#I wonder if you can drown in a cloud

[glass-breaker]

We have Flim & flam I only made small changes with them, and added some money to their cutie marks. it shows multiple times in the show that they will come up with schemes to make money.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Fifteen Weeks

Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, face sitting, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex (reader is tested and has an IUD, protect yourselves IRL), mentions of sex work, anxiety, Din is bad at feelings, farmhouse emotions, goats!, yes I made Din Djarin a schnauzer owner don't judge me. Words: 5,050

A/N: Here it is folks, the follow up to Fifteen Minutes, which I originally wrote as a standalone. Thank you to @goodwithcheese for speaking so highly about Fifteen Minutes thus making me revisit this draft and finally finish it. I also want to thank @frannyzooey for taking a look at the bare bones of this months ago. I really love these two and I’m so glad they finally get to eat soup together.

Masterlist

___

“So, where ya’ headed?” the Uber driver asks, turning toward the departures terminal.

“Just to see a... friend."

“Hm. Must be a special friend to catch a flight this early.” 

“I guess he is,” you smile through a yawn.

___

Waiting to board. Can’t wait to finally see you! xxxx🙂

Hitting the send button, you shake your head still finding it hard to believe you’re traveling almost halfway across the country to meet a man. A man you’ve fallen head over heels for.

Can’t wait to see you too. See you soon.

His response arrives just in time. A nervous rush of excitement courses through your body before turning your phone off for departure. 

You wonder if your seatmate can feel your leg shake as the nerves tap out against the plane floor. Sure, you’re excited, you’re ready to meet Din in person but there still is trepidation twisting inside of you. You’ve never done anything like this at all. You’ve never met a client and now you’re on a plane headed to one. You’ve known him for only four months, but the connection the two of you share is something you’ve never believed to be something you’d find. You’ve dealt with enough men wearing wedding bands who tell you they love you, that you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve seen, that you’re their whole world. Love is a ridiculous concept when you charge ten dollars a minute. 

With Din, it’s different, it’s something that can be named, can be felt, can be solved, and yet so many questions about it remain. What do you call the quiet silence that exists between the two of you, happy to be on the phone keeping each other company every night? The small laugh and head shake he does whenever you tell him he’s cute? The random texts of his life that always brightens your day? The way he nods with zero judgment when he hears the ding of your new client alert? What do you call the decision that got you here on this plane? 

You read the same page over and over in your book. Will you sleep in his bed tonight? 

You give up on reading and stare forward at the little map on the seat screen. What does he smell like?

You look out the window and watch the clouds disintegrate around you. Is he just as nervous as you?

You turn the volume up and try to drown out your racing thoughts. Will this all be worth it?

Two hours left to find out. 

___

You step off the escalator, eyes scanning the crowded baggage claim area for the reason why you’ve taken a six hour flight halfway across the country. Your hands grip the backpack strap tighter trying to calm the nerves overtaking your heart and brain.

There, right there, leaning against a column alone in the shadows is Din and the brown eyes you’ve only dreamt of seeing in real life. He straightens when you make eye contact, but makes zero attempt to move, still frozen against the column. You lose the fight to hide your smile and excitement hurriedly shuffling over to him, he smiles as you get closer, the same shy half grin he gives when he says good night. His hands slip out of his pockets as you approach. Goodness, he’s so big and handsome, he could be a heartbreaker of all sorts to anybody he sets his sights on. The phone doesn’t do his beauty any justice.

“Hi,” you smile.

“H-hey, I can’t believe you’re… here,” his voice sounds even smoother and deeper in person.

“I am,” you shuffle on your feet. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

He tucks his hands back into his hoodie pocket, his silent rejection shoots a pang of longing through you. 

You thought it’d play out like a grand romantic movie, you’d jump into his outstretched arms and he’d never let go. Din’s rejection fills you with jealousy… screw all of the happy couples. You hate those movies now.

Touch me.

Of course he’s nervous, you’re nervous too, you’re just better at hiding it. He still leans against the column, shielded by the liminal space.

“Do you have luggage?” He’s right in front of you and yet you’re too scared to touch him, too anxious you’ll scare him away. 

“Nope, just my backpack and carry-on.” 

Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Oh, okay, did you want to leave then?”

“I didn’t come here to see the airport Din,” you place a hand on his hoodie clad arm. He looks down and stares. 

Did you overstep? You couldn’t have, you just watched this same man orgasm for you last night while chanting how he couldn’t wait to paint you with his cum. 

“Din,” you snap him out of his stare, “come on, I’m ready to leave.” 

You know he’s not trying to reject you, but his nervous aloofness is overwhelming when all you want is for him to touch you… just once. 

“I—uh, here, let me take your bags,” he mumbles, reaching past you to grab your suitcase. “It’s really cold, do you have a heavier jacket?” 

“No, but I’ll be okay,” you reassure. The cold won’t sting nearly as much as Din’s seemingly innocent rejection.  

“Here,” he pulls the collar of his hoodie over his head. “I’m used to this cold. You aren’t.” 

You take the bundle of black fabric from his outstretched hand, not realizing just how cold you were until you put the hoodie warmed by his body heat on. It smells of him. Faint hints of campfire, wood, leather, citrus, and cinnamon. You wish you were wrapped up in Din himself, touching him, smelling him, tasting him. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Whatever is happening inside of him seems to be bleeding over into your mind. You’re now second guessing every decision to come here. He was excited last night, he texted you this morning how he couldn’t wait to see you, is he disappointed? 

“Yeah, of course,” he nods and turns towards the door, walking away in quick strides leaving you alone in the dark corner near that damn column he’d rather touch than you. He has your suitcase and backpack, so either this is a really expensive way to get robbed or he has zero clue how his actions are affecting you. 

He turns back to you as he reaches the automatic doors, his eyes wide with guilt when he spots you still standing in the same place he left you. Well, at least he feels bad. 

You let a deep breath out to steel yourself and walk to him.

“I-I’m sorry, just not used to ever having to… you know…”

“I know, it’s okay Din,” you gently smile. What in the world have you gotten yourself into?

“I’m just—“

“Nervous. I know Din, it’s okay. I understand this is a lot.”

“It is, but just… know that how I’m acting is not how I’m feeling. I’m really happy to have you here. You’re so… beautiful and I—thank you for being here with me.”

There it is. Everything is worth it now. The early morning Uber to the airport, the neverending TSA line, the cramped airplane seat, the nervousness you feel. You’d do it all again to hear that sentence. 

“Of course, I know. You’re okay,” you take his hand. If he’s not going to do it, you’ll do it. “Come on, let’s go.” 

His eyes stay downcast staring at your hand wrapped around his.

You clear your throat to get his attention, his eyes snap up to yours. “Din, let’s go.”

“R-right. Of course. Right.” 

He leads you out the door, gripping your hand harder when the bitter wind lashes against your skin. 

The two of you weave your way through the parking lot until you reach a large silver truck. It’s clean with a few dents and scratches. Well taken care of but old. 

Din opens the creaky door and helps you step up. The black leather seat is smooth as you slide across it.

Din places your luggage in the back before opening his door and deftly stepping in. 

You hide a deep exhale when he starts the engine.

He clears his throat and you look over. “It’s–uh nice to see you in here.”

“I’m glad,” you smile, turning and reaching your hand out to touch his cheek. Your thumb finds the little heart patch on the side of his face, you’ve been thinking about how it’d feel since you first saw it. You can’t help yourself, he looks so delicate, as if he’s aching to be touched but too scared to ask for it. You’re holding a scared fawn in your hands. Don’t scare him, don’t move too quickly, let him figure things out on his own. 

His lips part as he inhales, deep brown eyes staring into yours, the nervousness radiating off his skin fills the truck cabin. You wish you could just throw caution to the wind and force him to tell you exactly how he’s feeling, to slide across the bench seat and beg him to take you right here in this airport parking lot. You don’t. You pull your hand away and put your seatbelt on.

“I can’t wait to see your home. I’ve never been to an actual farm before.”

___

You’ve seen glimpses of Din’s home in random pictures he’s texted you or your nightly FaceTime sessions, but you never imagined just how picturesque it could be. A large white two story farmhouse situated in the middle of a vast expanse of green grass, a small tin roofed barn sits to the side with a herd of goats happily grazing. Din’s life must be so peaceful here, very different compared to your townhouse in the middle of suburbia.

“It’s beautiful,” you muse as he pulls into the driveway. “I can understand why you never wanted to leave.” 

The truck stops in front of his home, a german shepherd and a little schnauzer run down the porch steps and head for Din’s truck.

“They’ll be fine with you, but let me get out so I can control them.” 

Din gets out of the truck, you chuckle to yourself as his clipped directions to the dogs are drowned out by excited barks. 

He opens your door and reaches his hand out.

“Grogu! Boba! Back!” Din shouts as he helps you step down. His raised voice makes your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know he could ever be this loud.

“It’s okay, I like your dogs, you know I think they’re cute,” you bend down and tap on your knees to beckon them over. “This must be Grogu,” you scratch his soft ears. “He does have big ears.”

“They’re not that used to other people.”

“Hmm,” you stand up and pat the top of Boba’s head, “sounds like someone I know.”

He chuckles as he walks up the porch steps and unlocks the front door. 

Warmth fills your body as you walk over the threshold. White walls, worn floorboards, antique furniture, all of it taken care of and clean. Tidy and well kept up, a lot like his truck, aged but in better shape and made to last; a far change from your newbuild townhouse and IKEA furniture. 

“Diiin,” you breathe, “it’s beautiful in here. Like… I knew you lived in a nice house, but wow, between this and the farm… when do you sleep?”

“I sleep enough. I’ll go get your bags, make yourself… at home.”

You take a seat on his couch, it’s perfect for him. Beige, simple lines, nothing fancy, not too comfortable, but probably the height of cozy after a long day working on a farm. Grogu jumps up and sits next to you, his little bearded face panting happily next to yours. You scratch his chest and praise him as he inches closer towards you. Boba stays near the entry, waiting for Din.

“Think he likes you,” Din says as he places your bags by the steps. “Don’t take Boba’s standoffishness personally he’s–”

“Like you. I know,” you smile.

“Did– what would you like to do?”

“Can I see the computer where you first talked to me?”

“Um, yeah,” he walks down the hallway leaving you behind yet again, “it’s just in here.”

You shake your head and rise off the couch to follow, obviously he’s not used to company.

You walk into a small office, everything has a place, efficient and tidy, perfectly Din. Paperwork stacked in neat stacks, a calendar with his sharp writing all over it hung on the wall, today’s date circled with your name written in the box. 

A black monitor sits on a mahogany desk. 

“This is the computer, huh?” you ask, running your hands across the black keyboard,

“It is.”

“So this is where it all began? You sat there, clicked on my picture, and now look. I remember when I first heard your voice,” you face him taking both of his hands in yours, “it was so deep and warm, it lit something inside of me.”

You guide his arms to wrap around you, his hands rest on your lower back.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our first session ended. There was something so pure and mysterious about you, I knew you weren’t lying about wanting to know. It wasn’t some kink you had, I knew you needed help. I felt lucky to be the one to show you.” 

He sighs as you rest your head against his chest hearing the rhythm of his heart. “I closed that window so many times before finally agreeing and joining. I-I kept on thinking about how I could talk to someone as beautiful as you, all it would take is just a click. You were so pretty.” 

“Just a click,” you whisper, craning your neck up as Din lowers his head. His nose bumps against yours, his plush bottom lip is captured between your lips, another part of him you’ve wanted to touch since you first saw him. You finally kiss him, sweet and tender, his lips molding to yours perfectly. He pulls you in closer, his tongue hesitantly dipping into your mouth as you lick against him. The past fifteen weeks have finally led to this moment inside of this old farmhouse office in the middle of nowhere. Your Din and his soft lips, tense hands against your back, your soft coos mingling with his low groans, you could stay in this moment forever, if it wasn’t for Din’s phone beeping in his pocket. 

“I’m sorry,” he pulls away, a bashful smile adorns his face, “I need to go take care of the goats before sundown.”

“Of course.” 

He hugs you, planting a soft kiss against your forehead and inhaling your scent before leaving. He’s warming up…

___

Din loves soup. You know this by the nights you spend with him over the phone. The man eats soup almost every single night. Soup with bread, soup and a baked potato, soup and steak, soup, soup, soup. 

You can’t blame him, the stew and homemade rolls he serves you for dinner are delicious. He shyly tells you it’s his speciality when he places the porcelain bowl in front of you. 

You could get used to the farm life. A fire burns in the fireplace while the tv plays Din’s favorite movie he’s been wanting to show you, some film about a galaxy far far away and an unlikely hero. The man loves space. 

His arm slung across your shoulder lies heavily on you, warming you inside and out. Grogu sleeps on your lap, softly snoring as you pet his gray fur. Din occasionally sneaks a kiss against your hair, you don’t know if you’ve ever been more comfortable in your life. 

The movie ends, a grand symphonic score plays over the credits. 

“That was really good,” you smile towards Din. “I liked it.”

A grin slowly stretches across his face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, thank you for showing me it.”

“You’re welcome,” he gazes at you, the same look he smolders through the phone, like he can’t believe his luck that you’re talking to him. 

You attempt to fight a yawn and lose. Your eyes blink tiredly at Din when he reaches and rubs his thumb against your cheek. 

“Did you want to,” he clears his throat, “sleep in my room with me tonight?”

“Only if you want me to Din.”

“I, uh, I do.”

“Okay, I’d like that.”

___

The airplane and long day washes off and rinses down Din’s shower drain. You use his washcloth and think of his hands touching you. You smell his soap and think of inhaling the scent as he holds you close. You don’t know what’s about to happen once you leave this room. If you’re this nervous, how does he feel? 

Din looks up from the book he’s reading and watches you step out of the bathroom shyly padding over and getting into bed.

“What are you reading?” you whisper.

“Some book about a cowboy warrior in space…”

“Sounds interesting.”

“It’s good.”

“You know,” you look around the simple bedroom, “I see this room all the time, but only the wall behind your bed, hardly anything else. It’s been really nice seeing more of your life.”

He nods, blinking back to his book. 

The night can’t end like this. 

You grab the book from his hands and place it on the table.

“What are you thinking about Din? I never know what’s going on inside of you.”

“H-how pretty you look wearing that.” 

You look down at the pink silk tank top and shorts and swallow down a smile. You specifically wore it because you know how Din’s eyes light up whenever you put it on. “It’s my favorite because it’s so soft. Do you want to feel it?” 

He turns to you wide-eyed and gives you a solitary nod. 

“Go ahead Din.”

His tan hand splays across your stomach, golden toned skin rests against the blushy silk of your tank.

“S’soft,” he murmurs to himself.

“Here,” you place your hand over his and press down, “really feel it.”

His eyes angle down watching your hand navigate his around your stomach to just below your breasts. His mouth sits slightly agape, thick brows furrowing in concentration as you slip his hand underneath the fabric, his trembling calloused fingers making contact with your skin. 

“Am I soft here Din?”

“Y-Yes,” he stammers. 

“Touch me, as little or as much as you want. Wherever you’re comfortable doing, okay?” you remove your hand from his. “I came here for you… whatever you want… I want..”

“I want to,” he gulps, “I want to touch you all over.”

“I’m all yours baby.” 

His shoulders deflate with a groan, he trails his hand higher to cup one of your breasts. The tips of his fingers peek out of the top of your tank. Tan, well worked strong hands lay against your smooth skin. The sight makes you moan, your teeth gnawing at your lip, trying to qualm the temptation to touch him further. 

“Take it off Din.” His dark brown eyes beam up to yours. “Go ahead baby.” 

He grabs the hem of your tank top, softly bundling it in his hands and lifting it over your head leaving you bare chested. 

“Kiss me and touch me baby,” you gently will. 

His lips form over yours, his hands return to your skin, petting and caressing your breasts before you cover them, pushing them farther down your stomach. His breaths quicken against your mouth when you slip his hands underneath the band of your shorts. 

“Fuck,” he pants against your lips when his hand meets the wetness seeping from your pussy. “Fuuuuuck.” 

“You feel me baby? That’s how wet you always make me, ever since the first time we talked and all you were was a black square with a sexy voice. It’s like we were destined in the stars.” 

“God damnit, you’re so soft,” Din’s hips buck into the air, his head thuds against the headboard when his thick finger slips in between your folds. “I-I-I oh god, I’m– I think I’m going to cum. I’m sorr–” 

“It’s okay baby, I’m here, cum for me.” Your hand reaches down and grips his hard cock through his black sweatpants. “Cum for me Din.” 

You feel a warm wet spot spread against your hand, pulling a moan from you.. 

“I’m--agh– sorry,” his big eyes stare at you, a hint of shame rounds them. “You feel so amazing.” He pulls his hand out of your shorts.

“No,” you whimper at the loss of contact. “I like it baby, I like that you like me so much that happened. Please don't apologize. Keep touching me if you want to. Do you?” 

“God,” his eyes shrink in determination, “yes I do.” 

“Okay baby.”

You sit in between his stretched out legs, lifting your hips to take off your shorts, spreading your legs wide, much the same way you do for your clients. 

He stares at your exposed skin, eyes mapping every dip, curve and dimple of your body. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I can’t believe you’re here… for me.”

“Of course I am baby.” 

His fingers trace the plains of your legs, moving their way up to your thighs. His face set in a determinative scowl, eyes fixated on your core as he inches closer to it, now aching and soaked for him. 

“I-I’ve never done this.”

“I know baby, you remember our first call?” 

He nods.

“Remember what I told you what I liked?”

Another nod.

“Do that for me baby, touch me. Make me feel good.” A thick finger meets your lips, tracing a line up from your entrance to your clit before softly rubbing a circle around your sensitive nub. He remembered.

“You’re so wet for me,” he breathes out, his eyes staying planted staring at your pussy beguiled by his own actions.

“I am Din, only for you. I think about you every time. I-I,” you moan when he sticks a finger inside, slowly pumping it in and out, “I only want you.” 

“Only want you too, baby. C-can I taste you?”

“Ye–oh my god, yes Din, I’m yours, do whatever you want to me.” 

“I’m yours, anything you wa–”

“Sit on my face,” he growls. 

“O-of course.” 

You crawl towards him, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips before straddling his face, your dripping cunt hovers right over his mouth. He grips your ass and pulls you down, smothering himself with all of your slickness. You cover him like a mask, he worships your taste like a religion, moaning and groaning into your sweet pussy. Your praises about how good he’s doing and how amazing you feel incant out of your mouth as he takes you to paradise. Plush lips suck and savor you, your hands grip the bed frame like a precious artifact, his devotion to you and your pleasure pulls a melting orgasm from you. 

“Din, Din, Din,” you pray at his altar, knees bowed and quaking against his ears as he drinks your offering down. You’re shattered, everything you’ve ever believed in replaced by Din and his idolatry of you. 

You move your lust drunk body off and lay down next to Din. His face shines with a gloss of you, his tongue peeks out and licks his lips, before sending you a shy smile.

“You’re amazing,” he incredulously mutters. 

“You are too,” a doting grin lights your face before pulling him in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on him, a moan leaves your throat at the realization. 

Strong arms envelop you, pulling you closer to him, his hard cock juts against the soft skin of your thigh. 

“Already?” you pull back and tease. 

“C-can I feel you?” 

“Feel me?” 

“Yes, c-can I… can we….?”

A rush of anticipation thrums through your body at the implication of his nervousness.

“Yes Din, we can. Are you sure this is what you want tonight? We can wait.”

“N-no. I want you, I-I want this,” he moves his sweatpants down, kicking them off. 

“Okay baby, okay,” you kiss him, grabbing his face, petting the soft hair of his sparse beard.

He rolls on top of you, cradling your head between his strong forearms, a heated kiss licks into your mouth as his naked weight covers you. Your legs open in a silent offer for Din to take everything you have. You can just feel the heft of his cock ghosting against your entrance. 

He looks down at you, brown eyes wide, plush mouth parted, brows softened with adoration. 

You send him a silent nod and smile when his cock enters you, feeling a sense of honor that you’re the one Din has chosen for this. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The green accept button, the reserved man dressed in all black, the deep voice, the connection between two screens. Now, you’re here with Din, moaning and rolling your hips to accept the length of him.

His neck strains when he sheathes his cock fully inside of you, panting and groaning as he slowly rocks back and forth.

“You … feel … like … heaven… I love your pussy… I love your body…. I… love you.”

He freezes at the divulgence, body locked in shock at his slip. 

Your face lifts in a reassuring grin. “I love you too,” your hand grabs his chin, bringing his lips to yours. 

You love him, you’ve known it for so long, but here in this farmhouse bed you can hear it, you can feel it. 

Your bodies meld, hips meeting, lips locked, he gives you everything, you give him everything. Your pussy clenches around his slow, full strokes. This is making love. 

“Baby, I-I.. I’m going t–” he strains. 

“Go ahead Din, I got you.” Your hands trail up and down the expanse of his smooth back. He grunts, burying his head into the crook of your neck, fevered breaths hit your skin as his cum fills you.

He rolls off, pulling you to his side and kissing the top of your hair. 

“Wow… I.. are you okay?”

“What?” your head perks up.

“You didn’t… uh–”

“I did when you fucked me with your tongue Din, I’m very happy and satisfied.” 

“Oh, I just… I want to make sure you’re good.”

“Baby, I am very good. Trust me.” 

“I love you,” he breathes.

“I love you too Din…” you rest your head against his chest, the exhaustion of the day settling in, quickly lulling you to sleep. This is the way to go to bed.

___

The faint sound of running water gently rouses you from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had. The sun has barely peaked over the horizon, the room’s still shrouded in a lazy darkness. 

Din’s long sigh echoes against the tiles of the shower like a siren song. 

You pad out of bed toward the bathroom, pushing the door wide open. 

Your mouth drops at the sight ahead of you… Din’s muscular, toned golden body shines underneath a glistening sheen of water. He runs a gray wash rag across his stomach, the mop of dark, curly hair right underneath his hand beckons you to look farther down. You’ve seen him so many times before, almost every night, but this is the first time you’ve been able to see all of him in person. Din is a big man, his cock matches his stature. Just as long, just as broad, just as golden. God, he’s gorgeous. 

You knock on the doorframe catching his attention, surprise tensing across his whole body. 

“Good morning,” you purr, “can I join you?”

He nods, his cock grows visibly hard when you walk over and get in. The warm steam, Din’s naked body, and the smell of Din’s cedar body wash engulfs you, this is the way to wake up. 

“Mmm, the hot water feels good,” you sigh, leaning your head against his chest. Din’s cock rests heavily in between you, tempting you to touch it. “Want me to wash you?”

He groans a yes. 

“You can wash me too,” you propose, squeezing a dollop of body wash onto your palm, running it across your chest before leaving suds on your hands. “Go ahead Din.”

Drops of water land against your skin as his trembling hands slowly reach for your breasts. He massages and kneads, both palms laying against your tits, his touch turns more searing when your hands land on his chest, rubbing in the soap along the dusting of hair stretched across his broad body. 

Your nipples pebble under his nervous, firm touch and undivided attention. He hisses when your hands slink farther down, running across the damp curls of his happy trail leading you to his cock standing between his thighs, thick and dripping. You wrap a fist around his length, his knees weaken causing his body to smash against the wall, his face grimacing in pleasured agony.

“Fuck,” he pants, water rains down into his wide open mouth, splashing out with every exclamation of your name he repeats as he cums all over your stomach. 

Your tongue runs up the column of his neck to his mouth, swallowing his rapid breaths. 

“You feel so good against me,” he gasps against your lips. “I can’t believe you’re here.” 

“I am baby, I am,” you coo, wrapping your arms around him, wishing you could live in this tiny shower forever. This is the way to wake up.

___

Din settles on the porch swing next to you, pulling your blanket wrapped body close to him. 

“Is this what you do every morning?” 

“Just about,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee. 

“It’s nice,” you yawn, “early but nice.” 

He chuckles, “You get used to it.” “Mm,” you rest your head on his chest, smelling the fresh dew and hay on his flannel jacket. 

“I really like you being here,” he softly says.

“I really like being here too.”

“You know,” he gulps, “you can do your job here… with me.”

___

A/N: Thank you for reading! This ending makes me feel:

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𖥔

summary ; after being struck by a peacekeeper, coryo puts aside his differences to clean you up.

pairing ; coriolanus snow x fem!reader

notes ; pls coryo may be a little ooc in this but i tried. ok? i tried! physical violence, mentions of blood and death, as well as the events that take place in the hunger games universe, spoilers for tbosas !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

the blow sent a stinging sensation through your cheek, the level of force behind it knocking you to the ground on impact. you had always wondered what it would feel like to be hit in the face – if you would be able to take it – and well, now you knew.

you sat there on the ground, a spectacle among the crowd, and all because you were helping an elderly lady and unknowingly stepped into the peacekeeper’s way. you didn’t mean to, and before you knew it his leather glove was colliding with the side of your face. 

you loathed the peacekeepers, everyone did, but specifically the way they thought they could belittle you and your people just because of their job title. and yet, it terrified you to know how harsh they were over something so small, you couldn’t even begin to think how torturous they could be behind closed doors. 

once the peacekeepers move on, laughing among themselves at what they had done to you, a man and his wife help you to your feet, and you dust yourself off. your palms burned from the rubble you had landed on, small rocks sticking into your skin, and your head was ringing, but nothing compared to the side of your face. 

you were tough, there was no doubt about it, but having the peacekeeper’s hand collide with your face with such force had you a little shaken up. 

“i’m okay, everyone,” you let the group of onlookers, and those that had helped you, know. with a faux smile and a reassuring nod, you quickly return to helping the woman pick up her belongings that had been knocked over in the midst of it all. 

“oh, don’t worry about me, dear. go take care of yourself,” she gestures to your face and your hand instinctively reaches to feel the wet cut that had formed on your lip. a small speckle of blood now on your fingers as a metallic taste fills your senses. it ached to touch, and if it looked bad now, you could only imagine how bad it was going to be later. 

you take your leave from the woman and make your way home along the seam. the sun was beginning to disappear behind the clouds as the sound of the town drowns out behind you and into the distance. people watched as you passed them by, noticing the blood on your face and probably wondering what had happened. 

you didn’t mind the stares, not much happened in the district, and it wasn't as if you had anything to be ashamed of. well, not that anyone knew of anyway. 

you eventually make it to the last stretch of the dirt path before your house when your name gets called out, stopping you in your tracks, and in the direction it had come from were a couple more peacekeepers. though, these ones didn’t instil fear in you the same way the others had. 

they were familiar faces – faces that you were somewhat glad to see – however, you weren’t sure how they were going to react seeing the new feature that had been ever so kindly bestowed upon your face. 

sejanus waves you over, tapping his partner on the shoulder once he notices, and gestures towards you. coriolanus stands beside him, turning your way after seeing the panicked look on his friend's face, and his smile drops the second he sees the cut on your lip and the bruise that had already begun to form. 

“y/n…” he speaks your name delicately, a forbidden whisper, before rapidly scanning your surroundings to make sure the area was safe. it was. “what happened?”

he wants to reach for you, to pull you into his arms and kiss you better, anything he can to make sure you were okay, but he can’t. he knows that. it would be too much of a risk in such an open space and he wasn’t going to be the reason you end up with another bruise, or worse. so he quickly fixes his posture and positions his gun against his shoulder where it was meant to be. 

“oh, this? it’s nothing,” you wave them off, even adding a wink to further convince them that you were fine.

sejanus smiles, even stifles a laugh at your nonchalant attitude, but not coriolanus. no. he could see right through the smile you were presenting them with. how could he not? he had spent far too much time staring at you, his lover, whether it be from across the town square, or beside you in your bed. he knew every which way your face contorted and exactly what it meant. 

he could see you were in pain. 

his jaw tightens at this, fighting the urge to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder so that he could take you home. it was one thing to have to watch the horrors and physical brutality that went on in the district every day, most of which he had become numb to, but seeing you be the victim of it filled him with not only rage, but fear. 

he wanted – no, needed – you to be safe. 

“is there anything we can do?” sejanus offers. “anything we can get you?”

“don’t worry about me. i’ll be fine,” you smile once again, though this time, coriolanus refuses to sit by and watch you lie. 

“can you cover for me?” he asks, though you know it’s meant for sejanus, who instantly nods at the request, further proving his loyalty to his friend. “go home and wait for me. i won’t be long, just don’t touch it.”

while you wanted nothing more than for coriolanus to follow you home, you knew he couldn’t. it wasn’t safe, not while the sun was still out, “no, i’m fine. i promise.”

“just do what i say, okay?” his eyes bore into you now, an urgency in them as his protective side comes into play, and you knew there was no point trying to argue with him when he got like this. 

you nod, begrudgingly, and lazily salute the pair before continuing on down the path to your house. it was only a little ways away from where the boys had spotted you, but the second you see the chipping wood and beaten down stairs that you called ‘home’, you’re overcome with relief. 

upon entering you immediately splay yourself down on the sofa — one of the few pieces of furniture you still owned after your parents — and wait, just like coriolanus had asked you. your head had stopped ringing a little, but the throbbing pain in your cheek was still there. nonetheless, you knew it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight come morning. 

minutes pass, twenty-seven to be exact, before you hear shuffling at your back window, followed by heavy footsteps. you knew it was coriolanus. he regularly came through the back of the house so as not to be seen by your neighbours, but like you always tell him, barely anyone bothered to come down your way. 

the second his face comes into view, you let off a weak smile, more so as he begins to remove his uniform, placing it down on the table in the corner of the room, alongside his gun, “i don’t have long. sejanus is covering for me, but even he knows it won’t be long before they start wondering where i am.”

“you really didn’t have to come. i told you, i’m fine,” you sit up now as coriolanus meets your side with a small package in his hand. 

the look in his eyes shifts as he gets a closer inspection of the damage that had been done to your face, a heavy breath falling from his lips. coriolanus believed people deserved to be punished for the things they did, but not you – never you. you were his girl, his flower, his love – and he had been doing everything in his power to make sure you were safe. 

he knew it wasn’t his fault what had happened earlier, but he still couldn’t help but feel somewhat to blame. he should’ve been there to stop the situation, de-escalate it in any way that he could. he had been doing everything in his power to keep you off the other peacekeeper’s radars, away from any potential danger, and selfishly, away from him ever losing you. 

you watch as the stiffness in his jaw goes slack and his shoulders slump a little, eyes downturing as his lips push out into a pout ever so slightly. you reach for his hand, “coryo, what’s wrong?”

“i just… i don’t like to see you hurt,” he pulls his gaze away from you now, wanting to avoid thinking about it, and begins to unwrap the small package in his hand to reveal a mini first-aid kit. “i grabbed what i could without anyone seeing me, though i doubt you’ll need most of it.” 

you watch as he gathers a small cloth, coated with a disinfectant solution and gently dabs at the cut on your lower lip. it stings a little but you didn’t mind, you’d do just about anything to get a moment alone with coriolanus. perhaps getting hit in the face wasn’t all bad, at least the outcome of it anyway. 

once the cut was cleaned, he pulls out a small bandage and presses it across your lip. you weren’t sure you really needed it but it felt nice to be looked after. as for the bruise, there wasn’t a whole lot he could do. 

“how does it look?” you sigh, and he reaches up to gently brush the tender skin. 

“it looks… like it needs something,”

“and what’s that?” coryo’s lips quirk up into a roguish grin before he slowly leans forward and presses his lips to your cheek. it’s soft and sweet, and gentle. all of the things coryo was when it was just the two of you alone. “you know what? i think you might be onto something.”

coryo’s laughter reverberates through his entire body, looking at you with glistening eyes, but he gives in, pressing another kiss to your lips, and what starts as a light brush of your lips on his becomes much more when you find yourself pushing him backwards on the sofa. he doesn’t protest and lets himself fall into the cushion behind him as you situate yourself on his lap. there’s no hesitation when his hands cup your thighs, running small comforting circles into your skin. 

you stay like that for a few moments, small trickles of laughter escaping you both as you continue to kiss before you evidently decide to curl yourself up into him. you nuzzle your head into his chest, one leg still draped across his as the other burrows in next to him and instinctively his hand searches for yours - fingers idly grazing one another before he threads his through to hold you. 

“so, what’s the verdict doc? will i make it?” you smile. 

“as long as i have anything to do with it,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, but you can’t help but feel like there was another meaning to his words. 

[nadvs]

home before dark (part three)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

Rafe is sitting in a chair in the front room of your home, his chin resting on his hand, hardly paying any attention to the sitcom playing on the tv screen.

He’s pissed off. Why did it have to storm tonight of all nights, when he doesn’t have anything to numb the pain, nothing to drown out the sound of the rain drumming on the windows?

In his haste, he didn’t pack any coke before coming here. He didn’t think he’d need it this bad.

And that photo he saw upstairs. It’s making everything so much fucking worse.

This is how the world repays him for helping someone. Figures. He’s used to having shit luck. Trying to make his own father love him has been a losing game, and he’s been at that for years, so why would anything else go his way?

“Hey.” Rafe straightens when he hears you. You look into the room. “Did the thunder wake you up, too?”

He hasn’t slept at all. But he nods.

There’s a blankness in his stare, the tv casting dull colors over his face. He didn’t bother to turn the light on.

You cross the room, hazy from your interrupted sleep, and settle on the couch. You’re far away from him, acting like you’ve never touched, even though you were just pressed against each other on his motorcycle.

You wonder if it felt nice to him, too. Or if you were just extra weight on his bike, an irritating responsibility he was cornered into taking on.

“Do you have any booze around here?” Rafe mutters. You catch the desolation in his tone.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

You instantly feel ridiculous for expecting you won’t be met with the cold shoulder. You doubt he’ll answer. But then, because the world must be off its axis, he does.

“Fucking hate this weather,” he says.

His words make a chill sink into your bones. You remember your father telling you the news years ago after he got the phone call. A torrential downpour. The freeway. Zero visibility.

Anne lost control of her car.

By the look on your dad’s face, you knew what that meant. Rafe’s mother didn’t survive the wreck.

He doesn’t have to say it. You know that’s why he hates storms.

“I can distract you,” you offer, “if you want?”

It was something you did as kids. Rafe would be angry or sad or hurt or anything and you’d talk his ear off about whatever you could think of until the dark cloud hanging over him drifted away.

His feelings always felt too big for him. You were the best at making them small enough to manage.

Rafe is used to wanting to be left alone. But not right now. Not if he can be with you. Admitting it feels impossible. The wall he spent years building around himself is solid from both sides.

“It’s your house,” he finally says. “Do what you want.”

You take it an invitation to stay. You turn your attention to the tv, as if holding eye contact with him will make him take it back.

It gives him a chance to look at you. How the fuck have you not lost patience with him yet? Why do you still care?

“I keep wanting to ask why you’re helping me,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the tv.

Rafe exhales sharply, rubbing his forehead.

“This is you distracting me,” he scoffs. “Aren’t you supposed to do the talking?”

The fact that he’s expecting you to replicate the days of your youth gives you a sliver of hope that maybe he misses them, too.

“There has to be a reason you’re doing it,” you murmur.

“Can’t you just be happy that I am?” he responds. A white flash of lighting pools into the room for a split second.

“No,” you say. Finally, he gives in.

“Because I…” he begins.

The noise from the show is adding to the frustrating confusion engulfing him. He angrily picks up the remote and turns the tv off, plunging both of you in darkness.

You turn your head towards him again, only able to make out the hard outline of his jaw.

“I always had to look out for you,” he says. “I guess I still do.”

You look down at your lap, taken aback that Rafe holds any sense of loyalty for you.

You almost want to remind him of what he said earlier, that you’re not kids anymore, but you don’t want to challenge him.

“And I don’t know why,” he adds, voice thin, “but you’re not a dick to me like everyone else is, so I kind of owe you.”

All you can hear is your own breathing and the ticking of the clock in the foyer and the tap of faltering raindrops. The storm is passing.

“It’s because you didn’t do anything wrong,” you say into the silence. “It’s not like you did something to make me hate you. You shut me out, but I get why.”

Your words reverberate through him. He wonders if you think that he hates you.

Still, you could have gone to any other guy and asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend.

“Why’d you come to me?” he asks.

“Because he’s scared of you.” You don’t have to nor do you want to say your ex’s name.

“And you’re not?”

“No.” You tilt your head. “We used to be best friends.”

You say it like he wouldn’t remember. He couldn’t erase it from his brain if he tried. And he has.

The heaviness of all this is suffocating to him. The past is done. There’s no point in digging up things that’ll just hurt him all over again.

He stands up, chasing out the familiarity that was slowly growing between you. But before he leaves the room, he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose with trembling fingers.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, either, alright?” Rafe says into the dark, irritated, answering the question you asked him on the shoreline hours ago. “Not on purpose.”

As his shadow retreats, the words he left you with ring in your head. He doesn’t blame you. But you did do something wrong.

Rafe had his head buried into his pillow, throat burning from crying through his grief, every night for months.

As he lies in an unfamiliar bed all for a girl whose very existence makes him feel a multitude of good and bad all at once, he’s thrown back into those days, as if he’s a boy again.

His mother used to tell him it was a strength to be so sensitive, but her voice faded and his father’s voice got so much louder. What he tells him every time Rafe can’t swallow down the tears echoes in his mind. Toughen up. You’re fine.

But he’s not fine. He can’t stop crying and he knows he has to tell you he can’t do this anymore. Being with you brings back too much.

But the next morning, when Rafe finds you sitting at the kitchen island, wearing your pajamas and a smile, the prospect of ending this is tossed away.

You have access to him that nobody else does. You and that damn smile are a weakness that he didn’t know he had. And while he can act happy and careless around everyone else, he can’t put on an act for you. Ever.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask. Your hands are cupping a mug, your phone sitting beside it.

“Like shit,” Rafe replies, pacing to the fridge. “Took hours to fall asleep.”

You feel guilty that he didn’t have a good rest, considering he’s only here because you were too frightened to be alone.

“You?” he says after a beat. The ice must be melting if he’s actually asking about you for once.

“My sleep was good,” you reply. “It helped having you here.”

Rafe’s cheeks get warm. Someone actually wanting him around is a foreign feeling.

By the time your conversation was over last night, the rain and thunder had dwindled. It couldn’t have been the storm keeping him awake. Curiosity pushes you to figure it out.

“Was the bed uncomfortable?” you ask.

“No,” he answers. He finds a glass and fills it with water. His throat still hurts from crying last night.

You watch him, his presence commanding as he leans back against the counter opposite you. The dark, shallow bags beneath his eyes are illuminated in the bright lights above you. He looks exhausted.

“Was the room too warm? Or too cold?” you say.

“Can you relax?” Rafe huffs, his tone almost playful.

He isn’t about to admit that he can’t remember the last time he fell asleep sober. And he’s definitely not going to tell you that the last thing he thought about before finally passing out was that his cheeks burned from how hard he was wiping his tears away.

“The least I can do is make sure you’re comfortable since I made you stay the night,” you say.

His brows furrow as he takes a long gulp, tipping his head back.

“Nobody can make me do anything,” he replies once he downs the water. You know it’s the truth. It makes the fact that he’s doing this for you all the more meaningful.

Before you can respond, your phone buzzes loudly on the countertop. Rafe sees your face fall when your eyes drop to the screen. You read the notification for a moment, then sigh and shake your head.

“He emailed me,” you say incredulously. “I blocked him on everything and he emailed me.”

Rafe leans over to see if you’ll let him look for himself. You slide your phone towards him and he picks it up to read Ty’s message.

What you have with him isn’t real. We both know it. Let me prove that I can treat you how you deserve. Please. I’m sorry for everything. I love you.

A part of Rafe is concerned you’ll fall for it.

“What’re you gonna do?” he asks.

“Block him there, too,” you mutter. “He does this. He’s mean, then he pretends like he changed, then he’s mean again… It’s the same bullshit over and over.”

Rafe blocks him for you and places your phone on the counter. You bite the inside of your cheek as the dread you always feel when Ty contacts you floods your every sense.

The despair on your face makes Rafe’s stomach sink. The next time he sees Ty, he’s beating the shit out of him.

“He’ll stop, okay? I’ll make him,” he says.

You’re still skeptical. Rafe definitely scares him, but Ty called him a bullshit rebound last night. He wrote that what you have with Rafe isn’t real. You’re not fooling him. And you’re afraid he won’t leave you alone until he believes you’re actually in a new relationship now.

“Yeah.” You exhale slowly. “Doesn’t sound like he’s falling for this, though.” You motion between you and him.

Rafe has to take a moment to catch your meaning. Falling for this. Your pretend relationship. Right.

“I didn’t tell anyone it’s fake,” you say, afraid it somehow got out. “Did you?”

Rafe shakes his head no and puts his empty glass in the sink. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you again.

“Do you want me to keep crashing here until your mom and dad get back?” he asks.

You hate that your mind goes there, but you wonder when the last time he said mom out loud was. You shake away the thought.

“Not if you can’t get any actual sleep,” you respond.

Rafe typically gets irritated when someone can’t make up their mind. He wants everything done quickly, so he doesn’t have to stop and think.

But this is you and even though you’re scared of sleeping on your own, you’re considering how staying here affects Rafe and it gives him a heavy feeling of shame. He spent years avoiding the only person who never abandoned him. The only person who still gives a shit.

“I’ll just leave my stuff here,” he says, making the decision for you.

“Thank you.” You mean it. The thought of someone being here with you is comforting.

As usual, Rafe ends the conversation quickly and abruptly, leaving the room. You soon hear the engine of his motorcycle rattling loudly from outside, the roar fading as he drives away.

You hoped that he’d at least want to hang out with you now. You don’t understand why you keep expecting more from him. It just hurts you every time.

You don’t hear from Ty for the rest of the day. You manage to run some errands without worrying you’ll see him because even when Rafe isn’t with you, you don’t feel as scared knowing he’s in your corner.

The days of the week mean practically nothing on the north side of the island over the summer. There’s a party almost every night, this time at a house just down the street from you.

You invite your friends to your place, drinking as you get ready, deciding to walk over to the party. You turn up already tipsy, finding yourself looking for Rafe even though you know you should only really be doing that if Ty is bothering you.

When you walk into the loud, crowded house, seeing you reminds Rafe of why he isn’t smoking or drinking or snorting anything tonight.

He’s had countless fights while wasted, but he wants to have a clear mind when he sees Ty. He needs to make the fucker pay and not give him a chance to get even one punch in.

You meet Rafe’s blue eyes every so often throughout the night, glad you’re finally able to have fun again because you know he’s keeping you safe.

The second Ty walks in, even though he hasn’t come close to approaching you, you make your way to Rafe.

You stand close to him, placing your hand in his, acting like a girlfriend to someone who is only doing this because he feels an overdue sense of loyalty to you.

Rafe stills for a moment before he laces his fingers with yours. His skin is hot, making your heart flutter in a way you know it shouldn’t.

“Hey,” you say over the music. His ring presses against your thumb.

“Hey,” he says tensely. He’s not used to affection, especially in front of people.

But this is what he signed up for. He needs to act like a boyfriend and he’s not going to fuck this up. It’s the first real responsibility he’s had that he actually gives a shit about.

His eyes land on Ty and his plan to confront him takes a backseat when he realizes he doesn’t want to let go of you. Right now, he’d rather have his hand in yours instead of using it to throw a punch. It’s like every touch you give him leaves a heavier impact than the last.

You immediately notice how tense Rafe is.

“Can you relax?” you joke, imitating the way he said it this morning. Your heart warms when his dimples appear, framing a smile he can’t stifle.

“I don’t sound like that,” he says.

“You sound exactly like that,” you reply with a laugh, picturing how tired he looked in your kitchen. “Please tell me you got some sleep today.”

Again, the concern you seem to have never lost for him appears.

“I did,” he says. He crashed in his bed the second he got home.

“How come it took you so long to fall asleep last night?”

Rafe’s knee-jerk reaction is to avoid the question. Especially if it’s you asking. But he can’t forget how shitty it felt when you brushed him off last night at the beach, so he pushes himself to answer.

“Just, uh…” He looks away. “Couldn’t turn off my brain.”

You gaze up at him. It almost aches, how badly you’d love to know what goes through his mind.

“When did this start?” one of his friends amusedly asks, pointing between you two. You notice Ty close by, his gaze sharp as he eavesdrops. Rafe notices him, too.

You squeeze Rafe’s hand tighter, clinging to him. He notices that his entire body buzzes when you do that.

“What, was I supposed to call you?” Rafe responds.

“I’m just saying,” his friend replies with a laugh, “it’s like all of a sudden, you got a girl out of nowhere.”

Alarm stings every inch of your skin when you notice Ty’s posture straighten in your peripheral.

“Don’t sound so surprised, asshole,” Rafe replies lightheartedly, gently pulling his hand out of your grasp to drape his heavy arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush against him.

You follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his torso. The relief from how well he played it off and the comfort you get from how he’s holding you is overwhelming.

Rafe dips his head to speak into your ear, his cheek brushing against yours, his cologne fresh.

“Think he’s falling for it now?” he mumbles, voice lowering an octave. With the way he’s holding you, you might fall for it yourself.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You squeeze him tighter, not for show, but because you want to. You’ve wanted to hug him since the funeral, when he was a boy with bloodshot eyes in a crumpled black suit, but he never let you get this close.

He brings his other hand up to your face, cradling your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek. His touch is so tender that you have to remind yourself it’s Rafe doing this.

You’re suspended, bodies curved together, cheeks brushing, like you’re playing a game to see who’ll let go first.

“And he’s staying away from you, right?” His breath is warm against the shell of your ear.

You nod, at a loss for words.

“Is he watching?” he asks. You can see from the corner of your eye that your ex is staring right at you.

“Mhm,” you hum with a nod.

At this point, Rafe is being selfish. This is close enough. You wanted him to act like you’re a couple and he’s done it. He can pull away now. Maybe he should keep his arm around you for a little longer, but he doesn’t need to be this close.

Instead, he lowers to press his lips against your cheek and you hug him tighter, and fuck, it feels so good that he misses it before it’s even over.

He can’t believe that his body yearns to be this close to you. You opened up the floodgates the second you put your hand on him the first time a couple of nights ago. How good would it feel if you were doing it for real?

You lean into his kiss. His lips are so soft. You wish you could feel them against yours. It’s all to make everyone think you’re actually together. You keep telling yourself that.

When your arms around him weaken just a little, you feel something at his back, protruding against your forearm.

Your eyebrows draw together as you pull back only a few inches to meet Rafe’s eyes, your mind going to the worst possible scenario. Your breath catches. It’s a weapon.

“What is that?” you ask quietly, nudging against the hard item tucked into the band of his jeans.

“What do you think?”

“Rafe,” you say. His jaw tightens. The moment is gone. The wall is back up. Your tone teeters on a thin edge, like you’re judging him.

“You’re surprised the psycho owns a gun?” he scoffs.

He didn’t brush off what Ty said like you thought he did. It makes your stomach turn that your ex’s lie actually stuck with Rafe.

You glance over to see Ty’s back as he storms out of the room. Part of you is relieved, but right now, you mostly feel anxious that Rafe believes a lie.

“I never called you that,” you reiterate to him quietly. “I’ve never said anything bad about you. You think you can trust what he says?”

“I’m not planning on using it on him, okay?” Rafe snaps. “Unless he asks for it.”

He wishes you didn’t notice it. If you didn’t think he was fucked up before, you do now. He’s pissed off and embarrassed and disappointed all at once.

You’ve been trying to reconnect with him for so long. If he gives in, you’ll see that he’s not even close to who he was when you knew him. He’ll just let you down.

He realizes he hasn’t kept his distance only because you’re a painful reminder of a time he wants to forget. It’s also because he’s sure you wouldn’t like who he’s become. And he can’t take the rejection.

You’re still, unable to believe that he actually has a gun. That he would use it. That these are the lengths he’s going to to keep you safe.

You haven’t lost contact with him, but Rafe checks out of the moment and pulls his arm away.

“He’s gone now,” he mutters. You get the message. He’s done pretending. You drop your arms and find your friends again.

Hours later, the party is dwindling, but far from over. Rafe has been sober the entire time, making him all the more antsy and irritable.

He thought he’d beat the shit out of Ty tonight, but he’s exhausted and he can’t stop shaking. Why the hell is he shaking?

Rafe loses his patience and approaches you while you’re dancing with your friends.

“Let’s go,” he says, holding your hand. The contact makes your head spin all over again. Even though you’d like to stay, you comply.

You notice Ty’s eyes on you when you leave. He’s pretending to be a good guy again, keeping his distance, but you know it’s only a matter of time before he cracks.

Once you reach Rafe’s motorcycle in the cool night air, he hands you his helmet and you take it without hesitation.

After the short drive, you walk up the steps to your front door together. But you soon stop in your tracks, eyes wide as you stare at the ground.

Rafe follows your eye line. Mud’s been tracked onto the porch in fragmented footprints.

“I can’t… I can’t remember if that was there before,” you stammer. “Did you see it this morning?”

“I don’t know,” he responds. He rushed out of here too quickly to have noticed something like that.

You look around, as if you can find an answer in the darkness surrounding your home. You would have noticed it after you ran your errands earlier today. Probably. Maybe.

It could have been you. Or Rafe. Or one of your friends.

Or Ty. He didn’t arrive at the party until late into the night. Could he have been creeping around your house? Why would he?

Rafe glances up to confirm that there aren’t any cameras aiming at the door. It pisses him off when he notices there aren’t any cameras at all. He quickly catches on that your breathing has grown faster.

“Come on,” he says, gently pulling you by the crook of your elbow. “Let’s go inside. It’s nothing.”

He doesn’t believe his own words, but there’s no reason to scare you any further.

“What if he was here?” you say, letting Rafe pull you to the door. He takes the key out of your hand and pushes it into the lock.

“Then I’ll shoot him,” he mutters.

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

The door swings open, prompting the security system to start beeping.

You flip on the light and enter the code as he shuts the door behind you. You’re so frightened and unnerved that you jam one of the buttons with the wrong finger, prompting a harsh error noise from the system.

“Can you do this?” you huff. You tell Rafe the five-digit code and he quickly enters it, arming the system again. You notice his hand is trembling.

“Are you okay?” you ask. You know it’s not from fear. Rafe isn’t afraid of anything. He must be high on something. “What’d you take?”

“Nothing,” he says with a humorless laugh. It dawns on him that his body is reacting to the lack of coke in his system. “That’s the problem.”

“What?” you ask.

Rafe sighs, double-checking that the front door is locked for your peace of mind.

“I can’t be wasted if that asshole tries me. I haven’t taken anything since last night,” he says. “But it just made shit worse.”

He realizes how messed up it sounds. How messed up it is that being sober for one night makes him shake like this. He has a problem. But he never really had a reason to get clean before now.

You watch Rafe checking the lock and like a riptide, everything crashes down on you at once.

The torment from Ty harassing you. The guilt from asking Rafe to take on this responsibility. The sadness from knowing that he’s only doing it because he feels a sense of obligation for you and wants nothing more.

“Bet you’re glad I have a gun now,” Rafe mutters. He turns to look at you, your expression grim. “What?”

“I don’t want to keep bothering you with this,” you admit, your heart racing with panic. “I don’t want you to have to sleep here and I don’t want you to have to drive me home all the time and… I hate that this is happening and that I had to drag you into it.”

His eyes travel over the anguish etched on your face.

“What, like it’s your fault he’s a piece of shit?” he says.

You chew on the inside of your cheek and look up to the ceiling, trying to keep your tears at bay. It’s still odd being alone with him, having him in your home.

Rafe hasn’t tried to make someone feel better in a long time. He hasn’t cared enough to. He takes a deep breath.

“I don’t mind doing this, alright?” he says.

“You don’t?” You take in the softness in his eyes that you don’t often see.

“Think I’d be here if I did?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “You used to do things you didn’t want to all the time for me.”

The Rafe that was your best friend always went along with whatever you wanted to play, wherever you wanted to go.

He grits his teeth, tearing his eyes off of you, trying not to think about how when he was a kid, if someone asked him who his favorite person was, he’d tell them that it was a tie between you and his mom.

“Don’t talk about how shit used to be,” he says quietly. And because he doesn’t want to see that hurt look on your face again, he adds, “Please.”

The mere prospect of talking about the past seems to actually give him pain. It dawns on you that you’re looking at a man who may have never processed what happened to him.

“Do you want something to eat?” you offer, changing the subject swiftly.

Rafe realizes he’s starving.

“Yeah,” he says.

A memory washes over you as Rafe sits at your kitchen counter, eating leftovers you heated up for him.

It was a humid summer day and you two were scarfing down the lunch his mother made for you after a morning of swimming behind his house.

Rafe always liked picking the wildflowers that grew in the grass that lined the beach for his mom. The ones he found that day were purple, sitting in a small vase she put in the center of the dining room table.

Every time he gave her a small bundle of uneven flowers, she had the same joyful reaction. Rafe always looked so proud of himself when she enthusiastically thanked her son.

It was just another happy day.

Until Ward came into the kitchen and like always, Rafe’s smile disappeared. Your best friend tended to shrink when his dad was around. Ward almost always found something to chide his son about. He never spoke like that to his daughters.

“Could you eat any faster?” Ward muttered. “Where are your manners?”

“Leave him alone, Ward,” Anne said with a sigh. His mother’s tone was only ever sharp when she was defending her little boy.

You remember watching her lean to kiss Rafe’s head, earning a small smile from him. Then she winked at you, trying to dismiss the tension from the room.

You wonder what Ward has said to Rafe ever since he lost the only person who stuck up for him.

You face the sink as you wash your hands, your back to Rafe, trying to stifle the tears that build as you imagine what the world would be like if the wreck never happened. Who would Rafe be if he never lost her? If a part of him didn’t die with her?

Is it crazy to think that you’d still be best friends, instead of two strangers pushed together in such an arduous situation? You miss her so much that it hurts and all this is yet another thing adding to the weight sitting on your shoulders.

Rafe hears you sniffle and when you finally turn around, you stare at the floor as you try to rush away.

“What is it?” he asks. Is he already failing at making you feel safe?

You freeze. You can’t tell him what’s really bothering you. Especially since he asked you not to talk about your memories.

“I’m just freaked out.” It’s not exactly what you’re thinking of now, but it’s true. This mess with Ty is a nightmare. “If he was really creeping around here… Ugh, I don’t know what he’s going to do next.”

Rafe chews slower as he observes you through narrow eyes. He’s no stranger to the pain of crying to sleep. He doesn’t want that for you.

You notice his hands are still trembling. You have no idea how often he does coke, but it must be an addiction if one night without it makes his body react like this.

“What else do you need?” he asks. It comes out sharper than he intended, like he’s asking what else you could possibly want from him after he’s given you so much.

Your lips thin as you stare at him from across the counter. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so miserable.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “Good night.”

You start to walk away but Rafe says your name to stop you and it sounds so good coming out of his mouth that your stomach numbs. When was the last time he said it?

You turn to look at him. His eyes dart down to his food.

“What if…” he begins, his fork loudly clattering against the dish. “Would it help if I slept in your room?”

You’re surprised. And soothed by the thought of him sleeping close by in case your ex does something as unhinged as break in.

Everyone else paints Rafe as rude and aggressive, but you knew it. You knew he still had some kindness in him.

“Yeah,” you say. “It would help.”

(part four)

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[kokoch4n3l]

˗ˏˋ art deco ࿐ྂ "you're not mean, you're just born to be seen"

summary: kokonoi hajime unwillingly has front-row seats to sano "mikey" manjiro's descent into darkness and now he unknowingly watches the start of a new obsession with something a lot prettier that owns one too many mini skirts

pairing(s): kanto!mikey x f!reader

notes: told through koko's eyes and the beginning of yandere!mikey and pre-bonten. heart divider by cafekitsune

warnings: canon typical violence, mentions of weapons, mentions of murder, implied mental health issues, slight bimbo!reader, suggestive themes, mentioned voyeurism, obsession, future yandere(?), not edited we die like my potential

word count: 1690

Sano “Mikey” Manjiro was no longer the man he used to be. Perhaps after killing a bunch of people, part of him had gone numb. Or maybe most of him. He doesn’t feel the same way anymore and it’s clear to everyone around him. His black Toman jacket had been long changed to white and he’s got an appointment with a tattoo artist soon. Kokonoi wonders when it will be his turn to get tattooed next. He wonders when the matching jackets will be changed to suits and their flimsy pipes and bats will be replaced with guns. Kokonoi isn’t sure if he’s looking forward to it or not. Many things have changed quickly and so has Mikey. 

Kokonoi Hajime accidentally got front-row seats to Sano “Mikey” Manjiro’s plunge into darkness and it’s not something very fun to watch especially since nothing he does can get the latter out of it. It was almost like Mikey wanted to burn. Like he enjoyed it. Kokonoi Hajime glanced up from his laptop, the soft glow of the screen illuminating his tired eyes. The rain outside pelted the floor-to-ceiling windows, a rhythmic drumming that filled the otherwise silent penthouse. Mikey stood motionless, staring out into the storm as if it held answers to the questions he never voiced. Kokonoi had grown used to this silence, the heavy, unspoken tension that seemed to hang over them like a dark cloud. “Mikey— Oh hi Koko!”

Maybe the only thing stopping Mikey from fully going crazy was you and your damn mini-skirt. You twirl into the room with that infectious energy of yours, your sneakers tapping against the marble floor. The rain pattering against the windows is almost drowned out by your cheerful presence. You greet Kokonoi with a bright smile, your eyes sparkling with a naivety that seems out of place in the world of the Kanto Manji Gang— in Sano “Mikey” Manjiro’s world. “Hi Koko!” you repeat, a playful lilt in your voice

Kokonoi can’t help but crack a small smile at your enthusiasm, the glitter in the inner corners of your eyes shining under the artificial light. You always manage to bring a bit of light into these dark times, even if you don’t fully understand the shadows lurking around you. Mikey, however, doesn’t move. His gaze remains fixed on the storm outside, his reflection a ghostly figure in the glass. Kokonoi watches him, the unease gnawing at him. Mikey's transformation from the once lively, mischievous leader of Tokyo Manji Gang to this silent, brooding figure of Kanto Manji Gang is unsettling. You flounce over to Mikey, your hips swaying with each step. You wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your cheek against his back. “Mikey, come on. You promised we’d watch a movie tonight” you whine, trying to coax him away from the window, glossy lips shifting into a pout

Mikey finally shifts, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your touch. He turns around, and for a moment, Kokonoi catches a glimpse of the old Mikey in the way his dark eyes soften when he looks at you. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?” he says, his voice a low rumble.

Honestly speaking, in Kokonoi’s opinion, you were kind of a bimbo— in some sense that is. You were top of your class with the goal of getting into law school but here you were in a damn mini skirt, your bruised knees knocking against Sano Manjiro who is a literal fucking criminal. Maybe you have one of those weird fantasies of representing your criminal boyfriend in court. The problem with that though is you and Manjiro weren’t together. You were just a pretty distraction, someone who brought a flicker of life into Mikey’s darkened world, a role you played with such unknowing perfection that even Kokonoi found it admirable. The darkness that enveloped Mikey was thick, suffocating, but you… you seemed to be the only one who could penetrate it, if only slightly with your stupid mini skirt that hugged your hips and thighs so well. “Not feeling it?” You ask him innocently, the tips of your white sneakers knocking against his boots

Maybe you were a little stupid but other than academic smarts, you were emotionally smart too. You didn’t realize just who you were hanging around and what the penthouse you waltzed into was but you knew when Sano “Mikey” Manjiro wasn’t feeling well. Kokonoi admires that because he as well as the other top members of Kanto Manji Gang were yet to figure out Mikey’s emotions. “Not really” Mikey says, his fingers curl around your hip in an almost possessive manner, pulling you closer to him. 

Kokonoi watches the exchange, feeling a pang of jealousy mixed with something he can't quite place. Maybe it's envy at your ability to reach Mikey in a way he can't, or perhaps it's frustration at Mikey's apparent detachment from everyone else. Kokonoi watches you wrap your arms around Mikey’s neck. The contrast between Mikey’s brooding presence and your bubbly aura is almost comical, like a scene from a twisted romantic comedy. Kokonoi can’t help but shake his head at the irony of it all. “What’s wrong, Mikey?” you ask softly, your voice laced with genuine worry.

Mikey’s gaze softens as he looks down at you, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “Nothing you need to worry about, sweetheart” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

Kokonoi watches the exchange, feeling a twinge of envy mixed with a hint of admiration. Despite everything, Mikey still had the ability to care for someone, even if it was in his own twisted way. You pout slightly, not satisfied with his vague answer. “But I do worry about you, Mikey. You know that,” you insist, your well-manicured fingers intertwining with his bruised fingers.

A small, almost invisible smile tugs at the corners of Mikey’s lips. “I know, babe. And I appreciate it” he says, sincerity ringing in his voice. 

He leans down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, a silent promise of reassurance. Kokonoi can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at the intimacy between you and Mikey. It’s not that he harbours any romantic feelings for Mikey himself, but rather he envies the connection you two share, a connection that seems to elude him in this world of darkness and violence. As you pull away from the kiss, a bright smile graces your lips once more. Your lip gloss is now transferred onto Mikey’s lips and he doesn’t seem to mind as he licks up the artificial taste, his eyes never leaving yours as he does. It was weird though— You and Mikey weren’t dating but you still kissed and cuddled and did other things like normal couples did. Mikey called you sweetheart, babe, baby, doll, angel and any other sweet endearment his tainted mind could think of but you both weren’t dating. You both aren’t dating but Kokonoi knows the bruises on your knees are from when Mikey’s got you on the floor between his legs and the scratches on Mikey’s back are from you being pinned beneath him. “I’ve been a little stressed though. Come help me out?” Mikey says to you, thumb rubbing away some of the lipgloss that smeared onto your chin when he kissed you

Kokonoi can imagine it clearly— you down on your knees on the hardwood floor in front of Mikey, your pretty eyes wide and watery with drool running down your chin and mascara smudged; your stupid mini skirt hiked up around your hips as Mikey made you take it. “Hm, m’kay” You answer a little too innocently for what Mikey was suggesting at

As Mikey guides you to another room in the penthouse, he looks over his shoulder. “Koko, make sure no one disturbs us”

“Got it boss” He answers, trying to sound as apathetic as possible

The lock on the door clicks and Kokonoi is already scrambling to find his headphones. He’s been a victim of getting hard off listening to your breathy moans and helpless whimpers too many times already and he’s still got work to do. Kokonoi wasn’t a huge fan of being a voyeur like the rest of the sickos and perverts Mikey let into Kanto Manji Gang after all. He barely gets his headphones in when he hears a breathy groan come from the other side of the locked door. He tries to focus on his work, to lose himself in the lines of code scrolling across the screen, but his mind keeps drifting back to the scene unfolding behind the locked door. He can almost picture it—the way you kneel before Mikey, your eyes wide with anticipation, your lips parted in a silent plea. He can hear the soft rustle of fabric as Mikey guides you, his voice low and commanding. It’s a scene that plays out in his mind with disturbing clarity, one that he wishes he could erase but finds himself unable to look away from.

Kokonoi Hajime unwillingly has front-row seats to Sano “Mikey” Manjiro’s descent into darkness. But it seems he’s watching an obsession grow as well. 

An obsession that owns too many mini skirts and with a smile as bright as the sun. 

Kokonoi wonders how long it will take for that obsession to grow into something unhealthy and something that starts to hurt you. But even as he wonders, a part of him knows that he’ll be there to witness it all. Because in this world of darkness and violence, there are few constants, and Kokonoi has unwittingly become one of them. So he continues to work, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he loses himself in the safety of his own little world, a world far removed from the chaos that surrounds him.

As the night wears on and the sounds from the other room grow louder, Kokonoi can’t help but feel a sense of resignation settle over him. Because in the end, he knows that you’re just as trapped as the rest of them, prisoners of their own making in a world where darkness reigns supreme.

[w3irdo666]

Hi! I wasn't sure if you were accepting requests at the moment

but can I get (romantic) Alastor x Lucifer's ex Seraphim Angel wife who he left plz?

S/o eventually left Heaven and still got to keep their wings and powers before it got taken. They meet him around the time he got to Hell and they hit it off

Anything else is up to you if you'd like

Oh, interesting idea!! I'll try my best, love youuu!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

The Drug In Me Is You

Alastor x Fem!reader x ex!Lucifer

Letter count:

Tags: slightly angst, sfw, slightly possesive behaviour, depression.

Notes: I hope i understood you right!!! Enjoy!!

Lucifer was a wonderful husband.. Constantly enveloped you in love. It seemed to you that you could not dream of anything more. Romantic dates, beautiful clothes, oh, you thought that you would drown in his care.... Which is what happened. Lucifer was undoubtedly magnificent a man...But not a great husband...When you got married, your joy knew no bounds...but...

A year later, you began to notice that he began to pay less attention to you. In the evening, he no longer went to you to cuddle in bed, but just turned his back to you and fell asleep.When you wanted to hug him, threw your hand away and answered annoyed, “Leave me alone.”

One day you were walking through a magnificent garden in paradise. The beauty of nature has always delighted you. Oh, these magnificent scarlet roses.. They look so fragile that it seems that if you touch them, they will fall into small pieces... Birds sang and flew in the sky .Everything was so wonderful, you even forgot about your husband for a while...But suddenly you heard someone’s voice. Your wings trembled slightly, not expecting that someone would be there. You came closer to the source of the sound and, hiding behind a tree, looked whose it was a voice...

Your heart skipped a beat and you felt tears running down your cheeks, like blades piercing your skin.Lucifer stood with another woman. His smile....he had not smiled as much as he smiled at this woman for a long time.You were hurt, terribly. He betrayed you. You were on the verge of hysterics. Turning around, you ran away, sobbing and wiping your tears with your hands.

Everything around you seemed so fake. These light clouds. Birds, flowers, plants. You flapped your three wings and quickly flew. Where? You didn’t know, but it certainly wasn’t where you were flying from.

..............................................................................................................

The next few days were a blur. You felt terrible, you suffered. Lucifer, betrayed you? You couldn’t accept it. When Lucifer was kicked out of Heaven because he got involved with a demon, you didn’t care anymore. You used to be a very joyful archangel. Everyone called you a ray of sunshine. But now... There were black bags under your eyes because of lack of sleep. Your eyes are red, tear-stained. Your condition was immediately noticed by other angels.

“Y/n, honey, are you okay....?” One day an archangel turned to you, concerned about your condition. But she was only met with a few rude words. This alerted her. Soon the angels began to avoid you. The archangels thought about making a decision about your expulsion. But before they could do anything, you expelled yourself. Having opened the portal, you descended into hell. “If I suffer here... It won’t be worse there..” You thought.

Unfortunately, you were wrong. A few days later, you sat curled up in a ball in some alley of hell. Your clothes were torn in some places, your wings were tattered, you felt emptier than an empty glass.Your tired eyes were closed. Your face was buried in your knees. You were so tired that you didn’t even have the strength to cry. Suddenly, you heard someone’s voice. It felt like someone was talking on the radio.

"What are you doing here, dear.With those...wings.Aren't you supposed to be in heaven?" His static voice sounded confident.

You raised your head slightly and opened your eyes. You saw a strange sinner in front of you... He was different from many of those you saw here. He was dressed in a beautiful fitted red suit, his black bow tie was beautifully attached to his shirt. He had a big smile on his face, showing his yellow, sharp teeth. His eyes were calm, but you could see a slight mockery in them.He had black gloves on his hands, and in one of his hands he held a red microphone on a stick.

"W...what do you want...?" You asked in a quiet, pitiful voice. You heard him laugh slightly.

"Ah, nothing important, dear, just curious what such.... creature..like you doing here?" He tilted his head to the side with slight -crack-.

"Who are you...?" You said weakly

"Ah, name's Alastor.Pleasure to meeting you! Quite a pleasure!" He bowed while saying this. You didn't say anything, only looked down at the ground. He continued watching you for few seconds then walked closer to you, standing in front of you.

Alastor couldn't help, but when he saw you, something woke up in him.He was in hell only few month, but still made reputation of dangerous cruel demon.But when he saw your poor, beautiful body, his heart skipped a beat. He felt a strange pull to protect you.

"Such an innocent soul..." he thought

............................................................................................................

You didn't know how it happened, but you find yourself in....his apartment...? With Alastor in front of you.There was a cup of tea in front of you. You looked at your reflection in the tea. You looked terrible. Shabby dirty hair, tired face...The demon continued to look at you, drinking his coffee. His smile never fell, you didn’t even care.

Your weak hand reached for the cup of tea. Fragile fingers clasped the handle of the tea, but your hands were too weak to lift the cup. Alastor noticed this and his eyes narrowed slightly. He put his cup on the saucer. Crossing his legs, he leaned back, watching you.

No matter how he tried to find pleasure in your suffering and raise the cup, he did not feel good. He felt sympathy for you, and a desire to protect. He slowly stood up and approached you.His beautiful long fingers took a cup of tea from your hand and brought the cup to your lips. Slightly surprised by such actions, you looked at the demon.

Opening your lips slightly, you started drinking tea with small sips.

After tea and some food (Alastor feed you too) Alastor showed you way to the bathroom, you needed it.You looked like complete mess.Alastor provided you with a towel, after which you went into the bathroom.When you came out of the bath, prepared clothes were waiting for you... Or rather, a shirt and pants...

When you were changing clothes, Alastor came into the room. He was amazed by your beauty. Your hair.. your smooth skin... Ah, those beautiful wings... He felt his pulse increase.His smile and eyes began to give off shades of warmth.

..............................................................................................................

You lived with Alastor for a long time.You became very close, you started to feel better. Every evening, over a cup of tea, he listened to your worries and sufferings... Usually he would have enjoyed this, but with you, he only felt the desire to calm you down. Every day spent with Alastor gave you more strength, and made you forget Lucifer.

In a hell full of lustful sinners and murderers, you have found comfort in a dangerous demon.No, he wasn't just a demon for you, Alastor, this soul..When he woke up in the evening because of your sobs in the next room, he would sigh and get up heading towards you. When he approaches you, he will lie down next to you and hug you. He hates touching.... But for you he will do anything.He would kill for a feeling of your wings wrap around him when you relax after telling him what bothering you.

When the angels officially kicked you out of heaven, you didn't care so much anymore.You cared only about one thing...only about one person...only about Alastor.

........................................................................................................

"Alastor, where are we?" You asked as you looked around.You were in some kind of garden. Although the flowers were not as luxurious as in heaven, life was visible in them... They looked so bewitching.Alastor coughed and turned away from you. You looked at him in surprise, not understanding his behavior.

"Alastor...?" You almost reached with your hand to his shoulder, but he quickly turned to you.

"Y/n.." Alastor began. His smile was on his face as usual, but you saw the uncertainty in his eyes when he turned to you with one black rose in his hand.You lowered your hand. Oh, how beautiful this rose was... Like an angel of death...

"yes..?"

"i....love you." He extended his hand with the rose towards you. His other hand was tightly gripping his microphone. Your cheeks turned slightly red due to the blush. You felt your heart beating faster and as if butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.He turned his head away, looking away.Without wasting a second, you grabbed his wrist with one hand and turned his face in your direction with the other. Alastor tensed at the contact, but when he felt your soft, plump lips on his, he almost melted.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him. You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to penetrate. You let out a slight moan as your tongues intertwined.

After a few seconds, you pulled away each other. from each other and looked into each other's eyes. You smiled. Your cheeks were flushed with blush, but you were happy to think about it.

"I love you too."

Notes: I hope you liked it!!! Sorry that i didn't lost for a while (⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠;⁠)

[oofthwoods]

CHAPTER ONE! ── ˙ ̟ bring home the glory !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: funerals, grief and death. if you don't feel comfortable with these themes, go straight to the part after 2023. you won't lose much, i promise! the second part is somehow based on right hand man from hamilton, don't ask about it. this is pretty much a prologue number two tbh, but i still hope you enjoy it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 3.2k

⭠ previous masterlist next ‭→

2021

In the solemn setting of the cemetery, the sun hung in the sky, seemingly unaware of the grief below. Its golden rays contrasted sharply with the darkness consuming your soul, each beam of light piercing through the heavy clouds of sorrow. As tears streaked your face, the warmth of the sun felt out of place, a painful reminder of the world's indifference to your shattered heart.

Standing beside the graveside, you looked up to the sky, seeking solace in its vastness. But the heavens offered no comfort, no relief from the ache within. You wondered why the sky remained clear, why it didn't reflect the storm of emotions raging inside you. Its serene blue expanse seemed to mock your devastation, its unwavering indifference amplifying your pain.

Your mother and her siblings stood ahead, their shoulders bowed under the weight of grief, their sobs a haunting melody that echoed through the air. But you stood alone, isolated in your sorrow, drowning in memories that threatened to consume you whole.

Memories of your grandfather flooded your mind like a deluge, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had lost. His laughter, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt distant and painful, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. His stories, his wisdom, his gentle touch — they all seemed like distant echoes of a life that was slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

You recalled his final moments, the frailty of his form, the sadness in his eyes as he whispered his last words to you. "Be proud of who you are," he had said, his voice barely a whisper, his breath brushing against your cheek. "And never forget where you come from. Your roots are your strength, my dear." His words had been a lifeline in the storm of your grief, a reminder of the legacy he had left behind, of the love that would endure long after he was gone.

As you stood beside his grave, the words offered little solace. They felt empty, a faint reminder of the warmth once found in his embrace. You longed to reach out to him, to feel the warmth of his touch one last time, to beg for just a moment more in his comforting presence. But he was gone, lost to you forever in a world that seemed infinitely colder and darker without him.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely as you whispered your silent goodbyes to him, each word a prayer for his eternal peace. But even as you spoke, you knew that no amount of tears could ever hope to fill the void he had left behind, that no words could ever hope to capture the depth of your loss.

As you stood there, lost in your grief, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. You turned to see your mother returning, her eyes red and swollen from tears, her expression etched with the same pain that weighed heavily on your own heart. For a moment, you simply stood there, sharing a silent understanding born from the depths of your shared sadness.

Without a word, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, her arms providing solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. "I'm not sure I can go on without him, Mom," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you buried your face against her shoulder.

Her embrace tightened, her fingers gently combing through your hair. "I feel the same way, sweetheart. But we have to find strength, for his sake," she whispered softly, her words tinged with a mixture of sadness and determination.

As you leaned into her embrace, the weight of your grief seemed to press down upon you, threatening to crush you beneath its relentless force. Your mother's presence briefly brought comfort, like a delicate lifeline amidst the stormy sea of emotions swirling inside you.

"I miss him so much already," you confessed with your voice trembling. "It feels like a part of me is missing, like I'll never be whole again."

Her arms tightened around you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone. "I know, my love. I do too," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He was the heart of our family, the glue that held us together."

A bittersweet silence fell between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Memories of your grandfather danced through your mind like flickering candle flames, casting shadows of laughter and love against the walls of your grief-stricken heart.

"Do you think he's watching over us?" you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the evening.

Her hand stilled against your hair. "I'd like to think so," she replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'd like to believe that he's found peace, that he's somewhere out there, looking down on us with love in his heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined him, a silent guardian in the heavens above, watching over you with a warmth that transcended the boundaries of life and death. "I hope he knows how much we love him," you whispered, your words a fervent prayer whispered into the vast expanse of the sky.

"I'm sure he does, my dear," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness. "And I know that wherever he is, he'll always be with us, guiding us through the darkness, lighting our way with the love that he left behind."

As your mother's words gently washed over you, a sudden movement caught your eye. In the corner of your vision, a flash of royal blue fluttered amidst the solemn surroundings. You blinked, momentarily startled, before fixing your gaze on the delicate creature that alighted on a nearby branch.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the bird, its feathers shimmering like fragments of the sky woven into living form. With a heart full of wonder, you watched as it stretched its wings, basking in the fading light of the evening sun.

"We can leave now, if you're ready, sweetheart." her mother murmured, delicately turning her daughter's face to meet her own. 

As your mother looked into your eyes, you could see the sadness reflecting in them, speaking volumes on its own. Although she softly hinted that you could go if you wished, it was evident that she longed for some respite from the weight of your mutual grief. Beneath her calm demeanor, you sensed her vulnerability, a silent plea to escape the overpowering sorrow surrounding you both. With a simple nod, you silently agreed.

With a mix of sadness and resolve, you followed your mother's lead, letting her guide you away from the graveside and back into the world. While you walked together, a quick look back caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the scene you were departing. And there, on top of the gravestone, sat the blue bird, its colorful feathers standing out against the solemn surroundings.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you watched the bird, a silent sentinel overlooking the final resting place of your beloved grandfather. He seemed to look at you, and, if birds could smile, you would swear he did.

2023

You find yourself standing outside a closed door, your hand hesitantly reaching out to lightly tap against the wood. The muffled voices from within only add to your uncertainty, but the urgency of speaking with the team principal before the Abu Dhabi sprint pushes you to take action. Whatever discussion awaits behind that door must be significant enough to pull you away from your pre-race meeting with the mechanics.

In the stillness of the hallway, time seems to stretch endlessly as you wait for a response that never comes. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins, you finally muster the courage to grasp the doorknob. Its cool metal provides a fleeting sense of reassurance as you turn it slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest as the door swings open to reveal the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, seated at a table, is Mr. Vowles, engrossed in conversation. Your presence at the threshold goes unnoticed for a moment until you gather your resolve and speak up, your voice barely above a whisper as you address him.

"Mr. Vowles, did you need to see me?" you venture, your words hanging in the air with a hint of uncertainty.

At the sound of your voice, James looks up, his expression softening into a welcoming smile.

"Williams, come in," he says, his warm tone instantly easing your nerves as he gestures for you to enter. "Have you met Sargeant?" he continues, motioning towards a figure standing nearby, their presence previously hidden in the shadows of the room.

As James mentions Logan, it's like a floodgate of memories bursting open, whisking you back to the time when you and Logan shared an unbreakable bond. You were inseparable, navigating the twists and turns of life at the academy with laughter, support, and a shared vision of the future.

But as the competition for a spot in Formula One heated up, your friendship began to strain. What started as friendly competition slowly morphed into something more complicated. The pressure mounted, and with it came a subtle shift in your relationship. Each race seemed to drive a wedge between you, rather than bringing you closer.

It was at the peak of your rivalry that things started to unravel. Every little disagreement or perceived slight seemed to fester, poisoning the once vibrant atmosphere between you. Despite your efforts to keep up appearances, there was an underlying tension that threatened to fracture your bond.

When Logan secured a seat at Williams while you remained in F2, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. Of course, you were genuinely happy for him, but there was also a pang of envy and disappointment gnawing at your heart. It felt like a piece of your own dream slipping away, leaving you grappling with a sense of loss you couldn't quite shake.

And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any more complicated, James hinted at the possibility of you stepping into Logan's shoes. The idea of replacing your friend-turned-competitor added another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of emotions. It was a constant battle between your ambition and the fear of losing the one person who had been by your side through it all.

"Yes, sir," you respond, choosing a simple response. Logan's gaze meets yours, seeming to ignite with intensity. "We keep on meeting"

In a deliberate choice of silence, Logan sidestepped any engagement with you, his eyes fixed on the team leader instead. "As I was just saying," he began, his voice brimming with confidence, "I truly believe that with these adjustments, I can improve my control over the car."

James reciprocated Logan's smile, though his gaze hinted at a wandering mind. "Sargeant?" he interrupted, signaling a shift in focus to another pressing matter.

"Yes, sir?" Sergeant replied promptly, ready for further instructions.

"We'll talk about this later. Close the door on your way out," James commanded, his tone decisive, drawing their exchange to a close.

As Logan's footsteps faltered on his way out, a pang of unease settled in your chest. You couldn't shake the guilt that crept in, knowing your success might come at the cost of his dreams.

In the relentless world of Formula One, sentimentality was a luxury few could afford. You grappled with the harsh reality that success often meant sacrificing the dreams of others. It was a something you had grappled with since the beginning of your journey, one that forced you to confront the truth that in this fiercely competitive arena, there would always be someone waiting in the wings to take your place if you faltered.

As you redirected your focus towards James, the man who now held the reins of your family's team, you couldn't help but reflect on the rarity of such a moment. Conversations with him had been few and far between, a testament to the typical hierarchy within Formula One teams where direct interaction between a team leader and a junior driver, especially mere hours before a pivotal race, was uncommon.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ventured, a tinge of uncertainty coloring your tone.

"Not at all, quite the opposite actually," James responded, rising from his seat and leaning casually against the table, his arms folded. "Your stats this season are impressive—seven wins, numerous podium finishes. You've got a bright future ahead of you. But here's the thing, every day I see offers come across my desk to buy out your contract, and frankly, I find it amusing."

"Uh, sorry, I'm not following," you admitted, furrowing your brow in confusion.

"Williams, why is it that no team seems to be able to snag you?" James clarified, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. "You're undeniably talented, but turning down offers from big names like Alpine and Alpha Tauri might not be the smartest move."

"To drive their tractor, or worse, become a reserve driver? I don't think so." you remarked with a disbelieving smirk.

"Think about it, a spot at Alpha Tauri could open doors at Red Bull down the line," James suggested, attempting to sway your perspective.

"Everyone knows they have their sights set on Daniel Ricciardo, or Liam Lawson at best" you countered, a note of frustration creeping into your voice. "I'm a bit lost here. Why are you laying all this out for me?" you questioned, a perplexed furrow creasing your brow. You knew full well the offers on the table and why you were declining them. James likely wasn't in the dark about your reasons either.

"I'm just being honest with you," He replied, his tone carrying a hint of earnestness. His hand reached up to rub his forehead, fingers tracing over the lines etched there as if seeking solace in the familiar. "We're on a tight budget," he explained, a touch of resignation in his voice. "We're short on engineers and mechanics compared to almost everyone else, except maybe Haas and Sauber. While we've made progress since last year, I can't promise our car will match up to the competition next season."

James lifted his gaze, fixing it upon you with a mixture of earnestness and concern. "I'm not one to squander talent. I know you've got your reasons for sticking with us, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to have you on board. But I can't move forward without ensuring you understand exactly what you're signing up for."

"I'm just asking for a shot, James. Just one chance to prove that we've still got what it takes," you implored, your words tinged with determination. Images of past triumphs flickered through your mind, a reminder of the team's glory days.

With a weary smile, James let out a soft sigh. "Seems like sheer tenacity runs in the family, huh?"

"They used to say I took after my grandmother," you remarked casually, a wistful grin playing on your lips.

Turning to the desk, the man retrieved a piece of paper from a drawer, his movements deliberate and measured. "What are the odds?"

You knew precisely what he was referring to. "Iwasa's already out of the running. If I take the sprint, I'll have enough points to clinch the championship."

Extending the contract towards you, James presented it as if unveiling a glimpse of what lay ahead. "Win this championship, and the seat is yours."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the anticipation that crackled between you. With the contract poised like a tantalizing promise, the room seemed to hold its breath.

You reached out tentatively, fingers hovering over the document that held the potential to shape your future. The paper felt crisp beneath your touch.

"I know it's a risk, trading one rookie for another" James conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "But I believe in you, and I need someone who believes in this team."

A surge of determination coursed through your veins, bolstered by James's unwavering faith. "I won't let you down," you vowed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

"TO TOP OFF AN INCREDIBLE SEASON, Y/N WILLIAMS WINS THE ABU DHABI SPRINT AND HAS ENOUGH POINTS TO CROWN HERSELF A CHAMPION." The narrator's voice reverberated through the sprawling circuit, amplifying the momentous declaration that crowned your achievement.

The roar of victory surged through the airwaves as your race engineer's voice erupted over the radio, a symphony of celebration. "You did it, Williams! Formula 2 champion, with one race to spare!"

Amidst the cacophony of cheers echoing from Rodin Carlin's garage, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the weight of your accomplishment settling upon your shoulders like a mantle of triumph. Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, a torrent of exclamations, gratitude, and tears that threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As you gradually eased the car to a decelerating pace, you couldn't help but feel the swell of pride and disbelief wash over you. With trembling hands, you lifted them skyward in a gesture of reverence, a silent tribute to the one who had inspired you journey.

"This one's for you, grandpa," you murmured, your voice a whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines and jubilant cheers. "I hope you're proud up there."

Amidst the jubilant chaos enveloping the pit lane, your thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm, each emotion vying for dominance in the tumult of your mind. As you joined in the exultant cheers of your team, a sense of disbelief mingled with elation, the reality of your victory sinking in with each heartbeat.

In the midst of the celebration, you couldn't help but steal a moment to glance towards the podium, where your destiny awaited. The anticipation pulsed within you, a heady mixture of excitement and nervous energy propelling youforward.

As you ascended to the highest step, each stride felt like a triumph, a testament to the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice that have led you to this pinnacle moment. Your mind hummed with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a kaleidoscope of memories and aspirations swirling in the depths of your consciousness.

The thunderous roar of the crowd enveloped you like a tidal wave, the sound of applause echoing in your ears as you stand upon the podium, bathed in the radiant glow of the spotlight. Your chest swells with pride, your heart beating in time with the pulsating energy of the spectators.

Locking eyes with James amidst the sea of faces, you feel a surge of excitement washing over you. There's a silent understanding that passes between you, a shared recognition of the journey you will embark upon together. In that fleeting moment, as your gazes meet, you know with a certainty that transcends words— you'll be signing that contract.

With a triumphant smile, you raise the championship trophy high above your head, the weight of your accomplishment buoyed by the unwavering support of your team and your unyielding belief in yourself.

And in the middle of the bustling paddock, a blue bird chirped happily, swooping towards the girl as she lifted the trophy high. It appeared as though he'd be sticking around a while longer.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3 | italic means i couldn't tag you) :: @formulanni @clownrrari @leilanixx @notyouraveragemochii @alliwantisadonut @oooom4rie @watermelon-sugars-things @glitterquadricorn @minkyungseokie @formulaal @itsjustkhaos @thebearchives @hiireadstuff @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cptg00s3 @welovediaaxx @eugene-emt-roe @cha-hot

[frostdayz]

Kings expectations

Aegon x reader (f! reader)

Genre: fluff once again LOL!!

summary: Aegon has recently become king and with the overwhelmingly large shoes he has to fill he tries to find comfort in his loving wife.

wrds: 804

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The grandeur of the Red Keep had always been imposing, but now, with Aegon on the throne, it felt even more overwhelming. The days since his coronation had been a whirlwind of responsibilities, decisions, and the weight of expectations pressing heavily upon him. As I wandered through the echoing halls, I thought of the man I married, not the king he had to become.

I found Aegon in his chambers, slumped over his desk, a sea of parchments spread out before him. His shoulders were tense, his brow furrowed in concentration as he pored over the endless reports and decrees that demanded his attention. My heart ached at the sight. This was not the carefree man I had fallen in love with; this was someone burdened by the crown he wore.

"Aegon," I called softly, stepping into the room. He glanced up, and the exhaustion in his eyes was evident. "You've been at this for hours. You need rest."

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I can't afford to rest, Y/N. There's too much to do, too much expected of me."

I walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You can't pour from an empty cup, my love. You need to take care of yourself too."

He reached up, covering my hand with his. "I know , but... I'm trying to be the king my mother wants, the king the realm needs. It's just... ever since I was a kid this cloud has been over my head and now its finally covered me whole." He sighed and looked at me with his sunken eyes.

I moved around to face him, kneeling so that our eyes were level. "Aegon, you're doing your best, and that's all anyone can ask of you. There is no need for you to be perfect. You just have to be you."

He looked at me, a mixture of gratitude and despair in his gaze" Y/N. I feel like I'm drowning."

I cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to meet my eyes. "You are not alone in this. You have me, and together, we can face anything. You are stronger than you think, my love. And I believe in you."

He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch. "Thank you," he whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without..." He takes a deep breath and smiles at me.

"I thank the gods for making you for me every waking hour."

I smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "And I thank them for you."

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly as if I were his anchor in a storm. I could feel the tension slowly leave his body as he took comfort in my presence. For a while, we simply stayed like that, wrapped in each other's embrace, finding solace in the quiet moments away from the demands of the crown.

Eventually, I pulled back slightly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Why don't we take a walk in the gardens? The fresh air will do you good."

He nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "That sounds wonderful."

We left the burdens of the throne behind as we wandered through the gardens, the evening air cool and refreshing. The flowers were in full bloom, their fragrance a soothing balm to the soul. Aegon laced his fingers with mine, and for the first time in days, I saw a hint of the man I had married.

"Do you remember our wedding day?" he asked suddenly, his eyes sparkling with the memory.

I laughed softly. "How could I forget? You were so nervous, you nearly tripped over your own feet while standing still"

He chuckled, a genuine sound that warmed my heart. "And you looked so beautiful, I forgot how to speak."

I blushed, nudging him playfully. "It was a perfect day. And despite everything, we still have each other." I chuckled and gave him a playful push.

As we continued our walk, the pressures of the throne seemed to fade away, replaced by the simple joy of being together. We talked about everything and nothing, finding comfort in each other's presence. The stars began to twinkle in the night sky, casting a gentle glow over the gardens, and I felt a sense of peace settle over us.

Not knowing what would come tomorrow, next month, or year I knew I'd want to be by his side no matter what. To others, he is King Aegon but to me, he is so much more.

[notjustjavierpena]

i loved getting an insight into hubby in 4am. It got me thinking about other times I’d like to see into his brain.

Did he know straight away that reader was different and a potential future for him or did it take him a little while due to his past as a womaniser? His brain working overtime trying to process all the new feelings.

Did he ever feel like he should leave her feeling like he’s not good enough?

Bee (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N:  This is not totally what you had in mind, I think. However, this came to me and I think you’ll enjoy it. It’s soft and tender ❤️

Summary: Javier reflects on how gentle you make him.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Javi POV, fluff, insecurities, love

Word count: 1.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52937182/chapters/137384134

Bee

Sun filters through the clouds above Javier as he lies on the ground behind his father’s ranch. You’ve talked him into drowning in the tall fields of grass that surround the fenced-off area for the cows, listening to the sound of a million buzzing bugs that hide from you as you invade their home. He isn’t too fond of anything that could possibly land on him, too rough around the edges still to treat nature with the care that you do. 

You are talking softly yet enthusiastically about shapes that you find in the sky, reaching for heaven as you explain or draw out shapes with your finger. There’s been a dragon, a heart, and a bunny. You wonder out loud if it means something but Javier can hardly follow your words despite trying. He is too busy gazing upon you, having turned his head to the side to look at you in secret, the greatest marvel in his presence right now. 

The sun is hot in Texas right now and the shadows of the grass engulfing you and him dance across your face, your eyes glinting whenever the sun catches them even if it makes you scrunch up your nose and hold a palm up to cover the sunrays. Everything about this moment feels so delicate, terrifyingly sweet when he naturally thinks he is made of harsher stuff that should squash what little softness is left in his world. His hands have had to do so many destructive things in the past fifteen years that they feel too coarse to touch you. 

He turns his head towards the sky and closes his eyes, letting the sound of your voice wash over him like he wants it to for the rest of his life. There’s a part of him that’s afraid of you, afraid that he’s not made for this life with you, that he doesn’t know how to handle something so precious without breaking it. The way you treat the world around you with such reverence, such care, is foreign to him. He was used to being cold and logical back in Colombia, used to enduring. But here, in the Lone Star State with you, he finds himself wanting to be gentle, wanting to learn whatever he can from you. The love of his life. 

“Mhm,” he replies with the tiniest twitch of the corners of his mouth as you still haven’t figured out that he isn’t really listening. Not when your voice is accompanied by the sound of a breeze continuously creating waves in the grass that is tickling his arms, almost tricking him into thinking he is by the ocean. 

But then he feels it. It’s a sudden, light tickle on his nose that makes him open his eyes in slight surprise. There’s a small bee perched on the tip of his nose, its glasslike wings buzzing gently as it searches for pollen. Instinctively, he lifts his hand and gets ready to swat it away; he’s always been quick to react, quick to defend himself from anything that might harm him, even moreso during his time in Colombia. However, as his hand twitches mid-air, you notice, and your laughter is like music being carried through the air.

“Hold still,” you whisper as you lean over him, your face so close and your hand on his chest so he can feel the warmth of your palm as he sees your grin. With a gentler touch than what you even handle him with, you coax the bee onto your hand, lifting it away and letting it fly off again. Javier watches quietly in awe of his future wife.

“You don’t have to be so scared,” you say, smiling at him, “Not everything that approaches you is out to hurt you. Perhaps he just wanted to say hello.” 

Your words hang in the air, weighing nothing yet feeling heavy. Javier feels a tug in his chest like you’ve grabbed at the part of him that harbors hate for himself and has festered for too long. You’ve just pulled it loose inside him. He knows you’re not just talking about the bee. He hears the undertone, the suggestion that maybe he doesn’t always have to be on guard, doesn’t always have to assume the worst as he has done for so long. 

He looks at you and he wonders if you’re talking about yourself, too. If you’re telling him that you’re not here to hurt him, that your presence in his life isn’t a threat. He doesn’t know why he thought that twosomeness was not for him. Here you are and he doesn’t need anything more because you soften the edges of the world around him. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs and slides his arm beneath your body so he can snake it around your waist. His palm lays flat against the small of your back as he pulls you in, his heart still pounding against his rib cage when you are this close just five months after your first meeting. Five months since he saw you for the first time and realized that you might be different. Five months since you turned his world upside down. 

You curl your fingers on his chest and let yourself be drawn close, lowering your head until he can feel your breath against his face. You block out the sun, smiling fondly at him as if he is not at all rough and calloused. 

It is what makes him close the gap between you and kiss you on the mouth. It’s slow and unhurried, unlike many other kisses he has given you when the two of you have been alone. He pulls back to see your eyes fluttering open again. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asks himself out loud. The sun is around you like a halo, shining on your hair and making your skin glow. He wants everything with you. Everything that he never thought he wanted to have but also everything he never thought he could have.

“Doesn’t matter if you have done anything to deserve me. Do you want me?” You ask and the question floors him. He doesn’t need to think about it or weigh his options and words. He knows his answer. Yes.

“Para siempre (forever),” he says. You smile. It seems like that was the perfect answer. 

“Then that’s all that matters,” you reply and roll onto your back with a content sigh, laying in the nook of his arm while the sun shines on the both of you. He could fall asleep with you, let a whole hive of bees land on him one by one to greet him.

Javier feels a calm wash over him. Maybe this - him and you - isn’t bad just because he feels like he isn’t enough for your kind being. Maybe it is exactly right because it is something you both want. 

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[satvruu]

ೀ how they hug you

rewritten and reposted of my hc set from my old blog @/star-puff! thank you to all my old dedications as well as my new ones @kurooppi @wyllsravengard for making my return to this fandom possible <3

feedback is very appreciated!

ft. yuuji, megumi, gojo, getou, nanami

itadori yuuji embraces you warmly, fondly, sunlight streaming through the window and scattering over your bare skin. it's someplace safe and comforting, enveloped in his arms like he's taken it upon himself to protect you from everything horrible in the world; he is your knight, he is your shield, your safe haven to escape to, no matter how many wounds he will endure in the process. ("yuuji," you whisper, a hand coming up to rest gently on his arm. he bleeds desperation. "i'm okay, i promise." yuuji squeezes you tighter, trembling, and you wonder what you can do to make it true for him, too.) he holds you for far too long for it to be anything casual, but you can't really complain about it anyway—it's better this than to witness the alternative. after all, what is the sun without a place to hold its warmth; what becomes of a hero when they fail to protect the things that matter most?

fushigurou megumi comes to you slow, steady, a ripple of water in the pond. you coax him out gently, holding your arms out before wrapping them around him. his breath hitches (always, no matter how many times he tries to hide it) and his body stiffens, arms frozen at his sides. but slowly, surely, your head buried in his chest, megumi's arms begin to wrap around you in a manner you can only describe as tender—as if you could break if he held onto you too tight. (truthfully, megumi thinks he's just afraid. the jujutsu world is a dangerous one, after all, even to those who only know of it by name. megumi has lost too many people, and you're the one person he can't afford to lose.) he flinches at the thought, pulling away. you draw yourself closer in him, instead. moonlight behind the clouds, you'd gladly hold onto this night forever if it meant megumi was by your side.

gojo satoru is known as many things—a child prodigy, the strongest, a boy-god making his presence known on the lowly earth, but to you, he is simply just obnoxious. satoru makes it a spectacle each time he sees you: hollering, gallivanting, draping himself over you with his long limbs and impossible-to-miss frame. you huff and complain and uselessly try to drag yourself away from him each time, but satoru hooks onto you and refuses to let you go, nuzzling his face into yours. (they're mine, the action screams, a blaring warning to anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the collateral. you've been too caught up in your irritation of him to notice this, of course, and you're certainly not someone who would take the explicit meaning of it kindly, but satoru finds that he doesn't really care. not when he has more important things to attend to.) gojo satoru is many things, but the one thing he absolutely isn't is someone who can share.

getou suguru smells of sandalwood incense, a musky amber you think you could identify blind. sometimes, you think you remember a different suguru, a kinder suguru, one that had easier things to worry about, a brighter look in his eyes, an easier weight to his gait. if you think back far enough, you suppose it might have been because he had somebody else by his side to keep it that way, a brighter light shining next to him to keep the darkness at bay. (but that was a long time ago. now, suguru is the one left to be lit by the fire, stuck in the ashes of his own kin for a future little understand. you're not sure who is to blame for that anymore.) you're not the light that can save him—no one can be, not anymore. when suguru reaches out to you, rare vulnerability bubbling over in a way you can only describe as drowning—as crumbling—the only thing you can do is curl yourself next to him in the incense burner, smearing yourself in the ash.

nanami kento thinks you need this, especially after a long, hard day. the melting comes slow: his hands on your back, gentle pats and quiet whispers of comfort as he rests his chin on your head. and then comes everything else. his hands slot perfectly into the dip of your back, the small of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles over the fabric of your clothes, and in the eyes of no one but yourselves, the two of you begin to sway back and forth to a quiet melody nanami begins to hum. you cling onto the fabric of his shirt, trying to memorie the smell of his cologne, the rumble of his voice, the warmth of his arms. (it's too much, to have a memory of a future that will inevitably happen. you almost want to cry. don't go, you want to say, a lump in your throat, wishing for the impossible. don't go.) and still, selfish as you are, nanami hugs you like you're slow dancing in the dark.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

doomsday ◦ h.j

—Sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind

@anon im so glad you requested this bc I literally loved writing it so much like it fr had my creative juices FLOWING so feel free to request anytime babes

Paring ◦ Han x reader

Words ◦ 5231

Genre ◦ Hurt and comfort, ngl this angsty asf

Warnings ◦ han is a dick at the beginning but he is redeemed, panic attacks, language (like fr so many fucks in this its wild), talk about wasting your life, anxiety, fear, han is such a cunt at first its insane, not edited, uhhh I think that's it.

A/N ◦ This one is chaotic asf so if you don't like my chaotic writing this is definitely where you might wanna click off 💀ALSO IF YOU LIKED THIS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME like it literally doesn't have to be much you can just be like it was pretty cool

~CookieCreates🍪

Sometimes it felt like Han gave away the numbers of the clock like dollar bills, bartering off a life that only ever seemed to be rushing away like a river roaring down the rocks too fast. He scoops little moments out from the shimmering rapids, but time still trickles between his fingers; the hours melting together like wax dripping down the spindly hands, its bony fingers-

reaching

reaching

r e a c h i n g

out to him, pulling him into a pool at the bottom of his feet, a pool of glittering, glowing memories.

Is this all life is?

Working

Stressing

Never sleeping

Never eating

Is the praise worth it?

Those hopeless nights, endless days, tired eyes, and a mind made of mush—was it all worth it?

Was any of it worth it?

The roar of the crowds drowning out the sound of the seconds-

tick

tick

ticking away, the shuffle of the sand seeping into the bottom of the hourglass—he taps the crystal dome, wondering how much of it is left—wondering when it all will stop.

When he can stop.

Han was a fizzing bottle of soda—shook for too long—today was hard; every day before a comeback is: producing, singing, dancing, learning, watching, waiting-

Checking off boxes on a list that never ended, so when he finally walks into the door of your shared apartment, a room he feels like he hasn't seen in weeks, he doesn't really notice you anxiously sitting on the couch, your knees bouncing on the floor mindlessly-

snapping

snapping

snapping

on the linoleum, something so simple shouldn't set him off, sure, but the sound was so familiar—so scary—it vibrated in his head, booming in his brain seconds-

ticking

ticking

ticking away

your feet

snapping

snapping

snapping on the ground.

He comes home to get away from the world rushing out from under him, so why were you sitting there being so fucking-

“Hannie!” You beam, sprinting over to throw your arms around his neck, breathing his scent in. It feels like centuries since you've seen him last. You vibrate with nervous, excited energy, practically bouncing up and down; but the thing was, right now he didn't want to be touched.

He didn't want to be held

He didn't want to have to talk

He didn't want to have to remember he had a life outside of the bubble that was his work. It felt like he was tending to gardens he didn't know how to grow. Your relationship had already sprouted; the seed planted a while ago, but even though the delicate stages of its development had passed, that didn't mean that it still didn't have to be cared for, and right now, he didn't care about anything. 

It was selfish, sure, but when you've spent your whole life giving parts of yourself away, selfishness seems so easy, at least while you still have small slivers of your soul left. 

He grates his teeth, everything seeming so wholly overwhelming, the walls encapsulating him in an unbreakable hourglass. He was so stressed, so tired, so done, so trapped. His breath stutters when you squeeze him tighter, nuzzling your nose against his shirt, staring up at him expectantly, eyes shimmering. 

"I haven't hugged you in forever I missed your face" you giggle voice like clouds of cotton candy but not quite sweet enough to dull the sour feeling settling in his stomach

He knows that love should never feel this hard, but right now everything he did felt hard, and the way you stare at him so longingly like you're going to combust if he doesn't perform, put on a fake smile, and act like everything is okay makes him feel like a fizzing bottle of soda with a lid screwed on too tight, and when you grip him tighter, trying to push an answer out of him

He flips his lid. 

"Holy shit, y/n, do you have to be so bombarding?" He snaps, pushing your arms away from him, almost looking disgusted. Your smile slips, staring at him in shock, still not really registering what he said. 

He doesn't know what feels worse—the way your features tremble with hurt or the way he knows he doesn't care. 

"I'm tired; I just want to go to bed, okay, and you are immediately rushing me; every day as soon as I get through the door, it's exhausting."

"You can't be serious," you whisper, genuinely believing what you said. He couldn't be serious. There was no way in hell he really believed that, but it didn't matter if he believed it or not; it all still hurt the same.

He wishes he could overlook the flames that flare in your eyes, consuming the stars that always seemed to shimmer.

What did he just do?

He sighs, collapsing onto the couch, digging the palms of his hands into his drooping eyes. He was so scared; the fear loosing his lips and everybody knows words of fear are the greatest lies. 

"Yes, I'm serious. Do you know how much work you are? I work all day, work, work, work, work everybody needs me always wanting, always needing something, something, fucking something," he growls, smacking his hands against his thighs, thrown into an unexplainable rage. "And as soon as I get home, you need me too; everybody is so fucking needy." The next words he says feel like an earthquake erupted in your soul, splitting your heart in two. 

"Your so fuckin' needy."

You flutter your eyelashes shut, pushing back emotions that boil in your brain. There are so many feelings fighting for the light, but instead of screaming, crying, or lashing out, you take a deep breath and fold your arms, calmly asking 

"Then why don't you just break up with me then?" There is nothing more terrifying than a woman whose fire rages behind a veil of ice, but when he looks up, watching the flames wrap around your posture, wisping around every edge of your bones, and even with the ashes of the love you once had for him fluttering in the wind, he still opens his big, fat, fucking mouth. 

"Or maybe I should have just never asked you out in the first place." No sooner did he spit the sentence out, did he want to shove it right back in his mouth. Your shoulders droop, eyes filling with an almost impossible amount of pain.

The earth crumbles, the walls of your shared home collapsing around you, rubble lost in all the memories that flicker away like embers floating from the burning configuration that was your relationship. It was ironic how the world worked; it took years to build up the love you felt and only a single sentence to wash it all away. You never thought you would see armageddon, but when those letters left his lips, you quickly realized sometimes doomsday wasn't the crumbling of a city; doomsday was an apocalypse of the mind. 

"Okay," you croak, hot tears streaming down your face; a wobbly smile pulls at your lips almost out of habit, facial muscles forced out of memory. 

You have never once imagined yourself drowning under so many words left unsaid, sinking in the waves of tears you fought back, and as you trudged up the stairs, sinking into your bed, you wondered when you would hear the begrudging footsteps—the hesitant knocks. Wondered when you'd hear his soft apology—a voice racked with guilt—but your fantasy never came.

All you heard was the clicking of the clock behind you, counting down the hours where he disappointed you again and again

You don't know what got to you first—the peirce of realization that he didn't regret the bitter insults that left his lips so easily or when you saw the calendar that peaked from the corner of your closet-

5 days

5 days left unmarked

5 days left blank

5 days until you celebrated your 3 year anniversary

Han Jisung would never know you were counting down the days

Han should have runned after you, and in perspective, after a good night's sleep and a nice warm meal, he has never felt so completely stupid for not, but after you trudged up the stairs with a pained smile and glassy eyes, he was so starkly shocked he had said something so disgustingly distasteful his feet stuck to the ground, and finally, after hours of staring at the pool of time bubbling by his shoes, he drifted into a restless sleep. 

It was as though his terror tainted him, making the glassy parts of his heart dirty, and when he took the edge off, it was like a harsh wipe away at all the murk, revealing his jarring reflection in the pearly mirror.

He was such a jerk

He whimpers, running anxious fingers through his hair. He has no viable excuse, no good reason why he treated you so poorly—for someone so obsessed with time, he should know that you can't get your life back—can't turn the hands of the clock 

Push rewind

Hit replay

For what value would life be if you could just start it all over again? The impossibility made all the precious moments sweeter, but like every good thing, it made memories like these all the more foul.

You didn't deserve that

He didn't deserve you

and as you slink down the stairs, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. He can't stop that booming voice biting at the back of his brain.

How long will it take you before you realize that too?

You flick your gaze to him, burning with loathing cloaked behind layers of indifference. It floors him—those subtle signs of hatred that swim in the back of your eyelids, hidden in small twitches of your features, your almost tangibly cut off, throwing up your walls, shutting him out in more ways than one.

He had always worried about the gardens he was growing; flowers that sprung around him rapidly, fighting to figure out which one to water first, and all while your petals wilted and your roots curled up-

You waited

You watched as he bled himself dry. He shutters, everything bursting before his eyes—the love you once had for him flickering like the last flashes of a dying star. You're a million miles away, dancing on the craters of the moon, fluttering around the twinkling rings of Saturn. He folds himself deeper into the couch, almost hoping it will swallow him whole—pull him into the burning inferno beneath—even hell would be cooler than the fire that was your gaze.  Han Jisung never thought he'd see the day when the galaxy would collapse, but staring at you, flaring your final goodbyes, he realizes that doomsday was closer than he thought. 

"Baby," he whispers, his voice heavy with guilt, how easy it is to start a fire when you don't care about putting it out, but now that the wisps of flame consume you, he wishes he had never given you the kindling. 

You don't look at him as you walk around the kitchen, pouring a bowl of cereal. He stands up hesitantly, anguish feeling like an iron rod through his chest. He creeps into the kitchen, stepping lightly into the room like it's laced with landmines. 

"Please." His voice cracks—splits right down the middle, a perfect reflection of the cleave that was his soul. "I'm so sorry."

You place the cereal back in the cabinet and open the fridge to retrieve the milk.

The silence is deafening.

The all too familiar-

tick

tick

tick

of time trickling away rings in his ears

How much more of it does he have left?

How much more of this silence can he take?

You ignore him, strolling right past his trembling frame, racked with regret. It pulsates off his in palpable waves. You're so nonchalant so careless. He almost wants you to turn around and smack him, throw that stupid bowl of cereal in his face. Instead, you jog up the stairs, slamming the door behind you.

Is that the only door you shut?

Han had always thought of the apocalypse as an idea only found in novels, tucked away behind the pages of a book, hidden in the comfortable corner of science fiction, because that's all it was, right— fiction? But as your dead eyes scrape his figure up and down, he realizes that Doomsday wasn't really fiction at all. Just like the world wasn't always a place, sometimes the world was a person, and right now his world was ravaged by a deadly disease, an illness that only infected the soul, an illness only transferred through the careless bitter words found in the English language. Fire was nature's greatest purifier, and sure, the walls of the home he lived in weren't warped with flames of your fury, but the home he had made in your heart was 

It's been 3 days

3 days since he's felt the touch of another human. 

3 days since he made the biggest mistake of his lifetime.

3 days since he dropped a devasting bomb on your relationship, and the shrapnel was finally hitting him; curled pieces of cold metal lodged somewhere in between the folds of his soul. 

3 brutal bone-crushing days of pure ear-splitting silence—It was almost scientifically impossible, just how quiet you were. It was an art really, every brush of anguish accurately painted on—every ignored apology, every piercing glare, every single star that flickered out in your eyes. You were strategic, meticulous, you were plain vicious-

and you had every right to be.

You were fully justified in your actions, and yet he felt like he was still teetering over the edge of madness. The thought of losing you like a noose snaking around his neck, choking him in an unadulterated form of terror 

He has been stricken by anxiety his whole life, but the thought of a world without you filled him with an inexplicable amount of fear—the kind that burrows in your bones, decaying in your soul—the kind of terror that your still stuck digging from your skin for centuries to come—the kind of fear that makes you simply

panic.

His hands shake as he pushes the door open, feeling like he's walking into an open war. The pages of a dystopia form walls around him, caging him inside a bombarding capsule of storming English. 

The harsh contrast of the hurricane in his mind and the indifference in your eyes sends him reeling. You were lying on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels, not sparing him a glance.

You were so beautiful so breathtaking, but for once, he wasn't admiring your beauty.

He was

falling

apart. 

Oh, fuck, he was freaking out. 

He had finally caved under the pressure of always having to perform a false, flimsy smile, wobbling on his lips, pretending to be okay as he watched the life drain out of your eyes; the passion seeping from his songs.

He loved making music, but what is art without chaos?

What is beauty without love?

What is the world without you?

He always had to be perfect; he always had to be put together. He was always running on all cylinders, always hanging on by a fraying straining thread, and finally, it snapped. 

The earth is

t i l t i n g,

flipping around,

turning upside down, and

i n s i d e o u t.

Guilt rips through his chest, yanking out harsh bouts of oxygen from his constricting lungs. 

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't breathe

He can't fucking

b

r

e

a

t

h

e

He was going to die-

He was going to collapse into himself, busting into a flaring supernova. 

He was going to be his own demise-

Forming his own doomsday-

He has never thought of himself as an author, but before he could stop his mouth from moving, he was already caged between the sentences of his own personal apocalypse, living a waking nightmare.

He created a story with his stupidity, and now he has to pay the price. 

He was the end of your relationship-

what has he done?

He can't b r e a t h e

"Y-Y/n I can't," he choked on his words, watching the walls wash away like watercolor dripping down the page. 

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He can't lose you

He's going to die

He stumbles into the living room, tripping over his feet, his breath staggering in his throat. He catches himself on the arm of the couch, digging his nails into the soft leather, gripping it like it was his tether, keeping him from floating into space—burning up in the atmosphere, his body bouncing around the icy rocks. 

"Fuck," he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut and clawing at his chest, almost as if he scratches his skin hard enough, he can finally pull out the hourglass that keeps ticking his time away. His heart pounded wildly, almost begging to be free from the confines of his ribcage. The fact that it was still beating was beyond him. 

His heart only beats for you.

His heart will only ever beat for you.

How was he alive when you were drifting away? moon dust dancing in your lungs, would you become a ruler of the skies, while he was still stood still? 

"Han," your voice sounds like cotton candy kisses and honey dribbles. He never thought he would ever be so happy to hear somebody so alarmed, but right now that was the only thing keeping him from shattering. 

You jump up from the couch, your face pulled in concern. 

He doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

Doesn't deserve it

He's drowning in a pool of his self-inflicted sorrows. He's sinking, and the only thing that could save him was you. 

How do you save a man who won't take your hand?

"N-No, im okay," he barley pushes the words out, weaving between the thick lump that's forming in his throat. 

It was a lie

Everything was a lie

That's all he was

a liar

"Han," your voice is warm and inviting, sucking him in, wrapping around him like a blanket in the cold, a bowl of soup to a sick stomach. You healed him even when he was the one who created the wound. You pull him in, taking his trembling frame into your arms. Gentle fingers thread through his hair as soft lullabied wispers float through the air.

He feels so safe

So secure-

So loved-

He never thought he would feel the tenderness of your touch again, so when your comforting arms squeeze him right off the edge of destruction, 

He

c o l l a p s e s

crumbling into a million sobbing, sniveling pieces before you, he sinks to the ground, dragging you along with him. 

He always brought you down-

Always took you with him-

He was a disease-

An infection-

He was your armageddon

He sags against your body, limply moving like a rag doll. You let him curl into your chest, holding him like pieces of pierced punctuation. 

You guys were a shattered semicolon inverted and upside down. 

There was so much he wanted to say—so many apologies, so many explanations, so many different synonyms for sorry—but you didn't need them; you never needed them; you needed him, and there was nothing he could ever say that would change that. 

You hum, rubbing soothing circles on his back. You were always the perfect metaphor, a marveling form of pristine poetry. Your touch was like fleeting promises on the skin, the delicate tickle of a blooming flower, the comfortable heat of a burning star. You weren't just his world; you were his universe.

He pulls you closer to him, clinging like a desperate dying animal, nuzzling his face in your neck. 

"I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so fucking sorry!" He blubbers the sentences onto your skin, as though the deeper he burrows into your body, the faster they can travel to your heart. 

"Han," you lull, a small smile grazing your face, physically having to claw him off of you. He does begrudgingly, a minuscule whimper tumbling out of his throat from the lack of contact; he doesn't meet your eyes. He can't—not when the clock still ticks your time away, not when he's still not fully sure that you're willing to turn the hands back. 

He's devastated, his eyes red and puffy with tears that cascade down his cheeks, shining in the overhead light. 

"Please don't leave me." He sniffles, rubbing his nose against the fabric of his shirt, bottom lip trembling. "I don't want our time to run out. All my time is running out. Everything is running out. I can't, I-" he stutters, tripping over letters that latch onto his teeth like cactuses digging into his lips. 

You furrow your brows, tilting your head in sympathetic confusion. "What do you mean, baby?"

He screws his eyes shut, his hands shaking almost aggressively on his thighs. Why did he say anything? How does he explain something like that? He tries to form the words on his tongue, but they stick to the roof of his mouth like glue. Speaking it into the universe makes it so much more real, so much more raw, because now it isn't a metaphor, a fictional little whisper that fucks with his mind. 

The earth quivers in its orbit as he opens his mouth-

Was he really going to admit this?

Was he even ready to admit this?

"It feels like my life is running out," he stammers, the words tasting so sour on his tongue. "My life is so stressful; everybody always needs something from me, and sometimes it feels like I'm dishing out so many slivers of my soul that I don't even have any of it left." He lets out a shaky breath, attempting to get his heart rate somewhere that resembles normal. 

"I'm always up, always working, always doing something, and it's scary to think while I'm wasting my life working so hard doing something I don't really love." He aggressively wipes the tear that drops down his cheek with the palm of his hand. "It's so scary wondering if I'm ever making the right decisions." 

He feels so small under your gaze.

"A-And the other day was so hard," he cries, fresh waves of tears blurring his vision as he reminisces on the events. 

"Everybody was yelling at me, always needing something demanding so fucking much; they were playing puppet, forcing my hands in a way they didn't want to move; everybody was so just so needy-"

"And so was I," you whisper, filled with guilt. It breaks him. Your so understanding, so loving, so forgiving, so perfect. 

How did he even get you?

His heart wrenches as he dives into your arms-

"No, no, no, no," he shouts, shaking his head against your shirt. "No, love, you didn't do anything wrong; it was me. Me and my shitty mood—it was all my fault. I blew up at you. You were trying to be the amazing, loving girlfriend you are, and what I said was solely because of my fear. The exhaustion and anger didn't exactly help either"

"But there are no more buts," he pulls away, catching your eyes burning with sincerity. "There is no excuse for the way I treated you; there is no justification, just explanation."

You smile, tilting your head in adoration. You would be lying if you didn't say you were relieved, because you were.  You thought he believed the words he said—what feels like forever ago—that you were the annoying, needy girlfriend that only ever bugged him, but he didn't believe what he said. No, he was just a ticking time bomb waiting to blow—a ball of stressed and nervous energy channeled into the wrong source. 

"It's okay, Hannie, really, we're okay"

He was a supernova—a burning, bursting flame of bright, beautiful colors 

Han had once thought that the stars in your eyes had flickered away, but now he knows even the most enchanting things have to die before they can transform. 

He loves you.

He has loved you for 2 years and 363 days.

He will love you until the world goes up in flames. 

He will love you until the planet bleeds with the wounds of armageddon. 

"Does this mean we can still celebrate our 3-year anniversary?" He asks sheepishly, looking up at you through fluttering eyelashes. You perk up, visibly brightening. 

"You remembered!"

"I never forgot." he smiles, eyes shimmering with hope.

"I've been counting down the days," you grin.

"So have I," but he hasn't been counting down the days until you celebrate 3 beautiful years on this planet together. No, he's been counting down the days until his body slips into the grave, but as he presses his ear to your heart, it feels like the steady beats were a swelling symphony orchestrated just for him. He sighs contently, nuzzling deeper into your chest. The terrifying tick of the clock faded away, drowned out by the song of your soul whispering sweet promises into his ear. Sure, the fear still tickled the back of his brain, but instead of worrying that time was trickling away, he pulls you closer because with you, there was never a wasted moment. 

©CookieCreates (posted: July, 9th 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately

~cookie🍪

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny covered his nose with his hand. Where ever he landed smelled absolutely foul, like rotten fruit and burning tires mixed with chem lab.

"Remind me to bring a face mask the next time I explore the Infinite Realms." He muttered, before kicking a soda can down the alley he was in and being repulsed by the squelch sound it made when it came into contact with a very questionable looking puddle, "Better yet, a gas mask." He glanced at the puddle again, "Or I could go full Hazmat." Clockwork had told him this world was full of superheros and villians and to steer clear of it, but once he learned there were aliens in this world he couldn't help himself. Danny had always been weak to his curiosity, but he liked to believe he was cautious, and chose to stay in his Phantom for for added protection.

Turning on his heel he exited onto a deserted street lined on one side by a chain-link fence. The sky above him was filled with clouds so ominous and dark that Danny honestly couldn't tell you if it was night or day, all he knew was that it was going to rain soon and hopefully these awful smells would be drowned out by the downpour.

Danny got his wish only minutes later. Thankfully Phantom was unbothered by the cold and could just bask in the rain as it fell apon him. A lesser known fact about ghosts is that thier clothes are made from thier ectoplasm and are part of thier bodies, much like a second layer of skin, so one would be able to feel things on thier clothes as easily as they would with thier bare skin. The level of sensitivity varies with the type of clothing however. All this to say Danny loved the feeling of the rivulets of rainwater traveling down his ghostly hazmat suit.

He was so preoccupied with enjoying the sensation that he didn't notice anything was wrong until he was jolted forward from the weight of someone landing on his back. The person was quick and precise, taking no time at all to have his wrists pinned behind his back and- weirdly enough- thier teeth digging into the material around his neck.

His parents designed the Hazmat suit Danny was wearing not only to deal with dangerous chemicals, but to fight supernatural foes. The area around the neck was reinforced with the intention of protecting against fatal gunshots and decapitations so naturally someone's jaw wasn't going to be enough to break through to his neck.

Danny let out a laugh as the person kept chewing on his neck like a confused puppy. Oh, Danny thought, they've gone feral. It was odd for someone to go feral but it could occur when a person has gone through something traumatic recently or through extreme stress. It made sense since the person ridding piggy back on him was dressed like a superhero. Danny wondered if that was why the person didn't have a scent. Danny learns facepalmed when he remembered that scentblockers existed and not everyone's scent dramatically changed whenever they went out as a hero. The scent change was probably one of the few things that have kept him alive up to this point to be honest.

"So, I guess you're not going to tell me why you're chewing on my neck like the worlds most pathetic vampire, are you?" No one deserves that title more than the fruitloop to be honest. He made a mental note to use that one against Vlad the next time he saw him.

Chewy whined at this, seeming to slump a bit from the apparent failure to bite him. What was that about? Was this actually a vampire? How would a vampire even react to Dannys ecto-blood combo meal anyway? Would it be like food poisoning? Or would it taste amazing from one undead to another. "I'm not exactly human, are you sure you wanna bite me? I might not taste so good." Danny warned, but the moment he mentioned letting the person bite him they were eager again.

Danny chuckled and unzipped the material only a bit before it was loose enough to move out of the way. The vampires bite came with a sharp pain like he expected but there was no suction. No drinking of blood. Just some weirdo biting Danny on the neck. Huh.

Danny hoped he didn't get rabies from this.

He must have accidentally said that out loud as there was a small laugh from the rooftops above them. There stood another person in a superhero outfit with some really tall dude dressed as a giant bat, and that was when Danny decided to bail. It was one thing to let a maybe vampire bite you in a random street in the middle of the night but more of them? And ones a big scary furry? Hard pass.

Phantom did as Phantoms do and went invisible and intangible, escaping from Biteys jaws and startling the heros. He ignored the distressed whine Munchy let out after loosing their spookyest chew toy and quickly rubbed the scent gland near dannys jaw on the top of thier head as an act of comfort before bolting.

----

Danny poked at the bite mark on his neck. Screw rabies, he better not get turned into a werewolf. He didn't need that on top of his ghostly crap. Sam seemed fascinated by the mark, after all, it wasn't every day that Danny got a scar, especially one so obvious. Most injuries heal quickly and leave no trace of him ever being injured in the first place which helped a lot in keeping his secret identity.

Luckily Danny hadn't needed to lie to mom and dad. He truthfully told them about some wierdo jumping off of a nearby rooftop and plunging thier teeth into his neck and that two other people had tried to corner him during this. He assured his mom that he had gotten away quickly but was a little shaken by it and his dad praised him for being brave and managing to escape.

That was nice. But he still had to figure out what was up with this bite...and why he felt so compelled to go back to that city.

Back to that hero.

-----

Aka an A/B/O au where in Danny's universe all the Alphas are extinct and the betas followed soon after and the DC universe all the Omegas went extinct and betas followed after . Not like a "they finally went extinct in the 1700s after centuries of thier numbers dwindling" thing and became a myth/fairytale (tho I like that too) but a "this might be the missing link between cave men and modern humans" kinda thing.

Its up to you which bat bit Danny and exactly what that means. I love abo aus without smut cause there's so much potential for chaos and I am very much ace.

[hanrinz]

✩ ‧ ₊˚ TO LOVE AND TO HOLD — MICHAEL KAISER

wherein your boyfriend is terrible at pick-up lines, but it's okay he's cute anyway.

your boyfriend of four years, michael kaiser is terrible with a lot of things. namely, with his incapability of cooking meals, his terrible sense of time—if not for you maybe he won't even come to some grand events his team holds in time.

but this main habit of your boyfriend that just takes the prize, is him making awful pick-up lines.

may it be a line he saw from a rom-com movie or he's seen on the internet, he'll make it a mission to use it on you every single time.

what makes it worse, is that he doesn't even say it right.

your boyfriend is a lot of things, but using a good pick-up line is not one of them. your boyfriend is idiotically cute and sometimes a jerk.

it baffles your friends how you ended up with such a man like michael kaiser. maybe, it was his dumb jokes or his stupid face, you'll never know.

love is blind they said, maybe it's true for you.

on a cold afternoon, where you and kaiser are walking down on the road for a grocery run. the sun hides behind the clouds and the breeze blows through lightly.

scrolling through your phone as you check the list of the items you'll be buying. walking aimlessly as your boyfriend leads you, a hand placed on your lower back.

surprisingly he's quiet, looking at the buildings and the speck of white flakes that falls faintly on this day.

you continue to revel in the comfortable silence you were wrapped into, listing down some items you've been thinking on top of your head.

milk, strawberries, chocolates...

mind blanking from the things you need at your home, you turn to your lover. whose attention was taken by the surroundings, it's a rare sight to see.

your kaiser is quiet and deep in thought, an eerie scene in your honest opinion, but you don't point it out loud.

instead, you call out to him.

"what do you want for dinner?"

silence.

for someone who likes talking off his mind, your boyfriend didn't even hear you. well, that's something new.

you only call more.

"kaiser? hello? ...love?"

the same response was met.

you wonder what was weighing on your boyfriend's mind for him to drown out the world. it makes you think if he's ignoring you, but you didn't dwell on it for much any longer.

huffing as you try once more, with a louder voice.

"kaiser—"

your boyfriend's head turns all so suddenly to you, interjecting your words.

"—my hand is kinda heavy, can you hold it?"

your boyfriend is really terrible, you conclude.

a smile was plastered on his face, his stupidly charming smile was hanging on his lips. the kind of one that you're familiar with, the one where he finds another pick-up line to use.

he looks at you expectantly, gauging your reaction to what you think of it, you presume—his amazing lines.

and you try to stop the ever growing grin that makes its way to your face, but failing miserably.

only replying to his charms back.

"that's not how the line goes, but you're cute so fine."

a chuckle leaves your lips, making kaiser pout. compared to the pick-up lines he had uttered before, this was definitely better, but not the best.

but it's fine—it's okay because it was him, you think.

"hey, don't laugh! i tried my best okay?" he cried out.

another laugh leaves your mouth, that you tried to stifle—keyword: tried

you took his hands with yours, squeezing it three times in a way to comfort him, dragging him to the store that comes into view.

"okay, mr. i-tried-my-best, whatever you say." you teased, before letting yourself freely laugh at his antics, that only makes him pout more.

your boyfriend was really bad at this, but you don't mind. it's fine, because he's stupid and yours.

◞♡ likes & reblogs are highly appreciated ! okay,, first time writing for this man i hate him i swear :x based on this prompt btw !!

[nakahras]

᯽ my love (mine all mine) • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • domesticity with chuuya

warning • intentional lower case, fem!reader, tooth rotting fluff

wc • 1.1k

a/n • a little something something for you guys bc i needed some soft chuuya after the week i’ve had

it’s hot — far too hot, as a matter of fact, for the air conditioned room you fell asleep in. you didn’t mean to fall asleep. truth is, you were supposed to be waiting for your boyfriend, who was coming back from a mission today — one that lasted almost 3 agonizingly long weeks. but how the hell were you supposed to stay awake when he asked you to wait for him at his luxurious apartment… okay so maybe you didn’t have to lay in his bed to wait for him but you were so exhausted and his bed is like laying on a cloud.

absolutely no one could blame you for taking advantage of that opportunity, not even chuuya.

you’re becoming more lucid as the grogginess starts to dissipate and you notice a distinct weight on your chest when you go to move the covers off of you to get some relief from the heat. you begrudgingly open your eyes to find a mess of orange hair tickling at your neck. you can’t help the fond smile that settles onto your lips and the amused puff of air that escapes through your nose. your hand is already settling into the ginger's hair, gently stroking through the soft waves. 

you wonder, distantly, what time he got home and how you didn’t notice his presence until now.

his cheek is squished on your chest, mouth open ajar, drooling slightly. you don’t even have the heart to be annoyed by the wet spot on your (read: his) t-shirt because of how peaceful he looks. his face is void of any of the usual rigidness and worry he wears when he’s awake, thanks to his position as a port mafia executive. he deserves this break and the rest, god knows he’s earned every second of this and who are you to deny him of it?

you look around, trying to gain a sense of what time it is but thanks to chuuya evidently shutting his black out curtains, it’s impossible to tell midday from midnight right now. one thing you can tell is that it’s hot. chuuya has always been like a personal heater, body temperature running abnormally high, something about his body being a host for the god of calamity — apparently that tends to alter the average body. it comes in handy when it’s winter and freezing but during the summer it’s suffocating almost. 

you need to escape, your bladder has very unfortunate timing, not only are you uncomfortable from sweating but your bladder is screaming at you to empty it. 

the soft snores escaping chuuya’s lips tell you he’s in a deep enough sleep that you may be able to peel him off of you without disturbing his much needed rest. you gently and carefully unravel his arm from your torso. as you go to place his arm at his side, his face scrunches in protest and he groans. your breath hitches and you instinctively hold it in, body going rigid as you try not to disturb him any further. luckily you don’t have to do much else in ways of moving the executive because his groan is followed by a louder snore and him rolling over to his other side, facing away from you and curling in on himself.

you let out a breath of relief and cautiously roll out of bed. you don’t even bother putting any pants on, you scurry out of the room to find the nearest bathroom that won’t disturb your sleeping beauty. 

when you finish up, you don’t make your way back to the bed that’s still calling your name. instead, you pad out to the kitchen to find the sun slowly descending into the horizon, sunset a mere few minutes away. the sky is already drowning in a deep orange, the warmth of the glow inviting. you ignore the visceral need to stand at the glass floor to ceiling windows and watch the sunset to make yourself a cup of tea first. it takes you no time at all to brew up a cup for yourself.

you turn on some soft music and return to the windows just in time to watch the setting sun paint the sky various hues of purple and pink. you let your eyes droop, happy to just feel the warmth.

your thoughts are halted when a pair of arms sneak around your waist and a chin is propped on your shoulder. 

“abandoned me and didn’t even wake m’up ta say it ta m’face?” his speech is slurred from grogginess and a smile creeps up onto your face at the thought of him immediately seeking you out after waking up. 

you turn your head to find his face scrunched up into a pout, you let out an amused chuckle and place a soft kiss to his temple. you’re met with an accusatory glare.

“‘n’ now you’re tryna butter m’up.” his frown deepens and eyebrows crease closer together. 

you let out a snort. “of course i wasn’t gonna wake you up. i’m quite certain you needed the rest.”

you begin to sway to the music absentmindedly and chuuya follows in step and sways along with you. it’s soothing, finally being held in his arms after so long, the level intimacy of dancing with him like this and watching the sunset is something you find yourself craving all the time when you’re with chuuya. it was jarring at first, being someone who usually struggles with that type of intimacy, but it’s become second nature with him.

you hum contentedly, a smile still playing at your lips. “woke up just in time to watch the sunset with me, though.”

you miss the weight of his chin on your shoulder the moment he removes it but you don’t have much time to think about it. your expression twists into one of confusion when the ginger takes your now empty mug from your hands and places it on a nearby side table. you open your mouth to question him but, once again, you don’t get the chance as he twirls you around to face him. 

chuuya takes one of your hands and places it on his shoulder while he takes hold of the other. his free hand rests on your hip and he begins to sway the two of you into a more involved dance. you make a confused noise in the back of your throat but the executive is talking before you can.

“don’t, please- just… let me have this for a bit. missed you…”

you smile again and rest your head on his chest. “i missed you too, sunshine.”

[robinsfilm]

Lilac-blossoms and Bookstands

Masterlist. Navigation.

Summary: Two strangers at a bookstand bond over their shared interest, and shared awkwardness.

Warnings: Both reader and Jason are inexperienced, nervous messes, give them time <3. Fluff.

Note: the second book, "Collage in the Moonlight", is a real book. However, I do not think it has been translated yet.

Word count: 802

The sun's soft rays cling to your skin with their warmth. It's a sunny day. For once in Gotham City, the rain has stopped, and the sun peeks out of the dark grey clouds.

Your loud steps on the concrete path go unnoticed by you. Your attention is completely stolen away by the hundreds of books for sale on the street. The stands are long and covered with old second-hand novels and romances, fantasies, and sci-fis stacked on top of each other.

There's a nostalgic feeling that blooms in your chest when you run your fingers over the covers. It's somehow firm but soft. The dust clings onto the paperback like a blanket. The faint smell of old paper never fails to comfort you.

There it is. A specific, special book you're looking for. The word 'Emma' in a soft rose gold color is embedded on a teal hardback cover. Your hand quickly reaches for it, but you're too late.

A stranger seems to have gotten their hands on it first. You look up, ready to at least try and reason with them about how desperately you need this book. Years of only drowning yourself in Dostoevsky and Wilde seem to dim your outlook on the world. Hopefulness, dropped and discharged–like a lilac-blossom in the garden.

As you open your mouth to speak, no words find their way through. The man in front of you is pretty, very pretty. Beautiful, actually. His eyes are a sea-colored green. Almost teal. Like the book you wanted.

Right, the book. You almost forgot.

He speaks first, "It's a great book. No wonder you want it." The corners of his lips curl up. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

You finally gather your wits and speak, "Seems like you've read it already." You try to hide the small feeling of disappointment of not being the first one to get the book, trying to focus on him instead.

"Here," he hands you the book, "seems like you haven't read it. And you should." He chuckles, "if you want, that is." He runs his hands through his hair, and you notice a few white strands.

"Oh–" You grip your jacket closer to you, "thank you so much. Though, I do need to return the favor." You take the book from his hands. Your fingers cross over the rose gold embellishment. "It's my second time reading Austen, actually..." You admit.

He jokingly gasps, "What, seriously? You've been missing out then." His voice is comforting. Not too loud, not too soft. "You seem like a reader, haven't taken your gaze off of any of the books here. And there's a lot of them." He's not asking too many questions, but he's still curious. His smile returns.

You grip the book closer to your chest, "Let's do it like this," you pick another book from the stands, "how do you feel about trying something new? We can trade, sort of?" Your voice trails off, "You have recommended this book to me, so in return, I recommend one to you."

He tilts his head, his teal eyes glancing at the new book in your hands, and then looks at you again. "Alright, I already trust your taste. So, what do you have for me?"

You hand him the book. It's a dark blue paperback. Golden leaves fall in the background. Yellow letters spell "Collage in the Moonlight." He takes it gently and looks it over, fingers grazing the spine.

"I never thought they'd translate it, but here we are." You giggle. "You'll like it." You look back at him. "I mean, I think you will. I'd never give a bad recommendation." You say, your voice filled with a tinge of pride.

He takes the book from your hands, looking it over. You notice just now that he smiles with his eyes. Cute.

"I trust I'm in good hands, then." He replies, "I'm Jason, by the way." A few strands of his hair fall free, framing his face. He can feel the nervousness in his stomach, but it doesn't seem to bother him.

You quickly give him your name, "Though, after I read this and you finish your book, I'd love to hear what you think." Your hands grip the book tighter, you're so nervous. Calm down. "Same place? In a few weeks, maybe?"

"O–oh, I will, I mean." He straightens his posture, "I mean, of course." Jason's cheeks feel a bit warm. Is the weather that warm already?

You give him a small smile before getting ready to leave, "See you soon, Jason."

Jason's eyes trail after you as you leave. He stands there for a while in silence before he realizes he didn't even say goodbye. He mentally scolds himself. Though the giddy feeling that follows after the reminder that he'll see you again here seems to calm him down.

The sun is still out, not yet covered by the clouds.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[toji-sweetheart]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧| 𝐤. 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

synopsis: Being the Princess meant you were arranged to marry Prince Ito of the conjoining island for the sake of the kingdom, but the last thing you want is to marry someone you don’t love, and your other suitor isn’t someone your parents approve, but how can anyone stop true love from blooming?

wc: 6.9k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + fem reader + not beta read + repost from my old blog + slow burn + no quirks au + forbidden love + talks about running away and doing it + I’m not well versed in the royal au but I did read up on it + enemies to lovers au but l kinda skip that + prince Ito is an OC I just came up with and he’s an ass and is misogynistic + fem pet names + virginity loss for both parties + explicit smut + fingering + unprotected sex + creampie + oral both for you and Katsuki + teasing + fluffy smut + cum eating + slight dirty talking + blood because of v loss + finger sucking + praising + breast/nipple play + Katsuki is soft and maybe ooc + overstim

Boring and stuffy is exactly how you would describe the scene unfolding in front of you, your parent’s ballroom is chock-full of pretentious people who fall in line with your mother and father.

The pair you despise because while you’re their daughter they have never looked at you like that before, it was always: what can you do to make their lives better? Never the other way around. 

Thoughts of your childhood disappeared like a bubble being popped when you heard someone clear their throat, you turned to look who it was, an insult dripping off your tongue when you came face to face with Prince Ito, the man you were set to marry to better the Kingdom and knew it was best to keep your mouth shut. 

You wanted to bite your lip, not in a sexy way either, but one that showed you were on your last nerve. He looked at you with confusion clouding his eyes and a slight smirk as to say ‘You’re stuck with me’ as his hand slipped into yours. 

“We’re supposed to be getting married, so well to remember that my dear.” 

Oh, how you wanted to regurgitate your dinner all over his shoes. Your eyes drifted around the packed room in an effort to ignore him, everyone was dressed in suffocating clothes, even you. 

It felt like hell, the temperature of what felt like flames licking the cream-colored walls, bits of gold and warm tones drowned out everything but the piano music in the corner. 

The feeling of so many bodies also added to the hellish feeling, and the damn dress you had to wear was so tight you were sure your ribs were cracking with each inhale. 

That even grated your already fried nerves feeling your soon-to-be husband pulling you closer, instantly you pulled away catching the gaze of your other courtship, the forbidden man you kept close to your heart. 

Katsuki Bakugo, the man that deep down in every crevice of your heart is your soulmate, you just haven’t told him yet, it was a delicate matter at hand truly.  

You looked at the brown-haired man and suppressed an eye roll, his eyes roamed your body greedily no doubt wondering just when he got to rip your dress off. 

He was someone your parents chose, someone who thought he was king shit of turd island, that made you smile at the mental joke. “Ready to dance?” He asked. 

Again you glanced over toward Katsuki’s direction not seeing him anymore, you hummed in disappointment sweeping the room and not seeing him still but you remembered what he looked like, you always would no matter what. 

Tonight he donned a dark gray suit, notes of red and dark green peeked out between the contrast of the three colors, it hugged him well, not like a second skin but enough to show off the muscles he worked hard for and the scars that littered his body. 

His blonde hair was a mess as always, pieces of it always stuck up like he was in a strong wind tunnel, another thing that made you break out in a grin, the man next to you cleared his throat clearing growing irritated with you ignoring him. 

“We need to show to our parents that we’re a right fit, you-” 

You turned on your heel wanting to stomp on his foot but instead, you forced a smile and nodded, knowing that if you had to open your mouth insults would just fly out instead, his hand was so sweaty it made you feel gross to even hold. 

Prince Ito made his way through the people that instantly parted letting you two through, he really wasn’t a prince to you anyway, just another whiny man-child whose family came from the other island that was situated next to your parents. The land didn’t belong to them, or anyone really in your opinion. 

But it didn’t matter, you were a good they could trade to better their lives, your life was at stake pretty much, honestly, at times you felt no better than the hard pieces of bread that the island’s trade, one has more fruits and grains than the other and the Ito island has oil and the vegetables, so a lot of trading was done. 

Even your own life was something that was traded, your family could produce an heir for his family, and yours and his parents were like yours, however, you and your wanna-be husband felt very different about that. He basked in the glow of being the only child, his pompous attitude made you ill and your eyes roll. 

“What has your attention my sugarplum?” Ito asked as he tugged you to the middle of the floor, bodies made their way to the side to let you both dance, his hand clasped yours never letting go, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist keeping you pinned against him. 

The use of the nickname was enough to make you visibly roll your eyes this time catching him off guard. If anything, you both need to keep a clean image, not a princess who would roll her eyes and defies the man. “Sorry, and nothing does. I’m just getting a bit famished.” 

“Well, in that case, I have a stick of meat that could fill you.” His hands slid down to your ass cupping the flesh, or well what he thought it was, most of it was your damn dress that he bunched up making you very uncomfortable. 

Your lips curled in disgust, and your free hand came to stop on his chest pushing him away to get some fresh air, and not his rancid breath filling your nostrils, it wasn’t awful smelling, it was the vibe you got from him that was musty and each time he opened his mouth it poured out. 

Ito growled low in his throat, which was meant to come across as a warning of sorts but all it did was make you angrier, and just about as you were to say something you felt Katsuki step behind you, his scent instantly calming. 

“I think the princess doesn’t want to dance with you anymore, Prince Handsy.” He muttered in a low tone that made you shiver. 

It wasn’t a death threat which is something he throws out to anyone who inconveniences you, his fiery eyes never left the other man who stared back. It was a warning for now. 

Before you or Ito could say anything, Katsuki removed you from his grip and out of the ballroom letting you melt against him, his back pressed against the wall as you all but tried to merge with him. “Thank you for that, he was getting on my nerves.” 

“I could tell, sugarplum,” He teased with a smirk as he stared at you, the words on the tip of his tongue, the ones you so desperately wanted to spill like ink on paper, the both of you know that him being nothing but a royal guard for your family and you the princess it would never be approved. 

But that didn’t stop you, Katsuki has been by your side since you were both children, you met him outside of the gates the one day you were able to slip away from the guards, at seven years old it wasn’t hard to fit it when you did get free. 

Just as soon as you walked into the mouth of the town, with dusty cobbled roads and people milling about buying and trading goods,  someone ran into you, a blonde boy around your age chasing two boys, one with red hair and the other with black and green hair. 

Blondie was yelling at the two-toned boy, something about him being a loser or to that effect while swinging his toy sword around in triumph. 

His lips curled almost in disgust when you approached them ready to join in, other children weren’t invited into the kingdom so the life you led thus far has been extremely lonely. 

“We don’t play with girls.” Blondie snarled holding a wooden sword, his tattered clothes held a belt around his waist. 

“I can tell, no need to be rude about it. Scared a girl is going to kick your butt?” You spit glaring at him as you grabbed the Red’s sword from his hands, his small mouth popping open staring at you getting into a fighting stance. 

Red opened his mouth ready to say something before you drew the toy with a wide grin setting it against Blondie’s neck, his vermillion eyes swept over your whole body taking in your appearance, it was clear you belonged inside the gates and not out and Katsuki knew.

“No, I’m not, but you need to scram princess before you get hurt.” 

Both of you were caught in a stare-off, everything around you melted away as you took in his appearance, dirt streaked through his hair and on his cheeks, it was just as clear that he was a family that lived far away from the castle gates, and that made you angry. 

Not at him, but at your parents and all the adults who think this is okay, something you really can’t fight about now but now with the judging stare from Blondie it made you angrier, just as you opened your mouth to say something you were picked up and escorted back home. 

The Queen made sure her servants scolded you instead, but all they did was make sure you were washed up and ready to go in the morning for some type of benefit the King threw. 

Then a year later little Blondie came into the kingdom after losing his village and was raised as a royal guard, mostly to you due to how close you two were in age. 

Now that you and Katsuki are in your mid-twenties the tension of being enemies melted away, but not all of it. Sometimes you two still nipped at each other. 

But right now all you could focus on was being with Katsuki like this, his arms wrapped around your waist letting you sag against him. “I really don’t want to marry him, he’s no better than the cow pies in the fields.” 

“Cow pies? You mean shit. Prince Idiot is pure flaming hot-” 

You slapped your hand over his mouth hearing footsteps down the hall, fear wrapped around your spine like a frozen hand. No doubt it was the other guards, the ones who were under your parent’s thumb, unlike the man you were pressed against right now staring at you intently. 

Do you understand that Katsuki would run away with you? He’d never let you go without, even though it won’t be in the kingdom he still wanted to care for you. He could hear the hushed tones of the men, your name making you curl more into him scared they’ll find you. 

He wanted nothing more than to grab their heads and knock them together, anything that caused you stress weighed on him too, a much different person he’s become Katsuki thought as his fingers curled in your dress kissing your forehead. “Shh.” He told you before stepping out of the shadows. 

“She isn’t over in this area, I thought I saw her but it was a dead lead,” Katsuki told them, his voice never wavered or showed he was lying, you watched him drinking him in, the way he all but towered over a lot of people including you, tall and just there. He’s the best guard to have. 

One guard nodded while the others looked at him with curious looks, of course, it wasn’t a secret but to you and Katsuki that you two were madly in love, everyone could tell, however, it was still not seen by each other for some reason you were both blinded by it. 

Once they turned and left back to the ballroom to report to your parents you stepped out of the shadows to envelop Katsuki in a tight hug, his arms quickly wrapped around you not really wanting to let go just yet, you both stood there in the large hallway in a warm embrace. 

He smelt like warmth and spices, along with an earthy undertone that made you want to run away with him to the forest, the both of you could easily make a home and you would do it in a heartbeat, Katsuki means way too much to you to let go, you buried your face in him before stepping away looking at him, the charged gaze made you almost beg for a kiss. 

Instead, you slipped your hand in his and kissed his gloved-clad one. “I should get back, but I promise to see you later.” You left him with a kiss on the cheek before turning away feeling the sting of tears knowing he doesn’t see you the way you see him, he thinks of you like a sister or the annoying Princess he has to babysit. 

Katsuki stood rooted in his place growing angry at himself, sure, he was brash and crude and had not a problem telling anyone off but when it came to his feelings he choked on them because he was terrified you’d laugh at him when he confessed. That’s something he’s not sure he would be able to handle. 

He hasn’t even kissed anyone else, you’re literally his first for everything, and by kissing it’s just a peck on the forehead from him and you always leave a lipstick print on his cheek or sometimes you’ll hold his head and give him a forehead smooch. 

You always left him with something, whether it is a hug, kiss, some type of gift or even just patting his hand there was always something that left him wondering about you during the night, sometimes he’d touch himself just like you do but that was a secret you’d both die with before telling each other or anyone else. 

Thankfully, he was a few rooms down from you in case something happened and he can reach you, and it’s shocking that your parents would let him because they sense the relationship that has been blooming since childhood, but Katsuki is the only person who would protect you this fiercely. 

With a great sigh, he entered the ballroom again, his stupid outfit made him itch all over, it wasn’t his usual uniform but a suit to make him blend in a bit better with the crowd, but everyone knew who he was, it was very obvious uniform or not. 

Katsuki watched you with him, Ito’s arm around your waist keeping you flush against him, his other hand holding yours in a tight hold making sure you didn’t leave him, the possessive gesture made his blood boil, but he knew it wasn’t the right time to say anything or do something. 

He wasn’t even sure if you felt the same way he did, so all Katsuki did was lean against the wall watching the other people dance, his red eyes swept over everyone keeping his gaze still on you mostly, it was clear you were uncomfortable. 

Your eyebrows were pinched in the middle and your lips were in a thin line pressing them together, he knew you were irritated and not very happy about dancing with him this close, the asshole thought he knew you from head to toe. 

Ito attempted to make a joke he heard when he came closer, the smell of your heavy perfume only worn by you made his stomach erupt with a million butterflies it felt like, their soft wings brushing against each other, if anyone else wore it, it made him sick. 

Your eyes connected with his in a heated gaze looking at him with a soft smile, the look Ito caught on made him curl his fingers under your chin turning you to face him with a sick smile, his lips were cracked and you swore you smelt the evil from him. 

“Why do you keep looking at everyone but me? I’m the only man you need to be staring at.” 

Sickness crept up your throat as his eyes burned into yours with such intensity, there was something that made a chill rack your body, just when you opened your mouth to reply your Father interrupted. 

“We need you two to come to the front please, it’s time to announce the marriage between him and you to the Kingdom.” 

Your heart dropped all the way to your stomach, dread replaced everything you felt, and the reality of the situation is coming to a head, once that is announced what was happening you knew it would be harder to get out of, and if you left you’d be shunned from the Kingdom and your parents. 

Ito smiled and squeezed your hand with a sicker grin, the gleam in his eyes reminded you of a demon that terrorized the village well before you were born but the pictures and stories that were passed down by each generation were fresh in your mind. 

“Can you please give me a moment? I’d like to freshen up before we do anything.” You asked with a soft smile, it hurt to force it but thankfully neither Ito or your Father could tell, even when they watched you walk to Katsuki to ask him to walk you to your room. 

Once you both were out of the ballroom and out of ear shop from people you slid your hand in his. “We’re leaving right now, my dad wants to announce the marriage between us and I can’t do it, I won’t. I refuse to end up miserable like my mom.” 

Katsuki watched you with a smirk as he followed you to your room, after the door was shut you looked around taking it in once more, the room that has housed you for the past twenty-some years is now held so many memories. 

It made your heart crack a bit, and tears stung your eyes but you buried that for a moment and packed a small basket you kept under your bed away from prying eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Katsuki asked taking things he could sell. 

There was no way in hell he was going to leave you alone and you knew that. “Yes, this is hell on earth and I don’t want to be a Queen, I can’t do what they do, and know what I know. When I first met you-” You stopped mid-sentence and sighed. 

He sat on the edge of your bed watching you intently, his lips pressed in a thin line like yours were earlier, you knew he was chewing on his next sentence holding the things in his bag that sat in his lap before helping you pack the nightgowns. 

All your other dresses wouldn’t fit in and the last thing you want is to wear them anymore, now it is time for you to live your life. The way you want to, and it wouldn’t matter if you tried to set new rules, they would be overruled by King Ito. 

The thought of what was to come made you shiver. “Thank you, Kats, I really do appreciate what you’re doing.” You told him finishing up your packing. 

“Don’t thank me and don’t call me that, I told you that before.” He grumbled standing up, but you knew he was joking a bit, his nickname as a kid made him think about the way he feels about you, and now is not the time. 

Quickly you both finished up and got everything ready, briefly Katsuki wondered why anyone hasn’t come to get you yet but they think he’s helping you. 

Oh, is he really helping you with everything you need. He peeked his head out of your door turning his head side to side and sweeping the empty halls, he strained to listen for footsteps. 

Silence only greeted him, giving you both one minute to sneak down to the door that led outside from the lower level, it was a secret you discovered years ago. 

Katsuki held your hand tight leading you down the flight of steps, momentarily pressing yourselves against the wall hearing voices carry down the stone hall. 

“Make sure to stay hidden.” He reminded you giving your hand a light squeeze while glancing back at you, quickly you fixed the silk around your head covering most of your face up. 

You nodded staying silent but only to take a deep breath in when you stepped outside, the sun instantly warmed you up, and the free feeling you got only amplified. 

“Go look for her!” Both of you heard a voice cry out, thankfully now under the bridge so no one could see you watching a few guards and your mom and dad, then of course, Ito was standing in front of everyone with his arms crossed over his chest looking like an angry child. 

You giggled a bit catching Katsuki’s attention who looked over at you with furrowed eyebrows, his hand coming up to muffle your laughter at the supposed man who you were set to marry, his face screwed up and red as he sputtered out more threats and demanded they find you. 

After you removed his hand away from his mouth you turned around to face the wall, looking behind your shoulder at him, the way your lips parted made his cock twitch in his pants as you smiled softly. “Please unlace this, I am dying and I can’t breathe in this stupid thing.” 

Katsuki stepped closer to you, his gloved fingers untying the silk watching you inhale deeply, the charged air around you two crackled with sensual and high tension, he could smell your sweet shampoo and you, his musk, how bad you wanted to turn, and kiss him sat in your stomach like a rock. 

“Thanks, Kats, I appreciate you and this too.” His mouth was open ready to snap at you until you turned around to stare at him, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes with a sad smile, and he thought it was because you were going to miss your family, but that was the least of your worries. 

He opened his arms letting you settle in them melting against him. “You’re my favorite pain in the ass, you know?” Katsuki said looking at you, fire dancing in his vermillion eyes. 

“I hope I’m the only pain in your ass, otherwise what would be the point?” You asked in a teasing tone batting your heavy lashes and hearing the people fade away from the bridge, most likely going back to check the castle again, the sad look you held now faded. 

An hour later you both didn’t hear anything, not even people walking over the bridge, Katsuki told you to wait there while he checked, thankfully no one was around when he helped you up the grassy cliff and quickly drag you to the edge of the forest, the sun setting cast a shadow over you both. 

“I found a small house when I was exploring and over the last few months I made sure to add some fire logs and clean it up for us,” Katsuki told you getting past the mouth of trees, it was a plan set in stone the moment you turned ten, the age you were told about marrying Ito. 

Hand in hand you walked close to him using him for warmth and comfort glancing around the  bare trees, it was beginning to get cooler and the trees were now losing their buds, the warm air becoming rigid. “This is why you’re my favorite pain in the ass.” 

Katsuki chuckled and rolled his eyes huffing a bit at the compliment, he stayed silent the entire walk never letting go of your hand as he led you to the small house, more like a cabin that has been sitting there unoccupied until now, thankfully he cleaned all the spiderwebs and stuff up. 

The sun dipped almost to the horizon by the time you both reached the front door, sweat beaded along your nape watching Katsuki toe the heavy wood open letting you in first taking in your new living situation, everything was in the big square, minus the bathroom thankfully. 

A huge bay window faced the back of the house giving you a clear view of the tall trees, you dropped the bag and began to undress yourself down to the thin slip you wore under all the layers before sitting on the creaky bed, the springs groaning under your weight. 

Katsuki watched you with heated eyes, it was not the time to pop a boner but it couldn’t be helped seeing you flop on your back, the bottom hem of your dress rolling up to your mid-thigh. “This is so much better than that castle, it was so stuffy and miserable there, the ghosts haunting us.” You murmured out loud staring up at the wooden ceiling noting the decay. 

“You really still think ghosts roamed those halls?” He asked kicking his heavy boots off before moving to the fireplace and setting it up, the fire crackling instantly warming up the small room Katsuki sat in front of it removing his gloves and hearing the bed creak as you rolled to your side. 

“Yep,” You popped the p and sat up crossing your legs, “I sure do, you’ve heard all the stories they told us and everything that’s been going on, all of the people who lived there I believe are condemned to stay there forever, why should their souls rest when they put our people through hell? I can’t be the Queen for that reason, let alone Ito’s wife.” 

You spit venom saying his name, the feeling of his creepy stare and his hands made you ill thinking about it. “I understand, and you’re-” Katsuki cut off swallowing his tongue, the confession almost spilled from his lips. 

“I’m what?” You asked getting off the bed to walk over to him crouching down next to him, your head laying on his back before wrapping your arms around him, the feeling of your touch made his heart jump to his throat. 

“Nothing, you need a bath though. You stink.” He murmured changing the topic and lucky for him it worked this time, you giggled and smacked his shoulder gently knowing standing up and grabbing your basket of clothes and washes. 

Katsuki joined you pulling his gloves back on before opening the door and holding his hand out for you, it was an unspoken agreement just in case something happens and he feels better knowing he can protect you if something happens. 

Thankfully it was only a short walk to the clear creek that ran between several trees packed together, the cool wind bit at you but it felt nice being in the cramped room, and you knew your nipples were pebbled and rubbing against your silk slip, the moonlight was perfect this evening giving him a clear view of you. 

Katsuki did everything not to look, he doesn’t want to think of himself as someone like Ito knowing he would stare without a care in the world. “Are you just going to watch?” You asked with a sly smile setting the woven basket down and watching him turn his back to you shaking his head. 

“No, I’m not a creep. Just hurry up woman.” He mumbled crossing his arms over his chest and listening to you slip into the cold water, you gasped at the sensation and splashed around the water once you got used to it. 

Katsuki never once turned to look, even though his heart was beating a bit too fast for him and the fact that his dick had a mind of its own getting hard, the tip leaky and sticky in his pants made it uncomfortable and shameful. Being a virgin at this age was embarrassing enough. 

He wanted to palm himself in the worst way possible, it was difficult not to, especially when he glanced back at the same time you came back up breaking the water’s surface, your skin bare to his eyes feasting on you, water dripped down your face like it was his favorite wet dream. 

“Are you watching your best friend bathe? You little pervert.” You teased splashing water over the muddy sides of the creek with a smirk, it warmed you more than anything knowing he wanted to stare, you could read him like an open book now and the thought of him liking you more than friends was enough to get out and dry off then get dressed. 

Katsuki ignored you and your antics knowing if he spoke it would come out hoarse, thick with desire then he felt your hand slide in his before walking back to the house, the moon high and bright giving you both plenty of light to guide you both back where he locked every window up. 

Once you were warmed up and dried off you slid in the bed with Katsuki watching him sit on the side, his ass almost hanging off while he was still fully dressed, boots including. “Are you going to sleep in your clothes? You’re wearing leather and it doesn’t look comfortable.” 

“I’m fine,” He mumbled causing you to frown, he went rigid feeling you crawl over to him kneeling behind him, your fingers dancing over his broad shoulders as you leaned in kissing his cheek and shaking your head. 

“Don’t be scared, it’s not like I haven’t seen you almost naked anyway.” You murmured in a teasing voice, your lips pressed against the shell, and while you couldn’t see the goosebumps raising over him you knew they were by the way he shivered. 

Katsuki growled softly when your fingers slid down his chest now pressing your chest against his back, his hands coming up to yours stopping them. “I-” His voice was strained as he stayed still looking down at the floor. 

It’s now or never you thought feeling warmth trickle through you. “I love you Katsuki, so much, I harbored these feelings for long enough now I think and you helped me through everything. We fought at times and got on each other’s nerves but I don’t want anyone but you.” 

He turned his head to stare at you, his own words dying on his tongue and instead of speaking them Katsuki leaned in and kissed you, his lips sought yours in a tender meeting that slowly grew needy until you were seated in his lap, your tongues tangled together now. 

It was sloppy with your arms wrapped around his neck, the bottom hem of your slip rolled up to your thighs as you grabbed his left wrist holding his hand to your swollen lips staring at him with lust-blown pupils bitting down on the leather removing his glove before moving to the other one. 

Katsuki thought his dick was going to explode right then and there feeling the warmth of your bare pussy soaking into his pants, your eyes trained on his and half-lidded as you leaned back in to kiss him again swiping your tongue between his lips before pecking them several times. 

“I’m a virgin.” You whispered against his lips. Now he was sure it would explode. Your confession set his heart on fire, he was sure this was your first kiss just like him, the both of you took the time to explore each other’s bodies, first, you removed his gloves then his leather jacket and shirt running your open palms over his chest and stomach. 

Katsuki laid on his back letting you straddle him, his own fingers tracing up and down your arms eliciting goosebumps as he pulled the straps of your dress down baring your breasts to him, the fire crackled in the background but you still heard him suck in a deep breath as he cupped the flesh. 

He palmed them at first before running his hands up and down your sides, then back to your breasts and shoulders, everywhere he touched left a trail of fire and desire, needy you leaned down kissing him again letting him hold your hips tightly grinding you against him. 

“I’ve always thought about this Kats, you’re much better than my dreams.” You whispered in his ear trailing kisses all over his face and neck that you littered with love bites, he stared at you with pink cheeks as he huffed before quickly flipping you to your back. 

He grunted in response settling himself between your spread legs. “Lift that pretty ass of yours up.” You were quick to listen lifting your hips and butt up watching him shimmy off your slip, his vermillion eyes feasted upon your naked form just as you did the same thing. 

Katsuki had no idea what to do, his first action was kissing your thighs nibbling a bit, he listened to your moans and pleas and how you fisted the sheet wanting him to kiss you where it really mattered. His tongue lolled out once he was face to face with your slick pussy. 

He inhaled your musk deeply making sure to ingrain it inside him, he wanted to devour you, the woman who put the sun and moons in the sky for him, the only person who understand the broken part of him, you always saw him as who he is and never what he pretended to be. 

Your fingers curled in his blonde locks when he licked a wide stripe up your pussy from your fluttering hole all the way up to your clit which he sucked in at first before swirling the tip of his tongue around the bud, he still wasn’t sure if this was okay but judging from your sounds it was. 

Never has anyone told him how to please a woman or anything, but you were such a good teacher, and letting him explore, he pulled away spreading you open. “Ow! Not so rough!” You mewled when he did it a bit too much. 

“Sorry, I’m a virgin too.” He admitted watching you sit up, your eyes filled with hot need, the thought of him giving you something so special caused your heart to swell in your throat, you leaned down and kissed his head before laying back again. 

He continued gaining the courage to rub at your clit, at first he rubbed your left lower labia before letting you move his fingers to the throbbing bud moaning his name over and over until he slowly slid his fingertip inside you. “Holy shit.” Katsuki groaned feeling you tight around him. 

Every piece of you filled the missing pieces of him, all the cracks in his heart you filled with your own love, one of the many things he loved about you, and oh how it grew over the years once you two were over the bickering and knew it was better to get along. 

Now his heart beat just for you, nothing else mattered really to him but to protect you, and his goal was to make sure you didn’t marry Ito and now here you are under him moaning his name fucking yourself back on fingers and humping his mouth. 

It didn’t take him long thankfully in figuring out what you liked and how to make you feel good, his tongue buried in your cunt sucking and licking away the mess you made from the first orgasm that he talked you through. “So good, keep coming for me, sweetheart.” 

Katsuki ground his own hips against the bed fucking the blanket wanting to desperately feel you around him, he just didn’t want to cause you any more pain, he pulled away smelling the heavy sex in the air along with the damp earth undertones. 

He looked down at you with the moonlight washing over him from the bare windows, the fire behind him cast a glow making it look like he was a king and he was, he’s your King. “Katsuki, please, I need you.” You begged with a hoarse voice from the moaning and whimpering. 

Quickly he pulled his fingers out sliding his hand up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. “Part those pretty lips for me.” He demanded in a gentle tone watching your lips open, his fingers pressed in on your tongue. 

Closing your lips around him you held his wrist sucking his fingers clean never breaking his stare while grinding your pussy against his throbbing cock coating the length of him with your slick feeling the tip barely grazing your fluttering hole with a soft sigh. 

“Katsuki - please I wanna taste your dick.” The lewd words spilled from your mouth when he removed his fingers with a groan quickly sitting on his ass and spreading his legs watching you scramble to kneel between his thighs rubbing them. 

He watched you bend at the waist to kiss and lick the head tasting the salty pre-cum, your fingers wrapped around the base giving it experimental jerks of your wrist glancing up at him, his eyes screwed shut, your mouth and hand much better his own palm and thoughts. 

“You look so pretty with my dick like this, I love how you taste too. I-I love you.” Katsuki admitted in a rush of words, he stared at you afraid of your next reaction.

“I would die for you. Kill for you, do anything you asked me to if you found peace or pleasure or whatever else from it. Please, please, let me burn the world around us for you, I never want to leave this place unless it’s with you, you’re my home and heart.” You whispered your own confession. 

Katsuki pushed you on your back again covering his body with yours pressing your legs back and open seeking your mouth in a hot and deep kiss moving his hands to hold yours, fingers intertwining together. “The only peace and pleasure I get are from staring at you, being in your presence is nothing better, all the finest gold in the world has nothing against you.” 

His words swirled in your head as he slowly slid the head of his cock inside you feeling you tighten around him at first trying to push him out, you whined softly wrapping your arms around his neck. “Take me, I know you can, this pussy is mine now and my dick is all for you, so take it the way you were meant to princess.” 

“Oh my, Katsuki!” You yelped when he pushed deeper until he was halfway in he pulled out seeing a thin sheen of blood, the guilt ate at him but feeling you tug on his neck which pulled him away from his thoughts. 

“I’m ok, please don’t stop.” You murmured kissing his jaw with soft kisses as you ground your hips seeking more of him, Katsuki bared his teeth at how tight and wet you were when he bottomed out with a low growl in his throat. 

He stayed still letting you adjust to him, stars burst behind your eyes giving him the last piece of your soul. “I love you Katsuki Bakugo.” You whispered kissing him again in a silent way to tell him it was okay to move. 

Katsuki rocked his hips against yours going slow while reaching his hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit feeling you tighten around him with a loud moan. “I love how your pussy molds to me, told you we were meant to be.” He groaned in your ear picking up the pace. 

Pleasure clouded all thoughts as you ground your hips against him when his mouth latched on your nipple sucking it deep in his mouth fucking you harder now, the only thing you could feel was him, not the warmth from the fire, not the sheets under you or anything else. 

Katsuki has now totally invaded you and everything else, but it was a mutual feeling, the way he kissed every inch of skin while making love to you now, his praises melted and dripped down to the pool of hot desire in your stomach. 

“You will have my last name someday, maybe even soon. Now we can be together, forever.” His forehead rested against yours before he pulled away and out helping you to your hands and knees, the pillow was shoved aside as he slowly thrust back in feeling his orgasm bubble up. 

His hands held your hips in a tight hold bottoming out, he kept a soft pace letting you bounce back against him chasing your own high, his balls tightened when you threw your head back staring at him moaning his name and quickly he came filling you up thick and warm. 

He wasn’t done by any means, once you both came down from the highs he laid on the bed helping you straddle his lap and riding him while holding his hands and grinding your hips down before bouncing up and down and hearing the creaking of the bed fill the small room. 

“Katsuki! You feel so good inside me!” You panted feeling sweat drip down your back while using his cum as lube to sit all the way up leaving just the tip in before slowly dropping back down finding his mouth in a hot kiss fucking him wildly. 

Neither of you was sure how long it was before you both lay next to each other panting and sweating, his cock soft and aching as you rolled to your side curling against him with a soft smile and droopy eyes from exhaustion seeping in. “Let’s do that every night.” 

Katsuki nodded in agreement knowing that you both were finally happy and free together, forever.

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