#Now they're sick and have lost their hair

[gyuswhore]

Honeymoon Avenue

Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader | @highvern birth special

word count: 8.7k

contains: newlyweds!reader and wonwoo, minor injuries, lots of fluff, multiple smut scenes (MINORS DNI), they're sick and in love its gross

synopsis: You and Wonwoo have said your I dos in front of the entire world, and now it's time to uphold them when it's just you and him.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY MY GUIDING STAR MY WIFE AND PARTNER IN CRIME CAMOTHY @highvern I love you so much this fic is purely to torture you and only you and no one else. you asked for honeymoon wonu and you are receiving honeymoon wonu. I hope you enjoy it ily ily ily

thank you so much to @starlightkyeom for betaing and listening to me yap about this, I love u to the moon and back, and thank you to @shadowkoo for all the help on the banner, ly raven <333

ps: heads up that is isn't very plot heavy I tried something new this time and attempted to let it flow as it came out. hope it holds up!! if you aren't cam then u must pay taxes in A) going to her blog and wishing her a happy birthday, and B) tell me ur thots about the fic in da reblogs heh!!! :3

masterlist

You let out the deepest exhale of your life. 

Haphazardly strewn chairs, and you find the nearest one and plop yourself and your skewed reception dress on the padding. Your numb feet don’t have a chance to thank you immediately, but the tingly feeling means they aren’t entirely a lost cause. 

Slouching as far as your shoulders would go, you pan the nearly empty venue, one that now looks like you accidentally slipped a tornado an invitation. Your eyes land on where Wonwoo is saying goodbye to the last few guests who definitely did not pay heed to your request for temperance at the bar. The uncle grips his bicep like a vice, blubbering congratulations you could hear all the way where you sat. 

Wonwoo’s suit jacket and waistcoat are gone with the wind, hair tousled and spiking every which way—near inverse of the gelled, waxed and styled they sat earlier in the day; the first time you laid eyes on him standing at the altar with the sun in his eyes. The crisp of his shirt is now wrinkled from the dancing and the hugging and every other excessive movement he had to subject himself to today.  The final stragglers are your family, your sister already moving over to push you out of your chair. 

“I just sat down!” you whine, not caring for decorum with the absolute day you’ve had. 

“Go on with him, you have a flight to catch!” she stresses. “We’ll handle everything here.”

Wonwoo catches the last bit as he returns, hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Blatantly, you stare. “Handle what?”

“You guys should go ahead first,” she says. 

“We have some time till we need to start rushing,” he responds, twisting his arm to look at the watch on his wrist. The lights are back on, so you can see him significantly clearer without the disco lights and low spotlights. His forearm is practically in your face, and if you weren’t so exhausted you would’ve taken a dive at the divot, teeth first. 

But you don’t, because what stares you both in the face right now is a month long getaway of blue sky, green waters and lots and lots and lots of completely alone time. Since your sister is already so keen to get rid of you both, Wonwoo decides for you as he excuses himself to grab his strewn clothes. 

She turns to you in his absence, and you immediately know there’s a grenade smoking behind her goading grin. “Well…?”

Brows raised, you’re defiant in your decision to remain nonchalant. “Well what?”

“Are you excited?”

“Of course I am, I just got married.”

“I mean the honeymoon.”

“Who isn’t dying to go Seychelles?” 

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re no fun.”

You shoot her an equally infuriating smile, “You can’t be mean to me today.”

“I already have,” she responds. 

You don’t have a chance to be annoyed because Wonwoo is back, clothes draped over his arm as you are suddenly ushered into saying your last goodbyes. Flats on and heels in hand, ready to peacefully stroll out of the building you got married in. 

You hook your arm around his as you cross the threshold out, the wind pleasant in the pitch black night. Walking to the car, the one you bought together, you feel like the threat of your dangerously full heart might finally erupt. 

All day has been a rushing incline of adrenaline, from the moment you woke up, sticky eyed with bridesmaids over your head, to getting into your dress, to standing behind the giant oak doors that led you to the altar of your future. To the moment you heard the love of your life say I do for everyone who mattered to hear. 

It’s late, and your flats crunch under gravel, pressuring every sore point in your foot. But you don’t care. One of Wonwoo’s arms is draped by his coat, and the other by you, a pressing silence falling over your pair. At peace. 

“I’m glad we didn’t have a grand exit,” Wonwoo speaks your thoughts. 

“Mhm,” you reply. “I like this better.” You look up at him as he halts his steps for a minute, and he leans down to kiss you for the nth time that night. All smiles. 

The finality of an Exit felt like a staggering halt to your special day. You already knew you’d never want it to end, opting to let the night trickle out, ending it with just you left on the floor. 

Something told you this would be more memorable anyway. 

Everything’s packed and ready when you get home, a service to present you from past you. You turn to Wonwoo, who’s toeing his shoes off, who also was a horrendous sport when it came to packing early. 

“Aren’t you glad we did this beforehand?” you taunt, waving your hands at the packed bags near the door. He only smirks, leaning in to grab your face and kiss you again. 

“Of course, wife’s always right,” he mumbles against your lips, and the giddy feeling that’s been simmering all day gushes once again. 

Wife. 

“Welcome to the rest of your life.”

The dim bathroom light seeps into the bedroom, where you scratch your skin with makeup wipes to get the first layer off your tired face. It’s easy to slouch, wanting nothing more than to lay back against the pillows and fall asleep, fully dressed. You’re aware of all the outside germs you’re transferring onto your pristine sheets, but also cannot find the strength to care.

The water shuts off, and you take it as your cue to slug off the bed and take off your dress. Reaching over, your fingers grapple for the hook with no avail, arms already showing the first inklings of a very sore weekend. The zipper isn’t even within your vicinity, fingers aiming for nothing but skin and fabric. 

You smell Wonwoo before you can register he’s out of the shower, the humidity carrying the scent of his body wash to where you stood on the other side of the room. It takes no time for you to feel both his hands on your waist, pulling you towards him before you can open your mouth to ask. 

Cold fingers brush the skin above the hook of your dress, and it takes an effort to not melt into the carpet entirely. The dress is unhooked, the zipper pulled down as you feel the fabric release you into the bedroom air. He helps you push it over your hips, letting it pool onto the floor. 

The sigh you release lingers in the air, prompting him to put his hands on your shoulders, squeezing your shoulders, thumbs digging into the back of your neck to release all the pent up tension. Then your upper arms, where he pulls you even closer, bare back hitting his damp chest. 

“Tired?” he mumbles, arms circling around you and squeezing you tight. 

Leaning back is the easiest thing you’ve ever done, only humming in response as you close your eyes, head against his shoulder. Droplets hit your skin in a cold cascade, his hair still wet. His hands roam around any expanse of skin he can find without releasing his pressure on your form, squeezing and massaging. The weight is welcomed, nearly falling asleep by the time he’s mouthing at your shoulder, breathing in the sweat of your skin.  

“Are you gonna need help in the shower?” he asks. You know he’s not being cheeky, and you consider saying yes seeing as you’re five seconds from falling asleep standing up. 

“I think I’ll be fine,” you mumble. “I’ll keep the door open in case I crack my skull on the tile.”

“Can’t have you dying on our wedding night,” he says.

“Enjoy the life insurance payout,” you crack one eye open, staring up at him.

“How many hours have we been married?” he muses. 

You want to kiss him, suddenly slammed with a tsunami’s force of affection for the man that holds your leaning body against him like an ever-present pillar. Married. 

He lets you go, but not before helping you pick out every last bobby pin in your hair, during which he remains in nothing but the damp towel around his waist. At one point you face him, forehead on his chest as he unravels your hair from the crown. 

“Your towel’s inside, I’ll grab your clothes,” he says when he releases you, letting you walk into the bathroom to wash off the day. 

Simply raising your arms to shampoo your hair is turning out to be a conquest despite the fumes of the scorching water invading your vision. The door is half open, and you can hear Wonwoo shuffling about in the bedroom, no doubt fixing the last bits before you have to leave for the airport. 

Immediately, you sigh, the thought of loading and unloading the uber, going through security, checking your bags and then the god-knows-how-many hours of flight time settling in your bones like an additional phantom ache. By the time you’re done, towel wrapped around your chest and droplets of water still cooling your skin after a half hearted attempt at drying yourself, you’re spent. 

Wonwoo is zipping up a bag when you emerge, unfortunately wearing clothes now. 

“You wanna sit in the towel while I dry your hair,” he asks, already pulling out the hair dryer from the drawer. 

“Are you done packing?” you ask, frowning. 

“Just your toothbrush left.” He plugs it into the outlet. “I’ll grab it while you change.” 

Forehead leaning on his tummy, he tousles the wet mop of your hair as the dryer fills the room with its white noise. That, paired with the bed where you sit, once again, is turning out to be a seductor of a lifetime. 

When he’s done, and brushing out the tangles in your hair, you find the strength to ask him. “Why aren’t you as tired as I am?” 

He chuckles, eyes focused on a knot that’s giving him a hard time. “For starters I slept for five extra hours. You know, considering my side of the party didn’t need to cake their faces.” 

“You didn’t like my makeup?” you jab in jest. 

“I loved it,” he responds, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. “We’ll talk about it on the plane, considering you don’t fall asleep before we can even take off.”

“Or in the car. Or in the lounge.” You yawn openly. “Or right now.” 

When you stand up, you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to touch him for a little bit before attempting to put on clothes. His lips find the crook of your neck immediately, hands gripping you through your towel. 

“I love you,” you mumble against his skin. 

“I love you more,” he responds. “I know I already said it a thousand times, but this is still the happiest I’ve ever been.” 

You have to bite back a snarky reply, but you feel the pool in your eyes anyway. Inexplicably, you hold on to him tighter. Worried if you opened your mouth you’d begin to sob—again. 

He does let go of you, but only when his eyes land on the time. You’re dressed by the time he’s called the Uber and grabbed your toothbrush, shoving it into the front pocket of one of the bags. You’re quite useless the entire time, but Wonwoo doesn’t mind as he loads your limited bags into the trunk. 

You manage to keep your eyes open on the ride to the airport, manage to not be a nuisance as you check in, and make it to the lounge with limited hassle. 

“We only need to wait like twenty minutes, we were pretty on time,” he mentions, handing you a to-go cup of coffee the approximate size of your face. “We get to board first anyway.”

Months ago, while you were thick in the trenches of wedding planning, you went back and forth for a very long time about flight tickets. Not your destination, but the decision between business and economy was a conversation that stretched over weeks. 

Today, with your jelly arms and mushy mind, you thank your heavenly stars through bites of fancy lounge sushi for making the collective decision to splurge. Wonwoo is taking it upon himself to let your friends and family know you’d checked in, while you lean wholly against his arm, dreaming about the flat, comforter clad surface of your plane seat, and the joy you’re going to have for the hours to come. 

Inhaling the amount of coffee that you did in the lounge meant the prior sleep in your eyes had decided to evacuate for the time being, getting tucked into your seat soon after take off. 

To be clear, you were more than happy with your decision on the seat, but you realise quickly that you and Wonwoo are blocked out by a divider between you, closing you off. You assume you were pouting at the realization, because you hear him ask. 

“Don’t like the seat?” 

“No, I do,” you say. “But you’re so far away.”

He smiles, close mouthed, the one where it looks like he might be smirking. An arm snakes over the console, elbow towards you as his forearm rests against it. Immediately, like this was nothing but a usual drive in your car, you lean your head against his arm, your own two arms wrapping around his. 

There’s nothing in the air except the whirring of the plane's engine, the quiet chatter of the cabin as the crew prepares for turndown service. 

A realisation befalls you, that this is the first time you’ve been able to sit down with Wonwoo today, without the constant buzzing in your brain about everything that has gone wrong and what could go wrong. It might be your defeated conscious talking, but it may have even been months. 

Shifting your head so you can look up at him, you speak, “We have to stay married. ‘Cause I don’t think I can plan an entire wedding again.”

“So no vow renewals?”

You raise your brows, surprised this was something he’d be interested in. “Maybe when we’re sixty.”

“Oh,” he frowns. “I was thinking more like every five years.”

“God.”

“I’m glad we decided to do this,” he says. 

“The seats?” you ask. 

He looks at you, and you raise your head from his arm. 

“Getting married.”

“That sounds like an afterthought.” 

“I was nervy,” he says. “It’s like coming out the other side of a roller coaster. Took guts but you’re glad you did it.”

“Glad our special day was a vomit inducing experience for you.”

“Didn’t you cry five times while getting ready?” he jabs. 

Scowling, you turn away. “Who told you that?”

“So you can throttle them in their sleep?”

It was no use, since you were both crying at the altar, but you have a bone to pick with your sister once you’re back home. 

“Go to sleep,” you grumble, removing yourself from his arm. He only laughs, grabbing your arm with a force that pulls you back in. 

He leans into your ear, familiar press of his lips against the skin. “You looked beautiful today.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Similar to this, with his lips pressed against your ear, hours ago on the dancefloor, he said the same thing. Over and over and over. 

“I’m gonna confess something,” he whispers. For a wild moment, your heart is in your throat. 

“What?” you ask sharply. 

“When I went home after our first date—”

“You noted my drink order?”

He nods against your head, “That. And I dreamt of you.”

“Was I pretty?” 

“Prettiest. Big smile like it was the happiest day of your life. In a white dress.”

It’s silent for a moment as neither of you move. The lump in your throat is ever present, breath quickening as you brace for the waterworks. 

“Dang,” is all you say in a watery voice, one that earns you a laugh from him. The absurdity is not lost on you. “What other secrets do you possess?”

“Just that,” he responds. “Didn’t wanna tell you before. Thought you’d freak out and run away.”

“Idiot,” you mumble against his hoodie, tears wetting your lashes. 

You don’t get to continue, because a flight attendant hovers over your joint seats, asking if you’d like to turn down for the night. 

Wonwoo answers for both you and your aching bones. Fatigue would make you gloss over many things about the aftermath of your wedding night for years to come, but you’ll always remember the first night asleep next to your husband over rocky terrain in the sky, with so much changed, yet nothing at all. 

Your first night in Seychelles was a blur, mostly because you both ate room service in expensive robes and watched The Pitt before falling asleep again. 

Eyes closed, you know it’s sunny with the exceeding warmth in the room and the light against your eyelids. Opening them takes a minute, no desire to move in the morning light. At least you think it’s morning. 

Shifting around, you realise you fell asleep in your robe, the tie unravelled, turning it into a loose shrug over your naked form. Through bleary eyes, your eyes meet the linen curtains and how they blow in the wind that pours through the open sliding doors. Blue skies and hanging branches of deep green trees are all you see, and your husband, standing over the railing overlooking your private pool. 

Maybe it was the haze of being half asleep, but for a second it feels like a dream. He’s in a white T-shirt, messy hair indicating he didn’t wake too long before you did, basking in the sunlit glow of the morning. His back is to you, but it’s enough. 

He hardly notices you get up and walk to the bathroom, the rustling of the trees masking most of your movements. When you’re done washing up, robe tightened around your waist, you emerge onto the makeshift porch of your hotel suite. 

Arms immediately make their way around his waist, alerting him of your presence. “Morning,” you mumble into his shirt. 

“Morning, baby,” he shifts so he can hold you too, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “Sleep well.”

“As well as I could.” It was a frivolous question, considering he was well aware you could sleep well on pavement if he was next to you, presence inches away. 

“It’s so pretty in the day,” you comment. The private pool was one thing, but the way the trees and plants hovered over the open area, swaying in the breeze left the impression they’d situated the room in the middle of a jungle. 

“Mhm,” he responds, having had his fill of the view of the hotel, currently more interested in the bare expanse of your neck. His lips trail over the skin, leaving kisses and gentle nips, now caging you between him and the railing. “Pretty.”

Of course, the obvious connotations of a honeymoon hadn’t escaped you—in the weeks leading up to your wedding, there wasn’t a loved one who would let you. But it feels like a delayed reaction after the hectic 48 hours you’ve had, finally at peace in what feels like the most beautiful place in the world. 

You let him grope you over the fabric, let his mouth run over every sliver of skin he can find. Facing him, your hands find the back of his neck to pull him down towards you, mouth to mouth properly. 

You melt, sighing into his mouth as he moves impossibly closer, pressing you against the railing as your head moves further back. Mouthing at your jaw, he lets you push him back in through the open door. 

He understands when you’re being pushed right back into your unmade bed. Pulling at the mountain of comforters, he lets them drop to the floor. “God it’s been torture,” he groans, hands moving up your thighs, through the irregular folds of your robe, cool palms against your hot skin. 

“You wanted to leave right after the reception,” you tease. The robe remains tied, and you make no move to undo it yourself. 

“Didn’t realise I’d have to hold back for this long,” he says, hands reaching the knot. His mouth is back on yours as he undoes it, pulling agonizingly slow. 

Tucking his hands into the undone robe, he runs them over your naked body underneath, pulling the fabric away from your body. Migrating down your neck, his hot breath mixes with the wind coming through the outside, casting shivers down your spine. 

Mouth over your breast, his teeth graze over your skin as he sucks. His free hand gropes your other breast, fingers pinching and flicking over the erect nipple. Head thrown back, you can’t stop the way your hips gyrate on nothing, moving to feel friction of any sort. 

He only lets go when your hands grapple at his shirt, noises of frustration for every passing moment you couldn’t feel his skin on yours. Shirt thrown somewhere behind him, his shorts follow, before ripping the robe off you entirely, leaving you completely bare. 

Moving higher up against the bed, Wonwoo situates himself like he’s about to live there, hands pushing your thighs apart as wide as they could go. In the morning light, he stares his fill of the glistening swells of your core. Fingers grazing over the back of your thighs, he massages the skin closer and closer to where you need him most. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, moving back up to kiss you one more time, deep and long. 

Distracted, his thumb pressing a stripe down your clit catches you by surprise, gasping into his mouth at the feeling. His thumb reaches your hole, catching the wetness at the entrance, dipping shallowly. Travelling back up, he presses into the centre of your clit beginning with tight circles around the area. 

Whining into his mouth, your hands travel to his shoulder, down his arms to grip the muscle. Your other hand grips the sheet as he presses harder into your clit, localising his torture to one tiny area, occasionally rubbing all over. 

“Wonwoo,” you moan into his mouth, hardly kissing anymore as you pant into his mouth. 

Two fingers push into your hole, the pads pushing up against your walls as his knuckles graze over them. He begins to pump in and out, scissoring his fingers to open you wider. The feeling has you throwing your head back, breathless. 

When he removes his fingers you nearly scream, but his hand is at the waistband of his boxers, just as desperate as you feel. The tent is obvious even as he pulls the fabric down, watching his painfully erect member slap against his stomach. Your hands wrap around his own that lay at the base, caressing past to pump him as he positions himself between you. 

It’s hypnotising, the redness of his tip, the way it leaks onto your fingers after just a few strokes. Wonwoo’s face is pained, and you realise he may have been serious about feeling tortured. 

Not that you were any less desperate, but the agony of needing to remain celibate for the weeks leading up to your wedding weren’t planned—you could hardly find time to eat and sleep. It flew over you, that it might've been a little tougher on him than it was on you, but when you pull him in closer, you make sure that changes. 

Knees bent, he pushes your thighs apart as he settles in. He sinks in slowly, “Oh this is gonna be quick.”

You don’t mind, because you’ve remained untouched long enough to not last very long either. “Right there with you,” you groan out, engulfed by the stretch. 

He’s slack jawed, hair falling over his eyes as he struggles to keep his eyes open. His fingers dig into the plump your thighs, gripping them like they were the only things keeping him tied down to earth. 

It’s bliss, even as he remains stationary for a moment, buried into you till the hilt. Slowly, he pulls out, rocking back in. He picks up the pace, folding your legs over as he watches the way he disappears into your wet pussy, milky white beginning to rim at the base of his cock, a mix of your slick wetness and his precum. He nearly cums at the sight. 

Your fingers play with your stiff nipples, head thrown back as you moan without a care of your volume or coherence, Wonwoo’s name on your lips like a mantra. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it in circles as you whine loudly at the feeling. 

“You feel so good,” he moans, hips snapping up to slap against the back of your thighs. “So good, you’re so good.”

Eyes blown open as he slams a hard one into you, his groaning and moaning ensuing another warm gush out of you. 

Wonwoo pauses for a moment, ducking closer to lay his forehead on yours, his spread legs keeping yours apart, hands coming up to cup the top of your head to protect you from the hard headboard. 

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear with effort. “I love you so much.”

“Fuck, I love you too,” half sobbing. 

“You’re amazing,” he blabs, words hardly coherent. “All mine. Mine forever. All of you.”

His words, paired with the hand that grazes over your tits, down to your swollen clit to rub it harsher than before, is enough to send you careening over the edge. 

“Won—oh my god, Wonwoo I’m cumming,” you moan so loud you’re sure it’s carrying over. But you don’t care, because you wonder how you went so long without clenching around his dick like this, gushing over him as he pounded into you like it was his last day on earth. 

He holds you steady as he rides you through it, the contracting of your walls pushing him into his own orgasm, shuddering in your hold as his thrusts become increasingly sloppy yet running with force. 

It’s euphoric, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls, leaving his traces where no one else could ever touch you. The thought sends him into overdrive, thrusting into you long past his release dripping out of you, pooling onto the pristine sheets, glazed over your gorgeous skin. 

Resting his head against your collarbone, he breathes in the salt of your sweat, mixed with the scent he calls home. 

It feels like an eternity, both of you silent as the wind blows into the room over your sweaty forms, laying there in each other’s arms. Wonwoo continues to keep his mouth on you, your shoulders, tummy, waist, worshipping every last inch of your being as you catch your breath intertwined in his heat. He’s at your knees where your legs fold, hand wrapped around your ankle as he caresses it with his thumb, leaving kisses above your knee. 

For a moment, he rests his head against your thigh, and the world becomes clearer. His silhouette against the light, the nature beyond your crystal windows. The weight of him now, the traces of his touch that persist, to lay here bare for your lover for life—a glimpse into the rest of time. 

The moment is ruined when you feel your stomach growl, and Wonwoo is close enough to hear the rumble. He shifts so he can look at you, “Shower time? I think I saw a restaurant downstairs.”

The shower went from quick to an extra thirty minutes, considering you’d hardly washed the shampoo off before he pushes you against the tiled wall to kiss you breathless, water going cold over you as he works you with his fingers again, the thudding of water hitting the shower floor paired with the squelching of his fingers dipping in and out of your already spent hole, and the pants and moans that fill your ears. 

He needs to help you into your clothes after that, which he chuckles through before pulling you to the hotel restaurant. Housing down everything in sight, Wonwoo remembers to keep your glass full in an attempt to keep you from choking on croissants of all things. 

“Do you wanna hit the beach after this?” you ask.

“I was thinking about a nap before that,” he says, belting out a burp that earns him a kick under the table. It shakes, earning you looks from the rest of the vacationers. He only laughs, “But I could nap on the beach.”

Wonwoo does not, in fact, nap on the beach and instead follows your example as you pack a book in your beach bag, realising very quickly he brought none of his own, choosing to snipe one of the many you brought for yourself. 

It’s you needing to turn your brain on this time, because the random book he’s grabbed has him so enraptured at the synopsis you have to pull him away from slamming directly into people and poles alike. There’s posters and notices as you walk through the connection that leads to the beach; cocktail classes, trivia nights, and tutorials on Seychellois cuisine. 

“Isn’t this that movie you watched on the plane?” he asks, reading the Crazy Rich Asians on the front cover. 

“Mhm, didn’t mean to pack that, I’m reading the sequel right now,” you hum as you look for the path that leads to the beach, hand in his. 

It’s a gamble as the view of the white sands and water come into view, visibly smiling as you see the near empty sands. It was the off season, which you expected to mean less of a crowd. 

Finding a double beach chair is easy, dumping your things as you make yourself comfortable. “Water’s nice.” Wonwoo comments, and you wonder if you did wrong with keeping your bathing suit away for today. 

Squeezing a generous amount of sunscreen onto your hands, you agree with him as you dot his face with sunblock. He lets you rub it in as he looks over the water, perfectly aware that he’d never willingly put sunscreen on his face if it were up to him. He’s done, and he settles in while you protect yourself. 

Leaning against Wonwoo’s arm, you’ve both grabbed your books under the giant parasol. The sun is out and warm just right, deep sounds of crashing waves, and the smell of salt—-you feel giddy. 

The beachside bar is seconds away from bringing you your cocktails when his hand finds your thigh, tracing his fingers over the skin, while his other holds open the book he’s reading, twisting the cover back like a heathen. 

It’s perfect. 

“These are good,” Wonwoo pauses to comment, brows furrowing at the flavour of your espresso martini and his cosmopolitan. 

“I think I saw something about a cocktail class at the hotel. We could try it later.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, sipping his drink again. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, but both your glasses are now empty and Wonwoo seems to be growing distracted after a few hours. It’s still late afternoon upon you as he announces he’s going to dip his feet in the water.

You think about it, and walk to the shallow end behind him, leaving your flip flops near the chairs. The sand is plush beneath your feet, cool between your toes despite the warm afternoon. Walking closer, the water is almost blinding with the way the sun dances on its crystal surface, waves breaking and sending pleasant sprays as you walk closer. 

You gasp audibly as the water touches you, turning to look at Wonwoo wide eyed and giddy. Colder than you’d expected, washing over your ankles and shins as you walk further into the water, pulling up the hems of your skirt to keep it from getting wet. 

Wonwoo leans down to touch the water, fingers dipping into the clear, coming up to splash you with a handful. It earns him a yelp from you as he laughs, but you soon recover and send another one right back. You don’t panic till you see both of his hands cup enough water to practically drown you. 

“Wonwoo, I didn’t bring extra clothes!” you yell, already running away. 

The irony doesn’t escape you, considering sprinting through the water has wet your clothes more than his splashes. But you're laughing harder than your breath can catch, and even more so when his wet hands grab you by the torso and pull you back in a lurch, suspended in the air for a moment. 

“Wonwoo!” 

It’s funny for a few minutes, still encased in a fit of giggles as you kick at the water. Until it isn’t.

Wonwoo separates from you for a moment, venturing a little deeper into the water, swearing he saw a ring of colourful fish swim past the shallow end. You’re in the middle of convincing yourself to follow him when you hear him suddenly splash at the water with shocking force. 

Stunned, you hardly register what’s just happened, thinking you’ve just heard him yell. He’s out of the water before you, hunched over and grabbing at his calf. By the time you reach him, you can see it. 

An ugly red slash across his calf, long and thin. It looks like a chemical burn. 

“What—”

“Shit,” he curses. An anomaly, considering you’ve only heard Wonwoo curse about five times in the years you’ve known him. 

“What is that?” you ask, immediately on your knees to get a closer look. It’s growing redder by the second, the swelling clear. 

Wonwoo stretches over to try to see, “That might’ve been a jellyfish.”

“You weren’t even in that deep!” 

“Deep enough I guess,” he winces. 

Bringing him to the shallow end, you try to pour more seawater on his reddened skin, hoping your memory is serving you right and you aren’t just making it worse. 

A few minutes later, a life guard is applying a topical cream on the area and giving you instructions to let the wound soak in warm water, assuring him he can get back in the pool in a couple days. 

Once the shock wears off, it’s almost a little funny. “That’s a story we’re gonna be telling forever,” you mumble as he gets up from the table in the tiny lifeguard tent. 

The man turns to you, “It happens sometimes, people usually just sleep on it and have a great rest of their vacation. Don’t worry about it too much.”

You thank him as you mutually decide to call it a day, moving back towards the hotel. Wonwoo seems alright, walking fine as he holds your hand talking about dinner plans. You suggest room service by the pool so he can keep off his leg, but insists he wants to try the traditional spot just outside the hotel. 

Heeding, you let him pull you back into the hotel room to clean up and rest. Except this time he’s serious about the nap. 

Wonwoo doesn’t fight you when you suggest staying off the beach today, choosing to occupy yourselves with the cocktail class instead. 

It’s in the hotel so you don’t have to leave the premises, the venue moderately full when you enter the room. The instructor introduces himself as Marcus, taking the time to make small talk with you both as you wait for everyone else to file in. His face lights up when Wonwoo tells him this was your honeymoon, very outwardly enthusiastic about having a couple in the class. 

So much so, that when the class eventually does begin, you hear a loud call for congratulations from the room for the only newlyweds (you). Mortified a little, you both fluster in your thank yous, attempting to move the attention back to the front where Marcus remains jovial as ever. 

“I think that’s too much ice,” you comment, attempting to compare the pile in your glass to Marcus’ up front. 

“No, it’s one scoop. It’s what he said,” Wonwoo says, but he’s beginning to look a little lost. 

“Doesn’t that look like a lot?” you ask, not convinced. But there isn’t much you can do about it, because you’re suddenly being asked to find one of the syrups on the counter, still rummaging while Marcus is already two steps ahead of you. 

It’s hard not to giggle, the energy from your station overwrought. But as you finally make your first drink after 20 whole minutes, you stand with straight shoulders. 

It’s another two hours of this, spilling precious spirits on the counter, floor and yourself, hands stained with syrups and fingers numb from picking up the giant spill of ice courtesy of your husband. You have to duck under the table for a moment, knowing your chortles would disrupt the class even more than you’ve done unintentionally already. 

Making cocktails meant drinking cocktails as you made even more cocktails. Marcus only seems to encourage the class to get day drunk, but that only resulted in added chaos. 

But even when you’re back in your hotel room, tipsy and giggly, you’re glad you did it. 

Wonwoo is spread eagle on the bed, still laughing about tripping over air in the hotel lobby. You join him, tucking yourself into his arm. Head lolling over to look at you, he dips his head down to kiss you, lips over your own in a close mouth peck. He doesn’t stop, lingering with every press to your mouth, still slightly smiling against your lips. 

“It’s been a day and this is already the best trip of my life,” he mutters against your lips. You’re very aware of it this time, a habit he’s had forever. 

You flashback for a moment, and suddenly you’re both a lot younger, alot less wise with constantly flushed cheeks in each other’s presence. It’s at the door of your old apartment, the same one where he would take you in more ways than one in the following months and years. 

But for now, it was your third date, and you were shifting your weight between your feet, trying not to feel disappointed as he bid you a goodnight with nothing but a smile and a wave. Mustering a smile of your own, you unlock the door and begin to walk in. 

Except instead of descending steps, there’s a pause. And Wonwoo was back before you could even cross the threshold. He didn’t ask when he cupped your face and planted one on you, mouth to mouth for the very first time, one hand over your door handle and the other on his wrist. 

“Sorry that took so long,” he mumbled against your mouth, the first time of many, sheepish smile on his face. 

But your heart felt like it was about to burst, so you went in for another one, opening your mouth to kiss him properly. And then the door had shut behind you both, and you’d dragged him inside. 

Tipsy haze and a little love drunk in your hotel room, on your honeymoon, you laugh against his mouth. “What,” he asks, laughing with you over nothing. 

“I’m glad you didn’t chicken out that night. After the drive in.” 

Wonwoo doesn’t need any more information, because the events of the day were ingrained into his mind like a brand. Not your first date, but your third, where he almost didn’t kiss you, where he almost never took the steps back up the stairs, where you almost slammed the door in his face. 

“I don’t think I would’ve wanted a fourth if you didn’t do it,” you say, eyes locked in on him. 

The thought scares him, that tiny mistake that never happened, how it would have altered the trajectory of his life. It’s terrifying, dread settling into his stomach. To this day he’s unsure why he’d hesitated as much as he did, especially considering he dreamt of your wedding the first night after he’d laid eyes on you. 

“You looked sad,” he says. “Disappointed. Just, not happy. I thought that meant you didn’t enjoy yourself, but…I was on the staircase when I realised I felt sad too.” 

He leans into you, lips planting kisses on the apples of your cheeks, to your fluttering eyelids, “Didn’t think much after that. Glad I didn’t, because I probably would have chickened out in the end.”

“We’re married,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “Can you believe that?”

“I can’t. Sometimes I still wake up and think I dreamt you up.”

“Are you calling me unreal?”

“Because you are,” he says. “I’m not sure how you exist.” 

That sticky feeling engulfs you again, and you know it’s because you’re a little drunk, but you’ve been teary enough to last you a lifetime just these past few days. Before you turn into a blubbering mess, you push yourself up. 

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I’m gonna go ahead and be unreal and not exist in the pool we are yet to use.”

He stares as you get up, walking to your open suitcase to rummage around for your stack of bathing suits. He remains on the bed, head propped up with his arm as he watches, content. 

You don’t bother with going to the bathroom, stripping off your shirt and shorts in the room. You fish out a green piece, only to hear a refute. 

“Where’s the yellow?” he asks, and you fish around to come out with the butter yellow two piece you didn’t realise he even knew you had. 

“Actually,” he slips off the bed, walking over to open the sliding doors that lead to the outside, glancing around. “Do you really need it?”

You only give him a look, proceeding to go to the bathroom to change out of your underwear anyway. He makes a noise of disapproval, but you respond with the loud sound of the door locking shut. 

When you emerge Wonwoo has soothed himself by taking a dip into the pool himself. You have to laugh, watching him paddle through the water with his swim goggles on. 

“Does it hurt? The sting?” you call out as you sit by the edge of the pool, dipping your feet in the water to start yourself off. 

He breaks the surface, hair flat over his head like a bowl. He spits out a mouthful of water before calling out, “No! I put the topical on this morning, I think it’s working.” 

If that were you, you’d probably be out of commission for the rest of the holiday, but as he dives back in to check how long he can hold his breath for, you want to applaud him. You jump in after a few minutes, finally getting yourself wet. 

Wonwoo comes over to you, letting you wrap your legs around him as you float as one. You do, however, rip the goggles right off his face. He doesn’t refute, letting them sink to the bottom of the pool. 

“Don’t you think I’m so strong?” he asks. 

“I’d say the water’s doing most of the work,” you note. 

“I meant my fatal injury.”

“Hardly fatal if you’re making jokes about it,” you snort. “Do you feel like a man?”

“Yeah.” He’s smiling a dumb smile, and you know he can hardly see a thing without his glasses. “Are you impressed?”

“So impressed,” you sigh, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. 

You let him go for a little bit, wanting to float by yourself for a while. As the sky breaks through branches of low hanging trees and giant green flats of leaves, you realise your not-soberness is probably contributing to how psychedelic the view looks. 

But you aren’t complaining, content with the weightless feeling. 

Wonwoo can’t help himself from meddling for too long, because suddenly you're being lifted off the surface just to be dunked under the water, flailing for a moment before breaking the surface. 

“Wonwoo!” you screech, but he’s already on the opposite end of the pool, laughing maniacally. You’re rethinking your stance on drunk Wonwoo, because you aren’t liking him too much. 

He’s unfortunately a faster swimmer, but you have him cornered in the pool. He makes to go below, escaping your wrath of you and your dripping wet hair, but instead you hear him yell. 

Through the water, you watch him grab his calf, face contorted like he banged the sting wound on the wall of the pool. Immediately, you move forward to check on him.

“Does it hurt?” you ask sharply, mind already racing to where the topical was inside the room.  

But you should’ve known, because as soon as you’re close enough for him to grab, you’re being snatched off guard and caged between him and the pool wall. 

You want to stay mad at him, but it’s difficult when you note how his shoulders are blocking the entire sun from view, casting you in a shadow shaped like your husband. 

“What was that for?”

He only shrugs, hands roaming the expanse of your skin in the water. “I missed you.” 

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to break free. He blocks you, whining as he buries his face into your neck. “I said I missed you.” 

Another thing about drunk Wonwoo—his sex drive shoots for the clouds. 

Even now as he’s mouthing the side of your neck, you can feel him through his swim trunks, pressing you against the pool wall, water spilling over the edge. His input on your choice of swimwear should’ve been your sign, but as he fiddles with the straps of your bottoms, you decide to resign into him. 

Water is Wonwoo’s biggest enemy as he finds out how difficult it is to create friction like this, the tent in his bottoms pressing against your stomach. You decide you’re going to be nice, palming him through his trunks. Your other hand is around his middle, roaming to his front as you let them wander over his skin. 

He groans contently into your neck, coming up to take your mouth. His tongue pushes in, and you let him lick and suck on your tongue, pulling away only to go right back in. It seems your hands aren’t enough, because he’s suddenly gripping you by the sides and pulling you out of the water, finding yourself sitting by the poolside. 

There’s water everywhere as you get a headstart, but he’s enthusiastic even while tipsy, lifting you off the ground at the steps. To your surprise, he doesn’t head for the bedroom, and instead places you on one of the beach chairs on the porch. 

“Wonwoo,” you begin, slightly scandalised. 

“It’s just us,” he says, nipping at the shell of your ear. 

It was sheltered enough, canopied but exposed enough to have you giggling through it. Wonwoo is an efficient man, not a second wasted as he rids you of your bottoms, his own swimming trunks coming off, landing somewhere on the floor with a wet thwack. 

He’s sinking into you within seconds, hovering over you as he mouths your cleavage spilling out of your bikini top, licking and dragging his tongue over your skin. You move to take it off, but he stops you. 

“No,” he says sharply, pinning your hands in front of you. “Stays on.”

So maybe you underestimated how much he liked it, but you can’t bother to think about it when he picks up his pace, slamming into you so hard the chair rattles and shakes beneath you. Your wrists remained tied with his hand, reaching out as far as you can to touch his stomach, needing to feel him somehow. 

The noises you're making are only fueling him, hand coming up to squeeze your breast through the wet fabric, slipping his fingers underneath to play with your nipple, erect from the cold. His knees are in place steadfast on either side of the beach chair, and you have to ask.

“Isn’t that–humph–burning?” you ask through pants. 

“Don’t,” he thrusts up hard, “care.”

Taking a moment, you look up at him, and he’s enamoured with the sight of your wet body in front of him, but all you can see is how he manages to encase you with his body alone, the flop his hair over his beautiful eyes, How pretty he looks in the partial shade. How in love he looks with you. 

His thrusts are getting sloppier, and you’re moaning so loud it’s beginning to hurt your throat. “Wonwoo, I think—”

“Me too, me too, me too,” he babbles as he feels the familiar clamp of your walls around him, the mesmerizing arch of your back, the way you rip your hands from his hold, only to seize his arms to ground yourself as you ride out your high. He doesn’t fail to abuse your clit, fingers pressing and rubbing just hard enough to send you to a place so far away from here. 

“Oh…Wonwoo, fuck, that’s so–so good.” It sounds like a sob, and maybe you are crying a little bit. 

He follows you on your descent, hips harried and face contorted like he’s forgotten how to hold himself back. He cums inside you, and you can’t help moaning at the feeling. 

He’s hardly brought himself down to Earth when you’re being yanked towards the side of the beach chair, legs over the edge. There’s a loud groan from the chair as it's yanked to the side so Wonwoo can sit on the floor in front of you. 

Legs thrown over his shoulder, he watches as the white of his cum leaks out of your raw hole, the sight nearly giving him another erection before he can even dry off. His mouth meets your cunt, lapping at the mix of his cum and your release off your thighs, your hole, spilled over your clit. 

You’re overstimulated, but you only prop yourself on your forearms to watch him suck on your clit like he was starved, tongue flat on the muscle as he rubs against your folds. His finger pushes through your entrance, the sound downright sinful as he pumps his cum in and out of your hole. The second orgasm hits you like a truck, shaking like you’d lost yourself on the chair as you finish hard. Seeing stars in daylight, painting the blue sky. 

When Wonwoo emerges, eyes dazed and a slight smirk on his face, he’s panting, leaning against your thighs. He places one last open mouthed kiss against your thigh before dealing with your jellied form, slumping against the chair as you attempt to relearn how to breathe. 

“You–” you pant. “We need to get drunk more often.”

He only grins at your suggestion to turn into alcoholics for the sake of mind blowing sex.

“I love you,” he says as he scoops you up into his arms, and you want to ask what ounce of superhuman strength he even had left to pull you into a sitting position, seeing as your own muscles are of no help whatsoever. 

Your legs are swung across his thighs as you sit on his lap till you can recover. His mouth is covered in your bodily fluids, but you’re reminded what love feels like when you let him kiss you all over regardless. 

“I love you too,” you say. “And I’ll keep loving you if you keep eating me out like that.”

“What happened to unconditional love?” he laughs. 

You push back the wet mop of his hair, letting his face come into full view. 

“Still unconditional,” you respond. “Always unconditional.”

He leans in to kiss you, and you immediately taste the salt on his tongue, but all you want is to move deeper. 

“Unconditional,” he mumbles into your mouth, and you're immediately smiling. 

He pulls away for a moment, staring at you for a moment. “I think you’ve recovered.”

“Hm?” you question. 

You know the answer when you’re suddenly being yanked by the hand back inside. “Wonwoo,” you scream as he gives you no room to prepare, pulling you indoors while the sliding door slams shut behind you. 

Yeah. You like how forever is turning out. 

[gallusrostromegalus]

So it's national Recreational Explosives, Hand Loss and Wildfire day, and unlike 2023, there is nary a drop of rain in sight.

Despite being slapped upside the head by God, my put technically inclined neighbor has acquired TWO pallets of fireworks this year.

The state is of no help: my city police department has made it pretty clear they don't intend to respond to any fireworks calls this weekend. I've sent the pictures I took to the county tipline and received and automated email reply saying that it will take several weeks to process my case. Perhaps he will get jail time later, but this does not actually you know. Stop him from setting the neighborhood ablaze. Going up to his door the week prior and very politely asking him to move- not cancel, just relocate - his celebrations was met with calling me a "nosy bitch" and "I'll set one off in your ass!".

Sometimes God needs us to make our own miracles.

My miracle comes with several layers, and plenty of opportunities to back down without losing face. We'll see how many are needed.

The first wave has already been deployed: a psyop directed at the Visiting Mother In Law of the miscreant.

I got up at 8:30 AM this morning to make sure I'd be in the front yard of my house, casually doing yardwork with Herschel. His participation was essential.

For those of you who are new here, Herschel is the world's most charming Cardigan Welsh Crime Tube, who thinks everyone in the world is his best friend and that people come to the house to see him specifically. So at 9:04 AM when the visiting mother-in-law appeared around the corner on her daily power-walk around the block, Herschel employed his natural Corgi instinct to make friends with everyone and cheerfully tossed himself on the sidewalk in front of her, belly up for expected tummy rubs.

"OH AREN'T YOU DARLING!!" My target coos, kneeling down to pat him while he makes him like snuffling noises of glee. She is at least 70. I think her bright pink leg warmers and terrycloth headband might be original from her jazzercise days.

"I'm so sorry! Herschel you're going to trip people doing that!" I apologize, going up to greet the woman. "I'm [REDACTED], I don't think we've met..?"

"No, I'm just visiting my daughter and her family- my name is Barbara. And who is this?" She asks Herschel, whose whole back end is waggling with glee.

"This is my service dog Herschel." I explain while he rolls around on the pavement. "I just wanted him to get some time outside before the pyrotechnics start."

"Oh. Yes." Barbra grumbles and I know I've got her. "My son-in-law is planning something extravagant." She says with such disdain it practically comes out of her nose. This is a woman who loves her daughter and dearly wishes she married someone, anyone else.

"Yeah, he got rained out and sick the last two years, so I think he's compensating." I agree.

"Oh he's definitely overcompensating!" Barbra spits, then shakes her whole body like a dog. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't complain. You said he's a service dog?"

I go for it.

"Yeah! I have... Neurological problems." I say and that is technically true. "I've um. Lost a lot of things, like a sense of time, or appetite, and his job is to remind me to eat or take my meds or alerts that I'm having an episode. My personal dog-tor!" I say, patting his adorable little head, and he leans on me, equally adoring.

"Oh, is that why-?" Barbra starts to ask, gesturing at the top of her head, but stops herself.

I hadn't planned this, but yesterday I'd shaved my head to deal with the heat and now only have a quarter inch of hair, which doesn't really hide the scars from when I got run over by a minivan. They're bright red with the heat and exertion of yard work.

I decide I'm okay with lying to a stranger to prevent my house from being set ablaze.

I sort of... Crumple to the ground and drop the rake I was holding, and Herschel immediately climbs into my lap to comfort me as I start to cry.

"Oh my God." Says Barbra.

"I'm sorry!" I gasp, tears streaming down my face. I've been stressed and this is honestly very cathartic. "I'm sorry to dump on you, I'm just so scared-!"

"Oh my God. It's bad." Barbra realizes.

"D- do you know what-" a pause as Herschel tries to manually clear my nostrils like a good service dog. "-oh, Herschel... It's - do you know what an astrocytoma* is?"

*An astrocytoma is a type of brain tumor.

Barbra turns white and sits down next to me. "I'm so sorry... I- one of my friends from church had one, it was agony but she's alright now!" She tries to reassure me.

"It hurts! Everything hurts all the time!" I sob. "And- and I'm scared, so he's scared and I feel bad for hi which just makes it worse and then there's the-" I gesture at the sky. "I have surgery in a month to remove as much of it as they can and do biopsies to see if I need radiation too but..."

"-but all that noise must be Hell on you and your doggy." Barbra nods.

"It'd be fine if he went down to the lake of something but, that house's driveway is like, a hundred feet from my bedroom, I can't sleep and it TERRIFIES Herschel..." I whimper pathetically.

"Well. I may be able to do something about that." Barbra decides.

"Oh no, I don't want to intrude!" I mock-protest.

"No, we're the ones intruding dear. I'll have words with him." She growls. I get the impression she's been waiting for an excuse To Have Words With Him.

"Th-thank you. Um. It's getting hot and I'm a mess, we should probably go inside..." I mutter and Barbra very kindly helps me and Herschel to the front door and tells me she'll be by later with watermelon as we wave goodbye.

From the porch, I watch her furiously power-walk back to her daughter's house, wrench open the front door, and issue a battle cry of "HEN-RY!!!" before it slams behind her.

Now I realize that this may not have been the most honest or ethical thing to do, but I figured it's more polite and ethical than the next step, which is chemical warfare, courtesy of Bath & Body Works :)

[valentina-writes]

Here's an idea for a Azriel x reader fanfic if you're interested! Azriels mate is pregnant and she is a cauldron made high fae. While he's away on a mission. She is taken by his half brothers and put in the cell he spent the early years of his life. Azriel must go rescue her. We love a protective azriel

no grave (can hold my body down)

Azriel x reader

summary: shortly after you find out you're pregnant with Azriel's baby, two illyrians kidnap you on a mission. But it turns out they're not strangers, after all.

warnings: physical violence, predatory behavior, pregnancy, hurt/comfort

genre: angst, (a bit of fluff) | words: 4.3k | masterlist

A/N: Thanks for the idea, anon! Funny enough, I was thinking about opening requests again when this came in (I'll update you on that soon). I really hope you like it ;)

It was a routine mission, nothing more. A quick trip to the illyrian steppes to gather healing herbs, at your own request. To free your head. You had done this countless times, winnow in, pick herbs, winnow out. But not this time.

You were crouched in a meadow, trying to identify the many plants. Every now and then, you pulled out a little booklet with descriptions of the herbs you were looking for, comparing them. But your mind was elsewhere. This morning, Madja had visited you, after weeks of feeling unwell, vomiting and utter exhaustion. Her beaming smile, the wrinkles forming in the corners of her eye, had been a shock, much like her words. You're pregnant, dear.

Pregnant. And instead of being excited, you had felt sick to your stomach and immediately fled from Velaris before Azriel returned from his own mission. And here you were now. It wasn't that you didn't want this baby, or that you were scared Azriel would be anything but elated. But it would change your lives so drastically, so suddenly.

You quietly hummed a sweet melody to yourself. What would he say? What would you do?

Over your song, you didn't hear the birds stop chirping and the wind stilling. Lost in thought, you kept hacking away at the plants before you.

"Who do we have here?". You stilled and then turned, drawing your knife.

It was Azriel standing before you, your beautiful mate. You let your knife sink. His big wings were folded against his back, his soft dark hair blowing in the breeze. You opened your mouth in surprise. He stepped closer. "If that isn't little Y/N".

Why was he here? Why was he talking like this? He was unlike himself, but you couldn't quite make it out. Something about him was different, you mused. Your gaze wandered over him, trying to understand. The wind stilled, and then you saw it. There were no shadows. And the hand, hovering over the knife, that wasn't truth-teller, was unmarked.

You bolted, dropping the pouch you had gathered the herbs in. That had been the first lection Azriel had ever given you. Run. Bring as much distance between you and the opponent as you can and then winnow.

Five steps. That was how far you got, because right before you, another illyrian dropped from the sky. He looked less like Azriel, but the similarity was still startling. So much that you lost a precious second staring at him. A second he used to grab your arms in place and throw away your knife. And he blew something into your face, a kind of powder that left a heavy metallic tang in your nostrils. Faebane. Strong hands gripped you by your neck from behind.

"My favorite sister in law", Azriel's brother before you crooned, "what a shame the invitations for the mating ceremony got lost. I would've loved to see the bastard-union". The faebane burned in your nose and in your mouth. The grip of the male behind you was so strong around your neck that you were fighting for each intake of breath, trying to cough out as much of the poison as possible.

Don't panic, you thought to yourself, fighting to stay composed. You gathered all of your magic, tried to fold the cosmos and step right into the next world. You imagined the old woods and fields of fire-like flowers and gathered all your energy. But the power escaped your grasp. It wasn't enough to winnow. Not to a different world, not to Velaris, not even to the other side of the meadow. The power inside you had dwindled into a small spark.

And the bond. The mating bond inside your chest numbed down, its glow being cast into darkness. You grasped at it, but it escaped your reach. With your last spark of power, you grapped the bond, refused to let go, even when it ran tight and fickle, and tugged. Hard. Harder than ever and only let go when the bond went fully dark.

"You will die". They didn't expect you to fight. The surprise was on your side when you kneed the one in front of you straight in the groin. His eyes widened and the warrior dropped to his knees, but still wouldn't let go. A second kick made him groan, dropping his arms and cursing under his breath. But there was no way you could shrug off the other one, his hands still tight around your neck. Not without the knife. You clawed at his hands, kicked at him, but he was just too big and you were too exhausted. Your cauldron-given powers were stolen from you. Under normal circumstances they would've been dead the second they laid hands on you. Not today.

He was hard against you now. Bile rose up in your throat at the feeling of him rubbing against you. "What a feisty little bitch you are", he whispered into your ear. And then he squeezed your neck hard and the world turned dark.

It was dark around you. A blackness so infinite you couldn't make out your own hand engulfed you. You had no recollection how you got here. The stone floor you lay on was nastily cold and wet, draining any warmth from your body. Any energy from you and the baby. The baby. Your hand shot to your stomach and chains rattled on the floor at the movement. They had shackled you. The cuffs were ice-cold around your wrists and so tight it hurt. A whimper escaped your lips. With soft strokes, you caressed your stomach. How unfair it was for this little baby. In a few weeks, you would start to show, you realized. You forbid yourself imagining what Azriel's brothers would do to your unborn child if they found out.

You sat upright. The chains that bound you to the wall allowed you to move through the cell. You explored every inch of it. There was nothing but cold stone and a bucket to relieve yourself. No door. Not even a window. This was the place Azriel had spent his childhood in, you were sure of it. He seldom talked about this time period. But from what you knew, from what he screamed during his nightmares and afterwards whispered to you, gasping for breath, this was it. Now, often you woke up screaming, too, haunted by dreams of a little winged boy sharing your cell. But you didn't allow yourself to cry. Not once.

Had he even felt the last tug you had given the bond? Azriel was on the continent, as far as you knew. Maybe your magic had been too weak, the distance too far. There was no way of knowing whether he was aware that you were gone. But then again, you tried to console yourself, Rhys knew exactly where you had last been. They will rescue me, you repeated again and again. They will find me.

You couldn't tell how much time had passed already. In the beginning, you screamed and shouted and tugged on the shackles, so hard the skin rubbed away and left a bloody mess. Every now and then, you tried reaching for the bond, for your mate. But it was gone, just like your powers.

The only thing that disturbed the emptiness of the cell was stale bread and water. Sometimes it seemed like not even an hour had passed between meals, sometimes it felt like days. The food was poisoned, you were sure. But, after a few days, hunger won over all else, and you ate the faebane. Everytime you ate, you prayed to the Mother. Not the baby. Let it survive. Don't let the poison affect it.

There was no way to tell the time, not even a sound from outside the cell reached you, but more than a week must have passed before they came to see you. Light broke the dark void. Violent beams of it hit your eyes, blinding you almost entirely after - what? - days? weeks? in the darkness. You had no clue how long you had been here already.

"How is little Y/N?", a deep voice sounded. His face was unrecognizable, so blinded were you, but it was the one you had kicked in the balls, you were fairly certain. His tone was pure mockery. "Tired of this yet?"

You wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing your distress. "What do you want?"

"See how my little bastard sister in law is doing, of course".

"If you're so concerned for my wellbeing, maybe you shouldn't have put me in a cell"

"No, I think you're exactly where you belong. Where he also belongs". Your heart twisted. Azriel had spent years in this cell. Images of his child-self forced its way into your mind. His hands, freshly burned and torturingly painful. His wings, useless and limp because they had never taught him to use them. You slowly breathed in. Now you needed to be strong for all three of you. Not despair.

"Let me go. I haven't done anything to you. I don't even know you. Let me out"

"You're right. But word says not only the Archeron sisters came out of the Cauldron and took something from it. That when you were made you bargained with the Mother herself and she loved you so much she gave you a power like no other". Your blood ran cold. Thoughts of the day you came out of the Cauldron swirled through your head. Azriel's face as he watched in horror, half-dead. The bond snapping immediately. The Mother. The gift.

"What do you want?"

"I'm here to offer a bargain myself". You didn't answer. It was clear what he wanted.

He tried once again. "What is it that the cauldron gifted you? That has the high lord make the mountains shake in rage at your disappearance?". Finally, you could make out his face. You studied him quietly. His face was twisted into a sneer, eyes dead. There was no empathy in his gaze, no sign of remorse. And it didn't seem to occur to him that Rhys would always go to the end of the world to rescue his brother's mate, no matter their power.

You stilled, thinking. He didn't even know what powers you possessed exactly. Was it all an act of speculation?

He grabbed you by your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye. His grip was so strong it brought tears to your eyes. "Answer me, bitch"

"Maybe you should've investigated on my powers before throwing me in your little dungeon", you hissed. He dropped your head immediately. His big hand met your face with a thundering bang, so hard the back of your head met the stone wall with a sickening thud. A pained gasp left your lips. Your cheek burned where he had striked and your skull. Your skull was ringing, throbbing so hard you saw stars and a wet patch formed at the back of it. Hot, blazing pain killed every thought in your head but one. Not the baby.

"All talk, no bite", he chuckled and kneeled down before you. "Let me get this straight. You service me and my brother with your power and in exchange you get to leave the cell". It was such a shitty bargain, under normal circumstances you would've laughed. But all you could do was sob at the pain blooming in your skull, the sounds of it ricocheting off the walls.

Another voice, right at the trap door. The other brother. "Try not to kill her"

The male before you retreated.

"Leave her. She will come to her senses soon".

They left you there, bleeding on the floor. No healer came. The wound stopped bleeding after a while, but the throbbing pain remained. You drifted in and out of sleep, only awake long enough to retch up the little food you got. You would never return home. Azriel would never get to meet his child, not even know he was a father.

He came back regularly. Each time, he offered the same bargain. Each time, you refused a little less violently.

"Tell me about your powers", he would demand again and again. And you would shake your head until he hit and kicked you, until you were a sobbing mess on floor of the cell. But you didn't tell him.

Until, one day, the other one came. The one with the predatory glint in his eye, the one who had gotten hard at your tries to get away from him. He was so tall he had to crouch before you. And when he threatened to touch you, when he whispered into the darkness how he would use you, you had broken down. The words had spilled out of you like your tears and for a moment you were scared he would touch you anyways. I can winnow between worlds. But he only grinned and left. He had what he wanted. The next time he'd ask, he knew you'd accept whatever bargain he would offer.

That night, the darkness around you felt different. It wasn't empty. Something was watching you. You tried to ignore it, to simply fall asleep, but its presence made it impossible. So, you searched every inch of the cell. On hands and knees you crept through the small room, trying to find whatever it was. You found nothing but cold hard stone. But it was there. Everywhere. And when you finally closed your eyes again and laid your head against the cold stone, the darkness became a thing. And you could have sworn it sung a lullaby to you, in the language of the wind.

The trap door swung open once again. Blazing Light blinded you and you could barely make out a tall illyrian landing before you. He was too big for this cell. His wings scraped against the walls on both sides, and his head was ducked low as to not bump into the ceiling.

You scurried away from him, using your hands on the wall to guide you into the farthest corner. Inside you, your heart hammered against your ribs. This was it. He'd force you into the bargain.

The male extended a hand to you. You couldn't see more than his outlines, so blinding was the light. "Y/N, it's me".

You bared your teeth at the male and hissed. "I'll do what you want but if you touch me one more time, I'll fucking kill you".

A sharp intake of breath. "I'll get you out of here, Y/N. Please. It's me, Azriel". His tone was pleading, his voice oh so familiar. But it couldn't be him. Just another one of their tricks to get you to comply.

You dropped your head against the cold stone. "At least make it quick this time", you mumbled.

The male crouched down before you. Slowly, your eyes adapted to the light and you could make out his features. He looked like your mate. The golden specks in his hazel eyes, the dark locks of hair. But then again, his brothers looked so similar. It must have been wishful thinking. A trick of the light.

"I'm here to bring you home", he whispered, his voice breaking. Soft tendrils of air swirled over your shackled wrists, tugging at the cuffs. Dark and silky, kissing your raw skin where you had rubbed it open trying to free yourself. The male's hands met your face, stroking your cheeks. Scarred hands, wiping away tears that were running from your eyes.

Your head snapped up. "Azriel". It was more an outcry than anything, strangled and barely understandable. You flung yourself at him, as far as the confines allowed.

"Shhh, I'm here, I'm here. We're going home. Everything will be okay". Another figure appeared behind him and the shackles dissolved into thin air. Azriel was all over you in an instant. His strong hands roamed your body, pressed you tightly against him as if to never let you go again. You sobbed into his shoulder. He had come for you. He had saved you. "It's over. It's over. You have been so strong", Azriel whispered to you. He pressed a kiss to your temple and threaded his hand into your hair, where he met-

"Ow", you sobbed harder as he touched the wound. Azriel's hands immediately let go and curled aaround your shoulders instead.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry they did this to you".

"Get her out, Cass and I will handle the rest", the other person said. You had almost forgotten about him. Rhysand, you registered. Azriel picked you up, your limbs curling around his strong body. Your face buried into the crook of his neck, still whimpering against his shoulder. But it were tears of joy. His wings closed in around you immediately.

"No. I want to see the light leave their eyes for what they have done to my mate". His tone was cold, unyielding. So unlike the soft hand stroking your back, the nose buried in your hair, breathing in your scent deeply.

"Then I will keep them alive. But first, you leave. Now".

He stepped through the wind with you in his arms. You didn't feel it in his tight embrace, but he must have winnowed because moments later he sat down on your bed with you on his lap. His wings folded around you half-way, so that light could still come through. The familiarity of the sight took your breath away. You'd thought you would never be with him like this again.

"You're at home", Azriel whispered to you. "It's okay, we're at home". Strangled sounds filled the room, sobs and whines and only when his rough hands stroked your back and he told you to breathe, you realized you were crying and you were making the sounds.

"My love, I've got you. You're safe here". You forced yourself to breathe and dropped your head to his chest.

"Shh, I'm here. They can't hurt you anymore". Azriel kissed your head. You counted his breaths, trying to mimic them, In – out – in – out, and took in his scent of night-chilled air and cedar.

You didn't know how long you stayed this way until you could breathe again and stopped sobbing. Only then did you realize what had happened.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you forced out. Tears were welling up in your eyes again, but you willed them away.

For a while, you only stared at him, marveling his beauty. The way the sun illuminated the gold and emerald streaks in his eyes. His hair that was already a bit too long for his liking and fell into his forehead. The gloriously full lips you loved so much. How could you have ever mistaken your captors for your mate?

"How did you find me?", you finally asked with a hoarse voice.

"I felt the bond". Azriel nearly choked on his words. "That last tug – and then it went dark and I thought I had lost you". A tear rolled down his cheek and you tightened your grasp around his waist. "We searched the steppes for you, but there was nothing. And then, last night... my shadows called out to me. Across the entire court". The darkness singing a song to you, the thing in the night. You hadn't made it up.

You stared at him in awe. "How?". They never strayed far from him.

"I send them into every corner of Prythian and... it had been so long and I didn't think they'd find you. But then they were called to where they came from". He dropped his face onto the crown of your head and pressed a kiss to it.

"It was so dark in there". Your breath hitched at the thought of the cell. Lightly, you rubbed over the scabs at your wrists behind his back. "And I was so alone. Until I wasn't"

"What do you mean?"

"Something was there - it... it watched me. And then it turned into something else. And sang me to sleep." Realization hit you. "I think that were your shadows".

"Was that... was that what it was like for you as well? When you were in that cell? I thought about you every second, how you spent your childhood in there and..." He frowned.

His gaze was very far away, centuries ago. "It was the same. Only that nobody came for me". HIs eyes met yours and turned soft at the pain that was painted on your face. "I'll tell you all about it. In a while, when you feel better".

You laid your head onto his shoulders again and held onto him. You weren't quite sure who was comforting who now. Maybe you found solace in each other, through the hardhips you had shared.

But there was something else you shared. Someone.

You drew back slightly and locked eyes with him again. "I was so scared, Az. I thought I'd never see you again". You grasped his hand and laid it on your stomach. The anxiety you had felt the morning you had found out about the pregnancy was all gone. "I thought I'd die and you'd never even know that you are a dad".

His eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"That day, Madja came to see me and told me. That's why I went to the steppes, to free my head and think before telling you". Tears ran down your cheeks again now. "I wish I had just stayed home and wited for you to return", you weeped.

"You're pregnant?" There were tears pooling in his eyes as well. "My Y/N. My mate. Thinking I had lost you was the worst I've ever felt. But to think I could've lost both of you, without even knowing...". Azriel broke off and pulled you into a tight hug, his hands shaking.

He took your face in his hands and kissed away the tears.

"Are you happy, Az?". Your voice was barely a whisper.

"I couldn't be happier now that I have you back. And I couldn't be happier about our baby". Azriel's lips met yours in a soft caress. He tasted like home.

You didn't leave the bed all day. You stayed with him, curled underneath the covers. Azriel kissed away the pain and held your hand when Madja came to check on the baby and your head. You both were healthy, thank the Mother. And when Madja was gone, Azriel wrapped you in his arms and wings and never let go. He didn't urge you to talk any more about what had happened. Maybe the frail wisps of midnight air that circled around you now had told him everything already.

"I will kill them for what they did to you", Azriel whispered after he had made love to you slowly. Your naked limbs were still tangled with his, his entire body splayed over you, as if shielding you from the outside world.

Your breath hitched in your chest and Azriel planted a soft kiss on your jaw.

"No". His entire body turned rigid and he rolled off you without letting go.

"Why no? Y/N, I can't let them live after what they did", he murmured, kissing up your cheek, "I wasn't there to protect you. This is the only way I can make up for what happened".

Your hug around him grew tighter. "It's not your fault. I reacted too late. There is no debt to pay me, Az. And even if there was, you would've paid it back the moment you brought me home". Your hands threaded into his hair.

Azriel buried his face in your neck and his shadows stroked your cheek. "Please. I will never forgive myself for leaving you both unprotected. Please let me make it up to you. To the baby. If you were any other male's mate, if you were Cassian's mate or Rhys's they wouldn't have done this to you. It's because of me".

He meant it. Your heart dropped at the realization. He thought he was responsible.

"It's not your fault, none of this"

He wanted to interrupt you, but you didn't let him. "Not for this and not for what they did to you as a child. I don't want you to kill them for me. At least not only for me. I want you to kill them for what they did to you as well"

He stilled for a moment and then nodded slowly. "I can live with that".

"Good". You closed your eyes and soaked up his warmth. There was no other way you wanted to spend your future with him. You'd die a happy death in a thousand years if all you did until then was lay in bed next to your mate.

A wisp of air circled around your wrist, darted over chest and pooled over your stomach where it stayed, humming.

"It's yours now", Azriel murmured into your hair, "that's the one that found you. It told me it won't leave your side again".

Your fingers threaded through the shadowy tendrils and you could've sworn they purred at your touch.

"And I will also never leave your side", he whispered before his lips met yours.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Luke would be the type to keep his private life very private so him having a gf only really his family and friends in michigan know so the devils have no clue and i could see the boys always trying to get luke to hookup with people for like a whole season till next season when they finally learn luke has had a gf the whole time

Oh boy, 100%. He always just politely tells them he's not interested in dating anyone or having a casual hookup or pretends he doesn't notice what they're doing. Jack 100% does not help, he finds it hilarious when any of the guys are trying to get Luke to talk to some random girl in a bar, but he will 100% confirm to you that Luke is the most loyal boyfriend you could ask for. I also see Luke feeling guilty about it even though he hasn't done anything, so every time he gets back to the apartment he's telling you if you live together or phoning you if you don't and basically confessing his 'sins', like 'i'm so sorry, baby, Marky tried to get me to go out with this blonde and she wouldn't stop touching my arm and I told her I wasn't interested and I only love you.' Definitely reaches a point where he breaks and just goes 'STOP! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND' and all the guys are just like 'why the hell didn't you tell us this sooner?' Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

"Hey, C'mon, Rusty! What about the blonde at the end of the bar?" Curtis points to a young woman around Luke's age, platinum blonde hair, little black dress, who's eyeing Luke like he might be candy. It doesn't flatter him, if anything it sends a sick feeling to his gut, a roiling discomfort because only you're allowed to look at him like that. You can eye fuck him, no one else. He feels objectified.

"Curtis, I've told you I'm not interested. Not my type." Not his type because his girlfriend is his only type and there's only one of you. It doesn't matter if 100 attractive women all tried to get his number right now, he wouldn't care, wouldn't give it out because you're the one he wants. Literally no one compares to you, he's smitten, whipped, absolutely in love.

"C'mon, seriously! You didn't go out with anyone all last season! Not even a hook up, you're celibate, man! You're young, you should be having fun!" Curtis knocks his shoulder with a grin and Luke just grips his beer tighter, feeling a familiar frustration at the situation. He spent all of last season dealing with the boys trying to goad him into hook ups and flings, throwing women at him like it was their duty to get him laid. He hated every minute of it.

"Yeah, Lukey, you were practically celibate, a monk," Jack chimes in, arm thrown over Luke's shoulder with a grin, the irony of his words not lost on either of them because Luke was definitely not celibate last year. He just wasn't hooking up with random strangers, because he'd started dating you, because you were the only person he wanted to see, to kiss, to sleep with and that still stood firm and true.

"Just go talk to her, maybe you'll get lucky and go home with her tonight! C'mon, what's wrong?" It's Dougie that chimes in this time and Luke wants to die. He wants to die. Or alternative go to your apartment and curl up with you in bed because this is the worst.

"Yeah, are you scared, Lukey?" If Jack wasn't his brother he'd have killed him already, killed him for encouraging all of this bullshit for a year, knowing full well that Luke wasn't single. But, he can't because his mom would be upset if Jack died...he rolls his eyes at him instead, shrugging his arm off of his shoulders.

"You're not secretly a virgin or anything, right, Rusty?"

"Fuck off, Lazar." He snaps, not because it would matter if he was, but because it's stupid that that's the only reason people can comprehend he wouldn't want to sleep around. Maybe it's just not his thing to have hook ups? Maybe he's focusing on his career? Maybe he's already in love and anything else would be cheap and insignificant in comparison?

"Oh, that's hit a nerve, some truth in that?" The guys are all grinning at him like they think they've got it all worked out and it just...it makes him snap, slamming the bottle of beer he'd been cradling to the bar top.

"No, y'know why I don't want to go talk to some random fucking blonde in the bar or hook up with whatever girl you throw my way? Because I've got a fucking girlfriend, okay? I'm not virgin! I'm not celibate! I just don't want to fuck a girl that isn't my girlfriend!" Luke's breathing heavy by the end of it, red it the face because it is so fucking annoying to constantly be bugged about it and he just wants everyone to get off his back. He's happily with you, he doesn't need random hook ups and he certainly doesn't need his team mates trying to get him laid like they have some moral duty to do so.

The way they look at him makes him feel stupid because suddenly they're all calling out variations of, "Dude! Why the fuck didn't you tell us this sooner?!" and he realises that maybe he could have solved this all months earlier by just saying he was seeing someone...like a normal person, maybe? But he'd wanted to keep things private...

He flounders for an explanation, mouth opening and closing, running a hand through his mess curls like that might help his brain to function.

"I just...it was new and...we were keeping it private."

It's Marky that turns to look at Jack, "Did you not know about this?"

"Oh, I knew." Jack is all smug enjoyment, leaning back against the bar and winking at the blonde Curtis had been trying to set Luke up with. Satisfaction rolled off him in cocky waves.

"Why they hell did you let us shove girls at your brother then?" Curtis asks, shocked, nay baffled because Jack had just spent an entire season practically encouraging the behaviour all while knowing full well Luke was dating you.

"It was funny," He shrugs with a grin and mentally Luke is considering whether the price he'd pay is worth putting itching powder in Jack's underwear drawer or maybe if cutting his hair in his sleep would be a better punishment since he can't rip another set of braces off him like Quinn did.

"That's messed up, Jack!" "Yeah, man!"

Luke sighs as the guys all ripped into Jack, downing the last of his beer and grabbing his phone off the bar top.

"Fuck this, I'm going to see Y/N."

"Ohh, you're girlfriend!?" And just like that Luke knows...he knows he's not out of the woods, it's just that the woods have changed from teasing and taunting him about hook ups, to doing so about his girlfriend.

Fuck, he hates being a younger brother.

[dexxtrosee]

In the middle of the night

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

TW: mentions of canon violent mass event, panic attack.

He doesn’t talk to you about it.

Days pass and pass, and then they turn into weeks. More patients come, more patients die, more patients live. Jake doesn’t talk to him, Leah's parents invite him to the funeral. Still, he doesn’t tell you about any of it, aside from shaking his head when you ask when Jake's coming over again. It was on the news, he's not stupid enough to think you have no clue about what he went through, you just don't know how bad it was.

You don’t know any of it from his own mouth, and still, it bothers him when you don’t seem even slightly surprised every time he wakes you up with his nightmares and his crying. You just let him hide his face on your neck, let him clutch your body against his while the sobs wreck him. You push his hair back, kiss his forehead, wait until he's calm enough to manhandle him back to lying down. He falls asleep to your fingers tracing the lines of his face more often than not.

One particularly bad night, he manages to wake himself up in silence, petrified. You don’t seem to notice at first, breath soft and slow, still sleeping. He can’t move, can’t make a single sound. His chest feels tight, his head is drowning in screams and sobs and people telling him he's not good enough.

The bed feels too soft, his shirt is choking him. Why couldn't he save them? Why is he even fucking trying? Fuck, he can't breathe. Adamson died on his watch, he made him suffer through a horrible, long death because he couldn't let go. And everyone had to watch him do it again with Leah, cling to an impossible task while docens of people needed him and she was already fucking dead. Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck-

"Robby. Hey, Robby, look at me. Open your eyes love, come on."

Your voice makes him jump. He realizes for the first time he's hyperventilating now, squeezing his eyes shut.

God, he feels pathetic for putting you through this again and again. You're gonna end up leaving him, he's sure. He's too much and too little at the same time, more baggage than man. He can’t keep doing this to you, he can't, he can't he can't-

"Robby, open your eyes."

He feels you grab his arms and pull him into a sitting position. His entire body breaks into shivers, his heart trying its best to burst out of his chest.

"Robby, open your eyes."

When he finally does, he doesn’t like the concern plastered over your features. He pushes you away slightly, bending to the side.

"I-I think I'm gonna be sick."

You don’t seem to listen to him, instead jumping over the blankets until you're kneeling by his side. You push his head back with the heel of your hand, and he closes his eyes again. He doesn’t think he can handle your worry right now.

A balloon stretches inside his throat. His hands fly to clutch at his neck, but your hand grips them both and pushes them down until they're pressed against his legs. You're seeing right through him, right into all the things he's tried hiding from you ever since he met you.

He doesn’t want it to reach you.

"Robby, I think my lip is bleeding. Can you take a look at it?"

Your question freezes him on the spot. Did he accidentally hit you? Oh fuck, fuck-

"I bit my lip too hard earlier today, I was sewing up my green sweater and got lost in my head. It's the one you gave me, remember? The knitted one."

Robby frowns, squeezing your hand tighter. The green one? The one he got in Philly after your third date?

"The one you say feels too rough unles you're wearing it."

Ah, Robby remembers that one. It felt itchy, he asked about it when he gave it to you and you put it on right there. Then you had shaken your head and smiled, telling him it was softer on the inside.

"Open your eyes, babe."

Slowly, he does. You're bent in front of him, and there's a small speck of blood close to the edge of your mouth.

He raises his hand, cleaning it up with shaky fingers. It doesn’t really help, just spreads it over your lower lip and paints it a faint red. It makes him chuckle, but the sound resembles an animal in agony.

Out of nowhere, he feels something cold and metallic press against his neck. He gasps, unintentionally pulling you closer.

You let him. You shuffle closer until you're kneeling between his legs, and he wraps his arms around you. His face is wet, his entire body feels weak, made of paper.

"Where did you even get that sweater from? You may need to buy me a new one if I can’t save this one."

It was a local, old shop. The owner was an older man, running the store on his own, if he had to guess. Full of old furniture, the kind that lasts generations.

"I-I can try and h-help you mend it."

Your chest shakes slightly against his, laughing. He buries his head on your shoulder. "Sure you can, doc."

Minutes pass. Your hand tangles inside his hair, the other caressing his back up and down. Your warmth seeps into his clothes, his body, relaxing it until he feels he can barely stay upright.

You kiss his cheek, his temble, his shoulder. He can’t really help it when he bursts into tears.

"Take a deep breath, it’s okay. I'm right here."

His sobs rock the entire bed. He wishes he could hug you close enough to merge his soul with yours.

"It's okay love, you can let it out."

In the middle of the night, with the other half of his soul wrapped around his, he finally does.

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 15.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of mate marks, trust issues

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Note: I know, I know... It's been wayyyy too long. What can I say? Live happened. Also, I was super unmotivated to write since I didn't know where this story was going. But... I had some intense thoughts about it. So... voilá!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Carefully, y/n traces the soft pink skin on her neck. She wishes she had a mirror and looks at the scar that Katsuki left behind. She presses her lips together. Right now, she's sitting in the tub washing off the grime and sickness of the past week. Ever since waking up, Katsuki has been uncharacteristically attentive and careful around y/n.

Part of y/n still wants to be angry with Katsuki but she finds it hard to be harsh towards him when he lingers around her like a shy dog who got punished by its owner. She notices how he tries to keep his hands on himself. Only late at night can she feel him touching her gently when he thinks she's already deep asleep.

There's a rustle from the curtain that marks the doorway back into the tent. Katsuki enters the bath hut without announcing himself. Quickly, y/n tries to cover up herself with her arms.

“Nothin' I haven't seen yet, doll.”, Katsuki comments dryly.

It sours his mood that y/n is clearly uncomfortable with him seeing her naked. He thought that after the marking, she'd feel more relaxed and secure around him, but clearly, that's not the case. Instead of strengthening their relationship, the marking pushed them back. Y/n doesn't seem to trust him like before.

He strides over to the tub and holds out some fresh linen for y/n. Hesitantly, y/n takes the cloth and gestures for Katsuki to turn around.

Katsuki turns around in defeat. He tries to suppress the feeling of annoyance rising within him. He promised to take care of y/n, but he also wants them to be happy, preferably together. This also means gaining her trust again and making her see that there's nothing for her to fear.

He hears how y/n gets up and dries herself with the linen. When he turns around, he helps y/n get out of the tub by extending an arm to her.

Y/n waddles into the tent leaving wet footprints behind her. Katsuki watches for a moment how the footprints start to fade before following her.

Maybe I should get her some slippers. The floor must be cold, Katsuki thinks.

When he enters the tent, he sees y/n wrapped in the linen on the bed brushing her hair with her fingers.

She might need a hairbrush for that long-ass hair, too, he ponders.

Y/n looks up and meets his eyes.

“Are there any fresh clothes?”, she asks him and points towards the pile of old clothes on the floor.

Katsuki understands and pulls out a dress he asked one of the older women to make for y/n. He picked the color red to match his eyes and Drami's scales.

Y/n pulls a face. The dress Katsuki is presenting to her is way too revealing. Not in a I-don't-like-showing-off-what-I've-got way but in a it's-way-too-cold-for-that way. Y/n shakes her head disapprovingly. She doesn't fail to notice the disappointed look at Katsuki's face.

“I can't wear that. I'm gonna be sick. Again. Do you want that?”, she tells Katsuki.

Y/n hops off the bed and strides towards Katsuki's closet and starts pulling out more suitable clothes. Katsuki watches her with a scowl. While he finds it endearing that y/n keeps wearing his clothes, he's a bit disappointed that she refuses the dress he had made for her.

When y/n has found everything she needs, she gestures for Katsuki to turn around again. Katsuki sighs and drops the dress on the bed. Adverting his gaze, he starts peeling an apple.

He hears the rustling of clothes. He looks up again when he feels a dip in the bed. Y/n sits there bundled up in way too many layers of his clothes. Katsuki thinks she looks like a drowned rat in it. None of her attractive features are visible in the baggy clothes she's wearing. For a moment, he wonders if that's how her people dress their women but then he remembers the dress she wore when they first met. Actually, where did that dress go? He should keep an eye out for it.

Katsuki sighs and hands y/n the peeled apple slices he cut for her. Y/n happily grabs the plate and starts munching on one of the apple slices.

“Katsuki, you in there?”, he hears Kirishima call from outside the tent.

“Yes, what do you want?”, he calls back grumpily.

After a short moment of silence, Kirishima calls: “Can I come in or are you indecent?”.

Katsuki can feel the blood rising to his face as he gets up from the bed.

“Shut up shitty-face! Come in and tell me what you want!”, he yells back.

Swiftly, Kirishima enters the tent. His eyes fall onto y/n who gives him a small wave.

“The missus is happy, it seems?”, he asks his friend and leader who only gives him a low grumble in return. Kirishima sighs and shakes his head.

“Look, I know you're the leader and everything but let me give you some advice: Spending time with the mate is all good and well. Y/n having a baby would sure be good news to the tribe, but...”, Kirishima starts and Katsuki throws a mean glace his way.

“... but you also should show your face around the settlement. People are starting to question where their boss is.”, Kirishima finishes.

“What are you telling me, Kirishima? That I'm neglecting my role as chief?”, Katsuki barks back.

Kirishima gives him a blank look.

“Yes, Katsuki, that's what I'm saying.”, he answers his friend. Katsuki growls at that and turns around to y/n who almost finished her apple.

“The men talk.”, Kirishima informs him.

“They always do. What do I care about?”, Katsuki answers.

“They talk about you. That you neglect your duties. That this foreign woman bewitched you. That the course we're steering isn't for the good of the people.”, Kirishima says carefully.

“What course?”, Katsuki snaps at him. Kirishima holds his sharp gaze.

“They say that you're in over your head. They think you're afraid and therefore you restrict the tribe's movements. Some even express that the plan of focusing on women probably won't work considering that your own mate almost passed.”, Kirishima explains matter-of-factly.

At that, Katsuki grinds his teeth. Kirishima is loyal, so he's sure the man is telling the truth. But who do these men think they are? They've never led a whole tribe, let alone trying to save one from extinction.

“Fine”, Katsuki says, “Then let's give them something real to talk about.”

~*~*~*~

Y/n watches Katsuki put on his armor. He's been on edge all morning and she doesn't dare to question him about what's going on. He won't understand anyway which will probably put him into an even more sore mood.

Suddenly, Mitsuki enters the tent. She's holding a bowl with a blue paste inside.

“You're a fool.”, she tells his son.

“What?”, he snaps at her while sitting down at the edge of the bed securing a dagger to his side.

“You can't tell me that you think this is a good idea.”, she says but Katsuki only scoffs.

“I'm sure you heard what they say. They start to think I'm an unfit leader. I guess it's time to remind them why I've become their leader in the first place.”, he tells her as he gestures for his mother to

come closer.

Mitsuki only sighs and looks disapprovingly at her son. Then, she steps closer and starts painting stripes and other patterns onto his face and body. Y/n watches intently. She notices that the patterns are different than the ones that were put onto her when she was shown off to the tribe.

“You know I shouldn't be doing this.”, Mitsuki comments.

Katsuki doesn't answer.

“Painting you for war is your mate's task.”, she tells him and Katsuki scoffs again.

“She'll learn in time.”, he replies.

Mitsuki throws a glance at y/n.

“If you say so.”

~*~*~*~

After Mitsuki finishes painting Katsuki's body, she leaves the tent. Katsuki takes a moment to ready himself. Once they leave the tent, it will be all high energy until he returns.

He turns to y/n who is watching him intently. When he doesn't say anything, she tilts her head

questioningly.

Katsuki pats her head and gets up. He grabs his sword and secures it to his belt.

Suddenly, they hear drums outside of the tent.

“The drums of war are calling us.”, Katsuki tells y/n, “Time for us to go.”

He gestures for y/n to get up and follow him outside. Y/n does so without complaining.

Outside, it seems as if the whole tribe is on the street. Y/n sees all men wearing similar paint on their faces as Katsuki. Also, they're all heavily armed.

Y/n looks around alarmed. What's going on? Are they being attacked?

Suddenly she spots Kirishima in the crowd. He's wearing a dim expression. Kirishima makes his way over to Katsuki and y/n.

Y/n oggles at the swirling red patterns that were drawn around Kirishima's armor. Katsuki elbows her roughly and she quickly adverts her gaze.

When Kirishima reaches them, he only says: “You're a fool, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, I've been told so today already.”, Katsuki grumbles.

“I'm not sure if organizing a raid in Todoroki territory is a smart way of securing the loyalty of your subjects.”, Kirishima points out.

“They need to be reminded that I can easily kill them if I have to. The best way of reminding them is to wring a few necks of Todoroki soldiers.”, Katsuki tells him.

Kirishima gives him a long stare.

“I'm sure that's the best way to make your men believe in your leadership skills.”, Kirishima says sarcastically.

A blonde man passes them and gives Katsuki a clap on the back. Y/n remembers that she had seen him before on the day that they arrived at the settlement.

“We're gonna blast these suckers!”, the man whoops and disappears in the crowd again.

“Denki seems to agree.”, Katsuki notes and Kirishima sighs.

“Denki's an idiot. He'd pick a fight with a bear naked and still think he could win.”, Kirishima complains, but Katsuki only shrugs.

“Do you really think we'll have to fight Todoroki soldiers?”, he asks his chief. Katsuki nods.

“Considering the scouts report and the rising military presence even in the outskirts of the kingdom, we need to be prepared to fight trained soldiers with swords instead of scared farmers with pitchforks.”, Katsuki points out.

Now it's Kirishima's turn to sigh.

“Well, your plan for this raid better be good. I'd really hate to die because our chief's a fool.”, Kirishima replies and starts walking. Katsuki gestures y/n to follow him.

Y/n notes how the entire tribe is walking in the same direction. She didn't know that many people lived in the settlement. There are mostly men and some elderly people. However, she also spots some women here and there. When she tries to smile at them, they quickly avert their gaze.

Katsuki tucks at her arm and pulls her forward. Only then she notices where they are going. Towards the gorge where the dragons live.

The dragons are lined up infront of the gorge. Y/n spots Katsuki's dragon almost immediately. The red one is a lot bigger than all the other dragons, even the mean-looking black ones. At least the green one's not here, y/n thinks and shudders.

She watches as some of the men say goodbye to their loved ones and then heave themselves up on their dragons. She sees a man kissing a woman who looks just out of place like herself. She doesn't seem to enjoy the kiss.

“Y/n”, she hears Katsuki say and she turns to him.

Katsuki is staring sternly in the dragon's direction before turning around to meet her gaze.

“I'll bring glory to you and our tribe.”, he tells her. He doesn't know why he does. It's not like she'd get it.

Softly, he traces the side of her face. Y/n looks up to him with big eyes. He grips her hips and pulls her hips against his.

“I'll come back to ya.”, he promises while running his hand through her hair. Y/n steadies her stance by putting her hands on his chest. Katsuki runs his hand up and down her back before placing it in her hair again. Slowly, he pulls her face towards his and kisses her deeply. Y/n's frozen for a moment, but then she kisses him back carefully.

Eventually, Katsuki pulls back. He places a last kiss on her forehead. Y/n watches Katsuki striding over to his dragon and mounting it. The men cheer.

With a mighty gust of wind, Katsuki and his dragon rise to the sky. Y/n watches as the men follow him. The swarm of dragons set off east and the drums are pounded until the dragons look like tiny ants in the sky.

Y/n turns around and watches the remaining people retreat to the settlement. She's a bit unsure what to do next. Most likely, she can return to Katsuki's tent. But then what? Katsuki and Kirishima are gone and it's not like Nadia will be of any help. Speaking of which, y/n hasn't seen Nadia around anywhere. Did she not come to send off her husband? Probably not, y/n concludes.

Suddenly, a cold, strong hand wraps itself around her arm. Y/n whips her head upwards and is met with a pair of ruby eyes. For a moment, she thinks that Katsuki has returned for her. Of course, that's not the case. It's the woman that Katsuki argued with.

Great, y/n thinks, from all the people helping me out, it just has to be her.

Mitsuki yanks her arm and y/n stumbles after her. They walk back into the settlement in silence.

Mitsuki takes her back to her tent. Inside, her ladies-in-waiting are working on a variety of tasks. Mitsuki points her toward an ancient-looking woman who is sewing. Y/n walks over timidly and the old woman pats at a cushion beside her while talking. Obviously, y/n doesn't understand her but when she hands y/n a torn shirt, a needle and yarn, y/n understands that she wants her to help sewing.

Y/n isn't a great seamstress but she's repaired enough clothes to know what she's doing. Her family never had much money, so she's used to repairing things over and over again. Also, it's kind of a meditative task.

For the next few hours, y/n keeps sewing one clothing piece after another while listening to the chattering of the old woman. She has no clue what the woman is going on about, but she doesn't seem to be unsatisfied with y/n work. Maybe she's just trying to make conversation, y/n thinks. Y/n decides that she likes the old woman.

Eventually, the pile of clothes that needed mending is worked through. The old woman puts the clothes into a basket and with a few words to y/n, she's walking outside the tent. For a moment, y/n thinks about following her. However, the woman gave no indication that y/n should follow her.

Maybe I was just supposed to help out with the clothes, y/n thinks. She turns around looking for Mitsuki. Maybe the woman has a new task for y/n, but the woman cannot be found anywhere. None of the other women are paying attention to y/n, so y/n takes a moment to observe them.

There are two older women peeling potatoes. The women are engrossed in a loud conversation. A young girl is sitting next to them cutting the peeled potatoes into thinner slices. She looks timid and doesn't chirp into the older women's conversation.

Best not to bug these two, y/n decides.

On the other side of the tent, there are two other women around Mitsuki's age, sharpening knives. The one with the blonde hair and the black streaks looks kind of brutish. Y/n contemplates approaching them since her father showed her how to sharpen knives before. Before she can decide against it, she forces herself to approach the women.

The women look up when y/n approaches them. They ask her something but y/n doesn't know how to respond, so she only points at the knives. The women exchange a glance but then make some space for y/n. The woman with the blonde hair starts showing y/n how to sharpen the knife, but y/n already knows the procedure, so she simply takes one of the knives and starts sharpening it. The women watch her for a good minute before deciding that y/n doesn't need any help.

The three of them work in silence which y/n appreciates after the old woman has talked her ear off. Also sharpening knives is a more demanding task than mending clothes. Y/n has to concentrate so that she won't slip and cut herself.

She's so deep in concentration that she doesn't notice Mitsuki entering the tent again and approaching them.

Y/n continues her work and when she thinks the knife is sharp enough, she lifts it against the light to inspect the edge of it. When she lets down the knife again, she notices Mitsuki standing next to her.

A shiver runs down her spine. Gods damn it! How did I not notice her?, y/n thinks.

Mitsuki takes the knife from her and inspects it. The other two women and y/n watch her intently. Eventually, Mitsuki lowers the knife and nods. The blonde woman claps her back. Mitsuki barks an order towards the women and they go back to work. Mitsuki swirls around and leaves the tent again.

I guess that's as much approval as I will get from her, y/n thinks taking the next knife.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

[It's been so long, I don't know who of you even is still reading this story. So, I'm probably going to reset the tag list.

Please comment beneath this update if you'd still like to be tagged in future chapters. If you don't tell me to continue to tag you, I won't.

You're new here and want to be tagged? Please also comment beneath the latest update.]

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per @willy-the-witch @stardream14 @jiyuu-da @mintytalesblog @sparklyoperaroadpie @musicbecky @maria-patricia @mistermemister @katsukismrs @l0kisbitch @bakukiriswife @rebel-loves-anime @drink-water-456

[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

[mari-starz-writing]

could you do a two time x spawn!reader? If not that's okay:) sorry this is my first time requesting something

I find this quite interesting. A cultist and their god...

(WARNING: This is my own vision of the Spawn. A kind, gentle and slightly manipulative god who's cult so happens to be insane. And a bit aloof as well. If there's a canonical representation of the Spawn, I haven't seen it yet and... I am quite lazy. Forgive me if this is OOC for the reader...)

Two Time x spawn!reader

・You had noticed Two Time especially. They had always given you offerings, whether it be small snacks or perhaps a book. They'd also be the one reciting the most verses... No absences or tardiness for every single ceremony. Even if you don't let them know if one is different, they're right on time.

・Gosh, the amount of offerings you get... You wake up in your soft bed, sinking slightly in is as you lay, before turning and seeing a few flowers. You'll be walking around, and notice on the brown, hardwood shelf, a note for you. Inside? Some loving words and a snack or two. Or perhaps while you're eating, and once you finish, you finally notice that there's a small origami crane near the napkins.

・Reminding Two Time to eat is quite the hassle. They'll come back from the assignment you told them to do, that same slightly manic smile on their face as they run to you. "My Lord, I've finished the task," they'll say, before you clear your throat, softly grinning as you look towards their eyes. "Your eye bags, dear... Have you been getting enough sleep?" They'll brush it off, a slight bit of sweat on their face before you chuckle. "My cult followers' strength is my own. In simpler terms, if you're hungry or tired, I am..." Well, Two Time fixed those habits of theirs...

・Even with their personality, confessing was still quite difficult for them. What could they do to seperate their confession from the rest of what they've done for you? Even with that situation, you were sat down beside Two Time, tending to a few scrapes they had before they grabbed your hand, kissing it. "My Lord, I understand it might be a hassle to do, but could you ever seperate me from those other followers you have?.."

・Two Time does almost everything for you. You're their god, but how do you get someone to love you that much? You wake up, there's a plate of food beside you. You notice your room's slightly messy, Two Time is already coming with a garbage bag and cleaning supplies. Your hair is a bit tangled at the ends, they're sitting behind you and gently combing through it for you. They could never repay you for being such a graceful, kind, and beautiful god, so this is the closest they can get.

・Now, why do you even love Two Time? It's a question commonly asked by most people who even know of the relationship. Your answer? Sigh... It's how sweet they are to you. As previously stated, the way they do your own chores, the way they'll trace their hands down you at night and smile, reciting cryptic phrases, and the way they'll run up to you and compliment you. You'd go on to give more, but the reasons would be endless.

・When you go into their messy room, the first thing you notice is the numerous photos of you and the amount of items you thought you'd lost forever. A long white dress, several pieces of jewelry, and even a small bag of your hair that they occasionally find. Two Time will chuckle softly, telling you to ignore it, but it's a bit hard not to.

・A common occurrence for the two of you would most likely be being in your bed, Two Time in your arms as you lay on the plush bed, your partner's manic smile turning softer as they fall more tired. Their verses made for you that they recite get slower, and their breathing turns shallower until they go limp in your arms. You don't necessarily need sleep, but you'll do so anyway to pass that time.

・If you're sick, Two Time would do anything to make you feel better. Having their arms around you, or vice versa, making you warm chicken noodle soup, or watching a movie of your choice on the couch, whatever they can do to make you feel better will be done. If they could, they'd take your illness and give it to themselves, even if it was deadly.

・To be honest, when the two of you were first dating, Two Time was surprisingly... Shy? The slightest touch on their shoulder would make them blush, a compliment would turn them bashful, and a kiss would make them cover their face and squeal quietly due to your status as a God. Two Time felt as if you were just pitying them... Well, thankfully, now that you're in the later stages of dating, they're more confident.

I hope you enjoyed it. It was a bit new to me so in turn, hard to write, but I found it to be a nice change of pace.

[the-grimm-writer]

Thinking about a yan who broke his darling but immediately regrets it after. </3

Tw: mentions of noncon, abuse, captivity. Stockholm syndrome-ish. Mindbreak, angst.

.

He thought this was the life that he wanted. With you curled up obediently to his side. He has no reason to hurt you now aside from the fact that he wants to. And you take it like the good girl he taught you to be. Because you know if you don't, it'll get worse than you ever want to imagine. Then you ever want to remember.

You cook and you clean. You smile and rush over and kiss his cheek when he comes home, asking how his day was. It was what he wanted. But it doesn't feel genuine. Your smile never reaches your eyes, and it feels like you're reading from a poorly written sitcom script about a housewife from the 1950s.

Bruises linger on your arms and legs. Scars run up and down your body that neither of you speak of the reason why they're there to begin with. You like to act like they aren't there. Always making excuses up for his behavior even when he apologizes for it. He never realized the extent of his brutality until you're brushing it off like it's another Tuesday. Which for you, it is.

It's uncanny. All his dreams had come true, yet looking at your empty eyes as you follow him around like a lost puppy makes even a man as twisted as him sick to his stomach. You're not you anymore.

Like someone had snatched the real you and replaced you with this machine in your place. One that looked like you. That spoke like you and felt like you. But could never get the one thing that made him set his eyes on you in the first place right.

You were a monster of his own creation.

He almost missed the days when you'd spit in his face, scratch and claw at him whenever he got too close to you. When you'd scream at the top of your lungs when he'd pin you down or tie you to the bed so he could have his way with you, never hesitating to tell him what a sick fuck he was for doing this to you.

Some days, he craved for you to try and escape again. The times when he'd drag you back by your hair whenever he caught you trying to sneak out the window. But his favorite was when he'd actually get to chase you.

Maybe he misses it so much because you were yourself. Your stubborn, beautiful self who would fight him tooth and nail even when you were screaming and sobbing.

But now you're lying in his bed, nuzzling into him without a care in the world. Your eyes closed contently like he hadn't violated you in the most horrific ways possible both mentally and physically.

He gritted his teeth as his arms wrapped around your waist, still too cruel, too selfish to ever let you go. Even if it's destroying you both.

[papa-inocencio]

You're totally free to decline, but do you mind doing some headcanons on benitez's relationship with lawrence? How would you think they would be different from a full open romantic relationship? This is going off track from the Canon movie, but I'm still curious. Thanks! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

I got you my friend

Lawrenitez secret third thing Headcanons

Benitez was the first to fall for Lawrence, at the time he saw it as a sort of inmature crush that would fade away.

They were constantly at each other's side after the conclave. Vincent was new to this world, and Lawrence was more than eager to teach him.

When Lawrence notices his feelings for Benitez, he was already head over heels, following him like a lost puppy.

When their thighs touch when sitting too close, or their hands brush as they walk, neither of them mention it.

They often talk late at night, sometimes until the morning comes.

Aldo one time tells Lawrence "they're dangerously close to crossing a line they shouldn't" about his friendship with Vincent.

Lawrence gets defensive over this- He explains it's nothing of the sorts, but he cannot stop thinking of it when he meets Vincent again.

Despite his best judgement, he doesn't try to change their arragement.

One night, over a cup of wine or two, they discuss the nature of relationships, and the blurry borders between them

They hold each other and dance. Benitez says "I love you" and Laawrence says it back.

Is it romantic? Yes, but that doesn't mean they're more than platonic. What they feel is also the love of God and the holy spirit, who had bound their souls.

After that, their routine and dynamic doesn't change. They just know they're each other's.

They love the domesticity they share behind closed doors.

They each live on their own appartment inside the Vatican. But it is common for the sisters to catch a sight of Cardinal Lawrence walking out of the Pope's chambers in the mornings.

They kiss each other's hands every monday to start a good week.

They share a bed when they both are sure they won't be needed in the morning.

Vincent likes holding Lawrence against his chest. And Lawrence likes playing with Vincent's hair.

As Lawrence gets older, his legs start giving him issues. As a result, the internet goes wild at the images of the Pope pushing a wheelchair with some cardinal to all his public appearances.

The apostolic castle is already equiped with all the accesibility necessary for it- so it's only natural he moves in with Vincent.

Sometimes they dare to share feather light kisses on the lips.

Lawrence feels guilty over the attention Vincent gives him now. But he accepts it.

Lawrence's last days are with Innocent holding him close and reading him bible verses.

As far as the outside world ever knows, Vincent is a solidary and kind man, who couldn't leave his best friend behind when he got sick.

Their friends inside the Curia all suspect- but they don't really know what they have. Their imaginations assume a sort of carnal intimacy that doesn't exist.

What they share... it manifest differently from what it's to be expected.

Rumors exist, but Pope Innocent has done so much for the church that it's ignored in favour of his more notable work.

Vincent and Lawrence are both sent to rest in Santa Maria della Neve under the Pope's request.

[baronessvonglitter]

Strawberry Swirl

Joel Miller x fem!reader | WC: 1.9K

Summary: Joel fucks you on a Ferris wheel. That is the fic.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Established relationship. Public/semi-public sex. Grinding. Unprotected piv. Ice cream as foreplay, can I get a hell yeah. Dirty talk. Pet names. Nearly getting caught. Reader wears a dress and lip gloss but is otherwise minimally described. Please lmk if I have missed anything!

A/n: Hi, my name is Adriana, and when I was on a school trip to Washington DC I got lost at the Smithsonian Museum.

So here's the fic! It was born of my frenzied Pinterest scrolling one night. Absolute porn without plot but that's what you're here for, you naughty thing!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

Joel's in a bind.

All night you've been teasing him in that little sundress. The breeze on the midway is blowing the hem of your skirt up, taunting him with a glimpse of your thighs and just a peek of your round ass, lacy panties barely covering it. 

Tease, he thinks, saliva pooling in his mouth as you skip ahead in front of him, shouting something over your shoulder over the din of the carnival. That glint in your eye is so mischievous. You have to know what effect you're having on him. You enjoy teasing him out in public, knowing he can't do a damn thing about the tent he's pitching in his jeans. 

His grip on your hand tightens, just enough to keep you at his side. It's not only his eyes that are drawn to your scandalously short dress. He's noticing others.. guys your age, openly gawking at how good you look, and men his own age, which enrages him even more. He knows exactly what kinds of perverted thoughts are growing in their brains right now. When they go home tonight they're gonna stroke their dicks to this memory of you, carefree and laughing as the breeze blows up your skirt. You look like a goddamn fantasy..

..a fantasy just out of his reach. All night you've made him go on these ridiculous rides with you. He spun with you on the Tilt-o-Whirl until he thought he would be sick, and he's pretty sure his knees and hips are going to be out of joint tomorrow from the number of times you made him go on the bumper cars with you. In short, he's done everything you want, as you stayed just out of reach of his grabby hands.

"Ice cream!" you shout at him, looping your arm through his. Leaning on his shoulder, you give him the puppy dog eyes you know he can't deny. He smiles as the carnival lights reflect in your irises. The rich humidity of the night is creeping in, giving a nice sheen to your skin and your baby hairs stick to your temples.

"What kind you want, baby girl?" he gives in.

Content with your strawberry-vanilla swirl ice cream cone, Joel watches you eagerly lap up the sweet treat, your tongue scooping up the pink and white dessert, your eyes focused on him as you offer a sassy little smile. You just know what that does to him. The tent he's been pitching all night is only getting bigger.

"Better be careful, darlin'. You're givin' this old man some ideas.." he growls in your ear, grabbing you by the waist as you lead him to another godforsaken ride. He's not sure he'll survive another go on the Gravitron, or the Zipper.

"Relax, daddy," you whisper your pet name to him, lips barely caressing his ear lobe. "I'm thinking something more calm, something peaceful so I can eat my ice cream."

You lead him to the line for the Ferris wheel, a towering ride bedecked in pink lights. Of course you'd choose something so girly as this one, Joel thinks to himself, a smile on his lips as he strokes your hair, standing behind you in line.

As the line grows behind you he presses close, his arms around you, taking a lick of your ice cream when you offer and sneaking more when you're not looking. Your body is so soft, the material of your dress practically sheer. By now you have to know he's hard, up close against you, his bulge against your lower back. He rubs against you discreetly, desiring to ease the ache buliding up in his balls.

"Joel.." you softly chastise, pressing back against him. He nips at your ear as you lean back on his chest. "Just wait til I get you alone up there.."

The line moves smoothly enough for a Saturday night. Soon you're seated in number 3, a pink gondola with plastic door and umbrella overhead. Joel leads you in and you sit right next to him, giggling and leaning into him as your pod jolts forward so others can be filled. You rest your head on his shoulder, taking in the scent of him on his flannel shirt.

"You enjoyin' yourself?" he asks, wrapping his arm around you. You look up at him, the breeze whipping his graying curls. Wrinkles line his eyes, more pronounced when he smiles, and you press a kiss to his scruffy cheek then one to his soft lips.

"I think we both could be having more fun.."

He frowns, wondering what other fresh hell you have in store for him. "Please, not the fuckin' carousel. I'm not sittin' on one of those painted ponies and goin' round in circles, baby girl."

Your pretty little chuckle is what makes him realize he's guessed wrong. "I've got a different kind of ride in mind," you whisper, stroking his hard cock over his jeans as you innocently lick your ice cream. 

"Baby girl, what kinda naughty thoughts you got in that pretty head of yours?"

You respond with a kiss, your tongue cold and sweet from the ice cream as it meets his, teases his own tongue so it flits into your mouth, his groan humming against your lips.

You pull away and seat yourself on his lap, perched just on his knees as you lean forward, giving him a perfect view of your dress riding up your hips. He reaches out and traces the lace of your panties upon the curve of your ass cheek, sliding his fingers under the material to cup your smooth flesh.

"Right out here in front of everybody? You naughty girl," he growls in your ear.

"We don't have to if you don't want to," you tell him, starting to sit back up, but his large paw of a hand keeps you bent forward. 

"Naw, baby girl, you're gonna get what you're askin' for. Now come on, grind on it. Get yourself nice 'n wet for me."

Closing your eyes you grind down, enjoying the hardness of him within his jeans, the movement pushing your panties to the side. Joel can feel your heat against him, and he lets out a hiss, desperate to fuck you hard and fast.

"Ain't got a lotta time," he murmurs, pushing your hair to the side so his lips ghost your ear, his breath warm on your skin. The cool breeze of the night is unnoticeable now, the way your desire heats your blood. Joel's already unbuttoning his jeans, trying to be discreet about it as your gondola makes another arc upwards. He takes off his flannel, remaining in his white tee, and wraps it around you both like a blanket for your privacy.

You lift up enough, biting back a gasp as his rough fingers push your panties over one lip, exposing your pretty pussy to him. Two fingers glide along your seam, circling your clit before delving inside, coating them in your slick.

"Keep suckin' on your cone, baby," he tells you. "I got my own sweet treat right here."

He plunges in again, curling his fingers, smirking at your barely-concealed whimpers as his digits drive in deep. "Quiet, sweetheart, don't want people to hear ya." He holds you close as you wriggle on his lap, your ice cream forgotten as it drips white on your hand.

"You need me right here?" he asks, lining up his cock with your entrance, the bulbous mushroom tip sliding in between your folds, teasing. 

"Joel," you whine, your words lost in the wind as your gondola goes over the arc, starting its gentle descent down. He waits until you're moving up again before he nudges himself into you, unprepared for when you slam down on him eagerly. He has to hold back from bucking up into you with relentless force. 

"Jesus, woman," he grunts, hands gripping your hips so hard you'll have bruises. "Just sit for awhile.. lemme feel ya."

It's hard to concentrate on anything else with his cock pressed deep inside, your need to move held down by his large hand and iron grip. He's pressed close to your back, hot breath on the nape of your neck as he nuzzles your hair. "Y'feel so good.." he mutters, starting to slowly lift you up then pull you down again, in complete control of the movement, hidden by the makeshift blanket of his flannel draped across your lap. You're squeezing around him as he grants you that little bit of friction with his small, shallow thrusts.

"Don't mind me, just eat your ice cream," Joel coaxes, pulling up the gusset of your panties to brush across your swollen clit, extracting a delicious sigh from your cotton candy-glossed lips. Your mouth closes over the melting treat as you shift in his lap, eyes closed as he continues the soft motions, his breathing growing heavy with restraint.

"You're just drippin' down to my balls," he utters, "drippin' just like that cone." His cock is sticky with your sweetness, which keeps gushing down to his balls and glazing the nest of his graying pubic hair. He slowly increases the tempo, the heavy slap slap of your thighs and ass against his flesh drowned out by the carnival noise. You're gripping the edge of the seat, legs wrapped around his like you're climbing a rope as you try to grind down on him with each downbeat.

He takes your hand, now streaked white with melted ice cream, and licks it up with his broad, flat tongue as you bounce on his lap and he grips your hips in a vain attempt to get you to be less conspicuous. "Jesus, easy, baby," he growls. 

"Number three, I see you!" the ride operator shouts a warning.

Your laughter floats on the air, throwing all caution to the wind as you keep at it, riding him underneath the flannel. "You're crazy," Joel rasps, his calloused thumb strumming your clit. He smirks, loving the payback he's giving you as you can't help sighing and gasping, writhing helpless in his lap.

"In all your years you've never fucked at the carnival?" you tease, barely able to get the words out as he applies more pressure.

He doesn't like admitting it's you he's driven to take this risks with, he just holds you closer, pressing in deep as you tremble and quake around him. "Just shut up and enjoy the ride, sugar plum."

But you're already on the edge, your vision blurred as the carnival lights turn fuzzy and the roar of the crowd below becomes secondary to the flithy words coming from your boyfriend.

"That's it, take it.. I love buryin' myself inside this sweet, tight cunt. You're always gonna take me, huh? Never gonna be too polite to just wait til we get to the truck.." And with that he presses down exactly where you need him and fireworks burst behind your eyes as you lean back, body arching away as he holds you, tries to keep your pleasure quiet though he knows it's impossible.

Following you right after, he empties himself inside you, burying his face in your sweet scented hair. The ride slows and passengers begin disembarking as you both tidy yourselves before getting out of the gondola, the operator giving you an odd look as you leave hand in hand, Joel's flannel now tied around your waist. Already he's spilling from you. You chuck the rest of the ice cream cone into the nearest trash.

"You just gonna let that go to waste?" he teases you.

"I can think of something even tastier that I wanna lick.." your tongue runs over your lips and he starts to harden in his jeans again.

"Girl you are somethin' else. Let's get you home."

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

tagging peeps interested in my wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40

@milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors @probablyreadinsmut

@joelalorian @tateypots @hiddenbabynyc @notyetraised-fromperdition

@risecupcake @darkpastelskies @rooney-verse @inept-the-magnificent

@76bookworm76 @foreveratlantica-blog @vivi-heavenly

@cxrsed-angel @southernbe @professionalpromqueen

@ankhmutes

[runninriot]

your heart's safe with me

written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles Valentine's Day pop-up event and @steddiebingo main card fill for the prompt pre-relationship

rated: T | wc: 1.000 | tags: pre steddie, pining, love confessions, implied friends to lovers

   "If I have to see one more couple kissing, I'm gonna be sick. Can they just not? I'm already miserable, don't need them to rub it in like that," Steve groans and Eddie gets it; it's hard being single on Valentine's day.

That is, if you're name is Steve Harrington. Self-proclaimed former ladies’ man, who never really had a problem scoring a date until he lost his crown when he climbed off his high horse and became part of the loveless losers club Eddie's been a member of all his life.

   "Can't even go to Robin's for our annual Fuck Valentine's date because she's seeing her new girlfriend tonight. I mean, I love that for her but- god, it sucks being alone."

   "You do know who you're talking to, right?"

Steve turns to look at him, confusion making way for understanding.

   "Oh, uh, sorry."

   "You should be. I've never had a date on Valentine's day. Or ever, for that matter. But do you see me complaining? No. So suck it up, man. You'll find the right one. Maybe not today but- they're out there somewhere."

Eddie hates to even think about it but there’s no denying the fact that one day, he'll have to come to terms with Steve being in a relationship with someone that isn't him. It sucks, but that's just how things are.

   "You could come to my place after work," Eddie offers before thinking it through. "We can watch some cheesy romcom. You can complain about how unrealistic it is and I can make fun of you for crying over the happy ending."

This makes Steve laugh and Eddie takes it as a win; he loves making Steve laugh, loves the sound of it.

   "So that's a yes?"

After their shift, they separate ways only for Steve to make a detour home because he complained about needing to get out of his smelly work clothes and take a shower.

Eddie would've offered his shower and his clothes for Steve to change into but it’s better that way – better not to give his mind any more reason to create fantasies he definitely shouldn't have.

So, he uses the time to freshen up and clean up some of the bits and bobs scattered around his apartment. It's not messy, not really. Nothing like Wayne had augured when Eddie moved out to live on his own. It's more like organised chaos but because it's Steve coming over, Eddie puts a little more effort in it than he usually would.

An hour later, Steve finally arrives.

   "For how long it took you to get changed, I thought you'd be dressed up a lot nicer for me," Eddie jokes when he opens the door and finds Steve standing there in comfy sweats and hoodie, hair tousled but still unfairly good looking.

   "Sorry. Robin called because she was freaking out about her date, so I had to calm her down. You know how she gets when she's nervous." Steve shakes his head and sighs, smiling fondly, "But I stopped at the pizza place you like. Brought your favourite, as an apology."

His smile turns from soft to cheeky and Eddie happily takes the large box handed to him.

   "I could kiss you right now."

Eddie could kiss him always, but Steve doesn't need to know.

They get comfortable in the small but cosy living room, eating while watching the movie Steve chose - something about best friends who are obviously meant to be but too oblivious to realise it. Eddie's not really paying attention, just enjoys Steve's presence. Letting his eyes linger on the man beside him every now and then, smiling whenever Steve smiles, counting the moles on his face and neck, wishing he could kiss every single one of them. It's stupid, maybe even risky to gawk so openly, but Steve doesn't notice - or at least he doesn't call him out on it.

   "This is so stupid," Steve says and Eddie laughs because he's been waiting for it.

   "How do they not know? I mean- it's clear as day that he's into her. How can she keep looking for love when it's right there?"

   "Sometimes you just don't see what's right in front of you, I guess." Eddie swallows hard; he knows too well what it's like not to be seen.

   "Okay, sure. But then why doesn't he just- tell her. I mean, they're clearly perfect together."

   "It's not always that easy."

   "I'd want to know. If there was someone loving me like this, I'd want them to tell me."

Steve turns to look at him and Eddie's breath catches in his throat.

Does he know? Does he suspect something? That can't be. Eddie never told anyone about his feelings for Steve.

   "What if they're scared?" It already sounds like a confession and Eddie curses himself for not keeping his mouth shut.

   "Scared of what?"

Eddie scoffs frustrated.

   "I don't know, Steve. Rejection? Losing your best friend? Having your heart broken?"

He didn't mean to snap at him but this conversation really hits a nerve.

   "But what if..." Steve trails off, seems lost in his thoughts, "What if they love them back?"

Eddie has the sickening feeling that they're not talking about the movie anymore.

   "They wouldn't know unless the other person gives them a sign."

   "Something like that?"

Before the question even sinks in, Eddie’s lips are sealed with Steve’s that are tentatively pushing, opening up just enough for a hint of tongue Eddie chases with his own, falling easily into the rhythm of Steve's lead.

Eddie keeps his eyes closed for a long moment after they part, contemplating whether he dares to believe this is real.

   "Your heart's safe with me," Steve whispers sweetly and Eddie realises then, that this crush hasn't been so one-sided all this time.

Next year on Valentine's, he promises himself, he'll make it extra special for Steve. Tonight though, sharing pizza and kisses and confessions is enough to make it perfect.

[pileofboneswrites]

THINGS ARE DIFFERENT.

SUMMARY — this year brought a world of horrors for you. a car accident just weeks before your first day of sophomore year leaves you with no memory of the last year of your life. six months later, things have settled for you; you've got perfect grades, you're a cheerleader and your boyfriend is the quarterback. life is great, perfect even, until a certain raven-haired boy comes crashing into your life, causing chaos and triggering some of your memories to come back.

PAIRING — sweet pea x fem!andrews!reader | reggie mantle x fem!andrews! reader

WORD COUNT — 9.6k

WARNINGS — shitty friends, mentions of a car accident, cheating (caught in the act), lying, angst, fighting, swearing, i think that's it???? (let me know if i missed anything!!!!)

A/N — the plot of riverdale is kind of muddled in this fic; hiram logde's plans are apart of it somewhat, but jason is still alive. no mention of "yn" everyone mostly refers to her as andrews, reg refers to reader as "sunshine" a few times, and fred refers to her as kiddo, also the absolute SHITSHOW i went through to post this, oh my god, tumblr formatting is FUCKED (i usually write everything in my notes app or on wattpad bc i have lost so many partially done fics to shitty service). like i get WHY, but AHHHHHHHH (that's me screaming at the top of my lungs,,, 24 hour loop edition), not proof read

MASTERLIST | RIVERDALE

YOU.

"ronnie needs our support on this," your twin brother archie explains, he's leaning against the door frame of your bedroom.

your back is to him, and you're trying to get ready to head out for school. your homework, laptop and other things sit spewed around your room. utter chaos from your midnight homework session. you straighten yourself, finally meeting his eyes.

"yeah, and? veronica is your girlfriend, not mine archie." you reply, leaning down to shove your laptop into your school bag.

"please?" he pleads, and you roll your eyes.

veronica lodge's dad is no good for riverdale, you can feel it. every move he makes seems to rattle one of archie's friends, or cause a disturbance within the town. since hiram rolled in it seems like one half of riverdale is always up in arms. first jughead when the serpents trashed the drive-in, and the northsiders because of the southsiders joining the now only school in riverdale.

"arch, i don't have the same kind of love from my friends you do. i step on their toes over this, i'm going to be an outcast." you reply, zipping up your bag.

"you can always hang with us," archie sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "i know that betty misses you a lot, same with jughead."

"then why haven't they reached out?" you snap, sick of the conversation at hand.

archie always gets your hopes up, then plans fall through or they "unintentionally" leave you out. so, you're done. they know that you don't remember anything from the last year; the good, the bad or the petty. you're done trying to change things when with every effort you're shot down. you want normalcy. you want your friends back, but if they're not going to tell you what's going on, or make an effort, then why should you?

"just think about it, okay?" archie says, and you shake my head.

you throw my bag over your shoulder and push past him. you pause in the hallway, guilt creeping up on you, but ultimately decide not to worry about it. archie's been babying you, coddling you even since the accident. which to an extent you can understand it; you could have died. at the same time you feel like you never have a moment to yourself. archie's always lurking. you jog down the stairs, patting vegas as you slip out the front door onto the footpath.

the weather is hazy, it's damp out, fog lining the streets obscuring vision twenty feet head. you thank the powers that be for you remember a jacket. you pull your hood up as you walk towards the sidewalk, but you catch sight of your boyfriend's car parked on the street.

"morning princess," reggie calls through the open passenger window.

"morning reg," you reply pulling the door open and sliding into the passenger seat.

"did you hear about southside high closing?" he prompts after you give him a quick peck on the lips. "means all the trash is going to be clogging the halls of riverdale high,"

"yeah, arch filled me in this morning. you'd think after all the drama surrounding archie and the serpents he'd be less than excited about them transferring in." you sigh, tossing your bag into the backseat.

"he's on their side?" reggie asks, mouth twisting in disgust.

"guess so," you shrug, pulling on your seatbelt as reggie pulls away from the curb.

"but you're not?"

"i'm indifferent," you reply. "i don't care one way or the other,"

"cheryl's going to hate it," he says, and you shrug again.

the drive is relatively short, and silent. when you and reggie aren't making out, it's usually pretty quiet. you're together on the principle of "it makes sense". that's quite literally how he phrased it when he asked you out. and to an extent he's right. it makes sense for a football player to be dating a cheerleader. it makes sense. that being said, your relationship is entirely physical and for show. you're more along the lines of friends with benefits than an actual relationship. he only calls you when there's a party, or he's horny. romantic, you know. reggie grabs your backpack, and you climb out of the car.

"morning!" betty shouts, climbing out of her mom's car.

"hey," you reply, watching as she b-lines towards you.

"you friends with cooper again?" reggie whispers, leaning against the passenger side door.

"no, her friends want my support about the southside," you whisper back, plastering on a fake smile.

"good morning," mrs. cooper says as she drives past.

"good morning mrs. cooper!" you reply cheerily, she smiles and waves before turning out onto the street.

"hey, can we talk for a minute?" betty asks, stopping a few feet away.

she looks like she always does. blonde hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, makeup pretty minimal and natural, and her signature grey crown sweatshirt.

"sure," you say, and reggie leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, as you grab your backpack from him. "see you in homeroom."

he just smirks at you, as you turn away. you feel his eyes on your back until the two of you slip inside of the school. you feel slightly more at ease without reggie by your side. you follow betty to the room dedicated to the blue and gold (your school newspaper). betty drops into her seat at her desk, and you drop your bag on the table and plop down in the chair on the otherside of her desk. you sit, crossing your arms over your chest.

"whats do you want?" you ask, your question coming out ruder than you'd intended.

"i uh, i wanted to touch base." she says, averting eye conact.

"touch base? we haven't spoken since before my accident, betty. what do you really want?" you snap, becoming both annoyed and upset that she didn't actually mean it.

you could have played dumb, you could have gossiped, you could have gave her a life update. but you spend so much time being fake with your 'friends' that you can't handle any more superficial small talk that neither of you will remember. she looks taken a back by your brashness, and you feel a twinge of guilt. just a twinge.

"i—" she starts, but you cut her off as you forcfully shove your chair back, causing an awful screeching sound as it drags across the tile floor.

"look, cooper, if you need something, be straight with me and don't get my hopes up to use me for information." you grab your backpack and trudge into the hallway crashing straight into someone sending you flying back.

you grunt, bracing for the impact but instead you feel two hands on my arms steadying me. you peak your eyes open, and see a tall guy with dark hair and a leather jacket.

"oh shit, i'm sorry," you mutter slipping past him as you rush up the stairs.

you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up, like someone's watching you. you turn your head as you head up, and see the guy who caught you staring in your direction. he looks pissed, and you wonder for a brief moment if that anger is directed at you. you feel someone poke you in the shoulder and you turn your head to look at them. you jump in shock at how close she is.

"you good?" cheryl asks, the usual distaste in her voice, one eyebrow raised in question.

"yeah, fine," you reply walking in step with her, glancing down the stairs, to see a brown and pink haired girl pulling him away.

"—and i don't know why she wants this so bad—" cheryl's voice drifts off into backgroung noise, something that tends to happen more and more frequently.

that guy looked weirdly familiar. you swear you've seen his face before but you can't seem to place it. which is also happening more, and more frequently to you. you know it's going to bug the hell out of you.

"—and i said—" cheryl continues, as you head towards english.

"andrews!" you feel two arms wrap around your middle, and you're yanked backwards and lifted up.

"ahhhhhh!" you shout, startled by the sudden movement and contact, your kneejerk reaction is to raise your elbow and throw it into the first piece of flesh you connect with.

"andr- shit!" a familiar voice yells, as you free fall to the ground, landing on your ass hard. "what the hell, dude!?"

you lift my head and see cheryl's twin brother jason leaning over, clutching his stomach in pain. you clap your hand over your mouth in a mix of embarrassment. he glances down at you, rubbing the tender area, mouthing 'what the fuck' over and over.

"shit! jason, i'm so sorry—" you say, quickly standing up, he waves you away so he can take a second.

"what has you so jumpy this morning?" cheryl asks, crossing her arms and raising both her eye brows at me.

"no clue," you reply truthfully.

"too much caffeine likely," jason says, standing up right and throwing his arms cross both mine and cheryl's shoulders to guide us to class.

"how many cups a day are you drinking?"

"two," you reply, no hesitation.

you haven't been sleeping much lately, or at all really. you weren't sure what was worse; the lack of sleep, or the fact that when you do manage to fall alseep all you seem to dream of is the four agonizing hours you were trapped in your car after the accident.

"four with extra espresso." jason chirps, and you mock elbow him and he flinches, dropping his arm from your shoulder to shield himself. "not cool dude,"

"aw, prwincess," you mutter tapping his cheek with your hand.

you duck under his arms at a weak attempt to catch you, and slide into class dropping into your usual seat beside ethel muggs. mrs. leroy has all the desks grouped in twos. she likes to assign a lot of partner assignments and classwork, so you ended up with desk pairs.

"good morning," ethel says brightly, and you smile at her.

"good morning ethel, how was your weekend?"

"it was good, how was yours?"

"it was okay," you reply and shrug as mrs. leroy, our english teacher waddles into the room.

she drops her bag beside her desk and takes off her jacket, hanging it on the back of her chair before standing at the front of the room and clearing her throat.

"alright guys, we have a bunch of new students joining us. i'm sure you heard about the students from southside high tranfering in, and we're going to be very welcoming. as such, i've decided to change up your desk partners to kick off our next project." she says, and everyone groans. "hey! who knows, maybe you'll meet your new best friend!"

you drop your head down on the desk as she continues to speak.

"i call your pairs and you'll move to the assigned set of desk pairs, every up."

everyone obeys, clearing to the back, front and sides of the room as she spends the next fifteen minutes reseating you.

"mr. blossom and ms. topaz, these desks please." jason nudges your foot as he passes.

"she's pretty," he mouths and you roll your eyes, a shit eating grin on his face.

"mr. sweet pea, and ms. andrews."

"sweet pea, what kind of name is that?" cheryl snickers, rolling her eyes.

you step forward, dropping into the closest desk to you, ducking your head to look into your backpack for my notebook and pencil. you drop them onto the desk, and look ahead to the board.

"uh, excuse me—?" you turn my head, and see the guy who caught me in the hallway.

"yeah?"

he's cute. messy—but like the intentional kind of messy—dark hair, with curls over his forehead, and dark eyes. there's a hint of ink poking out over the collar of his leather jacket, you catch sight of a snake's head.

"can i— uh— can i borrow a pencil or pen?" he asks, and you nod, turning to dig into you backpack for one.

you feel his eyes on you, watching your every move as you dig. you pull out the first pen you find and hand it over. he reaches out, grabbing hold of it, and your fingers briefly touch. a shiver immediately shoots down my spine, and you drop your hand. you get a flash of a memory, it's difficult to piece together what you're remembering. you see a flash of a half empty vodka bottle, a leather jacket, and a tattoo gun. you gather your things, and jump out of your seat rushing to the bathroom, you hastily shove your notebook away and drop your bag upon entering the bathroom. you drop to your knees in front of the first toilet you find, and empty the contents of your stomach. you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean back against the stall dividers, trying to catch your breath.

it was like for a brief moment you was there. you could hear the tattoo gun buzzing, you could feel the scratch against your skin and you could taste the vodka. you stand up, and walk over to the mirror. maybe you're losing your mind. you would notice a tattoo, wouldn't you? if you didn't know to look for one, maybe you wouldn't... you lift your hoodie a little, and catch sight of one of the snake's heads poking out from under the underwire of your bra.

"holy shit," you breath, pulling your hoodie back down.

you lean down, and turn on the water slashing it onto your face. you stare hard at yourself in the mirror. how could you not see something like that? why didn't anyone tell you? you were told that you grew apart from your friends, but by the looks of things you had a whole other set that no one knew about, or at the very least didn't want you to go back to. the bell rings, signaling the end of first period, and you stand there staring at yourself in the mirror. the door opens slightly, and the brown and pick haired girl sticks her head in and sees you.

"hey, are you okay?" she asks, opening the door fully to come in.

"uh, yeah, i think so." you reply, and she nods, not pushing the topic any further, which you appreciate.

checking in on you is a small act of kindness that not even my so-called 'best friend' cheryl could give. you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, and pull it out, turning away from the sink to lean on it. think of the devil, a text from cheryl.

you don't reply, you just sigh, and shove your phone back into your pocket. you look up and catch the girl's reflection staring at you.

"uh, sorry." she says and you shake your head, mustering a small smile.

"it's okay, i'm—," you say, sticking out your hand to her.

"actually, we've met bef—" she cuts you off, but is cut off by the bell ringing.

then there's a loud bang on the door, and it opens slightly.

"topaz! we need to talk," it's sweet pea.

she throws you a sympathetic smile and heads out to the hallway. you there for another few minutes, fully aware of the fact that you're missing chemistry before you pull your phone back out, and call your dad. i can't handle this, i'm incredibly overwhelmed. all of this is too much. i know toni? i'm a southside serpent?

"hey kiddo, what's up?" he asks, answering on the first ring, it's his coffee break. "aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"i am," you reply, your voice shaking, immediately giving away how you're feeling. "i just— dad—"

"sweetheart?" he prompts.

fred andrews, a saint walking, ever understanding. you're incredibly blessed to have him for a dad. you force yourself to take a shaky breath, you're on the verge of tears and your eyes burn.

"can i have a day? i just— i'm so overwhelmed. can i go home?" you ask, the dam breaking, tears slipping down your cheeks.

"yeah, kiddo, i'll come get you and sign you out for the day, okay?" he says, and you whisper okay. "hang tight, i'll be there soon."

"thanks dad," you say, and hang up.

you stare at your reflection, your eyes are puffy and you look like hell. your hair is a mess, but you really don't have the energy to fix it. you grab a couple paper towels from the dispenser and wipe your face. you grab your backpack and head down to the office. you drop into one of the chairs across from mrs. bell's desk to wait.

"oh, hi," she says, exiting mr. weatherbee's office holding a folder. "how can i help you dear?"

"i'm not feeling well, my dad's coming to pick me up." you reply, forcing a small smile.

"oh i'm sorry to hear that dear, i hope you feel better," she gives you a sympathetic look as she plops down at her desk.

you're used to the look; the sad eyes with a small forced smile, you'd recived it a lot since the accident. there were no fatalities thankfully, but it drastically changed your life. at least you have to assume it did, you'd lost a year's worth of memories and it only took you a severe concussion and a couple weeks of physical therapy.

"good morning, dorris," comes your dad's voice, he steps into the office and mrs. bell smiles at him.

"well hello, fred." she says, a faint smile on her lips.

everyone on this side of town loves your dad. fred andrews is the kind of guy who will drop everything if you're in a bind, whether you're a friend or not. he signs you out on the sign out clipboard and turns to you.

"ready to go?" he asks, and you nod, standing up.

he slings an arm around your shoulders, and you wrap an arm around his middle as you walk. he doesn't ask you any questions, but you're sure when you get home he's going to have some.

SWEETPEA.

"she acts like she's never met us before," fangs says, sitting down beside sweet pea on the steps leading up to the bleachers.

they need privacy to talk about what's happening, this was the closest thing sweet pea could find. especially with all the gawking, stares and judgemental looks they'd been receiving since showing up to their new school this morning.

"i know, she didn't even say "hi" or anything. it's the least she could have done given everything," sweet pea grumbles, watching as toni walks towards them.

"she doesn't remember us," toni says, coming to a stop in front of them. "she literally doesn't remember us. like at all, she introduced herself to me in the bathroom,"

"what the hell?" fangs mutters, "maybe it's an elaborate plan to keep her summer in the snakes den a secret?"

"that is the dumbest thing i have ever heard," toni says crossing her arms over her chest. "you heard how she was talking before she ghosted us, she was over it all, the cliques, school, all of it."

"she said we were her family," sweet pea mumbles, "and then she disappeared. maybe it was all a lie,"

"jesus christ, or maybe, something bad happened to her, and she actually doesn't remember us." toni replies, the annoyance in her voice prominent. "and if she didn't remember us, then how would she know to contact us?"

"i sent her over a hundred texts since she disappeared, none of them have even been opened."

"case and point," toni says, rolling her eyes. "look, sit and stew in your misery, or confront her. i don't know about you guys, but i plan on getting my friend back."

with that toni turns on her heel, and heads back towards the school. fangs sighs, and stands up, brushing the dust off his ass as he turns to stand where toni had just been.

"maybe she's right," he says, looking down at sweet pea. "we know elly, she wouldn't just up and ghost us like this unless something happened. i want our friend back, and i'm with toni on trying by any means necessary to get her back,"

fangs studies sweet pea's face, looking for any indication that he's heard anything he said. after a moment, fangs sighs again, and turns to follow toni back into the school. sweet pea sits there on the bleachers, he watches as his friends grow smaller and smaller the further they get. he groans, and throws his head back. he's frustrated. he hasn't heard a damn thing from you in months, and then he sees you at his new school and suddenly his whole world collapses. he sighs, and pulls his cellphone out of the pocket of his leather jacket. he opens up his texts, and pulls up your messages.

you never showed up, you never called, you just disappeared. well, apparently you hadn't, but for sweet pea you did. other than toni and fangs he had no other friends in common at the time. no way of getting a hold of you when his calls all suddenly hit you voicemail. now here you are, back in his life, but so far from his reach. he had hoped a million times over the last six months that he'd find out what happened, that he'd get some kind of explanation or closure. something. anything.

but when his eyes landed on you, it was like all the anger towards you, and the situation melted away. for a second, it was like you were never gone. then that daydream snapped, and you were rushing away. not an ounce of recognition in your eyes. it hurt. his phone vibrates in his hand, and it brings him back. back to the bleachers, back to the harsh reality that you might have no clue who he is, back to the anger that swirls in his head, back to how much he loves you, and how much his heart hurts because you might no remember any of it.

he looks down at the screen, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees as the bell rings again.

YOU.

"alright, so, what's up?" he asks, as you drop onto the couch.

vegas jumps up beside you, and drops his head into your lap. you run your fingers through his soft fur and try to figure out a way to start this conversation.

"what was i like over the summer?" you ask, looking up at him.

he's standing by the front door, leaning against the archway leading into the living room. he's got his arms crossed and he's watching you silently.

"you were like you are now," he shrugs, "you didn't spend much time home, at first you were busy with cheryl and then you got a job."

"a job?" you ask, that's new information. "where?"

"the twilight drive-in," he replies, "you made some new friends with your co-workers, or so you said. you and archie were barely home over the summer,"

there's a few moments of silence as you digest this new information.

"dad?"

"yeah kiddo?"

"where was i going? why was i in that car?"

"truthfully, i don't know. archie said the two of you had gotten in a pretty heated fight, and you'd stormed out. a few hours later i got a call from sheriff keller,"

you nod, and sigh, leaning forward. you rest your elbows on your knees, and rub your eyes.

"i had a memory come back," you say after a minute, you don't look up at him. "it was weird though, it was really intense. it was like i was inside the memory."

"do you know what triggered it?"

"no," you lie, until you figure out what's going on with you, you plan to keep sweet pea and toni out of things. "it just hit me in the middle of english, and i had to get out of the room. i went to the bathroom and i puked."

"you puked?"

"yeah, nausea hit me seconds after the memory."

"well, at least you're making progress. the doctor said it could take a while,"

you nod, finally looking up at him. he checks his watch, and comes into the livingroom.

"you take it easy okay? don't strain yourself," he kisses your forehead and heads back to the front door. "i love you,"

"love you too dad," you murmur, watching him leave.

when you can no longer hear the rumble of his truck, you decide to head up to your room. until the accident you'd kept a near meticulous set of diaries, if you can find the one you was working on, maybe it can shed some light on what's going on.

it's weird, you're you, living in your body, but up until six months ago you were a completely different person. it's like living inside a stranger. you step into your room, it's a mess. clothes litter the floor, spilling from your closet, empty take away coffee cups, empty mugs from downstairs and energy drink cans litter the top of your dresser and desk. you go to the hall closet across from your room and grab a garbage bag and head back in. might as well clean up.

a few hours later you stand in the center of your now clean room. all your clean clothes have been re-folded or hung up, all the dirty clothes are in the wash and there's not a single thing out of place. except for—you squint, dropping to your knees in front of your bed, leaning down to pull two cardboard boxes from underneath. one is marked MY NOTEBOOKS, DON'T TOUCH (THAT MEANS YOU ARCH) in all caps—obviously your diaries, but the other has no label. you take off the lid and audibly gasp at the contents. sitting on top is a leather jacket with the southside serpents logo on the back, under the jacket is a dark green journal, a white handled switchblade, your old cellphone and a set of keys.

the screen on the phone is shattered, pretty near unusable by most people's standards. no one knew where your phone was after the crash. you'd just written it off as lost... finding it here, in this box changes things. you put it on the charger, and sit cross legged on the floor. maybe it'll be able to turn it on, if not you could to take it to a repair shop. you pick up the jacket, and check all the pockets. inside the left pocket is a half crumpled note, you pull it out and flatten it. it's definitely not your writing. it has one sentence, and it crushes you.

i love you too - sweet pea

you drop your hand holding the paper into your lap. that just makes everything even worse. does he know that you lost your memories? does he know about the accident? does toni? do they think you're pretending? were you on your way to see him when you crashed?

"fuck," you whisper, pulling your knees up to your chest.

you wanted the truth, and you got it, well part of it. how do you process all of this? how do you fix this? god, you just want to scream. throw things. have a little bit of a meltdown. it won't fix anything, but it might make you feel better. you rest your forehead on the edge of your bed and sit there on the floor, the jacket half hanging out of the box.

"hey?" comes archie's voice from the hallway, i jump at the sound. "hey- are you okay?"

you kick the box under your bed and glance up to see archie. he stops at the threshold, looking intently at you. you hear more sets of feet coming up the steps.

"i—"

you want to lie, you want to tell him you're fine. say everything's a-ok. but it's not. it's really not. and then betty, jughead and veronica come up behind archie and the damn breaks. you start violently, and uncontrollably sobbing into my arms. how did you wake up a year and a half older with such resentment for your three best friends? how did your life fall apart so quickly?

"hey, sh, sh, you're okay, everything's okay," archie says dropping to his knees to envelope you in a hug.

the other drop down on the floor with you. veronica and betty rub your back soothingly. you need to apologize, but you can't stop crying. maybe that's just as well, still a meltdown, just a different kind you suppose.

"i'm sorry!" you cry, frantically wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater.

you dislike crying in front of people, and you know most people don't like having someone cry in front of them. you try and steady your breathing.

"hey, you don't have to apologize," veronica says. "we've all kind of been terrible friends since your accident,"

"that's why we're here," betty adds, patting your shoulder comfortingly.

"that's why they're here," jughead says, and betty swats at him and misses. "hey! let me finish woman! i was going to say, i've been a great friend. we had lots of fun working at the drive-in together,"

"jug..." betty says softly, using that same tone people often use when they're tip-toing around things that might hurt you. she shakes her head slightly, "she doesn't—"

"hey! don't talk about me like i'm not here!" you say loudly, all three of them turn to look at you. "i'm not fragile, you don't have to choose your words carefully around me, i have amnesia not brain damage."

"you're right," veronica says, staring each of them down until they nod. "we all need to stop treating you like glass,"

you quickly stand, your back to them for a minute. you take a deep breath, and turn around.

"arch, what were we fighting about when i left?" you ask, and he looks at you for a moment before swallowing, hard.

"you felt abandoned," he says, his eyes falling to the black rug they're sitting on. "you were upset because we were going on our annual nyc trip, but i'd also promised ronnie i'd help her with something in the morning, and i wanted to push the trip back by two, three hours. and you got really upset and exploded on me—it was entirely justified on your end—there was a lot of things you wanted to do together over the summer and i either canceled or forgot. i was a shitty brother."

"no, arch, you weren't. i'm sure i was just being drama—" you start, but archie raises his hand and you stop.

"no, i was being selfish. i made you a promise, and i broke it. i'm sorry," archie says, standing up and pulling you into a tight hug. "i'm sorry, i really am."

"and we're sorry," jughead says, as archie lets you go. "we thought that giving you some space would be a good thing, but we all got a little caught up in our own shit."

"i understand that, however, i've been alone pretty much for six months." you reply, crossing your arms over your chest.

"you've had cheryl, and jason, and reggie—you seemed like you were pretty happy..." betty says, and you shrug, looking away from her. 

"cheryl is nice— but all we talk about is her. jason's fun to hang with but we have nothing in common other than reggie and cheryl. and reggie.." you sigh, staring out your window over their heads. "reggie made sense."

"he made sense?" veronica asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"picking reggie made sense, and don't get me wrong i do like reggie, he's a great guy—a good listener, great at solving problems, fun to hang out with and all—but there's no connection." you sigh, you briefly contemplate telling them about the jacket, about your supposed summer with the serpents, but decide against it for now.

"are you going to break up with him?" archie asks, and you shrug in reply.

"i probably should," you sigh again, why does all of this have to be so damn hard? "did he ask about me when i disappeared this morning?"

"yeah, i told him you weren't feeling well. dad text me about you being home," archie says, and you nod.

"well, i say we grab dinner at pops tonight like old times," veronica says when the silence goes on a beat too long.

"honestly, i would love that, but i have to tie up some lose ends first. i'll meet you guys there at," you pause, walking over to your old phone, tapping the screen, relief shoots through you when it lights up, "say, 6?"

"sounds good," betty says, and they all stand up.

you unplug your phone, pocketing it as jughead, archie and veronica file out, heading back downstairs, but betty lingers.

"you okay, cooper?" you ask, teasingly.

she turns towards you sharply, hands clasped behind her back, "this morning, i— i really was trying to touch base with you. i know that the whole southside thing kind of has half the school losing it, but you told archie no, and i wasn't going to push it. he mentioned that you were upset about the group not reconnecting with you after everything, and i just wanted to see how you were— are."

"i owe you an apology for how i acted, i was frustrated with arch, not that that's an excuse, but i just kind of snapped. i'm really sorry, i shouldn't have taken that out on you betty,"

"your anger is justified, we should have been by you every step of the way—"

"you were busy, things happen. i missed you guys, sure, but this entire thing has been insane. i woke up six months ago with no memories from the last year. and to be fair, it's not like i made much of an effort with you guys."

"well, we're all okay now. and, you could never truly get rid of us,"

you let out a short laugh, throwing your arm over her shoulder, leading her out into the hallway.

"and you couldn't get rid of me if you tried," you say, and betty grins at you, her arm circling your back as you descend the stairs.

you're standing outside the mantle's house, trying to decide if now is really the best time to be doing this, but your rationality wins out and you move towards the door before you lose your nerve. you raise your hand to knock, but the door flies open and you're met face to face with mrs. mantle. 

"hi dear, are you okay?" she asks, a warm smile on her face. 

"yes. ma'am, i just..." you were not prepared for his mom to open the door. 

that was actually the worse possible thing that could have happened. mrs. mantle has always been such a kind, and wonderful person towards you. you almost wonder if she's the reason you'd let things between you and reggie continue as long as they have. 

"sorry, is reggie home?" you ask, and she nods, stepping out of the way to let you in.

"he's upstairs doing homework, are you staying for supper?" 

the longer you speak to her the more you're dreading following through with this. she's such a nice lady, and you're not entirely sure how reggie's going to handle this. you really don't want to lose her. 

you force yourself to shake your head, "no ma'am, i just have to talk to reggie and then i have dinner plans with my brother," 

she nods again, and you slip your shoes off, and head upstairs. 

you've been here so many times that you don't even have to think about where you're going. as such, this leaves time for you to panic and try to talk yourself out of it. you're not sure why. reggie had been a crush of yours for a long time, from middle school to freshman year at least. when you woke up without your memories from the last year, you'd still felt that way about him. you'd been excited when he initially asked you out. mind you that excitement fizzled rather quickly, realizing what the arrangement meant for your relationship.

you were disappointed, sure, but you weren't blindsided by any means. reggie had always given you the kind of vibe that he wasn't interested in settling down just yet. so, when you push his partially closed door open and find him with his tongue down the throat of a different cheerleader, you're not entirely shocked. the girl notices you first, she's younger than you and reggie by at least a year, and she squeals, pulling away from him. he doesn't notice you at first, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion before he follows her eyeline. they both look like deer, and you're the headlights.

"uh, h-hey..." reggie musters, sitting down beside the girl, "i think you should probably go,"

"y-yeah, g-go...." she says, jumping up and flying out of the room.

you stare at him, unsure of how to continue. sure, he'd made this infinitely easier on you, but at the same time you still find yourself hurting a bit.

"i'm sorry," he says, dropping his head into his hands.

"despite our "arrangement", reg," you use air quotes, "i thought you respected me more than this,"

"i do!" his voice comes out loud, then softer, "i do."

the silence that follows is deafening, and feels like it stretches for hours. he doesn't look at you the whole time, his eyes trained on the ground.

"well, you've made this decision a whole lot easier for me. i'm breaking up with you, reg." you sigh, "i don't hate you; i'm not mad at you; i am a bit disappointed, but i think we were kind of doomed from the start. maybe in a couple months we can try to be friends, just friends. if you're down with that..."

he raises his head, guilt written clear across his features, but he nods, "i'm sorry, sunshine. i really, really am."

"i know reg," you say, leaning down to give his hand a squeeze. "so am i,"

you turn to leave, hesitanting in the doorway.

"reg?"

"yeah?"

you turn to look at him, "see you around,"

4:50pm. you have about an hour and ten minutes before you have to meet archie and the others. you plop down on your bed, and flip your diary open. there are only eight entries.

entry 1: may 16th

i can't do this anymore. faking everything. it's driving me fucking insane. betty, ronnie, and archie are always flaking on me. internship this. summer job that. charity this. sorry i forgot that. jug is the only one who hasn't consistently left me hanging, and we're not even all that close. that being said, out of all of them, i'm starting to change my tune on that. he's even offered to talk to his manager about possibly getting me a summer job at the twilight. which would be killer, i'm there for most of the showings anyway. at least i'll get paid for doing something i already enjoy. then at least i'll have something going on. i'm honestly not ok with them constantly rescheduling things but for whatever reason i just sit there and take it. i need to start putting myself first, and find some friends that put in just as much effort as i do. i wonder if the three of them will even notice if i stop putting in the effort.

entry 2: may 19th

guess who has a new job!!! me!!!!!!!! i'm so excited, i don't think i've been this happy about something in a long time. i start tomorrow night, and jug's already introduced me to some of his coworkers. i'll be working in concession. we're even allowed to sit outside and watch the movie when we're between customers. i'm so looking forward to having this. betty, ronnie and i were supposed to go shopping today but they both just texted to cancel. go figure.

entry 3: may 20th

first day was a success! my new coworkers are so nice, i even made quick friends with a girl named toni. she's got pink highlights in her hair which really suit her. i also overheard that she's a southside serpent. mind you she doesn't really seem like the kind of people i’ve been told are in that motorcycle gang. then again, you're not supposed to believe everything you hear.

okay!! it's later now, and toni asked me if i wanted to hang out with her and her friends at the quarry tomorrow!! that's the first time in a really long time someone’s asked me to do something with them! i, of course said yes! i’m so excited!!

just got back from the quarry, i had so much fun. more fun than i’ve had all year! toni is so much fun to be around, she has the best energy, and it's just so refreshing to be around someone who actually wants to do things and live in the moment. the last time i hung out with ronnie and betty they were both glued to their cellphones, undoubtedly texting jug and archie. i also met her two best friends sweet pea and fangs, who are also super cool. they were really nice, and welcoming. i was pretty nervous, because i’d seen the two of them at the drive-in with fp a bunch of times, so i knew they were serpents, but they were both so nice! i’m really starting to wonder if the serpents are as “bad” and as much of a problem as other northsiders insist they are.

entry 4: june 21st

oh god, it’s been a month since my last entry. i have so much to write about… i honestly don't know where to start. i’ve been hanging out with toni, sweet pea and fangs pretty consistently since that day they invited me to the quarry. i’ve stopped chasing archie and his friends to hang out, and i was right in my guess that they wouldn't notice if i stopped trying. i haven't received a single text from any of them. i mean, i have from archie, but he’s my brother so that doesn't really count in my opinion. and i guess jug too, but we're coworkers and he was the only non-flake before anyway. either way, it’s been so nice having toni, fangs and sweet pea reaching out to make plans with me and when i reach out to them they actually follow through. we all have a lot in common; we enjoy a lot of the same music and tv shows.

toni is a god with her camera, i don't think i’ve seen more beautiful photography, and she takes the BEST candids. she’s taken so many pictures of us, she’s going to get me some physical copies for my scrapbook.

fangs can get you ANYTHING. he’s such a smooth talker that people just end up giving him things. he even got us into a sold out _ show. i’m really not sure how he managed, but we got escorted by security to the barricade.

i was supposed to go with betty, archie and ronnie, but i decided to flake on them for a change. that did get me a few texts from each of them, and i didn't answer them. i just turned off my phone and enjoyed the show. it was amazing!!!!!! i had an absolute blast.

i’ve also been spending more time with sweet pea… alone… (obviously, with toni & fangs too) he’s nothing like i thought he’d be when we met. here i go again judging a book by its cover, shame on me. but he’s so sweet, it took a bit to get him to open up to me, toni says he’s just protective, which i both completely agree and understand. with friends as cool as those two, i don't blame him. he goes out of his way for everyone; holding the door for old ladies, standing in the middle of a busy street so kids can cross. he seems so scary and mean, but that's just his defence. we've been getting a really close, and every time he asks me to hangout i get butterflies.

we're hanging out tonight too, i’m going to pick him up in twenty minutes and we're going to the quarry. i’m sitting in a booth at pop’s waiting for our food. i really like him, and i enjoy spending time with him. toni said she’s never seen him so happy, and that she thinks he likes me. i really hope he does, because i like him. i might even tell him as much tonight… that might be a bit too much, actually. i don't know. oh, pop’s calling my order, i’ll update you later!

just got back from the quarry, and oh. my. god. sweet pea kissed me! i was all nervous, and i decided i was going to tell him how i felt and before i got the words out, he leaned over and just did it! i’ve had a few kisses before, some good, some not so much, but this one? it was the BEST i’ve ever had. that thing you read about in fanfics or novels about fireworks or butterflies, it's REAL. he asked me out on a date too, and i’m literally so excited. i called toni before i added this update and she squealed. she was right, he does like me. mine and sweet pea’s date is wednesday night, we're going to watch a movieat the drive-in and then in the morning we're all going camping at sweetwater river.

my phone is ringing… it’s archie? weird, he usually texts me. i’m going to answer him, i’ll be right back.

just got off the phone with arch. mom is coming down from chicago for the weekend, and we were supposed to go together to pick her up, now he’s backed out on me and i have to go alone. what could be more important than picking mom up from the airport?! especially considering we rarely see her. whatever, i guess it’ll give us time to talk.

entry 5: june 30th

just dropped mom back off at the airport. this visit was so fucked. i picked her up, we had a lovely conversation, and then she asked me where arch was and i had to lie to her. he said he was going to call her and let her know, but apparently he didn't. then, he didn’t show up for family dinner, which he was also supposed to help me cook (spoiler: he DIDN’T). when mom and dad asked where he was, i was like a dear caught in headlights. i have no fucking clue!! i called him, and BAM! voicemail. mom calls him and woah, he picks up first ring. he lies, and gets away with it. arch was gone all weekend which screwed up my itinerary. i mean, seeing mom was the highlight, obviously, but archie and i planned all this stuff and we didn't get to do any of it. not to mention, archie had promised he’s take mom to the airport because he was gone all weekend, and then he didn't show! again! i had plans with toni, and i had to apologize and cancel on her (which isn't fair to her or me (but fuck us i guess??)) anyway, i’m banking on archie cancelling our yearly trip to nyc with everything going on. i’d lay money on it now.

entry 6: july 1st

i’m so mad right now. archie saw me and sweet pea coming out of pop’s with lunch, and got in sweets face. he has NO RIGHT. especially considering how much he's left me hanging lately. i will admit, i did something i shouldn't have, but he said something he definitely shouldn't have (that i shant repeat here (just know it's vile)) and i then punched him. sweets then threw me over his shoulder and carried me to my car. i bruised the crap out of my hand, archie’s got a hard face i guess. toni and fangs tried to lighten the mood when we got back but i couldn't help myself. sweet pea and i ended up leaving early, and we just drove around for a while. when i finally did calm down, he thanked me for standing up for him. why wouldn't i?? archie has no right to treat any of my friends like that, let alone my maybe boyfriend (we haven't really labelled it yet). and archie’s one to talk about people’s “priorities” and who they “really” are, seeing as toni, sweet pea and fangs have done nothing but be great friends and have been there for me all summer and he (MY! TWIN! BROTHER!) couldn’t even see his mother while she was down from chicago. i haven't seen archie since our altercation at pop’s and i’m more than okay with that.

entry 7: august 15th

sweet pea and i got into a fight. it’s nothing major, and i know he’s just looking out for me, but somethings aren’t really any of his business. namely, things involving my family. i was telling him about mine and archie’s annual trip to nyc, and how this will be the first year that it’s just the two of us. mom and dad usually go with us, and it’s the highlight of our summer. i’ve been really looking forward to it, and that i’m hoping this will help mend the tear we’ve both been helping create in our relationship. i’m not going to entirely blame arch because i’ve definitely not helped… especially when i punched him in the face in july. he’s finally speaking to me again. it took a couple of weeks and awkwardly dodging each other but we’re at least talking again. which is progress i guess. we haven’t talked about it either. he just walked into my room last tuesday and started telling about this video he saw, and then everything was fine again. we’ve always been like that, but what archie said really isn’t ok, and what i did really isn’t ok either. i plan to bring it up on our trip. anyway, back to sweets, he’s worried i’m going to get super hyped up about this trip and then archie’s going to yank the carpet from under my feet (kind of like he’s been doing all summer, but i digress). we leave in two days, and so far everything seems to be going well. i should apologize to sweets before we leave though, cause i did kind of snap at him… adding that to the to-do list.

entry 8: august 17th

fuck archie. FUCK. HIM. sweets was right. FUCK EVERYTHING. GODDAMN NORTHSIDERS. 

that was it, the last entry. you wrote that the night of your accident. that's why you were in your car. that's where you were headed. you close the diary, and smack it off your forehead. you close your eyes, and then let out a scream of frustration. you throw the book across your room, and pull your old phone from your pocket. you sift through your text threads, you'd sent more outgoing messages to betty, veronica and archie then they'd sent back to you for months before your accident. turns out they weren't  just shitty friends afterwards. 

you pause for a moment, your finger hovering over fp jones' contact. why would you have jughead's dad's number? up until hiram started causing a stir in town, jughead hadn't even been living with his dad so you never would've needed to contact him. you click it and a bunch of text messages load in. 

things were falling into place for you. they were shitty friends before. you were going to need new ones regardless, that's how you ended up in friendship purgatory at riverdale high. cheryl just isn't your cup of tea, and you're still not sure how you feel about reggie after everything you witnessed this afternoon. one thing you do know; you owe some people an explanation. you close out of the messages, and go to your gallery. the first picture that you see is one of you, toni, sweet pea and fangs, your faces all pressed together cheek to cheek, smiling widely. you smile, and then suddenly it's like a damn breaks and a years worth of memories come flooding in. you drop the phone, and rush downstairs, grabbing your keys from the bowl by the front door. 

"you guys are terrible fucking friends," you say, not really caring to control the level of your voice as you stomp towards your brother and his friends. "not you jug, you're fine, i'm talking about these three."

archie, veronica and betty share confused looks then look up at you. you tower over their table, anger coursing through you. you stare the three of them down quietly, eyes darting from one to the other, to the other.

"uh, didn't we already go over that?" veronica asks, her tone light and joking. 

"not really," you say, "i got my memories back, and you guys were fucking terrible. what did i do to deserve being cancelled on, and forgotten about so easily by you three? especially you arch, you're my brother. my twin. you of everyone are supposed to have my back!"

betty and veronica's eyes drop to their laps, and archie freezes, his eyes wide. 

 "while i appreciate your apology from before archie, with all the facts, i don't accept. what you did was fucking shitty, and i never would have done that to you. never. as for you two, if you don't like me, or just don't like hanging out with me, or just don't want to be my friend, stop making plans with me. i'm done being treated like that, and if any of you want to make things right, actually make things right, you'll be able to find me with my real friends; toni, sweet pea and fangs. who, unlike you three, actually like spending time with me. and for the record, are really good people, and deserve to be treated with respect." you turn on your heels to leave, and then pause at the last booth, whipping back around, "also, fuck you guys."

you pray that you're right about this. you never hung out with them during school, so you weren't sure if they were going to be at the quarry tonight. the weather's still nice, so you're hoping that you're right. you turn onto the familiar dirt road, and catch sight of their bikes in the distance of your headlights. relief washes over you as you get closer, you see three figures walking towards you and you pull in beside the bikes, like you had so many times before. you turn the car off, and jump out. 

"fucking hell, andrews! you scared the shit out of us!" you hear fangs yell, a bark of laughter leaving him. 

"guys--" you say, walking closer to them, your heart beating hard against your ribs. 

you almost wonder if it's going to beat right out of your chest, you're  so nervous, but you're so happy to see them. you missed them. 

"told you she knew who we were." sweet pea sneers, cutting you off. "what schools out so you can be friends with us again?"

"what? no--" you start but he cuts you off again. 

"where were you? why are you back now?" he bites out, and toni smacks him. 

"shut up and let her talk." toni says, nodding at you. "go,"

"i got into a car accident on august 17th. i have no idea how, or what happened, but i was trapped in that car for four hours, and spent two days in a coma. then when i woke up, i couldn't remember anything that happened over the last year. i now remember everything, and am really, really sorry for unintentionally ghosting you guys for six months." you pause to take a breath, and gage their reactions, "i know how this all sounds, but i promise i'm telling the truth,"

toni smirks, stepping forward to throw her arms around you, "i'm glad you're back, i fucking missed you."

you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"

"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.

you hug her tightly, "i missed you guys way more,"

"i bet you did," she laughs, letting you go, and stepping back.

she turns to look at fangs, and sweet pea and holds her hand out, “c’mon boys, cough it up.”

begrudgingly, they both pull five dollars out of their pockets and drop it into her hand. fangs then moves past her, and scoops you into a bone crushing hug.

“missed you,” he whispers, then lets you go.

“missed you too,” you smile, and the pair of them slowly slink back to the fire they’d been sitting around, giving you and sweet pea space.

sweet pea stares at you, dark eyes unreadable, his posture tense. it takes you back to how he was when you met for the first time. closed off, on guard, and analytical. you want to reach out for him, wrap yourself around him and never let go. you’re not sure he’s ready for that, so you shove your hands deep into the pockets of your jacket. your fingers catching the slip of paper he’d given you months ago, curling around it, you put it out and his eyes close briefly.

“i understand if you need space,” you say carefully, unfolding the small scrap. “but if you ever actually meant this, you have to know that i never would have left you hanging like that intentionally.”

he takes the note from you, his eyes leaving yours to look at it. he stays quiet for what feels like an eternity.

“i know.” he finally speaks, eyes still on the note. “deep down, i knew you wouldn't have left. not when you socked your brother for me. i was just so mad… at myself for what i said to you last, at you, for not following through on your text… then seeing you at school– it didn't make sense. instead of really thinking about it, like toni did, i just–” his eyes meet yours again, “i don't know, i let my fears take hold, i guess.”

"i--"

"JUST KISS ALREADY; YOU LOVE HER, HE LOVES YOU, THE END-"

"FANGS, SHUT UP!" toni yells, the sound of her smacking him and him asking her to stop follows.

you and sweet pea share a glance, and then both break out in giggles. when the giggles subside, you step closer to him, your hand landing on his shoulder.

"i love you, sweets, and if you need time—"

"i've had enough time, what i need now, is you." he says before pulling you against him, and kissing you.

he pulls back briefly, letting you catch your breath, "i love you too,"

[maybankslover]

so long, london-the second part

drew starkey x fem!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, breakup, mention of infidelity, sexual themes, mental health issues, mention of pregnancy, mention of infertility. most of them don't happen but they're mentioned. smut [it has a warning for everyone who doesn't like or doesn't want reading it and a warning on where it ends and the smut ends.]

summary: she's an actress and a singer, he's an actor. coworkers that fell in love until it fell apart. now everything is gone but how did it disappear?

a/n: odessa a'zion is made the antagonist in this story. hateful comments aren't allowed, it's just for the plot. it's probably the only chapter with descriptive sexual content because i'm not used to write it and i only felt it was needed now.

[the face and hair color of reader changes depending on the picture i need for the instagram posts! anyone can imagine how their reader looks, it isn't a designated actress or singer for this fic]

moodboard

series masterlist

neither drew or y/n knew if they were ready to see one another even after six months both of them still found themselves longing for their lost half.

she wanted for the earth to absorve her when on her uber to chase's place madelyn sent her a text.

text

maddie "did you see this?"

maddie [instagram post]

maddie "drew sent it to me asking if i knew anything about it."

y/n "i don't want to face him."

y/n "he has nothing to do or ask about it. the articles about one of us having dinner with 'friends' while we were together weren't about me, they were about him."

y/n "what if i fake sickeness and i don't go?"

maddie "chase will literally kill you and you know it, he's been tallking about how much he misses you non stop on set."

y/n "i miss y'all too and being on set."

maddie "i know hon. see u there."

the bottle of wine on her hand almost drops to the floor when the door is wide open and a happy chase throws himself at her in a big hug.

"oh i missed you so much." she giggled at his words.

"i missed you too big bro." she kisses his cheek. "even tho i saw you with kelsea in new york last month."

"yeah but it's been way too long." he smiles at her while guiding her in. "everyone's already here."

"god i hate being the last one." she huffed.

"look who the wind brought in!" jd exclaims when he sees her come in chase's dinning room getting up to greet her.

"miss little big rockstar!" carlacia says rushing to envolve her in a tight hug.

"thank you, thank you." she makes a reverence laughing before her friends arms get all around her.

"i missed your ugly face." rudy laughs picking her up and spins her around.

"always so sweet." she says messing with his hair. "nick and austin ain't coming?"

"nick is filming in san diego and austin had a wedding." drew spoke up. "hey."

"hi." she walks up to him and gaves him a hug that's quickly reciprocated.

"we're never on the same place as nick." bailey said.

"yeah it's weird." madelyn agreed. "and well it's hard for all of us to get our calenders to coincide even more now that bubble isn't on the show." bubble, their nickname for her, born from her always being distracted on her own little bubble.

as the night settled in with drinks in hand she took a moment to appreciate everything. her friends laughing, the feeling of being at home even with drew there. his presence made her nervous? of course it did, he was the love of her life and he was no longer her's to be.

"hey, you alright?" carlacia whispered to her.

"yeah, i just missed this so much, you know?" she smiles at her.

"we're your found family and you lost everything within a month." carlacia hand held her's. "it's okay to be overwhelmed."

"thank car, it's nice to hear it. everyone just expects us to bounce back after our lives fell apart."

lost in her conversation, she wasn't aware of drew watching her every move from across the room. from the complicity with bailey and her girlfriend to her walking to the patio dissapearing from the group, only to follow her five minutes later.

she knew it was him the one to open and close the french door without seeing him.

"don't ask just sit down." she tilted her head to look at him. he chuckles and sits next to her leaving a space between the two. "just please don't smoke next to me."

"i quitted a few motnhs ago."

"i'm glad, it was going to kill you." she take a sip of her drink. "how are you?"

"been good, how are you?" he fidgetes with his ring.

"preparing for the first leg of the tour. starts in two months."

"where are you going this time?" he looks at her and remebers how mad he's at himself for still being in love with her after what he put her through. he doesn't deserve the privilege that is loving her, he had it and lost it.

"seven countries in south america then australia, three in asia, ten in europe, canada and the states but we're leaving outside the one's we did last year. i have like two or three shows in each city." a small smile makes it's way to her face. "it's almost a year of tour but i'll be taking breaks in between."

"wow it's big this time." he smiles. "i'm proud of you."

"thank you." she smiles back. "it's the biggest i've done."

"i know, we used to talk about this. you've made it."

"it's insane to hear that outloud." they both laugh. "you were there for almost all the way."

they stay silent for a minute until she breaks it.

"ask what you want to ask drew." she lets her head fall back resting in the sofa and looks at him.

"are you with someone?" he takes a deep breath in.

"i wouldn't call it being with someone."

"and what would you call it?" his brows snapped together.

"hooking up just not with zayn. he's become a really good friend." she sighs.

he stays silent.

"what's in your mind?" her forehead creases.

"didn't expect you to move own so fast. that's all." he shrugges his shoulds trying to appear indiferent.

"it's been six months drew. i couldn't stay frozen forever." she closes her eyes for a moment before getting up. "i'm going inside." she squeezes his shoulder with affection and goes back to their friends, a while later drew does the same.

camera's pointing in all directions, capturing one more an infinite of their memories and at three am bailey said they should get going, the rest of them aggreing.

"i can take you home if you want, rudy mentioned you didn't came with your car." drew said standing in front of her and she nooded yes.

"that'd be nice, thank you."

"bubble are you coming with us?" mariah, bailey's girlfriend, asked while everyone said their goodbyes.

"drew's taking me home, don't worry." she smiled and kissed rudy's cheek as he stood next to her. "love you."

"love you more." the blonde said.

"they're so sleeping together tonight." chase said once the former couple had driven away making the rest of the group that stayed behind laugh.

"that's out of the question." jd chuckled.

"god i love this song." y/n said turning up the volume to bad omens by 5sos.

"saw them last month in california with kelsea and chase." he looks at her before redirecting his sight to the road.

"no way. i wanted to go to the new york one's but scheduals weren't on my side." the black gates of her house came to view. "the code is the same we had at ours." she says.

"piggy's birthday." he chuckles.

"i've to pick her up from my sister's tomorrow." she says as his truck parks in front of her front door hidden by the now closed gates. "the past two weeks were filled with work."

"i can take her sometimes if you have to travel and i'm not filming somewhere else. i've missed her."

"i'm sure we can do it sometime." she opens the car door. "thank you for the ride." and as she's about to get off, drew's hand on her's stops her.

"wait." he releases her hand and moves it to the back of her neck.

"drew we shouldn't." y/n wishpers noticing the closenes between them.

"just once. i can't remeber the last time we kissed." it comes out as a plead. it is.

her eyes move from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes before smashing her mouth against him, moving a hand to grip his shirt and the other to his face. when it breaks both trying to find the air taken away for a minute but drew's fast to kiss her again.

with eyes still closed she puts distance between them again and procedes to get off the truck. they look at eachother for a second before she speaks.

"are you coming?" shock floods through his body. "well?"

"yeah i'm coming." he turns the ignition off before following her inside her house.

[sexual content]

when the door's closed, drew's arm was immediately around her waist picking her up and forcing her to wrap around his middle.

the fight for dominance in the kiss would never change for them and him winning each time wouldn't either.

"where's your" he said panting, stealing kisses while she tried to form a sentence.

"the hall uh third door to the right." her hand went to press against his throat, kisses descending to his jaw as her back touched the bed and he settled in between her legs rutting through their clothes her intentions went to unbotton his pants and touch one of the things she missed the most. no one could compare to what she lived with him nor outside or inside the bed. "want these off." she tugs on his underware.

"impatiente aren't we?" he chuckles getting off her to follow what she said, his t-shirt gone first and pants seconds later.

"god." she whispers. she hadn't forgotten how hot he is, using her memories to get off more than once.

alone or with someone else, he was most of the times in her mind.

he nips at her inner thigh when he bends down to take off her shorts and thong. she wasn't perfectly shaved and neither was he exposing the spontaneity of the moment, the luck he had gotten at her agreeing at him taking her home, at him asking to kiss her.

"take off that shirt, i'm starting to hate it." he says making her chuckle.

"come and take it if you want it off." she would never stop driving him into a spiral of craziness.

he straddled her hips, caging her under him while taking her shirt discovering nothing underneath and she took it as a chance to take him in her hand.

"let me on top." she tries to sit up making him roll to his back.

"for fucks sake." he moans when without a warning she takes it in her mouth, doing everything in the way she knows he likes.

he becomes a moaning mess and grips her hair. just how she likes.

"i'm gonna cum, stop." he tugs on the makeshift ponytail and pulls her off of him.

"but."

"i don't care what you have to say i want to cum somewhere else." he turns her to her back in a quick move. the way he talks to her making her breathing stop, he was sweet and at the same time so controlling in bed. the kisses and bites he was leaving on her chest and lower stomach would leave a mark, she was sure of it and she didn't care.

"drew i-" her words freeze in her throat, a loud moan escapes from her when his tongue starts doing what it does best. bringing the stars to her.

the dizzy feeling clouding her mind, her hand went to grip his hair only to be reminded in wasn't there anymore. "fuck why would you shave it." he chuckled not stopping his task instead adding more to her pleassure when his fingers surprise her.

she chants his name, the electricity of her orgasm rushing though her body. it doesn't stop her from gripping his arms intending to bring him up to her.

"i want you." she kisses him biting his lip. "now please please please."

"say it again." his hand pushing her hair out of her face, kissing all around it to end in her mouth pecking on it a few times.

"please." she whines. "are you clean?" he knew what she wanted, what they always did in a careless way some would say but after so much time together they didn't use to care if she fell pregnant anymore.

"yeah." he didn't need to ask her, he knew she was clean. a freak of using a condom with anyone even with him until their second annivesary. guiding himself inside her, he took a moment before pushing all the way.

the kiss matching the pace of their hips clashing with one another. one of her legs hicked up his waist while the other wraped around his leg, her nails marking his back.

"baby." he moans into her neck, making a mark there too.

"i know. i know." she whimpers. "cum please inside me. cum" her words triggering him to unload inside her walls, the overstimulation when his fingers start tracing figures on her sensitive and swollen clit shattering her's too.

the only noise being their heavy breathing and their mouths finding the other's again.

"stay like this for a bit." she says caressing his back gets him slowly nodding.

"i love you." he says while pecking her lips. he didn't care anymore if he fucked up the moment but her eyes softening and the small smile she gave him followed by a kiss let him know he didn't.

"i love you." she kissed him back.

[end of sexual content]

they laid in her bed, looking at one another. his fingers tracing patterns in her arm.

"should i get going?" he asks wishing to the stars for her to say no.

"leave in the morning, it's late and i'd hate you if you make me sleep alone." she let her head fall into the pillow and he chuckled doing the same.

drew wrapped his arm around her, bringing her back to his chest and placing a kiss to her shoulder.

"it's not that i've moved on but i couldn't stay where we left. i had already checked out mentally when we broke up." she says softly.

"i'm sorry." he says.

"i know." she entwine her hand when the one he laid in her stomach.

the night drifting both into sleep, leaving them to resolve the unsaid and the news out tomorrow.

[the news]

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet-Cute - Zoro's Story - 12

Source for pic

Trouble 12

Word Count: 4430

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Protective!Zoro; Soft!Zoro; Sexual Tension; Teasing; Flirting; Mature Audiences (I'll always tag the NSFW chapters); Modern Day AU; Reader is being stalked; Fear; Paranoia; Angst; Rom-Com Vibes; Mild Gore-like Descriptions; Blood; Reader in a terror-like state; Dead Animals Mentioned; Fluff; Romance; Banter; Manipulation; Miscommunication; Frustration; Reader is very clumsy;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Zoro are slowly returning to your easy friendship filled with banter and flirting and you actually begin to glimpse a future with the green-haired cop. But then you start to receive weird gifts. They quickly escalate to manipulative texts. And now you're stuck in a spiral of terror and there's no way to get help because the Stalker, whoever he is, is threatening something other than just your life.

Notes: As I said before, I really didn't want to finish this chapter with a cliffhanger... but I had to! Not only because it feels right, but also because I wouldn't have a good place to break the chapter after this and it would be REALLY long! Confession time: action scenes are my nemesis... I always feel like they're not real enough, or not strong enough, or they just... lack something... But I tried! Hope you like it... Also, fair warning: non-consensual touching occurs in this chapter. Thread with caution, please and thank you.

Masterlist

The moment you step through that old wooden door is glorious. He can feel the tips of his fingers tingling in anticipation. You are coming to meet him. 

Willingly. 

Well… the willingness is debatable, but you are still here. And he's waited for this for so long. 

Years. 

And now, you'll finally be his. He can barely contain his excitement. 

“Finally, Kitten. Come to me.” His voice sounds uncharacteristically high-pitched, but he doesn't dwell on that thought for too long. The moment recognition dawns in your beautiful eyes, he snickers. 

You haven't forgotten him. 

“You? Why?” He's a tad disappointed that you don't seem happy to meet him, but he'll let it slide. You are being manipulated by that meddlesome cop, you have no idea how you should feel. 

But he'll fix that. 

He'll fix you. 

“Because I love you, Kitten. And you will too. Soon. Soon.”

He watches in glee as you take a small step back, stumbling on your own feet - such an adorable klutz you are - and the door closes behind you when you bump into it. 

He can see fear in your eyes. He's revelling in it. The way he's been doing it for weeks. He once thought it was enough to simply watch you smile. Until the day he watched you tremble and whimper. Then, he became addicted. 

Your fear, no, your terror grips him in a way nothing else ever could. It excites him. And he can't get enough. 

“You're sick.” You spit out, eyes glinting with fire that is trapped there. Your fierceness gets lost in limp limbs and shaking members. 

And he grunts in amusement. 

He takes a step forward, and you stumble back. A wicked grin contorts his features and he can barely contain the itch in his hands. He needs to touch you again. 

He's been waiting for so long. 

Another step forward and another step back from you, a dance you play out for two more steps before your back hits the wall. 

You're trapped. 

And he seizes the opportunity. 

Your pulse is aflutter beneath his grasp, irregular and fast, like a little fly caught in a spider's web, flapping its wings without a chance of escaping. A sob rises in your throat and he sees panic in your eyes when he presses his body into yours, pinning you helplessly to the solid wall. 

The way you wiggle against him fuels his fire, and he snarls, his chest rumbling with the primal sound that escapes his lips. Your mouth opens and he's expecting a cry, a whimper, a plea, or a prayer. But your lips utter that damned cop’s name, just the first syllable, an intimacy that makes him snarl again, this time dangerously. 

“Wrong name, Kitten!” He barks, his forehead almost touching your face. “What's my name?” You shudder and shake your head, fat droplets of tears slipping through your lashes and spilling against his hand. Your fingers rise and claw incessantly at his hand and he realises he's stealing your breath - squeezing too tight. 

So he loosens his grip and you take a deep inhale, your chest expanding as you gasp for air. He lets the tattooed side of his face caress yours with affection as he coos at you. “Shhh, Kitten, shhh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.” You whimper as he lays a wet kiss against your temple and presses his body closer, one knee parting your legs so he can slot himself even nearer. “You'll learn to behave, it's alright.”

A shiver makes your body jerk and tremble as your hands feebly fight against his hold. His smirk takes up half his face as he effortlessly stops your struggling. You stand no chance against his massive size. 

“My name, Kitten? Do try to remember… I spent two years near you, have I been so insignificant to you?” The way his voice hardens is involuntary.

Then, he watches as your eyes dart around, looking for an exit, a way to escape his clutches, so he presses harder, his hand squeezing your neck tighter again. 

Then, you freeze. 

You stop gasping and your hands cease their futile struggle, falling limply near your pockets. Your eyes find his, and your determination makes his smirk falter. Your lower lip trembles as you open your mouth to speak, and then he feels it. 

The cold press of a gun barrel against his gut. 

“King.”

You whisper. 

And then, you shoot. 

-*-

King barely remembers his interview with the Vinsmoke prick. He knew he'd get the job. He was overqualified, over-diligent and overall, the best in the business. He knew he'd get to pick and choose where he wanted to work - Vinsmoke Enterprises sounded alluring. 

The Vinsmokes’ elder child was sure to have all sorts of criminals chasing him and his fortune, plus Queen, one of his team members, was behaving like a kid in a candy shop just thinking about gettting access to Germa technology, so the bodyguard gig seemed interesting. 

Far more interesting than protecting rich, spoiled brats or celebrities. Those jobs were boring as fuck when all his team had to do was swat paparazzi like flies or guard a hotel door while somebody fucked someone. 

He was wrong. 

The Vinsmoke wasn't being harassed by criminals but by fans. King found that out on the first day of his job, and he was about to call it quits when he saw you: showing up in your gala dress, looking so out of place that it was clear in your expression, then tripping helplessly over the train of the gown and almost diving face-first to the floor. 

King caught you effortlessly by the elbow, and when your gaze locked with his to thank him, he knew what it felt like to truly want someone. He wanted you. He needed you. 

You were perfect. 

You were everything. 

But you didn’t give him the time of day, looking at your fiancé’s bodyguards as if they were mere background noise and not people - not that you were unkind, never unkind, but he knew he would never be more than staff in your eyes. 

And he had to endure the Vinsmoke’s hands all over your body, the way he kissed you possessively when someone’s eyes caught your figure and lingered too long, the way that prick controlled you: where to go, what to wear, what to say, who to speak to…

Sometimes, he heard you rebel. He heard the screaming and the accusations behind closed doors, and those were the times he wished you would just dump the fucker’s ass and be free. 

But you never did.

So he endured his boring job with the spoiled Vinsmoke brat. All because it meant he could be in the same space as you, hear you, smell you, and watch you. What was an infatuation turned to admiration, to fascination, and then… something much more profound and meaningful…

Obsession. 

He knew every step you took, every person you spoke to, everyone who looked at you. He knew the way you liked your eggs in the morning or the junk food you craved when it was that time of the month. He knew the kind of perfume you liked, the books you read, the music you listened to, and all of your habits. 

He knew everything. 

He also saw the way that bastard treated you as if you were a mere accessory - something pretty to flash at a party. He cheated, he flirted with other girls in front of you and, worst of all, he blamed you for all the attention you got when you showed up as the prettiest of girls at his dull parties. 

He observed the way you twisted your jewellery to hide your nervousness or the way you avoided making eye contact with anyone remotely interesting just to keep the asshole appeased - it made King’s stomach churn. 

No one would ever deserve you, that was a fact, but Vinsmoke Ichiji was the least deserving person of them all.

So, it was quite easy to plant evidence right under your nose for you to find his cheating habits: a hotel key, a credit card bill, incriminating notes… the works. And that did it easily.

You were finally free.

And so was King. 

He immediately left the Vinsmokes, not caring a bit about breaching his contract. Queen followed suit - he’d gotten all the secrets he could wish for in those blissful two years - as did most of his team, though they went separate ways after that.  

Two years of enduring an asshole’s employment just to get a glimpse of what perfection felt like. If not for you, King would’ve left long ago. But it was the small moments, the way he could smell your shampoo lingering in the air after a bath, or the way your smile lit up the whole room, that made him stay.

You.

All for you.

His Kitten.

You were sad when you left, he could tell. That’s why he watched you closely, kept you safe, kept you unharmed. You reconnected with your friends, and the way you smiled made him become obsessed all over again - this was a genuine smile. Not the fabricated bullshit you used to throw at that bastard - a smile that never even reached your eyes. 

King thought he should give you some time to adjust, to settle into country life, to change your high heels for boots and your dresses for jeans. It suited you perfectly. He could almost see you both taking care of horses, riding together into the sunset in bliss… you just had to see it too.

Soon.

You’d still need some time.

But then he came along. That cop bastard, always watchful of you, always keeping you safe from little things. That was King’s job! Not his! He kept flirting with you and - worse! - you flirted back.

And every time King managed to stop things from escalating to intimacy, it just seemed to deepen your connection to the cop. He had to act faster. 

So, watching you from afar was not enough. Besides, he was used to having you right in front of his nose, even if he could never touch you when he was guarding Vinsmoke, you were always just right there. And now, you seemed so far away.

Luckily, Queen managed to create an app that could access your phone. Texts, calls, camera, audio, you name it. It was very simple to snatch your phone when you were adorably drunk at that yacht party and install it. He also took advantage of the fact that you were away to have Queen to install cameras all around your house. 

Now he could watch you everywhere. 

Still, the fucking cop never relented. And you just seemed to be more and more drawn to him. The number of times King had to intervene just so the cop wouldn’t kiss you was more than he was willing to count. He even had Queen hack into the police systems just so he could be drafted for a training retreat.

Truth be told, King was planning to deal with the cop then. Maybe ask Jack, another one of his trusted team members, and a known brute, to end his miserable existence and make it look like a training accident. 

But King knew you needed your friends to be happy. He was addicted to that genuine smile that lit up your eyes when you were with them. And that was the only reason he held back. For you.

Always for you.

He’d admit he went a bit too far when he took out a man’s eyeballs and another’s hands, but they needed to learn that you were untouchable. Unattainable. His.

Just his. 

He’d also admit that he took out all of the anger he harboured for the cop on those two assholes. Because he kept having to hold himself back, repeating in his head the reason why he was keeping the cop alive: you; you; you; only you.

But he warned you. You just had to stay away from the cop. Nothing else. 

It almost worked. And you were even more beautiful when you were cowering in fear, trembling at every sound, shivering at any moving shadow. King wanted you to feel terror, so he could come and protect you.

You just needed to learn. 

To behave.

To be his.

When he finally held you in his arms at that club, showed you how much he loved you, marked you, and told you that you were his, he thought that had done it. That you had finally learned that you belonged to him.

You were almost ready.

And then you went and fucked the cop. 

Oh, he was so mad. Utterly enraged. There was no more reason to keep that bastard alive, not when he could hear you moan his name like a slut; not when you kept asking for more and harder. 

That was supposed to be King.

You were supposed to moan his name, ask him to go deeper and thrust faster. Not the fucking cop!

But it’s all right. Because you came to him.

You were here now. Right in front of him.

And this time, King would make sure you learned your lesson thoroughly.

-*-

You’re shaking. 

Your hands tremble as you hold the gun and press it against King’s stomach.

He flinches, his grin faltering for a second as you hold your breath, waiting for him to scream, to grunt, or to fall to his knees.

Instead, he remains still. 

Time seems to slow down, each second taking an eternity to roll into the next. And then something happens.

He laughs.

The breath you were holding turns into a whine as your eyes fall on his stomach: there’s no blood. 

“Oh, sweet, sweet Kitten…” He coos, one hand caressing your face, taunting you, and this time, it’s you who flinches. “You didn’t even check to see if the gun was loaded, did you?” He tuts in disappointment and mild amusement before he snatches the gun from your hands with no effort whatsoever. 

You barely have time to let out a relieved gasp when he takes a step back, yet instead of the distance giving you a breather, it just makes you feel even more trapped, because now he’s holding your gun. 

King tuts again and flips the gun with practised ease, tilting it to the side and pulling the slide back to check the chamber: empty. He chuckles under his breath and shakes his head, his eyes falling on you, berating you silently.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he grabs the slide and yanks it back in one smooth motion. You hear the sharp crack of the bullet sliding into the chamber, and when he releases it, you know the gun is now ready to fire. 

His lips curl into a grin as he turns the handle of the gun back to you, a throaty laugh escaping him as his brows arch. “There, love. Now it’s ready.” He moves the gun closer to you, urging you to grab it. “Want to try again?”

He’s toying with you, messing with your head. Making you think there’s a way to escape when you’re actually trapped.

A silent sob shakes your lips, and you press harder against the wall, trying to create more distance between you. 

“No?” He teases. Then his grin disappears and he throws the gun carelessly to the ground, not bothering to look where it landed. “You disappoint me, Kitten. I thought you were ready to meet me, to realise who I was. I thought that seeing me would make you happy. Instead, you try to shoot me!”

King’s voice raises as he snarls and growls, regaining the distance he created when he took the gun from you, his hands slamming with such force against the wall that it trembles beneath his rage. 

“If you don’t come to me willingly, then I’ll have to make you.” King’s hand grabs your chin as he lifts your head, and your body freezes again, much like it did back at the club. All the earlier bravado is gone, thrown carelessly away like the gun you thought would bring you safety. 

Your mind screams for Zoro. Why did you think you could do this without him?

Your lips start to form the word again, his name whispered to insanity against the back of your teeth. You can’t say it. It will only make him angrier. 

King lets go of your face just so he can grab your wrists. Then, he pins them above your head with one hand, easily holding you in place without any meaningful effort. You’re pathetic. 

When he growls again, you feel it. The rumble of his chest against yours as he presses further. You can feel how hard he is against your stomach, and you close your eyes, a lonely whimper breaking through the barrier of your shut lips. 

“Yes, Kitten, whimper.” He sticks out his long tongue and licks from your neck up to your ear with a lewd groan. “You’ll moan my name now.”

King’s hand roams everywhere, and you are powerless to stop it. He’s too strong. No matter how hard you try to squirm, the action only makes him press harder - only excites him further. His teeth graze your jaw, then his lips trail kisses down your collarbone. You go rigid and he chuckles against you, feeling your powerlessness, your terror gripping you and stopping your movements.

His hand slithers beneath your clothes, roaming your bare back, and you shudder violently. “You’re trembling for me, sweetheart?” He hums softly against the hollow of your throat and you feel desperation sinking its claws into your chest. “I’m eager too, you know?” Then he locks his lips around the pulse of your neck and sucks harshly. You sob and he chuckles as he releases your neck with a loud plop. “I can feel your heart racing for me, love.”

King pulls back to look into your eyes, to savour the way your body trembles and then, suddenly, he stops. His hands stop roaming and his eyes linger on your chest. You’re heaving, fighting back sobs and trying to remove your hands from his hold, not willing to give up so easily, but barely mustering any strength to keep fighting.

It takes you an extra second to realise what has gotten such a hold on his attention. 

Zoro’s sweater. 

King lets go of your wrists only to grip the neck of the sweater with both hands, and with a primal growl that has you gasping and shaking, he tears the fabric in two, removing it from your body as if it personally offended him. 

“I’ll erase his fucking existence from your mind. You’re mine. Mine. MINE!”

His hand flies to your neck, and he squeezes, another hand groping your breast, and you sob, your legs thrashing, hitting him but making no dent on his rock of a body. 

This is it.

There’s no escaping him.

BANG!

The front door trembles on its hinges as it’s kicked open, splinters from the lock flying around as thunder crashes outside, the storm raging relentlessly, but nothing like the tempest you can see reflected in Zoro’s eyes.

“Get the fuck away from her, you fucking bastard.”

Zoro’s name, the one you’ve been keeping trapped, floods out of your mouth like a prayer. King barely has time to register what happened before Zoro grabs him by the scruff of his sweatshirt and yanks him off you. 

Your legs shake, and you lose balance, falling to your knees as your hands brace your weight against the wooden floor. Heavy gasps leave your lips as you take in the scene before you.

The two men are sizing each other up.

Zoro is smaller than King. Both in height and in build, and that’s saying something, because Zoro is already a massive man. King has a snarl of disdain pressed upon his lips as he glares daggers at Zoro, whose body is visibly vibrating with fury, a dark, murderous aura rolling out of him in waves as he clenches his fists. 

“You.” King roars, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you, hero.” He spits disdainfully, clearly upset that he was interrupted. 

Zoro grins maniacally, his eyes darkening as he too cracks his knuckles. “I can say the same, you fucking bastard. I won’t let you lay a single finger on her again.” They stare at each other so intensely that you find yourself holding your breath. “You alright, Trouble? Did the fucker hurt you?” Zoro asks without breaking eye contact with his opponent.

“I-I’m fine. I’m fine!” You croak miserably. You can’t help the powerlessness coursing through you. You brought this upon Zoro. It’s your fault if he gets hurt.

“Good.” Zoro’s voice is low. He’s focused - lethal. “Stay back. And if things go south… run.”

Never. You’d never leave him. But you still nod with a noncommittal noise so that he’s appeased. 

Then the fight starts. It’s not like it happens in movies, nobody rings a gong, there’s no soundtrack to the battle, no atmosphere change or dramatic camera movements. They just clash. 

The sound of fists hitting flesh and bones cracking is sickening. You flinch every time King hits Zoro, you whimper everytime he falters, but you can’t seem to rejoice whenever Zoro’s hits land, because King barely stumbles. 

He’s so strong. 

Zoro’s fist hits King’s jaw and you hear the bone crack as his head whips to the side, blood splattering the dark wood of the floor as the man stumbles against the bookshelf. He chuckles darkly, wiping the blood with the back of his hand and spitting the rest on the floor. Then he lunges and tackles Zoro, both falling against the end table, glass shattering on impact as you swallow a cry.

The scent of blood and sweat lingers in the air like a thick, sickening fog and you fight back a wave of nausea. 

“Zo…”

“She’s mine!” King snarls as he lands a punch against Zoro’s jaw. When he raises his hand for the second hit, Zoro deflects and King hits the floor, glass crunching beneath his fist as he growls through the pain.

Zoro shoves him with a kick to the stomach and, as he gets up, drags King up by his sweatshirt just to knock him back down again with another lethal punch. 

“Say that one more time, fucker!” Zoro’s arm coils back for another punch, but King’s larger hand wraps around his fist and holds Zoro in his grip, a sickening, bloodied smile spreading on his face.

“Mine!” He claims, holding Zoro’s left hand the same way when Zoro tries to go for another punch. Then King headbutts Zoro with such a force that you gasp, springing to your feet, not knowing what to do as King releases him and Zoro stumbles back three paces, trying to steady himself on his feet again with heavy gasps.

He leans against the back of the couch, breathing heavily, blood trickling down his temple and his split lip, his chest heaving up and down. Then he wipes the blood away from his good eye and grins maniacally again. 

“That all you got?” Zoro wheezes, clearly out of breath, but so is King. “You hit like a little bitch.”

King’s grin matches Zoro’s: unhinged, deranged, and disturbed. 

And then they collide again. Flesh against flesh, bones against bone. The dry thuds and the wet splotches of blood make your chest ache as you sob and shudder. 

“Just die already, cop! I’m going to claim her and truly make her mine. She’ll moan my name like the little slut she is and–”

King doesn’t get to finish his sentence.

Zoro sees red.

He lunges forward, his fist flying with such force that it has King stumbling against the wall, a muffled grunt trapped between his teeth. But Zoro doesn’t even let him breathe. A right hook; a gut punch; a knee to the ribs; a left uppercut.

He doesn’t relent. Punch after punch, hit after hit. He only stops when King is lying unconscious, his body slumping down against the wall in a heap of blood and cuts. 

Zoro breathes heavily, his body still taut, still ready to act and finish the job if he needs to, his eye locked on his enemy. 

Until he hears you cry out his name. 

Then he turns, stumbles, and falls to his knees.

You gasp and rush to kneel beside him, your shaking hands cupping his cheeks gently, trying to smear the blood away so you can see how badly hurt he is. “Zo, Zo, oh my God, Zo.”

He smirks, his hand rising weakly so he can push a strand of hair away from your eyes. “Hey, Troublemaker.” He says softly. “I know you're tough, maybe you could’ve handled this on your own, but I wanted to give you a hand.”

You laugh through the tears and sobs as you lurch forward and hug him tightly against you, ignoring his pained grunt. “Thank you, Zoro.”

He pulls back to stare into your eyes, his hand gently wiping a tear from your cheek, another one clasping the back of your neck to bring you closer. “Anytime.” He leans his forehead against yours and you raise your lips to bring them to his, to make sure he’s real.

But before they collide, you feel Zoro stiffen, a muffled groan escaping his lips as his hand grips your nape tightly.

You pull back, trying to see what’s going on, and you freeze. A cry slowly climbs up your throat, though it gets trapped before you get the chance to release it.

Blood.

So much blood.

“Fucking die. Nobody wants a hero.” King snarls and you see it: a knife protruding from Zoro’s back, where King has stabbed it. Then, with  a low growl, King removes the knife with a twist and kicks him forward, against your arms again. 

“T-Trouble… run.” Zoro whispers weakly against your neck, the bloodstain spreading as you pull back to slowly see colour drain from Zoro’s face.

“No! No! Zoro, Zo!” You cry desperately, fingers clutching at Zoro’s back, trying to stop the bleeding with sheer will. “Zoro! You can’t leave me! No!”

King comes up from behind you, weaving his fingers through your hair and gripping tightly. Then, he leans down to whisper in your ear. “Too bad, sweetheart. But now you get to see him die.”

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall

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|Chapter 13🔞|

[yawnderu]

K-9 — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Chapter IV

Sick as a dog, and just as vicious.

1 2 3 4 5

What's a Lieutenant if not someone you can use as a stress reliever

Or

Being a gifted medic comes with free rewards

You weren't the only one catching up on some sleep. Simon was awake throughout Johnny's entire surgery despite having slept four hours the previous night, wanting to be available in case you needed his help, finally getting some much-needed rest after being practically forced by Price.

He wakes up six hours later, a small groan escaping his lips at the light entering his window. His burly arm comes up to cover his eyes, shielding them from the bright sun.

''Fuckin' hell.'' He muttered, getting up from bed and putting on a black balaclava. Shit went down yesterday, with Johnny almost dying, and Makarov is now free, able to continue killing civilians until they're finally able to catch him. At the very least, his best friend is alive and stable last time he visited.

Simon leaves his room, walking to the cafeteria to get a bottle of cold water and a few granola bars before heading to your quarters, knocking on the door softly in case you're asleep. No reply. He knows better, but... what if something happened to you? He uses the pathetic excuse to justify his actions, hand turning the doorknob carefully before stepping inside, footsteps surprisingly quiet for someone his size.

What a fucking sight. He stared at your sleeping figure for a while, taking in the details of your face when it wasn't pulled into a scowl or a bored expression, a small smile tugging on his lips at how peaceful you look before he realized how creepy he was being. He shook his head softly as if to snap out of it, putting the water bottle and granola bars before turning away to try and leave.

Try, because a much smaller hand wrapped around his wrist, almost making him flinch because of how sudden it was. He looks down at you only to find your eyes boring into his, tugging him closer by the wrist. A confused Simon followed like a lost dog before his feet rooted on the ground in front of your bed, giving you a questioning look with his eyes.

''Come lay with me.'' Your voice is much gentler than usual, laced with something he can't quite recognize yet. Simon knows better, really he does, but who is he to question the medic he's been pining on for months? He hesitantly removes his boots and climbs into bed with you, keeping a respectful distance despite his behemoth frame taking over half of the bed. His muscles tense up when he feels you cuddling up to him, being a painfully fitting piece against his body.

''What are you on bout, doc?'' You don't reply, simply examining his eyes for any hints of hesitation. You find nervousness, curiosity, doubt, and even the smallest hints of fear, but no hesitation at all. Your hand sneaks up to the bottom of his balaclava, pulling it all the way off before your lips crash into his hungrily. It takes him a few seconds of pure confusion before he kisses back, arms wrapped around your waist, and whatever questions he has on why you're doing this all of sudden pushed to the back of his mind.

Your hands grab at anything they can reach— muscle, skin, hair... anything, holding onto his much bigger body like a lifeline, his warm hands running up and down your back. He has fantasized about this moment so many times, yet the real thing is so different in a good way.

''Tell me I can touch you, bird.'' You simply nod your head and try to go back to kissing him, but he pulls away, gently squeezing your waist to make you look at him.

''Use your words.'' His words are almost pleading, wanting to make sure you want the same thing.

''I want you to touch me, Simon.'' Not a second passes before his lips are back on yours, tongues wrapping around each other's as his hands start to drift down, grabbing a handful of your ass. His touch is so desperate it almost makes you laugh, one of your hands sneaking down his shirt and feeling him up, defined muscles flexing under your touch. His slightly shaky hands fumble with the button of your jeans, breaking away from the kiss just to look at you and make sure you still want it. The half-lidded look you give him is enough confirmation, pulling down your jeans and getting on his knees, between your legs.

"Been wanting to do this since I saw ya." He confesses, too excited for his fantasies finally coming true to even feel remotely bashful about his words. He lifts up your shirt enough to reveal your tummy, gentle kisses planted on every single inch of skin his lips can reach as he slowly descends, planting open mouthed kisses over your clothed cunt.

"Fuck—" Your back arches at the feeling, eyes screwed shut as your hand goes to the back of his head, pushing him closer. His tongue is warm and wet, saliva mixing in with your growing arousal. He pushes your panties to the side, looking down at your gleaming pussy before digging in, tongue lapping the wetness before he latches onto your cunt, sucking and licking away like a starved man.

"You taste s'fucking good." He praises before going back down, the flat of his tongue moving around your cunt before slowly going inside, your whiny moans and hands gripping his short hair are all the encouragement he needs. He latches onto your clit next, long fingers teasing the entrance of your cunt, spreading your arousal all over them before he slowly enters you with one.

His fingers are thick and long, whiny moans escaping your lips as he adds a second one, making scissoring motions as he fucks his fingers deeper and deeper into you, tongue alternating between licking and sucking on your clit before hesitantly letting go.

"Sit on my face." It's not even a request, it sounds like a plea, though you quickly listen to his words for the first time ever, cunt hovering above his face as soon as he lays back down. He grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing the plush and pulling your body down to his face, eating you out like a starved man. His hands let go of your ass to unbuckle his belt, barely having the strength to pull his hard cock out of his jeans, eyes closing as he focused on the dual sensation of pleasuring you with his mouth and pleasuring himself with his hand, pre staining his fingers as his hand moves up and down his shaft faster.

"Fuck— Just like that, Si." Si. You never call him anything other than Simon. Sometimes Ghost, when you're needed during missions and hang around them in the helos, but the way you say his name... so much affection, even if it only comes from making you feel good. He's pathetic— God, he knows he's being pathetic, cock twitching in his hand at the idea of you reciprocating his complex and strange feelings for you, ropes of thick cum shooting out into his hand and stomach, a low growl coming out of his lips as he squeezed his cock dry of cum.

He focuses solely on you now, tongue swirling and flickering all over you, his clean hand coming up to rub your clit with his thumb while he assaults your dripping wet cunt with his lips and tongue. Your hands go down to his head, fingers pulling on his short hair while you use his face to feel good, getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Si, I'm gonna cum—" But he doesn't stop. Hell, his thumb moves even faster over your sensitive bud, tongue-fucking your pussy as deep as he can until he can feel your body shaking on top of him, thighs closing in on his head and squeezing as the intensity of your orgasm washes over you, his waiting mouth taking in all your juices, lapping at them greedily until you pull away from the stimulation, shaky legs managing to position yourself next to him, head against his chest.

"You hear that? Price is calling you." You lie, unable to contain the smirk on your lips as he flicks your nose.

"Piss off, doc." His burly arms wrap around you, a loud groan of protest escaping your lips when you realize you're forced to cuddle with him.

[PREVIOUS]

[imastrangeone98]

Homecoming

(A/N: boothill my cyborg my love my life my everything-)

WARNING: fem!reader, SMUT SMUT FRESH OFF THE PLATE MINORS GTFO ILL WHOOP YO BUTTS, probably ooc!boothill but whatever it's fine lmao, his exact birth name isn't known so I didn't put a name for him- if there is one I'll replace it; but I found some X art that called his baby girl "cherry" and I really liked it so I'll use that, and way too much plot as always

"Well, hello there! What'cha lookin' at, sweetie?" You bend down to the little girl's eye level, peeking at where the child's gaze is locked on, then smiling in understanding. "You like those ones? They're moon lilies; they're flowers that are really special!"

"Pe... shal?" the little girl babbles, and you laugh.

"Yes, dear. Special." You pluck one of the flowers, beautiful with light blue petals and golden pollen, and offer it to her. "They mean loyalty, and undying devotion, because they only grow in places they like, and they won't grow anywhere else."

"Loya..." the girl mumbles. You chuckle and pick her up, carefully tucking the flower behind her ear.

"Now, where's your mama? Or your papa? I'm sure they're worried sick about-"

"Cherry! Sweet pea, where ya at?!"

Your ears prick, and the girl giggles and claps at the sound. "Well, I guess we found him."

You maneuver through the crowd until you find the source of the call: a man, tall and lean, with flowing black-and-white hair and piercing gray eyes.

Oh. He's beautiful.

The little girl squeals with delight at the sight of her father, and his head whips towards your direction. He sprints over to you and takes the child in his arms, pressing her close to his chest.

"There ya are, ya little rascal! What'd I tell ya about runnin' off?! Ya had me worried sick!" He kisses her forehead, then looks at you. "Thanks, I would've lost her without ya."

"Of course!" You wave it off, hoping he doesn't notice your hot cheeks. "I will say, she has good taste in flowers! If you'd ever like to buy a bouquet, you should bring her along!"

"Flowers? Oh..." He looks at his daughter, finally noticing the moon lily tucked in her hair. His cheeks flush a bright red. "Aw, man, I'm sorry for the trouble, I can pay for it-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's on the house! But I do hope this won't be the last time I see her!" You wave at her, and she giggles.

The man laughs at that. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind." He then stretches out his hand to you. "I'm [???]."

"(Y/N)."

He repeats your name slowly, thoughtfully, then smirks. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, lady."

"I'll be looking forward to it, cowboy."

Your eyes crack open.

Instead of a bustling marketplace, you're in a small shack in the middle of nowhere.

Just a memory.

You rise, body aching with fatigue and heartache, but you force yourself to push it to the side.

There's work to be done. You grab your phone and send a message.

ML: The USB is ready. I'll leave it at the usual place.

BH: ca nt maek it cme her

You stare at the coordinates your contact sent you with a groan.

You don't do face-to-face, too much risk. And the information you collected is time-sensitive; you're not sure if you'll be able to make it to the abandoned planet of Mavorosa in time for it to still be valuable, and your spaceship isn't one meant for such great lengths.

But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: Oswaldo Schneider is likely to make an appearance at the upcoming IPC Centennial Gala, and BH has proven themself capable of terminating that sick bastard.

You know you're not strong enough to do it yourself, but BH is. And anyone capable of taking down the son of a bitch who destroyed your home, your planet, your lover, is worthy of your trust.

So you bite your lip and bear it. You'll work something out.

ML: ok. I'll be there tomorrow @ 18:00, don't be late.

BH: k

You roll your eyes. Never mind.

With a heavy sigh, you carefully take out the picture/ only one you have of him. With your little girl in one arm and the other wrapped around your waist, he stares back at you with a grin. Bright, beautiful, alive.

"Don't worry, darling," you whisper, tracing the lines of his cheek and hair on the photograph. "We're one step closer to our goal. That bastard's a dead man walking now that we got BH on the case. They're good; strong and capable, I know they'll get the job done for us."

You gently press your lips over his image. And for a brief moment, you let yourself pretend that the paper is a good replacement for his callous skin.

"Once everything's done, I'll go over and join you and our girl. We'll be together again, I'm sure."

He smiles eternally at you, and you find yourself smiling back.

"Wish me luck, darling. Help me be strong."

[...]

His little girl adores you.

Each time he comes by the market, the first thing she whines for is to see the flowers. And you always indulge her, lifting her in your arms so you can show her all the pretty little blooms you have in your small cart. You give names to each one, tell her what they mean as though she understands you.

And you laugh. And he finds himself thinking that his little girl is a good judge of character, because he's starting to adore you too.

And it's becoming obvious, since Nick and Gray give him the occasional nab and jab, wondering out loud when they're going to see him get married and give them another grandchild. His siblings too, always cackling and yapping about how he might be the first to hang up his boots and settle down.

He rolls his eyes, but he's not too displeased by the idea. You're soft and sweet, with a kick of spice to match- the thought of settling down with you and Cherry on the farm is surprisingly sweet.

So he leaves Cherry to her loving grandparents and invites you out on a moonlit stroll through the hillside meadow, the one with the perfect view of the blooming moon lilies and the spring lake that reflects the starry night sky.

"I've never been here before," you gasp in awe, eyes aglow as you absorb the scenery. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," he murmurs, gaze fixated on you and the moonlight in your eyes. "You are."

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. "Huh? Did you say something?"

"N- nothin'!" He faces the lake, and hopes you don't notice his red cheeks. "Said nothin'."

You laugh, and god, he melts at the sound. Then you rub the back of your head, and turn away, blushing. "I... I think you're very beautiful too."

His brain short-circuits. "Pretty... you think I'm..." Then he gasps dramatically. "So you did hear that! You sneaky mouse!"

He playfully tackles you, and you both laugh and chortle as you wrestle one another to the ground. But then he opens his eyes and finds himself on top of you, hands intertwined, faces so close he can feel your breath, smell your moon lily scent.

The moonlight bathes you in silver, and god, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you senseless, run his callous hands on your soft skin, wrap your plush thighs around his hips and-

"Can I...?" he whispers, weak and wanting. "Just... just a taste, I swear..."

You stare up at him, eyes so big and wide that he swears the moon itself disappeared to light up your gaze, that he doesn't notice you untangling your hands from his until you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Just a taste, cowboy?" you tease. "You don't wanna try... anything else?"

You raise your hips and grind on his pelvis, and he moans and kisses you, hard.

Eager hands dart across skin, tearing off clothes. He runs his hands over your plush tummy, hooks your thighs around his hips and moans when he finally enters you.

He'll never forget this moment. Even if he were to die and be reborn, he'll never forget you. Your pleasured moans as he slides himself inside your tight heat, your teary smile as you open your arms to let him press his chest against yours, your starry eyes so full of love and desire that mirror his own.

You make love for hours, the stars and moon lilies your only witnesses.

"-hill. Boothill."

His eyes crack open.

Instead of a blooming moon lily meadow, he's in the underground repair shop.

Just a memory.

He rises with a groan, mechanical joints creaking from the lack of use. "Done already? I was havin' quite the nice dream."

The mechanic rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I can tell. Anyway, speed upgrades are done; the rest of your body is the same- sensory receptors are good, memory chip still intact, et cetera."

She rambles on and on; he's used to tuning her out at this point. As long as his body is in peak condition, he doesn't need to know what else extra she's stacked on him.

"-and the dick. Make sure to test it out at some point."

He blinks. "What'd ya say?"

She groans. "The dick, Boothill. Make sure to test it."

"What dick are ya talking about? If you're trying to say I'm a piece of shi-"

"I added a dick attachment to your body, dumbass." She points towards his crotch. "I had an extra one that I really need to get rid of, so I'm giving it to you. Use it, rip it up and toss it, I don't care- just get it off my back!"

And with no further explanation, the mechanic practically throws him out the store, slamming the door with extra ferocity. Boothill lies on the ground, blinking a few times in shock, before checking his pants, and lo and behold, there is a silicone dick attachment. Sensory receptors and everything, he hisses when he pokes lightly at it, the wires in his body jittering at the unfamiliar sensation.

Doe eyes and a teary smile flash in the back of his mind.

He suddenly jumps to his feet with a vengeance and slams on the door. "You cheating, deceitful shirt-bag! Take this fudging thing off right now! You hear me, woman?! Take this shirt off right now!"

He's no doubt starting a commotion, a crowd drawing in to witness his rage-induced ranting and raving. But then his phone dings, and he's forced to put a pin in it, taking out the shitty device to hear the alarm: Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Be there or be square!

Ah, shit.

He can't miss this meeting, not even to blow a hole right between that shitty mechanic's eyebrows. ML is too valuable to lose, having provided him with incredibly detailed information on Oswaldo Schneider and the IPC time and again. Almost as if they have an agenda against that sick bastard as well.

Well. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, right? He'll take what he can get. And if they end up turning their back, well, he's sure his bullet is faster than their legs.

So he leans to the door, whispers a deadly "I'll be back for you, baby," and dashes to his spaceship to head over to Mavorosa.

And as he's prepping for flight, he looks over at the picture on the dashboard.

It's the only one Boothill has of you. The three of you, together- him holding little Cherry in one arm and your waist in the other, you wrapping your arms around him and your baby girl with your sweet smile and moon lily eyes.

He brushes a metal fingertip over your face.

"Just hang in there, moon lily," he whispers, a clump in his throat. "We're one step closer; ML's got some good intel on the son of a nice lady that destroyed our planet- our home. That destroyed you."

Boothill lost the ability to cry long ago, but the corners of his eyes itch all the same. He gnaws on his lip so hard, drops of blue blood trickle down his chin.

"I swear to you, darlin', I'm gonna get our revenge against that beautiful bench. He'll wish he never set his filthy sights on our home once I'm through with him." He gently picks up the photo and presses his lips to your image. "And then I'll come home. To Cherry, Nick and Gray, my siblings. I'll come home to you. We'll get started on that house we talked about, maybe some runts so Cherry can be a big sister..."

He swallows, then carefully puts the photo back on the dashboard. The lump doesn't disappear, so once the spaceship is cruising through the stars to Mavorosa, he sets it on autopilot and descends into the belly to go to his chest of valuables. He opens it up and delicately takes out the moon lily crown.

The one he was working on for you, a promise of his undying devotion. Before the world exploded in fire and ash. Before the IPC decimated his family, the moon lily meadow... decimated you.

He closes his eyes and raises it to his face. Even preserved, the petals are still soft to the touch, and smell just as lovely.

Just like you.

He won't let your death be in vain. He won't.

The lump in his metal chest morphs into rage.

Boothill opens his eyes.

[...]

If not for the Stellaron, Mavorosa would be a wonderful planet. A once lively city now stands abandoned, its skyscrapers and glass structures being embraced by nature once again.

You stand on the rooftop, mask and voice synthesizer on, fidgeting with the USB, simply observing everything when-

"So this is what you look like. I thought you'd be bigger," a male voice calls behind you.

Your body freezes. That voice... it sounds like...

No. You must be wrong. Maybe you've been so lonely that every male voice just starts to sound like your deceased lover.

"I thought you'd be here earlier," you reply with your warped voice. "Time is precious to you and me both, BH."

"Sorry, had to wrap up some... personal stuff on my end. I'm here now, ain't I?" The oh-so-familiar yet distant voice chuckles. "Well. Business ain't gonna settle itself. Where's the drive?"

"Where's the payment? We both know I don't work free."

He huffs. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Don't worry, I got your cash. Just fork over the drive, no need to make things difficult, not after everything, yeah? Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

"You realize how difficult face-to-face is? It takes a substantial amount of effort to get this intel, not to mention the possibility of being-" You turn around in your exasperation-

And you drop the USB.

Tall and metal. Flowing black-and-white hair. Piercing gray-and-red eyes. Sharp teeth.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to be a gunslinger, just like Nick," [???] cackled, whipping out his revolver and making dramatic poses with it. "Maybe be one of those boothills of legend."

"I'd rather you not," you murmured as you brushed off some dirt off of his shirt. "Those boothills always died on their feet. I'd rather you not die at all."

He softened, and with a smile, he put down his gun and sidled up to you, bringing you in his embrace, warm and strong. You breathed in his comforting scent and sighed happily.

"Don't you worry about that, hun." He kissed your cheek, then square on your mouth. "I ain't goin' nowhere. You can't get rid of me that easy!"

BH. Boothill.

How could you not notice earlier?

Your mouth dries. You can't move a muscle.

It's him. Mechanical, but very much alive.

"Hey, watch the merchandise!" he hisses, pointing at the fallen USB. "I need that, don't you forget it!"

"How are you..." you weakly gasp, then you grab the USB. "Here. Take it. Forget the money."

You slide it over to him, and he stops it with his foot. But his eyes narrow at you.

"Whaddaya mean, 'How are you,' huh?" He walks towards you, slow and leisurely, like a coyote cornering its helpless prey. "You say that like you're shocked I'm still around. What'd ya do, huh? Sell me off to the IPC?"

"No!" you cry, shocked. "I would never-!"

"Why so jittery, partner? What are you hiding?" He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "How about a show of trust, huh? You take off that cute little mask of yours, I don't shoot you dead, and we keep our little arrangement goin'. Sound fair?"

You turn around, eyes searching for an escape route.

Aeons above, you need to leave. You can't show him your face. You can't remind him of everything he lost, the people he couldn't save. You can't hurt him any more than you already have. You're afraid. You want to hide. You're selfish. You want to tell him. You're in love.

You want to die. You want the ground to swallow you alive. You want to hole away in your shack and wallow in your grief, descend into a spiral of what-ifs: what if you tried harder to find him? What if you searched the whole IPC ship you snuck on trying to resolve things peacefully until you found him? What if you ran out earlier and tried to bring him with you? What if, what if, what if-

"Now that you got some measure of my grit," he whispers in your ear, suddenly standing behind you, "I'm sure you know how this ends, yeah? C'mon now, take it off."

You pant heavily, head dizzy with his close proximity- god, even with the metal, he still smells the same. "I- I can't-"

"Feelin' shy? Alright, I'll do it for you."

"No! Please, no!" You swat at his hands and try to break free of his iron grip, but he grabs you hard and pulls you against his chest.

He cackles, metallic and bitter. "And here I thought I finally had an ally, but no- you're just like the rest of 'em shirt-bags." He whips out his revolver and raises it to your head. "Take. It. Off. Now."

You want to cry. You don't want to hurt him.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you take off your mask...

And his gun falls to the floor.

Doe eyes. Soft cheeks. Scars. Floral scent.

"What made you wanna be a florist?" he asked you once, helping you water the rainbow roses. "They're pretty and all, don't get me wrong. But don't you want somethin' more exciting?"

"On the contrary, I think they're very exciting," you explained. "They all have their unique personality; some need lots of love and care, and others don't mind if you go missing for a week or two. There's flowers that only stay with you for so long, and there are others that will love you for as long as you'll let them."

He grunted. "Sounds like you'd do just fine without me."

"Oh, please." You put down your watering can and embraced him from behind. And just as planned, he melted at your touch. "Moon lilies love the moon, but they need the sun to grow. And that's exactly what you are to me."

"The moon?"

"The sun."

ML. Moon lily.

It's so obvious, how did he not realize it sooner?

He lets you go. You immediately stumble away from him, hands covering your face in shame.

Boothill has no lungs, yet he feels his chest collapse.

"(Y/N)?" he calls to you, weak and desperate. "Moon lily? That's really you, right?" He reaches out, hand shaking. But when he grazes your shoulder, you hunch further into yourself. "I- I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to scare ya. Please..."

Boothill willingly let go of his humanity. But right here, right now, he wishes he still had his skin.

"Please, darlin'... turn around? Let me see you, please."

You shiver, tears spilling down your cheeks, and slap a hand over your mouth. You can't hurt him, you'll never hurt him. "I can't... I can't see you."

His body wants to collapse. He wants to grab you by your shoulders and kiss you senseless, look at you from head to toe and sing praises to Lan for protecting you and keeping you safe.

But you won't see him. You won't turn around.

"Why?" he whines, like a pleading child. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not the same anymore!" you sob. "I'm not your moon lily anymore! I don't want to remind you of everything you lost! I don't want to hurt you anymore! You don't know the things I've done, the blood I spilled, all to destroy the IPC!" You sink to the floor in despair, echoes of the dead haunting you, swarming your mind. "I can't bear to see you hate me for being alive when everyone else died. I already hate myself so much, hated myself because I couldn't save anyone else! I thought I lost you, but now I realize I didn't search for you at all! I didn't even try to find you, I..."

You cry and sob and scream. You pound the floor with your fists. You pull at your hair, your clothes, your skin, so hard that drops of blood water the cement.

Boothill's eyes itch with tears that will never spill. His chest burns with a profound grief that will never truly be his own.

"You think I don't feel that way about myself?" he finally whispers. Bravely, he takes a step closer to you. "From the moment the bombs fell, I was never the same. I changed too much to be that man you met at the market- hell, I don't even have the body anymore." He sits just behind you, close to touch but not close enough. "The blood I spilled would be enough to fill oceans. But I'm still here. I still remember everything. I still remember you." His hand, feather-light, brushes your arm. You don't pull away. "I thought I lost you. When I went back to the ranch and couldn't find anyone there, I thought you were one of the piles of ashes on the ground." He chokes as he speaks, but he pushes on. "I never hated myself more. I failed to save them; I failed to save you."

You shake your head, but he gently rests his head on your back, right between your shoulder blades. He breathes you in- dust, machine oil, and moon lilies.

You smell so alive.

"How could you think I'd ever hate you," he whimpers, "when there's no one I hate more than myself? No, sweetheart, I could never hate you. I never will. Nothing you do could ever make me hate you. So please, turn around..." He grabs a fistful of your shirt and tugs. "I'm begging you. Let me see your face, please."

Your heart breaks. You couldn't fathom how much he suffered, how lonely he must have felt, the self-loathing that coursed through his wires every time he looked in the mirror.

Just like you.

"Don't hate yourself," you sniffle, rubbing your eyes. "Nothing you do could ever make me hate you either. What happened wasn't your fault; you didn't know what the IPC was going to do until it happened."

He lets out a small huff. "I could easily say the same about you. It wasn't your fault either- neither of us could've known until it was too late."

You exhale shakily. "Do you really mean it? Not hating me?"

Boothill smiles. "Every word."

For a moment, you're afraid. What if he doesn't like what he sees? You know he's not a superficial man, but you're still not the sweet florist he remembers anymore.

You suck in a deep breath. He's not the same man you remember, but he's still your cowboy, your Boothill.

Slowly, you turn around, and...

Oh. His face is just how you remember. His beautiful silky hair, the red targets in his eyes still framed within familiar stormy gray. When you reach out with trembling hands to cup his smooth cheeks, he melts in your touch just how he always did.

And melt he does. He nearly moans at your soft touch, pressing his cheek into your palms to keep your focus on him. He drinks up every detail of your face and commits it to memory- your beautiful moony eyes and the dark circles under them, the faintest hint of a scar curling from the edge of your jawline into your neck, your soft hair that smells of moon lilies.

You're still you, the sweet florist he fell in love with all those years ago. And now you've returned to him, and this time, he'll never let you go.

He sits you on his lap and embraces you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and savoring your scent. You wrap your legs around his waist and make yourself comfortable, admiring his metal body, tracing patterns into the steel.

"I love you," he whispers with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I never stopped loving you, not for one second."

"I'm sorry I didn't look for you," you confess. "But I kept you in my heart every day. Even when we weren't together, you were always a part of me."

"I'm here now." He pulls away to admire you, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he gazes at you with what you could only describe as reverence. "I'm right here with you. I'm not leaving you ever again."

Boothill didn't realize how much his world lacked color until he kisses you, but now he swears he can see every color in the spectrum flash before his eyes. You taste just how he remembers, sweet and salty with your tears. When you pull away for air, he dives back in to reclaim your lips, hooking a hand around your neck to keep you in place.

He won't let you slip from his fingers again. And you clearly feel the same way, because you tangle your hands with his hair and tug him closer, pulling him on top of you.

"Please don't be a dream," you cry in his shoulder, and it damn near breaks his heart. "I don't want to wake up if it is."

"Darlin', those dreams are better off in Penacony; I'm right here. Does this," he kisses your cheek, "or this," he squeezes your ass and relishes in your squeal, "or this..." He grinds into you, and you gasp, squeezing his shoulders with a whimper. And fuck, maybe he was a bit too harsh with that mechanic, he should send her flowers or something, because your face contorted in shock and a hint of reawakened pleasure is a drug he will happily become addicted to. He nibbles on your ear and whispers, "Any of that feel like a dream to you?"

"...No." You stare at him, moon lily eyes abloom with hearts and love and fuck, he wants you, he needs you.

And your eyes are reflected in his, because you're so captivated by how the targets in his gaze morph into blood red hearts that drip with love and devotion. You want to give him everything, bring him under your skin and into your heart so you'll never be separated again.

"I love you." You smile and open your arms for him. "Let's never be apart again."

Boothill's brain short-circuits. He can only remember the minutiae of what happens next- tearing off your clothes, your hands running across his metallic chest, his sensors working in overdrive to let him process your touch, your smell, your taste, as he kisses, nibbles and sucks his way across the canvas of your body to reach your core.

But just as he's about to taste your liquid gold, you tug on his hair. He immediately moves up to your face, nuzzling into your neck to comfort you.

"What's wrong, moon lily? I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassures you, but you bite your lip and shake your head.

"I know. But I don't want that right now; I want you to fuck me."

You spread your legs, once again revealing your soaking pussy to his hungry eyes, and fuck, his mouth goes dry at the exquisite feast before him. And his new dick feels the same way, as the electricity in his body jolts it to life, straining against his pants.

He swallows. "Yeah, baby. I want you too, but I gotta prep ya, or it's gonna hurt."

"Don't care!" you whine, and on Lan's Arrow, you're so cute with your pouting and wailing. "I need you, Hillie, I need it, I need it-!"

Ah, fuck. He can't say no to you, and he won't start now.

So he rips off his pants, and after a few quick pumps of his new cock (yeah, he'll send some flowers to the mechanic as a thank-you), he grabs hold on your hips and thrusts forward.

You shriek at the burning sensation, scrambling for grip on his shoulders as he penetrates deeper and deeper. Fuck, it's been so long since you had sex of any kind, and it shows. You moan loudly, shamelessly, so sensitive to the buttons his cock presses perfectly against your walls, that you cum instantly when he bottoms out, hips meeting yours with a soft thud.

"Fuuudge," Boothill groans, each syllable drawn out in pleasure, "you're so tight, sugar~ I can't even move..."

His brain might just melt from the overload of sensations. Your pussy's so tight, so wet, he's damn sure he near ascended to aeonhood. And your face is so adorable when cumming, he makes sure to engrave every part of it into his neurochip and brush the hair out of your eyes, moving his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, guiding you out of the afterglow.

When you finally blink the stars out of your eyes, you see Boothill hovering above you, rubbing your cheek with hearts in his eyes.

"God, you're so fudgin' gorgeous." He grins, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, and a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. "Think you got another for me?"

You whine, "Still sensi- AH!"

He immediately sets a vigorous pace, hips slamming against yours in a hypnotic rhythm. He fixates on your breasts, and leans over to take a hard nipple in his mouth to suck and lick and nibble. You squeal and pull on his hair. He bites your skin in retaliation.

"Easy, moon lily," he moans, quickly stifling it with a kiss. "Hold on to me."

He grabs under your arms and lifts you onto his lap. His cock sinks impossibly deeper inside you, the tip nudging at your cervix. With a shriek, you bite his neck to try and ease the discomfort, but it only excites him more. With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into your sopping hole, bouncing you up and down with rough hands to set an even rougher pace.

You're still so sensitive; too much, too fast, and his cock fits so snugly inside you that you're already spiraling towards another release. But you don't want to make that journey alone, you want Boothill beside you.

So you grab his face and devour his mouth, pressing your tongue against his to savor his metallic taste. He moans against your lips, hips stuttering in an effort to keep up with you.

"Wanna make you feel good," you pant heavily. You carefully slide up and down on his thick cock, head thrown back as it hits your sweet spot. "Wanna... wanna cum with you!"

"Y- you are, baby," he groans against your neck, each word punctuated with a deep thrust. "You're makin' me feel so- darn- good-"

You're so close, you can see the faintest glimmer of stars again. Or maybe that was the sparks from his body as it overworks to keep his sensors running, so he can keep feeling you, tasting you, fucking you.

"Hillie," you gasp when the stars start to overwhelm you. "Hillie, I-"

"I know, baby, let go, I'm right with ya." He kisses you, over and over, thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, sensors working overdrive, wires sparking to further push him over the edge. "I'm- fudge, fudge, fudge-!"

He chokes, and you both come undone together, chasing that relentless wave of pleasure side by side. Stars collide and burst in showers of gold and silver, and your strength all but fails you, so you collapse in Boothill's arms, rubbing your cheek on his cool chest.

He catches his breath, letting his sensors rest as he basks in that afterglow. His wires are probably fried after such an intense sensory overload, but he can't bring himself to give a damn. Not when you're sitting so pretty in his arms, eyes just barely able to stay open.

You're so cute when you're sleepy, it's hard to not bite your cheek like he used to do. But tonight, he'll be generous and resist the temptation; you need your rest.

He runs a hand through your hair, and he once again finds himself wishing he still had his skin. But he sets that aside, preferring to be lost in your sleepy smile instead.

"Love you, Hillie," you coo drowsily, head nodding off.

"I love you more, moon lily," he whispers back with a kiss to your forehead.

In a moment, he'll bring you on his spaceship and clean you up, then tuck you in the spare bunk next to his charging port. He'll have to look at that USB you painstakingly put together for him sooner or later.

But for now, right here, he's not going anywhere.

His moon lily came back to him.

Boothill has finally returned home.

[Post-Credit]

"What the actual hell is this..." the mechanic sighs as she stares at the large bouquet of blue flowers.

She wonders if she should toss them out before she notices the card.

Thanks for the added bonus, Doc! - BH & ML

Her eyebrows raise. The handwriting's too nice and legible to be that Galaxy Ranger's, so...

She chuckles. "I figured it'd come in handy sooner or later."

She sets the bouquet on her desk and continues on with her work.

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

A/N: holy shirtballs BOOOTHILL MY LOVE AAAAAAAHSHDHDBSK I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIKE I NEVER LOVED A CHARACTER BEFORE

...if only he loved me back just the slightest, cuz I lost 50/50 and went hard pity to get him. But I did win his lightcone so I guess it's even...?