#NO WONDER... MY JAW IS IN PAIN ALMOST ALL THE TIME.... HUH..

[tamagotchikgs]

last night i was poking around in my mouth as u do and i reached back where i had always felt this hard thing w my tongue for awhile now but was like ah maybe it's just like. my gums being inflamed in the back or smthn BUT,, no i poked that thing with my fingernail n it is a tooth that is a whole ass wisdom tooth

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(part 2 of November Paramedic; part 1 is here.)

Steve's honey-sweet eyes, gleaming with confidence, ask 'why don't you take a bite?'

His pink mouth, deliciously curved, wonders 'don't you want a taste?'

His dark chest hair, leading a mouthwatering path down his pants, says 'you know you want to'.

And Eddie does. He really does. He would, if Steve was actually here. Alas, all Eddie has is the calendar photo currently staring at him from where it's propped on Eddie's dresser, and he's not biting into it. It's the only one he's got, you see; he won't be ruining it with bite marks and drool due to his intrusive thoughts.

If he had a copy machine close at hand, though? If he could make as many pictures as he'd possibly want? Oho, watch out, Slobbertown!

It's been one week since Steve the sexy paramedic revealed himself to be a real person and not just a dude in a softcore porn calendar. One week since he Florence Nightingale'd Eddie before vanishing in a flurry of bloody gauze and blinking blue lights, leaving both Eddie and Gareth breathless.

(Though in Gareth's case, it was due to laughing so hard he choked on himself.)

The calendar doesn't do it for him anymore. Don't misunderstand – he still uses it when beating the meat. In fact, it has exclusively become his primary masturbatory aid, and it has served him especially well the past few days. The moment those 48 hours were over and Gareth left, Eddie chucked off his sweatpants and went to, well, Slobbertown. But it's not the same anymore. How could it be, when he knows the real Steve's hair smells like a meadow and his aftershave like lemon and spice? When he's felt the pressure of Steve's fingertips on his jaw? When he's seen the faint scar running down Steve's chin from his mouth? When he can still hear Steve's voice use his name, give him orders, call him 'sir'?

It's impossible. Fuck, just whenever Eddie closes his eyes Steve's face appears, as vividly as if it happened yesterday. Of course, that might have something to do with Eddie already having made himself oh so familiar with Steve's face, and chest, and hands, and… everything else, for the past two years. Jesus damn it, if he knew this was where he'd end up he never would've bought the calendar in the first place.

Groaning, he throws himself back on his bed; then he shouts as his head thumps into the wall. Typical. He rubs at the spot to soothe it. No bump, though it hurts like a bitch. Pain (and suspicion he just aggravated the previous head injury) aside, he's comfortable, thus he sprawls out and stares at the ceiling as planned.

He's been distracted. He knows that because literally everyone has been on his case about it. Gareth gives him smug smiles that have turned alarmingly calculated as the week has passed. Jeff and Marv, having been filled in by Gareth, are rather more amused in a benign way. His boss almost sent him home to recuperate after catching him staring into space for the third time. Uncle Wayne noticed something was off through the phone. And Max has been giving him weird looks.

Ah, little Max. The only person in the complex who doesn't steer clear of him. She doesn't actually know what went down – not completely. She knows he got injured, because she caught him and Gareth as they stumbled home while she was exiting her apartment to toss the trash. Her sharp eyes zeroed in on the plaster, and on Eddie's arm that was slung over Gareth's shoulders for support (at Gareth's insistence).

"You got in a fight?" she asked.

With a grin he'd exclaimed, "Battle? You know me better than that! Nay, I did my utmost to escape the violence... but the ruffian got to me regardless."

"Huh. You okay?"

Gareth had rolled his eyes. "He's fine. I mean, listen to him."

"Don't worry about me, Red." Eddie tapped his own head. "This ol' noggin is harder than it looks."

A corner of her mouth twisted up, though if it was in amusement he couldn't tell in the dim hallway. They ought to team up against the super; maybe their combined whining will have him finally fix that broken light bulb.

"Make sure you don't take aspirin or ibuprofen," she said. "It can-"

"Yeah, I know. Paramedic already told me."

"Good. Is our lesson still on?"

"Certainly, m'dear."

And then he'd tipped an imaginary hat, she snorted, and Gareth hauled his ass to bed.

He didn't see Max again until Sunday afternoon, when she came by for their aforementioned weekly guitar lesson. Parking themselves on each end of the couch, his acoustic in her lap, he'd made her play the 'homework' from the previous Sunday. It sounded pretty good. She honestly won't need his help soon – probably doesn't need it now. She understands basic theory and is diligent about practicing. He'd be fine with awarding her temporary custody of the guitar for a while. She insists on coming over, however, claiming she has to be perfect by the time of the next open mic down at Connie's Corner Coffee.

The reason she has to be perfect? Well. Eddie is pretty sure it's to impress her boy. She hasn't confirmed that it's for her boy, or even that she has one, but it totally is and she totally does. He knows this because 1. she becomes flustered and grumpy (grustered? Flumpy?) every time he brings it up, and 2. if she was learning to play for herself he'd be subjected to a lot more Pink Floyd and a lot less Curtis Mayfield.

It's cute, to be honest. Picking up an instrument for a boy you like? That's romantic as fuck. If he hadn't been the Lord of All Losers he would've serenaded tons of boys when he was younger. Hell, he'd do it now, if only there were anyone willing to listen. But he hasn't had as much as a date in ages, and none of his previous attempts at relationships ever reached the 'romantic gestures' stage.

Maybe he should ask Max to set him up with someone. Why not? She probably meets dozens of people every day, at the campus, at the skatepark, wherever else she hangs. If there's anyone who could sort out his disastrous love life, it's Max Mayfield. She's so put together, and she's not even 20 yet. She's got her own place (in a supremely shitty building, but still a place), she's got a man (reluctant as she is to admit it), and she is halfway through her math degree. A fucking math degree, for Christ's sake! Math majors are built for solving problems!

Maybe she could even calculate how many times he'd need to injure himself before he'd meet the one paramedic he wanted to kiss… him better.

It was around that point of his daydreaming that Max shot a hair tie at his forehead and demanded he stop zoning out and correct her hand placement.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing deeper than usual. "Have you been resting?"

"Yes. For the prescribed 48 hours, and then some. I'm fine."

She'd frowned, scrutinizing him with those pale blue eyes. He squared his shoulders and met her gaze like a man. Easier said than done, to be truthful. He likes Max – she's fun, easily the most kickass neighbor he's ever had – but she can be intense. And when she gets her stare on? She's downright creepy.

"I'd prefer to cancel over you fucking up your head more," she at last said, posture stiff and chin jutting. 'Don't lie to me,' is what she meant.

Eddie sighed. "Red… I'm fine. Seriously."

And he was. Physically speaking, at least. Mentally, he'd always been a little off. Part of the patented Munson charm, really.

She must've realized that, because she relaxed, her expression going from 'active bitch face' and back to 'resting'.

"All right. Sorry for being overbearing. It's just." She shrugged a shoulder, gripping the neck of the guitar as it started sliding off her crossed legs. "One of my closest friends is a medical professional. Another one is studying biology. They've been discussing human anatomy and… I guess they've gotten into my head."

Damn his friends for caring. How was he supposed to sell this image of a dark, dangerous, rocker dude if he was constantly misty-eyed from how sweet his buds were to him? He leaned forward to pat her knee.

"I appreciate the concern, unnecessary as it is. But!" He drew himself back and pointed in the air. "We're not postponing! Open mic is less than a month away – you only have so many days left before you'll be on that stage, in front of aaaaall those people… and your beau."

He's certain that if she hadn't still been sorta concerned about his health, she'd have smacked him.

That was Sunday afternoon. Now is Wednesday evening. He is still hung up on Thursday. He doesn't even know why. Yes, he was face-to-face with the hottest guy ever. Sure, that same guy has been the star of his most critically acclaimed fantasies. Indeed, he hasn't gotten laid in eons. Of course, he's pent-up with sexual frustration and yearning for another man's touch.

But still. He's not an animal or a sex-crazed teenager. He's smart enough to know that nothing good will come of this. It's not like he'll ever see Steve again. That'd be so unrealistic.

A knock on his front door reaches his ears. Eddie makes no effort to get up and answer it. He's not expecting anyone – whoever it is will have to return another day.

The knocking turns into a pounding, followed by yelling.

"Eddie! Let me in, asshole, I know you're there!"

Ugh. What does he want? Hasn't he heard of texting?

Eddie drags himself off the bed and toward the door. Yanking it open, he's met by Gareth's self-satisfied visage.

"Good evening," he says, heedless of Eddie’s glare. "I come hither with your solution."

"My solution?" Eddie mutters as he stalks to his couch to crumple into another heap.

Gareth follows him inside. "I have a plan to get your man!"

"What? Who? What?"

"Steve. November-paramedic," Gareth says, like it's obvious, which, what the actual fuck?

"He's not my man?"

"But he could be."

"Gareth, what the fuck-"

He moves to sit up, but Gareth's palm hits him square in the diaphragm and pushes him back down.

"No, listen: you are a terrible patient."

"I'm not-"

"Remember back in high school, when that asshole rear-ended us in the intersection at Hickory and 5th?"

Eddie grimaces. How could he forget? They'd stopped at a red light when a drunken motherfucker plowed into them, sending them careening into the T-junction. One car managed to break before hitting them; another veered only to crash into a fourth car. The result was, for them, whiplash injuries and, for the people who collided, bruises, sprains, and a dislocated joint. It had been the scariest moment of Eddie's life, and the neck pain had been excruciating. That wasted piece of shit was lucky no one died.

He says, "Yeah?"

"You were so snarky with that poor EMT."

"Okay, first off, I was a snot-nosed brat back then-"

"Dude, you were nineteen."

"-and she was rude to me first."

"She was following protocol!" Gareth shakes his head. "The point is that you never follow orders or instructions, not even when a doctor tells you to. But November-Steve? I've never seen you be so pliable."

"I-"

"And after, when I had to babysit you for two fucking days? I expected it to be difficult. But you were so busy sighing and yearning-" he says, ignoring Eddie's indignant sputtering, "-and replaying him tenderly caressing your face with his big, manly hands and holding your gaze with those big, manly eyes-"

"Do you want to fuck him?"

"-that you forgot to complain or be a contrarian about everything." Gareth smiles, sweet as cavities. "It was great. I'd like to recapture that. And if November-Steve is the one to bring it out of you, well!"

Eddie glowers at him. No, really! With the metaphorical thunder clouds swirling over his head and everything! His world has been shook. It is tilted off its axis, and it's his best friend's duty to mock him relentlessly for it. But this? Trying to encourage him? Give him hope? That's going too far.

Gareth notices. Of course he does; curse the heart on Eddie's sleeve. The sickly-sugary smugness evaporates off him, and he takes a seat on the dingy couch seat.

"Eddie," he says with a softness reserved for a select few individuals. "Seriously. You've been all moon-eyed for a week. You've been thinking about him. Really thinking."

Eddie balloons his cheeks and huffs out the air. "Well. If you spend two years jerking it to a guy-"

"Gross."

"-and then he suddenly appears before you, in the flesh? I've been fantasizing about it. He's a fantasy. And when it actually happens, that's…"

He trails off. Gareth knocks their shoulders together.

"He seemed nice."

Eddie scoffs. "I spoke to him for fifteen minutes. Tops."

"Fifteen nice minutes. You haven't dated in ages. Maybe this is a sign?"

Chuckling, Eddie slumps his head onto Gareth's shoulder. They're the wrong heights for it, so it's awkward and strenuous on the neck. He remains.

"You're just looking for another opportunity to embarrass me," he says.

"Embarrass you and improve your life. Like only true friends strive to do."

Eddie hums. "So what's your fucking plan?"

Gareth shifts, turning toward Eddie, but doesn't say anything yet. Glancing up, Eddie is met by a zoomed-in, upside-down view of Gareth's pointy grin, his canines gleaming.

"The university!"

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

Taglist: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround , @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid

No longer adding to the tag list, due to numbers and (hopefully temporary) technical difficulties. Please save or memorize the tag #steddie fic: november paramedic instead; all the parts will be there (unless something goes terribly wrong).

Thank you for reading! 🖤 ☺

Part 3

[voltronisanobsession]

There is no End | Luke Castellan x Reader

A little idea I had, needed to right something angsty and toxic 😍💀

“Let go of me, Luke!”

You stumbled and tried pulling your arm away from the blonde boy who continued yanking you forward. The bruising grip Luke had on your arm did not deter you from trying to escape.

You thought he only wanted to talk. Maybe apologize for everything he had done. As anxious as you were to meet up with the boy, you did nonetheless.

Why? Because he’s your boyfriend. Or was, at least. Never did you imagine the kind boy you once knew to drag you away from the camp grounds kicking and screaming.

“Luke, I’m serious! Let me go!” Your voice trembled with rage and fear.

You were far from camp, you knew that. But you didn’t know that you were so close to home too. You looked at the house in front of you, anxiety shooting up as you recognized it as your own.

How did you guys manage to travel out of state so quickly? And how were you home??

It was all too confusing for you. You were cold, upset, and scared. You wondered if anyone at camp noticed your absence yet.

“LUKE STOP!”

At last, it seemed the boy finally heard you after all your previous attempts. He stopped suddenly, causing you to crash into his side. You yanked your arm away and was surprised when he let go.

You stepped away from him, eyes tracing his blank face carefully. You knew if you ran, he’d easily catch you. Your eyes traveled down to the sword strapped around his waist.

Who knew, maybe he’d use that sword against you too. What was it called again? Backbiter?

Luke’s eyes stared off into the distance. It was like he wasn’t even mentally there in the moment. He had changed so much, you noticed.

He looked older, in a way. His face, no longer soft and sweet, was hardened from the past years of intense fighting. You knew he’d seen and been through so much since he had left camp.

His once bright blue eyes were now dull in shine. He looked towards you, eyes narrowed as he turned his body to you.

“Join the army.” Your jaw almost dropped in shock.

You stepped back agin. He stepped forward.

“You seriously kidnapped me from camp, take me to my home, just to tell me to join your army? Is this a joke?”

Luke’s face twisted in anger. He took one large step and stood no more than a foot a part from you.

“No, it’s not. Join our army, and I promise you won’t get hurt when the war happens.”

Hurt? War? You realized in the moment that this was more dangerous than you anticipated.

“Why should I join your army, Luke? If you forgot, I still remember how you betrayed us. Betrayed me.” You scoffed out, arms crossing in defiance. You weren’t going to let Luke have his way.

“Betrayed you? I’m doing this for us. For everyone who was betrayed by the gods. You should feel betrayed by them.”

Luke was now so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from the skin on his arms. He was angry and you knew it. Luke never got angry before.

“When have the gods and goddesses ever been there for you, huh? Your father? Why do you take their side when the only thing they’ve done is screw you and everyone else over?”

You stared up at him in shock. Was he really trying to use your father against you? You knew what he was trying to do, you knew it.

“Luke-“

“No! Tell me, when was the last time Apollo said happy birthday to you? Actually, tell me when was the last time you’ve even seen him?”

Your face scrunched up in hurt, your body trying to back away from Luke’s, only for him to wrap his hands around your biceps, stopping you from getting away. You gasped from the squeezing pain.

“He doesn’t care about you, y/n. None of the Olympians do. Why are you fighting for immortals that don’t even care if you live or die?”

Your eyes watered up with unshed tears. His presence was becoming too much for you. Was he going to kill you if you didn’t join? Oh gods, you were going to die.

“No one cares about you. You don’t matter to anyone. Not even your own mother-“

“Stop it, Luke! Don’t say that!” Your lips wobbled as you spoke, the tears welling up in your eyes and slowly falling down your cheeks.

“It’s true, though. You want to see how much you matter to her? Don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

Your heart leaped to your throat as the blonde boy began dragging you to the house you once lived in. Panicking, you began your game of tug and war against him again, but you weren’t as strong as he was.

“No, no Luke please! Don’t do this, please!” You sobbed out as Luke continued pulling you closer and closer to the house.

Once close enough, he shot you a look as if to say quiet, making you immediately stop babbling out nonsense.

You were hysterical at this point, your face red from your crying and sobbing. Your body shook as you tried and failed miserably to stop your cries. You continued crying even as Luke pulled you up to a ground level window of the house.

Luke grabbed your jaw to keep you from turning away from the window, forcing you to look into the house.

“Look Y/N. I said look.”

You sobbed as you did what he wanted. It had been exactly 5 years since you’ve last seen your mother. 5 years since she left you at camp and never came back. All the memories came flooding back immediately as you stared at the woman you loved so dearly.

She sat on a chair reading a book, the same way she always did when you were younger. The house looked the same way it did when she took you to camp all those years ago. Except something was different.

You began crying all over again, broken sobs escaping your body as you saw two small children run over to her.

“No, no, no.”

You gasped for air as the woman in front of you put down her book and picked up the young children, placing them on her lap as she smiled gently at them.

Your pulled away from the window, away from the house, and back into the darkness where you first began.

You didn’t even register Luke pulling you close to him, his arms engulfing you in a hug. The boy whispered sweet nothings to you as you slowly calmed down from your hysteria.

You sniffled softly as Luke’s whispers filled the silence of the night.

Your arms slowly wrapped around Luke’s body, head leaning against his chest.

“There is no end, Y/N. I told you, they don’t care about you. They never did.”

You sniffled again as your eyes stung with tears again. He didn’t need to remind you again. The boy then kissed your head, still hugging you as you got a hold of yourself.

“But I care, Y/N. I care so much for you. That’s why I want you to join me. So you don’t have to be alone again. I promise I’ll never leave you like your parents did.”

And you couldn’t help but believe him. The sincerity in his voice was hard to miss. The way he held you was the same way he held you all that time ago, when you were younger.

He promised he wouldn’t leave you. Your hands clenched around his shirt. You took a deep breath and unclenched your hands.

“Ok.”

Luke pulled away and held your face, eyes staring straight into yours. These blue eyes were the same ones you remembered staring into when you were at camp.

“Promise me you won’t leave.”

He gently kisses your forehead, wiping away your stray tears with gentle hands.

“I promise.”

You never returned to camp after that night, leaving many of the campers to worry and wonder what had happened to you. Little did they know that you had signed a deal with the worst monster imaginable, after he promised you he would never leave you alone.

[https-murdock]

Be Good to Me - Matt Murdock

summary: do you deserve to come? matt isn’t so sure.

word count: ~1.2k

warning: mean!matt - blowjob, insults (not that bad?), unprotected sex (no!), orgasm denial, p in v, bondage, as per usual with me it’s my fave - porn no plot.

note: first time writing mean!matt ahhh, had a really fun time writing this - requested by our own @kit-murdock - thank you gorgeous ! hope it’s ok :)

matt knows how wet you are, he can smell it. does he care? no.

“knees, sweetheart.” he grimly says, eyes looking down in your direction with a new darkness that hasn’t quite shown itself before.

Dropping down onto your knees, the cold hard floor of his living room hits your skin fast. It’s painful, the way your weight is laying on your knees but again, you know he doesn’t care - he’s only here for his pleasure, and somehow that’s what’s making the slick soak your underwear so much.

“desperate, aren’t you?” He asks, belt buckle clinging as he slowly undoes it, taking it out of his suit pants and just holding it - almost as if he’s debating what to do next. “turn around.” he’s growling at you now, calloused hands grabbing at your shoulders and spinning you round forcibly when you don’t move quick enough for his liking.

“matt what-“ you start, before realising that you should probably leave him to do what he wants.

“quiet. i didn’t tell you to speak, did i sweetheart?” Matt says, he’s being stern now, it annoys him when you don’t do as you’re told. you get punished if you don’t do what he says - and often, that’s what you want.

but not tonight, you’re here to solely give Matt his pleasure - find delight in the way he responds to you.

He uses his belt to tie your hands behind your back, moulding you back into the way he wants you - on your knees, mouth open and looking up at him. As Matt is standing above you, the red lights from the billboard casing over his whole body, you know you’re in for a long, but fun, night.

“keep that pretty mouth open, dumb girl,” he begins, his hand gripping around your cheeks while your jaw drops open ready to take him, before he continues, “gonna take me? do as you’re told? gotta be good for me.” You nod, knowing he doesn’t want to hear your voice right now.

He takes his time stripping his clothes off, and you wonder if this will make him forget about the stress of his cases. Having you wrapped so tightly around him in any sense he wishes to use you.

slowly, you begin to feel the tip of his cock tapping at your lips - and you know what he means, but he says it before you can act, “come on, i know you know what to do. don’t act all stupid on me now.” he’s smirking, precum tapping onto your lips.

you let your tongue crawl from your mouth, desperate to taste him, matt letting his heavy cock fall onto it as you wrap your lips around the head. “good girl, just do as you’re told and you might get a treat.” he mutters, and the pulsing in your core gets stronger at the thought of him allowing you to come.

He’s twisting his fingers into your hair, both hands gripping at the back of your head as he begins thrusting his hips and hitting the back of your throat. There’s no time to take a breath as you let your eyes flutter closed and appreciate the taste of him all over you.

“A-ah shit, you do know what to do, fuck.” he’s giggling to himself, almost like he didn’t believe all the punishments you’ve endured had shown you how to please him.

you’re letting him use you, just sitting there and hoping he’ll let you finish and give you the pleasure of touching you. Matt’s hitting the back of your throat and sometimes staying there, holding your head down on his cock until he can tell you desperately need to breathe.

“you need to breathe? huh?” he’s asking, again holding you down and feeling the pulsing in your temples as your eyes stream. He lets you go, listening to the big breath you take when your head flies backwards off of him, laughing at you, “my stupid girl. can smell how wet you are for me, such a slut.”

“just need you, please.” you whisper, hoping the plea will reach his ears in a good manner.

“hmmm. no, you’re mine tonight, my little whore.” he grins, slapping your face gently a few times, feeling the drool around your mouth that you can’t wipe away, hands still bonded behind your back.

Matt drags you up, legs wobbling as he swings you over his shoulder, walking to the bedroom as you realise you’re in for a fight.

you’re thrown on the bed in an instant, the belt still tight around your wrists stinging slightly at the landing. “gonna use you. all mine. do whatever i want with you.” he’s almost talking to himself now, shoving his two middle fingers in your mouth and listening to the gag when he hits the back of your throat.

“ohhh sweetheart, you’re soaked. this wet for my cock huh?” he laughs, and your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, knowing how much slick sits between your legs.

“p-please. please.” it’s the only word that can even fall from your lips right now, the rest escaping you.

“so fucking desperate… all for this?” he asks, sheathing himself inside you in one fluid motion, making you scream out in a mixture of pain and pleasure at the feeling of him stretching you so good.

“hmmm, so tight still. always. my girl.” he’s muttering to himself, almost growling at you as he begins slamming his hips against you, the belt still tightly around your wrists as the pins and needles grows in them, the weight of matt on top of you, pressing your legs near your chest weighing you against them.

“so fucking wet for me, this is the effect i have on you?” you’re nodding frantically, feeling a little coil building below.

“don’t you dare come, little slut. don’t.” he’s saying, tugging you to the edge of the bed and standing up, still fucking into you but using those strong fingers to slap your pussy as he continues ravaging you.

“no, no no. matt, please.” you’re starting to beg, almost panic, because you know exactly what it means when he doesn’t let you come when he can feel it like he does now.

you’re moaning so loud he’s putting a hand over your mouth, “fuck, matt, h…”

“ah, shit. always so tight.” he’s grunting, and his hips are stuttering now. you know exactly what’s coming and you don’t like it, but he feels so good.

you feel it as soon as it happens, the hot white ropes filling you to the brim - and he pulls out.

as you realise you were right, a single, frustrated tear falls onto your cheek, as he throws a towel your way.

“please, matt i need to, i-“ you’re pleading to finish, desperate for him to tip you over the edge you’ve been craving from him this whole time.

“you think you deserve to come? i don’t think so.”

— tags

@lambmurdock @parker-murdock @silas-aeiou @blushingrn @audreyclimbs

[loveinhawkins]

“What do you write about?” Steve asks.

The question slips out on a summer night, the kind where the grass still holds a residual heat after the sun has set. They’re on that hill, the highest point in Hawkins—the one Dustin calls Weather-something. Eddie got a real kick out of hearing the name when they’d walked up here, laughing as they began an impromptu race to the top (“Not fair, you distracted me! Didn’t take you for a cheat, Harrington.”).

It feels special that they’re here, Steve thinks. That there’s even a hill to be on.

Eddie is plucking away at his acoustic guitar; he has a tell where he repeats a few meandering musical phrases, and Steve knows that there’s a song beginning to grow underneath his fingertips.

Eddie pauses mid-pluck of a string as he registers Steve’s question. He smiles, huffs almost fondly, “What a question, Steve.” Doesn’t even hesitate when he answers, “Just… good things, man. The things I love.”

Steve doesn’t know how he does it—just says that sort of stuff out in the open, like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.

“Okay, but…” Steve pulls out a few blades of grass, smirks when they brush across Eddie’s bare ankle and he jumps slightly; it must tickle. “Like what?”

Eddie’s smile grows. “Why? You makin’ a list?” But before Steve can think of a reply, he adds, “Oh, y’know. Loads of things.” He gestures at their surroundings, winks. “Like… a summer day. And, well…” His eyes flicker to the town below them. He shrugs, but it comes across as a painful attempt at looking casual. “Hawkins, I guess.”

“Why?” Steve says, can’t stop himself.

How can you still… Don’t you hate it? I fucking hate it, sometimes.

Because, in the end, it wasn’t The Upside Down that had almost killed Eddie. Not really.

It was people.

Eddie is staring at him. He sets the guitar aside, leaning forward and peering at Steve like he’s doing something particularly fascinating.

“You’re angry.”

Steve shakes his head reflexively, feels a prickle of defensiveness. He keeps his voice as even as he can when he says, “No, I’m not.”

“Oh, you are,” Eddie says softly. Something must show on Steve’s face because he amends, “Like, not… Don’t worry. Not a loud anger.”

Eddie says things like that sometimes, things that bring Steve up short. He wonders, not for the first time, if Eddie’s dad was loud in his anger.

“You know how I know?” Eddie is so close now that Steve can see where the bridge of his nose has been turned red by the sun. “Your eyes, Steve. They burn. What’s all that about, huh?” He throws in a little playful tone at that, but when Steve doesn’t smile, he sobers. “Just… seems like a lotta energy, is all.”

He doesn’t say it, but Steve can hear it. Hates that he can hear it.

Seems like a lot of energy to waste on me.

“I just—” Steve sighs, casts a glance at the landscape down below. Works his jaw. He’s no good at this, he thinks. The words get stuck. They almost took everything from you.

But Eddie just smiles back like he gets it, like he can hear Steve, too.

“Everything’s a mix of good and bad, right? One doesn’t, like, cancel out the other. Not always.”

And Steve hears I hate it sometimes, too. But that can’t stop my love.

Steve tries again. “It’s just…” He turns away from Hawkins, looks right into Eddie’s eyes. “Eddie. You deserve… better.”

Eddie’s expression softens. He leans closer still. “You’ve got a big heart, Steve Harrington.”

And then…

He kisses Steve on the cheek, chaste and sweet, lips still warm from a day in the sun.

“You’re one of my good things,” Eddie whispers.

[i80010]

Talking’s Overrated

featuring : Eren Yeager x fem!reader

content : MDNI, smut, Eren is whipped, he’s also a little shit, mean dom!eren if you squint, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, squirting, multiple orgasms, anal play, creampie, hair pulling, full nelson, friends with benefits to lovers sorta, reader is sort of a brat idk, Eren loves hair pulling, ddlg vibes if you use a magnifying glass, a little dumbification, reader has her ears pierced, Eren spits in reader’s mouth, slight degradation, DEFTONES MENTION!!!

word count : 5.7k

synopsis : After Eren ends your little fling, he asks to talk it out with you one late night. You find out he believes talking is overrated.

notes : hi guys!!! i’m angel, and this is my first ever fic and it took me weeks to work on, so notes, reblogs and constructive criticism are all welcomed! hope you enjoy my loves<3

- Come outside

Your stomach flips as you read the notification on your screen, hesitantly swiping it away. It’s late on a Thursday night, it’s quiet. Your room is shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the blaring brightness of your phone screen. You continue to scroll through Instagram, giggling at Hitch’s close friends, when another message comes through.

- Let’s talk

Talking. You chew your cheek. When was the last time you two had spoken?

“Friend, huh? Is that what I am to you?” His hands caged your head against the bathroom wall. He leaned closer, dropping his head to meet your gaze, his breath minty and warm. “Is fucking each other what friends do?”

“It was a-“

“A mistake? Is that what you think of us?” Eren was dangerously close to you now, his lips ghosting across yours.

“I never said it was a mistake,” You chewed your lip nervously as you drew in a shaky breath, “Just a one time thing.”

“There’s no fucking difference, you either want this or you don’t. You know how I feel about this,” his breath fanned over your face, your eyes flutter closed, “About you,” he pauses.

“Don’t deny me, please, let me know I’m not alone in this,” he was almost pleading now, his voice soft and strangled.

You let your head fall back, gently knocking against the wall. “Eren, I-“, you looked at him, how the sharp contours of his jaw had been softened into slopes by the low, luminescent lighting. Your eyes trailed over him slowly, like he was a wonder of the world.

Striking, green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. A pointed Roman nose, above his plump, rosy lips and the set of shiny white teeth behind them. His smooth, olive skin, akin to sculpted sandstone. He was everything you could have asked for, everything you needed, and that was entirely too much to ask of him.

You shook your head at him, dropping his gaze ashamedly. The air in the room staled.

Eren scoffed, and his hands fell from their place on the wall. “Fine, you want to fuck Jean, go for it,” he runs a hand down his face frustratedly, “thanks for letting me know where I stand, and that this meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“Eren, that’s not-“

“Shut the fuck up, okay? You don’t get to have a say in this, you don’t get to fuck with my feelings and then tell me it’s fine. You don’t get to-“, he blows out a short breath, recollecting his thoughts. He starts again, slower, calmer, quieter, “You don’t get to break my heart and tell me that’s not what you meant, okay?”

He waits for a response, and you wait for him to shout again. You have a moment of silence, despite the muffled Deftones bleeding through the walls. Eren turns to leave, but his hand hesitates over the doorknob. Opening his mouth to speak, he casts you one more angry - no, pained - glance, and swallows.

“Do you regret this?”

You don’t respond.

The door slams behind Eren. You don’t follow him.

The door slams behind you as you step into the midnight chill, dressed in only a hoodie and shorts. The night air bites at your legs and you flex your hands at your sides routinely. The world outside is serene - illuminated only by the spindly street lamps stationed on the sidewalk. Your heart sputters at the sight of Eren’s car, parked crookedly in your driveway - you can’t even see through his tinted windows. The low hum of his engine rattles his car gently, like a small, mobile refrigerator.

When you get to the passenger side, you swing the door open, slide into the plush leather seat, and close the door, all without sparing Eren a second glance. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, legs spread wide apart, in a black hoodie and grey sweats. He shifts his hips upwards as he readjusts his sitting position, his eyes never leaving your shivering figure.

He rakes over your oversized hoodie, your bare legs, your pretty, pretty face. He lingers on your face for a second too long, then he grins when he sees you press your thighs together.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” Eren hums in response as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. His rings glint in the muted glare of the moonlight.

“Want me to turn on the heating?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” You watch as he cranks the dial up to max, and the warm air almost instantaneously rushes out of the AC vents. You slump back into your seat, revelling in the warmth. A thin film of condensation falls onto the windows, mottling the midnight scenery outside.

“So,” Eren begins cooly, “how have you been?”

His voice was oddly impartial, and you knew better than to trust Eren’s nonchalance. You look at him side-long, attempting to uncover any unkind inflections. You’re met with a lazy smile and a glint in his eyes that stokes the warmth between your legs, warmer than any heater can make you.

“I’ve been good.” A small, charged beat passes. “You?”

“I’ve been good too,” he hums. He licks his lips cockily when he asks, “Have you missed me?”

You’re a delicate instrument, and Eren wants to know if he can still remember how to play you, how to tune you to his liking.

You surrender to his disarming smile.

You breathe in. “Yeah, I did.”

Eren huffs out a quiet laugh and lets his head fall against the window. “I’ve missed you too.”

You breathe out. “Really?”

He grins. “Of course, I have.”

He slowly leans across the console, “What,” he murmurs softly, “You don’t believe me?”

You squirm in your seat, flustered by his unwavering gaze. His eyes are low, and swimming with mirth. He cradles your face in his hand and your eyes flutter shut when he drags his nose along your jaw.

Your breaths are shallower now. You’re supposed to be talking, talking about you, talking about your relationship, talking about anything but how much you yearned for each other the past weeks.

You tilt your head sideways, facing him, and tentatively press your forehead to his. He’s rendered you breathless within minutes. You are drowning in him - his sight, his scent, his touch - you can’t talk, let alone breathe, not when he’s taking up all the space in the car.

All notions of reconciliation are abandoned when he presses a fleeting kiss to the shell of your ear, and then whispers, “Do I have to prove it?”

You draw in a shuddering breath.

“Please.”

His lips press into yours, hot and wet, as you lace your hands into his hair. He tastes of peppermint and marijuana. His hand trails from your cheek to your throat, squeezing gently, coaxing a small moan from you. Skimming his thumb over your pulse, his tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it gently. Your hands tug at the hair interlocked between your fingers, and Eren releases a loud groan into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he mumbles against you. His hands slip under your thighs, and he gently manoeuvres you over the center console and into his lap. You shudder when you feel him beneath you, large and thick and impossibly hard. You roll your hips against the tent in his pants experimentally, and it pulls a moan from both of you.

He pulls away - his lips slick and swollen, still connected to yours by limp strings of saliva - to rasp, “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, you know that?”

There is nothing other than reverence in his eyes as he surveys you. Your chest is already heaving, you’re flushed from your neck to your ears, and your lips are a dark, kiss-bitten red. An angel.

My angel, Eren thinks.

You hum in response and dip your head to capture his lips again. His cock is already dribbling precum, staining his sweats a dark grey. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, before sinking your teeth into it. His dick twitches.

Eren pulls away, again, to mutter huskily, “You’re so mean, baby, what am I gonna do with you?” before sliding his lips along your jaw. His lips leave a blazing trail behind them, and his hands are just as hot.

His fingers slip under the hem of your hoodie, pressing small circles into your skin that make you writhe in his lap. His lips stretch into a smirk as he descends down the column of your throat, pausing every now and again to suck bruises into your skin. His hands tug at your hoodie, with a muttered, “Off.”

You scramble to take off your oversized sweater in the confines of Eren’s car, and in your flurry of movements, you elbow the horn behind you. You jolt at the sudden squawk, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you grounded. He chuckles lightheartedly.

“Easy, we don’t want your neighbours knowing we’re out here, right?” he teases you. Pouting, you discard your hoodie into the passenger seat and watch Eren’s jaw go slack at the sight of your bare chest.

“No bra?” Eren immediately takes your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth and your back arches, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

You keen as he rolls the other nipple in his fingers, content with how they pebbled due to the chill of the night. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and places sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between your breasts. His large, calloused hands fondle your breasts languidly, his cock twitching in his briefs. Moaning softly, you roll your hips against him, desperate for friction, and whimper out a needy, “Eren, please.”

He lazily grins up at you. He is so insufferable - “What do you need, baby?”

You attempt to roll your hips again, but Eren’s hands keep you stationary, “I need you.”

“Yeah? You want me to take these off for you?” He tugs at your skimpy shorts, and he chuckles when you nod enthusiastically, “Hips up, baby.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, and he sweeps off your underwear and shorts, so you’re sitting bare in his lap. He wolf-whistles at the sight of you, pressing a few kisses to your collarbone.

Your tits, full, warm and round, your waist, melded to Eren’s touch, your thighs, plush and soft, either side of Eren’s lap, your pussy, glistening in the light, dripping onto his sweats - you’re so undeniably sexy, even more so in the moonlight painting you silver.

He runs his hands up and down your waist, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. His lips are still swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are glazed with adoration. If you squint, you can see the hearts dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters.

You’re Eren’s, his to hold, his to fuck, his to love. He doesn’t deserve you - he knows that much - but he is willing to ruin your friendship if it meant being able to see you like this again.

His eyes widen when he sees you palm your breasts, spilling out of the gaps between your fingers. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and warmth courses between your legs.

“Stop it.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie by your voice. He clears his throat briefly. “Stop what?”

You wiggle on his lap, juggling your tits, smiling coyly, “Staring.”

He grins at you, brazen, “Never.”

His breath fans against your chest, hot, and his tongue slides across your sternum, hotter. He pulls you in for another kiss, a slower, softer one this time, and lets his hands roam around you freely. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other sliding down the plane of your stomach to where you need him most.

Your hips buck to meet him halfway. “Please, Eren-“

His fingers finally come into contact with your core, and you let out a strained whimper at his fleeting touch. He ghosts over your clit, chuckling at your displeasure. Just as you are about to whine again, he starts applying pressure to your swollen nub - just enough to make your head spin - as he clicks his tongue.

“Patience, baby. No more whining, you know I’ll give it to you good.“ He dips a finger between your folds, running it along your slit, before plunging it into you.

You gasp quietly as he begins thrusting it in and out of you. His fingers are long and thick, adorned with thick silver rings, nestled against that gummy spot that makes your knees weak. The stretch is delicious, something your fingers could never achieve. You can hear the squelch squelch squelch echo around the car before he even adds another finger. You’re mildly aware that you’re dripping down his wrist, but your mind is too foggy with pleasure to feel an inkling of shame. You’ve never been this wet for anyone before, and your heart hammers wildly in your chest.

“You hear that baby?” Eren teases you, “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” You whimper and bury your head into the crook of his neck. He slides in another finger, stretching you open, open, open. His rings graze your clit and you hum eagerly. You resort to bouncing on his hand, your gut beginning to tighten. Eren’s fingers still as he watches you. His voice is lowered to a husky drawl - “Go on, I want to see your cum on my fingers. Use me, baby.”

You begin to rock your hips faster, encouraged by his coos, the flames in your gut beginning to spread. Your gyrations become erratic and uneven. You pant into his ear wantonly, your breasts bouncing with your every move.

Gritting his teeth, Eren throws his head back. Moan by moan, you’re sending him closer to the edge. The hold you have on him is debilitating, and he’ll finish soon - untouched - if you don’t stop whining into his ear like a bitch in heat.

“Look at me,” Eren commands suddenly, tugging your hair. “I want to see you cum for me.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze, you grind your clit against the heel of his palm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs lock around his waist at this newfound degree of pleasure. Moans are tumbling out of you unrestrained now, your voice high, whiny and loud. You are on the brink of orgasm, painstakingly close, and as Eren tugs your hair again, you lose it.

Your vision blurs and your legs shake as the world stutters on its axis. You spasm and clench around Eren’s hand, dripping onto the seat below you. Pleasure washes over you in waves, each one less intense than the last. You fall into Eren’s chest, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

Eren looks at the mess you’ve made, chews his lip - letting out a low fuuuuck - before asking if, “You’re okay?”

You hum in response, barely registering Eren’s question. He flips you swiftly, and your back is now flush with his chest. His hoodie is warm and scratchy against your skin. Eren tugs your hair again, lighter this time, and you look at up him, eyes wide and glazed over.

Eren sucks in a breath as he stares at you, basking in your post-orgasm glow. Your skin shimmers in the dim light filtered through his windscreen, casting your face half in shadow. Your eyes are low and your chest heaves with your sharp and fast inhales. He brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb under your eye, the other cupping your sex.

“I could cum just looking at you,” he murmurs.

You lean into his embrace, whispering, “I can cum just thinking about you.”

A hoarse groan spills from his throat, and a hard slap is landed to your clit. Your whole body lurches as you mewl loudly.

“Is that right?” he chuckled breathlessly, “Do you think about me when you touch this dirty little pussy of yours at night?” You nod avidly, and he rewards you with a few harsh circles to your clit.

“Show me,” he said, leaning forward to watch his fingers play with your pussy, “Show me how hard you cum when you think about me.” He hoists you up so he can shove his sweats halfway down his thighs - no underwear? God, he’s such a slut - and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, bobbing between your legs.

It was long, and girthy, the head flushed to an angry red. Precum dribbled steadily from the tip, trickling down his shaft in translucent streams. A bulging vein runs down the underside of his cock, straight to where his balls sit, heavy and warm. Gripping his cock at the base, he smacks the bulbous head again your clit twice. Your legs spasm either side of him and he smirks before spitting, a fat glob of saliva landing onto your puffy clit.

He taps your clit again, gentler, encouraging, as he urges you, “Touch yourself, baby. I won’t ask again.” The shift in his tone is evident as his eyes darken, forest green now a deep viridian. You bite your bottoms lip as you slide a hand down your body, the other idly kneading your left breast.

Your fingers draw lazy circles around your entrance before dipping a finger between your folds. You sigh breathily, allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and Eren begins pumping himself slowly. You slip a finger into yourself, before bringing it back up to your lips. Eren watches keenly as you suck your essence off your fingers, then dip them back between your legs. You purr as you thrust two fingers into yourself, massaging that gummy spot that makes you dizzy. You begin to go faster, synchronous to the pumps of Eren’s hands.

His grunts are low and heavy in your ears, goading you to, “Go faster, I want to see you cum all over your fingers like the slut you are.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, your fingers now hammering into your little hole, coaxing little spurts of arousal out of you with every pump. Eren uses your cum as a lubricant, slicking his shaft as he fists his cock aggressively. His dick nearly glitters in the moonlight, lathered in a milky sheen of your arousal. He snakes his vacant hand up your body, briefly squeezing your throat, your pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and he takes the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth. He watches saliva pool in your mouth, before spitting in it. You hum delightedly, your face so vacant with pleasure it makes Eren curse. As Eren pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spit dribbles down your chin and into the concaves of your collarbone.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you?” he coos. You blink slowly, and then nod blankly. “Bet you don’t even know what I said, huh? So cockdrunk already,” he tuts at you lovingly as he brings his free hand to your second entrance.

When he circles your puckered hole, you gasp quietly. He shushes you tenderly, and he feels you give way beneath his finger tips.

“Good girl, gonna let me have all of you, right?” you agree mindlessly, dazed in the pursuit of your orgasm. He chuckles at you, how dumb you are for him, before slipping a finger into you, knuckle deep. Your body contorts and you let out a sharp cry. Eren grips the base of his cock to prevent the orgasm threatening to crest at the sound of your cries.

Even with one finger down there, you feel so full, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You slam your free hand on the steamy window, plastering a hand-shaped spyhole onto it. Your fingers speed up and you begin to pant when you sense your core begin to twist.

“Eren- I’m so close, fuck,” Eren slides a second finger into your ass and you let out a loud, debauched, filthy moan. You lick your lips longingly, watching beads of precum drip over Eren’s hands as he smears it over his shaft.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eren grunts against your neck, “Gonna make me cum.”

Knowing Eren was here, with you, being driven to the edge by your wanton cries and unabashed pleasure, sends you toppling headfirst into your second orgasm of the night.

Your back arches wildly and you wail out Eren’s name as you shake and convulse. You twitch violently around Eren’s fingers, simultaneously gushing onto yours. Your wrist is dripping with your arousal, as is Eren’s entire cock. As you thrash on his lap, he slowly retracts his fingers from your ass.

He slides his lips along your jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat beaded along your face, before tilting your head with a large hand and kissing you. You suck on his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it softly, just how he likes it.

With a throaty moan, Eren follows you and hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out from his cock. They drape over your thighs, the steering wheel and your stomach like silvery garlands of pearls. He lets out a small grunt as the last spurts fall limply onto his hand.

You whine breathily as he rubs his cock through your folds. He gently rolls his hips upwards, and his balls hit your round ass with a small plap. He pulls away from your heated kiss, and you chase his lips desperately - you’re pathetic.

The head of his massive cock aligns with your belly button and Eren, gripping his shaft by the base, taps his tip against your navel, admiring the thin strings of precum that linger.

His voice drips with sadistic enthusiasm when he drawls, “I’m gonna be in your stomach, baby. Can you take it?”

“Eren, please, I need you.” You roll your hips against the hard length of his member.

He chuckles at your wanton desperation. “You want it, baby?” You nod fervently. “How bad?”

“So, so, so bad, please fuck me, Eren.” Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your eyes lock onto his with blind adoration. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, and then your forehead.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He presses his cock against your entrance, slowly, slowly, slowly pushing past that tight ring of muscle. You sigh dreamily as Eren nibbles on your earlobe, occasionally tugging at your piercings.

He pauses briefly when he bottoms out. You squirm in his arms before he scolds you, slapping your inner thigh harshly. The eerie silence of the world around you fades into your ears ringing when he slowly - agonisingly - begins thrusting. His cock drags along your walls perfectly with every precise roll of his hips. His groans echo around the car. The joint sounds of your ecstasy nearly drown out the lewd squelches between your legs.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Eren hammers your g-spot. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your release begin to crest. Eren’s breath is hot against your neck and his muttered praises cloud your brain.

One of your hands travels up to entangle itself in Eren’s hair. He turns and plants a wet kiss on your palm. His thrusts become more rapid and shallow as you clench around him. You feel the car rock in time with his thrusts and you sigh happily.

You want your neighbours to know you’re getting fucked senseless. You want the world to know how good you’re getting it right now. Though now, your world has you spread on his lap like a fuckdoll and is pounding you like an animal.

You hiccup as Eren sinks his teeth into your palm. “You okay, pretty girl? Been quiet for a while.” When you nod, he presses his wet lips to your cheek, plastering his smile on you. He slides a hand down to your clit and begins rubbing it in small, quick circles. “No worries, I’ll have you screamin’ my name in no time. Gonna turn you into my little rag-doll.”

Your back arches as his thrusts also pick up speed. Every thrust has your legs trembling and voice cracking.

“Eren- fuck, it’s so good,” you babble in your gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Yeah?” His smirk is hot against your neck. He whispers, “How good?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts impossibly faster. Your hands dig into his biceps and when you feel blood bead at the skin, he hisses in pleasure.

“So good, no one does it like you, Eren.”

He throws his head back with a hearty groan. God, you don’t know what you do to him. Every time he thinks you’ve lured him in deep enough, he finds himself diving into you again, until he’s drowning in your wet, warm depths.

Your eyes meet his again. Your lashes flutter and Eren presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead after brushing away the hair plastered to it.

“Oh, yeah? It’s that good?” You nod lazily, your body jolting with the force of his thrusts. He takes one of your tits in his palm and squeezes hard. He lowers his mouth to yours, and you wet your lips in anticipation. “You gotta cum all over me then.”

You do. Ecstasy dances down your spine as you cry out his name. You squeeze your eyes shut as your clamp down on Eren’s cock. White flashes behind your eyelids like fireworks. You moan his name again and again and again and he tells you he knows, he knows, he knows. Your arousal drips down his shaft, leaving a glistening trail past his balls and onto the padded leather beneath you both.

“Good girl,” he coos. He brings the fingers circling your clit up to your lips, and you dart your tongue out to taste yourself.

His pace never relents, not even when you’re sobbing wildly. The aftershocks of your previous orgasm fade, and you’re already teetering on the edge of another. You wring your hands in the sweat-sodden material of his hoodie. You sob, “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Already?” he tuts and laughs, his voice husky and low. He hums in approval before pinching your nipple tightly. The pain elicits a sweet, little cry from you. His voice is strangled when he asks, “Tell me what you need.”

“More, I need more, I need it harder,” you whine into his neck. You nuzzle into his collarbone, deeply inhaling his warm, vanilla cologne.

“You want harder? I’ll give you harder, you little slut,” he grunts as he hooks his arms under your knees, pinning them to your chest. The change in position angles his cock so deep into you, you can feel him in your throat. When you feel the head of his cock ram into your cervix, you shriek - half pain, half pleasure - and Eren swallows your cries with a wet and sloppy kiss, much like the mess between your legs.

Incoherent moans tumble from your mouth, your eyes find sanctuary in the back of your head and your wetness floods the seat below you. The sharp pain makes you gasp, makes your toes curl. The pads of Eren’s fingers are warm against your knees and his breath is searing against your neck. He continues to split you open on his cock, intent on ruining you on his lap.

He lifts his head to observe you, to admire your undoing. Your skin is sweaty and flushed, your lashes beaded with tears, your lips swollen and bitten. You’re a sight for sore eyes, a glimpse of heaven in his arms. Your eyes snap to his and you whimper in shame, mustering up the scraps of dignity you had remaining, shying away from the ferocity in his eyes.

Eren chuckles dryly at you. He calls your name. Once. Twice. You shake your head and bury it into your chest.

“Oh, no, no, no.” His hands come to rest on the back of your head, arms still hooked under your knees, and he roughly yanks your head back to look at him.

You gasp, “Eren-“

“Look at me.” Your eyes lock onto his. “Look at this.” He tilts your head down, maintaining his ruthless pace, “Look at you, baby, getting so wet for me.”

You laugh and sob, surveying the mess you’ve created. Your arousal is spread between your lap - thick, slimy strings connecting your thighs to Eren’s. Your lips are stretched around his width, suctioning him into you with lewd squelches. It’s so wet and sloppy and messy and it’s so, so perfect.

“Feels so- so, so good, baby, fuck,” you babble this out to Eren and he belts out his handsome, disarming laugh.

“Yeah? Bet it does.” You melt even further into his touch when he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

Watching yourself get split open by Eren sends you hurtling towards your release, so you breathe out a quiet, “Cumming.”

Eren chuckles, drops his lips to your ear, and murmurs, “Are you asking or telling me?”

You shake your head weakly. “Don’t make me beg.”

He chuckles quietly, deciding to take mercy on you. Eren sinks his teeth into your earlobe before he gives you a deep, hard thrust, and then commands you to, “Cum.”

Your legs go limp as the world stutters on its axis. The pleasure is mind-numbingly intense and white-hot bursts of relief wrack your body rhythmically. Your mouth gapes in a silent scream as Eren slams himself into your cervix again and again. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and your head kills back onto his shoulder, too weak to watch yourself cum around him.

Your arousal, clear and copious, sprays everywhere in his car : his seat, the steering wheel, the windscreen, even your body. Eren moans at the sight of you squirting all over his car, you marking your territory. You shudder helplessly in his grasp, succumbing to the heat dousing your limbs. If not for Eren’s tight grip on you, you would have collapsed.

He keeps going, keeps thrusting, desperate to join you in the pleasure of orgasm. His thrusts become sloppier, but no less deep. You mewl with every pump of his hips against yours, overly sensitive and stimulated.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, strained and shaky, in your ear.

You moan at the thought of his hot, thick cum filling you up. “Inside, Eren, please, please, please-“

He cuts you off with a pained groan, “Fuck, you know I can’t do that.”

“Please, Eren, please,” you plead with him, your eyes wide and glassy, “Don’t I deserve it?”

His eyes snap shut and he lets out a shaky, ragged breath. “Shit, you’re making this really hard for me.” His hips pummel you faster, shallower, irregular, as if he’s losing his restraint.

Fuck it, he’s come this far, and he can’t say no to you. “You want it, baby? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I need it Eren, please give it to me,” you whimper desperately.

“Fuck,” he whines as he thrusts into you a final time, unloading himself into you. Sighing happily, you press a kiss to his cheek as you feel the warm spurts of cum paint your insides. He only pulls out when he stops pulsing inside you, wincing slightly.

Eren slumps against your shoulder, his chest rattling with every breath. Your hands tangle into his thick, chestnut hair. He grunts in approval. Quick, fleeting kisses are pressed to your shoulders and you shudder. Your movement reminds you of the mess between your legs, and you suddenly feel filthy.

“Eren,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Eren’s response is muffled by your neck. “Yes, baby?”

You sniffle. “I’m messy,” Eren jerks up, seemingly rejuvenated after remembering the importance of aftercare.

“Shit, sorry, I’ll clean you up now,” he reaches for your hoodie and starts wiping at your inner thighs. He grins up at you over your shoulder - “You really made a mess huh?”

You shuffle awkwardly in his lap. You had squirted on his sunroof, a mess was an understatement.

The corners of his lips pull upwards into a smirk, “Don’t worry about it, ‘m getting my car detailed anyway.” Humming when he’s deemed you clean, he rotates you so you’re eye to eye. His eyes twinkle with undulating lust as he wipes away your tears. “You good?”

You nod meekly, nuzzling his calloused palm.

He pinches your thigh. “Don’t get all shy on me now, you were being real loud earlier.” He tosses the hoodie into the backseat before placing kisses to both of your breasts. His brows pinch at the slightly pensive expression plastered on your face.

He tugs your hair lightly. “Do you want me to get you a Plan B? We can-“

“We were supposed to be talking, Eren,” you wrong your hands in his shirt.

A cocky grin spread across Eren’s face. “Oh, she was definitely talking to me,” he moves to cup your sex, but you swat his hand away. His smile drops at the deflated look in your face.

Sighing, you ask, “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

He frowns, brushing your hair out of your face. “I thought we were gonna forget about it? One time thing, you know?”

You sigh softly and slip your hands under the hem of his shirt. As you run your hands along the ridges of Eren’s abdomen, his cock bobs.

“We can’t keep using that as an excuse to-“

“Do you regret it?”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to meet his gaze and his eyes are glinting mischievously.

Squeezing your face between his fingers, Eren pulls your face towards his. His tongue slides along your bottom lip before he reclines. “Do you regret this? Us?”

You swallow.

You don’t respond.

But this time, Eren knows better.

He captures you in a slow, sloppy kiss. His lips meld to yours as he murmurs, “I don’t think we have to talk about anything then.” He sucks your bottom lip slowly, letting it swell in his mouth, before smirking impishly as he rasps, “Talking’s overrated.”

[daturabouquet]

Sneaking Out and the Consequence (Part 2)🧪

Dottore loves obedience, he loves it when you don't question his intellect nor his authority. When you do though, he won't let you get off easy. He has his own methods of keeping you in check, including threats and physical discipline.

[Warnings: Dubious consent to kissing, unstable power dynamic, toxic relationship, torture (?), unhealthy control, Dottore himself]

-------------------🧪Il Dottore🧪----------------------

Prime looked down at your crouching figure, and kicked you on the hip, rolling you on your back and commanded you to come to him.

In pain and in tears, you crawled towards him pathetically. "Please- P-prime- I-I won't do it again- Please don't hurt me-!" You begged, your mind completely clouded with fear.

"I know you won't do it again. You won't ever be able to do it again." Prime stated.

What did he mean? Was that a threat? You were stopped in thought when Prime grabbed you and dragged you by your hair into his office, and he kicked the door shut.

"Aah!" You yelped, your fear levels are bursting through the roof.

Prime smiled wickedly before he forced you on one of his metal tables, ready for use. The stark surgical light beamed down on you.

Suddenly, all of his rough movements came to a halt. His voice sound disappointed above anything else. Yet, it turned gentle. He softly brushes through your hair, gently baring your neck.

"A-are you going t-to hurt me? T-to show your a-authority again?" You stuttered, fighting back tears.

"No. I figured I'd give you a gift, a very nice one." Prime smiled again, kissing your soft neck.

"H-huh?" You whimpered, wondering what he meant.

Prime suddenly kissed you, a long, deep, disgusting tongue kiss. Your eyes widened, tears welling up as your lover's tongue forced its way into your mouth. It felt so invading, so disgusting. But that feeling didn't last long, as you heard a gentle click around your neck, and cold metal against your sensitive skin. Finally, your blue haired lover pulled away.

"You can never leave the Palace without my permission ever again. Nor can you fight back against me, love." Dottore said, caressing your brand new shock collar. "The second you step outside of the Palace, this lovely device will electrocute you. It won't kill you, of course. It will be just enough to inflict discomfort and make your body drop to the ground. And a smaller intensity for your childish emotional outbursts." He continued emotionlessly.

"N-No! Y-You can't just do this to me-! I-I'm your lover! I-I'm not a pet! ARE YOU CRA-"

Your rant was suddenly cut off by a strong electrical current ripping through your neck, silencing you immediately.

"I-I can't... believe you..." You cried in defeat, tears spilling from your eyes.

"You know you would be punished. You know you disobeyed me greatly. You know you deserved whatever was coming for you." Dottore spat.

You couldn't look at him in the eyes. How could he? You knew you'd be punished, but you didn't expect complete restraint.

After that, everything felt like a blur.

You laid in the cold shared bed, distancing yourself from your beloved doctor. You just couldn't see him in a positive light anymore. To you, he's the worst lover ever.

Unexpectedly, Dottore suddenly grabbed you close and forced your jaw to look at him, before initiating a deep disgusting kiss once again.

You're in shock, yet you couldn't do anything against it. Dottore's hot tongue slipped in your mouth violating you once again as punishment as he's still secretly seething with anger.

You tried to pull away, almost succeeding, but all of the negative emotions in you piled up and raised your blood pressure and heartbeat, triggering the shock collar he put on you.

An electric current ripped through your neck, weakening you immediately and leaving your lover captor to keep violating your mouth.

Dottore trained you to give in, as each time your anger rose, the shock collar did its job. The cycle repeats, until you give in completely into his kiss.

Once there was no more defiance, he pulled away, satisfied with the new "gift" he gave you.

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

This is the final part :3

[yuri-is-online]

Another Beautiful Day (First Years x Yuu)

(gif taken from google, originally uploaded to tumblr but user apparently deleted)

You have been having strange dreams lately. Every time you go to sleep you se the same set of flashing images, a carriage ride, a crumbling castle under a ink stained sky, ending in the jaws of a monster. The pain you feel from the flames makes you wonder, on nights when you are alone in Ramshackle with Grim, if those dreams are less fiction and more of a memory.

You are not the only one who has those dreams. There's another, laying awake in his bed, hand clutched tightly over his frantically beating heart trying desperately to hold the fraying edges of his sanity together. How many times has he done this? How many times has he tried to hold onto the last fleeting traces of warmth in you with his cold, unworthy hands.

Again. He loves you, that is the one thing that refuses to change no matter how many times the world is reset. He loves you, he has no choice but to try again.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, hurt almost no comfort, borderline yandere behavior. If this made you feel something you can check out the other parts on my masterlist.

Ace

There was, perhaps still is, a pretty viral theory about Ace being a traitor involved in resetting time. While I can't ever see Ace purposefully causing Yuu's death ever, I can see him deciding that if he has to play the villain to get the outcome that he wants, well then, that's just what he's going to have to do. Ace knows how to annoy people, comes with the youngest child territory, more specifically he knows how to annoy you. He can stand having no one if it means everyone's focus is on keeping you safe, it's easier to admit that he loves you when no one's around to hear it. It occurs to you that he might, it even crosses your mind that the strange dreams your time-loop troubled subconscious is so desperate to hang onto, ones where you are with someone you love dearly, could be about him. How else would he know how to push all your buttons, why else does he always know when and where you'll be in trouble. If Ace doesn't love you, why does he know all the things you like about this world before you do? It's a painful thing to be known, even more so if the person who knows you refuses to let themselves be vulnerable with you. The more things change the more they stay the same... huh?

Deuce

Ever watched Tokyo Revenges? I know some of you have, I can see you. Anyway Deuce might not be a crybaby but he is loyal, determined, and stuck on desperately trying to save you. Well not just you, Deuce realizes that Overblot Grim spells doom for a lot more people that just those inside NRC. Sage's island might be remote, but people still live there, if the monster got out who knows what sort of damage it will do? He tries his best to be normal around you, to befriend you and protect you in just the same way he did before, but he's a much more serious and moody person than he was the first loop around. How is he supposed to explain to you he couldn't save you, that he's watched you die countless times and only had ashes to hold and cry over? Not just you either, he's seen Ace and Epel and Jack, hell even Sebek, Die over and over again because he wasn't smart enough to stop it. Ace manages to pick up on something being wrong, and Deuce being Deuce he fails to lie properly, "dragging him into his mess." But he can tell Ace doesn't mind. He takes his impending doom as a challenge, encouraging Deuce to do so as well. He's stupid, he should just give up and let someone smarter save you. But he's your stupid, kind of crybaby hero. He'll save you, just you see.

Jack

Trying to save you is as much an instinct to Jack as it is raw emotion. You are his soulmate, there is nothing casual about his investment in your relationship, nothing short of divine intervention that will keep him from trying to save you. But he will admit he feels rather unprepared for this... development. It's all well and good to say you will break reality before he lets it take you from him, but actually being strong enough to do that? Jack's a good boy, but no matter how smart he is he's a bit of a muscle head. He throws himself into problems fist first, without any back up unless someone yanks him by the scruff and forces him to look at it. Usually that's you, sometimes it's Ruggie or Leona, but in the past it was you. He knows he can't keep himself from you, even if that could make you safer. Unlike the first timeline, he makes sure to introduce himself as early as possible, makes sure to be with you for every overblot. You might find it annoying but he'll push you to train just enough so that you'll have the speed to run when the final monster comes. Maybe this time, he'll be strong enough to kill it before it catches up to you.

Epel

Sleep Kiss cannot put you to sleep forever. Yet. Yes yet, Malleus isn't the only one who thinks letting you nap forever is a good idea. Great minds think alike, and unlike Malleus's, Epel has an added bonus. He can encase you in a glass cage that is literally meant to protect you from anything that wants to hurt you. Not that you would ever expect this plan from Epel. He's cute, kind, non-threatening when you're paying attention, the most you see of his temper as the loops continue is the slightly bratty glare he focuses on pre-overblot housewardens. And the headmage, but hey any anger at him always gets a pass from him. Not that you need to worry about that, once Epel masters his spell you won't have to worry about anything. He does wonder if you'll be able to dream, the first time he cast his spell on you it was like you didn't realize anything had happened at all. Maybe he won't tell you anything, maybe he'll wake you up every once and a while to convince you that you were never asleep at all. But that's not a concern for now, all you need to do is close your eyes and sleep. Sleep and wait for your Prince to return from the war.

Sebek

Following the current timeline, events aside, Sebek is on the outside of your friend group. No one likes him, he can't sit with you. The only real reason Sebek has to pay attention to you is because Malleus does. And he has to admit he doesn't exactly hate what he sees, he just- doesn't want to give credit to a human. When time is re-set though, he goes out of his way to befriend you, convinced he needs to keep an eye on you to save his lord. After all, how could he not find it suspicious that Malleus befriends some random human from not-Twisted Wonderland and then suddenly overblots? He is ready to strike at the first sign of betrayal, but he does not find it. He finds a human, weak and flawed, but paitent and kind with him, unwilling to let him talk down to them but still willing to talk. You die, but you never stop trying. You refuse to let the flaws he picks at stop you from trying to live. You refuse, no matter how many times he yells about the amount of times he has lost his lord, lost you, to let him do all the work alone. There is beauty in your struggle, in your life. He can't betray this for his lord, even if it was the cause of his plight. It's Silver he turns to for help, begging him for guidance through tears as he desperately clings to you. He finds it of course, he never had to do any of this alone, but he should know by now that doesn't guarantee success, no matter how much he wants it to.

[alchemania]

“Don't you hate her?”

Furina turned, eyebrows raised in confusion. “Huh?”

“Your creator. Don't you hate her?”

The girl pondered a moment, looking unsure. “I..don't know.”

“You should,” he asserted. “All this time you had to suffer alone, for what?? People who didn't even care about the real you?? People who were ungrateful and selfish and only cared about themselves, at the end of the day??”

“Not everyone is like that,” Furina protested, shaking her head slowly. “I ..did suffer, but it all worked out in the end. Besides, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her-”

“The same could be said for my mother,” Wanderer interrupted, eyes flashing. “I came into being because of her, but that doesn't make her a good person, or a good parent. She hurt me. These two facts can coexist. Focalors created you, yes, but she also subjected you to 500 years of suffering where you couldn't confide in ANYONE or risk losing everything. Wasn't that awful?? Wasn't it a horrible time? You were all alone living on a hope and a prayer, and if it went wrong, it would have been all for nothing. You were a means to an end, and what do you have to show for it? Sure, everybody was saved and all was well, but now you're just - a person, and people hate you for what you did, people hate you for what you DIDN'T do. Was it worth it?? Are you satisfied?”

“I am,” she nodded, after a beat. “Because, this is what I was created to do. And, I'm free now. I don't know what I'm going to do, but at least my life is mine. I can do whatever I want. I can live.” Wanderer's jaw clenched, and Furina frowned, nervously. “..why are you so angry?”

“Because SOMEONE has to be!” he shouted, voice cracking. “I mean- I heard about the trial, they were gonna kill you- they lured you there because you wouldn't talk, right? And then after everything, did anyone apologize to you or- praise you, for all the hell you went through? Anything??”

“.. Neuvillette is taking care of me.”

The pain on Wanderer's face was almost palpable, at that.

“..anything else?”

“.. it's fine," she tried to appease. "It's not like I serve any purpose anymore. Like I said, I did what I was created to, so I'm not of any use and-”

“Stop.”

“..what?”

“STOP- talking like that,” Wanderer snapped, eyes suspiciously glossy. She sounded so much like him, who he used to be, and it hurt so badly.

A blank sheet of paper has infinite potential, but it is nothing as long as it is empty, he'd said, a good while ago. He'd been wrong about himself, and Furina was wrong now.

“You're not just - what you were made for. You don't - what happened to you is wrong. You're not DISPOSABLE now that everything is over.”

“It- it was for everyone's sake, compared to my suffering, it's obvious what's more important! I had to save them! It’s what I was born for! It doesn't matter -”

“It DOES,” he yelled, eyes glowing an almost neon icy blue, and she startled. “Stop acting like your suffering was something that was necessary. Stop acting like it was just for the greater good. That doesn't matter! The fact of the matter is that you suffered, and you were hurt, and you're STILL hurting! And- barely anybody is there for you..your creator, she should have been there for you, she should have protected you, but she didn't. She didn't. And you - you have every right to be angry with her, for not being there for you. For you being unable to live, until now. It was wrong, even if it was, as she claimed, for the greater good. Don't defend her.”

"She loved me-"

"And she left you, so not enough."

Just like my mother ..

“...Wanderer,” Furina ventured, worry all over her face.

“What?”

“You're crying…”

..oh. He hadn't even noticed, but his cheeks WERE wet, and he put a hand to one with a start, quickly scrubbing at his face. “Ah-” and he pulled his hat over his face, to hide it.

“..it was a lot. I often wondered when everything would end. I wanted, to tell someone so badly what was going on,” Furina admitted, and Wanderer looked up, eyes red from weeping. “There were a lot of times I didn't think I was going to make it, but. But I did, and, and everything was okay.”

“But are you?”

There was a long pause, and the two of them stared at each other until Furina slowly shook her head no, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

“See? You're - we're both so messed up, from everything, and no one was there,” Wanderer almost whispered, looking out the window. "No one was there to help. ..You're strong as hell, I'll give you that. If I was in your shoes, I don't know if I would have made it. It seems people are stronger than I've given them credit for..”

It was something that surprised him, again and again.

“I just don't understand why you care..”

“.. I don't know why I do,” he shrugged. “Maybe because you remind me of myself, and. It hurts, looking at you and feeling like I'm looking in the mirror. But someone has to be in your corner and -”

“And you want to do that?”

A pause.

“..Well, if you don't stand up for you, no telling who will.”

“You don't have to cry over me. I'm -”

“If you say you're not worth it, I am going to bodyslam you,” Wanderer growled, eyes flashing, and Furina put up her hands.

“I wasn't going to! I was going to say that I will be okay. Not now, but. Eventually. I'm healing. I promise. There's people who care, like you.”

Wanderer fell silent then, looking away, and she reached out and squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I'm still wrestling with - with what I want to do and where I'll go but. It's nice to know that I'm valued just for existing.”

“That's all you need to be valued,” he muttered, looking to the floor. “You don't have to prove the worth of your existence. It's fine to just be.”

“..are you talking to yourself, or me?”

He looked to her then, expression unreadable, and she smiled sadly, in understanding. “Both is good. It's okay to just be. We're here, and we'll be okay.”

“Yeah,” Wanderer whispered, giving a shaky breath. “..we will."

[yeshnimwrites]

| smut | action | pwp | jayjo/fml | vinny/fml | wooin/fml | enemies to lovers | angsty | forbidden romance | all characters featured are 18+

author's note: this chapter contains sensitive content for the readers with a hint of sexual scene.

𐙚𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ᡣ𐭩 Desperate Love

Previous Part: Part 1

Part 2:

“Why? Did they pick a fight with you?” June asked genuinely without taking his eyes off to the group of men standing in front of us.

“Isn’t that the Sabbath Crew?”

“Out of all places, they chose to come where? I wonder why…”

“Shit, is this a fight between the Hummingbird?”

“Where’s the teachers?!”

I noticed how the boys around me altered their stance, the dark aura surrounding them. As if they’re mentally and physically prepared to fight back.

Wooin’s eyes landed on me, I could feel his deadly glares on my body and it sent chills on my skin. His face was full of hatred, a sign that told me that I betrayed him. I clenched my fists and avoided my glance away from him. Joker and Vinny were here. And it seems like Vinny didn’t want to come here but he was forced to.

“What is it this time huh? Do you want to continue our unfinished business this time?” Dom said as he walked closer to them. Joker did the same, towering him over with this huge height.

“Shut up, moron. You got something that’s mine. Yeshina, come here now.” Wooin said as he turned his back, expecting me to follow them but I stayed on my feet.

“I don’t want to, just leave me alone.” I almost begged, they wouldn’t make a scene here right?

“Do you know them? Why would they want you to come with them?” June asked as he put his body in front of me, protecting me in case those guys would attack us.

“Are they harassing you, Yeshina? Tell us and we will beat them to death.” Dom said while cracking his neck.

Wooin didn’t like the sound of that. He froze, and I can tell that his fury is building in his system. He turned back to face us again. He looked at me with a warning and his yellow shades slid down a little. I swallowed and looked away. He scoffed in disbelief and he dropped his eyes on the ground as if he’s calming himself down. But when he started to occupy the distance between us, he pushed his hands in his pocket while glaring at us.

“Do you want this in a hard way? Didn’t I warn you already? I don’t have time for this shit.” he said and grabbed my wrist. I gritted my teeth and I’m about to push him away when Jay grabbed my other hand.

Wooin arched his eyebrow.

“You heard her, let her go.” Jay broke the silence. Wooin chuckled dangerously, his eyes widened in furious.

“You’re fucking out of this, super rookie. If you want to be stable for the incoming match, stay out of this, ya’ hear me?” Wooin glared at him.

“This asshole–” Dom was about to punch Wooin when Joker moved so fast to cover him. Dom was surprised and he was caught off guard that’s why Joker took that chance to throw a punch on his face.

“Hey!” June shouted but Dom already punched him back.

Jay was about to help Dom when Wooin went to him and punched him on the stomach. I told them to stop, my veins on my throat almost popped. Jay recovered so fast and he attacked Wooin with a punch but Wooin managed to dodge it.

“Fucking stop it! Hey, please stop this already!” I shouted. I threw a helpful look to Vinny but he was just standing in the corner, ignoring the commotion. I cursed under my breath.

“The fight is starting!”

“Are you taking all of this in a video?”

“Yeah, this will go viral!”

“Fuck! Alright, I’ll go with you just stop this!” I pushed Wooin away from Jay. His fist was in the mid air when I pushed him, the attack was supposedly for Jay but I covered him. His fist landed on my shoulder blade that almost made me fall back in pain. I squeezed my eyes shut but I ignored it. I saw Jay’s nonchalant expression break and changed into a real fury.

Because Wooin was still in slight shock, Jay managed to punch him on the face. Wooin clenched his jaw and panted furiously. Vinny decided to join in the scene, finally. He held Wooin back and his eyes landed on my shoulder. He glared at me as if he’s blaming me for shielding myself on Jay and it results in the throbbing pain on my shoulder.

“That’s enough, idiot. The teachers are coming.” Vinny said and threw a meaningful look to Joker who just nodded on his comment.

“Hey! We’re not finished!” Dom shouted to Joker but he was already beside Wooin.

“What are you still standing there? Fucking walk already if you don’t want have a bloody street here.” Vinny scowled at me. I glared at him. I started to walk with them and Wooin put his arm around my neck and shoulder possessively, pulling me closer to him. I groaned in pain.

Jay wanted to grab me back when I forced a smile on him telling him that I’m safe. When honestly, I’m not.

I remained silent when we got in the apartment. I bit my bottom lip as Joker opened the door and stretched his neck and shoulder. I pushed Wooin’s arm that surrounds on my shoulder. He just glared at me. Vinny went to the fridge to get something. They all ignored me like they didn’t do something shit today.

Vinny threw the bag of ice on Joker, Vinny pointed a finger on me.

“Treat that shit, we can’t afford losing the race because of that bruise.” Vinny said, leaving us.

He’s mad at me. It is not because I went to Jay and his former friends. It is because of my decision to stay with Wooin knowing how toxic he was. It’s one of the main issues why we separated a long ago. He said he couldn’t understand that bond between Wooin and I, and why am I not doing anything about it.

“You should have gone easier, you are not blind right?” Joker told Wooin. Wooin like an asshole he is, he just sat down on the couch playing with his lollipop.

“Careful, if it’s not because of her, I would have destroyed that man’s skull. She protected him against us, against us, asshole.” Wooin laughed in disbelief.

Joker just remained silent. He slowly pulled down the strap of my top, therefore my purple shoulder was exposed. He didn’t say anything when he gently pressed the ice bag on it. I hissed. I caught Wooin’s serious eyes while watching us, his eyes went to my shoulder. There’s no guilt or shame in his eyes, only emptiness. Such a heartwarming view.

“The next time you go there, I’ll stab each of you in your sleep.” I threatened them with a serious tone. Joker looked at me, obviously taking that as a joke. While Wooin just glared at me to death.

“Leave, the club needs you right now.” Wooin said to Joker. More like ordering him.

“If you add another of this, you’ll be my next opponent in the boxing ring.” Joker said with a low tone that sent chills down to my spine. He put the ice bag on the table, leaving us.

“That dipshit just threatened me and escaped right away. See what you have done? You’re turning him against me.” Wooin stood up and walked slowly towards me.

“No shit.” I said sarcastically. I walked past him, bumping on his shoulder intentionally and it satisfied me even a little.

“Try to walk out that door and I swear…” I cut him off. I faced him with tears forming on the corners of my eyes.

“What? You’re going to give me another bruise? Where would that be this time? On my fucking face?” I scowled at him. Wooin was stunned not because of my words, but because of my face. His eyes softened a little bit that I almost thought it’s just all of my imagination.

He sighed deeply and his eyes went upwards in the ceiling as if trying to think something. He licked his bottom lip with his cut tongue. His hand went to my waist pulling me but I slapped it.

“Don’t touch me, pig.” I hissed.

“You know it wasn’t my intention to fucking hurt you. You protected that asshole against me, me Yeshina, the only man who has been there in your whole life. If you want to hit me back do it, but I’ll not assure you that man will be safe around me, do you hear me?” Wooin said as he met with my eyes.

Everyone will never see this side of him but only me. I can’t say that he has a soft spot for me because goodness was never his motto. The sincereness in his eyes disappeared as his playful gazes met mine.

“Alright, don’t look at me like that, baby. There’s no way I would let you with that moron, Jay Jo.” he whispered as his lips went to my neck, he was teasing my neck with his breath while his hand crawled downwards my shorts.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m tired of these games, Wooin.” I said blankly. He scoffed.

“Just remember you did all of this. You fucking owe since then, there’s no way in hell you could get away from this.” Wooin gripped my entrance that I had to hold back my groan and shut my eyes down.

I heard someone enter the room and then I saw Hyuk was standing there. He immediately understood the situation I’m in. His eyes went to Wooin before putting his bag on the table.

“Don’t mind me.” he said as he continued to grab a drink from the fridge. I can feel the heat on my cheeks as I glared at Wooin.

“It’s all your fault I became like this, remember that.” he hissed as he removed his hand from down there and walked out the door. I had to catch my breath like crazy.

He didn’t have to remind me of all of that. I need to join Jay jo’s crew so I could get him off my skin.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SCARS — VASH THE STAMPEDE.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ you wonder how vash smiles so easily with all his scars, and he shows you (.7k words)

☽ contents ⋮ just fluff for my lil wonder boy :(, mentions of scars

☽ notes ⋮ i tried my best to characterize him im on episode 5 okay :,)

vash has scars.

you expect as much with the way he lives, just not to the extent that’s before you. he stares at you blankly for a moment as you walk through the door before blushing, the soft, red flush bleeding from his cheeks to the tips of his ears as he scrambles to hold his shirt to cover his chest.

vash has scars—and much like they did his skin, they slash at your heart.

some run long and deep, from his shoulder blade down to the middle of his back. it makes you think about all the times he turns his back blindly to people, hoping, trusting he won’t be betrayed. who could ever slash someone like vash across the back, you wonder, with his guard down and his heart out in the open.

some are small, like tiny bullet holes that heal to form uneven skin, a testament to the way he’s so selfless. you can almost envision him jumping in front of someone, blocking the bullet just seconds before they penetrate skin. because that’s who vash is—he’ll bleed to put out the fire for others in this dry, cruel desert.

even for those that start the flames to burn him down.

distantly, you think maybe you should leave. you should cover your eyes and apologize for intruding and walk out, but you can’t. not when the most vulnerable part of him is right here in front of you. it almost feels like to ignore it is to ignore vash, to ignore his kindness, his sacrifice, his pain and the cruelty he so casually suffers.

vash doesn’t deserve to cry—nor does he deserve to bleed, so you reach out tenderly, slowly, finding the scar that sits over the left side of his chest, letting your palm soothe over the bumpy skin as if it’s still bleeding, as if your touch alone can stanch the flow of blood.

maybe it can—maybe it does with the way his eyes close and his breath exhales shakily as though he’s in relief.

“sorry to walk in unannounced,” you murmur, giving him a tiny smile, making him chuckle lowly. he takes a step closer, lowers his shirt that covers his chest just like he turns his back when he trusts people.

he trusts you to see his back, maybe more than that.

“you could knock,” he teases lightly. you reach out and cup his cheek, running a thumb along the soft swell of skin as he hums appreciatively.

“i could,” you nod, “but then i’d miss the view,” you squeeze his left pec with a giggle, making him flush deeper as he looks away to the side.

and because you love him, because every part of him deserves to be loved no matter how scarred and imperfect it might be, because you cherish the parts of him that no one else did when it counted, you lean and press a kiss over the old bullet wound.

“you shouldn’t open doors hoping for half dressed men,” he mumbles, pouting slightly, “that’s not very polite.”

“i wasn’t looking for half dressed men,” you grin, “i was looking for a half dressed you. otherwise roberto’s room is right next door.”

“you probably don’t wanna see that,” vash shivers, making you giggle as he slumps his cheek against your hold, sighing softly in content when you lean to peck his jaw.

“no, i probably don’t,” you agree, “good thing i walked into this room instead, huh?”

“i guess it was the better alternative,” he says shyly.

it’s silent for a bit. you don’t know how to bring them up, how to so casually ask him to tell you the stories behind every harsh branding across his skin. so you settle for a question you can ask—one that you have, one that you know the answer to, but you can’t help but wonder no matter how many times he replies.

“how…why do you keep going? after all this?” you ask softly, staring at the rough marks across his body, the witnesses of the cruelty he’s faces who never quite leave.

he shrugs, stretches that easy grin on his face. “i deserve to smile,” is all he says.

and he does—painfully, you’re aware how much he deserves to smile and laugh and feel the sun soak him with warmth as the gentle breeze tickles his skin.

“do you?” you ask, slowly like you’re scared to hear the answer, “smile?”

his grin only widens. “yes,” he says sincerely, glancing down at your lips. “i do.”

and then his lips meet yours in a slow, smiley kiss, warm and gentle and tender enough to make you forget about his pain.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[arxxq]

Hi! Can I request for headcanon with the Itoshi brothers, nagi or chigiri which they are teaching their children football? Thank you!

𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔❦︎

╰┈➤ ❝ [let me pass down my dream to you alright?] ❞

Headcanons for:

Itoshi Brothers (seperately), nagi seishiro, chigiri hyoma,

Sorry if it's not what you asked for. I'm still new to request...

Itoshi Rin

When he found out his daughter was interested, you swore you saw stars sparkling in his eyes

So when they got started you must say rin was quite rough on her but yet he was careful

To think rin would be a good coach was surprising

You were happy for rin though...I mean since he lost the opportunity to share a dream at least he gets to past it down

But what you don't like is when the two of them won't catch a break

Almost everytime you tell them to rest both of them would say "not now, we're still training love/mom" or "wait we still have to perfect our goals,"

It annoys you alot but you can't really say anything as it seems like your daughter inherit her dad's stubbornness

I swear everytime they train it just gets more stressful for you to watch and wait

Rin teaching her was practically not even beginner stuff, like for example he would try to get her do one of the hardest tricks

And the older your daughter gets, the more she becomes like her father

Istg I think the thing that frustrated you the most was when rin told her to disguise as a boy to play in the national teams..

"(Daughter name) you should disguise as a male and then we can put an effort—"

"WHAT NO RIN LOVE NO!"

"what a brilliant idea dad!"

That wasn't the only thing that frustrated you...Another was when rin told her that he'll try to get in contact with his ex mentor for her...

"(daughter name) what about I get help from my ex mentor?"

"ooh you mean that ego guy?"

"yes exactly that could work,"

"rin my love..I don't want our daughter to be stuck in a football jail and having you train her is enough..."

"but I did, what's wrong with our daughter doing the same thing?"

Yep you're happy yet frustrated with dealing with both your daughter and your husband...most of the time

But of course you love them, just have a struggle in putting up to them

Nagi Seishiro

Nagi played football because of reo bringing him in, so that's when he decided to get his son to do the same thing

So when they first started, I think nagi had a hard time to convince his son

After all his son is exactly like him (nagi 2.0 youd like to say)

But after your son took a lot of consideration it kinda worked.

Although most of the time when nagi teaches him, he gets tired himself

And guess who takes over? Yep reo. Reo stops by to help sometimes

His son calls it unfair tho knowing he can't take a break but his father can

But most of the time, it's nice to see them bonding! Cause it's quite rare

"c'mon you two we have more to do!"

"I agree with reo on this one, you can't just lay down there and play games!"

"huh why not, dad and I are tired.."

"mm yeah..just let us have a break.."

Itoshi Sae

Okay sae and his son, are both very blunt people

So when you heard your son in the bluntess way possible ask his dad to teach him to play football

Both you and sae weren't expecting it. Your jaw dropped.

I mean if your son is going to play football now..just imagine how much pain you will deal with both sae and him

Now don't get me wrong, you love how sae is willing to teach him

But you know the training isn't going be harsh

But what surprises you is that your son doesn't complain and just told you the way sae trains him is right

But you're honestly happy because you don't really see your son bonding with your husband alot since he's mostly overseas

But when sae does get back, the two end up practicing. You wonder how they managed to have so much energy.

"okay let's try to perfect your dribbling next"

"Sae Mon amour.. that's enough it's been 2 hours and half,"

"I'm sorry mi vida but it's not up to you..what do you think (s/n)?"

"let's just get this over with,"

Yep..most of the time your soul almost does end up getting out of your body...

Chigiri Hyoma

Chigiri having twins? One girl and one boy? And both of them ended up asking him to teach them to play football

Let's just say he was surprised

You weren't...it was you to blame since you showed them how their father plays on the field

But chigiri does end up teaching both of them

It's sweet how chigiri trains them,he's not really hard on the two, just a little bit hard but yeah

He mostly tells them to focus on their speed...

He does teach them dribbling as well as others but not that much, he doesn't want to give them pressure

He also shown them a few tricks just to entertain them at first but did end up teaching them

And when they do take a break or just end their session, the kids would whine but somehow he manage to convince them

"alright its getting late now so we'll end it here okay?"

"but we'll still train tommorow right?!"

"yeah we are right?!"

"well you're father is quite busy so if he does have the time he might?"

"oh not to worry darling, I'll be sure to find the time"

Reblogs are highly appreciated

Do not claim as your own

(my ask box is free to be spammed, request are excepted but might be shortly delayed as I have other works to finish)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 33

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

The surrealness of your situation remains. Lloyd is almost pleasant, the world is glowing and warm, and you feel…alright. A dull pain lurks behind your brow and your stomach is tenuous at best. But nothing is immediately wrong.

Your sea legs come with time but the queasiness doesn't quite relent. It's manageable. You get up as Lloyd stand gazing out over the water, thoughts unsaid and better so. 

You leave the cabin through the open doorway and go to the side. An impending doom nips at the nape of your neck. May as well enjoy the brief respite before it's gone. As all good things, if you can call it that, must.

You think of how Colin would say your pessimism was unnecessary. That not everything was destined to fail. That not everyone was selfish. Look at you now.

If you could thank Lloyd for anything its that he proved all your doubts to be true. There is no goodwill, no generosity, only whatever gets him ahead. He is the essence of humanity. The flaws everyone fights so hard to conceal. His honesty may be brutal but not as painful as Colin's lies.

You give a start as you notice Lloyd in your peripheral. He says nothing as his hands rest on the metal rail. He slides closer until your arms meet. He bends forward, leaning on his forearm as he looks to the horizon.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" He asks.

You stare down into the endless blue. The depths plummet below with fading daylight. You pinch your cheek between your teeth before you find an answer.

"Yeah, but I don't miss him, okay?"

He nods and adjusts his round sunglasses, looking over at you, "so why bother?"

"Ugh, I wish you'd stop."

“I’m just asking.”

“No, you’re trying to egg me on. I’m not stupid. You don’t care. There’s no reason to just ask.”

“You think you know me so well, don’t you, peaches?”

“I do,” you turn to face him, “you’re not that complicated.”

“Neither are you. Not that much different from me, huh? You just don’t let it out.”

“Sure,” you scoff, “I already told you, I’m sorry. About hitting you and everything else–”

“Something about sober thoughts and drunken acts… I don’t know,” he waves his hand at the water, “I’m asking because you’re with me now. I’m wondering– thinking divorce.”

“With you?” You shake your head, “is that what you think? I work for you.”

His mouth slants and he brings his hand up to rub his jaw, “you don’t have to.”

“No. No. I don’t believe you. And you know what, you’re right. I don’t understand. I don’t. I don’t get you, Lloyd. I don’t get this,” you gesture around you, “I don’t get the hotel, the game, the boat, this stupid dress. None of it makes sense. You are not a nice guy.”

He tilts his head back and blows out through his lips. He pushes himself straight and slides off his sunglasses, folding them over his pocket and letting them hang. He faces you with a hand on his belt.

“I’m trying. Never said I was a nice guy. But fuck it if I’m not fucking doing my best.”

You blink in confusion, “why?”

He shows his palm and shrugs, “no fucking idea.”

“Jesus,” you touch your forehead, “I can’t…I can’t think anymore–”

He startles you as he charges at you, grabbing you by the neck as he forces you against the rail. He bends you back over it as you grasp the bar and your toes barely stay on the floor. Your eyes round as he brings his face close to yours, his thumb squeezing just behind your jaw.

“You’re making this difficult.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“I could dump you in. Toss you down there and sail away. No one would ever know. You think that idiot would care? Your fuckstick husband? No, he’d be free. That’s what he’d think,” he pushes you back further, balancing you painfully across the railing, “and who’s going to come looking for you? Daddy left years ago, mommy doesn’t talk to you–”

“Lloyd,” you touch his wrist, “please…”

“I know everything. Everything about you. It’s my job. I don’t miss the details.”

“I get that,” you snap, “if you’re going to do it, do it.”

He glares at you. He dips you over further, further, your hands slipping along the metal. Your feet fly up and your fingers release as the strain throbs in your knuckles. You yelp as he lets you go and you fall towards the water. You lurch suddenly as he catches you by the ankles and dangles you over the side.

“Jesus!” You scream.

“You don’t think I will.”

“I’m wishing you would,” you hit the boat as you try to see past the billowing skirt as it flutters up your torso. You don’t know if the shiver that rolls over you is from the water or fear.

“You talk a big game but I can feel you shaking.”

“Nothing I say is going to change your mind,” you retort, “so why should I try?”

“All you have to do is play along, Mrs. Hansen.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You could do worse… you have.”

“Drop me or pull me up,” you growl as your head floods with blood, “make up your mind.”

He huffs and for a moment, you think it’s over. You’re convinced he’s going to let you go and the water will swallow you up. He grunts and hauls you up, a little at a time, heaving you over the rail to bring you back to your feet. You sway and steady yourself against him.

Your hand rests on his chest and you feel the fabric of his polo. Your eyes meet his and anger sparks in your throat. You grab his collar and bunch it in your fists, “are you fucking crazy? What the fuck was that?”

“There she is,” he grins, “nice to see you again, honey.”

“God,” you let him go, stretching your fingers wide as you look at your hands in horror, tamping down your rage, “you really are the worst.”

“Don’t you know it,” he reaches for you and you back away, “aw, baby, did I hurt your feelings?”

“Leave me alone,” you fix your skirt as you spin around, “you fucking jackass. I can’t– You really are a coward, you know that!” You storm past him to the cabin, “you keep saying your big shit. Acting like you’re gonna do something then the next minute, you’re all over me. I’ve figured out and it’s not working on me anymore.”

“Trust me, I got a few more tricks up my sleeve,” he trails you into the cabin, “Mrs. Hansen, please, forgive me. I was having fun with you–”

“No, you’re being— you!”

“You know,” he catches your arm and pulls you back to him. Your ankles almost tangle as you’re twirled around to face him, “I could have a skinny Mrs. Hansen. A bleach blond Mrs. Hansen. An international supermodel Mrs. Hansen,” he draws out the last few words, “but I only want this one.” He slaps his hand against your hip and slides it back to grope your ass, “the tasty, thick, fiesty Mrs. Hansen.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you sneer, “I won’t fall for it.”

He chuckles and pulls you against him, his other hand crawling up the back of your neck, “you don’t have to fall for me. In fact, you don’t got a fucking choice. I own you.” He leans in and you push your head back as he spreads his hand across your hair, “you fucking bite me and I actually will throw you in this time.”

He closes the gap and smashes his lips into yours. You hum in surprise, arms trapped between your bodies as he holds you tight. His tongue flicks over your lips and pokes between them, invading your mouth. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his polo and you murmur. 

He kisses you, long and deep, trapping you in his embrace until you can’t breathe. He parts at last, his breath glossing over you as he nuzzles your nose with his.

“I’m not a nice guy, Mrs. Hansen,” he whispers, “but I can still be nice.”

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Bedeviled | Chapter 6: rigor samsa

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: E2L, drama, romance, angst, horror

WC: 5.8k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, physical injuries, pain, cruelty, blood, fear, depictions of Hell and people in it, I think that's all pls kindly let me know if I missed something

Previous

You hobble along, jaw clenched to the point of cramping as you try your best to look where you're walking. 

No matter which place looks clear, you can't seem to avoid whatever keeps stabbing your feet. 

JK just walks alongside you, whistling lowly as he scans the area. 

This could be so much worse. 

So so so much worse. 

As you think to yourself, you keep your eyes on the ground. Then you suddenly see something different than the dirt you've seen since coming to Hell. 

You slow to a stop as the dirt reveals even more of a path that looks to be made of rusted metal. No doubt it used to be gold. 

It looks smooth to the touch, but when you take a curious step onto it, it's rough and hot. 

Very very hot. 

You suck in a breath and pull your foot back. 

"Ouch," you hiss quietly. 

"Something wrong?"

You look over at him and shake your head, "No."

"You don't sound sure."

He clearly knows what's going on, but finds amusement in taunting you however he can. 

"Having shoes on is sounding pretty good right about now, huh?" 

You look away from him, "I don't need to walk on the path, I can just go on the dirt-"

The look he sends you gives you an idea that apparently that's not the case. 

You two stand there and stare at each other for a while. 

"Why?" You eventually ask. 

He looks you up and down, observing the way you still keep your wrist cradled gingerly. 

"If you want to take your chances, be my guest."

You look back at the path, then take in your surroundings for a moment. 

The trees look almost like the path, as if they used to be a radiant gold before they rusted and became misshapen until they resembled a grotesque forest that was stripped of all its former pride and glory. 

You look back at him. 

It's hard to tell if he's just trying to mess with your head or if he's serious about needing to stay on the path. Nothing looks like there should be a reason to follow his words. 

Which might be why you should. 

Or why he would think that you would even though you don't need to. 

He continues to watch you try and figure it out in your head. 

It's interesting to see the wheels turn in your mind, to see you go back and forth, wondering if you can trust him or not, to guess what might happen if you don't heed his words and should have. 

The way you mumble to yourself anxiously and look around as you rub a gentle thumb on your swollen wrist, wincing every once in a while. 

It's all so entertaining to him. 

It seems like a million years have passed by the time you nod to yourself and place your foot gingerly on the path before pulling it back again, trying to hide the hiss that escapes you. 

Arrrggghhh. 

You bite your lip before turning to him again, "What happens?"

"What makes you think I'll divulge that information?"

"Shall we just stand here and wait for you to tell me?"

He shakes his head, "Nah, see this is what's going to happen."

You flinch when he bends down to your level, "You're going to make a decision and stick to it. If you change your mind, you'll see what else you have to deal with,” He glances at your wrist then back at you.

Keeping eye contact with him, you don't stutter as you respond back evenly, "Fine, but if I make the wrong one, you get to deal with me complaining the whole time."

He smirks and straightens up.

"Deal."

You turn away and look out into the distance, noting that the path just keeps going, further than you are able to see. 

No more dilly dallying. 

You get onto the path and start walking briskly, biting your bottom lip harshly as you try to imagine that you're walking on snow. So much snow. The coldest snow you've ever walked on, it's so cold that you really wish you could be walking on a hot dirt road in the middle of summer. 

Oh what you wouldn't give to walk on a blazing hot trail-

Your speedwalking picks up and before you know it, you're jogging. 

The jiggling on your left wrist is excruciating at first, but then it turns into a distraction from the burning ground under your poor bare feet. 

The end of the path is non-existent, stretching on and on.

I can do this...

I can do this...

I can do this...

I can do this-

____________________________

"Orabeoni!!!" 

Yoongi turns to see the small child responsible for the high-pitched squealing running towards him at full speed down the trail, hot dirt kicking up under her shoes. 

Her skirts are bunched in her tiny fists, just like they always are. Her hair is flying around her face even as she shakes her head to try and get it off so she can see. 

That's when he notices a lot of her hair is shorter than the rest of it. 

"____, what on earth happened to your hair-"

You barrel into him, wrapping your small arms around his waist as you continue to screech, "HE CUT MY HAIR! HE CUT MY HAIR-"

"Who-"

"APPLE!"

The older boy looks up to see your best friend running down the path, waving a pair of small shears in his hand, "APPLE I'M SORRY!" He's sobbing uncontrollably. 

Yoongi bites back a laugh as the small child catches up, his bottom lip trembling. 

"Well if it isn't the half-pint."

"I'm sorry Apple, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

You stuff your face into your cousin's abdomen, trying your best not to cry at the loss of some of your beautiful hair. 

"What happened?" Yoongi kneels and lets you hug him as he gently takes the shears from the youngin still sobbing his head off. 

"I- I- I was trying to g-give Apple a pretty haircut-" his words get drowned out in his tearful sorrow when he sees your hair again. 

Yoongi chuckles, "Mm? And who came up with that idea?"

The tiny boy hesitates for a minute, only responding after Yoongi gives him a warning look to tell the truth. He points a shaky finger at the four year old in his arms, who still has yet to come out from hiding. 

"Apple," he whispers in a small watery voice. 

You finally turn to glare at him, "I didn't told you to make it ugly!"

Huge teary eyes stare back at you, "B-b-but you're not ugly, Apple-"

Yoongi bursts into laughter at the whole situation. 

Your face turns bright red at your best friend's words, "Really?" you whisper shyly. 

He nods enthusiastically, "You're pretty still."

"...honest honest?"

"Honest honest," his voice sounds congested as he wipes his runny nose with the back of his hand before wiping at his tears.

"He's right, ____. You still look beautiful, but we can fix it up, alright?" Yoongi assures you.

You nod. 

It was a bit strange being the only one in the town with short hair, but you grew to like it quite a lot. It was different, even though your mother was at her wits end when she found out. But hiding your short hair under a scarf was better than walking around with half of it cut off and the other half past your shoulder. 

No one really cared to look at the kids running around anyway, they didn't care to notice your hair was shorter than all the little boys. But your best friend never failed to remind you that you looked as pretty as always, while it was short and while it grew out. 

You had cried an apology to him a few hours later for being so upset with him for cutting it wrong, you had never meant to yell at your favorite person. He assured you it was okay while your aunt cut the rest of it off, always very mature for his age, even at five years old.

You could never hurt him, you would always be his lovely Apple, no matter what.

____________________________

You don't even register when you end up breaking into a full-on sprint down the path, constantly trying to get as much air into your lungs as you can while also trying not to focus on the horrible pain on the soles of your feet. 

At some point, it occurs to you that you still don't know if you're doing this pointlessly or not. You haven't tried to turn and ask. Honestly he's probably not even behind you anyway. He most definitely is waiting for you at the end of this road.  

If it even has an end. 

That thought makes your legs feel weaker than they already do, which starts to put a damper on your painfully hopeful spirit.

It has an end, ____. 

Everything has an end. 

Except for this place. 

The suffering here will never end for some.

You force those wretched thoughts out of your head. 

You don't need them, they won't help you at all. 

Even if they're true. 

You concentrate on making your legs go faster, ignoring the way they scream at you for a moment of rest. If you stop, your feet will most likely be burnt beyond repair. It's already nearly unbearable even as you run. 

Not gonna take that chance to stop. 

-

The end of the path does not bring the comfort you so foolishly thought it would. 

You saw the rusted gold come to an end, you saw the dirt, the relief seeping into your bones as it got closer and closer.

You didn't think you'd be able to keep it up much longer. 

Thank you. 

When you finally reach the end, you stumble onto the dirt, but immediately cry out and fall onto the ground, the majority of your weight going to your knees. The soles of your feet were so tender that the sharp plants and stones littering the ground were a hundred times more painful than they were before. 

You drop your head onto your arm as a cry bursts from your lips. Curling your legs up as you lay on the ground and cry, you feel your body shaking from the amount of pain you're in. 

"God- please-" you sob, clutching your wrist as you pray fruitlessly for the throbbing to stop. 

You only move from the fetal position for a moment, to throw up from the pain alone consuming you. 

"I c-can't take-" you cough so violently that it triggers another gagging fit. Nothing comes up though, there's nothing left in you to. 

After a few minutes, you just lay there numbly, attempting to ignore the horrible shakes controlling your body as you stare at the dirt that moves whenever you let out a breath. 

Nine circles...

Nine circles...

Fourth circle...

Nine circles...

Fourth circle...

Nine circles...

The thoughts spin endlessly in your foggy brain.

Eventually, you hear something. The sounds and sights around you start to become clear. 

You're still so out of it that you can't figure out what the sound is. It sounds like something heavy being rolled across the ground. 

Blinking slowly, you lift your head a little to see blurry figures that move around strangely.

A few seconds go by before you can see them. 

What you notice first, is the enormous stone structure a couple hundred feet in front of you. It looks like a giant temple that crumbled long ago, some of it still intact, but just barely. 

In the middle of the temple, is a golden statue. 

A chill runs down your spine. 

The huge statue looks like a muscled older man, naked with curly hair framing his face and a raggedy beard. He's crouching down in an almost goblin-like stance, limbs contorting grotesquely. 

The worst part of it is the fact that he's staring right into your soul, even from a distance you can see his piercing eyes clearly. 

You're frozen, too scared to even breathe. 

...Is it a statue?

You're expecting it to come to life and charge at you any second.

When an agonizing minute passes and it doesn't even twitch, you gulp. 

Then your eyes flit to the side to see the figures that were moving. Now you can see that there are people around the outside of the fallen temple; surrounding it. They're dressed in filthy rags that barely cover them at all. 

Now you know what the noise was. 

All of them are in pairs, standing about twenty feet apart and rolling giant boulders back and forth between each other. 

They are dead silent. 

The only sound is that of the stones rolling and rolling and rolling on the hard earth, never stopping, never giving the sinners a moment of rest. 

Not a single scream, not a cry of agony passes their lips. 

Their appearances make up for the lack of voices; muscles straining to the point of nearly tearing through the skin, sweat coating their bodies until they look like they've been dipped in oil, faces so exhausted the skin hangs in limp wrinkles, their eyes black and sagging. 

You close your eyes, heart aching deeply in your chest as you let your head hang. 

One tear falls to the ground before the silence is broken. 

"It's pointless crying for them."

He stands next to your smaller frame as you stay huddled on the ground. 

"They can't hear you pity them. You could walk right up to any of them and they'd never sense your presence, not even if you slapped them in the face," he chuckles as if he knows this from doing it himself. 

When he sees you look at him, he snickers, "If you think that's the worst I've done, you're wrong. They can feel it, but can't react."

The demon crouches close to you, points at one of them, and whispers, "The hoarder," then he points to the other of the pair that catches the boulder and proceeds to push it back, "And the wasteful."

You swallow the lump in your throat. 

"Look at how tired they are. I just know they're dying to scream, to find some way to make the pain lessen at all. Bet they're regretting being such greedy and selfish little bastards-"

"Stop."

He breathes out a laugh at your voice breaking in your pathetic attempt at ordering him around. 

"What? You don't enjoy knowing that they suffer so much more than you?"

You wipe at your eyes and clear your throat, "What do you get out of saying these things? Thinking these things? Like you said, they can't hear you." You turn to look at him, eyes darting between his, "Who are you trying to convince that they suffer more? Me or you?"

JK stares at you for a minute, glaring into your eyes, unflinching. 

You see him swallow a second before he looks away and stands up. 

"Get up."

You don't argue, knowing he'll just yank you up unkindly anyway if you hesitate. So, you struggle for a moment, but finally get to your feet, blowing out a puff of air when the sharp pain returns to your feet. 

He seems to get enjoyment from the pained whimper that slips out accidentally because of a wrong step. 

Staying true to his character, he leaves you to stumble after him as he makes his way straight towards the temple. 

You keep an eye on the statue that gets closer with each painful step. Not even the stone underfoot relieves the pain when you reach the structure. 

Just as he said, the sinners continue with their eternal punishment, unaware of the two of you passing through. 

At one point, the demon kicks a broken piece of the temple that was lying in his path. It rolls and hits one of the sinners in the ankle, immediately drawing blood that seeps into the ground, staining it red. 

The man doesn't react physically. 

You hear a low chuckle and clench your jaw, reminding yourself that you can do nothing to stop him from tormenting anyone he chooses. 

Stay strong, ____. 

Do not give up hope. 

I promised.

When the two of you reach the unsettling statue, you notice the treasure surrounding the bottom of it that you didn't see before. Piles of gold coins hold colorful gems and glittering jewelry, more than you've ever seen. The statue's eyes seem to follow your movement as you pass.

JK tries not to curse out loud when you merely glance at the pile of treasures, then continue limping away, unfazed. 

Fuck. 

So it isn't Greed.

She didn't even fucking hesitate.

There's no question about it, this circle is useless to him apart from breaking down your physical and mental determination.  

The way you move slowly, favoring your right foot particularly, gives him at least some satisfaction. 

-

Something that strikes you later is that it's starting to feel cold. 

It was hot earlier, disgustingly so.

But now there's an unsettling chill in the air, making you pull your cardigan around you more. 

The ground gets cold surprisingly fast. You can't tell if it makes your feet feel better or worse at this point. 

The stone structure is far behind now, nothing but desolate terrain ahead as far as you can make out in the dark. 

"Can we please stop?"

He keeps walking, kicking stones left and right as he goes. 

"Please," you call out, stopping where you are. 

The demon stops and turns to look at you, "What?"

"Can we please stop for a little bit?" You ask, pretty sure he's going to say no, but you really can't go on right now. 

He stares at you for a second, then you see his eyes drag down your body, all the way to your feet and then back up until he looks into your eyes again. 

"Fine."

You blink a few times.

"Huh?"

"I said fine," he snaps, "I already told you, it's you that decides how long we take. You can fuck yourself over as much as you want."

You turn away and look for something to sit on. 

There's a decent sized rock a few feet away, so you start hobbling over to it. It looks big enough that you might even be able to lay down on it if you curl up. 

What a relief.

But right before you get there, you feel him knock into your shoulder as he brushes past and sits on the rock. 

He leans back, putting his hands behind his head and lifting one of his legs to sit bent on the rock while the other one stays on the ground. He's too tall to fit on it all the way, but that doesn't seem to bother him. 

At your silence, he glances over to see you staring at him. You look tired and at a loss for what he's doing. 

"What?" He asks casually as you stand there stupidly, "Did you expect me to sit on the ground like an animal? How rude," he groans as he adjusts himself to be more comfortable. 

You're in too much pain to argue, and you're not about to risk getting another injury for crossing him. 

So, you turn and look around but can't see very well with how dark it is. 

As you limp around and try to find somewhere to sit, there's suddenly a sparking sound and you flinch; turning to see a fire has appeared. Just like in the cave, it doesn't appear to be sitting on anything, just hovering above the ground. 

You lift your gaze to see him sigh and shift on the rock again, his eyes closed, silently rubbing his satisfaction in your face. 

The light of the fire allows you to see his smug expression, but it also uncovers a small rock on the opposite side of the fire that you can at least sit on. 

Ha.

Bet he wasn't intending to do that. 

You go over to the rock and sit down gingerly, wincing at the hard surface against your bottom. 

At least it isn't the cold prickly ground. 

You sit there for a few minutes, just watching the fire crackle. 

When you're finally able to think clearly, you lift one of your feet to look at the bottom. Your stomach drops when you see the bloody mess you've been walking on for hours. 

After checking the other and seeing the same thing, you grab the end of your dress and start to tear at it. It doesn't take a lot for it to rip. 

The demon doesn't even twitch as you rip three good-size strips from the bottom of your dress. It's already ruined with mud and only Hell knows what else, no point in being disappointed. 

Gently brushing at the bottom of your right foot, you hiss quietly at the sting. You can't just wrap it up, it's muddy and has bits and pieces of sticks and leaves that'll leave it feeling far worse after an infection starts. 

If one hasn't started already. 

It takes a while, but you're able to clear most of the blood, sticks, and mud away enough to see the deep gashes that you can't do anything about right now. Wrapping it one-handed also proves to be a challenge; especially when you're perched on this stupid little rock, but you eventually get the white cloth wrapped around your foot, then slowly do the same to the left. 

By the time you're finished, your left wrist is pulsating with pain. 

You take the third piece of cloth you ripped off and start to carefully wrap your injured wrist. 

In the middle of doing so, you glance up and see him watching you. 

"What?" You ask.

He just smirks and closes his eyes again. 

You scoff and look back at the task at hand. 

"You're doing it wrong."

You drop the makeshift bandage, the rest of it hanging from your wrist as you look at him again, annoyance clear on your face. 

"Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"So stop," You mutter, then you grab the cloth again. 

"It's just annoying watching you be so incredibly stupid."

You grit your teeth. 

"Well, you're the one responsible for this," You hiss, "So, you can sit there and be annoyed for all I care."

"Ooh, grumpy."

You shake your head and go back to the bandaging. 

Don't let him get you riled up. 

You're just gonna feel worse-

"Ah! Ow!" You gasp in pain when he suddenly snatches your injured wrist and pulls it towards him as he stands over you, "What're you doing?!"

You hadn't even noticed him come over. 

"Just shut up," He mumbles, unwrapping what you already did and redoing it tighter. 

"Ah, stop, you're hurting me-"

"You're hurting yourself by writhing around, stop fucking moving."

You force yourself to stop moving, afraid he might make it worse if you don't listen. Then you look up and see the concentrated look on his face as he works, unconsciously getting lost in thought as you stare at him.

"You didn't make it tight enough. What the fuck is it gonna do if you just wrap it without any support? Idiot." He mutters angrily as he ties a tiny knot, then drops your hand.

You wince and pull your hand towards your chest, cradling it. 

He walks back over to his spot and sits down, glowering at the fire between you. 

You look down at your wrist, a small smile finding its way onto your face. 

It actually does feel better. 

A feeling of relief and maybe a little hope, settles in your body as you run your fingers along the bandage.

"Don't complain to me if you don't get enough rest by the time we need to move again."

You nod absentmindedly at his grumpy words, then you lower yourself to the ground and lay down. 

It's still cold and prickly, but the fire is nice and at least you've got your cardigan on to help with the sticks and rocks scattered about. 

You probably won't be able to sleep, but you can at least rest your eyes for a bit.

"How did you get to the entrance?"

Or not. 

You clear your throat, keeping your eyes closed as you respond, "I walked."

"No shit."

"You don't have to believe me, it doesn't affect me or what I'm doing," You remind him, yawning as you adjust your arm under your head. 

"What are you doing?"

A chuckle slips past your lips. 

"Why are you laughing?"

"You know," you mumble, "You have a lot of interest in someone you act like you couldn't care less about."

"Act?" He scoffs, "I don't care."

"Ok."

Silence stretches on for a few minutes. 

Then, "Why won't you just answer the question?"

You smile, "At this rate, I am gonna blame you for me not getting any rest."

You hear him scoff and mutter angrily to himself, the sound of him shifting around making you laugh quietly to yourself. 

After another minute, you open your eyes and look over to see him glaring up at the sky, his hands behind his head.

"Why are you so curious about me?" You ask, seemingly startling him for a second. 

Only a beat of silence before he answers, "Because nothing about you makes sense."

"I could say the same for you," You say quietly, watching his reaction. 

He turns his head and your eyes meet from across the flames still crackling lowly. 

"How do I not make sense? You know what I am."

"True."

He doesn't look away, which makes you feel a little nervous. 

You gulp and look down at your fingers, messing with a twig on the ground. 

"Wanna play a game?" You finally brave the question. 

When you hear him move, you look up to see that he's turned on his side to face you, propped up on his elbow as he looks at you carefully. 

"What game?"

"You can ask me whatever you want, and I have to answer-"

"Sounds good to me-"

"But," you continue, "If I do, then you need to answer one of my questions."

He narrows his eyes at you. 

"That's the game," you sit up on your elbow, mirroring his position, "If you wanna know something about me, I get something from you too."

JK pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it as he thinks about your proposition. 

"Fine, it's a deal."

You smile, "Deal."

"So," he leans back, keeping his eyes on you, "How did you get to the entrance?"

You bite your cheek, then you sigh, "If you really wanna know so bad. I was telling the truth before. I did a lot of research and knew where to find it, so I walked there. It's not as hard as people make it seem like."

Huh, he watches you carefully for a minute. 

"Fair enough," he mumbles, "But where did you get all of your information?"

"Ah ah ah," You wag your finger at him, "One question at a time. It's my turn."

"Fuckin' whatever," he groans and lays down, "Ask."

"How many souls have you stolen?"

He glances at you, then scoffs, "You could ask me anything and that's what you choose to ask?"

You nod. 

He rolls his eyes, "First of all, I didn't steal any of them. I took them as payment. The mortals make their own decision to give it to me in return for something or not."

"So? How many?" You press. 

"Thousands, I've lost count. My turn."

You sigh at his poor response, but you let him go anyway.

"Where did you get the information to find the entrance?"

"The Archive."

"What's that?"

"A library, full of things that a lot of people don't usually go looking for."

He glances suspiciously at you, but lets it go. 

"K, go ahead."

"What's your name?"

The demon barks out a laugh, "Why, you wanna summon me?"

You chuckle and shake your head, "Not in a million years."

He looks at you and you think you see a hint of a smile on his face before he smothers it. 

"JK."

"JK?" You repeat and he nods.

You swallow the lump in your throat and gesture at him to let him know he can ask now.

"How did you hear about the Flame of Immortality?"

"My best friend," You say immediately, then you clear your throat, "How long have you been here?"

JK looks at you in disbelief that you could ask such a stupid question. 

"Wait, you're serious?"

You nod. 

"You can't be that dumb."

"Just answer the question," you sigh. 

"Has it not fully sunk into your pea-brain yet that I'm a demon, sweetheart? I've been here since the beginning of Hell. Your mortal mind won't even be able to comprehend that amount of time, so don't even try."

You drop your gaze from his to the fire as he chuckles darkly. 

"Too bad you wasted your turn on that."

You lay down on your back and look up at the sky. 

All there is to see is thick black smoke, not a single cloud, not one little star shining in the dark. 

Nothing. 

"How did your best friend find out about it? She must have heard it from someone."

"He did, but he never told me who."

"He? Your best friend is a guy?"

"Yeah."

"Huh," he looks at the sky, "Does he know you're down here?"

"That's the third question you've asked," you say quietly, "It's my turn."

"Fucking- you're so damn slow, just ask whatever," he moans. 

“Did I make the right decision earlier to go on the path?”

“Yes. Were you really not affected by the treasure?”

“I have no interest in riches. What would have happened if I didn’t go on the path?”

He sighs and stretches one of his legs, groaning, “You would have wandered around, confused about what you were doing and where you were going. You would never have found your way out if I wasn’t there to direct you." He looks over at you, "Why do you feel for the prisoners here?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because they chose to be here.”

“Yes, but none of them were born intending to make the decisions they made. Evil isn’t born, it’s made. I guess it just hurts my heart seeing people suffer, even if they chose it,” You pick at your nails, "I think I cry for the people they were supposed to be."

“Whatever mortal,” he sighs and looks back at the sky, “Your turn.”

You bite your lip before asking, "Why are you constantly trying to convince yourself that everyone here suffers more than you?" You watch him closely as he keeps his eyes upward. 

"Who says I do that?"

"That's not an answer."

"Well I don't. So I can't answer that-"

"Don't lie, it's against the rules-"

"And how the fuck you know I'm lying huh?" He snaps, "I said I don't, so stop acting like you need to expose me. I'm an open book, darling."

The way he says it is far from humorous.

"Ask a different question."

"That's not how it goes but whatever," you mumble, "Do you know any other demons here?"

"I know all the demons here. Does he know you're down here?"

"Who?"

"Your best friend."

"Yes and no."

"That's not a real answer-"

"Neither was yours-"

JK growls and sits up, "This is stupid. You keep changing the rules-"

"I do not!"

"What if I don't want to play your stupid game? What if I torture what I want to know out of you instead?"

"Then that's not something I can change. You'll do whatever you want to me anyway, right?"

He looks over at you to see you lay down and cross your arms, a grumpy look on your face.

After a minute, you turn on your side so your back is to him. 

He only hesitates for a second before calling over to you, "I wasn't done asking questions."

"Goodnight, JK."

Another few minutes pass in silence apart from the fire snapping periodically. 

"If he's your best friend, why would he make you come down here for him? Why is he sending you to do his dirty work?"

You sigh. 

"He can't do it himself."

"Why though? And why does he want the Flame-"

"Why do you think?" You turn to look at him, eyes filled with anger and grief, "Why would anyone want the Flame of Immortality? Do you think I want to be here, that I’m doing this for fun?"

"You made the decision to come here," he snaps. 

"Do you think I'd choose to come to this wretched place if it wasn't my only choice?"

"Why is it your only choice?" He stands up and walks over to the other side of the fire where you're still on the ground, "Why won't you just give up?"

"Because I can't!" You shout, "I'm not going to give up! I won't!"

"He's dying isn't he?" He whispers, a smirk pulling at his lips, "Your best friend who you're madly in love with is dying and you're doing this to save him."

Your watery eyes glare at him as you clench your jaw. 

"How utterly pathetic," he whispers in amusement, watching as a single tear rolls down your cheek. 

"You can taunt me all you want, demon. I won't stop until I get what I want."

"Even if you do get that Flame, what's your plan after that? It can only be used on one person. Is he really that much of a sorry ass that he'd take it and let you rot into old age?"

You swallow the huge lump in your throat. 

"Just shut up," you choke out. 

"What kind of pathetic bastard is this guy?"

"Please st-"

"And you," he laughs hollowly, "You're even more pathetic."

"I said shut up!" You struggle to your feet and get up in his space as much as you can, "I made a promise, and I'm going to keep it. He is waiting for me to save him and I'll be damned to HELL BEFORE I LEAVE HIM AGAIN!!!!" 

He just observes the tears streaming down your face as you shake with anger and sorrow. 

"Good," he finally spits, then he leans down into your face and snarls, "Because you voluntarily fucked yourself over, sweetheart. Give that Flame to your stupid little bastard friend, your ass is never leaving this place. Glad you finally figured that out."

He doesn't say anything more as you glare at him before turning and walking back to sit on the ground, your head falling into your hands as you burst into uncontrollable sobs. 

Eventually, you lay down again, but the tears don't stop. 

The fallen angel continues to sit on the large rock for hours, biting the nail on his thumb as he watches the mortal girl sobbing into her arms until exhaustion takes over her and she falls asleep, bare feet wrapped in bloody cloth tucked up under her torn skirt and hair matted and dirty. The anxiety and hopelessness is physically seeping from her. The despair will inevitably come.

She's starting to look like she belongs here.

________________________________

a/n: let me knnow what you thiiiink, next one will be longer than this sorry she was so short T-T tysm for reading

Tag list; @kookxin @butterymin @telepathytae @kooliv @highoffbaddecisions @meanum @smitssharon02 @kmpac @ggukkieland @jjanjankook @sugaslittlekookies @hobispriteu1306 @kimchibrat @slowlydeliciousjiminie @screamertannie  @i-dont-give-a-fok @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @ohyeahjk @babycandy111 @ttipa @ggukcanim @era-genius @katlumiiine @xmochiloverx @sopikooo @berryonasummerevening @jamlessstars @bangtannie7 @idkjustlovingbts @iftheworldiswritten @nuttykittypainter @geniejunn @mal99 @ane102 @mrswang17 @jeonssm @ashbxnny

[soupandsorcery]

Day 1 - Create

Jamie presses the tip of his tongue to his bottom lip, concentrating as he mimics Roy's movements. The dough is slightly tacky against his fingers, like it's trying to suck them back in every time Jamie pulls them away.

It's soothing in a way he didn't expect, the push and pull of it, pressing the dough to the worktop and then watching it spring back into shape, leaving open patches on the floured surface of Roy's granite countertop.

"How the fuck did you learn how to do this?" Jamie asks, glancing sidelong at the man beside him. Larger than life as always, but somehow diminished, made smaller--but in the best possible way--by the domesticity and shit.

Roy doesn't answer for a bit, brows furrowed as he focuses on shaping his dough into a ball and then ruins that work by dropping it into an oiled bowl with a wet slap.

"My sister," he says eventually, "wanted me to have a fucking 'outlet'." He forms the air quote with one oil shiny hand. "Said if I wanted to take my anger out, I may as well do it in a way that creates something instead of destroying something. So we spent a weekend learning how to make bread."

"Huh. Clever," Jamie responds. He pats at his own dough, rolling the thought around in his head. "You can punch the dough instead of punching faces in, yeah?"

"Yeah. Thought it was fucking stupid at the time, but since I had just headbutted her ex-husband, I didn't really have a leg to stand on."

Jamie laughs, imagining a younger Roy Kent, beating the shit out of some twat who had the nerve to disrespect his baby sister. "Fucker probably had it coming though."

"Damn right he did."

It's nice, Jamie decides. Nice that Roy's sister wants better for him. Nice that Roy wanted to share this with him just because he's been sleeping like shit for the last couple of nights. Already the tension has drained from his body, and he doesn't feel like he has to clench his jaw so hard his teeth ache to avoid screaming.

"Maybe sometimes you've gotta destroy something to create something else. Something that's better," Jamie murmurs, half to himself.

But Roy hears, of course. Hears it and looks at him, and for a second, there's something like wonder on his face. Something like he's just had a realization, and then something almost pained. It's all gone in a flash, leaving behind the usual 'I'm Roy Kent, and I'm a grumpy fucking bastard' expression.

But his voice is still uncharacteristically soft when he speaks. "Yeah. Maybe."

technically, this mircrofic may prompt is from the hp fandom one, but my heart has been beating royjamie today. 439 words.

[braunbakery]

little sparrow

☞ jean kirstein x fem reader [ one-shot word count: 2.7k]

☞ sfw, angst angst angst, canon-verse

☞ plot: the world is ending, you are on a boat to your death, and your thoughts are of jean. (takes place on the boat to the hangar in marley season 4, managa ch. 131)

☞ inspired by little sparrow - alan dunham

☞ little sparrow

jean stands at the deck of the ship looking out at the surrounding ocean. you watch him from the other side of the deck. you watch the wind brush through his hair. you watch his jaw clench as he looks up at the trail of smoke the ship is leaving in its path. you watch him.

(you’ve watched him before. you’ve spent years watching him. most times he catches your gaze and shoots you a smirk. a knowing smirk, a friendly smirk, a pitiful smirk? you don’t know. but he looks you right in the eyes when he does it and that’s all that seems to matter to you.

“what you lookin’ at, huh?” he says, knowing full well it’s him. you huff out a smile in response, trying to cover up the speeding of your heart and the dryness of your mouth.

“nothing much,” you say, and he breaks out into a smile that makes you break out into a wider one. you’ve known jean for years, you’ve been through battle and war with him, yet in this moment you still can’t tell if he knows. if he knows the way your heart tugs in your chest when he breaks your stare and looks away.)

he catches you this time too, albeit this time is different. this time the wind is rushing through both of your ears, and even if he wanted to say something, you wouldn’t be able to hear him from how far he is. even if he wanted to say something, he doesn’t. he holds your gaze and looks at you solemnly, looks at you with the kind of exhaustion that makes you want to grab him and whisk him away from all of this.

there is no smirk this time. there is no joke quipped or cheeky smile. he stares at you and it would seem almost blank if you didn’t know him inside out. and then he nods at you (a slight nod, like it’s taking all of his power to do it) and goes back to looking ahead at the waves on the horizon.

“you okay?” a voice softly asks you, cutting you out of your thoughts. you turn to your left and find armin.

“armin, hey,” you say, and offer him a smile despite current circumstances. armin nods at you again, ushering you to answer his question (like you’d tell him the truth. like you’d admit that in the midst of this war and carnage and the end of the fucking world, you’re thinking about jean kirstein and wondering if he’s thinking about you. you’re thinking about jean kirstein and wishing his heart was aching because of you and not her).

“i’m fine, i’m just –”

“just?” armin cuts you off, interrupting your rehearsed response. just looking at the waves, you wanted to say. but you know that just as you’ve know jean for years, armin has known you for those years as well. and even if you haven’t been with them through the same thick and thin that they have all endured, he knows you enough to know that you’re still pining after jean in the wake of corpses and flames.

“…just,” is all you can say back. armin offers you a slight smile (pitiful, almost. you don’t want to be pitied).

“right.”

“and you, are you okay?” you ask armin. armin nods his head at you.

“to the best of my ability.”

“and…” you look back off to your side at jean, who’s still holding the railing of the boat and looking out at the distance, “how about him?”

“he was talking to mikasa earlier and hasn’t said anything to anyone since,” armin bluntly states. you refuse to make eye contact with him.

(the mikasa of it all.

the mikasa of it all is a simple yet utterly painful concept. no matter how much you train, how much you pour your soul into being better, how much you are there for jean, you will never live up to mikasa.

and you are there for jean in an amount that is almost poisonous to you. you watch him watch her pine after eren, you offer him words of support, and in the darkest of moments you offer him yourself.

“jean,” you whisper in the in the night. you both stand leaning against the walls of headquarters, having just come back from a busy day of basically being the backbone behind building the new paradis railway. the chill of the night is biting at your cheeks and fingers and you’re barely able to see each other despite the dimly lit lantern hanging from the wall.

jean’s nose is brushing up against yours, and his breath is fanning your cheek. you had just come out here to talk, to escape the chaos of dinner (you more so believe it was to escape mikasa trying to urge eren to finish his food, but this is something that you can ignore for now as jean softly holds your face in his palms).

“is this okay?” jean whispers back at you, and when you look up into his eyes they are already boring into yours and you’re almost entranced by the reflection of the flickering lantern in them. you wonder if you stare long enough would you be able to make out mikasa’s silhouette in his thoughts?

this is not the first time this has happened. where jean has snuck you away to talk, or to walk, or to on some occasions kiss. and each time you think you feel even more deeply for him and for the way he listens and laughs at what you say. each time you think you disregard the fact that he is secretly wishing you were her more and more. more and more until you simply will yourself to forget. you swallow.

this is all you will ever get from him. that’s okay.

“yes,” you respond.

he offers you a soft and almost fleeting kiss. )

armin nudges you.

“right, okay,” you say, basically mechanically. you avoid armin’s gaze. this is ridiculous. now is not the time to become jealous and insecure of this crush that has plagued you for much too long, and yet here you stand doing exactly that. at the end of the day, you are stuck on this boat until you reach the azumabito hangar. you are stuck watching jean and wondering what it is about you that is not enough for him to be agonising over you and not her.

“maybe you should go talk to him,” armin offers.

“no, i think he’d rather be alone.”

“it’s the end of the world,” armin says. annie slowly walks past the two of you and climbs back down below deck. armin’s eyes momentarily follow her until she’s out of his vision. he looks back at you, “no one should be alone.”

armin stares at you meaningfully, and suddenly your limbs are moving before you will them to and you’re making your way to the other side of the deck. to jean. he turns his head towards you as you approach him and you can feel your stomach tie into a knot. you’ve fought men and titans, and this is what is sending your heart racing.

“hey,” you greet once you sidle up to him. jean offers you a close-mouthed smile. tired.

“hey,” he’s looking at you.

“how are you doing?” you ask as carefully as you can, jean’s smile widens and you both know it’s not out of any rush of happiness.

he laughs sarcastically, “great,” and you feel stupid until he smiles at you again, a real one this time. one that comes from sharing this whole ordeal together, “how are you?”

“fantastic,” you echo a similar sentiment. he huffs out a short laugh and you’re both looking at each other.

out of the context of death and destruction and feeling the weight of the world on your collective shoulders, you think jean looks quite beautiful right now. his eyes are tired, he has scratches across his face, his hair is tousled and there are smears of dirt over his clothes – but you are captivated by this view of him and the ocean. you think it is the most solace you have been offered in the past twenty four hours.

“you know…” you’re suddenly saying, and jean’s eyes are flitting back and forth between yours, “you know you can talk to me, jean.”

jean nods slightly and curtly, sidling up closer to you in what feels like an attempt to make sure you know what he is saying is true, “i know.” he doesn’t break away from your gaze.

“okay,” you say, “just… just reiterating.”

he tears his gaze away from you and stares ahead at the blue once more, and then you hear a slight mumbling from his direction.

“…there really isn’t anyone else i’d rather talk to.”

lie.

(jean always does this thing sometimes. he lies without meaning to, without really understanding the depth of his words. or maybe he doesn’t really understand the depth of how well you know him.

you think he has a habit of saying what he wishes to be true, what he believes to be true through logic and deduction, but not what is actually true.

he’s supposed to meet you straight after dinner outside to go for a walk. it’s not that serious, you’re just hanging out because you’re friends. you’re spending time together because your friends – but unfortunately when it comes to him it is that serious. everything is always that serious and you’re stuck waiting under the same lantern he kissed you at outside (this has become some sort of regular meeting spot now. you wonder if it holds the same significance to jean as it does to you), stuck leaning against a shitty cold wall and wondering what’s taking him so long.

at first, you don’t care – not really anyway. jean is boyish in the way that he has the same boyish stupidity that runs through half of the male population of the regiment under the age of twenty one (even armin). he’s either still eating and taking his time because he’s forgotten, getting caught up talking to someone, or taking a shit.

you venture back into the warmth of headquarters to find him and you know once he spots you he’ll remember and excuse himself.

and you do find him, outside the entryway of the dining hall of course distracted by talking to someone. talking to mikasa. and you know he was on his way out because he’s at the entryway. and some twisted part of you is enraged by the hypothetical of him knowing that you’re being kept waiting and choosing fleeting conversation with her over meeting you. a part of you is enraged by the part of you that is enraged.

and a part of you is slowly sinking back into yourself, hiding in the darkest corners of your body and trying to hold yourself together. trying not to catch onto small snippets of conversation and compare your voice to mikasa’s, your mannerisms to mikasa’s and your flare for conversation to mikasa’s (maybe you need to make yourself smaller and softer and quieter).

and then jean catches sight of you, eyes widening slightly. he holds up his index finger and mouths two words, ‘one second’.

lie.

you feel almost out of your own body when you make your way back outside and wait for ten more minutes.

you know that deep down you are somewhat just a simple distraction for jean from mikasa. whatever he wants you to be, you find yourself already morphed into it. whether a friend to laugh at his jokes or someone to hold. someone to hold him.

that does not make the reminder of it hurt any less. )

“right,” you say, lips pursed.

“what?” jean asks, angling his head to look back at you.

“nothing.”

“oh, come on,” he’s elbowing your side, echoing images of him from when he was just a young cadet, “you can’t hide from me.”

and you can’t help almost laugh to yourself at the irony of that. hiding from him is something you have been doing for years. hiding the true extent of your feelings, hiding the parts of yourself that you think will scare him away (the jealous parts. the upset parts. the angry parts that wish you had never offered yourself to him. that you had kept yourself to yourself.)

“it really is nothing, jean,” you say, placing a hand on his elbow and pushing it back down to his side. you swallow, “compared to all this anyway.”

jean holds your gaze, thinking about your statement and then sighs.

“yeah, i guess everything would be.”

a comfortable silence settles between the two of you, as you both listen to waves breaking and the wind rushing past your ears. you both lean over the railing, eyes squinting as you look out once more. the view does not get old. you don’t think it ever will.

“i hope that with some miracle eren makes it out.”

your head shoots towards jean, and you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to meet your eyes. his jaw clenches and unclenches and his grip on the railing is tighter than necessary.

“yeah,” is all you can say back. you want to give him enough room to speak. to be listened to. even if it means you have to bury whatever it is you may feel or may want to say.

“and i hope we do too,” jean continues.

your heart sinks. the thought that he may not make it terrifies you even more than the thought of your own demise. it’s scary that you feel enough for someone to not even blink an eye at your own imminent death but feel your world may come crashing down at the thought of theirs.

“jean, i –” you’re suddenly blurting out, and the way jean’s head immediately shoots towards you cuts you out of whatever it is you were going to say. you don’t know what it is you were going to say, but it feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of your mouth.

“yeah?”

“i have something to tell you,” you pronounce every vowel and syllable carefully, trying to sound them all out in a way that soothes the way your insides feel like they’re caving in.

jean’s brows scrunch in concern and you can feel him gravitating towards you (which does nothing for your heart), “yeah?”

you can hear hange yelling in the distance and out of the corner of your eye you can make out the hangar slowly coming into view. jean follows your gaze and notices it too, but then he’s looking back at you as more people shuffle across the deck.

“i –” you try to start, but there are more yells. reiner stomps up the steps and onto deck towards hange.

“i –” it gets caught in your throat again as you make out mikasa’s dark hair blowing in the wind and walking over to armin.

jean, filled with sweet concern gently places a hand on your arm, and you wish you could disappear. you wish you could escape this feeling, this aching and this torment. you wish you had never met him. you wish you could be someone else. you wish you could be the perfect someone else for him, the one that is enough.

“i love you,” you blurt out.

you’re staring at him in shock at your own words and he’s staring at you like he’s trying to piece your words together over and over to figure out what they really mean. you swallow and swallow and swallow and your heart runs and runs and runs. there’s more shuffling all around you and suddenly everyone is above deck, chattering and planning and discussing.

but it’s still just you and jean alone at this corner and you can’t hope but pray for this moment between words to go on forever, so you never have to know his reaction. so you never have to plan how to go on after it.

jean’s hand moves from your arm as he now clasps your shoulder. like a comrade.

“i need to go.”

and he makes his way to hange.

you stand and listen to the howling wind alone.

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