#as long as youre not hurting anybody about it? it's completely fine

[thenerdwitch]

If I might add on, I have recently gotten back into witchcraft after years of non-practice because I just couldn't reconcile my interest in it with my disbelief in something for which there is neither verifiable nor falsifiable evidence. You can't really prove that anything was witchcraft, see, but I also take the stance that you can't prove that anything wasn't. You cannot prove a negative. I would argue that for just about any occurence a mundane explanation- even if you cannot think of one- is far and away more likely than a supernatural or otherwise non-mundane one, but you can never truly rule out things like magic, fairies, spirits, gods, anything whose definition is variable due to a lack of real evidence for it.

So, that's my view of the world. But here I am taking up witchcraft again. Why? How?

Well, one phrase I read years ago has always stuck with me. "A psychological effect is still an effect." Looking at thousands of years of human history and at people I know and love today, I think something that is very important to humans at a fundamental psychological level is rituals. They bring us a great deal of comfort and allow us to feel connected to and (like we can) exert control over our world. I think rituals are good and cool and valuable!

I've always ached for magic. I just always felt like I should be able to do it. (I also felt as though I had wings and a tail for many years but that's a whole different story.) When I learned, in my senior year of high school, that a friend of mine actually practiced magic, I was stoked out of my gourd. And ever since then I have been reading and learning about various types of magic and the ways different people practice it. Even in the years I wasn't practicing, I was still following all the same witchy blogs and learning.

So, when things in my life became difficult again, I felt a renewed pull toward witchcraft. I checked out a book and I finally started the Hex Positive and BS-Free Witchcraft podcasts, as I've been meaning to for years. And I figured, worst case scenario, I gain comfort and confidence from being intentional and grounded and performing rituals. Best case scenario, I'm out here literally doing fucking magic. Unbelievably cool and awesome. This is a win-win scenario for me.

And one thing that I love about witchcraft is that there's no wrong way to be a witch. (I mean, there's unsafe ways to do witchcraft, please learn about fire safety and don't ingest or apply herbs and oils willy-nilly.) There are religious witches and secular witches and atheist witches and witches in covens and solitary witches. There are green witches and tech witches. Witchcraft at its core is about personal empowerment. One of the most beautiful and wonderful things about it is that there's a place for everyone here, no matter what you believe or how you practice.

People might be a little baffled at how and why I'm out here doing rituals and enchantments when I'm not convinced I'm doing magic, per se. And that's fine. You don't have to understand it. I've tried to explain it, but it still may not seem like "real witchcraft" to you. That's fine, too. Cause nobody gets to decide what is and isn't "real" witchcraft. My craft is just different from yours. It is no more or less worthy of basic respect for that.

This has gotten a little long, but I guess the TL;DR is: if you are interested in witchcraft, even if you're skeptical about it (skepticism is healthy! All the cool witches I know are pro-skepticism!), just give it a try. That's the only way to know whether or not it's for you. Do some research, find something that appeals to you, and then just give it a try. Sharpie a protection sigil on the bottom of your doormat, scratch a peaceful sleep charm on a piece of paper and stick it under your pillow, get a tealight and do a quick candle spell for clarity or something.

Maybe it works for you, maybe it doesn't. You won't know until you try.

Have you ever had any evidence that magic is real and not just play pretend?

There was a time long ago I read "the secret" and I tried the whole law of attraction thing, mentalize and visualize what you want to attract and I always felt silly doing

And for what I'm seeing a lot of spells are also about mentalizing and visualizing what you want, with the difference that in the spells there's also rituals and stuff you use like herbs, candles etc. So it's like I love the aesthetic and I guess I would like to try but I also feel like I'm gonna feel silly

Let's just rephrase this real quick: You're asking me to prove my faith is real.

Have I seen and experienced things that make me believe that magic is real? Yes. Do I believe it's enough to use as proof to a third party? Nope.

And, like, my conception of metaphysics isn't simple. What makes something "magic" is a complicated question to begin with. Like I just did twenty minutes trying to explain the basic ideas behind this last month.

If a spell triggers the placebo effect in my body... the spell worked. If the herbs involved in a ritual caused a chemical reaction in someone's body to get the desired result... the spell worked.

Do I also believe in weird energy stuff? Yes. And while I have experienced things that make me believe it's real, I do not have independently verifiable evidence to prove it. So, like, I'm not out here trying to convince anyone that what I believe in is real -- because I wouldn't take it as proof from someone else.

And also, cringe is dead. Feeling silly about doing stuff is something you gotta deconstruct all on your own.

[lovifie]

A/B/O!Reader x Task Force 141

Back to Masterlist - 560 words

Task Force 141, the most fear-inducing task of the active force. 

Before you joined, it was composed of four massive, scary-looking alpha. At some point, everyone thought about how there were no fights between them.

A normal pack cannot function without members of all subgenders, but again, the 141 is not a normal pack.

John Price, captain of the unit and leader of the pack; whatever he said was set on stone. The alpha, whose parents were both betas was the perfect mix of genetic and learned habilites, a calming and reassuring nature unpropper of an alpha.

You were surprised when you were to his office, even more, when the other three men were also inside. But they matched your surprise with theirs when they saw you enter the room. 

Almost comically small next to them, you were not built as Soap who (at just a couple of inches shorter than the rest) makes up for it with his wideness. You are short, have the athletic build proper of a soldier, a cute face and a neck covered in scent blocker tape. 

“I don't like it when people can tell what I'm feeling.”

That was the only explanation. 

Still, they were surprised. You were not what they expected, on your file was just a list of the missions you have completed, many of them going solo and still succeeding. Little was written about you outside of work: “Behavioral problems (they don't interfere with the mission), don't touch scent blocker tape; will use scent tactics to teammates.”

But the task force was not the most normal one to begin with, so they were not the right one to judge. You'll fit in just fine. 

And it did, for months until something happened on a mission.

There are expensive suppressants, too expensive. And even with your raise, you can't afford them. So you use the slightly worse one, the one that makes you feel every symptom of your heat just one step before collapsing. But as long as anybody else knows you are an omega, everything will work out.

You are used to them already, on the outside you look perfectly fine, a little bit pissed if anything. On the inside, you can feel your blood boil with your fever, your bones hurt as if they were being broken and your inner omega keeps screaming at you to jump any of the men walking mere meters before you. 

The ice-cold water of the river you are walking across helps you with the high temperature of your body, and when it gets too deep you need to swim across you don't really mind it. Until you finally get out, and the corner of the tape of your neck starts to itch. 

You scratch it, pressing it down as you do, but instead; it gets stuck on your glove peeling it back, your nose instantly filling with the reekingly sweet smell of an omega on heat.

You tape it back quickly, trying not to panic, is fine, it was just a second, you are wearing a scarf over the tape, you smelled it because is your own neck. 

Everyone just got out of the water, is fine, they probably didn't smell you. It's fine.

And when they turn around, eyes black with how dilated their pupils are, and you know.

They have smelled you.

[sleepysnk]

a/n: i needed something to post, so i decided to make these headcanons. i hope y’all enjoy!!

characters: bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke, oliver aiku, michael kaiser

warnings: established relationships, nsfw, virginity loss, virgin!reader, corruption (oliver), praising, use of pet names (baby, princess, my love), daddy kink (kunigami + oliver), fingering (kunigami + kaiser), oral sex f!receiving (oliver + bachira), breeding kink (kaiser + kunigami + oliver), creampie.

VIRGIN KILLER HEADCANONS.

bachira meguru:

you and bachira had been dating for almost a year. he only found out you were a virgin because one night when he went down on you, you confessed to it. being the good boyfriend he was, he had no problem with that. if anything, it turned him on even more that he could potentially be the one to take it from you at some point. the idea of your pretty pussy being filled with his cock made him harder than a rock, and he wanted nothing more than to fuck you better than anybody else.

eventually, you got comfortable with him and after some talking, you both decided to have sex after a date. he was completely in love with how pretty your naked body looked underneath him. your skin and curves were made from the god’s themselves and he honestly didn’t know where to start first. he started off by eating you out until you saw stars in your vision. you tasted even more divine than he imagined and your sweet cries for more only furthered his assault on your cunt. his hands were squeezing and groping at the flesh of your thighs, massaging the fat to make you feel even better than you did right now. his tongue was skilled and you almost squirted from how it dragged along your sensitive bud.

nothing compared to how great his cock felt inside of you for the first time. you always knew how long it was. there was a small vein that ran just underneath the base and, when he entered you, you could feel it dragging along your pretty walls. he made you feel so full with barely just a few inches and my god he found those spaces inside of you so quickly. he loved how tight your pussy was. it was all his, after all. he wasn’t going to let somebody else enjoy how your cunt spasmed at every rut of his hips. he couldn’t hide his smirk when you clawed at his back as your orgasm reached its peak. he fucked you through your high, almost cumming the second you tightened around him. you made such a mess on his cock, but he didn’t give two shits about it.

“hehe.. look at you. you made such a mess, but it’s perfectly fine, baby. i think it’s cute..”

kunigami rensuke:

kunigami had been your boyfriend for a couple of months. he treated you like a princess and nothing more than that, but when he found out you were a virgin, he was pretty surprised.

kunigami was a big guy. his cock was long and thick and he wasn’t sure if you’d be able to take it the first time. he worried he could possibly hurt you and the last thing he wanted to invoke harm on you and your body. first times were meant to be memorable with the right person, so he wanted to play it safe with you when it came to sex. you guys both talked and after watching a movie, you decided to make a move and finally take that step with him. he started off with foreplay, because he knew full well that he couldn’t just put it in without it. he decided to use his thick fingers to prep you. they were so filling and they curled and twisted inside of you, making your whole body twitch. he truly was gifted with those hands of his.

the stretch of his cock was so great that you gasped sharply when he first entered your cunt. he made your toes curl and no amount of prep could have prepared you for the way his cock felt inside of you. kunigami could hardly believe his cock fit, but he managed to stuff you full with it. he was scared that you were in a lot of pain, but when you tried moving around to feel some kind of friction, he knew you were ready. all he wanted was to make you feel good and he was doing just that. nothing could have prepared him for when you moaned out “daddy” through glossy lips. he almost came right then and there, but he only continued fucking you. kunigami wasn’t gonna stop until you were a complete mess because of him.

he had the urge to fill you to the brim with his cum. he knew it was your first time, but he just couldn’t help himself. the way your walls gripped him like your pussy was made for him to fuck was driving him up the wall. he begged you to let him cum in you and when you agreed, he completely let go right then and there. his thick seed filled your womb, making you moan in pleasure at the warmth that spread across your belly. it was just too good.

“i’ll fill you until your pregnant, princess. I’ll make sure of that..”

oliver aiku:

oliver was quite shocked to hear that his girlfriend of nine months was a virgin, but that completely turned him on more than he would like to admit.

you were untouched and there hadn’t been another man who had seen you in such a manner. the idea that he was the only person who would have that access to you made his mind go crazy with ideas and thoughts, but he had to compose himself because you were his girlfriend. he knew he had to be smart with you about your first time, so he told you that when you were ready he would gladly take your virginity. that day came after the two of you had your annual anniversary date that evening, and he was more than ready to take that step with you.

oliver was completely mesmerized by your beauty. he knew you would be beautiful already, but seeing you in that manner was just amazing to him. he took his time praising your body and calling you beautiful. when he took off your underwear to eat you out, his mouth watered at how delicious your pussy looked on display for him. it was already soaking wet with your slick and he wanted nothing more than to taste you. his head game that night was unlike any other. his tongue dove deep into your folds, slurping and sucking on your clit to make you dig your nails into his scalp. the sensation was so foreign, but you craved it more than anything else. once he made you cum, he was able to push his cock into your tight hole. his cock was big and somewhat girthy, which made you feel so full.

oliver was losing his mind while he was fucking you. your pussy was so warm and perfect. he loved how you felt sucking him in. he whispered to you to call him daddy and once you did, he started fucking you at such a rough pace you almost lost all of the air in your lungs. he made you beg for his cock and to let you cum. your brain was completely under his control and all you wanted was his dick and nothing else. he had the desire to fill you up with his cum and with your consent, he did so. there was nothing more satisfying than watching his thick white cum leak from your cunt that was all his.

“good, huh, baby? let’s go for round two.. yeah?”

michael kaiser:

kaiser wasn’t that surprised to hear that you were a virgin. plenty of people were and it didn’t bother him one bit that you were. he honestly thought it was kind of cute. he would be the one to take care of you when that moment came and he honestly thought about it a lot.

after the two of you hung out, you decided to make that move and tell him you were ready. kaiser was somewhat shocked but he didn’t really mind much. he prepared for that moment and he was ready to show you what he could do with himself. he made sure you knew that your body was beautiful and just as gorgeous as you were as a person. he played with your cunt, making sure you were almost dripping wet. he wanted you as prepared as possible and he was so excited to see what you would be like in bed. he wondered it often, and seeing your cunt get sticky the moment his fingers dipped under your panties was an answer for him.

once your body was prepped enough, he pushed himself inside of you and he almost came the moment he slipped inside. you were so tight and wet. your pussy hugged his cock perfectly and he almost struggled to move because of how intense the feeling was. kaiser wanted to fuck you so good, but he knew he had to be patient. it was somewhat dwindling because he just couldn’t keep himself composed around you, but he tried his best to remain that way for your sake. however, you started becoming needy, whining his name like it was a prayer. he had to let go and just let you have it.

kaiser heard this voice inside his head telling him to breed your cunt. he tried to ignore it but he just imagined how hot it would look with his cum inside your pussy. he kept asking you in your ear and when you nodded your head vigorously, he allowed himself to empty his balls inside of your cunt. your red walls were now painted white with his cum and there was a mess coming from within you. it drove him mad, and he knew he would do it again if he had the chance.

“aww, look at you, my love. all fucked out, are we?”

[bandgie]

What Sub? - SKZ OT8

just me thinking about what kind of sub skz would like :p

MDNI 18+ | gen!reader

chan!

likes an obedient sub! chan is such a good dom and loves pleasing his sub, so he expects you to be on your best behavior. that saying, he doesn't mind if you get a little shy or pout a little. maybe even give him a little bit of a hard time, but it can't be often. chan overall needs a good sub that he can pump his load into

minho!

he likes a teasing sub or a slight playful masochist. one that can put up with his antics and a little bit of back n forth. not a full on brat because he would get sick of that attitude real quick, but a few ass slaps and hair pulling never hurt no one. i do think he would want his sub to be more on the obedient side, but it's okay to have a little fun with him too

changbin!

power bottom!! he needs a power bottom!! he's a pleasure dom 100% and can't say no to his baby. you can take take take and he'll give give give!! you can be a little mean to him too, but he needs lots of kisses after. doesn't care what position you put him in as long as he gets to see you cum your brains out. however, there is fine line with him. it's rare, but sometimes you cross it and bin has to put you in your place, and he hatesss making you cry but when you're being a bad sub he needs to show you.

hyunjin!

he loves a devoted sub. basically someone who completely submits and does everything he says. like chan? but way more emotional and no room for disobedience at all. he loves seeing how happy and relaxed you are when he's doing his thing. hyunjin is also a pleasure dom, but he still likes to be in control. if you do break a rule, it's honestly a turn off. accidents happen and yeah maybe you get into it a little too much, but it's when it's purposeful and results in him feeling bad. Hyunjin's a good boy, and it's only fair he has a good sub

han!

is it possible for both of you to be subs...because hannie goes crazy for that. desperate sex is so in his field, so I think a sexual submissive sub is really his thing. basically someone who would do anything and everything sexual for their dom. he wants to do an icky role play? his sub will gladly agree. he wants to be treated poorly? like a god? yes and yes, a sexual submissive will do anything for him. he loves that so much and just telling you what he wants to do and you happily agreeing has him leaking

felix!

this one is hard because I think Felix likes anybody, but imma have to say a service sub might be his fav. he gets to lay back n relax and he gets to cum?? sounds like a great night. it's not like he won't do anything for you, but the thought of having someone to make sure to milk his cock dry is so hot. if you do well, he'll reward you after. but right now, making sure you can see his chest turn pink and little tears build in his eyes is all you need to worry about.

seungmin!

i know it's gonna sound so basic, but a bratty sub. the resisting, the fight for power, the inventible submission...yeah he likes that. this type of play can't happen all the time. it's very draining and takes a mental/physical toll, but it's so damn fun. he loves when he pretends that you won, letting you pin his arms above his head and grinding on his cock to your liking until he's had enough and flips you over. gripping a fist full of your hair and shoving your face in the sheets as he fucks into you. muffling your cries and whimpers and - sorry I'll stop (aftercare goes crazy btw)

jeongin!

jeongin needs someone who listens really good, so a bedroom submissive is the way to go. they're really similar to a service sub, but it usually involves a little bit of pain and being submissive only takes place in the bedroom whereas a service sub is usually someone who likes being a good sub outside of the sheets. jeongin likes seeing you turn into a different person during sex. getting to flip you in different positions, spitting in your mouth, making you please him, making you take how much he pleases you. possibilities are endless and he thinks it's a healthy balance between personal and social life

[akutasoda]

hii :3 for ur 1k event, can I request a fic or hcs of sunday w a shy s/o which likes physical affection a LOT? fine w fluff or hurt/comfort!! love ur writing <3

feather light touches

synopsis - what happens when someone who loves physical affection meets someone who doesn't?

includes - sunday

warnings - gn!reader, slightly angsty, comfort, fluff, wc - 897

a/n: hii :3 thank you!!!

sunday was a public figure. head of the oak family and at the will of the watchmaker, anybody who had even heard of penacony probably had heard of him. while he did manage most of the affairs of penaconians in his office, he was a well known face - mainly due to him making sure he could accompany his sister to her performances and personally greeting very important guests.

to maintain such a high profile position, sunday had no room to be shy nor anxious when it came to anything. he needed the ability to communicate with and sway anyone to his whims and so he needed to show no signs of weakness. perhaps it was maybe helped by the fact that he did have quite the desperation for control and so to achieve that, he needed everybody to see him as the confident and formidable person he was.

as a result, alot of his relationships were strictly business - in a way every business relation he built up was built up to his benefit, to keep him in control and eventually elevate his status. he needed to be in control to succeed and so he never took up opportunities that made him feel like his control would diminish and leave him scrambling for his power. by extention, sunday wasn't exactly the kind to enjoy physical affection, if anything he despised it. of course there were exceptions to a degree, namely his sister and you.

you were like a complete polar opposite to sunday. he was confident and an influential figure that liked keeping people at arms length, even those he was close too. you were a shy and reserved person who craved nothing more than to be close to those you held dearly. physical affection was very dear to you but unfortunately the shyness was an obstacle that prevented most forms of physical affection - unlike sunday who would take any opportunity to stay away from any kind of physical contact.

sunday didn't mind how shy you were, it didn't really matter to him as he enjoyed your company nonetheless. he didn't mind doing things for you and so if your shyness did prevent you from talking to people he'd gladly step in. your shyness was actually a great comfort to him at the end of a day filled with business dealings, just to spend his evening with you indulging in smalltalk and relaxing without the pressure of being the head of the oak family.

it wouldn't take sunday long to notice how hesitant you could get in private, you always looked like you wanted something but you never said anything and so he didn't know what to do. if something was bothering you, you probably would have told him know no? truth be told, your issue wasn't so much your shyness when it came to physical affection but more with how unsure you were with sunday's willingness to just that.

you knew for a matter of fact that physical touch and affection wasn't exactly sunday's deal, so you're shyness was overcome with worries that he wouldn't understand your love for physical affection. you started fearing that this would be the reason you couldn't stay with sunday, that this would be the breaking point of your relationship. what made it worse was that you never brought it up. you were way to shy about it to bring it up and so you say on the issue.

that was until sunday started picking up more ideas to what was causing your hesitation around him. he noticed how a simple act of hand holding made your face light up even if you didn't mention anything, so unconsciously he started doing that more. sunday realised you were very fond of physical affection and maybe you were just hesitant that he wouldn't appreciate it.

it was true that he was uncomfortable with most kinds of physical affection but maybe he could try and make an exception for you - he really couldn't bare seeing you so pained because you couldn't ask him. simple acts like hand holding, that still made you light up, were bearable with him to start as long as he still wore his gloves but you didn't seem to mind. maybe just maybe he could atart building up his tolerance just for you.

or maybe he couldn't deny you when he realised you built up all your courage just to ask him for a hug. sunday fully understood now, he knew for sure that you lived physical affection but you were simply too shy to ask for such. albeit he probably didn't help you by seeming so off put by physical affection but he just had to prove to you that you were indeed an exception - so long as you still let him get used to more physical contact.

it all seemed worth it in the end to him. seeing your face light up when he offered a hug, a small kiss, or even hand holding made his day, what really made it worth it for him was seeing you becime more comfortable with asking for the physical affection you lived oh so much. it may be foreign and slightly uncomfortable to him but he'd be willing to build up that aspect if it meant helping you in the process.

akutasoda's 1k event

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 8. restrained

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Patrick gets released from jail. You and Joel are left to deal with the fallout.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, hurt/comfort, threats of violence, jealousy, possessiveness, destruction of property, DV is an underlying theme but not explicitly discussed, reminiscing of smut, emotional abuse, reader being called degrading terms for women (not by Joel), infidelity

WC: 8.1K

Series Masterlist

Helen greeted him when he walked through the front doors of the station and he nodded to her in return, just like always. As he walked through the bullpen and a few of his men said good morning or hey, boss, he replied in turn. Everybody was looking at him and treating him like it was any other day. But it wasn't just any other day. He surely must have been walking differently, or maybe his eyes shone a little brighter. Something had to be different because he didn't feel normal anymore. He felt like a brand new man. How was it not obvious? Wasn't it painted across his chest in red? Couldn't they see?

Joel had driven home early from your apartment that morning, the sun barely hanging in the sky in the hopes of avoiding prying eyes this time. At least he had the good sense to park a couple streets over, learning his lesson from the last time he visited you at night.

He had all but given up hope that you would be his one day. Especially after hearing your heart wrenching story, he thought you certainly wouldn't want anything to do with him. With anybody. How would it be possible for someone who had been through what you had been through to trust anyone ever again?

He wouldn't have even blamed you. But somehow, miraculously, you did trust again. And you chose to trust him. You let him into your life, into your heart, into your bed.

Leaving you that morning was the hardest thing he ever did. He was minutes away from calling into work sick, but you insisted he shouldn't, that you would be fine, that you would see him later. He struggled with it, guilt washing over him yet again, not knowing what to do. You were so used to putting up a facade, lying and pretending that everything was okay that you had become frighteningly good at it, sometimes making you difficult to read. The sun peeking over the tops of the trees and the reassurance that Patrick was still in jail, if only for a few more hours, made him finally decide to leave. But the moment he stepped out your front door and fresh air hit his lungs instead of your intoxicating scent, he knew he was done for. He already missed you.

As he pulled into his driveway, he began worrying about later that night. Even with a restraining order, he didn't trust Patrick. He wanted to be with you. But Sarah needed him, too. He had already left her with Tommy the night before and he'd never done that two days in a row.

When he walked into his quiet house, his first instinct was to follow his normal morning routine: shower, dress, coffee, but he stopped himself as he was picking out a fresh set of clothes for the day. He pinched his shirt away from his chest and took a sniff, his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before letting it go.

He smelled like you.

Deciding to skip the shower, he begrudgingly changed his clothes, hoping that your scent would linger on his skin all day.

He jogged down the stairs as he blindly finished knotting his tie. Heading into the kitchen, he flicked on the coffee pot and grabbed his favorite mug before glancing around the room. He wasn't usually one for breakfast, but he had a feeling it would be a long day, so he swung open the fridge to see what was inside. His eyes immediately landed on an unfamiliar styrofoam box. With a frown, he picked it up and placed it on the counter, then flipped it open to reveal his favorite sandwich from Tommy's diner, completely untouched with a note written on the inside lid.

Weren't at the station, thought I would find you here but I guess I missed you. -T

So, Tommy already knew he wasn't working late and he wasn't home. Shit. It had only been a few hours and he already slipped up.

Carol's voice echoed through his head as he drove to work. A warning veiled as friendly advice to keep things separate. As much as it pained him, he knew he had to be careful. This town was too small and gossip travelled too quickly and he couldn't risk fucking up your case against Patrick all because he couldn't control himself and keep his dick in his pants.

He should have thought about that before he left. He should have talked to you about keeping your relationship a secret, although you seemed to come to that conclusion on your own, having urged him to leave before the town woke.

Hell, he didn't even talk to you about the nature of your relationship at all.

As he walked into the break room and poured his second cup of coffee, he mentally scolded himself for being so stupid. He needed to get his head on straight. Maybe he could lie to Tommy and convince him he went on a walk to clear his head when he had stopped by, when in actuality your thighs were probably trembling over his shoulders while he buried his nose and tongue deep inside your sweet, little -

"Shit!" Joel grumbled, shaking his hand to flick the drops of scalding coffee off his skin before running his fingers under some cool water for relief.

Yeah, he really needed to get his head on straight.

"Hey boss, got a minute?"

Joel glanced up from his computer at Bobby standing in the doorway to his office with his hands on his hips. Shockingly, he had actually managed to get into a groove and gotten some work done. It was probably the longest he'd gone without thinking about you in a while, but he would find his mind wrapping itself back around you in a moment because his deputy was coming to talk to him about the last person on earth he wanted to hear about.

"The asshole's lawyer's here insistin' we let 'em go."

Joel knew he would have to do it today. Patrick posted bail and, legally, Joel was only allowed to hold him for a certain amount of time. But it still made his blood run cold.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to stand up, snatching his keys and rounding the desk.

"I'll take care of it."

As Joel made his way to the back of the station, his eye caught a younger man in an expensive looking suit waiting next to Bobby's desk. He was furiously tapping out something on his phone, but when he noticed Joel, he pocketed the device and picked up his leather briefcase from the stack of precariously placed files on the desk.

"Sheriff?" he asked, jogging to catch up with Joel's long strides.

"That's me," he replied gruffly.

"Beckett Kennedy," the man said, stretching out his hand. Joel came to a sudden stop, making Beckett stumble a bit in surprise.

"Joel," he replied, grasping his hand in a firm handshake. His eyes raked over the man's dark, slicked back hair as he tried to ignore his overpowering, and no doubt over-priced, cologne. "Joel Miller."

"Good to meet you. I'm representing -"

"I know, my deputy told me. I'm lettin' him out right now, heard he posted bail. Sorry, been a busy mornin'," Joel replied, turning on his heel to unlock the door that led to the holding cells.

"Much appreciated, Sheriff," Beckett said, trailing after Joel. The man looked very young. Joel was beginning to wonder if maybe Patrick hired a rookie, but when they rounded the corner and Beckett laid eyes on Patrick's bruised and swollen face, Joel quickly realized the lawyer was smarter than he seemed.

"The hell did you do to my client?" Beckett asked, his pleasant demeanor long gone.

"Didn't do anythin'," Joel said calmly as he sifted through the keys in his hand, trying to locate the right one.

"Bullshit. He fucking attacked me in a bar," Patrick said, standing up and gripping the metal bars. Beckett swiveled around to glare at Joel, who was still taking his time finding the key.

"You assaulted my client, Sheriff?"

"Didn't assault anyone," Joel said, finally finding the key and turning it in the lock. He swung the door open and leaned against it, rolling his eyes as Patrick made a big show about limping out of the cell. "Believe you lawyers call it self-defense. Your client swung on me when I was tryin' to have a calm conversation with him 'bout his alcohol consumption that night. Or don't you remember?" Joel asked, turning on Patrick now. "Maybe you had somethin' else in your system besides whiskey that's makin' it hard to recall."

Patrick was about to reply, anger flaring in his eyes, when Beckett held out his hand.

"Don't say a word," he muttered, and Joel grinned when Patrick ruefully clamped his mouth shut. "I don't like what you're insinuating, Sheriff, and all these charges against him are over the line. Two counts aggravated assault, aggravated sexual assault, public intoxication, assaulting an officer-"

"That one's considered a hate crime down here, by the way."

Patrick glared at him and it took everything Joel had not to bash his skull into the iron bars.

Beckett sighed as he scrolled on his phone, reading down the rest of the list of charges silently before glancing back up at the two men and saying your name questioningly.

Hearing your name out of that man's mouth made Joel's whole body ignite with rage. His blood pumped loudly in his ears as he tried to take deep breaths and focus on what they were saying. Keep it separate. Don't fuck this up.

"Yeah, that's my wife," Patrick had said, and again, Joel felt his muscles spasm under his shirt. As if they had a mind of their own, arms itching to reach out and strangle him. Wife. Wife. Wife.

"We're gonna have to talk about this in private," Beckett said to Patrick. Joel took a deep breath, grateful that they were leaving because he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold himself back much longer. But as Joel walked them back out to the front of the station, he felt compelled to say just one more thing.

"Now your client's got a restrainin' order against him. I trust you will make sure he understands what that means if he violates it."

"I know what it fucking means," Patrick spat. "You forget I'm a cop, too? Seems like it, considering the way I've been treated here-"

"That's enough," Beckett said, cutting Patrick off yet again. "Thank you, Sheriff. I'll be in touch."

"I am sure you will," Joel said, leaning against Helen's desk as he watched the two men leave, the front door clicking shut quietly after them.

"Piece of work," Helen muttered as she adjusted her glasses on the tip of her nose and turned back to her computer.

"Yeah, you're tellin' me," Joel sighed. He shoved himself off the desk and headed back to his desk, only pulling his phone out when he had privacy once again.

Joel: He's out.

You stood in the middle of your kitchen staring down blankly at your phone. The two little words taunting you, glaring at you, piercing your skin before knocking the wind out of you.

He's out. He's out. He's out.

You rushed down the stairs and triple checked your locks with shaky fingers before forcing yourself to take a deep breath. It will be okay. This time will be different.

You trudged back up the steps and locked the door behind you, one that you typically left unlocked because you felt it to be more of a hinderance than anything, but going forward you would have to take every precaution. As much as you hated to admit it, you knew Patrick very well. He wouldn't take this lying down. He never has. He will find a way, he will find you and when he gets his hands on you again -

"Stop it," you mumbled to yourself, gently knocking the heel of your hand against your temple, hoping to shake loose the bad thoughts. Just as another wave of panic was about to surge, your phone buzzed again.

Joel: It will be okay. I won't let him touch you.

You took a slow breath in and closed your eyes. How did he know you so well already? How could he know you, inside and out, almost better than you knew yourself?

You knew why.

Because he cares. Because he pays attention and listens and puts your needs first. All of them. Always worried if you ate enough, if you took pain medicine when you were hurting, if you needed a ride back from work, if you could come for him again.

You couldn't live in fear anymore. You finally had someone fighting in your corner, someone who could actually help you, someone you trusted. You needed to be strong. Joel couldn't do everything for you, although you were fairly certain if he could, he would. You picked up your phone and typed out a reply.

You: I know. Thank you.

It was brief, but you knew he needed the reassurance that you were okay. And just as quickly as you sent the message, another popped up on your screen.

Joel: Me and Sarah will pick you up from work tonight and take you home. I'll check your place before I leave.

Tears burned your eyes instantly, overcome with so much gratitude you could just melt into the floor. You hadn't thought about being alone overnight yet, and the idea sent a shock of anxiety through you. Be brave. Be strong.

You: Okay.

Joel: Miss you.

You smiled, your eyes crinkling just enough to cause the tears you were fighting to hold back to fall down your cheeks.

You: I miss you too :)

You took another deep breath and looked around your small living room. You made it this far. You could do this.

It will be different this time.

You had half expected the rest of the waitresses to know what happened when you arrived at the diner that evening. Every time you made eye contact with one of them, you kept waiting for the inevitable look of pity, or their eyes to travel over your face, trying to see past your makeup to what was hidden underneath, but they seemed to treat you exactly the same as always. The butterflies in your stomach quieted down after an hour when you realized Tommy and Maria must have kept their word when Joel asked them to keep your situation private.

At the very least you had expected Maria to try to talk to you about it quietly, or maybe Tommy to make some comment, but they didn't say a word. They welcomed you back to work as if you had been on vacation and you were actually able to push Patrick and the last few days out of your mind. Before you knew it, the dinner rush was nearly over, and you were close to surviving your first shift back. Your legs and feet ached as you unloaded a bus tub in the dish area. You felt sweaty and tired, but you still had a couple hours left in your shift and you could only hope that the rest of the night would be quiet.

"What can I make ya?"

Your head swiveled around in surprise, somehow not hearing one of the cooks, Thor, sneak up on you. He was leaning his big, hulking frame against the wall casually as he waited for your response, as though it wasn't the first time he's ever initiated a conversation with you that wasn't strictly work related. To say he was a big man was an understatement. With tattoo covered arms that were as wide as your torso and towered at least a foot over you, when you first met him, he immediately made you nervous. His intimidating physique and quiet demeanor set you on edge, but by the end of your first day you had realized he was actually very kind. Sure, he kept to himself and didn't say much, but he kept his cool under pressure and he was always doing silent favors for the waitstaff.

"Huh?" was all you could think of to say. He raised an eyebrow at you, giving you a look like it was the most obvious question in the world.

"I said, what can I make ya?" he said again, and then it clicked. He wanted to make you something for dinner. He's never offered before. In fact, you were fairly certain you've never seen him away from the grill once, let alone tracking down waitresses in the dish room for a chat.

"Oh," you said, setting the empty bus tub down and looking around uncomfortably. "You don't have to -"

"If you don't pick somethin', I'm makin' you a BLT."

You met his eyes again, trying to figure out what spurred this on, but his expression gave nothing away.

"Tommy told you, didn't he?" you asked quietly. He gave a small shrug and crossed his arms.

"Don't know what you're talkin' 'bout."

You dropped your gaze to the floor, trying to hide your reaction. He was just offering to make you a sandwich, but it was more than that. He was trying to do something to help. Essentially an acquaintance, a step up from a stranger, he was attempting to reach out and offer his support, in his own way.

He must have seen your eyes grow misty because he pushed off the wall with a grunt, ready to make a hasty exit.

"BLT it is," he said gruffly, and just as he was about to turn to leave, you spoke.

"With turkey?"

He glanced at you and you swore you saw the corner of his bearded mouth twitch, the muscles trying to pull into a smile, but he wouldn't let them. He gave you a quick nod and then headed back behind the line. You bit your lip to try to hold back your smile as you wiped your hands on your apron, then headed out the door back into the dining room.

It was getting close to the end of the night. The diner was closing in thirty minutes and there were only two tables left in the building. With any luck, you would be able to get out of there on time, eager to climb into the safety of Joel's truck. You had been nervous about sleeping alone now that Patrick was out of jail, but now all you could think about was curling up in your bed that hopefully still smelled like Joel.

You were wiping down the coffee machines when you heard the door open and Maria greet a customer. You groaned inwardly when you heard her tell them that the counter was open, and you hoped it was just someone who maybe wanted coffee and a piece of pie so you could still get out on time. Glancing up through the kitchen window, you spotted Thor and Tommy putting away the salad bar and listening to a hockey game over the radio. You sighed, now wishing more than ever that the customer didn't want anything complicated since the kitchen was nearly all broken down for the night.

The fake smile that you plastered across your face fell when you turned around, and you felt all the blood drain from your face when you met a pair of cold, familiar eyes set around a broken nose, waiting for you.

"Y-you can't be he-"

"I know, just listen to me, alright?" Patrick pleaded, looking guilty for maybe the first time in his life.

You looked over his shoulder at Maria, but she was too busy sweeping the foyer to notice what was happening.

"Please look at me, baby."

"Don't call me that," you said softly, but still, your eyes involuntarily slid back to him.

You saw his jaw clench as he cracked a knuckle in his finger, but he forced a smile anyway.

"I guess I deserved that," he admitted, leaning forward as his eyes raked up and down your body. "You look good. Uniform's sexy."

"Stop it," you said, your voice a little firmer now, but still too quiet.

"What? I can't compliment my own wife?" he said with a smile and a tilt of his head. You just stared at him, not sure what to say, worried about setting him off again. After a moment, he sighed and leaned back.

"Can I get a coffee? My head's fucking killing me."

You hesitated and glanced around the dining room, watching as one of the two tables got up. Maria wished them good night as they left, and she continued to clean up the foyer.

"What do you want?" you finally asked, your eyes flicking back to him.

"I just told you," he said, his voice taking on a menacing tone. "I want a cup of coffee and I want to talk to my fucking wife."

You took a shaky breath in and reached down below the counter for a mug. This was the Patrick you were used to.

"And then you'll go?"

His eyes narrowed at you and his jaw ticked to the side, but eventually he nodded.

"Yeah. And then I'll go."

Your hand trembled as you picked up the coffee pot and filled a mug. Turning back around, you stepped forward and placed the cup in front of him, realizing a moment too late that you were within arms length of him, but fortunately he didn't do anything. Hurriedly, you stepped backwards a few feet, creating some distance.

His eyes slowly lifted up from the steaming mug as he stared at you, something sinister flickering behind his eyes. Something that sent a shiver down your spine and made your heart begin beating twice as fast.

"You-"

He stopped himself as he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, then tried again.

"You fucking whore."

Your eyes widened and you stumbled back, your shoulder blades knocking against the behemoth of a coffee machine. Sweat was beginning to accumulate at the base of your skull as your fear spiked.

Patrick stood up from his stool and beckoned you forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the last table get up to leave and part of you was relieved. At least whatever was going to happen wouldn't involve innocent customers.

His face was growing hot as he beckoned you forward again, accidentally knocking the coffee over with a clatter, the dark liquid trailing like a lazy river down the counter. And this time, you shook your head.

"I fucking smell him on you, you slut!" he growled lowly, anger and fury lacing every word.

You gasped, your hands coming up to clamp over your mouth as tears began to cloud your vision.

"There a problem here?"

Both of you jumped when Tommy's voice rang out from somewhere next to you.

"No, there's no problem," Patrick said, unphased by Tommy's presence. "Just trying to talk to my wife, do you mind?"

"Actually, I do. Pretty sure you ain't allowed to be around her right now," Tommy said, taking a step forward, almost standing between you now. Maria's head popped up from a booth when she heard the tone in Tommy's voice and she quickly made her way to the hostess stand, picking up the phone and dialing.

"Pretty sure that's none of your fucking business," Patrick sneered, eyeing Tommy up and down. "The fuck you gonna do about it?"

"Call the police, for one," Tommy quipped, and Patrick scoffed.

"Oh, your sheriff? That motherfu-" Patrick's voice trailed off as he froze, his eyes going round as he actually stumbled backwards, his gaze fixed on something behind you both. When you turned around, you found Thor was standing quietly right behind you, staring Patrick down. Quite literally, as he towered over him by a good five or six inches.

Thor placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, urging you to the side so he could step forward.

"You wanna try that again, boy?" Thor asked, his voice taking on a tone you never heard from him before.

"You got guard dogs now? How many men in this town are you fucking?" Patrick shouted, craning his neck to try to look at you, but Tommy stepped forward again, blocking his view.

"She's one of our own. We don't take too kindly to people talkin' to one of us like that around here," Tommy said, squaring his jaw.

"Jesus Christ," Patrick muttered, then huffed out a disbelieving laugh before glancing around the dining room. He realized his options were limited, so he began to back away.

"Fine. I'll leave," he said, looking at Thor and holding his palms up in defeat.

"Good idea," Tommy said, still not moving until Patrick slowly backed up towards the doors, trying and failing to think of one more jab to get in before he disappeared. Maria quickly locked the doors and twisted around, eyes wide.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, rushing towards you. "I had no idea, I didn't know what he looked like-"

"It's okay," you said, waving her off and sagging against the counter, your body suddenly feeling weak.

"I called the station, Bobby will be here in a minute. Let's take you to the office so you can have some privacy."

Maria wrapped her arm around your shoulder, turning you towards the kitchen, but just as you were about to walk through the door, you stopped and turned around to look at Thor and Tommy.

"Thank you," you whispered, your bottom lip trembling. They both looked at you, Tommy waving you off with a smile, about to say something, but Thor unexpectedly spoke up.

"Don't need to thank us. Like he said, you're one of us now. We look out for each other."

You were pretty sure even Tommy was surprised by the amount of words Thor said at once because he slowly turned his head to look up at him in shock.

You gave Thor a small smile and nodded before letting Maria lead you to the back.

"When do you think I'll have a shift where we don't have to get the police involved?" you asked Maria, and she chuckled. It had been about twenty minutes and the adrenaline was wearing off. You were beginning to feel more like yourself again, more at ease. Maybe having people in your life know the truth wasn't actually a bad thing. You felt safe. You felt protected. And most of all, you felt like you belonged. But you also felt an unshakable cloud of guilt and fear. Guilt for dragging innocent people into your drama, and fear that Patrick won't back down so easily next time someone tries to stand up for you.

"To be fair, the Marcus thing could have happened to any one of us. You just got lucky that day."

You laughed and leaned your head against the wall.

"Yeah, guess you're right."

There was a soft knock on the office door and Maria stood to open it. You rolled your head to the side then straightened up when Joel walked in, looking frazzled and shaken up with the curls on top of his head messier than usual, most likely from his fingers anxiously combing through them.

His eyes locked onto you immediately and you could tell he was holding back. His hands fidgeted at his sides as he fought the urge to pull you into his arms. He glanced back and forth between you and Maria before clearing his throat.

"Sarah's out front. I didn't tell her what happened, didn't wanna scare her. D'you mind-"

"Of course not," Maria said, already understanding what he needed. "I'll take her in the back, let her pick out a dessert or two."

"Thank you," Joel said, waiting until she walked away before he shut the door and turned back to you.

"I'm so sorry," he said, quickly stepping forward to wrap his arms around you. You sighed, your arms draping around his neck as you leaned into his chest, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent. Your muscles instantly relaxed in his hold, your mind went blank and all of your worries, the guilt and the fear, began to drift away.

"I'm okay," you murmured into his shirt, but he just squeezed you tighter.

"I shoulda been here."

"You can't be here all the time, Joel," you said, leaning back to look up at him. "I know you want to do it all, and it's so sweet, but it's impossible." You reached up to cup his face, your thumb rubbing across his stubbled cheek gently. His eyes were still filled with worry, so you stretched up on your tiptoes, brushing your lips softly against his. He responded quickly, lips massaging yours before he pulled away all too soon. He let his forehead rest against yours and sighed heavily, his arms still holding you flush against him.

"I got three cars out lookin' for him. We'll find him and toss him back in jail."

You nodded, your eyes closed as you leaned against him, perfectly content to stay that way until your legs gave out.

"'Til we find him, you shouldn't be alone. Tommy said you could stay with them, or you could stay with me." He tried to keep the hope out of his voice, wanting you to make your choice without his influence, but he desperately hoped you would take him up on his offer.

"I-" you paused, eyes still closed, guilt slowly swelling back up in your chest. "Maybe we shouldn't confuse Sarah," you finally decided to say, and you felt his shoulders slump under your arms.

He wanted to argue with you, wanted to convince you to stay with him, but he didn't. He didn't say anything. He just nodded and stepped back. When your arms slid down from around his neck, he caught your wrist and brought it to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss against your pulse before letting you go.

You stared at one another for a long moment, so many things you both wanted to say, but couldn't.

A sudden trill filled the room. An upbeat tune playing from deep within his pocket. He slid his hand down to pluck out his phone from his pants, his thumb sliding over the screen before answering.

"Yeah?"

You took a step back and crossed your arms over your chest, watching as his eyes drifted around the office while he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. He stared blankly at some old bankers boxes filled with receipts underneath the desk as he nodded along, his thumb coming up to rub anxiously against his lower lip.

As the phone call continued, with Joel only giving brief answers, you heard a knock at the door. You cracked it open then pushed it further when you saw Tommy waiting on the other side. He stepped into the small space, his mouth open about to ask Joel a question until he realized he was on the phone, then turned to you, instead.

"Any luck?"

"I don't think so," you said, shaking your head.

"We got a spare room, you can stay with us tonight. If you want, that is," Tommy offered awkwardly. You gave him a tight smile in return.

"Yeah, I - if you don't mind, that would be great."

Just as Tommy was about to answer, Joel turned around to face you both, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Can't find him," he said, trying to mask the frustration he was feeling, but you could see the muscles in his neck tense.

"Why don't you take her back to her place so she can get some things, then drop her off at our house? I'll take Sarah, you can pick her up when you come by. I'll make somethin' up 'bout a burst pipe or whatever," Tommy suggested, and again you could see Joel's exasperation seeping through as his eyes shifted back and forth between you and his brother, but he eventually agreed.

Joel drove you back to your apartment in silence. It was only a few minute drive, but it felt like it was an hour. So many things swirled around in your head, words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn't get them out. You were beginning to feel like a burden. You were asking so much of him and this poor town. The guilt was weighing you down, suffocating you, and you wished you had just run again when you had the chance, but then his hand slid across the console and his fingers brushed against yours and your selfishness won. You allowed his fingers to lace together with yours as his eyes remained focused on the road, looking for a parking spot and again, the words were right there. I need you. I hate that I'm so much trouble. I'm sorry.

"Alright," Joel said, pulling his hand back and cutting the engine. "I had one of my guys drive by earlier, but just in case, I'm goin' in first. You wait for me at the bottom of the stairs, door locked behind you til I come and get you. Got it?"

Only when you quickly nodded did he allow you to exit the truck. You stayed behind him as he approached your door, giving the knob and experimental twist before reaching his hand back towards you, waiting for your keys. You fumbled for a moment and handed him the correct one.

The door had been locked. You just assumed everything would be fine, but you would soon find out you were wrong.

You stood at the bottom of the stairs like you promised, watching as Joel walked up the steps, pulling his gun out only once he reached the top, then disappeared into your kitchen. You shifted your weight nervously, lower lip pulling between your teeth as your ears strained to try to figure out where he was. The place was very small, it shouldn't take that long. After several minutes without a sound, your curiosity got the better of you.

"Joel?" you called up quietly, and you finally saw the shadow of his frame darken the doorway before he appeared and looked down at you, his face unreadable.

"It's clear, but..." he trailed off, his eyes casting over his shoulder before looking down at you again. "He was here."

"What?" you asked, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "But the door-"

"I dunno," Joel said with a sigh before pulling his phone out and dialing a number. "Maybe he made a copy of your key or somethin'."

You shakily sat down on the bottom step, his words repeating over and over in your head. How could you be so stupid? Have you learned nothing? He could have killed you and these locks wouldn't have done a damn thing.

You vaguely heard Joel talking to one of his men over the phone, presumably asking whoever had stopped by your place earlier if there was anything suspicious that jumped out at him, but it didn't matter now. Just when you thought he couldn't violate you any more, he did. He had been in your space. In your safe haven. What did he do?

"Joel?" you called out again, standing up and leaning forward. You wanted to obey him and stay at the bottom of the stairs like you promised, but you needed to see what Patrick did. Joel was still talking on the phone, unable to hear you, so instead of calling out again, you went up. When you walked through the doorway, you gasped.

All of your plates, glasses, mugs, dishware were shattered in tiny pieces all over the kitchen floor. Cupboards were left open, food was poured all over the countertops, spilling down the wood cabinet doors and mixing with broken glass on the floor.

You kept your shoes on and tiptoed into the living room where you heard Joel's voice speaking lowly into the phone. You covered your mouth as you looked around the room. The few plants you had were smashed, dirt was spewed and ground into the old carpet. Books were flung onto the floor, some pages even ripped out, and the couch was turned upside down, thrown against the wall. You barely even noticed the TV was lying on its side, the screen smashed, because you were fixated on the holes punched and kicked into the walls, pieces of plaster and dust piled up on the floor under each one.

Eventually, you must have made a noise because Joel swiveled around to look at you.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone, and hung up before rushing over to you. "I told you to wait downstairs."

"I know, but -" you lost your voice, unable to continue. Your whole life was in this apartment, and now it was destroyed. How long did it take? Minutes? An hour? Was that really all it took to pick up your entire world and shake it like a snow globe?

"It's just stuff," he said, trying to reassure you. "It can all be replaced. You can't be replaced, though. You hear me?"

You looked up at him, tears already streaming down your face. His eyes softened and he sighed before pulling you against his chest, his strong hands wrapping themselves around your middle, cradling your head against his pounding heart as you sobbed.

"What am I going to do?" you wondered out loud, your voice muffled against his shirt.

"Stay with me."

He felt you stiffen in his arms and he looked down at you.

"Please. I'd feel better if you stayed with me. Just until we find him, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, trying not to show your relief but you already felt safer just knowing you would be under his watch that night. You still worried about Sarah, but you would make sure she knew you were sleeping on the couch. You refused to complicate Joel's life any further than you already had.

"Okay," he repeated, his voice soft. He leaned back and swiped a thumb over your cheek, drying your tears. "Let's see if we can get any of your clothes. Then we'll go get Sarah and go home."

Home.

You nodded and let him lead you to your bedroom, grabbing a tote bag from your small closet as you began to rifle through your dresser drawers.

Patrick had tossed your clothes around your room, but they didn't look like they were destroyed. It probably would have taken too long, you realized, as you packed a bag with whatever you could think of, ignoring how your comforter and sheets were piled at the foot of your bed, the strong smell of urine emanating from your mattress. When you stood up, you noticed for the first time the stuffed penguin Joel had won for you was torn in half, white fluffy stuffing spilling out in a corner of your room.

Choking back a sob, you walked towards the bathroom, but Joel reached out to stop you.

"What d'you need? I'll get it."

"What do you mean?" you asked, giving him a confused look as you wiped your nose on the back of your hand. "Why can't I -"

"Just tell me what you need and I'll grab it for you," he said, not allowing you to ask the question. You stared at him, trying to figure out what could possibly be worse than urine on your bed. When neither of you budged, you brushed past him and flicked on the light.

You only paused for a moment, Joel standing right behind you as you read the words repeatedly scrawled all over the mirror and walls with the few lipsticks you owned. Whore. Slut. Badge Bunny. Cunt.

You swallowed and looked down, averting your gaze to focus on packing your toiletries as quickly as you could. You heard Joel say your name softly from the doorway, but you ignored him and continued to throw things into your bag - shampoo, toothbrush, whore, face wash, slut, hair brush, deodorant.

A chill went down his spine as he watched your face harden and your eyes glaze over. Memories of how you pulled away from him in the past came creeping back: the cologne, the robbery, your marriage... Patrick, and everything he's done. He couldn't let you slip through his fingers again.

"I'm ready," you said numbly, pushing past him and heading to the door.

Joel followed you outside, making sure to lock up after, although you could hardly see the point, with what little belongings you had left clutched in your hand.

He jumped into the driver's seat and started the truck, glancing sideways at you, trying to figure out what to say to give you some comfort, but he was coming up empty.

"He knows," you said after a few painfully silent minutes. Joel flicked his gaze to you quickly before focusing back on the road, immediately knowing what you meant.

"How-"

"He said he could smell you on me," you told him, refusing to look at him as shame coursed through your veins.

Joel flinched. Now he was reading those words on your wall differently. Now he knew Patrick wrote those things because of him, and it made him feel sick.

"Did you say anythin'?"

"No," you said, shaking your head, still staring out your window. "Of course not."

"Good," he said. "That's... good. I mean-" he glanced over at you again, stumbling over his words. "Not good, it just-"

"I know what you're trying to say, Joel," you said quietly.

He tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh as another tense silence filled the truck.

"I'll have someone go over in the mornin', process the scene so we can press additional charges," he said, breaking the quiet. You just continued to stare out the window, exhausted.

"How will you prove it was even him?"

"DNA," was all Joel said, and you closed your eyes. You refused to give the situation any more tears, so you forced them back and opened your eyes, resting your forehead against the glass as Joel drove the short distance to Tommy and Maria's house.

"Why don't you just stay here and I'll go talk to Tommy?" Joel suggested, unbuckling his seatbelt as he turned to look at you. You stared straight ahead and gave him a slight nod.

He scanned your face, wishing he could see you smile again. He reached a hand over and gently squeezed your thigh, finally pulling your gaze off the dashboard and onto him. He hated that look in your eye. A distant, sad, hopeless look that made him want to comb through the whole town until he found Patrick so he could break every bone in his worthless fucking body.

"You're okay," he whispered, lifting his hand off your leg and sweetly pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger.

You forced a small smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. You took his hand in both of yours and brought his knuckles to your lips, closing your eyes as you kissed the back of his hand before pressing it into your soft cheek, and he felt a modicum of relief.

"I'm just tired," you said quietly, hoping that would placate him enough for the time being.

After about fifteen minutes, you saw Joel and Sarah exit Tommy's front door, her backpack slung over one shoulder, still clad in a soccer uniform. You hadn't realized she had a game that night, and you hoped the game had at least ended before Joel dragged her away to come to your rescue because you couldn't stomach ruining one more person's night.

He must have told Sarah you were in the car because she wasn't surprised to see you when she opened the door to the back of the cab.

"Your apartment's wrecked, huh?" she asked as she buckled her seatbelt. You looked at her, surprised, as Joel twisted around in his seat.

"We told her 'bout the burst pipe," he said, making sure to hold eye contact with you until you nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, it's a mess. Thanks for letting me crash with you," you said, turning to give her a smile. She grinned and nodded.

"It'll be fun. Can we do movie night tomorrow instead of Saturday, Dad?"

"It's a school night-"

"Please! Dad, please! She might not be here on Saturday," she whined.

Joel sighed and rubbed his eyes as he waited for a streetlight to turn green. You could tell he was exhausted, too, so you turned back towards Sarah to try to help.

"Tell you what. If I'm back in my apartment by Saturday, I'll still come by for movie night. Deal?"

Sarah thought it over for a moment before nodding.

"Deal."

Satisfied, she sat back in her seat and hummed along to the radio as she gazed out the window. Joel tilted his face towards you and mouthed thank you, and you smiled in return before looking out your own window.

You weren't sure what you expected when you saw Joel's house, but once you saw it, you could tell it was undeniably his. It was a remodeled two-story white farmhouse. There wasn't much in the way of decor, but what he did have was simple and tasteful. There were framed family photos that littered the mantle and bookcase, and the sparse art that hung on the walls were mostly landscapes. It just felt like him. Rustic, homey, and comfortable.

The light fixtures in the kitchen were dated, and the cupboards looked old, but in true Joel fashion, everything worked. Everything was taken care of. Not a single loose handle, squeaky hinge or burnt-out lightbulb in the place.

It was just after ten at night by the time the three of you arrived home. Joel urged Sarah to go get ready for bed while he walked down the small hallway to grab some linens from the downstairs bathroom. He dropped them on the couch and pointed up the stairs, where Sarah had just disappeared.

"You can have my bedroom, I'll take the couch. Lemme show you-"

"I can't let you do that, I'll sleep on the couch," you insisted, taking a step towards the living room but he wrapped his arm around you and pulled your back against his chest, his nose getting buried in your hair. You sighed and melted against him, weak and completely drained.

"Want you safe and sound in my bed. Please," he murmured against your ear. "I won't be able to sleep otherwise." You didn't have the strength to argue.

"Joel?" you whispered, your eyes closed as you relaxed into him further, letting him lightly sway you side to side as he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For... everything."

You wished you could put your gratitude into words, but everything you thought to say didn't seem like nearly enough.

"Don't want you to thank me," he mumbled before taking a deep breath. "But can you promise me somethin'?"

You frowned and turned around in his arms so you could look at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Don't shut me out, okay?" he asked softly, his fingers caressing your cheek. "I want you to talk to me, tell me what's goin' on in there," he said, gently tapping the side of your head. "No matter what it is, just... talk to me."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, feeling guilty, yet again. "I'm just not used to having anyone."

"You got me now, okay?" he said, giving you a quick kiss and then pulling back when he heard the water turn off in the bathroom above your heads. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

You gave him a small smile and took his hand as he led you upstairs. He made it crystal clear that the two of you were sleeping apart as he showed you his room, knowing that Sarah would have heard from the other side of the bathroom door. But before he left, a pair of pajamas in one hand and a pillow in the other, he gave you one more kiss, letting his lips linger until he heard Sarah flick the bathroom light off.

"You know where I am if you need me," he said, his voice once again a little louder than usual, for Sarah's benefit. He winked at you and shut the door, leaving you all alone in his bedroom.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77@nandan11@anoverwhelmingdin@fandomscollide@survivingandenduring@honeyedmiller@pedropascalsbbg@southernbe@pedrosfanny@gobaaby-blog-blog @eloquentdreamer @yomiyasxx @mrsparknuts@missladym1981@spacedoutdaydreamer @cosmic006533-blog @prettyinpunk85@maried01 @sunnyskyapplepie @sawymredfox@gobaaby-blog-blog@stevie75@mxtokko@sleepylunarwolf@lizzie-cakes@laurrrra@annieispunk@here4thedilfs @navystandardheatingoilcap @slugz-writes-shit@devilbat@ashleyfilm@scp116@tragerlover@iveseenstrangerthings50 @yvonneeeee @brittmb115@lulawantmula@abbysgirlll@ro-nahime-things@whxtedreams@ashhlsstuff@little-pookie@serenadingtigers@paleidiot@ashy-kit@lizlil@detectivejuliuspepperwood@buckyispunk @fckinel @sarahhxx03

[twoidiotwriters1]

With Luffy!? (Monkey D. Luffy x fem! reader)

A/N: I just need more inspiration! send requests! - Val

Words: 1,130

A normal day at the Sunny is about to change when it lands on a new mysterious island. Y/N and Zoro are the first to go to the town to get supplies. 

Before the rest could leave the ship, a little boy runs through the low deck. The kid giggles and runs everywhere until he stops in front of the crew and waves his little hand. 

Nami, Usopp, Robin and Chopper stop and stay still as their eyes follow him. 

“Hi!” He smiles and runs again. 

“A kid?” Chopper asks. 

“How?” Then Usopp. 

“Doesn't he look..?” Nami starts. 

“Like Luffy!” Robin smiles. 

*** 

They start with some questions when they catch him. 

“What’s your name, sweetie?” Nami asks with a smile. 

The boy giggles. “You know my name, Auntie Nami.” 

“Where are your parents?” Usopp says next. 

“I dunno,” he shrugs. 

“Are you sick or hurt?” Chopper asks. 

“No needles!” He screams and runs again. 

Now, he enters the kitchen. A couple of minutes later, Sanji exits the kitchen with the kid in his arms. The boy has a bottle of water. 

“Does anybody know where Joy’s parents are?” He asks the others. 

“Joy?” 

“Yeah, that’s his name.” 

Eventually, the others get together, and they all fall in love with the charming boy. Franky decides to make a highchair and immediately, baby-proof the Sunny. Brook starts to play his violin to him and makes funny songs. 

“I can’t help it, he’s really cute!” Nami squeals hugging Joy and pushes him to be cheek against cheek as he giggles. 

“Pretty Auntie Nami,” Joy points at her. 

“And so smart!” 

“Wait,” Usopp says walking to them. “She’s your auntie?” He points at Nami and Joy nods. “Who is she?” Usopp points to Robin. 

“Auntie Lobin.” 

“Okay so, the mother’s not here and we can’t ask where he came from or his birthday.” 

“Am fou,” Joy says raising four fingers. 

“Oi, Sanji! I’m hungry!” Luffy yells jumping and landing on deck. 

“Dadda!” Joy squirms in Nami’s arms to run to his dad. The kid holds Luffy’s leg and giggles “Hi, dadda!” 

“Uh—hi?” 

“I’ve never thought to live long enough to see Luffy with his son… Even though I’m already dead!” Brook laughs. 

“My what!?” 

The kitchen’s full of laughs from the crew and the little boy as Luffy keeps making silly faces, stretching his face, and playing with his food to make Joy laugh too. Of course, Joy loves his dad’s and crew’s attention. After a while, little Joy boy yawns and scratches his eyes.  

“I sleepy,” he pouts. “Wan’ my Mommy.” 

The crew share a tense look not knowing what to do. 

“Dad,” Luffy looks at him. “Wers Mamma?” 

“Uh—she’s...” 

“We’ve arrived!” You yell from outside. 

Joy turns his head to the door and squirms trying to get out of the highchair. Luffy frowns and helps him. 

“Mamma?” He says leaving the kitchen. The crew follow him. When the kid sees you, he smiles and runs to you raising his little arms. “Mamma!” You frown down at him as he keeps jumping “Up! Up! Pwease!” You let down the shopping bags and carry the strange kid.  

He holds you by the neck, leans to rest his head on your shoulder as he sucks his thumb and closes his tired eyes. 

“Awwww,” the crew sing at the cute scene. 

You look at them confused. 

“We leave you alone and you kidnap a kid?” Zoro asks completely lost. “And...” He leans to see the peaceful kid. “One that looks like Luffy?” 

“It’s a long story,” Robin says. 

“Has anybody else heard Joy say ‘mamma’ to Y/N?” Usopp asks carefully. 

“Joy?” You ask. 

“Hmm?” The boy leans back to look at you.  

“Oh,” You understand it. 

“Night-night?” He asks. 

“Uh—okay” You look at the crew waiting for an answer, but they all shrug. “Fine, I’ll put him to bed,” You walk to your shared room. “Wait, did you call me mamma?” 

*** 

“All right, he’s asleep. Now, explain,” you point at the others. 

“Luffy's son and mine!?” You squeal. “What? How? Why? When?” You look at Luffy and he only smiles. 

When Joy wakes up again, he says he wants to play with his uncles. More specific, with Zozo, Uso, Faky, Saji, Book and Fluffy (Chopper). Luffy pouts when Joy doesn’t mention him, but you take the chance to talk to him. 

“Why aren’t you freaking out? 

“‘Cuz I like him,” he smiles. 

“Luffy, please. You need to think about this. He’s a little boy, our little boy.” 

“Yeah, I know that. And I think it’s awesome,” he points to the low deck, where Joy’s playing tag with his uncles. “I know he looks like me, but he also does the scrunchy nose thing when he smiles, like you do.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, and he looks like you when he pouts. Oh! He caresses my cheek like you do when we’re alone and I think you two have the same eyes.” 

The truth is that when you joined the crew, you couldn’t help but think about your captain differently. But the time showed you that Luffy doesn’t care or think about having a relationship beyond crew mate with anybody. 

Besides, that was a long time ago. 

That’s why you can’t believe (if Joy’s from the future) that you’ll have a kid with Luffy. But his words did affect you and moved so many things inside you, and, of course, you can’t deny that your kid is the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen. 

“Luffy?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you know how to make a baby?” 

He frowns. “Uh… yeah. Why? 

“Just curious,” You walk away with a blush on your cheeks. 

“Les go night-night again!” Joy says holding Luffy’s hand. 

“Joy, wait. Dad has to sleep in his own room,” You stop him when he guides both of you to your room. 

“Good night, kiddo’,” Luffy says and walks away, but the cry of his son makes him stop in his tracks. 

You quickly carry him in your arms. “What’s wrong?” You ask him. 

“Dadda come night-night with mommy an me!” He yells pointing at Luffy. 

*** 

“Good night, Kiddo” 

“Night-night, Dadda, night-night Mommy.” 

“Sweet dreams, baby,” you kiss his cheek. 

You had to move Nami’s bed and put it next to yours so that all three could fit in. Although Luffy and Joy are fast asleep, for you it takes more time. You watch them as the moonlight shines through the room. 

You smile as Luffy moves and groans in his sleep, facing you and Joy. His arm moves and stretches enough to hug both of you closer to him. It’s quite crazy knowing that you’ll have a kid with Luffy, but you can’t deny that you could get used to it… anytime. 

[jayden-writes]

fragile

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~1.5k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

cw: descriptions of an injury (sprained ankle)

summary: When you sprain your ankle, Lucifer doesn't appreciate your attempt at hiding it.

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // based on this drawing by @sbmlamb // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic!

There was no doubt in your mind that you must have been the clumsiest being in all three realms. Twisting your ankle because you simply tried to keep up with the long strides of a demon? How utterly embarrassing.

Gritting your teeth, you kept following the brother that was escorting you back to the House of Lamentation today - Satan. It seemed as though he hadn't noticed the way you were falling behind or your minor accident at all, being too engrossed in his rant about something Lucifer had done.

Despite the mixture of pain and numbness radiating up your lower leg, you managed to catch up with him, maintaining a mostly normal expression and a steady gait. Turning his head towards you, the anger drained from his features as he observed you. He took in your carefully masked suffering and how your shoulders were heaving with the effort it had required to get back to him.

“I'm sorry,” he said, slowing his pace and giving you a worried glance, “I hadn’t realized that I was too fast for you. Are you alright? It looks like you’re in pain.”

Cursing yourself internally, you racked your brain for a believable excuse.

“I… uhm… I just have a stitch in my side. No big deal,” you explained, shooting him a reassuring smile.

Satan nodded and visibly relaxed at your words, returning his attention to the path. From that point on, the walk back was spent in comfortable stillness with him occasionally glancing at you. When you reached the mansion and entered, you exhaled a quiet sigh of relief and waved goodbye, heading straight for your room as quickly as you could without putting too much weight on your foot while still walking normally. Finally inside your own space, you hobbled towards your bed, sitting down to take off your shoe and sock, which jostled your ankle, and caused you to hiss in agony. Once it was bare, your eyes widened at the sight of it swollen and bruised.

“Fuck…” you muttered and attempted to move it, which only made the pain worse.

Suddenly, there were knocks on your door, startling you.

“Oi! It’s your turn to make dinner!” called Mammon’s voice out from the other side. Right. Of course. You had completely forgotten about that.

“Give me a moment!” you yelled back and you heard him disappear again.

Sighing, you removed the second shoe too, and slipped into a pair that had a looser fit to reduce the pressure on your foot. Then you limped towards the doorway, biting your tongue to stifle the pained whimpers threatening to escape you, and opened it. Peering outside, you looked to your left and right, checking whether someone was around. Satisfied at not seeing anybody, you stepped out and silently shut the door behind you. Making your way to the kitchen, you put as little strain as possible on the ankle.

Aside from being embarrassed about your clumsiness, you also didn’t want them to worry about you or for them to start treating you as if you were a fragile thing. You weren’t. You really weren’t. You were a human and they were demons. Surely, you would be able to handle this just fine on your own, and wouldn't have to rely on one of the brothers.

It took you almost twice as long as usual to get to the kitchen, but once you did, you immediately started gathering all of the supplies you needed to prepare the meal. Still, you stayed vigilant, closely listening for any noises so you’d know when to stop limping.

What you hadn’t accounted for, however, was the practiced silence of Lucifer’s steps. You didn’t hear him arrive, rather, you felt his presence, the way his crimson gaze burned into your back. It made the hairs on your neck stand up and you whipped around to see him leaning against the doorframe, his eyes narrowed and fixed on you.

“And what exactly,” he drawled, pushing himself off the frame to saunter towards you, “do you think you’re doing?”

“Cooking dinner…?” you replied hesitantly, although it sounded more like a question than an answer. His tall figure loomed over you, and you tried your best to maintain a casual position that kept your weight off your foot.

“Is that so?” he hummed thoughtfully, scrutinizing you. “What made you think that this was a good idea in your current state?”

“Huh? Come again?”

“You are hurt, are you not?” Lucifer’s voice was calm and collected, in contrast to the displeasure evident on his face.

“I’m not, I’m totally fi-” you began, only to be cut off by him saying your name sharply.

“Do not take me for a fool. Answer me. What made you think walking around with an injury was a good idea?”

“It’s my turn to cook dinner…” was your meek reply, and he simply sighed deeply.

“Seriously. You are incorrigible. I can’t believe you sometimes. Sit down. Now.”

Reluctantly, you obeyed him. He kneeled in front of you, reaching for your ankle, and pulled the shoe off with careful motions that betrayed the ire he was exuding.

“It’s just a bit twisted. I’m sure it’ll be fine by tomorrow, there’s no need to make a big deal out of this,” you mumbled, grimacing as you watched your swollen and bruised foot become visible again.

“Twisted, you say?” Lucifer echoed, his gloved fingers delicately grasping your injured body part as he examined it. At first, it was painful, but soon a soft glow emanated from his hands, providing a cooling sensation that dulled the ache. “It is not twisted. You sprained it, if not worse.”

“Oh…” you responded quietly. “Well, that’s not good, I guess?”

“Not good…” he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “That certainly is one way to say it. Especially considering that you have foolishly decided to keep straining it.”

Standing back up, he hooked one arm underneath your knees, wrapping the other around your back to lift you up. Your brain short-circuited for a moment as you were held against Lucifer’s chest. He was already halfway to your room when you managed to recover yourself and glanced up at his face to study his stern expression. Red eyes darted down to meet yours, and you flinched internally at the combination of anger and disappointment swirling in them, swiftly averting your gaze. Once he had entered, he placed you on the bed and made sure to elevate your ankle, then he turned to leave.

“Stay here and do not move. I will return soon,” he said gruffly, and with that, he was gone, leaving you alone. Defeated, you let your head sink into the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, the door handle was being pushed downwards, and heels clicked across the floor as Lucifer approached you, pulling up a chair to sit on.

“I will perform a quick diagnostic spell. It may cause an odd feeling, just bear with it for a minute,” he informed you matter-of-factly, and you gave an affirming hum, only briefly glancing at him to catch a glimpse of first-aid materials before looking away again. Mumbling some words under his breath, he grazed his fingertips over the swollen flesh, the leather of his gloves barely touching your skin. It was silent for a while and your foot prickled until he withdrew his touch.

“You are lucky. Nothing is broken, however, one of the ligaments is partially torn,” Lucifer explained plainly. “You will have to stay in bed and rest for at least a week.”

“A week?!” you exclaimed indignantly, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him. “You can’t be serious! What about RAD? I have a presentation in two days!”

He huffed in annoyance and shot you a glare, taking out bandages.

“You have two options: either you will stay in bed voluntarily or I will have you tied to it. So, what shall it be, hm?”

Without offering a response, you sank back into the bed.

“Good. I’m glad you’re finally being reasonable,” he grumbled and started wrapping your ankle up carefully.

Turning your head away from him, you clenched your jaw tightly when the pain that he had dulled earlier with whatever spell he had used resurfaced temporarily. Lucifer heaved a faint sigh as he took note of your stubborn stillness and your tense posture. As soon as he was done, he put a cold compress on your ankle and sat on the bed next to you, the mattress sinking under his weight. He spoke your name; you didn’t respond.

“Come on now,” he whispered, his voice much gentler now, and he stroked a hand over your hair, “I am simply looking out for you, you know that, right? You are far too reckless with your health.”

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted, and pouted, but you turned your gaze back towards him, observing his softened expression as he hovered over you.

“Don’t deflect,” he chuckled, and cupped your cheek, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I will make up for it, alright? I am going to keep you company. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

“Fine…” you breathed.

“That’s my good human,” Lucifer cooed, tilting your face up to brush his lips against yours. “Now, rest.”

[hees-mine]

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯 𝐠𝐲𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, pervert heeseung, cumming untouched, mentions of arousal, slight flirting.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @aerallaa

“Can you feel that, y/n?” You hear your gym instructor say, his hand rested on the small of your back while he stood behind you, making sure your downward dog posture was correct.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, struggling to keep yourself upward, and you realize your friends were right when they told you you were out of shape. It was brutal honesty, but you appreciated them for it, cause at least now you could do something about it.

“You’re doing so well for your first time.” he nods, looking at you from one of the big wall mirrors in front of you both. “And since you are,” he hums, pressing down on your back slightly, and the stretch you feel all over your muscles is insane. “This should make it harder,” he sneaks up behind, brushing his bulge on your ass which looked so fucking plump, especially with those tight-ass yoga pants you had on.

“O-ow,” you grimace, too distracted from the pain to notice your gym instructor rubbing himself against you, and you were laser-focused on the clock. Determined to finish, you only had a few seconds left in this position before you were moving on to the next.

“Good,” he drawls out the word, discreetly dragging his hand down your back and brushing over your ass ever so slightly.

You relax your muscles from the tiring position and take a seat on the mat as he high-fives you.

“Now, this one should feel a bit better on your body.” he stands straight. “Okay, lay flat on your stomach for me,” he instructs.

Your eyes widened. You didn’t even get a break from the first workout. “No rest?”

“Not when you’re with me,” he winks, and you quickly lay flat on your stomach to hide your flustered state.

“Perfect,” he whispers behind you and lowers himself on his knees, his crotch hovering over your ass as he grabs your wrists and pulls you back slightly.

“Wow,” you say in complete disbelief because you’ve never felt something quite like this. It hurt, but it was the good type of pain.

Each time he pulls you back, he gently ruts forward, humping his cock against your ass, and he has to bite back a moan cause the soft stimulation on his length was making him harder and harder by the second.

“You okay?” He asks softly before repeating his actions. You hum in response as he finishes out the second to last stretching exercise, completely unaware of his unorthodox methods. He was doing everything correctly. It’s just the proximity in which he performed said exercises was highly unnecessary. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, I haven’t felt this relaxed in a long time,” he smiles, getting up from on top of you.

“Feels good for me, too.” he readjusted his sweats, hiding his boner, and before you could focus on what he just said, you were onto your final stretch. “Okay, last one, I’m proud of you,” he claps softly. “The best new client I’ve ever had, and don’t tell anybody,” he playfully whispers, and you zip your mouth closed with a small giggle.

You’re not sure what this position was called or what it was even doing. You’re sure he told you at some point, but once you took place on the mat, back on the ground with your legs in the air and hands holding your feet, you forgot about everything.

The exercise itself was easy, but what made it harder than the rest was the way he was situated between your legs.

It was just a tad bit awkward for you. “A-are you sure this is right?”

He quickly nods. “Yeah, this is perfect. Let me just-” he kneels down, hips nearly touching your core, and if anyone came in and saw you two on the ground in this position, they’d think you’re doing a lot more than just stretching. “There we go,” he says once he’s sat before you. “Your form is a little off.” he’s lying. Your form was fine, if not perfect. He just used that as an excuse to assist you and hoist your legs up, and now this definitely looked like something you’d only ever see in an adult film. “Just like that.”

You avoid eye contact with him. You can’t lie. The position was turning you on. How could it not? Your legs were in the air, and there was a hot gym instructor looking down at you for a full minute. Luckily, you were wearing black because, embarrassingly enough, you had gotten wet.

The timer that he had set went off, and you were about to get up from your position, but he kept you still. “Hold it for a little longer.” he hadn’t done one minute of work, but he was sweating like he had just run miles in ninety-degree weather. This whole session was the most pleasurable torture he’d ever gone through, but it was well worth it.

Your breasts perked up in his face, chest covered in sweat, your messy bun, and not to mention all the cute little whimpers you’d let out when you got tired, the ones that you were making right now. “Almost done,” he gulps down harshly cock twitching in his sweats desperate for release.

“Heeseung, I can’t.” You shake your head back and forth but still try your best to maintain your position.

“Yes you can. Just a little bit more.” his eyes nearly roll back, but he controls himself, and the slight whimper of his name was all it took for him to explode in his grey joggers. “There you go, that’s it” he lowers your legs down, finally giving you a break, all while spurts of cum shoot from his tip. “That was amazing,” he huffs cock, still dripping and throbbing from that orgasm, and he can’t believe how much you turned him on to the point he came untouched.

He readjusted his joggers again, quickly ending today's workout and setting up your next session with him before you noticed the wet splotch slowly forming on the front of his grey sweats.

He bid you goodbye, congratulating you on a successful first-time workout and telling you he couldn’t wait to see you again.

You smile and wave to him, still completely unaware of his intentions.

And as he takes one long look at your ass as you exit the building, he might just have to add an extra day to your one on one sessions just to make sure you keep up with what he’s taught you so far.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

[nahoney22]

Saying Something Stupid Like I Love You 🌊

🫧 pairing: Wrecker X Gender Neutral Reader

word count: 1.4k

prompts:

*flustered rambling* ...And I love you!" / "Huh?" / "I said achoo."

“I really like you. Or, love you. Yeah. I really love you."

Summary: Your feelings for Wrecker were out of control. So, with enough courage, you tell him how you truly feel. Kind of.

warnings: none, complete fluff, idiots in love, mutual pining, first kiss, gender neutral reader.

Authors note: Hope you both don’t mind me joining requests? It just makes sense to kill 2 birds with one stone 😊 enjoy! 🫧 🩵 @dr-carew-jekyll

You found it impossible to tear your gaze away from him, captivated by every detail of his presence. The flutter of your heart matched the rhythm of the sunlight dancing across his features, leaving you utterly breathless. How could one man do this to you?

Your adoration for Wrecker had been a slow burn, a continuous journey that had been marked by bittersweet longing, knowing deep down he may never reciprocate your feelings. So, you nurtured your affection quietly but in doing so allowed it to bloom despite the ache it brought you daily.

“Why don’t you join me?” His invitation shattered your trance, drawing you back to reality with a jolt of embarrassment. Hastily, you averted your eyes, pretending to focus on your data pad to mask your blatant staring from just now.

Tentatively, you met his gaze, mustering a smile to act as though you didn’t realise he was there. "Me?" Your response came out in a nervous whisper, but his easy laughter washed away your self-consciousness.

“I don’t see anybody else, so yeah. You.” He laughs and With a pat on the space beside him, he beckons you to his side, nestled beneath the weeping maya tree, both of you now bathing in the golden embrace of sunlight.

As you settle beside him, a rush of nerves tingle down your spine. "This spot is my favourite here," he mused, his voice tinged with a quiet awe.

You observed him, drinking in every detail of his rugged charm, from the strength etched into his features to the warmth of his gaze. His eyes closed, basking in the sun's embrace, and you found yourself once again lost in admiration for him. “I need to tell you something.”

The words escaped your lips like a runaway speeder, before your brain could even hit the brakes, and Wrecker, with his signature grin, raised an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"More fruit smuggling, huh?" he quipped, his tone dripping with playfulness, but as your nerves practically formed a dance line on your face, his expression softened into concern. "You look like you just saw a ghost bantha. Everythin’ okay?"

With a gentle touch, his rugged hand found its place on your shoulder, a stark contrast to its usual strength, now exuding a surprising softness.

Your breath caught at his touch, his presence engulfing you in a whirlwind of emotions. Swallowing hard, you met his gaze, the words tumbling out in a rushed gasp, "I-I'm fine. Just fine."

But Wrecker wasn't easily swayed. His eyes held a silent inquiry, piercing through your facade. "What's on your mind then? Has someone hurt you?" He asks quickly, eyes wide as he looks around for a possible suspect.

“What? No, no nothing like that Wrecker.” You say with a soft laugh, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach with how protective he was. “It’s.. it’s complicated.”

Relief washes over him and offers a smile, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. "If it's about fixing up the Marauder, I'm afraid you're looking at the wrong guy."

You chuckled softly, but a nervous energy bubbles beneath the surface. "Somehow, that seems less complicated."

His gaze lingered on you, his eyes so tender and captivating that you felt yourself getting lost in their depths. The urge to lean in and plant a kiss right then and there surged within you, tempting you to dive headfirst into your fantasies that had kept you up at night. But you resisted, swallowing back your nerves and summoning all the courage you could muster.

With a deep breath, you square your shoulders and lift your chin, meeting his gaze head-on. Here goes nothing. Or everything…

“So, I don’t really know how to say this and I am sorry if you feel any different towards me or if this ruins our friendship but I just…” Your words stumbled out in a jumbled mess, a chaotic spiral of thoughts and feelings colliding in your mind like asteroids in a meteor shower. Why were you mentioning Batcher? The ocean? What you ate last week with Phee and Omega? It was like your brain had taken a detour.

Wrecker's brow furrowed in bewilderment, his gaze searching yours for an answer amidst the storm of your flustered rambling. Your hands grew clammy, your knees threatening to buckle beneath you even as you remained seated. You rambled on, words tumbling out like a malfunctioning hyperdrive until, finally, you blurted it out.

"And I love you!"

"Huh?"

"I said achoo."

Your heart sank as Wrecker's expression morphed into one of confusion, tinged with an emotion you also couldn't quite decipher…

"You love me?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper for a man so loud, the words hanging heavy in the air between you.

"Did... did I say that?" You choked out, your voice barely audible over the thudding of your own heartbeat. Avoiding his gaze, you felt a lump form in your throat, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He nodded slowly, his mouth agape, as if struggling to process the revelation. "It's not somethin' I ever thought you'd say to me."

"Yes, well," you began, clearing your throat in an attempt to mask your nervousness and pent up emotions, already mentally planning your escape to the safety of the Marauder or perhaps even a boat to sail far, far away, "I thought you ought to know."

As you rose, Wrecker's gaze followed you, but before you could make your getaway, he was quick to intervene, standing and catching your arm with a gentle touch that rooted you in place. "Wait, don't just run away," he urged, turning you to face him with a tenderness that belied his usual gruff demeanor. "Do you mean it?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, words caught in your throat like a tangled net. "I did... I do. I do really mean it," you mumbled, unable to meet his gaze as he released your arm.

He smiles, soft and delicate unlike his rugged and scarred features. Aside from those eyes… eyes you’ve grown to adore due to the warmth that emanated from them. Trying not to get entranced again and make an even bigger di’kut of yourself, you took a step back but noticed him start to shift.

Watching him, even holding your breath as he took one, his next words hung in the air. "I like you."

Ouch.

Was this the dreaded ‘friend zone’? Would the ground open up and swallow you whole? You could only hope.

"Or, love you," he added quickly, seeing how your demeanor changed as your eyes began to gloss over. "Yeah, I really love you."

Stunned, you struggled to find your voice, bewildered with the weight of his confession. "Are you just saying that to be nice?"

In response, he closed the distance between you in two purposeful strides, his hand lifting to delicately trace the curve of your cheek before cradling it in his palm. A tremor of nerves passed through him, matching the fluttering in your own chest. Before you could utter his name, he silenced you with a tender press of his lips against yours.

Explosions ignited in your gut, your eyes widening in shock. Was this real, or just a figment of your wildest dreams? But, you were determined to seize the moment even if it wasn’t real. You melted into the kiss, arms winding around the back of his neck as you kissed him back with fervour. His smile against your lips sent shivers down your spine as his embrace tightened, drawing you closer against his broad chest.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his with a mix of warmth and hope. "I've wanted to do that for a while," you admitted, breathlessly. The question of how long however can remain a secret.

His laughter rumbled against you as he held you close. "You should've told me sooner! I was going mad."

"I could say the same thing," you retorted with a smirk, catching him off guard.

"Okay, okay. I should've," he agreed sheepishly. "But I never knew you'd feel the same way back. I didn't want to ruin what we already had."

"Well, luckily for us," you leaned up to steal another quick kiss, savouring the sensation of his lips against yours, "we don't have to worry about that, do we?"

A grin spread across his face. "I don't think so." With a playful sweep, he lifted you off your feet, and suddenly, the weeping maya tree wasn't just his favourite spot—it was yours too.

As it turned out, your worries had been for nothing.

Masterlist

Wrecker

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[silentsneezes]

Heyy me again… ahahah

Do you have any silco with allergies hc’s or maybe a k!nk Silco/Vander Zaundads fic?

Totally asking this with normal intentions, completely not obsessed or anything!

(Im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure i love your writing)

thank you anon!! trust me when i say i'm also gnawing at the bars of my enclosure... so here's almost 3k of sick v/ander and kink s/ilco

i'll probably continue this in the future, but between university and life things i haven't had as much time to write... so we'll see

anyways, this is set pre-everything in the show. you could read it as an au if you want!

The Last Drop on a Saturday is no fucking joke. Vander knows that full well, always double checking his list of opening tasks to ensure things run smoothly. Only a few hours after opening, the dimly lit, smoke-filled haven is already filled to its capacity. Earlier that day, there had been a boxing match held in a nearby arena, and it’s safe to say people are still riding that high. Vander picks up on arguments over bets that were won or lost, prideful drunkards boasting about how they’d been rooting for the champion all along.

The bar practically roars with the infectious excitement, only encouraged by the drinks the patrons continue to slam back. Vander doesn’t mind, he’s quite pleased with how popular his bar is, especially on nights where boxing matches occur. Everyone needs a good drink after a match, he supposes. Plus, the influx in business never hurts– people typically become more generous tippers the drunker they get. 

Vander works mindlessly as he pours drink after drink, zoning out to the sounds of raucous laughter, the clink of glass against wood, and the quiet kshhhh of the keg. The conversations are nothing more than a full-on-chorus, which has its pros and cons. 

On one hand, it allows Vander to zone out to the constant noise, letting himself work without second thought.

On the other hand, Vander feels like fucking shit. He’d been coming down with something the past couple of days, but he’d figured it wasn’t anything a few DayQuil couldn’t fix. Now, he’s beginning to realize that he was sorely mistaken in his initial dismissal of the cold. His usual charming grin doesn’t come as easily tonight, and when he wipes his brow, it’s not just due to the heat of the room. His skin is coated in a feverish sheen, his cheeks uncharacteristically flushed as he forces himself to work through his rising fever. 

The frequenters of the bars notice– at least those sober enough to– but they’ve seen this before. Vander’s tough. He’s the kind of guy who keeps his bar open for better or for worse, so when he’s sick, they just give him a look of silent understanding: he’ll be fine, he always is. 

As ‘fine’ as Vander might be, his movements are dulled by fever. He keeps moving, keeps working—filling mugs, passing shots, refilling drinks– functioning as if he’s on autopilot. His work is only interrupted as he hears the familiar drawl of his friend’s voice. 

“Is anybody home?” Silco asks with a slight smirk, looking Vander up and down as he takes a seat on the barstool closest to the sick man, observing his absent expression. Vander opens his mouth to reply, pausing momentarily to clear his throat before gruffly responding, “very funny, Silco,” sarcastically. He starts making Silco’s drink wordlessly, knowing exactly what the other likes. Vander doesn’t bother filling the silence between the two of them, letting the steady roar of auditory input wash over him. 

“Long day?” Silco questions, frowning as a nearby customer lets out a howl of laughter at his own joke, “I’ll bet you 20 gold coins he soils himself by the end of the night.” 

Vander finds it somewhat amusing how Silco always seems to take issue with the other patrons of the bar, as if he finds himself somewhat above this crowd. “I’d be an idiot to take you up on that,” Vander says with a tired grin, his lips barely curling upwards as he leans in, resting his weight on the bartop. He places the drink in front of Silco with a heavy thud, the glass almost too solid in his grip, as if it’s an anchor to keep him from slipping under the noise and fatigue. “You know how they get after boxing matches.”

“Oh, do I,” Silco replies, the words clipped, his voice carrying an immense judgement of those customers who lack any semblance of manners or public decency. He doesn’t like them, doesn’t trust them, but he does like Vander. 

Vander struggles to think up a response, his usual charm and banter replaced with a steady painful thrum threatening to become a migraine. The noise of the bar presses against his skull like a vice, and just as he finally manages to think up an adequate response, he feels it coming. A tickle in his nose, faint at first, but enough to make his breath catch as it buzzes through his sinuses. 

At first he tries to fight it, swiping at his nose roughly with the backside of his hand. His other hand searches his pockets for a rag, a handkerchief, anything. Unfortunately for him, the sneeze builds quickly. His eyes are forced to scrunch shut as his chest swells with an urgent, “hhHHHH-” and for a half-second, everything around him goes blurry, the pressure in his sinuses making his head swim, “hHHRRZZSCHHH’HUw!!”

Vander turns away from the bartop just in time, snapping forwards into his elbow with a resounding sneeze, one that grates his throat enough as to where he has to blink away a few tears. Silco watches with rapt attention, his abdomen pooling with hot attraction as he observes Vander’s broad frame nearly bend itself in two with the force of the sneeze. 

“Bless you,” Silco purrs, his voice low and sultry. The blessing practically rolls off of his tongue, and yet Vander knows it’s not just out of politeness. You see, Silco doesn’t just bless anyone. For him, offering a blessing is somewhat of a privilege, something one earns through continuous affection, and he and Vander are nothing if not affectionate. 

“I’ve got the whole damn package today—head full of cement and a nose that thinks it’s spring,” Vander mutters, barely able to keep the irritation out of his voice. Had he not known about Silco’s kink, he would’ve been entirely fed up with his body's need to sneeze. Except there’s a sliver of him that can’t help but relish the fact that he can make Silco squirm so easily. If he has to feel so utterly miserable, someone might as well enjoy it, right?

And he is miserable, nothing short of it. Silco, however, seems to be basking in Vander’s sickness, finding it difficult to resist the sight of his friend turned fuck-buddy turned… whatever it is they are now. 

“Why is it you insist on working when you’re sick?” Silco questions, knowing full-well the stubborn answer he’s about to receive– it’s the same every time. 

Except Vander doesn’t answer, letting Silco’s question hang in the air as he raises a hand to his nose. It’s back again, that bothersome, tantalizing itch that’s been wreaking havoc on his nose all night, “hhHHH’uh-”

At the sound of Vander’s hitch, Silco prepares himself for the imminent sneeze. Vander has never been one to have dramatic build ups when he’s sick– though allergies are an entirely different feat– rather, his sneezes come on quickly with one to two hitches beforehand. 

Unable to find a rag in time, Vander settles for cupping a broad hand over his nose and mouth, “hHHMMPH’DSSXCHHhew!” The sneeze is barely muffled against his palm, and Vander can feel moisture threatening to slip through his fingers. He pinches his nose between his thumb and his forefinger, gathering the residual mess and moving to wash his hands. 

When Vander returns to the bartop, he sees Silco, his gaze intensely focused, waiting with that unsettling calm, as if he could pounce at any moment. Had the countertop not been separating them, Vander is certain Silco would be draping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. And god does he want that. 

Just as Vander moves to prop himself against the bartop again, he hears a drunken, “Oi! Vander!” and groans internally, straightening up and snapping out of his exhausted haze. The woman, a regular frequenter of the bar, leans against the other side of the counter with a casual air, “Get me something strong, but nice. I’ve got a lady to impress,” she says with a smirk. Usually, Vander would have the energy to engage in some sort of playful banter, perhaps asking the customer as to who she’s pursuing tonight. Instead, he rattles off a few drink options, giving her a sideways glance as she chooses the strongest of the drinks he’d proposed, “You sure? It’s got one hell of a kick.”

The customer dismisses his warning with a wave of her hand and a chuckle, “I’m feeling lucky today.”

“Liquid luck,” Silco tuts almost inaudibly from his seat, though it goes unheard by anyone aside from Vander, “what a foolish concept.”

Vander’s lips curl into a slight smirk at the sound of Silco’s words, but he forces himself to maintain focus. He has a job to do. With a sigh, Vander grabs a glass, still feeling the steady ache that only a cold can instill. As he’s about to start mixing, he feels that nagging sensation in his nose return, the familiar tickle building once again. He grimaces, trying to hold it back for the sake of not sneezing into a customer's drink, but his body has a different plan. His breath hitches involuntarily, forcing him to pivot away from the countertop without even setting the glass down first. He draws in a final, urgent breath before snapping forwards and spraying the tiled floor with an uncovered, “hHHRRRSSXCHHHh’eHw!” 

As the sneeze fades, Vander stays still for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, his body still catching up with the sudden burst of pressure. He forces himself to stand upright, tending to the moisture clinging to his septum with his sleeve. He’d usually have a bit more decorum when it comes to covering and utilizing his sleeve as a tissue, for the sake of germs moreso than any feeling of embarrassment, but he’s too fucking tired tonight. 

“Salud,” the woman blesses absentmindedly, watching as Vander composes himself enough to make her drink, “you look sick as a dog,” she comments. Vander just continues mixing the drink, replying with a halfhearted, “that’s never stopped me before.”

“Touche.” Luckily, the woman leaves the conversation at that, exchanging the drink for a few gold pieces and making her way across the bar back to the person she’s trying to impress. 

“She’s right, you look terrible,” Silco says matter-of-factly, drawing Vander’s attention back to him. His fingers trail along the rim of his now empty glass, his expression smug as he receives an eye-roll in response. 

Vander doesn’t have time to reply as another customer approaches the bar, and he internally curses as he turns away from the one person in the bar he actually wants to see right now. His head throbs, the dull ache in his throat turning into a tight, bothersome burning sensation. As he prepares a round of shots, every movement feels slower than his last, his limbs growing heavier as the evening progresses. 

Finally, after what feels like hours, there’s a lull in drink orders, and Vander has the opportunity to return to his conversation with Silco. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries, instead saying, “you’ve got a handkerchief, no?”

“I always do,” Silco replies effortlessly, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he registers where this is going. Vander extends his hand wordlessly, becoming increasingly frustrated with his nose running like a faucet. 

“Use your words,” Silco tuts, though his eyes flick between Vander’s outstretched hand and his nose, reddened and irritated after being berated all day. 

“Silco,” Vander huffs huskily, evidently too exhausted to tolerate any sort of teasing, “give it here.”

“That’s no way to treat a customer.”

“Bullshit, you’re not a customer.”

“Hm, then what am I?” Silco asks, enjoying this far more than he should. His hand slips into the inner pocket of his vest, extracting his crimson red handkerchief from its resting place. He keeps it hidden in his lap, waiting for the perfect moment to submit to Vander’s request. 

“A brat.” 

Vander’s hand remains outstretched, waiting for Silco to drop the dominant act and give in. Fuck me Vander mentally curses as the itch swells in his nose again, forcing his wide nostrils to flare in protest. It’s like Silco was waiting for this moment—the vulnerability of Vander, flushed and slightly out of breath, his hitches almost an invitation. 

“I know you always hhhHave one on you. Give it to m-hHHH-me dammit,” Vander’s previously annoyed tone is replaced with one of urgency. Both he and Silco know damn well he can’t hold back for shit. 

Silco watches, waiting until the very last second before pressing the handkerchief into Vander’s palm. His fingers brush across the calloused skin of Vander’s hand, which is nearly twice the size of his. Vander clutches the handkerchief, turning on his heel and doubling over as a sneeze tears through him, “hHHHGGSXCHHH’Hh’ugh!”

“Bless you,” Silco purrs once again, silently cursing the countertop separating him from the sick man. He can feel his arousal making itself known, pressing against the tight confines of his pants, “You’ll be making that up to me, you know I don’t share–” he begins, but Vander cuts him off. 

“I’ve been pudting on a show for you all nighd. Don’d be so greedy,” he mumbles huskily, the congestion in his voice dulling certain consonants. Vander gives his nose a strangled blow. It’s unsuccessful at first, eliciting a huff of frustration from the man. With both hands holding the handkerchief over his nose, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the next attempt. The second noseblow is much more productive, clearing his airways as best they can be with a cold ravaging his nose.

“That’s better,” Vander acknowledges, tucking the– already soiled– handkerchief into his back pocket and moving to wash his hands again. Silco, having been observing Vander’s every move, shifts to relieve some of the pressure in his pants. 

“It’s a shame you have to work,” he comments idly, knowing full well that Vander could’ve called someone in to cover his shift, “I’ve heard a good fuck is quite the cure-all for colds.” 

Silco’s bluntness never fails to catch Vander’s attention. People typically shy away from expressing their kinks, especially one as bizarre as sneezing, but Silco treats it as he does anything that can bring him sexual gratification: without shame– though don’t be mistaken, he’s eager to indulge in humiliation when given the chance. 

Vander knows exactly what Silco is alluding to, weighing the benefits of closing early or calling someone to take his place. His stubbornness and grit can only last so long, it seems, as he leans heavily against the bartop again. 

Grinning as he recognizes the slight defeat in Vander’s expression, Silco presses on, “Would it be so terrible to take a night off? I’d stay, of course, to attend to your needs.”

Vander looks up, his eyes traveling from the smirk on Silco’s face to his slightly unbuttoned top– had his chest been so visible before, so appealing? His view of Silco’s slim waist is blocked by the counter, but he’s almost certain Silco’s hard to some extent; it really only takes a few sneezes to get him going. After all, Vander’s are his favorite. 

“Fine,” he agrees stubbornly, glancing at the clock. Typically, The Last Drop would stay open well into the night and through the earliest hours of the morning, but it’s only 11:30 and Vander feels like dead weight. He leans down, searching for the bar-phone he keeps next to the especially expensive liquors. Upon finding it, he dials an employee's number despite the guilt ringing through his mind. He’s not one to give up easily, and he’s certainly given one hell of a fight to make it through this shift, but the promise of a quieter room and Silco’s attention is enough to sway him. 

“Jay? I’m sorry to ask, but–,” Vander pauses as his breath hitches, the itch suddenly returning with a vengeance. He holds the receiver as far away as possible, ducking to the side and clamping his other hand over his nose, “hhHHHGDTSCHHH’huew!” 

Apparently, Jay could still hear the utter desperation of the expulsion from over the phone– and was left to imagine the mess it made, and trust, it was messy– and is quick to say, “I’ll be there in twenty. Try not to drop dead by then.”

TBC…

as always, any reblogs, tags, and comments are very much appreciated!! i experimented with a different writing style with this fic, so any feedback is appreciated as well :3

[glossdebut]

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

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✧ the majority of my works will contain some form of explicit sexual content and are not intended to be read by anyone under the age of 18. minors DNI! if your age isn't easily visible on your blog, i will not follow back. if you are a minor, you will be blocked from seeing my posts.

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✧ any fic that i post is purely and entirely fictional in every single way imaginable. nothing that i write/post is intended to reflect how i feel about any of the members of bts. i do not know these men personally and i am not writing anything under the impression that i do. consider the members as face/name claims in my fics.

✧ do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing without my express permission to do so.

✧ bts antis will be blocked on sight. this goes for solos as well, but that will probably be harder to catch. i don't have anything to offer you! the tannies are soulmates in every universe including my fictional ones, and you WILL see members other than your desired member in my fics, even if they are not a part of the main couple. sorry! die mad.

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[☁︎] angst ✧ [❀] fluff ✧ [დ] smut

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『 seokjin x fem!reader, exes to lovers 』

SUMMARY: You haven’t heard from your ex, Seokjin, in a year. When you're invited to his best friend Yoongi's engagement party, you know you should say no, that you should just leave it alone. But you can't pass up the chance to show Seokjin what he lost.

⇢ S E R I E S !

TAKE A BITE ⇢ ❀ ☁︎ დ

『 yoongi x fem!reader, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers, slow burn 』

SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

『 STATUS: COMPLETE 』

PRICE OF FAME ⇢ ☁︎ დ

『 yoongi x fem!reader, rockstar yoongi, model reader, enemies to lovers, slow burn 』

SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

『 STATUS: ONGOING 』

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STUDY BREAK ⇢ ❀ დ

『 yoongi x fem!reader, college au, established relationship 』

SUMMARY: Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t. As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world. 

COMING HOME (A TAKE A BITE DRABBLE)⇢ ❀ დ

『 yoongi x fem!reader, established relationship 』

SUMMARY: Yoongi’s been working hard lately, with lots of late nights holed up in his studio. When you wake up with no recollection of him coming home last night, you decide to show him just how much you’ve missed him.

EVERYTHING I WANT (A TAKE A BITE DRABBLE COLLECTION)⇢ ❀ დ

『 yoongi x fem!reader, established relationship 』

SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

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[colourstreakgryffin]

If it's okay can I please ask for a platonic yandere Adam and Eve with you komori

Reader that still has PTSD from being used as a blood bag

And still has the heeled bit marks

To give you a description on her she's super sweet kind-hearted careful and shy

If you are uncomfortable with this you don't have to take this request

To be honest! I would never imagine I’d see my beloved father and mother become Yandere but you know what! I wanna check this out and see what I can do so let’s try it out!

Yandere! Adam and Eve- Broken Little Heart

The parents of humanity had always loved their children. Every single one, their attachment to mankind went to all the souls but yet. Neither of the couple could have predicted finding one child of their own to be so wonderful, their lives would change for good

You… a innocent little girl rescued by Adam after he and his dear wife, Eve found out you were being treated as a blood bag by a bunch of older men. Adam may love his children but his protective nature over actual children beat that as he beat down the men with Eve running to your rescue to pick you up

The parents of humanity grew attached to you very quick, out of their natures to simply love children but their love for you wasn’t very normal. It started relatively innocent but then it got it corrupted over their obsession to keep you as their child

Adam grew obsessively protective and talkative with you. You cannot touch anything without Adam taking it from you and examining it to make sure it’s safe for you whilst he holds you to his chest. He is rather controlling but he always proclaims it’s for your safety and nothing more as he holds you in his lap

Eve is clingy and possessive. She constantly follows you around, much like Adam and she always tries to hug you, hold you and cuddle you to her bare chest. She needs affection from her beloved little daughter; just focus on her, not whatever you’re playing with

Their presences are suffocating as they’ll never let you have a breath of your own. One or both are around 24/7 and it seems to you, they view you as a precious little infant that needs constant parenting, due to your past trauma

Both parents love how sweet-hearted, shy and careful you are. You’re the embodiment of purity and innocence, and that must be protected at all causes, their want to protect you drove both of them to become so unhinged and possessive over you, they can’t interact with others without snapping

Adam and Eve are nowhere near as obsessive and crazed over their actual biological sons then they are to you. They do love their sons with all their hearts but for you, you require so much care and attention that looking after you draws away all of their time from the two boys that actually share their blood and DNA

They both understand how emotionally fragile you are. You’re cheerful and optimistic, with a naive and indecisive streak, this behaviour further drives Adam and Eve to take charge of you and ensure nothing can hurt you. Ensure you grow love for them back, no matter what

Eve loves comparing your light blonde hair to Adam’s. You can come off as their biological child very easily and honestly… you don’t really mind as on your end, you don’t recognise their blaring Yandere-like traits, you only notice their intense parental love for you… finally, a true family

The more you respond positively to their parenting, the more their Yandere traits grow and when anybody tries to intervene, it’s get messy. Adam throws hands with literally anybody who hurts you in the most brutal manner whilst Eve picks you up and yells at the person at the top of her lungs

How dare anybody hurt your precious little feelings? Anybody who does shall pay a huge price

The parents will never ever force their ideals of living onto you. You don’t want to be naked because it’s cold and uncomfortable? That’s completely fine to them, as long as it makes you happy. That’s all they care about, that you’re happy with them

And you truly are happy with them. They may be corrupted and with black poisonous souls now but they are both such caring, loving parents that rejecting them would be a silly idea. They have flaws but Adam and Eve are the best parental figures you’ve ever had

Both Adam and Eve will never let your PSTD damage you anymore. They’ll do everything they can to ensure it never affects you again, Adam continues to play with you in a soft manner as Eve brushes her fingers through your hair to further comfort you

All in specific strategies to help you get over your trauma for good and not care so much about those bite and needle scars on your skin anymore

“My little one, are you okay? Oh. A child scared you with stories about vampires? Do not worry now, your father is here to protect you from all of the scary bad things. Okay? May we hug so I can prove to you I’ll always be here”

“My baby daughter! What happened? Did you scrap your knee? Oh no! Don’t worry, mother will make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore! Here, let me pick you up, Mother will heal you and make all the pain go away forever!”

[pablitogavii]

AAAAAAAAH I luvvvved your gavi caring for the sick reader. Could You Do it the other way around? Like the reader caring for him while he’s sick and very clingy n adorable 🥺 💙

Sick Babyboy

We came back from Ibiza a few days ago and Pablo had been coughing a lot as well as getting very tired quickly.

"Maybe we should check your fever cariño??" I asked but he refused saying that he was just jet lagged and that he will be fine soon. After another day, I was convinced that he was indeed sick.

"Just do it and then you can tell me that I'm wrong. Please, cariño..for me" I pouted and he finally agreed to let me check his temperature which quickly showed that he was indeed feverish.

"I guess you were right princesa.." he said adorably and I chuckled nodding my head and putting the thermometer away and grabbing his hand pulling him towards our shared bedroom.

I slowly unbuttoned his shirt while he smirked being dirty minded as he was placing his large hands on my hips in response.

"I might be sick princesa..but I can surely make you feel good" he whispered starting to pull up my shirt but I stopped him shaking my head and chuckling at the same time at his confused face.

"You should wear something more comfortable while I go make you some soup and bring you cough medicine" I said and he groaned feeling achy while taking off his hands and socks.

When I came back, Pablo was already in bed with a remote in his hand smiling towards me. I placed the bowl into his lap and he started eating the warm broth while flipping through channels landing on the Spain Junior game.

"How is it cariño??" I asked as he finished the last of the soup giving me back the bowl with a bright smile on his face. He already looked and sounded a little better thankfully.

"So delicious..thank you princesa" he said puckering his lips and you smiled pecking them before bringing the bowl back to the kitchen.

"Vamos! Vamos!!!" Pablo was yelling to the TV when I walked in giving him a warning glare as he shut up feeling his throat hurt.

"You should drink some cough medication amor" I said pouring enough into the cup and giving it to him but he pouted like a baby refusing to take it.

"But princesa it tastes disgusting!" he said and you smiled shaking your head at his childish answer reminding him that it will help if he takes it.

"How about we make a deal? If you take the cough medicine, I will cuddle you for the rest of the day?? Hm?" I said knowing it was an offer he would refuse and he took the cup quickly drinking all of it.

"Cuddle me now princesa??" he said with big eyes his bushy eyebrows raising up and I nodded putting down the cup and laying besides him as his head rested on my chest and his strong muscular hand went around my body.

We laid there together watching the game and I ran my hand through his messy curls which seemed to make him sleepy since he nuzzled his face further into my neck and stopped to pay attention to the game all together.

I though he had fallen asleep until I felt wet kisses left on my neck making me look down smiling at his adorable blushed face making me wonder how could anybody ever hate such an adorable boy??

"Te amo princesa.." he whispered into my neck and I smiled kissing the top of his forehead which was still a little warm but hopefully it will subside after he sleeps.

"Te amo Pablito.." I said back and he smiled nodding his head as hi hold on my waist tightened and he finally let himself completely relax and fall asleep in my arms.

Ik it's not long..but hope you like it <33

[just-a-casual-newtasaur]

Ask and thee shall receive:

His Tommy

His Tommy (Newtmas)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: graphic descriptions, insanity, depressed Newt, SPOILERS, blood, self exiting, guns/knifes, please tell me if I missed any

Summary: Newt’s flare is getting worse and even Thomas can’t help him now.

(For @ssseashell and anybody else who’s been looking for this. Not my finest work but it’s something)

He stared blankly at the boy, not entirely sure what to do. He recognised him, there was warmth and happiness linking with this boy, but no, that couldn’t be right. The voices, they told him that the munies were bad, they kept him safe, the voices did.

His voice was soft but it sounded like one thousand tiny knives that pierced Newt’s ears, “Hey. Newt. It’s me, Thomas. You still remember me, right?”

That was it. Thomas. That greenie, the one who had hovered on the edge of his decaying mind for a long time. He was his friend, wasn’t he? And yet Newt would not forget how the boy had ignored his note.

How could he? What kind of friend would leave him like he was, trapped with his insanity and the voices. No, that wasn’t right, the voices were his friend, the voices kept him safe. But, wasn’t Thomas his friend? No, he couldn’t be, what kind of friend didn’t even fill out his final request.

“I bloody remember you, Tommy. You just came to see me at the Palace, rubbed it in that you ignored my note. I can’t go completely crazy in a few days.”

The boys hazel eyes filled with sadness and hurt but he felt no sympathy. This was not his friend, the voices told him so.

“Then why are you here? Why are you with … them?” He looked towards the cranks and Newt found the voices telling him what to say. Besides, the words were true, weren’t they? The voices knew best.

“It comes and goes, man. I can’t explain it. Sometimes I can’t control myself, barely know what I’m doing. But usually it’s just like an itch in my brain, throwing everything off-kilter just enough to bother me—make me angry.”

“You seem fine right now.”

Newt would have smiled if he wasn’t so angry with the boy. Did he really think he could ignore his note and then pretend that everything was fine and expect him to pretend nothing had changed. That he hadn’t changed.

“Yeah, well. The only reason I’m with these wackers from the Palace is because I don’t know what else to do. They’re fighting, but they’re also a group. You find yourself alone, you don’t have a bloody chance.”

“Newt,” Thomas started softly, “come with me this time, right now. We can take you somewhere safer, somewhere better to …”

Newt laughed humourlessly his head twitching as he did so. How could he possibly suggest him? Did he even know what Thomas had put him through.

No, Thomas is our friend, he wants to help us, it was a small squeak in the back of his head, the part of his brain not contaminated by the flare.

But the voices knew best, and so he should abide to their wishes.

“Get out of here, Tommy. Get away.”

“Just come with me,” Thomas was begging now, his eyes wide. “I’ll tie you up if it makes you feel better.”

This made Newt snap, “Just shut up, you shuck traitor! Didn’t you read my note? You can’t do one last, lousy thing for me? Gotta be the hero, like always? I hate you! I always hated you!”

But that wasn’t true, he didn’t really hate Thomas, did he? He didn’t even know anymore.

“Newt …” Thomas tried again but Newt continued, “It was all your fault! You could’ve stopped them when the first Creators died. You could’ve figured out a way. But no! You had to keep it going, try to save the world, be the hero. And you came to the Maze and never stopped. All you care about is yourself! Admit it! Gotta be the one people remember, the one people worship! We should’ve thrown you down the Box hole!”

He didn’t know why he was so angry but he couldn’t help himself. Someone shouted something from behind Thomas, “I’m gonna blast him! Get out of the way!”

“Don’t! It’s just me and him! Don’t do anything!”

Why the hell was Thomas defending him, he was evil. Evil, evil, evil, and Newt hated him. But did he really?

“Newt, stop. Just listen to me. I know you’re okay in there. Enough to hear me out.”

He almost laughed again, but instead curled his lip in disgust, “I hate you, Tommy!”

The boy looked hurt and even, a little frightened. He took a step away from Newt, with only added to his rage.

“I hate you I hate you I hate you! After all I did for you, after all the freaking klunk I went through in the bloody Maze, you can’t do the one and only thing I’ve ever asked you to do! I can’t even look at your ugly shuck face!”

He was becoming more and more riled by the second, spit dripping from his mouth as he glared at Thomas. The boy took two more steps backward and said quietly, “Newt, you need to stop. They’re going to shoot you. Just stop and listen to me! Get in the van, let me tie you up. Give me a chance!”

That was his ticking point. All his built up rage bubbled over and he let out an animalistic scream of fury, rushing towards Thomas. A fizz of electricity rushed past his ear but he ignored it, pinning down Thomas and continued to scream at him.

“I should rip your eyes out. Teach you a lesson in stupidity. Why’d you come over here? You expected a bloody hug? Huh? A nice sit-down to talk about the good times in the Glade?”

Thomas shook his head, gasping for breath, Newt saw him groping around for his gun.

“You wanna know why I have this limp, Tommy? Did I ever tell you? No, I don’t think I did.” His voice was cold.

“What happened?” Thomas asked, his fingers wreathing around his weapon.

“I tried to kill myself in the Maze. Climbed halfway up one of those bloody walls and jumped right off. Alby found me and dragged me back to the Glade right before the Doors closed. I hated the place, Tommy. I hated every second of every day. And it was all … your … fault!”

The voices told him to kill Thomas, to kill him for what he did to all of them, but he held out. The small sane part of him told him that Thomas was his friend. He deserved to try and redeem himself.

He grabbed the hand that Thomas had holding his gun and pressed it to his own forehead.

“Now make amends! Kill me before I become one of those cannibal monsters! Kill me! I trusted you with the note! No one else. Now do it!”

“I can’t, Newt, I can’t.” He tried to wrench his hand away but Newt wouldn’t let him.

“Kill me, I trusted you, I trusted you.”

“Newt I can’t.”

“KILL ME!”

“Newt I-“

He couldn’t take it anymore. All the rage he had ever kept bottled up seemed to gush out of him like a waterfall. His mind had completely slipped, that one sane part of him gone. He didn’t think, not in the slightest. All he knew was that there was a traitor in front of him. And so he complied to the voices.

Grabbed the knife out of his belt, he curled it in his fingers and brought it down on the boys chest, screaming loudly.

Scarlet spurted out of the wound and Thomas’ wide scared eyes fixed on him. His mouth curled into a twisted, manic smile as he watched the life drain out of those eyes. Thomas’ chest heaved and then moved no more, with eyes glazed over and his mouth hanging open a little.

Newt looked into his eyes and something shifted in his stomach. He was sent back to the time that he first saw those eyes. Wide and scared, glancing around wildly. He remembered when Thomas came up in the box. It was as though he saw him clearly for the first time.

His eyes flitted from the body of the boy and his own clothes, stained in scarlet blood. And he screamed. Screamed so loud it seemed to tear at his throat. His whole body shook and tears began to fall.

He had given in, lost to the voices. He had killed. Not just anyone. He had killed Thomas.

Thomas. Thomas, who would give him small soft smiles from across the glade. Thomas, who would grip at his arm when the grievers attacked the homestead. Thomas, who would curl next to him in the scorch, using his own body to keep Newt warm during the night.

He had killed him. His sunlight. His smile, His world. His everything. He had killed his Tommy.

And with that thought, he grabbed the gun from Thomas’ hand with his own shaking ones and pressed it to his forehead. He pulled the trigger, feeling a blinding flash of pain before a sort of numb feeling. His ears rung and his eyelids grew heavy.

He needed to sleep, if he were to just close his eyes for a moment. But he needed to do something first. His body had fallen next to Tommy’s and he looked into the boy’s eyes, lifting himself laboredly and pressing a soft kiss to the boy’s lips. They were still warm.

“Goodbye Tommy.” He whispered to the boy, and then he laid back, and went to sleep.

[vrisrezis]

Guys this is au where suguru isn’t insane cuz in my mind he deserves eternal happiness and to be surrounded by people that love him and to live a long life and- yea anyways basically au where that didn’t happen and kuroi and Riko r actually fine

Also reader is considered to be on equal footing with geto and gojo, fellow “strongest” if you will :p

Also this was originally short hcs on how geto woos his stoic crush but I got carried away

Not proof read made this at like 3 am alr I’m so tired and sick and insane and this is probably terrible

I am under the believe suguru doesn’t even have to try to woo you, no matter how cold blooded and closed off you can be. Suguru is such a sweet man that it’s hard not to fall in love. No matter how much you try to reject it, it will happen one way or another. That doesn’t mean he knows it, but he will still have that power over you regardless. He has such a sickly sweet laugh, it’s impossible to not stare and admire. It’s impossible to not make your heart race, to not feel that sudden heat on your cheeks that thankfully isn’t noticeable. His genuine smile has you on cloud nine, but your favorite is when he shyly looks away from your hard gaze that never softens, despite how the male makes you feel deep within your very soul. The world will never know how bad you have it for him. Suguru is rather closed off about his affections towards you himself, though not nearly as much. Besides he makes it pretty obvious to you anyway, as you are somebody who has mastered the art of hiding how you truly feel. It’s in your blood to read through any facade, especially somebody you pay such close attention to.

Suguru, at first, is overly polite with a shy smile. The attempts in becoming a friend are certainly there, but he’s not as bold as his best friend is, so it’s a rather slow progression. And honestly, without gojos help, he wouldn’t have been able to form such a close bond with you over time thanks to how extroverted the white haired male can be. Regardless, over time as he grows more comfortable with being your friend, he teases you, he even shows subtle ways of being affectionate, typically through casual, physical touch. A hand or elbow on your shoulder, fixing your hair, etc. though he could be bolder, your general personality drives him away from closer and more intimate touches. He still gets rather shy around you, and when you grow comfortable enough to be in close proximity of him, his cheeks get all red. Which you secretly think is adorable. His general shyness around you indicates his affections towards you as well, he’s constantly left wondering if you can just feel how much his heart constantly pounds around you. Or if you feel his gaze on you during class. He wonders if you appreciate his kind gestures, constantly trying to take you out and buy you food or simply buying you things you’ve learnt to open up to him about enjoying. He wonders if you know how grateful he is and how special he feels, knowing you of all people trust him with things you wouldn’t trust just anybody with, even if it’s something as small as admitting to the games you like playing.

You’re both smitten for eachother, one way or the other. You’re not completely clueless to it like he is, but you’re scared. You’re scared of vulnerability, you’re scared to love another human being. Because that means admitting to weakness. It means admitting that you’ve let another person get the best of you, when you’ve worked you’re entire life trying to be as strong as you possibly could be, to not let a single person in, to only be able to rely on yourself, because you’re the only one that’s trustworthy, letting people in gets you hurt, leaves you broken. All that time, building up those walls, all the pain and abuse and torture you went through, was all broken by some pretty boy in the matter of seconds. And for some god damn reason you welcomed it with open arms. And for some god damn reason, you don’t regret it. You feel the happiest you ever felt. It’s strange, cause before him you think you didn’t even know what happiness really felt like. All you knew was pain, all you knew was people would hurt you if you got too close. A part of you thinks, you were happy because you finally learnt how to love another, and you finally learnt what it felt like to have another love you. You know he loves you for you, not in spite of you. But a part of you, just can’t believe it was so easy, so effortless. Not only to love him, but to be loved. You chased endlessly after your family, to pay attention and to give a damn and for them to show some sign they cared. The day never came. But now you know, that love isn’t something you should bend yourself over backwards for. Love isn’t forced, it is natural. And yet, you felt yourself trying to go back to your old ways, in fear of history repeating itself.

You tried pushing him away, again. After everything that happened with toji, you realized you could lose geto in an entirely new way and you were not willing to go through that again. You needed him away from you, out of your life. You needed to focus on being a jujutsu sorcerer, that was what was most important.

You were exhausted. And it’s no question why.

Once again you are training at a rather late hour, something you seem to have been doing nonstop since you “failed” to deal with toji in time before your two boys nearly died in the process. You were always very hard on yourself for things like these, one of the few things you were pretty open about was your personal failures. Doesn’t matter to you that you were stabbed in the stomach, that you shouldn’t be training, you didn’t care. Things like this never stopped you, why should it now? Besides, you’ve been through worse.

Suguru had tried countless times to get you to stop, this included gojo and even shoko, too. But you didn’t listen. You never listened to them anyway.

But the moment he sees this going on for officially five days straight, he’s had enough.

“Still at it, huh?” he says, but you don’t even bother to stop and look at him. It’s become routine at this point for him to come and try to get you out of this motion you’ve been stuck in. Besides that, you’ve been trying to keep him at arms length. You don’t bother saying anything, putting both your fists out to have your hands let out a particularly smaller fire than what you normally would’ve made. You stop for a brief moment, huffing at the lack of results.

“Maybe some sleep will do you good?” he suggests, but you don’t bother to look at him as you continue your training, seemingly ignoring him. He lets out a sigh, suguru is not one to be stern with you. Out of the two of you, you’re the one that does the scolding, though it’s typically towards gojo, it’s been towards the raven haired male on several occasions, due to his overconfidence in a lot of the situations he’s constantly being put in.

“Don’t push everyone away, y/n.” he says, his voice being the most stable you’ve ever heard it. His voice is firm, rigid, even. “Don’t push me away.”

There’s a moment where you stop, a brief moment, but it’s enough for him to quickly put a hand on your shoulder. You look down, your back facing him. Your hands are clenched in fists in a feeble attempt to make yourself seem strong, to make yourself seem unfazed, unavailable. You don’t need anyone. You don’t need him, either. Why have you suddenly convinced yourself you do? You’ve lived your entire life without him. Why does it suddenly feel like you need him? It’s not fair.

You grit your teeth, but you finally allow him to turn you around.

He finally gets a real good look at you, for the first time in a couple days. He noticed you were losing weight, sleep too, but he didn’t think it got this bad. He lets out a guilty sigh at the pure sight of you, and you hate how it sounds. Like he’s pitying you. But honestly, how can you blame him? You are a pitiful sight. It’s a disgrace to consider yourself one of the strongest.

“Whens the last time you ate?” he finally manages to ask you, “slept?” his voice is laced with concern, but you don’t meet his worried gaze. “Who knows..” you shrug, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “Are you done worrying about me, cuz I have shit to do.” you say, in your usual nonchalant manner. Trying to pull off this facade this late has you exhausted.

You two haven’t been very intimate with one another, but suguru finds his soft hand on your cheek anyway, causing you to look up at the male in front of you. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, “don’t hide from me, please?” he says, “this has been hard for me and satoru too but… even we are learning that we’re okay, what’s got you so messed up over this?”

You look up at him, you don’t push himself way anymore. You accept him with open arms.

“I feel like I failed you all.” you admit. “I feel as though there’s something I could’ve done. The mistakes I made on that mission nearly cost kuroi and rikos lives, I wasn’t good enough. I cannot forgive myself for that.”

He pulls his hand away from your face, you almost want to glare at him for the lack of touch, but he grabs your hands instead. “Jeez..” he says, sounding pretty tired himself. “You’re always too hard on yourself y/n. It was me that practically failed to protect them, you’re the one that saved them, you know. And, if it weren’t for you, that fushiguro wouldn’t even be dead right now. If you’re really beating yourself up over that, please don’t.”

You sigh, looks away from him, “I just don’t … want to fail again. More than anything I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

Suguru seems to take in your words, as if something was finally clicking with him.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asks, and you almost want to cringe at his words. You quietly nod.

“Y/n, Cmon. You could never lose me. One of the strongest, remember?” he says, a soft smile peaking through, but you shake your head, taking your arms away from his. He frowns, seeing you retract again. “Yeah well, I almost did. I almost wasn’t enough to stop you from dying. I was almost the reason you died.” you say, and honestly it’s the first time since you were a young child you let anger drip from your voice. He almost hates it’s directed towards him. But a part of him knows he need to let it out somehow, someway, after everything you seem to constantly bottle up.

“There was a time in my life I had nothing, suguru. And now I have everything. I have you. I am not willing to lose that. Anytime I form a connection with anyone, I lose them. That cannot happen to me again.”

You feel arms wrap around you. It’s sudden, “tch- do you not listen to me when I talk? Yknow, I should really kill you.” you threaten, but as his hand comes in contact with the back of your head to stroke your hair, you fall silent. “I love you.” he admits, quietly.

“I don’t care how you feel about me,” he continued, “but no matter what, I want to be there for you. You won’t lose me, you know? I’ll always come back to you. Cause my love for you is so strong, it’s enough for me to change fate itself, to escape even the clutches of death. I love you so much, I would do absolutely anything to make sure you wouldn’t lose me. It’s okay to let me in, fully and unapologetically.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t regret opening up to me.”

It takes you a minute, but you finally allow him in. You wrap your arms around him, you let yourself cry for the first time since you were a child, for the first time in front of anyone since you were an infant, you allow yourself to finally grieve, to cry, to feel.

And you welcome it, with open arms.