#and he came back from being dormant recently

[juliets-roller-derby-awesomeness]

so my only experience with clue is my high school's performance if clue junior, so im sure i don't get all the references but hello???

and the ass slapping?

and the one guy the british punk guy? he's so nigel coated

the go home and sleep with my wife line ajsjajajs

the guy who played Mr. Green in hs is still one of my closest friends, im in like kinda a qpr with him and he is actually gay ans it as so funny to see him do that role

just really good memories came back to me watching that episode

[six-eyed-samurai]

SUMMARY: For the life of him, Upper Moon Six cannot figure out why he can't bring himself to kill you. It kills him inside to even think about it. A/N: Had this in my drafts for god knows how long, it's finally out LMAO. WARNINGS: Fem reader, one dead man, couple of swears...and that's about it I think

Sometimes Gyutaro really wished Daki wasn’t so picky about who she ate.

It was a particularly low time recently. The District hadn’t received much new members and most of the people Daki had deemed beautiful enough to eat were gone, throwing a whole tantrum about how she’d rather starve than consume such hideousness. They argued, he threatened her, she screamed back, but in the end he relented and continued in his search to find a meal for them both.

He wasn’t picky and could’ve eaten any time he wanted, he grumbled to himself as he hunkered down on the balcony of one of the numerous rooms in the brothel, surveying the blinding lights of the District and spitting at the arrogant men and haughty women down below. But of course he had to just feel bad about being full while his sister went hungry so Gyutaro decided to stave off eating until she did.

If there weren’t any beautiful people, he hoped Daki would be fine with someone pretty. Or at least decently average. And what luck, he had found none.

Well, lies. Gyutaro wondered how Daki never noticed her before and prayed that she never would. Perhaps it was because she was such a quiet, obedient thing that spent most of her time serving the mistress so that probably explained it. Not beautiful enough to attract the attention of clients, but pretty enough to have gotten Upper Six’s interest.

He stalked her around for a few days to figure out the best time to strike and eat her at the beginning. Sometimes she’d accidentally catch on, see that shadow hunkering behind her, but he made sure to always stay out of her sight.

Gyutaro learnt a lot of things about her that way. She liked food that wasn’t too sweet and disliked a certain type of fish. She liked to go take a walk occasionally alone, far away from the brothel. Her favorite color, the jewelry on the other girls she’d eye, when she fell asleep.

She liked ugly things too. That scrawny, flea-bitten cat from the garbage. The gap-toothed, abandoned children of the streets who flocked to her and begged for breadcrumbs. She didn’t seem to mind the out-of-fashion, worn clothes handed to her by the other girls of the house.

He’d like to think she’d like Gyutaro too.

Of course he knew it was wrong. She was food, not someone he should be thinking about constantly, whether he be out hunting for other prey or remaining dormant within Daki. She’d run screaming in the other direction if she so much as caught a glimpse of him.

Gyutaro wasn’t even sure when he had started getting the weird symptoms from watching her. He had originally thought she must be a demon herself, using her Blood Art to make him think about her 24/7, 365, make his palms sweaty and have his heart rate accelerate around her, have the persistent urges to keep following her around for no reason except to just bask in that sunlight of hers.

Probably some time after she nearly came close to realizing he was there, Gyutaro concluded. She was out with the oiran as one of her attendants that night and out of habit he had shadowed them, ducking out of sight amongst the crowds and running into an abandoned alley after nearly getting caught. The stupid cat had suddenly rushed in as well, something in its jaws, and her hot on its heels.

She had slammed into him, both falling over. Gyutaro would’ve snarled and promptly killed the person if it had been anyone else, but seeing her surprised, flustered face bathed in yellow glow momentarily froze him. She was looking at him. She was hovering above him.

He waited for the screaming.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there! Are you alright?!”

Shock left him dumb, instinct caused him to grunt in reply and quickly turn away lest she caught a glimpse of how demonically ugly he was. The cat screeched from somewhere in the back but he could barely hear it over the rush in his ears as her sweet, sweet, gentle, soft hand grabbed his and helped him up, exclaiming apologies again and again.

Then he fell, probably, and could never not think about her again.

Gyutaro abruptly growled and fled in frustration at the weird, disgusting feelings welling up inside of him. Ugly, ugly, ugly, he hated himself, he hated her, he couldn’t stand the thought of killing her, he wanted her so badly not to see him like everyone did, like she did that night, just another person-

But hey, even demons could dream, right? Gyutaro was guilty for the deaths and injuries for hundreds of humans even when he was one himself, but the sin of fantasizing what it’d be like to even be shown an ounce of affection from her, have her for himself (what was it that humans did, hold hands? Each other? He watched her pet the cat; would she pet and play with his hair like that?) made him feel a thousand times guiltier.

A horrible feeling. Like somebody had stabbed him and was twisting the Nichirin blade around in his innards. Obviously this feeling could be fixed if he ate you, got rid of you, right? …even if he couldn’t fathom eating you himself, Daki could, right? God, never mind, he never felt so…what was this feeling at the thought? So for now he just hoped that no one would notice her. Not Daki, she’d become her next meal. Not a client, they were fouler than him.

How dare they dirty your presence anyway? Who cared if they were handsome, rich, well off, of excellent lineage and all that bullshit? The fact they even thought of touching your, harassing you, having you was enough for Gyutaro to lose his mind and go crazy on a killing spree of all those suitors. If he couldn’t have you, and he knew that, they couldn’t either, and they better know that.

Daki, however…she seemed to be picking up on something off about her older brother’s behavior - he had never ignored her complaints about their stash of food running low soon before, never brushed it off with a yell and assurances he’d find more victims and not do so. Confused and indignant was how she had felt and what caused her to spy a little on Gyutaro and eventually how he was just spending his time watching some stupid girl with something sparking in his gaze she wasn’t sure what to feel about. She settled on disliking and being suspicious of it, finally confronting him about it one night.

“Onii-chan, can you just kill her and be done with it already?! You’ve been following her for more than a week now, how long more do you need to kill her?!”

“Shut up! Be grateful I’m even hunting for you.”

Daki huffed and continued yelling about something to do with being too busy with Oiran duties but Gyutaro zoned out completely, glaring upwards. He should be killing her by now. Eating her. Digesting her.

Why am I not doing that? He silently demanded.

In truth he didn’t know either. Didn’t know why he so easily gave into the slightest stupidest excuse to stalk his prey some more. Didn’t know why he thought about killing the people around her more than her herself. Didn’t know why he was decapitating the head of a man who called her slurs the other day instead of her head.

“FINE, I’LL GO KILL HER TONIGHT!”

He slammed the doors for emphasis, muttering profanities he didn’t actually mean about his precious sister as he stalked around the house and to her room. Maybe if Gyutaro killed her he’d stop feeling so ill all the time. “Ill” being used loosely, since…oh God, he liked the feeling, didn’t he?

Gyutaro slammed a fist against the wall. He’d eat her and be done with it.

But when he got to her room he could see not one but two shadows moving about inside, hear murmuring voices and smell a foreign scent…a man’s, tainted by alcohol. Gyutaro couldn’t help it, he wound up eavesdropping in a jealous rage at whoever managed to get close to her.

“You’re a - hic - pretty girl, I’m sure you don’t wanna - hic - be stuck here anymore, ne?”

“Sir, please get out, I never invited you to my room and I’m not working right now-”

“So what? You gonna - hic - do something?” Gyutaro’s nails dug into the wood as he saw a silhouette of a hand grabbing at her arm and yanking her to him.

“I’ll call the mistress if you do anything!”

“Haha, if you can get her to - hic - listen to you, I’ll let you go! I’m already offering - hic - a lot of money for your marriage contract!” The man just about threw her to the door, roughly letting go of her arm as he laughed drunkenly. Gyutaro had barely any time to hide himself in the shadows before the doors were flung open and she raced away.

Marriage? With this pathetic excuse of a-

The next thing Gyutaro knew after awakening from the bloodthirsty, furious craze of very messily murdering the man - the bastard had dared taint such a goddess! Not even Gyutaro had dare done that, too terrified she’d run from the demon that he was and he wouldn’t even be able to catch sight of her anymore - was him standing above the corpse, one sickle buried in the mutilated head…

…while two yellow eyes slowly looked back to see her standing still by the doorway.

His hands curled into fists and he fell to his knees. It was over, wasn’t it? Gyutaro would really have to kill her now, after she’d inevitably shatter his black, rotted heart into a million pieces for slaughtering someone much worse than him. Daki would not be happy at being forced to kill the whole House because he was seen either.

She…fell to her knees as well? Smiling and crying?

“I knew it! I knew you were always there-”

“NEHHH?” Gyutaro reared back, stunned. “You’re supposed to scream! Am I not ugly to you?! Say something else, you stupid human! What do you mean you know?!”

“I knew you were there,” she repeated. “Someone was always following me…you were the one who killed all those…men and left those stolen items from the other oiran for me, weren’t you? I just wondered when you’d show up…I was so, so afraid when the mistress told me I was going to be married off…I prayed and prayed you’d save me again.”

“What? No, NO!” In a flash he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall, breathing erratically as his hand gripped his sickle tight enough to crush rocks. “I’m not - I’m not saving you! You’re not supposed to be like this! I’m a disgusting demon, you stupid dunce, I’m ugly-”

“I don’t think you are.”

Gyutaro searched her face frantically for any indication she was bullshitting him. This was everything he wanted and nothing he understood. His fingers tightened their hold. She had to be lying.

She wasn’t. Her lips curved up gently and a fang poked out. “I think you’re like me.”

[mrskokushibo]

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, Rough Sex, BDSM, strictly 18+.

Plot: This is essentially smut only. Rough BDSM sex with a jealousy-triggered hard dom Kokushibo.

A/N: Despite the violent nature of the intercourse portrayed in this piece, the sex is entirely consensual and, if anything, expected by Kokushibo’s lover.

Masterlist

He was a jealous man, you had never any doubt about it. But his intelligence and sense of humour prevented him from primitive displays in public. Sure, he could give you the occasional glare and even shake his finger playfully, but that was as far as that went.

In the bedroom, he asserted his dominance now and then, venting when frustrated or stressed. His physical prowess was enough to make you feel small and submissive, and more often than not, you were melting just from his huge frame rutting into you at a relentless pace.

But recently, something changed inside you, wanting more of the power play to happen and you began craving firmer and firmer treatment. You obtained ropes, riding crops, whips, gags, and even a collar and a leash. All in the hope for him to release the demon you so well sensed rested dormant in the depths of his innermost being.

On a few occasions, he agreed to play along, tying you up and then half-heartedly smacking you lightly with a paddle or whip, before quickly proceeding to the usual dicking you down and fucking as usual. You were losing your patience. He was so delicious and sexy, his body was a work of art, the way his huge biceps swelled when he supported himself on each side of you as he fucked into you. You were always ready to worship him, and being a hopeless sub, the ultimate fantasy was a night of him stretching his wings and dominating you.

There was one last thing to do. Making him so jealous that his façade would eventually crack and he would show you the full extent of his abilities. And that is exactly what you did. The opportunity for that couldn’t come soon enough with a party you were both invited to. You made sure to wear a revealing outfit, and let your flirty side loose as soon as you hit the crowd.

Kokushibo was occupied in a serious conversation at the opposite end of the room, sending an occasional look your way. It did not take long for an attractive male demon to chat you up and you commenced heavy flirting with the drool-worthy blonde. Initially, Kokushibo did not pay much attention to your behaviour, but when you let the other man touch your back and ass, and you leaned into him a little too close for decency, his look grew fierce. Something darker than the usual jealousy was there, and without so much as approaching you, he gave you a long stare and left the party alone. You managed to piss him off. For a moment, you got worried. Could you have gone too far? You excused yourself from the young male you so eagerly interacted with just a moment ago, and walked out of the noisy hall. But Kokushibo was nowhere to be seen.

You ordered his servants to teleport you to his chambers, but as you entered you were met but nothing else but silence. He was gone. You sat down on the futon and sighed. Was this it? Did your display get to him so badly that he decided to leave you? But as your thoughts were going around in circles, a servant came in with a small note.

‘From the Master to you, Madam.’

He left just as quickly as he appeared and you held the neatly folded note for a while before finally daring to read it. Your stomach clenched up and you felt a lump in your throat grow as you began anxiously to unfold the paper.

“You have gone too far. I need time away from you. See you in a week. We will reconvene then.”

No pleasantries, not even a signature. You put the note aside, laid down as you were, and fell asleep from emotional exhaustion.

The week dragged on unbearably, making your anxiety increase exponentially as time passed. Then, one evening, after you came out of your evening bath, wearing only a thin yukata and your hair out, there he was. Sitting in his armchair in complete silence watching you with narrowed eyes as you emerged from the bathroom.

You stopped in your tracks when you spotted him, standing there as if petrified. Quietly, he got up from the armchair and walked up to you in his dignified, stoic manner.

Without a warning, he grabbed you between your legs, long fingers curled into the depths of your core, and pushed you ahead of him until your back slammed into the nearest wall. Upon which, he lifted you up with that same hand still buried in your cunt, having you impaled like this, he leaned close to you and hissed in your ear:

'I think you need to learn your place, my love, and tonight, I am in the mood to teach you exactly what this means.’

And oh, you relished in the idea of finally having him pass on that knowledge, which, by the way, you already possessed, but needed to revise by practical means. You struggled to not show him how overjoyed you were by him being this decisive. But a small smile could not be masked and his reaction was immediate.

‘Am I amusing you, hm?’ He let you down, your back resting against the wall and your sopping pussy imprinted with the memory of his rough treatment. When he leaned down to speak, he was towering over you, a menacing aura caging you in and trapping your pathetically small body.

‘Because I am anything else but amused with you and your behavior earlier.’ His deep voice, so quiet yet so commanding kept you hypnotised and in place.

A calloused finger run along your lower lip, parting it slowly but forcefully.

‘Open up.’

Obedience was the only way to go, so you opened your mouth and that same finger found its way deep into your mouth, followed by one more and then another. He pushed them as deep as anatomy permitted, and began pumping into your mouth, making you gag.

He then grabbed your chin and held you still, moving his fingers in and out of your drooling mouth. You looked into his eyes no longer able to suffocate a smile. His eyes narrowed and a dark glow appeared in his dilated golden pupils. Suddenly, the fingers disappeared from your mouth and a slap landed on your cheek, and then on the other one, and so repeated a few times. Just hard enough to make a point but definitely not hard enough to do any damage other than a slight passing redness.

‘Are you going to be a brat for me now?’ He was staring at you with those terrifyingly glowing narrowed eyes.

‘You are such a slut.’

He pressed himself onto you and you could feel his poking erection through your thin yukata. As if driven by magnetic force, your hand wandered to his groin, only to be grabbed at the wrist and pinned above your head.

‘You do not touch me unless I say so. Understood, bitch?’

‘Yes. Understood.’

‘Yes, what?’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘That’s better. You are learning fast, wench.’

He pinned you harder against the wall, causing you to lose your breath for a moment. Sharp fangs grazed your neck and then he growled in a terrifyingly low timbre.

‘Wait here and do not move an inch or you are going straight to sleep without your punishment.’

For a moment there was something playful in his expression, but he quickly turned away to hide his face from you. He walked over to the elegant ebony dresser and took out a few items. He kept the long riding crop and one other thing and then put some aside on the futon and then proceeded to walk back to where you stood. Something sparkled in his hand in the illumination from the faint warm light of the chandeliers. As he approached you, the sparkly item was a choker collar encrusted with diamonds with a golden chain attached to it. It was the same collar that you recall obtaining, but now it has obviously been customized. So…. Did he plan this? How and when?

But you were not granted the time to ponder, because, as soon as he was close again, with one lightning-fast movement, he ripped off your yukata and left you standing in front of his fully clothed self, exposed and naked.

‘Kneel. Now!’

Your gaze locked in with his, slowly you went down on your knees, his erection bulging through the folds of his hakama right in front of your starved mouth. His large hands put the expensive collar around your neck and once in place, he yanked the leash a little and smirked, and run the riding crop across your back and to your ass, spanking you lightly.

‘Love it. This is such a great look for my little pet. This is exactly where you belong. On your knees for your Master.’ Another spank, this time harder landed on the softness of your ass.

You smiled again, but it was a mistake. He yanked harder on the leash forcing you to land on all four and grabbed you harshly by the hair, lifting your head up to him.

‘Behave or next time it will hurt.’

You moaned as he moved his hand to your neck and took a chokehold, depriving you of just enough air to make you a little dizzy, while spanking you repeatedly with the crop. He then let go just as quickly and began walking toward his favorite armchair. You followed on all four, just like an obedient dog.

Once he reached the armchair, he turned around to face you, and lifted the leash a little, forcing you to stretch your head up to him and look him straight in the eyes. A faint smile graced his elegant face and with a calm and soft tone he murmured:

‘Undress me, but do not dare touch my skin. Or else…’ He continued the sentence with action instead, by slapping your cheek again and taking the riding crop to one of your breasts, spanking it from the side.

Despite being aroused beyond the bounds of sanity, your hands were shaking slightly as you reached to cautiously untie his obi and the belts of his hakama. He was after all a powerful demon and you were well aware of his limitless talent for cruelty. Because there was no way for you to know how much of his inner beast you woke up when you made him this jealous and worked up.

So, you continued the undressing until he was standing there in all of his nude magnificence, making you weak at the knees and wanting nothing else but to wrap your lips on the pink tip presented right in front of your nearly drooling mouth.

He put the riding crop aside on the armchair and his hand on your head, once again, with a gesture that made you feel more like a dog than a person and slowly twined your hair around his thick wrist, the action slow and deliberate, his beautiful face menacing with a smug look.

Slowly, he lifted your head up again, and put the other hand around your throat with a steadily tightening grip. He sat down in the armchair, guiding you toward him with a firm grip on your throat and hair.

‘Suck my dick, whore. But no touching yet. Use your filthy mouth. And your mouth only. I want to see if you can take me like that.’

With that, he let go of your throat and just after you managed to gasp for air, he shoved your head to his leaking tip.

‘Open your mouth, bitch.’

The combination of his brutal words and actions was making your core cry and throb with arousal. You did as he commanded and he began sliding himself into you while pushing your head down with the iron grip he had on your hair. A deep groan escaped his throat as he bottomed out, his tip touching the back of your throat and you gagging, drool running down your chin.

‘Just like that, my precious doll.’

He began to mouth fuck you. Slowly at first but as his arousal grew, he was beginning to lose control and the thrusts were getting deeper and more powerful. He was using you as if you were a toy, with complete and utter disregard for you being barely able to take his huge size.

Not being able to hold all the precum and spit in your mouth, nor hold back the tears welling from strain, you let it run out freely. Just like a ragdoll mistreated by a naughty boy, you were completely at his mercy. He increased his pace and as he did, you essentially blacked out, collapsing forward and hovering on the last involuntary survival reflexes of your needy body and held in place by him moving your head up and down while fucking into you. Somewhere from the depths of the half-conscious state you were immersed in, you felt an increasing fullness in your gaping, impossibly stretched-out mouth, and a moment later, thick ropes of his precious semen were spraying freely onto the inside of your cheeks, your tongue and deep into your throat.

When his abdomen stopped its violent contractions and he pumped in the last of his seed into you, he lifted you off him, your mouth connected to his cock with a mix of spit and cum.

‘Look at you and the mess you made.’

He was watching you with interest as you were slowly coming down to reality.

‘Clean it up.’ His voice was barely a whisper.

You licked his half-erect cock, lapped up the cum from your face with your tongue, but the mess was too big to clean up just with your mouth. He stretched out his arm and grabbed a towel to dry you up with, tossing it aside when he deemed the job was done.

The throbbing ache in your core was almost unbearable and your juices were running down your legs, making you feel like a bitch on heat. Degraded and horny as a fucking dog. That is what you were right now and you loved every nasty bit of it.

You looked up at him with those teared-up, puppy eyes, up to your dark god, who, in this very moment held all the power over your life and pleasure. His faultless instincts picked up on your silent plea as he spoke in a honey-glazed voice, making the lewd words sound like a hellish prayer telepathically passed on to him from your obsessed mind.

‘So, you want to cum? Yes?’

‘Yes, Kokushibo-sama.’

He held your face in his brutal hand, big enough to crush you and your heart.

‘And why do you think you deserve such an honour? You already got to savour my precious semen. That should be enough for a cheap whore like yourself.’

He kept your face in his hand, smiling the sweetest of smiles while his eyes retained the darkness from before.

‘Because I crave you, Master. I live for the pleasure you so generously grant me.’

His smile widened, baring the huge fangs in a menacing fashion. ‘You dare crave me? Hm?’

He moved his face closer to yours and, all of a sudden locked his lips with yours, prying his tongue into the depths of your throat, making you gag a little. As he released the rough kiss he smiled again.

‘Careful what you wish for because the pleasure might be too much for a little human like yourself.’

‘I do not care what happens to me, Master. As long, as you grant me it. I beg you.’

With shaking hands, you reached out to touch his chest. He looked down at your hand in silence, not moving a muscle. When he looked back at you, his voice bore the tone of suppressed malevolence

‘I told you not to touch me.’

With that he unhooked the chain lead from the diamond collar, tightening the collar a little around your throat, and yanked you up to standing.

‘Stay still.’

He went to the futon and the items put aside earlier. He picked up a bundle of silk rope and a gag. Once again, sinewy fingers were forcing their way into your mouth, spreading you open to place the gag. Your flesh wanted him to repeat the action in your dripping cunt, but there was no sight of that happening. He was determined to tease you to the edge of your sanity. It felt like being cast in the middle of a roaring sea with waves pushing you further away from shore the more you swam.

Once the gag was in place, he picked up the rope and began tying you up in classic Shibari mode. You closed your eyes and compliantly let his hands restrain you with seemingly endless lengths of tightly wrought silk. After what felt like an eternity, the action stopped altogether and you opened your eyes to the sight of him standing in front of you with a look of unbridled lust and admiration. He tossed the remaining length of the rope over a roof beam and with no effort at all, hoisted you up so that you were suspended horizontally and your hips were level with his.

He picked up a small whip consisting of many thin leather strips and quickly ran it along your slit, smiling viciously as you tried to moan through the gag.

‘Enjoying this, my love?’

You nodded and moaned into the bar in your mouth as he repeated the action, following it up with a light hit of the whip directly onto your clit. You flinched from the sudden sting, but the pain mixed with pleasure made you only cream more. Something he noticed and rubbed two fingers between your swollen folds, escalating your impossibly stifled moans. He kept on whipping you and rubbing your puffy softness as you were squirming from the mixture of pleasure and pain.

He took to rubbing circles around your clit while simultaneously landing whip lashes on your ass and back. As his actions intensified, so did the pleasure you experienced. He kept on edging you mercilessly, causing tears to flow freely down your flustered cheeks. With his transparent vision he assessed how close you were to coming, removed your gag, and asked, his voice dropping an octave:

‘Are you ready to cum on my cock?’

‘Yes Master.’ Your voice merely a silent whimper.

Without another word, he grabbed your hips, aligned you with his, and shoved himself into you with one quick thrust. His speed and precision were relentless from the very start, creating an almost chant-like soundscape of flesh slamming flesh on the base note of obscene wet squelching of his dick so efficiently invading your core.

You began to shake as your orgasm was on approach, and when all the knots burst and your release finally arrived, all you could do was to scream and scream and scream. Your eyes went blurry and you tried to focus on the chandelier at the back of the bedroom. After a while, your vision sharpened acutely as the release brought back some sanity to your fucked out brain and you were able to see objects in the dimply room clearly again. But what you could not see was how his expression softened the moment you came and how he stopped himself mid-air from stroking your back gently and kissing you on your neck.

Instead, he grabbed your hair, but not as brutally as before, and pulled your head back a little to face him.

‘I am not satisfied. We will need to move this to bed.’

You nodded instead of speaking as language has not yet come back to your mouth from the extreme pleasure of your orgasm. He let go of your hair, hoisted you down, and carried you to bed, where he loosened your restraints, but only to spread your arms and tie them to the bedposts. Once he was done, he moved in between your thighs, stroking his rock-hard erection, and spreading the precum pearling at his slit all over the delicious girth.  

Supported by one powerful arm on your side, huge muscles flexing, capturing all your attention for a moment, he aligned himself with you and started entering. You gasped at the pleasure of your core welcoming his manhood in a tight embrace, your eyes moved to his face and were caught by his fiery gaze, the dark flame so intense it felt for a moment that he could pierce through you by just one look. His expression was dead serious and emanating uninhibited lust.

He moved his now free arm to your side and lowered himself over you, not taking his six eyes off you, staring at you with a predatory look, his hips pushing his dick deeper and deeper into your burning core. The thrusts started as soon as he bottomed out, languid and steady, following the rhythm of his lips crushing yours in a hungry kiss.

The movements of his body were becoming increasingly intense, hands caressing and squeezing every inch of your flesh that was within reach, soft lips pressing kisses all over your mouth and neck, all the while his hips were picking up in pace.

Your louder and louder moans were spurring him on as an invisible whip on a racehorse, and he was growing ferocious in the way he was now having sex with you. It was as if he was trying to fuck his way into your soul. Sweat was dripping down his hair that cascaded all over your breasts and belly, his breathing heavy and strained, his mouth releasing deep, raspy groans that with every second that passed, grew louder, turning into growling.

Finally, a violent spasm of his abs and a loud growl indicated his release. His torso was contracting countless times as his balls were being emptied into you, filling you up with his fertile seed. There was so much of it that a small bulge began to form on your belly. The warmth of his cum lulled you into a still, relishing in the fullness of it all. You were too exhausted to crave another orgasm of your own. All you wanted was to lie in the stillness and flame of what had just now become a hot memory.

He collapsed on top of you, still breathing heavily, you could feel how his heart pounded in his huge chest. With a last effort, he lifted himself up and untied your hands, placing you in his embrace and rolling onto his back with you splayed on top of him.

‘Was this what you expected of me?’

He kissed you softly on your forehead and closed his eyes nudging your cheek with his nose.

‘You were perfect, Koku…’ You paused briefly and then asked in slight apprehension.

‘Did you enjoy … being like that?’

‘Well… I cannot say I didn’t. It was very ��  new to me, but yes. I think we could do this again if that was your wish?’

‘I want that very much…’ and with that you buried your face in his warm, strong chest, enjoying the safety that was Kokushibo.

Tagging: @horror4themasses @sunsblaze @muzansfangs

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[ariseur]

hey!!! ive been reading your sephiroth fanfics recently and it has been such an intricate work of art i genuinely feel the emotion and love put into it, your writing is just perfect in terms of how you write his character! i was wondering if i could request a seph x reader maybe during or post advent children and is really angsty with some fluff regarding his return??? it's vague (sorry😭) but i know if you did take up on it youd do fantastic!! 💖🫶🏻

liberabo volucres 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

sephiroth (ffvii) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

omg you are literally so sweet!!!! thank you so much for this request, although i don’t think i did it justice 😭 i wasnt quite sure how to go about this considering after advent children, the remnants of seph faded into the lifestream (i think?) so it’s more angsty with lots of mentions of kadaj, but i hope you like it either way!! i’m glad you enjoy my sephiroth fics and don’t hesitate to send more asks!! love this one 💕

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

mentions of kadaj and remnants of seph, written in a yearning type of way where you still have a hole in your heart left from sephiroth, don’t ask where you came from at the beginning!! just enjoy it 😭, intended lowercase, mentions of kissing kadaj’s forehead, lmk if i missed anything!!

┊ ˚➶ word count ｡˚ 🎼

1327 words, 7173 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“cloud,” your voice only a faint whisper as you called out to the blond, “what did you do?” he lifted his head, his skin glossier with the droplets of rain falling on his face. his eyes widened at the sight of you, chest still rising and lowering rapidly as he recovered from his battle with sephiroth. how foreign that name felt on your tongue, now.

you got up from your hiding spot beyond the debris, knees aching from how long you were crouched as your feet slammed against the flat surface of the floor. you watched as your kadaj’s catlike slits for pupils— pupils that constantly reminded you that he was still apart of sephiroth, despite his role as being only a remnant of your lover— flickered towards you with whatever energy he had left. the corner of kadaj’s lips quirked upwards ever the slightest as you rushed over him, cloud moving out of your way as he stood up.

cloud’s words, albeit firm, lay dormant in your brain, “he was going to kill me—kill us all.” and even with his sharp tone, you didn’t pay him any mind. the only thing you could focus on was kadaj’s eyes trained on yours, scoffing as he rasped out, “such— a drama.. queen.” you softly shushed him, watching as his eyes became emptier by the minute. your throat stung as a choked sob threatened to escape its enclosure behind your uvula. kadaj lifted his hand only for you to grasp it, moist leather clutched in your palm as you placed it back to his chest. he intertwined your fingers, a wince leaving his lips as you held his head up.

it took everything not to look away from him. his hair, his eyes, even the way he smelled, reminded you of sephiroth. sometimes, you wish it had been different. you wish you would’ve been there when it had happened, and even now, your memory’s fuzzy of the events. all you remember was the day sephiroth left you, and you haven’t stop thinking about him since. you wished he had come to you, and apart of you was angry. maybe you were angry that he left you with no word, or maybe angry that instead of opening up to you, he decides to burn a village down in his spiral, or maybe you weren’t angry at all.

you paused, taking another look at kadaj’s furrowed eyebrows and his lidded eyes. you wonder if this is how sephiroth felt upon his notice of who he really was— what he really was. he was only in his twenties when it happened, you couldn’t have imagined how he felt. you remembered; his friends, gone and turned against shinra, and with all the pressure on him about the cover-up, you thought that maybe it wasn’t entirely his fault. you realized now, that you can’t get what you want from this world without taking it yourself. saying please didn’t scratch the itch in the back of your throat the way that anger did, and you assumed sephiroth felt the same.

clasping kadaj’s hand, he let out a weak sigh. you let your hand, although shaky and so weak that you can’t make a fist, card a piece of his hair out his face; your heart ached at your hands in his silver hair, mind racing back to when you’d brush sephiroth’s hair for him. a true honor, you’d always call it.

the way kadaj’s eyes widened and his ears perked up made you pause, like he was listening for something. even with cloud’s tense presence behind you, you refused to let go of the part of sephiroth, your part of sephiroth. the only part you had of him left. you couldn’t be angry at cloud. he was only doing what he thought was best— and in the end, maybe it was for the best, you thought. you couldn’t even be angry at yourself, your mind only clouded with grief as your sniffles and teary sighs filled the air.

the sound of kadaj’s arm moving, leather rubbing against itself, interrupted your soft cries as he lifted his hand up to the sky. a soft whisper of, “mother—?” left his lips.

your hand snaked up and you rubbed your thumb against his cheek, watching as he turned his head towards you slowly. a teary sound left your lips, you weren’t even sure if it was a sob or a laugh. but you leaned down, pressing one last kiss to his forehead as his eyelashes fluttered, just the way sephiroth’s did when you’d lay with him in the morning where golden rays would seep through the curtains and shine onto your beloved.

all good things must come to an end, you realized, as you watched the only physical evidence that sephiroth had coexisted with you fade into the lifestream, his arm fading into reduced crystallized mako. you closed your eyes, shoulders heaving as you tried stifling your thick cries; after all, cloud was still behind you. you held onto kadaj’s hand until it was no more, his body being lifted up and vanishing although you couldn’t bear to watch it. and you didn’t open your eyes, not for a long while, in hopes that maybe you’d be back in the comfort of your home as you heard heavy footsteps trail behind you to the kitchen, sephiroth’s content face across from yours at the dinner table. and you didn’t open your eyes until you heard a low hum, beyond the loud sounds of the rain hitting the concrete, beyond your own shaking breaths. this couldn’t have been cloud, you thought. your head lifted up and squinted so as to not get any rain in your eyes.

and there he was— or more so a faded version of him. even in the rain, you couldn’t help but gawk at him in awe, his hair flowing so gracefully even in the humidity of the rain. even if you were dreaming, you’d wish you would never wake in hopes of spending one last minute with the one you held dearest to your heart. one last moment with sephiroth and you’d feel like you’d finally be complete.

his eyes, still sleek and catlike how you always remembered, almost look amused. he held a smile at you, his head cocking at the sight. you didn’t want to think of the possibility that this was just a hallucination of your grief. this was more than that. sephiroth was more than that.

he gave you a nod, a nod of which you didn’t understand. ever so esoteric, you thought. the way he always was after nibelheim. you sat back on your haunches, your knees still against the wet, cold floor— taking one last look at sephiroth before he turned around. his head tipped back, fingers twitching as he let himself face the sky, until he finally let himself go and faded away as well.

your lip trembled, a teary laugh releasing itself from your throat until cloud put a soft, awkward hand on your shoulder. head turning to face him, your eyes met his. you realized now that cloud did what was best, and you couldn’t possibly blame him for that.

he cleared his throat, almost cautiously as if you’d snap at him for interrupting the silence, “we have to go. i’m sure tifa’s waiting for us.”

you sniffled, wiping your eyes from both the rain and the tears that littered your cheeks. looking back down at your lap, once where kadaj laid, you were met with emptiness. closing your eyes once more, you inhaled and let the air fill your lungs. the first deep breath of air that you’ve taken in what feels like years, one that felt fresher— almost bittersweet. and when you turned back to cloud, you gave him a firm nod.

the urge to be changed is not metamorphosis, you realized. you can’t be changed without making a change of your own.

[ford-pines-lover]

Tolerate it

when you were out building other worlds, where was I?

Here is this one!! @chillinglyadventurous

Tags: SFW, falling out of love, i actually think this is sad

I greet you with a battle hero's welcome

There was nothing better than going to the shack after a shopping trip with Mabel. She strides inside the house with her millions of bags. It was like she was gleaming with the dust of a million stars. There was nothing that could hurt her or stop her from her excitement. 

When you two walked inside the shack, everything was in its place. It seemed as if nothing was touched. Made sense; Dipper was out with Stan doing some grunkle, nephew bonding, and Ford? Well, he hasn’t seen the light of day in a week. It was starting to worry you. Usually he at least makes an effort to come see you before bed or come up for dinner, but lately it hasn’t even been anything. Long nights waiting and hoping that your boyfriend would come and sleep next to you. Waiting to feel another person next to you was excruciating. 

You got snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Mabel say, “That was so fun, y/n! Thank you for taking me!” She gives you a hug and runs off to the attic to drop off her stuff. She was like a younger sister to you. Maybe even a daughter in some sense? Your own feelings were conflicted. 

You walk down to the lab to see your boyfriend. He was slouched over his desk, papers everywhere. He was drowning in his work. You surmise that he had just found a new discovery. Perhaps a new equation or a new creature found here in the Falls. You knew that just recently Ford had gone deeper in the woods than he had ever felt comfortable. Unsurprisingly, he took Dipper with him. They came home with cuts and bruises. Neither of them unscathed.

“Dear, I’m fine,” he had said.

So you believed him. 

“Hey, love.” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t move, still surrounded by the pages and pages of math and science. You knew you had an affinity toward the man, but sometimes you couldn’t pinpoint why. He wasn’t involved in your relationship often; he never came to bed; hell, you can’t remember the last time you two had sex!

I take your indiscretions all in good fun

It took him a bit to notice you. 

“Hello, my dear.” He turned to look at you. His chair squeaking as he moved as if he hadn’t moved in hours. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

You give him an incredulous look. Actually, you hadn’t slept in days. Ford had been so engulfed in his work that he hadn’t gone to bed with you in days. He sleeps on his desk, waiting for some sort of answer to just pop out of his work. You press your lips together, not wanting to disturb the peace. Deciding to keep your mouth shut about your feelings, you say, “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple nights, but I’ve been okay.” You turn around to leave, “There will be dinner in about an hour if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,”

“If that’s what you wish.” You tearfully look away and walk back upstairs. Your movements were saturnine. Everything hurt; nothing felt real. The love you had once in the past almost feels obsolete now. There was almost a remorseful feeling inside you for him. He has gone through so much; you should just let him be. But if your needs weren't being met, why should you stay?

I sit and listеn

As you set up your new art station that you had bought at the store, you open the paints. They were an expensive set of oil paints that you were so desperate to try out. Painting wasn’t a new hobby, just one that had gone dormant over the last couple years. Now that you have a rather inadequate boyfriend, you were ready to take on this hobby once again. 

“Hey, kid.” You see Stan approach you with a weary look on his face. He must have just gotten back with Dipper, but you hadn’t seen Dipper yet. “I know that you and Ford are going through hard times right now." He leans on the doorframe with a phlegmatic disposition. “Just know that he does still love you and is just having a hard time. Just give him some time, kid. He’ll come around.”

“Stan, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.” You said with an indigent look across your face. “I love him, but I can’t feel so empty anymore.”

“Look, kid, I can talk to him for you if you’d like. He’d better listen to me. I wouldn’t want to lose a family member over some stupid math equations.” He sighs. "You know how he’s an opportunist. He knows what he wants, and he takes it.”

“Please talk to him for me; he doesn’t seem to listen to me.” You gulp. “I know how he is. I just want my Stanford back.” 

“I’ll be back, then. Hang tight.”

You watch as he goes out of the room. You were stationed in the kitchen with your supplies, so it was easy access to the lab from there. Your mind starts to wander. What if you really were just a bother and in the way? What if there was really nothing there? 

You take a deep breath and lather a thin coat of white paint on the canvas. You weren’t quite sure what would come of this painting, but you knew you were emotional, and this was one healthy way to get it out. At least that's what your therapist had said at one point. Instead of taking it out on other people, taking it out of a piece of canvas was healthier. Or something. 

You started with hues of grey and blue. For some reason there was something compelling you to use those colors. Maybe they stated how you felt. Grey and empty. Blue and sad. Or maybe you just liked them. 

Below you, you could hear fighting. It was the two men that you had trusted more than anything in the world. You couldn’t quite make out what they were yelling to each other. It was loud. It shook the house. There was a negative tone flowing through the shack. It was dizzying.

“C’mon Poindexter… shes… kid! Don't…care... her?” You heard most of Stan’s words. But what hurt the most is what his brother said after. 

“Yes, I care, Stanley! It’s all just become too much, and my work is far too important! I don't understand why none of you can see that!” You heard that one clear as day. It was perfectly clear why he didn’t want to see you. You were too much. 

“Why the fuck would you say that?” You could hear Stan getting louder with each word. “At least talk to her! Have dinner with her. Once. Before you decide to throw this away.” He had an ardent tone. 

“What are you trying to imply?”

“That you’re being a selfish idiot and throwing away the best thing that’s ever happened to you!”

I polish plates until they gleam and glistеn

You got up from your spot at the table. Your mind is whizzing and whirring from the fighting in the basement. You try to think of something, anything, to keep your mind off of what Ford had just said. Too Much? You walk over to the sink and start doing the dishes. You were staring off, out the window, trying not to completely break apart. 

Was Stan talking to Ford a good idea? Or did it really cause more issues than what was worth? Maybe Ford is just saying shit because he’s sleep deprived. He does tend to get more annoyed than usual when he hasn’t had a good rest. Doesn’t everyone?

“Hey, y/n. Everything good?” You jump, seeing Dipper behind you. When did you start crying?

You wipe your face with your sleeve and put on a fake smile. He definitely could tell. “Yeah, why what’s up?” 

“I’m not stupid, y/n. I hear Grunkle Stan and Ford fighting.” He gave you a judgmental look. You knew he wasn’t stupid, but it wasn't fair that he had to listen to his Grunkles fighting. 

“I know you’re not stupid. I’m genuinely okay; I am just a little overwhelmed.” You took in a deep breath. Everything was going to be okay.

He gently nods and walks away.

You're so much older and wiser, and I

You think about the age gap between you two while you sit down to continue to paint again. The age gap was significant enough that you were 30 years younger than him. It was hard for him, yet it seemed like he thoroughly enjoyed the relationship. 

You two had met at the library while checking out a book. Then on from there, Ford invited you to go on adventures with him and invited you to play D, D, and more D with him. You two were really bonding. Giggling and blushing as your two characters in the RPG were flirting and Dipper being grossed out the whole time. Mabel was way too excited about her Grunkle’s newfound crush. 

Then you lost your house. The landlord decided that he wasn’t going to rent out his house anymore, and it left you homeless. You couldn’t afford to just move spontaneously. This had left you to live out of your car for about a week. It was horrible. Worse than you had originally imagined. It was overcrowded, messy, and humiliating. 

The Pines family had heard what happened. Stan was the first to offer you a room to stay in. 

“Kid, times are tough. I know what it’s like to be homeless. So I’m offering you a space, free of charge.”

“Are you sure?”  You had said, worried about overstepping bounds.

“I wouldn’t be offering it to ya if I wasn’t sure.”

That was that. You were now an honorary member of the Pines family. 

With that came more time spent with Stanford. This led to stolen kisses in the lab and sleepovers in your bedroom. It became routine to see him often. One day you had asked him out formally. It was just to a diner. Nothing fancy, but it meant something to you. 

After that, you and Ford were inseparable. Constantly going on adventures; hanging out. Life was great. Until now. 

Ford stands before you, arms crossed. You could tell he was upset. 

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a bit, but I would like to know if you were okay with going out for dinner.” It seemed like it took a lot out of him just to get that out. 

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to not let it be known that it upset you that he was being this way. “I think I have an idea. I’ll come grab you in thirty minutes, okay?”

“Alright.”

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

You decide to stand in his lab doorway. He had agreed to dinner. Hopefully things will not go to shit and everything will go to plan. 

“You ready?” You held out your hand, and he hesitantly put his hand in yours. It didn’t feel right, but you kept it cool.

“Yes.” He had said rather coldly. Oh boy.

Use my best colors for your portrait

You stare at the portrait you had made as it sits in your tote bag. This was a gift to him. It was of you two stargazing. The colors were magnificent. It has ranges of blues, violets, and reds. You hoped that he would like it and see it as a means to start over. 

Maybe not.

Lay the table with the fancy shit

You led him outside to the place you had set up. It was a picnic on a hill. Just like you two had once had a date there months ago. There were plates of food, fake candles, flowers, just about anything you could imagine. 

“It looks... nice.” Ford had said as he forced a smile. 

“I’m glad you like it.” You pop open the wine bottle and pour yourself a big glass. 

Throughout the whole dinner, he was not attentive. He really was in another world. There was nothing that could make him want to be at this dinner that you had planned. Yet here he was. 

And the portrait stayed in your bag. 

And watch you tolerate it

[wolven91]

Skin Deep

The crit'yun are an ancient race.

Chitin instead of flesh, feather, scale, or fur. A mind that was vast enough to include all their kind, but also individual minds, all working towards a common goal broken up into hives then castes. They were like ants of old, but massive.

As for the hives, in the deepest, most protected parts of their worlds, there were pools of a biological soup that gave birth to new and needed bodies. There was no 'set' appearance to the crit'yun. If they needed pincers the most, then the creature that crawled from the ominous goop had pincers. If they needed size or bulk, the goop would recede as a titan lifted itself clear of the liquid, allowing it to cascade from it in great waterfalls as it stepped into the galaxy.

The crit'yun had been around since the various races that now dominated the galaxy had begun to crawl from their own primordial soups millennia ago. They watched the galaxy and recorded its comings and goings with a careful eye. Nothing was forgotten, everything was shared. Perhaps once the crit'yun had spread themselves across the galaxy, like a grand empire? But that wasn't the case now.

Their territory with a sliver that spanned several arms of the galaxy. They stayed there, watching and listening to the galaxy that appeared and grew now that they stayed dormant.

But the modern galaxy feared them, even before their most recent awakening.

Not just because they had perfected what was important to the current races, war and weapons, but because they were an antithesis to what was considered beautiful within the galaxy. Skittering. Twitching. Eyes that didn't look like eyes, or none at all, still watched without blinking. Legs and hands that were weapons.

They were judged on their first introduction. The crit'yun were aliens, even to the aliens.

When humanity appeared, it created an almost visible ripple amongst the insectoids. Something new. Something they hadn't seen. Something they hadn't recorded with their incredible minds. Something, that was dying.

Like a locust swarm amassing, the crit'yun, after thousands and thousands of years in isolation and refusal to engage with the wider galaxy; was suddenly abuzz with activity. The galaxy feared the crit'yun despite the diplomats they sent to assure the Galactic Community of their honourable intentions. They avoided crowded systems, sent only the most appealing of the crit'yun to parley when needed, but they were still shunned as dangerous, foreign things.

This was where Max came in.

Max had been in the 'care' of slavers. He was one of the lucky ones. He hadn't even been aware of their foul intentions. They had lied, placed him in comfortable quarters and began their journey towards a buyer before being found by the crit'yun.

"We are still sorry. That this. Was your first step. Sorry, that we, no... you... did not find... ally, friend, family." Chittered the creature. It was the size of a large dog, perhaps a Great Dane? It's red membrane wings flutters and twitched, but the numerous black dots, that Max had come to learn were its eyes, watched him carefully. Its speech pattern was strange, but it sat next to the human on a raised bench of resin that coated the inside of the crit'yun ship.

"It's alright. I should have known, I just didn't... think I suppose?" The human said with a sigh, gesturing with his hand before it fell back down against his knee.

"Absence. No. Lack of knowledge. Ignorance. Not worthy of fault. " Assured the creature as its head tilted one way and then the other.

The human smiled idly, more to the floor than to himself or a crit'yun. His hand, ever moving reach over without thought and rubbed a hand against the almost perfectly rounded head of the alien insect. Although there was no fur there, the distracted human merely felt calmer by the action. It reminded him of his own dog, Max missed him.

It was almost a whole minute before Max turned his head to the crit'yun and blinked, seemingly surprised that he was petting the insect and immediately withdrew his hand.

"I'm sorry! I didn't-" Blurted the human, holding his hands up in apologetic surrender.

"Why?" Asked the creature. It's perfectly round head turning, the beady black eyes rotating with it. It was a perfect impression of a puppy tilting its head.

"I wasn't thinking." Replied the human honestly, lowering his arms once more, paying attention to the creature.

"Ah. This one knows this. Nature. No... Natural action... To act by instinct. True Freedom. Fear no. Fear not. No offence made or received." Confirmed the alien, bobbing its head. Unbeknownst the Max, the instinctual drive it spoke of was its 'purpose'. Every crit'yun was born and made with a goal, a true purpose in life. The broodmother's was to birth and care for their young and vulnerable. The guards was to defend and destroy threats. To this drone? It was to reapply the resin to the ceilings of the crit'yun craft.

Since the human had shown preference to it, it had already been replaced, its purpose was now to stay by the human and ensure it wanted for nothing until the broodmother's craft arrived.

Max gave a smirk as this giant insect spoke in such an odd way, struggling to find the correct words, all the while he had accidently just treated it like a favoured pet. His brow furrowed as he thought about it though.

"How come the translators don't work for you?" The man asked curiously. He was aware that translators normally just adjusted any word heard for the word the speaker meant, in the listener's language. It shouldn't have been hiccupping over the insect's words.

"They do." Replied the creature smartly.

"But you mix up your words?" Pointed out Max.

"Ah. Translators fine. It is mind that is... limited." The insect explained, bobbing on all six legs.

"Mind?" Max was only more confused now.

"Yes. This one. Crit'yun you see with your eyes. Is only drone. Mind limited. In time... We will present acceptable crit'yun to you." The drone explained, speaking the words the broodmother sent through the hive's mind. It was a delicate thing, to speak through a drone, but doable. They didn't normally have the drive to talk or even need to. It was pure luck that this done was a talkative one, often humming to itself as it happily worked. The broodmother could only whisper simple concepts and the drone would repeat them as best it could.

"What does that mean?" Enquired the human. The crit'yun was pleased with the new specie's curiosity but feared that this was the moment they would lose this creature's trust. The crit'yun knew what they looked like, and the diplomat form could only look so much like them before it caused distress.

"We hide. Will hide. What makes us. Robes will hide chitin. Our eyes will be only... One... Two..." Counted the drone, repeating the broodmother's words. Her signal was getting stronger, straining the creature's mind.

"You don't have to change for me you know? I don't mind." Promised the young man.

"You... flinch." Pointed out the drone.

"I'm not going to lie, its intimidating, being surrounded by bugs, but I bet I don't look great to you."

"Clicks for this one. True. Truth is spoken. Very well. When this drone... is returned to the hive. Hive will not attempt... much... to hide selves..." Promised the drone, settling down onto its folded limbs. Tired now.

"Good. I was always told be proud of who you are. And you guys saved my life, so in my book you're alright."

"We wish to record your book. Please present it." Asked the drone, it's mind growing tired now that the broodmother had relinquished her hold on its mind. She was on the ship now. The idea the drone could record new history and present it to the broodmother? As it slipped from the waking world, if it could smile; it would have.

"Oh. Uuhh..." The human said, unaware he was the only one present now.

[r/WolvensStories]

[AO3]

[Ko-Fi]

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

7: BENIGN

Chapter 6B <MASTERLIST > Chapter 8

SUMMARY: You discover the Winter Soldier's true identity, but his intoxicating presence is too distracting. You have to tell him the truth... eventually.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warning: SMUT: P in V sex, Body worship — If there is any more you find not listed here please be sure to let me know so I can add it.

The Soldier had been shut away, frozen in suspended animation until he was necessary again. It was hard to say what he thought and felt as he lay dormant in his icy prison, locked away and alone. But the memory of your last encounter with him still lingered in the back of your mind, the way he had reacted to your indifference a puzzle that you couldn't quite solve. Could it be that there was more to his response than mere lust? Was there a deeper truth behind his offense at your cold demeanor?

It was unclear why there had been no repercussions for your actions. Perhaps your superiors believed in your loyalty to the organization and its goals, or perhaps they had decided that it wasn't worth the hassle to reprimand you. Or, more likely, they simply didn't care enough about the well-being of their subordinates to bother addressing the issue. Whatever the reason, you were relieved to have avoided any negative consequences for your actions with the Soldier.

The Soldier had provoked something within you, a curiosity that gnawed at your thoughts like a relentless ache. Who was the man behind the assassin, the Winter Soldier, the brainwashed Hydra agent? What memories and feelings lay hidden behind those blue eyes? The more you thought about it, the deeper your desire grew to uncover the truth behind the enigma that he was.

Using the recent lull in activity and the decreased security as cover, you quietly went about searching for information on your Soldat. Perhaps there were some records in the Hydra database that would shed some light on his past and his identity before he had become the Winter Soldier. You knew it was a risky endeavor, but your curiosity and determination to uncover the truth drove you forward.

You were all too aware of the risks involved in sneaking into Karpov's office without permission. If you were caught, there would be dire consequences. But you steeled yourself as you slipped into the room, quietly closing the door behind you. Your heart raced as you navigated the unfamiliar surroundings, searching for anything that could give you insight into who the Soldier was before he became the Winter Soldier.

As you searched the room, you came across a thick folder labeled "Winter Soldier Program". Your heart leaped in your chest, excitement and adrenaline rushing through you at the thought of finally being on the cusp of discovering the truth about the Soldier. Carefully, you picked up the file and flipped through the pages, scanning the contents with bated breath.

“Top secret: In accordance with your instructions, the KGB Directorate under the Council of Ministers of the Ukrainian SSR for the Lvov region, from October 1959 to April 1960, carried out measures to document and collect evidence about atrocities in the city of Lvov in the region committed by Oberlander and the battalion.”

You were surprised by what you were reading. The file contained documentation and evidence about atrocities committed during the period from 1959 to 1960 in Lvov. Oberlander, the leader of a battalion, was mentioned in the file as being responsible for these atrocities. This was not the type of information you were expecting to find. What could this have to do with the Soldier? Confused and intrigued, you continued to read through the file, searching for any clues or hints that would shed light on the connection.

Your breath caught in your throat as you laid eyes on an image of the Soldier, frozen in suspended animation in his cryo chamber. But the three words printed at the top of the page sent a chill down your spine: “James Buchanan Barnes.” This was it. This was the truth behind the Winter Soldier. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, a name that was undoubtedly his true identity before he was brainwashed and reprogrammed into a mindless HYDRA assassin.

The sound of approaching footsteps in the distance sent your heart racing with alarm. You quickly closed the files and shoved them back into place, knowing that if you were caught snooping around in Karpov's office, there would be severe consequences. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you quickly turned on your heel and fled from the office, shutting the door quietly behind you.

You found refuge in the examination room where you regularly took care of the Soldier. The familiarity of the space offered a momentary sense of security and solitude, allowing you a moment of respite to process the shocking information you had just uncovered. Your mind was racing as you tried to make sense of everything, your thoughts a tangled mess that refused to settle.

“Kotyonok?”

You were snapped out of your thoughts abruptly at the sound of the Soldier's voice. You spun around, the shock and surprise clear on your face as you found him standing there, watching you with a mixture of curiosity and concern in his eyes.

"Soldat," you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. "How long have you been there?”

"Long enough to know something’s wrong.”

You couldn't help but be taken aback by his perceptive response. The Soldier was much more observant than you had given him credit for. You hesitated, unsure of how to respond or what to say. Should you confide in him? Tell him what you had discovered?

As you hesitated, the Soldier stepped closer, closing the distance between the two of you. His eyes searched yours, looking for some hint of what was troubling you. The intensity of his gaze made you feel exposed, as if he could see through all your carefully erected defenses.

The surprise of his kiss took you off guard, but you quickly reciprocated, responding to his gentle touch with a soft sigh. Despite the turmoil stirring in your mind, the feel of his lips against yours was grounding, anchoring you in the moment and giving you a brief respite from your racing thoughts.

The closeness of his body, his arms holding you tightly, was a stark contrast to the distance he had placed between you previously. You couldn't help but wonder if he remembered the events that occurred during the chemical-induced frenzy, but you didn't dare ask. Despite the confusion and uncertainty, the warmth of his embrace and the way he was looking at you made your heart flutter in your chest.

His actions puzzled you, contradicting the memory of his cold and distant withdrawal of your last encounter with him. His embrace was tender and affectionate, filled with a familiarity that again hinted at a deeper connection between the two of you. Despite the confusion and uncertainty, a glimmer of hope flickered within you. Perhaps some part of him truly remembered and cared for you, buried deep beneath the layers of brainwashing and programming.

As he pushed you back onto the couch, a shiver of anticipation ran through your body. You could feel the intensity of his touch, the way his hands skimmed over your skin with deliberate purpose. The way he moved was practiced and confident, as if he knew exactly how to make your body react to his touch. You found yourself following his lead, responding to every movement as he positioned you just so.

His consuming touch drowned out all thought as you surrendered completely to the moment. Past revelations and discoveries faded into distant memory as his focus claimed your full attention. The world shrank until only the two of you remained, lost in a heady haze of desire and pleasure.

As he slowly undressed you, his hands on you were soft and reverent. It surprised you to see how he handled your clothes with care, as if they were precious and fragile like you. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every curve and contour with a look of admiration and longing. It was as though he was seeing you for the first time, as if your body was a treasure to be savored and cherished.

You couldn't help but melt under his touch, surrendering yourself completely to the sensations he was evoking. Every kiss, every whisper against your skin sent shivers down your spine, his words and caresses igniting a fire within you. You let him move you, shifting and arching your body as he wanted, completely consumed by the desire he sparked in you.

The way he spoke to you, the words of praise and admiration, sent a rush of warmth through your body, something more than pure lust. His eyes were fixated on your most intimate places, his gaze filled with hunger. You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, his words a soft whisper in your ear.

"Look at these breasts, so perfect."

He moved with purpose and precision, placing a pillow under your hips before positioning himself on top of you with a practiced ease. You felt the heat emanating from his body and the weight of him pinning you to the couch. His chin rested above your head and his chest mere inches from your face.

“So perfect, Kotyonok. So sweet and responsive.”

He took hold of your hands, his fingers interlacing with yours as he brought your arms above your head. The gesture, so intimate and possessive, sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine. You were completely restrained and at his mercy, yet somehow you knew you were safe in his hands.

“You feel amazing. Need your body against mine. Always.”

When he entered you, it was slow and methodical, but still filled with an urgent need that made your breath catch in your throat. The base of his shaft felt amazing against your lips and clit. He was angled slightly downward, making it easier to hit the back of your pussy. He moaned as he moved inside you, the sound filled with pleasure and satisfaction. His voice a low, rough whisper against your ear, his words carrying a hint of vulnerability that surprised you.

“You always know what I need, Kotyonok.”

He repeated the words, as if they were a mantra, a declaration of dependence and desire. His body moved against yours in a steady, gentle rhythm, each movement designed to drive you both closer to the edge of ecstasy.

No one had ever worshiped you quite the way your Soldat did. It made you wonder just how much of his true self was buried beneath layers of programming and indoctrination, and how much was left of the man he had been before Hydra had gotten their hands on him. Was he still James Buchanan Barnes inside?

As you wrapped your legs around his waist, a low gasp escaped his lips, and his movements stuttered for a brief moment.

“Ah, yes,” he murmured against your skin, “Just like that, Kotyonok. Just like that.”

He allowed you to set the pace and take control of your own pleasure, his movements matching the rhythm of your hips. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the friction and pressure as he rocked against you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. His breath was hot against your skin, his own moans of pleasure and approval sending waves of pleasure through your body.

“Feel so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So good, Kotyonok.”

You moved with more purpose now, pushing against him as you chased your release. Your body was taut and quivering with the thrill and anticipation. The sensations building and building until you felt like you were going to burst.

"That's it," he whispered, "Give yourself to me.”

He kept up the steady rocking of his hips, matching yours and driving you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension growing within him as well, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he held back his own release.

The words he whispered against your skin and in your ear provoked something deep within you, a stirring of emotions and feelings that you couldn't quite put into words. It was more than physical pleasure, more than just the heat of the moment. There was a depth and intensity to this connection, something that felt almost sacred in its intimacy.

As you lost yourself in the intensity of the moment, you found yourself feeling a sense of vulnerability and trust you had never experienced before.

As you squeezed your thighs together, the added pressure sent a shock of pleasure through his body, making him gasp and groan in response. His breath caught in his throat as he fought to remain in control.

“Ah, Kotyonok,” he choked out, “You're going to be the death of me.”

There was a hint of playful admonishment in his voice, but also a hint of genuine surprise and pleasure. Your actions were driving him wild, and he was struggling to hold back the rising tide building within him.

“Oh Milyy, I hope not,” you cooed.

He chuckled at your response, breathless and a little strained from the effort of holding back his own climax. His eyes met yours, a mixture of amusement and desire dancing in his gaze.

"No, I guess you wouldn't want that," he conceded, "But if you keep doing that, I can't make any promises."

He shuddered as you squeezed your thighs together again, the sensation almost enough to send him over the edge. But he was holding back with every ounce of self-control he possessed, his body taut and quivering with the effort. His breath was coming in ragged gasps as he fought to prolong the pleasure, determined to wait until you reached your own release before letting himself go.

“Cum for me, Kotyonok,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Let go. I want to feel you come undone for me.”

As you finally let go, surrendering to the wave of pleasure that crashed over you, he let out a guttural groan, the sound a mixture of relief and satisfaction. He held you close, his arms encircling you as he allowed himself to follow you over the edge.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice ragged and breathless, "Just like that."

He shuddered against you as he climaxed, his body trembling with the force of his release. He buried his face in your neck, panting and sighing as he rode out the intense waves of euphoria that coursed through him.

“That's it, Kotyonok,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and admiration. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

He slowly lowered his body, sinking deeper inside you until his face was level with yours. His grip on your hands loosened, and he let his weight rest on you, his body relaxed and spent.

He nuzzled against your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed lazy kisses along your jawline and collarbone.

“You're amazing,” he murmured, his voice still ragged with pleasure. “So beautiful. All mine.”

In that moment, as you lay entwined with the assassin, you knew you had found something rare and precious inside him. A connection that defied logic and reason, a love that could conquer even the darkest of shadows. As you surrendered to the passion that burned between you, you considered the possibility of soulmates. Had you found yours - in the most unexpected of places - in the arms of a killer, in the heart of a metal soldier who had once been lost but had finally found his way back home, to you?

As you carded your fingers through his hair, he let out a low, content sigh, his eyes drifting closed as he savored the feeling of your touch. There was something so intimate and tender about the gesture, a silent expression of affection and trust that spoke volumes without words.

He nuzzled against your hand, like a cat seeking more affection, his body still pliant and relaxed from your earlier lovemaking. It was rare to see him like this - unguarded and vulnerable, completely at ease.

“That feels nice,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

"You like that... James?" His name, the name that you'd read in his file, slipped out in your post orgasmic haze.

He stiffened at the sound of his name, his eyes snapping open and his breath catching in his throat. For a moment, he seemed frozen in shock and surprise, as if he hadn't expected to hear that particular name falling from your lips.

He turned to look at you, his expression a mixture of confusion and...something else. It was as if you had jolted something loose within him, a flicker of memory sparking in his mind.

“That name?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours as he processed the words. There was a hint of recognition flickering in his gaze, a subtle shift in his expression that betrayed his surprise at hearing his name.

A million thoughts seemed to flash through his mind in that moment, memories and emotions that he hadn't dwelt on in decades swirling through his brain. It was as if you had awakened something within him, some long-forgotten piece of his identity that he thought had been lost forever.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough and uncertain.

“How… how do you know that name?”

You hesitated. "I found a file... about you.”

He tensed at your words, his body going rigid as if preparing for some unseen blow. He pulled away from you, his expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he regarded you with a mixture of suspicion and resignation. Soldat pulled on his clothes.

"A file?" he repeated, his voice a low growl. "What kind of file?”

"Information. Your information.” You followed his example, pulling on your scrubs.

He let out a ragged breath, his gaze shifting away from yours as he processed your words. It was clear that he was struggling with his emotions, his usual icy exterior slipping as he battled his inner turmoil.

"And… what did this file say about me?" he asked quietly, his voice betraying a hint of wariness.

As he sat there, trembling with emotions he was struggling to keep under control, you could see the turmoil in his eyes. It was a side of the Winter Soldier you had never seen before, a glimpse of the tormented soul hiding beneath the gruff exterior.

He clenched his metal fist, the plates shifting as his fingers flexed and unflexed. His breathing was ragged, and you could hear the faint whirring of the gears in his prosthetic arm as tension thrummed through him.

You were about to say more when the door flew open. The sudden entry of Karpov was like a bucket of cold water dousing the already tense atmosphere in the room. Bucky froze, every muscle in his body tensing in an instant, as if preparing for some unseen attack.

His expression hardened, all traces of vulnerability and emotion vanishing in an instant. He looked every bit the deadly assassin he was, his body poised and ready for combat. 

Soldat's life had been defined by the will and agendas of others for so long, to the point where the concept of thinking for himself was practically foreign. He was a puppet, a weapon wielded by whatever master held his leash. He had been brainwashed and conditioned for decades, manipulated and used like a tool. Decades of obedience and submission had worn away any sense of self-determination or autonomy.

He knew only how to follow orders, how to act as he was told. He had been a soldier, a ghost, a machine. His life was not his own. But for a while, when he was with you, he could forget.

Karpov barked out his orders, demanding that his asset return to the stasis chamber. With practiced obedience, Soldat rose to his feet at Karpov's command. There was a glazed look in his eyes, a look of resignation mixed with the haunting emptiness that had become all too familiar to you.

Karpov didn't wait to see if Soldat would comply. He knew there was no choice involved. He moved mechanically, like a puppet on strings, his body responding automatically to Karpov's orders. He didn't even look at you as he walked past, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he followed his handler without question.

You followed them to the stasis chamber room where you were ordered to insert his IV. As you were preparing him for the memory wiping procedure, his voice caught you off guard. He was usually quiet, stoic, as he waited for the sedative to take effect. But this time, he had spoken to you, his words so quiet you almost didn't catch them.

You paused, looking down at him as you tried to make sense of his words. "Next time, Kotyonok." The words hung in the air, a secret shared between you in this cold, clinical room.

Soldat lay still, his body restrained in the stasis chamber, as the memory-wiping procedure began. The machinery whirred to life, gears and fluids flowing through tubes and wires, preparing to wipe away all trace of his memories.

And then, just seconds before the process fully took hold, a single tear crept down his cheek, a small, almost imperceptible sign of the frightened man beneath the fearsome assassin. A brief moment of vulnerability before the darkness took over once again.

Chapter 6B <MASTERLIST > Chapter 8

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | Track 6: Ain’t No Sunshine - Bill Withers

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: sexting?, explicit photographs, making out, angst, crying, heartbreak, high school breakups, breakups, estranged parent/strained parental relationship, depression, high school drama, anxiety, mentions of drinking, drinking, mentions of hookups/one night stands, unrequited love, PTSD mentions/explanations of reactions and behaviours due to PTSD, mentions of addiction/drugs, smoking, swearing, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

Sorry for the wait, but thank you for being patient with me! I love you guys to no end!! As always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

Also a special shout-out to @gretavangroupie and @gretavanmoon for always keeping me on track, putting up with my craziness, and for the unwavering support and encouragement 🤍 melodic memories wouldn’t be what it is without you 😌

Her POV

“Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone

It’s not warm when she’s away

Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone

And she’s always gone too long

Anytime she goes away”

Your phone chiming beside your laptop broke your attention from the endless list of Indeed applications you had half finished. You landed back in your chair, careful not to disturb Ozz, who was sound asleep on your thighs without a care in the world. You tapped the screen, hoping it would be a breath of hope for a job offer by a principal who was also plagued with insomnia, but instead realized it was a breath of hope for a much different reason. Jake’s contact name sat below the clock on your Lock Screen, letting you know that after everything, he still didn’t have the heart to hate you.

For some odd reason, you almost wished he did.

Hurting him was something you never wanted to do, but since meeting him, it was all you could do. Despite breaking his heart all over again, he never gave up hope on being friends, even if the label was bullshit and completely unfulfilling.

Being friends with him was hard, mostly because you didn’t want to be, and because you didn’t know how to be. Loving him was a constant state, and putting that to the side proved to be a daunting task despite you being the one to suggest it. Since the day you met him, you were head over heels, and even in his years of absence, it never went away. Being cordial without crossing lines and being friendly without any hidden agenda was difficult, but because you had promised him, you were committed to trying.

Since your talk with Mel the day prior, you felt better about your feelings, but still not certain. There was so much up in the air, still so many things that would not resolve without time, but you had taken it upon yourself to respond to his messages and keep up the friendly communication. It hurt, but it felt better than whatever the hell the previous few days had been. You were sober, still sad, but trying your best to make life as normal as possible despite the burgeoning sorrow that was begging to take over again. It was easier when you were burying yourself in the task of finding work, but that seemed to be the only distraction.

When it came down to it, your current state could only be blamed on your own stubbornness and stupidity.

You clicked on the notification, your Face ID immediately bringing you to the text chain. You scanned the message, seeing no words or greetings, but instead a link to Spotify. With furrowed brows, you clicked on it and waited for the app to load. Once it did, you wished you had ignored it completely. The familiar album cover sent a wave of tears rushing down your cheeks, without warning and without any hesitation. It seemed like a common theme as of recent.

Ain’t No Sunshine - Bill Withers

For a little extra salt in the wound, you pressed play and let the slow melody fill your ears. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the brief moment of pain be felt instead of pushing it down and letting it fester.

Another text popped up on the screen, force of habit making you click on it as soon as it appeared. When it brought you back to Jake’s thread, you noticed an image attatched below the song. You recognized the sight immediately, briefly considering blocking him and changing your name so you never had to feel this way again.

Still, you knew that running away would not rid you of the curse of loving a Kiszka. You tried it once before, and it left you in the exact same situation you ran away from.

For someone who said he would try his best to be just friends, him sending you pictures of him in his childhood bedroom and a link to a song that was an explicit telling of his heart was not very friend-like.

At the same time, you crying over said instances was also very far from friendly.

After only a few troublesome days, it seemed apparent that friends was never in the cards for the two of you.

You looked back at the bed, finding Mel sleeping soundly under the covers, unbeknownst to your troubles just a few feet away. If she were awake, you wondered what she would say. Would she push you to respond, to tell him that the world seemed bleak and lonely without him, too? Without even debating it, you already knew the answer.

Of course she would. It was an incredibly stupid thing to ask.

In fact, she would probably tell you exactly that, or she would be a little more coarse and unapologetic about it. So you drafted up a response with the ghost of Mel’s advice in the back of your mind. If he could be open and honest, so could you. Your fingers trembled as you typed your answer, stopping every now and then to gather your thoughts before continuing on. Eventually, you let out a breath of relief, hitting send on the text and watching as the blue line slid across the screen until it delivered.

You

Guess I’m not the only one having a hard time with friends.

Almost instantly, three dots popped up encased in a grey bubble, signifying he was already typing a response for you.

Jake ❤️

We’re in this together, just like always.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, sickened by the idea of you both suffering over the same thing when the solution was right in front of you. Together always, no matter if it was mutual happiness or to share sorrows.

Jake ❤️

What are you doing up so late, sunshine?

You

Damn job applications. Still no calls :(

Jake ❤️

They’re crazy for not calling you back. I know you’d be the best teacher at ANY school.

You

You think too highly of me 😅

Jake ❤️

Think you don’t give yourself enough credit.

You

What are YOU doing up so late? Sending such risqué texts at that.

Jake ❤️

At mom and dad’s house… had too much wine. Just waiting for Sam to shut up so he can drive us back to the hotel.

You

So I have a drunkard on my hands.

Jake ❤️

I wish I was in your hands, but we’re friends now so I guess that’s off the table.

Your cheeks turned red, your stomach twisting with knots at the simple thought of touching him again. Of course you’d rather be there, drinking wine and retelling childhood stories while sat on the couch, maybe even with his hand on your knee as you leaned into his side. You wanted it all, but only ever with him, and it was torture to pretend you didn’t. He made it so hard to keep your morals in check, and the longer you talked to him the less you seemed to care about the reasons why you left. Maybe you ignoring him had little to do with your own sadness and everything to do with his ability to change your mind about things.

You wanted him—you needed him. To feel his arms around you, to hear the sweet melodies of his voice, to feel the love radiating from him straight into you. You were sick of the self-inflicted punishments, tired of holding back. You missed him, and you couldn’t bear to feel it any longer, especially when he was so close to you.

Jake ❤️

Sorry, sunshine. I’m trying my best.

You

Don’t apologize.

With that, you gave in to the temptation and closed your laptop. You carefully placed Ozz on the bed, so gently that he didn’t even stir from his sleep. As you clicked on his contact and dialled his number, you snuck out of your bedroom and let the door fall shut behind you. The dial tone didn’t even have a chance to ring once before he picked up, his raspy tone filling your ears and easing the ache in your chest that had been bothering you for days.

“Do friends call each other at one in the morning?” He teased, the slight slur in his tone telling you he certainly did indulge in too much wine.

“You want me to hang up?” You shot back, bluffing of course, but warning him nonetheless.

“Not at all.” He responded without missing a beat. “Job hunt too boring? Needed some excitement?”

“Something like that.” You hummed, pacing the hallway outside of your bedroom. You had no idea why you were so nervous, especially considering you’d been in this position a million times before. For some reason, it felt different now, more real and much more terrifying. You let out a sigh, deciding to rip off the bandaid and get straight to the point. “You still have that pack of Newports?”

“Just smoked one.” He confirmed. “Why?”

“I have a bottle of strawberry wine. The cheap stuff, like I used to drink when we were kids.” You swallowed hard, wondering if he understood your intent. He was silent, the static crackling over the line the only inkling he was still there. After a moment, he cleared his throat, and you could only imagine his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he tried to swallow back his nerves.

“Does that mean what I think it does?”

“Let Sam talk, Jake.” You confirmed. “I’ll take you home later.”

“Are you sure, sunshine? This isn’t very friend-like… ‘least it wasn’t way back then.”

“Shove it with the friend thing. It was a really stupid thing to say. I need you Jake, no matter what fucking label we put on it.” You rushed out, knowing you were only breaking your own rules because you were overtired and sad. Still, the only place you wanted to be was in his arms, and nothing would take that feeling away. “Are you in or out?”

“In. Always.” He assured you.

“I’ll meet you halfway.” You couldn’t measure the amount of relief you felt.

“See you in ten.” He promised. Without another word, he ended the call, leaving you staring at your lock screen with uncertainty bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

Instead of dwelling, you snuck back in your room to grab a hoodie. You slipped it over your head as you walked downstairs, grabbing your keys from the kitchen table as you slipped on your shoes. You locked the door behind you, carefully trodding down the porch steps and into the night. The air was cool, the grasshoppers and crickets working together to make an ambient atmosphere in your front yard. You cut through the lawn, feeling the dew of the grass stick to your ankles as you checked for headlights on the road.

You started at a slow pace down your street, your heart racing as the moonlight illuminated the way. Street lamps were few and far between, casting yellow hues over the horizon as you approached your first turn. Keeping on the sidewalk, you marched down the side street and noticed that nobody was waiting for you at the end. Your stomach sank, wondering if maybe he had enough of your ridiculous mood swings and decided not to come at all. You tried not to get in your own head too much as you neared the four way intersection, hearing nothing but distant cars on the highway.

You tapped your foot against the pavement as you stood in the middle, never letting your eyes leave the road that led to his house. After a few more minutes of nothing, your disappointment was growing stronger by the second. You tried to tell yourself that Jake would never leave you hanging, not with your hopes up and your heart splayed on your sleeve. At the same time, you knew if he did, you would be nothing other than deserving of it. You took his love and his kindness for granted, hurting him more than you cared to admit even if it was for his own sake, and if he thought it was justifiable to leave you looking like an idiot, you would have to agree.

Then, your whirlwind of thoughts came to a halt. A shadow appeared under a streetlight, giving you a glimpse of hope back. Seconds later, you could see the outline of a body in the near distance. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his jeans, his long hair hanging down over his shoulders, and the cutoff t-shirt he was wearing hung loosely from his torso.

It was Jake.

Your Jake—the very same as he was six years ago when he used to meet you in that exact spot.

Knowing that made you feel at ease, calm despite the constant storm of emotions trying to ruin your life. It felt right, walking to meet him under the moonlight, seeing his silhouette under the street lamps. Things were so different, but eerily similar to those memories you cherished most. Without hesitation, you started to walk towards him, your feet carrying you forward despite your brain telling you not to. Your pace sped the closer you got to him, and before you knew it, you were running towards him in hopes he would greet you with the same enthusiasm.

“Sunshine!” Jake laughed, tumbling backwards as you collided into him and engulfed him in a hug. His arms wrapped around you as your head settled on his chest, and as if it were a natural response, he lifted you off your feet and spun you around.

You wondered, after so much heartbreak, how could things still feel so perfect?

“What’s gotten into you?” He asked, carefully placing you back on the ground and pulling away. His warm eyes scanned your face, noticing the shine of tears still lingering and your red nose. “Hey,” his lips dipped into a frown, only making the ache in your chest worsen.

“I’m just… I’m sorry. About everything. The last four days have been awful, and I just… I didn’t want to leave it like that, I guess. You deserve more.”

“Nothing a little rooftop conversation can’t fix, right? Always seemed to work before.” At that, a small smile turned your lips. You sniffled back any remaining sadness, giving him a curt nod to show him you agreed wholeheartedly.

The walk back to your house was relatively peaceful, and he had tested his luck and intertwined his fingers with your own for the short distance. You didn’t have the heart or the desire to turn him away, so you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment while you still could. Inside, you grabbed a few blankets and the last bottle of wine stored in the refrigerator. Then, like it was only yesterday, the two of you trekked into the spare bedroom and you watched as he popped out the screen on the window. Carefully, he climbed out first, grabbing the items from your hands so you could do the same.

When your feet were firmly planted on the rickety tin of the roof, he laid the blanket down and motioned for you to take a seat. Once you did, he sat behind you, his legs settling on either side of your own as he wrapped his arms around your torso. You leaned into the touch, resting your back against his chest as you looked up at the stars twinkling in the sky. For a single moment, you were seventeen again—the smell of Newports stuck to his clothes and the warmth of his body made you believe that no worldly trouble could touch you. You were seventeen, happy and carefree, long before heartbreak ever touched you and the end was even in sight.

But, no good thing could last forever, and the two of you were far too good to last for more than a small glimpse of time.

“Talk to me, sunshine.” He broke the silence, his voice quiet as he watched the same stars you’d focused your attention on.

“Been a long time since we came up here together.” You whispered, tracing small hearts into the back of his hand with your index finger. “I never came up here again after we… I couldn’t. Didn’t feel right.” He didn’t respond to your confessions. Instead, you felt his chin rest on the very top of your head, the pressure light and the position only so he could try and be closer to you. “Why’d you send me that song?”

“You know why.” You did, but you wanted to hear from him. “It’s you, Sunshine. It always has been, and it always will be. Every time I step foot in that house, you’re the only thing I can see. In my bed, laying on the couch in the basement, on a blanket in the backyard, bothering Sam in the doorway of his bedroom. It’s you. Even if you call us friends, that will never change.”

You reached for the bottle of wine, cracking the cap and taking a small sip. You decided it would be needed for such a heavy conversation, and you could keep him here for long enough to sober up and drive him home. As the liquid travelled down your throat, you were plagued with the thought that the sweetness couldn’t even compare to the kind in which came from his words. Even so, you continued to swallow it down in hopes it would wash away the taste of those from your tongue.

“Are you mad?” You asked, looking down at the point your hand met with his. His silence struck you harder than you thought it would, but you couldn’t blame him if he was.

“Not mad.” He replied, taking his time to collect his thoughts on the matter. “Frustrated, but not mad. Think I was at first, but Josh and Sam put things into perspective for me.”

“Mel helped me with that, too.” You hummed, taking another swig from the chilled bottle.

“Why do you think this is the only way?” He blurted the question out, the liquor getting the best of him and furthering his curiosity. He needed answers, but he was unsure if the ones you provided would help. Before you responded, you offered the bottle to him in hopes it would make it easier for him too.

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.” Your voice was so quiet that he could barely hear it over the ambient noise of the night. “Feel like that’s all I ever do, anyway.” He wanted to argue, to tell you how wrong it was and list every good thing you had ever brought to his life, but he didn’t. Instead, he settled on one simple statement he prayed would get his point across clearly.

“If all you did was hurt me, do you really think I’d still be here?” You swallowed the fact with struggle, feeling the truth get stuck in your throat as it began to choke you. Your eyes watered and your lungs burned because for a moment, you forgot how to breathe, and you hated yourself for pushing a narrative on him and forcing him to take it. “You are so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

Silence became the two of you again, neither one of you willing to rock the boat any further as you digested the answers to your questions. You listened to the dull thud of his heart against his chest, feeling it on your skull if you focused for long enough. You wondered, if he was a separate being and the two of you were your own entities, why did it feel like your heart existed alongside his own, beating in the same rhythm to make the same song, against the flesh and bone that made him? Your own chest felt empty, hollow and barren. It ached with a fervor and the nothingness seemed to taunt you when he wasn’t near. Now, in his arms, you could feel the beat of your own heart after days of missing it.

“Talk to me.” He repeated his earlier statement, his free hand reaching up to brush the locks of hair from your face. His fingers ran through the knotted strands, eventually reaching the end where he twisted them around his index finger. The small action was so akin to his love, the gentleness and the care that went into it telling of all he felt for you. “You called first. You asked me to come over. Something’s bothering you.”

He was right, but it was not some trivial thing or instance that plagued your thoughts. It was everything; the entire world as a whole, your life being so different than the one you envisioned. How could you explain what your troubles were when trouble was the only thing you knew?

Well, that, and love by his hand.

When considering the latter, the world didn’t seem so bleak after all.

“I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going.” You stated, blunt enough to make you regret it. You wished talking about your feelings was easier, that communication could come naturally rather than all or nothing.

“So you’ve said.” He let out a low chuckle, the warm skin of his hand drifting across your cool cheek reminding you that you were alive and awake, rather than stuck in a twisted dream.

“I dunno… guess that I always had this plan. Since I was little, even before my dad left, I knew where this life would take me and how I wanted it to go, how I would handle it. The older I get, the more I realize I never had it figured out, and it’s really bothering me. Way more than I thought it would.”

“Oh, sunshine.” Jake hummed, soft and sweet as the pad of his thumb drifted across your skin. You could hear the smile in his voice, but you weren’t sure why. Either way, it felt good to know it was there, even if your misery clouded every other aspect of your life. “None of us ever had it figured out, even if we thought so. Nobody does, even now. That’s the beauty of life, is it not?”

“God, you sound like Josh.” You scoffed, the corners of your lips turned upwards into a smirk. “When did that happen?”

“Yeah, maybe that was a bit much.” He agreed, his shoulders shaking with a laugh. “Spend a lot of time with him on the road. Kinda hard not to pick up some habits from him.”

“Where’s Jake? I want his answer, not the philosophical shit you pulled from one of Josh’s guides to enlightenment.” You teased, craning your head backwards to catch a glimpse of his face. As you did, you almost wished you didn’t, finding it incredibly hard to tear your eyes away from him.

“Jake’s right here, sunshine. If I answer, will you listen?” He raised an eyebrow, teasing you just the same. He had a point; you were quite pigheaded when it came to anyone else’s opinion, even if you tried your best not to be.

“I will, I promise.” You withheld the fact that all you wanted to do was listen to him, that if he stayed, you would promise to listen until your very last dying breath.

“Okay,” he let out a long breath. “I’m drunk, so bear with me.” At that, a giggle fell from your lips, bits of joy stuck in your teeth despite worrying you’d never feel it again. “Out of everyone I know, you’ve always had it together. You knew where you were going, what you were doing, and most of the time, you knew what everyone else was doing, too. Or what they should have been doing, at least.” A smile struck your lips, full but still sad because he was right. Planning and preparing were the two very things that kept you going, even if it made you overlook emotions and fun. “You still have it together, Y/N, even if things aren’t going exactly the way you wanted.”

“I just… I feel like after all this work, all of this time, I should be somewhere, be something.” You let out an exasperated sigh, your head falling back against his chest with a thud. “Instead, I’m almost twenty-five, still living in my moms house with no job and relying on my high school boyfriend to help pick me up off the ground.”

“Hey,” his interruption was curt, gruff almost as he voiced his distaste for your statement. “You’re not relying on me. I’m not forced to be here because you couldn’t do it alone. I want to be here. I offered to be here. I jumped at the chance, actually.” He said, his lips hovering over your ear as he leaned in further. He smelled like cheap cigarettes and red wine, the two fighting a losing battle against his expensive cologne. It was hard to resist the temptation, to hold yourself back from kissing him and confusing the two of you even further. “Besides, I’m not picking you up off the ground, ‘cause you were never down there in the first place.” The vibrations of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and the warmth of his breath made your stomach flutter. “Also, I’d like to think I’m a little more than just your old high school boyfriend.”

“You are.” The words slipped out with little thought, forcing you to explain your thoughts further. “You’re everything, bug. It’s always been you, too.” You took another sip of wine, swallowing back the heaviness of your statement. Even if the time was wrong, even if you weren’t meant to be, you would always be his. In this lifetime, his presence would always be the only thing you ever craved.

“You’ll get a job, sunshine. I bet you ten bucks you’ll get a call tomorrow.” At that, you let out a dry, sarcastic laugh. It had been months since you finished school, and months since you’d been waiting for an offer. For him to think the tables would suddenly turn was naïve, even if it was comforting. You knew that if everyone else in the world stopped believing in you, even if they thought your amount to nothing, he would continue to cheer you on.

Perhaps he was betting on a job offer for his own personal agenda. If you had certainty again, if you knew where you were going, you wouldn’t be so afraid to let him in.

“You’re funny, Jake.” You dismissed him, saddened as you continued to watch the sky.

“I’ll be expecting ten dollars, then.” He squeezed you a little tighter, the action pulling you further into him. You wanted to tell him that you never wanted him to let go, but you bit your tongue as you realized how selfish it was. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” You assured him.

“Is that why you left? The first time, and this time?” You froze, his question blunt and an answer just out of reach. You wondered what tipped him off, what forced him to ask such a question? You weren’t sure what exactly he was referring to, so before responding you thought it best to ask.

“What… what do you mean?”

“You’re a planner. You always knew how your life would go… and you never expected me. I turned it upside down the first time, and then you left and got yourself back on track… you learned how to be alone and you figured your shit out, just for me to show up and throw things out of whack again.” He seemed to be struggling to explain, but you were following him. “You like control, and you like certainty, and when you love someone this much, it kinda feels like everything is out of control. You don’t know if I’ll leave, or if we’ll run into trouble that causes more bad than good, and you don’t know what I’m thinking or where I’m going to end up. You being with me… kinda makes you accept a whole shitload of uncertainty, and you love certainty.”

“Jake, even if I went back in time and knew that I would end up with you, that we would end up like this, it still never would have prepared me for it.” You breathed, trying to wrap your head around the complexity and intensity of the emotions you felt for him. “I don’t think any kind of logic or sense could explain this. The way I feel for you… it’s so overwhelming, so unlike anything I’ve ever felt. When people used to talk about love, I never ever thought it would feel like this.” You swore you could feel his heart beat faster as you continued to speak, but you did your best to ignore it so you could keep your composure. “It scares me a little, and maybe it’s part of the reason why I left, but it’s so much more than that. The uncertainty was worth it, because I never felt like you would do anything to make me regret it. Even now, you still haven’t.”

“So what is it? Explain it to me, because we were all over the place that morning, and I just need to understand it.”

“I left because I love you.” You replied, toying with a loose thread on the blanket below you. “Because all I’ve ever wanted was to see you succeed, to live a life you always dreamed about, and I’m terrified of standing in the way of it. I saw the notifications on your phone, and it scared the shit out of me. I thought you were going to put your whole life on pause to figure us out, and I couldn’t handle it. You worked so hard for this, just like you did way back then, and I can’t ruin it for you. I’m so fucked up right now… drinking wine on the roof because I’m twenty-five and directionless. I can’t force you to plan your life around me when it’s so crazy right now. I don’t know where I’ll end up, and I guess I’m afraid if we do try again, you’ll regret it. I can handle a lot, but I couldn’t handle knowing you resented me.”

“That would never happen.” He said, his heart aching at the simple thought of you believing he could house such feelings towards you.

“But you don’t know that.” You argued. “When we were eighteen, we ended this on good terms to avoid that feeling. When you came back and I saw you, I was so excited and happy that I forgot about everything else… I ignored any consequences. I’m no better off now than I was then, and to tie you down when you’ve spent the last few years with so much freedom… I can’t, Jake.”

As you said it aloud, Mel’s voice rang louder in the back of your head, telling you that you couldn’t make that decision for him. At the same time, what else could you do? Could you risk the very thing you were determined to avoid? Could you chance all of his love for you being replaced with a bitter, cold emotion that would haunt you for the rest of your life?

“If you’re worried about me, you don’t have to be.” He hummed, fighting every urge to argue. It was easy for him to respond with counterattacks and emotion, because the whole situation frustrated him beyond belief, but you loved logic, and he was trying his hardest to speak from his brain rather than his heart. “My career is important to me. It’s been a long and difficult journey to get where we are, and I’m thankful for it every day. I wouldn’t just give it up, Y/N. My brothers, my fans… I have people counting on me. At the same time, work can only get you so far. When I’m old and tired, the stage isn’t going to be sitting beside me on a porch somewhere. My guitar will be in the living room, collecting dust because my hands hurt too much to play it. There’s a point where all of that is going to be a memory—a damn good one, but a memory.”

You weren’t sure why it hurt so bad, but the thought of him not playing his guitar had struck an agonizing chord in your heart.

“Before I met you, I never thought I could love something else the same way I love music. Then, you showed up, and everything changed. Were not kids, and I’d like to think we’re a lot less stupid. We can have two things at once. I can handle that, even if I didn’t think I could back then. I want you beside me on that porch, bitchin’ at me ‘cause all the guitar does is collect dust. You wouldn’t stand in the way of anything, ‘cause since that day I promised you I’d love you forever, I knew what I was signing myself up for. I will love you forever, and that dream always included you, sunshine. It was never just me up on that stage; it was also you, cheering me on and giving me the encouragement to keep going.”

Your cheeks were damp again, the tears free flowing and your misery loud enough for the whole world to hear. How was he so perfect, in everything he did and every word he said? How was it fair that two people could love each other so much but have so many things stand in the way?

“Loving you is the only thing I know how to do.” You confessed, raising your palms to your cheeks to swipe away the tears. “I promised too, and I meant it. I swear I could never love anyone else like this.”

“No need to cry, beautiful.” He hugged you tighter, encasing you in a blanket of protection that not even the strongest force could break through. “I let you leave the first time because I was scared. I’m letting you go this time because I want you to be ready, too. I’ve been waiting six years, Y/N. If it takes six more for you to get there, I’ll still be waiting. You are worth every bad thing and every day spent alone. Nobody else could ever be what you are to me.”

“God, shut up.” You laughed despite the sadness, a smile contradicting your tears. “Stop making me fall for you all over again.”

“Too bad,” he laughed, watching as you twisted yourself around so you could look at him. “I promised to love you, so get used to it sunshine.” The warmth of his eyes made you feel like everything was going to be okay, even if everything else in the universe was trying to convince you otherwise. When he was out of sight, it felt like the world was ending, but as soon as your eyes landed on him, you felt stupid for ever worrying at all. “Can you promise me something?”

“You sure you want me to? Our promises seem more like curses.” You tried to joke despite the truth being horribly painful.

“Never a curse, sweetheart, even if it does hurt sometimes.” He assured you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. “Promise me that when you’re ready, you’ll let me know.” Your lips turned down into a frown, saddened at the idea of him waiting patiently for you to get your shit together.

“The second I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“And if there’s ever a time you know for sure I’m not what you want, I need to know that, too.” You almost laughed at the incredulous statement, knowing that in this lifetime, not wanting Jake wasn’t a possibility. But, for his sanity, you gave a small nod, assuring him that you would tell him if it did happen to come true. “Thank you for calling me tonight.”

“Thank you for coming. I know I don’t deserve anything from you, but you were the only person I wanted to talk to.” You spun around, now facing him and carefully laying your legs over his thighs. He smiled down at you, his hands resting on your hips as he pulled you closer to him.

“You deserve everything, sunshine.” He whispered, his eyes twinkling under the pale moonlight. You swore, for a single second, you could see the entire universe in the near black of his irises. “Anytime you want me here, I’ll be here. I’ve always been a call away, even if it didn’t seem like it.”

“You were right.” Your stomach was twisted in a knot, the faint hint of alcohol on his breath making your head spin. Your face being so close to his was making it hard to think of anything else, his presence intoxicating as an invisible force pushed you further into his arms.

“About?” He raised his eyebrow, seemingly caught in the same flurry of emotions as you. The tip of his nose was nearly brushing yours, his eyelids heavy as his fingers tightened their hold on you.

“This isn’t very friend-like.” You whispered, inching your lips closer to his.

“I did tell you that it would be hard to be friends.” He reminded you, one of his hands slowly removing itself from your hip to cup your face.

“Yeah, because I don’t want to be friends.” You nearly scoffed the words, disgusted at the thought of it. If it were easier, if the world wasn’t so complicated and cruel, you never would have forced the title on the two of you.

“Me neither.” He agreed. “So let’s not be friends.”

“What else could we be?” You giggled, finding his statement silly considering the predicament you found yourselves in.

“Two people in love, that can’t fully be together yet.” He replied. “Feel like it fits us a little better.”

“That’s a complicated title.” You teased, his lips so close to yours you could almost taste him on your tongue.

“It’s nobody’s business but ours.” He smiled, the softness of his features in the dim light of the night reminding you of a younger version of him. The two of you, in perfect unison, happiness on your faces but lingering sadness in your hearts reminded you of a simpler time, one with a much less complex relationship, when you could be together with no worries.

“Okay, sounds good to me.” In that moment, you would have agreed to anything he said, solely because you couldn’t imagine causing him any more trouble.

“Is there rules for this?” He asked, clearly running on the same train of thought as you were.

“Not tonight, ‘cause we’re just trying to figure it out, right?”

“Right.” He nodded gently, searching your face for any sigh of discomfort. When he could find none, he finally leaned forward and closed the gap between you.

The taste of him was sweet on your lips, fulfilling and so unlike anything else. The simple action left your head spinning and your chest aching, and you wondered if something felt this good, why it could not last forever. His hand held you to him, unwilling to let you slip away before he could fully enjoy the moment. It didn’t take long for him to test his luck, his tongue grazing your lower lip as he silently begged you for more. He barely had to ask—you were bending to his will and parting your lips in an instant, your hands tangling in his hair as your chest pressed against his own.

There were no fireworks, no butterflies or anything like what the movies would describe. Instead, it felt right, like the two of you were meant to be together on the rooftop of your childhood home one last time. When he pulled away, you were breathless, more stars dancing in your eyes than in the sky behind you, and the stupid smile on your lips made you regret every decision you had made in the previous four days.

“Whatever you do sunshine, whatever we are… please don’t disappear again. I sent you that song earlier because it’s true. It’s dark when you’re gone—the sun doesn’t shine and the birds don’t sing, and I can’t handle not having you in my life. As friends, as lovers, as enemies, I don’t care, as long as we’re something.” The pleading tone nearly turned you to dust, the remorse and regret for hurting him so badly seeming to eat you alive as you sat in his arms.

“I won’t disappear.” You promised, closing your eyes so he could not see the tears welling up once again. “I’m perfectly fine with being in love, but not fully together… yet.”

“Good, because I like that a hell of a lot more than I like friends.” He let out a sigh of relief, his eyes flickering to the sky to lessen the intensity of your staring contest. Then, out of nowhere, his eyes lit up and a smile broke out on his face. “Look, sunshine!” He exclaimed, causing you to jump. You whipped your head around, your eyes following the direction of his in just enough time to catch the tail end of—“a shooting star.”

“Make a wish, quick!” You matched his energy, remembering how many stars you wished upon when you were young and in love. For a long time, you cursed the stars and universe because none of the hopeful desires ever seemed to come true—especially the ones you wished upon without him there beside you. Now, sitting on the rooftop with him, held so tightly in his arms, your faith had suddenly been restored. You had gotten everything you ever wished for in the single moment you were sharing with him now.

The both of you closed your eyes, the wispy bright tail of the shooting star still fresh in your minds as you settled on the things you wanted most from this life.

He wished for you.

You wished for him.

Funny how after so many years, your greatest desires hadn’t changed one bit.

☾𖤓

You threw your keys down on the kitchen table, exhausted and sad as you returned home alone. For a few hours, the two of you sat on the roof talking about everything and anything that came to mind, and only when the peek of the sun in the sky began to show did you decide it was best you take him home. You held back your tears the entire drive, not daring to ask the dreaded question of when he would be flying back to Nashville. Instead, you passed the time with laughter and a few more stolen kisses, only making the departure harder when the automatic hotel doors closed behind him.

It was hard watching him walk away when you wanted to do nothing more than walk beside him.

A slow and tear filled drive home left you questioning all of your life choices, and the sun shining bright in the sky did nothing other than taunt you as you made your unusual walk of shame to your own front door. You felt like you had no tears left to cry, but somehow a few still slipped down your cheeks as you collapsed on the couch, too tired to make the trek upstairs. The chill of the night was still settled deep in your bones, and as you threw a tiny blanket over your legs and laid your head on a throw pillow, you could only remember how warm and safe it was to be in his arms.

You clicked on the television for some background noise, playing whatever channel your mother had left on before she went to bed as you begged for sleep to take you. You closed your eyes, the ghost of a migraine throbbing behind your forehead as you noticed the smell of Jake’s cologne stuck to the fibres of your sweater, which was comforting just as much as it was sickening. You reached above your head, your fingertips grazing the material of the curtains as you tried to slide it across the window to block the rays of sun. Eventually, you managed to pull it halfway across, which was good enough for you.

Just as you felt yourself begin to drift off, you heard the familiar chime of your text tone, forcing your eyes open once again. With a huff of annoyance, you reached into your pocket and pulled it out, just in time to feel the vibration of the second text that followed. You held the screen just a few inches from your face, squinting so you could focus your eyes on the words.

Jake ❤️

Since we’re no longer friends, I…

The preview only read so far, frustrating you further as you struggled to activate your Face ID in the dimly lit room. Eventually, you gave up and put in your passcode, wondering what was so important that he had to text you after your long night spent together. Even if it was important, you were sure it could have waited until the morning.

Or, afternoon, more likely.

Jake ❤️

Since we’re no longer friends, I thought it would be acceptable to tell you how fucking bad I wish you were here to keep me company.

Your stomach twisted with a sudden burst of emotion at his words, worsened further by the photograph he attatched below the already blunt message. Suddenly, you were wide awake and sleep was no longer a passing thought. Freshly showered with a towel hung low on his hips, Jake’s face was hidden behind the phone taking said picture in the foggy bathroom mirror. His hair, not even bothered to be towel dried, was dripping water down his tanned chest, and in the small frame of his face that you could see, a smirk was on the corner of his lips.

Beneath the towel, though, was what caught your attention more than anything else. His dick, half hard and pressing against the fabric, sent you down a steep spiral that nearly made you jump from the couch and drive back to his hotel. You swallowed hard, squeezing your eyes shut as you let your head push further into the pillow below you.

Maybe, in love and not fully together would be far harder than just sticking damn friends.

☾𖤓

You woke with a start, your head pounding and your heart racing as your phone rang loudly on your chest. You blinked hard, trying to adjust to the bright light pooling in through the large windows behind you. With a long intake of breath, you pushed yourself upwards, grabbing your phone in one hand and rubbing your face with the other. You peeked at the screen, recoiling at the brightness as you tried your best to adjust. Once you did, you felt your stomach drop and your chest tighten.

Private number.

Could it really be?

You cleared your throat, straightening yourself out as you hit accept on the call. Putting on your friendliest and most professional persona, you placed the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N?” On the other side of the phone was a man, curt but seemingly friendly enough.

“Yes, speaking.” You replied, trying to ignore the pull of your heartstrings. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, terrified of getting excited only to be let down.

“So nice to finally be in touch with you again!” He greeted again, chipper and cheery as he realized he was speaking with the right person. “I’m not sure if you remember me—we had a brief meeting here when you dropped off your application. My name is Bruce Myers and I’m calling on behalf of the English Faculty at the University of Michigan.”

“Hi, Mr. Myers. Of course I remember, it’s a pleasure to be speaking with you again.” You responded, now awake and on high alert as you prepared for the best or the worst news of your life.

“Please, Bruce is fine.” He chuckled. “I have to say, I’ve been sitting in my office reading over your resume all morning. All week, actually.” He cleared his throat. You could hear a chair wheel squeaking in the background, then a rustle of papers as he shuffled them around at his desk. “Top of your class in high school, and at UPenn. 5 years experience as a TA, and an achievement and awards list I’m not sure I could compare to.” Your cheeks turned red at the compliment, a fizzle of excitement sparking in your chest. You did your best to extinguish it, remembering that nothing was set in stone and he could be talking you up in hopes of letting you down easy.

“Thank you, Bruce. It’s been a long road to get here, but as I hope you can see, education has always been a top priority for me. When I came back to Michigan, I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to apply at such a fantastic university.” You tried to hide the nervous shake in your tone, biting down on the tip of your tongue as you cringed at your own words. You hoped you weren’t coming on too strong, too desperate.

“I can speak on behalf of all of us when I say we’re incredibly lucky to have received your application.” He let out a small chuckle, taking in a breath as he got lost in thought for a moment. “As I’m sure you know, hiring qualified candidates has been a struggle for everyone as of late.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” You allowed yourself to let out a small laugh, keeping up small talk but eager for him to get to the point.

“I hope we didn’t take too long to reach out—if it were up to me, I would have hired you on the spot, but of course we had a few hoops to jump through first.” Your heart raced, your eyes sparkling as he continued to talk. “If you’re interested and still available, we’d like to extend the offer for you to join us here for the month of August. With no prior lecturing experience, it’s a little more difficult to give you the position immediately, but we’ve all come to the agreement it would be foolish of us to pass up the opportunity to bring in someone who’s so eager to learn.”

“And what exactly would that entail?” You swallowed hard, wanting to agree immediately but knowing it was best to take your time with it.

“Well, four weeks of training, which is as much for you as it is for us. You would be under a mentor, learning the basics and balance of such a fast paced program. It would give you an opportunity to learn the campus, learn about your colleagues at the same time, and it would also allow us to get to know you. It would be probationary, of course, but if at the end of the four week term we’re all on the same page, we could have you teaching an intro to literature course for the fall semester.”

Your mouth went dry, your palms clammy and your heart racing. You were too stunned to speak, so excited that you thought you might have to pinch yourself to pull yourself from a dream. You’d been waiting for a call for weeks, losing hope and more disappointment growing by the day. You barely expected a grade school to reach out, let alone a university.

Then, at the back of your mind, you heard it—loud and clear, and tantalizing.

“You’ll get a job, sunshine. I bet you ten bucks you’ll get a call tomorrow.”

He was right, and you struck him down as if he was speaking nonsense.

With Jake’s words of encouragement echoing in your mind, you pulled yourself out of your state of shock and nodded eagerly, even if the man on the other end of the phone could not see it.

“I would be delighted to join you, and even more so to prove that I’m the right person for the job.”

“Excellent.” He boomed, relived that you accepted the offer. “Why don’t you come down to campus on Friday. We can discuss some more details, really get into the specifics… expectations and salaries and such. Does that work for you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “That’s perfect. Any time works.”

“Let’s say ten, and go from there?” He offered, clearly willing to work with you on the matter.

“Of course, ten is great. I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it, Y/N. If you have any questions or concerns between now and then, please feel free to reach out to me. I’ve forwarded some information to the email you have on your resume, so you can respond there, or give me a call during business hours if that suits you better.” He explained, the rustling papers ceasing and the squeak of his chair no longer audible.

“Thank you for taking a chance on me, Bruce. I’ll be sure to reach out if I can think of anything.”

“Perfect, thank you. Goodbye for now, and we’ll talk on Friday.”

“See you Friday!” You let a little excitement slip, but he didn’t seem to notice or care as he ended the call. When the line disconnected, it left you staring at the Lock Screen of your phone with an unfamiliar feeling twisting your stomach.

You were nervous, but thrilled to have an opportunity like such. It was the biggest moment of your life, the most exciting change and the very thing you’d been waiting for. You were so filled with energy you could have run laps around the house, the few hours of sleep barely bothering you as you reran the conversation through your head a million times.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed to yourself, quiet but still enough to express some of the joy you were feeling. Just as you did so, paws against the floor sounded and Ozz appeared in the doorway, happy to share your excitement and most definitely looking for someone to fill his food dish. He approached the couch, jumping up and landing on your legs as he began to purr. “I have a job, Ozz. I actually have a job!” You scratched behind his ear, knowing it was insane to share such sentiments with a cat, but unable to keep it locked up.

Then, the realization struck you; you had to tell people, share the great news and celebrate accordingly.

The only issue was, the first person that came to mind was not your best friend who lived the struggle with you, still sleeping upstairs and awaiting good news. It wasn’t your mother, there by your side every minute of every day of your life, cheering you on and holding your hand. It wasn’t your sister, and it wasn’t even your cat.

Jake was the only person in the whole world you wanted to share the news with.

Even if he should not be that person for you anymore, even if he didn’t care as much as the others would, you couldn’t bear to speak to anyone else but him. Telling someone else before him nearly sickened you, because after everything you had been through with him, he was the only person who deserved to know. He listened to you speak your dreams aloud from fifteen to now, studied with you, filled out university applications with you, and sent you off to school even when all you wanted to do was turn around, even if it hurt him so badly to do so. Even during the six years he was absent, there was a part of you that continued on solely because he was alive, existing at the same time as you somewhere in the world. His absence never had any effect on the support and love and encouragement he always gave to you.

So, you did exactly that; you clicked his contact, immediately drafting up a message and hitting send without thinking twice.

You

I have ten bucks here with your name on it, bug. I never could have done any of this without you. I love you more than you could ever know ❤️

You didn’t care if he responded, nor if he ever read it. It felt right to express the truth, freeing to be completely transparent with him. He deserved to know how much he meant to you, how his impact on you lasted through years of life, survived through every struggle, and existed in your heart even when he was not right in front of you. He was responsible for every good thing, every accomplishment and triumph you ever experienced, because his love made you into the person who stared back at you in the mirror. Loving Jake was never an option because without him, you wouldn’t be you.

Maybe, despite all of the doubt and uncertainty, the confusion and the hurt, the sun was shining again, for both of you. The world no longer had to be bleak, scary and lonely, because you finally knew where you were headed. Your feet, firmly planted on the ground for the first time in your entire life, no longer wanted to stay put in one place. Instead, they were begging to run towards the only thing in the world that ever felt like home, to run to him.

And maybe, just maybe, your wish upon a star was worth it this time, and the two of you could finally overcome the struggle and be together once again.

TAGLIST: @anythingforjtk @highway-tuna @klarxtr @hollyco @thetroublegetssoloud71 @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @raceb14 @watchingover-hypegirl @starshine-gvf @do-it-jakey-baby @gretavansara @jakesbeloved @woyayaofdreams @jakeyt @kiszkas-canvas @gracev0609 @josh-iamyour-mama @musicspeaks @gretavangroupie @gretavanmoon @gvfmarge @takenbythemadness @fleetingjake

[ianthine-ichor]

I had an ask for this story but it was sadly eaten by the Tumblr gods 😔

So for the anon who asked for John Price x Reader who comes to him years later after a bad breakup because they are in danger, this one's for you!

John Price x Reader ~ All I Have is You

Summary: You come running back to John years after a nasty break-up in hopes of finding some help out of a horrible situation.

Word count:: 6.5k

Tw in tags

John's life could never be simple. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many loose ends he pulled together by the skin of his teeth. There always managed to be something he let lay dormant, something he let fall to the wayside just long enough for it to maybe even slip his mind. And damn near every time it did, it came back with a vengeance.

However, of all the things he knew would come back to haunt him, you were what he expected least of all.

He had believed you a long dead part of his life, a piece of himself better numbed in alcohol than thought about. A face he'd spent endless nights trying to forget the smile of, endless partners failing to take your stead. He'd long since conceded to that aspect of himself being buried, hardly remedied by the ‘I love you’ that would fall from whoever had been his most recent escape from the icy cold of his bed.

But then, on a day like any other in this silent little place he'd given up trying to make feel like any sort of home, he'd opened the door to your unmistakable features.

He didn't know what to feel in the years of silence that seemed to pass. His mind and muscles tore themselves apart trying to find what reaction seemed appropriate. A part of himself didn't believe it, a similar part almost reached out to hold you, and another felt infuriated. He wasn't sure if it was because even so close you felt like light years away or if it was because he wanted to slam the door in your face for daring to ever come back. And for a moment, however small, he seriously considered the latter of the two.

But then you spoke. And suddenly whatever amount of spine had led him to the thought melted like butter.

“I need to talk. I know I have no right to ask but…” you paused, your voice softer than he thinks he's ever heard you speak. There might have even been a quiver in it, but he could hardly believe such a sound could come from the person who had once held together his broken pieces like you'd been solving him your entire life.

“I need your help” your chin raises and you meet his gaze, his skin flashing with the familiarity in how your eyes narrowed and your face snarled. It's hard to take your attempt at strength seriously with how feigned of an attempt it was. He says nothing and just the same he watches as you crumble. Your eyes avert, your hands twitch, your body leans away from him.

He hardly recognizes you.

But he steps aside all the same, a nod inviting you in as he keeps his vow of silence. You almost hesitate, but step in soon enough. Like a long lost ritual you kick your shoes off at the door, hanging your jacket and bristling as the light cold leaves your skin. He notes how you don't let him out of your sight but he can't tell why your eyes burn as much as they do.

Eventually he leads you to the kitchen. He wonders if you notice the empty frames. He wonders if you even care to look.

Like some twisted version of an old dream, you take your spot at the table where you used to sit. And before he even realizes what he's doing he's perking coffee, his eyes turning to you.

“Coffee?” He asks, but he isn't even sure why he does. Looking at you would be enough of an answer. You looked like you hadn't slept in months. You nod anyway.

He pretends to forget how you make your coffee. Out of spite? Anger? Frustration? It doesn't matter. He simply couldn't find the energy to put into someone whose presence made his heart find an old pace that left him biting his tongue at the bittersweet taste. Either way you get your coffee and he somehow finds the energy to sit across from you.

“You wanted to speak. Speak” his words come out harsher than he means them yet he doesn't find regret settling in his chest. Only minor annoyance as he watches you almost recoil from him, your drink pulled to your chest. Your eyes seem to search around for a moment, as if the words you needed so badly to speak would simply appear in front of you. He remembers how he used to find it sweet and can only react by biting his tongue harder.

“You haven't changed much” you begin. He can't help the grimace he shows as the annoyance in his chest grows. He catches how you straighten up under it.

“And you have” he answers back. You say nothing for a long moment and he isn't sure if he offended you or not. But he watches as you take a deep breath, your face hardening in a way he doesn't like.

“I know this isn't exactly…great for you. But it isn't for me either-”

“Why’d you leave?” the words slip out of his mouth before they had even been a thought in his head. Yet where he expected a look of anger or annoyance of your own, you only pause. And soon after, your look manages to grow colder.

“Because you didn't love me anymore” you answer back succinctly, calmly. He feels rage bloom in his chest at the words.

“Bullshit” he mutters through gritted teeth. He doesn't catch the sudden grip you hold on your cup and the way you slightly shake. But other than that you don't break.

“I must have phrased that wrong” there's a tone in your voice, an inflection of something horrible on your tongue.

“You did a piss poor job of making me feel like I was anything other than your fucking bed warmer” your words fall like acid on him. They soak through his marrow and into his bloodstream and become him. And his body rejects it just as quickly.

“You knew the type’a job I had when you met me” his voice is low and restrained as he tries to hold himself back

“It had nothing to do with your work-”

“Well what the bloody hell did it have to do with then!?” He stands, his hands slamming on the table as you immediately flinch away.

“Sit-!” You yell almost instinctively, the only thing he catches is the sudden terror in your tone. You take a stilted breath before speaking again.

“Sit down…please” your voice is much calmer but it does a horrible job at hiding the hitch in your voice or how your subtle shaking suddenly isn't so subtle. The strange demeanor stuns him for a moment, long enough for his flash of frustration to cool back to a simmer. There's a horrible feeling that crawls up his spine at your reaction, this gnawing, biting disgust that rips through him in a way he can't quite explain. He listens despite its elusive source or how he hates the way your eyes are locked on his every movement.

A horrible quiet passes that only further smothers the flames that had grown in his chest. You both hardly took any sips of your coffee as you seemed focused on your breathing and he was focused on loosening the sudden tightness of his muscles. Soon enough he spoke again, though he wasn't about to attempt that conversation again, as unsatisfied as he was by your answer.

“Why are you here?” He asks and this time he finds that his voice is weaker than he'd have liked it; betraying the words that he had meant to sting.

Yet despite that, he watches as your breath pauses and your grip tightens. How had you managed to grow even more tense?

“I don't have anyone else left” you answered, your eyes finally missing him, flickering away for what was barely a single moment. In spite of how hard he fought against it the painful beating in his chest left him worried. He tried not to show it. He hoped he hid it well enough for you not to notice.

The silence seemed to get to you. That or his stare had. Either way you continued.

“I just need somewhere to stay. Just a few months. I’ll figure it out by then and be gone. Just long enough to get some cash together” you try to explain and finally he spots something familiar in you. But it is not a part of you he once knew that he sees. No, he spots something else.

“You’re running from something” he interjects at his realization, your movements freezing at his accusation. You don't seem shocked so much as worried. He hated that you would ever even try to hide the fact from him.

“Yeah um…I am- but it's- it's complicated okay? I just need somewhere to stay-”

“Is it someone?” He questioned, your words lips closing into quiet once more. It stings a strange part of his soul that you seemed so unwilling to tell him outright.

“...It doesn't matter” you finally speak and he hides how his fists tighten. He hates that he cares at all. He hates that he can't help it.

Your plea for shelter lingers in the air for moments longer than either of you cared for. You couldn't handle the quiet of that for long.

“I don't have much, but I'll give you what I can. I'll get a job and pay you back I-”

“No” he shut you down immediately. Your face fell, the desperation of your gaze fixed on him.

“You can stay and I don't need your money” he clarifies and despite the lack of smile, your relief is more than visible.

“Thank you. I promise I'll be gone as quickly as I can get everything in order” you try to instill any sort of confidence that you would be of little bother, that he would hardly notice you here at all.

He couldn't help but feel his stomach fall to his feet at the words.

-

The first month you stayed had been…surreal, to say the least. For the most part the two of you did pretty well with avoiding each other. For moments of the day he would even wonder if that had been some weird fever dream. You? At his door? After so long? It all just felt so strange. Stranger yet that the circumstances were all but ideal. He thought about asking further, about pushing for what it was that led you here and why you had even been running in the first place. But he found that his tongue nearly died in his mouth every time he saw you around. It almost didn't feel real.

And despite the cold that still ran up his spine, the emptiness that found refuge in his chest, the blood that sat heavy in his veins; despite it all…

You still felt like home.

Yet you were still so far out of reach. Words seemed like complicated equations, conversations like rocket science. His words never left the way he wanted them to, his tone always the wrong amount of harsh. And with the way your eyes tracked his presence when he was around, almost unwavering from him…it all just felt so hard to explain. Something had changed, of course it had. It had been years since you two had last seen each other and it had hardly ended on good terms. Still, there was something so wrong here. Something in the way you ever so slightly leaned from him, or the way your eyes flickered to the closest door, or how it all seemed so familiar in a way that wasn't like home. In a way that was more like the warzones he'd grown so accustomed to.

And he could just see it, that fight in your eyes. That twitchiness that you had never had around him before. And he couldn't help but wonder why. Why. Why. Why. Why. What were you fighting and why did it almost feel like it was him?

It was horrible, the way that question had finally been answered.

The front door had slammed open, startling him from the dinner he had been making and setting every one of his senses aflame. It slammed shut before he had even made it to the hall and when he had he could hardly bring himself to swallow the scene.

You stood pushing on the door like it would hold damn near the whole world at bay. With how violently you were shaking he almost wished it would. Your hiccups and sniffles filled the air as you tried and failed about a hundred times to turn the lock. Your clothes were disheveled, your jacket gone and your shirt caked in dirt and…

No, no that wasn't…

“Y/n?” He hardly even remembered opening his mouth before your name fell out. Quiet and worried in a way he hadn't meant to show.

When your head snapped to him all of his insides twisted in a sickly mess. Features he remembered days of leaving soft kisses on were now warped by deep bruises and bleeding wounds. Your eyes wide and glossy, your skin a mix of blood and tears. Your breath had hitched as if any movement would turn him against you. He couldn't help but feel worse at the notion. He moves. Just one simple step closer.

And suddenly it's as if a dam breaks. Your murmuring words he can't understand, a panic on your face he hadn't seen in all of the time he's known you. You yell and thrash and he can't tell if you even know what you're doing, he can't tell if you even see him anymore. His body almost acts on instinct as he quickly grabs the nearest cloth near him before making his way to you. He places the cloth in your hand, your body flinching in a way that makes him hesitate a moment before he guides you to cover your bleeding nose.

“You gotta breathe” he mutters, no longer attempting to cover the look of confused worry that covers him. You seem to try, but a bloody nose makes that a little difficult. In the meantime he guides you to the bathroom, sitting you down as he fishes out a medkit. You stop talking altogether at that point, going eerily silent.

And it stays that way as he wipes away the blood and around deeply forming bruises. It stays as he cleans the wounds and makes sure your nose isn't broken. It stays when the peroxide hits your skin and when the bandages cover them. It's a horrible, false silence. A silence so loud his ears ring, though that could have just as well been the adrenaline leaving his veins. For a while he's fine with it, for a while it's better than the terror-filled panic, for a while it's better than the way you stared and twitched and sobbed.

But then you get a look in your eye. A dangerous look. A look he's seen too many times in his line of work. And suddenly the quiet isn't so safe anymore.

“Still with me there?” He asks in an attempt to gain your attention. To his relief your eyes flick to him and nod. He doesn't quite like how quickly they had turned cold again. In fact he's sure he hates it.

“What happened?” He finally asks and watches how the distant look in your eyes dissolves. Your lips quiver as you try desperately to hold onto a calm that wasn't coming. Your hands grip tightly onto a bloodied paper towel in your hands.

“I-” your voice cracks and you clear your throat. Your eyes avoid him like a simple glance would kill you.

“It's complicated I-” the panic in your voice rises again.

“I have to go- John I have to go-”

“Now hold on” his hand lands on yours, your body tensing under his touch. He can't help but feel sickened at the thought of you scared of him.

“Whatever happened, I promise it's safe, alright? No one's getting in here. You're safe. Just…” he pauses for a moment, his eyes showing his hesitation before he, as gently as he's ever done anything in his life, he places your hand to his chest. Your fingers flatten against him, familiar and comforting, as he lets out a deep breath.

“Just breathe” he almost pleads, something he finds himself regretting almost immediately. Yet despite feeling that he was doing a horrible job, it seemed to calm you all the same. Much to his relief you managed a few deep breaths, your hand still pressed on his heartbeat that he forced to slow.

He is surprised, after all of this, to hear a faint laugh fall from your lips. Quiet and saddened yes, but a laugh nonetheless. And he couldn't have felt more ridiculous than at that moment.

“What?” Or perhaps it seems he could, his dumbfoundedness not hidden in the tone of his voice. It isn't hard for you to wipe the smile from your face, if it had even really been a smile at all.

“Nothing I just…I remember when I had to do this for you” your tone is bittersweet.

“I never thought I'd be on the other side” your voice is breathless and strained, a certain feeling behind it he couldn't quite place. He finds himself snickering along as the once painful memory hits him. He would agree. He never imagined someone strong enough to pull him back to reality could ever need him to do the same.

“Yeah…world's got a fucked up way of making circles” he replies and you give a half-hearted attempt at agreement. And it seems that a moment too soon you pull away and he feels almost as if you take his heartbeat with you.

“Yeah…Yeah, it does…” you murmur, a sentiment far too true found in the quiet whisper. There is almost silence until you speak again.

“I'm sorry” the apology falls in a way not meant to ever leave you. The sound was as sorrowful as seeing a bird stripped of its wings. An act against nature, a horrible twisting of what should be.

“I’m sorry” you break again, though this time you don't shatter so much as you crumble. And he knows then that those words aren't for him. That he hated how they sounded coming from you, how they weren't what he wanted, how he could only wish you'd take them back so that he didn't have to feel the hole in his chest trying to carve its way through his skin.

And how useless he felt then, sat in front of your broken state knowing that you had once done the same with him. How utterly and completely he knew that there was nothing he could do to wipe this looming, horrible terror that was held so deep in your eyes he could only see a warped reflection of himself in them.

And he simply couldn't handle it. He felt weak, hopeless, useless. But what was there to do? He had never seen you so truly pained, he had only ever known the other side of this situation.

So he did the only thing he could. He pulled you close, slow and cautious, before the both of you crashed into one another. Hands that had twitched at his mere presence now held him as tightly as the shirt on his back. As if, should you let go, you'd be cast adrift again into the crimson rapids. And he could only hold just as tightly, hoping that if he just held on tight enough that the falling parts of you would stay, that he might save even a single piece from the agony you were lost in a sea of.

You two stayed like that for a long while, hardly caring about that time that passed. At some point, so overtaken by the exhaustion of your endless bouts of tears and the near-death experience you'd just endured, you'd passed out in his arms.

And like some cruel twisting of a memory he held dear, he carried you to bed. He tried not to glance too much at your features, the cuts and bruises sending sickening waves through him, as he laid you down. He took a shaky breath as he covered you in a blanket, taking care to be quiet as he left the room.

In the absence of your presence there was only rage.

A fire unlike any he had felt struck him like lightning, a burning hatred at who could have ever done this to you. His feet moved but his mind was preoccupied with who and why and- god why didn't you just tell him what happened? What could have ever led to this?! What had you done? Who had you upset?

The thoughts plagued his mind as he set up his spot on the couch. Yet when the pillows had been laid and the blanket placed, he could not find it in himself to rest. He could only pace and snarl and burn with such a horrible feeling. How dare they. How dare they. How could anyone do this to you? To his-...

It was only those final words that managed to slow his thoughts, a sinking feeling resting in his chest.

Not his. You were not his. Not for a long while, not anymore…

But there was no hiding the fire in his skin. No denying how deeply he held you, how desperately he wished to never let go again. He could only curse whatever higher power could hear him. Curse them for ever doing this to either of you. Of ever letting him know your name.

It was a horrible pain to want so desperately to have you back, but there was no pain worse than you returning in broken pieces. Worse yet to know that, maybe, had he done things differently, you might not have left his arms to shatter against a world he could have protected you from. To know that he failed.

He lit a cigar with a shaky hand. He knew then that there would be no sleeping tonight.

-

Your eyes were heavy as they opened, protesting against your attempts to wake up. You thought, in your groggy state, that it might be better to never open them again, to give in to what they demanded from you. To close them a final time.

But it was only a passing thought in your utterly exhausted state. A whisper held at the back of your mind just waiting for the moment that it might scream itself into existence. But not today. Not now, at least.

And so you forced them open, a groan halfheartedly falling from your lips as you pushed away the comfort of infinite dark. You managed enough strength to sit up, regretting it almost immediately when a dull pain burned your side. You would have been confused, maybe even a little worried, if not for the returning throbs of the many cuts along your face and arms that swiftly and brutally remind you of yesterday.

So close. You had been so close to the end. You were lucky to have made it out alive. It was honestly a miracle you had.

Cornered, like an animal. You remembered the feeling well. Trapped right where you didn't want to be. It was like he could smell your terror as he bared his wolfish teeth in the warm street light. A wicked smile, one that scorched itself into an unhealthy scar upon you. Never to be forgotten, a thing of nightmares.

You had run as far as you could go, lungs empty and feet sore, your hands covered in the warmth of your own blood as you tried to hold even just a part of yourself together, to manage to escape through the skin of your teeth once more. You had done it before, but a second time was surely a test of fate.

You had been lucky, then, that a bus was passing by. It shouldn't have been there so late so far out of town. But by some higher being or just through the world's sick way of fucking with you it was. You had never been so relieved to be met with headlights in your life; you practically screamed in relief as you waved it down. Your hunter was as scared as a doe in them, slithering off into the shadows like the coward you knew him as. The driver, a woman in her forties, looked horrified at the state of you. But you had brushed off her panic and worry and told her to simply drive. You were thankful the bus was empty. You couldn't have handled anyone else's questions in your utter panic.

You had only been a five-minute drive from salvation, from the home you had long since abandoned, only to return to in your time of need. Five minutes.

He must have known. Someone might have told him or you might have mentioned John in one of your many pain-filled benders. It didn't matter. He knew where you were, and it seemed his patience had only grown thinner. You were sure now that he would not stop with breaking you under his iron grip, but utterly destroying you.

All at once these thoughts hit you, flooding your mind with panic and worry. You're breathing shallowed as your mind falls down this path, stopping only when the end of the memory comes to mind.

John…

You tried to move him from your mind, to rid yourself of the sinking feeling that came when you thought of how quickly he had jumped to help you, even after years of silence and weeks of ignoring each other. You try not to think of his attempts at gentle touch, calloused battle-worn hands not quite built for the kindness he was showing. You remove from your mind how he held your hand to him, how it seemed like no time had passed from when you left with how quickly he knew what would truly calm you. And most of all, you try to remove the feeling of his arms around you, desperate and worried and familiar and home. You try, as little as that means nowadays.

You deduce that sitting in silence isn't the best way to distract you from these things, and so you finally stand from the bed, noting only then that you don't remember falling asleep here. But you let that slip your mind as well. You prefer the static buzz of being busy over thinking too much about any of this. It only made things harder.

So your feet moved without you, intimately familiar with the halls and doors and light switches. After all, it had been your home, once upon a lifetime ago.

You hardly stagger as you make your way to the kitchen, accustomed to the constant lull of pain in the back of your mind. A whisper of its own, and one you realized it better to ignore.

You are close to allowing the static buzz to take over, close to numbing and leaving your brain on autopilot. Close to the preferable numbness. So very close. But upon taking a step into the kitchen, you are met with a sight so twistedly familiar you are shocked back into yourself.

John sat at the table, two plates laid out and coffee poured. A quaint scene, an old one. A memory from a different time, faded and aged and different in ways that leave you sick. Because he didn't stare with the complete adoration of a man in love, nor did his eyes avert, distracted and tired, as they had on the day you had left him here. But instead they tear through you. Locked on you the second you entered. It amazed you how his eyes of crystal blue, so similar to that of a frozen storm, could burn through you so easily.

You think for a moment that this is it. That he's going to kick you out with only a final meal and that you are going to be thrown to the starved wolf you knew lurked just outside. You prepared yourself to plead, to apologize, to ask for any bit of mercy he might show you. After all, you had lost your dignity a long time ago, and it wouldn't be the first time you had begged for your life.

But then, as if the elements of himself collided, the fire in his eyes cooled to a warm glow. Soft and familiar and warm, warm, warm.

You almost wished then that he'd return to his fiery glare.

“Sit, love” It isn't a command as much as a quiet plea, his voice is soft and calm and maybe even worried, a rare combination for him. It's a sound so foreign now that you almost don't trust it. His expression falls further as you hesitate.

“I just wanna talk” he tried to explain, to give you any reason to trust him. It works, though only barely. You take a hesitant seat across from him.

The smell of the food hits your nose and only then do you realize you hadn't eaten last night. The waft of coffee only seems to make things worse as it reminds you of how tired you are.

“We can eat first” you can't tell if it's a question or a statement, but either way you take the opportunity. You were too weak to deny how much you needed this right now. You would regret it later, you were sure, but for right now you would allow yourself this small indulgence.

And so it was quiet, absent the sound of forks hitting plates. Quiet in a way that you weren't sure if you liked or despised. You wondered if it even mattered.

It was a few bites in and halfway through your coffee that he spoke again.

“I saw a butterfly this morning” his words cut the silence in a way that baffles you out of the static once more. Out of your head and your thoughts and the sinking feeling in your chest.

“Oh?” You respond almost too naturally, almost too much like you used to. If it weren't for the heaviness in your voice, you might have even forgotten that this wasn't like it used to be.

“Yeah. Should’ve seen it. It had all your favorite colors” his words are almost light in spite of the tense atmosphere and, despite it all, it manages the smallest smile from you.

“I’m sure it was beautiful” you reply and watch as the look on his face changes. You can't quite read it, a strange softness is all you can take from it. But there never fails to be that lingering sadness there. That worry. That pain you can't quite bring yourself to address. And so you look away, your eyes turned down to your food once more.

The silence that follows threatens to suffocate the two of you, drown you in this horrible replication of better times, and punish you for daring to seek even this small comfort. And so, knowing that there is only one way this will go, he finally asks.

“What happened last night?” You feel your throat tighten almost immediately, not daring to pick up your fork when the weight of that question falls atop you. You find it hard to give him an answer, let alone one that might satisfy him.

“I…It’s…” you struggle and hope that maybe you might just disappear, that maybe all of this was some horrible nightmare you'd wake from. But as seconds passed it became clear it wasn't. Clearer still that you had to give him an answer after what he'd seen.

“It's complicated” you try to explain but you knew the moment the words fell that they wouldn't be enough. You think that maybe he'll be angry at this, that he'll slam the table like he had before and demand a better explanation. But a glance shows that his expression only deepens in its worry.

“Then explain it to me” he pleads once more. It was a rare day he ever pleaded, begged, or even so much as asked for something. Rarer yet that it's genuine. Your mouth goes dry and silence remains. You can't bring yourself to look at him.

“Love-” his hand reached for yours and the contact shocks every nerve in your body. You flinch away from him, regretting it a moment later when his worry turns to pain on his face. He retracts his hand with the most hesitance you've ever seen from him; a man so usually sure of himself.

“I just need to know what's happening. I-...” he falters, another rare sight. He takes a shaky breath.

“I won't hurt you” those words come out stronger than the rest, as truthful as he could have possibly made them. And, despite its softness, it seems to tear apart the very walls you had built to keep you safe.

But safe from what, exactly? When the wolf lays outside, and this place is your final sanctuary, what does that make him? You weren't quite sure, but somehow you knew that whatever this was, it felt…well it felt familiar at least. A devil you knew well enough to find some comfort in the warmth of.

Your head turns away, arms held against you in a pitiful attempt to comfort yourself. You think, for a moment, that you might run from here. That you might leave everything behind in the wake of the words that threaten to leave your tongue.

But he wants the truth. And who are you to deny him it? It couldn't make things much worse than they already are.

“Where do you even want me to start?” You ask him, voice hollow and cold and empty. There was no more of yourself to give than a story. You wondered if the sacrifice would even matter.

“Wherever you need to” he answers back, his shoulders squared: tense. You had half a mind to comfort him, but you doubt it would've helped. So, with a deep breath that does very little to calm your nerves, you finally answer him.

“When I left I didn't want to start over, but I didn't want to see you again either. So I moved a few towns over” you started, your voice detached from yourself, like it came from someone else entirely.

“A few months later I met someone. He had been so kind at first. Loving, attentive. He made me feel like I existed in the world again. Made me feel wanted” your words murmur and a snarl forms, even talking about it makes you sick.

“I was stupid, blinded, didn't pay attention. Didn't care, really…” you pause, your hands indenting into your skin as if to keep you where you sat, as if to stop you from fading from here.

“I married him” your words come out much more mournful than you mean to, your snarl nothing more than a quivered lip now. You had married that monster.

You didn't have to glance at John to know the look on his face. Anger, rage, a twisted form of jealousy. It was a knife to his back, you imagine, that you might have married another man before he had ever put a ring on your finger. But you weren't quite sure you cared anymore. After all, it wasn't you who had been so cold to him those final days you were together.

“I didn't realize who he was until then. He'd always been…rough. Arrogant, quick-tempered, prone to violence. But I guess I just thought that he wouldn't ever treat me like that. That I was different. That he loved me” your words shake and you do your best to pull those broken strings together. To steel yourself. To not be so pathetic.

“I was wrong…” you allow yourself the pain of those three words and in so scar your heart further as you admit it. He had never loved you.

“I tried to get away, I tried to start over again, but he wouldn't let me leave. I can't get a job without him finding me, can't get a place to stay, can't start over. I thought maybe if I came here, maybe if my name wasn't on anything, maybe if I was careful enough then I could figure it out…I was wrong about that too” you curse yourself when tears sting at you. You do your best to hide it, to disappear in front of his own eyes. But there was only so much you could do. Hiding from him had never been your strong suit.

John feels…well he doesn't quite know. A mixture of everything horrible, he thinks. He can't stand how your eyes avoid him as the words fall, how with each passing word he can only find regret. Regret that he hadn't held you closer, that he hadn't kept you safe. And he hates that the consequences don't fall to him, that he wasn't the one burned, that instead he watches you crumble and break and shatter. He had loved you, he had always loved you. That hole in his heart, that void you filled. Ripped from him and torn apart as swiftly as a flower in a stormy ocean. He hardly had the mind to blame you anymore, hardly had the heart to. He could do nothing but blame himself and the cruel creature he could hardly call human. The one who had dared to lay a finger on you. The one he could imagine tearing apart with his bare hands.

There are questions that circle his brain, words that travel from the top of his head and almost meet his tongue. ‘What’s his name?’ ‘Where can I find him?’ ‘How long had this been happening?’ ‘Why hadn't you said something sooner?’

He lets out a shallow breath, his eyes closing in thought for only a short moment before he stands. The sound of the chair startles you into watching him once more. His steps are slow, and deliberate, as they make their way towards you. You lean away for a moment, as you had since you'd gotten here, but it calms as you watch him. His movement is predictable; safe.

And soon, just as slow and just as softly, his hands fall on your face as they had hundreds of times before. Calloused but warm, a softness he only ever found with you. He is gentle along your bruises, careful with them. You can't look from him now, eyes searing through him. But he had nothing to hide, and so he stared back.

“We're gonna figure this out” he speaks to you, words like comforting slashes against your soul in how they tear your emotions from you. Your attempts to hide were all but vain now, tears falling freely and only barely held from a sob. Your breaths shake as your eyes close into the comfort, hands falling onto his as if he might just slip away. He presses a kiss, hesitant yet desperate against the crown of your head.

“He ain't ever hurting you again” his words are a promise as he mumbles them against your skin before placing his head against yours. You make no attempt to pull away, instead finding that a broken smile falls on your lips, one of utter relief. Somehow you find a will to speak.

“I missed you”

-

Potential part two? Maybe? Probably? Definitely?

[shuadotcom]

Take Me Higher | CHS (M)

🍃Summary: Yeah, your first real party was completely different than you had imagined, but it was even better than you had hoped.

🍃Pairing: Stoner!Vernon x Stoner!Afab Reader

🍃Genres & AUs: Smut, a dash of fluff, friends to lovers au, pwp

🍃Rating: 18+ (MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED)

🍃Content/Warnings: Marijuana usage, mention of alcohol, profanity, protective sex, cunnilingus, fingering, handjob, bathroom sex, sex while high (they’re both faded but they like each other and are consenting), multiple orgasms, dry-humping, allusion to big dick!vernon, reader has boobs and a vagina but no gendered terms are used for y/n

🍃Words: 6.1k

🍃Note: As a cannabis connoisseur myself, I love stoner!vernon fics and will read any and every single one so it was only a matter of time before I wrote my own. Truly it was a mighty need - especially blue hoodie Vernon because that's my favorite shoot of his. This is based off of a slightly true story of my first adult party years ago. Y/n has a much better partner and time than I did though 😂

I also listened to Rihanna's Anti album (aka the last album she'll give us 😭) a lot when writing this for whatever reason.

Thank you bestie @the-boy-meets-evil for being my beta!🫶🏽

Tagging the lovely @kthpurplesyou 😘

🍃Net Tag: @kflixnet

Tonight was turning out to be different than you ever thought it’d be. It’s your first-ever real party and it was turning out to be much less notable than you’d have imagined. Growing up, you had been a typical wallflower with a tiny group of friends that were as introverted as you, so you never knew people who threw parties, and you sure as hell weren’t “important enough” to get invited to them. Nothing much had changed from middle school and even through college.

It’s not until you’re well into your young adulthood that you receive your first party invitation. It comes from your oldest friend, Joshua, whom you recently reconnected with. You had practically grown up with him and when he and his family moved away, your communication eventually lessened with life and timezones in the way. It isn’t until you just so happen to move near him after college that you start hanging out again. He sends you an Instagram message after happening to see a location close to him that you tagged in a post.

You and Joshua easily pick your long-dormant friendship back up, getting along as perfectly as you had years ago. Your closeness and trust are quickly restored in him the more time you spend together. It’s why when he invites you to a party a friend of his is throwing, you jump at the chance.

Having never been to a party, you only had the tv shows and movies you watched to go off of as to what the atmosphere would be like. You imagine loud, deafening music, drunk people spread all over the poorly lit house, the air reeking of alcohol, and too many people.

In reality, the lights are on around the house as expected and the music that plays over a speaker in the living room is loud enough to get lost in while dancing but not so loud that you couldn’t hold a conversation. Instead of smelling like nothing but alcohol, the air only smelt of pizza and an artificial air freshener, with a hint of beer.

There are only a few handfuls of people milling about, most of whom Joshua and Jeonghan - his other close friend who came with the two of you - had long since introduced you to. 

One of whom you’ve spent the most time with when you hang out with Joshua and his friends and are the most familiar with. You have a ton in common and always feel comfortable around him. 

He also happens to be the friend that you have an embarrassingly huge crush on. 

“Hey, Vernon!” Joshua calls his name as the three of you file down the basement stairs where it looks like most of the guests are. 

Vernon turns from his conversation to find you three and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his smile widened when he made eye contact with you. 

He says something to the guy he’s talking to before approaching you all.

“Hey, Josh, Jeonghan. Hi, Y/n. Thanks for coming.” 

“Obviously we’d show up! I don’t think anyone has thrown a party just for fun in months. And I knew you wouldn’t mind if I brought Y/n. It’s baby’s first party!” Joshua throws his arm around your shoulders, bringing you forward from your spot nearly hiding behind him. You’re not too flustered that you can’t pinch him in the side for exposing you so willingly.

“Of course, I don’t mind!” Vernon rushes out, maybe even a little too loud. He clears his throat, breathing out an awkward laugh. “Anyway yeah, Seungkwan and Chan were feeling particularly social this weekend so I didn’t have much of a say but it’s cool.” Vernon scans the room, pointing out his two roommates across the room as he says their names. “Tonight won’t be anything crazy so don’t worry.” He says the last part to you, a sweet smile on his pretty lips.

As if they could tell they were being talked about, Seungkwan and Chan spot the group of you and are over in an instant, thanking you for coming and guiding you over to where all the snacks and drinks are while Vernon trails behind.

Truth be told, the whole party feels as if it’s a normal hang-out session with everyone. Sure some people get a little more drunk than usual and there’s more dancing and obnoxious singing than there typically is on any other Saturday night, but overall it’s nothing like the parties in movies. No one is swinging from the ceiling naked and drunk off their asses (unless you count Soonyoung shirtless and screaming at the top of his lungs to the karaoke song he’s doing, but no one is too concerned).

You’re even more grateful that you decided on jeans and a nicer shirt after agonizing over what to wear for days. Everyone was in the most normal clothes which took a lot of the pressure you had initially felt off of you. This includes Vernon, who was in jeans and an oversized, cozy-looking hoodie in the prettiest shade of baby blue. You could barely keep your eyes off of him, not that you really tried. He didn’t make it any easier, seeing how he hasn’t moved from your general vicinity all night. 

Whether it was near the snack table, upstairs for a little while, or standing near Joshua and Jeonghan as they played beer pong, Vernon hasn’t been far, mostly talking to the two men or any other people around you, occasionally trying to bring you into the conversation. You’ve been doing your best to contribute, but your nerves about not knowing what to do with yourself, paired with the butterflies in your stomach that erupt whenever Vernon so much as looks at you, have you feeling a little out of your element.

At some point in the night, Jeonghan wanders off and Vernon disappears for a bit. You and Joshua are standing near the drinks, trying a few different shots and you hate them all. You nearly forgot how much you dislike the taste of most alcohol.

“So when are you going to tell Vernon you’re into him?” Joshua’s question is abrupt and he knows it. It’s why he snickers, watching your face contort as you choke on the shot of Patron you just knocked back, which you instantly regret. 

“When am I going to what?!”

Joshua shrugs, taking a shot himself, his eyebrows only knitting a little. 

“You heard me. And don’t act so surprised. Watching the two of you steal glances at each other all night and then act all shy as if you weren’t doing that was cute for the first five minutes, but enough is enough!” Joshua reaches for another shot, but you smack his hand, demanding why he thinks you like his friend. You haven’t told a soul about your crush on Vernon.

He’s about to say something else, but then Vernon shows up and your attention locks onto him.

“Hey guys, I’m heading outside if you want to come.” His eyes linger on yours and you momentarily forget how to speak so Joshua answers for you, letting him know that you’ll both be joining him.

It’s late and you’re not sure what time it is, but the sky is full of tiny stars, providing faint light to the group of people sitting outside. The small circle of people is sitting on lawn chairs surrounding a brightly shining lantern and a bong as they take turns passing it around. The three of you take the spots still open with you between Joshua and Vernon. 

You didn’t forget what Joshua said inside, but put your interrogation on the back burner.

You’ve smoked weed before, in fact, you do so multiple days of the week. It’d been your chosen way to destress with friends before you moved and even more so now as you quickly learned that Vernon was the stoner friend in this group. If everyone was going to be hanging out and Vernon was there, there’d inevitably be edibles or a joint passed around. In your mind, you were practically perfect for each other.

The other partygoers greet you, and Vernon immediately takes the bong from the person next to him. Joshua falls into conversation with Wonwoo on his other side which gives you time to study Vernon.

He rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie, his forearms on full display. His movements are effortless as he leans forward to grab a pinch of weed from the grinder tin on the small table in front of you. His fingers, always looking so long, nimbly pack the bowl of the bong. He uses his middle finger to gently press it down as his eyebrows knit in concentration and his lips purse just a tiny bit. 

Your eyes never leave him as he places his lips into the mouthpiece and uses his free hand to grab a lighter on the table. Vernon lights the bowl with skilled fingers, inhaling gently but confidently, then removes it. His eyelids flutter closed, as he inhales steadily, the smoke in the bong swirling as it fills his lungs. 

Once he’s had his fill, he pulls the bong away, holding the smoke in his chest for a few seconds before his red lips part, the smoke seeping out of his mouth in rings and drifting up to the dark sky. A dopey smile plays on his lips as his eyes open again, meeting yours. 

The entire act has you clenching as you watch him work, so in his element and looking absolutely breathtaking while doing so. But the look he’s giving you now has an undeniable effect on you and the want you so often feel for him.

Vernon tips the bong lightly in your direction, asking if you want a hit and you accept it. Instead of handing it to you, he holds the mouthpiece out to you, keeping it in his grasp as you lean forward and place your mouth on it. Vernon lights the bowl for you, holding eye contact as you start to let the smoke billow into your mouth, your chest already feeling warm as it fills you. He waits until your eyes close to remove the bowl, and you inhale sharply, your head already feeling lighter.

The bong is pulled away and you tip your head back, the smoke swirling inside of you before your lungs begin to burn and you open your mouth, releasing the smoke. You watch it float up and dissipate and don’t notice Vernon’s gaze still glued to you.

When you meet his eyes, neither of you moves, almost waiting to see what the other will say or do.

Joshua is the one to interrupt the moment, yelling at the two of you for not sharing. Vernon leans over you to pass the bong to Joshua’s waiting hands and he’s the closest to you he has been all evening. The smell of his sweet shampoo hits you first before the woodsy scent of his cologne follows, topped off with the faint smell of weed. It takes everything in you not to kiss him, but you hold it together until he sits back in his chair. He slouches into the uncomfortable fold-out chair, his legs spread wide in his worn jeans, practically begging you to crawl into his lap. Again, you don’t, but dear god how you want to.

Time ticks by as your small group stays outside, passing the bong around the circle every few minutes. You’ve quickly lost the conversation being held by the whole group since you and Vernon spend most of your time talking amongst yourselves. You don’t discuss anything in particular, just movies you’ve seen lately, new restaurants you’ve tried, and some of your favorite new musical releases. Conversation with Vernon always flows so naturally and easily. The two of you rarely broach awkward topics which is a miracle in itself.

At one point, the conversation shifts to you and your lack of experience in the party department.

“So, you’ve never been to any party ever? Like not even a birthday party?”

“Do birthday parties at laser tag places count when I was like ten?” Both of you giggle at that, feeling so much more at ease than you did earlier.

“I don’t think so. I mean like, in high school, you never even went to like a small house party?”

You shake your head as you sip on the soda you had dragged yourself back into the house to get earlier. “Nah. I wasn’t really popular in high school and my friends and I were all too nerdy to throw parties. We had anime-watch nights, but that’s about it.” Waving your hands dismissively you chuckle, but Vernon just shakes his head.

“I can’t believe that.”

“What, that I’m a massive nerd? I wouldn’t think that’d be a surprise since Joshua and I literally got into an argument about Full Metal Alchemist last weekend at Seungcheol’s.” A snort leaves Vernon when he laughs and you can’t help but notice how endearing it is.

“No, we already know you and Shua are weebs!” He keeps laughing even when you lightly push him at his teasing. “What I mean is, I can’t believe that you weren’t popular. I mean, look at you!” He gestures wildly to you, his eyes sweeping over you from head to toe.

“Oh, come on.”

“No, for real! You’re so damn funny and so fun to be around. You’re super sweet and kind and you’re always taking care of us. Plus you’re the hottest person I’ve ever met so like, how the fuck weren’t people all over you? You’re basically fucking perfect!” His words make you feel fuzzy all over, and you know it’s not just the weed.

“Thank you, Vernon,” you whisper, averting your attention to your drink. Hearing Vernon call you hot and “fucking perfect” makes you squeeze your thighs together. Something about him complimenting you so blatantly has you weak in the knees. With your earlier stress gone and feeling a little more carefree, you decide it’s now or never. “I think all of that about you too,” you mumble under your breath.

At first, you’re not sure if he hears you so you dart your eyes over to him. Vernon is staring at you, blinking slowly and you can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Oh wow,” he finally breathes out. “Really?”

Oh. He did hear you.

“Yeah.” You admit. It’s already out there so you may as well just stand by it.

Vernon’s brain looks as though it’s working overtime as he stares at you blankly. Your stomach does the most violent of flips as you wait for what comes next, unsure of what you should say. 

Thankfully, Joshua barges into the conversation, disrupting the tension that hung between you and Vernon.

“Hey, Y/n, I’m tired. I’m gonna find Jeonghan and head home. You wanna share an Uber? Jeonghan’ll probably crash at my place and you can too. Or we’ll put your address in as a stop.”

“Uh…” Do you want to leave now? You just kind-of, sort-of, maybe confessed your feelings to Vernon. But, he also kind-of, sort-of maybe did the same. 

If you leave now, will he pretend none of this happened the next time you see him again? Will he blame the weed for his words that he possibly didn’t mean? Does he want you to stay and decide what to do next together?

“Y/n mentioned staying behind for a while longer. Right?” Vernon decides for you, tilting his head and looking back at you, unmoving as he waits for you to verify.

“Oh, yeah I’m gonna stay a little longer.”

Joshua narrows his eyes at you, scanning your face for something that may contradict your words. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good here with Vernon.” Joshua seems to inspect you both, the seconds dragging on before he finally decides that he accepts what you’re saying.

“Okay, but I better get a text from you later when you’re going home and when you get there. Got it?”

“Promise!” 

Joshua throws another look at Vernon. “Everybody better stay safe.” There’s something else behind Joshua’s demand and you’re not sure how exactly to take it.

You and Vernon watch him go before the earlier silence you shared is back. It hangs in the air for what feels to you like an eternity but is more likely only a few seconds.

“You wanna, uh, go upstairs?”

“Yes!” Vernon stumbles over his words when he asks you, but you don’t when you answer him. He’s barely able to get the last word out before you’re accepting his offer. You don’t care where he wants to take you because you’ll go wherever with him.

Vernon slowly stands, reaching for your hand which you give him without a second thought. He leads you back inside the house, upstairs, and to one of the bathrooms in the hall.

“Um, my room’s not clean. I didn’t really expect anyone would be in my room besides me so…” Vernon confesses rather sheepishly when the door is shut behind you. “But, Seungkwan made us clean all the common areas so I promise this room is clean.” A nervous chuckle leaves him, averting his eyes from you.

“That’s okay,” you admit. And it is. Your romantic feelings for Vernon aside (and yes it is a lot of feelings), you want him so badly. You yearn to kiss him, touch him, and let him fuck you, no matter where it happens. Knowing that maybe your feelings aren’t unrequited only makes you want him even more. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

Vernon smiles at you, his mouth taking the shape of a heart that has your actual heart beating wildly. He approaches you almost cautiously, pressing you against the bathroom door.

“Are you sure you want this?” His question is a whisper as he’s practically nose to nose with you.

“Of course.”

“We can stop whenever you want to. If you get uncomfortable or change your mind about me or anything like that just say the word.”

“Vernon, I want to be here, I promise. Now kiss me, please.” 

And kiss you he does. Vernon dips his head to close the gap between you. His lips are a little chapped as they move against yours, but you don’t mind at all. Your hands ball themselves in the front of his hoodie while he cups your face and kisses you hard. His tongue prods at your lips and you open immediately, moaning as the muscle slips inside your mouth. His tongue wraps around yours, suckling at it and pulling another desperate sound from you. The urgency behind his movements is evident, as his hips meet yours, his body flush against you. 

It’s shallow at first and barely noticeable but when you do feel it - Vernon grinding against you - you instantly react, meeting his small thrusts.

When his clothed erection, already hard and straining through his jeans, presses against your pelvis, he makes a deep, pleased hum in his throat. Even through his clothes, you can feel just how big Vernon is. More wetness pools between your legs, already making your underwear feel uncomfortable and sticky. 

Vernon continues to hump against you, his kisses becoming more frantic and his hands have long since started wandering on you. His big hands cradle your hips, sliding down the tops of your thighs, then around you to grab a handful of your ass. He yanks you into him, his hips continuing to rut against you.

The sheer act of Vernon dry-humping you like a man truly crazy with lust only makes you want him more. You feel yourself clench around nothing, the friction of Vernon’s hard-on nudging so close to where you need him the most. He has to pull away from your mouth finally, gasping for air, but his hips don’t falter. 

“Vernon…please, I need more.”

“M-more?” 

“More. Need more.” Your words come out as more of a whine when he squeezes your ass again.

“More of me?”

“Please!”

“Fuck, yeah. Okay.”

He looks genuinely forlorn at the thought of stopping his movements, but he does, lightly panting from his exertion.

Your hands leave the crumpled fabric of his hoodie and snake down to his waist, slipping your hands under the hem. Vernon lets you undress him and then he does the same to you, pulling off piece by piece, tossing each article away without so much as a second thought and drinking in the sight of one another as you go. 

Vernon is back on you once you’re both naked, shoving your bodies together as he kisses you again. He cups your breasts, thumbs rubbing circles over your pert nipples. You moan into Vernon’s mouth, letting him work your sensitive buds, the sensation making you rub your thighs together. When your knee brushes Vernon’s hard cock, he nearly chokes. His hands knead at your plush skin as his lips trace their way from your lips to your neck.

Vernon’s teeth nip at your skin and your hands float up to grab at his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, keeping him at your most sensitive spot. Your knees nearly buckle when he starts to suck harshly and his hands continue their work on your tits.

Before you know what’s next, one of Vernon’s hands is inching down your body, stopping at the apex of your thighs. With a step out to the side, you spread your thighs to give him access. A single, long digit swipes at your already sopping folds. 

He eases his finger into your hole, your warmth greedily sucking him. Vernon begins pumping his finger in and out of you as he continues marking your neck, mumbling about how warm you are and how wet you feel. Your mind starts to turn to mush, your hands scrambling to grasp onto any part of Vernon you can. It happens to be his biceps - those of which are surprisingly firm. You’ve never seen him go to the gym or talk about working out, but clearly he’s doing something. The muscles ripple as he pistons his finger in and out, soon adding a second which slides in with no resistance.

His hot, rock-hard length brushes against your thigh and you reach down with the hand not clutching his arm for dear life, and wrap your fingers around his cock.

Vernon jumps, hissing through his teeth as you slowly jerk him off. Your thumb rubs over his tip, the precum oozing out and helping your hand glide over him.

His lips find yours again, the kiss bruising and messy as he finger fucks you faster and the squelching sounds you make around him echo off of the tile. His fingers scissor in you, working you open for him and when he grazes that soft, spongy spot inside of you, your legs nearly give out. 

He manages to keep you upright with his other arm locked around your waist. “You okay?” His voice is gruff, much deeper than it was earlier and you can feel more wetness seep out and around his fingers. 

“I’m s-so close, Vern, fuck.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fingers?”

The sentence is so simple but it has you clenching around his digits so hard that you hold your breath.

“Mmhmm!” you can’t manage words, only sounds, but he doesn’t ask again, instead quickening his pace. Doing your best to match his speed, you twist your wrist, letting Vernon cant his hips forward and fuck into your hand. You whimper into each other’s mouths, the only focus is each other. The only thing either of you see and think about is the other.

Vernon eventually breaks the kiss and bends down to draw one of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flicking at the bud before sucking on it hard enough to hurt in the best way. The twinge of pain shoots straight to your belly, the tension finally snapping.

When you cum, you throw your head back, hitting the bathroom door with a loud ‘thunk!’ and your eyes squeeze shut so tightly that stars swim in the darkness of your closed lids “Fuck!” You choke out, your knees finally giving up on keeping you upright as you let go of Vernon’s cock to grab a hold of his other arm.

Your body sags against his bare chest. He has to prop you back against the door while he helps you ride out your orgasm. The image of you like this, naked and sweaty and crying out for him on his fingers will live in his mind rent-free until the day he dies.

When he finally slips out of you, he can’t help but stare in awe at your juices that drip down his fingers. His first impulse is to shove them into his mouth which he does eagerly, sucking and savoring the flavor of you.

Vernon’s eyes roll back and you watch the entire thing, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Can I eat you out? If that’s okay with you of course.” Vernon’s eyes are wide as he meets yours, half-afraid that you’ll say no. He’ll respect you of course, but he’ll also daydream forever about the way just the small sampling of you tasted on his tongue.

Luckily, for both of you, you want nothing more than to feel Vernon’s kiss-swollen lips on your cunt.

“Please!” You shamelessly beg, droopy eyes widening at his request.

He leads you to the bathroom counter and helps you clumsily clamber up onto it. Both of you are wobbly and clumsy from the weed, but you make it without injury. Vernon’s on his knees instantly, wide hands prying your legs open, pussy on full display. 

“Holy shit, you’re so wet!”

“Vernon!” You cover your face in embarrassment, feeling self-conscious.

“Like, your pussy is fucking shimmering in the light, baby.” His face is right in front of your heat, the proximity making your hole flutter right in front of his eyes. “Fucking hell I just watched your pussy squeeze. I’m going to pass out.”

“Vernon, fucking touch me already, please! I need you so bad!” His heavy eyes meet yours, tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes, please.”

Much like earlier, he didn’t need you to tell him again as his eyes focus on you and he dips his head between your legs. 

Vernon’s tongue immediately finds your clit, the muscle flicking forcefully, sending a jolt through you. Shaky fingers rake through Vernon’s hair and grip the brunette locks for support as he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on it in the way you need.

“Fuck! Vernon, yes!” Your hips start to buck up into his face when he changes direction and dips his tongue into your pussy, groaning low in his throat as he does.

“Mmph! So good.” Vernon drawls, his words muffled as he tongue fucks you, slurping your wetness as he does.

His tongue darts in and out of you, his nose brushing your clit every time you lift your hips. Vernon makes out with your cunt, the lewd sounds alone are enough to have you hurdling to your end and Vernon’s grunt reverberating through your body is what ultimately has you cumming. 

“Vernon!” His name erupts from your mouth in a shriek, your thighs clamping around his head. Your whole body feels as if it’s on fire, as you arch almost painfully into him. You stay that way for what feels like minutes, hips still pushed towards him as you gasp and Vernon continues to lazily lick at you.

The world could crumble around you at this very moment and you don’t think you’d care. 

That was undisputedly the best head you’ve ever gotten.

Vernon chuckles from between your thighs, finally coming up for air.

“Best head ever huh?” His nose all the way to his chin shines with your juices as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

You hadn’t even realized you said your last thoughts out loud. Only a small part of you feels embarrassed. The rest of you only focuses on Vernon as he stands up, his cock red and angry as it rests against his stomach.

“Can - can we do it on the floor? My legs feel like cooked pasta right now and I can’t stay upright.” His expression is sullen as he says this, but you can only giggle at how cute he looks, pouting at you, cradling his very thick, very distracting dick.

“You can fuck me wherever you want as long as you do it.”

Vernon’s eyes widen, blinking a few times as if your words fluster him, but he quickly snaps out of it, helping you off the counter. He grabs a bath towel hanging on the rack nearby and spreads it out on the floor before helping lay you on it. He promises that it’s clean, but you shrug his worries away. Towel or not, at this very moment all you want is Vernon to fuck you even more stupid than the weed has made you, and you don’t care what he does it on.

With fumbling hands, Vernon reaches for his pants and digs his wallet out in search of a condom. When he finds it, he opens and rolls the rubber on, hands trembling as he goes. 

He scurries back over to you, easily taking his place between your legs. He momentarily forgets what he’s doing when he catches sight of your still-sopping folds and you have to call his name to get his attention. His eyes dart up to look at you, fixating on your heaving chest and bottom lip pulled tight between your teeth, hair sprawled out around your head, eyes red and shiny, staring right back at him. 

You look straight out of all of the late-night fantasies he’s had about you and you don’t even know it.

Vernon’s cock feels as big as it looks when he finally eases inside of you, your legs quivering along the way. His hands hook under your knees, keeping you open until he buries himself balls-deep into your pussy.

The two of you share a moan, your voices harmonizing in pleasure at finally filling you and being full by him. He takes a moment before he thrusts forward, gauging your reaction. A scrunch of your brow and a nod to him lets him know to move and he anchors himself by gripping your thighs as he starts to snap his hips.

A high-pitched yelp leaves you, echoing in the room along with the wet sounds of your arousal, the sound only intensifying as Vernon starts to fuck you with more urgency. 

“Holy shit, Y/n. You feel fucking incredible.” He pants out as he drives his hips into yours, sweat already beading at his hairline.

Your shaky hands reach up to wrap around his shoulders and you pull him closer. “S-so do you…” Vernon stumbles, but catches himself, planting his hands on the sides of your head. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you do your best to lift your hips with each thrust, meeting Vernon’s momentum as he fucks into you.

Through the condom, you can still feel the most prominent veins on his cock, the friction gliding against your walls, your eyes crossing at the pleasure. The bathroom floor isn’t where you imagined your first time with him being, although you never thought that your first time with him would even happen. Your crush on him was one you kept close to you and in your mind, it wouldn’t be reciprocated. 

That thought was obviously cast aside if the way his soft brown eyes, rimmed with scarlet, are looking down at you, even as his lips press together in concentration with each drive of his body jolting yours and almost pushing you across the floor.

Even with THC coursing through his system and making every other movement so slow, Vernon is quick and determined as he rocks into you, your soft, gummy walls squeezing him harder the faster he fucks into you at a bruising pace. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Vernon rasps out between grunts. 

“You’re f-fucking the last of my brain cells out of m-me and you wanna be romantic?” You manage a laugh, even if it gets cut off with a sob as soon as Vernon’s cockhead bumps into your g-spot. 

“I can’t help it. You make me wanna be romantic.” His words are accentuated with a breathy groan - the sentence a stark contrast to the way he pummels your cunt.

Tears well in your eyes, and you blame the weed for bringing emotions out of you. Raising your head as best as you can, you meet his lips in what is meant to be a sweet kiss, even if it’s more teeth than anything, but neither of you minds.

You lay back and settle when you can’t keep yourself up anymore and Vernon stays close to your face as he pivots his hips, shoving his hand between your bodies. It takes him a second, but he eventually finds your clit, eliciting a shriek from you.

The pace that Vernon finds with both his hips and his fingers has your orgasm right on the cusp, your body already sensitive from earlier. 

“V-Vernon!”

“Say my real name,” he wheezes desperately. 

“Hansol! Fuck, so good. ‘M gonna cum! So close…” His real name rolls off of your tongue just as easily as his nickname does, if not easier.

His fingers pinch at your clit between pressing against it as his other hand supports most of his weight, his sweaty forehead resting against yours. 

“Cum for me again, baby. Wanna see you cum just for me.” His voice is like honey, dripping all over you, and setting your heart and body ablaze.

You reach your high then, a needy cry of his name exploding from you, your body going stiff. Wave after wave rushes through you like an inferno, your blood rushing to your head. Through the ringing in your ears, you hear Hansol actually growl from above you, your name, and a string of curses sounding like a chant coming from him.

His mouth hangs open again as his hips stutter, riding out his orgasm until he lets out a loud huff. Instinctively, you reach your hand up, running it through Hansol’s damp strands. His eyes slip close, pushing his head into your hand more, relishing in the way your nails graze his scalp.

The air is calm and full of so much adoration even as you both harshly huff and puff, catching your breath. You relish this moment with Hansol, wanting nothing more than to stay like this with him.

The sound of his stomach grumbling cuts through the moment. “Sorry,” he snorts, causing both of you to break into a fit of laughter.

“Wanna go back downstairs and get some pizza?” You ask him as he finally moves off of you and you peel yourself up from the floor. Vernon has to help you stand, but to be fair, both of you are unsteady as you stand again.

“Hell yeah. Would you wanna bring it back up to my room? I can clean up really quickly and you can stay over. I have a bowl if you wanna smoke more. But only if you want to! You can say no and I can stay with you until a rideshare gets here.” The nervousness in his question is obvious as he pulls his clothes back on, having to concentrate on getting both legs in his jeans without falling over.

“Of course, I’ll stay over. And don’t worry about the mess. As long as there’s room in the bed for us, the food, and to smoke it doesn’t matter to me, Hansol.” You smile to yourself once you’re dressed, loving the way his real name sounds to your ears. You want to only call him Hansol from here on out.

His head snaps up and he fixes you with a wide-eyed look once his hoodie is back on. “Really?”

You nod at him, laughing at his expression - the same incredulous look he’s given you all night. Closing the small distance between the two of you, you place a gentle kiss on his lips, enjoying the way he instantly melts into you.

Yeah, your first real party was completely different than you had imagined, but it was even better than you had hoped.

Seventeen masterlist | All Masterlists

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Stella And Stolas Should Been Divorced Or Were In The Middle Of One When Stolas Slept With Blitzo

To make Stolas seem less of an asshole who has no guilt for cheating, have him be a recent divorcee or someone in the middle of divorcing. Have it so he's been stressed with getting divorced from a wife he was never attracted or got along with when Blitzo comes back into his life. He would be delight that his childhood friend is back and has come to see him. And they actually were childhood friends who had a deeper connection, but separated as teens when it was deemed he had outgrown Blitzo and need to move on with marrying Stella. He was beginning to catch feelings for Blitzo as a teen but it remain dormant after he left but came back when Blitzo showed up again. And Blitzo comes back to offer a deal with him to help fund a business with his grimoire which Stolas is reluctant at first to support until Blitzo seduces him into agreeing and everything goes from there.

During one meeting when they were having their tryst, Stella catches them having their business partners with benefits relationship as she's dropping Octavia off. This would incur so many questions and saying thank goodness she's divorcing/divorced him because she couldn't be seen with a husband who is sleeping with an imp. Meanwhile, Octavia is still confused about everything and is shocked to see her dad having already moved on from her mom quick. This time she's having mixed feelings about her dad's new relationship after going through a turbulent divorce with her parents. I do think in this au Octavia would still be going through emotional problems but it won't be solely Stolas' fault. And Stolas will learn how to balance his daughter getting through his and getting used to Blitzo since this time they didn't have an affair that broke up the family.

The problem of him sleeping with an imp would still get Stella mad and get second hand embarrassment. But she keeps it a secret because she doesn't want to be known as the woman who had a ex-husband whose new partner was an imp. I do think we should have some focus where she's realizes her fighting is hurting her daughter and will do her best to keep her daughter from seeing anymore. She might also be searching for another partner but she thinks waiting until some calm down in the divorce when she can date again so her daughter can get through this especially since Stolas already was quick to find a new partner. Also she blackmails Stolas with the info about him sleeping with an imp to have some favors done for her in the human world. IMP does those favors or she rats him out which he agrees.

The issue of Imp and high society relationships would still be an issue. However, Stolas would be more nicer and doesn't coerce Blitzo into a forced arrangement. Blitzo willing sleeps with Stolas to gain favor but also both development slow genuine feelings as they revitalize their relationship. Blitzo would know more about the divorce and has the bystander that's rough thing. He wouldn't think much of Stella if he had ever really encountered her as a kid. Stella wouldn't be one dimensional but it's obvious that both she and Stolas never got along and even if he wasn't gay they weren't comptable. And in contrast show how from the beginning Blitzo and Stolas were more compatible.

Also the person who puts a hit on Stolas won't be Stella but she's a red herring but it would be another member of the Goetia who is embarrassed by Stolas sleeping with an imp who he lent the grimoire to. Andrealphus would be the culprit and as it turns out as much as Stella doesn't like Stolas she still knows her daughter loves her father and doesn't want to break her heart if he's dead. Also I think she would have told Andrealphus and told him to keep it a secret because she wants to keep face and blackmail Stolas into giving into her demands. However, Andrealphus being a opportunistic bastard wants to see him dead to his own advantage and maybe steal his spot.

[yanderes-galore]

Pretty please the second part of that Megastar rivalry🙏

It took me awhile to figure out ideas for this one but I hope I got something that will work, lol. This is a time skip from the first part. AU of TFA so it isn't exactly like the show (I also forgot most of Season 1, rip). There's definitely potential to add more detail but this was going to end up long and it already has time skips as is so I hope it's okay :( I was trying to finish the story in one request.

This isn't really edited, I apologize for spelling mistakes and errors.

Deception and Loyalty Part 2

Yandere! TFA! Megatron vs Yandere! TFA! Starscream Scenario

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Jealousy, Violence, Possessive behavior, Abuse of power, Submissive Starscream mention, Manipulation, Deception, Stalking, Forced relationship, Kidnapping implied, Mentions of death/Murder, Off screen violence/dismemberment, Energon/Blood mention.

Earth... a strange place to you.

The planet was much different than Cybertron. Much dirtier with many small bioorganic creatures running around. Part of you found them cute albeit annoying or troublesome.

Something you have liked about Earth is since you came here you haven't had to deal with Starscream or Megatron. Megatron had supposedly perished in an explosion while Starscream, along with most of the other Decepticons like you, were flung away by the blast.

Now you've been trying to thrive on Earth. At first you had gone dormant on Earth's surface. Yet recently you've woken up and have been trying to adapt.

You've taken an alternate form by observing human vehicles. A jet form was what you defaulted to because it would aid you in staying out of sight. Plus, Decepticons tend to like flight for travel.

It felt nice to not deal with pitiful fighting. You actually didn't mind being alone and away from others Cons. Unfortunately, that ended with time.

Starscream was the first Con you had met again on this foreign planet. You had met him on complete accident. Due to you both being in a jet form you had noticed each other's colors.

You tried to ignore it... he didn't.

Cue your attempts to lose him before landing. Sadly, Starscream had kept close track of you. You try to hide the frown on your face as Starscream enters your view.

"You're here!?" Starscream gawks, taking a moment to admire your new form. "And you took a jet form?"

"Don't take it as flattery." You sigh. "It's advantageous."

"Right, right, whatever-" Starscream waves his hand, disinterested before looking at you with excitement. "I thought I'd never see you again after the blast! I thought you died like... Megatron." You can tell the name of your Lord brings a foul taste to his mouth.

You say nothing about the death of Megatron. Starscream observes your face carefully, trying to find grief. Truthfully you didn't really care. The strange amount of affection Megatron gave you never really sat right.

"You don't seem sad." Starscream claims, you glare at him.

"You don't either." You say back, Starscream laughing at your response.

"Well, he was weak, wasn't he?" Starscream grins. "Decepticons need a strong leader, like me! Plus, a leader could use a second in command, right?"

Starscream notices you turn away from him. As a result he swing himself back in your gaze much to your displeasure.

"Well? What do you say? If I become leader, you'll be by my side?" Starscream offers, you scoff.

"You know damn well that Megatron would put me as leader and not you if he died, right?" You growl. You notice the Con is taken aback, wings shooting down for a moment.

"I, uh, well- if that's what you want, we can both be in charge regardless!" Starscream laughs nervously in an attempt to negotiate. "I really don't care that much...."

That's a lie and you both most likely knew it. Starscream has always wanted to rule the Decepticons with you by his side. If you wanted to parade yourself as leader but he's still in command he'll settle for now. At least that way he's still with you....

"It doesn't seem you're going to give me much of a choice?" You frown, Starscream giving you a slight nod.

"I mean, clearly we'd be the best for the job in Megatron's stead?" Starscream continues to try to appeal to you, even keeping his wings down to remain "submissive" to win over your favor.

"Fine." You say simply with a sigh. This pleases the other Decepticon as he shakes your hand.

"Great. Now follow me, we need the others to look for the Allspark, right, leader?" Starscream appears to be teasing but you sense the darker tone.

You're only in charge because it benefits him.

Your time of solitude was quickly ended once you found Starscream. The other jet hated to leave your side. He often stuck by you and chatted like he always did on The Nemesis.

Part of you found the familiarity comforting even though it's Starscream... an obsessive admirer.

He was much better when there was less fighting. His attraction to you was also still evident, if not enhanced by the fact you now shared a trait with him. He often gave certain comments and often reminisces on the past you two shared before he was demoted.

You thought this was how your life was going to go. You may be the leader for a little while before passing it to Starscream. Right now, the Allspark had to be your priority.

Then there was word of Megatron being alive.

In fact, Megatron was actively watching you through cameras once he woke up. Being just a head in this current state, he couldn't quite act yet. Despite this he still felt rage when Starscream admitted his betrayal away from you.

Megatron couldn't really be mad at you for taking the leadership role. In fact, he knew he chose you as his future partner for a reason. You knew the mission, you took his place to serve the mission, and you didn't allow Starscream to get into power like the traitor he was.

In fact, watching you until he could have a body of his own made him feel for you more. You kept priorities and kept traitors in their place. You'd be perfect for him...

He just needed to fix himself with the help of the human named Sumdac.

----

Killing Starscream had felt thrilling to Megatron. The surge of power the Allspark gave him made him feel powerful. Even though his new plan didn't come into fruition like he wanted and the Autobots had destroyed the Allspark, it wasn't a total loss.

Starscream is dead, his spark extinguished as far as he knew and cared. That traitor no longer could corrupt you into working for him. Speaking of which....

You looked frightened when he approached you after making base in an underground mine with Sumdac as prisoner. You feared for the judgment he'd give you. Even Lugnut and Blitzwing wondered if you'd be dealt with similar to Starscream.

"Please, forgive me if I did something wrong, Lord Megatron. I failed you in getting the Allspark... I don't even think I lead the Decepticons right-"

"You did fine." Megatron's voice is authoritative, his red eyes glaring into you. "In fact, I'd rather you in charge than that bumbling idiot Starscream."

It's then Blitzwing and Lugnut are commanded out of the room to move Sumdac somewhere else.

You're alone... and scared.

"My Lord...?" You flinch when he tilts your chin up, wings shooting up in alarm.

"I knew it was a good choice to keep you." Megatron grins. "It's about time I told you about this anyways."

"What, My Lord?"

"Ever heard of a Conjunx Endura?"

You freeze in place.

"Lord Megatron, yes... I-" You stutter, Megatron pulling away momentarily.

"I think you're worthy to be mine." Megatron finishes, standing in front of you. This time your wings shoot down, you're nervous.

"Lord Megatron... are you sure there's no one else-"

"Everyone else is an idiot and has failed me." Megatron growls. "You, on the other hand, have proved your loyalty. You'll be mine."

His hand reaches for yours as he pulls you forward.

"It's decided. I want you to say you'll be mine."

You pause, frozen on what to say. It's then you feel pressured to reply due to the intensity of his gaze.

It's an order.

"Yes, My Lord... I accept your proposal of being your Conjunx Endura." You reply, trying to appeal to your Lord and avoid his wrath.

"Good...." Megatron praises, moving a hand to your cheek. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint.

This began a new chapter of your life. It was now official that Megatron laid his claim to you, even if you weren't ready for it. As a result, you almost never left his side.

Something that Starscream, who is not dead, has noticed.

Seeing Megatron take you from him made his Energon boil. Starscream was thankful the Allspark piece in his face had given him another chance at life. Especially now that he's seen what Megatron's plans are for you.

The fact that Megatron not only lived Starscream's attempt to kill him but also made you his Conjunx Endura was enough to make the Con insane. As a result, Starscream began his other attempts on Megatron's life.

While Megatron planned ways to defeat the Autobots and ways to reward your loyalty, Starscream plotted murder. Of course, none of which worked. Everything from blaster fire to more bombs Megatron was able to avoid. All it ever earned Starscream was supposedly being "killed" again and tossed into the river.

It became clear to Starscream this wasn't the way he was going to get you back. Megatron had even grown more aware than ever of Starscream's attempts to take you away. The fighting has begun again.

With you stuck in the middle... again.

Starscream's Ending

Starscream decided outright trying to murder Megatron wasn't the way to go about this. He needed to plan this better. He needed to be deceptive.

He needed to lure you away from him.

If Megatron or him won't die, this was the only other way. Starscream knew just how to do it. A secret message... one talking of an Allspark piece. Except that's not all.

Megatron will be sent one, leading him into an Autobot ambush. Meanwhile you'll be sent another, sending you straight to him. The Con could barely contain his excitement.

He'd show Megatron... you were never meant to be Megatron's Conjunx Endura.

You're meant to be for Starscream.

He'll happily show you it's meant to be.

After messages were sent to the Autobots, Megatron, and you... it was time to play the waiting game. Starscream could barely hide the smile on his face. He'd show them all that he's superior.

Meanwhile, you had gotten the message. Megatron had already ordered you to stay while he looks for the Allspark piece. However... you yearned to leave the base. Plus, the chance to get two Allspark pieces was a chance you'll take.

With caution, you set off. You quickly switch to jet mode and fly to the location of the supposed Allspark piece. Once you land... you notice silence.

Carefully you swap out of your alt mode and look around. Maybe it's underground? Maybe the coordinates were wrong-

"Conjunx Endura... seriously!?"

Your wings shoot up and you whirl around to see Starscream. Yet again he wasn't dead, yet again he's pursuing you. You quickly pull out your blasters.

"What are you planning?"

"No, no, no! Listen to me! HE made you HIS Conjunx Endura!?" Starscream seethes.

"Why's it matter to you?" You frown, not liking the situation yourself.

"Why!? I thought that was obvious!?" Starscream growls, stepping forward with his wings up. "You're supposed to be mine! MY Conjunx Endura! We've been MEANT for each other since meeting on the Nemesis!"

"Have you got a bolt loose?" You yell back. "I don't want to be with either of you! I don't even get a chance in the matter!"

"Don't be like that!" Starscream coos. "I promise once I find a way to get rid of Megatron, we'll rule together! For now..."

You notice Starscream pull out a stun blaster.

"I'll keep you with me until then."

Starscream's quick with his trigger. Just before you swap to alt mode he stuns you. You freeze and collapse onto the ground. A groan leaves you as Starscream kneels beside you.

"Don't worry, when I kill Megatron tear out his Spark... we'll be Conjunx Endura for countless stellar cycles!"

You only glare at him in your stunned state.

You wish he stayed dead more than anything....

Megatron's Ending

The countless attacks from Starscream were starting to make Megatron's patience run thin. The Con just wouldn't stay dead, always fighting Megatron out of jealousy. Why doesn't he get it?

Starscream lost this battle of power... and he lost you before he got a chance to have you.

The only thing that calmed his rage was you, his Conjunx Endura.

Despite Starscream's attacks you still stuck beside him. You still praised him as he expects. You even told him you were his and he yours.

Even though for you it was simply practiced, not entirely genuine.

You had respect for Megatron as a leader. That's how you felt any connection between you two should be, just respect. You never wanted to be committed to Megatron in this way.

Same goes for Starscream, you didn't like him this way either.

Despite this you adhered to your loyalty. Even though you held no real romantic intentions towards Megatron, you felt it would be best if you listened. You're better off than most Decepticons this way.

"He doesn't give up...." Megatron hisses. You quickly stand beside him, frowning.

"He's jealous of you, my dear." You say softly, Megatron responding by pulling you closer. You fight the urge to shoot up your wings in defense.

"I'll kill him... I'll kill him over and over if he keeps trying to take you away from me." Megatron threats, looking at you. "A traitor doesn't deserve you or your loyalty."

"Yes... I suppose you're right." You frown, waiting for Megatron to let you go before leaving.

Starscream's return was inevitable. You had seen it coming and you were sure Megatron did too. The Con didn't know when to quit, which was a dangerous game to play when it came to Megatron.

You almost pitied the fate that was awaiting Starscream. Yet instead you felt numb towards their fighting. You wanted nothing to do with it at this point.

So when Starscream came back to the base with Megatron waiting, you knew what was going to happen. You already knew Megatron was going to unleash his fusion cannon on him. However, you admit you weren't expecting what came next.

You had seen the fighting from another room. You had heard Megatron yell and berate the jet before Starscream counters back. It was just like on The Nemesis.

Except this time there was more screaming. You expected screaming, but this was more than usual. Not only that... there was also the sound of creaking and tearing metal... along with something wet hitting the floor.

"Slag... Megatron!?" You call, running into the room. You pause when you see what he's done. Starscream was there alright...

In pieces and covered in Energon.

"He won't bother us anymore." Megatron answers simply, looking at Starscream in disgust. You say nothing and have no idea if what he says will be true or not. Will he really not come back?

Your wings remain down and you back away. Megatron ushers over Blitzwing and Lugnut to take care of the mess. Lugnut is eager to do so while Blitzwing shows disgust at the mutilation. Meanwhile, Megatron escorts you out of the room with himself.

You can't stop staring at the Energon on his body.

"You look worried." Megatron states blankly, you shake your head.

"It's nothing, my dear." You answer, hesitating to lean into him as he pulls you closer.

"Now you know what I'd do for you, Conjunx Endura." Megatron declares. "I'd kill for you... I'd burn worlds for you...."

There's silence between you, you can't seem to get the image of Starscream's death out of your head.

"... you'll always be mine, right?" Megatron asks.

"Of course, my Lord." You answer quickly, not wishing to be on the receiving end of his rage.

You truly do wonder if Starscream won't come back from that...

Even if he does... what difference does it make?

[neverchecking]

That recent Sage fic u wrote was MUAH BELOVED But now we can't get enough 🧍‍♀️so if it isn't much of a hassle and u still have some room, may I request a oneshot (it can be HCs too if u want) exploring how much of a.. hawk Sage is guarding and protecting Reader? It's like a follow up fic of ur last one

Look. Look. Y'all are straight up feral for this man and I love feeding you guys.

It's no hassle at all darling, and I always have room! I went with HC's bc they're easier when it comes to spitballing like this.

Also, me and @eeveelutionqueen1995 have decided that Wild (Blue Nightshade), Calamity (Silent Princess) and Sage (Sundelion) are now the Flower Garden trio. The council has SPOKEN-

I was gonna wait to post this tomorrow, but y'all can thank @lovanmari because their art of Sage had me BARKING- so have this as a treat from me to you.

Sage, for those new here, is TotK Link! So spoilers below!

The 'last' one can be found here!

・❥・After resigning himself to your pitiful cause, Sage decides to get you to a stable first and foremost. He has no idea how old your injury is nor how well taken care of it, if at all, so he needed to get a grasp on that.

・❥・He couldn't risk losing his only support in this cruel world due to an infection caused by neglect by things far out of his control.

・❥・So, that was first. The stable hands greeted him with a smile-- shaky and unsure of his normally glowering features much less stiff as you babbled on about this group of yours.

・❥・They knew better than to push him though, simply giving you both a large berth after he snapped his glare at a stable boy that tried to offer you a water canteen.

・❥・He gave you his own while wordlessly daring anyone else to try that. He had no idea where that water came from. Whose to say this stablehand wasn't Yiga? What if it was poisoned?! He couldn't risk it.

・❥・He made sure your injury was wrapped and treated properly, before anything else, listening to you go on and on about something or another. He answered the questions you had ("What kind of flower is that?" "...Sundelion." "That's a huge Bokoblin! Do they all come that size?" "No, just the boss Bokoblins." "Those are thing? Are they tougher than regular Bokoblins?" "...Not anymore.") calmly and succinctly,

・❥・Just as he sat back to try and figure out the best route of action from this point on (His day to day life was so dangerous. He'd have to make some serious adjustments if he wanted to keep you within arms reach. There was no question after this that you were his- even if you didn't know it yet- and he couldn't very well just leave you at this stable. He did have a home on the outskirts of Tarrey town. No one would hear your screams or pleas for escape...) the sound of some sort of warbling caught his attention and yours.

・❥・He immediately jumped to action as he stepped in front of you, pulling out the Master Sword-- that he recently retrieved-- and holding out his shield. The Sage spirits echoed his stance as he allowed them to roam, your excited squeak making his ears twitch. He'd have to show them to you up close after the threat was disengaged.

・❥・In front of him, a portal of some sorts-- a dark purple with three straight edges--wavered in front of him, testing his patience as it remained frustratingly dormant.

・❥・"That's one of the portals I was talking about!" You called from behind him, running up to stand behind him with your hand, soft and free of blemishes, settling on his shoulder.

・❥・That meant either this supposed Dink (What a dumb name for a being of evil) or your damned group was making their grand (re)appearance.

・❥・He wasn't sure which option he loathed the idea of more.

・❥・The first one to pop through the portal was a tall blond adorned in armor and an eyesore of a scarf. Immediately, he could only see all of the weak points this...man showcased. (He had no protection anywhere near his thighs, nor his neck, meaning if he could fake a hit at either one he could quickly redirect a swipe at the other and hopefully nick an artery-)

・❥・He was just about to do just that when you stepped around him. "Wars!"

・❥・Ah. So you knew him. He was part of your disgraced group...Or was he?

・❥・Quickly grabbing your arm, he made sure you stayed close as you glanced back at him. He kept his gaze on the imposter. "Remember what I said about the puppets."

・❥・You thought for a second before frowning, stepping back behind him. He had warned you of Ganon being able to make lifelike puppets. So close to the real thing they almost fooled even him.

・❥・You took his warning in head even as the other turned to look at him. And you. Mostly you if the look of pure admiration written all over his features said anything.

・❥・"Oh, my precious Angel, you're safe!" He cried out, moving to step closer before Sidon's trident clanged noisily against Yunobo's Boulder breaker, creating an 'x' right in front of where he stood, pushing you behind him.

・❥・"Come no closer!" He barked at the startled man. "State your name and business, but come no further."

・❥・The man glowered at him, fingers twitching on the hilt of his weapon. The portal wavered behind him but it was forgotten as Link tightened his grip around the Master Sword.

・❥・"I am here for them. We were separated, but, as you can see, we've been reunited. Your...assistance is no longer needed." The other, Wars, growled out through ground teeth. "I'll take it from here."

・❥・"I'm sure you'd like that." He barked back, lowering his stance as his teeth bared themselves. He wasn't against charging teeth first and using his weapon as an afterthought.

・❥・Wars grimaced at the primal response. Then he seemed to remember himself, sending you a positively pitiful glance. "Angel, you have no idea how long we've been looking for you-"

・❥・"Y/n!" Another voice called, much younger and much closer than Link anticipated. A young boy, looking much like the other male-- same blond hair and blue eyes--ran right up to the Sage spirits. "It's me. Wind! You know me!" He cried, tears welling up in his wide eyes. "Don't tell me you forgot me!"

・❥・You broke free of his grasp before he could readjust it, running forward to cradle the youngest one to your chest. "I would never!"

・❥・Oh, this just wouldn't do at all.

・❥・"Y/n-" He hissed, stepping closer to retrieve you before a weapon was swung towards him. His own met it before it collided with his shoulder, pushing it off of him as he was met with an eerily familiar face. Riddled with scars and with hair too long to be practical, he realized he was met with another contender for your attention.

・❥・The scarred man snarled his own grimace, with his own teeth bared-- canines comparatively sharp to his own. His body language said everything he didn't. Back the fuck up.

・❥・He did not. He grew closer, getting up in the other's face. Not a chance in the fiery depths of hell.

・❥・"Move." Was all Link said, the other refusing to do so, before your hands were pushing against his chest. He followed the direction you pushed him in, as gentle and loving as you were with everything.

・❥・"They are not our enemies, Link." You whispered, eyes wide and pleading. He almost felt as if he had no choice but to listen.

・❥・And then there was a fucking small army behind you and he was on the offensive again. Who were these people, threatening to take you away from him?!

・❥・"Stand down!" A loud voice barked. The authority in it was present as he eyeballed the source. Tall. Blond haired and blue eyed with tattoos or markings of some sorts on his face. One eye was shut with a scar dragging over it with his own armor gleaming in the light. "We mean no harm." The gleam in his eye said otherwise.

・❥・He did not back down, but he did allow you to step in front of him. Even if he quickly wrapped an arm around your hips. That earned him a few glares. Good.

・❥・"He doesn't either!" You quickly reassured. "This is another Link!"

・❥・...I'm sorry, did you say another? Were these all...him? He sincerely hoped not. It seemed the rest of them agreed as another one, seemingly younger than that Wind character if his height was anything to go by, stepped up, pushing against Sidon's Trident, even if it didn't move. "My jewel, you know I would never doubt you, but...are you sure?"

・❥・You hurriedly explained everything to them, even going as far as to raise his hand that clutched the Master sword in front of them. He eyed their cautious expressions before another was stepping forward. He had some sort of white cape wrapped around him and was holding another version of the Master Sword, supposedly, in front of him. She didn't quite gleam like his did, but he supposed that was because his was fresh from a ten thousand year power nap.

・❥・"Then he wouldn't mind putting what you say to the test, would he, songbird?" The sword was offered.

・❥・In an act of pure spite, his own was sheathed as he kept his hand around your waist, reaching forward and wrapping his fingers around the blade. The blade let out a chime before an echo rung in his head.

・❥・'Welcome, Hero of the Zonai.'

・❥・...He was going to kill Hylia.

[mrultra100]

I know this is a bit sudden, buuuuuuuuut...

I've been thinking a fair bit about the canned MSM tv show recently. For those not aware, Big Blue Bubble was originally planning to turn My Singing Monsters into an animated series. However, they've since canned it for... reasons? I dunno, I’ll never understand how BBB came to can this idea, but from the looks of it, this series looked like it would be very good. I even have a few thoughts dedicated to how this could work, if it ever get brought back from the dead. And that includes things like the personalities of the main characters, along with some juicy ideas for things like worldbuilding based on the games' surprisingly deep lore.

Pom Pom- A cheerful soul motivated by endless creativity. Her main goal in life is to create various musical masterpieces as a sort of maestro. A bit like Charlie from Hazbin Hotel, if you can see it.

Mammott- The lovable doofus of the trio. Loyal to his friends, Mammott isn’t the brightest bulb in the shed, but his heart is much larger. Can get into sticky situations due to his state of mind.

Furcorn- The straight-Mon of the trio. While he’s more than happy to support his friends, he serves as the voice of reason within the group, especially with things like Pom-Pom going in over her head, and Mammott’s child-like curiosity getting the better of him. Is also both sassy and blunt.

While the general tone of this show would be similar to the laidback and wacky tone of the original games, Those Singing Monsters could have its own sense of worldbuilding, and that could be reflected in the tones of its seasons. The plot of at least the first season revolves around Pom Pom and co going on all sorts of wacky adventures across the Monster World, singing songs and getting into all sorts of mischief along the way. An idea for an overarching plot could go into in a couple of ideas.

Idea A- The rediscovery of the lost element of Fire, and the attempts made to bring it and the Monsters belonging to that element back into The Monster World. Could also expand on and and show off an animated iteration of the events of the Dawn of Fire, the events that led to its end and the Fire monsters being forced into hiding, and how it’s affected The Monster World since.

Idea B- Admittingly, this could work more as the plot of a Season 2, but the story of the Celestials could work. How they came into existence, their history with the Colossals, the formation of Starhenge, and how the end of the Dawn of Fire led them to being dormant. Due to some sort of problem, Pom Pom and co. would go on some sort of grand, season-spanning adventure to find the Celestials, reawaken them, and bring all of them back together.

It's not entirely perfect, but an attempt was made. Heck, you could even throw in more aspects of the franchise's world into this show for more plots; Things like the Magicals, the Shugafam (Probably have Shugabush be voiced by Kristian Bush himself), the Ethereals and the Pocket Dimension, the Rare and Epic monsters, the Wubbox and the Wublins, The Colossingum, Mythical Island, and more would all help with the stories of this show.

And as much as it sucks that it's currently canceled, maybe, in some sort of strange sense, there's hope for TSM. The franchise has been getting more and more popular in recent years, so Big Blue Bubble could be made to realize the potential of a MSM show, and roll with it. And besides, Fandemonium wasn't the best way to go around with the concept of a My Singing Monsters show. As much as I can get behind it, they should've thought about it more.

[16woodsequ]

Community Wip Wednesday Response Oct 16/24

To anyone not in the know, I'm part of the wip wednesday community and made a post there. People in the group can comment to ask for more of the wips there. A recent poll indicated that people prefer to be tagged in a separate post with the snippets, so that's what I'll be doing here.

Dogs are the Best Judge of Character snippets for @quietly-sleeping, @somefishycat, @kallisto-k, @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin, @sourb0i, @wizisbored, @whimsicalmeerkat, @stonemaskedtaliesin

Relieved to have some direction, Bucky blows out a breath and gets started switching out Scrappy’s food. His nose wrinkles as he removes the can of wet dog food from the electric can opener that he'd gotten for his birthday this year. He’s never liked the smell of dog food, wet or otherwise, and he holds his breath as he scoops out a portion into Scrappy’s bowl.

He leaves that in the bathroom for a few more hours until the next feeding time, and when he checks, Scrappy still has yet to eat anything.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Bucky worries, glancing between the bowl and the dog that is currently pressed up as far from him as possible in the corner. “Are you feeling sick?”

Of course Scrappy can’t answer him, but he gives him a look that’s a mix of fear and reluctance. Like he knows what Bucky wants and knows he hasn’t done it. It’s amazing the amount of feelings a dog can portray with just its eyebrows and huge blue eyes.

Bucky takes the bowl back to the kitchen and washes it out while some of the patties he still had in the freezer defrost in the microwave. They’re already cooked, and he places two in the bowl, blowing on them to cool them down. He would put more in there, but he also doesn’t want Scrappy to eat himself sick. He knows the dog must be starving by now. 

Conscious of what Bethany had said about vitamins, he cuts up half an apple and after a quick google, a bit of carrot as well. Hopefully that’s good enough for today. He makes a mental note to dive deeper into cooking for dogs because he doesn’t want to be this stressed about Scrappy’s eating ever again. 

Faces on TV for @kalira, @auburnlaughter, @asha10100101010

Tony sits in the courtroom next to Steve, his arms folded, sunglasses down. The circus show outside the courthouse was expected, but miserable nonetheless. Everyone wants to get a piece of Captain America when he admits anything close to the words 'emotional distress’. The case is such a spectacle that the judge ruled it would be televised. Televised trials weren’t a thing in Steve’s time, and he’d privately ranted about it to Tony in the labs, but he and Natasha had done their best to prepare Steve for it. 

Of course, next to him, Steve is sitting stiff as a statue, looking every bit the impervious Captain America people expect him to be. Tony hates that, but he knew this trial would be difficult the moment it first came up. 

Trauma kid fic for @cataclysmic-writer, @zyrafowe-sny, @tamsinswriting, @1attheedge

Her gaze shifts to Tony. “He needs some clothes.”

“Clint’s getting some,” Tony mutters a little sullenly, his bitten finger still clasped tight in one hand. 

Well at least that’s being taken care of. Natasha gives Bruce his turn, her mind focused on dealing with this one step at a time. It’s easier that way, because the other option is sitting in paralyzed shock over Steve’s state, which isn’t an option. 

“Bruce? What’s his situation?”

Bruce sighs and gestures vaguely. “JARVIS was able to scan him when we came in, but other than that I haven’t been able to really examine him, since he’s been–” he waves at the crevasse Steve has wedged himself in. “But, from the scans, he doesn’t seem to have the serum. Of course, we can’t know if it’s still there, or dormant, or whatever happened to it without a blood test—”

There’s a soft whimper from under the table, and Bruce winces.

[salswisteria]

‼️REDACTED AUDIOS SPOILER WARNING‼️

(most recent Avior, Carpe Deus, and The Balance audios)

Now that my "Brachium is Hush's brother" theory has unfortunately been debunked, and there's a high likely hood that the one who is actually Hush's brother is infact Avior....with the most recent audios having Avior describe what he's feeling as "being turned inside out." And Hush replying to Vega's comment of "Go back to wherever you came from" with "I don't think I can. And even if I could, that would probably get my brother very upset." Do y'all think Avior is gonna spit/puke out Hush or is Hush gonna he tear outta him eldritch horror gore style?

(For context, my current theory is that while Avior was getting fueled by E'Laetum and Min'Ara in the Meridian so that he wouldn't starve, they were actually putting in Hush's entire being into him in the process. Making sure that it stayed dormant until both Starlight and Avior made it back to Elegy. So basically E'Laetum and Min'Ara treated Avior as a vessel to get Hush to Elegy.)