#and I can't ignore the things they did that hurt

[strwberri-milk]

hiii! can i request reader asking to take a break from the relationship with the lnds boys? <3

Zayne doesn't understand at all what he did wrong. His first instinct is to try and fix it, ask you to tell him what he's done and how he can be better. He clings desperately to the hope that you mean it - it's just a break. He knows he's been really busy at work but you've never told him you don't understand, in fact, you've been telling him that you're proud of how hard he works.

His instinct will always be to cater to you, so he's going to ignore the way his heart hurts at your request. He'll agree, tell you that it's fine and he understands even though he really doesn't. He finds himself constantly holding himself back from reaching out to you, waiting patiently until the day you come back to him.

He doesn't know how to react. He's angry, sure, but also he doesn't want to do anything that would run the risk of you ensuring things end permanently here. You don't really think he's responding when he just nods and tells you that if that's truly what you want, then he'll let you.

Underlining his words is the slightest anger you can barely recognise. He finds himself wanting to be immature, to bully you into telling him what the problem is. He's already asking you, telling you that he thought things were fine because you never told him otherwise. You'd have to promise him you're coming back, but even during your time apart he finds ways to see you. He might not be talking to you or seeming to make an active effort but you get the sense that someone is trying to keep you safe.

Rafayel flips between anger and desperation. He doesn't know whether to beg or scream at you for leaving him again. You thought that he'd pout, or he'd go off and sulk quietly but the look on his face is one you never thought he'd make. He wants to grab you, hold you and convince you never to go but he's furious that you could even fathom leaving him.

He ends up pushing you away, telling you that if that's really what you want then fine, go take your break away from him. He doesn't seem to care, his feelings burying themselves deep in his chest as a way to desperately hide the truth but he's waiting every day for you to show up at his door again.

Sylus seems aloof. He doesn't say anything, simply raising your brow and asking if you really think that's a good idea. You insist, telling him that things are fine you just need a breather. You thought he'd fight harder but he simply waves you off, telling you that if that's truly how you feel then you should just leave.

To the untrained eye it truly seems like he doesn't care but he's losing his mind, just a bit. He can't stop thinking about you, finding himself beating people with a bit more reckless abandon and taking on bigger risks. His mind reels, constantly trying to figure out what exactly it is he can do to bring you back to him.

[tsukimara]

Oh wow.. r-request are open.. t-Tsuki-Chan… w-well don’t mind if I do.. c-can you w-write f-Floyd, Riddle, and Epel with a jellyfish s/o w-who can’t control their stings.. hehe.. *blushes cutely.*

—🎀

๋࣭ ˖ 𐔌Boys with jellyfish S/O who can't control their stings!࿐ . ۫

-ˏˋ⋆➔ Characters: Floyd, Riddle and Epel <3

-ˏˋ⋆➔ Hcs, Fluff, Romantic (but it can also be read as platonic), Gn!reader

-ˏˋ⋆➔ Warnings: None!

-ˏˋ⋆➔ A/N: AAAA HELLO 🎀ANON!! T-thank you for y-your request... *Looks away blushing* (We are not crazy I promise)

FLOYD:

• A sea creature? And a jellyfish at that?! You 100% got his attention!

• LIKE OMGGG YOU'RE SO CUTE!! Let him squeeze your cheeks!!!!!

• This boy is so in loveeee.

• He just needs to hug you- !! Oh this sting was unexpected. You can't control it? Well that's fine, that doesn't stop him from hugging you!

• He wouldn't take it too seriously, he'd just laugh it off and ignore your stings.

• In short, he will test how many times he will get sting if he hugs you for a long time. He won't lie your cuddles are interesting now!

• Sometimes he touches your cnidocytes specifically to see how they feel. He doesn't do it often because he doesn't want to get stings all over his hands.

• But if he's in a bad mood he can get a little irritated but don't worry! It will pass quickly when he remembers that you can't control it and he will go back to teasing you.

• Floyd is an electric eel (correct me if I'm wrong), right? If so, I doubt he would feel your sting very much. They would actually tickle him a little.

• He'd love to help you control your stings but doesn't really know how. Even though they don't bother him, he knows you don't want to sting EVERYONE who touches you.

• Like hey don't be sad! Hug him instead of others! He doesn't mind.

• He actually thinks it's a good 'weapon' to scare others away if they bother you.

• Still, he will help you, he will ask others and look for information.

• "Sorry I sting you again..." "Sting? It was more like a little pinch than a sting zappy!"

• Ah yes, his nicknames.

• He likes to tease you for not being able to control your stings so he gave you the nickname 'zappy'.

RIDDLE:

• Ummm, that's interesting..

• I think he would be slightly interested in your cnidocytes, but that doesn't mean he wants to touch them.

• He's not much of an affectionate person so he's not too worried about being stinged by you.

• However, if he was standing too close to you and you accidentally touched him with your cnidocytes, expect a yelp from him.

• He'll think you did it on purpose so he'll scold you.

• "Hey! That hurt! You can't do that. What if you hurt someone else? Your behavior is incorrect." "I'm so sorry Riddle!!! I don't know how to control them!" Oh-

• Since you told him that, he'll pay a little more attention when he comes near you. Not in a bad way but he doesn't want to get sting again.

• Now he'll know he can't scold you so much for something you can't control.

• Of course he will also tell you to be careful because he doesn't want anyone to get hurt (Actually he doesn't want you to feel guilty but he won't admit it).

• For that he will try to help you with them somehow. No matter what, he will look for a solution to your problem so you don't have to worry about it anymore.

• He knows that every time you tried to hug someone it always ended badly so you stopped trying to hug others.

• Riddle isn't really used to things like affection, but he'll try to dress up so you can't sting him and he'll let you hug him a bit.

• Just don't tell anyone!

• He will dress like this most of the time until you guys find a solution to control your sting.

EPEL:

• Epel doesn't really know how to react.

• Yes, you have something cool to defend yourself but he won't lie, he doesn't really like being stinged.

• But when he finds out that you don't do it on purpose, he will look at it differently.

• "Ouch! What was that for?- Ah right, that was unintentional." He'll try not to sound mad at you because he's not, he just never expects to get stinged.

• Over time he will get used to them and will say that you can knock down whoever you want!

• When he gets sting, he claims it didn't hurt him at all, showing that he is tough.

• It actually hurt him, but he didn't want you to think he was weak or you to blame yourself!!

• " !!- N-no, What are you talking about? Uhh... It doesn't hurt that much! See? I'm not as weak as others."

• He says it would be fun to prank someone with your stings.

• Epel is not a very affectionate person but he doesn't mind physical contact, sometimes it just makes him blush.

• That's why he will dress in such a way that you can hug him or hold his hand without worrying about hurting him.

• Even if the clothes don't fit and Vil might pick on him, he'll still dress like that. He wants to show you that he cares about you!

• He will help you control your stings, no matter if he will have to read thousands of books or ask everyone in the world if it means it will help you.

• He will even try to get something that can help you control them!

• If that means you'll be happy then he will be too!

-ˏˋ⋆➔ Twisted Wonderland Masterlist

-ˏˋ⋆➔ Masterlist

-ˏˋ⋆➔ Rules request

[kyxhiin]

Expectation, Reasonings, and Ignorance.

(Sorry I wrote the for angst I couldn't find anywhere)

Billy or well Captain Marvel noticed that the justice league doesn't really care all much about what happens to him or how he's feeling. They're all so much more caring and worrisome about Superman who will crumble at a green kryptonites touch, and become no better than a man when he's exposed to Red sun. And Batman, a mere human capable of fighting against metas. Nobody cares for him whenever he got blasted away, kidnapped, shot, stabbed, threatened, attacked, assaulted, hurt, or whatever that goes along those strings since they know, he won't die. He knows that some members of the Justice League care about him as a respectable member of the team and a colleague, but even he see's the annoyed stares of when he gets too overwhelming for everybody.

Nobody cares if he says he doesn't want to drink. They order him a beer anyway. Nobody cares if he says he doesn't wanna find a partner. They flirt with him anyway. Nobody cares if he's hurt. They shrug it off anyway.

They see him as this indestructible powerful happy go lucky individual. Who can't get hurt, Can't feel any other feelings other than positive ones.

He cried once, he got angry once, he broke down ONCE. But he still sees the fear in their eyes everytime his smile slips.

Fear is what they felt, a smile was the only thing that could relieve it. So he put on a mask. A happy mask which no one can see through.

He saw how happy Batman's Robin's were. They never missed a chance to swing around, play with people, and be protected. When Captain Marvel is Billy, he's far from marvelous. Pain creeps through every corner of his body, hunger eats him from inside out, his mouth dries little by little, and his once chubby happy cheeks became hollow and bruised. Yet he still smiled, he kept smiling. Smile was the only thing he knew. Smile was the only thing he had to do.

The League expected so much from him. But cared so little. Once he was blasted into the ground, nobody cared to look. He'll be fine is probably what they thought. But that blast hurt, it hurts so badly. It hurted the hollow body that is Captain Marvel. Gritting his teeth through his smile he got up. A Giant hole was there in the place of his stomach. Ouch.

He doesn't like saving women or men around his age. They don't stop when their told no. He lost count on how many men or woman have tried to kiss him every time he saved them. He extended his head every time in hopes their lips don't touch before landing everytime. Ew.

There was this one time where he tried to be included in the meetings, like giving advice. He thought he did pretty well before everybody laughed, patting him on the back. "Nice Joke" was what they said. He was so embarrassed.

...

[avatar-anna]

this is the second part of my exrry in italy oneshot! you can read that here

Three days had passed and Harry hadn't left your tiny apartment.

He kept saying he should probably leave, and you insisted there were things you had to do, but neither of you actually made it past the threshold of your door. No one said goodbye, or even bothered to shrug back into clothes. For three days, you ate, drank, and slept with Harry.

"You're making it hard to leave," he murmured, his voice low and content as you placed tiny kisses on his neck, his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach, really. It was how you used to wake Harry up when you were together, and when morning number four rolled around, you couldn't help yourself but lean across the bed and kiss his soft, sun kissed skin.

At first, you kept up the pretense of being unattached, of sleeping with Harry merely because you knew each other well enough physically. "This doesn't mean we're back together," you'd both whisper, or something to that effect, before blurring the lines of your non relationship once more.

"You're not making it any easier to kick you to the curb," you mumbled, one hand reaching up to caress his stubbly cheek. The fine, short hair that seemed to grow in the last few days.

Harry smelled good, like he usually did with a mix of the soap in your shower. It messed with your head in a way that was dangerous, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So he didn't leave (again), and you didn't tell him to go(again). You and Harry stayed in bed for most of the day, only bothering to get up when hunger was too apparent to ignore. You managed to whip something up from the meager groceries you had, not having gone to the market recently, and sat with Harry at the little dining table by the kitchen. The balcony would've been a much nicer spot, as it looked out over the neighborhood square you stayed in, but it was too public, too many keen eyes would've spotted Harry immediately.

"Part of me wishes I hadn't seen you at all," Harry confessed later in the day. You were back in bed after a brief stint in the kitchen where you tried to make pancakes, which promptly turned into kissing and licking pancake batter off Harry as he did the same to you on the kitchen counter, pancakes no longer a priority.

You knew he hadn't meant it to hurt you, but the words sent a pang through your chest, so different from the heat and fireworks and butterflies you usually got from him. Everything was so different now. It was hard to face how much had changed, especially now that Harry was in bed beside you. "I know."

"It's easier to pretend when I can't see you," he said softly, his hand never once stopping as it tracked through your hair, nor did your hand stop tracing patterns in his chest.

"Pretend?"

Harry blew out a large sigh before sitting up in your bed, his arms stretching high above his head. There were hickeys littered all over his body, one on his hip revealing itself as the bedsheet fell and settled just below his waist. You found yourself transfixed by your ex's body, the one you still loved so much the idea of him leaving made your heart hurt.

"Do you still love me?" Harry asked out of the blue.

The question shocked you, but only because you thought the last three days would've made it obvious. You certainly didn't have to ask him how he felt. "Yes."

"That makes it easier too. In a selfish way, I guess," he said, not once meeting your eye. "Knowing you're in as much pain as I am."

Unexpected tears welled in your eyes. You never wanted to hurt Harry. He'd been right to say it was easier to imagine him happy and healthy post break up if you didn't see or hear from him. It was easier to move on if you convinced yourselves that you were better off without each other.

"Harry—"

"I miss you, Y/n," he said, his voice trembling slightly. Harry wouldn't meet your eye, which made all of this so much worse. "I know why we broke up, and I've done everything short of sleeping with someone else to try and move on, but I just—Tell me you're struggling as much as I am. Tell me you don't sleep as well as you used to because I'm not there. Or don't. Tell me this has all just been sex to you so I know there's an end to this—this—"

"Misery?" you finished for him. "I wish I could. I don't know if I'll ever be the same again, honestly."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask why. Please. Not when you know the answer."

It wasn't like you and Harry woke up one day and stopped loving each other. Everything about your relationship had been nothing short of perfect from the very beginning.

Until it wasn't.

"No one has to know this time," Harry said. His tone had taken on a desperate edge, almost making you turn away from him so you wouldn't have to face it, do this all over again. "We can—We can keep this a secret. It'll be just us."

It will never be just us, you thought miserably. "People already know, H."

At the look of confusion on his face, you reached for your phone. You showed him the slew of articles that had already been written. Pictures of you and Harry walking through Rome together three days ago, each one picking you apart or depicting you as the villain in Harry's life.

"I know that's why you're still here. You're waiting for the storm to blow over," you said, unable to meet his eye.

"That's not—After everything I just said, you really think that's why I stayed?" he asked. You'd turned away from him, but you felt his hand on your shoulder, the kiss to your temple as he leaned in close.

"I wish I was the kind of person who didn't care what anyone thought, that I could simply exist in this relationship and not let anyone else in, but—but I'm not. I can't."

"You. Are. Enough," Harry murmured, pressing each word into your skin with a kiss. You closed your eyes, tears leaking from the corners as he curled himself around your body. One leg slid between yours, and you selfishly pulled him closer as he continued to murmur in your ear.

You fell asleep in your ex's arms, the weight of his body on yours more comforting than any blanket. When you woke up, Harry was there, but he wasn't wrapped around you anymore. He sat at the edge of your bed, wearing clothes for the first time since he'd set foot in your apartment.

"You're leaving?" you asked, voice scratchy with sleep.

"I'm supposed to go to Florence tomorrow," Harry said, bent over as he tied his shoes. "I've got a dozen messages on my phone asking where I am."

Something in Harry's voice sounded different, distant, just the way he sounded when you initially ran into him. It pulled at something in your heart, something that you'd been keeping at bay since you invited Harry into your apartment—the knowledge that this would eventually end.

"So you're—You were just going to leave? Without saying anything?"

You heard Harry sigh as he rested his head in his hands. "I thought it would be easier. Our last conversation seemed...final."

"I know, but—"

But what? Harry was right. This wasn't going anywhere. You told him you couldn't be in a relationship with him, and he was responding to that. You knew it was coming, but it didn't hurt any less now that the moment had finally come.

"You're right," you said eventually, sitting up in your bed. "We came here separately, of course you have plans. I'm sorry if I kept you."

"You didn't," Harry reassured. "There's nowhere I wanted to be the last few days, but we... we're broken up, and as much as I want to stay, I don't want to keep giving myself false hope."

Your fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch him, hold him. But he was right. As much as you loved this relationship limbo, that was all it was. Stringing you and Harry along would only hurt you more.

"I'm sorry," was all you could say. For too many things, none of which you could bring up without crying.

"Me too," Harry said.

Leaning across the bed, he kissed your forehead, then stood up. "One day you'll realize how extraordinary you are, and you wont care how people perceive you," he said, his thumb caressing your cheek. "And then you'll go and make someone the luckiest man in the world by giving yourself over to him completely. I'm just devastated it wasn't me."

You watched him go from the sanctuary of your bed, knowing the second he was out of sight you'd break down completely. The door closed with a soft clock, and even though you knew you shouldn't, you hurried over to your bedroom window, waiting anxiously to get one last glimpse of him.

Harry's lean figure appeared a couple minutes later, his head bent and shoulders slightly hunched, avoiding the few photographers who had been waiting for him to leave the building. You wanted him to turn around. You wanted to see his face one last time, a final farewell. But perhaps for his sake, he didn't, and you watched as he retreated down the street and turned down the road out of sight.

On your last day in Rome, you found a note he'd written.

Harry had hidden it in one of the pockets of his favorite of your sweaters, though you weren't exactly sure when. It wasn't very long, and the note itself was no more than a scrap of paper, one you'd nearly thrown out by accident. But you would've recognized his handwriting anywhere, and fond memories of notes you used to find among your things kept you from throwing away the folded paper and opening it instead.

Perhaps in another life. Unless you change your mind in this one, H.

[deathbxnny]

Loved your writing of arcane characters saying things they regret during an argument. Would you be willing to do a version with Jayce, Viktor and Silco? I apologize if you don't prefer to write about these characters, you can ignore this

Arcane men saying things they'll regret during an argument. | Viktor, Jayce, Silco x Gn!Reader

Oh, I absolutely am willing to do that, Anon!! These are going to be pretty irredeemable, though, so there is not going to be a part two to this... anyways, enjoy!!<3

Content: Season 2 spoilers!!, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, break ups, swearing, gaslighting, toxic behavior, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

"This... isn't you anymore, Viktor. A-And I refuse to keep lying to myself like this either!" You hissed out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. You were losing your mind in this compound of his, unable to understand how seemingly no one was able to recognize how wrong everything was. People who were "healed" by him weren't the same after. They turned into robotic and uncanny husks of their old selves.

A terrifying sight that unnerved you deeply. And only you here.

The nail in the coffin was perhaps the skeptical appearance of Councilor Salo. Never in your life had you ever seen him give a damn about anyone but himself. He lived a life of riches and materialism, far from the selfless and minimalistic lifestyle found here. But after your boyfriend healed him of his inability to walk, he suddenly preached the same ideals that everyone else did.

Peace, love, and community.

Those were the important pillars of this idyllic place Viktor had created, and yet you couldn't see past the clear red flags that weaved themselves in their white attire. You were never much of a genius like he was, but it didn't take much brainpower to understand that this was not a great place to be in. No matter how hard he attempted to convince you of that.

"... I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm afraid I can not follow your reasoning for this claim. I am myself... just someone greater. More meaningful. Isn't that beautiful?" His voice was so gentle and patient in comparison to yours. Something that wasn't unusual to him. But the way he used that tone now made you sick. "Terrifying is a better word, actually... Why can't you see that this is just wrong? You're not healing anyone-" "-But I am. Look around you. Is that not enough for you to finally believe me, my love? I want to create a better world... one in which we can live freely together." Your mind spun, his words ringing in your head dangerously. And you hated every second of it.

This isn't the man you loved anymore. He must have died that fateful day when the sky fell from above, and he covered you with his body to save you. His last act of kindness as your boyfriend and lover before he perished and left behind whoever he was. And you'd be damned if the last good memory got tainted too.

"No. I will not let you play with my mind anymore. I've had enough." You pushed past him, wanting to finally escape this borderline cult. Originally, you had only followed after him because you couldn't bear being without him. Jayce was right, though. He really was different now.

"Hm... it seems like I was right about you after all." You stopped in your tracks yet didn't dare face him. "You truly are not worth saving... you can't grasp the beauty of what I have made. I suppose everyone's claims for your low intelligence were, unfortunately, right. What a shame." How could a devil have such a soothing, loving voice? Why did the monster that now lurked in your shadow have to have your lovers face? The cruelty was too much to bear.

Who would have thought that you'd finally leave him for good after all the years you've taken care of him? This moment felt so surreal and yet ironically freeing as well. The end was near. "Did you... ever even love me?" You asked aimlessly, but didn't wait to hear his answer.

Perhaps if you had, however, you would've seen that sudden spark of surprise in his eyes, as you slipped out of his fingers for good at last.

》JAYCE

You had looked everywhere for him. And after also asking everyone under the sun if they had seen your boyfriend, you had eventually determined that he must've somehow gone missing. Worried sick, it pained you knowing that there wasn't much you could do either, considering that everyone was too busy getting ready for a borderline war and Caitlyn became unreachable as a result. Yet just as you began to lose hope, your dear lover finally returned... but he wasn't the same.

He didn't look the same, nor did he act the same, in fact. He looked so different that it even visibly startled you when you found him rummaging through his once shared laboratory. You had just returned from another wrap around the building in hopes of finding it, and whilst you'd consider yourself lucky this time around, all you now felt was genuine dread.

"Jayce...? What happened to you? I looked for you everywhere and-" You stilled at the intense look he gave you, his face flinching for a moment, as though his mind couldn't comprehend your image. Glancing over at his peculiar weapon of choice, you felt unnerved at how even that looked uncanny. The entire situation was unnerving you deeply, to say the least. "You... You shouldn't be here." He finally muttered, his voice deeper and colder than it ever was. Jayce always had such a fun and warm voice. If you didn't know any better, you would've questioned who he was a while ago.

"Hey... tell me where you were, okay?" You said, trying a more gentle approach as you neared him, eyes focused on his clearly injured leg. Had he been kidnapped? You doubted it. So what made him end up like this? Nothing you could come with explained his appearance. His hair and beard were way longer than they should have gotten in the short span of time he was gone, too.

Reaching down carefully, you tried to inspect his leg, but he seemed less receptive to the idea. Or so you assumed, after he shoved you away roughly and held the hammer to your face at impressive speed. His eyes were glossy, as though he wasn't entirely all there. He was reliving a terrifying moment in his mind, unaware of the horror you were going through. Never could you have ever thought of ending up in this position with him. "Jayce! What the hell are you doing-?" "-Get away! I know what you are... you've been sent by him too, weren't you?" You let out a shriek when he swung the hammer at you, only giving you a fraction of a second to jump out of the way.

Falling onto your behind, you quickly crawled backward and away from him, tears welling up in your eyes. Your scream seemed to at least wake him up, though, as he finally lowered his weapon and blinked at you in surprise. "Fucks sake! What is wrong with you?" You yelled out, yet as fast as his face softened, it hardened again. "... Sorry... I need to leave." Quickly making his way past you, he only barely escaped your presence before you grabbed onto the fabric of his pants. "Why? Where are you going? Why can't you tell me anything?"

The look in his eyes made you shrink away. This wasn't your Jayce anymore. "... The future of everyone in Piltover hinges on me being there on time. Now, make yourself useful for once and get out of my way." Shaking you off harshly, he left you crying on the cold floor of the once lively laboratory, not once looking back.

》SILCO

When you first met Silco, you were both still leading simple lives in the last drop with his brother and all of your other friends in Zaun. The lanes were harsh and, at times, cruel, yet you fought through the agony of it all together. Years down the line later, you find yourself still reminiscing on those heavenly days, particularly those of your lover who had turned for the worst in the time being. And the question of why you didn't listen to Vander's warnings came to mind again then. Perhaps you were just too used to excusing everything his brother did, especially after he had attempted to drown him so horrifically, which left him permanently injured.

But even so... why didn't you just listen? Why did it take so many years for you to finally throw the towel and leave for good? Finally realise that the man you loved was a monster? A disgusting and evil monster who was willing to use the plight of others for his own gain. And for what? Money? Fame? Power? It was all an ego trip you had far more than enough of. Zaun was his playground, and an escape was impossible. You'd be, however damned if you didn't at least try to anyways. Even if just in Vander's honor as a long-awaited apology.

Pushing past the crowd in the stuffy, full Last drop, you finally reached his office upstairs. Not caring about formalities anymore, you knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply. If death met you behind it, then so be it. "Ah, darling, in a hurry today, aren't you?" "We need to talk. Alone." Short and straight to the point. Raising a brow, he shared a look with Jinx, who was just done giving him his daily "medicine". Oh, how you hated your lover's dearest creation. Shimmer. The exact thing that had ruined your lives for good. But you pushed away your disdain for the task at hand.

Giving Jinx a dismissive wave of his hand, you waited for her to be gone for good before taking a breath to speak. But Silco beat you to it. Always so painfully perceptive. "The answer is no, if you're here asking to leave. I refuse to let you go, dear. You have no one else but me after all. You wouldn't survive on your own." He always underestimated you, so this wasn't an all to surprising response. And if you were just a couple of months younger, you would have maybe agreed and backed off. But you were sick of his games.

"I didn't come here to ask for permission, Silco. I'm here to say goodbye." The slightest, softest crack at the last word gave you away horribly. You certainly didn't expect your feelings for the man to betray you, but even that won't stop you now. Said man just hummed in response as he stood up to face the window. His hands calmly lit a cigar, very much unbothered. But you knew that your sentence had gotten to him anyway with how his hand shook ever so slightly. Out of anger, most likely.

"So you think you can do whatever you want? Leave after you've spent so many years at my side? Your hands aren't as clean as you think they are, darling. Even yours are a bright violet." A reference to the shimmer vials on his desk. He knew how much you hated it, so this felt like a jab. A jab at the deep guilt you felt every day for enabling the death of all of your friends indirectly. If only you had stopped him from the start... then maybe you wouldn't have to feel the dread that ruined you from the inside anymore.

"I've accepted my flaws and sins a long time ago. I may not be better than you... but sometimes, in order to end the cycle, you have to walk away and leave some things behind." You suddenly felt so content, his cold and terrible words not reaching you anymore. You were so close to leaving. So close to leaving Zaun and Piltover like you've always dreamed. But Silco just scoffed in disbelief.

"Hah, don't give me that self-righteous shit... I've been there for you for so many years, dear. I've taken care of you, fed you, and loved you to my best ability for so long. The least you could do is be grateful for my kindness." "So you think I'm a burden?" The silence was deafening, but it was enough to confirm your long-standing suspicions. He had lost his love for you a long time ago. Perhaps the side that loved you so purely drowned in the river with him.

"... Goodbye. I hope one day you can walk away too." You turned and began walking out then, suddenly realising that it's finally over. Shoving your hands into the pocket of your coat, you felt the ticket for the skyship you had to take. "Don't you dare leave. Don't you dare it-" All bark and no bite as usual. There was no stopping you now, and he knew it. He was letting you go after all. You could just hope that one day he'd listen to your words and end the cycle, too.

What a shame that you won't be there at his side to see it, however... maybe in another life then.

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 happy birthday

synopsis: it's a known fact that zoro can't stand his birthday... but when you finally discover the date, you can't help putting together something special

cw: nsfw (male & fem receiving), spanking, dirty talk, zoro's a little rough, some leather, some comfort, maybe a little ooc zoro but who gives a shit, reader + nami = trouble, usopp's a real og, reader can see visions, reader has black angel wings, both aren't really pertinent to the story but they're described, etc.

a/n: happy thanksgiving!

"Ladies, I need your assistance," you stated, plainly, approaching your two best friends—who were lounging on the deck chairs—and plopping yourself down next to them.

This was beyond urgent.

"Of course, (y/n)," Nami nodded, dropping her magazine in her lap and glancing up at you with an inviting smile. "What's up?"

"Is everything alright?" Robin asked, slightly concerned.

"Everything's... fine," you nodded, unconvincingly, actively trying to think up a way to explain. "I just... I did a thing... and learned something I probably shouldn't have... about Zoro."

'Huh?'

"About Zoro?" she raised a brow, now even more intrigued.

"Did he hurt you? Or say something stupid again?" Nami's gaze turned sharp, the woman sitting up rigidly in her seat, ready to go to war. "If he did, I swear, I'll wring his muscly-ass neck!"

"No, no! Not that," you quickly assured, shaking your head. "It's something from his past... from before he met me."

"What happened?" Robin asked, shutting her book, now fully invested. "From the start, if you don't mind."

You nodded, looking down at your lap and recalling the events of the last hour.

"I was doing my daily meditation on the roof of the crow's nest, y'know, like I always do, when I was suddenly hit with a vision," you started. "Now, it didn't come as harshly as the others typically do, so I assumed that it was going to be about something trivial. But that changed when a young Zoro suddenly came into view."

The women sat quietly, listening intently as they took in each word.

"He was training, super aggressively, mind you, when all of a sudden this group of kids comes running up to him asking when he was going to stop."

Crossing one leg over the other, you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Of course, Zoro being Zoro, said he wasn't gonna finish any time soon, but, and get this, the kids say But you're gonna miss your birthday party!"

Nami and Robin gasped, eyes widening slightly.

It was common knowledge that the swordsman wasn't very fond of birthdays—or rather his birthday, specifically.

Whenever asked about it, he often dodged the question, or just ignored it altogether, not bothering with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper's chaotic antics in trying to get him to spill the beans.

Even you were unsuccessful, the man managing to smoothly redirect the conversation with the rough timbre of his voice, knowing it distracted you easily, along with other physical means.

Eventually, you gave up hope, seeing as you didn't even have a clue as to what season the day fell in.

But now... you had a date.

And it was today.

"I know he hates it, but I can't just sit on this," you whined, slumping in the chair. "Before, it wasn't like I could do anything because I didn't know when. But now that I do, I can't in clear conscience do nothing for his birthday..."

"I'm not sure," Robin sighed, quizzically. "There might be a reason why he doesn't celebrate. Maybe something bad happened and caused him to hate the day."

"Or maybe he's just being his typical, difficult self?" Nami scoffed, rolling her eyes before turning to you. "I think it's sweet that you wanna do something nice for him. And I know exactly what you need to do in order to make this the best day of his life!"

Confused, you watched as she leaned over, reaching under her chair and grabbing a book bound with rich, wine-colored leather, the image of a muscular man with extremely long hair and billowing shirt on the cover.

"A book?" you raised a brow. "Zoro's... not really a reader. Especially not something like this."

"No, silly. What's inside the book."

"Paper?"

"Romance."

With an exasperated sigh, she flipped through a couple pages, eyes lighting up when she found the page she was looking for.

"This novel is like a playbook on how to seduce a man," she happily handed it over, allowing you to skim over the text. "Follow that scene to the letter, and you'll have him counting down the minutes until his next birthday. I guarantee it."

"Are you sure?" your nose scrunched slightly at the cheesiness, confused as to why the author kept on mentioning the love interest's rippling pectorals. "This isn't really my style..."

"Trust me!" she grinned, giving you a soft pat on the back. "It's foolproof."

Glancing toward Robin for confirmation, she could only shrug, resting her hands in her lap.

"You know Zoro the best... Do what you think suits both you and him," she advised. "Even if that means trying something new."

Closing the book, your eyes found their way to the cover, your mouth fighting off the urge to stick out its tongue at the sight of the man's chiseled smolder.

He looked more like a girl than you...

"I'll take your word for it."

"(y/n)?" Zoro called, knocking on the door to the women's quarters before carefully pushing it open, slightly frustrated to find that you were, once again, not there.

Well, at least that eliminates the cabin...

Letting out a heavy sigh, he turned around, opting to shift his search toward the deck.

'Where the hell did she run off to?'

It was late, and the swordsman had been searching for the past twenty minutes, having already been through the kitchen, the dining room, the sick bay, the aquarium, the library, and the workrooms, with still no trace of you.

This, of course, was very odd considering you were usually within arms reach of him, the two of you seeming to just naturally float around each other, even as you did your daily routines.

Not only that, but also the fact that he hadn't seen you all day, seeing as Usopp dragged all the men along on a Boys Day Out.

Though, Zoro didn't understand why he felt the need to worry so much.

He knew a million times over that you were a strong and capable woman, and that if anything were to happen, you could more than adequately hold your own.

But for some odd reason, reminding himself of this fact wasn't subduing the concern spiking in his chest.

'Dammit...'

He had to find you and kill this feeling before he could think any deeper into it.

"(y/n)!" he called, looking around as he walked out on deck. "(y/n)!"

When he was no response, he simply tried again, not planning on stopping until you revealed yourself.

"Will you shut up?!" Nami groaned from her spot from one of the lounge chairs, brows furrowed as she looked up from her maps. "You sound like a lost little puppy."

Zoro rolled his eyes at her theatrics, turning to face her.

"Where's (y/n)?" he asked, curtly.

"She's in the crow's nest," the navigator stated, simply, turning her attention back to the papers strewn over her lap. "Said something about waiting for you... though I'm sure you're too busy ruining the peaceful atmosphere."

Sassily, she flipped one of the parchments over, lazily skimming over its contents.

"Mosshead..."

The man scoffed, expression turning sour at the obvious jab.

"If you'd told me where she was sooner, I wouldn't have shouted!"

"If you'd asked me where she was sooner, I would've told you!"

"Whatever!"

He turned away in a huff, walking over to the ladder and grabbing onto the cool metal.

"Good luck!" Nami called, cheekily, waving as he left. "You're gonna need it!"

"The hell?" he grumbled, starting his trek to the crow's nest, muttering to himself in confusion as he approached the top.

He would never understand her...

Hoisting himself up on the balcony, his brow quirked at the soft hum of music coming from the other side of the wall.

'Music?'

Confused, he listened closer, slowly beginning to make out the sound of a saxophone, which was playing over a smooth jazz background.

You never listened to music when you worked out, much less the sultry nonsense flowing through his ears.

And even though he could hear that, he had yet to hear you grunt out a rep, or rack a weight.

What the hell was going on with everyone today?

Curiosity piqued, he opened the door, eyes widening and heart dropping to his ass at the sight that met him on the other side.

Somehow, the crow's nest had been turned into some sort of makeshift love den, the lights dimmed and the mat area lined with lush pillows and fur blankets, candles illuminating the surrounding area and incense filling the room with a light haze, which smelled of sandalwood and jasmine.

And there, in the middle of it all, sat an angel...

Zoro's breath hitched, eyes widening slightly as he caught sight of your naked form.

You were laying on your side, delicious curves on display in the smallest, tightest leather corset he'd ever seen, your tits practically spilling out the top.

Your hair, freshly washed, cascaded beautifully down your side, framing your face and slightly shading your eyes in a way that gave his hand an itch to tug it.

Not to mention your newly-lotioned skin glowing in the soft candlelight, making you look so smooth and soft and primed for grabbing.

And your dark wings only added to the appeal.

The soft music seemed to be coming from a small transponder snail in the corner, its eyes turned toward the wall in hopes of protecting its innocence from the events to come.

"(y/n)..." he started, both confused and painfully aroused, as he shut the door behind himself, locking it. "What're you doing?"

You faltered, an awkward expression settling on your face.

"Being... sexy?"

Zoro paused a moment, waiting to see if you'd change your answer, before breaking into a small fit of chuckles.

Instantly, your face flushed, embarrassment beginning to sink in.

You knew this was stupid!

"Don't laugh, you ass! I was trying to surprise you!" you whined, abruptly sitting up, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You found out it was my birthday today, didn't you?" he cut to the chase, stalking forward. "And then Nami put you up to this?"

The dots were all connecting.

Usopp keeping him off the ship.

You going missing.

Nami's odd comment.

You were trying to seduce him as a birthday present.

Not that he was complaining...

Your lip jutted out in a slight pout, your eyes avoiding all contact with the man as he moved closer.

"I know you don't like celebrating your birthday, but Nami gave me some book that was supposed to explain exactly what men want... and I figured you still deserved something nice..." you limply explained, turning away from him. "But, in hindsight, it was stupid..."

Sitting down in front of you, his pointer and thumb came up to hold your chin, turning you to face him, where you were met with a soft kiss on your forehead.

"It was sweet," he corrected, thumb smoothing over the skin of your cheek. "Even if you look anything but sweet right now... I can tell you put a lot of effort into this."

You perked up at the last part, turning to him eagerly, eyes glinting with hope.

"Really?" you asked, sounding surprised, your expression downright adorable.

Suddenly, the music, the clothes, and the absolutely tantalizing scent of you began to work their magic on him.

All of his thoughts and reason faded into thin air as he stared at your gorgeous, doe eyes.

"Really," he confirmed, voice low and wanting.

And you could only let out a tiny gasp before he grabbed you by the back of the neck and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss wasn't soft or careful.

The kiss was rough; hungry; slow as he drew moans and gasps out of you.

He kissed you like he hadn't done so in ages, and you were starting to believe he hadn't.

His lips were soft, the taste of sake and mint on his tongue.

You let his hand move along your back and ass, roughly squeezing the flesh and making you moan.

Taking advantage over your open mouth, he slid his tongue alongside your bottom lip before slipping it inside in your mouth.

He grunted hungrily as your tongue began to swirl with his, swapping spit and exchanging breath.

The act made your pussy clench impatiently behind the leather, wanting to be touched and treated.

By him.

Zoro then pulled away enough to speak, eyes hooded and dark.

"Where'd you get this little number from?" he murmured hotly against your lips, calloused hands coming up to roughly knead your hips, feeling up the fabric under his fingertips. "Tell me."

One of his hands snuck down to squeeze your ass, and you let him, biting back a whimper in the process.

"W-Went into town," you softly stuttered. "Bought the outfit the girl was wearing in the book."

He started to line kisses all over your jaw, hungrily moving down to your neck; your collarbone; and your naked shoulders.

"Fuck," he growled into your skin. "Too damn good to be true."

His hands roamed up and down your sides, squeezing and fondling.

"Been wantin' your fine ass since I walked in here..."

"You like it—?" The rest of your question doesn't leave your lips as he grabbed you by your hips and pulled you toward him, so close that air couldn't even move between you.

Your bodies were pressed flushed against each other, so close that you can feel the painfully hard bulge in his robe.

He was turned on by you.

He was really turned on by you.

That fact made you delirious.

His lips pressed against yours again, kissing them so much that your mouth was beginning to turn raw.

He began to settle himself among the pillows and blankets, never breaking the kiss, before plopping down on the nearest, largest cushion.

Then, he gripped your hips and coaxed you onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him.

Instinctively, you ground down into his hardening member, enlisting a groan from deep within his throat.

The sound traveled straight to your core.

You wanted more.

"I want you, Zoro," you sultrily whispered in a sudden burst of confidence, manicured hands gliding over his strong shoulders. "Please... I don't think I can wait."

To show how serious you were, your hands came up to undo the laces on your back, freeing your chest for him to see.

The shock in his steel gray eyes is replaced with sheer hunger when he caught a full view of your perfect tits, sitting there just waiting to be touched.

"You little minx..." he chuckled, amused. "Lemme get a feel of you first."

You bit your lip as he leaned forward, laying you down against the brown, furry blanket before prying your legs open.

And there he got a good look of your sobbing wet pussy, the crotch of your leather suit having been cut out.

Eyes widening at the sight, he looked almost pained.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Christ, (y/n)..." he hissed, leaning down to get a better look, gaping at your sex. "You tryin' t'kill me?"

His eyes flicked up to yours, hands still on your thighs.

'Okay?' his eyes asked.

Wordlessly, you nodded, unable to speak.

But that wasn't gonna slide.

Slowly, he began to brush his fingers up and down your wet slit, paying close attention to your reaction.

"Words, pretty," he growled. "Gimme words."

"Yes!" you moaned, toes curling at the feeling of his fingers on your cunt. "Please, Zo'... please touch me."

He gave you a wolfish grin at your pitiful whines, but didn't keep you waiting.

Swooping down, he captured your clit in his mouth, suckling and eating your pussy like a starving man.

He was relentless with his tongue slashed, flicks and long licks up and down your slit.

And you loved it.

Your hips writhed and whined against his mouth, trying to get him closer.

Your pussy pushed past his soft lips, which drew mindless shapes and nonsense words across your needy core.

"You're so wet," he mumbled into your pussy. "Doin' all this in your little suit turns you on that much, pretty?"

You moaned in response, unable to form words, especially when he reached one hand up to play with your breast.

And it only got better when Zoro began to tease your entrance with his middle finger, dipping the tip in and out of your wet pussy.

"You want this?" he asked, voice nothing but a low growl.

You nodded vigorusly, pulling a laugh from the man's lips.

"So needy," he teased as he began to slowly slid his finger inside of you. "S'been a while since we fooled around... Have I not been takin' care of this pussy?"

"Y—!" you gasped, eyes blown wide as you felt your pussy stretch around three, thick fingers.

He aimed up to brush against your clit as he slid his fingers in and out of you, while also leaning down to suck on it, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you.

You could feel yourself quickly beginning to reach your peak.

'No! Not like this!'

"Wait, Zoro!" you whined, writhing against him. "Not yet!"

He immediately ceased his movement and pulled away from you, glaring confusingly.

"'Scuse me?" he asked, not sounding happy with your protest.

You nearly laughed at his reaction.

"It's your birthday," you explained. "I'm 'sposed to be the one making you feel good. So lay down."

Zoro still looked pissed he couldn't make you cum, but listened anyway.

He laid down, mouth and chin glistening from your juices, and you moved to sit on top of him.

Slowly, you began to kiss and suck your essence off of his mouth, earning low groans from him

Your hands slid down to his broad chest and you gripped his robe.

"Off please?" you asked, peering up at him through your lashes.

You don't have to ask twice.

In a flash, he tugged his arms out his sleeves, pushing his robe and haramaki down to leave him in just his boxers.

You took a moment to admire his beautiful body—so hard and defined with muscle and scars, his lower stomach sinewy with green hair.

He was so, so gorgeous.

Slowly, you glided your hands up and down his hard body, admiring his well-defined pecs and abs.

"You're perfect," you whispered before leaning in to peck his scars, running your lips softly over each.

The low moans and mmms Zoro let slide out his mouth were delicious to you.

They only heighten your arousal, along with the music still playing in the background.

You never pictured yourself getting off on a scene like this, but you supposed it took the right person to bring the freak out of you.

Smoothly, you began to kiss down his hardened stomach until you came down to his boxers, which were already hanging low on his hips.

"Fuck, baby," he hummed, watching you work.

His lips were parted and his eyes were hooded, completely entranced by you.

Finally ridding him of his underwear, you began to think you bit off more than you could chew—or suck, rather—when you get a look at his cock for the first time in weeks.

Lately, between your training schedules and antics with the crew, the two of you had barely had a moment to yourselves.

But you never thought you'd forget how well-endowed he was, dick thick and curved slightly to the left, green hair curling around his stomach and pubic area.

"Hasn't been that long, has it?" he chuckled, teasingly, raising a brow. "You havin' second thoughts?"

"No..." you scoffed, cheeks puffed.

Not wanting to disappoint him, you opened your mouth and slowly began to slide his dick against your tongue.

"There we go," he cooed, relaxing into the blanket. "Good girl... take it all in."

You followed his instruction, your jaw and mouth stretching to accommodate his size.

"Mmm-hmm," you hummed around his cock, he vibrations causing him to moan.

You relished the sounds, wanting more, so you began to move your head back and forth, taking his cock in and out your throat.

You gagged and spat all along his dick, causing saliva to drip down his balls and your chin, making your blowjob extra sloppy.

And Zoro was eating up every second.

He tossed his head back as his eyes rolled in the back of his head, giving you sight that you took a mental snapshot of for a rainy day.

He was so, so sexy.

And to be able to make him feel good gave you the motivation to fight against your aching jaw and burning throat as you continued to fuck him with your throat.

"Doin' so good, baby," he grunted, rolling his hips into your mouth. "So good for me..."

But to your surprise, he suddenly pulled his cock out your mouth.

"But if I'm gonna cum, it's either gonna be on that pretty ass or those pretty' tits ."

You smirked, sitting up and lacing your hand with his, "How about inside?" you purred.

You'd already gotten the hook-ups from Chopper, though embarrassing, and were stocked full of necessary precautions.

And, of course, that was all you needed to say to get Zoro to smash his lips hungrily against yours.

"This gift jus' keeps gettin' better and better," he cheekily growled against your mouth, flipping you both over and laying you down on the brown fur. "Now choose how I'm doin' you before I do it for you."

Not wasting any time, you laid down on your stomach, presenting your ass and dripping pussy for him as you moved a pillow under your hips.

You then looked back at him, only to find him sitting there and stroking himself to the sight of you.

"Like this," you whispered, breathlessly. "Fuck me just like this, Zo'."

Zoro was going fucking feral behind you, and it took everything in his being not to shove his entire length in side you as he began to move closer.

"God, look at you... stainin' the cushions," he sighed as he began to rub your pussy with his cock. "Sittin' nice and pretty just for me..."

Starting out, he went in slow, taking his sweet time to allow you to get used to him.

As soon as his tip entered you, your jaw dropped and your eyes blew wide from the stretch.

No one could ever compare to how warm and solid Zoro felt snuggled up in your pussy.

No one.

You were so glad you had the fur of the blanket to grip at he took a hold of your hips and bottomed out inside of you.

"F-Fuck, Zoro!" you whined, burying your face in the pillows.

He began to bump his hips against yours a little faster now, the sound of skin slapping filling the air as his heavy balls hit your clit.

"C'mon, now, pretty," he huffed. "Y'said you were my present, yeah? Be a good girl and take me then. Make me proud."

He moved to fuck you harder, taking a handful of your ass before giving it a harsh slap.

The feeling was just too much.

He was so deep.

Your eyes were seeing stars, ones that far surpassed the ones lining the night sky.

You had no chance to comprehend anything, too busy taking Zoro's fat cock as he fucked you into oblivion in your little leather, corset.

"Feels good, don't it?" he grunted in your ear.

One of his hands moved to smack your ass again, a wanton moan ripping from your throat.

"Bet you've dreamed about this," he growled at you. "Bet you couldn't wait until I got home tonight."

He leaned down toward you, his lips grazing your ear.

"Bet you've been waiting to get split on my dick for so long."

"Gods, Zoro, yes!" you screamed out to the heavens, fisting the blanket for dear life as he fucked you harder.

You'd never felt like this before; so gone.

Your eyes are closed and your mind is blank, only able to thing of the man towering above you, turned dumb by the waves of pleasure washing over you.

The pleasure was just too good, and you could feel it beginning to build in your core.

"M'gonna cum!" you practically sobbed, your head thrown back. "Zoro!"

The man let out a deep, rumbling chuckle, slightly hiking up his leg to get a better angle.

"Me, too," he grunted. "Want you to take it."

He pressed his lips to your ear, leaning down so his dick hit that spot that had you seeing the entire universe behind your eyes.

"Fuckin' cum for me, pretty," he demanded. "Let me know how good I'm makin' you feel."

And you do.

Moans and gasps leave your lips like a chorus as that coil in your stomach finally snapped.

You unraveled, cumming all over Zoro's dick.

"Oh, my Gods!" you screamed, voice reaching the high heavens.

Your eyes spilled tears of ecstasy as he talked you through it, telling you how good of a girl you were as he stroked your outer thighs.

"Gonna cum, too," he grunted, hips snapping aganist your ass again and again as he chased his high. "You gonna take all of it, baby, hm?"

"Y-Yes!" you choked out, tossing your ass back to meet his thrusts, wanting to make him feel good, too.

He gripped your hips for dear life and came deep inside you with husky, loud moan that made your stomach leap and your pussy clench around his pulsing cock.

You took every ounce he had to offer, not once pulling away.

You could feel it coating your walls, filling you up to the point where you curled your toes and gasped at the feeling coursing through your body.

Finally, Zoro's hips began to slow until he finally came to a stop, pulling out of you with a soft groan.

But he wasn't done.

Still hard, he slid his head over your lower back and ass, coating your skin in his cum.

"So you smell like me," he grunted. "No other man'll even try."

You let out a weak, spent moan as your hips finally dropped, Zoro finally releasing his hold on you as he flopped to your side.

Grabbing you, he pulled your body into him, allowing you to snuggle into his side as he grabbed the blanket, wrapping you both in its warmth.

With the adrenaline now wearing off, and you so limp in his grasp, he began to worry, glancing down at you with a hint of concern

"You alright?" he carefully asked, slightly nudging you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You slowly shook your head, still in a daze.

"That was amazing," you sighed, pressing further into his warm side. "Best I ever had..."

A proud smile stretched across Zoro's face, chest puffing slightly at the praise.

"So... did this make your birthday a little better?" you nervously asked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Grinning, he gave you two kisses on your cheek, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your jaw.

"It did," he hummed contently. "By a hell of a lot more than a little."

Yes!

Internally, you gave yourself a huge high five, insanely proud that Mission: Mosshead was a success.

And now, you believed you deserved some snuggles in return.

"Cuddle with me?" you cooed, looking up at him through your lashes.

Zoro chuckled, rolling his eyes at you.

"Such a baby," he teased, securely wrapping his muscled arms around you, squeezing. "You're lucky I like you."

"Just like?"

"You know what I mean."

"I think I wanna hear you say it."

"I think I wanna take a nap."

"Zoro..."

"(y/n)..."

"Happy birthday."

"I love you."

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥

Mike munroe x male reader

Summary: A year after the mysterious disappearance of Beth and Hannah, your group of friends gather in the same lodge to commemorate them. Your search for the truth leads to a heated argument with Mike, leading to a moment that could change everything about you and him.

Tags: Male reader. He/him pronouns are used towards the reader. No use of Y/N. Friends to lovers. Mike and Jess are not together in this. Cute interactions between Mike and the reader. Gay smut. Top Mike munroe. Bottom male reader. Hate sex. Anal sex.

A request that I received. Hope you enjoyed it <3

Words count: 5000

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥

𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔱

𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢'𝔰 𝔞 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯

𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯

𝔄 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲

𝔍𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔐𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥 Part 2 of it

You adjusted the blanket you had draped over Chris, snickering as you admired the doodles scrawled across his face like crude mustaches, poorly drawn glasses and a pair of horns. The temptation to add your own 'autograph' was too strong to ignore.

Beth stormed into the room, her face flushed with worry. She was shaking Josh's shoulder, trying to rouse him from his drunken stupor.

"Beth? Everything alright?" you asked, straightening up. The humor drained from the room as her panic became contagious.

Beth barely glanced at you as she threw on her pink jacket. "Hannah ran outside? She had barely anything on." Her words came fast, clipped with urgency as she gave up trying to wake up her brother.

"Wait, what? Beth, slow down. What happened?" you asked, but she didn't stop moving. She threw the cabin door open, cold wind rushing in as you saw your group of friends all outside.

You stood frozen for only a heartbeat before you bolted after her. The icy air sliced against your skin as you burst outside, squinting through the storm.

The others were already gathered by the porch, their faces painted with guilt and surprise. Beth's voice rang out.

"You're all jerks!" she shouted. Her breath puffed visibly in the cold as she turned on her heel and ran into the dark woods.

There was no hesitation in you. Your legs moved before your brain caught up, feet crunching through the thick snow.

But a hand grabbed your arm, jerking you back with more force than you expected. "Wait!" Mike's voice cut through the storm. His fingers dug into your sleeve. "What the hell are you doing? You can't just run out there!” His words rang sharp and harsh, a bark more than anything. The wind swallowed some of his words, but you caught the roughness in his tone.

He stepped closer, his grip tightening. Mike's mind was a chaotic mess, tangled with feelings he wasn't ready to admit to himself.

Why did you have to look so determined? So... stupidly brave? The thought of you disappearing into the woods made his stomach churn, especially the idea of you possibly getting hurt.

He wanted to keep you safe. Needed to. The words that came out of his mouth weren't carefully chosen. He'd fucked up the delivery.

Mike realized too late how his voice had come out too sharp, too loud. He saw the flicker of fear cross your features, the slight widening of your eyes. It made him feel like a monster, like the very thing he was trying to protect you from.

He loosened his grip on your arm slightly, his thumb brushing against your sleeve as if to soothe the sting of his earlier tone.

You twisted your arm free with a sharp motion, stepping back just enough to meet his eyes. "I'm not letting her freeze out there.” Your tone left no room for argument as you turned and sprinted toward the woods, your boots crunching in the snow.

The cold bit into your skin as you pushed further into the forest, the wind howling through the trees. Your breaths came in sharp bursts, visible in the icy air. The snow muffled most sounds, but the crunch of your boots and the distant echoes of Beth's frantic calls drove you forward.

"Beth!" you shouted, your voice swallowed by the wind. Anxiety gnawed at you as you stumbled over a hidden root, barely catching yourself before hitting the ground.

You strained your eyes, scanning the dimly lit path for any sign of her. Your fingers were already numb from the cold and each step felt heavier than the last. The distant sound of rustling made you pause again, but this time it was louder, closer.

The snap of twigs to your left made you whip your head around, heart pounding. You exhaled shakily, forcing yourself to keep moving.

Beth's footprints stretched out ahead of you, already partially obscured by the falling snow. You kept your eyes on them, your breath coming in sharp bursts, each one visible in the frigid air.

Suddenly, a loud snort broke through the quiet, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. You turned just in time to see a herd of elk emerging from the trees, their massive forms moving as one through the snow. Your heart raced as they barreled toward you, their breath visible in the cold air.

"Shit!" you shouted, throwing your arms up as the herd closed in. One of the elk collided with your body, its sheer weight and force knocking you off balance. The force of the impact sent you sprawling, your body hitting the ground hard. Pain exploded in your head as it struck a rock hidden beneath the snow.

The dull, sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air as you opened your eyes to the harsh fluorescent light above you. It flickered faintly, a faint hum accompanying the pounding ache in your skull. It felt like your brain was trying to escape your skull, every throb echoing with the force of your heartbeat.

You winced, squeezing your eyes shut as you brought a trembling hand up to your forehead. The texture of gauze met your fingers and another sharp wave of pain coursed through your head. You groaned softly, as though the sound itself might relieve the pressure.

Flashes of red and blue lights flickered behind your eyelids like a half-forgotten dream. The memory was faint, disjointed. You recalled the blaring sirens of police cars and paramedics talking urgently around you. You tried to piece together what had happened, but the harder you thought, the worse the pain became.

Shifting slightly, you felt a weight on your legs. Confused, you looked down and saw him.

Mike.

His head was resting on his folded arms on the edge of your bed, his shoulders rising and falling with each soft, muffled snore. His jacket was wrinkled, the same one he'd been wearing... last night? You blinked, fragments of the evening slipping further from your grasp.

With what little energy you could muster, you reached out and poked his head lightly with your finger. He stirred, groaning softly as he slowly lifted his head. His hair was a mess, and the bags under his eyes made it clear he hadn't slept well, if at all. His expression shifted from confusion to sharp relief as his bleary eyes focused on you.

"You're awake," he said, his voice hoarse as he ran a hand down his face. "Thank god."

You noticed how he winced slightly as he adjusted himself, probably stiff from sitting in that awkward position all night. "How long have I been out?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you winced at the sharp edge of your headache.

Mike scratched the back of his neck and let out a soft grunt. "All night," he mumbled. "And this damn chair didn't make it easy. Feels like my spine's been rearranged" He leaned forward, scraping the chair closer to your bed, and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. "How are you feeling? Besides the obvious, I mean."

"Like shit," you admitted, your hand still pressed to your forehead. "What even happened?"

Mike hesitated, his jaw tightening. "First, I just—“ He looked away briefly, his eyes darting to the window before returning to you. "I'm sorry, okay? For yelling at you last night. I shouldn't have-"

"You yelled at me?" you interrupted, blinking at him in confusion.

His brows furrowed, his lips parting as he processed your words. "Wait. You don't remember?" he asked cautiously. He leaned back slightly, his hand stilling on your shoulder.

You shook your head slowly, the movement making you wince. "No. I don't even know why I'm here. I just remember...snow? And, uh...something about Hannah?" Your heart sank as the pieces refused to fall into place. "Are they okay? Hannah and Beth?"

Mike's eyes darted away, his lips pressing into a thin line. He rubbed the back of his neck again, a nervous habit you'd come to recognize over time. "The cops are still looking for them," he said finally, his voice low. "That's all we know right now."

You stared at him, your stomach churning with unease. "That's all? What do you mean, 'that's all'? What the hell happened out there?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He wanted to tell you about the prank but the words lodged in his throat, tangled with fear. Fear that you'd hate him if you knew the truth.

Before he could say anything, the pain in your head spiked again that made you clutch at your temples. It felt like someone was smashing your skull with a hammer.

Mike cursed under his breath and stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He stormed out of the room, the door swinging shut behind him with a sharp thud.

"Hey!" you heard him shout from the hallway, his voice echoing through the sterile corridors. "Can we get some help here? Like, now?”

“We'll send someone over shortly," A nurse huffed, her voice muffled by the mask she was wearing.

"He's been like this all night," a nurse muttered, barely looking up from a mountain of paperwork stacked precariously on the counter, the exasperation in her tone clear.

"Yeah, 'shortly’ better mean now," Mike muttered under his breath. He returned to your side a moment later, dragging his chair even closer and sitting down heavily. "One of these idiots will be here soon," he said, his tone dripping with irritation. He glanced at you, his hand brushing against your arm, "You good for now?"

Despite the pain, a small chuckle escaped your lips, "It's six in the morning. You probably woke up everyone on this floor."

Mike shrugged nonchalantly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "After the night I just had? I couldn't give a fuck about someone else's beauty sleep"

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him curiously, "You stayed here all night?"

His smirk widened into a grin, though his eyes betrayed the exhaustion behind it. "Damn right I did," he said proudly. "Had to be the first one to greet your cute face when you woke up.”

Your cheeks flushed and you looked down at your lap, a shy smile playing on your lips. "Thanks," you murmured, your voice soft but sincere.

Mike leaned back in his chair, his expression softening as he glanced at you. "The paramedics said you were lucky," he began, his eyes fixed on the floor. "You had blood all over your face. Scared the hell out of me.” His voice faltered slightly and he rubbed the back of his neck. He shook his head, forcing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Your heart tightening at the vulnerability in his voice. "What happened?" you asked softly, leaning forward as much as your pounding head allowed.

Mike's eyes darted toward you briefly before looking away again. "Ashley freaked out," he continued, letting out a weak chuckle. "She thought she heard one of the doctors say ‘cerebral death' or something. She lost it and well, everyone else started losing it too."

The sheer absurdity of the situation hit you and a small laugh escaped before you could stop it. Mike's grin widened, this time genuine, as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You should’ve seen Chris. He stumbled in here hungover, with all that crap we drew on his face. Ashley showed him a picture of his face and he spent thirty minutes in the bathroom trying to scrub it off."

That did it. You burst out laughing, the sound light and genuine despite the dull ache in your skull. Mike's grin widened, a flicker of pride in his eyes at making you laugh.

A soft knock at the door drew your attention. A nurse stood in the doorway, her face lit with a gentle smile as she watched the two of you "I need to do a quick check-up," she said, stepping inside.

Mike's expression faltered slightly and he pushed himself up from the chair. "Guess that's my cue to leave," he muttered, glancing at you. He hesitated for a moment before mumbling, "I'll be right outside."

You nodded, watching as he shuffled toward the door. Just before he stepped out, he turned back, giving you a small smile. "Don't let her poke you with too many needles," he joked, his tone light

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. "I'll try."

As the door closed behind him, the nurse moved to your bedside. "He's quite something, isn't he?" she said as she began checking your vitals.

You blinked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

She chuckled, glancing at you briefly. "Your boyfriend. He's been here the whole time, you know. Pacing the halls, pestering the staff, demanding updates on your condition." She shook her head fondly. "He was a bit of a pain to deal with, but it's sweet how much he cares."

Your face burned at her words, and you stammered, "He's not... we're not...together. We’re friends." you mumbled, more to yourself than to her.

The nurse raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She didn't respond, simply humming thoughtfully as she finished her examination.

The months following the incident on the mountain were a whirlwind. The memory of what little you could piece together was hazy.

True to his nature, Mike didn't let the weight of the situation drive a wedge between the two of you. Instead, he used it as an excuse to insert himself into your life more than ever.

It started subtly. A few texts here and there. Calls to check in. Then, he began showing up on your college campus unannounced, a crooked grin on his face each time.

At first, it was endearing, if a little overbearing. He'd pop up with coffee in hand or he'd insist on walking you to class, ignoring the curious stares from your classmates. The visits became frequent, regular. Sometimes he'd bring coffee, other times takeout, claiming he happened to be in the area. You weren't sure if it was pity, guilt, or genuine care that drove him, but as the months passed, his presence became a comforting constant.

When he and Emily broke up a few months later, you were the one he turned to. You'd let him in your dorm without hesitation, offering him a spot on your couch and a sympathetic ear as he vented about everything. It wasn't long before the dynamic between the two of you shifted. He lingered more. He'd stay late into the evening, keeping you company as you studied or binge-watched shows together. Even when you'd fully recovered from the incident on the mountain, he didn't stop coming around.

New reasons to stick around arose, like asking for help with studying, turning up with textbooks and assignments he'd borrowed from friends, spreading them across your desk as though he actually intended to study. Or just showing up with snacks and claiming he didn't want to eat alone.

Those nights were more about proximity than productivity. Mike would sit close, his arm brushing yours as he leaned over your notes, pretending to understand what he was reading. His cologne, warm and woodsy, lingered in the air, distracting you more than you cared to admit.

There were moments where he'd stretch, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal the faint line of his abs. Or when his knee would press against yours, lingering just a little too long. You'd catch him watching you sometimes, his gaze hooded and thoughtful, but he never said anything.

When the message came from Josh, it wasn't a surprise. A year had passed, and the anniversary of Beth and Hannah's disappearance loomed heavy over all of you.

Mike was with you when you got the text, lounging on your bed with one arm casually supporting his head. He didn't say much when you read it aloud but his jaw tightened and his fingers twitched against the fabric.

The drive up to Blackwood was quiet. Mike insisted on driving, his hands gripping the wheel with more tension than usual. Snow blanketed the winding roads, the mountain looming in the distance like a silent sentinel.

You sat in the passenger seat, stealing glances at him when you thought he wasn't looking. His profile was sharp against the faint glow of the dashboard lights, his expression unreadable. It stayed like that even when you arrived at the lodge. Josh greeted you with his usual grin, but there was a hollowness in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

The group trickled in slowly, the reunion was bittersweet, filled with awkward hugs and forced smiles.

It had been almost a year since that night at the lodge, but your thoughts were miles away. Or rather, they were a year behind.

You hated this. Hated how your mind constantly circled back to that night, grasping at fragments that never fully materialized. You despised how you couldn't remember anything but what you hated most of all were the looks of pity from your friends whenever you asked about it.

They never gave you answers, just vague reassurances that it wasn't your fault, their eyes filled with that awful sympathy that made your stomach turn. How could they know that? You didn't even know what had happened.

But you didn't feel better off. You felt lost. And being back here, on this mountain, felt like reopening a wound that had never really healed.

You stepped outside for a quick run, plugging your earbuds and moving, hoping the rhythm of your steps would stir up fragments of forgotten memories, buried deep within the corners of your mind.

A sudden, sharp sting struck the middle of your back, jolting you from your rhythm. You stumbled to a stop, pulling out one earbud as you spun around. A snowball, already disintegrating into a puff of white, rested in the tracks you'd left behind.

Standing a few yards away, panting hard with his hands on his knees, was Mike. His breath came in visible bursts, his cheeks flushed from exertion. That damn smirk of his, cocky and self-assured, spread across his face as he straightened.

"You forgot this," he called, holding up your phone. The device gleamed in the sunlight, its screen dotted with melted snowflakes and the music you put on still going.

You frowned, realizing you must have left it untouched on the couch. As you walked back toward him, he closed the distance, holding it out. "Seriously, though, what are you training for? The Olympics?"

"Thanks," you said, snatching the phone from his hand with a grin. "Maybe you're just slow." There wasn’t even a signal here, why did he make all of this effort to bring it to you?

"Maybe you're trying to ditch me," he retorted, stepping closer. The smirk softened slightly as his eyes flickered behind you, scanning the trail to ensure no one else was there. "Kinda hurts, y'know."

Your heart raced for reasons that had nothing to do with your jog. "Oh, yeah? I'll be sure to write you an apology letter."

"Don't need a letter," he murmured, his voice dropping. "I'm more of a face-to-face guy."

The snow crunched beneath your boots as you walked side by side with Mike, the cold biting at your exposed skin. The air was sharp and still, the kind of quiet that made even your shallow breaths seem loud. You and Mike didn't have a real place to reach, you just had to be there for each other.

Mike's voice pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. "You've been quiet," he said, his tone soft but probing. "What's on your mind?"

Before you could answer, the trail curved and the remnants of yellow police tape caught your eye. It flapped weakly in the wind, still attached to the trees like a ghostly reminder. Your steps faltered, and Mike noticed immediately.

"You okay?" he asked, stepping closer. His brows knit together in concern as he studied your face.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. "They... they never closed the case, did they?"

Mike shook his head, his gaze moving from the tapes to you. "No. They didn't."

Your hand instinctively went to your forehead, fingers brushing the spot where you'd hit the rock that night. The dull ache of memory lingered there, even after all this time.

"Do you remember anything?" Mike's question was hesitant, like he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Last night, I had a dream," you began, your voice quiet but steady. "At least, I thought it was just a dream. But now, being here... it feels more real.”

Mike's expression shifted, a flicker of anxiety. "What happened in the dream?"

You took a shaky breath, your eyes fixed on the tapes covered in snow. "I was talking to Beth. She looked so real, like I could reach out and touch her. She said something about Hannah. I... I don't know. It's all so jumbled."

Tears pricked your eyes as you continued. "I remember trying to follow her. And then there were these sounds of animals. Something pushed me and I fell. That's when I woke up."

Your fingers pressed against your head, right where the rock had hit you. The sensation made your stomach twist. "It's just... it's all so confusing."

Mike took a step closer, his voice gentle but insistent. "Hey. Look at me." When you raised your eyes to meet his, his expression was serious. "Don’t push yourself. If you don't remember, maybe it's better that way."

You hesitated, then reached out, taking his hand in both of yours. Your grip was firm, almost desperate. "Mike, Please. I need to know. Why did Hannah run away that night?"

The question hung in the air and you felt Mike stiffen beneath your touch. His jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with conflict. For a moment, you thought he might not answer at all.

"It was supposed to be a joke," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He pulled his hand away, running it through his hair as he took a step back. "A stupid, harmless prank. Something Jess came up with to stop Hannah’s weird obsession with me. That's all it was supposed to be."

Your stomach dropped. "What do you mean?"

He looked at you then, his gaze pleading. "We didn't think she'd take it so hard, you know? But when she saw everyone she ran. And then Beth went after her. You know the rest." He trailed off.

You stared at him, disbelief and anger bubbling up inside you. "So you're telling me you humiliated her? In front of everyone? That's why she ran out into the cold?" Your voice rose, incredulous. You stepped back, shaking your head as anger ross to the surface.

Mike's face twisted in anguish, his own voice rising defensively. "It wasn't supposed to end like that—"

"Wasn't supposed to what, Michael? Run? Disappear? Die?" Your voice shattered on the last word and you shoved him lightly in the chest, your anger boiling over. "You knew what she felt for you! How could you think that was okay?"

"I know!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. "I know we screwed up! I know I screwed up, okay? But it wasn't supposed to end like that!" His voice wavered and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his composure. “I didn’t want you to think i was some asshole” he was scared of losing you. He didn’t think he’d have to deal with this after all of this time. "I didn’t wanted you to stress or feel guilty at thinking that you could have done something"

You took a step back, your breath coming in short gasps, your heart pounding like it was about to rip through your ribs. His gaze softened, a painful sort of regret in it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. He was scared of losing you. Afraid of being nothing but the mistake you couldn’t forgive.

“I couldn't stand the thought of you looking at me like you are right now.“ His eyes searched yours desperately, his breath shaky as if every word he was saying was dragging him deeper into the hole he’d dug for himself. You could see the pain in his face, the regret that tore him up from the inside. “I didn’t want you to stress or feel guilty to think that you could’ve done something but failed miserably. I was trying to protect you," he said weakly.

His words hit you like a slap, reopening the wound of that night. You stepped back again, your chest heaving with the weight of everything he was saying. All you could hear was the deafening roar of your own heartbeat.

“You weren't protecting me," you snapped. "You were protecting yourself. Your image, You kept this from me because you were too scared to own up to what you did."

Tears stung your eyes as you turned, marching back toward the lodge, each step fueled by adrenaline. Your mind was a storm of anger, betrayal, heartbreak, all crashing into each other and leaving you feeling raw and exposed. Behind you, you could hear Mike's footsteps crunching in the snow as he followed.

"Hey! Wait!" Mike called after you. You didn't stop. You didn't even turn around.

"Will you just listen to me?" he called, his voice desperate.

"I don't want to hear it," you shot back, not stopping.

He followed you all the way into the lodge, the warmth of the interior doing little to melt the ice in your veins. You stormed into your room, slamming the door behind but Mike caught it before it closed, slipping inside before you could lock him out.

"I said leave me alone," you muttered desperately at this point, your headache flaring as the tension in the room reached a breaking point.

"I'm not leaving until you hear me out," he raised his voice, his voice firm.

You tried to push him toward the door, your hands on his chest, but he wouldn't budge. "Mike, I can't do this right now. I need time to think-“

Before you could finish, his hands shot up to cup your face and his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was rough, desperate and completely unexpected. It silenced your protests, your words melting into a muffled gasp as he poured everything he couldn't say into the kiss—his guilt, his fear, his love for you.

For a moment, you froze, your mind racing. But then, against your better judgment, you found yourself kissing him back, your hands fisting in the fabric of his jacket as the anger blended with everything else.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his breath was shaky. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice raw. "For everything. I'm sorry."

Mike's lips were on you before your mind could catch up, rough and desperate, dragging across your neck with a frantic intensity that left you breathless. The cold wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressed firmly against yours, his chest solid and unyielding as he caged you in. You hated how easily your body responded to him, how even now, with anger boiling beneath your skin, his touch made your pulse race.

"Don't leave me," he murmured against your neck, his voice cracking, barely above a whisper. His light beard scraped your skin, the sensation a pleasant tickle. "Please. Don't."

You hated him. God, you hated him in this moment for the prank, for the lies, for keeping the truth from you for an entire year.

But you also loved him. Loved him too much to ignore the ache in his voice, the raw desperation in the way he kissed you, like he was trying to hold onto you with everything he had left.

Your emotions were a storm, a chaotic swirl of love, anger, betrayal and longing. How could he do this to you? How could you still want him so badly after everything he'd just admitted? You clenched your fists, trying to push him away, but he caught your wrists, pinning them gently but firmly against the wall above your head.

His lips trailed lower, finding the sensitive spot at the base of your neck and you let out a shaky breath despite yourself. His kisses were softer there, almost reverent, as if he were apologizing with every press of his lips. But the soft apologies were interspersed with rougher ones. Teeth grazing, tongue lapping, his beard burning against your skin as he claimed you inch by inch.

"You don't get to-" you started, but his mouth cut you off, his lips capturing yours in another bruising kiss. It was messy, all tongue and teeth, his desperation bleeding into yours as he tried to pour every unsaid word, every ounce of regret, into the kiss. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your teeth catching his bottom lip before your tongues tangled together, fighting for dominance.

He pressed into you harder, one of his hands releasing your wrists to wrap around your waist, his fingers digging into your sides like he was afraid you'd disappear. The other hand slid lower, cupping the curve of your ass and lifting you slightly off the ground.

"Mike-" you gasped, but he swallowed the sound, his lips moving to your jaw, then back to your neck.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to stop. The wall was unforgiving against your back, but Mike's body was warm and solid, anchoring you in a way that made you hate him and need him all at once.

His fingers moved to your belt, undoing it with a quick flick of his hand. His breath hitched as he pulled your pants down just enough for your ass to be exposed, the cool air hitting your skin and making you shiver.

His hand slipped between your legs, his touch impatient and unrelenting as he found your entrance, his fingers pressing against you with a sense of urgency. You bit your lip hard, trying to keep quiet, but a small sound escaped as he pushed one finger inside, the stretch sharp and sudden

"So tight," he muttered, his voice low and wrecked. He added another finger almost immediately, scissoring them quickly, his other hand wrapping around your length and stroking you in time with his movements.

Your head fell back against the wall, a shaky moan escaping before you could stop it. You hated how easily he unraveled you, how your body betrayed you with every gasp and shiver.

"Mike," you said again, this time his name coming out as more of a plea.

"Just let me make it up to you," he whispered, his lips finding your ear. "Please. Let me show you."

You didn't respond, couldn't respond. Your hands found his shoulders, gripping tight as he prepped you with a frantic kind of precision, his fingers stretching you faster than he usually would. He wasn't being gentle, and you didn't want him to be, not right now.

When he finally pulled his fingers away, you felt the loss acutely, but it didn't last long. He shifted, pressing his hips against yours and you felt the thick length of him brushing against your entrance. He paused just long enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper. "Do it."

He didn't need to be told twice. He pushed inside slowly, the stretch burning in a way that made your toes curl. He was big and the feeling of him filling you completely left you breathless. You clenched your teeth, digging your nails into his shoulders as he bottomed out, his hips pressing flush against yours.

"God," he groaned, his voice strained as he buried his face in your neck. "So fucking perfect."

You couldn't speak, couldn't think. Love, hate, anger, need all blended inside of you, something that had you arching against him despite the ache in your chest.

Mike pulled back slightly before thrusting into you again, the movement rough and unrelenting. His hand gripped your thigh, holding you in place as he set a punishing rhythm, each thrust hitting deep and hard.

Your hands slid to his back, fisting in his shirt as you tried to muffle the sounds escaping your lips. The last thing you needed was someone walking in on you and Mike like this, locked in a battle of lust and emotions that neither of you could control.

"Say you're mine," he growled against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. "Say it."

You didn't answer, your head thrown back as his hips snapped against yours.

"Say it," he repeated, his voice rough and commanding

"I hate you," you gasped, though the words lacked conviction.

"No, you don't," he shot back, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. "Say it."

You broke, your voice cracking as you moaned, "I'm yours."

The words seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he held you tighter, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was just as desperate as his movements. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring your anger and love and need into him as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally came, your entire body tensing as pleasure crashed over you. Mike wasn't far behind, his movements becoming erratic before he buried himself inside you one last time, a guttural groan escaping as he came.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to catch your breath. The air between you was heavy, charged with unspoken emotions.

Finally, Mike spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry,” his voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. He looked... broken. The confident, cocky Mike Munroe was gone, replaced by a man who was baring himself entirely, leaving every flaw and fear exposed.

"I want to hate you. God, I want to hate you for what you did. For lying to me. But—" You sighed, your fingers curling into his shirt. "I don't think I can." you admitted, your voice steady but low.

His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist, relief flickering across his face before it was replaced with remorse. "I'm gonna make it up to you," he said, his tone firm. "Every damn day if I have to. I swear."

You wanted to believe him. And maybe, despite everything, you already did. But trust wasn't something that could be rebuilt overnight, and you both knew it.

Stepping away from the wall, you let your hands fall to your sides. Mike followed your movement, his hands still hovering, as though afraid to touch you without your permission. You gave him a small nod, a silent reassurance, and he finally relaxed, stepping back just enough to give you space.

"Let's go," you said after a beat, pulling your shirt back into place and brushing at the wrinkles.

He frowned, confused. "Go where?"

"To that chalet Josh mentioned," you said simply, glancing toward the window. "Want to get away for a bit?"

Mike blinked, surprised, but he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

You grabbed your coat from the bed, pulling it on as you headed for the door. Mike followed, hesitating for a moment before tentatively reaching for your hand. You let him take it, though the gesture felt heavier now, weighted with unspoken promises and unresolved tension.

The two of you stepped out into the cold, the snow crunching underfoot as you made your way back to the trail. The walk was quiet, but it wasn't the same silence as before. There was something unspoken between you, a fragile truce that held for now. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but so was the love, the connection that had grown between you over the past year.

You glanced at Mike. He caught your gaze, offering you a small, tentative smile. It wasn't his usual smirk, full of bravado and charm. It was quieter, softer, and somehow more real.

You returned the smile, albeit faintly, before looking ahead again.

For now, it felt like maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

And maybe that was enough. For now.

Note: if you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3

[theoutcastrogue]

[I swear I'm not biased. Also, skip this post if your criteria for a good story include happy and just endings.]

What made Arcane S1 a masterpiece was the Tragedy, and Vi's central place in it. She doesn't interact much with the magic plot, but she's right in the middle of both the sociological storytelling and several individual character arcs, and they're all pulling her apart. And that's what makes it all so compelling.

Vi accidentally or unwillingly becomes the catalyst for the collisions of Piltover vs Zaun, Vander vs Silco, and Powder vs Jinx. And she's torn between Vander's pacifism/defeatism and Zaun's rebelliousness, her hostility to Enforcers and her growing affection for Caitlyn, her hate for Silco and her love for Powder*, avenging the dead and protecting the living**, Caitlyn's vision of charity from above and Ekko's accomplishment of autonomy from below, saving Caitlyn and saving Powder (both from Jinx!), love and loyalty, guilt and revenge, topside and undercity.

There's a maelstrom of opposing forces and ideas, and all Vi wants to do is stand in front of her people and take the hit for them, raising her fists and blocking with her face like she always does. But who ARE her people, even? She's in the centre and she cannot hold: she's getting drawn and quartered by the actual themes of the story.

Like a true Tragic Hero™ (i.e. protagonist, heroism is irrelevant), she always chooses wrong. Not necessarily in the moral sense (though sometimes that too), but through a combination of tragic irony™ (when the character is unaware of a crucial piece of information) and coincidence: whatever she ends up doing, tragedy ensues. And it makes for a great story! Tragedy is a FANTASTIC medium if you do it right! And Season 1 did it perfectly.

But more to the point, it isn't about fatal character traits or random coincidences, it embodies all the social conflicts laid out in the story. All around Vi, the sociological storytelling converges with the psychological, and they both say the exact same thing: apply pressure to a society long enough, and the walls WILL come tumbling down. So the result is classic tragedy: any different choice could have prevented it, and yet it was inevitable. But the angle is specific: it's not the gods who are cruel and fickle. It's not our nature that's inescapable. It's not Fate that's implacable. It's History.

Season 2 didn't stand a chance in hell to be worthy of Season 1, unless League lore and all promotional goals were aggressively ignored. About half of it was worthy, I think, continuing seamlessly the earlier themes. But then the sociological storytelling was dropped from the forefront and eventually from view, Vi lost both her central place in the story and her internal conflict, and got a corny happy ending, there was SO MUCH flinching, and even the tragedy of Jinx's self-sacrifice was taken back (wink wink, she's alive).

I have many issues with Season 2 (and a lot of praise: parts of it were excellent, and the animation remained incredible throughout), but the main reasons it can't possibly compare to Season 1 is that in the end there wasn't enough Vi, and there wasn't enough tragedy.

Respectful hat tip to Ekko for filling in.

* Vi actually prioritises "bringing his bullshit empire down" over saving her sister from Silco, and voluntarily offers the name "Jinx" to the Council just to convince them to attack him.

** applies both to teen Vi choosing to surrender to the Enforcers, so that the Lanes won't fight and no one will get hurt (except her), and adult Vi putting her vendetta against Silco above everything: she gets Jayce to bring armed enforcers and Hextech weapons down to the undercity, and stands over the entirely predictable outcome of a dead child. Some of this obsession is fueled by hate for what Silco did to Vander and her siblings, but I think most of it is reflected guilt for what SHE did to Powder, which would never have happened if it weren't for Silco.

[panpanghost]

part 7 of this, (is the name corrupted king taken?)

_"Monkey king!" MK yelled ruining outside to get The sage,

_"What's wrong kid? Where's Macaque?" Why was he in the house?

_"He's inside, he passed out." Wukong's heartbeat jumped as he rushed inside the house to see Macaque passed out on his bed. He looked worse than when he left him. How did he loose weight in just a few hours?

_"What happened?" Wukong asked, feeling anger like lava under his skin. Who did this to him?

_"We were talking and then the crown started hurting him then he passed out," he hurt him "I didn't know what to do," you told him to stay away and he didn't, "but he told me not to get you so I've been waiting for you." He wants to get the crown off, "I've put him in bed and checked for fever," He's helping him escape, "I'm so happy you came earlier than you said..." He wants to take him away, forever! Get rid of the kid before he takes him away!

_"I told you to stay outside kid! why didn't you listen?!"

_"I-I'm sorry.. I just wanted to talk to him-"

_"And look what you've done!" Wukong caught the look on MK's face and it made something in his heart twist, but it wasn't enough to shake away his anger

*sigh* "Go home kid, I'll take care of him."

_"I can help-"

_"NO. You've done enough. Just go home."

_"..." MK tried to lift his head up but he couldn't, he just took a deep breath before heading outside, "Let me know if you need anything."

Wukong ignored MK leaving and focused on Macaque, he layed beside him and gently hugged him close to his chest.

What have I done, I'm sorry my moon, I shouldn't have left you, I'll never leave your side again.

Wukong kissed his head and inhaled deeply, taking in every drop of Macaque's scent. It managed to soothe him a little as he started giving Macaque his magic hoping it'll slow down the crown until he can stop it for good.

Do it. He's unconscious now. He wouldn't feel a thing.

The idea sparkled in the King's head. It's true. He was waiting for a proper time to bring it up but now is the perfect time.

Normally, Wukong wouldn't be able to give Macaque his eye or any other organ considering their magic is incompatible. Macaque's body would simply reject anything with his magic in it.

But now, that won't happen, the crown would simply absorb Wukong's magic and the eye would become a normal organ. He just needs to use some extra magic and make sure it heals into Macaque before the crown absorbs all his healing magic.

Yes. It could work. He won't feel a thing now. It won't hurt him.

Wukong slowly backed up from his moon and put his fingers on his eye. And just like that he started shoving his fingers around his eye.

He was in so much pain there was a moment where he wanted to stop but one though at the back of his head kept him going.

This is nothing compared to the pain you put him in, you deserve this, and he deserves better.

After a few minutes, Wukong held his eye in his hand, the one he so desperately need to give, he looked at it for a moment, how long did he dream of this moment, of a miracle, of one desperate apology.

He looked into his moon, uncomfortable and trying to hold on to life. Wukong didn't waste anymore time. It's now or never.

He got his fingers closer to his moon's face, he hesitated but immediately pushed that thought away,

_"I'm sorry my love." he whispered, and with a quick swift, he got the grey eye out. The one I blinded.

Macaque only gave a few groans of discomfort, but didn't get up. He didn't wake up. He can't feel it.

The fact that Macaque wasn't up eased the pain in Wukong's heart, he doesn't know what he would've done if his moon woke up crying and screaming.

Wukong carefully started putting his eye in Macaque's place, praying with every breath that this works. And just as he finished putting it inside, he placed his hand on the eye and took a deep breath.

This is the hard part, this is the part that would hurt the most.

He held his moon's head close to his chest and let a river of healing magic into him, then stopped when the eye was completely secured, at the same second he felt his love wake up, and before he knew it, his moon was up and screaming in pain,

_"PLEASE!! STOP!! IT HURTS!! PLEASE!" Wukong heard these begging screams as Macaque desperately tried to get away, his claws ripping through the yellow clothes on Wukong's body but not his skin, the crown had sucked out his energy and left him as weak as a baby that would be eaten by the wild if left alone.

It only took a minute before the crown finished its job and turned Wukong's eye, now Macaque's, into a normal one, it lost its magic and shifted back to how it originally was when he was born.

That minute felt like a decade for Wukong, in his head he kept apologising, but this time he didn't feel regret, he was actually happy it's finally over.

There was no way to know if it worked before his moon woke up. So for now, all he can do is take care of him until he wakes up. He'll give him a shower to clean up the blood, the sight of it on his love is making his stomach twist and his heart pinch. He also needs to keep giving his magic to the crown so it would leave his moon's alone.

I'll take care of you, my king.

(This was painful to write but I made it.)

[lunebleuegrandit]

Celestial and Lune's McSpirk Big Bang!

I can't believe this story is finally posted!! (and finished 😅)

Here is a link to the amazing artworks by @celestialvoyeur:

And here is my story, Foolproof:

Chapters: 14/14 Fandom: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) Rating: Mature Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, Gaila & James T. Kirk Characters: James T. Kirk, Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Gaila (Star Trek: Alternate Original Series), Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Angst and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Pining, lots of pining really, Kidnapping, mention of slavery (not directly depicted), Fake Marriage, Fluff, but also:, Past Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Canon-Typical Violence, yeah I'm mixing the genres a little, characters actually dealing with their traumas (or trying to), don’t worry people there’s a happy ending, ‘practice kissing’ is involved at some point, Vulcan Mind Melds (Star Trek), reflections on Vulcan culture(s), Adopting a Child, Found Family, Aromantic Gaila, Dyslexic child

Summary:

When he found himself sharing a jail cell with a Vulcan kid, Jim did not expect one of the consequences to be a fake marriage with his first officer.

Not that he minds—but he’s terminally in love with both Spock and Bones, which might make things awkward. Still, Sevrik, the child they rescued, is in need of temporary guardians; surely Jim can put his feelings aside and take care of the kid with his very platonic best friends, right?

No, there should be no problem whatsoever, trauma goes away on its own if you just ignore it hard enough, and clever Orion pirates are definitely not an issue… right?

-----

Thanks again @mcspirkevents for organizing this big bang! I had a blast, and I'm super grateful to have been part of this! 😊

[wannabanauthor]

What should happen to BuckTommy in Season 8b

Eddie's thinking about moving to Texas, right?

Well, he has to pack, and he calls his two favorite buff men to help him pack and load all his stuff.

Tommy did not know Buck was going to be there, and vice versa.

They stare awkwardly at each other before noticing that most of Eddie's stuff is already packed.

Cheeky bastard.

He locks them both in his house with the parting, "Figure it the fuck out, then I'll unlock the doors."

Buck and Tommy are more than able to break down the door if necessary, but that wouldn't be a nice thing to do to their best friend's house.

They try to out-wait Eddie, but several hours pass with no communication from him.

Buck is doing his best to not look or talk to Tommy, but all the doors are locked, including the bedrooms, so he's stuck in the living room.

The kitchen doesn't have any baking/cooking ingredients, just prepared food in the fridge.

Buck is without his coping mechanism, and at some point he breaks down crying in the kitchen.

Tommy wants to comfort him, but he knows he's the reason Buck is like this, so he feels stuck and doesn't know what to do.

He hands Buck a tissue and some water, but Buck turns around and ignores him, trying to hide his sobs.

Tommy goes back to the living room and sits on the floor.

"Why?" he hears Buck say.

He gets back up and goes into the kitchen.

"Why what?" Tommy asks.

"Why did you give me a second chance just to break my heart six months later? Why didn't you tell me that you only saw us as a temporary thing? Why did you even give me hope that we could be something more?" Evan asks, in between sobs.

"Evan, I'm so-"

"It's Buck. You don't get to call me Evan anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Buck stops crying and looks at Tommy. There's anger and heartbreak written all over his face.

"Fuck you, you don't get to be sorry," Buck says.

"But I am. I didn't plan any of it. It just happened. You asked me to move in, and I panicked. I've been hurt before, and I knew I couldn't survive it if I moved in and then lost you."

Buck scoffed, but out of irony, not amusement.

Tommy stepped closer to him, and Buck remained where he was, almost as if he was sizing Tommy up.

"You kept putting me on this pedestal, and I knew one day you'd see me for who I am and leave," Tommy says.

"Is that what you think of me? Out of the two of us, you're the one who has left me, twice," Buck points out, and Tommy winces at that.

"You're very impulsive, and we hadn't even broached that topic before. I thought I was okay with you setting the pace, but I guess I wasn't. I thought it was in our best interest to end things now then later when it would hurt more."

Tommy pauses for a moment and looks at Buck. Really looks at him. His own heart breaks when he picks up on the little details of how Buck had been handling the breakup, The flour under his fingernails, his stubble, his longer curls, the bags under his eyes, the fidgeting with what's ever in reach, currently tissues being torn into little bits.

Tommy knows in his heart that he practically broke the man he loves, and it makes him feel even worse. There is still a part of him that wants to run, but he can't run again. Not after seeing Evan like this.

"I'm scared, Evan," Tommy confesses.

Buck's head snaps up in surprise, and he squints his eyes as if he doesn't trust Tommy.

Tommy feels the panic rise within him, but continues his train of thought. "Evan, I love you. But i'm terrified that one day you'll get tired of me and find someone else. It's happened before, and-"

"I'm not him. I'm me. From the first moment we met, I knew that I wanted to be with you. I didn't understand it at first because it felt so different from my past. I mean, you're not the first guy I've had a crush on. At all," Evan says.

Tommy clears his throat uncomfortably. He'd rather not think about Evan's past crushes.

"We spent nearly every free moment we've had together," Evan says. "I thought we were ready to move to the next step."

"I wasn't ready, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I should have stayed and talked it out, but it felt like the room was closing in on me, and I needed to leave."

"And you left, then ignored me for weeks," Evan says. "I felt like I was going insane and imagined our whole relationship."

Tommy steps into Evan's space and uses two fingers to lift Evan's chin. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Evan. I love you so much, and I'm terrified because it's never felt like this before."

Evan gives an amused chuckle. "I guess it was my turn to see you at your worst."

Tommy cups Evan's cheeks. "I am so sorry, for everything. I feel like I don't deserve a second chance, but I'm still ask-"

Evan cuts him off with a kiss.

Tommy relaxes and kisses him back. It feels like coming home after a long day of work to the arms of his partner. He never wants that feeling to leave.

"I love you too, asshole," Evan whispers against Tommy's lips.

They both chuckle at that.

"Where do we go from here?" Evan asks.

"Couple's counseling. I want us to work. I want us to be forever," Tommy says and gives Evan the tenderest kiss.

"That works," Evan replies between kisses.

They don't stop kissing or holding each other until they're nearly out of breath.

"Finally!" they hear from outside and jump.

Eddie's standing outside with his phone in hand, and on the screen is a live camera feed showing.

"Now, let's get something to eat," Tommy says and kisses Evan again. He was going to kill and thank Eddie, but for now, he's happy just to be with Evan again.

He looks into Evan's eyes and knows that this is it for him. Evan's the one.

[thebiggerbear]

i think i've seen this film before

Summary: When three certain little words escape him, you know them for what they are: a plea not to leave him alone with only his thoughts and whiskey for company. You've seen this song and dance before.

Warnngs: heavy angst, cheating/infidelity, light smut, dagger analogy (Idk if this is a thing but putting it here in case)

Word Count: 2202

Response to prompt from @me-writes-prompts

A/N: Yes, I'm still on writing hiatus but this came pouring out of me today from where I have no idea. Must be the holiday. I feel like this happened last year, too, with Something Real which was also a bucket of angst and heartbreak. So it definitely has to be the holiday then. All completely unbeta'd (and probably very messy quite truthfully, I'll have to come back and try to clean it up later tonight, there may be some switching around of tenses, sorry!). As an aside, I don't condone any form of cheating but this just came out as is and I was so relieved to be writing something, that I just kind of went with it. I was going to keep it as a blank character x reader but in the end, the muse overruled me and let a name slip of who it was imagined to be. She's a sneaky bitch who can't be trusted to keep anything resembling a secret, I swear.

You can also read on AO3

Tags below

“I love you.”

Those three little words, barely said in a whisper, make you freeze. After your heart starts beating again, after your brain has processed that yes, he really just said that, you continue slipping your shirt over your head. 

Once you pull your hair free from your neckline, you turn to where you left him moments earlier, sprawled out on his back on the bed, an arm behind his head with the mist of sweat drying on his skin, his hair a crime scene of damp wayward strands with your fingers having been the perpetrator. You find him watching you intently with those eyes that you swear can see down to the deepest parts of you zeroed in on your face, a faint trace of hope lining the irises you’ve so often found yourself lost in these past few months. You momentarily clench your jaw as you steel yourself to say what you need to. “You shouldn’t say that to me.”

Where you expected to see heartbreak or some vestiges of pain, you only saw determination, suddenly renewed. You then realize your mistake. You hadn’t said the one word he expected to hear, the one he needed to hear: No. So it doesn’t surprise you when you see the hope in his gaze flare brighter, perhaps believing he’s not alone in this after all. 

You watch as he moves aside the thin sheet covering the last traces of his modesty, fully revealing himself to you as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. The irony of the action is not lost on you; he’s making himself vulnerable before you, letting you see every inch of him, even what’s beyond skin deep.

He is suddenly before you, this large man whose hulking stature had completely dwarfed you minutes ago as he had pushed your thighs back and pistoned in and out of you, groans escaping him as droplets of his sweat christened your bare skin repeatedly. And yet, despite the size of him, here he is, exposing himself in such a way that you feel like the tall one, even as you crane your neck to meet his intent gaze head on.

The tips of his fingers gently urge your chin up a little higher so he can see all of you, both of you laid bare to one another as his eyes swallow you whole. “Yes, I should,” he murmurs. “I love you.” You know what’s about to happen, especially as his eyelids lower slightly and he begins to dip his head. The insatiable monster inside you craves his lips on yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a tango that mimics the one your bodies just did, craves him, but you force yourself to pull away.

Ignoring the hurt lining his expression, you turn to look for your shoes that had been kicked off as you both stumbled into the room, glued to one another and tearing at each other’s clothes in your desperate need to have your skin meeting his. Once you spot them, you take a step in that direction when his hand on your elbow stops you.

“Baby,” he pleads. 

“Don’t,” you whisper, refusing to look at him like he’s begging you to.

When you attempt to move again, his hand releases you only for his arm to snake around your waist and prevent you from leaving. You’re not surprised when he pulls you closer and you can feel the scratchiness of his unshaven face against your neck as he burrows into you.

“I love you, Y/N,” he rasps into your ear. He’s begging again, though this time you know it’s more for you not to leave more than his insistence on your belief in his feelings for you. He doesn’t want you to leave him here, alone with only his thoughts to keep him company along with some top shelf whiskey the hotel staff stocks exclusively for him in the mini bar. 

It used to work, this heartfelt plea whispered against your skin, nuzzled against your cheek, pressed against your lips, until you gave in and let him lay you back down on the bed, giving yourself over to him completely for however long he wanted you. Now, though, you’ve grown stronger, smarter, and that’s why it’s easier than ever to push away from him and look him dead in the eye. “Then get a divorce.”

You see the expected pain magnify throughout his handsome face and you take the opportunity of his reaction to your response to finally move away and grab your shoes, slipping them on as quickly as possible. 

He quietly clears his throat before the familiar deep voice that has murmured the dirtiest and sweetest things you’ve ever heard into your ear tears through the quiet paper-thin hush of the room that usually exists once your frenzied lovemaking ceases. “Y/N, we’ve talked about this. You know I can’t—”

“Not my problem,” snaps out of you. You don’t even bother to roll your eyes anymore at the age-old response he gives you every time you dose both of you with reality like this. Except it is your problem, very much your problem. Hell, it became your problem the moment you allowed him into your apartment that one snowy night, fully knowing you were about to change your life forever and not necessarily for the better. When you finally found out how easily your scratches could be seen on his skin, how divine his lips tasted especially after they had drunk deeply from yours and your body still ricocheted with aftershocks from your orgasm, and how taut his back muscles became with every slow and hard thrust into you. When you found out how intoxicating the sounds of his groans in your ear were as he took pleasure in what your body offered his, how dry your mouth was afterwards from all of the loud panting you did as his mouth ghosted over yours while he repeatedly hit that one spot deep within you, and how tightly he held onto you once he came, unwilling to let you go until he had absolutely had to.

You tamp down the desire you feel unfurling underneath your skin at the memories of that night and grab your jacket and handbag from where you’d tossed them. You refuse to think any further about that night, about how he had begged you to let him in, his chest heaving and snowflakes rapidly melting in his short hair, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them and glancing repeatedly at your lips. You absolutely don’t think about the way his mouth desperately claimed yours the moment you opened the door wider and he was on you, kicking the door shut behind him. Or about how only minutes later he had you backed up against the wall, your jeans and panties tossed away somewhere, and him on his knees with his head buried between your legs, making you grip his hair as you bit your lip so hard it bled. Or even about how you had clawed at the wall he had turned you to face as he pounded away at you, his hand turning your head so he could sloppily kiss you, grunting loudly into your ear with every thrust as the rough fabric of his coat sleeve rubbed against your neck. Or how the buckle of his open belt rattled with his movements, only to be rivaled by your own cries, both being surpassed by his loud drawn out roar of “Fuck!” as he buried himself to the hilt within you and burrowed his face into your neck. His hot and harsh breaths dampened your skin while you reached a hand up to run soothingly through his wet hair, struggling to regain the ability to breathe yourself. No, you weren't going to think about how he then moved you to your bedroom from where neither of you emerged until hours later in search of sustenance and electrolytes.

Instead of allowing yourself to get lost in the thoughts of that night, you take a small breath and start heading for the door.

“I love you, dammit.” He’s angry now, just as you knew he would be the closer you got to leaving, leaving him. “Doesn’t that count for anything?”

You stop and you hear him take a step closer. You don’t have to turn to look at him to know there is a cautious renewal of hope lighting his eyes. You had stopped after all. But you both have done this dance before and each time it ends the same way. 

“No, you don’t,” you answer him quietly, almost gently. Your aim is not to hurt him, never to hurt him. He’s been hurt enough and you will be damned if will be like her and add to his pain. But at the same time, you can’t lie nor will you continue to swallow any of his. So, like always, you spare him but not yourself. “You think you do, but you don’t. You don’t love me.”

“Yes, I do.” He’s closer now, his voice is cracking slightly…he’s a few moments away from coiling his arms around you like a snake and keeping you from walking out the door, again. 

And so you make it quick, you plunge the dagger of truth into your own chest and let the pain bloom within you, spreading quickly through your veins like wildfire. “You don’t because if you did, you wouldn’t keep me in a holding pattern like this.” You then force yourself to turn and face him, your eyes hard as diamonds and your face one of stone. “I’m purely a convenient fuck for you when you get lonely, or someone to call when it all becomes too much. This isn’t even an affair. I’m nothing more than a painkiller that comes with an orgasm or two. That’s it and you know it. So, no, you don’t love me, because if you did, you would never use me like this.”

As expected, his eyes widen and his jaw drops. You can see the protests building in his throat but you cut him off.

“And if I loved you, I wouldn’t let you continue to use me like this.” 

He stands there, staring at you, a small sadness growing in his deep gaze. This always happens. As much as you try to spare him and not bleed out your pain all over him, some tiny amount almost always splashes onto him. You can’t help that. One of you has to be the strong one and keep it real; it just happens to always be you.

So you don’t allow his crestfallen expression to get to you and you lift your chin slightly, rolling your shoulders back as you straighten your spine. “I’ll see you when I see you.” 

You spin on your heel and stride towards the door. When your fingers grab onto the door handle, you hear a broken plea of “Don’t leave…please.” You clench your jaw and force yourself to open the door, refusing to look back.

“Goodbye, Jensen.”

You walk across the threshold and pull the door closed behind you. You make your way to the elevators, unsurprised that he doesn’t quickly dress and run after you. He never has before; why would that change now? When the elevator dings and thankfully the car is empty, you step into it and hit the “close door” button. You wait and as expected, no calls of “Wait!” or chimes of your phone sound as the doors take their sweet time closing despite their directive. Once they’re shut, once there is no possibility of him seeing you or hearing you, you sink against the wall of the car and grasp at your chest, your breath loudly catching as the full weight of the pain you had denied yourself begins to flow through you anew. Tears mark your cheeks and you let out a sound akin to a strangled sob. 

Yes, you do love him and that is why you continue to let him use you in this way. That is why you opened the door that night and let him in, fully knowing what was going to happen. That is why you allowed him to take your friendship and mangle it into whatever dark and hopeless form it takes now. You fucking love him; of course you do.  In the same breath, though, you know he doesn’t love you and this last bit of pain is what finishes you as the elevator continues to descend: and he never will. You turn your body to face the corner and hold a hand over your mouth, beginning to cry outright. He will never love you the way you love him. No matter how many times you run to him when he calls, no matter how you let him take pleasure in you or comfort in your arms, no matter how many times you’ve begged him to end things with her and be with you instead…he will never love you. You loudly sob as the sharp tip of that truth dagger from before lodges itself into your heart, almost neatly fitting into the groove from all of the previous times. Your heartbreak is the only sound that echoes throughout the small space along with the glaring silence of your phone. And just like that, once again, the dance comes to its predictable end.

A/N: So yeah, sorry about that. As always, no disrespect is ever meant to Jensen, Danneel, or their family. I'm not suggesting or implying anything about either Jensen or Danneel, I just had him in my head while writing. Purely fictional.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Jensen RPF: @ladykitana90; @lemonfreak97; @lacilou; @waynes-multiverse

Forever Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187; @rieleatiel; @hobby27; @impala67rollingthroughtown; @ladysparkles78

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve Harrington was never a bully, and no one could convince me that he was. Tommy and Carol were. Steve always told them off, except the one time that he didn't, and he was hurt because he thought Nancy was cheating. No, he's not a bully simply because he was friends with them. Doesn't make any sense. He got the courage to walk away from them. He owned up to what he said to Jonathan and apologized, which is a lot more than some teenagers would do. I love Jonathan, but he still hasn't owned up to being an asshole to Nancy in season one. Steve bought him a new camera when he didn't have to. People are just annoyed because where the writers did great with Steve’s character growth, they have fallen short with Jonathan's, which is annoying to me, too, but I can acknowledge that Steve is a great character and Jonathan has potential to be really great if they just put in the same effort. They should have given Jonathan the same chance to give Nancy a real apology rather than the bullshit he spewed in the woods, defending the pictures. Instead, they slapped Jonathan on the back for his perverted photos. I mean, if Steve’s a bully, what's Jonathan? It's just really annoying to have people constantly making Steve apologize, to call him a bully, and then just ignore the bullshit that Jonathan's done. They were BOTH assholes in season one. The only difference is that Steve got the chance to own up to his bullshit. Steve realized that he deserved better, that Nancy deserved better, and he put in the fucking work. Just because Steve did better than Jonathan doesn't mean that you still can't love Jonathan either. It just means that Jonathan could stand to learn a thing or two from him.

[devoteeoftheeyes]

But you're always stressed out, you- you help everyone all the time. That can't be good for mental health I see it all the t-time. You're always doing that stuff and you never get to just chill. I-I just wanted for once to not make you suffer because of my own stupidity! I just didn- didn't want to be a problem child for once. I just- I was stupid. I was stupid and did a stupid thing I should be able to clean up after it, not 17, not you, just me. Gods I don't even know why you want to help, I don't deserve it. For fucks sake I shouldn't even be here-

[They paused, forcing themself to stop talking. All of that came out like an abundance of word vomit. They shrunk in on themself even if it hurt to do so. They ignored the feeling of tears traveling down their face and regrouping at their chin. They didn't care. They just couldn't care anymore.]

Please, just. . .forget it. Let me fix it. please. . .

[They slowly made their descent down the stairs, every step making them hiss with a new wave of pain makes route through their bloodstream. They looked down shaking, trying to shake the nausea from the seemingly endless pain. Their eyes met one of the many eyes on their right arm, the purple pupil looking at them with glee.

In their hand was a book, their destination? The school. If he was going to be stubborn and not talk to them like usual they'll make him talk. Anything to make this pain stop. Anything. They stopped at the front door and tried to get it open, shifting with a pain filled inhale. All they gotta do is get this door open...]

-@devoteeoftheeyes

*17 looked up from his computer to look at Rory, a look of concern and confusion coming across his face as he did.*

“R-Rory?! Are you okay?! What are those?!”

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

i'm kind of amazed how most of the stardew marriage candidates just want you to be their manic pixie dream whatever by agreeing with everything they like and plying them with compliments or praise or whatever (which is fine but a bit. Much) but for shane his romance is just you being there for him while he figures his own shit out... dunno why i never wanted to romance him before he's so good

[buttercupshands]

I just managed to get off mha hyperfixation

And now it's happening again... Oh no

Helps with upcoming MHUI LoV event tho, it was a long time since last one happened I wonder what would happen in a new filler story part

Basically this and couple of pages of mid-final arc chapters + recent episode and next one being The Dabi episode was just too much not to get excited again

But! Important thing - I need to reread the last arc before I make anything new, if possible without finishing it to the 419 chapter and everything after, it took 2 months to really recover from the damage that chapter did

Anyway am I ready for the new event? Kinda! Do I have enough gems to get new Tomura? No! I'm not sure he'll even show up this time, because other ones were and still are really stubborn

Also Steampunk recruit took like 120 pulls in a step-up recruit and in the usual one combined

Not the best time to get LoV involved, it's cruel even

Also that one part of the page I added at the beginning was so interesting to look at and them I joked about 236 being similar. The only good thing with final arc being over is that I can say that Izuku didn't draw the parallel of seeing everyone hurt and seeing Tenko react on Mon's death

Understandable why, but it's funny to just look at them and be like, "wow Horikoshi traumatized them both"