abandoning his shell. The more he observed the young boy, the more Xiangliu grew bitter.

Because of his parents, the boy is gonna grow up with a need to be a hero. To live up to the ideal that Nuwa and his own parents had set out for him.

All while you were used and left behind, like an unpolished gem meant as a gift for your brother.

He recognised that your brother was attached to you. He might be the only one who pays attention to you, besides Xiangliu himself. But, he is also the reason others miss seeing your true potential. You were still young and unwilling to accept that little MK was the true cause for your suffering.

But, that’s where a demon like Xiangliu can help.

He watched you be sidelined for far too long. Your fathers never gave you a chance to experience what you could’ve been, they just kept you restrained to what you should be for your brother.

Irony of it all was that once long ago, your fathers were the one who rebelled against the whole Heaven. And now, they were keeping their own child in a gilded cage while simultaneously undermining your wants and needs, just like how Heaven did to them.

Just like how Nuwa did to him.

He was done watching you suffer your fathers’ foolishness. 

Black tendrils now surround you both, it wasn’t long until Xiangliu had you both teleported from your room. And even so, when he glanced over your unconscious form, you were still sleeping and unaware.

 Far away from those disgraceful fathers, demanding younger brother and that tropical prison that you’ve been forced to call home, now with him you’ll  finally be free. Soon enough and with him by your side, you’ll be able to reach your full potential.

No matter the sudden change in his plans, Xiangliu knows that having you here with him will prove much more fruitful later down the line. And as for your family and more specifically, your brother….

It was too late for him to fix what’s already been done with MK. But he knows, he’ll be able to help you set yourself free.

By sharing with you the freedom of what only the Chaos can bring.

ending note:

It's been so long since the last time I wrote something. I hope that it wasn’t a boring read, lol.

Also, I should mention, I hadn’t finished watching season 5 so I have yet to see what else is going on, buuut I had to get this fic idea out of my system, so yeah.

Thank you everyone that stuck ‘til the end!

[honeyhotteoks]

i NEED your thoughts on priest!yunho like.... please, all my mind does is wonder about yunho using his power to bring a girl under his powerful spell... I NEED HIM BIBLICALLY

idk if you remember me but ✨anon is back !!!

oh my gosh hi ✨ anon!! i def remember you, i hope you've been well!

okay so priest!yunho is actually so dear to me i cannot even articulate it i have like sixteen different ideas and i honestly think at some point it will develop into a full fic however.............. further thoughts under the cut

priest!yunho x married!reader drabble; 1.7K words warnings: lots of angst, pining, and blasphemy, questionable use of a confessional, oral (f receiving)

note: okay so here's the thing about priest!yunho, and yunho in general, while i think he deeply has the capacity for very real dom/sub dynamics etc., when it comes to the idea of him being catholic or him being a priest in the fic, i think of him less bringing a girl under his spell and more being brought under a spell and tempted away by reader. certainly that's not an original idea, that's very fleabag-esque and i've mentioned that headcanon before, but i do think that would be very true to him. so given that...................

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──────────────── ♡ ─────────────── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Yunho is new to the parish, and he's still somewhat new to this. A young priest in his early thirties moving to a new place to fill the role of someone who was once a big fixture in the community there. He's admittedly a bit nervous, and he's trying his hardest to get this right. He's had a long and complicated past coming to the vocation, and he feels like he's finally found his path, so he wants to do things the right way.

But despite all of that...... there's you. And you're married of course, you come to church with your husband, but you smile up at him during services and ask after him in quiet moments whenever you volunteer, and there's just something about the way you move in the world that makes him want to follow. But he doesn't, because you're married and for all intents and purposes so is he.

That is until things start to change. You start to miss Sunday services more often and when you are there you seem withdrawn. Your husband no longer sits snugly beside you with an arm around you shoulders, instead you sit side by side with six inches between you. Space that seems to be growing week after week, and Yunho can't help but notice. He can't help but wonder what it is that's troubling you so and driving a wedge deeply into your marriage, and it's not his place and he shouldn't ask..... but he does.

As you leave service one day, he slips a note into your palm, pressing your hand tightly closed so no one can see it and with a pleading expression he bids you not to open it until you're alone. He doesn't know what's happening at home, he can't be sure, but he's worried and if you're unsafe the last thing he's going to do is be the cause of more pain in your life.

It's simple though - a phone number scrawled out hastily next to a note. If you ever need a friend, you have one in me.

It takes you weeks to call, but it feels finally like someone's thrown you a lifeline and you grab onto it with both hands.

It starts simply enough, truly innocent when he offers you coffee and a safe place to sit by his side in the chapel. He's an ear at first, just listening and nothing more. You confess to him how hard things have been at home, how your relationship has grown strained, more like two passive strangers than a committed husband and wife. You admit you've thought about divorce, and you know deep down your husband has been cheating on you. You've seen enough little signs and found enough evidence, and it used to hurt but now it just feels empty, and you've never said that out loud to another person except to him.

He listens and he holds your hand, and he gives you a safe place every few days to just be. And all the while he tries desperately to convince himself that the growing love he feels for you isn't romantic love at all, it isn't deep and intrinsic and as essential to him as breathing.... it's friendship. And all the while you tell yourself that the feelings you have for this man aren't real, they're a product of kind attention, validation and support you're not getting at home.

Things change when the visits turn from morning coffees to a shared glass of something stronger in the evenings. Things change when he casually admits that of course he feels attraction for people, priests aren't blind, but they've committed themselves to a different kind of life. Things change when he holds you close one night, your chest wracked with tears after a particularly nasty fight with your husband, seeking Yunho's warmth and his calm.

When you finally decide to do the unthinkable, really and truly divorce your husband, the day happens around you like a whirlwind. You serve him the papers, and he replies with the most hurtful thing he ever could - an accusation that you and the parish priest have become a little too friendly. People have seen you around town, around the church, early mornings and late nights, and all the little whispers of gossip have made it so that despite having done nothing but yearn for each other, everyone has all but confirmed an affair.

The words exchanged are cruel, and you find yourself stumbling into the confessional with more anger than you've ever felt in your life. and Yunho doesn't understand why you even want to use the booth at first, you've never expressed any real interest in the more traditional aspects of the church, but you're here and your begging him and all he can do is agree.

"Bless me father, for I have sinned," You manage through hazy tears, "I can't tell you how long it's been since my last confession, I don't know, I don't remember,"

"y/n," Yunho's voice is so soft, so tender, approaching you like someone might approach a wounded animal, "you don't have to do this,"

"Stop it, stop it!" Your fists tighten, nails pressing into your palms, "Don't be nice to me right now, I can't... I don't deserve that,"

"You always deserve kindness," He says through the slats and you hear him shift in his seat.

"Not today," You scrub a hand over your face, clearing away tracks of wet tears.

"Please," He shifts again, and you can picture him clearly, leaning towards you with that gentle expression you love so much, "talk to me, I'm here,"

"I've sinned," You clench your hands tighter, sticking to the script that was drilled into you in childhood.

"y/n," He murmurs.

"Father," You cut his words off, "you're not my friend, you're my priest. Are you going to take my confession or not?"

He's silent, so silent you fear for a moment that he's gone, and then you hear a heavy sigh, "I'm listening."

Your hands relax a little, your eyes going unfocused as you try to find the words. You came here in a blaze of anger but here, next to him, in front of him, hearing his breath through the wall, you don't know how to articulate all the feelings roiling deep in your chest.

Your soon to be ex-husband's words loop in your ears - You're a disgrace. You could have fucked anyone like a normal person, but him?

Words tumble from your lips, "I'm a liar,"

Yunho stays quiet.

"I've been lying to... everyone. To him, to my friends, myself, I've been lying to you," Your breath feels thready.

"About what?" He prompts you, "I'm listening,"

You push past it, heat filling your cheeks again, anger curling in your gut, "I've coveted,"

He hums softly, acknowledging your words.

"I left him," You take a sharp inhale, a tight sob caught in your throat.

"What?" You hear him shift again on the other side of the thin wood wall.

"I got an apartment, I found a lawyer, I figured it all out and I... I gave him the papers," You can feel the way your husband pushed you back into your chair, his tone harsh and cutting, the way he told you he'd take you for everything you were worth not the other way around.

Yunho's silent still.

"I tried to leave," You sob, "I tried to be the adult and end it easily, I tried to do the right thing, he's the one who's been cheating, he's been lying. He's been... he's not a good husband, and I... I just..."

"Shh, shh," He shushes softly through the wall, and you can practically feel the tension from him even with the wall between you as he tries to parse through your words, "breathe,"

"He knows about us," The words keep coming now, and you hear his little intake of breath but there's nothing more as you let it all come, "he knows I come here, everyone knows. Everyone. He said it's obvious, that I'm the one who's been cheating, that I... I broke our vows in the w-worst way, that it's an open secret. Everyone thinks I got b-bored, that I seduced you,"

Your heart is pounding in your ears, "And it's a rumor, it's just a rumor, but the thing is,"

You hear him shift again in the confessional next to you, the only sign he's still here.

"I do want you," You drop your head into your hands, "I've lied to you since the start, I wanted a friend, but I've wanted you too,"

"y/n," He's so quiet you almost miss it.

"And if everyone thinks what they think," You're dizzy, blood rushing in your ears, "then it's true, only I never, we never... I've ruined your life and mine and I've never even gotten to really touch you, and it's wrong, I know it's wrong, but you're all I think about. It's killing me, this is killing me, and I can't,"

The door to the confessional is suddenly open, your words dying on your lips as the equilibrium of the little room changes. He's on you in a second, dropping to his knees before you, gathering you close in his arms and his lips on yours like he's done it a thousand times before. He presses up into your space, your legs parting open as wide as the narrow walls allow to slot his body perfectly between your thighs.

You suck in a harsh breath against his lips, tears still caught in your throat, and Yunho shakes his head, his forehead leaning against yours as he breaks the kiss, "Shh," he eases you, "I've got you,"

A sick, hot thrill rolls through you, "Yunho," his name a whine on your lips.

"I'm here," He whispers it like a promise, like he's yours, not God's.

His hands push at your skirt, rucking it up higher on your hips and maneuvering your body until you're slipping forward on the confessional seat with your hips tilted up.

"My sweet girl," He groans against your lips, fingers tugging your panties roughly to the side so he can slip the pad of his thumb over your swollen clit.

It's unholy, it's debauched, it's everything you dreamt up in your deepest fantasies when you touched yourself in bed, but if your life in this little town is really over you need it to have at least been real. You need him to have been real, even once. Just once.

"God," He chokes against your mouth as his fingers sink inside you, finding your slit slick and body trembling, "oh, God,"

It sounds so different on his lips, and you stifle a moan into his neck when he hits a particularly sensitive place inside you.

"Shh," He hushes you again, pressing one more kiss to your lips before he drops lower between your thighs and hitches your legs up and over his shoulders.

His tongue finds your core and you see colors. He kisses your cunt with a desperate, hungry need and you know with perfect clarity that it wasn't all in your mind. He's wanted too, he's needed you too.

His hands are hot on your hips, your fingers knotted in his hair, and you let him consume you, completely and wholly.

You come hard on his tongue, biting down on your lip enough to draw blood to stay quiet, and you think that nothing in the world would ever feel this good if it wasn't sacred.

It couldn't.

[natalievoncatte]

“Let her go,” said Lena.

“Not a chance, said the Atomizer. Or Atomo, or the Atomic Lad. Some idiot with a cheesy atom symbol on his jumpsuit and a beam projector strapped to his arm.

Lena knew why this guy hadn’t already been mopped up by Supergirl: he wasn’t worth her time.

This was, frankly, embarrassing. She wasn’t listening to his monologue, something about losing his job after Supergirl stopped a nuclear incident and he was found out to have violated safety protocols. He’d jury-rigged himself up some kind of particle beam, probably not enough to scratch the maid of might.

He was still giving it the old college try, so he’d kidnapped Lena Luthor on the logic that whenever Lena Luthor was in danger, Supergirl was quick to appear.

She’d been sitting here for four hours, tied to a chair at the docks on the west end in some dilapidated shithole warehouse. Supergirl was decidedly a no-show.

Lena could almost write this off as an inconvenience. This dipshit meant her no harm and she was, at least a first, sure that Supergirl would show up and this would turn into one of those heartwarming ones where she didn’t have to throw a punch and the bad guy ended up forgiving her.

He should. From the bits and pieces she heard, it was his fucking fault anyway.

There was a problem. It was making Lena’s heart race, her pulse pound, and a thin trickle of sweat run down the small of her back. Kara was in a chair just like hers, parked six inches away, and tied up.

She was also drifting in and out and had a knot on her head from where Captain Doofus here whacked her over the head with his arm beamer.

Her head perked up a little and she glanced at Lena, looked around.

“Whu… where am I?”

“You’re in the lair of DOCTOR ATOMOS!” he screamed. “I thought the Kryptonian would put in an appearance to save Miss Luthor, but she’s been a no-show, so I grabbed you. You’re her best friend, aren’t you?”

Kara shot Lena a furtive glance. “Not exactly.”

“Where is she? Why hasn’t she come? Do I need to grab that photographer, too? Jim Olden?”

“James Olsen,” Lena corrected.

“Shut up! I’ve broadcast to the city that if Supergirl doesn’t face me and admit what she did, I’m going to drop you two into the acid!”

“What acid?” said Kara.

Lena looked at her and looked down. They were both sitting on hinged grates positioned above a rather large vat of a nasty corrosive. Some toxic sludge that Lex probably had the company stockpiling here back in the back-when.

He was always ruining her day.

“I gave her an ultimatum,” he declared. “First one of you, then the other.”

Lena’s stomach dropped. Hard. She almost threw up her tuna wrap and kombucha. For some reason, the thought of her own shockingly horrific death -drowning in the acid, her lungs melting from the inside with no hope once she was submerged- was secondary.

Oh God. Oh God please not Kara.

“She’s not coming,” Lena said, firmly. “She’s busy or-“

“She wasn’t too busy to ruin my life!”

Kara looked frantic as she wriggled against the ropes holding her.

“Come on, come on come on come ON!” she thrashed. “Why now? Why now?”

The ‘villain’ paused. “Why now what?”

“Nothing. Just, listen. Don’t do this. You don’t want to add murder to your list of crimes.”

“I’m INNOCENT!”

“Then don’t start a list of crimes!” Lena pleaded.

He rounded on her.

“Look,” said Lena. “I’m Lena Luthor, I’ll get you a new job. I’ll build you a fucking power plant if that’s what you want. Just,”

“What, let you go?”

Lena looked at Kara.

“Let us go. Please. I’ll stay if you let Kara go.”

He belly laughed at her. “So she can tell the cops where we are?”

“You already announced where we are!” Kara snapped.

“Don’t hurt her. Please. Just not her.”

Kara turned slowly and looked at her.

“What’s your real name?” Lena asked, looking at their captor. “You know mine.”

“Ha! That hostage negotiation crap won’t work on me.”

He turned and headed for a pair of levers.

“Eeenie meanie miney moe,” said… the guy. Lena was not giving this bastard the dignity of a trade name.

“Kara,” said Lena. She felt strangely calm, looking at her… her best friend. Like she knew she needed to do this right in whatever little time she had, and her nerves gave her the gift of tranquility.

“Lena?”

“You mean so much to me,” Lena said. “I… I just want to… I wish I could…”

Oh, now she couldn’t get the words out. Perfect.

Kara looked at her wide-eyed, and terror flashed briefly in her eyes as the grate swung below her and she plummeted into empty air.

“KARA!” Lena wailed.

Splash.

Lena screamed, a wordless, titanic cry of agony that tore her throat and burned her lungs. When it faded she wailed again, words lost to her. Oh God.

“You monster!” Lena screamed, “you miserable fucking monster, you’d better fucking kill me too, because if you let me live I’m going to-“

Lena went silent as a shape rose through the hole in the floor, rising gracefully into the air. Supergirl hovered in the air, a scowl of righteous fury carved on her lovely face.

“At last, there you are!” Professor Douchebag snarled, aiming his arm at her.

Her eyes flashed and he screamed, suddenly tugging at the red-hot ruin strapped to his arm. Supergirl landed, and dragged Lena’s chair, and Lena with it, away from the grate.

She turned and sucked in a breath, flash-freezing his ruined weapon with a concentrated blast. With a contentious smack he knocked his helmet off, revealing a doughy, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and blood running down his nose.

Supergirl grabbed his collar and hauled him off his feet. She stalked over and held him above the opening in the floor, his feet dangling over the acid.

“Supergirl?” Lena said.

“How does it feel?” she said, coldly.

“Please,”

“Lena said please,” her voice was ice. “You didn’t listen to her.”

“Supergirl,” said Lena. “Don’t.”

Then it hit her.

Supergirl had her hair up. She never wore her hair up. It was exactly the same as…

Her mind raced though possibilities. None of them fit. There was only one conclusion.

Oh.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Please.”

Her gaze snapped to Lena and a harrowing moment later, she tossed the wannabe villain aside, and wrapped a chain around him, binding him to an upright. Then she turned to Lena.

Kara tapped her ear.

“Alex, you have my location? There’s a wannabe here, he kidnapped Lena. She’s fine. He’s not. Get a cleanup crew and a bus down here please. No, I’m not staying.”

With a single smooth motion, she snapped the cords binding Lena and scooped her up against her powerful chest, tucking her in close before lifting off through skylight.

Lena pressed her eyes shut- she hated flying, even like this. She opened them when she felt the jolt as Kara’s boots touched down, and Kara set her down.

They’d come in through one of the tall windows in Kara’s loft.

“Oh my God,” Lena breathed. “I thought he… I thought you were…”

“I almost was,” Kara said softly. “I solar flared a few days ago. I burned out my powers fighting that Mondarian. It usually takes a few days, maybe a week, before I can use them again, but sometimes an adrenaline rush will make them kick in early.”

“Was it hitting the acid?”

Kara shook her head.

“No. It was what you said, and the way you screamed when I fell. I knew I had to live.”

Lena blinked a few times, surprised by the hot burn of her own tears, mirrored by those falling down Kara’s cheeks.

“What you said… what I think you were trying to say,” said Kara. “Me too.”

Lena stood frozen in shock for a second, before she launched herself at Kara. Their lips met in a dizzying soft crash and when Kara’s hands landed on her waist, Lena felt a pang of fear that she’d misjudged and ruined it all.

Then Kara’s hand snaked up her back as the other looped around her waist and pulled her in, using her height to tip Lena back just a touch as the kiss deepened and Lena felt her heart flutter in her throat as her tongue tasted the soft taste of Kara.

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Twelve

Fool's Fare: Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Talks of death, Lots of anxiety, Reader has a mental breakdown kind of, Abandonment issues surface hardcore, Talk of curses, Talk of magic, Major angst, Sea shanty, Feelings of hopelessness, Davy Jones reveal! I think that's everything, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.2k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The port of St. Augustine was much like any other port you had found yourself in. The marketplace bustled with activity, the sellers promoting their wears as others scurried about to and fro on the streets. The sun beat down, casting a fog of humidity that threatened to choke the air from your lungs.

It had been two weeks since the serpent’s attack, and the crew of the Hangman had been stranded in the large port, sequestering themselves to one of the local pubs until repairs to the broken mast were finished.

Jake had been in a foul mood since the encounter, the looming deadline heavy on his mind, and on more than one occasion you had woken up to the sound of his distressed murmurs as he slept beside you. He had flat out refused to leave your side for longer than a few minutes since the attack, anxiety and distress coloring his features every time you looked at him. You knew he feared losing you, you could feel it in the way he held you these days, the end drawing nearer with each passing of the sun across the horizon. But wasn’t it you who should be afraid of losing him? You weren’t the one in danger of falling victim to a curse.

A bothersome fly pulled you from your thoughts, the whining of its movement sparking irritation in your chest. It was too damn hot for the pesky thing to be bothering you. You pulled your hand out from under your chin, swatting at the insect as it flew just out of your reach. It zoomed back towards you, wings fluttering in your face as if to taunt you. An exasperated exhale escaped your lips as you glared daggers at the offending beast.

“You look miserable.”

You turned to see Nat approaching you slowly, a wry smile on her lips as you gave her a tight-lipped smile—an attempt you were sure came out as more of a grimace than an actual smile. You wiped the sweat drenched strand of hair out of your face, offering her a shrug as you turned your attention back to the street outside. She sighed, coming up to sit at the sill beside you. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the different groups of people as they flitted about the street. The silence grew more tense as the time dragged on, and you could tell that Natasha wanted to say something to you. Glancing at her from the corner of your eye, you saw her chewing on her bottom lip, deep in thought.

“How’s Mickey today?” You asked her. His screams of agony were still fresh in your mind, the scarlet on his clothes vivid in your mind as he writhed on the decks of the ship. Javy had been the one to stop the blood flow, securing the bandage around Mickey’s thigh tight enough to put a temporary fix to the problem without causing more damage. You watched as Javy and Reuben picked Mickey up on either end, carrying him towards the cabins. Mickey had already passed out, a layer of sweat coating his pallid skin. Nausea roiled in your stomach, your breathing coming out in quick spurts.

You jumped as Jake came up behind you, brushing your hand with his fingertips. Your eyes darted towards him, unease settled deep in your bones.

“Is he going to be okay?” You whispered, looking at the captain for any kind of answer. Jake sucked in a breath, and it occurred to you that you had never seen him look so at a loss.

“I don’t know,” he answered, hanging his head. His hands flexed at his side before balling them into tight fists. You looked from him back towards the sea. The serpent and the British ship were already out of sight as the Hangman limped towards shore. You were sure the men on the other ship were all dead, the serpent’s hunger sated until the next unsuspecting ship made its way into the waters.

“Those men,” you continued, brow furrowing in thought. “The one’s the serpent-”

You stopped yourself from finishing the sentence, pressing your lips into a thin line as Jake glanced at you, waiting.

“Are they dead?” You asked, looking back at him. You didn’t know how the curse worked in cases like this. Yes, they could be hurt. You knew that much. But would something like what had just occurred be enough to kill them?

Jake sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening as he dared to look back towards the water.

“I hope so.”

You had reached the port of St. Augustine early the next morning, the cold light of dawn at your backs as each crew member heaved a weary sigh. Reuben had departed the ship as soon as the gangway was in place, running to find a doctor to see after Mickey. The rest of the crew waited around anxiously, some busying themselves with tasks around the ship as everyone waited for news on Mickey’s condition.

“He’s doing a lot better today,” Nat told you, a tired grunt leaving her lips as she settled further back against the wall. You nodded, closing your eyes in a bid to ignore the heat that threatened to swallow you whole.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you still look miserable,” she prodded, earning a less than enthused grunt from you. You sighed, leaning up and stretching out your shoulders.

“I suppose I could be doing better,” you admitted, finally turning your full attention to her. She pressed her lips together, humming in agreement.

“The deadline is only a few days away,” she said, and your heart jumped at the reminder before curling in on itself. Her words were the exact reason you had been keeping to yourself the past week, dread filling you down to your very soul as the days loomed and the dreaded deadline approached faster and faster. The anxiety kept you awake well into the night, clawing at your mind until it was all you could think about. You hadn’t known sleep in days.

“Jake’s been awfully tense,” she pressed. “Rightfully so, I guess. Javy won’t show it, but I know he’s worried too. I can see it in the way he holds his shoulders. He fidgets more than usual too when he’s nervous. I do my best to soothe his worries, and I think he forgets for a little while, but…”

Her voice drifts off to silence, an air of uncertainty surrounding her. You understood what she was feeling. The moments of sleep Jake could get were spent in fitful movements as even his unconscious mind was unable to find peace amongst the chaos. You would curl up closer to him in those moments, resting your head against his chest and listening to his heartbeat. Fingers would glide up and down his arm, and your presence seemed to calm him enough that he would still, if only for a little while. You asked him early on what he dreamed of in those moments, but his eyes would glaze over as his lips pressed firm, a faraway look in his eyes before he would shake his head and walk away, shoulders hunched as if in defeat.

Bradley didn’t fare much better when you tried talking to him. The usually playful, happy-go-lucky man you knew and loved had all but disappeared. All that was left was a shell of a man who looked and sounded like your brother, but seemed to be a complete stranger to you now in these past days. You had tried talking to him, to get a sense of where his head was at, but much like your captain, no words would leave his lips. He would only stare at you, almost looking through you before turning and walking away.

You felt like you would lose your mind, like the concern and anxiety was building up so completely within you. It reminded you of how your mother once was when your father would leave for his voyages.

She’d pace around the house, busying herself with as many tasks as she could—sometimes repeating them two or three times in a bid to keep her hands busy and mind from drifting towards thoughts of the unimaginable. On more than one occasion, you’d come home to find her staring out towards the water, a faraway look in her eye. You always wondered what she was thinking about in those moments, but now you were sure you knew.

“I don’t think it’s possible to forget the ocean’s secrets,” you replied, focusing once more on the busy street outside. “The ocean will always remind you why it’s not to be crossed.”

Natasha didn’t respond, only looked at you. You didn’t acknowledge her, letting your mind wander to thoughts of what would happen if you all were to fail. Would the curse turn them into mindless monsters? Would the change be immediate? Or would you lose those you hold most dear slowly as their unslaked desire coursed through their veins for eternity?

Your friend heaved a heavy sigh before standing. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but must have thought better of it before turning on her heels and walking away. You wished you could provide her with some kind of comfort, some certainty that things would be okay. But, you could hardly convince yourself of it, let alone another.

The afternoon passed slowly, your vigil by the window continuing on even as the pub filled with sailors and your own crew. Mickey had managed to heal enough to walk, though his usually golden skin still seemed somewhat dull after his experience. The crew drank as if there were no tomorrow, and you supposed there might not be. Locals took up space by the piano, different jigs and tunes ringing out amongst the crowd as several people joined in with lyrics. You wished you could join in the merriment, bring yourself to forget for just one moment that a mere guess wouldn’t decide your fate.

Jake, Bradley, and the rest of your friends sat hunched around one of the tables across from where you sat, none of them able to meet your gaze, and a mixture of anger and loneliness filled you. Is this what your days would look like? Would they go off and leave you behind to face a life of solitude? Would they expect you to forget them?

For another moment, you were reminded once again of your mother, only this time you remembered her as she waited for that last voyage. You could tell that something was different that time, the air more tense as she paced around your home. The song she would hum under her breath the only sound she would make for days. You thought of that song, how lonely and full of despair the words sounded. You thought of how sad your mother always sounded every time she would sing it, and before you even realized, the words were leaving your lips quietly, slowly building to be heard above the hum of conversation filling the room.

“I thought I heard the Old Man say: ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her.’ Tomorrow you will get your pay, and it's time for us to leave her.”

Several heads turned towards you as you sang, your voice clear as you felt the emotion you had worked so hard to keep tamped down swirl within you.

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

The conversation died down now, and you supposed you would feel self conscious under normal circumstances, but something within you longed to break free and be heard. You had long stayed quiet in fear of upsetting those around you with your own feelings. Of course, you had had your few moments where you couldn’t keep the worries and feelings within you, your fears bursting forth and out of you over the past few months on sea.

“Oh, the wind was foul and the sea ran high. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ She shipped it green and none went by. And it's time for us to leave her.”

The conversation had stopped completely at this point, but you were only vaguely aware of your audience. The words themselves haunted you, and you knew how your mother had felt all those years ago. You wondered if she felt the exact moment she had lost your father to the sea.

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

Had your father been scared in his final moments? Did the waves tower over him life in the song you now sang? Had he faced the towering waves head on in the way he faced everything in life? Or had looking death in the face been too much for him? Did he think of you? Your mother? Bradley? Or did he lament the things he hadn’t done, the things he had failed to do?

“I hate to sail on this rotten tub. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ No grog allowed and rotten grub. And it's time for us to leave her.”

Several people within the pub now joined in your singing, voices ringing out in unison. For the first time since you started, you dared a look over at the table where the others sat. Remorse colored both Jake and Bradley’s faces, the whisper of tears in their eyes as they watched you. Your heart squeezed so tight, you wondered for a moment if it would burst. You hadn’t meant for the tears to flow, and you were shocked when a cool, night breeze blew in from outside, cooling the trickle that streamed down your cheeks.

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

You choked on the words, unable to continue as those around you continued on. Your world would change in a few days, and there was nothing you could do about it. For the first time, hope seemed too far out of reach, slipping through your grasp as the realization that you would truly be alone for the first time gripped you tightly, refusing to let go.

“We swear by rote for want of more. ‘Leave her, Johnny, leave her!’ But now we're through so we'll go on shore. And it's time for us to leave her.

Leave her, Johnny, leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow And it's time for us to leave her.”

You let out a quiet sob as you pushed off from your seat, practically running out of the pub. The door banged against the wall with a loud crack, the echo of laughter and conversation chasing after you into the dark street. Another tune started up, a jollier shanty than the one you had led everyone in, but the joy and merriment found in the pub did not reach you in that moment, despair digging its claws into you as you stalked down the street with no mind to where you were heading.

The world swam around you, blurred by your tears. Your chest and head hurt from how hard you sobbed, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt keep yourself together, to keep yourself whole.

You staggered, coming to a stop next to building, leaning your weight against the sturdy structure as you fought to gain back your composure. A hand landed on your shoulder, ripping you out of your breakdown. You looked up with wet, wide eyes to meet a sea of concerned green.

Jake didn’t hesitate to try and pull you close, moving to wrap his arms around you in a soothing gesture, but you shook your head, pressing a hand to his chest to keep him away. His brow furrowed in confusion, thumb reaching up absentmindedly to wipe away your tears. You jerked away from him, shaking your head more vigorously.

“No,” you croaked, another sob wracking through you.

“Guppy,” he started, taking a step closer to you, but you shoved at him this time.

“No,” you stated more firmly, shooting him an angry, wild look that had him balking. “I don’t want your pity, or your comfort, or anything else you’re trying to bestow upon me. Not when it’ll all be for nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” He sighed out, an edge to his tone. You sniffled, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand as you attempted to stand tall.

“I can’t keep relying on you,” you uttered. “Not when this time in only four days, I won’t have you anymore. I’ll be alone. I’ll have no one except maybe Nat, but even that’s not a guarantee. In a few days' time, you’ll face Davy Jones, and not knowing how that will end, terrifies me.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there and watched you with an indiscernible expression. Finally, he set his jaw and stepped close, pulling you into his arms. A large hand cradled your face, pulling your face up towards his.

“I’m not leaving you, sweet girl,” he said, thumb stroking across your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut as a new wave of tears threatened to spill over.

“You don’t know that,” you whispered in return.

“I do though,” he retorted. “I know everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. Even if I’m doomed to live a cursed life, a life where I will never know peace or satisfaction again, it would be a far worse fate to not have you by my side.”

You couldn’t stop the sob that shook you, choosing instead to hide your face against his chest. Jake let out a low hum, smoothing his hand over the back of your head as he rocked you gently until the sobs died down once more.

“Trust me, Guppy,” he murmured, moving his hand to dig something out of his coat. “This will buy us our freedom.”

You turned your head to see him holding up the Soul of Polaris, the gem seeming to glow in the moonlight. You swallowed thickly, watching as it rotated slowly in his hold.

“What does it show you?” You asked quietly, gripping his shirt a little harder in your hands.

“What?” Jake asked, sounding perplexed.

“When I first saw it,” you explained, “the man who had it said that it guided a person to what it was they needed most.”

You turned your head to gaze up at him. “So, what is it that it shows you?”

Jake looked at you for a moment, eyes wide in surprise before he shifted his focus towards the gem. His brow furrowed once more as he pressed his lips together, pondering what he should say.

“We should head back,” he said finally, pocketing the gem once more as he guided you back down the street.

Four days later, the newly repaired Hangman rocked in the ocean waves as it headed up the coast towards North Carolina. The air aboard the ship had grown thick with mounting tension and anxiety, the air so thick you swore you could cut it with one of Bob’s kitchen knives.

The fog that surrounded the waters didn’t help matters, setting a decidedly somber mood as the crew waited for their fates to be decided. Sunset was approaching, something you could tell despite the blanket of fog that hid the sun from view. Jake hadn’t stopped pacing the length of the deck for two hours, and just watching him had you on edge. He had already snapped at three crew members for, admittedly, small infractions, and you were starting to wonder if he’d keep his sanity long enough to see Davy Jones at this point.

“Captain,” Javy called from the helm, face tight with his own anxiety, though his tells were less obvious compared to everyone else’s. Jake’s head snapped up to look at him, back rigid as he paused mid-step.

“We’re here,” Javy announced, dipping his head at his best friend. Jake sucked in a breath, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek. After a moment, he blew out, nodding his head as he swallowed thickly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, nodding more determinedly. “Yeah, alright. Bradshaw, Guppy. You’re with me. Everyone else, stay put until I get back.”

You were shocked that he picked you and Bradley, certain he would have chosen Javy or Natasha. You didn’t say anything as you followed him and Bradley towards one of the lifeboats. Natasha already stood by the railing, waiting for the captain to approach.

“You’re leaving me behind?” She challenged as you all approached, Javy descending the stairs at the same time. Jake raised his chin at her, a grimace pulling on his lips.

“I trust you and Javy to look after the ship while I’m away,” he explained. “But, I still need people I can trust with me—people I can depend on if this goes south. Bradshaw will act as my muscle, and we’ve seen how things react around Guppy.”

Natasha mulled over his words for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“Be careful out there,” she implored. “We’ve already had one crew member mangled by something magical.”

Jake shot her a grateful look before turning his attention to Javy who had saddled up behind her. The two shared a silent exchange before clasping their forearms and pulling each other in for a one-armed hug. The two pulled away at the same time, and Javy offered the captain a nod.

“Good luck,” he said. Jake nodded back at him before turning back towards the lifeboat. He let out a long, weary sigh before stepping forward with you and Bradley not far behind.

The fog clung to your skin, giving you the feeling of walking through water as the sand shifted beneath your feet. Jake and Bradley had hauled the boat up out of the water and further onto the beach before the three of you set out to find the spot where Davy Jones would be waiting.

The wind whipped around you, ruffling your clothes and sending a chill down your spine. You ignored it, knowing what lay ahead of you already had a frigid feeling coursing through your veins as the sky began to grow darker. Jake’s pace began to increase as the clock counted down, his hands clenching and unclenching as the three of you continued on.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Bradley asked, peering at the captain from the corner of his eye. Jake’s frown deepened as he shot the brunette a sharp look.

“Yes,” he snapped, stopping suddenly. “This is the place.”

You looked around, noting the cliffs that hung just above your head, the grass swaying in the wind as the waves crashed against the rocky shore. Bradley looked around as Jake stared down at his feet. You perched atop one of the rocks, bringing your knees up to your chin as your attention flickered between the two men.

“Did we miss him?” Bradley prodded, hands in his pockets as he walked around in a circle. “Shouldn’t he be here already?”

“I don’t know Bradshaw,” Jake snapped once more, an irritated glint in his eye. “We didn’t exactly exchange letters on what time to meet.”

A familiar hum prickled at the back of your neck, your back straightening as a knowing feeling overcame you. You twisted your neck to the right, looking down the beach towards the opposite way you came. In the growing shadows and through the fog, a tall figure began to emerge, their coat billowing behind them.

“Look!” You exclaimed, scrambling to your feet as you pointed a finger at the figure. Jake and Bradley turned to where you gestured, postures alert and on guard as they spotted the figure too. The humming grew in intensity as the figure drew closer, but there was no sense of danger that accompanied it like there had been with Thetis, the sirens, and the serpent. No, in place of danger, there was only the sense of familiarity, and confusion tickled at the back of your mind.

The fog and shadows obscured the figure as it stopped by some rocks a few yards away. You squinted, trying to make out any discernable features, but you couldn’t help but feel you knew the person who stood in front of you. A soft scratch sounded as the figure struck a match, the small flame illuminating his face as he lit the pipe that hung at his lips. Shock coursed through you as you recognized the blue eyes and weathered face that stared back at your group, the embers of tobacco letting out a puff of smoke as he exhaled.

You blinked, not quite believing what you were seeing, and you knew Bradley’s expression must have mirrored your own in that moment.

“Tom?”

A/N: Wooooooooow! I can't believe it's finally here, y'all! What do we think? How are we feeling? What on earth is going to happen next???

It feels so good to finally get this one off my chest, I've been sitting on it for sooooooo long! Like...the amount of times I almost slipped up and told y'all everything is embarrassing, quite frankly.

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[notroosterbradshaw]

Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

about: Bradley's home just before the turn of midnight. After 15+ Christmases together, it's just sometimes lovely to reminisce about life before the babies wake and the madness ensues.

word count: 6k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

a/n: I haven't had a lot of time to put this together the way I would have liked, I will quietly edit after xmas to put some more time into this... hopefully. otherwise, please enjoy and have yourself a merry little something if you feel that way inclined x

masterlist.

It was so late. 

Bradley was so late.

A late arrival to base, mandatory debrief, it was a shitshow of delay after delay from his three-month deployment but coming home to see the house dark, he knew you’d given up and headed to bed. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself, quietly dropping his duffel bag at the front door but ears pricked up to hear Christmas music – Eagles, Please Come Home for Christmas – and he could swear, you singing gently with Don Henley. The sweetest sound even if you were the first to admit your voice was reminiscent of nails on a blackboard.

Untrue. It was like pure honey from the hive and he couldn’t get enough.

Chewing his lip in anticipation as he quietly unlaced his boots, he wandered into the dim living room, only lit by the glow of the fading white lights on the tree and carefully curated tea lights flickering on the fireplace. But he couldn’t interrupt the revelry as you danced gently around the tree you were trimming, one hand adjusting a decoration, the glass piano that once belonged to his old man, and a balloon of Pinot Noir in the other. He watched as you took a delicate sip, the floor around the tree littered with beautifully wrapped gifts and the stockings full of candies and odds and ends.

It really was a picture. You curated magic.

If he knew you, and he knew you so well, the tree would have been up on Thanksgiving evening and perfected every night until now, Christmas Eve. So beautiful in what little you wore, one of his many threadbare old Navy tees and maybe some undies underneath for modesty, or maybe not, he hoped. The reflection of the lights danced against your bare skin on display that had him swallow rough, and like most instances in your presence, hard. So hard. Three months without your touch, taste and sweet voice hard.

“Hi,” Bradley said finally, as you jolted slightly and looked in his direction, a smile growing on your face as he made his way to you, steadfast as he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his forehead against yours. 

“Hi,” you said simply, even though you had a thousand things you wanted to tell him. “Merry Christmas, Bradley,” you said as he smiled softly at you, grasping your cheek in his calloused palm and searching your face intently – looking for anything that may have changed, confident in his recall he could never forget one feature on your divine face. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t think you’d make it,” you confided delicately. And honestly? Neither did he. 

He looked at his watch. “With moments to spare,” he said, amber eyes dancing mischievously. “God, I missed you,” he breathed, your delicate perfume grounding him, ridding away his sea legs. “May I?” he nodded towards the wine in your hand, and you gratefully passed it to him. “Like this,” he told you. “Glass for me?”

You made a face. “Like, six hours ago… maybe?” 

He grinned. “That good, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but you were so late.”

“So late,” he mocked, bobbing to put the glass on the coffee table.   

“And yet you still haven’t kissed me,” you mumbled.

He huffed a gentle laugh and did exactly what was expected of him. Three months away from your soft lips, and sparkling eyes as he pulled you closer to him with a firm hand on your lower back. Three months of fantasising what this moment would feel like even though it had happened dozens of times before. How slick your tongue was against his and it reminded him of the soft-spoken, even shy freshman he met in college in his sophomore year. The first time your eyes met in the dorm hall as you dragged your suitcases behind you, looking for room numbers and coming up short. So small in the ocean of chaos.

Bradley had no reason to go over and ask if he could help you. Leave the conversation with friends about, he reckoned, the Phillies… Countless students were struggling with the same problems, but you? Magnetic. No one else mattered, it was like no one else in the universe existed. And still… now? Aside from your beautiful daughters, maybe no one else did either.

That’s how Bradley Bradshaw’s kiss made you feel after all these years. The man who could have any woman he wanted, and those who still felt entitled to try and sway his attention on the infrequent nights out you shared. 

And just like the boy you fell in love with, his firm hands skimmed the fabric of the tee. You felt a warm palm against your hip and drift to your thigh and of course, his intended destination, against your bare ass – “Perfect,” he breathed against your lips.

You weren’t sure when he’d started dancing with you, his hips slowly guiding you to whatever song was in the background, now you weren’t so sure because all there was was him.

As he kissed and moved you, he whispered if his girls were asleep… that no one was about to wander in from their bedroom. And as much as he wanted to see his babies, his gorgeous girls, he needed their mother more and he would eagerly see them tomorrow morning.  

“Upstairs,” you told him, and he knew that meant homecoming was less raucous than it was when you were both a little young and dumber. No fucking on the couch or your back pressed up against the wall, your thigh in his calloused palm and his slacks dropped to his ankles the second he walked in. Those days were gone, greeting each other so much softer.

You weren’t entirely surprised when his hand smoothed from your side and drifted between your thighs to your delicate core. He tenderly pressed his soft lips into your pulse as his long, slender index finger tenderly skimmed the smooth skin of your pussy. “You feel good,” he breathed gently, so conscious of his voice raising and bringing the kids’ attention downstairs. “I want you. I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” he moved to your lips again and he kissed you the way he did when you first started seeing each other. The way his tongue flicked against your lip, tracing with an edge of demand as you gave in, willingly falling under his spell and kissing him back with the same ferocity.

His strong thigh pressed against your core, and you gasped against his lips, the rough material of his uniform making you heady as he tilted you that little further to almost ride him. 

“Not here,” you told him, guiding his pout to your mouth and leading him by the hand to your bedroom, the master bed, your sanctuary and sometimes the loneliest room in the world when Bradley was away. 

Bradley wasn’t surprised to see a few candles lit in the bedroom either. As you got older, your need for romance seemed to have crept through with the solitude that came along with a husband who served and two little girls who ran you off your feet every day. Bradley, a romantic at heart, unleashed some of the sweetest things that had ever happened to you. He was always big on flowers, and planning sweet dates but physical touch was his love language. 

He was a hand holder, he liked that you were the right height he could rest his lips against your temple and kiss you when close, skilled hands and massage. But it all meant so little in comparison to him holding you tightly in his arms. Something over the years you missed dearly when he was absent, you never felt safer than feeling his warm palm pressed into your lower back, the way his brawny arm would curl around your waist and tuck you into his side.

You were the other’s missing piece and so lucky to have met each other so early in life. 

“Too young to fall in love, too young to get married,” Bradley reiterated all the things you heard all those years ago. “Too young to start a family.”

“They may have been right about the last part.” At 23 and in over your head with a newborn and a husband dedicating his career to defending the country was one thing, it was one of the hardest things you’d ever thrown yourself into, leaving family to move where Bradley’s job required. The other military wives took you under their wing, (s)mothering where they could. And you were so proud of all of Bradley’s achievements, but it didn’t cure the sad nights of solitude once the kids went to bed, and you had time to think about how hard it all is to do alone. 

Bradley huffed a laugh into your ear. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t change anything now.” 

“They never thought we’d last,” you rolled your eyes like you did every time you two embarked on this quiet joke that was now at everyone else who didn’t believe expense.  

“Like I told you. From the moment I met you, it was forever,” he pulled you towards the bed, lightly tossing you towards the pillows with little effort on his behalf, you gave him a look as you adjusted against the soft pillows. “Was I wrong?”

“You’ve been very convincing,” you teased as he playfully rolled his eyes.

“In what way?” he played along.

“Well, you’re a wonderful father.”

He hummed, as he began on the buttons of his shirt. How were you supposed to continue when he was playing a strategic game of rendering his wife speechless? After 15 or so years, his body was more impressive now than the day you met him. It was almost criminal. 

When you met him, a gangly 21-year-old boy who was endeavouring to improve himself, prepare himself for the rigours of being a pilot for the navy. Gym, protein shakes, gym, school. It had been quite a development, watching Bradley grow into the man he is today.

…and you got to reap every single benefit. 

“Just a good dad? Shit…”

“An amazing father and from what I can gather, a pretty fantastic leader.” 

“Captain, Mrs Bradshaw,” he corrected. “But I’ll overlook it this time.” 

You rolled your eyes again, watching his nimble fingers get to the last button and push back the material to – disappointing. An undershirt. He tossed his shirt at you gently, his cologne wafting over your senses. “How many layers you got there, Captain Bradshaw?” 

Eyebrow raised; he kept your gaze as he stripped the second layer that kept you from his golden skin. “Better?”

You didn’t hide your shallow breath. Because yes, your man was only getting finer as he got older. The precision of his well-defined muscles glowing by candlelight, the smattering of freckles across his shoulders and broad chest, abs, abdominals, abs – they seemed to go on and your favourite, his Adonis belt. May as well have been named the Bradley Belt for all you cared, because his was spectacular. You reached the familiar logo of his boxer briefs and slender hips. The snail trail that led to the jackpot. “Better,” you confirmed as he moved to his belt, slacks and zip. “More,” you replied. “I’m practically naked here.”

Bradley’s lip quirked. “I think that tee you’re wearing is at least 10 years old.”

“Sue me, it smells like you when you’re away,” you sniped as he winked cheekily and stepped out of his dropped pants, approaching the bed. 

“I hope you’ve washed it after three months.”

Three months. But yes, you’d begrudgingly washed it. But it was still nice to be wrapped up in something that belonged to him when it wasn’t his arms to keep you safe. “Would have been better if you were here…”

“I know, sweetheart,” he sighed, making his way to the bed and crawling over to you, resting his cheek on your breast, tightening a grasp around your waist. “God, I missed you.”

Smoothing his curls, you tenderly kissed his temple. “No way as much as I did, Bradley.” 

“Were the girls good?” 

“They had their moments, but they’re nearly teenagers…”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to start fending dudes off at the door,” Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose, not wanting to believe his baby girls were growing so quickly. Violet was in Grade 7 and Olivia Grade 5. It was hard to miss so much of their lives and sometimes felt like lifetimes between his time at home. But he’d reconciled he would do more time on dry land this year, taking up a training facilitator role on base for new Top Gun recruits. You’d spoken about it for so long and now it looked like he was getting his opportunity to make Friday night basketball games, and swimming on Saturday mornings and whatever else was expected of him. 

“Not long now,” you had to agree but as much as you wanted to tell him everything he’d missed that couldn’t be fit into the couple of minutes you managed to get him every once in a while, you were so desperate for your husband, you didn’t want to play the polite game. “Bradley?”

He hummed again. 

“I want you.” 

Looking up at you, he ran his slick tongue over his top lip. “Well, ma’am, I guess I’d better get to work, huh?” his grin was wet, and he reached to kiss you, so tender and sweet but you knew it was laced with so much more as he rolled you beneath him, propping himself on an elbow and using his free palm to raise your thigh over his hip. His kisses were so good, and you knew you were a keening mess for him… when weren’t you?  

Gasping into his mouth as he lightly walked his fingers to your core, he was bold and spread your lips, taking your arousal, sticky and warm, he pressed your clit and started to rub, just so to relax you. You melted beneath him. After all these years, he knew exactly how to make you a bag of bones. He didn’t need to ask as he pressed his long index finger in, never once breaking the kiss, just increasing the intensity. 

Making out with Bradley while he fingered you. He was going old school. Those days before you slept with him, you’d be tangled together on your shitty single bed, grinding against the other. The first time he dared touch you, how he asked so sweetly if he could try and make you cum, to finger you. When you gave him a shaky yes in reply and opened your legs to him as he slid his long fingers under the waist of your tights, his soft eyes reassuring the panic that washed over you, kissing you tenderly and promising against your lips that he’d stop if you wanted him too. You told him you wanted to because he was Bradley and you’d never met anyone like him, you’d never felt the things he was making you feel. Maybe you had something to prove – to him, to you? You weren’t sure but as Bradley’s big hands slowly tugged your tights down your legs, carelessly discarding them and seeing those pretty pink undies soaked through with your excitement, he breathed, scared he’d cum before he’d touched you. He dared to sweep your undies to the side, your pretty pussy bare and glistening for him. 

He did that, he made you that wet, he thought proudly. He was so excited and popped the button on his jeans, needing to relieve some friction and moved to coax you under his arm, his nose nuzzling against yours. 

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable or if I need to stop,” he breathed, his gentle rasp calming you as you softly gripped his wrist. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d done this, but with Bradley, it was like you’d never been touched before. He ignited sparks in you that you’d never felt before, no one else’s fingers did this… not even your own. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told you as you pulled a pillow over your eyes, so shy, so bashful. He tossed away the pillow and kissed you, his hand tracing down the side of your body and index finger gathering your excitement to coat your labia and clit. He started slow and asked if you touched yourself or if you had toys. And yes, you had a vibrator that gave you a pretty good impression of what you liked but this was already wildly exceeding anything the vibe brought to the table. “Do you like this?” he was so considerate and when you hitched a breath and told him ‘faster’, the keenness to learn you clouded over and his façade darkened, turned on by you telling him what you liked and he slid another finger into you, trying not to blow his load as you started to cry out, his thumb passing on your thrumming clit and shamed, you held back how much you really wanted to come alive for him.

You knew you couldn’t bite back your moans of pleasure, and as he laughed into your skin, he reached and lifted your sweater and bra, dragging his mouth down to your pretty tits, lapping and licking and sucking as you started the shudder below him. You clawed at his wrist that was buried within you and grinding against you as he toyed with your tits more, kneading and sucking harder. He was gonna blow his load before you even touched him. 

“Oh, Bradley,” your voice was so sweet as you fucked into his hand, quivering and sensitive and wet and desperate as you came. Everything all at once. 

“You’re so sexy,” he crooned with his deep rasp. “I’ve never seen someone cum like this…” He kissed you deeply as you felt the last bursts of electricity flow through your body before flopping into the mattress and urgently pushing his fingers away, too sensitive. He smiled against your lips and told you it was okay, he loved seeing you lose control. 

After you’d cum, and you nervously asked him if you could give him a hand job to return the favour or whatever, he knew he was in love. Young and dumb and no one could tell him differently. How he got to his back and watched as you drag his jeans off and pull down his boxers, his cock so hard, weeping precum. “Tell me if I hurt you,” you mumbled, the most nervous you’d been. “Or if you don’t like it.” 

“You could never hurt me,” he hissed as you used both soft hands to wrap around his length. “That is so fuckin’ good, baby,” he managed, head sinking back into your fluffy pillows, imagining if he was to die tomorrow, he’d die happy. And as he wrapped his hand around yours, showing you the tempo he preferred, he almost came as your wet mouth wrapped around the head of his cock without warning. “Oh, shit,” he hissed unprepared, trying not to fuck your face, his hips wild. He had never been so turned on. 

He’d dated and slept with a few girls, and had a few blowjobs but nothing, nothing felt like this, and he buried his big hands into your hair, massaging and encouraging you as best he could. He screeched a warning he was coming and to take your mouth away if you didn’t want to taste him. When you didn’t relinquish your sweet mouth on him, he came hard in the back of your throat and you swallowed the salty flavour of him down, he pulled you to him and kissed you deeply, telling you he thought he was in love and, silently, he hoped you were too. 

“That was the best head I ever had,” he peered up. “And you’ve never given a blow job before?” he was suspicious. You shook your head bashfully, but also excited he was so happy with your attempt, and you vowed you’d only get better if it brought out this reaction in him. “Feel free any time you wanna practice,” he almost laughed, falling back against the headrest of the bed.

A few hours later, as Bradley pounded into you, you’d be lying if you didn’t feel nostalgic, recalling the first time you had sex with him. It never felt like plain old missionary with him, he tucked you in close and you’d wrap your calves around his hamstrings, keeping him close as he whispered filth in your ear. 

You knew you’d bled, and you were begging not noticeably. You didn’t want that embarrassment, even if the towel caught it. Overall, it wasn’t a painful experience, Bradley had done everything to relax you, the slick of the lube reducing any real friction and he’d gone down on you before he’d even taken off his jeans. “You have the prettiest pussy, baby,” he told you as you shuddered beneath him and he continued fucking you with his fingers until you pushed his face away, so sensitive. “Okay, okay,” he cooed to you, trailing wet kisses up your naked body, exposed wholly to him. 

It had been a very fun few weeks, lots of kissing, touching, and making the other cum and sneaky sleepovers but when you told him you were ready to have sex – with him – your first – Bradley couldn’t believe his luck. He couldn’t believe you would be interested in him, you were so sweet, and kind, and pretty. So sexy and he hoped, all for him. He hadn’t met anyone who he felt so connected to. He worried he was trying too hard to force something that wasn’t there, but as he slowly pushed into you, gloved cock long and girthy, stretching you and you sighed into his ear to tell him how good it felt and that you thought you were falling in love with him, everything stopped.

His hips, lips and heart froze as he must have misheard words he was desperate to return but far too timid to do so. 

“Remember the days we’d be in bed all day and just fuck and laugh. Order takeout and fuck again?” Bradley said between the rolls of his hips. “I wanna be able to do that again,” he groaned in your ear as you fuckingthrobbed around him, so close as you clenched. “I’m gonna take you away in the New Year. You, me, the Maldives. Private villa and all that good lovin’ we deserve.”

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you giggled against him, excited for him and the prospect that you would spend some uninterrupted time together and you rose to meet his thrusts, spurring him on with your enthusiasm. He felt so good: strong, rough and as the head of his cock hit your G-spot, a step closer to orgasm – heaven, he wasn’t sure. He knew your body like it was his, and he brought his fingers between your bodies, brushing against your pained clit as your back arched and his tongue swirled around your nipple. He sucked on the delicate skin, as you began to quake and grunted low, your warm, slick pussy. “Yes, Bradley,” you encouraged. 

“Your pretty cunt was made for me,” he murmured in your ear and that was it, you felt the quakes start in your toes, the muscles in your tummy start to coil and your pussy started to throb around his cock, your entire body on fire with desire for your sexy husband. “Yes, baby,” Bradley kissed you deeply, trying to concentrate on his thrusts but it was impossible as he made you feel so goddamn good. He raised your thigh to get that little rougher and you moaned, the gush fell between you both and he grunted, not giving you a moment of respite, chasing his orgasm. You fell back, completely spent as he laughed darkly, his cock rocking into you again, wrapping his palm around your waist and pulling you back to him. “So close, don’t give up on me now, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ wet.”

“Too sensitive,” you whined to him. “Cum, Bradley,” you begged.

It was low and powerful, the feral groan that met your demands. His hips sped up, desperate for release. He couldn’t hold back anymore and as your nails pierced the tanned skin on his back, he came with a low groan and fucked more unruly thrusts into you before collapsing above you, kissing you wildly. He gasped, completely spent, still in you without intent to move. “Gonna need to burn the bed,” he uttered to you as you barely managed a reply. It was fucking like that you missed so desperately when he was away. 

“That was incredible,” you said, kissing some sweat on his brow away. “I love you.” 

He chuckled into your skin, pressing kisses into your pulse. “I love you, baby,” he was a dream, this man. “Good job, team,” he raised his palm for a limp high-five, both spent. 

“Roll the dice,” you reiterate to Bradley. “If we get pregnant, great. If we don’t…”

“It’s you and me and we are great with that,” Bradley answered with the faintest glint of hope in his shining honey eyes. Was this happening? Was Bradley about to get the family he’d been missing for so long?!

But in the back of the afterglow of lovemaking as husband and wife, you’d told him you’d go off birth control after your honeymoon if he wanted to try for a baby so soon. You didn’t want it to be immediate, you wanted to enjoy being married and the fun that came with it. And Bradley wholeheartedly agreed. 

Bradley was so determined to rise through the ranks, that you didn’t want to detract him any more than you might have but you were young and in love and when you found out you were pregnant with your first baby, a girl to be named Violet. The thing was, you were only hoping to be a newlywed once - marriage wasn't as big a thing for you as it was for Bradley so the drama of it all (even as intimate as it was for you was a one-time deal). And even babies. But even he admitted he wouldn't have the first idea of how to do it since his dad wasn't around when he was growing up and Maverick wasn't exactly a glowing example of fatherhood. 

He was a smitten young man. A beautiful wife, and a gorgeous little girl waiting at home for him while he served his country and continued slowly but surely through the ranks, getting a reputation as Rooster, slow into the fight.

Or Rooster, and the size of his cock, you’d joked quietly one evening. The way he seemed so scandalised and as the devil crept into his gold eyes, the grin behind his growing moustache was seen to be believed. Not many people knew that about the version of it, you shared, and when you’d learned he’d been adorned with it, whoever gave him the callsign would rue the day of the double entendre. One of life’s funny coincidences and Bradley wouldn’t wipe the devious smile off his face when you’d christened him with it.

When Violet was three, you found out Olivia was going to come into the world punching. Now both tweens and the baby-making days were well behind you both, you felt like you were starting to live your lives again, not bogged down with school runs, weeknight ballet, gymnastics, basketball, softball, soccer and whatever else they were desperate to try. Both athletic like their father, you felt like a taxi when Bradley was away, running the girls from one thing to the next, the sweet solace sometimes found when both girls were away from home at sleepovers and the like.

They were the nights you couldn’t wait to introduce to Bradley. A date night, Jesus, wine on the couch uninterrupted for a drop-off or pick up to what was for dinner or “Mama, I have an assignment due tomorrow and I haven’t started.”

Recalling when your period was late after about two cycles after going off birth control, you kind of hoped it was the drama of irregular periods and what it brought. It was why you went on the pill in the first place in your teens. 

But there was something different while you channel surfed and Bradley cooked in the kitchen. A strange cramping in your tummy. Not unbearable, but noticeable as you sat up, a little perplexed. It was too early for a period and you weren’t ovulating. Popping up, you joined Bradley in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his hips to kiss between his shoulder blades. He smiled, turning back for a quick peck before you quietly excused yourself to do a pregnancy test. And you weren’t entirely surprised when it revealed you were 1-2 weeks pregnant. And you weren’t entirely surprised when you showed him the positive pregnancy test after dinner that still certainly said PREGNANT in fat, bold letters.

“It tells you how many weeks?” Bradley was astonished. 

“Clever, huh?” you said quietly. Bradley watched you, he looked at the test, begging it wasn’t about to flash NOT PREGNANT and he’d read incorrectly – but he gazed back at you. Unreadable at best, erring on the side of too quiet. Reserved, he had trouble reading you sometimes, and this was one he'd need you to talk through. He needed to know exactly what was going on through your head. 

“You good?” he asked softly, grasping the test in his strong palm. It was so small, but it held his world in his grip. He put the test down to caress your jaw, forcing your gaze to him. “Baby…” his fingers light as they had sunk into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Sweetheart,” he called to you. 

“I think I am. It’s just… quick," you surrender, falling into his sound touch. And he was due to leave within weeks. You were 23, you had only just found the job of your dreams -

“It is quick,” Bradley agreed, kissing your hair. “Is it too quick?”

“Maybe…” you admitted as he pressed a kiss into your temple and wrapped his strong arms around you. He felt so warm and so protective as he held you without question, you really couldn’t imagine life without him right there. What if something happened on tour, what if - 

“If it’s too soon, that’s okay," he said softly. 

You looked up at him, trying to placate your growing fear. What if he never came home? “I just thought we’d have more time maybe.”

He bit back his smile and sighed. “Sweetheart, is this what you want? If you're not ready - if you have changed your mind - ”

“I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “That’s okay.”

Well, it wasn’t – it was a choice you’d actively made together. To make love, to make a baby. The liberty of changing your mind seemed so incredibly unfair to you and Bradley after you were both so sure this was what you wanted. “I think I just need some time,” you admitted, cutting him off. “Just to get used to it all happening.”

Bradley softened. He in no way felt like it was his place to speak. He could not hold you and whisper that whatever you decided was okay, and he would support you with anything you decided. 

“What if this is our only chance?” You asked quietly. “What if - ” You shut your mouth and the guilt of the situation started to overwhelm you, Bradley chose to remain mute. “Would you hate me?”

“No. Oh sweetheart,” he kissed your hair. “But I would never live with myself if I forced you to do something you weren’t ready for. Come,” he took your hands and led you to the bedroom. He helped you take off your clothes and change into your oversized nightie, his large palm lingering gently over your abdomen for just a second longer than he should have… his baby in your soft belly. 

He pulled back the duvet and patted your pillow. You snuck under the cold sheets and he climbed in after you, the scorching skin of his chest against your back. His fingertips traced your hip, slowly drawing his name on your skin. "If you don't want to do this, it's okay. But it's still something you'll need to consider..."

"I want this," you were able to say, but it was easier with him not boring his eyes into yours. He kissed your shoulder and nuzzled the nape of your neck. “I think…”

"I love you," he said so softly you almost didn't hear him. “I won't let you do this alone. Whatever you decide, I’m right there with you.” 

But with a belly of arms and legs and your sheepish husband standing before you a few months later, you screeched, "You're getting deployed?" you looked at Bradley, eyes wild, six months of baby belly all that separated you. His head fell back.

"I know."

"You know?" you mimicked sarcastically, spoiled for months of your husband home with flight and combat training simulations and he finds himself deployed as you enter your final trimester. "Bradley, you'll be away for the birth of your daughter." 

"I know..." he said a little meeker. He was sick about this conversation. Sick. 

"Did you not put in the leave paperwork?"

"Of course I did,” he did, he did. Didn’t he? Shit, he doubted himself for one second but in this instance knew beggars couldn’t be choosers and he had his leave approved, but he also had his orders and he was so close really getting into it.

His career was on such a sheer trajectory, his head was swimming with its force. 

“Is anyone going with you?”

"Payback, Phoenix," he confirmed softly. 

“Will you be home for Christmas?”

He nodded. “Yes,” he stepped towards you, his large palms sinking into the round belly under his grasp, tickling the stretching skin. You sighed and collapsed into his hold. 

“I’m just scared. The birth is one thing… but I can’t raise our baby on my own,” you said, the fear in your voice evident.

“And I’d never let you,” he whispered into your hair. 

"If you see one ounce of action, I swear, don't dare come home." 

He nodded. Dear God, he knew. 

“Come on, Mama, give it to me,” Bradley urged as he held your ribs, thumbs toying with your nipples, that delicate roll of your hips grinding down on him as the sun started to rise. Neither of you slept even though you were both exhausted, you wanted to ground yourselves together before the madness of the day commenced. Between lovemaking, different positions and so much mess, you just chatted quietly, catching the other up on what they missed, knowing full well you would be next to useless for the lunch Penny was putting on with Mav (you were flying out in a few days to spend New Year with your parents). “Look at you, as sexy as the day I met you,” he continued, chewing his lower lip – he was close but we wouldn’t cum until you did. “Pretty little thing.”

Bradley had leaned into the whole encouragement during sex – and you will credit him for bringing out a wilder side you never knew you had in you – his voice still made your stomach flip flop and how off, give him everything he deserved in your shared pleasure and more.

“Mama, is Daddy home?” you heard a screech from upstairs. Olivia. Daddy’s girl. “His bag is at the door!” A prompise Bradley had always made his girls was he would wake them even if it was the dead of night to reassure them he was home.

Last night… he did not.

Bradley’s eyes flicked open as you paused above him, knowing your girls were unlikely to burst in but also… Dad was home and maybe, just maybe they were likely to run in excitedly. He rolled you off him quickly and you landed with such a lack of grace that he snorted and he tossed his tee at you, hitting you square in the face. He scoffed another chuckle as he reached for his discarded boxer briefs and stood to height, still hard but if you knew him, visualising the worst of the worst to settle. “I’m home. I’ll be right out, just need to hit the bathroom, girls,” he carefully called back, starting for the door and snuck a look back at you. “You got five minutes; I know I can’t hold those two wildcats back from a tree with presents under it.”

You nodded with a grin as you pulled the shirt over your head and moved towards the en suite but not before changing direction and stopping him before he went to see his girls and pulling an old Lakers singlet over his – god, so many golden muscles. “Merry Christmas, Bradley,” you tenderly traced an ab or eight and he smiled, bending to kiss you. “Last night was so good. Been a while since we had a night like that.”

He chuckled lightly against your lips. Pride evident, he shrugged. “I miss the days we’d fuck for hours,” he sighed, low. “We’re going away, just you and me. Okay?”

“I can’t wait, handsome,” you told him as he kissed you again -

“Dad?” Violet now. 

“At ease, Captain,” you told him as he playfully did as instructed, kissed your forehead softly and let the reign of terror commence, greeting his darling girls after months apart with excited hugs, kisses and giggles.

“I missed my girls,” you heard Bradley rumble. And it was always the same, the way he’d swallow back the emotion of seeing how much he’d missed. “You two have to stop growing, okay?”

“Or you could stop traveling,” Olivia said, often quite vocal about how often her dad was away.

Hearing your name as you straightened in front of the mirror a few minutes later, brushing your mussed hair and impatient with the slight burn Bradley’s moustache caused on your upper lip (pussy and thighs but that was a tale for another day), you wrapped yourself in your light gown. You breathed and headed to the living room to start your Christmas morning, your girls perched in front of the tree, the lights still fading in and out after a night left on, and your husband safe and sound on the couch. He winked, the happiest man on the planet with his three girls, everything exactly where it belonged.

Even last night’s half-full wine glass.

[candy69gurl]

Bound by Ropes Love

Sub Gojo Satoru x dom f!reader

Warnings- 18+, dark, reverse consensual (m!sub+f!dom), mentions of breakup, bondage, m!nipple biting & playing, dick squeezing, blow job, cum play, m!teasing & begging, m!harassment, use of threats, clit rubbing, cum squirt on face (male), use of nicknames, mutliple orgasms, raw sex (cumming inside), face sitting, cum eating wc - 4k requested by anon ART NOT MINE !

Satoru saunters up to Utahime, smirking mischievously as she rolls her eyes at his approach. She leans back against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want, Satoru? I'm busy."

Undeterred, Satoru props himself up against the opposite wall, leaning closer to her until their faces are mere inches apart. His eyes sparkle with playful intent. "Oh, come on, Utahime," Satoru drawls, that same devilish grin never leaving his face. "I wasn't expecting such a cold welcome from someone as warm and lovely as you. Can't a guy just say hi without getting the icy treatment?"

Satoru chuckles softly, shaking his head at her protest, before continuing his flirtatious banter. "Alright, alright, no need to be so defensive. But look at me, Utahime. You know you enjoy these little interactions between us. Admit it."

He leans even closer, their lips almost touching, and whispers, "You'd miss it if I stopped, wouldn't you?" His eyes locked on hers, daring her to object. Utahime scoffs, trying to hide her discomfort behind a forced laugh. "Like I would ever miss your constant flirting, Gojo. You're relentless."

But even as she speaks, her cheeks flush a light pink, a clear indication that Satoru's words have affected her. Her gaze flickers away from his, unable to meet those vibrant blue eyes directly.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING !", you yell, your voice echoing in the hallway.

Gojo Satoru and you have been dating for about six months, and everyone is aware of this. Yet, Gojo has a terrible inclination of flirting with others. It upsets you greatly.

You walk into the hallway, startling both Satoru and Utahime, who are engaged in a heated flirtation. They separate immediately, catching you off guard. What the hell are they doing? Your voice rings out sharply, revealing your emotions.

Utahime meets your gaze, guilt flashing across her face for a brief moment. Satoru, though, remains nonchalant. Pushing his sunglasses up his nose, he offers you a casual wave.

As you step closer, Utahime seems to sense danger and quickly excuses herself, slipping away from the scene before you can react. You turn your attention fully to Satoru, who now stands alone in the hallway with you.

"Well, well, what brings you here?" He asks, still maintaining his cool demeanor. His eyes gleam with a hint of defiance, challenging you to say something. You clench your fists, anger bubbling inside.

"I could ask you the same thing," you snap back, taking a step closer to him.

Before you can react, Satoru attempts to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His proximity makes your heart race, but you stiffen in resistance.

"Don't you dare," you hiss through gritted teeth, pushing against his chest to keep some distance between you two. For a moment, the tension between you is palpable. Your eyes lock, his vibrant blue irises meeting your own. In them, you see a mixture of defiance and challenge, daring you to push further. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife. His attempt to pull you close stirs a whirlwind of emotions within you. You feel conflicted - between anger at his blatant disregard for your feelings and attraction to this man who continues to toy with your heartstrings.

For a moment, it seems like neither of you will back down. But then, finally, Satoru releases a sigh and takes a step back. "I apologize if I went too far," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends chills down your spine. "But you know how I am." There's a hint of playfulness in his voice, as if he's trying to lighten the mood after such a tense encounter.

"We are breaking up", you hear yourself saying the words, feeling every ounce of them ring true. A heaviness settles in the pit of your stomach, causing your knees to shake slightly. Seeing the shock wash over Satoru's face, you notice the smile fading away from his face. His eyes widen, and for a moment, he seems genuinely taken aback.

"Breaking up?" he repeats, disbelief tinging his voice. "Baby, please I am sorry"

"I mean it," you say firmly, standing your ground. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. You swallow hard, trying to regain control of your emotions. "I can't do this anymore, Satoru. You don't love me, you fucking don't"

His eyes soften, and for a split second, he looks pained. But thenhe shakes his head, a determined glint entering his eyes. "No, no, you're wrong. I do love you, more than you know."

"Love me?!" you scoff, almost laughing at the absurdity of the statement. "How can you love me when you are flirting around with others. I've seen you doing the same with Mei Mei last week."

Satoru's lips thin into a tight line, his expression hardening. "It was just a friendly conversation," he insists, defensive undertones creeping into his voice. "You know that wasn't anything more than that."

"And I'm supposed to believe you? When I fucking saw you with my own eyes" you say incredulously, shaking your head. "I can't do this anymore, Satoru. You need to learn to control your urges if you want to be in a real relationship."

"Fine, fine please I am sorry, it won't happen again."He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair, seeming frustrated with himself and the situation. "I know, babygirl, you're right. I was stupid," he admits, meeting your gaze earnestly. "I never meant for this to end up like this. I never wanted to hurt you, I swear," he pleads, reaching for your hand.

You withdraw your hand. "No we are done", you already forgave him but you want to make him suffer for what he did.

The sting of rejection flashes across Satoru's features, and he watches as you pull your hand away, the warmth of his grasp replaced by cold air. Tension coils between them, thick enough to cut with a knife. The realization hits him that he has lost you, and it stings worse than any curse ever could - because unlike those, this loss is permanent.

"Please? I'll do anything.. Please babygirl?" he murmurs softly, his voice a mix of desperation andpleading.

You try to hide an upcoming smirk on your face, "Oh really anything?"

Satoru notes the smirk on your face and his eyes narrow slightly, suspicion flickering in their depths. "Anything," he confirms, crossing his arms over his chest. "Name it."

You watch him, enjoying the game you've started. He's so used to being in control and having the upper hand, and seeing him on edge, unsure, is oddly satisfying. It feels good to finally hold some power over him.

"You mean anything physically too?", your mind racing with the evil ideas.

Satoru raises an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. "What do you have in mind, my little butterfly? You know I'm always up for a challenge." His voice drips with playfulness, but there's no mistaking the heat beneath the surface, the promise of pleasure and pain mingling temptingly.

"Tonight at my place , I'll test my dearest boyfriend's love for me", you chuckle darkly.

"Test me, huh?" Satoru chuckles, the sound low and husky. "I'm intrigued, darling. I accept the challenge. Tonight, then." He winks, the mischief in his eyes undeniable as he leans closer, brushing a feather-light kiss against your temple before sauntering away, confidence oozing from every pore. The kiss sends shivers down your spine, leaving your body tingling in its wake. As Satoru walks away, you can feel the heat rise inside you, anticipation building.

You nod, feeling a strange sense of power over the situation. Tonight will be different, and you're excited to see how far he's willing to go for you.

You wait for Satoru, your nerves a jumbled mess of excitement and anxiety. Anticipation bubbles in your chest as you hear the doorbell ring. Taking a deep breath, you answer the door, and Satoru stands before you, looking every inch the charming playboy you fell for.

"Hello, darling," he greets, a devilish glint.

"Go straight to my bedroom", as soon as you gesture for him to follow, Satoru's eyes light up with understanding. He doesn't question your request, simply going to your bedroom, while you follow him.

The tension in the room is palpable, electric even. He takes in the preparations you've made, raising an eyebrow, but he says nothing, waiting for you to lead the way. The air is heavy with unspoken words, both of you aware that things are different tonight.

"Take off your clothes," you command, your voice steadier than you expected. Satoru's eyes widening slightly at your directness, slowly, he undresses, his muscles rippling under his pale skin. When he's finally standing before you, with only his boxers on, your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. His eyes never leave yours, a challenge burning in their depths. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure.

"Now what, love?" he asks, his voice a sultry.

"On the bed, Satoru," you instruct, your voice steady despite the tremors in your knees. Surprisingly, he doesn't argue. Moving to the bed, he lies down obediently, eyes locked on you as you begin to strip down. Nerves threaten to consume you, but you push them aside. One by one, you remove your clothes until you're left in just your underwear.

Your heart races, but you force yourself to maintain eye contact with him as you walk towards the bed. "Spread your legs," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. There's a newfound power in these words, in this moment, and it thrills you. Satoru complies without hesitation, his eyes never leaving you as you move closer. Your hands shake slightly as you reach for the ropes you prepared earlier.

"Do you think you can handle me, Satoru?" you ask, your voice rough with desire and nervousness. "Or will you beg me to stop?"

Satoru's eyes gleam at your question, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the exertion of restraint. "Never," he growls, his tone determined and full of promise. "I trust you, my butterfly. Show me what you've got."

The warmth in his eyes fuels your courage, and you waste no time in binding his hands above his head, securing them firmly to the bed frame. His breathing quickens, and the satisfaction you feel at his submission is heady. You run your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness of it, the contrast between his silken strands and his rock-hard body.

"Now," you say, a boldness creeping into your voice. With a wolfish smile, you straddle his hips, grinding your hips slowly against his erection. The sensation is exhilarating, the power dynamic shifting in a way that makes your blood rush. You moan softly at the feel of him against you, your panties dampening with your arousal. Leaning down, you trail kisses along his collarbone, his skin warm and smooth under your lips.

His breath hitches, and you can hear the rapid beating of his heart, pounding in sync with your own. As you reach his nipple, you gently bite it, drawing a gasp from him. He arches beneath you, and you feel a rush of triumph. The taste of his skin is salty, the sensation electrifying. Switching sides, you repeat the process, leaving no part of his chest untouched. His skin is perfect against your mouth, and your senses are on fire.

As you finish with his second nipple, you lean back, gazing into his eyes as you watch his reaction to your every move. They're filled with lust and desire, a testament to your growing confidence. A sly grin tugs at the corner of your lips as you take his nipple between your teeth once more, eliciting a sharp intake of air from him. You tease him, sucking lightly and releasing, repeating the process until he's squirming beneath you.

"S-stop doing that with my nipples", he rasps, his voice thick with need. You hum in approval, leaning down to nibble on the sensitive bud again.

"Is that a plea, Satoru? Or a demand?" you ask, your voice low and seductive. You trace a finger down his flat abdomen, feeling theplayful. "You know, I could keep doing this all night if I wanted to. Would you like that?"

His struggles become more pronounced, his hips bucking in need of friction. "No, please... Stop..." he groans, the word sounding more like a plea than a command. You chuckle darkly, loving the effect you're having on him.

"Such contradictions from you, Satoru. Such need." You pinch his nipple gently, twisting it slightly, and he cries out, his hips bucking wildly. "Oh, the strongest man mewling like crazy," you bite your lip, seductively.

His cock brushing against your wet panties, the friction driving him wild. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his skin flushed with passion.

"What do you want, Satoru?" you ask, your voice sultry and demanding. "Do you want me to release you and ravish you like my dear little pet, or should I continue torturing you with my mouth?" His eyes flicker between desperation and defiance, the struggle clear in his gaze.

"Take.. me, please," he finally concedes, the words rushed and desperate. You smirk at his surrender, leaning down to kiss him passionately. Your tongues dance, your hands roaming over his body, exploring every inch of his muscles. Your heart is pounding, the scent of his skin intoxicating.

Slowly, you take out his rock like dick, from his boxers, yanking it off. You pull away from the passionate kiss, reaching down to grasp his cock firmly. He winces at the abrupt change, his eyes widening in anticipation. A wicked glint appears in yours, enjoying the power dynamic that's shifted. Gently, you squeeze his shaft, eliciting a choked gasp from him. His body trembles under your grip, his breath hitching in surprise.

"Aww" you taunt, your voice dripping with mockery. His eyes lock onto yours, pleading for mercy.

"Just... Just stop, please," he whispers hoarsely, his body tense with discomfort. You chuckle darkly, tightening your grip further.

"Already begging me to stop? Didn't you tell me you will be able to take this?" You question mockingly, your gaze intense.

His breath hitches, his gaze darting to the ceiling as he tries to find some semblance of control.

"You love how much I push the limits, Satoru. Admit it," you challenge, squeezing his shaft again, the tension between you palpable.

"Please let me cum, Y/N, I beg of you", he begs. Your grip tightens, his breath hitching in pain.

"Only when I say so, mister," you respond coldly, your voice holding no remorse.

He writhes beneath you, his muscles clenching with each squeeze. His eyes plead for mercy, but you remain relentless. Your thumb rubs over the head of his cock, teasing him mercilessly.

You lean down, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock, letting the precum coat your lower lip before pulling back. You give his cock a few firm pumps, letting him savor the pleasure before you engulf his length in your mouth. Your tongue swirls over the head, your lips working up and down his shaft. His breath hitches, his head tossing back as you suck him off. He bucks his hips upward, seeking more contact, but you hold him down firmly.

As you tease him, you hear his ragged breaths echo in the room. The tip of your tongue flicks over his sensitive spot, drawing a groan from him. His hips jerk erratically, trying to push deeper into your mouth. You slow down, taking him completely in your mouth, sucking him gently. His breathing becomes more labored, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.

Slowly, you pick up the pace, bobbing your head rhythmically. You feel him growing more rigid under your touch, his moans filling the air. As he nears his climax, you pull back, leaving just the tip of his cock in your mouth.

With a strangled cry, he comes in your mouth, his release pouring forth. You take his cum in your mouth and force his mouth open with your two fingers, letting the cum spill onto his tongue. He gasps, his eyes wide with shock and lust. Your hand cups his jaw, forcing him to swallows hastily, his gaze locked with yours.

"That's for pushing me too far," you murmur, a smirk playing on your lips. "Now, we'll see if you learn your lesson."

With a wicked smile, you peel off your panties, revealing your wetness to him. He watches hungrily, his eyes never leaving your pussy. You start grinding on him, rubbing against his spent cock. His hands tugging against the ropes. He moans softly, his voice indicating his need to be inside you.

His cock responds to your movements, hardening once more. You continue your slow, sensuous dance.

You increase the intensity of your thrusts, your clit grinding against his cock. His hips buck wildly, struggling against the restraints, but he remains trapped. You watch as his expression twists between pain and pleasure, his cheeks flushed. Sensing that he's about to climax again, you lean forward, hovering above him.

With a final press of your clit against his cock, you send him over the edge. Cum arcs upwards, splattering across his cheek, staining his handsome face. A low growl escapes his throat as he glares up at you, a mix of frustration and lust burning in his eyes. You laugh softly, leaning in to kiss him gently.

"I wonder how Utahime and Mei-Mei will react after seeing the strongest man so vulnerable under my feet," smirking, you lift one leg, placing your foot on his chest before bringing it down hard on his still-softening cock. He winces, but you can tell he enjoys the sensation. It brings his cock back to half-mast, and your eyes gleam with victory.

"Getting hard again? Insatiable" You tease, your toes lightly tracing the underside of his shaft. He grunts, nodding weakly.

"Shall I sent them a photo of you like this ?"

He shakes his head, a hint of fear in his eyes. "Don't...please," he whispers, his voice hoarse. You chuckle and climb off him, sitting beside him.

"Beg me", you grin evily.

He swallows hard, his eyes pleading. "Please, don't send it. Please, don't humiliate me like that."

You lean closer, his manly scent enveloping you. "Do you want me to stop here?"

His eyes flicker to your feet, then back to your face. "No, please, don't stop. I want to be inside you," he begs, desperation clear in his voice. You run your finger along his jaw

With a satisfied hum, you climb back on top of him, positioning yourself over his hardened cock.

As you slide down, you feel his cock stretch you, filling you completely. He lets out a low groan, his body trembling. Your nails dig into his chest, your movement deliberate and unhurried.

"Please, untie me..." he begs, his voice raspy.

You smirk, "no not till I cum."

He grits his teeth, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. "Please, they hurt," he whispers, his voice filled with longing. You lean down, brushing your lips against his ear.

"Take the pain if you love me."

His breathing hitches, his eyes locked on yours. With a nod, he agrees. You pick up your pace, your body slamming against his. He strains against the ropes, his muscles bulging. You could see the effort in his face, feeling his need for release.

His thrusts become frantic, his cock hitting your g-spot with every movement. You cry out, your orgasm building rapidly. But just as you're about to reach the peak, he releases inside you. His cock pulses, spilling hot liquid deep within you. The feeling sends shockwaves through you, but you don't cum.

He pants heavily, his eyes watering, back arching and finally falling on the bed. "Sorry, I couldn't hold back..."

"I didn't get to cum, thanks to you asshole", you pout angrily at him.

His drool dripping down his chin; he calms himself down.

"Ride my face, sugar," he commands, his eyes begging for forgiveness.

You straddle his face, his tongue sliding through your folds, his eyes fixated on your pussy. He tastes himself mixed with your sweet nectar. You gasp, your hand tangling in his hair, guiding his tongue deeper.

"Swallow everything you find," you command, your hips rocking. He obeys, his tongue darting in and out, his nose taking in your scent. His eyes lock onto your slickened entrance, his gaze intense. You groan, your core tightening as he flicks his tongue against your clit. Suddenly, you explode, your orgasm washing over you. Wave after wave crashes through you, your body quivering. He sucks harder, swallowing every drop of your release.

Once you've calmed down, you slide off his face, collapsing next to him. You trace your fingers over his ropes, slowly undoing them. As he rubs his wrists, you wrap your arms around him.

"Thank you" he murmurs, his voice muffled against your chest.

"For what?" you question, your arms tightening.

"For driving me insane, for making me realize my feelings for you..."

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Love you"

He returns the gesture, hugging you tighter.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

Slowly, his breathing evens out, his muscles relaxing. A sense of peace washes over you, and soon, you drift off to sleep, too.

Together, secure in each other's arms, your bond strengthened, knowing that you both found something precious in each other - genuine love, affection, and connection. In the warmth of his embrace, you understand that sometimes, the most unexpected events can bring forth the most meaningful relationships.