#But knowing that people you hate (and hate you too) can't put a finger upon you without inconveniencing themselves must be slightly funny

[mrsoftthoughts]

Alright, i been thinking about this for a while

And is the idea that Alabaster Torrington in his current situation has a pretty big chance of Olympus wanting him dead. But at the same time, wanting him to remain alive or/and being unable to smitte him.

Allow me to explain, I swear it makes sense

Al's life canonically is used like blackmail against Hecate, even if Olympus probably wanted him dead asap, right now they can't kill him themselves, at least no without a valid way to" justify it". A way that can't be the fact that he never "redeemed" himself in their eyes, that would be risking that Hecate gives them some problems in sight that the only "reward" granted to her to not keep fighting ( her son's life) is now unfairly gone.

And even if they're most likely waiting for him to lead to his own death soon or later (either because Al obviously isn't good at thinking things foward or for the simple fact that he's a demigod without protection out there ) I wouldn't be surprised if every once in a while he stills the piece used to remind Hecate her place if they don't like somethinn, and as long as Al doesn't show to be a real threat against Olympus, they're gonna remain without a reason to erase him from the map

That leands me to think, that, to a some degree, it wouldn't be weird that as long Al Keeps a somewhat low profile, they're gonna prefer him alive at any cost, even if sometimes that mean they have to intervene to assure it. At the end of they day, he's less of a treat that what he is of a useful piece for them.

And i can't help but think that it would be funny if Al was aware of the fact that they wouldn't dare to touch him because it's not convenient to them, the possible satisfaction of knowing that they created a vicious cycle at the moment they chosed to use him and his life against his mother, they can't get rid of him as long that his tread isn't cutted by the time and he knows it's something that annoys them.

Of course, there's also the side that knowing that at the end, he's always gonna be used against his Mother must be horrible. But i think that both things can coexist.

Yes, he's being used to anchor his mother to keep a low head. But that's also the reason why he's always gonna be there as the last stand and reminder of a rebellion, a reminder they don't wanna see walking around. But now they don't have a way to get rid of him without the action being counterproductive to them, the only thing that the all mighty gods can do is wait for him to screw it enough or to pass away naturally.

[cvnt4him]

Reader who got hit w a bunny quirk during a mission w izu please smuttt I love yew💋

I love you too bbg💕

This is actually like a great idea and I had the EXACT same one except izuku was the bunny. Yeah this one is way fucking better.

"don't be amused, it's just the news! This just in; we have more details about pro heros deku and y/n's fight with the new and upcoming villain; sphinx. A local has given us amateur footage of y/n getting blasted with sphinx's quirk! They have the ability to turn others and themselves into animals! Y/n has been out of the hero scene for a while, as far as we know with the information her close friend and partner deku has given us, she's going to be out of hero work for a while, they haven't found a cure or much of a loophole with sphinx's quirk. Next in a cat stuck in a tre---"

You shut the TV off with a groan of annoyance. Why hadn't this gone away yet? You've been like this for a week. A long, miserable, insufferable, week. You weren't alone, even if you wanted to be, izuku wouldn't let you. He felt guilty, he felt as if you were like this because of him. During your fight together he pushed you out of the way when a flying car had come your way, you'd known nothing about the villain upon fighting them. Izuku however, knew everything about the villain, he pulled his mask up before the fight even began.

Izuku always got in a certain head space when fighting whether it be a measly robber, or a very experienced and high tech villain. He always made sure he was ready and that morning could take him out of this state. He just wishes he had warned you beforehand of what the villain was capable of.

You look at your reflection in the black TV screen with a frown. You hated the way you looked. Two fluffy bunny ears standing tall before falling to either side of your face. Izuku walks into your room going completely unnoticed, he spoke and sat down your cup of water but his words falling into deaf ears.

"y/n...?"

His voice nothing above a whisper, sitting beside you while patting your head lightly. People always shipped you two due to the way he treated you, don't get me wrong hes nice to everyone regardless of who they are or where they come from. People just liked to do stupid shit in their free time so you never really took it to heart, mostly because izuku always avoided and shut down all questions that surfaced about you two during interviews. Saying he only saw you as a friend.

You turn to him slowly your sad eyes staring up at him. He sighs while giving you a sad look back, putting your foreheads together. He hadn't left your side at all besides when he and to work, but he made sure to come right back to your apartment to assure that you were alright. It's not like you were sick or anything because you weren't. You could walk, talk, shower, cook, and do everything just fine, but he insisted you do nothing he felt far too guilty to even allow you to lift a finger. He once apologized for you telling him you thought about cooking on your own.

He whispers an "I'm sorry" while your heads are together, you simply chuckle and try to smile. Your quirk had been disabled due to being transformed. There's always a loophole in quirks so why hasn't anyone found one for sphinx's quirk? It was weighing on you far too heavily for either of your liking. Izukus heart ached for you to get better, he hated seeing you like this, all sad and unable to do anything for yourself. You can but for some odd reason he thinks you can't do you just let him take care of you.

Izuku pulls away, putting his fingers in your hair and scratching your scalp, the soothing motion making you sigh and lay your head on his shoulder. He hums with a smile that didn't meet his eyes, he grabs the remote from you and puts on a movie, grabbing your cup of water to ensure that you are hydrated.

You both had fallen asleep on each other, his head on top of yours while you laid on his shoulder. You got up and stretched making him get more comfortable and turn his head to lay on a pillow beside him. You looked at him closely, admiring each and every freckle that littered his cheeks and slightly down his neck his chest moving up and down in a smooth rhythm. He looked so peaceful not having to worry and feel guilty for your current state. Your body moved on it's own, one of your hands moving to his chest rubbing up and down his body. He was very toned, you knew this you could practically see it through his new skin tight suit. It hugged his body deliciously.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him, his shirt was slightly raised and scrunched up ending just above his v line, the way it looked like it was sculpted by gods. He looked like a Greek god himself. His body was fucking hot.

Your tail wiggled and twitched against the bed light noise coming from the way it moved. You bit your lip lightly while looking down where his shorts hugged his waist. Your eyes kept trailing down his figure landing on where a tent in his shorts sat. He was completely flaccid yet his thick cock made a very visible print. Fuck this was really turning you on, he was completely unconscious and unaware of how you were fucking him with your eyes. Your hand moved down to his dick print and gently rubbed over it making him take a deep breath and breathe out slowly, you noticed this and continued your movements while staring at his face, a pink hue forming onto his baby-like cheeks.

You watched as he gulped and turned his head in your direction with a breathy and quick sigh, he was getting bothered by how you teased his semi erect cock. His brows slightly furrowed while you stopped your hands movements completely, his cock twitched against your hand making your eyes shoot down to his cock, seeing it fully erect and leaking slightly against his thin shorts. God this was such a sight, it was so fucking hot and lewd, you felt guilty for getting him all hot and bothered but seeing the way his cock twitched and bobbed up and down for your touch was hypnotizing.

Without thinking you hopped onto his lap you weight sitting on top of him making him shift under you, that was almost enough to snap you out of whatever trance he put you in but the way he put his hands on your thighs and rubbed them out you right back into the daze you never got out of.

Your tail wiggled against his thigh as you slowly grind into him, rubbing your clothes pussy against his clothed cock in a slow yet rough manner. a moan accidentally slipped out of your mouth when his cock rubbed against your clit in the best way.

You panted lightly as the grind of your hips started to quicken in pace, you dug your hips down into his to feel his cock press against you. A noise left his throat as he gripped your waist tightly, his grasp bruising your skin while pushing you down more into him. You didn't think about the fact that he might've woken up due to your moans and the way you moved helplessly on top of him. He rubbed his cock up into you to feel that light friction that had him dizzy.

You grabbed onto his shoulders and rode him like you were actually riding his cock. The thought alone of actually getting to ride his cock getting you to that building release. He moaned deeply before his eyes slightly opened and peered up at you, you were too busy in your own haze to acknowledge the way he looked at you, your fucked out face contorting in such a pretty way.

He couldn't believe you were using him while he was asleep, riding his clothed cock for all that it's worth. He bit his lip and flipped the both of you, a scream ripping right out of you as you look up at him with wide scared eyes. He could only look down at you with lust filled ones. His emerald orbs looking at every feature that painted your body, the way your thighs looked more plump because of your shorts. Your boobs spilling out the top of your tank top. You looked so good and the way you looked at him with those scree and glossy eyes went straight to his aching cock. He was so ready to split you in half on his thick cock, he knew you'd have a struggle but it'd be worth it just to be inside of you. He'd wait as long as he'd have to just to feel your pussy squeeze around his cock.

No words were said as he went in to kiss you, lightly pressing his dry but soft lips against yours. A moan left you as your tail wiggled underneath you, you were so horny and you could feel the way it ate you alive from the inside out, you were so close to crying from how much it burned inside of you.

"please.. please fuck me, I need it."

You whispered up to him with a raspy voice, whining as your eyes moved down to his cock, it looked like it was going to burst out of his shorts with the way it stood up proudly.

He smirked at you with lidded eyes while he kissed you neck, you closed your eyes and fell into the soft kisses being planted on your sensitive neck, he moved his kisses up to your bunny ears blowing on them lighting, the soft feeling of it all making your pussy throb and a whimper leave you lips.

He chuckled lowly to himself as he flipped you over into your stomach. He pressed his chest and his hard cock against your ass cheek as he whispered in your ear.

"using me while I sleep? naughty thing. poor bunny, must need it badly, hm?"

You nodded your head aggressively while rubbing your ass against his hard on, earning a low groan from the muscular man above you.his weight on you felt so good and it wasn't even sexual at all.

He slipped your shorts and underwear down in one swift move, he pulled his own down as he teased your dripping hole, slipping his engorged cock head in and out of your lips. Your eyes roll as you lift your ass in the air and wiggle against his cock. he's surprised by this, a chuckle leaving him while he pulls you back by your ears, a squeak leaving you while he slaps your ass.

"you're so fucking needy huh? this sopping wet cunny of yours dripping around my cock, hm?"

You nod again, not being able to speak due to your throat getting rather dry. He hums and slips his cock in halfway before taking it out quickly, this went on for about 5 minutes, the torture was so funny to him yet painful for you. You felt as if you were going to die, the heat forming inside of you burned badly. You needed release, finally being def up with his teasing, the second he tried to do it again you slammed your ass back onto him taking his cock fully, a choked moan leaving his pink lips.

He groaned loudly while lying his head on your shoulder with a smile, he was out of breath from you taking his cock fully. He chuckled against your skin while kissing it, he bit harshly on the skin of your shoulder making you scream while he thrusted vigorously into your soaked pussy, the squelching noises clouding his mind while he moaned into your ear and grabbed onto your bunny ears. The sensitive muscle being pulled painfully hard went straight to your throbbing cunt, the way he slammed his hips into you and hit that spot repeatedly was just enough to make you cum, but he knew you were going to by the way you started squeezing his cock for all he was worth, milking him and slicking his cock up with your fluid.

��A-Agh fuck don’t stop- don’t fuckin stop.”

You command him while throwing your ass back, you were feeling too good you felt as if you weren't even in control, the way your body moved lewdly against him was inhumane and unlike you. You'd never felt the need to be near someone like this, like you yearned for his very touch, for him to cum inside of you. Oh. God that sounded so good, the thought of his warm thick cum spilling and spreading inside of you made you squeeze around his cock even more.

Just when you felt as if you were going to cum you felt the need leave. He had pulled out of your cunt with a groan, his cock twitched from the cold ajr hitting the leaky tip. He looked down at your pussy squeezing around nothing, god you were so fucking needy and that made him go feral. He could practically smell the delicious scent you released. Your tail twitched fastly, catching his attention. He had asked you before questions about your body and if anything felt different, he hadn't asked about your tails however, he was curious if it was sensitive. Out of pure curiosity he pushed his thick cock back inside of you, and yanked at your tails, his tight grip on your ears never leaving.

He used them to bring you back more into him. You let out a high pitched moan as your arms gave out, your body felt like it was on fire, throwing your ass back against him while your thighs burned from the work.

“fu— m'cum— cumming!!“

You couldn't control it, it just ripped out of you. The feeling was far too strong to hold back or even pretend not to acknowledge you groaned while sobbing, tears falling from your face due to the extra stimulation. He cooed in your ear, coaxing you through your orgasm while never letting you in the way he fiddled with your tail, his other hand leaving your floppy ears to go to your clit, rubbing it slowly while speeding up his hips.

"nngh~ izu— Izu-"

You couldn't speak from the immense pleasure, it began to hurt due to overstimulation. You sobbed and hiccupped against the pillows as he drilled his cock into you, he groaned and grunted behind you moans leaving his lips as well.

"shit...- fuck— god dammit, u/n I'm gonna cu- cum again.. shit take it, fucking take it all.."

Again?! He'd already came?? Maybe that's why you thought about his warm cum spreading and claiming every spot inside of you. Because he already did.

You couldn't move or even speak, the way he bucked his hips into yours, stuttering and rhythm becoming uneven. He threw his head back with a moan as he came again, tears welling at the corner of his eyes. He felt so good, your fluttering walks squeezing and convulsing around his soft turning cock.

He collapsed beside you without a word. His eyes closed as he tried to steady his breaths, he hasn't felt this good in so long, it's been a while since he'd last been with anyone. He took pride in his job, he'd wanted to be a hero since he was a kid, however it did take him away from a lot of things, including interacting with people and making new friends.

He needed this and he's glad you gave It to him. He turned to check on you to see you had already passed out, he rubbed your back lightly making you shiver underneath his touch. He got up to assure you were alright, making sure you water was refilled and that you could be clean, he grabbed a warm damp towel to clean you but before he did he got a good look at the two loads that were fucked into you, slowly oozing from your still convulsing lips. Fuck this was a sight to see, he was afraid he'd never get to see it again. He hates what he did but, he had to save this moment forever! A picture to remember this morning by! After all, you won't be a bunny forever.

AN: this was very fun to write actually, I've recently been in a chokehold w top!izuku there's something ab him being mean or js taking care of me that gets to me.

Dividers by @anitalenia

[caramelkoo]

kiss me? jjk.

the one with gentle hands and endless kisses

genre : husband!jungkook, "i can do it myself"!reader, "i know, but let me do it for you"!jungkook

warnings : fluff, more fluff, brief smut, words of affirmation as love language, jungkook takes care of her, oc is so relatable i cried, jungkook being the best husband ever. let me know if i missed something.

a/n : hello besties, here's a little fluffy ☁️ gift for you since im obsessed with husband koo. tysm for loving my previous writings im beyond grateful. the fact that people out there are reading what i write is making me jump from happiness. enjoy and you're loved.

"There she is, my favorite girl" Jungkook's plasters a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His sweaty body connecting with your freshly showered one but you don't mind. Not when the first thing he says is that you're his favorite girl after his early morning gym session. The phrase never fails to make you turn red.

Last night Jungkook had briefly mentioned his wish to have chocolate covered strawberries because apparently, the ones you make are his absolute favorite. So here you were, making chocolate covered strawberries for him.

"I missed you" he lifts himself up on the hard counter and leans back on his palms. He attempts to dip his index finger into the melted chocolate but you swat his hand away.

"You were literally gone for two hours and get down the counter, Jungkook!!!! You're all sweaty" you warn him.

"But you like me sweaty" he gives you the same look he hits you with when you don't let him eat the last piece of pizza. Pouty and adorable.

"No doubt about it but I'll have to clean it again, honey." when the look doesn't leave his face you speak again.

"Okay if you get down now, I'll let you fuck me in the shower" you've barely even finished the remark before he hops off the counter and runs towards the bathroom.

"I HAVE THE BEST WIFE EVER" his voice trails off.

Knowing the fact that he'll not let you live it down if you don't live up to your words, you wipe your hands and join him in the shower. You let him eat you out under the cold water and then pound into you as you struggle to keep your knees from giving out.

The loud sneeze echoes through the room as you wipe your nose which now feels like the 50th time. Tiring.

When you came out of the shower you were perfectly fine. When your nose started stinging, you didn't think much of it then too. Before you knew it, you were sneezing three times in a row with a fever which only keeps getting worse.

Jungkook had immediately wrapped you up in a fluffy blanket and asked you to take a nap as he cooks some porridge for you. At the risk of sounding selfish, whenever you're sick you're tend to crave his closeness more and more. You hate it though, you know it puts him at the risk of sickness but you can't help it. He looks cozy and so so comfy, you just want to snuggle with him and doze off.

After all, he's your safe place, your own personal haven with a gorgeous smile and warm embrace and he's well aware of the fact that you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself when you're sick, perfectly capable of running yourself a bath when you want to, skilled enough to wear that piece of jewellery around your neck.

However, he'd still run a bath for you with rose petals and scented candles, still ask you to lift your hair up when he clicks the pendant close before placing a kiss at the nape of your neck, still cook for you when you're sick and kiss you goodnight before he takes you in his arms and falls into deep slumber, still whisper into the darkness that he wishes he could take away all your pain upon himself thinking you're fast asleep.

Just like now as he places the tray, the bowl of porridge on top of it alongside your medicines, a glass of water and gummy bears because he knows that you're not fond of the bitter aftertaste of the medicines.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he touches your clammy forehead before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Feeling any better, love?"

When you shake your head, his eyebrows crinkle in worry.

"I feel like throwing up but when I try nothing comes out" your lips open with a sigh.

His face gets remarkably worried. Not like he's wearing any other expression ever since you've started sniffing and stifling. You feel like shit. Earlier in the morning he's informed you about Namjoon's house warming party and was so excited to visit his best friend. Now he has to stay here and take care of your sick self when he should be with him, having the time of his life.

"I'm sorry you couldn't go to the party" your voice is brittle and you stop yourself from breaking down right there.

"Honey no, you're more important to me than any fucking party. Are you crazy? Besides, he would have poked my eyeballs out had I gone there and told him I left you here, sick and all by yourself."

The kiss that he places on your forehead is soft and tender causing you to close your eyes and bask in the love behind it.

"C'mon, get up and eat something. You'll feel so much better with your tummy full."

When you find it hard to get up all by yourself, you know it's more than just a cold now. You feel a headache coming.

Jungkook helps you sit up against the headboard as he picks up the bowl, taking a spoonful of porridge and holding it out for you to eat.

Your lips quiver and a sob threatens to break out, you hang your head low so he can't see the tears forming behind your droopy eyes but fail when your chest shakes with a sob.

Jungkook panics, quickly placing the bowl on the tray beside him, "Hey, what's going on? What's happening?"

You face him and open your arms, "Can you hold me for a while?" You're crying now. Tears stream down your face as your nose stings even more.

He wastes no time to take you in his arms, hands rubbing your back and then holding the back of your head as if he's cradling a baby. Holding you oh so gently like you might break and maybe you will. Maybe you will break because of how overwhelmed you are and how lousy you feel.

"It's alright, honey. Cry all you want, I'll hold you."

So you do, letting your head fall on his shoulder you cry out all the emotions you're feeling hoping you'd feel lighter by the time you're done. You're thankful for his silence. He understands, he always does and you understand him in return.

Your husband's hands don't stop moving for once. Constantly rubbing your back, running through your hair, gently massaging the back of your neck to release any tension. It's so funny how a tattooed hand like that which might look intimidating to strangers can be so soft and tender for you. For everyone in general, Jungkook is indeed the most gentle person you've ever known.

After what feels like eternity, you lift your head and break the hug. You lean back against the headboard as he speaks.

"Do you wanna tell me what caused that?" he asks in a careful voice.

You're still not in the space to talk so you shake your head and say, "Maybe later?"

"Whenever you feel like it, I'm here. But I wanna say something and I want you to listen carefully alright?" he waits for your nod before continuing,

"When we were about to get married, I had a chat with your father. He told me that you have a tendency to feel like a liability on people and you beat yourself up over somebody taking care of you, doing things for you, showing up for you because you'd rather do them by yourself. And then I promised him something. I promised him that I'll do anything, and I mean anything to not make you feel like that. I will manage to eat three bites less but I will never let you sleep with an empty stomach."

He kisses the back of your hands as you sniffle, scared that the tears might come back.

"So when I do things like this for you, skip my best friend's house warming party for you or doing anything for you for that matter, It's not because you're a burden. It's because you're mine and you'd do the same for me. I want to take care of you, honey. I like to. I love you the most _____, you're my everything and I can't fucking breathe when you're suffering like this."

Well fuck, the tears are back.

"Now, finish this and let me hold you to sleep" he helps you eat the porridge before you gulp down the medicines. The gummy bears follow.

With his help you lie back down on the bed as he saunters back to the kitchen, promising you to be back soon.

You're not surprised Jungkook knew the reason you broke down. You wouldn't expect any less from him and as always he has a way of making you feel loved and mattered with his words. Your husband is a gift and you want this particular gift in all your lifetimes, in every form.

He comes back with a bottle of water in his hand. He places it on the nightstand and joins you on the bed.

You stop him with a hand on his chest when he drops his head down to kiss you on the lips.

"You're gonna catch a cold" you warn.

"As if I care. Please baby, let me kiss you. You know I can't sleep without kissing you goodnight"

The chuckle that leaves you makes Jungkook's whole face light up.

"Only if you let me trace your tattoos"

"I promise" he says with the softest smile on his face.

Pouting your lips, you invite him for a kiss which he gladly places on your lip. His pillowy ones lingering for some seconds before pulling away. He kisses your cheeks next, your temples, your nose, your jaw and then finally, both of your eyes which were now damp from all the crying. Although, that didn't seem to bother him.

"I love kissing you"

When he plops back down on the bed, he pulls your entire body on top of his with your head tucked into the crook of his neck. He feels so warm and cozy, you never want to let go. He would be fine with that too.

"Honey?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you so fucking much. Let's make a baby when you get better"

"I love you too, husband. I wouldn't mind having a little one like you"

[cjlouwho]

You're a Piece of My Soul I Can't Let Go

10.5k; read below or on ao3; tags: presumed dead (no actual major character death), angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, panic, flashbacks, smut, witness protection, secret service

Buck didn't cry at the funeral.

It's not that he wasn't sad. He was heartbroken beyond repair.

The tears simply wouldn't fall.

He didn't show much emotional at all. Didn't listen to the speeches people gave. Didn't react when someone would give him a hug or a pat on the back. Didn't care about the words of encouragement by people who had no clue what it felt like to lose someone.

“Time will heal.”

“He's an angel now.”

“God needed him more.”

“Life goes on.”

“Hold yourself together for him.”

It was all bullshit.

The burial wasn't much different. He sat, unmoving, from his chair in the front row. Held out his hands when he presented with the folded flag. Heard the sniffs and cries from the people around him, but he remained stoic.

Nothing about this felt right.

There was a reception afterward at Bobby and Athena's place. Buck, wanting nothing to do with the limo that was reserved for family, had driven his Jeep to the cemetery.

He told Bobby he'd meet them at their place. Let Bobby wrap him in another hug before he left.

He didn't go to Bobby's.

Didn't want to talk to all those people. He had no desire to hear them laugh as they told stories about Tommy. They'd never know him like he did.

He went home instead. Back to the place he and Tommy shared.

It was Tommy's house, originally. Then Buck had moved in only five months into them dating. It seemed crazy at the time, but it worked. They were engaged two months later, married six months after that.

Four months of marriage. That's all they'd gotten. The ring around Buck's finger still felt new, and it was already over.

Seventeen months total. The best seventeen months of Buck's life.

And it was all gone.

Buck walked into the house that screamed Tommy, Tommy, Tommy everywhere he looked. There was the couch they had picked out together. The lamp that Tommy had knocked off the table twice, yet somehow never broke. The kitchen where they realized they were far too old to be having sex on a countertop. The clock on the wall that played obnoxious music every hour that Buck hated but Tommy loved, so it was only ever on if Buck had to work and Tommy was at home.

His houseplants he killed regularly.

The TV they splurged on because Tommy both loved watching movies and loved watching Buck watch movies.

The bedroom, two nightstands. One side almost empty because all Buck needed was a lamp and a spot for his phone at night. The other side with a lamp, charger, reading glasses, chapstick, and a glass of water that now had a thin film of dust covering the top.

Buck toed off his shoes and walked to the bed, lying down. He pulled his phone from his pocket and silenced it before setting it on his nightstand. He didn't want to be bothered. Maddie could see his location, would know he was fine. That was enough.

He curled onto his side, facing Tommy's side of the bed. He tugged at Tommy's pillow, moving it so it rested lengthwise against his body. He snuggled it tightly. Closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Tommy's shampoo and cologne, still fresh on the pillowcase.

He fell into a dreamless sleep.

Nothing about this felt right.

“What's the matter?” Tommy asked immediately upon entering the kitchen. Buck had his eyebrows drawn tightly together as he stared at a can of coconut milk. That was never a good sign.

“I got the wrong thing,” Buck pouted. “I was supposed to get coconut cream and I picked up the milk.”

“I'm guessing they're not interchangeable?”

Buck gave him a look that asked the question, “Are you crazy?” without saying a word.

“Right.” Tommy began searching the room for his keys, “I will go get you your coconut cream.”

“No, I can get it,” Buck put the can down and headed for the stove. “I'll let Bobby know dinner will be a little late,” he said, switching off a couple of the burners, “and then-”

Buck was cut off by Tommy wrapping his arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You keep cooking,” he insisted, “I'll get the cream.”

Buck smiled softly, leaning further into Tommy's touch. “You sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Buck turned his head for a kiss on the lips before Tommy unraveled himself from him.

“Keys?” Tommy asked.

“Coffee table.”

“Right! Thank you. Love you, Babe. Be right back.”

“Love you too.”

Three days was all the bereavement pay a city employee was allotted after the death of a family member. Bobby had managed to space out Buck's shifts enough to give him seven days before he had to dip into his vacation time.

It didn't matter anyway. He hadn't used his vacation days in a long time. Had been saving them for a long roadtrip with...

It didn't matter. He didn't need those vacation days anymore.

A part of him had thought about going back to work. He had gotten dressed and everything. Had his keys and was headed out the door. He couldn't seem to make it past the doorframe.

He typed a simple text to Bobby, taking vacation day, silenced his phone and got back into bed. Bed, bathroom, kitchen, bed, bathroom, kitchen, the same path for the next week.

People would come to the door, knock and knock and knock, but he made no effort to let them in.

When they'd text, he'd respond so they knew he was alive, but also knew to leave him alone.

I need some time, he'd text them, please let me have time to myself.

That worked for a while, until Eddie decided to screw it all and use the spare key he had to let himself in.

“Buck?” he called out as he gently opened the front door. “Buck, you here?”

He walked into the dark house, all the curtains drawn and not a single light on. After peeking into the kitchen and living room, he made his way to the bedroom. The door was cracked, so he nudged it open until he could see Buck lying on the bed, facing away from the door.

He was under the covers, cuddling a pillow close to him.

“Buck?” Eddie whispered.

He waited a few seconds and was just about to head out to the living room until Buck woke up, when he heard a, “Hm?”

“You awake?”

“I'm not a sleep talker,” Buck muttered grumpily. He turned just enough to look at Eddie. “Why're you here?”

“To check on you.”

Buck folded himself back over the pillow, closing his eyes. “Told you I'm fine.”

“Yeah... don't really believe you, bud.” Eddie walked over to the other side of the bed so he could face Buck. Sunlight peeked through the curtains enough for Eddie to see that, surprisingly, Buck didn't look like he'd been crying.

He just looked tired. Staying in bed for two weeks could do that to a person.

“Come on, Buck,” Eddie said, “let's go out to the living room. Get you something to eat.”

“Already ate,” Buck mumbled into the pillow.

“When?”

Buck sighed. “What time is it?”

“Three o'clock in the afternoon.”

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

Reluctantly, Buck sat up in bed, sending a glare to Eddie. “I ate at one.”

Eddie crossed his arms. “On what day?”

God, Buck hated when he got all parental with him. Made him feel like a child. “Wednesday.”

“Up,” Eddie demanded, snapping his fingers. “Now.”

Buck was too tired to fight him. He knew the quicker he went along, ate whatever Eddie wanted him to eat, talked about whatever Eddie wanted him to talk about, he could get him out of his house.

He pulled the covers off of him and got out of bed, scooting his feet as he walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

Eddie couldn't help but noticed how much weight Buck had lost over the last couple of weeks. It made him feel awful for waiting so long to force himself into Buck's home. He was trying to be respectful. Trying to give Buck the space he kept requesting. He'd get those texts from Buck every time he knocked on the door, and he'd leave because he was asked to. That's what they'd all been doing. He knew now that was a mistake.

“I don't wanna eat much,” Buck said, staring straight ahead at the TV.

“I already ordered some wonton soup from China Wok. It'll be here in a minute.” Eddie sat on the other end of the couch. “Talk to me, Buck. Please.”

“About?”

“Anything.”

Buck's eyes scanned the living room. Dead flowers were scattered around, all sent somewhere between the day after Tommy's body was found up until a few days ago. Buck had managed to bring them into the house, just so no one called in a wellness check on him, but he didn't bother with keeping them alive.

What was the point? They'd die eventually anyway.

“I haven't dreamt since he... since they... you know.”

Eddie was thrown off guard by the admission, expecting it to be harder for Buck to confide in him. “None at all?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Used to. Used to have a lot of dreams. Not anymore.”

“Buck, I know what it's like to-”

“Don't,” Buck interrupted, looking at Eddie for the first time since they sat down. “Please, I- I've gotten so many 'I know what you're going through' texts from people and it doesn't help.”

Eddie nodded. “I understand.”

Buck turned his attention down to his hands, thumbs twiddling together nervously. “Can I- Can I tell you something really dumb?”

“Sure!” Eddie exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I love hearing dumb things.”

Buck managed a small smile. It faded faster than it had appeared. “I- Sometimes it doesn't feel, um, feel real to me. Like, I don't believe he's gone. That, um, that feeling that you get when someone has- when they've died. I- I don't have that.”

“Accepting it's happened is one of the hardest things to do, Buck. That's normal.”

“I haven't even cried,” Buck admitted. “Not since the day I was told he... he was gone.”

“That's normal too.”

Eddie didn't understand. Buck knew he wouldn't. “I don't know,” he breathed out, more to himself than to Eddie.

“Don't know what?”

The doorbell rang, pulling them out of their discussion. Buck was grateful. He didn't feel like talking anymore.

“Ready to eat?” Eddie asked, clapping his hands together as he got up and headed for the door.

“Mhm,” Buck lied. He leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. He just needed to get through this meal, then Eddie would leave, and he could go back to bed.

He needed to get back to bed.

“It doesn't make any sense to me. At all.”

“You're not letting this go anytime soon, are you?”

“They didn't end up together in the end, Evan! Why'd they even say the movie was a romantic comedy? What's the point?”

Buck reached over and took Tommy's hand from where it rested on the center console. “I think they did it on purpose,” he surmised, “to spite you.”

“I agree, those bastards.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Buck gave Tommy's hand a squeeze, “they are fictional, so you know, they didn't really mind that they weren't together in the end.”

“Hm.” Tommy thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No, that doesn't make me feel any better at all.”

Buck shrugged. “I tried.”

“They had everything planned, Evan,” Tommy said, continuing his rant. “They had their whole future planned and they threw it all away in the end? Ugh, I can't.”

“Maybe it was to show that she found herself, you know, without him. That's not a bad thing.”

“It's not a bad thing at all, if I'm properly warned that that's what the movie is going to be about. It is a bad thing when you call the movie a romantic comedy.”

“Is there someone we should be writing a strongly worded letter to?” Buck asked, a cheeky grin on his face.

Tommy shot a meaningless glare in his direction. “You joke now, but I wasn't the only one crying in the theater.”

“Who said I was joking?” Buck asked. “I- I love a strongly worded letter. We can whip out some paper and a pen the second we get home.”

Buck could feel Tommy's body start to relax. His face softened as he stole another glance at Buck before turning back to the road. “I love that you're my husband.”

Buck brought Tommy's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I love that you're mine.”

Buck stared down at his wedding band. It had been a month now. A month since he'd last seen Tommy. A month and five days since their last date.

“Buck... Buck?”

Buck looked up to Hen watching him from across the truck. They were on their way to a call. Some small fire in the middle of nowhere with no people around. It'd be an easy call. Buck was grateful for that. This would be his fourth shift back at work, although it was his first full 24-hour one.

“Yeah?” he asked, ignoring the fact that Chimney and Eddie were giving him side glances as well.

“You good?”

He'd be angry at the question if anyone else had asked. He knew his temper was shorter than it ever used to be. Knew even the smallest things could set him off. He often had to force himself to stay calm. Take some deep breaths and count to ten before responding to someone.

He didn't have to do that with Hen though. Her voice was soothing to him. A calm against the stormy sea that was his mind.

Buck nodded. “I'm good.”

“You want in?”

He paused, dumbfounded. He had no idea what she was talking about. “In on what?”

“We're placing bets on what caused the fire,” Chimney explained. “I said kids smoking in the woods.”

“I'm going with the sun beating down on a glass bottle.” Eddie looked proud of his choice.

“Old fashioned illegal campfire for me.” Hen smiled softly at Buck. “You?”

“Oh, um, nah. I- I'm good.”

“Oh come on,” Eddie reached over and nudged Buck's knee. “Take a guess.”

Buck took a deep breath. Thought for a moment. “Fireworks, I- yeah. Fireworks.”

“In the middle of the day?” Chimney questioned.

Hen shrugged. “Wouldn't be the first time. Okay, Cap,” she said, fiddling with her headset, “what about you?”

Buck phased back out as Bobby made his guess. He tugged at his ring, twirling it around and around on his finger. He thought about the inscription on the inside. One Four Three. Had to force himself out of that memory before he could even start to get into it.

It all felt like too much. Too overwhelming. He needed to get himself together.

He sat up straight and cleared his throat.

He could do this. He could get through this shift. Get home. Get into bed. Stay there for forty-eight hours before he'd have to pretend again.

...He didn't even care that he won the bet.

“I've tried calling him like five times,” Buck said. He was sitting on the couch, his leg bouncing nervously up and down, Bobby and Athena sitting across from him. “I- I'm sorry about dinner, guys-”

“Don't even think about it,” Athena interrupted. “Bobby, you having any luck?”

Bobby shook his head. “I've texted him a few times but they're not going through.”

“Something's wrong. He wouldn't... Something's wrong. His location isn't on anymore either.”

“Okay.” Athena pulled out her phone. “Where did you say he was going?”

“Ralph's. He was just getting me some coconut cream for my recipe. I- I said I'd go but he insisted. That was over two hours ago. I, um, I should drive there and check.” He went to get up but Athena held out a hand to stop him.

“I'll go,” she said. “You and Bobby stay. Let me know if he shows up. I've got my badge and everything out in the car, so I can ask around at the store if I can't find him. His phone probably died and they were out of the right stuff at Ralph's, so he went somewhere else.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe,” Buck replied, but he could see the look Athena gave Bobby out of the corner of his eye.

He knew nothing in his life was ever that simple.

He stumbled upon the video by accident. He was looking for a picture of a recipe that Maddie had asked for when his finger hit the wrong thumbnail and the video began to play.

It was one he took without Tommy knowing. A rare rainy day in Los Angeles gave them the opportunity to relax at home instead of run errands or make plans.

Buck was splayed out on the couch, head on the armrest and his legs on Tommy's lap. Tommy had a crossword over Buck's legs, staring at it with an intensity usually reserved for flying into dangerous situations.

“If twenty-one across is evergreen, then eighteen down can't be carpet.”

“I thought you said eighteen down had to be carpet?” Buck asked off camera.

“It does, Evan,” Tommy placed the pen between his teeth. “It really does.”

“Then evergreen is wrong.”

Tommy shook his head. “Nope. It's gotta be evergreen.”

“We've been going over this for almost an hour now, Tommy,” Buck said, huffing out a laugh. “Give it up.”

“I've never been this close to finishing a Sunday crossword!” Tommy whined, the smile on his face betraying the seriousness of his voice. “If I give up now, I'll never forgive myself.”

“If you give up now I'll let you blow me as a consolation prize,” Buck offered cheekily.

Tommy gasped, glancing at Buck with a look of betrayal. “Sabotage!” he exclaimed. “I have to finish this, babe, or my name isn't Thomas Andrew Kinard!”

“Your name isn't Thomas Andrew Kinard,” Buck replied, the video shaking with his laughter. “It's Buckley-Kinard.”

Tommy froze. He clicked his pen closed and tossed it, along with the paper, on the coffee table. He turned to Evan, his eyes darkening, “About that consolation prize?”

Buck found himself smiling as the video ended. He'd taken it only three weeks after their wedding. The video wasn't even old, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, the living room felt cold. Buck's spot on the couch now uncomfortable. The silence a stark contrast to all the life in that memory. For two months now he'd had nothing but silence in his home, besides the far too occasional visits from his friends and family. It wasn't the same though. It wasn't the same as having Tommy.

The smile on Buck's face faded. He got up and headed to the bedroom to lie down.

Maddie would have to get that recipe another day.

“We're all set to clear out here,” Bobby said over the radio. “Great work everyone.”

The call had been a big one. A four alarm fire that required the assistance of multiple stations.

“This is Firefighter Pilot Kinard of Harbor Station for Firefighter Buckley of 118, over,” Tommy's voice came over the radio. He had been providing assistance from the chopper, now hovering above them as he set to head back.

Buck glanced around at the rest of the 118, all stopping what they were doing to watch him and listen in. “Go for Buckley.”

“Looking for confirmation on a code one-four-three.”

“One-four-three confirmed and returned.”

“Excellent. Returning to Harbor Station.”

“What the hell is a one-four-three?” Chimney asked once the sounds from the chopper were off in the distance.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “It's their way of saying 'I love you' after a big call.”

Buck smiled. “We usually text it to each other,” he explained, a blush rising on his cheeks, “just to let the other know we're alright. Guess he couldn't get to his phone.”

Hen put a hand to her stomach. “That's so preciously sickening I might throw up.”

“Okay, okay, come on guys,” Bobby said, waving the group toward the truck, “give Buck a break-”

“Thank you, Cap.”

“-for now. We can make fun of him on the way back to the station.”

“Hey!”

It was the longest, most grueling shift Buck had had since he could remember. He had only managed a couple hours of sleep, and that was often in fifteen minute increments. The worst part was the majority of calls were from people being stupid. Accidents that could have been prevented had a single person with half a brain been anywhere around.

All Buck wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep.

Which is why he was not so pleasantly surprised when he pulled up to Maddie's car in his driveway.

She greeted him at the door with a hug, and he faked a smile as he hugged back. “Why're you here?” he asked, trying to sound polite.

“Well, you've been working so hard lately, I figured I'd come over and help with the housecleaning.”

“Oh, uh, um, thanks.” The overwhelming smell of cleaning supplies made him feel a bit lightheaded as he walked further into the house, dropping his duffel on the dining room table. “It looks great in here.”

That wasn't a lie. She had made the place spotless. He wasn't a messy person himself but he couldn't deny he'd let certain things, like mopping and dusting, go over the past few months.

“It's the least I could do,” she replied. “I won't stay long, Howie texted me about how busy you guys were. Needed an excuse to see you though. It's... It's been a while.”

Two and a half weeks, to be exact. No fault of Maddie's either. She'd make plans with him, and he'd cancel last minute.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “I've been, uh, trying to get things back in order. I'm just- I'm still kind of...”

“It's okay,” she assured him. “Really. I understand.”

“Let me, um, let me go put my jacket up,” he said, tugging at it, “and we'll talk for a little bit before you go.” He didn't want to. No desire for small talk, or talk of any kind, but he couldn't kick her out of the house after all she'd done for him.

She smiled. “Okay. That sounds good.”

He headed to his bedroom, but stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the doorway.

“Did you... Did you wash my sheets?”

“I did,” Maddie replied, coming up behind him. Her voice was far too nonchalant for the blinding rage that was slowly seeping up inside him.

“All of them? Like, the pillowcases too?”

“Uh, yeah? Why would I only wash some of your sheets, Buck?”

Buck hurried over to the far side of the bed, throwing the comforter and sheets back to get to Tommy's pillow.

He didn't care if he looked like a crazy person. He brought the pillow up to his face and took a deep breath in.

It smelled like Gain.

It made him want to throw up.

“Buck, what's wrong?” She was clearly worried, standing uncomfortably in the doorway.

“I didn't ask you to do this, Maddie,” he said angrily, tossing the pillow back on the bed. “I- I didn't ask you to do any of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to help. Buck, I'm sorry if I-”

“I need you to leave.”

“Buck-”

“Leave!”

She stood firmly in place. “I'm not leaving until you tell me what I did wrong.”

“I- I, everyone keeps trying to help me,” he huffed, “and I don't want it! I don't want Eddie coming over for dinner! I don't want Hen taking me out for drinks! I don't want Chimney taking me to a movie! I don't want Bobby texting me every damn day! And I don't want you to be my maid!”

“We're just trying to help you, Evan-”

“Don't call me that!” He spewed.

He was breathing heavily. The stinging in his eyes surprised him. It'd been so long since he had last cried. He didn't particularly feel like crying right now, but apparently his body did. He groaned, sitting down on Tommy's side of the bed and staring out the window. He brought Tommy's pillow to his chest, and began to sob.

Maddie was by his side in seconds, wrapping her arms around him and enveloping him in a hug. 'I'm so sorry, Buck. I'm so sorry.” She was crying too. Buck could feel her tears wetting his shirt. He wasn't even sure why she was apologizing. She didn't have anything to be sorry for. If anything, he should be apologizing for snapping at her so harshly.

If he could speak, he would have told her as much. Would have told her that his head was a jumbled mess that he couldn't seem to clear. That nothing about this felt real. That he felt like Tommy was still there, somewhere, with them.

That it'd been four months since he'd had a dream. How he missed dreaming. They were always so vivid, him and Tommy, living their lives together.

Now, there was just darkness. An endless abyss of black every time he closed his eyes.

He'd tell her how his memories haunted him. The dreams may not exist, but the memories would appear out of nowhere at the worst times. They'd plague him. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape them.

He wasn't sure how much time passed before he was able to find his voice. Before he was able to bring himself out of Maddie's embrace. He kept a tight hold on the pillow, fingers messing with a pulled thread at the edge. “It s- smelled like him,” he said, his lip still trembling. “I'd... I'd wash everything else but, um, I- I couldn't wash this.”

“Oh, Buck, I'm so sorry. I didn't-”

“I know. It's okay. I- I know you were trying to help. It's okay.”

“Do you still have some of his cologne?”

Buck nodded and Maddie got up to go into the bathroom.

“Where?” she asked.

“Far sink, open the cabinet, black bottle.”

She returned a few seconds later with a bottle in hand, held out for Buck to see. “This one?”

“Mhm.”

“Want me to spray it?”

He laid the pillow out flat and Maddie sprayed it a couple of times.

“I really miss him, Maddie,” Buck admitted quietly, inhaling the scent of his cologne as it passed through the air.

“I know, Buck. I know.”

“Bobby, it's been twenty-four hours of nothing. I'm freaking out.”

Bobby hadn't left Buck since he'd arrived the day before. Athena had worked all night putting out alerts for Tommy and his vehicle, but hadn't gotten anywhere.

He and Buck had left two different times to go driving around. The rest of the 118 had gone searching as well, going to places he frequented, driving down any and every back road they could find.

Nothing.

Now, back at the house to rest for a minute, and make sure Tommy hadn't come back home, Buck was in a full blown panic.

“I know, Buck, but we're all doing everything we can,” Bobby replied, leading Buck to the couch. “Athena's got officers searching the whole city for his car. He'll be found.”

“But what if-”

“No,” Bobby sat on the edge of the coffee table so he could face Buck, “you're not gonna think like that, Buck.”

“Bobby,” his voice was pleading and his eyes red. “You know s- something's wrong. H- He wouldn't do this. You know that.”

Bobby sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he could even say, when the doorbell rang.

Buck's heart started pounding right away. Athena wouldn't ring the doorbell. She'd knock. So would anyone from the 118, except Eddie. Eddie would come right on in.

He was shaking as he got up and walked to the door, Bobby close behind him.

“Detective John Farrow,” a man introduced the second Buck opened the door. “Are you Evan Buckley-Kinard?”

Buck nodded. “I- Yes. I- I am.”

“Mr. Buckley-Kinard, I'm sorry to inform you...”

The sound of the detective's voice was replaced by a ringing in Buck's ears. He felt dizzy. His vision blurred. The last thing he remembered was Bobby catching him as he fell.

Agreeing to lunch at Maddie's with his parents was a mistake. He knew that from the moment he said yes. He'd been working on controlling his temper. Not overreacting at the small things.

There was still more work to be done.

“So,” Margaret began, everyone settled at the table. Maddie looked up to see her eyes on Buck. The look Margaret was giving him already made her want to scream. “There's really no easy way to say this, Evan-”

“Then maybe you shouldn't say it,” Maddie suggested. Chimney placed a hand on her back, rubbing gently to try and ease the tension.

Buck remained quiet, eyes directed toward his mother with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I'm simply asking,” Margaret continued, “if you've, you know, gotten back out there any?”

“Margaret,” Phillip warned under his breath. Maddie knew that if their dad wasn't even on their mom's side, this was never going to end civilly.

Maddie swore Buck's eyes went dark. “Buck-” Maddie started, but he cut her off.

“You're not seriously asking me if I'm dating six months after my husband died, are you, Mom?”

“Not dating, but getting back out into the world. I- I've heard so much about you staying holed up in your house, only leaving to go to work, and that worries me, Evan.”

“Stop calling me, Evan,” Buck demanded.

Margaret raised her hands in surrender. “I'm sorry,” she said, and she meant it. The name sometimes slipped out without her realizing it. She had been warned that the name triggered Buck in a way it never had before. Even though others had used it on occasion before, Evan had become Tommy's name for him. And with him gone, Buck didn't want to hear it from anyone. “I'm sorry, Buck. I just don't want to see you wasting away. It's hard for a mother to see her child suffer like this.”

“Were you over Daniel's death in six months?” Buck asked bitterly. “Were you back out there? Cause I seem to remember it being about thirty years before you even mentioned his name. And you only did that once Maddie told me about him.”

Tears filled Maddie's eyes. “Buck,” she spoke softly. She desperately wanted this conversation to end.

“That's not fair, Buck,” Margaret answered, her voice shaking. “Daniel was my child.”

“And Tommy was my husband!” Buck slammed his napkin on the table, rising to his feet. “We had planned a future together! We were saving up for a house, we were planning on having kids, we talked about what we'd do when we retired! Hell, we planned weekly grocery shopping trips together! All these things got ripped out from under me, and I'm supposed to just get back out there? Are you crazy?”

“Hey,” Phillip stood across from him, “that's too far. Your mother wasn't trying to be malicious.”

Buck shook his head, then began to head for the door. “This was a mistake. I- I'm gonna go.”

“Buck, wait-” Maddie went to get up, but Chimney placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Let me,” he said, walking out after Buck.

“Wait a minute, Buck!” Chimney jogged a few steps to catch up to him.

Buck stopped at his Jeep, hand on the door handle. “I'm not going back in.”

“Wasn't gonna ask you to. Just want to make sure you're okay.”

Buck let out a humorless laugh, turning back to Chimney. “Well, apparently I only stay holed up in my house except to go to work, so you tell me if I'm okay.”

“Maddie didn't say it like that to them, Buck, please don't be mad at her. She's worried about you. We all are.”

Buck scoffed. “Just leave me alone for tonight,” he said, getting into his Jeep. “I'll see you at work on Friday.”

“He flashed the ring three times today,” Eddie said, scooting back into the bench. After work they'd all met Tommy at the bar for a few drinks before heading home.

“Four,” Hen corrected.

“Nope.” Chimney took a sip of his beer. “Five.”

Tommy grinned at Buck. “Really? Five times? Can't say I blame them, I do have a hot fiancé.”

“Oh, my guy was not flirting,” Chimney stated. “Buck asked him if he liked the way the ring shimmered in the sunlight.”

“Mhm,” Hen agreed. “My girl wasn't flirting either. Buck noticed she had an ultrasonic ring cleaner in her bathroom and asked if she was happy with her purchase because, and I quote, 'I just got engaged and I want to make sure my ring stays perfect forever.'”

“Okay, guys,” Buck said with a groan, “we get it. I'm lame.”

“I don't think it's lame.” Tommy rested his hand on Buck's knee. “I think it's adorable. I love that you're excited to get married.”

A blush rose on Buck's cheeks. “I am excited,” he agreed, leaning in for a kiss. “Very excited.”

“Before this gets pg-13,” Eddie interrupted, “the two men I had were definitely flirting, but they both got the hint after the first 'fiancé' was thrown out there. Buck threw in two more for good measure. The other person- not flirting.”

“What about you?” Hen asked Tommy. “Did you get any offers you had to turn down today?”

“Well, I was thousands of feet in the air for both of the calls I went on, so any prospects would have had to look at me through some really good binoculars and then steal a radio to tell me they were into me, so no. No offers.”

“The guy in the bathroom definitely flirted with you like ten minutes ago, Dude,” Eddie said with a laugh.

“What?” Tommy asked incredulously. “No he didn't.”

“He for sure did. Man was jacked and he was asking for your workout routine.”

“He said he wanted to switch things up!” Tommy exclaimed.

Eddie snorted. “Oh, he definitely wanted to switch things up.”

“What? Who is this man?” Buck eyes darted around the bar. “Where is he?”

“Don't worry about it Buck,” Eddie reassured him. “Tommy didn't even realize it. Gave the guy a five minute rundown of how he gets the perfect squat. Your man only has eyes for you.”

Buck settled back into his seat, leaning into Tommy's side as Tommy pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his temple. “That's true,” he whispered into Buck's ear.

Buck rested his head on Tommy's shoulder, ignoring the teasing gag sounds that came from the others around them.

If it were possible, he'd stay like this forever.

He should have expected this.

It should have happened sooner, if he were being honest.

He was lucky to go seven months without a call that hit too close to home.

There had been a hit and run. The car that was hit had flipped twice, landed right side up, and immediately burst into flames.

The man in the driver's seat never stood a chance.

Buck was okay while they hurried to get out the flames. He'd ignored the glances from the rest of the team, ignored Bobby's suggestion to stay by the engine, ignored the thoughts in the back of his head telling him to sit this one out.

It wasn't until the fire was out and he saw the man's body, burnt so severely he looked more like a halloween decoration than a human, that Buck lost it.

No matter how much he wanted to look away, his eyes were fixed on the body. His heart rate was speeding up quickly, each breath short and sharp and painful.

He hadn't even realized that tears were falling down his face. Or that he was letting out little noises similar to a dog's whine. He had his helmet in his hand, shaking so much it was vibrating against his leg.

Buck didn't even notice the bystanders watching him, some of them whispering, others pulling out their phones.

It felt like hours, but Bobby was in front of him within seconds. “We're gonna walk away, Buck,” he said calmly but firmly, planting a hand on his shoulder. “We're gonna walk away and go sit behind the engine. Come on.”

Buck let Bobby guide him to a quite spot behind the fire truck, sitting on the curb. Bobby took his helmet from him and tossed it somewhere, then sat down beside him.

“I'm sorry,” Buck breathed out, wiping over his face with his hand.

“You don't ever have to apologize for being human, Buck.”

“I don't know how to do this,” he confessed through sobs. “I don't- I don't know how to keep g- going.”

“The path through grief isn't linear,” Bobby explained. “Hell, it's not really much of a path you get through at all. More like a loop.”

“So this is... This is m- my forever?” He asked, voice rising in despair.

“No. Not exactly. You do learn how to manage it better over time, but it takes time, Buck. And it takes letting the people around you help you, instead of pushing them away.”

“I don't mean to,” Buck said as he began to calm down. “It just takes so much energy. Everything is exhausting. Talking to people is- is so exhausting.”

“I know. Buck, you've seen grief. It's been around you since you were a baby. I'm not saying there's any right or wrong way to grieve, but I think you know how dangerous it is to lose yourself in it.” Bobby put his arm around him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “No one expects you to be exactly who you were before you lost Tommy. I'll never be the same person I was, Eddie won't be the same person he was, Chimney won't be who he was before losing his brother, I could go on and on. But we- I need you to realize you're still here, you're still breathing, and Tommy wouldn't want you to disappear.”

Buck nodded, a new wave of tears taking over him.

Bobby pulled him close and let him cry.

“How many kids do you want?”

Buck and Tommy were sat on the front porch steps watching the sunset behind the trees across the street.

“Uh,” Tommy paused, caught off guard. “I don't know. Haven't really thought about it.”

Buck shrugged. “We've talked about wanting kids, but we've never talked about how many we want.”

“Hm. Two sounds nice. Kinda close together so they can grow up with each other. You?”

“Two's good,” he agreed. “But we'd need a bigger house.”

“Oh, for sure. This one barely fits the two of us.”

“And I'd like for us to be married a while first. Settled, you know?”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “You proposing?”

“Ha! Like this? No.” Buck took Tommy's hand in his and they settled into a comfortable silence. After a couple minutes, Buck squeezed Tommy's hand to get his attention. “I have, um, I've been thinking about it though. Um, about proposing,” he said, staring deep into Tommy's eyes to see what kind of response he'd get. When Tommy appeared surprised, Buck panicked a bit. “Is that, um, is- is that weird? To be thinking about it so soon?”

“What? Oh, God, no, Evan. I,” he laughed, “I've actually been thinking about it too. For a while now.”

Buck looked as shocked as the night Tommy first kissed him. “Really?”

“Really. I've been googling rings, looking for the perfect one. Kept trying to talk myself out of it because I wasn't sure if you'd think it was too fast but-”

Tommy's words were cut off by Buck's mouth on his, so forceful it nearly toppled them both over.

“Oh! Mmm,” Tommy moaned into the kiss, resting his hand at the base of Buck's neck.

“Yes,” Buck said, dazed as he pulled back far enough to speak.

“What?”

“Yes.”

“Bu- Evan, I didn't ask yet. Not the- I don't have a ring.”

“I don't care, Tommy. Yes. I'm saying yes. Yes?”

It took Tommy's mouth a second to catch up with his brain, but once it did he was nodding, his eyes filling with tears. “Yes. Of course, yes,” he replied, both of them laughing giddily before crashing their lips back together.

Everyone except for Hen was upstairs relaxing between calls. Bobby and Buck were at the table, planning out next week's meals. Eddie was fixing himself a cup of coffee. Chimney was on the couch, reading a book.

“We're all going out for beers after our shift,” Eddie said, glancing at Buck. “You in?”

Buck nodded. “Yeah, I'm in.”

He'd been trying lately. Trying to do things other than work and sleep. He'd gone to the zoo with Jee a couple times over the past month. He'd gone to Bobby's for dinner. Watched a game at Eddie's place. Met Maddie and Chimney for brunch. He'd even gone over to Hen's one night when she was home alone and they'd gotten hammered while discussing their various traumas.

Every one of these occasions had ended with him in his car, or a cab, sobbing uncontrollably.

But he was trying.

Hen walked up the stairs, a worried expression on her face. “What's up with you?” Chimney asked, first to notice.

“Uh... Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“There's a... a secret service agent here for you.”

All eyes were on her now.

A... a what?”

Before Hen could get in another word, a man in a suit walked up behind her.

Buck stood, recognizing the man right away. It was the same man who had come to his door to let him know about Tommy. His heart sunk. How could this possibly get worse?

“Detective Farrow?”

“Mr. Buckley-Kinard,” he greeted. “It's actually Special Agent Farrow, but you can all me John.”

“I- I don't-”

“I know this is a bit odd,” he continued, “and was not something I actually wanted to do. I was going to hold off until you were home, but he refused to wait another minute.”

“I- what are you talking about? Who?”

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs interrupted whatever John was about to reply.

Suddenly there was a very familiar, very alive Tommy standing in front of them, smiling brightly at the sight of Buck. “Hi, Evan.”

“Holy shit.” The words escaped Chimney's mouth without him realizing.

Hen followed right after with an, “Oh my God.”

Eddie felt his coffee cup slip from his hand and shatter against the countertop. No one even noticed.

Bobby was standing right beside Buck, thankfully, because he had to quickly reach out and grab onto him before he fell to the ground. He managed to whip a chair around and get Buck seated as he stared, mouth agape, at his husband.

His alive husband.

His breathing husband.

His not-buried-in-the-cemetery husband.

“Evan,” Tommy stepped forward, but Buck held his arm out to stop him.

“What the hell is going on?”

Tommy was confused. Buck sounded angry, and scared. He looked around at all the other faces staring back at him. “Why... Why do you all look like you've seen a ghost?” he asked.

Chimney walked up to Tommy, poking him on the shoulder. “Because you're dead. At least, you're supposed to be.”

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “I'm what?” He turned to John. “Why would they think that?”

John cleared his throat, eyes gazing downward. “There's a lot we need to discuss, Mr. Buckley-Kinard.”

“Why would they think I was dead?” Tommy repeated, angry now.

“Because that's what we were told,” Hen answered.

Tommy stepped closer to John. “You told them I was dead?”

“We couldn't risk anyone knowing-”

“You told my husband I was dead?!”

“-that you were alive. It would have put everyone-”

“And you lied to me to keep me there?!”

“-in danger. It was easier this way.”

“That was not the deal!”

“Everyone shut up!” Buck's voice rang out over the station. He got out of his seat, Bobby keeping a hand near his back until he was sure Buck was steady.

Buck cautiously moved toward Tommy, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You- You're really here?”

All of the anger Tommy had for John fell away as he looked into Buck's eyes. He nodded. “I'm here. I'm so sorry, Buck, I didn't-”

Buck shook his head, “I- I don't care right now.” He brought a hand up to Tommy's chest. Felt the thump-thump-thump of his heart. The firmness of his chest. He felt up until he reached Tommy's collarbone, poking ever so slightly out from his shirt. Felt the warmth of his skin. The slight dip that led up to his neck that Buck always loved to linger on when they were alone in bed. He felt the roughness of a two day old beard as he felt up his neck and toward his jawbone. “My God.” The words were hushed, breathed out through trembling lips and red-rimmed eyes. He pressed their lips together so quickly, so urgently, that Tommy didn't even have time to register it. He moaned into the kiss, finally reaching out and wrapping his arms around Buck's waist, finding their home at the base of his back.

“Let's give them a minute,” Bobby said, gesturing for everyone to head downstairs.

“I need to brief them,” John replied, earning him a glare from everyone else in the room.

“We're giving them a minute,” Bobby demanded.

John didn't try to protest any further. He simply followed the others downstairs, allowing Buck and Tommy time to reconnect.

“I didn't know,” Tommy began, he and Buck seated on the couch. “I was never told that you thought I was dead.”

“I am so confused, Tommy, I don't... I'm not even sure if this is real, to be honest. Am I dreaming? I haven't... I haven't had a dream since you died. Is that what this is?”

Tommy shook his head. “It's not a dream, Evan.”

“Then what the hell happened?” Buck asked, going from anxious to frustrated, “Cause I'm kinda pissed.”

Tommy scooted closer to Buck, cautiously holding out his hands for Buck to take. There was hesitation, but Buck gave in.

“The night I went to the grocery store, I saw something. I, it was a murder.”

Buck's eyes widened. “A what?”

“Yeah, I know. When I was leaving the store, I went out the back way to avoid all the traffic at the main entrance. It was getting dark, and when I passed by the dumpsters out back I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I- this guy had shot another man. I got a good look at him, and he got a good look at me too, but he ran. I got out of the car, called 911, and tried to help the other guy, but he was dead.”

“I... My brain feels like it's about to explode, Tommy. I don't understand how this leads to me planning your funeral.”

Tears came to Tommy's eyes at the thought. He continued, “The police came first, and they were asking for descriptions and any information I had. Then, the FBI shows up, and the CIA, and suddenly I'm surrounded by agents from every agency that goes by initials. This guy, whoever I saw, was apparently a hitman. A good one. Like, ties to Russia and shit. Anyway, I'm being tossed into a van and told my life's in danger because this guy saw me.”

“This sounds like a really bad cop thriller, Tommy.”

Tommy let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I know, believe me. But these agents are telling me that I need protection, this man has killed for less before, blah blah blah. They said he'd killed an entire family because the mom had witnessed one of his hits.”

Buck scoffed. “Apparently he's not that good if he keeps getting caught.”

“Evan,” Tommy said, eyes pleading, “they showed me crime scene pictures of what this man had done. Told me he'd do the same to you if I went home. It was... It was horrific.”

“They wouldn't even let you call me? Tell me you were okay? I was- I went through hell these past eight months.”

“They took my phone, said anything electronic was a risk. Said if I declined protection, if I went home to you, I was basically signing your death certificate. But I told them- I told them that I had to let you know something and they said to write you a letter. I wrote one every week. They said they'd deliver it to you.”

“They did not deliver any letters.”

“Yeah, I'm getting that now. Evan, I swear I had no idea they were going to tell you I was dead. No idea.” Tommy clung onto Buck's hands tighter, and Buck couldn't ignore the pang in his chest at having Tommy in front of him. Alive. With him. Beside him. Holding him.

“I believe you.” He was being honest. He did believe Tommy. He knew Tommy would do anything to keep him safe. He also knew Tommy would never agree to making Buck feel the way he had felt for the last eight months. “I am just... I am so confused right now. This all sounds so crazy and over- overwhelming, Tommy. And I really wanna punch that John guy, whoever the fuck he is. And I want-” he cleared his throat, eyes red with unshed tears. “I wanna go home, Tommy.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, he leaned into Tommy. They met each other halfway, their foreheads pressed together. Buck reached up and cupped Tommy's cheeks, brushing his thumbs against the rough stubble. They closed their eyes and breathed each other in. Buck whispered, “Can we go home?”

John wanted to sit with them and go over everything before they left, but the boiling over rage from the both of them was evident, so he made a plan to speak with them the next day.

After brief hugs and hello's, along with endless apologies to everyone at the 118, Tommy and Buck left.

The ride home was oddly, but comfortably, quiet. Neither were totally sure what to say. Tommy had basically been a prisoner in a safe house for eight months until the FBI found this hitman. Buck had been living in a prison of his own, thinking the love of his life had been burned and buried.

“Home sweet home,” Buck said as they pulled into the driveway. He let go of Tommy's hand long enough for them to get out of the car.

They were interlaced once again as soon as Tommy walked around the Jeep.

Buck needed the touch. Needed to stay connected to Tommy somehow, so he didn't wake up from whatever dream he was in. If this wasn't reality, he wanted to stay wherever it was for the rest of his life.

They walked into the house slowly, Buck a step ahead of Tommy, leading the way.

Once the door was shut behind them, Tommy began looking around.

Everything was... the same. Besides a few of his houseplants being gone, but they never stood a chance in the first place.

Tommy stepped in front of Buck, gave his hand a squeeze before letting go, and continued further into the house.

Buck's body ached at the loss of Tommy's touch, but he let him go. Knew this was overwhelming for him too.

“You kept all my stuff,” Tommy noted, moving into the living room.

“Of course I did.”

“Even though you thought I was-”

“A part of me didn't believe it. I kept telling people that something felt wrong. Everyone said I was in denial; that I'd move on when I was ready.”

“God, this is so fucked up.” Tommy turned to face Buck. The space between them felt as though they might as well be a thousand miles apart. “It's okay if you're mad,” he said. “I understand.”

“I- I am mad,” Buck admitted. He moved closer to Tommy. Everything still felt so surreal. He wasn't even sure if this was actually happening right now. “I don't think I'm mad at you though. I- I'm mad at them.”

“Who?”

There were so many to choose from. “Everyone who took you away from me.”

Tommy nodded. “I'm mad at them too. They wasted eight damn months of my life. Our life.”

Buck cleared any remaining distance between them. He brought his hands to Tommy's waist slowly, dragging his hands up and down his sides, feeling the defined muscles that rested just beneath his shirt.

Tommy sunk into the touch. He watched Buck as he stared at his body. Looked over every inch of him to make sure Tommy wasn't a figment of his imagination.

Tommy brought a hand to Buck's chin, gently tilting his head up until their eyes met. “Can I kiss you?” he asked softly.

Buck sucked in a breath. “Please.”

Tommy brought their lips together gently, both of their bodies shaking with the need to be closer. Feel more.

Buck fisted Tommy's shirt in his hands, pushed their bodies as close as they could go with how they were standing.

Tommy brought his hands to the nape of Buck's neck as the kiss deepened. Their tongues met with a moan, teeth clashing together before Buck pulled back just far enough speak against Tommy's lips. “I don't want to be mad right now,” he whispered like a secret.

Tommy kissed him again. “What do you want?” he asked.

Buck slowly raised Tommy's shirt, just enough to get his hands underneath. He scratched his fingernails down Tommy's abs, causing Tommy to suck in a sharp breath. Chills covered his body.

Buck kissed Tommy's lips, then his cheek, this nipped at his jawline until he reached his ear. “I wanna to fuck you,” he answered.

They clumsily stumbled into the bedroom, stripping themselves of their clothes before falling onto the bed. “You've been working out a lot,” Buck noted between kisses, hands roaming over Tommy's body.

Tommy pressed himself against Buck, their cocks rubbing together, eliciting a groan from them both.

“There was quite literally nothing else to do,” Tommy replied.

Their bodies moved together so perfectly. Just like always. Like they had never been apart at all.

Tommy sucked on Buck's bottom lip, listening to the stunted gasps that escaped him with every thrust.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” Tommy said breathlessly. He bit at a spot on Buck's neck, Buck's hands tangling in Tommy's hair and tugging firmly.

“Tom- Tommy,” he whimpered out. “You gotta. I wanna- You gotta stop,” he managed to get out.

Tommy whined, but stopped his movements. The sound earned him a laugh from Buck. He caressed Tommy's cheek until he looked at him. “Wanna fuck you, remember? Not gonna last long if- if you keep going.”

Tommy nodded. He was seconds away from coming himself. It was easy to get lost in the feeling with Buck. Easy to lose control.

With one swift movement, Buck flipped them so he was on top. He may not have been working out as much as Tommy over the last few months, but he did have a lot of sessions with a punching bag recently, and right now he felt ready to take on the world.

Buck ran his hand over Tommy's chest, let his fingernails drag over his nipple, Tommy arching into the touch. He felt over every ab, traced Tommy's scar, moved down to his stomach. It was all so torturously slow, but so fucking wonderful.

He kissed his way down Tommy's body, stopping at his cock. He stared up at Tommy with heavy lidded eyes as he spit, letting the drool drip down from his mouth onto the head of Tommy's dick. “The first time I touched myself,” Buck said, finally taking Tommy's cock in his hand, dragging his hand up and down leisurely as Tommy's eyes fluttered shut, “after... you know.”

“Mhm.” Tommy managed to open his eyes again, trying to focus on Buck and his words instead of the warm, wet hand gliding over him.

“I had to stop. I tried to- to touch myself the way you always touched me, but I- I couldn't do it.”

“Oh God, Evan.” Tommy fucked himself into Buck's tight fist. He brought their lips together sloppily. “Wanna touch you like that again.”

Buck nodded. “You will,” he promised. “But not right now. Right now I need to be in you.”

“Please.”

Buck let go of Tommy long enough to reach into the bedside table and grab the lube. He put some on, Tommy spreading his legs as Buck reached down and slowly began inserting his finger.

“Ah,” Tommy gasped. He reached up and pulled Buck down for another kiss as Buck slowly pumped his finger in and out.

“You're so tight,” Buck panted into Tommy's mouth.

“Been a while.” Tommy began to grind down against Buck's finger, moaning loudly when it hit the perfect spot.

“Shit,” Buck whined. “You haven't... You didn't?”

“A finger or two.” Tommy planted his feet on the bed, getting better leverage to work himself up and down on Buck. “A- Another, Evan, please.”

Buck obliged, adding another finger along the first, eliciting a string of curses from Tommy.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit! It was never the same,” he added quickly, going back to the conversation. “Didn't- God, didn't feel like this. Evan, more!”

Buck silenced a moan with his mouth as he added a third finger, grinding his cock against Tommy's thigh. He knew he wasn't gonna last long. Knew Tommy wouldn't either. It didn't matter though. They had plenty of time to make up for what was lost.

“I- I'm ready. Just... I need-”

“I know.” Another kiss and Buck slipped his fingers out of Tommy. Tommy grabbed the lube from the side of the bed and tossed it in Buck's direction, getting a laugh out of him.

Soon enough, Buck had Tommy's legs on his shoulders and his cock was slowly, slowly, so fucking slowly, entering Tommy.

They stared into each others eyes, Tommy slack-jawed with tiny, breathy grunts escaping him every time Buck inched closer.

After what felt like an eternity, Buck bottomed out. He stilled, breathing heavily. “I gotta. Just. I need a second.”

“S'okay.” Tommy reached out and grabbed for Buck's hands, which were currently gripping Tommy's thighs. “S'okay,” he repeated.

A few seconds later, Buck began to move.

Slowly at first, letting Tommy get used to the feeling again. Hell, letting him get used to the feeling again.

“Ev- ah- Evan?”

“Yeah?”

“I- ah- I. I need-”

“What? What do- do you need?”

“Oh shit!" Tommy yelled as Buck snapped his hips forward. "Fuck me, Evan!”

That was all Buck needed to hear. He pushed himself up slightly, to get a better position, and began moving faster, faster, faster, harder, harder, harder. Each thrust pulled a new sound out of Tommy. Low, guttural groans.

The sound of their skin slapping together, the feeling of the sweat covering their bodies, the heat between them, the desperation over all they thought they'd lost.

It was too much.

“Evan, I- I'm gonna come.” He'd never been able to come untouched before. Always needed a hand on his cock to get there. Not this time though. He came with a sound so loud, Buck was sure the neighbors at the other end of the street could hear.

Tommy's legs dropped off of Buck's shoulders, but he quickly wrapped them around his back to make sure he didn't go anywhere.

“Tommy,” Buck gasped, each movement now with far less rhythm. “Tommy, i- is this real?”

Tommy pulled Buck closer, his fingernails digging into Buck's back. He moaned as Buck drove in deeper. “It's- I'm real,” he managed to breathe out. “I'm here, Evan.”

Buck groaned loudly, mouth pressed close to Tommy's ear, coming deep inside him. After a couple lighter, gentler thrusts, Buck stopped. He practically dropped all his body weight on top of Tommy. Tommy kept his legs wrapped tightly around him. Neither could seem to let the other go just yet.

Buck hid his head into Tommy's neck. “I missed you so much,” he whimpered out, both men trying to catch their breath. Tommy could feel the wetness of Buck's tears on his neck. “God, I- I missed you.”

Tommy brought his hands to Buck's head, carding his fingers through his hair. “I missed you every damn second of every damn day,” he replied.

After they cleaned up, Buck curled back into Tommy, intertwining their bodies at every point he could manage. Tommy wrapped Buck into his arms, and Buck laid his head on Tommy's chest. They laid in silence for a while, allowing themselves to feel and be felt for the first time in so long.

Buck was the first to break the silence, letting the words fall out like a secret admission. “John came to the house the day after you went missing. They... They said your car had been in an accident. That you, um, that it had caught on fire w- with you inside.”

Tommy's body stiffened underneath him. “Baby, if... if I'd known-”

“I know,” Buck assured him. He ran his hand up and down over Tommy's chest until he relaxed again. “I know it wasn't you.”

“I'm gonna ask John if he still has my letters,” Tommy said.

“You really wrote me letters?” Buck asked, stealing a glance up at Tommy.

“Mhm. I'm sure they all thought I was an absolute idiot, especially seeing as it was all a lie, but yeah, every week.”

Buck pressed a kiss to Tommy's pec before lying back down. “I hope they exist somewhere. I'd love to read them.”

“They were really fucking depressing. Turns out I don't handle being without you very well.”

“Oh, you should've seen me.” Buck traced circle patterns along Tommy's chest. “This was the first month I started trying. Trying to get back out and do things with people... I'm glad I don't have to try anymore.”

“That's probably something we should talk about, especially with our jobs.” He snuggled further under the covers, wrapping Buck even tighter in his arms. “Not tonight though.”

“No, not tonight,” Buck agreed.

They still had a lot to talk about. A lot of things that had to be sorted. Questions that needed answers. Issues that would need to be resolved.

But, for tonight, the only thing they needed was each other.

Each other, and the first good night's sleep for them both since the day Tommy disappeared.

That night, once sleep took over, Buck dreamt.

[anjelicawrites]

Do you remember when you wrote about reader fantasising about her and osferth being king and queens and taking Aemond as there war trophy? Could we get a oneshot on that??? Not like as an au but as them actually roleplaying tho

I'm so sorry this came out this late! I hope the fic makes up for the long wait!!!

NSFW and 18 + only please.

Warnings: three people acting out a dubious consent fantasy. Everyone is happy in this scenario but, if dubious consent is not your thing, please skip this one! Oral (m receiving), balls worship, handjob, collar and leash usage, captive scenario where sex is used to trap the person in a dubious consent situation.

Your husband shall arrive soon with his newest gift from the latest city his army has conquered; he's told you to prepare yourself, that this is something you've wanted for such a long time, what you deserve after your injury in battle. To tell the truth you have no idea what he's prepared for you, the excitement sits at the pit of your stomach, heavy and warm against the bodice you're wearing.

You've styled your hair and used the sweetest fragrance you own, you've put a light dusting of makeup on your face and now you're pacing the length of the tent, waiting anxiously: you hate that you can't fight by his side, protecting him from his enemies, your injuries far too serious to accompany him anywhere near the battlefield that's not your shared tent.

You'd recognize his footsteps anywhere, you sit on the edge of the cot, hands under your thigh to still their trembling.

"My sweet beloved."

Before he can say anything else, you jump into Osferth's open arms, your legs finding their rightful place around his trim hips. Deaf to his words you cover his face in kisses like am hyperactive dog, until he manages to grab your chin one handed to stop you.

"Don't you want to receive your gift?"

His voice is deep, with an undercurrent of lust that ignites your own desire, your eyes falling only now on he leash he keeps wound around his hand.

He doesn't even wait for your response, he tugs at the leather and the most beautiful man you've ever seen steps inside the tent.

He's naked, wearing only a leather collar around his long neck, a light dusting of platinum hairs adorns his chest, abdomen and pubes, his nipples darker pink and already erect. His cock is magnificent, even flaccid as it is under your gaze, his stones heavy, the skin, you imagine, is as soft as velvet. You let your eyes wander on the wall of muscles this man is, not a ounce of fat on his lithe body, a killing machine now under your power. Only when you meet his mismatched gaze you realize the importance of the gift your husband bestowed upon you.

"Is it...?"

Osferth doesn't let you finish your question, with a jerk on the collar he forces your gift to stand closer to you

"He is, the prince Aemond Targaryen."

You squeal in happiness, jumping up and down while clapping your hands like a maniac.

You've heard tales of his beauty and marring, you've never thought Osferth would fulfill the desire to have him as your own, you once told him.

Through this whole conversation he stays as still as a statue, and silent. If he's scared or embarrassed, you can't tell.

"Has he lost his tongue?" You ask, padding closer to him. "No. He's just stubborn." "Oh, I like that."

You stand close to him, your index following the hard path of muscles on his tummy and chest. His skin is so warm, warmer than Osferth's, his body hairs soft under your finger; you know he's reacting to your proximity thanks to the blossoming of goosebumps wherever your touch lands.

"He's all mine, isn't he?" You ask your husband. "To play with when I am away." He smiles, darkly, and you know you're not going to be the only one enjoying this beautiful specimen.

You're not paying enough attention and Aemond grabs your wandering hand in a painful grip, before Osferth can do anything you stop him and stare into the lonely lilac eye boring into yours.

Under the cold mask you can see so many emotions: hate, disgust, rage, and the flame of something you can't name, yet. There is contempt in his eye, and something else you're not sure he's aware of, but you are.

You know you are beautiful, you're well aware of the power your body holds over men and women. You can see his eye darting to your breasts almost spilling over the tight neckline of your corset: he hates you, if he weren't held captive he would try to kill you, yet he can't help appreciating the spectacle of your curves, and you know it, even if he doesn't.

"Let's make a deal, you and I." You say leisurely, as if his hold isn't grinding your bones. "Let me worship your body like it deserves. If you don't make a sound, you're free to go, but if you spill the smallest whine, you're mine to keep and play with."

You can hear Osferth's intake of breath and elect to ignore it. Aemond's eye is as cold as ice as he stares at you, weighting his options with a soft humming you can barely hear; in your heart you want this beautiful specimen of a man to submit to you and let you do depraved things to him, until you both break down.

"Agreed."

His voice is ice in your ears, so cold you only want to hear him beg and whine under your caresses: you deserve it, he deserves it, your beloved husband does as well.

"Osferth, let him lie on the bed, tummy up." You order. "I'm not letting go of the leash." At that Aemond simply sneers, almost choking when Osferth pulls on the leather again. "And if you try something stupid, you're dead." "He will not." You interject, free hand grabbing Osferth's. "He'll have no brain left to do anything as soon as I am done with him." "You wish, woman."

Someone else would feel put out by Aemond's contempt, you're simply excited by the prospect of breaking his controlled exterior.

Calmly you invade his personal space, making sure your clothed breasts push against the hard planes of his chest and your lips are at level with his.

"Go lie on the bed and show me how tough you are."

You have to hide the grimace of pain when he lets go of your wrist, which feels numb now: you're going to wear his marks tomorrow, the same way he's gonna wear yours.

With precise movements, Aemond lies flat on the bed, his long legs spread, soft cock laying on one muscular thigh; he stares at you, ignoring Osferth who is laying horizontally where the pillows are to keep an eye on him, his pupil expanding against his will when you remove your small clothes and he can see the hairs there. On purpose you don't remove your corset, he hasn't yet gained the privilege to look at your naked breasts, yet.

Slowly, telegraphing your movements, you kneel between his legs, noticing how his cock is stirring to life untouched: he's making it so easy for you!

He's so tense, the strong muscles of his ankles jump when lay your hands, simply caressing the prominent bones there, before slowly following up the long lines of his muscles. You can feel the trapped energy his body holds, the anxiety for what's to come that tenses his muscles into strings ready to snap at any given moment, yet you continue your gentle ministration, trying to help him relax. His cock seems to appreciate your efforts, slowly hardening and oh! He's a grower, not that his cock wasn't impressive to begin with. Your eyes dart to his face, which is still set in that stony expression he wore the moment he set foot in your tent, what he feels betrayed by the fire in his eye.

His thighs jump when your hands approach the delicious junction with his hips, his translucent hairs so soft under your palms, you'd caress him for hours, but there's his half hard cock to look after, and his heavy balls: you don't have the whole night.

You stretch one hand and Osferth already knows what to do, his tongue licks your palm and you can see the dark smile on his face: he's been at your mercy for hours, begging and crying for you, there's no way this haughty prince will beat you at this game.

Gently you cup Aemond's half hard cock, feeling the weight and the steel under the soft velvet of his skin. With a loose, slow fist, you caress him into full hardness, paying close attention to his head, red and weepy already; under you, he bites down his lip and grabs the bedding with a desperate grip: it has been so long since...

His hips jump off the bed when the tip of your devious tongue licks his base playfully, before following the vein under his erection; you're taking your time, tasting him until all you can feel is him, masculine and heady, letting the loose 'O' of your lips envelope his cock head.

Your mouth is a furnace, he has to stop himself from whining as soon as you start taking him in, moaning at his girth, his hips trying to follow your movements when one hand grabs what you can't swallow; your touch now is stronger, angling his cock to your leisure, your mouth trailing kisses up and down his shaft, teasing him with kitten licks that have his hips jump under your face, his teeth mauling his lower lip to keep silent.

The bedding rips as soon as you start mouthing his heavy balls as you jack his cock, slowly, with a tight fist, tongue following the shape of his sacks. Aemond can feel the tears spilling from his eyes, it's so hard to keep quiet when you're devouring him, sucking on his heavy stones, moaning against his body and Gods your hand! So soft and hard at the same time, torturing him so slowly, teasingly, he can feel your touch all over his body!

The more his silence lasts, the more ravenous your hunger for him becomes, the more desperate your lips on his body kiss and mouth at his soft skin as he trembles and squirms under your ministration, his control unraveling with every passing second. You're so warm against him, the vibrations of your moans travel through his body like lightning, his cock and balls hurt with every pass yet he can't get enough of you.

A scream is tore out of him when you deepthroat him and push your thumb against his stones to separate them, index finger massaging his prostate from the outside.

Whines cascade from his lips now and broken pleas for mercy when you tighten your throat around his shaft to massage him mercilessly: you're velvet around him, you burn like fire, his abused nerves tortured by you sing and scream all over his body. Desperate Aemond tries to stop his orgasm, the band in his belly so tight it hurts to breathe, broken pants and whines all he can manage as he feels the tide growing and growing, taking his sanity away, his long body squirming under you, back arching painfully, until he comes inside of you, and you suck him, ravenous, hungry for his taste.

Aemond's body lays on the bed, chest raising and falling fast, his eye unfocused on the ceiling; he whines when you hover over him to kiss him, his seed on your tongue like ambrosia, your tongue wicked against his. He is so tired now, he just wants to sleep in your arms.

"Dōna jorrāelagon, sweet love." He whines and you immediately understand that playtime is over. "I'm here, I'm here."

You hold his bigger body tight as Osferth brackets him from behind.

"Are you all right?" He asks, concerned.

You and Osferth can see how hard it is for him to switch from High Valyrian and give him time to get his gears in motion.

"So tired." He whispers. "Take this off?"

As fast as you can, you remove your corset to let him push his face against your naked breasts.

"Is it good tired or bad tired?" You can't help but ask.

Aemond hums against you, breathing your scent in.

"Good tired."

You can feel relief wash over you. You were afraid of hurting him when he proposed to act out this little fantasy of yours, you were scared of his demons, and yours, coming out and ruin everything.

"May we continue this, later?" He asks, voice muffled by your breasts. "Anything you want." Osferth answers from behind him. "You deserve a taste of your prize, as well."

Aemond can't see Osferth's eyes cross at the thought, he's asleep between your bodies, in his dreams, he's already started to play again.

OG!Poly taglist : @fan-goddess, @notyour-valentine, @aegonx, @darylandbethfanforever9 @20thcentwriter @peachysunrize

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose

[dilftaroooo]

₊✩‧₊◜ ── SUKUNA MEETING YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME

★ tags: aged up characters + sukuna is still in yuji’s body + fem!reader + suggestive content + university au + implied smut + sukuna calls u a "broad" + and he sends u d3ath thr3ats + then he wants u :D + hints of true form!sukuna + reader is a sorcerer + and pretty daring.

Just a random thought but I feel like the first time Sukuna meets you would be sooo interesting:

You are an outlaw–a label the Higher-ups deemed you as (to which you agree because it makes you sound cooler). Getting you to follow through with missions is damn near impossible when you're seldom there at the university but you're everywhere else; parties, bars, get-togethers with childhood friends, at that restaurant everyone's been talking about. Everywhere but there.

There are times when you do make your appearance. Although rarely, you can't just completely drop your presence. As much as you want to Gojo forbids you from doing so. Not because he likes being strict with you but because he hates getting an earful from the Higher-ups. You have curses to fight, people to save, and your level as a First-Grade Sorceress is what circles you back to that hell hole. They need you.

But it's depressing, you will say. I mean, how could it not be when all that you're doing is fighting deformed curses with haunting moans and shrilling screams as you exorcise them one by one while getting soaked in blood? That doesn't even sound good written on paper.

You deal with it, though. What can you do? Not much. All you can do is complete (some of) your missions and spend time with friends as an outlet.

That is until you heard about the new student or vessel–Itadori Yuji.

'Fascination' is an understatement when you hear about the new freshmen walking straight through the doors of Jujutsu University. Oh, you're familiar with the story: A simpleton, an ancient demon's finger, a snack? Call it the 'fool of the century'.

Of course, you went back to see the boy, are you kidding? He's the talk of the town. This is the most engaged you've ever been since your first year here.

Upon first glance, you already had him in your grasp; his cheeks were warm with your palms as you squished the pliable fat and your eyes were big when laying on his doe-like ones.

"No fucking way," You whisper incredulously. "You're actually the dude who ate Sukuna's finger. And alive too! Are you insane or are you insane?" A laugh of disbelief leaves you and all the poor vessel can do is blush in obvious embarrassment. He guesses he's the former and the latter.

You're a bold one. Everyone can agree with that. Even the fresh blood who just arrived at the school can say that. To confirm that the rumors were true you gaze deeply into Yuji's eyes as if to see Sukuna sitting lavishly on his throne through his host's pupils, attempting to find the curse yourself.

"So where is the guy? Is he hiding or something? I don't see 'em-" Sukuna is...intrigued, to say the least. Does this broad have no shame? Don't you know what he is–know what he's done? You speak of him as if he's an animal from a childhood fable. Though your brain has gone to mush you still had a confidence that these weak humans lack (save from Gojo). You're daring, he'd give you that.

Before Yuji can remove your hands from his sore cheeks, it appears Sukuna already beat him to it by materializing a mouth at the side of his face and biting your thumb with tough fangs. You yelp with a 'shit!' in the midst of it. Now your thumb is bruised with a subtle teeth mark, faintly traced with blood (and nearly ruining your freshly coated polish).

But your worrisome state would be put aside when hearing a discomforting squelch come Yuji's way as a crimson eye emerges from the cut on his cheek. It adjusts to the lighting of the environment, glaring at everybody in the room before stopping on you–your dumbfounded face.

"How dare you speak of me so lowly like I'm one of you pathetic humans? Would you like for me to be the first one to behead you once I'm in control of this body?" His voice boomed at you and you know you would've pissed yourself if the infamous curse didn't look like a cyclops on some twenty-year-old's face.

Not wanting to start too much trouble, you repelled your snarky comment. Putting your left leg behind you, you slightly bend your right knee and clasp your hands over the fabric of your imaginary gown to give a gentle bow–since you are but a lowly peasant.

"Apologies, your Highness. May my body and mind rot for speaking so poorly of you. I hope you find it within your heart to forgive me of my ignorance and free me from my unbearable idiocracy!"

Ok, maybe that was a bit snarky.

The faces of the people in the room were written with 'shock' on them, and so was Sukuna's in his own domain.

From there, things escalate. Sukuna's infatuation for your character starts to increase whenever you're around, and whenever you're not. Your bold stupidity, your witty remarks, your unfazed nature–it was all starting to grow on him like mold on bathroom tiles. On top of that, his corruption starts to show whenever he dwells on how much of an attractive woman you are.

You have a bangable body with plump breasts and a bouncy ass–a trait he's not accustomed to from this society but isn't against. Your curves are in the right places and you take good care of yourself. Maintaining the warm fragrance of vanilla to seep out your pores whenever you embrace Yuji. He can't help but taste you when you do and he'll never forget the cute squeal you released from glossy lips upon feeling his wet tongue glide vertically on your neck.

"(Name)?! What's wrong?"

"Ugh, Sukuna, you pervert!" A mischievous sneer forms on miniature lips as the aforementioned demon glares knowingly at you.

"Have this brat lend me control over this body and I'll show you more than just a lick to the neck, doll." You upgraded from 'broad' to 'doll' in just a matter of weeks. It was a rapid transition (not that you're complaining, at least you're on his good side). You feel like it was last week when he threatened your life by saying he'd rip your limbs from your body and gorge on your flesh before using your bones as toothpicks (maybe because it was last week).

You plague his mind. In a way one would say to their lover in those sappy romance stories people read. Some people would call what Sukuna feels as such.

But Sukuna doesn't love you. That isn't his forte. He desires you–craves you, as well as any unhealthy forms of want:

Wants to have your tongue follow the path of the inky marks on his skin before kissing him deeply, wants to feel the burning heat flow from you as he latches a hand on swollen breasts, wants to hear those moans riddled with lust once he impales you with one of his throbbing members-

His mind swirls with infinite scenarios but for now, he will wait. Wait until the brat gives him power. And once he does, he'll know the first person he'll go looking for.

[hanbinics]

bloom — m.s.

pairing ⟶ matthew sturniolo x !femreader

genre ⟶ angst, pining, unrequited feelings.

word count ⟶ 3.8k

Matt can practically feel the vibrations of the music pulsing through his veins, his temples. It's like he's inside whatever stereo is blasting a few doors down, the noise obnoxious despite him being in the usual serenity of his small apartment. Oftentimes he regrets choosing this area as his home for the next four years while he finishes school, but the close proximity to his classes and the rent were both something he couldn't rationally pass up on—not as a struggling college student anyway.

Tuning himself out to the rest of the world is kind of a talent of his anyway, making it easy for him to focus his gaze back on the text of the book he holds in his large hands, immersing himself yet again in a different world that only fiction can offer. One long index finger is creasing the corner of the page, ready to move onto the next, when a few small, quick raps at his door once again brings him back to reality.

He hesitates in getting up from the couch at first, but not for long. Only a second or two must pass before he's standing, crossing the living room in two long strides and reaching out for the handle.

Somehow, before opening the door, he knows it's you. He thinks it's probably because not many other people come to visit him; he doesn't have many people to call a friend outside of Chris and Nick. Still, though, he seems to get this feeling every time it's you. It's like he can feel when you're around, like your presence affects his being, and he can only hope it doesn't show the way his brothers always tease him for.

Even though the brunette knows it's you on the other side, he still isn't expecting the sight that greets him upon opening the door. Pretty eyes that have easily become his favorite color are shiny with unshed tears threatening to spill over the brim, long lashes wet and sticking together in some places. The apples of your cheeks match the color of the tip of your nose, both a bright pink from the bite of the unforgiving winter. You've always been shorter than him in terms of size, but everything about you feels so small in the moment as he takes in the way you wrap your arms around yourself almost as if you're attempting to hold everything together that way.

"I'm sorry," are the first words that come out of your mouth, breathy and broken, with more tears following afterward.

He doesn't know why you apologize, hates that you're made to feel like you have to. He says nothing in response, but he wears that look he always does when this happens—lips pursed, blue eyes soft at the corners and sympathetic.

Matt opens the door a bit wider for you—a silent invitation for you to come inside—and you do. You always do. There's a pattern in the way you make your way toward his well-loved sofa, a routine as he watches you take the small blanket off the back and wrap it around your shoulders instead. His apartment is warmer than it is outside, but he thinks it's more for comfort than anything.

As he makes his way to the kitchen and grabs two mugs from his cupboard, he's all too aware of the small sniffles coming from the living room. It's not exactly comforting to listen to you cry as he warms up tea on the stove, but he can't say he's not used to this exact scenario. It's been happening for so long that while he hates it every single time, it's almost become something to rely on. He would never turn you away—can't turn you away. As many times as someone breaks you, he can't imagine not putting you back together again.

"Ethan texted about an hour ago," you finally say once Matt joins you on the sofa, one mug being placed carefully into your hands. "Classes and football are just too much for him right now. He thinks a break would be good for us."

He doesn't miss the way your voice cracks at the end, light eyes catching the way the tips of your fingers begin to turn white from clutching your mug too tight. He wants to reach out and uncurl them, soothe gently over the skin, but he doesn't. His own fingers just flex gently against ceramic as he takes in the reason for your chaotic arrival tonight.

Truthfully, he isn't surprised in the slightest. A few weeks prior, he can remember you worrying to him about a girl Ethan had been seen with at a party you weren't able to go to. You'd decided to stay behind to study for midterm finals with Matt instead. How ironic that he's breaking up with you now.

While he voices none of this, Matt can't help but think about how many times the two of you have gone through this. He's opened up his door for you more times than he can count, sitting on this same sofa with some sort of comforting placeholder to occupy the time and your feelings. He can't fathom why you put up with any of it.

"Who are the roses for?"

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, noticing your now less watery eyes focused on the flowers resting on the kitchen table. He breaks his gaze from the little knit of your brows and shifts to the flowers instead, shaking his head slightly.

"Nobody," he answers, only slightly embarrassed. "Just using them for an arrangement."

He doesn't know why the tips of his ears feel warm. You know about the way he spends his free time, have seen the results of his hobby several times and liked them. Still, it's something he doesn't share often besides with you. You seem to be the exception to a lot of things for him.

"I thought lilacs were your favorite," you insist, brow creasing as the corners of his lips turn upwards simply because you remember.

"They're not in season."

For the first time all night, Matt is graced with the sight of your smile. It's not big and it doesn't quite reach your eyes the way he wishes it would, but it's something. It's enough as your head ends up on his shoulder, and you lose yourself in one of your favorite movies that he puts on. It means nothing more than what it is: him being a source of comfort for you.

Still, his heart is full.

Ethan is the longest that he's seen you take to recover. He's used to you giving second chances, trying to make it work again and again until you've so much more time on something that he knew was doomed from the beginning simply because they don't deserve you. They usually never do.

Taking time for yourself is a relief for the triplet. It's like he can breathe easier seeing you heal in ways that he thinks you've never allowed yourself to. He's well aware of the selfishness he harbors for relishing in the more time you find to spend with him now that you're out of a relationship, but he allows himself this just this once. He can't remember the last time he's had you all to himself in this way.

The thing is, there's always been someone else. You're stunning in a way that everyone can see when they look at you, but even more so because of what's inside, and Matt doesn't think a lot of the guys you've chosen have appreciated that the way he does and always has. And because your heart has always been occupied, he doesn't think he's ever had a real chance to show you so.

Maybe this time is different.

It's like he can feel it as he enters the familiar café sitting right in the middle of campus—hope. It buzzes gently in every corner of his body but never quite allows itself to pour into the rest of himself, to fill his entire body with it. He's gotten the jokes his whole life—"miserable Matt," "moody Matt." It's hard to explain that he's just careful, especially when it comes to how he feels.

The café is one of your favorite spots on campus. He's spent too many late nights here with you when he should have been studying or getting a good night's rest for classes the following morning. He can't explain why all that has paled in comparison to you spending your time with him—you needing him.

A smile sits on your pretty mouth when he spots you at a table near the back corner of the room. You're happy to see him and that makes something pleasant bloom inside of himself, filling his chest in a way that makes him let out a soft breath with the emotion having nowhere else to go.

“You’re smiley today. Presentation went okay?” he asks, remembering the way you’d been so anxious about your psychology class and its biggest project of the semester.

You look slightly surprised that he remembers, but you shouldn’t. He remembers all of it. If it’s important to you, it’s important to him.

“Yeah,” you finally breathe out, the smile only widening on your face. “It went great, actually. I got an A.”

Matt shakes his head, chuckling softly. "Don't give yourself enough credit," he reminds you, liking the way the apples of your cheeks flush the softest shade of pink. Whether it’s embarrassment or flattery, he isn’t sure, but he wishes he could keep the image forever.

He thinks he’s always been good at reading you. Spending so much time together has given him the opportunity to appreciate everything about you, big and small. So why he doesn’t catch the way your teeth worry at your lower lip from time to time or the way your foot nudges against his here and there from the nervous shake of your knee, he isn’t sure. In hindsight, he wishes he had noticed. Maybe it would have prepared him a little more.

“Matty,” you say, the nickname falling from your mouth so easily as your eyes follow his fingers currently occupied with retrieving another fry from his plate. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Frozen is how he feels. It’s like ice creeping through his chest, winding around his heart and through the rest of his body until blocks of it are just weighing him down. He thinks he didn’t hear you right, but he knows he has. You always have his full attention.

From the way you’re looking at him, he knows he’s taking too long to respond. Your bright eyes are dimming a little bit the longer you wait for his reaction, worry creasing your brow as he finally swallows the bite he’d been chewing. More than anything, he hates to see you upset, and so he flicks the switch.

“You have,” he echoes, unsure of what else to say—unable to say what he really feels.

“What's his name?”

Showing interest allows him to visibly see your body relax. Your shoulders release a tension you’ve been holding since delivering the news, maybe before this even, and Matt only feels the slightest bit better knowing that he’s a source of comfort to you still.

And so he listens to you. He listens to you explain that you’ve been seeing him for a while now, but casually, and in a way that you think is healthy so as not to get your heart broken. You’ve been taking things slow, and it’s been for the better as you think this time and this guy are different.

Matt has never said it out loud, but your relationships have always quietly reminded him of his favorite flower: lilacs. They’re beautiful in the beginning, and yet they have one of the shortest bloom times. He thinks you’re beautiful, thinks you deserve someone who only nourishes you in your bloom and after. He feels sympathetic in knowing that this guy, whoever he is, will only yet again disappear after your bloom, but he doesn’t say so. Instead, he’ll support you. He’ll stay on the side lines and he’ll be there to nourish you again, to give you the care you need. But for now, he just smiles, and listens.

Anything to make you happy.

Both of you are busy.

It’s what he tells himself every time he dares to think about the lack of time you’ve spent together in the last few months. You stay in touch, texting and Facetime proving to be extremely useful, but it doesn’t make up for seeing you in person. He wants to be in the same room as you, wants to feel your presence and the warmth of your smile and your eyes whenever you laugh. He tells himself conflicting schedules are at play.

And when you do make time for him, all his anger dissipates. He can’t find it in himself to be upset with the loss of time together because you’re making an effort and really that’s all he wants. At the end of the day, you’re still his friend above all.

Christmas lights are a tradition. He’s been worrying about it this year, thinking maybe you’ve got too much going on to tag along in seeing them with him. But you don’t disappoint and Matt is thrilled even if he does his best to hide it as you walk along the lit-up path winding through the public park.

“God, it’s beautiful,” you breathe out, hands shoved deep into the pockets of your coat as you take in the decorations surrounding the two of you.

“Yeah, it is.” His eyes are glued to you, but he nods, looking away when you meet his gaze with a small smile and a confused gleam to your eye.

There are other people walking through the park, but mostly everyone keeps their distance. Small groups of friends admire the scenery, couples with fingers threaded together staying close and relishing in the other’s warmth. None of them are close enough that Matt feels like he can’t speak freely for which he’s grateful. This is his time with you.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you turn to the taller boy with a little laugh.

“I was almost afraid I wasn’t going to get to see the lights this year. Noah wasn’t able to take me,” you admit, and as much as it sends a pang through his chest, he's elated at your next words. “But I knew you would go with me. It’s our thing anyway,” you point out.

Our thing. The words echo in his head as the corners of his lips turn upward. It’s simple but it implies that he is reliable, someone that you can always count on. He is a constant for you and he wonders if you truly realize what that could mean for you.

“I wouldn’t miss this,” Matt says then with a shake of his head, shooting you a small smile while he flexes his gloved fingers in an attempt to keep warmth flowing through them.

“Even when we’re old?” Your tone is teasing, and it makes him laugh despite him being serious. “You’re going to push my wheelchair out here?” You join in on his laughter, the sound dancing in his ears despite his beanie partially covering them.

“Count on it.” He’s serious, still smiling up until your next words.

“Noah and I joked about bringing our kids here one day,” you laugh, shaking your head while the two of you stroll through the park. “I doubt we’ll even still be around here, but it’s nice to think about.”

Matt's brows knit together. “Kids?” he echoes incredulously. “Don't think that's gettin' a little ahead of yourself?” he breathes out a chuckle, but it’s shaky and something feels like it’s wrapped around his throat as he takes in the expression on your face, the two of you walking even slower somehow.

For a moment, everything around him seems very still. He can sense that something has shifted and as his blue eyes meet yours, it feels like your words are instead your pretty little fingers wrapping around his neck—choking him.

“Matt,” you say slowly, seriously, “Noah and I are getting serious. We’ve talked about our futures a lot and it’s... nice.”  

You can’t be serious.

“I know it’s different and I didn’t think it would ever turn into this either,”

Don’t say it.

“But I love him.”

Matt has always known the weight that words can hold to anyone. But when those four leave your mouth, he doesn’t expect the way his world shatters around him like cheap glass. It’s suffocating to listen to you, to take in the warmth in your eyes when you talk about him. He knows that warmth all too well because it’s the same that he feels when he’s with you, when he thinks about you, when you need him.

Seeing you experience that warmth for someone else is cruel.

Despite being lost in his own head, he can hear you saying his name. Concern is written all over your face, confusion gleaming in your eyes, and yet he can’t help the way he chokes out his next words.

"You're jokin', right?"

For a second, you don't know what to say. You're completely taken aback and it shows on your face as you tilt your head to one side in confusion, brows knit together. Your plush pink lips are parted, but nothing comes out in response, and Matt can feel this panic rising in his chest.

He squints down at you, his tone growing accusatory. "What about me?" he asks, his voice going up an octave.

Despite your initial shock, his question seems to snap you out of your daze. "What about you, Matt?"

You don't mean for it to send a pang through his chest, but it does, and while Matt is usually pretty good at disguising how he really feels, the blow of your words shows all over his face.

It's only then that the puzzle pieces seem to fall into place for both of you. At the same time that realization is dawning on you, Matt's face is crumpling with the same yet entirely different realization somehow. For him, it'd always been you. It had never crossed your mind that it could be him.

For a moment, it feels like time stops, the both of you learning something at the same time that changes everything about the relationship you've fostered all this time.

"Oh Matt.." His name comes out in a soft breath, and Matt can't stand the sympathetic look on your face.

He shakes his head, a pained expression on his face. "Don't do that," he says immediately, a muscle in his jaw flexing. "Don't pretend you didn't know."

He knows what you're going to say before you part your soft pink lips, so he continues. "I've loved you for the longest fucking time. I loved you before all those assholes came along, before you had even really experienced life," he breathes, a choked, humorless chuckle following his words.

"Before your parents divorced just before your birthday, before you were rejected from your dream school. Before you changed your major five different times, before you broke down almost every single night until you finally decided what you wanted to do with your life."

His heart is racing and there's a pounding in his ears, but he continues, "Before you went through countless rejections until you landed the internship you wanted. I loved you before all the bad shit and I’ve loved you after. After nobody stayed to see you bloom the way I have, because god, I knew you would," he huffs, feeling a stinging sensation in the corners of his eyes now.

He’s breathing heavy now, and he realizes there are tears brimming in your own eyes. His entire body feels numb from the cold, or maybe the adrenaline, but he’s never felt more relieved in this moment as he parts shaky lips to continue. He’s in dangerous territory now and everything he knows is crashing down around him—it's now or never.

"So please, please don't tell me again about how much you love him."

Matt can’t remember a time where he’s ever felt this nervous in his entire life. He’s thought about this day before, maybe more times than he’d like to admit, but not quite in the way that it’s happening now.

Surrounding him are friends and family. He knows many of them and he finds that he’s grateful they’re here to see this happen. He knows how much it means to you for the people you care about most to be here.

“Hey, you alright? Lookin' like you might throw up or somethin',” Chris whispers from beside him, chuckling softly. He’s always known his brother would be here for this.

He’d been hoping it wouldn’t show on his face, but apparently it has. He’s a nervous wreck and with every passing moment, he finds that, along with everyone else in the room, he’s waiting to see you.

“Yeah, 'm fine,” is what the dark-haired boy whispers back, shooting his triplet a small smile before he’s shifting his gaze back to the doors where you’re entering, the sound of a piano filling his ears.

Apparently he’s spoken too soon because the moment he sees you, he gets choked up. It’s never been a worry in his mind that you wouldn’t look beautiful. You’re wearing your dream dress at the wedding you’ve always wanted, ready to marry the man you love, and Matt couldn’t feel more lucky to be here, to experience this.

His heart is pounding in his chest as his long fingers reach up to fix his tie, more than anything just being something to do with his shaky hands as he watches you walk down the aisle. Your eyes are shining with unshed tears, happy tears, and the sight is nothing short of mesmerizing.

Upon getting closer, you reach out to him. His hand instinctively finds yours and the two of you share a soft squeeze.

And then you pass him.

He's thought about it a million times—if anything would be different had he actually ever told you how he felt, if it would be him waiting for you at the end of the aisle. Maybe he would know the feeling of having his breath taken away while watching his soon-to-be wife entering the room.

But he doesn’t.

He is not your husband and he is not your lover, but he is your constant. He is reliable, and he is your comfort. He is your best friend. And as he watches you pass him with your choice of flowers in hand, he smiles, because it is spring and the lilacs are in full bloom.

©hanbinics

ღ flower divider credit: @/k1ssyoursister ღ

[strawberriianime]

Your Love Is My Drug

✰ rockstar! choso x reader

✰ cw: 18+ content, descriptions of sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, fingering, creampies, lots of dirty talk, slight choking, choso smoking & with a dxk piercing !

You clutched your phone sighing looking at the concert tickets your best friend had shoved in your face. "My favorite band is coming and you have to come with me! I don't wanna go alone!" she exclaimed squeezing the tickets and jumping up and down. "Yeah, fine I'll come." you smiled slightly as she hugged you tightly. "It's Friday, at 8:00 pm we can meet up at the venue! I'll take both tickets with me, but I'll see you later bye!" she waved walking out your front door. You flopped down onto the sofa chair pulling your knees to your chest laying in complete silence nothing but the tick tick of the clock on the wall filling the room. Friday. The concert is in a couple of days, giving you 4 days to prepare. If it wasn't for your friend you definitely wouldn't go, but being the good person you are you would hate to disappoint her.

Friday

The day has finally come, instead of counting down days, you were counting down hours, minutes even seconds. Dragging the sheets from your body, considering you laid in bed all day wasting time and made your way to your shower stripping the clothing you had lounged around in. The warm water slid down your skin as you exfoliated and washed your body. You did your skin care as well before turning off the shower and wrapping a fluffy white towel around you. Drying and moisturizing your body, you begin putting on your outfit and your jewelry. After styling your hair you looked at the time 6:26, meaning you need to get a move on. Putting the last few belongings in your purse, you grabbed your keys locked your door, and made your way to the venue. Fortunately, it was close to your apartment so you could walk there. Upon arriving, you could see the large crowd of fans some wearing merchandise, some dressed as their favorite member but you were looking for your friend. Almost on cue, there was a tap on your shoulder causing you to look back at the unknown person. "I'm glad you made it! C'mon let's go check-in, we got really good seats!" she grabbed your hand dragging you through the crowd.

Just your luck, the seats were in the front row giving you an up-close view of the members. The stage was still empty as music was being played through the venue to warm up the crowd. "Ah! I can't wait to see Mahito he's my favorite!" your friend squealed as the lights began to dim, spotlights replacing the main lights. You twisted in your seat nervously as you heard the riff of a guitar watching as four people made their way on stage. The crowd began cheering loudly, almost louder than the music that was playing on stage. Smoke filled the venue as the lights flashed down on the members causing the fans to scream even louder than before. "I can't believe I'm seeing Mahito in person in real-time!" your friend exclaimed causing you to chuckle. Looking up at the stage, your eyes were met with the member who had his hair pulled up into two spikey pigtails. You quickly looked away, shuffling In your seat once more. As the show went on, you prayed over and over again for it to end and finally the lights came on. "Aw I can't believe it's over already, I love The Cursed Spirits is it bad I want to put tickets to their next show too?" your friend sighed as she followed you out of the venue. "Well goodnight, get home safe okay." you smiled at her softly hugging her. Just as you turn around you feel your phone buzz.

*new message from +1 (867) 584-5421*

___? *read*

You sighed ignoring the message, feeling your phone buzz once again.

*new message from +1 (867) 584-5421*

I know you read my message. Just talk to me...please? *read*

*new message from +1 (867) 584-5421*

Please, I will send a security guard down to escort you just wait somewhere. I just want to talk to you, please.

Fine. I'm standing out front. *send*

You sighed once more standing with your arms crossed and waiting until you were approached by a bald man with a goatee wearing a pair of black glasses. "Are you _____?" you nodded your head in response as he led you to a black sprinter that was parked in a dark alleyway. Getting in, you were the only passenger to your luck. He slammed the door before hopping in the driver seat and pulling off to who knows where. After about 15 minutes, the van stopped and the door opened. Looking around you were at a fancy hotel, probably the fanciest one in the city. You followed the bald man to the elevator, waiting as the music filled the silence between you two. The door opened as he led you to a room in the back of the hotel. He disappeared leaving you to knock slowly at the door.

After about a minute you hear soft clicks before the door opens allowing you to walk into the spacious room.

"It's been a while" that familiar voice rang causing you to turn your head. You let out a deep breath before responding, "What do you want?" you stared up at him. You'd be lying if you were to say he didn't get even more attractive or perhaps it's the fact that it's been too long since you last seen him. "I want to work on us," he stated. "Work on us? There is no us? We broke up six months ago." you huffed eyebrows furrowing slightly. You watched him make his to the chair, pulling out a cigarette in the process before lighting it ablaze. "That's what I want to work on. The fact that there is no us," he said blowing out the smoke and leaning into the chair. "Choso, we broke up," you replied. "And we can get back together." he took another drag of the cigarette. "I still love you. I know you still love me, if you didn't you would have gone back home and ignored me. I didn't force you to come here, I just asked nicely." he blew the smoke of the cigarette out. He wasn't lying, you did have feelings for him still. He can tell by the sudden contortion of your face that you were in deep thought.

He put the cigarette in the ashtray putting it out and made his way over to you. You felt his cool hands grab your face suddenly making you look up toward him. His soft lips made their way to your own as he began kissing you gently. Standing on your tippy toes you pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss missing the feeling of his cold lip ring on your warm lips. "Jump" he demanded as you followed his strong hands gripping onto your lower thighs. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip making you open your mouth slightly as this tongue slid against your own. You moaned into the kiss as he began walking over to the countertop, sitting you down gently hands now finding their way to the plump of your ass. Your hands fiddled with his shirt signaling him to remove it granting you access to his toned muscular chest. Breaking the kiss once more, you quickly removed your own top and fortunately, you hadn't been wearing a bra. He peppered kisses from your lips, down to your jaw to your collar bone finally stopping at your full breast. Taking his right hand he began tweaking your sensitive buds before replacing his hand with his warm tongue making you arch your back slightly. He sucked greedily at your nipple making sure to leave the bud satisfied before switching to your left. He sucked at your left bud, using his free hand to snake its way to your bottoms pushing down the material along with your panties. You felt a finger swipe at your slit and gather the juices that had quickly formed, "So wet already. Fuck I missed you so bad." His ring finger circled your entrance accompanied by his middle finger before he pushed both fingers in causing you to let out a series of moans. He sucked at your neck as he began moving his fingers in a "come here motion" "Fuck." He groaned the sound of your own arousal turning him on even more as each thrust of his fingers released a squelching pop noise. He could tell you were close to cumming as he pulled his fingers out making you let out a disapproving sigh. "Need you to cum on my dick baby, not on my fingers." He quickly shuffled out of his pants causing his hardened dick to spring free, precum leaking over the piercing. He rubbed his dick up and down your slit using your juices to coat his tip, the feeling of the cold metal brushing against your clit was just enough to almost make you cum on the spot. You arched your back slightly, letting out a high-pitched moan as you felt him push himself into your heat. "Fuck I missed this pussy so bad" His words alone were more than enough to get your juices flowing. "Always nice and wet for me, shit have you always been this tight." he pushes into you creating a steady pace. You wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him in even deeper than before feeling his piercing nudge at your G-spot. "Ah fuck fuck fuck feel so fucking good I can't" You throw your head back as his hard rough stroked continues to make your legs grow weak. "Who's pussy is this huh?" he groans in your ear rough strokes choking you up. He wraps his hand around your throat, tightening it just enough to allow you to still breathe. "I-It's yours" You throw your head back feeling your release build up. "Pussy so wet fuck, I'm gonna cum. Are you still on the pill?" his thrust never slowed down going faster and rougher than before. You nodded your head. "Good I'm gonna fill you up with my cum, and down waste a single drop" he tightens the grip on your throat fucking into you roughly his thrust getting more sloppy. "Fuccck" With a final snap of his hips he feels you pulsate around him causing him to cum deep inside you. The room was silent as you both caught your breath, a comfortable silence. "So are we back together?"

[the-kr8tor]

Snake Eyes

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.6k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), TW death, CW blood and gore, CW violence, TW abuse mention, CW injury, CW guns, Cowboy AU, Wild west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 6 >>> CHAPTER 7

Hobie looks at you before he exits the train car, wind blowing in his face, the loud chugging of engine roaring in his ears— but the only thing he could think of was you, you who stands behind him quietly as if you weren't right behind him. He'd take your hand in his, grasp blindly from behind to hold you and make his heart feel at ease with the simple gesture. He'd take your hand in his if not for his hands occupied with instruments of death. He hates that he can't stand not seeing you.

He still feels that he doesn't deserve you, he still feels that he hasn't done anything to deserve his atonement. In his entire life he has faced the worst things, dodged a hundred bullets, shot a hundred more, endured the soil in his lungs and faced death itself— but this is nothing compared to those, because you weren't there to see it, you weren't there to experience it just like how he did. You weren't caught in the crossfire, until now.

“Hobie,” your voice cuts through the fog that envelopes the mountain side where the train tracks wrap around like a snake eating itself. Your hand lays on top of his own that tightens around the doorknob to the next car. The same calloused hands that carry the weight of all of his wrongdoings and death he has committed. And yet, you still hold on to his rough hands like light at the end of a dark tunnel. “You're trembling,” he flicks his eyes downwards, seeing his hand shake under your own. “We can do this.” You smile, brightening up his view.

“What if we just leave.” His mind speaks before he even lets the thought escape. You blink, sliding your palm over to his thundering pulse. Everything overwhelms him, how his lips felt upon yours, how the smoke clings to his clothes and how everything is loud in his ears akin to lightning hitting and splitting a tree. He feels like that tree. “Uncouple the caboose and take the horses out of ‘ere.” He already knows what you're about to say. Leaving means giving up on the innocent bystanders behind the door, but if it's between them and you? He'd choose you everytime.

“And leave them?” You point towards the car door with your head. “What about Clementine and her family? We can't leave all those people behind, Hobie.” Your eyes shine in the moonlight, and he nods.

“Alright,” Hobie's vision plays tricks on him, he sees blood and carnage all over you. Your once hopeful eyes now lifeless, staring back at him without the shine he's used to. His heart pounds in his chest, he can tell that you're terrified too. “Just stay close to me, yeah?”

You grip tighter on his hand, feeling how cold he is and none of the usual warmth you're used to. “I'll stay close, I promise I got your back.”

“The second I open the door you duck and find a table or a fuckin'—”

You cup his jaw gently, “we'll be fine, we'll get out of this and ride into the sunset with Bucky and Cherry.” You try to be positive for him.

Hobie inhales, letting your honeyed scent waft over him. “If we get separated, head towards our cabin. We'll meet there.”

“And then what?”

He nervously chuckles. “I've got no bloody clue, love.”

“Me neither.” You snort, laying your forehead on his bicep briefly. “You ready, Mister Larry Brown?”

That puts a smile on his face. With a twist of the doorknob, you're met with a handful of men wearing shiny gold pins on their chests. They're startled by the sudden sight of you, and Hobie takes their shock as an opportunity to fan his gun, palm on the hammer, trigger finger pressing, bullets flying and hitting its mark quickly. They couldn't even take out their guns. The sound of their bodies hitting the ground made you sigh in relief. You think it's awful of you.

“Good shooting, Hobs.” You pat his back, hand lingering on his coat. Maybe it's your own nerves that's making you say such things.

Hobie recognizes that this is how you cope. “Rate it?”

You crack a wobbly smile, gun heavy in your hand. “Eight point five.”

He makes a face, “not that bad—” The sound of a bottle rolling across the floor immediately has Hobie raising his gun. An old man you recognize as the conductor comes out of the bar, hands raised in surrender. You both now notice the passengers hiding under tables and behind the bar. They're all unharmed, except for a few bruises and scratches. “How many?” His gun is still comfortably in his hand aiming below just in case. He's not taking any chances.

The older man doesn't speak, only shaking his head. He might be afraid of you and Hobie, seeing how the man next to you just flattened five men without hesitation. You want to tell him that there's nothing to be afraid of, but you fear that he won't believe you.

“He doesn't know. Knowing our bounties— if I was them I'd bring the whole cavalry.” Hobie mumbles, thanking the man with a nod. He takes bullets from his belt, immediately reloading the ones that he used up, metal rains down on the carpet. With a click, he gestures for you to follow while he walks towards the other side of the car; stepping over dead bodies and leaving blood trails in his wake. There's determination behind his jade eyes, and anger swirling behind them like a dust storm rolling just across the field. “They brought out the whole bloody lot of them for us.”

“Guess we're special.” You crouch down to take a rifle from one of the dead men. It's weirdly looking, there's a hunting knife strapped above the muzzle, all tied together by a thick rope— a makeshift bayonet. You figure the former owner is a psychopath for adding a blade on his gun, it's not like the bullet wasn't enough but he still wants his pound of flesh. A part of you is glad that he no longer breathes. After taking the rifle, you then lift up his torso to grab his bandolier, putting it over your shoulders and wearing it like a sash. Taking inventory of the gun, checking if it has jammed, Hobie takes watch on the door, peeking from the sliver of opening from the ajar door.

“You good, love?”

“Yeah, I'm a better shot with a rifle.” You holster the gun Hobie gave you as your last resort.

He knits his brows. “I've never seen you hold a rifle back then. I taught you with a six shooter.”

Shrugging, you hold the rifle in place, the butt of it is rough against your shoulder, barrel cold on your palm. “I taught myself with a rifle.”

“Huntin’?”

You sigh, giving him a weak smile. “Sure. I didn't see Clem or her parents behind the bar.”

“They might be inside their cabin.” Hobie understands the worry behind your words. “We'll find them.”

You nod shakily, licking your dry lips. “We will, I know it.”

Hobie gives you a once over, he doesn't ask if you're alright or to tell you to stay behind because he knows the answers to both of those questions. “Okay, opening the door now.”

The wind rushes inside as he flings it open, rusty metal squeaking on the door hinges. Droplets of cool water hits your cheeks, knees aching a bit, cold breeze howling and nipping at your neck. Rain is coming.

You stalk behind Hobie, he enters the door, you follow. He shoots, you shoot the stragglers that can still hold their gun up. It's an elaborate dance of death.

Blood seeps into the floorboards and on the soles of your boots. Your eyes are alert, heartbeat raging in your ears as you don't falter in your aim, trigger finger always on the metal. You smell like gunpowder and steel, and there's crimson splashed across the men's once gilded badges.

“You still good?” Hobie asks in front of you, his footsteps are calculated and silent save for the soft clicking of his spurs. “Y/N,” he asks once again when you don't answer within a second.

“I'm okay, sorry, I was looking for them.” You scan the dining car. The tables have drops of red coating the white marble, plush chairs reeking of gore. It's devoid of any passengers, you're not sure if that's a good thing or a bad one.

Hobie is already positioned at the door, waiting for you. “Alright,” his mind keeps telling him that your luck will soon run out. That the element of surprise won't be on his side the next time he opens the door. He's never been this afraid since he was buried alive five years ago. You arrive at his side, he can finally breathe. “The next car is the kitchen. They might've heard us coming by now.”

You nod, you're terrified but not for your own safety but for Hobie's, and the passengers. You've made your peace that you might not make it out of this alive just like how you've done when you escaped that horrid place. “I'm ready.”

He looks at you for a second before sliding his hand over your cheek, calloused hands that almost feel soft atop your skin. His thumb rubs along your cheekbones, silently wishing for an outcome where you both live to see the sunrise. “Don’t die on me.”

You lean to his touch, moving your head slightly to kiss his rough palm. He stops breathing for a second. “I won't die on you if you don't die on me.”

With a soft smile and a peck to your forehead, he nods his promise. “I promise.” He opens the door, the drizzle has turned into a downpour, it soaks his clothes, sticking to his scarred skin, and cold water splashing over his hat and atop the warm barrel of his gun. He opens the door with a creak after crossing the small distance.

You're both met with a barrage of bullets, Hobie pushes you to the side, effectively hiding you behind a counter while he gets nicked by a bullet across his thigh as he jumps behind a metal box.

“Fuck!” He yells, taking off his bandana to wrap it around the wound. Crimson immediately drenches the cloth, turning the already dark bandana into a darker shade.

“Hobie!” You call for him above the sound of guns going off and bullets hitting where you stood. Your breath gets stuck in your throat when you see the identical gold ring wrapped around a piece of twine, the necklace sits pretty on his clavicle, shiny and well taken care of; A stark contrast to the jagged scar lined on his neck.

He gives you a thumbs up, unbeknownst to the mixture of emotions you're experiencing. He even winks at you while he groans in pain. Your eyes are full of longing, tears pricking at the corners. He points at the gunmen, counting down, waiting for them to use up all their ammo.

He puts a finger down, three. One by one, the guns click.

Two. You hear panicked yells behind the counter.

One. The bullets stop flying. They frantically reload, metal scraping against metal.

Hobie nods and quickly lifts himself off his cover, fanning his gun, he shoots them down while you do the same. You both hit your marks just as when the last of your ammo pings out— metal meets flesh in a firework of rubies and torn insides. The entire kitchen smells of iron and gunpowder, you hide behind the counter again to reload.

“Shit.” You whisper as you reload the rifle, it makes a ping sound when you take out the cartridge. Fingers sliding on the metal from how the rain water has slicked your palms. Your pulse beats to the tune of the thunder outside the train. Trees whizz by the windows, raindrops clinging to the fogged up glass outside. Just as you finally finish reloading, you see Hobie stand up and confidently walk forward with his gun raised, shooting until not a single one of them twitches. You watch him work in awe.

The door next to you suddenly opens, the unmistakable silver muzzle of a gun peeking from the door that hides the man from your view, strong hands aiming directly at Hobie who's reloading. Without hesitation, you shoot the door where you've calculated where the man's torso is supposed to be. Splintered wood flies all over you, the gunshot rings in your ears, and your face is covered in something warm.

Hobie watches as the man goes down, almost dead, choking on his own blood for you have shot at the stranger's trachea. He scrambles towards you who's covered in blood. Crouching down, he slowly moves the barrel of the rifle away from him to wipe your face clean. Your eyes are wide, staring at the body lying just a few feet away from you. The man still desperately breathes, hand uselessly cupping at his gaping wound, blood seeping through his fingers, teeth stained with crimson, and dark bloodshot eyes looking at you. You watch as the light in his eyes goes out, and you realize, you're the last thing he ever saw.

Your ears stop ringing and you can finally hear Hobie call your name. “Love, just breathe.”

“I'm okay,” you say, blood smudged all over your soft skin. “I'm okay.” You utter it like you're trying to convince yourself. He hates that he has made you into this, a killer.

“Can you stand up?” His hand clasp your own, fingers kneading at your shaking palms.

“Yeah, I-I think so.” You stand up on wobbly legs, inhaling deeply, a mistake on your end, for the air has gone stale with iron and boiling water from the abandoned pot.

Hobie's palm is on your chest, encouraging you to breathe. In and out, in and out, you almost gagged. “You're doin' great, just keep doin' that—” A shot rings out, two men enters the train car, one is huge in form, brandishing a pistol. The smaller one has a shotgun with a crazed look in his eyes. The bullet misses your head by mere inches, leaving a gash across the shell of your ear. “Fuckin' wankers!” Hobie exclaims, the hand on your shoulder makes you sit back down, the other shooting at the men. Your blood soaked your once pristine collar. You don't feel the pain.

“Not her, you moron!” The bigger one shoves the other, Hobie is emptying his bullets, gunpowder permeating the stale air, mixing in with the iron and heat.

Everything else was a blur to you as you look at the pool of blood that's slowly making its way towards you. You hear your heartbeat quickening, the metal of the rifle in your hand stings, leaving indents on your palms. With a pained yell from Hobie, you wake up from your trance, just as you stand up, you're met face to face with the man who wields a shotgun. He yells, the butt of his gun aimed at your head. But you're faster, so you jab his stomach with your rifle, digging the bayonet into his flesh, blood seeps out of his white shirt from the knife. Despite his size, you've got the advantage, you've got everything to lose if you fail, so you fight, and survive, and will fight again because you promised Hobie.

Your attacker's gun falls from his grasp, staggering on his own two feet. He yelps as you push and push him into a table as you launch yourself quickly. The edge of the table stabs the small of his back, groaning, adrenaline rushing through you, you don't hesitate in pulling the trigger.

“No, wait—!” There's a gaping hole in his stomach, his entrails lay bare to you. That warm liquid is on your face again, it coats your white shirt, on your shoes as it drips down, and now your hands.

Hobie hears the gunshot, he looks over his shoulder to check, a mistake for he gets a punch to the gut. Hobie desperately fights the other assailant, dodging fists as they've both run out of ammo without time to reload. The man is visibly bigger than him, taller, and with more muscle. He's outmatched but he's not going to give up. Hobie has his fists shielding him, standing just a few feet away from you, if the man wanted to get to you, he had to get through him first. while the lawman does the same, both of them spit out blood that stains their teeth. The stranger smirks, eyes flicking over to you who just shot his partner. Before he could rush towards you, Hobie leaps up effortlessly, hands gripping a metal pipe above, swinging his legs towards the man to kick him. Steel toed boots hit his chest, but it's no use, even with the momentum, the kick barely fazed him.

“Fuck—” Hobie groans as the man grabs his middle, pouncing on him, trying to take him down but Hobie's grip on the metal is too strong. His legs wrap around his opponent’s neck, squeezing in hopes that it’ll choke him. Hobie’s side stings while the attacker takes a few hits in, using him as a punching bag. He squeezes tighter, trying to twist and snap his neck. The man gasps for breath but his fists still connect to his side.

You take out your gun from the man's dead body, rushing towards them, rifle aimed at Hobie's attacker. You pull the trigger but it clicks and nothing happens. It's jammed, your mind quickly decides for you, with the adrenaline rushing, mind addled, you pick up the boiling pot with your bare hands. It's hot, but only for a moment. You fling the searing water towards the man's back, Hobie lets go before the water hits him, lifting himself on the pipe, legs raised up and perpendicular to his body as he dodges the boiling water. Steam and water flies, landing directly at the lawman's face just as he turns towards you. He screams in pain, his shirt now burning into his skin, melting into his flesh. Hobie drops down, the pot clangs as you let it go.

The screaming gets into your ears, worming its way into your ear canals, so you do what you should've done to the man behind the door while he suffered— you put him out of his misery. Quick drawing the six shooter Hobie gave you, you shoot, hitting your mark as his body falls loudly on the floorboards.

Hobie heaves, and you stare at the carnage before you, carnage you've had your hand in. You suddenly feel rough hands on your own, he helps holster your gun back before checking the damage on your palms. The pot burned your skin, it's red and angry, lines in the shape of the handle have permanently etched into your flesh, right next to the scar Hobie helped stitch years ago. Weirdly enough, you can't feel the blinding pain.

“‘m sorry,” he says, reluctantly letting your hands go as he picks up his fallen gun off the corpse-ridden floor.

“What for?” Your voice cracks, barely recognizing it as your own.

“For everythin’, we shouldn't have gotten on this train in the first place, or any train.” Hobie sees how dull your eyes have become, the iris of your eyes have become restless, always moving, always checking for threats. You've become like him in the span of a few minutes.

You try to smile, it ends up looking like you're in pain. “Apology accepted, make it up to me by surviving the night—!” There's a lasso around your neck, you see Hobie's face contort into horror as you get pushed down on the floor, noose getting tighter as you gasp for air. Before he could shoot the one on the other end of the lasso, you're quickly dragged across the floor, body flailing like a ragdoll as the one dragging you around laughs.

“No! Y/N!” Hobie's thundering footsteps follow behind, shooting someone behind you. But you're still getting dragged around through train car to train car, rain battering your body whenever the person hauls you outside, the rough floor stings against your back. “Let her go!”

Black dots dance around your vision as your fingers try to get between the harsh rope and your neck. Your other hand reaches desperately at your gun holster. Fingers brush along the cool metal, ceilings whizzing above you. You're running out of air, and Hobie's running out of ammo. His panic and the rattle of the train makes his aim terrible. The man continues to lug and pull you as if you're a prized doe that they just hunted down.

The rope is choking you, leaving you with a mark around your neck and a skinned back from the floorboards that slash at your coat.

Gasping, you lift your leg up, finally reaching for the gun, quickly pushing down the hammer and leaning your head back to aim. The man dragging you about keeps moving from side to side, you shoot a couple of times but to no avail, panic sets in as your arm gets weaker, breath getting shallow, and your eyesight blurring. Your gun falls from your grasp, left behind as darkness envelops you.

Bang!

A body thuds, Hobie runs after you, the barrel of his gun still smoking as you lay limp on the carpeted floor. He gets to your side, immediately untying the noose around your sore neck. Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air, laying on your side as you try to take in breaths. You blink away the black dots and you're met with Clementine’s familiar eyes. Her mother holds her to her chest, hands covering her daughter's ears. While her father shields them both even with blood coating his forehead. They're terrified, you wonder if they're terrified of you.

Hobie pats your back for you to breathe better. “‘m sorry, fuck, Y/N,” he gingerly holds your face. “Look at me,” there's unshed tears in your eyes. He was almost too late, if his aim was just a few inches off— he doesn't want to think about it. Your eyes are glued to Clementine’s terror filled expression. “Oi, love, can you look at me please?”

You turn your head, neck aching and tender, you're met with soft viridescent eyes that smile when you finally stare back. He briefly turns his attention to the family cowering in their cabin before turning towards you again. “I have a plan,” he says while you hold his wrists, unable to speak. Hobie's heart aches at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. “We need to get to the engine, there's more comin', I can hear them.” Hobie struggles to breathe, so you slide your palm on his chest just like he did to you, wordlessly telling him to breathe. Nodding, he inhales deeply. “Uncouple the engine from the rest of the train. That's the only way we can get out of ‘ere.”

“What about them?” You manage to let out, you don't recognize your own voice. He knows what you mean.

“They're after us, not them. The most they can do is question them.” He tries to convince you even though he's not convinced himself.

You gesture towards Clem's father. “He's bleeding from his fucking head, Hobie—!”

“I'm alright,” Jesse chimes in, his wife nods along but she doesn't let go of Clem or his hand. “I got this because everyone started running away from the gunshots. I got trampled but I'm fine now.” His eyes pleads with you. “He's right, they won't touch us.”

“What if they do?” Tears cling to your lashes.

“There's more of us than them.” You don't expect him to chuckle, the pistol in his hand glimmers under the yellow light of the cabin. “Trust me, we're more trouble for them. I'm from the south, these kinds of things happen on the regular over there.” The scar on his brow tells you of his struggle, telling you that he can protect his family. “Worry about yourself.”

Hobie nods, thanking him silently while he still holds on to you.

“Get out while you can, sweetheart.” Florence addresses you. “I don't know what you two did but we don't care about them, just you. And you've got a good heart, so go.”

“Thank you,” you say, voice breaking. “Get to the caboose, there's more people there.”

They take your advice, standing up while Florence carries Clementine. Jesse goes in front of them, gun at the ready. Hobie helps you stand up and you watch as Clem waves goodbye to you.

“Bye, Clementine.” You whisper, a jar of honey rolls around the cabin and you frown, mind telling you that you might've traumatized the poor kid.

“They'll be alright.” Hobie brushes his knuckles against the back of your hand, careful of any injuries you're not telling him. “Let's go, love,” as he leads you outside of the cabin car, you spot a few more passengers running towards the back of the car.

You swallow thickly, neck stinging, burn marks left at your palms and neck. Your back throbs, but all the pain doesn't compare to the torture back home. Your great aunt throws despicable words at you, as if her jabbing you with stationary wasn't enough, with your so-called uncle always watching every punishment from the corner like a peeping tom. And him, he'd do worse than those two combined, perhaps he learned how to hurt you from them. And perhaps he has mastered the torture.

Suddenly, you're back at home in your pretty dress, pristine and looking like the perfect lady. But your velvet sleeves and satin skirts hide the tiny pin pricks and drying blood, the expensive jewelry outshines the apocalyptic look in your eyes. The ring around your ring finger keeps it all hidden— they call you lucky, they say that you glow under the chandeliers like the diamonds around your neck, yet, they pretend to be blind from how you stare outside the mansion like a doe caught in a bear’s trap longing to be free.

The rain hitting your face wakes you back to the present. Hobie's arm is around your middle, hovering just above your wounded back. With the cold raining down on you briefly, entering the next car, a group of men greet you on the other side.

“Finally made it.” The man in the middle says, he has a gilded star on his chest, twirled mustache on his face, and crow's feet around his green eyes. There's a hand cannon on his hand, the metal is all worn out and scuffed. “The name's Lee, I'm the sheriff around these parts.” He says, stubbing his cigarette atop a plush seat. You're in a regular train car that's lined with seats for the ones who're not in for the long haul. The rain outside keeps battering the windows, their guns are aimed at Hobie. “There’s a bounty on your head, Mister Brown. And I heard someone's lookin’ for you, pretty lady. You two got us running without our heads out there while you were on the dodge. But we got you now, eh?”

Hobie gets shoved from behind, and you both stumble forward. A couple of Lee's men appear, pushing you both closer to the sheriff with the muzzle of their guns. Hobie holds on tighter to you, and your gaze pierces the man in front of you.

You're surrounded. And Hobie feels like he's being buried again.

His eyes flick towards the windows, behind the water droplets lie a familiar view of a large lake— he knows this place, he knows where they're heading, all he needs to do is stall for time.

“You're lawmen, not bounty hunters.” Hobie taunts, “government not paying enough, sheriff?”

The man in front of you chuckles, lighting up a new cigarette with a flourish. You feel the acrid smoke enter your lungs. “A man's gotta eat, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know. Just like dumb and dumber who tried to ambush us by the river.” Hobie has a smug look, acting nonchalant, but his grip on you says otherwise.

You're worried when the lawman drops his confident stance. “What are you doing?” You whisper to Hobie, eyes never leaving your enemies.

“When I tell you to run, you run.” He whispers back, glancing briefly at you.

You don't protest, trusting him completely. You don't say, ‘alright,’ or ‘okay’ for confirmation that you'll follow whatever he's planning. Instead, you say the three words you've wanted to say to him, the real him, not the one from your dreams or hazy illusions— Hobie, your Hobie who used to greet you with a boyish smile under the oak tree. “I love you.”

His brave façade falls, you smile sweetly at him as you lean your head against his clavicle. Hobie makes an oath right there and then that he'll say it back when he deserves to say it to you, when he gets you to safety. For now, he holds onto you like how he desperately grasps onto the memory of you while you were thousands of miles away from him.

“That's a sweet sight,” the sheriff drawls, “looks like she knows that it's all over. But I can see that you don't.” He exhales smoke, it fills the cabin with sickly air. “You're off to the widow, mister Brown.”

Hobie smirks, you can see the cogs in his mind turn. “I think I remember you now, old man.”

Lee licks his teeth, the men at his command adjust their hold on their guns. “You remember now haven't you?” His spurs click against the floor when he moves closer, you notice he walks with a slight limp that he tries hard to not be noticeable. Hobie flicks his eyes outside.

“Yeah,” Hobie laughs to your surprise, “how's your leg? Or better yet, how's your son?”

“You motherfucker! Hobble your fucking lip!” Lee finally raises his pistol, cigarette ash falling from his lips that curls around the stick. It makes Hobie more amused. “Bet you don't even remember his fucking name.” He says through gritted teeth.

Hobie tilts his head, clicking his tongue, pretending to think. “Was it Jerry? Or Ronald? I don't remember, he didn't leave much of a mark on me.”

“I should shoot you right now.”

“Why don't you?” He raises a brow. A tall willow outside whizzes past. Hobie counts down in his head.

“Because the pay is higher if I bring you alive.” The man's green eyes stare at you. You feel like you're being scrutinized on stage. “Besides, I don't want to shoot you in front of your woman.” He gives you a toothy smile. “Why don't you come over here, sweetheart, I won't do you any harm. I'm just going to bring you home.”

You shake your head, trying to act brave now that the adrenaline has sapped out all of your energy. “That's worse than hurting me, sheriff.”

“Now why is that? Your family misses you.”

“I'd rather you shoot me with him than bring me back home.” Hobie listens in, guilt gnawing at his insides.

Sheriff Lee makes a face, befuddled by your words. “You’d rather die?”

“Without hesitation.”

He nods, looking like he's weighing his choices. “Now that's the love of a woman right there. I've only seen it a couple of times, one is from my own wife.” More ashes fall from his cigarette, the stick getting smaller and smaller with every exhale. Hobie uses it as a countdown. It's near, he can feel it from the rumble on the tracks.

Hobie scoffs, “‘m surprised that your wife stuck around with your ugly mug.” His fingers subtly unclasp the whip hanging on his belt.

Lee runs out of patience, clicking the hammer of his pistol, “this is for my son.” The last of the ashes from the cigarette falls, light completely going out from the stick.

Your eyes widens, body already moving to shield Hobie. In an instant, He yells, “Run!” Darkness engulfs the entire train car, gunshots let out muzzle flashes of light as the lawmen shoot with panic in their trigger fingers. You run forward, bodying Lee in the process. You hear the crack of a whip as you shield your head with your arms.

You land on the metal door, vision still dark while you blindly feel for the doorknob. Panicking, a familiar form presses behind you, immediately finding the doorknob and opening it for you. Stepping outside in a rush, you almost fall off the train if not for your reflexes making you hold onto the railing beside you.

With a creak of the door closing, gunshots muffling, you spot Hobie's silhouette amidst the darkness, you can't decipher what he's doing with the door. Noticing the rain has stopped, you look above, but in a second, rain hits your form like a waterfall, and the moon shines brightly. You were in a tunnel, and Hobie knew that the dark would give you an escape.

“Holy shit!” Like a thunderbolt, you whirl around to face Hobie to either kiss him or hug him. But you're met with his pained face, hand clutching his side as blood seeps out from his fingers. “No, no, no!” You press hard on his wound, he yelps, but he's grinning at you. “This isn't funny!”

He smiles wider, you think he has lost it. “It isn't, I just can't believe you told me you love me in there.”

You'd smack his shoulder if not for his injury. “You're an idiot, Hobie Brown,” he laughs, you smile, “a brilliant idiot.”

“I am quite brilliant.” You nod, tears mixing in with rain water, kissing his cheeks, you hear a muffled, “I can't believe that worked.” From him, so you pepper more kisses on his wet cheeks. “‘m lovin’ this, but we need to uncouple the cars. And we have an audience.”

You look over your shoulder, hands still on his wound. Two men look at you from the smokestack, one pauses from shoveling coal into the engine while the train driver blinks rapidly in shock.

“We're commandeering this train,” Hobie straightens up, jumping over the gap to get to the controls. Both men don't even protest, just silently raising their hands in mock surrender. He makes them stand in the corner that's further away from the controls, they obey. “C’mon, love.” He beckons you over, fingers opening and closing.

You hold out your hand just as when there's loud banging on the other side of the doors. Jumping the gap, you stand chest to chest with Hobie. There's hope yet for you two to safely escape.

The door doesn't budge from how Hobie locked it using his whip to tie the doorknob around the railing on the side. But it won't hold on forever.

The scenery has changed from the mountainside to a straight muddy plain. The tracks seem to go on forever, and you can see the next station just a few meters away.

“Alright,” He looks at the confusing controls. “Which button to unclasp the cars?” He thanks his adrenaline for keeping him on his feet.

“No button,” the one with the official looking uniform says. “You have to do it manually.” He glances at the floor where there's metal connecting the engine to the carriages.

You immediately get on your knees, wet hands sliding on the rusted metal. Desperately pulling on the large nail that connects both winches. You keep trying to pull it off. Your hands slide off so you try again. And again. Your hands smell of rust. And again. But it's all in vain, the hold is too strong.

“Shit—!” Hobie tries to help by crouching down but his wound denies him. Wincing, he lays his head against the wall, eyes flicking between you and the door that's barely holding on. He weakly raises his gun, seeing the chambers now devoid of any ammo. “Fucker.” He tries to find more bullets from his bandolier and pockets, but he finds none.

You look at the two men wordlessly watching you fail. The rain and harsh wind still smacks your face. “Please, those men on the other side will kill us if you don't help.”

The driver shrugs and joins you on the floor, but instead of pulling onto the nail, he leans further down, sliding his hand underneath the winch and turning a wheel counter clockwise.

“You turn, not pull.” He says to you, continuing to loosen the connection.

“Now you tell me.”

Hobie tells the other person to keep shoveling in coal so when the engine is free, the four of you would be way ahead of the car. The engine runs hotter with every coal shoved inside, you suddenly feel warm, clothes slowly drying from the intense heat.

You can see the metal loosening, you'd exhale a relieved breath but the door bursts open. Sheriff Lee comes out covered in blood with a pistol. One eye closed and bleeding. Behind him, you can see the bodies of his men littered around the car, all shot to bits, the seats covered in their blood. Only Lee and a couple of them survived who now stood beside him while clutching their gunshot wounds.

“You made me shoot my own men!” He seethes, without a beat, he shoots but his aim isn't straight. The bullet pierces the man helping you. His headless body falls limp and falls out of the train and under the tracks, leaving crimson trails behind.

You don't have time to scream when his warm blood splashes across your face and sleeves. Hobie grabs you to the side, a small sliver of metal wall shielding you both. His hand shields your head, arms encasing you. The train passes by the last station in a blur.

The other train worker does the same, crouching down on the other side, shielded by the same small wall. Hobie sees the man's pistol hidden in the waistband of his denim jeans.

“Oi!” He yells above the gunshots, “throw me your gun!”

“What?! No!”

“You're not even bloody using it!”

“You're an asshole!”

“Just give us the fucking gun!” You yell back in a quick tone.

With a shake of the stranger's head, he reluctantly tosses you the gun. Lee sees the opportunity and shoots the guy's hand. He screams as blood gushes out, the gun clangs on the floor just an arm away from you.

The poor man's screams get louder, and suddenly he stands up, pushing himself off the floor and jumping out of the moving train and into the muddled swampy ground. You don't know if he survived the jump, or if the gators got to him first.

Hobie whispers a shocked, “what the fuck,” in your ears. He groans as his wound gets rattled by the tracks. “The gun,” before he could even get a toe outside, a bullet nicks the steel point of his boots. Taking his foot back, he curses and punches the wall behind him in frustration.

You stare at the weapon that's slowly moving downwards and into the space between the cars and engine. It's going to fall off if you don't act fast.

“They need to reload.”

“What?” Hobie asks tiredly. He hears the guns click, indicating that they've run out, “wait— Y/N, no!”

Without missing a beat, you reach towards the gun swiftly before they finish reloading. Hobie yanks you back the second you get the gun in your hand. A bullet pierces the floor where you were just a second ago.

“Get the fuck out of there!” Lee taunts.

You clutch the gun on your chest. Checking the chamber, you only see two bullets in it. Hobie leans over to see it. “Fuck!” You both say simultaneously.

“We've got two shots at this, Y/N.” Hobie looks at you, his green eyes gets darker even though dawn is just about arriving. His hand slides around the gun and your hand. “Let me do it.”

You shake your head, briefly laying your forehead on his. “No, you've done more than enough.”

He furrows his brows, “let me do it, love, I owe you that much.” It's not because he doesn't trust you and your aim, he knows better than that. He just doesn't want you to be in their crosshairs again.

The gunshots seize, without a reply, you leave his side, sliding on the floor to shoot. You find no one on the other side, just a brief last look at Lee's retreating back. Hobie pulls you back in, “they left.” You say, confused. Standing up, you help Hobie up, eyes widening at the front of the train.

“Cowards.” He says with a victorious smile. He expects you to smile back but you only have a look of terror. “What is it?” He follows your line of sight, and sees the lack of tracks looming closer and closer. “Fuckin' hell!” Hands immediately trying to pull down the brakes, he ignores the pain on his side as he keeps trying to push it down with his weight. “Y/N!” Looking over his shoulder, he sees you crouched down, uncoupling the car from the engine. Within a second, you free the train cars, leaving it in the dust as it slowly comes to a stop. He thinks of Bucky and Cherry, and the innocent passengers.

You turn to face him with glossy eyes, the rain has subsided, grey clouds parting away for sunlight. Hobie shakes his head, refusing to give up as the train chugs on, smoke billowing out. Pushing the brakes down, he feels your hands wrap around his own.

“Together.” You say, smiling softly just like how you did amidst the crowd back home.

He nods, your hands are uncharacteristically cold against his own. “Together.”

With one final push from the two of you, railway workers run away from the tracks they're working on as they see you continue to move fast. They yell and wave their hands to get your attention, but your eyes are only on Hobie's face. Everything happens slowly, the brakes screech, sparks flying as metal hits steel, but the momentum is too fast, and the engine bursts from the speed and heat. You slam against the controls with a sickening thud. Arms embrace you as the train crashes and you're once again in darkness.

—

Hobie's head throbs, he feels numb, fingers tingling, and his field of vision is blurry. Blobs of colours fly past him, screams muffled in his ears as if he's caught under the tides. He tries to blink the fuzziness away, after a few weak tries, he sees your bloodied soot-covered face, and feels your hands on his cheeks.; desperately holding on to him.

“Hobie!” You cry. He wants to comfort you and tell you everything will be alright. “Someone help us please!”

His perception darkens, inky spots appearing just as he sees a metal beast creak and groan while it burns in the fiery destruction. There's hundreds of fiber-like metal bursting out from within, like an angel losing its wings, fallen from grace. That's the last thing he sees before he succumbs to the pain.

—

“Try to keep him awake!” An unfamiliar person says.

Hobie feels like there's water inside his head, sloshing around in his pain-addled brain. He forces his heavy eyelids to open, Bucky's face greets him. I'm dead, he thinks, then your hands wrap around his own, squeezing a dozen times. “I'm in heaven then,” he tries to speak but it only comes out as a jumbled mess of words.

“Stay awake, Hobie!” You yell, “please! Hurry up, mister! He's starting to bleed from his ears!”

“Love—” he says before blacking out again.

—

His nose picks up something musty in the air, it's humid, crickets chirping outside, and he's sweating a lot. His head still aches, a pounding pain right behind his eyes. Hand reaching upwards, he feels bandages wrapped around his head, groaning in pain at the simple gesture. He smacks his lips, realizing that his throat is dry. Time has passed, he surmises based on how his wounds are starting to itch, indicating that it has been at least a few days.

He opens his eyes wide, panic settles in his stomach, remembering your terrified bloody face looming above him. Sitting up from the lumpy bed, his sight darkens for a second from how fast he sat up. Whispering your name, he coughs dryly, arm perching him up. He calls again, a bit louder this time, but he doesn't hear a pip anywhere except for the rushing water outside and the insects.

“Love?” He heaves, rolling to the side. Moving his heavy head up, he sees your coat draped over a lone armchair, but still no you. “Y/N!” Yelling with all his might even though his head bangs against his skull. After a few seconds, his ears pick up your muffled voice that seems to be coming below him. He calls once again with a soft smile on his lips, hands fisting the sheets when a wave of pain crashes down on him.

Ears ringing from the blinding pain, he's sure he hears numerous unfamiliar voices downstairs. He blinks the warbling vision away, then his heart picks up pace from the sound of a loud thud. Eyeing the plain door, your piercing scream brings his greatest fear come to life.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @thatsapillowcase

[overnowsfcb]

DUST.

summary. sometimes love can't solve everything in this world.

pairing. pablo gavi x fem!reader

warnings. angst, cheating, brief mention of sexual content so mdni.

word count. 1,383

author's note. hiii!!! everyone i came back. this was requested but i accidentally deleted it, so i don't know if it's completely what you wanted, sorry :(

He was acting strange. Pablo was one of those people who hated to fail, whether it was himself, his beloved team, his family, and within all that twisted and distorted pyramid in search of perfection, there you were, at the top of the pyramid with a golden crown and a throne decorated with your favorite flowers.

The love of his life. The person he dreamed of marrying and, well, what an average person might dream of being with such an angelic and magnetic woman like you. Having children, pets, a very large house with a yard and blah, blah, blah. The typical 'and they lived happily ever after'.

Although fairy tales are just that, right? Fables created for children, where everything is possible, and dreaming costs just the snap of your fingers or closing your eyes and letting yourself go.

But when adulthood hits you hard, and you enter the cruel and wicked world where stories are ripped from your skin and that special shell you had for dreaming, almost like taking the shell off a turtle, you end up defenseless. Looking at the world painted with a layer of grey staining every single thing.

And you knew that Pablo was not an average person and never would be in his life, thanks to his career and the scrutiny on him, which led him to make quick and sometimes very wrong decisions.

The pressure from the media, and his inner circle, and meeting each of the expectations placed upon him was too difficult.

Not to mention the moment he suffered his injury. God, you prayed and cried by his side, embracing him and assuring him that everything would be okay, that he would be better thanks to his resilience and passion.

But it wasn't enough to fill that immense void that consumed him and deteriorated his organs like a parasite as he watched his teammates and friends on the field while he, with the little luck he had run with, had to sit and watch from the stands.

He needed something at that time, something he believed would solve his problems. Just once, he told himself, and y/n doesn't even have to find out.

He had been very cautious about it, arranging the time and place with one of the many models filling his Instagram messages (something he always deleted because he was never interested in anyone but you), and he met with her in a luxurious and reserved hotel.

A blonde girl, green eyes. Tight red dress and plump lips. Just out of a magazine.

But when he came in a condom and not in your sweet, angelic little pussy, his beloved pussy, he felt all that adrenaline drop like a brick. What the hell are you doing, Pablo?

She didn't even compare to you, damn it, her moans didn't even sound like music to his ears, her body didn't feel right against his. But it was already too late for regrets.

It was too late to look into your eyes and not feel like he had failed you in the worst possible way, the person he loved the most.

That the mistake made was by his own hand, planned and contemplated beforehand. It almost sounds like a murder, Your Honor, I plead guilty, but that's how you felt when you began to notice the distance he was putting between the two of you.

How the comfortable silences turned uncomfortable, making your stomach twist forcefully, inducing nausea as you overthought about your recent encounters. Where did I go wrong to reach this point?

Your justification was that perhaps he was going through a complicated emotional period and didn't want to bother you. Yeah, it must be that.

“Baby.” You called him with the typical nickname, not changing your sweet tone of voice or your smile. “Hey, you're kinda lost.” You said, releasing a small awkward laugh, placing your hand on his knee and stroking it with your thumb, a silent prayer. C'mon, baby, come back to me.

“Hm?” He responded with his eyebrows slightly raised as he turned his gaze towards where you were sitting beside him on the couch, with your cat in your lap. “Sorry, didn't catch you.”

“Oh,” You stroke the fluffy fur of your cat, trying to keep your voice from faltering. “It doesn't matter.” You said after a few seconds of pondering whether to keep paddling against the tide. Was it really worth spending your energy?

“Tell me, y/n, I said sorry.” His voice sounded impatient and frustrated, another stab to your heart.

“Sorry doesn't fix the way you've been treating me lately, Pablo.” You finally decide to address the elephant in the room, staring at him intently dropping the bomb between both of you.

Your cat meowed, sensing the change in the atmosphere.

He got up from the couch, starting to pace around, you had simply caught him off guard.

“Please, tell me if I did something wrong and I didn't notice.” You pleaded, your cat meowed again, this time getting off your lap onto the floor. You felt your chest tightening again, you didn't even have the warmth of your furball anymore, you felt like you were about to drown.

"No," he suddenly said, kneeling in front of you and wrapping your hands around his. "I… I failed you, y/n."

Please, Lord, tell me it isn't what I'm thinking right now. It echoed in your head, your eyelids shut tightly, trying to wake up from such a nightmare, digging your nails into his palms.

"I'm so sorry, mi amor. It was... It meant nothing to me." He tried to excuse himself, getting closer to you. He couldn't keep his eyes off your face, he needed to look at you to know you wouldn't slip away from him. "Say something, please…”

“I— I don't even know what to say,” you stutter, trying to process what had just been said as your eyes brimmed with tears you sought to contain. You withdrew your trembling, sweat-soaked hands from theirs, ironically, when all that remained of the two of you were ashes of your hearts. “I thought we didn't keep secrets.”

“I know, babe. Please… I want you to trust me that you're my whole life, the one I love, I can't be without you,” he begged, gripping the side of your thighs lightly. You looked into his eyes, seeking honesty, and genuinely, you managed to find it.

But that didn't alleviate all your doubts that were pounding your mind like a hammer.

“Then why did you do it?” The million-dollar question, you waited for his answer allowing him to continue touching you, because although it might not be the right thing to do, deep down in your heart you believed you could forgive him if you heard the answer you wanted to hear.

“It has a stupid reason behind it, I wanted something new, adrenaline. I thought that would make me feel… some thrill. But all I felt after I did it was… shame.” He explained.

“Look at me, Pablo.” You cupped his cheeks, making him look into your eyes, trying to find that sparkle. “Promise me you didn’t feel nothing, promise me you didn’t even think about doing it again.”

He nodded, resting his hands on yours. “I promise, my love.” His voice trembled, you saw how his eyes were filled up with tears he tried to contain. “I just want you.”

You look away and nod. “I believe you...” You didn't wanna look at him when saying your next words, knowing you'll shatter his heart. But he shattered yours first, right? We're even, I guess. “But I need time.”

“I… I understand.” He said, the room spinning around you both.

“I'll call you when I feel better, okay?” You gave him a tight-lipped smile, caressing the back of his hand, memorizing his soft skin as you watched him nod.

He grabbed your hands again and pushed them against his lips, pressing them with his eyes closed. “I love you, princess.” He stood up and you looked up at him from the couch. "Don't ever forget that."

A part of you wanted to hug him and tell him to stay. But you knew you needed to heal to forgive such a thing, so you just nodded. “Take care.” You whispered.

He disappeared from your sight, you closed your eyes and leaned against the couch. The sound of the door closing made the tears go down your cheeks, leaving patterns of your shattered heart evident on your face.

Guess the fairytale came to dust, and the butterflies died with a blow of wind.

[falling-star-cygnus]

ONE BADASS BILLY COMING RIGHT UP >W< -> these two know what's up

thank you all so much for your kind words, by the by!! words can't express how thankful i am that you enjoy my content <3 Masterlist

bare with me, this is about to be a dumpster fire of attempted trick shots and angsty dialogue. LET'S GOOO 🙌

It all happened in an instant.

The shot was lined up, non-lethal upon the Boss's request, and he swore he could see target lines painted in gold-

And the roof caved in on him.

"You've gotten soft, Kid."

It was one of the special occasions that the Hares' weren't making a deal for a Hollow Raid- one with some kinda mechanic enthusiast this time. Why were all the mechanics they met so hellbent on prying into his wiring anyway?

"And I don't just mean your mettle."

It made it hard to find a consistent repairman.

Billy didn't know what his bullet ended up hitting- when the shot went wide- didn't remember much of anything after his head was kathunked by a heavy piece of tin, but he knew it lodged in something fleshy. And he really hoped it wasn't one of his girls.

"Guess some things never change though, huh?"

....really hoped it wasn't one of his girls.

Squirreling his way out of this batch of rubble was thankfully... relatively... painless. At the very least the android kept the majority of his oil inside this time. If Billy ignored the piece of rebar in his abdomen then it wasn't there, and it clatters to the ground forgotten all the same anyway.

A note sits innocuously among the tattered remains of the warehouse, a single geometric flower etched in the corner. It's expensive paper, cardstock the android thinks, with roughly the same feel as a hit card.

Fitting. ________________________________________ Heey, Kid. Enjoy your power nap? By the time you read this, we'll be long gone. So don't bother searching too hard, kay? ;) Or blowing a fuse, the Hare broads are safe. For now, anyway, the tiny one- white hair?- put up one hell of a fight when you went down. Jeez. Anyway, I think you know how these things work. Deliver 5000D to XXXX and you'll get your girls back If you're quick about it, we won't even declaw your kitty ---------------------------+_____________|\_/^

Billy crumples the note before even reaching the sign off. He doesn't care. The location he was given was one he was familiar with, a little hole in the wall where foot traffic was light.

A hole in the wall where everyone had some sort of involvement with each other. No one would be there by accident.

No one would leave by accident either.

The android can feel a familiar buzzing under his plating. A buzz that tinted his video sensors with target signs rather than faces and made his trigger happy fingers even twitchier.

It was terrifyingly familiar.

He wanted to sink into it, let himself fall into old habits until the Boss ordered him out of it. And why shouldn't he, anyway? His family was gone. The people who let him be Billy instead of Billy Kid, the feared enforcer, were gone.

"You've gotten soft, Kid."

War was not a place for soft metals, or gentle hands, or off-beat dances. Billy had gotten careless, allowed himself to become too lax in the clumsy love of people who didn't quite know how to be a family.

This was his fault.

Something bumps into his sneaker.

Billy just barely manages to keep himself from shooting it down, and it's only because the tiny thing's green body registers as familiar.

"Amillion?"

Nicole's little Bangboo, as quiet a thing it is, chitters at him- clutching at his ankle like a needy dog. Billy hates that it soothes the fire ant itch- that need to hurt- under his plating somewhat.

"Did you get yourself hurt?" the android questions as he crouches down.

"Ehn-na. Nah, Nah!"

...yeah, he doesn't know why he asked either. Amillion is a hardy sucker. For a Bangboo, at least.

"Na- ehn-na! Ehn!"

It sticks out it's plush little hand, waving it was such insistence that Billy feels compelled to take it between his fingers. The android keeps his grip gentle, despite-

Discomfort spikes in Billy's head as memories- familiar, warm, memories- are inputted directly into his video processors.

Braiding soft hair, powering off in the sun with the smallest Hares curled into jacket, dancing in cramped living rooms with the weight of socked feet on smooth metal.

His family chases away that burning rage that had threatened to drown him- a life ring in a sea of brownish red tar that drags him back to his body.

"Ehna..."

It takes a few more seconds, mostly because every wire in his body is clinging to the remnants of his girls' voices, but the android snaps back to the present.

Amillion pats his palm with a comforting chirrup.

...right.. Billy wasn't a mindless weapon anymore. He wasn't going to act like one. ->;<- Slinking into a rusty warehouse with a bright green Bangboo hooked onto his shoulder theoretically should've been harder than it was. Especially considering his own choice of bright red leather.

Or- as Nicole would say- his choice of R255 leather.

Heh.

Billy missed his boss.

The android descends on the group with a flurry of bullets, ignoring the screams that ring out as the metal shells find new homes in kneecaps, elbows, and feet. Immobilizing shots.

Not lethal ones.

Although Amillion might not have gotten that memo, considering it's little machine gun causes... quite a few lackeys to drop. But what Billy doesn't dwell on can't hurt him. His abdomen throbs.

It doesn't take long for the head honcho to come scurrying out of his hidey hole.

What do you know, flooding an anthill with blood works just as well as flooding it with water.

The android shoves his gun into the hollow of his jaw.

"Where are they."

"Hey, hey, hey-!" he tries to backpedal, hands raised up by his head, "We can talk about this, yeah? Calm down-"

Billy is freshly out of patience, and apparently- so is the Bangboo, because they pull the hammer back at the same time.

"They're not hurt! Just- oh, who am I kidding, you're not going to kill me." He's not, but Amillion might.

"You've gotten soft, Kid."

It's odd to hear it said again, that phrase that's been rattling around his memory banks. Maybe he has.

Maybe it's not such a bad thing if it means more warm memories to look back on. The android pulls the gun back-

"Wow," the man chuckles, low and mocking and borderline hysteric, "You really have! Showing me mer- hrk!?"

-and pistol whips him.

"Believe me," Billy starts, holstering The Girls to take the man by the back of the neck, "Putting a bullet between your teeth sounds pretty good right now."

The man gulps and if the android had a mouth he'd probably grin.

"Killing you would be mercy."

Compared to what my girls' are going to do to you after I make sure they're ok, Billy tacks on- in the privacy of his head. His fingers twitch on the back of the man's neck.

"If I find out you've hurt them..." "I haven't! I haven't, I swear, they're all ok!"

...and this was the man that called the android soft? He caved so quickly..

After everything is said in done, the man hadn't been lying. Nicole, Nekomata, and Anby are all ok- sans the slight irritation of rope burns and metal cuff chafing. [Anby had to be restrained more effectively]

The girls' let him fuss over them for all of a few minutes before returning the favor tenfold. Which he didn't think was fair- the android wasn't the one that got kidnapped!

"You have a hole in your abdomen!" Nicole nearly screeches, shaking him by his lapels but being careful not to dislodge Amillion from the hook on his shoulder, "Billy!"

"You were in danger!"

[eldritch-spouse]

Bro that whole fucking thing where Admin got stuck in a wall and fucked by the staff was POGGERS!!!!!

Can we get vice versa? As in TCE staff getting wall fucked??

TW: Noncon.

In reference to this post.

You know who loves this, don't you? Santi. It's not his first time "getting stuck" in a wall, and it won't be his last. He'll readily perk up upon being touched and you can probably hear him moaning and begging from the other side. Whether you choose to stuff his ass or suck him off, Santi's having a great time and he hopes someone shows up to fuck his face too. He wants you to call others, wants to be taken advantage of viciously.

Morell is dying. Like actually dying inside. The way he tenses as soon as you feather a hand over his ass, cursing obscenities through the wall, banging on it with his fists. Oh, there'll be trouble. You may get him to quiet down and hear him moan quietly if you only choose to touch his cock, but put even just a finger up his ass and this man will try to buck you off like a rabid bull. Make sure he cums from it so Morell is forced to admit anal isn't all that bad.

Gallon can't really get stuck in a wall. What could happen is that he'll take a small eternity to wedge himself out of a tight spot. In that span of time, he can easily angle his body to avoid penetration in certain spots, but he's still likely to get fondled in general and shudder about it.

Grimbly is also another one you should be careful with. Even if he looks small and helpless, Grimbly has sharp and fast legs, you'll get something punctured if he doesn't like where things are headed. Fortunately, so long as you're moderately gentle, Grimbly's happy to mewl and lean into what's being done to him, cock leaking between his clenched legs.

Patches is hard in very little time. He shudders and gasps at the first touch, though might very quickly turn to begging and rasped cries. Part of him hopes he's absolutely torn apart, that you'll crush his balls and slash his skin, carve little messages there. Of course, you should punish him for finishing when things barely get started too.

Nebul will despise this day for the rest of his unlife. Because lots of people want to put him in his place, most of all you probably. You'll be able to hear his threats and feel the wall rumble with the intensity of his voice, but he's helpless. The only way Nebul can resist is by keeping as quiet as possible. And he clings to that viciously.

Vinnel is deathly afraid that somehow, someway, someone might succeed in ripping his suit- Which is unlikely. People will hump and try to free his cock, but he won't let them, spending the whole time berating whoever touches him for being gross little things who would pathetically grind on him. It's the only line of defense he has while he desperately tries to keep his erection from showing too much.

Belo is panicking so hard. Everytime he's touched, he puffs up and booms threats at whoever's there. And honestly, you'd need a sturdy fucking wall to keep him in place. He squawks and tries to lean away from touches to his slit and cock, trembles when his ass is spread and hopelessly goes limp at some point, asking for forgiveness from Krulu when he starts to take pleasure from his own assault.

Fank-e can honestly just demolish most walls. But. He might not, for some reason or another, maybe to prevent anything from falling onto his visor. He can and will take most of whatever's done to him giggling, enjoying it even. Until someone figures out how to remove Fank-e's cock/robussy and runs off with it. Then he'll get mad.

Sybastian is another one who's panicking, mostly because he hates the sensation of feeling trapped. He's going to try to shift into different things you'll have difficulty fucking, but if you assure him it's just you and you're not going to do something wild, Sybastian will actually spread his legs so you can touch him better. Do get him the fuck out of here though.

There's absolutely no wall that can keep Krulu contained. And even if you could, are you ready to seal yourself into a fate worse than death?

[miffyisms]

⋆࿐໋˖𓍢ִִ໋ taylor swift - the tortured poets department (anthology) , ♡

various prompts from the selected media can be found below. it is important to read the rules of the receiving blog before sending any. feel free to change any pronouns to better suit your needs. the selected media can possibly be triggering to some, please be advised !

am i allowed to cry?

i don't cater to all these vipers dressed in empath's clothing.

nostalgia is a mind's trick.

i can hold my breath.

then we could all just laugh until i cry.

i'm seeing visions, am i bad?

it wasn't a fair fight or a clean kill.

just say when, i'd play again.

oh, was it punishment?

oh my god, you should see your faces.

blood's thick, but nothin' like a payroll.

now you know what it feels like.

you're in self-sabotage mode, throwing spikes down on the road.

this town is fake, but you're the real thing.

were you writing a book?

the devil that you know.

well, you took me to hell too.

six weeks of breathing clean air, i still miss the smoke.

go on, fuck me up.

you deserve prison, but you won't get time.

i touched you for only a fortnight.

honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

you say i abandoned the ship, but i was going down with it.

nothing makes me feel more alive.

who the fuck was that guy?

but when i count the scars, there's a moment of truth that there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

even if i die screaming, i hope you hear it.

no one's ever had me, not like you.

yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine.

i built a legacy that you can't undo.

fuck it if i can't have us.

i'm miserable!

i'm gonna get you back.

i'll tell you something about my good name, it's mine alone to disgrace.

so tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is?

my boy only breaks his favorite toys.

tell me all your secrets.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

what if your eyes looked up and met mine.

i swept in at the rescue.

now i'm down bad, crying at the gym.

i'm so afraid i sealed my fate.

i chose this cyclone with you.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february.

you were sleeping soundly when they dragged you from your bed.

it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden.

i can't pretend like i understand.

i'm just getting color back into my face.

i'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

i stopped cpr, after all, it's no use

it was unnecessary, should've let it stay buried.

we both did the best we could do underneath the same moon.

you shit-talked me under the table.

touch me while your bros play grand theft auto.

you said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me.

i'm combing through the braids of lies.

no way i'm gonna screw up, now that i know what's at stake.

you told me i'm the love of your life.

you kicked out the stage lights, but you're still performing.

tell me something awful.

i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

how did it end?

in fifty years will all this be declassified?

was any of it true?

there's a lot of people in town that i bestow upon my fakest smiles.

how dare you think it's romantic, leaving me safe and stranded.

they knew the whole time that i was onto something.

i just learned these people only raise you to cage you.

i dreamed about it in the dark the night i felt like i might die.

all of this to say, i hope you're okay.

i didn't opt in to be your odd man out.

move to florida, buy the car you want.

in plain sight you hid.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

please, i've been on my knees.

just how low did you think i'd go before i'd self-implode?

who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames if we know the steps anyway?

pull me to the backseat.

way up there, i actually love it.

at dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on.

i hate it here.

what if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

i should've known it was a matter of time.

they're gonna crucify me anyway.

he was my best friend.

this happens once every few lifetimes.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

does it feel alright to not know me?

you said some things that i can't unabsorb.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

i felt more when we played pretend.

the future's bright, dazzling.

i've seen this episode and still loved the show.

please know that i tried to hold onto the days when you were mine.

are you still a mind reader?

i'll save all my romanticism for my inner life and i'll get lost on purpose.

tell me i'm despicable, say it's unforgivable.

do you believe me now?

still alive, killing time at the cemetery

is it somethin' i did?

i read about it in a book when i was a precocious child.

you caged me, and then you called me crazy.

bet they never spared a prayer for my soul.

i stopped trying to make him laugh.

he just hadn't met me yet.

you ain't gotta pray for me.

i won't confess that i waited, but i let the lamp burn.

all your life, did you know you'd be picked like a rose?

i'm tryin' to stifle my sighs.

if you wanted me dead, you should've just said.

it's happening again.

i don't think you've changed much.

are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

i don't believe in good luck now that i know what's what.

all that time you were throwing punches, i was building something.

i know i'm just repeating myself.

fuck 'em, it's over.

little did you know, your home's really only a town you're just a guest in.

i wanna kill him.

i forget if this was ever fun.

love's never lost when perspective is earned.

you didn't measure up in any measure of a man.

my friends used to play a game where we would pick a decade we wished we could live in instead of this.

if you want to tear my world apart just say you've always wondered.

what we thought was for all time, was momentary.

do that impression you did of your dad again.

you see i was a debutant in another life but now i seem to be scared to go outside.

you just watched it happen.

so if you want to break my cold, cold heart, say you loved me.

what a charming saturday.

they tried to warn him about her.

then say they didn't do it to hurt me, but what if they did?

i just don't understand.

i was a functioning alcoholic 'till nobody noticed my new aesthetic.

no one asks any questions here.

my friends said it isn't right to be scared.

now i want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes.

were you making fun of me with some esoteric joke?

you'll find someone.

old habits die screaming.

i know he's crazy but he's the one i want.

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

fuck you if i can't have us.

we were blind to unforeseen circumstances.

i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all.

trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man.

you're the loss of my life.

i cry a lot, but i am so productive.

who's afraid of little old me?

it was legendary.

i keep recalling things we never did.

i still ponder what it meant.

and who's gonna know you, if not me?

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place.

your words are still just ringing in my head.

the story isn't mine anymore.

i'm lonely, but i'm good.

i tried to warn you about them.

fresh out the slammer, i know who my first call will be to.

i look in people's windows.

i will never lose my baby again.

looking backwards might be the only way to move forward.

i choose you and me religiously.

i got cursed like eve got bitten.

i would've died for your sins, instead i just died inside.

well, me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

you don't get to tell me about "sad".

i'm not a donor but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

do you hate me?

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

i was supposed to be sent away, but they forgot to come and get me.

if i'd been there, i'd hate it.

stay away from her.

i can do it with a broken heart.

you cinephile in black and white.

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

but what about your quiet treason?

i hoped you'd return.

i took the miracle move-on drug, the effects were temporary.

i can take the upper hand and touch your body.

i'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning.

oh, what a way to die.

i'll tell you one thing honey, i can tell when somebody still wants me.

this place made me feel worthless.

my husband is cheating.

my beloved ghost and me.

i keep finding his things in drawers.

did you take all my old clothes?

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

i'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague.

no, i'm not coming to my senses.

we've already done it in my head.

that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

no matter what i've done, it wouldn't matter anyway.

everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman but she used to say she wished that you were dead.

sometimes i wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

good boy, that's right.

let it once be me.

lights, camera, bitch, smile.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

i'm runnin' back home to you.

one bad seed kills the garden.

i've been doing it since he left.

they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware, what happens if it becomes who you are?

i was tame, i was gentle till the circus life made me mean.

the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that i ever had.

oh, here we go again.

we learned the right steps to different dances.

i haven't come around in so long.

god save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me.

'cause i'm a real tough kid, i can handle my shit.

i'll tell you how i've been there too, and that none of it matters.

i'm having his baby.

once i fix me, he's gonna miss me.

no, you can't come to the wedding.

you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

but you should've seen him when he first got me.

i'm sure i can pass this test.

they tried to warn you about me.

come close, i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night.

what if i told you i'm back?

i'm there most of the year 'cause i hate it here.

i may never open up the way i did for you.

you left your typewriter at my apartment.

oh, we must stop meeting like this.

scandal does funny things to pride.

tell me 'bout the first time you saw me.

it's gonna be alright, i did my time.

and for a fortnight there we were forever.

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

i love you, it's ruining my life.

i'm not trying to exaggerate, but i think i might die if it happened.

i might just die, it would make no difference.

i'll forget you, but i'll never forgive.

a greater woman stays cool, but i howl like a wolf at the moon.

a greater woman wouldn't beg.

pick your poison, babe.

i died on the altar waiting for the proof.

can we watch our phantoms like watching wild horses?

i don't even want you back, i just want to know.

they'll say i'm nuts if i talk about the existence of you.

way to go, tiger.

were you a sleeper cell spy?

you are bloodthirsty.

you said i needed a brave man, then proceeded to play him until i believed it too.

someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts.

i can fix him, no really i can.

you needed me, but you needed drugs more.

thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up.

who do i have to speak to about if they can redo the prophecy?

you're in terrible danger.

i want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me.

you are what you did.

fuck it, i was in love.

for a moment, i knew cosmic love

you're the new god we're worshipping.

you gotta fake it 'till you make it, and i did.

i wanna kill her.

did you think i had in me?

you said normal girls were "boring".

and who's gonna hold you like me?

no one here's to blame.

even statues crumble if they're made to wait.

you can mark my words that i said it first.

one last souvenir from my trip to your shores

i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday every day.

how can i be guilty as sin?

you were gone by the morning.

i'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

he said he'd love me all his life.

who else decodes you?

fuck it if i can't have him.

i just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you.

tell me all that you'd learned.

you're an animal.

you already know, babe.

growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all.

i loved your hostile takeovers.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married.

[jamneuromain]

Revenge Oh So Sweet

Steve Rogers x You (Agent!Reader)

Warning: Revenge (sort of), dick pics, bad language word, fluff? Clintasha if you squint.

Summary: For once, you decide not to put up with this shit anymore.

A/N: Based on the prompt from the bingo challenge. The inspiration came from @rogerswifesblog / @rogerswifesblog-updates (a big smoochie) and my recent experience, there's another experience under the tag #why I hate men. So ... yeah, you get the gist.

Your life-long happiness seems to have been a mutual concern of every Avenger in the compound.

After two not-so-successful relationships and another couple of failed dates, everyone is eager to share their experience or their suggestions as to what could help you find a partner.

"Be yourself." Tony commented on your love life when he accidentally overheard you girls talking in the kitchen, "Trust me, that's how I got Pepper." He said with a smug smile on his face.

Natasha rolled her eyes as Maria tugged the corner of her lips and made a rude - you considered it not so rude, but Tony jumped and felt offended - face.

"Come on, Stark." Natasha huffed out, "That's because Pepper is loyal and devoted. And you can't live without her."

Wanda stayed quiet but nodded like a chicken pecking the grains right in front of her.

"I can introduce the guy working for the IT, nerd, but... cute." Natasha fished out the Instagram of said guy.

Tony grumbled something under his breath as he headed out.

And it was not long before almost everyone on the Avengers team started to give you advices on how to secure a partner/date.

You were nursing over a bucket of chocolate ice cream, your standard medication for sorrows of "not being able to find a boyfriend" the other day when Thor's voice boomed by your ear, "... I am SURE Asgardian warriors would be kneeling at your feet if you could swing the battle sword during a fight."

He smelt like Asgardian mead.

"Thanks, Thor." You appreciated his effort, nonetheless, raising your ice cream bucket for a gestural toast.

Tony snorted at the end of the coffee table, probably having way too much caffeine than he should, and patted Thor on his bicep, "She needs a boyfriend, Point Break, not becoming Arnold Schwarzenegger."

Clint plopped down next to you on the couch, nudging you with his shoulder, gathering your attention, and asked, "Look, why don't you just kidnap some hot dude? That's what Nat almost- HEY!"

He yelled when Natasha threw a couch pillow in his direction, hitting him square in the chest, succesfully shutting him up.

Clint shrugged and gave you a glimpse of sympathy, which you were 99% sure he meant "Sorry kiddo". He shrunk to the corner of the couch, taking a swing of his beer.

"Why not try meeting someone with mutual interest?" Steve carefully pitches his suggestion, he looks at you with a hint of thought, "Like finding someone who shares the same passion over some exercises in the gym."

"Except I'm not a big fan of gyms." You pouted slightly, "But yeah, I guess book clubs and stuff... could work?"

"Gym." Bucky sniggered without even trying to mask his amusement, "Such a Steve thing." After receiving a warning glare from Steve, Bucky moved slightly away from his best pal, and singsongingly added, "I'm sure a candidate is much closer than you'd think."

Sam shook his head. Leaning on the counter of the kitchen, Sam proposed his idea with much delicacy to you, chuckling, "Steve might have a point. You know, maybe get to know your coworker better." Sam said this almost suggestively, a knowing smirk lingering on his lips, "After all, we never frown upon office romance. Not a bad idea to date your coworker as long as they are nice decent people, while you get to have fun."

"Surely redhead is neither nice nor decent." Bucky pointed his finger towards Nat on the far-end chair, whispering loudly.

"Don't get me breaking all your fingers, Barnes. And I'm not only talking about the ones on your right hand." Natasha retorted back, looking as if she was ready to bicker with Bucky again.

Vision, on the other hand, was not comfortable with processing a large conversation with so many participants even though he was able to identify every one of them. However, it was customary for everyone to join the conversation, no matter how they contributed to it. After doing some research in his head, Vision spoke up with confidence, "May I suggest a less time-consuming approach?"

This certainly drew the attention of most people in the room as Rhodey walked in.

"I have been analyzing the data of Miss Y/L/N, and I have come up with a list of results. It is a list of possible partners of Miss Y/L/N." Vision gave some time for this information to sink in before starting the list, "On top of the list, data run came back with a 99.7% matching rate to a book named-"

"A book?" Tony almost sprang from his seat, "HOLD ON. Hold on, for a minute here." He raised his index finger shushing everyone in the room, "What's the book?"

After hearing his question, the room fell into a unison of grumbles. "Seriously Tony?" "You're interested in that book? There's something wrong with..." "Ask him to take another look at the data for Christ's sake-"

Tony rolled his eyes in the most elegant way, "Fine. Vision, would you please erase all lifeless forms of matching in your database and focus on possible 'human' partners?"

A few seconds gone with Vision processing the data in silence, before speaking up, "I have now entered the condition of 'human partner', and the first person with a 99.4% matching rate is Andy Barber, lawyer-"

Gasps and murmurs swirled over the room again.

"...he lives in Newton, Boston, Massachusetts. According to data, he is married to Laurie Barber. Being the leading character of the crime fiction Defending Jacob-"

You would prefer to be drowned in your chocolate ice cream than to have Vision pairing you with a fictional character - even if it's a fictional character that is played by a very handsome actor in the TV series.

That you probably watched more than a dozen times. But still! Fictional!

Rhodey murmured to Tony: "And that's why we still wouldn't apply AI to our weaponary program..."

You groaned in agony, "Vision, I adore you, really. But I really need you to stop-"

"Ya-Da-Ya-Da-Ya-Da-" Tony cut through your sentence, "Vision, no fictional characters, we need real men-"

"Or woman." Wanda squeaked, clearly more amused than everyone else in this room.

"Or woman. Thank you, ponytail," Tony cleared his throat, "Someone who is actually living on the planet right now-"

"Recalculating. Ari Levinson Kidron, former Mossad agent. He is 99.3% compatible. He was renowned for Israel's Operation Moses and Operation Joshua from 1984 to1985."

"Eighties?" Bucky chimed in with mischief sparkling in his eyes, "How old is he?"

"He is currently 78 years old. A movie based on him was released in 2019, starring an actor named Christopher Robert Evans." Vision replied, "Your Netflix history clearly shows a tendency toward strong powerful men with romantic gestures during dating."

You buried your head as deep as the ice cream bucket allowed, "Please, Vision, I'm begging you. Don't leak anymore of my browsing history before I decide to jump into the Hudson River."

Wanda shook her head lightly at Vision, the latter seemed to gain a hint of realization after a while, "Sorry. I have been intrusive. My deepest apologies, Miss. Y/L/N."

You waved your hand in the air to indicate "all is well", but your eyes were still staring into the brown-ish ice cream, which had started to melt.

Shit.

Wanda scooted closer to you, holding her phone in front of your face, she seemed optimistic about what had just happened (even though you were devastated and actually considering being single for the rest of your life).

"What about dating apps?" She showed you a few, swiping men's profiles for you to see, "It's definitely simpler than asking some random people. You can also tell them at the start that you are looking for serious relationships, rather than sex."

Actually, that sounded...

"Thank you, Wanda." You shot her an appreciatiating look.

That sounded like the most solid suggestion anyone has ever made. Especially with the match-making plan of Natasha and the nerdy guy didn't work out, you were willing to try Tinder. Or something similar.

Wanda gave you an encouraging smile, before hugging you on the shoulder and helping you start your own profile on some app. While Sam half-dragged Steve out of the living room, mumbling something about "bats".

After a couple dozen men who wanted "something casual, sorry" and a disastrous night, you scrolled through your dating app to see if anyone has messaged you last night.

You were on an all-nighter mission with your teammates. Due to an unfortunate incident, you had to chase the criminal for about twelve blocks. On foot.

Just got your phone back from your locker, you sagged down on one of the empty chairs by the mission dispatch center, and scrolled through your dating app.

Daveid757: Hi.

You clicked on his profile picture.

"Daveid" is a decent-looking guy with a thin beard and hazel-brown eyes. Tall and broad-shouldered, he held a few 10-foot-long fish in half of his pictures and his different fishing rods in the rest.

Not bad, at least.

You returned to the chatting screen.

[Daveid757 typing]

You should probably say hi back.

Daveid757 stopped typing.

And the next thing you know, a dick pic that took up almost half of your phone screen attacked you right in the face.

A dick.

A at-first-sight-it-was-five-inch-but-some-skin-and creases-are-repetitive-so-it-was-at-most-a-two-inch dick.

A naked dick and his naked thigh.

A tiny but photoshopped dick.

You began to wonder what should you reply at this point.

You sure it's not two inches? No. Basically harmless to a guy who sends dick pics.

Fuck off you prick. No. That came off too strong.

How about I've seen bigger? That could probably trigger his competitiveness, though. You were hoping for something that could make him as furious as how you felt when you received his dick pic.

The sickness of getting a genitalia photo, the rage of being disrespected by men, the grumpiness from your staying up all night, and the frustration of knowing that the "dating app" method was a bust, all united as one .

Although you knew your blood was boiling from all four emotions, they were helpful too, enlightening you with a brilliant idea.

You should get a Nobel Peace Prize for it.

You searched "dick" and selected a dick pic that looked significantly larger and thicker than the one Daveid sent you.

Your dick pic is smooth and pink, clean-shaven, and with a man's hand gripping the foreskin, revealing the angry red tip.

This one looked much better than his.

You looked at this dick pic fondly.

And sent it to him.

Daveid757: You fucking crazy motherfucker.

Daveid757 has blocked you.

His profile picture turned grey, just like the type of picture people will put in front of his casket during his funeral.

Out of nowhere, a surge of euphoria washed over you. Having you doing your best to maintain a calm presence. You try your best not to smirk or giggle, trying your best to keep your lips between your teeth, biting the inside of your mouth from hollering out laughter.

Yeah, you definitely like "your" dick pic better.

While the two dick pics stayed on your screen.

Peacefully. Paying each other respect.

"Hey Y/N," holding his first cup of coffee in hand, Steve emerged behind you in his full tactical suit. He still had an hour before his mission and he decided not to board the jet without a healthy caffeine dose at 5:32 am. He saw you from the break room across the hall, and he just had to say hello to you.

Professional. This is purely professional courtesy!

You seemed undisturbed, gazing into your phone, with a smile ghosting your lips.

Naturally, Steve trotted near, earning a peek to your phone - he didn't intend to be sneaky about it, he only wanted to know what was mesmerizing you - while sipping down some hot hot burning lava hot coffee and -

You're looking at dicks???

"Oh my - Steve! Are you alright?" Shoving your phone into your pocket, you found some Kleenex in your bag and put it into Steve's hand. He choked and coughed violently, whole face flushed red as he waved his hand, stepping away from you, continuing coughing his lungs out.

You were struggling to understand whether he means "No, I'm not alright" or "No, I don't need the Kleenex" or "No, everything is alright". Though you didn't know how the last one worked the way inside your head.

Steve calmed himself after coughing into his palms some more. Shaking his head but accepting your tissue paper: "Yeah I'm - EHEM - 'm fine." Dabbing his suit which now has coffee splatters over his chest, he muttered an almost inaudible "Thank you".

He didn't look you right in the eyes when he was busy cleaning up his mess, but he felt like he had to when he should talk to you about workplace ethics. He finally looked up from the ground with his baby blue orbs, and tried to sound serious with his ears and cheeks blushing: "Y/N, I'm not ... " he winced, "You know I'm not that type of person who ummm... tries to dictate what others do or don't."

"Like Tony?" You scoffed, but the scoff was more directed to Tony rather than Steve. God, you should know better than to let Tony participate in your love life, giving out advices.

Steve manages a smile witth difficulty, "I'm not, but ... I don't ... I would consider ... I uh - I believe genital photos are not workplace appropriate."

You choked out a laugh, fishing your phone from your pocket and showing him, "What, this?"

"God, please, Y/N." He blocked your screen with his leather-gloved hand, becoming visibly more nervous, blurting out but his tone appears to be more begging than commanding, "Not ... here!"

You giggled. The few hours of sleep you had while you were on the plane back from the mission had led you to an unstable mindset. It would be completely insane for the "normal" you to show Steve Rogers, a work fellow, dick pics. But right now? With all those emotions boiling down your veins, the lack of sleep (and apparently, the lack of clear sense) and the sudden euphoria of making Steve nervous, you were feeling bold. Audacious. Felt like you could conquer the world and slam a monster silicone dildo right onto Daveid's face.

So you apologized, though not with much sincerity, and told Steve why you were "watching dick pics" on your phone in your workplace.

"He started it!" After accusing Daveid of sending you dick pics, you whined like a grumpy child, which you definitely wouldn't, if you were not sleep-deprived, but Steve felt like the most trustworthy male person on the planet at that moment, so you spilt your guts and tried to excuse yourself out of the workplace ethics violation that Steve nearly had you reported to HR.

He almost would never. Report you to the HR. But he kept that to himself.

"And it's not my dick. I suppose it's not entirely my fault?"

Steve chuckled soundlessly. It was in fact, adorable for you trying and whining, "Even if it is your dick, you don't send him that until you're out of the compound, okay?"

"I don't have a dick!" You huffed out in a hush voice. Seeing his typical look, the look with the raising eyebrows that says "yes, and-", you put up your hands in defeat, "Okay-Okay. You have a point. No dick pics."

"More like no dating apps scrolling while you're at workplace, just in case." Steve was amused. He thought for a while before making amends, "Tell you what, there's a nice little place in Brooklyn. You free tonight at 7? I'll wine and dine you, and you can tell me about all the awful macho men you've encountered. Promise, no judging."

He looks at you, almost sympathetically, with his crystal blue eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

You lowered your head, pretending you need to find your bag before summoning up the courage and shrugging, playing it cool, "Deal, Captain. Be ready for some of the worst men you've ever heard of."

After some most amazing medium rare steak and two glasses of fine-aged red, you were beyond caring (about your little crush of the handsome blonde sitting across you) and exchanged laughs and giggles that were definitely way too loud for a decent date.

You attracted attention, being the most stunning couple in the restaurant (so the "couple" word maybe a little too "ouchy" for you, since you normally spent time admiring Steve from afar), and some glances from other customers were casually thrown this way.

You had to admit, watching Steve in a brown leather jacket and jeans, triggered something inside you that encouraged you to climb him like a tree and slam your lips over his.

Steve chuckled, covering his lips with his fist, temporarily blocking his seductive (and to you, sinning) grin, "I can't believe Daveid is actually nicer among all the douches you've dated. Being a long-term friend of yours, I'd suggest you not to pick up men from dumpsters."

You cast a sour look in his direction, raising the glass to your lips, taking a small sip from the third cup of wine, "I would if I could." Your glass landed on the table with a bit too much force. Faking annoyance, you groaned at the ceiling, "Men are just ... awful."

"Touche." He murmured over his glass, clicking it with yours before downing a big gulp. Feeling bolder than usual, he looked at you right in the eyes, hoping he would convey a message, a hint, anything, "Surely ... there are a few good men out there. But, 80% of them are plain stupid, you know? You gotta ... I don't know, it's not about trying harder, I guess, but ... open to other ... options?"

You snorted, leaning back onto the comfy chair, teasing him, dipping your toes in the water for a second, "Oh, you're spoiling me and trying to get me zero dates in my future since you raised the bar too high, Captain."

He looked more jumpy and edgy after your "captain" comment. His ears and cheek turned pink under the dim yellow restaurant light, "I'm certain that you can have a boyfriend in the future that would be ... nice, to say the least. Apart from your lapse of judgment on this guy," he couldn't help but let slip of his smile, "you have some good friends and I'm sure you'll go on a date with someone better than him, someone better for your relationship, and more deserving for you."

You feigned a gasp of shock, "Are you calling yourself "better"? So competitive, Captain Rogers."

His fluster-ness drained from his face all of a sudden, slightly narrowing his eyes to focus on someone behind you, "I think - Is that ...?"

"What?" You were bewildered.

"The ass who sent you the dick pic." He shifted his focus back to you, "Your four o'clock. Black suit, Caucasian male, 5'7''. He's not looking this way but I'm positive he's the guy."

You spared a glance at him quickly. He did look like "Daveid757" and his profile pictures.

"Fucking hell." You muttered.

"You know what would make him furious? Letting him see you're having the best time of your life." Steve placed his palm on your wrist, giving you warmth and support, "Letting him know what he has missed out."

"Flip my hair and giggle?"

Your words didn't mean to be sarcastic, but they sure came out this way.

"Or we could return to the compound to suit up." Steve kindly offers, "I'll beat his ass until he learns a lady is supposed to be respected."

You drained your wine, teasing him with a dash of liquid courage, "Revenge doesn't suit you, Cap." And I don't want you to get into trouble, even if it is a tempting gesture. You swallowed the latter half of your sentence.

And of course, you had a much better plan...

"Is he looking this way now?" You moved to the seat by Steve's side, making sure Daveid could turn his head and see you with little effort. "Accidentally" having your wine class clatter with your ceramic plate, you made a loud noise for the entire restaurant to hear.

"Yeah but-"

The rest of his words fell on deaf ears, as you cupped his chin and kissed him.

His lips were soft. Grape-flavored with a bitter taste of alcohol. The kiss was sweet, tender, careful even, as he reciprocated your small nibbling, threading his fingers with the base of your hair.

Your liquid courage burnt down faster than you had imagined. Burying your face into his chest, you were rid of all the strength you had to check Daveid - or Steve, for that matter, because on second thought, using Steve to get back at Daveid wasn't such a good idea if Steve misunderstood your feelings as a method to get even with the dick pic dude -

"I hope you haven't fallen asleep, because that guy looked like he could swallow his wine glass. And he broke his plate, dragging his date to leave but - oh ho, now the waiter is asking him to pay for the plate and the wine -" Steve sounded normal, unaffected, calm. On the contrary, you wanted to jump into the Hudson River right this second for kissing Steve and wash off all the embarrassment and nervousness.

"I suppose you need to get some air and not suffocate yourself in my jacket?" He joked, patting on your back almost in a comforting way, while you were still buried into his chest, "Don't worry, the Daveid guy made a bigger scene and now he got kicked out of this place."

Your hair must be awful. The move messed up your hair, and your lipstick no doubt. And ruining your make-up. And you couldn't face Steve knowing that you kissed him and this - you are going to be a joke to the whole compound within 48 hours.

"But if you don't say another word for five seconds, I'm going to presume that you are losing consciousness and perform CPR in front of the whole restaurant."

You sat up reluctantly, wiping the outline of your lips and possible lipstick smudge without a mirror. Pouting.

"Or how about being my fake girlfriend for five minutes and we will show Daveid that we are a happy couple?" Steve observed your expression, making yet another proposal.

He was sweet. He was really sweet offering all these choices for you and your pathetic dating app experience but all you wanted was - "How about being real girlfriend." You grumbled under your breath.

"Sorry?"

"Never mind." You shook your head and decided to put this delightful dinner time behind you, "Let's -"

"You mean it?"

"Huh?"

His crystal blue eyes searched your features, searching for signs that you wanted him, wanted this, wanted you two to be a thing. It was cliche and a chance in a million, having his friend -you falling in love with him, but so were myths and superheroes. He liked his odds.

"Would you," He spoke, painfully slow, "like to be my girlfriend? Not because of revenging. But because I want it to work. Because I love you and I want to kiss you. Because you feel the same way, and finally, you can help put my misery of seeing you dating other people to a stop. I want to date you," he thought for a small while before adding, "exclusively."

The sun must be rising from the west, or the sea must be pouring back into rivers, or the dead must be alive from their graves.

A most-amazing miracle was happening.

Because the next thing you knew, you nodded and he pulled you into his warm hug.

And offered you one of his many sweet, sweet kisses.

Bonus:

You sneaked back to the compound, holding hands, grinning like fools, feeling like the first day of being in love.

You walked past the living room with Vision in the corner still knee-deep in his thoughts, calculating, or searching.

"It seemed the most fitting human candidate is Captain Steve Rogers, with a 99.2% match." The sudden voice startled you both, but Vision raised his head and greeted you, "Ah. I see that my data is no longer needed. Congratulations on finding a perfect partner, and good night, to you both."

You whispered a "Night" as Vision drifted towards his chamber.

Turning around when you noticed Steve went silent, you saw him scratching the back of his head, just a little bit annoyed.

"I rank behind a book and two fictional characters?"

[chaostudee]

kiss me more ; rafe cameron

pairing : rafe cameron x female reader summary : you and rafe are in a secret relationship. words : 1.6k warnings : none? a/n : im down so bad for this man it is not even okay at this point tbh. btw this is rly rushed so ye excuse the spelling.

at first you didn't mind. sure at times the sneaking around could be fun and yeah those stolen glances across the room made your heart race. although you were satisfied with your relationship with rafe you craved more.

you wanted him to kiss you in front of your friends. you wanted him to introduce you as his girlfriend. you wanted to meet his parents. you wanted it all.

yet there was an underlying issue. nobody would be surrportive of your relationship with you being a pogue and him being a kook. along with that John b( your brother) would never forgive you considering what rafe hade put him through.

you could understand your brothers hatred towards him but rafe had changed, for the better. he had promised that he would be better for you and he had kept that promise.

"hey pretty girl" rafe rasps as he pulls you closer to him, his hands held firmly on your hips and with that placing a kiss upon your forehead.

you cherished the mornings spent with rafe. it was the only time you could truly be intimate with one another without the pressure of hiding your love for one another.

"hey baby" you whisper tracing your finger up his chest. he smiled down at you his hands combing through your morning hair.

"you look so beautiful"

"shut uppp". secretly you liked the attention and rafe knew this but he'd never adress it.

"never".

you roll over,, pulling from his grasp to check the time. you had a miny panick attack when you remembered that you were due at work in less than an hour.

"shit shit shit" you murmur quickly sitting up and swinging your legs out of bed.

rafe groans when he feels your presence leave his grasp. "baby whats wrong?" he asks, sitting up when he sees you pacing the room looking for your shoes.

"im going to be late for work.....do you know where my shoes are?".

"baby just call in sick please come back to bed".

you scoff. rafe had been given everything to him. he never worked a day in his life. it annoyed you at times that he didn't understand that you came from different backgrounds.

"i have to go in today, you know some people don't leave off there dad's money". you muttered your words but someone rafe still heard them.

it hurt like hell to hear those words, especially from you. he knew that money wasn't something that you took for granted on the cut.

you pick up your shoes from under the bed and sit down on a nearby chair to slip them on.

"your right i'm sorry". rafe is leaning on one elbow on the bed his body facing towards you. god he looked good. but that wouldn't distract you from your values.

when he doesn't get a response to his apology rafe takes it upon himself to get out of the bed and walk over to you. just as he was about to kneel to meet your height on the chair you get up heading towards to door.

"wait y/n please".

you pause at the entryway and look back at him.

he walks over to you, placing his hands on your arms.

"im sorry my love, please forgive me because i cant spend the rest of the day knowing that you hate me"

"i dont hate you" you whisper.

"Okay....."

"im sorry too i maybe overreacted"

rafe displays a small smile.

"so i'm forgiven?"

you roll your eyes but can't help but smile back at your beautiful boy.

"i guess" you say sarcastically.

"kiss me" he instructs.

you step onto your tiptoes before planting a soft kiss on his lips. you pull back but his hand takes your waist and pulls you back to his lips.

"Rafe-"

he cuts you off with another forceful kiss.

"I gotta-"

rafe pulls back planting one more kiss on your cheek before letting you leave.

"see you tonight yeah?"

"yeah of course".

"do you want me to pick you up"

"rafe...."

"oh yeah sorry...."

"it's okay baby i appreciate the gesture"

"y/n i don't know if-

"what?"

"nothing nevermind"

"love you!" he calls after you.

"ditto".

you can't stop yourself from smiling to yourself. how did you get this lucky. but then you were brought back to reality. nobody knew that he was yours.

:::

you wanted nothing more than to be held in his arms right now. you wanted his jacket around yor shoulders, you wanted his hand caressing yours but all you got were stolen glances and small smiles.

you had only been here an hour but it was becoming torture. even sarah sensed there was something up with you

"hey you okay?" she asks giving you a nudge bringing your attention away from him.

you nod nervously, drumming your fingers on the beer bottle.

"really? you know you can tell me anything right?"

"i'm sure" you say more confidently this time.

she clicks her tongue and opens her mouth as if she is about to say something but she is stopped when she hears a scream to her left.

you both look over in the direction to find someone had gotten into a fight. everyone at the party had begun to gather around causing you and sarah to do the same.

you gasped when you saw two familiar faces. rafe stood with his fists bared with john b reciprocating his stance. your brother took the first punch but rafe was too late to swerve and john b's fist collided with his jaw.

you shuddered. rafe lunged at john b, pushing him down to the ground.

"don't you ever speak about y/n like that again".

at the mention of your name your heart clenches. you didn't want to be the cause of this.

before you knew what you were doing you ran up to john b just as he was about to get another punch at rafe.

john b immediatley steps back when he sees you. you have anything to say to him. not now anyways. turning away you look up at rafe. god he still looked gorgeous even with a bloody nose.

now suddenly aware that everyone was watching you took rafes hand and pulled him through the crowd. you walk past a confused sarah and an even more confused jj. pope and kiara gave you knowing grins.

you halt to a stop when you are out of earhsot of everybody else.

"i'm so sorry baby" you whisper as you trace your down the back of his neck.

"for what?" rafe asks carressing your cheek. you pull his hand away.

you gesture to his nose and then his bloody wrist.

"baby no that's not your fault" rafe reassures you as he takes your hand in his.

"so that fight was nothing to do with me?".

rafe sighs and runs his hand across his face.

"fuck y/n i couldn't just let him say those things about you"

you gulp. ".....what did he say?".

"y/n....."

"rafe tell me".

he sighs. "he said that you were nothing but a burden to him and that you acted like a slut-"

he stops talking when he sees a tear fall on yoir cheek. god it broke him to see you like this.

"baby no please don't cry he was drunk he didn't mean it".

you laugh. "john b always means what he says".

god you hated him. you know what fuck this you thought.

you gesture to rafe to follow you. he does.

the boneyard is near empty except for the pogues. rafe is hesitant in following you when he sees john b stand up at your arrival.

you glare at your brother but don't speak until rafe is stood beside you. you look up at him and smile, slipping your fingers through his as you do.

sarah gasps and then jj and both point at you and then one another.

john b scoffs. "are you being so for real y/n, this kook, i don't approve".

rafe's grip tightens around your hand but you put a hand on his chest to sooth him.

"let me handle this" you whisper to him.

he was reluctent in obeying but when those eyes made him somehow nod in response.

"i don't give a fuck if you don't approve john b, i never asked for your approval, all i ask is that you respect my decision and that you respect rafe".

"GET IT IG" kiara shouts and you give her a wink.

"oh fuck this" john b says in response before turning to walk the other way. you know he had been depressed lately because of your dad but that gave him no right.

"did you just win that fight?" pope asks.

"i think you did babes" rafe says and he smiles. he smiles so wide that you can't stop yourself from smiling back.

for now this was enough. john b knew and the pogues knew and it wouldn't be lomg before eveeybody knew.

"kiss me" you tell him.

he hesitates knowing that there are people nearby.

"KISS HER" jj and sarah say. they were definetly now your no.1 shippers.

at that rafe did exactly just that. you pulled you close and set his lips on yours. the kiss was lustful and slow and you wanted to stay like this forever. it was like it was just the two of you on that beach. but you were glad it wasn't. you wanted everybody to know that he was yours and you were his.

pulling away rafe kisses your forehead before resting his head against your own.

"you okay?".

"never been better".

[hoffmanxfurthermore]

The Drug In Me Is You

(Mark Hoffman/Peter Strahm X reader)

You and Mark break up for a while, during which you hook up with someone else. You two get back together, promising to keep no secrets. He asks if you were w anyone else, and you finally admit you hooked up with Peter Strahm. Mark leaves for a couple of hours, only to come back with Peter. This is a really bad clickbait intro, lol.

I've never written a three-way scene before, but I tried my best!!!

Content: rough sex, mmf, three-way, cussing, dominance, bondage, whatever, this is tumblr, you know what you're walking into.

Word count: 2.5k

Xxx

"No more secrets," Mark promises, holding your hand and looking into your eyes.

"No more secrets." You smile at him.

Secrets were what split you up. He had kept something huge and betrayed you. You didn't see each other for months. You didn't talk to each other. It was as if both of you had completely vanished from the others' lives.

You're both walking home from the bar, where you just randomly ran into him. All the memories came flooding back, so you just said Fuck it and approached him.

Suddenly, Mark stops, turning to face you.

"Were you with anyone... while we were apart?" Mark asks. A question you've been dreading. You feel your blood run cold as you look up at him. He can see it in your eyes. You weren't going to deny it, but your eyes said it all. Slowly nodding, you close your eyes in shame. No more secrets. That was the deal. No matter how painful it would be.

"Who was it?"

You slowly open your eyes and look at him, tears starting to well up.

"If I tell you... you'll hate me..." You say in a shaky whisper.

"Depending on who it is, I can't promise that I won't be mad. But I could never hate you, y/n," Mark reassures you, squeezing your hand.

You take a deep breath.

"Dont tell me yet. Not here. Let's wait till we're inside."

You nod, a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. His place is right down the street, and you're certain you'll never see it, or him, again after he finds out who. With each step, the knot in your stomach got tighter and tighter.

Once inside, you slowly sit on his couch. Your fingers nervously pull on the threads of the frayed fabric. Mark sits next to you.

"Please tell me, y/n, who was it?" Mark's voice is shaky, nervous. He's dreading your response just as much as you are dreading telling him.

"It was...." You keep your eyes closed, too ashamed to look at him, "it was... Peter..." You whisper.

"WHAT?!" He barks, jumping up from the couch. Your eyes snap open.

"I thought you hated him! How could you..." His voice is breaking as he paces the room, his hands in his hair.

"I do! I only did it to try to get over you, it didn't work!"

"Peter Strahm? Of all people?!"

"What do you want me to say, Mark?! That I fucked him to get back at you?"

"Did you?!"

"No!" You yell. "Well... maybe a little..." You confess, burying your face in your hands.

"I can't do this..." Mark rushes to put his coat on. He swings the front door open and storms out.

"Mark!" You scream as the door slams shut.

You quickly turn into a blubbering mess, curling up on the brown worn-out couch as you bawl your eyes out. This is the very thing you were afraid of happening.

You must have cried yourself to sleep because the next thing you know, Mark is pulling you off the couch and leading you to his room.

"Mark, what?" You ask groggy.

He doesn't say a word as he gently pushes you onto the bed. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you gasp. Standing next to Mark is Peter strahm.

"Why is Peter here?" You ask.

The subtlest smirk rests upon Mark's face as he glances at you, then Peter.

"Did you like fucking him?" Mark asks.

"You told him?!" Peter demands.

"Yes... and yes..." You say, lowering your gaze to the floor.

Mark is standing behind Peter. He pushed Peter forward towards you.

"I want you to show me what you did with him."

"What?" You and Peter ask in unison.

You can't help but be a little excited. You know Mark thinks you're not going to be into this, but you are.

"I can tell you want to. Show me how he made you feel," Mark turns to Peter, "Show me how you make her feel."

You always thought Peter was attractive, but you're nervous, with Mark here. At the same time, though, you're biting your lip, looking up at the two men standing before you, imagining what's going to happen.

Peter quickly hops onto the bed, grabbing your hair and pressing his lips against yours, seemingly already forgetting that Mark is in the room. Before you know it, the making out is heavier as clothes are less on the both of you, and more on the floor. You catch a glimpse of Mark smiling as he leans against the wall.

Peter isn't as aggressively dominant as Mark is, but he's still a little bit dominant. You're both now wearing nothing but your skin as Peter pins your wrists to either side of your head, gently, but firmly. His knees push your legs apart and you wrap your legs around him as he slowly kisses your neck.

"Are you sure, with Mark here?"

You'd forgotten about him for a moment, but you glance at Mark, who nods, then back at Peter.

"Yes..." You whisper, already very turned on by what is happening. You can feel Peter's erection throbbing against your thigh as you bite your lip, begging for him. His tongue slowly travels around your lips as he slides inside you. It's not very thick, but it's long, you can feel it bumping against your cervix as he slowly moves inside you.

"Fuck... Peter..." You whine as you raise your hips to meet his thrusts.

"Oh god, y/n.." he gasps as his hand releases your wrist and travels to your right breast, playing with your nipple.

Mark bites his lip as his dick starts to get hard in his pants. He can't help but get super horny at the sight of you being fucked by another man.

You bite your lip and smile as you turn your head to face Mark, teasing him. Mark is licking his lips and loosening his tie, his jacket is already on the floor. You turn back to Peter.

"Fuck me, Peter, make him jealous..." You moan, looking into his eyes.

Peter grips your right tit hard as he slams into you, making you wail out in pleasure.

"I'll make him so fucking jealous," he growls in your ear, glancing back at Mark. You claw at his back with your free hand as your legs start to shake around him.

"Fuck..." You gasp, "peter, I'm gonna...."

Suddenly, Mark lurches forward, shoving Peter off of you roughly.

"Hey! What the fuck?!" Peter shouts, stumbling off the bed.

You look up at Mark, standing above you. You hadn't noticed that he'd stripped his clothes off. He grabs your hair, yanking your head back sharply.

"You don't get to cum for anyone except me, got it?"

"I wasn't done yet!" Peter yells, annoyed, covering himself with his hands.

"Sit your ass down. I'll show you how you really take care of her," Mark said in a low voice as he climbs onto the bed.

Peter crawls toward you, to which Mark responds by grabbing his hair and pulling him off the bed. He drags Peter to the floor, using his tie to bind Peter's hands behind his back.

"You're going to watch me fuck her, the right way. You're shit," Mark says in a stern voice, gripping Peter's chin, making him face him, his face mere inches away from Peter's. Peter watches as Mark gets onto the bed. You smile at Peter as Mark begins slowly kissing up your inner thigh, his eyes locked onto Peter's as he makes him watch. Licking your lips, a low moan escapes your throat as you lace your fingers into Mark's soft, dark hair.

"That's it, baby..." he mutters as his fingers trace over your already wet pussy.

"You really liked fucking him didn't you?"

After a second, his hand shoots up your body, gripping your throat tight as his body weight presses down on you.

"Didn't you?!" He demanded.

"Yes..." You choke.

"More than me?" His grip around your throat tightens as he shoves two fingers inside your dripping cunt.

"Fuck!" You gasp as he curls his fingers up, hitting that sweet spot.

"This is how you fucking take care of her," Mark says sharply, looking at Peter as he rapidly thrusts his fingers inside you.

Mark yanks his fingers out and grabs your hips, shoving you over on your stomach. He pulls your hips so your ass is up in the air facing Peter. One hand grabs at your ass cheeks while the other shoves three of his thick fingers inside you.

"Fucking watch this, Peter. Bet you've never done this before.."

Mark rapidly fucks you with his fingers, leaning down to kiss and nibble on your right cheek as his thumb massages your sensitive clit.

"Fuck.. mark...."

"Aww is someone gonna cum? Already?"

Before you can answer, you tighten around his fingers, yelling a string of cuss words as your whole body shakes, your eyes roll back in your head as you cum hard.

You catch a glimpse of Peter, a look of desperation in his eyes as he struggles against his restraints. Mark grips your hair, forcing you to look at him.

Peter bites his lip, still struggling against the tight tie around his wrists. He is trying to stand up but can't seem to.

Mark shoves you onto your side as you gasp, coming down from the orgasm. You watch as he climbs off the bed and walks towards Peter.

"Lick it off," he instructs, grabbing Peter's hair with one hand as he holds his fingers, slick with your juices, to Peter's face.

You watch as Peter eagerly licks Mark's fingers clean, savoring the taste, looking at you as he does it. You lick your lips as you watch him, turning to sit upright on the bed.

Once he's done, Mark reaches behind Peter and undoes the knot around his wrists.

"You're gonna suck his dick while I fuck you," Mark says to you. You gasp and bite your lip, you were not expecting this at all.

"Bend over like how you were before. You, get in front of her," he says to Peter, to which he quickly obliges. You lick your lips as Peter's hard dick stares you straight in the face, he gently pets your hair as you feel Mark enter you from behind.

"Fu--" You start but Peter quickly shoves his throbbing cock into your open mouth.

"That's it.. fuck..." Peter groans as he grabs your hair, slowly fucking your mouth as Mark wastes no time pounding into you from behind. The only thing stopping you from making noise.is Peter's cock jabbing into the back of your throat over and over again. This is a whole new experience for you, you're cock drunk off both of them as they use you.

You can barely focus on either of them as the other thrusts into you. You can do nothing but lie there as both men use you. You wrap your lips tightly around Peter, you can tell by his thrusts and his moans that he's getting close. You look up at him, begging with your eyes.

Mark's hips slam into you, pushing you forward, making you take Peter's throbbing length down your throat. Tears stream down your face as you gag on his dick. Peter thrusts into your mouth as you're pushed forward. So deep, his balls are slapping against your chin.

"That's it... take it all.... fuuuck," Peter groans, gripping your hair. Peter is trying as hard as he can to not cum, but the sight of you being pounded from behind as you suck him off is too much. In one quick motion, he yanks your head back, stroking his cock a few more times as he paints your face white. Mark withdraws from you, and you collapse on the bed, gasping for breath.

You know it's far from being over, Mark tends to last a long time. Both men look down at you, saying nothing as Mark rolls you onto your back. Peter wipes your face off with his shirt he retrieved from the floor.

"Now it's our turn to make you cum," Mark purrs as he positions himself between your legs.

Peter crawls next to you on your right side as Mark pushes into you. His dick isn't super long, but it's definitely thicker than average.

Peter's fingers make their way down your body as Mark fucks you slowly.

"God... fuck!" You yell as Peter's fingers rub slow circles on your clit, matching the other man's thrusts. His lips find their way to your nipple, gently nibbling and licking, eliciting more noises from you. Mark's hand makes its way to your left tit and squeezes, fucking into you faster, harder.

"Please... please... don't stop," you beg, squeezing your eyes shut, gasping for breath. In response, Peter bites down on your nipple. Not hard enough to break skin, but hard, making you scream.

Peter quickens his pace massaging your clit as Mark pounds into you at a steady pace, making your legs shake. You're getting close, you can feel it building up.

"Cum for us, baby," Peter whispers in your ear, his fingers massaging your sensitive spot in circles that feel so good. The second he says that, you become unraveled, your whole body shaking as Mark fucks you hard and deep.

"Fuck!" Mark gasps as he himself can't hold on any longer. He bites his lip and groans loudly as he releases inside you, filling you with his cum. You gasp for breath as you come down, Peter ever so lightly massaging your pulsating clit. Becoming too sensitive, you shove Peter's arm away as your breathing relaxes.

Mark pulls his dick out of you, both of your cum dripping off of it.

"Oh my god," Peter mutters, "that was... so hot."

You smile at him, then at Mark as he climbs onto the bed, to the side opposite of Peter. It's relaxing, and you feel content, having both of them on either side of you. Feeling worn out from the encounter, the three of you just lie there.

"I should go," Peter says suddenly, as he pulls himself to his feet and begins getting dressed. Mark stands, too, and pulls a blanket around his naked body.

"Listen, you don't tell anybody about this," he orders sternly, his sharp voice sending shivers down your spine. It's rare you hear him speak like this. Peter simply nods as he buttons up his white shirt, fixing his hair.

"Maybe we can do this again sometime?" You suggest shyly. Peter looks at you, then at Mark.

"Maybe, we'll see."

"I'd really like to," Peter adds.

Both men look at you, still naked on the bed. Finally, Mark nods.

"Fine. But we tell nobody."

"Understood," peter says calmly before leaving the room. You hear the front door open and shut and you turn to Mark.

"I was mad at first when you told me," Mark says, "but thinking about you with him was pretty hot after I got over being angry."

"I knew you would be, but I was not expecting this to happen. I had fun."

"Me too." He smiles at you.