#and then when the lights are off and the crickets are chirping and the faint screaming of a new bush to lull him to sleep. his door opens.

[screechingfromthevoid]

The cape wrapping was too much for me I have to leave

[incendiobrock]

Sleep Paralysis {Chris Sturniolo}

Summary: Chris struggles with bad nightmares and sleep paralysis, his girlfriend (reader) is there one night to calm him down after a bad dream. ⭐️Inspired by episode 19 of their podcast where Chris talks about his struggles with sleep paralysis and nightmares!!⭐️

Warnings: guns, mentions of death, sleep paralysis (nothing too descriptive!!)

The cabin was quiet, only the noise of the crickets chirping outside were heard through the walls. It was pitch black out, barely any stars shining through the cloudy sky. Chris walked through the halls in search of you. He poked his head inside the bedroom, the door creaking as it slowly opened into the vacant room.

Chris felt his heart pound against his chest as he realized that another room had been checked and you were still gone. Where the hell could you be this late at night? Chris thought about texting his brothers, maybe this one on one vacation wasn’t a good idea.

As Chris stood in the hall, right in front of the slight ajar bedroom door, a faint banging noise sounded from somewhere across the dimly lit cabin.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Chris called out, his eyes scavenging his surroundings. Slowly, he began walking towards the back of the cabin. The pounding of his heart was leaving him breathless as he struggled to retain any air. He stopped in his tracks when a low rumble of thunder caused the floors to shake.

“Fuck.” Chris mumbled under his breath, the power cutting out and leaving him in complete darkness, not that there was much light in this place to begin with. His hand dug into his pant pocket, fishing out his phone and bringing it up in front of him so he could use the flashlight. After a shaky breath, he made his way down into the basement determined to find the breaker.

The basement was cold and eerie, even more so than the rest of the building. The stairs squeaked on every step, the walls were stone and bare, and there were spiderwebs in every corner. Nobody in their right mind would ever go to the basement but Chris had to turn the lights back on so he could continue his search for you. You were more important to him than whatever could be lurking in the darkness of the basement.

Chris eventually found the breaker box which was tucked in the back corner of the foreboding basement, his hand was shaking violently with nerves as he tried to keep his phone flashlight still. He flipped the switch, the generator rumbled but the lights remained off. “Come on stupid thing, work will ya?” Chris cussed under his breath, flipping the switch again and again. Darkness still consumed the boy and his worries were becoming worse.

Chris slammed the breaker box closed with a grunt, shakily making his way back up the stairs to the main level of the cabin. When he found his way back into the living room he glanced out the window, looking down the long driveway to the house. His eyes squinted as he stepped closer to the glass, bringing his hand up to block any glare and get a closer look outside.

In the middle of the driveway you stood frozen in fear, a taller man, dressed in all black, with a mask over his face, held you tightly in front of his chest. A gun was pressed firmly to your temple. Chris immediately felt tears slide down his cheeks as his brain raced trying to think of what he could do to save you.

Without much thought, Chris was speeding towards the front door, throwing it open and making his way to the driveway. "Chris! Please help me!" Your voice shrieked, filling his ears with the unnerving sound of your quivering voice. He wanted to respond back, let you know that he was there and that everything was alright, but his mouth failed him. No matter how much he wanted to speak, he couldn't get out any words.

Chris continued to come towards you and the mysterious man, ready to push him off of you and hold you close in his arms. He wasn't ready to lose you. He had almost reached you when all of a sudden a loud boom echoed through the desolate forrest, your body falling to the ground in an instant.

"No!" Chris' body shot up in bed, his hand coming up over his chest as he heaved in some air. In an instant, you were awake beside him, startled by his scream and abrupt movements.

"Chris, baby- What happened?" You asked urgently, wrapping the boy in a hug and holding him tight as he clung onto you like a koala. His breathing was sporadic and you could feel his tears soak through your shirt as he nuzzled his head into your chest.

"He had you. There was a g-gun, you fell to the ground... Oh my God, I th-thought I had l-lost you." Chris said between sobs. Your heart tore listening to him cry. Since you had been together, you quickly learned that Chris had horrible, vivid, nightmares as well as sleep paralysis. He had told you numerous dreams that involved his closest friends and family dying.

"Shh baby, I'm right here. It was just a dream, I promise." You whispered, rubbing his back and trying to get him to calm his breathing. As you rubbed comforting circles on his back he began to relax, "Am I awake?" He whispered, looking up at you as you both sat in the bed. "You're awake, I'm okay." You replied, giving him a soft, reassuring smile. One of your hands reached up to wipe away some of his tears, showing him that you were really there.

Chris moved to lay back down, facing the bedroom wall. You laid back down too, beginning to spoon Chris. His long, wavy locks fell across his face before you started to run your fingers through it slowly, moving it out of the way. "Go back to sleep Chris. I'm not going anywhere, I love you."

"I love you more..." He said barely above a whisper, sleep taking over his body once again.

[eddies-ashtray]

Getting ready for bed with Eddie <3

(CW: Could be read as gn reader, but Eddie calls reader 'princess' once). |1.1k|

♡*♡*♡

The bathroom is bathed in soft yellow light, slightly muted behind the chipped white sconces. From down the hall you can hear the faint clink of mugs and plates being placed in the sink by Eddie. 

It’s half past 11 and you’re in your sleep shorts and a faded t-shirt as you brush your teeth. You’re about halfway done when Eddie enters the space, sliding in behind you with a gentle hand on your hip. 

“Hey, princess,” Eddie purrs, placing a delicate kiss to your neck, just by your pulse point. You lean into him as he does so. Despite the fact that you’ve spent all day together and he just saw you less than five minutes ago, his greeting isn’t odd to you. 

Eddie grabs his toothbrush from the cup beside the sink and squeezes a glob of bright green toothpaste onto the bristles. 

You spit toothpaste in the sink before replying sweetly, “Hi, baby.” 

When you straighten up again, Eddie bumps his hip gently against yours. You bump his right back. A foamy, close-lipped smile graces his lips around the toothbrush in his mouth and you poke the shallow dimple that pops into his cheek as a result. The divot remains for a few extra seconds in response. 

Faintly, you can make out the chirping of crickets in the overgrown grass outside and the hum of cicadas in the trees, a summer symphony.

It’s simple moments like this that the novel domesticity of living with Eddie strikes you. You love brushing your teeth together, grocery shopping in the evenings, and cooking dinner with him (even if it is just microwave noodles or frozen pizza). As long as it’s with him. 

You love the simplicity of it. That’s how you know you’re happy with Eddie; when there’s not a single thing you could do together that would bore you. He makes everything better, easier even. 

Since Wayne works nights, you and Eddie get the trailer to yourselves most evenings. You like to imagine you’re living somewhere in the city, that this is your shared apartment. 

You hope you get that with him someday. But for now, the trailer is just fine. You could be anywhere with Eddie and it would be just fine. 

Grabbing your book from the side table, you slip into bed while Eddie finishes up in the bathroom. You won’t sink beneath the sheets and get all comfortable and cozy until he joins you. 

You barely finish more than a page before Eddie dives into bed with you. And you mean that literally. 

When Eddie enters the room, he has a running start of about three paces before diving on top of the duvet, landing on your legs which stretch out beneath the worn fabric. The bed jolts with the action and so do you. As a result, your book falls into your lap.

Eddie looks up at you from where he lays on his belly across your legs, propping his chin up against his hand innocently. He bats his long lashes at you like he hasn’t just caused the entire trailer to shake. 

“Are you trying to break the bed?” You ask through giggles.

“No. But we can try,” Eddie remarks, winking and wiggling his eyebrows. 

You scrunch your nose up in faux distaste. “You know, I don’t think I’m up for it now that you’ve broken both of my legs.” 

Eddie laughs softly, eyes crinkling in the corners. And though it’s just a joke, he still apologizes. 

“Sorry,” He says softly, still giggling lightly, before leaning down and placing a sweet kiss to your now exposed hip. He had forced the covers down a few inches with his landing. You push his hair back from his face in response, tucking curly strands gently behind his ears. 

“Have you ever considered, I don’t know, just calmly entering a room and not jumping on innocent, unsuspecting people?” 

Eddie looks at you like you have two heads. “Where’s the fun or flare in that?” And then awkwardly rolls over off your legs and onto his side of the bed. You scoff at his silliness, fingertips pressing against your forehead as you giggle at him. 

He readjusts, pushing himself up and back so he’s sat next to you where your back is pressed up against the wall behind his bed. 

Once he’s settled, you look over at him, and you’re hit with this feeling in your chest that grows and spreads. It takes you over; how much you love him. 

So you lean over and you kiss his cheek, and after you do and he looks at you, he must see it in your eyes and understand. He must recognize it in himself because his eyes soften in the low lamplight of the room and he leans in again and kisses you properly. His lips are soft and taste vaguely of your strawberry chapstick.

When he pulls back slowly, you notice the light smudge of white on his skin and thumb at the small bit of dried toothpaste across his chin. The unshaven stubble there scrapes lightly against the pad of your thumb as you do so. Usually, he shaves every other evening, but he’s neglected his razor for the last bunch of days. 

“Hm,” You hum, eyes tracing a path across the scruff lining his jaw. 

“What?” He wonders softly. 

“You haven’t shaved,” You reply mildly, hand cupping his jaw and very lightly scratching his cheeks, which are dotted with stubble. 

Instantly, Eddie suggests, “I could shave it right now if you wanted.” 

You smile softly, huffing a soft laugh through your nose at his eagerness to do what pleases you. He even starts to get up from the bed before you stop him. 

“Nuh-uh, you’re already in bed,” You say, not wanting him to leave. “And besides, I like it.”

Eddie smiles softly at that, grazing your cheek lovingly with the back of his index finger. 

Then he settles down a bit, lays his head on your shoulder, and you rest yours against the top of his head. 

The pair of you sit there for a short time, you reading your book and Eddie watching you read while fiddling with the fingers on your free hand. 

After, you pull the duvet up to your chins and pull each other close. And you fall asleep just like that, wrapped up in each other just as much as you’re wrapped up in the covers. 

There’s a certain ineffable safety that comes with falling asleep in someone’s arms. In Eddie’s, specifically. You always sleep well when you're next to him. 

♡*♡*♡

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please reblog!

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blurb masterlist

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

an engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. what could go wrong?

pairing - childhood bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. cheating. alcohol mention. so much angst… i’d apologise but i’m not sorry.

word count - 3.7k

author’s note - get it? like, something borrowed, something blue… because it’s a wedding… I was half asleep when that popped into my head and I thought it was perfect, personally. I don’t condone cheating irl, but also… it’s your life, do what you want ;)

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! so, if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging. thanks, angels <3

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The moonlight shines down, glinting off the diamond ring settled on your left hand.

Everyone's dancing, singing, laughing, enjoying each other's company in a rare moment of complete happiness. People keep grabbing you, hugging you, reaching for you to offer their congratulations.

Isn't it just so wonderful? Two people completely in love. Ah, to be young again.

The fairy lights twinkle where they're hung across the garden, acres of grass just begging to be decorated. You'd initially protested this venue - a huge country house in the middle of nowhere, with countless rooms and a huge courtyard.

It's just our engagement party, not our wedding. We don't have to be so extravagant.

This isn't extravagant - not for my family, anyway. Just say yes. I'll plan the entire thing, you don't have to worry.

And so you did. Say yes. To his proposal, the venue, anything he suggests. You can't find it in you to say no, to argue, to fight for what you really want. It isn't worth it.

"There you are, my soon to be wife!"

You take a deep breath, pretending the sound of his voice doesn't make you feel sick.

"My soon to be husband."

He can't see the grimace on your face, even though it's there, loud and clear. He can't read you, has never been able to.

"A car has just pulled up. You expecting anyone else?"

You are, but you won't let yourself get your hopes up. So you lie.

"Don't think so."

"Okay, well... you'll save me a dance, won't you? My mom wants to take some pictures."

You nod reluctantly, patting his arm with as much affection as you can muster.

"I think your brother is calling you."

You direct his attention to where his frat boy siblings are, hollering and yelling for him to come over.

"My guys!"

He departs as quickly as he came, leaving a wave of too strong cologne in his wake.

You take a walk from the garden to the front of the house, curiosity peaked. You scan the parking lot, and your heart stops when you spot the car in the corner.

A burgundy 1983 BMW 733i.

He's here.

You spin on your heel, searching almost frantically, when you hear someone clear their throat. You turn around, and there he is.

Leaning against a pillar, stood in a dress shirt and tailored trousers, hair perfectly styled.

Steve Harrington.

You're half convinced you're dreaming. The world moves around you in a daze, crickets chirping and wind blowing gently. You lock eyes with him, and can't fight the grin that spreads across your face.

“Don’t fret, baby. The life of the party has arrived.”

You scoff but almost run towards him, tripping over in your heels. He meets you halfway, arms snaking around your waist to keep you steady as you wrap yourself around him.

He smells the same. Cologne, spearmint, a faint note of diesel from the car. He smells like home.

Past home, you remind yourself. Not anymore. You have a new home now, with a soon to be husband that doesn’t understand you and a soon to be family that is built on morally questionable money and fake niceties. Steve’s a person of your past, a distant memory, a fading dream.

Except he’s stood right in front of you.

He's staring at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place. You’ve never seen it before.

"I didn't think you'd come," you whisper, begging yourself to pull away from his embrace. He doesn't let you go far, keeping his arms around your back as if he's worried you'll bolt at any given moment.

"And miss my best friends engagement party? Never."

"Best friends. We're not five anymore, Steve."

You roll your eyes, punching his arm lightly.

"What, I can't call you my best friend anymore?"

He picks you up, spinning you across the gravel of the parking lot. You're dizzy with it, the world passing by you in streaks of shapes and colours.

"Steve!"

"What?" he laughs. "You don't like this, best friend? What's the problem, best friend? Are you dizzy, best friend?"

"Put me down!"

Steve throws you over his shoulder as you both spin, strong hands preventing you from falling.

"Put me down, Steve, please - okay, okay! You're my best friend! Call me best friend all you want, please!"

Steve's crying with laughter, out of breath and rosy cheeked. He places you back on the ground, smoothing your hair down with rough palms.

You inhale carefully, grabbing onto his biceps as an anchor as you gauge your bearings. You look up at him, and lose your breath all over again.

Chest heaving, tongue darting over his bottom lip, hair mussed but still perfectly styled. He looks a picture, an ancient painting, a statue carved from the finest marble.

"I never want you to stop calling me your best friend," you whisper, so quietly that the breeze takes it.

"Then I won't."

Your hand slips down Steve's arm and into his, fingers linking gently.

"I missed you."

"I missed you so much, Birdy. You have no idea."

The childhood nickname shoots a lightning bolt through your heart, shiver running up your back involuntarily.

The two of you would sit and watch cartoons for hours on the floor of Steve's living room, pressing your little heads together to see the TV better. He'd joke that you sounded like Tweety Bird, all sweet and lispy. The nickname was born that day, and stuck ever since.

"How was California?"

"So good. I'll tell you all about it later. How's your engagement party?"

"It's good."

You try to sound convincing but your voice cracks, giving you away instantly. Busted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's a few people you know back there - from school, the neighbourhood, family. They'll all wanna see you."

"I'll socialise later. Wanna talk to you first."

The intensity in his voice makes you nervous. You realise you're still holding his hand, so you drop it, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You didn't RSVP."

"Didn't get your invite. Travelling."

"I called your mom. She said she'd tell you."

"She didn't."

"She told me she did."

The crickets continue to chirp, gentle breeze blowing your hair into your face. You look at Steve pointedly, unwilling to be the first to break.

"What are you doing here, Steve?"

"It's your engagement party."

"So you've said."

"I haven't seen you in months."

"I tried to call, but you stopped answering."

"Birdy-"

"I'm just saying, Steve. We haven't spoken in months, I feel like you've been point blank ignoring me, I've had to come to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be at this party or the wedding and then all of a sudden you just show up? Unannounced?"

"I know how this looks."

"Do you?"

You're not entirely sure where all of this anger has come from, but you can't seem to tamp it down. It's bubbling, simmering, threatening to spill over the surface dramatically any second.

"I wasn't sure I could do this. Any of it."

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch you make a mistake."

You scoff, laughing at him in disbelief. He's never been one to sugarcoat things, and usually, it's one of your favourite things about him. But not today.

"Don't you fucking dare, Steve."

"Birdy, be real. The guy is a prick. And you want to marry him? You're a smart girl, the smartest person I know. You've got to see that none of this makes any sense."

"So you showed up here to yell at me? Criticise my life choices? Thanks, Steve. Thanks a million. Some best friend, huh?"

"I've done nothing but support you."

"You ran away! Across the country! How is that support?"

"Fine, maybe I can't support straight up stupidity!"

"Am I smart or am I stupid? Which one is it?"

Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he watches you pace the gravel in front of him. You're vibrating with fury now. It's something he's seen before. Something he knows how to navigate better than anyone. He knows you. He knows you need an outlet here.

He also knows that you're never more hyperaware than when you're mad. So, he takes his opportunity.

"I came here to tell you not to marry him."

You stop dead in your tracks, shaking your head in denial.

"...Why, Steve? Why would you say that?"

"You know why."

"No."

You take a deep breath and will yourself not to cry. In the garden, you can hear people laughing, singing along to some 70s pop song you've never liked. You pray silently that no one comes looking for you.

You take a step closer to Steve, standing up straight.

"Say it."

He looks at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden defiance.

"Say it, Steve. If you came all this way to say it, then fucking say it."

Steve steps into you, closing down the space. You don't move, determined not to back down.

"You're going to hate me if I say it, Birdy."

"I don't give a fuck anymore. Say. It."

Steve runs his tongue over his bottom lip, never once breaking eye contact with you. The silence seems to stretch on infinitely, thick and blanketing like fresh snow falling.

"I'm in love with you."

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. You take a deep breath and try to stay on two feet, wobbling where you stand. Finally, you find your voice.

"Fuck you, Steve Harrington. Fuck. You."

He laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Yeah."

"How dare you? How dare you come to my engagement party and start confessing your feelings? You could have told me anytime, but you chose today?"

He goes to interrupt but you hold a finger up, effectively shutting him up.

"How long, huh? How long have you been in love with me?"

Steve's trembling, chest stuttering with the force of his confession.

"For as long as I can remember."

You haven't looked away from him once. You're frozen in place, suspended in the moment.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now, Birdy?"

"Yeah, Steve, I am. Because I don't believe you. You're King Steve, ladies man, notorious player. You were never seen with the same girl twice in high school. Don't you remember? Sneaking into my room at night, whispering under my blankets about your latest hookup, telling me all the dirty details?"

"I remember," he whispers, voice laced with something like sadness. "Of course I remember."

"You don't get to tell me this now. It's not fair, Steve."

"Why not, huh?"

"Because I've always been in love with you! Always."

Steve stumbles backwards, dizzy and disorientated.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now?" you laugh in disbelief. "I've always been in love with you. Everyone knows it. My parents, your parents, all of our friends... I think the goddamn mailman knew, Steve!"

"I didn't."

"Blissful ignorance," you chuckle humourlessly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew it wouldn't change anything."

Steve's eyes go wide as he keels over, as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

"Wouldn't change anything? Birdy, it... I-I can assure you it... It would have changed everything."

You both look at each other, breathless and riddled with confusion. There's something flowing through your veins, something unintelligible, something unrecognisable.

"Why would you do this today?" you choke out, sobs threatening to break free. "Of all the days, Steve."

"Because I'm going insane!" he yells, voice raising. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't function knowing that you're going to marry a man you don't love. It's ruining my life, Birdy!"

"You don't think it's ruining mine? Huh?"

You take a breath, very aware that if you shout anymore, multiple people are going to come running from the garden.

"This is selfish, Steve. And you're not selfish."

He looks down at you, bottom lip wobbling.

"I am when it comes to you. Always have been."

"You're breaking my fucking heart, baby."

You choke out the words before bursting into tears, sobs wracking your frame. Steve grabs your hand and guides you to the stone steps, sitting you down next to him. Against better judgment, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He smells so familiar, so comforting, that it only makes you cry harder. You bury your face in his chest, fingers tangled into his dress shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he's mumbling. "I'm so fucking sorry. I had to. I really had to."

"I know," you're muttering back. "I know you did. I know."

You lift your head to look at him only to find he's crying too, years of emotion dripping down his face. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, your heart shattering at the sight in front of you.

Steve's only made you cry once before. In ninth grade, you'd stupidly assumed that the two of you would go to the prom together. Steve had made a joking comment about always being your date, and you hadn't questioned it. Then, one Friday night, he'd snuck into your room to tell you excitedly that he'd asked Lizzy Buchanan to the dance, and she'd said yes. You'd burst into tears immediately, much to your teenage embarrassment, willing yourself to play your cards closer to your chest. Steve had crumbled instantly, crying because you were.

That's how it's always been. He cries, you cry. You cry, he cries. He's just not usually the cause of the tears.

"I'm sorry, Birdy," he chokes. "This was the only way."

"I know," you soothe, rubbing circles into his wet cheeks with your fingers. "I know. You're not the villain here, Steve. You never were."

His eyes are trained to yours, silent communication passing back and forth. The two of you have always had the ability to practically read each other's minds.

You're not sure who moves first - perhaps it's the universe, pulling you together by the strings woven into your chests - but suddenly your lips are melded together, moving as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Steve's clinging to you as if you're his life source, a man in the desert without water.

You tangle your fingers into his hair to tug him impossibly closer, eyes fluttering when he groans, deep and visceral. He spreads his legs and pulls you between them, both of you slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Your tears are dancing onto each other's cheeks, mixing like rain water and gasoline.

Suddenly, you yank yourself from his grip, standing up and smoothing down your silky dress. Steve prepares himself for the yelling, the screaming, a slap that he most definitely deserves.

Instead, he's met with you, chest heaving, skin warm, eyes heavy. You're looking at him expectantly.

"Come with me," you croak, voice hoarse and untrustworthy.

You grab his hand and slink through the front door, up the grand staircase and into a room with a heavy oak door. He follows you obediently, confused but completely trusting.

It's your hotel room. A marriage suite. A spacious, windowed room, with makeup scattered across the vanity and suitcases half unpacked on the floor. The bed is still made, which makes Steve breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn't had you here. The room isn't marred.

The minute you shut the door you're back on Steve, shoving him up against the hard wood. He grabs handfuls of your ass and spins you around, backing you into the cold surface behind you for stability. He lifts you easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he kisses you again.

Steve trails his lips down your neck as you rock your hips, desperate to find some friction. You whine gently, fingers tugging at his hair a little rougher than intended to get your message across.

"What do you need, honey?" he murmurs, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere.

"You."

Steve throws his head back as he groans, exposing his throat to you. You waste no time in nipping up the expanse of it, sinking your teeth in with no regard for the consequences. You're too far gone now, not worried about looking back.

Walking backwards, Steve tosses you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce off of it. He unbuttons and strips his shirt, pulling his belt from the loops as he goes. You can only lie there and watch, wondering when your best friend became less of a boy and more of a man. He's all corded muscle and tanned skin, freckled and perfect.

Steve crawls between your legs, kissing you tenderly.

"Wanna take my time with you," he murmurs between kisses. "Can't right now. Will, though. Promise."

You feel as if there's electricity crackling across your skin, pulsing and alive. It's never felt like this with anyone. It never will again.

"Promise?"

You can't help the slight insecurity that colours your voice, young and unsure.

"I promise, Birdy. Cross my heart."

He takes your hand in his and places it over his chest, as if to solidify his point.

You nod and kiss him again, desperate to have every inch of his skin on yours.

Steve shimmies your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him somewhere. Shucking his trousers off, he pushes your dress up and around your waist, groaning when he gets a good look at you.

"Prettiest girl in the world. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."

"And you do?"

"I'll spend every day for the rest of time proving that I do."

With that he's pushing into you, sliding home with one smooth thrust. Both of you gasp, grabbing onto the other person to use them as an anchor.

"Please, Steve," you're whispering. "Give me everything. I want it all."

"You've got no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

"I do," you laugh, "I do. Because I've been waiting just as long."

Steve chuckles and leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to memorise the way you taste. There's remnants of champagne on your lips, along with the minty lip gloss you've loved for as long as he can remember.

He wastes no time setting a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured. You rake your nails down his back, clawing at this skin, praying silently that you leave your mark. Little do you know, you staked your claim on him a long, long time ago.

"S'good, Stevie," you whine. "Fuck, so good."

"Does he make you come? Does he even try?"

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes when Steve laughs dryly.

"Didn't think so. He can't make you feel the way I can, baby. He'll never be able to."

His words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, red hot heat building at the pit of your stomach. Steve places one hand at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it causing your eyes to roll back.

Your sweat slicked skin is plastered to his, every inch of you pressed together. Steve leans down to rest his forehead against yours, panting into each other's mouths.

"I love you," he breathes, hips getting quicker. "I love you. Fuck, I love you."

"I love you," you sob, back arching as you find your release. Stars dance across your vision as you tighten around Steve, nails leaving crescent moons on the skin of his shoulders.

Steve's right there with you, back flexing and fingers leaving their prints on your hips as he groans. It's the prettiest sound you've ever heard. Your mind loops it for you, playing it on repeat as he collapses his weight on top of your body.

"I meant it," he mutters against your damp chest. "I do love you. Always have."

You kiss his forehead gently, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"I meant it too. I love you. You taught me what love was in the first place, Steve."

He leans up to press his lips to yours, tender and honey sweet.

You realise the gravity of the situation all of a sudden, your heart rate increasing in Steve's ear.

"Hey, hey. Birdy. Don't panic, okay? We'll figure this out."

You think for a moment, weighing up your options in your head. Unexpectedly, you're jumping out of bed, fixing your dress and slipping on your underwear and heels.

"What are you doing, babe?"

You adjust your hair and swipe your fingers under your eyes to salvage your makeup in the mirror, turning to face the man who's now dressing himself frantically.

"Have you had a drink tonight?"

"No, I drove here."

"Perfect."

You grab your purse and stand by the door, waiting for him to follow. When he looks at you in pure confusion, you chuckle.

"Let's run away."

"Birdy... what?"

"Steve. You heard me. Let's. Run. Away."

He scans your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he finds is love. Adoration. Assuredness. That's all the confirmation he needs.

He runs at you, picking you up and spinning you around. Grabbing his hand, the two of you sneak down the stairs, slipping out of the front door as quietly as possible.

You throw yourself into the front seat of his BMW, vibrating with adrenaline as Steve starts up the engine. It roars to life, and you're very aware that people are going to come looking for you.

But you don't care.

Steve links your fingers, resting your intertwined hands in his lap as he reverses. You go to look back towards the garden, but you stop yourself.

"Can't move forward if you're always looking back, right?"

Steve laughs, leaning over to kiss your warm cheek.

"Truer words have never been spoken, Birdy."

He brings the car to a stop before you begin down the winding driveway, looking at you carefully.

"You ready?"

You take a deep breath, grinning at him.

"I've been ready since we were five years old."

He smiles at you, bright and blinding, and there's no doubt in your mind that you've made the right choice.

Can't move forward if you keep looking back, after all.

@enigmaticloki @joekeerysslut @s-trawberryv-eins @wintressoldier36 @mangomastani

[niki-phoria]

you got me moonstruck

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 442

notes: possibly ooc gojo (my apologies), i don't actually understand tengen's ability so sorry if that's wrong lol, inspo from this prompt list by @thepromptswhisperer, title from enhypen - moonstruck (it wasn't an intro we cheered !!)

a blanket of darkness covers the sky, only broken by the occasional glints of the stars above. the occasional chirps of crickets and leaves bustling from the gentle breeze fill the night. a faint glow of moonlight paints the world silver; the light glints off the harsh edges of the ever-changing temples that decorate the jujutsu high campus. 

your eyes flutter closed as you take a deep breath, letting the weight of protecting the world slip momentarily from your shoulders. the tension in your body relaxes for a second, safe within the confines of tengen’s barriers. “the sky is beautiful, isn’t it?”

GOJO SATORU shifts beside you, sighing softly as he leans his head against your shoulder. soft strands of stray hair tickle against the exposed skin of your neck. he hums quietly, staring out at the horizon ahead. “the view isn’t bad.”

“not bad?” you repeat, playfully pushing satoru’s head away from you. “i show you a beautiful nature view and all you can say is that it’s ‘not bad?’” 

he chuckles, moving to cross his legs beneath him. “there are more beautiful views in my opinion,” he shrugs. satoru smirks as he props his arm up, leaning his cheek against his hand. “like this one.”

you scoff in response, playfully rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “shut up.” he chuckles when you lean back against your hands, staring directly upwards at the moon. 

with no retaliation from satoru, you fall into a comfortable silence once again. his lips quirk into a soft, unconscious smile as he admires your features. his brilliant eyes usually used to protect the world, instead find solace in studying the slope of your nose; the edge of your jawline; how your hair falls in waves to frame your face. 

“satoru?” he nearly startles at the quiet call of your voice; a deep flush spreads across his cheeks, staining the skin a cherry pink. you chuckle softly when you reach up to cup his face in your hands. your fingertips dance against his soft skin, sending shivers racing down his spine. “are you alright? your face is kinda red.”

satoru purses his lips as he turns away. your shared laughter fills the night when you cup his cheeks, turning his head until he’s looking forward once again. his breath hitches in his throat when you swipe your thumb against his skin, tracing your fingertips along faded acne scars and still-healing bruises. “are you blushing?” you tease.

his eyes shine like diamonds despite the darkness; they look strikingly beautiful as satoru’s gaze follows your movements. “i can’t help it when you look at me like that.” 

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[yanderespetdarling]

Kidnapper Yandere x Femme Reader

Kidnapperx femmereader, Kidnapping, yandere, drugging, fluff, praise kink 

pt two

The night is calm and silent, with only the faint hum of crickets outside your window. You wake up with a start, sensing something is wrong. The room is dark, but you can make out a figure standing at the foot of your bed. Your heart pounds in your chest as your eyes adjust to the dim light.

His eyes are wide and full of adrenaline. He looks at you like he has never seen a human being before. You open your mouth to scream, but before you can make a sound, he lunges at you, holding you down with surprising strength.

"Who are you?" you manage to whisper, your voice shaking with fear.

He doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he looks at you with an intensity that chills you to the bone. "I've waited so long for this moment," he finally says, his voice trembling with emotion.

"Why are you doing this?" you ask, your mind racing with confusion and terror.

"You're all mine. You are finally all mine," he manically smiles at you before pressing the full weight of his body against yours, pinning your already shaking body in place. "Why are you shaking? Calm yourself for me, love, if you know what’s good for you."

You try to scream but your voice catches in your throat. He uses one hand to pin your arms above your head, his knee pinning down your torso while he pulls something you can't quite see from his pocket.

“Stop shaking, baby. You’re going to be okay,” he places something on your bedside table and presses himself against you once more. He strokes your hair.

Full panic spreads and your freeze response shakes into a full-blown fight. You wrestle with him, kneeing him in the leg and shaking your torso around wildly. He lays on top of you once more, yanks your head back by the hair on the nape of your neck, and whispers to you, 

“Why are you still shaking?” You try to hold your body in place for fear of retaliation. He kisses you on the cheek.

“Good pet,” he says with a sweetness that catches you off guard. “Now stay quiet for me.”

You try to memorize what you can see of his face in the dark, the chestnut curls of his hair and his big bright eyes when he as he leans closer to you. The moon light hits him from behind as he grabs the needle from the bed, illuminating his dark hair. He pops a needle onto a syringe.

“What are you going to do to me?” you can't get the words out in much more than a whisper.

“Shhh quiet now dear.” his voice darkens and the light from the window strikes his face. He smiles, with a wide, kind grin. You notice now, that the freckles on his cheeks seem eerily familiar. He bends down to your level and leans into you once more.

“Goodnight, princess.”

You feel a sting, and everything goes black.

You wake up a few times over what could have been hours, but you can't get the energy to open your eyes. You feel the trip in glimpses before falling back asleep each time: the feeling of a car bumping along a rocky road, the smell of moss and leaves, the feeling of a blanket being put over you. You wake up once more, groggy and with what feels like the worst vodka money could buy flowing through your veins. You have almost forgotten what happened. You feel foggy and intoxicated. The bed you are laying in is incredibly comfortable, and an eye mask is over your eyes. For a moment, you think you are back at home.

Maybe I am, you think. Maybe it was a bad dream. You feel something in the bed near you and jump up, ripping off the eye mask.

“Where—” your head is pounding with whatever he had shot into you, and you can hardly keep yourself up. He puts his arms around you, pulling you closer to him, and says, “Shhhhhh. You need sleep honey.”

You try to fight him but your arms feel like they are made out of gelatin. Everything feels warm. Peaceful. Your heavy legs melt into the softness beneath you.

“Shhhhh. That's it, honey.” He pets your hair as you try to shake him off.

“Please don't hurt me,” your voice chirps out, finally.

“Oh, my love,” he holds you tighter, “I can't promise that. I will say you are safe with me, however.”

Your stomach twists and turns, the fear creeping into your voice and all the adrenaline you had shooting through you. “Please, HELP!” You try to run from the bed but instead tumble onto the floor.

“Okay, let's just take a second here.” He gets up from the bed and lifts you back into it before walking to the other side of the room.

You finally take in the room. The pink sheets sprawled in front of you have a familiar floral pattern. Across from you sits a shelf full of knick-knacks and toys, much like the ones you have at home. A standing coat rack full of dresses sets between a borded window and a large cell door. Through the bars, you see another door with several locks.

Your blood runs cold. “This looks like… my bedroom.”

He smiles and leans against the vanity in the corner. “Oh, not quite. There are definitely aspects of it I put in to help you feel at home, but I wanted this to feel like your new room, so I didn't want it to be exactly like your old room, if that makes sense.”

“My new room?” For a split second, your pounding heart is the only thing you can hear.

“Not forever! God, you must think I’m crazy.” He smiles and takes a seat at the vanity. “It is kinda crazy that you’re really here, though. I hope you like the room. I took inspiration from your room and some of what I just thought you would enjoy. It took a while.”

“Are you going to kill me?” your tears muffle the words as they come out.

“No, I would never.” He pauses and smiles sadly. “One year. I just want one year.”

“W-What?” You hadn't realized it before but his frightening grin has dimples. He is tall, slender, and frankly a bit nerdy looking. His large-framed glasses and dark hair make the clumsy smile he has seem out of place.

“In one year, if you don't love me, I will let you go. It will kill me, but if you truly believe you do not love me, in a year you will be free to take everything I have and go. Whatever you wish,” he sighs and leans back in his seat. “I would give you anything for that year.”

You sit up the best you can. You rack your aching mind for the best way to respond. “You don't have to do this... In another setting, we could have just gone out on a date, you know? You're cute, I wouldn't have turned you down.” Your voice trembles as you speak. He smiles when you call him cute, so you continue, “We can still do that if you want. I’m sure there’s somewhere we could go—”

“God, you are so cute.” He leans over and holds his face in his hands as if he were trying to contain himself. “I don't want a date,” he takes a deep breath, “I want you to know for the rest of your life that you belong with me. That’s not coffee talk.”

“Please-”

“I was so curious about you.” Your captor looks at the wall as he speaks. “I had so many ideas about what you were really like. God, then I started learning about the real you. The things you wish for, your secret wants and needs. The things you obsess over. No one saw how hungry you are, but I did. I knew there was something there. So I looked deeper and… finding out the kind of things you really like was just… exhilarating. Here you are, stunning and adorable and feisty, and begging for someone just like me. I think your internet blogs are my favorite to peak at.”

“Please… I don't know what you think of me or what I want but—”

“The porn you read is fantastic, by the way. A few things I would tweak, but overall,” he winks.

“You—” fuck. The tears start pouring. “Please, it's just pretend. This is real life. Please let me go. I’m scared. Please… please don't hurt me.”

“I didn't mean to scare you.” He approaches you slowly. You stumble backward in the bed, leaning your weight against the wall. “ I just… I know you. I do. I don't think anyone else in the world can know you like I do and I, I know I am the perfect person for you. We have the same dreams, the same hopes, ideals, the same fantasies.”

“You don't know me,” you whisper through trembling lips.

“You’re right.” He sits on the edge of the bed and looks away from you. “I know what you want others to know. I know what you keep secret, what you tell your diary, what you read late at night. I know your laugh, I’ve seen you cry, and never have I just had a day with you. Now we get to have time for that, and if I don't change your mind, you can go. End of story.”

He stood up and walked to the cage bars, punching in a code on the wall and slipping out of them.

“Your chain will let you go almost anywhere in the room. The bathroom is behind the door over there, and there is a mini fridge with some snacks in it if you get hungry before I get back.”

“Please, people are going to come looking for me.”

“It’s okay, sweet princess, no one is going to find you here.” He leaned against the door looking lovestruck, before punching codes and switching locks, releasing him from the room, and leaving you alone.

pt two

[aronkiepronkie]

hi guys um tsukishima is growing on me do u think he would be jealous and then he confesses to u....ahahahaha........help

noya slaps your back lightly while encouraging you loudly, his hand resting on your lower back. suga rubs your shoulder blades in acknowledgment, a reassuring smile plastered on his face, daichi ruffles your hair with a chuckle. "you'll get it next time yn, i believe in you!" hinata exclaims with starry eyes as he skips towards you, the noise of his squeaky shoes bounces off the gym walls and before his hands get to slap against your shoulders he gets cut off, a volleyball bouncing off the back of his fluffy tangerine hair. "YEOWWWWW!!!!" he yells out, grabbing his head dramatically. "lay off pipsqueak." tsukishimas voice echos through everyones ears as he walks over to you with the same volleyball he threw at hinata. "hey what was tha-" hinata starts but quickly cut off by tsukishimas quiet voice that was aimed toward you. his gaze lingers for a bit, glasses shining when his eyes meet with your seemingly longing ones. "...can i talk to you real quick?" tsukishima says slowly while looking down at sugas comforting hand on your shoulder, that same shoulder losing the warmth of his hand when he lets go. "you can't just take them! they're practicing with us!" noyas booming voice causes tsukishima to roll his eyes. "let it go bro! he looks mad!" tanaka butts in and noya mumbles a sassy "whatever" and shrugs his hand off your back. "yeah...'course you can talk to-" "privately."

you follow tsukishima outside the gym, not without a few "ooooo"s and you could've sworn you heard yamaguchi cheering on with a, "you got this tsukki!". maybe you misheard? tsukishimas back is faced towards you but you can almost make out the expression he has, the usual nonchalant and confident aura from him has been replaced with...nervousness, it almost feels like. his shoulders are slightly raised like a startled cat and he glances back at you, the crusty white light attached to the gym building glowing against tsukishimas pale porcelain skin and his glasses show a faint reflection of your figure, he looks away from you swiftly. your heart skips a beat. the only thing keeping this situation from being awkwardly quiet is the distant sound of crickets chirping and an eventual sigh escapes his chest. "soooo," you break the painful silence. "why'd you n-" you start, trying to strike a conversation with the blonde boy but he cuts you off. "why do you let them touch you all the time?" he asks harshly turning around to look down at you. your face twists into confusion, your eyebrows scrunching together. tsukishima scoffs and rolls his eyes. "is it not annoying?" he cocks his head mockingly, taking a step closer to you. you huff, "so you brought me out of practice to shit talk your teammates?" you cross your arms, "those are my friends y'know?" "do you need such touchy friends?" he asks, his golden eyes narrowing at you, his body leaning downward to get closer to you. "why do you care so much?" you question him and he goes silent. "what? you like me or something?" you joke, a proud smile creeping onto your face at his surprised expression, he quickly furrows his brows and stands up straight. "maybe i do yn! maybe i do like you. maybe i can't stand seeing any other boys filthy hands on you because i like you, i should be with you! not your childish little 'friends'!" tsukishima exclaims and he rubs his face in frustration, running his hands through his short blonde locks, refusing to look at your face.

you're beyond shocked, dumbfounded even. his rushed, loud confession which is nothing like him, and the fact he was confessing because he was jealous? you'd think it was cute if you weren't blown away. "kei..." you mutter his first name, sending gentle shivers down his spine that he tries his best to hide from you. "shut up shut up shutupshutupshutup." he grumbles into his hands. "you're really gonna confess like that?" you giggle before full on laughing, clutching your stomach and even wiping a tear or two from laughter. "yeah okay, laugh it up." tsukishima groans and you let out a long sigh while looking down. "you are such an idiot." you say and look up at him with a smile, he can't help the pink tint that coats his warm cheeks and he looks away from your eyes. "look who's talking, you moron." he grunts in annoyance, rolling his eyes once again. you reach for his trembling hand and step closer to him, the shakiness of his hand was quite surprising but it was a nice reassurance that he wasn't just playing a stupid prank on you. your hand reaches for his warm neck and rest your palm on the curve of it, pulling his face closer to yours and finally, finally pressing a gentle, loving kiss to his soft lips. tsukishima hesitates for a split second, his raised shoulders relaxing as he kisses you back, both of his large, bandaged hands grabbing your hips. "i like you too, silly."

[albertdabuttler]

Masked Adversary | D.L.

Pt. II

MASTERLIST

this fics masterlist

fandom: Kick-Ass

pairings: Dave Lizewski/Kick-Ass x F!Reader

WARNINGS: language! patching up an open wound, mentions of blood, wound descriptions, fluff OOOO, also angst because he knows you don’t like HIM, kinda proofread but idk..

summary: You and Dave have lost a childhood friendship. The circumstances have made you grow to despise one another, until Kick-Ass has no one else to turn to but you, causing him to develop a small crush. The only problem being that you don't know it's him.

WC: 3.1K

gif not mine!!!

A/N: Low key insane this is the first fic I write that isn’t smut ☠️ also sorry for posting this a day late mb…

———————

“Dammit,” You spoke as you quickly lifted your water bottle up from your desk. It had spilled all over your research papers and ruined some of the fresh ink.

“Fuck.”

You had already spent a little over an hour trying to get your information together and you needed a break. Grabbing your headphones, you made your way to the little sofa you had sitting by your window and took out a comic.

It was rare, but it didn’t take long for you to get bored, you had read this specific issue many times. The music made it that much more boring and you were getting restless. Cracking your window open just a bit, you heard the soft chirps of the birds and crickets outside, feeling some of the cool breeze enter into your room. The sun was set and there was still some twilight left over the New York skyline. You lived a few blocks from Dave, getting a decent view of the city although it was blocked by a tree near your window.

Soon after you had opened your window, you felt yourself getting drowsy, that breeze and the sounds of the night settling in almost made you doze off.

The state you were in wasn’t fully conscious, but you weren’t quite asleep either. You heard a faint sound outside your window, like some big bird just fell onto your roof. You tried to ignore it and relax, but soon you began hearing faint taps at your window.

How odd.

Your eyes slowly opened, allowing your pupils to adjust to the soft fluorescent light.

“Please,” You heard someone whisper, in that moment your eyes shot open and you jumped out of your chair, turning to your window.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You almost yelled, keeping it quiet enough not to alarm your parents. Kick-Ass.

“You said I could—“ he groaned quietly, wincing.

“You said I could stop by if I needed something,” he sighed.

“What?” You questioned, confused at first until you noticed one of his gloves covered in blood, clutching his side.

“Please, you said…” He paused to take a breath, “Your mom’s a nurse, right? I—I can’t go to the cops or the hospital.”

“Well—I mean yeah, she’s a nurse, but… If she helps you she’s gonna end up telling someone.”

He only stood there and waited.

“I can patch you up myself,” You swiftly moved forward to open the window, allowing the boy into your room.

“Agh, fuck—” He groaned, you helped him walk over to your bed.

“Hold on,”

Setting a towel on your bed, you motioned for him to sit down, grabbing his batons from his back and setting them to the side. You ran to your closet to grab a cloth or anything similar.

“Here, put this on there with pressure, okay? I’ll be right back.” You gave him an old shirt and left your room to find a med kit your mom had somewhere downstairs.

He noticed the shirt you gave him and smiled softly. It was an old shirt you had matched with him, well, Dave, in middle school. It was really oversized when you got it, so it still fit. He was surprised you hadn’t thrown it away. It was a Robin shirt, himself owning the Batman one. He remembered how much you loved Robin.

Kick-Ass sighed as he waited for you, holding the shirt to his wound with as much pressure as he could to stop the bleeding.

“Okay,” you spoke out of breath, closing your door and locking it.

“Um…” You looked at him awkwardly, and he waited for you to continue. Clearly in pain.

“I’m gonna need you to take your suit off.” You informed, it was only necessary.

“Okay…” he hesitated, “I can’t really take the suit off...by myself,” he breathed. You could tell that speaking was quite the chore.

You moved towards him, helping him take his gloves off one at a time as either of his hands held the cloth to his wound. Sitting behind him, you unzipped his suit, pushing it off each one of his shoulders.

Woah.

His back was very well defined and it took everything in you not to graze your fingers along his muscles. He felt this, trying to hold in a smile.

“You’re gonna have to let go for a second, okay?” You warned him. Kick-Ass let go of the cloth on his cut, clenching his teeth as you pulled his suit down to his hips. The blood caused it to stick to the wound, it seemed to burn as you peeled it off.

“Shit,” He sighed in pain, taking a deep breath as you soaked a small towel in a little bowl of soap water. He frowned as you brought it up to the gash on his side.

“This is really gonna sting, so you should use something to bite on.” You handed him the cleaner glove and as soon as he bit down onto it, you began dabbing the cloth onto his injury.

He let out a significantly loud groan through the glove and tears welled up in his eyes, his breathing quickened due to the sharp, stinging pain of the soap seeping into his wound. He was seeing stars.

“Okay, we’re done.” You spoke, turning back to the med kit to take out a gauze pad. “This cut is too big to heal on its own, I’m gonna have to stitch it up…” You looked at him to make sure he was okay with it. He only nodded. You continued to dab at his skin to remove all the blood around the slash to see it clearly. It was a cut right above the chiseled area of his iliac furrow, a few inches to the left of an already healed scar that seemed to appear like another stab wound.

“You okay?” You asked him, just to make sure. He nodded once more, removing the glove from his mouth and smiling weakly as you grabbed a needle and suture. You noticed he had a pretty nasty cut on his lip, and his eye was starting to bruise.

“This one’s gonna hurt even more, right?” He joked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Are you ready?”

Kick-Ass clenched his jaw, locking eyes with you for a moment, “Yeah,” he grunted, keeping his eyes glued to yours.

You pierced through his skin and his back straightened. Choking out an agony-filled moan, he threw his head back, his hand flying to cover his mouth. Your eyes widened looking up at him.

“If my parents hear you, it’s over.” You whispered and he nodded, chewing on his lip.

Continuing the process of piecing him together, he kept whining about how much it stung even with his fucked up nerve endings.

“Of course it’s gonna hurt, dipshit! How the fuck did this happen to you anyway?” You questioned.

“Oh y’know, some muggers with a knife. Guess they were serious about taking that lady’s bag.” He chuckled.

As you drove the needle through him one last time, he inhaled a sharp breath, gripping into your sheets for his life.

It was quiet for the moment in which you cleaned up, putting everything away and leaving out some bandages to put on him.

You could feel his gaze on you, but goodness, were you scared to look him in the eyes. You knew that if you looked, you’d wanna lean in and kiss him.

“Thank you,” He said, watching you intently as you got up to take the med kit back.

“No problem, Kick-Ass,” you smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Your smile was super pretty and holy hell was this mask giving him confidence.

“I’m gonna go put this back, the bathroom’s right outside my door to the left, incase you wanna wash your face or something.” You made your way to your door and left it slightly ajar, so that no one would hear it open while you were downstairs.

Kick-Ass slowly limped into your bathroom, finally taking off his mask after closing the door. His face was covered in blood, so much more happened than some muggers with a knife. Frank D’Amico’s men had tried beating him senseless, but he oh so fortunately got away due to a patrol car nearing the area. Yes, he had made sure no one followed him to your home. He wouldn’t know what to do if he was the reason some fucked up kingpin tried to hurt you.

He washed his face as best he could without getting any blood anywhere, his left eye beginning to grow a soft red color.

You knocked softly on the door, “Hey, just come back to my room when you’re done. My parents are watching TV so you should be good.”

“Thanks.” He answered, staring at the door.

Guilt began to overcome him. He was lying to you, not only in keeping his identity from you, but in making up some bullshit about getting jumped by some "muggers."

He wanted to tell you it was him, but he found the thought embarrassing, maybe you would call him pathetic for this whole Kick-Ass thing, even the thought of coming to you when he had no one else was enough to make him cringe. He would rather get stitched up without anesthesia again than have you react badly and get angry at him for lying to you.

Sitting at your desk waiting for him, you finally heard the bathroom light shut off, the door just then clicking open. He limped into your room and you quickly ran to help him sit on the edge of your bed.

You grabbed the gauze, pausing and taking a look at him for a second. Goodness gracious, he was an Adonis of a man. He had really well toned arms, his abdominal muscles very defined as well. He was quite the specimen. And his eyes. The way he looked up at you, like some lost puppy, it made you melt.

“Um, just lift your arms up a bit,” You cleared your throat, embarrassed of the way you were thinking in such a moment.

He lifted his arms and you put the gauze over his now closed wound, grabbing a roll of bandages to wrap around his waist.

“Hold this here,” you told him as you knelt in front of him. Pulling the white fabric around his side, you had to move closer to him in order to reach for it with your other hand behind his back.

You tried focusing on what you were doing, but he kept staring holes into your head. His hand twitched, wanting to brush a stray hair from your face to see it clearly but he held back.

After wrapping the bandage around his waist a few times, you used some medical tape to keep it in place.

“Alright, I’m almost done.” you spoke, finishing up.

Kick-Ass spoke your name with a light tone. This startled you and you looked up at him to see what he was going to say. He only looked at you, glancing at your lips before looking away and it caused your heart to beat a million miles a minute.

“Thank you...” He finally moved his eyes to meet yours, a look of guilt upon whatever you could see of his face.

“I’m really sorry…” He frowned, looking at the ground next to you.

“It’s not your fault, Kick-Ass,” you reassured him without even knowing what he was talking about.

He shook his head as if he was about to speak but the two of you could only watch each other those following moments, your faces moving closer together like magnets. You didn't know why it felt so right in the moment, but you quickly leaned up and kissed him.

He slightly jumped but immediately kissed back. His lips were so plush and smooth, they felt like clouds. And he kissed you like no other boy had ever kissed you before. He kissed you with emotion, he didn’t just kiss you for the sake of kissing. Even if he wasn't the best at it.

The fabric of his mask brushed against your chin as he tilted his head to the side, moving himself closer to you. You felt like he was going to pull away because you were already starting to feel the need to breathe, but he kept kissing you.

Resting your hand on his chest, you felt his heart beating rapidly under your palm. You stood up, causing him to have to lean upwards in order to keep his lips attached to yours, but the movement caused him pain, making him release a grunt and quickly pull away.

“Sorry,” you apologized, referring to the kiss and the wound. He stared at you in utter surprise.

From now on, Dave knew he would look at you in a different light. Why’d you even kiss him? And what gave him such a desperate urge to keep his own lips connected to yours?

He chewed on his bottom lip, "It's okay..." He replied softly.

“I shouldn't have done that, right...? I—It won't happen again—“ You rambled, suddenly cutting yourself off and picking up the empty packaging of the bandages to throw them away and keep yourself busy.

Kick-Ass watched you pick things up with his jaw hanging, still trying to process the kiss and why he... Enjoyed it?

“You can do it again, if you want.” He mentally screamed at himself, why the fuck would he say that!?

You whipped your head around and stared at him from across the room, your face heating up like the Titanic's boiler room.

"I haven’t kissed anyone since like… sixth grade, so…" He chuckled.

Hiding a smile, "Yeah…that was kind of obvious." you spoke, scrunching your nose.

"Sorry." He looked away while giggling at how pathetic it was.

“It’s okay…” you smiled.

You sat next to him. "Everyone needs practice…” You said suggestively.

Turning to look at him, you saw that he was already gaping at you.

"Yeah..." He kept his eyes on yours this time. The reason he was so afraid to do so before was because he felt vulnerable, like you’d know it was him just by his eyes or something.

“So…” you began, “can I kiss you..?”

“Yes—“ he replied a little too quick for his own comfort. “I mean…Yeah.”

You placed your hand on the side of his neck and moved your head closer to his. You noticed him watching your mouth as it neared his, the palm of his hand coming to press against your lower back as you finally connected your lips.

He kissed you softly, innocently, almost like he was afraid you’d pull away if he kissed you any differently.

Moving one of your hands to rest on the back of his neck, you slipped your fingers under his mask, feeling a bit of his soft curls.

You just wanted to kiss him, missing the feeling of someone's mouth on your own. He felt the same, he didn’t feel judged on the fact he was kind of a shitty kisser.

The two of you sat there for a minute, his calloused hands moving from your waist to the sides of your face, the tips of his fingers playing with the shorter hairs on the nape of your neck.

“I hope you don’t hate me,” he breathed, mumbling against your mouth.

“Mm-“ You made a sound of confusion.

You began to realize why he had said it as he brought his hand up to the hem of his mask and began tugging it upward. Quickly pulling away, you reached for his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t do that…” You watched him, slightly alarmed.

His heart dropped, “Why not…?” he spoke, uneasy.

He couldn’t lie to you. Yeah sometimes he hated your guts and wanted you to just shut the fuck up, but today was a completely different story. He changed in the way he saw you. With everything that had just happened in the past ten minutes, he couldn’t lie to you.

“What if I tell someone? How can you trust me if you barely even know me…?”

But he did know you. He knew you enough to trust you, and that there was no way in hell you would ever tell anyone a secret entrusted to you. But he didn’t want to argue with you. Not as Kick-Ass.

“Fine. Sorry...” He apologized.

"You should probably get home... It's kind of late." You suggested looking at your hands as you fidgeted.

“Yeah,” He stood up, grunting as he pulled his arms through his suit to put it back on. “Could you…” He was nodding at you, referring to the back of his suit where the zipper was.

You pulled the slider along the teeth of the zipper, enclosing him completely in his suit.

He turned around to face you “Thanks…” He watched you for a moment. “For patching me up… And stuff…”

You chuckled, “No problem.”

He smiled awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomor—or uhh, whenever I need you again—or whenever you need me,” He stammered, realizing what position he’d almost put himself in. “I’ll just see you.” He chuckled, swallowing hard as he grabbed his gloves and batons and turned to your window.

“Will you be okay to get home?” You watched as he limped by your window. “I could walk with you… Until we get to your neighborhood or whatever.”

“Uh—No, it's like a 10 minute walk. I’ll be fine. Thanks though.” He smiled softly, beginning to climb through your window as he held his side.

You thought about that. There were no other neighborhoods within ten minutes of walking, so he had to live here. That means he had to go to your school. And that means you have to know him if he said he was your age. Holy shit.

“Kick-Ass?” You rested your palms on your windowsill as he crouched down to look at you from your roof.

“Do you go to Fillmore?”

He paused, staring at you like he’d just been caught.

You felt your hands getting clammy.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke again.

“Do I know you…?”

He stayed silent. All you could do was take it as a yes.

“Weren’t you just getting mad at me for wanting to take my mask off?” He shot back.

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m sorry.” You looked down. “I’ll… I’ll see you around.” You pursed your lips.

He smiled back softly and made his way off your roof and out of your view.

You sat back down to finish your homework, somehow taking three times as long because the only thing on your mind was those beautiful blue eyes of his. And who else in your school had them.

———————

Thank you for reading!! x

[sukunas-wife]

Hmm, I’m interested 🤔

Part 2

Capturing your life at this moment, you would be written off as a poorly educated woman. You were sitting crossed legged on the floor, your extravagant robes ruffled and bunched up from how loudly you were laughing before leaning back on to your hands, legs stretching out under the kotatsu as your laugh faded into a soft smile.

Your eyes were full of sheer joy looking at the man who sat across from you, his head tilted down as he started to drink from his sake. He felt your stare and he stopped his sip, a smirk pulled at his lips as he stared at you with lidded eyes. He placed the choko down, propping his elbow on his knee and bringing a loose fist up to rest his cheek on. His free hand toyed with the fabric of your Junihitoe that pooled under the table. The silk fabric running smooth under his hands before he let it slip back to the ground, “Well aren’t you free spirited tonight, little lotus?” The feeling in your stomach had you looking away, the smile playing on your lips growing a bit in size.

“It’s been much too long since the last day you came to see me. I saw it appropriate to celebrate with a more lively atmosphere.” “Mm, quit that royal facade princess, I know what your tongue is capable of and every little word you utter in defiance. There is no point in trying to hide the real you that I know all too well.” You watched as he brought the choko back up to his lips, never breaking eye contact as he finally emptied his cup.

He stood up, the floors creaking under his weight, your eyes followed him as he walked to your side. Holding out a hand, curious of his gesture you took it before he pulled you up. Following his lead as he led you through the walls he had become familiar with stopping causing you to bump into his back, he looked back and down at you from over his shoulder with lidded eyes and a teasing smile.

He placed a hand over your mouth pulling you into his side when you were going to speak. You looked at him with a mix of questioning and offence, he looked away and soon enough you saw the orange glow of the approaching light outside the shoji walls. Your eyes followed the figure as it walked by not bothering to stop and look around, you’d complain about security but honestly it was best it stayed this way.

Soon the light faded from the end of the hallway and your mouth was free and you laughed quietly being lead outside and straight into the ikeniwa garden, following the path quietly as if on a stroll in the chilly spring afternoon, but rather it was a cool summer night under the crescent moon. The sound of crickets chirping, light bugs dancing over the dewy grass and waters surface.

Stopping at the peak of the guzei under the red maple tree, its leaves shaking in the wind scattering over the bridge and water, he pinned you against the bridge’s rail. Under the moon's faint light, the red leaves cascading behind him left him an ethereal sight. One hand on your waist, the other raised to run the back of his hand against your cheek taking a strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ear, you saw the amusement flash in his eyes when your hand shot out past his face. His eyes followed your arm to see your hand holding two red maple leaves conjoined at the stem.

“Continuously blessed by your little gods of luck and fortune, hm?.” You couldn’t fight your smile and small scoff, “If only they had really helped me when I needed it.” His hand came up grabbing your forearm, slowly moving to your wrist pulling your hand between both of you, looking at the leaf before he pulled your hand up to his lips. Pressing his lips to your wrist, eyes closing briefly before he opened his eyes, staring at you. You could feel the heat kissing your skin when he grazed your wrist with his reach before biting into your flesh. Your brows furrowed at the foreign and familiar feeling when he licked over the fresh wound, your heart was beating faster in your chest the longer you held onto his burning stare. “…Sukuna…” it was a breathy whisper on your lips.

He hummed when you pulled your hand free, taking his face in your hands, his lidded eyes watched intently, studying your face. His eyes closed when you pulled him closer kissing him softly, his hands came to your waist pulling you against him.

The irony of kissing the man known to bring suffering and damnation to men on the bridge that represents the route to salvation, purity and sacredness. It wasn’t the first time you disgraced this bridge in this manner and both of you knew it wouldn’t be your last time spitting in the face of your beliefs to be with the man that made you feel distinctive like no other man could. Not even your well known and well praised fiancé Satoru Gojo, a man known for restoring peace, being a blessing incarnated to live amongst men.

The very reason many had said you were born to be blessed in this life.

—- —- —- —- —- —- —-

“Come now y/n don’t you want to find a nice man to marry when you get older?” Your mothers loving smile almost coaxed you to say yes before you shook your head aggressively, “No! I wanna be free! I don’t wanna marry a boy! Eh!” Her face was shocked before she closed her eye in a smile, tilting her head to the side toward her shoulder, “You say that now my little dove but one day you’ll grow up and you are going to meet the sweetest boy who will love and take care of you. Then you’ll want to be married.” Your head tilted to the side with a pout, you didn’t want some boy to come spend his nights in your family home just to spend all day doing whatever he wanted while you had to stay home. “Mmmmm.” You closed your eyes making a thinking face, “no.” You ran off after hearing your mom sigh, the smile in her voice when she spoke to herself, “my little y/n.”

You weren’t free spirited, but rather just stubborn and resilient. Maybe running away from home after your lessons has given you too much liberty. The men down at the docks were terrible to listen to, foul language that you picked up but never spoke. Running by brothels to get to the shops on the other side of the district and gagging and being disgusted seeing some things you shouldn’t not have seen. Always seeing and admiring the prettiest ones walking around being sent off. Avoiding the lady you hoped was joking when she'd see you saying you were pretty enough to snatch up for her house, but always remembering her warning of flesh traders.

Most importantly, fighting with the kids that tried to pick on you and your friends Utahime and Shoko, MeiMei would sometimes come out to play but she was always busy with her younger brother who would stick to her side. So the three of you would venture on your own the rest of the day.

That was until the day your friends were busy helping their parents celebrate a grand coming event and you found yourself wondering past the usual village lines.

Something was calling to you past those wisteria trees on the hill. The ones rumoured to ward off demons, but you always knew it to mean long life and love so there you went on an adventure. Trudging up that stupid hill to see what was so special about those trees. Only to find a boy standing under the canopy of the ancient tree. The purple wisteria was beautiful with the sun's rays breaking through, but you were curious about this boy. You couldn’t help but stare at him, he was wearing robes, but his eyes were what surprised you when he turned, head tilted as he looked at you with a weird expression.

Those eyes, they weren’t normal, you’d never seen anyone with those eyes, so vibrant, but all you could think was ‘a boy with those eyes can’t be human.’ You were right, he was a walking curse. Those bright red eyes burned themselves into your memory and into your dreams. You’d spend days searching for him hoping to see him again and again to talk to him and be his friend, because he always seemed so serious, more often than not you’d simply follow him around the wisteria forest while he minded his own business. You’d go on and on and he’d simply keep his hands tucked into his sleeves crossed over his chest occasionally giving you a side glance to see if you really would persist on following him around even as the night advanced.

That was until one day you’d followed him around for so long he finally turned to you “What do you want brat, you show up every day and follow me around like I am a God and you’re begging for a miracle. What do you really want?” You looked at him, he didn’t seem pleased or displeased, there was a slight furrow in his brow and a slight frown on his lips.

“I just want to be friends.” You pouted, you could hear the desperation in your voice. When he sighed, turning away, he didn’t answer you or even send you away. Still you followed him quietly until you hit a stone path, you never knew a path to be out here past the village borders. So it was no surprise when you stepped closer to the boy grabbing at the back of his kimono’s belt, missing the way he looked at you with a “are you serious” expression. Still he walked until you bumped into him, “This is my family home, shut up and stay out of sight, if someone talks to you just act how you usually do and never speak back to them.” He looked back at you with an expression you’d never seen before, it was kinda scary in your eyes. Yet you nodded, taking a stronger hold of his belt, scared you’d get separated, he wasn’t impressed. He made his way through the shinden-zukuri, it was much like your own home. Only the wood in his home was of glossy dark oak with gold accents and vibrant deep red cherry wood with gold accents.

It was beautiful, yoru fingers loosened a bit until you heard shoji doors slide open and you did your best to hide behind him, “Young Lord Sukuna, you’ve return- oh? Who’s this?” A pale man with long white hair and a red strand peered around to try and look at you. You looked down at the floor pressing your forehead to his back avoiding eye contact. You had caught a brief glimpse of his eyes, they were black and seemed lifeless, how demons were rumoured to be. “Who?” Sukuna turned around acting like you weren’t there before he turned back, “You’re a fool Imuzu, there is no one else here.” Imuzu, the pale faced man couldn’t help but stare at his young master, before his eyes settled on you, you could feel his stare burning into your skin, daring you to look up at him. “Enough, leave while I allow you.” Imuzu was quick to bow, tucking his hands into his sleeves, “Forgive me young master, I will leave you to tend to your… pet.”

Your thoughts lingered on that pale faced man, the briefest glimpse of his face was engraved into your mind. You were pulled out of your thoughts when you tripped down some stairs and heard Sukuna tsk, you looked up to see him sighing and rolling his eyes, “Get up, only a fool, cowards and pigs roll around in the mud.” You were quick to get up realising instantly he wouldn’t help you like all the servants in your home would when he turned and started to walk away again. You watched as he stopped at a rack, “If you want to be even something remotely close to being what you call a friend, a delusion in my opinion, you need to prove you’re even worth keeping around.” He looked at you with a smug smile, eyebrows dropped slightly. He was challenging you.

You were laid out on the ground, the sun no longer blinding you. Over your huffing you heard Sukuna let out a long sigh, “I was just starting to have fun, look at you.” You could hear the arrogant smile in his voice, “Laid out on the floor and so tired,” He was mocking you. “Pathetic, I guess there really is no use in you being around or even being that little delusion word you call friends.” You were tearing up, tired, sore, and upset. So it was a surprise to you when you found it in you to get up and run at him with the Yari he had given you earlier. The flash of red when you swung at him, was blocked with his own. The sound of wood smacking as you kept him on the defence was astounding. His smile was growing the more you pushed him back until he used his hold horizontally in his hands to upper cut your Yari with force that made you stumble. “That’s IT” he started his own attacks on you, your defence was weak and he yelled at you when he got the upper footing looking down at you, “PUT MORE HATE BEHIND IT” your hands were trembling doing your best to keep his yari from smacking you on the head, so you did what any sane person would do and tried to sweep his feet. Only for him to take hold of your Yari and stabbing his own into the Ground blocking your kick and pushing himself back, his hand twisting and breaking your yari from your hold as you stumbled from being yanked up off the ground. Then he stood, his left hand holding his Yari that was stabbed into the ground, the right hand holding your own down by his side and he had his eyes closed with a smug smile, “You could be better, but of course you’d lose to someone like me. A little more work and you might not end up laid out on the dirt next time.” You don’t know why, your eyes teared up again, your lips wobbly breaking into a smile, before the tears started streaming adn you started laughing wiping away the tears. He looked at you like you were crazy, awkwardly shifting before you he poked your shoulder with the end of one of the yari. “Hey brat..” his eyes were looking everywhere but at you, “…Maybe it’s time for you to go home…” your tears stopped as you managed to finally look at him standing there, looking scared and awkward. “Yeah, maybe next time we can do it again and you can show me more.” He looked confused, “Next time?” “Yeah you said next time Sukuna.”

His face went blank when realised he had in fact said ‘next time’. He scratched his head, “I suppose I did.” Your eyes widened seeing a firefly pass in front of him, “You have fireflies here!” His eyes followed the bug before he smacked it down with a Yari trying not to snicker when your jaw dropped with wide eyes, “They're a real nuisance once the sun sets and they all decide to come out.” “ I NEED TO GET HOME!” He watched you run into his home and right back out, “will you-No.” He deadpanned and you huffed, “Fine. Only because if you get caught by a flesh trader I won't be held guilty for it.”

You followed his pace straight back to the clearing in the wisteria forest, the canopy blocked out the sky, and you stopped seeing Sukuna stop ahead of you looking around, “That’s weird.” You were confused, “What's weird?” You watched as he lifted his Yari pressing it against a branch of one of the trees and pushing it around, until it rustled, the shades of purples hidden in the dark coming to life with the glow of the light bugs that started to swarm and flash around as if they had just been awoken. Your eyes were gleaming with pure joy seeing the many light bugs that reminded you of the ones that once lived around your home lighting up those grassy plains and dark skies. “Cmon or I’ll leave you behind.” You looked ahead to see Sukuna poking another tree branch further ahead, the path lighting up with the fireflies guiding you home.

”Where do you live? What part of the city.” He broke the comfortable silence once the city was in sight. “Oh, I live in the Imperial Estate.” You didn’t miss the way his head snapped to look at you, before he looked away acting like it was nothing. “L/n Clan?” He asked looking ahead while he took a lantern off a shop you were passing, tying it to the Yari he held. You nodded, “Yeah.” You both walked through the city until you made it to the opposite side, that’s where the stone path started up the ascent. “You can make it home from here.” He wasn’t really asking, but you shook your head no, “Not at night…” he sighed, “What? Scared of the dark?” You didn’t deny it looking at him with pleading eyes before he rolled his, “FINE, but make it quick.” It was five stairs up when you heard a rustling and you clung to his side, he rolled his eyes swaying the lamp around, “Nothings there, see?” Still you didn’t let go and even when he tried to shake you off he relented when you didn’t move.

Finally reaching the top of the stairs it was no surprise to see the house lit up with lights. People were rushing around in panic, “WHERE IS YOUNG LADY Y/N?!”

You both saw a woman stop and look at the both of you, “Y/N” her face looked pained, she rushed at both of you and you heard Sukuna’s whisper, “who is she?” You mumbled back locking eye contact with the lady, “she’s my mom...”

”oh y/n! My little y/n! Where were you?! I've been worried, I was so scared! Those flesh traders got you, do you know how worried I was I’d never see you again!” She held you by your shoulder, eyes looking over your face. “I’m sorry mom, but I'm home safe, Sukuna made sure I got here and nothing bad happened. Her head snapped to him, he had a blank expression staring back at her, she knew that face, “You must be of the Wisteria Estate, you have your fathers name. A striking resemblance to him.” Her hands slipped from you while she turned to look at him, “You must be tired you can rest here and return home tomorrow.” He shook his head, “Thank you for your kind gesture Lady L/n but I’d prefer to return home as soon as possible.” He quickly bowed his head ready to turn and leave, “Then let me send a guard with you to assure your arrival.” He looked at her with a smug smile, “You shouldn’t think I need protection, I brought your daughter home safe all on my own.” He puffed his chest out like he was worthy of praise. Your mother giggled, “I see, well let me give you something as a sign of thank you for bringing my little y/n all the way home safe.” She looked around signalling a servant who rushed off and back with a small wooden gilded box. You both watched curiously as she opened the box, her fingers moving slowly before she pulled up a gold necklace with a pendant, it was a Jade figure of a lotus with a ruby centre. You looked at it in awe, Sukuna tilted his head confused.

“I know it's a bit feminine for a boy, but I can't just give you my husband's jewels, so maybe you’ll find use for it when you grow older and find a nice little lady to marry.” Her soft smile was unusual to him, but he reached up to take it only for all of you to realise you were still holding tight to his hand. You pulled your hand away quickly, a blush on your cheeks, your mothers eyes landed on you with a cheeky smile.

Sukuna was quick to make his escape bowing quickly. You felt how he bumped into you before running off not looking back, your mother stood at the top of the stairs, you stood by her watching that little lamplight bounce and fade its way down the stairs.

“My little Y/n,” her hand landed on your head brushing your hair back, you looked up seeing her soft smile, before she looked down at you, “Holding hands already hm?” You pouted looking away, “no.” She kept brushing your hair back, “Those Ryomen men are peculiar, but let's get you inside. We’re going to have a busy week.”

You made it to your room, your caregiver was there to help you, “What's this?” You turned to look, curious to see she had a little glass jar with two fireflies. You were overjoyed to take it from her but she stopped you, “Calm down lady Y/n if you shake them in your excitement they’ll surely die. Looking at them closely they must be a pair. How admirable, if you set them free maybe they will lay eggs nearby.”

You watched as she set the small jar by the window, the two bugs dancing trying to escape.

When she left you tucked in your bed, closing the door, you watched the light fade before you got up quietly rushing to your window, your little heart hoped and begged one day to see the fireflies abundant around your home again. You watched them fly free, their paths intertwining in the night sky.

You sighed, a smile on your little plump face, “…Ryomen Sukuna…”

There’s no Tag list here- yet I don’t know if I should make a new one or even a series yet 🤭

Perm Tags: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing

[mustainegf]

heii so like the reader and dave are best friends, theyre hanging out and while talking/smoking (idc) dave tell the reader he had a dream about fucking her 👅👅

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 ¹⁹⁸⁹

Rolling the tip between my thumb and finger, I exhaled and passed it to him. We sat on the porch, surrounded by the sapphire night, and passed the joint back and forth as crickets chirped loudly. I leaned back in my chair, smoking, and burned just right, causing a familiar ache in my chest. Dave was next to me, his profile ink dark against the weak light on the porch. The long, fiery hair cascaded falling beyond his shoulders, catching the faint glow as he took a hit and exhaled, the smoke curling into the night.

We'd been friends for years, but there was always something… a kind of tension. Something simmering that neither of us had ever really acknowledged out loud. Maybe it was the way he'd look at me when he thought I wasn't paying attention, or how my skin would tingle whenever he was close. Maybe that was what had set the thick tension hanging in the air tonight, like the smoke between us.

"So," Dave began, that seductive smile quirking on his face that always had me wondering what devilry was running through his mind. "I had this fuckin' crazy dream last night."

I raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What kind of dream?"

He took another drag, letting the smoke drift out slowly before he spoke again. "It was about you."

I felt a little spike at the words, though I tried to keep it cool. "Do I even want to know?"

Dave chuckled again. "Depends. You might find it interesting, it was weird though."

I leaned forward a bit, curiosity was getting the better of me. "Alright, out with it."

He set the joint down, resting his forearms on his knees as he turned to look at me. Our gazes locked, his eyes so narrow they almost sent me into a heart attack.

"Well, in the dream," he continued, lowering his voice one level, "we were here. On the porch. It was late, sorta like now, and we were just talking. But then it got like, really hot and heavy. You leaned in, I smelled your perfume, and... um, couldn't help it. Seconds later, you were in my lap."

His words painted an image, and made me feel like my heart pretty much about to pop out of my chest. But he never let his eyes stray from mine, and I couldn't look away, even if I wanted to.

"What happened then?" I whispered.

Dave went on with his lips curling into a smirk. "I kissed you. And you kissed me back. Your hands all over me, and I couldn't get enough of you. We were both so fucking desperate."

I almost felt like I could remember it, that it was so real. My body reacted on instinct.

"then carried you into the house. Didn't even make it to the bedroom. I shoved you against the wall, tore your clothes off. I couldn't wait. I needed to be inside you."

I nearly choked at his words, my eyes darting wide. I didn't say anything.

"I thrust inside you," he whispered, still staring at me as he recounted his fantasy.

"And?" I managed to choke out, my voice vibrating. "Then what?"

He leaned closer, his face inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin. "We didn't stop until we couldn't move. Until we were soaked in sweat and I'd cum inside you."

Dave's eyes met my own, and I saw a question, a challenge. I could barely think, but there was only one thing I could say.

"Then let's take this dream and make it real."

[lordsukunas]

tldr: bf!yuuji being needy for kisses. please give him a kiss.

cw: none! a buncha fluff ft. protective yuuji moment. megumi cameo (dont ask why). also black-coded!reader !!

a/n: can yall tell i rly like bf!yuuji... its getting outta hand atp, i have like two or three drabbles for him in my drafts, but this might be the only one making it out of there (i have way too many drafts... :p) anyway, hope yall enjoy this lil snippet

“hey.” poke.

“hey, baby.” poke.

“heyyyyy–”

“yuuji,” you huff, but there’s that familiar smile on your face that just makes his grin grow, revealing pearly whites. “i’m tryna read.”

he looks up at you from where his big head is resting on your thighs, and his fingers play with the fabric of your shirt. his shirt, really. “did you give me a kiss today?”

you flip the page. “i did. i gave you one when we went out to eat for breakfast,” (he remembers that because you tasted like maple syrup and strawberries) “and during lunch after i got beat up by maki.” even after five hours and a melted icepack, the bruise on your ass still hurts.

yuuji’s lips curve downward into a little pout. clearly, he was trying to catch you off guard, which was dumb. you’re never gonna miss his scheduled kisses.

“mmm, okay...” he taps his chin in exaggerated thought. “buuuut did you give me one this evening?”

this evening? that’s new.

you place your bookmark in between the pages and set your book down. finally, you’re looking at him, brow raised with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “oh, so we’re doing dinner kisses now?”

a light red dusts his tan cheeks, but he nods. “well... yeah.” a beat. “c’mon, baby, i jus’ want one!” big caramel eyes peer up at you, lips puckered ever so slightly for a kiss.

the sight is adorable, and the part of you that never wants to deny yuuji anything is practically screaming for you to give him that kiss. on the other hand, the little devil on your shoulder is telling you to keep teasing him a little.

unfortunately for your boyfriend, you’re feeling a bit cheeky right now. and you maybe, just maybe want payback for him letting you get your ass beat by maki.

“okay, but if i give you one now, i can’t give you one before curfew.”

yuuji’s jaw drops like you just told him the world’s ending, and he shoots upright, his body twisting on his bed to properly face you. “what?! no, please! that’s not even fair. y’know i need it, otherwise i can’t sleep good and fushiguro gets all mad at me.”

you shrug, barely fighting back a smirk. “then you gotta pick. you either get a kiss now or later. i only have three kisses per day.”

“only three?! babe, tell me you’re not–”

there’s a loud thump against the wall that yuuji’s bed is pushed against, and both of you freeze, his arm shooting out in front of your body.

“can the both of you shut up?” megumi’s voice is muffled, but the irritation in it is crystal clear.

immediately, yuuji’s arm drops and the tension drains out of your bodies. he sighs. “sorry, fushiguro.”

you might have heard a grunt of approval before it falls quiet again, the faint chirping of crickets and the familiar hum of his fan in the background. your boyfriend is still giving you the puppy-dog eyes, practically batting his dark lashes. “pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?”

ugh. you’re never gonna win — he’s too cute! plus, megumi is a little scary when he acts like an angry mom.

“fine, c’mere.” you cup his face, bringing his soft pink lips closer to yours. your lips touch, and a burst of energy rushes through you as yuuji places his hands on your hips.

after a few long moments (because heaven knows you can’t help but get a little greedy with him), you pull away, a small grin on your face. “there. is that enough to tide you over until curfew?”

“nope,” he says, and leans right back in for another kiss. you move your head to the side, so instead of connecting with your mouth, his lips press to your cheek.

you tsk, theatrically wagging your finger, which earns a snort from yuuji. “now you’re definitely not getting another kiss. needy self.”

“what?! it’s not my fault you taste good!”

“maybe you just needa have more self-restraint.”

he huffs. “how am i supposed to have self-restraint when it comes to you? that’s like telling a bee not to make honey!”

oh.

heat rushes to your cheeks, and you’re glad it doesn’t show when you blush. how is your boyfriend so unknowingly good with words?!

you pinch his cheek and pray he doesn’t notice the slight strain in your voice. “whatever. let me finish reading, and maybe i’ll think about giving you a kiss before bed.”

“if you finish reading early, do i get extra kisses?” yuuji hands you the book, grinning.

“gotta think about it.”

surprise surprise — he ends up getting extra kisses.

[crappy-writings]

Do You Trust Me?

WandaxStark!Reader // Fluff (Mostly)

*Images are not mine, credit to its creators and sources

Summary: Sleep is hard to come by sometimes. During one of these sleepless nights, Wanda and you secretly escape the Compound in the middle of the night for a drive.

Trigger Warnings: Shameless flirting from both parties, existential conversations, that’s all I think. 

Word Count: 2,930

A/N: This fic kinda went all over the place but here we are.

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Recced Fics Masterlist

Your mind was uncharacteristically quiet. Instead of the constant buzzing of thoughts that usually came at all hours of the day, you were met with eerie silence. Anyone else would have welcomed the change from the constant flow of thoughts, but it unnerved you instead. It was too quiet, too peaceful.

You flexed the muscles in your arms and legs in an attempt to relax and loosen your body and allow sleep to consume you, but it only managed to make you more aware of how awake you felt.

You sit up in your bed, already deciding to give up on sleep. You need something, anything, to activate your brain. It was a bitter irony, to long for your head to be silent, only for it to be of no comfort when it finally is. After all, the silence is just as dangerous as the noise.

You gingerly leave your room, the one you would crash in when you were staying at the Compound. The hallways are eerily quiet, and part of you resents it. Navigating the familiar hallways, you quickly find the access door for the roof. The cold, night air hits your warm skin, sending a small shiver down your spine. The contrast was a welcome one, the cool air already making you feel better.

You walk to the very edge of the building and sit at the ledge, your legs dangling over as you watch the dark outline of the forest shift and sway from the gentle breeze. It was a moonless night, the sky darker than it usually is. It was always strange to you, to see the Compound so peaceful. It is a place that is constantly surrounded by agents, surrounded by technological marvels, a training and mission hub for the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. It was a place that buzzed with an energy of importance and of seriousness. It was strange to think that this had become a home.

Your mind is no longer quiet, and you welcome the flow of unstructured thoughts that fill your mind. 

The soft crunch of gravel sounds off from behind you, and you don’t have to turn to know who is approaching. “Did I wake you?” you ask as Wanda stands behind you. Guilt begins to snake its way into your heart. 

“No,” her accented voice rings out, slightly raspy from sleep and disuse, “I couldn’t sleep.”

You give her a small smile, not sure if you believed her. Despite this, you pat the ledge of the roof beside you, “welcome to the club.”

She returned your smile, stepping forwards to sit beside you. One of her legs hung over the ledge while she hugged the other one to her chest. Neither of you spoke for a while, choosing to stare out at the scene that surrounded the Compound. Your eyes scanned over the darkened outline of tall trees in the distance, watching as they continued to sway gently with the wind. A very faint scent of pine wafted through the air. The rustling of tree branches and crickets chirping sang its lulling song.

“Bad dreams?” you interrupt nature’s melody as you tear your eyes from the tree lining to watch her. Her dark brown hair was down, the soft wavy locks framing her face gently. She wore a red sweater along with light gray sweatpants. You noticed she wore the red Iron Man socks you got for her as a joke, the arc reactor’s bright blue color peeking out from the border of her sweatpants. She also wore some black, slip-on shoes, the ones she always kept at the edge of her bed.

“No,” she answers softly, a sigh escaping her, “just… can’t sleep.”

You don’t press for more information. She will tell you when she’s ready.

No topics of conversation came to your mind, and part of you just wanted to enjoy the silence with the pretty woman beside you. 

And you did, simply enjoying nature’s evening song. Until an idea came to you. 

You stand up, staring out at the twinkling stars above you. A long breath escapes you, before you stare down at the woman below you, stretching out your hand with a warm smile. “Do you trust me?”

Wanda tilts her head at you, curiosity melded into her features. “Yes,” she draws out the word tentatively. There was something about you that could never allow her to say no. She reaches out for your hand, and she swears she felt electricity run up her arm as you touched. 

You pull her up, and somehow your smile seems to get bigger. “You won’t regret it, I promise,” you say as you begin to pull her towards the exit of the roof. 

You both snuck around the Compound as you made your way to the garage. There was a sense of childlike joy as you led her through the familiar hallways. Quiet giggles escaped the both of you as you weaved around corners, followed by shushing each other, not wanting to wake your teammates. It was a mission, one that held no stakes, where no one could get hurt. 

It was nice to be this carefree for a change.

Before long, you stand in front of one of your father’s cars, the swiped keys hanging from your index finger as you shoot Wanda a cocky, closed-lip smile. Wanda returns a look, eyebrows raised with a playful, amused smile curving her lips, her arms crossed over her chest. 

You flash her a big, bright smile, as you press the button to unlock the car.

“Where are we going, boss?” she asks you as she buckles her seatbelt. The car beneath you comes to life with a soft rumble. 

You cringe at the nickname, “Don’t call me that, it makes me sound like my dad.”

“Alright then what about,” she draws out the last word as she ponders a new nickname, “baby?”

You give her a side glance as you begin to drive out of the Compound. “Are you flirting with me, Maximoff?” a cocky smile creeps to your lips.

“Maybe I am, Stark,” she replies, matching your tone. She hears a soft chuckle escape you.

“Pick some music for us, DJ.”

Wanda scrolls through a selection of music, mostly consisting of 70s and 80s rock bands. She sees Youth Gone Wild by Skid Row and she can’t help but play that one first. You sing along to the lyrics, your head bopping along to the rhythm. “Wonder why you picked that one,” you give her a smirk. 

“No idea,” she replies coyly. The both of you began to sing along to the chorus together.

“You never answered my question,” Wanda speaks, breaking the comfortable silence the both of you had settled into as the song faded out.

“Ah, now why would I spoil the surprise for you?” you reply, stealing a glance at the brunette beside you. The radio now began to play the beginning notes of I was Made For Lovin’ You by Kiss. 

“Fine,” a quiet groan escapes Wanda as she quickly admits defeat. You continued to sing along to the different songs that came up. Wanda leans her head on the window glass, watching the darkened trees and forest greenery that surrounded their path.

She sneaks a glance at you, watching your relaxed figure drive the both of you to an unknown destination. You held the wheel with only one hand, the other one laid comfortably on top of the center console, the one thing that was separating the both of you. Your left leg was leaning against the door while the other one was firmly pressed against the gas pedal. 

You always held an air of confidence, radiating a sense of cockiness. She figures you inherited that from your father. Regardless, she adored that about you. She herself would feel more bold, more adventurous around you, and she enjoyed that feeling.

You notice her prolonged stare and smirk. “What Maximoff? Can’t get enough of this?” a quiet giggle escapes you as you wiggle in your seat. You recognized the first few notes of Talk Dirty To Me by Poison begin to play.

“I think I’ve had too much of you tonight,” Wanda rolls her eyes playfully, though she can’t help the smile that escapes her. 

“Oh please, you could never get tired of me,” you say, sneaking a glance at her once more. It was Wanda’s turn to reply with a chuckle. 

“How sure are you about that?” Wanda asks teasingly as she bites that inside of her lip.

“Sweetheart, I could break you and you would thank me for it,” you reply with that stupid, cocky smile of yours. Wanda’s cheeks felt warm as she opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by you before she could. 

“We’re almost there,” you reply, placing both hands on the steering wheel. Wanda stares out at the road before her, the only visible light coming from the car’s headlights.

“Now, close your eyes,” you say as you begin turning to the left, going down a somewhat unmarked dirt road. Wanda shoots you a curious look once more, but she complies. She trusts you. Highway to Hell by AC/DC began to play through the radio. 

You steal a glance at her and smile as you see that she had listened to you.

Before long, the car was slightly inclined upwards, the car bumping up and down as you accidentally ran over rocks and tree roots. “Shit,” you mutter after running over a particularly large root. 

“Don’t break the car,” Wanda teases.

“I’ll never hear the end of it if I do,” you reply.

Livin’ on a Prayer by Jon Bon Jovi played as you reached your destination. “Don’t open your eyes yet, give me one second,” you tell her, and she hears the car door open and close. Half a minute later, she hears the door on her side open. “Give me your hand,” you command softly. 

“Okay,” she extends her hand outward, her eyes still closed. Your hands connect and you guide her out of the car. Your hand lets go of hers, trailing up the sides of her arms and landing on her shoulders.

You guide her steps throughout the short distance you travel, pointing out any sticks or rocks that could cause her to trip over. You come to a still, your hands no longer on her shoulders and she can’t help but miss your touch. “Open your eyes.”

“Wow,” Wanda says quietly in awe. The spot you parked at was secluded and completely dark, surrounded by large trees and low forest bushes. The branches, crickets and other little critters were loud, singing a cacophonous song that only they could understand. 

“How did you find this place?” she asks, still mesmerized by the sight before her.

The sky was inky black, dotted by thousands upon thousands of stars, not a single cloud obstructing the majestic view. Upon the horizon, faint light from the city was visible, lighting the sightline in a yellowish-orange glow. The greenery of the surrounding forest framed the sky, holding it in a still picture. The kind where artists slave away to capture its essence, where musicians search for the perfect words to capture its feeling, where lovers seek to profess the hardest and simplest truth of the world.

“Oh, this? Total hook-up spot, I used to bring all the girls here,” you reply, a sarcastic tone thick in your voice as you take a step forward to stand beside her. Wanda shoots you a look, not fully appreciating your joke. You find humor in her expression, a silent laugh escaping you. You both walk towards the back of the car as you pop open the trunk.

“No, I found this place a few years ago. I went out driving without any direction and just sort of… stumbled into this spot, somehow,” you reply earnestly with a soft sigh. You both sit at the back of the trunk and begin to stargaze. Silence held on for a while, both of you too caught up in marveling at one of nature's wonders. 

“I love staring at the stars,” you say quietly, finally interrupting the prolonged quiet, “they make me feel small.”

Wanda tears her eyes away from the stars and turns to you, her eyes holding a curious gaze. You hold a thoughtful expression, your eyes never tearing away from above you.

“The universe is so big. You look up at the stars and you know that there is infinity out there. It just never stops, even if your eyes can’t see it. There’s dozens of planets, dozens of life forces, just… everything.

“And me? I’m just a tiny thing in it. I’m a dot of sand in the vast ocean, compared to it all out there. And despite everything that’s out there, despite how big everything is, even on our own planet,” your eyes finally tear away from the night sky and settle on Wanda, “I’m… still here. I could be anywhere else in space and time, but I’m not. I’m here. I breathe air. I can look at the stars. I can hold your hand.”

You reach out but don’t grab her hand. Instead, you wait for her to choose if she wants to hold yours. Without a second thought, she holds onto you, the same electricity from before buzzing between you. 

“Despite the universe’s grand scheme, I stand here in defiance. I’m still here,” you repeat as you stare back up once more. Wanda follows suit, mulling your words over. 

The sky seemed almost different after your words. She could feel the vastness of the sky, the eternity that stretched past the Earth, past the Solar System, past the Milky Way. It is easy to feel so small in the grand scheme of it all. The thought is overwhelming and overpowering.

Until an odd sense of calm washes over her. She had made a lot of mistakes in the past. Mistakes that still haunted her, ones that made it hard to sleep, ones that she still had not forgiven herself for. Despite those mistakes, she still stood upon the universe.

“I’m still here,” your words replay in her head, not realizing she had said them out loud. You make no comment though, instead, you squeeze her hand gently. A reminder that you are both still here. She takes a deep breath, feeling grounded once more. 

It was in that moment where you realized you had both somehow gotten close to each other, your shoulders brushing against one other. Neither of you had let go of each other’s hands. The intimacy of the moment made your heart warm, enjoying the soft, innocent touch.

“What do you think the future will hold for us?” Wanda asks you suddenly.

“Well, we have training in about four hours, and dad said that there’s this thing going on in—” you reply coyly, and you’re not quite sure why. 

“No, no, I mean, where do you think you’ll be in ten, fifteen years? We can’t be superheroes forever,” Wanda was the one who held the thoughtful expression this time.

“You think we’ll live long enough for the future? Who’s ever seen an old superhero?” you ask bluntly. You had never thought too hard about the future. 

“Well, we’re living in the era of superheroes. Maybe some of us make it. I mean, Clint’s retired. Maybe we can retire, too,” there was a hopeful, longing tone to her words.

“I suppose that’s true. In that case, where do you see yourself in ten to fifteen years?” you flip the question to her, not quite having an answer for it.

“I’d like to settle down with someone. Somewhere far from the city, far away from people. I’d like to be a mom, two, maybe three kids,” there was a softness to her voice, the faintest smile playing on her lips as she stared out at the view before the both of you, “I want a nice, peaceful retirement.”

You wonder if this is what she had been thinking about earlier. 

“That’s quite nice, actually,” you say thoughtfully, your eyes lingering on her.

“What about you? You didn’t answer the question,” she says as her eyes finally meet yours. Your gaze breaks from her though, your eyes falling to your linked hands. 

“I… don’t know,” there was heavy honesty in your voice, “People expect me to take over for my dad, they expect me to be just as good or even better than him, but… I don’t think I inherited his intellect or anything like that. I don’t think I want any of it, either.”

“Well, do you know what you want?” she was staring at you, but you continued to look down.

“Not yet. But I still have time to figure it out. I think I do, at least,” you say, finally meeting her gaze once more. 

She smiles at you, a brilliant, beautiful smile. Your heart melts a bit in your chest. 

“You have plenty of time,” she whispers quietly as if it were a promise. 

“Well, here’s to hoping,” a soft sigh escapes you as you return her smile.

“To retirement,” you raise an imaginary champagne glass up to the vast sky above you. In your mind, it felt like you were standing up against the universe once more. 

“To retirement,” Wanda follows suit, raising her own imaginary glass.

Peace settles into the air, a silent agreement having passed between you both. You will defy the universe together for as long as you can.

[autisticlancemcclain]

Everything is burning.

For too long he doesn’t move. His limbs are leaden, pulled heavily to the ground, and his neck is too weak to keep up his head. Smoke curls in the air and settles sleepily into his lungs. Shredded metal and broken glass glint and shine under the full moonlight, and through his half-lidded eyes it looks like stars. Every inhale is laborious, but the churned earth feels shaped to the contours of his body, like a mattress designed specifically for him. He could close his eyes, just for a moment, and rest, recover from the strain of the crash before moving forward. It would be easier. Just a short rest, a moment to sleep, to heal. 

Sounds of a forest surround him. A steady chirping that must be crickets, a hooting that can only be an owl. If he strains his ears farther, there’s the chittering of something scurrying up and down trees, and the heavier thumps of something bigger stomping about. Behind that, there are voices. 

Shouting. And the bark of what has to be dogs, and the ever so faint revving of vehicles, slamming doors.

Get up, urges a voice in the back of his head. Get up now.

He tries to comply. He cracks open his eyes – when did he close them? – and hisses at the onslaught of light, of beams of searching torches and painful flashes of red and blue. All of a sudden he’s made aware of the flames inching closer to his legs, and the wing of his ship, torn off the body, pressing him into the ground.

“Not good,” he croaks, trying to wiggle his toes. Thankfully, he can, although movement reminds his body of itself, and the aches and pains start to come alive – his entire head pounds, and nausea coils around his stomach, and something burns and pulses in the meat of his calf. 

But still he can move.

Forcing his arms to function, he grounds his hands under him, pushing upright. His body feels heavier than it has ever felt before; the task feels herculean. The unrest in his stomach becomes violent, swirling, and he has to stop before he’s even sitting upright, eyes stinging, teeth clenched, breathing deliberately and sharply through his nose until the nausea settles again. The world spins, when he’s finally sat upright, and he has to give himself a moment for that to pass, too, but the shouting voices and stomping feet get louder, and he knows he doesn’t have much time.

“Okay,” he whispers to himself, praying that Perseus and Ursa and Leo guide him. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

He curls his gloved fingers under the ruined edge of the wing, careful of the sharp shards of torn metal, and heaves, pushing and biting back a loud cry as the effort of freeing his legs tears something in his shoulders, hurts something in his back. The wing is heavy and he’s lucky he’s merely trapped under it rather than pinned; if the ground wasn’t supporting so much of its weight then the onus would be on his legs, and he’s sure he would lose them. His body is sorer than it has ever been in his life, and everything hurts, but he is grateful for that at least. 

With the freeing of his legs comes the hard part. He doesn’t trust them to hold them, at least not at first, and he’s scared of what might happen if his brain tells them to move on their own. So he wraps his hands around his ankle and pulls, so his foot slides close to his rear and bends his knee, and does the same with the other, so he is sitting with his knees nearly pressed to his chest and his feet flat and steady on the floor. 

“Okay,” he whispers again to himself, shaky this time. He bites off any other words, snapping his mouth shut, focusing on breathing. Okay. He braces his palms on the cracked and sparking remains of the control board the pushes with all his strength, steadying himself on wobbling legs and knocking knees. He holds himself steady, breath held in his lungs, for the count of fifteen ticks, carefully testing with his hands still steadying himself, the ability of his legs to hold him up. 

Carefully, nervously, he lifts up his hands. He sways, for a moment, but manages to stay upright. On the high of that success he straightens to the best of his ability and surveys the smoking remains of his crashed ship. It’s not very salvageable. Scrap metal, maybe, but everything else…

He swallows. It has been two deca-phoebs since he left home. Six pheobs since he last passed a satellite up to date enough to talk to his family face-to-face. He hasn’t seen home in so long that sometimes he struggles to remember what it felt like to lie in his bed, not just the nest he built in the cab of his ship. The ship, with its purple glowing lights and well-worn buttons and weird old sounds and familiar walls is the only piece of home he has left. Maybe forever, now.

He shakes himself. The voices are closer, now, the barking of dogs closer still. He doesn’t have time to dwell. He forces himself to shift around some of the ruins, digging through cracked polymer and cracked glass to find anything salvageable and portable; anything he can find in under thirty ticks. He manages – thankfully – to find his pack, half-burned as it is, that he knows holds some clothes and supplies. He finds his comm, too, although it’s cracked clean in half. He brings it anyway. 

His head swivels to the treeline as he hears a barked order that sounds like it’s barely out of eyesight. He has to go. He doesn’t have any more time. 

Choking back tears from two different kind of pain, he stumbles his way out of the wreckage and sprints for the trees, as far away from the voices as he can manage. He only hopes that he’s not trailing blood – and that the humans aren’t faster than he is.

———

Keith grew up on stories of Earth.

His father told him hundreds. It’s like a hundred planets in one, he liked to say, and when Keith was young and still fit in the crook of his father’s arm he’d look at him with wide eyes and try to imagine it. Dozens of nations all trying to coexist in one space. All the culture and language you could ever dream of, naui jag-eun tamheomga, everywhere, at once.

When Keith was a kid he couldn’t get enough of it. When he was a teen he couldn’t, either; he’s never not been fascinated with the heritage he’s never shared with anyone he’s ever known. His bedtime stories were of scientific discoveries his father witnessed in real time, of athletic feats of which Keith could barely conceptualise. And when he ran out of real stories, he told Keith stories of thousands of years of myths, of gods and angels and monsters. And of course when Keith had the first inkling of an opportunity he packed a ship, kissed his mother goodbye, and flew off on a several hundred million lightyear journey, his field journal blank and begging to be filled and his father’s voice echoing in his head.

His father prepared him for everything. Keith knew every star on the journey, recognised the curve of every planet in the solar system. Upon sight of the Great Blue Dot he could barely contain his excitement, thrusters at full force.

His father told him everything. As far as Keith knew and has always known, his father knew everything.

His father didn’t tell him that the second his ship showed up on government scanners, he’d be shot out of the sky.

Keith found that one out the hard way.

———

There’s a light up ahead.

It’s yellowed, and old. The bulb has not been changed in a long time, and dead moths pile inside the class lamp cover. Cobwebs wrap delicately around the iron frame. The light seems out of place with the cottage it guards; not in appearance, but in liveliness: the cottage is dark and well-maintained. The ancient beckoning of the lamp post seems at odd with the sleepy youth of the red-bricked little house.

Keith is starting to get a little delirious, maybe. 

Stumbling, he approaches the cottage. He has long since lost the voices and hunters, if that’s what they were, distracted no doubt by the remains of his ship. He hasn’t heard them in hours. 

But the moon crests higher and higher overheard. And the torn flesh of his leg – cut deeply by a shard of shrapnel – bleeds sluggishly with no sign of stopping. And he is tired, and every step is harder, and the adrenaline only continues to fade, and the point in which he will no longer be able to go on is rapidly approaching.

And, most damning. Humans are pursuit predators. As far as he goes – if he is not sheltered, they will find him. Now or days from now, he cannot stay hidden. 

He’d like to choose the terms in which he is discovered. 

He forces himself to the cottage, injured leg dragging behind him, vision getting blurrier with every step, breaths getting shallower and shallower. The steps are real wood, cured and stained and worn, and Keith mourns for a moment that he is about to ruin them with the spill of his own blood and the tracked mud and grease on his clothes. His father wore a necklace, every day of his life, a leather cord with a rubbed-smooth charm of carved wood. In all the many planets Keith has visited, he has never seen real wood. Dried plant matter, in abundance, and every kind of polished stone, polymers created from nothing and glass melted from every kind of sand, but wood is, at least as far as anyone knows, completely unique to Earth. Keith has always been fascinated by it.

His strength leaves him at the door. Like his strings were cut, he falls to his knees with a heavy thud, and must claw his way close enough to knock. The tap of his fist against the worn green door is hardly loud enough to be audible, but it is all he has strength to do. He slumps against the doorframe and mentally apologises to whatever old lady lives in this house, because she is going to have the fright of her life seeing his corpse on her doorstep when she wakes up in the morning. That, or a trail of blood from where the people who shot him down are going to drag him away. 

Either way, not good.

He’s sad, as he lay there dying. That is of course not a revolutionary feeling to have, but it’s of no consequence. He wishes he saw more of Earth. He wishes he got to stop at all the places his father talked about so fondly. He wishes he was able to tell his mother goodbye. He wishes, perhaps most urgently, that dying hurt less. He had been too shocked to hurt, when he first crashed, but it’s been hours now and his body won’t let him forget it. Everything hurts, and his throat is dry. He hates it when his throat is dry. The wooden doorframe digs into his back, at least, and it’s not a pleasant sensation but he reaches out and strokes the grain of the wooden door anyway, feeling the chipped away pent, squeezing his eyes shut and pretending he’s running his thumb around his father’s pendant. 

The texture of the wood suddenly disappears, and his back hits the ground. His eyes flutter open, whole seconds after he is laid flat on the ground, and hovering above him is the blurry silhouette of a man glowing gold; curls of hair shining flinted silver in the bright light of the moon, stars dotting the apples of his cheeks and bridge of his nose, mouth curved like the arm of the Milky Way, and eyes the deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul.

“Oh,” are Keith’s dying words, faint and echoing and awed. “Dad was wrong. Angels are real.”

———

The tips of cool, uncalloused fingers brushing under his hairline rouse him from slumber, frowning. Mom must be wearing – gloves? But that doesn’t make sense. He’s never seen her wear gloves before, even when he’s been sick. Her claws tear right through the fingers. It doesn’t make sense.

“Mom?” he murmurs, voice scratchy, trying and failing to force open his heavy, heavy eyelids. 

“Go back to sleep,” she whispers, not sounding like herself at all. She must be sick, too. “You’re still all fucked up. You need it.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrow. He wanted to talk to her. There was something he wanted to say to her. There’s something faint and muted pulling at the back of his mind; something about his mother, about talking, about pain and sleep and sorrow. He needs to wake up.

But he’s so tired. And his eyelids are so heavy. And sleep pulls, at every corner of his mind.

“Okay,” he sighs, and sinks back into it.

———

“Whatever the hell you are, you’ve made a mess of yourself. Dumbass.”

———

There are voices again. Arguing. Fear pricks at Keith’s veins, and it’s enough to propel him out of whatever blackness he’s been resting in, enough to force his eyes open. He squeezes them shut again on reflex, hissing at the onslaught of sunlight pouring in from the wide, open window, counting to three before opening them again under the shield of his hand. 

He doesn’t recognise the room he’s in.

It’s strangely shaped. Almost cave-shaped, really, with rounded edges instead of sharp corners. Except the window is so big it bleeds light into every single crevice of the room, leaving no room for any cave-like impressions. The walls are painted with soft, muted murals, of hanging vines and falling leaves and ants marching a line on a tree. Dozens of shelves are filled with more rocks than Keith has ever seen in one place, even in his godfather’s labs and archives. The bed itself is huge, taking up half the room, enough so that Keith could sprawl if he pleased and not touch any edge. The comforter is huge and thick and almost stiflingly warm. The door is contrasting to the energy of the rest of the room, covered in vibrant stickers and sprawled in messages and almost graffiti-like lettering. It’s cracked open slightly, and through it Keith can hear two voices arguing: one stiff and demanding, the other angry and shrill.

“I have no idea what the hell you’re on about,” hisses the angry voice, defensive. “No one has shown up at my door. I’ve seen nothing strange. Everything is as normal as it always is. The only odd thing is the slew of trespassing assholes dressed in uniform who won’t leave me the fuck alone –”

Keith’s head lolls backwards, strength seeping out of his body. The sunlight is warm and smells good. The fear that had dragged him awake has ebbed, somewhat, because the voice – the angry voice – is protective. There is someone guarding Keith’s six. 

He lets sleep swallow him again.

———

He dreams, finally, of flying on wings of hollow bones and stretched skin, and being shot out of the sky. And of a bright yellow canary, snatching him from his freefall and floating him gently to the earth.

———

“If you woke up soon I’d appreciate it, you know. I’m running out of excuses to buy saline bags. Shit is getting suspicious and if the local town thinks I’m a vampire trying to keep my personal bloodbag alive, I’m fucked.”

———

Keith awakes, finally and fully, in the middle of the night. A half moon shines bright into a bedroom that feels unnervingly familiar, like the watercolour memories from a dream. The cloudiness that’s been ever present in his head has finally faded, and the only thing rolling in his stomach is hunger. There’s still a heavy ache in his leg, but it’s manageable. It’s dark enough that his eyes don’t sting.

His mouth tastes like something died, then was revived, then shat on his tongue. It’s unpleasant. 

Nervously, fully expecting a half-movement to crumble his body to dust, he peels back the disgustingly fluffy comforter, slowly pivoting his half-upright body until his feet are planted on the rug-covered floor. He rests there a moment, frankly a little breathless, but braces on palm on the nightstand and one on the bedspread and readies himself. Teeth grit in determination, he pushes, leaning on shaky arms until he trusts his legs to hold up his body.

They do. His one leg aches in a pain he’s only felt in Marmora training, but it holds him, and when he tests a tiny step forward, it holds him then, too. 

Slowly, conscious of his space and his body, Keith inches forward. 

It takes him longer than he would like to cross the minimal space between the bed and the door, but he does it, and he ignores the sardonic voice in his head that wants to do anything but celebrate. He rests again at the door frame, hand clutched at the top of it, stretched out in a way that feels unbelievably good (well, as stretched out as he can be with his head brushing the doorframe). His lips quirk up when he realises it’s made of wood, half-remembering his dying internal rambles. He wonders if building with wood is a common Earthen practice, or if whomever owns this cottage is just unbelievably wealthy. Maybe all Terrans are. 

Once his breath has evened again and he thinks he’s good to go, Keith peeks down the hallway, nerves dancing down his spine. The two rooms branching off are dark and soundless, but there’s a small light on at the end of the hall where it opens up, and the soft sound of clinking glass. Someone is awake.

He closes his eyes, pulling back from the doorframe and closing his shaking hands into fists. “Just do it,” he whispers to himself. It’s not like they don’t know he’s here – someone has been keeping him alive, after all. He didn’t just recover – well, half-recover – from a massive crash by himself. That kind of thing kills a person, actually. “Stop stalling.”

Jaw set and shoulders square, Keith stalks forward. It’s hard to stalk with a heavy limp, but he thinks he manages. His cousin has always told him that power comes from audacity, and she has plenty, so. He should be fine so long as he emulates her, which he would rather crash from space again than admit but he does often.

He turns the corner at the end of the hallway and it opens up into an open kitchen and living space. There are no overhead lights but lamps and candles litter the space, making everything glow quietly. A light floral scent fills the air, but Keith isn’t sure if that’s from the candles or the bouquet of purple flowers that might be lavenders placed carefully on the centre of a – wooden – table. More shelves line the walls, filled with more than just rocks this time, and the walls are painted with bright swatches of colours; muted in the low light but visibly more sunshiney and abstract than the bedroom. The fridge is covered in photos so thickly that the door isn’t even visible. The counters are a mess of opened ingredients, some of which Keith recognises, and a slew of utensils and bowls in various states of disarray.

A man stands at the centre of it all, back turned to Keith. 

Keith clears his throat.

The man whirls around, startled, and when he sees Keith he screams at the top of his lungs, mixing bowl clattering to the ground and splattering batter all over the floor and half the cupboards. Keith steps back, heart pounding in his ears, hands held defensively in front of him, mind screaming with various iterations of oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. He’d thought he was safe, that his presence was known, that –

“Oh my shitballs,” the man wheezes, hunching over slightly. “Oh Joseph and Mary and Sweet Baby Jesus. Fuck. My heart just clawed its way up my esophagus and threw itself out of my mouth, actually. Holy shit.”

“What,” Keith croaks, still frozen in fear.

For a moment there’s silence. Then the man still stands crookedly, but straightens enough to look Keith in the eyes. And Keith – 

Keith stops breathing, because he knows those eyes. 

The deepest, darkest, widest brown he has ever seen, like two glowing black holes boring into his soul. 

“I am. So sorry,” he says, “for yelling. That is my bad. That is On Me. Probably freaked you out good.” He sighs, bending back down and scooping up the mixing bowl. He stares for a long moment at the mess of batter, weighing, then sighs again and more deeply and reaches for a rag. “I don’t mean to be xenophobic, promise. I swear I knew you were there. I just. Haven’t slept. In so many days. Would’ve screamed if anyone popped out, promise.”

“What,” Keith repeats, a little desperate. 

The man doesn’t seem to pick up on his tone, though, continuing to work on the rapidly drying mess and rambling. 

“– and it’s not your fault, anyway. Been a rough couple of weeks. You really freaked the hell outta the military, huh? I’m glad you’re up now because there was only so much I could do to keep them away. I’m sure they’ll come knocking again eventually, but we’ll figure it out then. Or you’ll go home? I’m honestly not sure. Whatever works. You can stay. I dunno. My brain’s on three percent at this exact moment.”

“You’re…not sleeping?” Intentionally, Keith avoids the whole military thing the man mentioned, because. Well. That freaks him out, if he’s being entirely honest, and he really doesn’t want to hear it. Right now he’s pretending that’s a problem for someone else. He has enough shit to deal with. 

The man sighs. He looks dejectedly at the mess. Slowly, so as not to startle him again, Keith walks over to the sink, careful to avoid smears of whatever the man was making, and wets a rag to help him. 

He figures it’s the least he can do. 

“Yeah, well. I’ve never slept great outside of my bed. It’s cool, though. Sometimes I blink for a few seconds longer than usual and it’s like a micro-nap.”

Keith looks at him in concern. He’s staring off into space, rubbing at a spot that’s been clean for at least two doboshes now. Keith’s not even sure if he’s noticed him beside him. “That seems bad.”

“Eh. Now that you can move around, I can sleep if you’re ever up. All is well.”

“...Wait.” Keith shifts so he’s deliberately in the man’s space, which makes him startle, proving Keith’s earlier guess. “I’m sleeping in your bed?”

“Well, yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Keith flushes purple. “I didn’t know I was in your bed!” It’s not that he’s…you know…never slept in anyone else’s bed before, but usually he knew he was doing it. And never a stranger’s, as evidently kind as this stranger has been. 

The man blinks. “I have a guest bedroom, but you’re too tall for it.”

“Still!”

“Dude. You showed up at my door in the middle of the night after crashing into the woods so hard the trees shook, bloodied to hell and back and near death. I couldn’t just – shove you in a bed too small for you. It was my bed or the floor, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to make an injured person sleep on the floor.”

“That’s…fair, I suppose,” Keith concedes. But he’s still a little troubled. “But I’m good, now. I can – sleep in the guest room?”

He trails off a little as he suggests it, realising, abruptly, how absurd this whole thing is. He doesn’t know this person. He’s shown up as an unexpected guest to his home – hell, to his planet. And now they’re…making sleeping arrangements? Arguing about sleeping arrangements? Is Keith even planning on staying? What are his other options? How is he going to get home? What happened to his ship?

His head starts to pound again. The man must notice, because he softens. 

“Man, just sleep in my bed,” he says. “You’re still hurt.” He gently pries the rag out of Keith’s hand, tossing them both into the sink and standing. Hands still gripped together, he pulls Keith up too, careful of his hurt leg and generally aching body. He begins to tug Keith back to the bedroom, guiding him around the mess on the floor.

Keith squares his shoulders stubbornly. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of –” 

The man pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at Keith in exasperation. 

“This is what I get,” he says, shaking his head. “For not listening to Hunk about the light. I deserve this. This is Karma.”

“I’m not just going to steal your bed and let you be sleep deprived,” Keith insists. 

“Well, I’m not going to let you not steal my bed! And it’s my house, so checkmate!”

“Not doing it.”

“I’ll drag you,” the man threatens. “I did before. I will do it again, do not test me.”

“You dragged me when I was a deadweight,” Keith points out. He straightens to his full height, ignoring the screaming burning in his leg. He has a Point to make. “Go ahead and try when I’m actively resisting.”

The man glowers at him, arms crossed over his chest and fingers drumming on his bicep. He has very long fingers, Keith notices. Kind of – elegant. In a scrawny way. Keith kind of gets those vibes from him as a person.

“Oh,” the man says triumphantly, standing to his full height, too – although he still has to look up to meet Keith’s eyes. “I’ll just sleep on the floor. So you’ll have to use my bed. Ha.”

Keith shrugs. “I’ll just sleep on the floor, too.”

The man glowers at him for several doboshes. Keith stares right back, eyebrows raised. 

“Are all aliens this annoying?”

“Are all humans this stubborn?”

A smile twitches at the corner of the man’s mouth. “This is stupid.”

“It is,” Keith agrees, smiling back. 

“Just – sleep on the bed.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“What if I sleep in it, too? Compromise.”

Keith’s cheeks heat again, although this time he doesn’t look away. That would be – embarrassing. Far more embarrassing than simply sleeping in someone else’s bed – sleeping with them in it.

But it would get them both to sleep faster. Plus, Keith would be unconscious, so how embarrassing could it be, really? And the bed is huge, so double plus! They probably won’t even be that near each other.

“Compromise,” Keith relents, finally. The man beams, but notably there’s a bit of a flush to his ears, too.

“Come on,” he says, reaching down to grab Keith’s hand again. He does it very easily. Keith tries not to notice. “God, I’m so pumped. I love sleeping. This is going to be the best.”

“...Right.”

Keith follows him, meekly, down the hallway, straight through the second door on the left, and into the bedroom. It has remained unchanged – the comforter is turned over as Keith left it, and the light curtains are swaying, slightly, in the breeze from the open window. The man wastes no time crawling right in, on the right right, sighing loudly as he sinks into the soft mattress. Keith is much more hesitant. 

“There,” the man says, as they’re finally settled side by side. “Hopefully it’s not – the worst.”

“It’s not,” Keith tries to assure, voice strangled. He lies as stiffly as he can, careful to keep his limbs to himself, not to crowd. He doesn’t want to – suffocate the man, or something. Who knows. This is a real-life human. Mom says they are largely fragile.

“Goodnight,” the human whispers, several doboshes later. His voice is hushed, sleep-thick. Keith chances a look, and finds him melted into the pillows, eyes closed, face lax. He doesn’t seem to be – bothered. By Keith. By his clawed hands, or big ears, or height. Or proximity.

Keith exhales, and lets himself relax. 

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, and sinks back into unconsciousness. 

— — —

next

later in the universe

[hearts-hunger]

evergreen — part three

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!

Series Summary: Jake takes you on your first vacation to the cabin the gang stays at every year. When memories of past relationships loom heavy, will this vacation send cracks through the foundation of safety and trust you have in each other?

Chapter Summary: You try to take your friends' advice and talk to Jake, but it doesn't go the way you hope.

Pairings: Jake x Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: angst, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 2.4k | Warnings: the devil's lettuce, arguing, non-graphic smut (minors begone!), hate sex? sort of?, uncertain feelings around sex, mentions of infidelity

A/N: Yes I posted the last chapter this morning no I am not upset that I have another chapter for you tonight. I hope you like it! There's a lot to unpack in here! ♡

Jake was replacing a string on his acoustic when you went back to the basement, tapping his foot to the beat of the song the guys were working on. 

“Hey, Jake?”

He looked up. “Yes, my love.”

You gathered up your courage, remembering what Baby had said. “You want to take a walk? It’s nice out.”

“Sure. Let me finish this real quick.” He restrung the guitar and set it in its stand, happily taking your hand when you offered it. You told the guys you were leaving for a bit and started out on your walk, leaves crunching under your feet and birds flitting to and fro in the branches overhead.

“Where are we going?” he asked, swinging your joined hands between you. 

“Nowhere in particular, I guess,” you said. “I just wanted to spend time with you.” And talk about your ex, you thought, but you couldn't say it out loud. 

He smiled. “Okay. Suits me. I know somewhere we can go, if you want to do some tree climbing.”

“You know, I think I do,” you said dryly. “It’s always been my dream.”

He laughed. “We don't have to if you don't want to. But let me take you over there, and then we can decide.”

Conversation wandered aimlessly, comfortingly, as you walked together in the chilly woods. Jake spoke animatedly of a new song, thankfully not the love song he’d apparently given up on, and you watched his expression and loved the light of passion you saw in his beloved features. 

You came to a group of three trees growing practically on top of each other; nestled in the branches was a platform of old wooden boards like the floor of an unfinished tree house. Nailed into the trunk of the trees was a makeshift ladder, and Jake stopped at the foot of it.

“Oh, Jake, you shouldn't have,” you teased. 

He grinned. “I told you I knew a place. Come on.”

He helped you up to the platform, steadying you as you climbed a dozen feet off the ground. You were a little worried about the structural integrity of the platform, but Jake assured you it was sound, and you knew he wouldn't take you somewhere dangerous. 

When you were satisfied that Jake has gotten rid of any immediate threat from spiders and other woodland critters, you lay on your backs and looked up at the bare branches overhead, watching the last of the amber leaves hang on valiantly in the breeze. 

“Close your eyes for a minute,” he said.

You frowned, and he chuckled as he brushed his fingers over your cheek. “Trust me, sparrow. Close your eyes and listen.”

You did, breathing deeply of the cold, clean air, listening to the chatter of squirrels and birds as they wandered about the woods. A single, musical cricket played a lonesome serenade somewhere below you, chirping and trilling to find a companion.

“It’s music,” Jake said softly. “You hear it?”

A faint smile tipped the corners of your mouth. “I hear it.” You opened your eyes to see him propped up on his arm beside you, watching you with such affection you thought you could get lost in it forever and always be content.

“You like it out here?” he asked.

You nodded. “I love it.” You reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear, letting your touch linger. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He turned his head to kiss your wrist. “I found it last year, and I’ve decided it’s a good little love nest.”

You let your hand fall. A sharp, painful something twisted in your chest, and all of a sudden, you didn't care how oblivious he was — that one hurt.

“A love nest?” you said weakly, your voice coming out less sharply than it felt inside.

He smiled, and it made the hurt worse. “Yeah. For you, little sparrow. And I guess I can be a jaybird. Jake-bird. You see the vision.”

You sat up, wishing you could hear the silly jokes you usually loved as something other than inane chatter. He brushed the leaves out of your hair.

“No Jake-bird, then?” he asked.

You curled your hands into tight fists. “I need to talk to you about something.”

He sat up next to you. “Okay,” he said, still lighthearted. “Talk to me. You want to switch rooms again? Do a night in every bedroom?”

“I’m being serious, Jake. And I don’t want to fight,” you added, trying to preempt any argument, feeling like it might already be a losing battle. “I just need you to listen to me.”

“I’m listening to you, sparrow.” Though you couldn't see his face, you could picture the mix of confusion and concern in his expression. “When do I not listen to you?”

Part of you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not listening to you on this trip, seeing as you'd never actually said anything about it, but you couldn't get past the desire for him to know without you having to tell him.

He leaned closer. “Sparrow. What could we possibly have to fight about?”

“No, I said I didn't want to fight.”

“Yeah, I know. I don't want to either, so I’m not sure why you’d even bring it up.”

You took a deep breath. “I need to talk to you about Izzy.”

You felt him stiffen beside you. He didn't say anything for a moment, absently picking up a few acorns and tossing them over the edge of the platform.

“What about her?” he finally asked, and his voice was flat.

You looked over at him.

“You brought her the last time you came to the cabin,” you said.

He nodded. “Yeah. Still not sure what there is to say about that, though. She was my girlfriend at the time. I took her on the trip where everybody brings their partners. So what?”

You swallowed. “So, you picked the same room for us that you stayed in with her.”

He frowned, like that hadn’t ever occurred to him. “I guess.” He met your eyes, and the understanding you needed to see there was nowhere to be found. “Is that why you were so all-fired to switch rooms?”

You couldn't believe this wasn't clicking for him. Maybe he was being intentionally dense, and that thought made you mad.

“Yes!” you said fervently. “Jake, are you serious? I don't want to stay in the room you slept in with her.”

His expression was guarded, defensive. “Well, we switched, so I'm not sure what the problem is.”

Before you could say anything else, he started to climb down from the platform, and you had the distinct, infuriating sense of being dismissed. You followed him down and caught up with him, walking with him back to the cabin.

“We stayed in there last night,” you said, unwilling to let him end your conversation when he decided he wanted it to be over. “And then you tried to get in my pants this morning, but you had no clue why I didn't want you to.”

He grimaced. “Don’t say it like that. ‘Get in your pants’. I hate that. Makes me sound like a creep.”

“Fine,” you said waspishly, feeling that this talk that was supposed to be so easy was quickly devolving into what you’d feared it would. “You wanted to make love to me, whatever you want to call it. Doesn't change the fact that it was in the same bed you've done that with someone else.”

“Okay, so, it wasn't the most intelligent move on my part,” he said, the admission made lackluster by his frustrated tone. “But you could have said something if you were uncomfortable. I'm not a mind reader, sparrow.”

That was a salient point, one he’d had to make frequently in your previous arguments, and it chafed you raw now just as much as it had every other time he’d made it. You chose to ignore it in favor of letting your jealousy and anger run wild.

“And then you went on and on about how great she is at things I'm bad at,” you said, “and — ”

“No I didn't,” he protested, angry now. “Don’t make shit up. I said she was good at Pac-Man. If that makes you jealous, that's on you.”

“And then,” you said, pointedly ignoring that too, “you took me to your love nest you found with her. How am I supposed to interpret that one, Jake?”

“I don't know!” He threw his hands up, exasperated. “I’m an idiot. But you're twisting this to make it seem like I’ve been hurting you on purpose, when you know damn well that’s not true.” His gaze was hard and angry when he looked over at you. “You could have said something, but instead, you chose to get more and more upset with me until you started this shit. You always do.”

The truth of it only made you angrier, with yourself for doing it and with him for pointing it out.

“I shouldn't have to say that I don't want to sleep with you in the bed you fucked your ex in,” you said venomously.

His expression changed to one of incredulity and disgust. “What the hell did you say it like that for?” he demanded. You were nearing the cabin, and part of you worried about your friends overhearing, but the stronger part of you just wanted to keep fighting.

“You never talk like that,” he said. “Why are you throwing that in my face and making it sound like — ”

“You did, didn't you?” you spat. Your self control was completely unraveled. “You fucked her in that bed, didn't you?”

“Yes!” he burst out. He stopped on the porch to look your straight in the face. “Yes, okay? I fucked her good and hard in that bed, and I intentionally picked that room so I could make you feel like shit. Is that what you want to hear?”

“If that’s the truth!” you shot back. You felt the sting of angry, hurt tears and hated it. 

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said, fed up with you. “I hate talking to you when you're like this, sparrow. You drive me fucking crazy.”

“This is your fault, Jake,” you said. “I can't ever get through to you. Every time I try, you overreact.”

“Me?” he all but yelled. “You’re the one making a big fucking deal out of nothing, just because you can't be honest about how you feel! How is that my fault?”

He went inside before you had a chance to yell anything back at him. You came in right on his heels, so angry with him you could have screamed. Baby and the guys were playing a card game at the table, and their laughter and conversation died a quick death at your entrance.

You knew they must have heard you and Jake fighting on the porch, but you didn't have time to feel embarrassed as you followed Jake down to the your new room. He sat on the edge of the bed, drumming his hands against his knees, obviously agitated. His jaw worked as he looked up at you, and for some utterly incomprehensible reason, you found it maddeningly attractive.

“You sure you want to keep fighting?” he asked, all attitude now. “You know I used to fight with Izzy too. Wouldn’t want us doing anything I’ve already done with her.”

“God, you're so infuriating!” you said. “I just didn't want to get fucked in the same bed as her!”

He stood and closed the distance between you, slamming the door and bracketing you against it. 

“What about this bed, huh?” His breath fanned hot over your skin, his eyes blazing. “How about you get fucked in this bed and shut the hell up about all this shit with Izzy? Is that good enough for you?”

Heat raced through you, feeding on your anger and the need for an outlet. It had been a long time since Jake had gotten you this worked up, and you were reminded of something he’d said that weekend at the wedding last winter — I'm the only one who could ever get you riled up like this, and you've always liked it. You hadn't admitted it then, and you damn sure weren't going to admit it now, but that didn't make it any less true.

“Fine.” You kissed him, hard, and he responded to you with furious passion. You lost yourselves in the heat, the want, the hunger — it was sweat and bruises and testing the limits, both of you, angry and rough and needful. 

After, when you lay with your hair plastered to your face, trying to catch your breath, Jake opened the window above your bed and lit a joint. He handed it to you after a moment, blowing a thin stream of smoke in the vague direction of the window. 

You took a long drag and watched the smoke drift up towards the ceiling. It was raining outside, cold and grey and lonely. When you touched a hand to your cheek, you felt tears.

Jake kissed you and exhaled smoke into your mouth. “Don’t cry, sparrow. Breaks my heart when you cry.”

You sigh was shaky. “Tell me you love me.”

“Sparrow.” He kissed gently all over your face. “I love you, my girl. Tell me you know that.”

You swallowed around the tightness in your throat. “I know.” 

You lay in silence until the joint was spent, listening to the rain fall. You remembered something else from the wedding, some realization that you and Jake were so easily careless with each other, the promise you’d made not to treat each other that way any more. You felt dreamy and sad, wondering if you’d broken that promise, tears tracking down your face even after he’d told you not to cry.

“Jake.”

He brushed your hair back from your face. “I’m right here, sparrow.”

You pressed your face to his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him. You moved closer until you were all tangled up together, warm and safe and surrounded by each other in every way two people could be.

“I don’t know if I liked that,” you said, very softly.

He sighed. “I don't know if I liked it either. But we don't have to talk about it right now. Try to sleep, sparrow.”

You nodded, your breathing choppy and tired. “Okay, Jake.”

He held you, and in your new bed with the rain drumming gently on the windowsill, you listened to the steady beat of his heart and tried to think of some way to tell him how sorry you were.

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[dreamerinthemoonlight]

All I Ask of You

title from Phantom of the Opera

Summary: You have a nightmare. Neuvillette comforts you

CW: hurt/comfort, graphic imagery

Word Count: 495

Pairings: Neuvillette x gn!reader

A/N: Please pardon any mistakes I made with this. I wrote this while dead exhausted

The night wind whispers as you take a seat on a bench behind the Palais Mermonia. It and the chirping of far off crickets are the only sounds to be heard. This late in the evening, the last of the workaholics has made their way home, leaving the building behind you dark and lifeless. Even Neuvillette has gone to bed, sleeping away the days worries and stress.

But not you. You look up at the stars, watching them dance silently above the city.As beautiful as they are, a pattern of light across the vast, moonless sky, they aren’t enough to distract you from the unease gnawing at your heart.

Faint images--the lingering memories of the might’s nightmares--force their way to the front of your mind. You shiver, curling in on yourself.

“Y/n?”

A soft voice returns your attention to your immediate surroundings.

You look over your shoulder at your lover. “Neuvie…Did I wake you up?”

“No, love. I woke up to drink some water but you weren’t in bed.”

“Oh. I guess I needed some space to think.”

The sky clouds over and a soft rain begins to fall as Neuvillette sits next to you. The sensation, so familiar after all the time you’ve spent with the dragon, is as comforting as his shoulder brushing against yours.

“A penny for your thoughts, love?”

“It was just a nightmare.”

Neuvillette frowns and takes your hand in his. “Again?”

“Mhmm.”

“Will you tell me about it? Perhaps talking will ease your mind.”

“I don’t know, Neuvie. They were pretty graphic.”

“All the more reason to speak. But if you don’t want to, I won’t make you.”

After a moment’s thought, you lift Neuvillette’s arm and tuck yourself under it, resting your head on his chest.

Neuvillette shifts his weight to accommodate the new position, taking the opportunity to start running deft fingers through your hair.

“It wasn’t anything complicated. Not really. It’s just… I don’t think anyone wants to dream about a person literally tearing their own skin off. The agony on his face…it was revolting.”

You shudder at the memory.

Neuvillette wraps his arm around you, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You should have woken me, y/n. There’s no need to suffer alone.”

“You spend all day presiding over court, dealing with Lady Furina, and doing all that paperwork. The last thing I want is to bother you over a stupid nightmare.”

Neuvillette sighs. This argument isn’t a new one to either of you. “I’ve said before, my love, it’s more of a bother to wake up and find you gone.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I wish I could chase away these nightmares. It worries me, seeing you up so many nights.”

“But you can’t. All I ask is that you hold me when they happen. That helps more than you know.”

“Always, my love. All you ever had to do was ask.”

[juniefruit]

♤ haunting. ♤

♤ Jisung x gn! reader

♤ Summary: Nothing like exploring a haunted mansion with your best friend. It's just like all the other times, right?

♤ Warnings: paranormal activity, getting possessed. Don't read if you spook easily! otherwise PG13 (swearing).

♤ Notes: something spooky for the soul.

♤ Word Count: 1.3 k

Jisung is your go-to exploring buddy. Anything from haunted graveyards to abandoned mansions, you’re in the passenger seat at 3am turning on your camcorder before stepping onto the chilling ground. Jisung swiftly turns to face you, excitement glinting in his eyes and a grin. This time, it was an abandoned estate, with rumors of apparitions peeking through windows and chilling screams from the master suite. The stone brick facade had patches of moss, twisting ivy wrapping around the ornate ironwork that lines the balconies. Oh and the few accounts of other explorers never making it back out. Some say they got possessed and they wander the hallways, mindlessly wandering the halls for their next victim. Lovely. Jisung’s flashlight flickered to life as he walked to the other side of the car to open your door. 

“After you,” He gestured with a bow, a grin wider than the Cheshire cat’s. 

“Thanks.” You sighed. You never really got over the nerves before explorations like Jisung would. To make things better, he was usually excited. Your steps seemed way too loud on the cold cobblestone walkway, crickets chirping in the adjacent bushes. You took a deep breath in, a slight mist when you exhaled. Jisung stuck a hand out behind him, outstretched to you. You could visualize the mocking smirk on his face. Despite his teasing, he was thinking of asking you out soon. He couldn’t really pretend like it was a joke for much longer, or he’d go insane.

“You scared? Need a hand?” He said with an audible pout. He was always stock-full of jokes, but he always knew when to cut it out. You liked that about him. He’d never actually leave you hanging if you were actually scared. Which you weren’t, definitely not. Nope. Not one bit. 

“As if.” You let out a chuckle. The warped tree branches loomed over you, crispy leaves falling and drifting into the dewy grass. Walking up the stairs to the main entrance, the door creaks horribly as Jisung turns the handle and steps in. He scans the area with his flashlight, not a living thing in sight, thankfully. You captured the state of the mudroom with your camcorder, zooming in on the painting of a Victorian-style lady on a tarnished golden frame. Cobwebs dominated the corners of the ceiling, table lamps and chandelier. It didn’t smell pleasant, either. The air is thick with a stale, musty smell, mingling with the lingering scent of old wood and decay. But you could manage. Jisung looked starstruck at the time capsule that was this mansion. The wallpaper peels in long strips, revealing faded, discolored plaster underneath, and faint echoes seem to linger, as though whispers from another era haunt the mansion's hollow halls.

“Let’s go this way-” He gestured into the depths of the hallway to the left. It was so dark you couldn’t see the end of it.

“No, what about this way?” You turned your body to the right, into the sitting room with deep red velvet furniture. “Hey-” You turned to face Jisung, except the only thing in his place were two muddy footprints from his combat boots. Shit! He ran off again! Curse his habit of running off like a toddler. “Ugh! Dammit Sungie!” You stormed off into the dark hallway, his footsteps no longer visible. 

You swear you could hear soft knocks and thuds from the rooms on the other side of the hallway. Your heart was racing faster than a Ferrari and you tried your best to regulate your breathing. Your hand holding the camcorder was shaky, the only light being your tiny flashlight and the blinking red recording symbol. The warped and withered floorboards cracked and popped with every soft step you took. The hallway curved this way and that, you were starting to lose track of where you had turned. 

“Jisungie? It’s not funny anymore-!” You whisper-shouted. Your hand grasped the wall as you peered down the hall. A few yards ahead was a door cracked open so slightly that only a mouse could fit through. You shivered at the sight of the faded and chipped paint. There was no other option, you had to walk past the door to continue down the hall. With a tentative step forward, you held your breath. It was then that your ears twitched at the sould of a dull thud, and then the shattering of glass down the hallway. Your mouth went dry and your eyes widened. Despite your fear-stricken face, a wave of relief washed over you as you had finally found Jisung. You flung both your flashlight and camcorder in the direction of the sound. 

“Jisung! What the hell-” Your eyebrows first furrowed in frustration, then confusion. You found Jisung, but he looked… different. As you stepped closer to your best friend, you noticed how lifeless and clouded-over his eyes looked. His shoulders were slumped, as if he had lost control of his muscles. There was also blood trickling down his chin, and his skin was ghastly pale; concerningly sickening. He was just standing there, you couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. His eyes flickered, scanning over your form. 

“Y/N.” His voice was raspy and breathless. You stood frozen, but your mind was telling you to run. His head tilted to the side, and that’s when you knew: that wasn’t Jisung anymore. Jisung was gone. You could hear your heart shatter into millions of pieces at that moment. His body was still here, but something supernatural was controlling him like a puppet; like he was possessed. 

“Let’s be together forever, Y/N.”

You couldn’t even scream through the terror that ransacked your body, only a gasp leaving your parted lips. Before you could even pick your feet up to run, you were shoved to the ground in the blink of an eye. All the oxygen was sucked out of your lungs, then everything went silent. The last thing you saw was your camcorder smashing into the ground and cracking in multiple places.

“Breaking news today, two teenagers missing after they were last reported to be heading to the long-forgotten Pearl mansion, known for its paranormal activity among explorers and ghost hunters. Any comments on their whereabouts are appreciated.”

Ten years later.

“Dude, that’s what I’m saying, this hallway is creepy as fuck!” Said the boy, a cobweb entangled in his dirty blonde hair. 

“Bro I’ll give you ten bucks if you walk down that hall without your flashlight.” 

“You think it’ll go viral?” 

“Hell yeah.” The other boy pointed his camera down the hallway lined with faded oil paintings, wax candles, and antique wooden tables.

And so the boy crept down the hallway, past the door that was cracked open, and the broken glass vase. And there, at the end of the hallway, stood two figures side by side, holding hands. Their misty appearance was apparent even in complete darkness. The boy stopped in his tracks when he realized they looked just like the teenagers on the news all those years ago. Forgotten to time, they peruse the mansion walls, haunting the visitors that were few and far between. The boy let out a blood-curdling shriek, and the grins on the entities grew simultaneously as their heads tilted to the side. They spoke in tandem.

“Care to join us?”

♤ Thanks for reading! Check my masterlist for more! ♤

Warning: Everything I post is 100% my original writing & thoughts. This also includes the moodboards at the beginning that I create. Please do not plagiarize or copy. Tag for inspiration or add-ons. Reblogs are appreciated! <3