#because as much as I think the main tag needs to hear this I don't feel like blocking a bunch of assholes at the moment

[amplexadversary]

I'm going to say something controversial but all the people arguing over whether Liliana "deserves" to be saved are maybe missing the point in favor of the puritanism that's been moldering into fandom.

It's fiction. Unless a character annoys you for a personal reason or you have a really good argument that a character biting it would make for a better story, you're generally expected to sympathize with the protagonists. The factor that decides if Liliana deserves to be saved is that the party wants to put in the effort to save her.

That's all there is to it.

[lost-and-ephemeral]

Could you please do LDS boys +

Caleb reacting to reader being injured/severely injured?<3

HCs: You're Injured (ft. main trio + Caleb)

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader, Caleb x reader (seperate)

Tags: hurt/comfort, reader is injured but won't die

A/N: Thanks for your request! First time writing for Caleb, yay. Sorry if it isn't good enough, I'm not feeling so good since morning.

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´- 

Caleb

"Hold on, pip-squeak, I'm right here."

Your exhausted body, covered in wounds from the battle with Wanderer, was ready to collapse to the ground if Caleb hadn't caught you in time.

He knew how dangerous your job was, but that didn't make him any less worried.

You protected him but got hurt in the process.

He's frustrated and angry because there's no way he could've protected you in that situation.

And Caleb just hates this feeling, but trying to stay calm for your sake. His emotions could only make everything worse.

"Sometimes even big girls need someone else's help. Right? And I'm here for you."

Concern was written all over his face, he couldn't hide it even if he really tried. The last thing he wanted was to see you hurt, especially like this.

He was supposed to be your main protector back then. But now things have changed.

You had really grown a lot, not just physically, but mentally too.

It was just hard to accept you're no longer a little girl.

Yes, you are strong and mature. But Caleb kept holding you like you were the most fragile being in the world.

He will give you first aid as quickly as he can, while calling an ambulance. Caleb is not the kind of person who would risk your life trying to handle this situation on his own.

Definitely going to the hospital with you while holding your hand and talking to you. He'll be around as long as it takes.

Probably will fall asleep on the chair near your hospital bed.

No doubt he'll continue to look after you like he did when you both were younger.

Rafayel

"No, no, no. Don't even think about leaving me like this!"

Maybe sometimes Rafayel was overly dramatic, but he's actually afraid of losing you again.

When he saw that you were injured after not-so-pleasant encounter with Wanderers, his facade of self-confidence instantly cracked.

Rafayel started panicking and it was clear from the look on his face as he crouched beside you, seeing how you trying to cover the wound by your bloody hands.

Not again. No.

All these years he had to watch you die over and over again, losing all memories of him.

Rafayel instantly began to examine your wounds, holding you close. He didn't care if his perfectly white shirt will be covered in blood as well.

He needed to be sure you won't die this time.

And his playful attitude is gone completely.

"Don't you dare to die on me, you hear? I won't forgive you. Ever. Promise me. Promise me you won't die."

He tried to remain calm and ignore the suffocating feeling of anxiety that has been slowly rising in his chest. But he couldn't.

Will do everything to stop the bleeding while help is on it's way. You can feel his hands trembling.

He'd better die for you himself, not vice versa.

I swear, this man is gonna get the whole hospital on alert. Nurses and doctors can be mad at him as much as they want. It doesn't matter to him.

Rafayel won't rest and eat properly until you get better. He just physically can't.

"Don't scare me like this ever again, please."

Xavier

"I failed you."

You accidentaly got injured during your mission. And poor Xavier decided it was totally his fault.

You both found yourself surrounded by enemies and before he could even react, one of them attacked you, leaving a deep wound on your side.

Needless to say, in the next couple of seconds all Wanderers were completely destroyed, and Xavier was fully focused on you.

This isn't the first time you've been injured during a mission. But each time Xavier is as worried as always.

Especially when your injuries are so severe.

Will administer first aid on the spot, even the bare minimum, before carrying you to safety.

With Wanderers around, it's not going to be easy to get you out of this dangerous zone. So Xavier needs to stabilize you a little at first.

"I won't let you get hurt again. I promise."

He is already experienced in these situations, so he's able to keep his emotions under control. But that doesn't mean that deep inside he isn't worried sick about you.

Will be looking for anything to treat your wound and avoid infection.

Guilt will slowly eat him up from the inside no matter what. He had to protect you, but he failed to do so.

Even if you assure him it's just an accident, Xavier just shakes his head in response.

As soon as you can get out, he'll take you to the hospital. It is unlikely that his skills will be enough to make your wound heal properly.

Better safe than sorry.

He still has a lot of work to do, but he'll come to you whenever he has a spare minute.

Will probably act like a guilty puppy for a long time.

Zayne

"You're constantly putting yourself in danger."

Zayne has a hard time showing his feelings openly, especially when it comes to you, so it's no surprise that his display of concern felt like he was scolding you.

But in reality he's really, really worried about you every time.

He knew right away that you were in the hospital after another accident.

And as soon as Zayne had some time off between surgeries, he came to you.

Looking at you in the hospital bed, he felt his heart ache.

While he was desperately searching for a cure for your heart, you kept getting hurt again and again.

Even when you smiled, like if trying to reassure him everything's fine, Zayne only sighed and shook his head. You have no idea how hard it was to see you hurt and vulnerable like this.

He's already been informed of the severity of your wounds and how much blood you've lost.

And he could've lost you.

But Zayne can't let his emotions take over. There are still a few more difficult surgeries ahead where he cannot afford to make a mistake.

And if he starts panicking right in front of you, it's not going to speed up the healing process.

"I'd be happy if you took a more responsible approach to your health. Then I wouldn't have to be so worried."

He moved his chair closer to your bed and sat in silence for a while, squeezing your hand.

Zayne will stay around as long as his job lets him.

Don't be surprised to find candies or plushies you wanted on your nightstand.

You can ask him about these little gifts.

And watch carefully as a faint smile appears on his lips.

"Usually only children get so excited about toys. So it turns out you're not that far from being a child?"

[nakylvr]

— AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES!

zhou xinyu (triples) x fem!reader

warnings/tags: language, nsfw content, idol!xinyu, idol!reader, xinyu & reader are roommates, they almost get caught, wlw, lowkey perv!xinyu, dom!xinyu, sub!reader, fingering (r receiving)

main masterlist | triples masterlist

minors do not interact

being roommates with xinyu was fun. you two spent most of your off days together whether it meant going out or staying in the room with takeout and watching movies all day. that being said, you did notice some things during your time of being her roommate.

you didn't think much of it in the beginning. the stares that never left you even in a group of people. the touches that lasted a little longer than a normal bandmate or even friend would last. the thing was, you enjoyed it. maybe that's what got you in this current situation, sitting in between xinyu's legs on your bed with your panties pushed to the side as her fingers work their way inside of you. because god were you enjoying it now.

"shh, stay quiet for me. we don't want the others to hear, do we?" xinyu murmurs into your ear as her fingers slowly pump into you.

you shake your head, biting your lip to try and not make any noise but can't help and let out a few whimpers each time her fingers push back into you. "f-fuck," you whine quietly, your hips bucking against her hand as more whimpers leave your mouth.

"i know, feels good doesn't it?" xinyu whispers to you, leaving little kisses along your neck as her other hand roams up your chest under your shirt and gently squeezes your breast in her hand, groaning into your neck at the feeling of you tightening around her fingers. "you're so pretty like this, princess. doing so good for me, fuck i've been waiting for this, to make you cum on my fingers, to touch you like this, to kiss you," she lightly rambles as she continues to leave kisses on your neck.

hearing her words only make you wetter than you already were, and you let out a loud moan when she started fondling your tit in her hand, not being able to keep yourself quiet anymore. "feels so good, s-so good. please don't stop, please," you manage to get out through whimpers and moans that are getting louder as xinyu's fingers start moving faster.

"shh," xinyu moves her hand from your tit to your face, moving your head to look back at her as she kisses you. she curls her fingers inside you and you moan into the kiss to which she quickly slides her tongue in your mouth. your hand grasps the back of her neck to pull her closer to you as you grind into her hand, moaning every time she curls her fingers. you're too caught up in the pleasure you were feeling to hear footsteps from outside the room, and the sound of knocking on the door caused you to freeze.

"hey! we're ordering food for dinner, do you guys want anything specific?" nakyoung's voice is heard on the other side of the door.

xinyu pulls out of the kiss, but her fingers don't stop, leaving you letting out a quiet moan which she immediately covers your mouth with her hand to keep you quiet. "no, we're good!" she says loud enough for nakyoung to hear, smiling at you as she curls her fingers again right against your g-spot. your eyes roll back at the feeling as you moan loudly into her hand, your other hand grabbing her wrist of the hand that was pumping into you as you start grinding your hips with more need and desire.

"okay!" footsteps are heard walking away from the room and xinyu is looking at you with a devilish smile on her face at the desperation in your actions. "please," your voice comes out muffled through her hand, but you both know if she removes it then you'll end up giving yourself away of the whole thing currently happening.

"please what, baby?" xinyu asks in a teasing tone, her fingers slowing down to tease.

"please let me cum," you say past her hand. "please, xinyu, please," you should be embarrassed by asking this, but there's no embarrassment in your body right now. you're desperate for some kind of release.

"hm, i dunno," xinyu pretends to think about it. "will you let me do this more than just this once?" she says, her eyes staring deeply into yours.

you nod your head quickly as you try to get some more friction with the slow pace of her fingers by grinding your hips. "yes! yes, please! i want you. please make me cum!"

"fuck," xinyu breaths out at your words before thrusting her fingers into you at a quick pace. the sight of you desperately grinding your hips into her hand mixed with the wet sounds of your pussy has her going insane as she removes her hand from your mouth. "you gonna cum for me, princess?"

"yes! yes, yes! please!" you reply as soon as her hand is away from your mouth. you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening, threatening to snap as xinyu curls her fingers and hits your special spot again, making your eyes roll back again.

"cum for me," xinyu whispers before kissing you.

you moan into the kiss as she pushes her fingers in one more time and it causes you to snap, your legs shaking as you cum all over her fingers. you're holding onto her wrist with a tight grip that loosens the second you feel the euphoric wave crashing down on you, and your hips slow to a stop. xinyu pulls out of the kiss and slowly removes her fingers from you, putting them up to her mouth and licking them clean which makes you press your legs together at the sight.

"you taste good, too," xinyu murmurs. "you'll let me taste you more next time, right?"

your face heats up at the words but you nod your head. "yes," you answer. the look xinyu gives you after you answer is enough for you to start getting wet again and you know you got yourself into something you couldn't turn back on. not that you wanted to, though.

[kousanosgf]

men, minors dni

sevika x prostitute!reader

sometimes life gets worse, before it becomes better. luckily sevika ready to help you with it.

a\n: i hate how half of this fandom makes "sexy sevika in a brothel" jokes. this was written with the strong despisement for anyone who supports swork and thinks that it's freeing in any shape or form. it's NOT a light one, i'd say, so please be careful with the content you're consuming. also inform me if i should change something about the tags or tws

tw: mention of suicide, not explicit describtion of SA, drug abuse

tags: angst, hurt\comfort (kinda?), no smut (idk if i can call it sfw, sex is mentioned but not with sevika), happy ending

whispers run through the main hall, they won't stop repeating for half an hour at least, every worker and guest is too excited or nervous to be in the haunting dog of zaun's presence. "she's here". "sevika came". it won't be surprising if someone suggests placing a bet who she'll choose next, now that her favorite girl is dead.

well, that's the thing really, you couldn't care less for anyone in here and especially sevika. your best friend is dead and you can't even mourn her properly, because there's always "clients demand our full attention, girls, don't forget that" and "no alcohol or drugs, unless our guests want it, girls". there's numbing pain tugging at you heart, making you want to vomit every time you have to think of your loss and there's no way to drink yourself to oblivion to not feel all this.

so far, the night was calm. the only man for the night left you alone an hour ago after mindlessly fucking you face down into the mattress for couple of minutes and disappearing as soon as he finished. you could only hope for it go as smoothly but luck wasn't on your side for some time now. a shadow looms over before you notice who it belongs to.

you raise your eyes. sevika. "of course," you think, "cause the day needs to get worse".

"are you free?" she asks bluntly. no greetings, no small talk. that's normal really, manageable. it's usually way worse when the client wants to spill all their heartache or frustration before what they actually came for.

"not even gonna buy girl a drink?" you try to put on your prettiest face, smiling coyly and frowning in a fake pout, hoping she'll let you get at least a bit drunk.

"no, come on". she just turns around and heads towards the second floor to the private rooms.

a scream dies somewhere on a tip of your tongue, leaving sour taste.

you have to hurry after her, people as powerful as sevika hate nothing more than to wait and there's no reason to get on her bad side. it's nerve wracking, scary even, to guess what kind of client she will be. there're not much women who come here and not one of them has ever chosen you. a risk of sevika getting frustrated and dissatisfied with your inexperience is high and definitely not what you want since if the customer is angry then madame is angry and you'll be punished in some way.

you take a look at sevika again, following her step by step. she holds herself with great confidence, understandable for someone with such a status, broad shoulders, perfect posture, full heavy steps that make people move out of her path.

you reach the room finally, dreadfully. sevika sits down in the chair waiting for you to lock the door. as you do so, you turn back to her, sliding the straps off your minidress down.

"wait, no." sevika stops you. "i'm not here for this. just sit down." she gestures to the bed and you follow her orders, confused but not daring to ask.

the silence follows. you sit in your place trying not to breathe too hard, a blank expression on your face, while sevika thinks something through.

"you knew yana?" you basically jump in place, hearing your friend's name. "i mean... she was your friend?"

"she is my friend." you snap unexpectedly even for yourself but don't correct the words or make an attempt at apologizing no matter how dangerous that move is.

the corner of sevika's lip rises a little in a smirk but it's gone as fast as it appeared.

"she's dead." "doesn't change the fact that she's my friend." gods, why can't you shut up.

there's a pure rage boiling inside of you. it's painful when no one in this fucking place took time to acknowledged her death. another whore killing herself, what's the news really? but this... it's worse, the way sevika seems more amused with the fact than, you don't know, at least sad that one of her favorites is no longer here.

silence again. sevika studies you like she's trying to find something. the gaze is different from what you usually get from customers, burning, suffocating glances of men who look you over, imagine what you would look like naked under them before making there choice and passing several bills to madame.

"you have a lot of friends here?" what the fuck is she on about?

"i don't run my mouth if that's what you need."

"that's not what i asked." the smirk again. "but whatever."

she lights a cigarette and makes a few puffs. as the smell reaches you, you can't help but scrunch your nose, never appreciative of the smell. as she sees your dissatisfaction, she clicks her tongue and reaches for the ashtray, putting the cigarette down.

"here's what we gonna do. i'll sleep here till morning and you just... i don't know, do your thing? sleep too?" she waves her hand in the air.

you have to take a moment before her words actually lock in. "what?" sevika doesn't strike you as the type to use some euphemisms when she talks about sex, "sleep" here actually seems like she means it.

"you heard me. i already paid for the whole night if you're worried about it." she gives no further explanation and just leans back, dropping her head on the chair and closing her eyes. it's better not to disturb her. there's not much to say or do for you so you just sit there for a while, listening to the steady breathing and fall asleep yourself, not ready to give up a prospect of a calm night. when you wake up in the morning, sevika isn't there.

she comes and goes. for the last two weeks sevika visited you almost every day. the nights go basically the same. nothing much happens, though she becomes more and more chatty with every meeting.

you know her favorite food, know how her day went, know what she thinks about every chem-baron. in return sevika knows what're your favorite flowers, knows what your childhood was like, knows how you got into the brothel.

she's always so nonchalant about her questions, trying not to make a big deal out of it, like she's simply asking to fill the space. but working in a place like this teaches you read people easily and it becomes clear very quickly that sevika is actually searching for something. you're not sure if it's safe to give her the information she wants to hear but it's been too long since you had a person to talk to. it becomes easy to pretend like she actually interested in your stories and opinions.

she also now sleeps in a bed with you, leaving her place in the chair on the third night when you offer it yourself. she's one of those people who can fall asleep on a whim anywhere and anytime, you guess. or she's just very good at pretending.

and when she does fall asleep you lie awake, looking at her, replaying everything she said earlier in your head, trying to make sense of it, of her.

you get caught eventually. one night she just opens her eyes as she wakes up (if she's slept at all) and looks straight at you. both of you lie on your sides, facing each other. nothing is said for good five minutes, she's studying your features as well as you do hers in a dim glow of the lamp post outside the window.

"wanna know a secret?" sevika finally breaks the comfortable silence, a light smirk on her lips. you nod your head slowly, not breaking the eye contact.

"i'm getting you out of here."

the sentence doesn't register, so you have to ask her to repeat it.

"i'm getting. you. out." she says again, slowly, dividing the words.

you rise up swiftly, leaning yourself on the elbow. "you're not funny." of course it's some twisted joke, what else could it be. anger ready to overtake you easily.

the smirk grows wider on her face. "im serious, sweetheart."

that's when she tells you. probably the craziest thing you've ever heard. her visits to the brothel were never for any sexual pleasures, mostly getting intel for her and, by extant, silco's plans. till couple of months ago when she took on a mission of getting such a business out of zaun.

yana was suppose to be one of the first women who sevika and her team would save. they were late in the end.

"why didn't you tell her?" you ask partially frustrated at the coincidence of circumstances and sevika. if only yana knew that the help was on the way, she would still be alive, probably free from her prison. instead she just couldn't handle the life she thought she's bound to till her dying day or when she'll become old enough for madame to throw her out on the streets cause she wouldn't bring enough money.

"i was afraid to risk it, she was too unstable to be trusted such an information for a long term." sevika sighs heavily, dragging a hand through her face. "that was a wrong move on my end."

"and yet you're telling me this two weeks later? there were no guarantee for you that i wouldn't do the same."

"i... had to take a gamble. i knew basically nothing about you before. yana did share some stories but that wasn't enough to ease my anxieties."

you talk and talk and talk. about yana, about your life here. you throw question after question to her and she doesn't seem to get tired of answering you.

"why me? or why... not everyone at once?"

"it's impossible to do this in one go without much practice. look at this as us dipping toes in the water."

"so i'm a guinea pig?" sevika opens her mouth to argue but closes it immediately, realizing that you're only teasing her.

"no, you're something i can fix. give me a week more, okay?" she says it with such confidence in her voice that you got nothing else to do but to believe her.

sevika comes every night now, trying to take as much as she can of your working time so others won't get to you. there's a slight tug of guilt somewhere in your heart, because there's probably girls in the brothel who need this more, who can handle less than you, who just got here and weren't that much ruined with the way people treat them like some meat to jerk off to.

"your arm."

you look over yourself. it is an old bruise that got her concerned, one of the clients getting too harsh. you don't remember much, he let you have a blunt, you didn't ask of what, before everything occurred. it's yellow already, few days more and it'll disappear.

"fuck. probably smudged my makeup somewhere."

sevika's look is heavy, fixed on the spot.

"it's nothing, don't worry."

"it's not nothing." she's now looking straight into your eyes, there's a dangerous fire gleaming and it's impossible to hold her gaze so you just look to the side, noticing her fingers digging into an armrest. it is not nothing, you both know that. but all you can think of is that you would love to feel sevika's palm on you, covering the damned bruise, letting you dream it was never there.

no, you deserve to run as much as the next person. and it's not like you're gonna be the only one. like sevika told you, it's only the beginning.

"good news", sevika says and there's a smile on her face. you're not sure if you ever saw her smile. not a grin or a smirk that she gives everyone here but a genuine, warm smile. she looks lovely with it and you can't help but smile too back at her, not even knowing the reason.

"like what?"

the morning air is cool, autumn starts to take the reigns of nature. there's only a set of underwear and a nightgown on you so you shiver and hug yourself. you couldn't take any of your belongings, she said yesterday night, when she finally announced that it's time to set the plans in motion. some kind of big cloth, a poncho, you regester not as fast as you'd like to, lends on your shoulders, warm from the body heat of it's owner.

"sorry, that's all i got for now. need to get to the safe house, have actually some clothes for you."

you nod dumbfounded and just follow her. everything feels like a dream really, that about to be ripped away and you'll simply wake up back in the room that smells of head numbing incenses, ready to greet another customer.

you look over the clothes she gave you, simple pair of brown jeans, a black turtleneck and a jacket. the jeans are a size too big for you but nothing a belt can't fix.

"the plans to get you out changed so quick, i completely forgot to buy something your size."

"was it for her?" you don't need the answer, you know it already.

"yeah."

there're tears falling down that you can't control. you cry silently, turned away from sevika. you're not sure if she actually doesn't notice or just wants to give you space when she finally says "alright, gonna step out for you to change, meet me in the kitchen when you're ready."

as she takes a step to the door you lounge yourself at her, grabbing calloused hand and tugging it to your waist, looking for contact. now only you can do is cry, your sobs becoming louder and louder, your throat hurts like hell, you won't be able to speak later for sure.

there's a stream of "thankyouthankyouthankyou" coming from your mouth, your body basically presses inside sevika's. she doesn't answer. her other hand gently covers the crown of your head, guiding your tearful face to her chest and she lets you rest it there.

[leighsartworks216]

Christmas Suprises

Zayne x AFAB!Reader

When I say I don't enjoy pregnancy fics or proposal fics, I NEED you to believe me cuz WHY did this fester in my brain until I put it down in a doc

Warnings: Christmas, fluff, domestic fluff, unplanned pregnancy, marriage proposal, crying, literal sleeping together, cuddling, anxiety

Word Count: 2,514

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You stare down at the little white stick, mouth falling open in shock. You can’t even hear the grating alarm of your phone going off anymore, or the eager knocking on the bathroom door. It’s like your mind hasn’t caught up to your body yet. You don’t think about reaching out and opening the door; your body just does it.

“Well?” Tara asks excitedly. “Yes or no?”

The world around you comes back into focus. You blindly paw at your phone screen to hit the button to shut up its alarm. You think your hand is shaking when you look up at your friend.

“It says… I’m pregnant.”

She squeals and throws her arms around your neck, bouncing on her feet, bursting with joy. “Congratulations! Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

You cling onto her. She doesn’t seem to mind, even as you wipe your eyes over her shoulder and sniffle by her ear.

You can’t believe it. You’re actually pregnant. You really, really are. You’re going to have a baby. You’re going to have a baby.

Tara pulls away with a gasp. “How are you gonna tell him?” she asks conspiratorially.

“God, I have no idea.” You stare at the two pink lines on the stick. Pregnant. “He doesn’t even know I’m late for my period, Tara. How am I-?”

“Oh, oh, I know! Tell him on Christmas!”

“On Christmas? Are you sure? I mean, what if he doesn’t want kids? We’ve never talked about it before.” You scoff, rubbing your eyes at the mounting worry welling up within you. It swirls around in your stomach, growing larger and larger as your panic bleeds into it. “We’re not even married! What’re his parents going to think? Shit, what about his career?!” You grab Tara’s shoulders, jostling her slightly with the force. “What if his reputation is ruined because he had a kid without being married?!”

Tara grabs your shoulders in turn, rubbing them sympathetically. “Calm down first, okay? You don’t have to do my idea, but I think you’re overthinking this.”

You sigh. Slowly, you let go of her. “No, no, you’re right. I- I’ll think about it. Thank you for helping me out, Tara.”

“Of course! Just keep me updated, okay?” She giggles. “I need to know how he reacts!”

Even as you’re led to her couch and offered a soothing cup of tea, the panic doesn’t untwist from your guts.

-

You’re awake first. This doesn’t usually happen, but it’s only fitting that the anxiety that kept you from falling asleep easily last night also wakes you up earlier than needed. You study Zayne’s face in the dim moonlight.

He looks utterly at peace. There’s no tension in his brow. His eyes are relaxed, fluttering under his eyelids to watch a dream play out. Lips slightly parted with soft breaths.

His parents called yesterday, wishing they could be here and apologizing for their gifts being sent late due to the inclement weather where they’re stationed. Zayne always got this childlike sweetness to his expression whenever they were involved, smiling without restraint and allowing himself to be more outwardly affectionate. You’d seen it before when you recorded a video of him on his birthday to send to his parents, but seeing it now, picturing that same happiness on his face with his own child… He’d caught you staring at one point. You’d smiled and tried to play it off. You’re not sure he bought it, but he didn’t say anything about it after the call ended.

You really can’t sleep now. Your heart is beating too fast, tight in your chest with worry. You slowly roll onto your back. The white ceiling stares down at you. You stare right back, chewing mindlessly on your bottom lip.

Time passes by in a blur. You’re not sure how much has gone by when a finger carefully frees your lip from your teeth’s assault. You turn your head to see a freshly-woken Zayne. His hand falls to rest on the bed between you.

“What has you so worried?” His voice has a quiet rasp to it in the morning, especially when he whispers. You could listen to it for hours.

You shift to lay on your side, facing him once again. You distract yourself by playing with his fingers. “Nothing,” you lie with a placating smile. “I’m just hoping you’ll like the gifts I got you.”

He hums, but he doesn’t say anything for a minute. Instead, he captures your restless hand and brings it to his lips. Those pretty hazel green eyes of his close with the kiss he places on your knuckles. “I’m sure you chose the best gifts,” he says. “You know me too well to get me something I wouldn’t like.”

“True…”

He guides your hand to rest on his face. He’s warm from sleep, the barest hint of stubble starting to come in along his jaw.

“Can we open the gifts first today?” He opens his eyes to look at you again. You can feel the way he studies you. You try not to falter as you add, “I know we usually have breakfast first, but…”

A flicker of confusion, gone in a flash. “Of course. But it’s still early. You should try to get some more sleep.”

Maybe he can sense the exhaustion underneath your anxiety, or maybe he can see the bags under your eyes in the dim light. Or maybe he just knows you better than you think he does.

He reaches under the blankets to grab your hip, drawing you toward him like he has on so many restless nights before. You’re powerless to refuse the silent request. So you scoot closer, forming yourself to fit perfectly against his chest. He slips his arm under your head, letting you use his bicep as a pillow. You tuck your head under his chin and press your face against his neck.

Arms wrapped around each other, holding one another close before the breaking dawn of Christmas Day. He traces soothing shapes against your spine. You count his heartbeat as it thumbs by your ear. Somehow, you’re able to find sleep again.

-

Wrapping paper - neatly undone or carelessly torn - sit in a pile on the floor. Various gifts sit stacked or folded in neat piles on the coffee table, organized by Zayne. There aren’t many gifts in all. Really, you both had most everything you could ever wish for.

But now it’s time for the final gift. You jump up from the couch with a smile. “I have one more gift. Lemme go grab it.”

He shoots you a look. “And why isn’t it under the tree?” he teases.

You wish that simple question didn’t pour gasoline into the firepit of anxiety in your stomach. You wave him off, covering up your uncertainty with playfulness. “It was too important to go under there. I’ll only be a second.”

He hums, but doesn’t say anything more about it, watching silently as you retreat back into the bedroom. You pull the present out from your nightstand drawer. Is it the most secure place to keep something? Well, there’s nothing else really in there; nothing you’d need on a daily basis, anyway. And Zayne would never go in here without your permission. So, you trusted it more than your other idea of hiding it in your jacket pocket.

You hold the box tightly to your chest. God, please, please, please, let this go well.

You almost want to curse Tara for convincing you to go through with this. If the news ends up ruining Christmas and your relationship with Zayne, you’re going to unleash hellfire down on her.

With one last, steadying breath, you head back out to the living room.

Zayne is still waiting patiently, taking this opportunity to look at the cases of the games you got him. He sets them back down when you round the couch and sit down beside him once more. You hope he doesn’t notice your hands shaking when you pass it over.

The gift is small and thin, rectangular and lightweight, he turns it over to find where you’ve taped the decorative paper down to begin unwrapping it. You readjust to sit on your feet with your knees to your chest. Your body screams for you to hide, to escape all the possible outcomes of this situation you’ve forced yourself into. But you want to watch. You need to see his reaction.

He pauses in his unwrapping to look at you. “Are you alright?” he asks, frowning as he wraps a hand loosely around your ankle to rub soothing circles into the jutting bone there.

You force a smile you hope isn’t as strained as it feels and nod. “I’m okay,” you lie. You nod toward the present. “Open it.”

He doesn’t let go right away. You think for a moment he may not even continue. But, thankfully, he pulls away to finish removing the paper. He drops it onto the pile with the rest.

The box itself is a blank white. There are no marks, no labels, no details of any kind that could give away what lay inside.

You hug your legs to yourself. You can’t bear to look away from his face, not even to watch as he unfolds the tab at one end and slides the little stick out. It’s ultimately more rewarding, you think, to see the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. To see him lean forward as he flips the test over in order to read the results. To see the way his mouth falls open with a quiet breath.

He turns his whole body to face you. “You’re pregnant…?”

You nod shyly. “Are you upset?”

He sets the test on the table quickly, but as if it’s the most fragile thing in the world, before holding your face in both of his hands. “Why would I be upset?”

God, he looks at you so earnestly, so tenderly, you’re tearing up before you can stop yourself. Choking up over words that have suffocated you since you were hiding away in Tara’s bathroom.

“‘Cause we never talked about it before and-” A whimpering sob cuts through your words. You inhale shakily. “And we’re not even married or anything, and your job-”

“Hey, shhh.” He brushes away your tears with his thumbs. He leans forward to brush a soft kiss to your forehead, ducking down to stay close to you as he meets your eyes once more. “I have one last present for you, too,” he whispers. “Can I go get it?”

You sniffle and wipe your face with your sweater sleeve. You probably look like such a mess; you can’t seem to get the tears to stop now that they’ve started. “Why isn’t it under the tree?” you tease.

He smiles. “It was too special. Wait here, okay?”

You nod. He presses another kiss to your head before he gets up and disappears down the hall.

While he’s gone, you try to collect yourself. You lower your knees, wipe your eyes until they burn from the friction, and try to even your breathing. Right now, each breath comes in little hiccups, jittery and broken up and unproductive. You haven’t improved much by the time he gets back.

He sits down close to you, wrapping a warm arm around your shoulders to pull you even closer into his side. A small velveteen box rests in his hand. He offers it to you. “I didn’t expect to be giving it to you today,” he admits bashfully, resting his cheek against your head. “But I can’t think of a better time than right now.”

You don’t have to open it to know what’s inside. All the fear that suffocated you for the last couple weeks goes up in a puff of smoke. Instead, it’s like a soothing orb of light has taken its place, healing the burns left behind and filling you with immense happiness. You turn your body into his and wrap your arms tightly around him. He rubs his thumb methodically over your shoulder.

“Should we start talking about children now?” He kisses your head. “Assuming you agree to my proposal.”

A choked, relieved laugh jostles out from your chest. Your tears get on his shirt as you nod stupidly against him. “Of course I agree!” You pull away just enough to meet his eyes. “You’re really okay with this? You… want kids with me?”

He smiles warmly, openly, as if his parents have just called and he’s already given them the news of your engagement. “I couldn’t imagine a better partner to raise a family with.” He brushes the back of his fingers across your cheek, still holding the ring box. “Are you okay with it?” he asks softly, brows pinching together slightly and eyes sharpening. “We never did talk about it. Are you comfortable with carrying a child to term?”

“It’s scary,” you admit. “But… I want this. I want a family, with you.” Your smile feels sure and solid as you whisper, “I love you.”

The seriousness in his expression fades away, replaced with contented joy. This conversation isn’t over, not by a long shot. You know there are still so many things to ask about. Questions about your future together. But they can wait a few more hours.

He sets the ring aside, right next to the pregnancy test. Both hands free, he pulls you into a secure hug, head lowered to rest on your shoulder, cheek to cheek with you. He absolutely envelops you. All you can see, feel and hear is Zayne.

He presses a kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. It’s not feverish and seeking. It’s soft, reverent, grateful. It pours out every emotion that wells up inside of him that can’t seem to fully escape. “I love you, too,” he whispers back.

You slide a hand along his back until you can tangle your fingers in the soft hair at the back of his head. He releases a shuddering breath, heavy with the relief that this is real.

Struck with an idea, you drag your other hand from his back down his arm, gently coaxing him to let go of you. Even in his confusion, he does what you want, slipping his hand from around your body. You guide it to rest over your belly, holding it there with your own. He buries his face further into your neck with a shaky sigh. “How long have you known?”

“If I tell you, you’re going to go into Dr. Zayne mode,” you tease. You press a sweet kiss beside his ear where you can reach.

You feel the grin that curves his lips. “Alright,” he relents quietly. “I’ll stay in fiancé Zayne mode for a bit longer.”

You release his hair in favor of wrapping your arm around his upper back, squeezing him closer, as if such a thing is even possible with how you’re already holding one another. “I’d like that.”

He squeezes you gently in return. “Me, too.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi

[ashwhowrites]

hi! Can I request older Eddie and student reader?

They met in coffee shop he's working in and since then they're dating.

One time he hears two student talking about reader (they said her name and ginger hair color) and one student's complaining how he flirt all the time with her but she doesn't even see it. All she talks is her boyfriend

And Eddie has been feeling insecure in this relationship because he thinks he's too old for her and she can do better than him but he's not jealous. He knows she would never cheat on him.

But hearing this conversation he became so self confident and appreciated and when she visited him after closing coffee shop, he literally can't stop himself from showing her his love. They have the most passionate sex in the back of the coffee shop. His main mission became making her feel so good so she can't think about anything else than him

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 I didn't include the specific hair color since I never go into specifics with how the reader looks so it's open to everyone.

⚠️SMUT, I wrote it high so I'm not even sure what I wrote

College boys

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was near graduation, ready to be handed her degree. She had a small waitressing job to make quick money, and she had the perfect boyfriend.

She met him at the coffee shop he worked at. He was older, roughly in his thirties. He worked at the coffee shop for extra money, his main career being in mechanics. His rough hands traced delicate shapes on her skin. His mature eyes captured her perfectly in every moment.

She felt like she could remember every detail no matter how much time passed.

~

She walked into the shop, a laptop in her arm as she searched the menu. It was a new coffee place and she wasn't sure what to get. She felt nervous as she realized she was next and had no idea what to get.

"What can I get you?"

She opened her mouth to speak and looked down. She was at a loss for words as she looked into the most beautiful brown eyes she'd ever seen. He was gorgeous.

He had dark curly brown hair, thrown into a low bun. A t-shirt underneath his apron that made his arms look defined. She read his name tag, Eddie. She tasted the name on her tongue as she stared at him like he was God himself.

"I uh, I don't even know." she laughed, looking back up at the menu

"Hot or cold, girl?" Eddie asked, a twinkle in his eyes as he smiled.

"Cold," she answered

"I'll surprise you," he said as he punched in something on the register.

She smiled and walked off to the pickup counter. She couldn't help but sneak a look at him as he moved around and made the drink. She felt her cheeks heat up when he caught her. He'd smile to the floor and look back to the drink.

"Here you are," he smiled as he placed the drink on the counter. She thanked him and grabbed the drink. She walked out and got in her car.

She went to take a sip when she noticed ink on the cup

She smiled as she read his handwriting with his number below it.

~

And ever since then, they've been together. She called him and they went on a date. They instantly connected and the attraction was strong. The age difference didn't bother either of them. She was mature and so was he. She enjoyed their dates at his apartment. She loved it when she got to spend the night with him instead of her small dorm.

Eddie wishes he felt their relationship was as strong as she did. He couldn't help but feel like he needed to always prove himself. He felt insecure compared to all the guys he saw on her campus. Their muscular bodies as they threw footballs and ran on the fields. He met a few of her guy friends and felt intimated by a few. It was easy to tell they were interested in her. But he knew she'd never go for them or hurt Eddie in any type of way. He didn't trust the boys. No one ever trusts young guys, especially college boys.

~~~

"Thank you for dropping me off," Y/N said, she leaned over her seat and pressed her lips against Eddie's lips.

He smiled into the kiss and kissed her back. He couldn't help but deepen the kiss and move his tongue against hers. She felt her head spinning as he pulled away.

"My pleasure," he teased, loving the lost look on her face as she floated down to reality. "Better go, Lexi is waiting."

"Right!" Y/N said as she snapped out of her daydream. The taste of Eddie was still on her tongue as she got out of the car. She waved goodbye as she walked over to Lexi. Eddie drove off with a honk.

"I wish I had an older boyfriend to eat my face off in the parking lot," Lexi groaned, with a teasing smile.

"He's the best isn't he?" Y/N gushed

"He's yummy," Lexi giggled

"Who is?" Tommy asked as he slid in next to Y/N. The three walked into the building.

"Eddie," Y/N said. Tommy was a good friend of hers so he knew all about Eddie.

"Oh cool, Well tonight is the big game. Can I count on you to be my cheerleader?" Tommy flirted. Lexi rolled her eyes at his comment but didn't say anything.

"Of course. Eddie and I will be front row." Y/N smiled

Tommy felt his smile drop at the sound of Eddie's name once again. But he shook it off.

"Are you coming to the after-party? We are pretty sure we are going to win." Tommy said, "But it's just for the students."

"I'm not sure, parties aren't really my thing. And not sure if I'll feel comfortable going alone without Eds" Y/N shrugged, plus she wanted to spend the night with Eddie.

"I'll take care of you, and be next to you the whole time." Tommy offered.

"But then you can't enjoy the party," Y/N said confused, the three made it into class

"You are all I need to have a good time," Tommy smiled.

"I'll think about it." Y/N smiled, they repeated as they took their seats.

Tommy sat next to his friend Luke with a smirk

"I'd wipe that smirk off. No way she's coming." Luke laughed

"Why not?" Tommy asked, his smirk dropping

"It's only students. And no way she's gonna ditch her boyfriend for you."

"We'll see,"

~~~

Eddie leaned against the fence as he waited for Y/N. He looked at the group of students and the players on the field. He wasn't big on football but he'd go anywhere she asked him to.

"...Y/N's here."

Eddie's ears perked at the sound of his girlfriend's name. He looked on the field, where the sound came from.

He noticed Tommy with his helmet in his hands as he stood in his jersey. He rolled his eyes, he wasn't surprised he was focused on his girlfriend. Tommy was the main guy Eddie worried about.

"Here, babe," Y/N said as she handed Eddie his pretzel. Her other hand holding a drink. Eddie looked back at her with a smile, he could feel Tommy's eyes burning into them.

Feeling a bit jealous, Eddie threw his arm over her shoulder and walked to their seats on the bleachers.

~

Throughout the whole game, Tommy's eyes kept looking at her.

After he scored a touchdown, he winked right at her as she cheered. Granted, she's cheering for a friend but he thinks she's cheering as a crush. Eddie was older and wasn't going to dabble in games. But he wanted to snap that bitch in half.

"You seem tense. You okay?" Y/N asked, her hand landed on Eddie's knee. The game in the background as she focused on him.

Eddie smiled and nodded. He felt at ease whenever she looked at him. The crowd cheered and they both looked to see what they missed.

Tommy growled as she missed his touchdown, too locked on Eddie.

~~~

Eddie was closing the Cafe, sweeping underneath the tables as he waited for the remaining customers to leave.

He whistled a song as he walked and swept. He almost felt like he was crazy when he heard his girlfriend's name. He stopped whistling and looked up. But he didn't recognize any of them.

Must be from school?

"dude, you can't ask Y/N out. Tommy has tried a thousand times."

Eddie felt a twisting in his gut as he walked closer.

"Yeah, but that's Tommy. I'm better than him in every way possible." The random blonde said. Which made Eddie want to laugh. Y/N was obsessed with Eddie's dark curls.

"Being better than Tommy isn't what you have to worry about." The other boy snickered.

"What that old boyfriend of hers? One night with me between those legs, she'd have him out of her head."

Eddie's growl slipped and the boys looked at him. "We're closed. Time to go." He snapped.

"Chill dude. We'll go." The blonde said, the boys slipped out of the small booth and walked out the door.

Eddie felt anger pumping through his veins. Eddie looked up when the door jingled. His anger turned to lust as Y/N walked in.

Her long legs were in her shorts, the way she looked flawless in his band T-shirt. Sunglasses pulling back her hair as she smiled at him.

"Missed you, handsome." She said as she slid her arms around his neck. He dropped the broom and immediately shoved his lips on hers.

She was taken aback by the passion and desperation in his kiss. It turned her knees weak. She whimpered against his lips as he pushed his lips so hard into hers that her back was forced to arch.

His tongue was gentle and warm in her mouth. She felt like he wanted to be gentle but craved to tear her apart with his tongue and teeth. He was mature and practiced in the way he knew how to handle her body. His muscular arms held the weight of her body and his kiss held the weight of her heart.

"Fuck, wow," she gasped as Eddie pulled away.

"Remember that office in the back I showed you?" Eddie panted.

Y/N was lost for words as she panted, and nodded.

"I want you to strip down, nice and naked for me," his hand wrapped around her neck, "then sit on that desk, spread these legs open, and drip all down the desk until I come in there. Got it?"

Y/N shivered at his words as the image was painted in her head. She whimpered and nodded. He let go of her neck, his dark eyes watching her. She started to walk off, jumping as he landed a smack on her ass.

~

Eddie waited a few seconds, just to give her time to follow his demands.

Eddie slowly walked to the office, stripping down. He removed his apron, then his shirt, and his shoes. By the time he made it to the room, he was left in nothing but his boxers.

A big smirk on his face as she sat on the desk, her legs spread wide open, and her glistening pussy shined for his eyes. He could feel his cock suffocating in his boxers as he licked his lips. He walked towards her, and she shook as his eyes never moved from her cunt.

"Gonna cum just from the way you are looking at me." She moaned, Eddie chucked darkly as her cunt clenched.

"Oh, I bet. See you pulsing from here, pretty thing." He smirked. She wasn't sure what got into him but she wasn't going to distract him now.

"Gonna be a good girl and let me do whatever I want with you?" He asked, he yanked her hair so her chin was shot into the air.

"Fuck yes."

"Try again" he warned

"Yes, sir. Best girl for you." She moaned. Apparently, she said the right thing because Eddie sunk his three fingers inside her soaked cunt. Her walls instantly clamped around his long fingers as she shook.

Everything felt like it was buzzing. His hand yanks her hair and his fingers knuckle deep inside of her. She clawed at his bare chest as she was gasping for air. He loved watching her. The way her naked body shook, the sweat building on her sweet skin. How she bit so hard on her lip that blood began to leak, yet did nothing to stop the screams from leaving her lips.

"Loud girl today, huh?" He teased

He stared at her neck as a trail of sweat traveled down. His cock twitched at the idea in his head, and he leaned forward. His eyes stared straight into her heavy ones as he stuck out his tongue and licked up the traveling sweat.

She swore he was going to ruin her

She clamped around him as she felt herself getting close. The ecstasy burned in her stomach. He removed his hand from her hair, now moving his attention to her clit.

She let her body drop, going slump against his. He let his body catch hers as he circled her clit as fast as he could.

She tried to speak but couldn't get anything out. Her eyes asked and he answered. She let herself cum all over his fingers. He worked her through it, fingering her softly as she began to shake.

"Amazing job, sweet girl." He praised. She smiled at the compliment. Still barely awake as she panted.

"You take my breath away, Jesus fuck." She laughed, Eddie held her tired body and kissed her forehead.

"I know I pulled a big one out of you, think you can give me one more? Maybe on my tongue?" He asked. And how could she say no to that?

She didn't say anything, just pushed his head down. He laughed but easily let himself be pushed down to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her until his fingers were gripping into her ass.

She let out a gasp as he yanked her to the edge of the desk, his mouth immediately on her cunt.

She felt her jaw pop open and silent screams left her throat as Eddie slurped her up like a dog with a bowl.

She was embarrassed by how much sound came from her wetness.

But the sound seemed to edge Eddie more and more.

She felt his tongue everywhere. Inside of her, up and down, side to side. Then outside of her, sucking and biting.

She swore she could feel him writing his name with his tongue against her clit.

That same feeling was building and building until... He stopped.

She didn't have time to whine when he slammed his cock inside of her. It was so fast that she didn't see him take his boxers off.

He pounded into her like he wanted to bruise the shape of him inside of her.

He wasn't jealous, just simply making sure her brain was so fucked out that she couldn't form a possible thought that wasn't him.

The desk squeaked beneath them as he fucked himself inside of her. He was so lost inside of her, that he didn't bother to care about the cameras recording their every move. Hell, he wanted a tape of it just so he could send it to all those college boys who think they have a shot.

Eddie may not have a college degree or scholarship in football. But he owned her pussy and knew just how to fuck it.

She swore she had nothing left in her body to give him, but she wanted to give him it all. He felt amazing inside of her. The way his tip perfectly hit that sweet spot inside of her made her legs shake.

His fingers were back on her clit, she whimpered as he rolled her sensitive clit between his finger and thumb. Then whined louder when he pinched it, pushing down on her clit and pulling. His eyes watched as it snapped back into its perfect shape. Then he softly began to rub circles.

She lost her vision, eyes closed as her body felt everything. She never forgot the way Eddie fucked her, but this was definitely something she'd think about in her dorm. When she's alone at night and fucking herself. Moaning his name as she coated her toys in her sticky cum.

The harder she breathed, the faster Eddie rubbed her clit. His cock pushed inside of her, her pussy happily sucking him in. She was jealous of anyone he practiced with over his years, but she was damn pleased with the results.

She clawed at his chest again and he knew what it meant. He slid his left hand into hers, lacing their fingers intertwined. Then his right hand slid up her jaw, cupping it as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

They kissed passionately. The feeling of love somehow gained a taste as they passed it back and forth.

She came all over him as he filled her.

"I love you," she whined as she pulled back. That was exactly what Eddie needed to hear.

"I love you," he smiled, softly kissing her lips again as he slowly slid out of her. Their hands were still laced together.

"What was all that?" She asked, a glimmer in her eye.

"Just wanted to show I loved you," Eddie shrugged

"Goal achieved," she winked.

He chuckled and kissed her softly.

He had nothing to worry about, she was locked in on him and that's all he wanted.

~~~

"Thank you for dropping me off," she said as she leaned over and kissed Eddie's lips.

He kissed her back, making sure to nibble a little on her bottom lip.

She shook, still sensitive from the night before.

"Always my pleasure," Eddie smirked.

He watched as she got out of the car. Lexi waited for her as she waved to Eddie.

Y/N took a deep breath and began to walk to her, noticeably limping.

Eddie felt the smirk get bigger on his face

Lexi gasped as she looked between the embarrassed look on Y/N's face and the cocky look on Eddie's.

"Don't say a thing," Y/N warned as she made it to Lexi.

"About what?" Tommy asked as he walked up.

Eddie's prayers were answered when the blonde kid showed up as well. Eddie watched from his car in amusement, no rush to pull away.

"Y/N totally got laid last night. Poor girl can't even walk." Lexi bragged for her, and an impressed look sent Eddie's way.

Eddie enjoyed the way Tommy and the random kid grew annoyed.

Y/N covered her face in her hands embarrassed. The boys looked behind her to Eddie's car.

He smirked as he lifted his hand and flipped them off.

Eddie's girl doesn't fuck around with college boys

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[notjustjavierpena]

Sucía: Part III - Unrequited

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: So many requests for this one and inspiration finally hit the right spot. This can be read as a standalone piece but I recommend the whole thing.

Summary: Somewhere along the way, you end up in a situationship with Javier Peña. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18, unrequited love, situationship, fuckboy!javier, alcohol consumption, various pet names, papi/daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation, praises, so much making out, pussy eating, desperate and rough sex, piv sex, possessive sex, face slapping, fingersucking, creampie

Word count: 4.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48859147/chapters/123256180

Unrequited

After you spend a whole night and day in Javier's arms, a month passes, but it never repeats itself, never becomes as tender. You start to think that it might have been a way to lure you in, a highly intelligent skill developed in a predator who wants to keep its prey around for as long as possible. Instead of dating the cop, you become entangled in some sort of strange arrangement and everything about Javier Peña tells you to run for the hills; the handsome forever bachelor with an apartment that has never had the touch of a woman, the man who rests a cigarette so effortlessly between his fingers but never wants to hold your hand. This is despite how you think he should be at the age where men start to panic about not having settled down. He seems so desperate to stress that this isn’t love, even when he coos your name so gently when he takes you in his arms after making your whole nervous system go into overdrive. 

Yet, there’s something about him that makes you keep coming back, makes you ignore the insistence of the warning bells in your head because Papí always takes care of you, right, Nena (babygirl)? And perhaps, it’s the way his hands run through your hair while your back arches, the way he touches you as if he is reaching inside your chest and pulling at your heartstrings, or how his dark, intense eyes watch you as you give yourself to him without hesitation, his gaze peeling back every layer of your insecurities about your physique and making them fade away during the nights you spend together. 

Despite his evident desire, his praises of your body, and your eagerness, he never says the things you actually want to hear. There are no declarations of love, no promises of forever in his moonlit bedroom other than the way he tells you that no one fucks him quite like you or the post-orgasmic vulnerability that makes him let you in on what he did before coming back to life in the Lone Star State. It causes you to make excuses for him; he is a man who has been hurt in the past, who’s built walls so high around his heart that not even he knows how to tear them down. Because he has had to. And now, he is a man who is content with the rough edges of life rather than the soft embrace of love. 

Your friend Hannah, your confidant, tells you to end it, that he is a loser. Your mother and father don't know about him, and when you lie about whose sheets you spend the night in, you convince yourself that it’s for the better. No one who cares about you would want you in this situation, so why do you keep doing it? Maybe the danger is covered by the thrill. Maybe there’s something exciting about the idea of holding your relationship out for everyone to stare at, desperately trying to stress that you should have seen him in the beginning when he first had me!

You are at his door again in the late evening, having dropped everything as soon as he called and changed your jeans and t-shirt into a miniskirt and crop top. It is only so he thinks that this is how you normally dress, wanting to keep up the illusion that you are enticing and alluring even when he doesn’t see you, that he needs to hold onto you otherwise you’ll be snatched out of his grip. 

Maybe you’re the loser here.

Javier opens the door and takes you in, looking like someone repressing a question about where you’ve been since you’re dressed up like this. Nothing in him seems to acknowledge the obvious fact that you want to look nice for him, so he doesn’t compliment it and just takes a step back. His eyes, however, do soften as he watches you step into his home. 

“Can I get you something? A beer? Whiskey?” He asks nonchalantly as you enter the living room and then follow him into the kitchen. His shirt is untucked from his jeans, the knot on his tie loosened, and his hair is slightly tousled from his own hand running through it. You notice the kitchen window has been opened and the ashtray on the breakfast table has a half-smoked cigarette in it. 

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” you say, saving the pleasantries; you know why you’re here and so does he. You just need an in, a way of getting things rolling, so you lean back against the kitchen counter while watching him take out a beer for himself. He takes a long swig of the bottle, a single drop threatening to drip from the corner of his mouth and causing your own mouth to run dry. 

“Long day?” You ask as he swallows his drink, the gorgeous column of his neck peeking out from underneath the collar and tie. You’ve kissed him so many times there. You tilt your head, noticing that it’s definitely not his first drink, “Catch any bad guys?”

Javier nods but doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he sets his beer down on the table before walking to stand in front of you. You feel a bit of annoyance at his silence, so you rest a hand on his wrist when he tries to undo the first button of your cropped shirt, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He tenses up at the invasive question even if you meant nothing by it, simply using it to make him word what he wants from you. He furrows his brow, mouth becoming a thin line for just a second. However, when he opens his mouth, and you’re sure he is going to retort, his voice has gotten a rougher edge, “No, I want you, Princesa (Princess).” 

You know what the use of that pet name means and it’s what you want too, what you keep coming back for if it means his eyes roaming over your body like they do right now, hungry and possessive. You’ll gladly play the part to be worshiped for a night at a time. Your hand falls from his wrist to his belt buckle, your other hand joining to undo it until it makes a clinking noise as it opens. You let the belt hang down to the sides, going straight for the button and zipper instead of wasting time with getting him fully undressed. 

Javier, however, stops you and seems determined to get at least your top off first. He continues unbuttoning it until it hangs open, swearing at the sight of your lack of a bra. His palms go underneath the fabric and grope at your sides, sliding upwards until he can cup your breasts. 

“Papí,” you breathe softly when his thumbs skim over your nipples, and the tension in the air from before seems to evaporate completely. He leans in until you are pressed against the edge of the kitchen table and then captures your mouth in a needy kiss. It is fierce and hungry, taking your breath away from you as you give in to him once more. He makes you squeak into his mouth as he pinches both your nipples, tugging slightly until it stings just a little. It’s a punishment, you realize, for trying to crack the surface of him.

“Don’t ask me that sorta question again,” he says when he needs a mouthful of air, his breath hot against your lips. He stares into your eyes, not scared of holding your gaze this up close, and you can feel yourself shaking your head with wide eyes. He swallows and speaks again, “You don’t want me like that.”

“I know,” you reply with a trembling voice that betrays you in your lie. Just a month ago, you were so certain of yourself and confident in what you wanted from him but the yearning for his touch has only made you weaker since he invited you into his bedroom for the first time. Clearly, he feels it too because his hands remove themselves from your body to lay flat on the kitchen table. 

“You know I can’t,” he whispers while his eyes roam over your face, settling on your mouth that has fallen open. You miss his touch but his hands are immovable on the kitchen counter, almost like he needs you to initiate everything again so he doesn’t feel like a prick. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” you promise as you reach up to cup his face, dragging his mouth to your open one to make him kiss you feverishly again. He makes you so wet that it is ridiculous, brushing his tongue against yours in a way that reminds you just how great he fucks you each time. Is that all he thinks he is good for? 

“Tell me to stop,” he continues, his mouth descending on your neck, leaving a trail of spit in its wake while his hands slowly inch closer to your body again. He settles them on your waist, thumbs digging into the soft and exposed skin of your stomach. 

“I can’t, Papí,” you moan with each mark he leaves along the column of your throat and gasp in surprise when he lifts you onto the kitchen counter. He stands in front of you, not fully in your embrace yet, and his breath is hot and heavy against your damp skin.

“And why is that?” He almost seems to be taunting you. He nibbles along the spot where your blood courses through your veins and he can feel your pulse the hardest.

“Because,” you swallow as you realize how hard it is to let him go despite knowing you probably should before you get your heart broken. You’re still here, taking whatever scraps of himself that he’ll offer, “Because I don’t want you to stop.”

“Then tell me you want me like I want you,” he sounds like he is pleading you to slip into the role you usually inhabit. You try not to think about what those words mean to the both of you. His hands lift off your skin. They hover for a moment as if giving you one last out, but when you stay frozen, waiting for more, he places his palms on top of your thighs. He pushes them apart, pulling out the big guns to make your brain stutter in its train of thought. You know what’s coming before he even sinks to his knees. 

You let your head fall back as he disappears underneath your miniskirt with the gaze of a worshipper, one hand having gotten there just moments before to drag your panties to the side. He drags his lazy tongue through your soaked folds, letting it delve into your cunt for a second just for a taste. You are sure you have already made his mustache shiny with your slick, dripping obscenely from merely kissing him because you are so pathetically obsessed with him. You reach to yank your skirt up, needing to see if wetness is smearing his chin too as he moves closer to your clit. 

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair to yank his head up too. He smirks up at you, eyes perfectly dazed with how drunk he is from mixing his liquor with going down on you. The sight of his shiny, satisfied face makes your pussy clench and release on its own, a little moan leaving you even when he isn’t doing anything to you except staring. You know that your meaningless noises are exactly what he wants instead of your attempt at connection. 

You grip the counter with your free hand when he dips his head down again and wraps his lips around your pulsing clit, his cheeks hollowing with how he sucks on the little nub like it is a hard candy. He continues staring up at you through his lashes as he does it, pupils blown wide with desire until the brown in his beautiful eyes is almost completely replaced with black. You watch him eat you out enthusiastically, and you whimper feebly from how each of his licks and sucks is a step further toward your undoing. He loves going down on you but there’s a certain urgency in his work on your clit as if he wants you with scrambled brains so you won’t annoy him again with your feelings, your need of digging deeper. 

You have a suspicion that he only calls you when he is in need of distraction, of replacing the loneliness and frustration he feels in his empty apartment with something that’s bound to end in euphoria. You wonder how his day has actually been. Does it even matter? No one has ever made you feel this way. This wanted. Desired. 

Beneath you, Javier pulls back for just a second and your heart skips a beat, the timing with your racing mind making you fear that he might have read your thoughts. However, he simply heaves for breath. 

“You taste so fucking good, bebita (baby),” he murmurs only to dive back into your cunt with newfound energy. His tongue glides across your clit again, presses harder, and you moan louder, the sound scratching the back of your throat. Your head bumps against the kitchen cabinet behind you, your fingers tightening in his short, dark hair to keep up an illusion of control over his power over you. Yet he just responds with a filthy open-mouthed kiss to your clit as if he wants to remind you who’s really in charge. 

“That feels so fucking good,” you gasp towards the ceiling. However, when you think it can’t get any better, he pauses only briefly to push your miniskirt all the way up to your hips so your thighs can be dragged onto his shoulders. He places a hand on your side, his thumb just below your ribs, and bobs his head slightly while his tongue is tensed up as it flicks expertly against the little nub. You can hear his breathing grow heavy through his nose to keep himself from needing a break and then he works towards making you come. 

When it hits you, it’s almost too much. He latches onto your clit as it happens, coaxing out each little twitch of it while you see stars, body shaking on the counter. You tug on his hair gently, arching into the sensation of him slurping up whatever you give him. and cry out his name in the quiet space. He makes you feel completely overwhelmed and sated at the same time. 

He only pulls back when you start whimpering for him to stop. He sits back a little on his feet, rubbing your thighs soothingly with his face shining in the overhead lights. He doesn’t say anything yet, waits for you to come down to earth with him once more. 

The buzz he has left in your lower body makes you giggle. You cup his face, high on the tingling in your spit-slicked clit, “You eat pussy so fucking well, Papi.”

“And I love eating this pussy out, Princesa (princess),” he replies with no hesitation, seeming ready to spoil you further from hearing that nickname out of your mouth. Gently, he removes your legs from his shoulders so he can rise to his feet again. He leans in, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips until you are breathless all over again. 

You can feel his hands sliding up your sides until they pull your already-open blouse off your shoulders, dropping it onto the kitchen counter as if it belongs in the room. He dips down for another kiss, one that’s just as desperate, just as thorough in wanting you but a realization hits you square in the chest. The intensity between the two of you isn’t just passion; it’s sadness, a mutual understanding that whatever this is, it is all it will ever be. No promises of a future together. 

You moan helplessly when Javier slips his tongue into your mouth, holding your hips tightly while you remove his tie and unbutton his shirt rather hurriedly. You can’t help already aching for more, feeling as if you’ll perish if you don’t consume everything he is willing to give you. He barely gives you time to drop his tie onto the floor, doesn’t give you time either to take a breath before he scoops you up, his broad hands sliding under your thighs to hoist you up. 

Instinctively, you wrap your limbs around him and cling to him. Your fingers thread through his hair like earlier, dragging his mouth over yours again while he takes sure steps toward his bedroom. He is so close like this, the front of his chest rubbing against your bare tits until you whimper from how your nipples harden at the simple touch. He is so hard in his jeans, straining against your barely covered sex. You think he must be aching by now, desperate with his head swimming as much as yours with each step he takes towards the end goal that is his bed. 

You’re right. He doesn’t even reach his bedroom before he has pushed you against a wall, his hips crashing against yours and eliciting a loud groan from his throat. He doesn’t stay on your mouth, moves his lips down the column of your neck until your belly twists with burning desire from each nip of your sensitive skin. 

“Shit, Javi,” you groan as he thrusts his hips into you again, your nails scratching his shoulders until the fabric of his shirt bunches up between your fingers. You yank it down his arms, hoping to have him more undressed soon. 

“Needed you so fucking bad, had to call you,” he murmurs while inhaling the skin of your neck as if he can smell the dopamine on you. He soothes a hickey with his tongue, panting as he repeatedly presses his hard cock into your core. The rough fabric of his jeans against your soaked panties makes you moan, unable to think of anything but him. 

“Take this off,” you push further on his shirt, barely coherent with how your sensitive clit throbs, “Fuck, I want you so much.”

Javier obliges and holds you up by leaning his weight into you. His pulse beats hard in his chest, able to be felt against your own heated skin. He lets the sleeves of his shirt slide off one by one until it finally lies pooling on the floor. It is rare you get undressed with this intensity, almost symbolic of how he is leaving breadcrumbs of you and him in his apartment. 

“I need you to fuck me, Papi,” you beg with a few hungry kisses when it becomes too much to be so continuously empty. His cock is right there and you long for it to stretch you open. He shushes you as you whine and then nods without words.

His grip around your thighs tightens as he hauls you off the wall, using his foot to push the door to his bedroom open. He makes his way for the bed, lowering you carefully onto it when he is right by the edge. 

“Get those clothes off and spread your legs,” he commands while vaguely gesturing for you to hurry up. He stares down at you while you shimmy out of your miniskirt and panties, his eyes heavy-lidded as his hands find the zipper on his jeans in the meantime. He hisses as he drags his pants and underwear down in one go, the graze of his cock looking like it is almost too much with how hard he is. Your head floods with what it will feel like when he finally slips into the heat between your legs. 

“Please,” you let your thighs fall open because you want to see if the delicious images in your head are real, inviting him to join you when the sight of his generous erect cock makes your chest heave. 

“You’ll do anything for it right now, won't you?” His tone drops to something condescending and he climbs onto the bed, slotting himself between your legs. You nod frantically because of how you see him reach down between your bodies to guide himself to where you need him the most. You feel how he doesn’t slide into you yet but instead teases your slick folds until you try pushing yourself down onto his length. He chuckles darkly, satisfied by your eagerness, and dips the head into you with a ragged breath, “Puta (slut).”

You moan and shake your head, “No.”

“Then why did you just squeeze my cock as I said it, bebita (baby)? You dirty girl,” he taunts, finally pressing fully inside of you with a sigh of satisfaction and relief. You groan alongside him when he kisses the very back of your cunt, your slick walls welcoming his girth even if it stings. 

You grab at his shoulders as if clinging onto dear life, your nails creating crescent-shaped marks in his skin, but Javier gathers your wrists in a firm grip to pin them above your head. The loss of control makes you dizzy with lust, a pleading look on your face as he thrusts experimentally. Once again, the two of you groan in unison at the sensation of finally melting together. 

Javier holds himself up on his elbow, free hand cupping your face to stroke his thumb across your cheek. He kisses your lips in sweet contrast to his name-calling as he starts rolling his hips into you, the lewd sounds of sex filling the room. 

“Mine,” he growls under his breath. 

You find yourself reeling from how completely he fills you up, moving inside of you like he is made for it, and continuously slamming into that one spot that has your vision blurring. God, what is the point in wanting more from him? In needing love that might send him running when no one could ever fuck you like this? It’s a dangerous addiction. He is the only one to make your body sing like this so you nod in agreement. You’re his and you let him know with a loud cry. 

“Tell me who owns this whore pussy,” he demands, not satisfied with a simple nod. His maddening thrusts become sharper and punctuate his words while he stares down at you, waiting for your answer with dark eyes.

“You, Papi, it belongs— fuck, it’s yours,” you gasp, your voice trembling with how well his cock works you open. Your back is sweaty from your raging and rapid heartbeat, your body clinging to the sheets as pleasure builds impossibly fast. 

“You fucking bet it’s me. Can’t you feel how I’m beating her up real good? Fuck, she’s weeping for me, pobrecita (poor thing),” his hips snap impossibly harder, his cock sliding in and out of you with obscene sounds that make your toes curl and your back arch. 

“You’re so deep— oh my God, fuck, Papi!” You squeak underneath him, your head thrown back at a particularly hard thrust. He makes a sound of disapproval, even if he can’t stop himself from kissing the exposed, stretched part of your neck.

“Ojos aquí, Princesa (eyes here, princess),” he commands you but when you don’t immediately react in your cockdrunk state, his hand slips down to harshly grab your chin. He yanks your gaze back to him and your breath hitches at the sight of him. His eyes are burning right through you, filled with authority, and sending a ravenous shiver down to your pulsing cunt. He lets out a guttural moan as you choke his length then smirks in triumph, “That’s it, Don’t make me ask again.”

You’re wide-eyed like a deer in the headlights of a car, nodding your head repeatedly while he fucks you open with a tighter grip on your wrists. He tests your obedience, caressing your cheek sweetly with his free hand for a second before letting it come down in a smack. You whimper and moan at the surprise-sting, brain scrambling to process the mix between pleasure and pain but you don’t let your gaze falter. Your instincts keep your eyes on him even if you want to close them. Instead, you furrow your brow but no more than that, chewing on your bottom lip to deal with it all. 

“Fuck, you’re so good for me. Such a good girl,” he praises, soothing your warm cheek with his thumb where he has just struck you, “Look at you taking my dick so well, keeping those pretty eyes on me like a good little slut. You’re perfect, baby.”

Not removing your eyes from his, you turn your head slightly until the tip of his thumb pokes into your bottom lip. You part your lips, swollen from kisses, and suck on the digit like it is his cock. It’s a lewd sight, your cheeks hollowed while he presses slightly down on your soft tongue until you drool. 

He groans low in his throat, his breathing suddenly sounding like he is much closer than before. He loves it when you’re filthy and he rewards you by finally removing his hand from your wrists. His calloused palm trails down your side until he can slip it under your back to rest it right at the bottom of your spine. The way he pushes your pelvis slightly into the air causes your toes to curl, the new angle making him hit even deeper. You thank the finger in your mouth because you start screaming as you come. 

Despite your arms free, you can do little else but helplessly hold onto the headboard of the bed, feeling as if it is the only thing anchoring you to the bed. Your nails claw at the wood, your mouth falling open enough for a gargled version of his name to leave it. 

Javier pants at the way your walls clamp down on him, squeezing his cock rhythmically as you cry feebly through your intense pleasure. He breathes deeply in through his nose, the way he sometimes does when teetering on the edge of his own orgasm, and kisses your open mouth filthily. His thumb slips out as he does it, smearing saliva on your cheek, and his thrusts become relentless. It almost hurts when you’re so sensitive but you take it until he stills his hips.

“Dios mío, así (my God, like that),” he groans into your mouth but then his head drops to your shoulder as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he pumps you full of come. The warmth of him fills you, and you whine as heat spreads inside of you, your body shaking from overstimulation and aftershocks. 

For a moment, the only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, his weight on top of you so heavenly as you both come down again. 

“You okay?” He murmurs gently, his voice almost sounding concerned due to affection. 

You nod beneath him, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat. The question twists like a knife in your chest because it isn’t really what he is asking. What he really wants to know is whether you are still playing by his rules, if this is still casual to you. It’s not. It hasn’t been since he dried your post-orgasmic tears away a month ago. 

“Yeah,” you nod, wishing he wouldn’t ask you that while he is still inside of you, “I’m fine.”

He kisses you softly but the softness is fleeting and a few kisses later, he pulls out of you with a slight hiss. He rolls off of you, leaving you bare in his bedroom and causing you to freeze. 

“Good,” he replies monotonously. There’s a pack of cigarettes on his nightstand, and he reaches for one and his lighter. 

You want to say those three little words so badly but the risk is unbearable. Is it better to have this than nothing at all? Sometimes, you wonder if he feels it too, the hollow ache that settles in your chest each time you untangle, or if he’s already moved on. 

“Stay the night,” he states or suggests as he takes a satisfying drag of his smoke. He turns his head and looks at you, stealing the air from your lungs when he looks like he wants to say something more. You prepare yourself but then he slips out of bed with that easy grace, and you’re left with the fading warmth of where his body has been.

“Okay,” you hear yourself say. You know he just doesn’t want to be alone in his apartment.

Still, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be the one to break through all his barriers, to be the woman of his dreams who could make him stay in every way. You imagine it sometimes during the quiet moments when he’s finally asleep beside you, his face soft as he has his guard down momentarily. You imagine what it would be like if he really let you in but he always checks out before you can even begin to think of demanding more.

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[thefatedthoughtofyou]

{ this was inspired by this lovely art by @maatdraws . I've seen this art so so many times and always wanted to write a little something for it! And now i finally have! I hope that's okay!!!! and i was encouraged in the tags by @bananahoneycomb so they're getting a tag as well! Thanks for the encouragement! I just needed that little push! 💚 this is my writing blog by the way, hi hello! My main is @sugarcookiesteve }

Trans Eddie Munson with References to sexual activities so, 18+ only please! Make good choices!

Eddie's got his pants up and zipped, his shirt dangling from his teeth, when he hears Steve move behind him. Before he knows what's happening, Steve's sleep warm chest is pressed agaisnt his back, gentle arms wrapping around Eddie's middle, his cheek nuzzling into Eddie's shoulder.

"Where ya goin?" Steve mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. Eddie's heart is pounding in his chest. Which is ridiculous. He shouldn't be this nervous. Not with Steve. They'd been sleeping together for months now. But he feels his palms start to sweat as Steve tightens his hold, just a little.

"Um... home?" Eddie says, like it's a question.

"How come? Don't wanna sleep here? Is my bed uncomfortable?" Steve asks. And Eddie knows he's teasing. Only asks so many questions and talks so much when he's fully awake, and aware of what he's doing. Eddie's arms fall to his sides, shirt clasped in a trembling hand, Steve still plastered to his back.

"You're bed's... fine." Eddie mumbles, wishing Steve would just let him leave. He doesn't wanna do this. Not right now. He just wants to go home and curl up under his own covers and wallow in his self pity. Like he does every time they do this.

"Why do you always run from me?" Steve whispers, soft and sweet, presses the words into Eddie's shoulder with a genlte kiss.

"Wha- I'm not-"

"You never stay. You're always gone in the morning. Or before... sometimes. I wake up and you're gone." Steve moves his lips slowly over Eddie's skin, not kissing, just... gliding. His lips are warm, his breath warmer where it ghosts across Eddie's neck as Steve noses into his hair.

"I'm sorry." Eddie says, Steve tightens his hold, hands curling around Eddie's sides now, wrapping him in his warm embrace.

"You don't have to be sorry. Just," a sigh.

"Just tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

And he says it like a question. Like he needs the answer to this thing that keeps taking Eddie away from him.

"You're not doing anything wrong. It's me. I just... you don't want this. Me. Not really." Eddie breathes it into the dark room, his skin boiling as his heart thunders against his ribs. Steve's nose rubs agaisnt his ear.

"I don't? Oh. Wish someone had told me that." Steve's teasing again. Eddie can feel him smiling into his shoulder.

"Steve-"

"Didn't I invite you over? Make you dinner?" Steve asks, his fingers moving slowly over Eddie's ribs, it makes him squirm a bit.

"Well yeah...but-"

"And after we ate dinner. I ate something else, pretty thoroughly, I thought." He feels Steve shrug against him, his cheeks flushing for a whole different reason now.

"Just because you're obsessed with eating me out doesn't mean-" Steve snorts into his shoulder, cuts him off.

"I'm not obsessed. I just wanna make you feel good." He feels Steve tense then, for the first time since he'd sidled up behind him.

"Do you not like it? I won't do it anymore if you don't. You seemed like you did, so I kept doing it." Steve's voice is quiet in his ear. Eddie drops his shirt and finally touches Steve back, his hands moving to cover Steve's arms where they're wrapped around his middle.

"No. I- I love when you do that. It's not. Ugh!" He sighs, frustrated. Steve moves again, quick and agile. His hands move to Eddie's chest, fingers moving deftly over the scars there.

"It's this isn't it? You think I don't want you because of this?" Steve breathes, his hands and voice gentle where they touch Eddie. And Eddie can't speak now, his throat is burning with the tears that are threatening, because of course Steve would fucking get it. First guess too.

He settles for a nod. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. He feels Steve nod in return and then his arms are wrapped around Eddie again, holding him close, his nose tucked behind Eddie's ear.

"Eddie." He whispers it, Eddie's chest rumbles at the way his name sounds in Steve's mouth, the way it rolls off his tongue full of longing, like he wants to say...

"Yeah?" Eddie breathes, his body trembling.

"I love you."

It's the first time he's said it. He's wanted to, before now, Eddie had seen it, in his eyes. But he'd always made a joke, or changed the subject, or kissed him so he couldn't get the words out. But there they were. Hanging in the quiet of Steve's room, hanging in the warmth that Steve was pressing into Eddie's body, like he couldn't let him go.

"I love you too." Eddie whispered, his voice shaking. Steve turned him them, fast and nimble in a way Eddie never seemed to able to pin down. His fingers gently tucking Eddie's hair behind his ears.

"Stay. Please?" Steve asks, his hands moving down, his thumbs moving over Eddie's scars before his fingertips settle on the waistband of Eddie's pants. Steve's eyes drop down, and then raise back up, looking at Eddie through his lashes, a question in his warm brown eyes.

Eddie once again can't find his words. His throat clicks when he tries to speak so he nods again. A little frantic. And then Steve is smiling. And the thunder in Eddie's chest calms. Because that's safe. That smile. Steve is safe. Always. And he wants Eddie here. Not just for sex. But for all the other dumb shit they get up to too.

Steve nods back, a mirror to Eddie now. And keeps smiling as he unbuttons Eddie's jeans and helps him out of them. Both of them laughing when Eddie's foot gets stuck and he nearly topples over.

When Steve has them both back under the covers, his arms wrapped around Eddie again, face pressed into Eddie's back, his hands resting over Eddie's heart, Steve whispers sweet words into Eddie's skin. And Eddie feels himself falling. Falling further in love. Falling asleep. Falling for Steve over and over as he presses kisses into Eddie's neck and tells him that he loves him. All of him. Always.

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen deal with their s/o crying on their period

requested by @weird-bookworm

notes: everyone really likes the period reactions lmao. tw for menstruation symptoms, reader therefore has a uterus

masterlist

seungcheol, seungkwan

is genuinely blinking tears out of his eyes when you come to him in tears telling him it just hurts so much. buries you into his embrace and lets you cry for as long as you want to. will totally be willing to listen and let you rant, either about the thing that's made you emotional or about the fact that the world is gonna end soon if humanity keeps on destroying the environment as much as they're doing right now. definitely ends up crying with you, and now you're both a sobbing mess but it's okay because you'll end the day all soft and in need of comfort, curling up on the sofa and watching your favourite shows until you both feel better again

jeonghan, joshua, wonwoo, minghao

sososo worried when he finds you in your bed, crying your eyes out while watching a video. thinks that something terrible has happened to you or that someone's said something, and he will seriously call in seungcheol to come fight whoever hurt you if you don't tell him within ten seconds. coddles you and pets your hair and offers to buy you chocolate and bury you under cushions and pull up a bath for you. will do anything to stop your tears, whether that be by embarrassing himself and making you laugh or by hugging you and kissing away your tears until you stop crying because god forbid his darling has to be sad for a minute longer

junhui, hoshi, chan

tripping over every possible surface to rush to you with a box of tissues the moment he hears you begin to sob. has definitely vaulted over the sofa before to get to you when you suddenly appeared in the doorway with tears in your eyes. is worried beyond belief, puffs his chest and goes "who do i need to fight 😤" while you cry into the tissues he's handing you. you go "me" and he's all "??? i'm not fighting you what's wrong???". might be a bit confused, but definitely has his arms ready for you to fall into when you descend into sobs again. needs to be reminded every time that your period can cause these periods of intense emotions where you just suddenly start crying, but he gets an A+ for how he deals with it. 

woozi, mingyu, dokyeom, hansol

starts making fake-crying noises when you suddenly burst into tears. it makes you laugh and hit him for making fun of you before you then promptly starting to cry even harder because it's not funny he shouldn't make fun of you you're seriously really upset :((( properly consoles you after making fun tho, and makes those cooing noises and wrapping you in his arms and petting your hair. he's still laughing while trying to help you calm down tho. asks you if there's anything you need, if there's anything you want him to do, and tells you of course he's gonna do everything his baby wants, anything at all

request guidelines

reactions tags: @jeonginssa @magicaltonaru @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @turningcarat @nakedgrapes @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @iheartyujin @summery-bat @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @ejspencer14 @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @saythename-chess @yonabutnotyuna @youthoughtiwasfeelingyou @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @butiluvu @sunshinekyeom-sang @ocyeanicc @zozojella @thesmellofcoffeeandrain @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @nananacomeonnnn @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @hansolaria @gam3bo1z @marisblogg @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt

[dreadfutures]

regarding sept 19:

This needs to be clarified because misunderstanding has resulted in some usually very nice people getting incredibly nasty and bullying others.

This past week, many people - press, and content creators - were allowed a hands-on experience of the new Dragon Age game. They played for about 6 hours. The attendees of this event are under an NDA until Sept 19.

After September 19th, the people who played the game are allowed to speak about it in some amount of detail. The press embargo is lifted, so to speak.

No one who attended this event has come out, twirled their mustache, and said they're going to spoil major game stuff without warning.

If you think you're about to tell me that yes, someone did - no she didn't. I know it's too much to hope for but someday you must learn to not hear every tweet and text as if the other person was personally intending to harm you. Few people really are so malicious. If you approach text neutrally you can tell when people are, or not. Really.

They have instead warned that there will be info shared from this event, probably tagged and warned about (hopefully), but the reporting, sharing, reposting, etc., of that info will be - like all things in fandom - a mess dependent on individual fans. If you care about spoilers at all, get your filters and blocks ready for that. For sure!

But again, it only seems like they had 6 hours or so to play. I doubt the people who attended will be malicious or rubbing stuff in our faces. I doubt the people who attended will even be spilling every single deet. Most people who we know & are connected to the fandom that were in attendance have said they themselves avoided main game stuff, because they didn't want to be spoiled either.

So that is the real information, as best we know it, without fear mongering about a flood of spoilers - and do with that what you will!

A lot of people are starting to wholly block all of the new game's tags because they don't want to see anything else until it drops! This is definitely the time to start. Maybe you do need to go dark and hop off the internet to keep your boundaries, or maybe you feel confident in your dashboard, your friends, and your filtered content, that you won't be seeing untagged spoilers being shared. (I'm in the latter category; nothing has appeared on my dash without being filtered, for months.)

Control your space with the tools you have, but cruelty should not be one of them.

A lot of people (on twitter, love DA twitter, where the worst aspects of all your friends' personalities come out 😒) have been incredibly, viciously belligerent to those who attended this event. They have used really terrible language to bully them as individuals and make personal attacks against them. The dog-piling has been amplified by certain people who were not invited to that event, and by the wording of others who are giving "warnings" about spoilers running rampant, floodgates opening, mayday, everyone is going to be rubbing spoilers in your face after Sept 19.

Whatever you think about the marketing about this game - whatever you think about what EA thinks are spoilers - whatever your personal stance on what you want to know going into the game (or not):

Content creators and press, their job is to talk about the game. In detail. It's their job! Ideally they do it as (is typically done! as many of them have already been doing!) with warnings/tags/whatever when something spoilery might come up.

Harassing them and wishing them harm or calling them terrible things and slandering their character is just an expression of your own frustration, lack of control, whatever - and it's not a good look.

[blitzwhore]

I just saw Blitzø get called Stolas stockholm victim I can't with this fandom anymore😭

😂 As outrageously incorrect and stupid as that take is, I'm going to go on a tangent here. I hope you don't mind.

I think every fandom has annoying people with awfully terrible takes in it. People with zero media literacy. People who hatewatch. People who think they're entitled to the exact show they would've wanted, which has nothing to do with the actual, existing show.

This is especially true for queer media, and especially true for queer cartoons. (Hi, yes. I was active in the Adventure Time, Steven Universe, Voltron, and She-Ra fandoms when those shows were airing, respectively. I've seen some stuff). Some people just can't handle queer cartoons, period. If the queer characters/ships are soft and wholesome, they're infantilising and boring, and if they're complex and nuanced and actually have conflict, they're abusive and problematic. You'll hear the same recycled arguments over and over again. Like, the shit some people are saying about Blitz and Stolas after The Full Moon? Is literally almost word-for-word what they said about Catra and Adora post-season 3 of She-Ra (and even at the end of the show).

Here's the thing, though! Those people and their bad takes are not what I want to think about what I think about a fandom. Those aren't the people I want to call the fans. They don't deserve that title. Not when so many other people are out there dedicating their time to making gifs and art and meta posts, and writing fic, and commenting/reblogging to show support, and sliding into people's DMs to scream and squee together about a thing they love.

At the end of the day, "fandom" is just a lot of people each doing their own thing. Which people you engage with and allow to stay within your line of sight will determine your fandom experience. Fandom can be a huge, convoluted, online space full of people who are constantly arguing with one another and whose takes make you unfathomably angry... Or it can be you and your 5 friends and mutuals who scream gleefully at one another in 2-note posts. You can't control what others post online, but you can control your engagement with it.

How? Well, here's what I personally do to avoid getting upset by people's stupid opinions online:

Filter 'critical' and 'anti' tags (eg. #anti stolitz #anti vivziepop #Helluva Boss critical #HB critical #vivziepop critical). Many people actually do tag their critical posts because they know it's the respectful thing to do!

If I come across a post that has one or more of those tags, obviously, I don't click through to see it under any circumstances.

If I stumble across a stranger's untagged post with hate/criticism that upsets me: I stop reading and BLOCK. Immediately. I don't look back. I don't finish reading. I don't engage. I just block block block. I <3 the block button, seriously.

If I feel my mind reeling from a bad take I just came across: I take a step back, close my phone, breathe, remember life is beautiful sometimes. Go back and watch an episode I really like. Clean my living space a little. Vent about it to a friend (but only if I really need to, because if not, I'd rather not dwell on it).

If I'm starting to feel the need to reply to someone's bad take (directly or via my own post), I instead make the decision to channel that energy into making fandom posts out of love. (I don't do this just with fandom. If I see something transphobic online, I usually react by reblogging a bunch of trans art or trans positivity posts on my main, for example). I like to think of it as putting some positivity out into the world to compensate for the negativity I just saw. So, for example, if I see someone shitting on my blorbo, I may make a silly post just saying how much I love blorbo. Or I'll make (or draft) a post about how interesting I find some of blorbo's actions. Or reblog another person's positive/interesting post about blorbo.

And finally, I stay the hell away from Twitter. Or at least, if I go on Twitter, I try my best to avoid any tweet that has text in it instead of just art. Even the people who have good opinions spend too much time arguing with the people who have bad opinions on there. I don't want to see people's bad takes! No, not even while reading founded and perfectly articulated criticism of those bad takes! So I just limit my time on Twitter. And again, if someone is putting bad takes on my TL (even if it is to counter them), I unfollow and block as needed.

All this to say, yes, it really fucking sucks to read the opinions of people who don't understand and who hate the characters and ships and worlds you love. Gosh it's the worst. But you can curate your fandom experience. You can focus on the things you can control. You have the power to decide if your fandom experience is draining or fun!

And because I don't know how to finish this, here, have a Stolitz kiss to heal you:

We will keep winning and there's nothing the haters can do about it. 😌

[ohitsjae]

Skz as love languages...(Pt1)

tags: Stray Kids, Stray Kids x gn!reader, sfw

summary: Skz as what love languages they could have (Hyung line)

Channie

I think the main one would be Acts of Service. He'd clean up if you cooked, offer to help you run any errands and would also buy your favourite snack and make you your favourite drink in the evenings/order it if he wasn't able to spend the night with you. He'd plan your dates, and if you two were going to eat out, he'd be the one to make the reservation.

In return, you would always offer to look over any new lyrics to proofread them and offer compliments/constructivecriticism for new tracks, cook/order his favourite meal if it's been a long day and make/order his favourite breakfast on the mornings he stays round yours. You also always carry his favourite snack bar on you because you know sometimes he forgets to eat when he's in the studio.

I think the second one would be Physical Touch. When he's driving, he normally has his hand on your thigh or you hold his hand whenever you can, you always make sure you brush against each other's shoulder or arm when you pass each other in the corridor and if you pass him when he's sat down you kiss his forehead or ruffle his curls.

Min

Honestly I think his main love language is Acts of Service as well. He always cooks dinner for you and he also like to do your grocery shop. Mainly because it means that a) he knows what ingredients you have and what meals he can cook and b) you don't have to do it. Also when he comes round yours/you guys meet up he always brings your favourite drink/snack/pastry etc.

In turn, you plan most of your dates so he doesn't need to worry about the details when he's on schedule - taking him on new hiking trails or going to the local cat cafe. You also do the washing up and clean the kitchen after he's cooked and 'sneakily' leave his favourite blanket out on the sofa when you two decide to have movie nights.

The second one is Quality Time. He just enjoys being in your presence and you both often turn your phones off for your dates. When he's cooking, you sit on the counter or at the table and tell him about your day, you spend evenings watching anime in the sofa and he always makes sure you know that he's listening to you with follow up questions or the hums or cute little 'ah's that he does.

Binnie

I think Changbin's main love language is Words of Affirmation. He's always complimenting you - not just your appearance, although he definitely does tell you that you're incredibly pretty and handsome and cute, but also your intelligence, creativity, personality etc in-person but also over text, you get a message each morning reminding you that he loves you, that he thinks your amazing and that he can't wait to see you again. He also always uses pet names. He rarely uses your real name at this point, always calling you baby or darling or honey, and he's constantly looking for new pet names to use.

You always compliment and admire the payoff from his gym efforts. Plus, you leave colourful post-it notes all over the apartment, his dorm when you visit and his lyrics notebook calling him handsome, reminding him that he's amazing at what he does, that you can't wait to hear his next masterpiece and telling him little ideas you've had for your next date.

I think the other love language that's quite strong for Binnie is Giving/Receiving Gifts. Just buying things that made him think of you, flowers each week and your favourite sweets everytime he goes shopping. You getting him things of his wishlist and leaving little presents for him to find like a scavenger hunt when you go to his dorm.

Hyune

I think Jinnie's main love language is Quality Time. Just spending as much free time with you as he possibly can. Taking you around Seoul to his favourite cafes and museums, dinners in his favourite restaurants and evenings spent cuddled together on the sofa. I think the best thing you can find in the world is someone you can be around and not have to talk to them! Just existing in their presence with no pressure to fill the silence and no awkward pauses just taking comfort in being close to them and I think you'd find that in Hyunjin. Spending a day with him drawing pr painting whilst you read/listen to music/knit/whatever your hobby is and just enjoy relaxing with your favourite person.

In turn, you'd ask for his schedule so you know when hes free and visit him. Whether it's for a few hours at the dorm because he has an early morning the next day so can't stay round yours or for 10 minutes in the studio between lessons where you watch him dance and offer advice and praise. When he's on tour you always call and text as much as possible as a compromise for not seeing each other in-person even if that means your video calls are just him getting ready for bed or you taking him with you to run errands, you still find away to spend time together despite the distance.

The second love language is obviously Physical Touch. You two aren't seen together without being in contact. Holding hands, linked arms or putting you feet in each other's lap - you are always in some kind of contact - PDA is the name of the game! He loves putting his arm around your waist or shoulders and always has his hand on your thigh when he drives as much as possible. You like to mess with his hair - putting it in pigtails, twirling it around your fingers and braiding little plaits all through it when you guys watch TV.

---- Hope you enjoyed this!! Part two with the Maknae line is Here!! 🦦

[weirdsht]

Longing - LoTCF & Molan! Reader

notes: There's so much I want to include here but it's so long already... I might make a part 2. Also I woke up and decided to change the way I address reader lol. I used to use _____ because it was easier to type but I've decided to go for aesthetics now (disillusioned will still have the same format though so readers won't be shocked with the change).

tags: female reader, death, blood, injuries, angst(?), hurt/comfort

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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[Name] Molan was about to fall asleep when intruders suddenly infiltrated the Molan Estate.

“...Mom I’m scared.”

The 5-year-old clutched her mother’s skirt. Screaming and clashing of weapons can be heard throughout the house.

Her mother said nothing at first. Opting to get her greatsword from underneath the child’s bed first.

“Baby you started learning stealth techniques with your brother right?”

[Name] nodded as she felt her mother squeeze her hand.

“Remember what Dad taught you okay? You might have to use it tonight. Think of it as an exercise to see how well you’ve learned.”

The situation is scary, but despite that [name] feels calm because her mother is smiling at her.

But that doesn’t stop her hand from shaking as she hears their family members’ screams.

Slowly, the mother-daughter duo slithered out of the bedroom. Their main goal is to find Ron and Beacrox before escaping the estate.

Run, hide, roll over, they did everything just to avoid the eyes of the masked people attacking their estate. As they run away corpses of their family members and servants can be seen everywhere they go. The stench of their blood overtook [name]’s senses making her want to puke.

Everything seemed to be going well at first. However, they have been discovered after a few minutes of sneaking around. It was inevitable. With every corner being surrounded by those mysterious people massacring the Molans.

“[NAME]!”

[Name]’s mother just hadn’t expected one of those bastard’s swords to pierce the child’s chest instead.

The Molan Mistress was surrounded. She was trying her best to fend off everyone who dared to hurt her child.

But her efforts weren’t enough.

One of the enemies still managed to slip past her greatsword.

At that moment Beacrox, her first child, entered the room they were in. His eyes were shaking along with his legs as he ran to hide behind her mother.

“Beacrox take care of your sister.”

Her voice was calm. Fitting as the wife of the Molan Patriarch. Her hand tightly clenched on her greatsword. Eyes fierce, their gaze holds a promise of protecting her children.

Meanwhile, Beacrox sat on the ground. His arms cradled his baby sister while also trying to apply pressure to where she was hurt.

“Orabeoni… it hurts… it really hurts…”

“Just hold on a little longer. Father will get here soon.”

Beacrox’s hands are covered in blood. [Name]’s blood. No matter how hard he tries he can’t stop the bleeding. He can’t stop his younger sister’s body from going cold.

“Orabeoni… Orabeoni…”

[Name] tried to lift her small hands, but was too weak to do so. Beacrox shushed her, reassuring her that she’d be fine. That she’ll make it through the night. That they’ll get out of here alive.

She has to. Beacrox doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same if his baby sister dies here.

“I’m scared… Everything hurts.”

Beacrox is scared too. Scared of the copious amounts of blood escaping her little body. Scared of her body slowly becoming colder as the seconds fly by. Scared of her eyes that are slowly fluttering themself close.

“Hey, hey, you can’t sleep yet. We have to wait for Father first okay?”

Despite all of those things, the Molan heir stood strong. He has to. He needs to be strong enough for the two of them.

[Name] tries hard to follow her brother’s orders. However, the task starts to feel impossible to accomplish as time goes on. Sleep tempts her, tells her that if she closes her eyes the pain will disappear.

Her surroundings became more and more hazy and her family's voices grew quieter until she couldn’t hear them anymore. She was fighting to stay awake despite her body desperately shutting down.

“Dad…”

She mumbles as she sees a blur of a person that she thinks she recognizes as her father. 

“It’s okay. Everything is okay now. We’ll get out of here.”

Ron tries to reassure the girl but she can’t hear him anymore. He pressed his fingers on her pulse desperately trying to find one. Once he found it he asked his son to monitor the pulse as he aides his wife.

Bathump

“Baby stay with me. Dad’s here now. Dad will get you out of here.”

Thump

“[Name] you can’t close your eyes. Beacrox try to keep her eyes open!”

thump

“Mom! Dad! I- I can’t! I can barely feel her pulse. She’s also not breathing anymore!”

…thump

“Run. I’ll handle it here. Go with your father!”

“But what about [name]???”

“...It’s too late for her…”

…thum…

…

Only then did Beacrox let go of [name]’s wrist. Even after removing his hand, he felt like he could still hear it.

Her last pulse.

The feeling of it lingered in Beacrox’s hand. He clenches and lets go of his hand, but still…

Still, he could feel it.

Even as he runs away while looking at his father’s back. Even decades later when his serving the Henituse family as a chef. 

That feeling never goes away.

Meanwhile, the one left at the Molan Estate is still fighting. Desperately fighting the intruders with all her might.

She knows she’s outnumbered. She knows that she will die at their hands. She knows she has no fighting chance.

But still, she fights.

In hopes of buying her husband and her son time. In hopes of letting them escape and live to see another day.

And as she expected, she didn’t last long. After a few minutes of swinging her greatsword, he had finally succumbed to her wounds. Her body fell on the ground of what used to be their home. Of what used to be a safe space for her and her family.

Luckily, they left her alone after that. Figuring that she’ll die on her own either way. It gave her a chance to crawl over to her daughter. Gave her the chance to hug her one last time before her inevitable doom.

[Name]’s body was still bleeding. It had slowed down considerably thanks to Beacrox’s efforts but it was still bleeding. But her mother didn’t mind. She didn’t mind the puddle of blood gathering underneath her daughter’s body.

She just wants to hug her child one last time.

That’s why she ignored everything. The sticky blood, [name]’s cold body, her own ragged breathing. She ignored all of it and imagined that they were back in her daughter’s room. That she’s just hugging her daughter to sleep after telling her a bedtime story.

…thump

Ron’s wife wasn’t sure if she heard that right.

…thump …thump

She pressed her ears closer to [name]’s heart and heard the faintest of pulse. It was almost nonexistent. 

But it meant that there was still hope for her daughter.

Gathering her strength. She draped over her body on top of her daughter. This effectively hid her and put pressure on her wound.

She didn’t know if her daughter would survive. But she knows that she won't. This is her last ditch effort to make her daughter live. The only thing she can do with her dying body.

Kissing the crown of her sweet baby’s head for one last time, she let her body finally succumb to its wounds after fighting for so long.

Gasp!

[Name] gasped awake from her sleep as she dreamed of that night again. It’s been a few years since then. She has somehow managed to escape with her limited stealth skills at that time. Managed to go outside the borders of the Molden Kingdom in order to live.

For the first few years, she had to live on the streets. It was a sudden change. From having her own room and servants to barely eating one day a meal. But still, she persevered. It’s what her mother would have wanted.

She has nothing on her except the clothes on her back. She can’t even use her real name anymore for fear that someone will recognize it. 

However, she did have her father’s teachings.

It may not have been much as she was just starting out before their family fell apart. But she still practised them every chance she got. Tries to expand what she knows by remembering what she has read and her experience while living on the streets.

“You’re already taking another job? Go out and play or something! You’re too young to be taking job after job!”

Her hard work paid off in the form of her being a mercenary. She used her skills and wits to qualify for such a dangerous job. In turn, she became a full pledge mercenary at the young age of 12.

Every mission was life-threatening. She never knows if a mission is going to be her last one. But it puts a roof over her head and a warm meal on her plate.

“Nalom, why do you take so many jobs? You already have enough money to last you for at least 3 months.”

One of the mercenaries ruffled her hair but she ignored it. Focusing her attention on the name she was called.

Nalom…

The opposite of Molan.

Cheesy. She knows it was cheesy to make her alias just the reverse spelling of her last name. But she feels like she will inevitably forget her real name if she doesn’t do it.

She might have lost everything that night but she promised herself that she’ll take revenge one day. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, she will get it done.

Hence why she takes job after job. Honing her skills and pushing her limits. Trying to discreetly sniff out any information about the secret organization that attacked the Molans.

“Bud I heard we’re going on a war with Arm?“

The now 27-year-old [name] sneaked behind Bud.

“Nalom! How many times do I have to keep telling you that you’ll give me a heart attack if you keep sneaking up on me like that?”

[Name] ignored the Mercenary King holding onto his chest as she waited for an answer.

“Yes, the veterans will attack their secret base in a few days.”

“I’m included right?”

Bud Illis looks at her as if she’s joking.

“Of course you are. You’ve been here for 15 years. There’s no way you’re not a veteran.”

Good.

That way she’ll finally get her revenge.

“By the way. Is the investigation about our first base done yet?”

[Name] could see Bud’s shoulder tense at the question. She honestly didn’t care much. It was devastating that it had been blown up and the directory is now gone but it’s not like anyone from their side died. So it’s not her problem.

Well at first at least.

Until she heard the rumours that the one who attacked the directory was Molan’s last patriarch.

“Not yet. I wasn’t there when it happened and we’re putting all our efforts into the upcoming attack that’s why the investigation is taking longer.”

She could sense that Bud was only telling half the truth but she let it go.

“Say Nalom, did you learn your stealth techniques from someone?“

The Mercenary King asked just as she was about to go out of his office.

“No, I learned during my time living on the streets.”

A half-life. It was only fair since Bud also lied to her.

With that [name] closed the door behind her making her unable to hear the conversation that happened in her absence.

“Her techniques feel similar to Patriarch-nim…”

Bud mumbled under his breath once the stealthy mercenary was gone.

“It’s different but their foundations are similar.”

Glenn agreed from the couch. Both of them wondered if there was a chance that Nalom was somehow connected to the Molans.

“Where’s the kid?”

One of the mercenaries asked as they prepared to attack Arm’s secret base.

“I don’t know, you know how Nalom is. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Another mercenary reassured the guy.

“Nalom? Who’s that?”

Cale asked Bud who was also trying to look for the missing mercenary.

“She’s our youngest veteran, only 27-years-old. But she’s the best among the mercenaries when it comes to stealth.”

Bud checked one last corner before sighing and giving up.

“She was here just a second ago… Well, it’s not like she can’t handle herself. But she has never gone on her own during large-scale attacks.”

The Mercenary King decided to trust the missing mercenary and continued with the original plan.

“Who goes there!?”

Beacrox hears a familiar yet foreign voice ask him as he dodges a flying dagger.

“I should be the one asking you…”

Brown hair that was the same shade as his own greeted him. Her one hand preparing to throw another dagger while her other hand was clutching on a flag that had been drawn on.

22 years. It has been 22 years since he last saw his little sister. His last memory of her was her body growing colder in his arms as he felt her pulse slowly stop.

Even today he could still feel her pulse linger in his hands.

“[Name].”

Beacrox called out. If only he knew that it was the first time in 22 years since anyone had called [name] by that name. 

He could see the mercenary stop in her tracks. Her arm lowered as she processed his voice and the name he called her.

“Orabeoni?”

She asked and Beacrox nodded. Yes, it’s him. It’s her orabeoni. 

[Name] slowly walked towards him. Her steps slow and staggering. Almost falling in his arms once she was close enough.

“It’s you. It’s really you. You’re alive.”

She cried in Beacrox's arms and for one he didn’t mind that his clothes were being tainted. He’ll take as much dirt as he needs as long as he can hug his sister in his arms.

Bathump. Bathump.

Instinctively his hand reached out to her wrist. The same wrist he held onto that night. But unlike that time, her pulse is loud and clear. Full of vitality.

Alive

“What’s taking you so long? I thought you were going to check out who was sneaking around your sister’s room?”

Ron’s voice echoed through the halls as he walked closer to where the siblings were.

“Dad’s alive? It was really Dad who blew up the first mercenary base?”

[Name] heard her brother hummed in affirmation. His chest vibrates against her cheek as they are still hugging each other.

Ron’s footsteps were silent but [name] could sense that he was close. Letting go of the hug, she stepped outside of her room to greet him.

They didn’t say anything. They don’t need to. 

For Ron will be able to recognize his daughter anywhere.

That’s why he didn’t say anything and just accepted his running daughter with open arms. Hugging her tightly, as if trying to make up for the two decades they have been apart.

“Dad I was so lonely. I was so scared.”

She confided in her dad. The veteran mercenary who’s the best in stealth and wields double daggers is gone. In the arms of her dad, she’s simply [Name] Molan. She’s just the daughter he loves. 

The daughter he thought he lost.

“It’s fine now. Everything is fine. You can tell your dad everything that happened.”

Ron stroked his daughter’s hair. His hands shaking ever so slightly.

Tears gathered in his eyes but only Beacrox noticed them. 

The chef said nothing about his father’s vulnerability. He stayed silent even when a lone tear managed to escape his father’s eyes.

His strong father. The same one who bulldozed through everything just to keep him alive. The same father who worked hard to train him while discreetly investigating the organization that attacked them. His father showed no weakness.

That same father of his has been overcome by emotion.

And Beacrox can’t say anything about it for he was the same.

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

Was reading over the reverie arc tag and saw that you said to re-ask you about Im after what happened is revealed. (I'd provide the link but tumblr won't let me) So, while not much was revealed, thoughts?

what i think is really interesting about imu is how they compare and contrast to the other characters who have been set up for us as endgame villains, those being blackbeard and akainu. compared to both of them, imu is established quite late in the series, and how they will fit into the unrolling narrative and themes of the story is still somewhat unclear.

both blackbeard and akainu are established firmly well before they enter the main story as primary antagonists. we hear about blackbeard as far back as alabasta and meet him in jaya, while akainu is first seen in robin's enies lobby flashback and mentioned even before that. and they each also embody a strong thematic conflict with the main characters that is going to need to be overcome by the end of the story.

blackbeard mirrors luffy in his pursuit of the pirate king's throne, existing in the same lineage of villains as doflamingo and big mom. it seems almost certain that he will be the final and most difficult fellow challenger for the title of pirate king that luffy will need to face, and the eventual showdown between the blackbeards and strawhats has been telegraphed for quite some time. the question this conflict asks is, what does it mean to be a pirate? what does it mean to be a pirate king?

meanwhile, akainu is the embodiment of authoritarianism. he's the law, brutal and indiscriminate; he represents the order that would stifle freedom. he is much more alike to antagonists like rob lucci and cp-9. while i usually try to avoid speculation on this blog, i think akainu's final defeat will probably not be at luffy's hands; i think a showdown with sabo is much more likely. and the reason i think this is because the question that the conflict with akainu asks is, what does real justice look like? this is ultimately the question of the conflict between the marines and the revolutionaries; they are two armies fighting over whether the current order will be maintained or torn down and built anew.

so, then, imu. we meet them quite late in the game, and still know very little about them. however, i do think this is in itself thematically resonant; we see almost no trace of imu anywhere else until we reach mariejois itself, because they have been deliberately erased from the world. imu is tied, specifically and inextricably, to the mystery of the void century, of the erased history, and we will only learn the truth about them when we learn the truth about everything else.

imu's role in the story seems to be specifically to finally provide a direct antagonist to the overarching myth arc of the void century, the forgotten ancient kingdom, and the will of d; the imperial crimes of the world government, shoved endlessly under the rug. can you build a world-spanning kingdom on a lie? will it stand? for how long? there can be no such thing as an immortal empire no matter how much force you might use to make it so. you can't pin the sun in place in the sky.

while it's impossible to really guess this conflict is going to unfold given how much information we still don't have, my top three guesses for who will be primarily involved are robin (for obvious reasons; unraveling the truth of the void century is her dream, and imu stands directly in the way of that), vivi (also obvious; imu is targeting her directly), and law (both because his new goal is to unravel the meaning of the will of d and because it seems significant that imu is likely a previous recipient of the ope-ope no mi's immortality technique).

[lovelyliliana]

Okay I just feel the need to say something.

Some extremely sad and bitter people on here go through the law of assumption tag and send very nasty asks to every member of the community they see.

It's pretty obvious that they wanted to manifest something but they failed so now their main goal in life is to make others as miserable as they are. And that's really pathetic.

Please don't let anyone make you feel like you can't achieve something just because they couldn't do it. The law is very much real and that's why I always encourage people to test it and to manifest something. You don't have to believe what strangers online say, you have the power to prove to yourself that it works.

Some people are just filled with so much hatred and sadness and they refuse to get out of the victim state because it's so much easier to accuse those who have succeeded of lying, and make other people feel like they'll never be happy and that they'll never get what they want. And do you really think that this kind of person is someone you should listen to?

So if you've ever gotten an anonymous ask saying that it's all fake and that the law isn't real or that you're a horrible person because you haven't manifested world peace yet, please block that anon and don't let their words get to you.

And I have to add that even though we can manifest anything we want, it's also very obvious that most of us have certain limiting beliefs and it takes time to get rid of them and manifest those "massive" changes. We grew up hearing about different wars, illnesses and horrible things happening to innocent people and it's not that easy to just get rid of those thoughts.

But please, no matter what, don't let anyone make you feel like you're not gonna live your dream life.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 2 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 7k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: i can't tell you all how i excited i am to get this fic going! thank you for the lovely comments on the first chapter, i promise there is a lot of cool stuff to come!

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 2 - The Patrol

‘Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.’  - Richard Silken, The Worm King’s Lullaby

There is a thin sheet of ice covering the streams that are heading downwards. It crunches under the hooves of their horses that dutifully carry them up the hill and past the gas station. Joel is glad that it's Tommy next to him. He's more tense than he's felt in ages, a gnawing feeling in his stomach that has little to do with the skipped breakfast and a lot with the worry that is etched into the frown between his brows. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this, much less try and calm him down, something he knows is a lost battle.

“They might be fine, Joel,” his younger brother says gently, just loud enough for him to hear. Tommy thinks there will be no response until one comes, a little too late for it to not be premeditated.

“She talked about leaving, sometimes. They would be stupid enough to run off-”

“And leave Jackson?” Tommy raises a brow. “Maria said their house looked normal, all their things still in place. They wouldn't be stupid enough to leave all that behind.”

Joel doesn't want to hear it. He knows, better than anyone. Knows that you wouldn't just leave, not without saying goodbye to the children you'd come to care about so much. Would you leave him without a goodbye?

He almost hopes you would. Because if you didn't leave willingly, what was the alternative? It would've been nearly impossible for someone to take you from inside Jackson with no one noticing. But he can't shake the feeling that something is off.

It’s Tommy who has to keep reminding him to ride slow, to keep an eye on the ground for possible tracks. Joel just wants to go, to spur Old Beardy on until they're galloping up the hill, despite not knowing where it is he needs to go. He just wants to find you. Preferably in one piece, happy and healthy. 

He would’ve missed it.

The small footprints leading off the road and onto a smaller path, one that's twisting through pines and further into the woods. 

Tommy nods. “Pretty sure ‘tis the one that leads to the hunting cabin.”

It only takes a few minutes for them to be sure. The wooden cabin is hidden away behind a few trees, difficult to spot if you don't know where to look. It doesn't really serve any purpose, at least not anymore. The roof at the back caved in years ago, allowing rain and plants alike to enter the dimly lit room. It’s less than five miles from the gate of Jackson, tucked away from the main road.

He can’t help but think that this would be the perfect place to run off to. Or to hide a body.

Joel is off his horse in a second, not even bothering to tie the stallion's halter to the wooden posts in front of the cabin. Without thinking, he tugs his revolver out of his waistband, using his foot to nudge the door open.

He smells it before his eyes even have a chance to adjust to the dim light. The unmistakable stench of blood. And mixed with it, creating an odor that immediately makes him sick to his stomach, the smell of gunpowder in the air.

***

The sun has been slowly rising while you’ve been flipping through the pages, trying to find the volumes you’re looking for. The library of Jackson, though rather small, has been frequented more and more, especially in the winter months when the weather doesn’t always allow activities outside and people resort to what they’ve always known: Books.

The entire place is supposed to be relocated soon, to a small store on main street. But compared to the greenhouses needing repairs and the stables being expanded, books don't seem to be a priority for most of the townsfolk.

“Books can’t feed us or keep us safe,” Maria pointed out when you brought the slow progress up to her. You politely disagree. You feel like you could live off books for the rest of your life.

Still, packing up everything means the old place, a shed tucked away behind the church, is currently a mess. Sagging bookshelves, a leaky roof and too many books for too little space means chaos. One that only few bother to navigate in its current state. You among them.

It was the crack of dawn when you slipped out of the house, deciding to let Lane sleep in while you walked through the still empty streets to the far end of the town, hoping to get the library work out of the way before the first lesson of the day.

Maria is the one that finds you, making your head peek up from between two shelves with a frown. “You changed your mind on those books?”

She gives a small laugh, one that sounds oddly like relief. Then her face becomes stern again, the look she carries much more often. “You two have some explaining to do, do you realize that?”

Now it's your turn to frown. “We two?” She pauses at that, looking around the small room. But there is no one here but you and her and the characters bleeding from the pages.

“Is Lane not with you?”

You shake your head, turning your attention back to the book in your hands. “She has the 8AM class today.” 

“She's not there,” Maria curtly responds. You can tell she's trying to keep her voice steady but there is a hint of anxiety regardless. 

“Then she overslept again,” you half guess-half ask, closing the book again.

“She's not at home either.”

An odd feeling crawls over your body. You can't remember what was in your hands a moment ago, but the question is forgotten in an instant. Maria carefully watches as you step out from between the shelves, her tone still gentle. “I've sent Tommy and Joel out to search. We thought you two snuck out.”

You feel numb as you shake your head. “No, I- I didn't see her this morning. I thought she was still asleep.” You rack your brain for the memories of this morning, of last night, of the last week even. But nothing comes to mind, nothing out of the ordinary.

“I was out late last night, finishing up some paperwork,” you mutter, more to yourself than the woman in front of you, retracing your steps in your mind. “Lane got home before me, I had dinner, we talked about blueberries-”

“Blueberries?” Maria asks, her hand already back on the doorknob. She seems restless and it's that fleeting detail that worries you more than anything. Maria stays in control. Always. 

“Yeah, we- It doesn't matter. I don't know where she is,” you finish lamely, getting up and joining her at the door. But she hasn't moved yet.

“You should stay at home. I'm sure she'll show up again soon and if she comes back to your place, someone should be there.” You nod but your mind is already drifting again. Lane’s been doing fine, good. So have you, really. Maria gently reaches for your shoulder, steering you out of the shed and towards the church, down the street that leads to the center of Jackson. 

You're passing the small graveyard that's protected by brick walls, the stones already withered, pale in contrast to the dark metal fence running along on top. The gate is ajar, but you barely pay it any attention as the information settles in your brain. It takes a few seconds for it to reach your mouth and leave your lips.

“She went out a few times.” 

“Out?” Maria enquires, raising an eyebrow as her attention shifts back to you.

“I thought she'd met someone. Cat and her were pretty close and I figured-” You give a small shrug. It's more than uncomfortable, suddenly, and absurd, that you're discussing Lane's private life so openly, with Maria of all people.

“Don't tell her I said that,” you add quickly. 

Maria nods as you reach the end of the brick wall. “I won't. I'll get back to the city hall and see if there’s any news yet. You go home.”

Your head nods as if on its own accord. Maria has already turned her back towards you when you pipe up. “Maria?” 

She pauses, her back straightening a bit. “Yes?”

“You don't think anything happened to Lane, do you?” 

The older woman shakes her head softly. “No. I'm sure she's fine. Now get home. Maybe she's already there.”

And she hurries off, leaving you at the corner of the street with a trembling body and a heavy feeling in your stomach. For a fleeting moment, you allow your thoughts to wander past the point you've been dreading to consider. What if something has happened? If Lane did sneak out, maybe with Cat, maybe alone, and got into some sort of situation? What if she's hurt?

The sky has turned from pink to a light blue, only a few clouds piling around the mountains on the horizon. You glance down at your hands, shaking ever so slightly. You decide to blame it on the cold. The cold that may be getting to your head as well. Because after a few moments, you turn on your heels, heading for the stables. It's only a few rows of houses until the large wooden wall looms in front of you, blocking out the little sunlight you could get in the morning. The wall that protects you from what lies beyond. Infected and Raiders and maybe, you think, as you slip into the stables, maybe answers.

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