#beware of empty promises

[granonine]

Saturday Soliloquy: The Right to Vote

Last week I emphaized that we are NOT a pure democracy here in America. Pure democracy rapidly deteriorates into screaming matches that accomplish nothing. Instead, we are a Republic, which simply means we are governed by a body of law created by representatives of the people. These representatives are elected by the people. They populate the House of Representatives, whose membership now stands…

[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:

This fic will have two parts!

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

~~

The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.

It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.

What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.

Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.

Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.

Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.

God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.

Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.

Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.

So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.

Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.

The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.

The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.

But he didn't.

”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.

”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.

But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.

~~

Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.

”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.

One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.

”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”

Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.

He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.

It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.

As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.

Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.

Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.

...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.

Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.

Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.

...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.

Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.

It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.

”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.

The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.

She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.

***

”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.

”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.

Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.

”Be careful, dear.”

Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.

”Always”

Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.

Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.

Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.

Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.

”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.

”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.

A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.

”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.

Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.

”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.

”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.

Fuck

Part two upcoming

[hanmaitani]

Tell Me You Hate Me

PAIRING - Tsukishima Kei x Reader WC - 5.1K GENRE - Smut, Angst CW - public sex, unprotected sex, marking, mentions of bruising, cervix fucking-beware of doing that irl besties, reader called slut, choking, one (1) face slap, creampie

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

It had been weeks since that night. Weeks of trying to hide your escapades from your friends. Weeks of being dragged into janitor closets and empty classrooms as you walked down the halls of your university. Weeks of sneaking around with Tsukishima Kei.

At first, you had never been more relaxed. You let him fuck out his frustrations on you, always ending up with your own frustrations fucked out of you too. But, this was also the most amount of time you'd ever spend with him and it was making your head spin.

It was incredibly dizzying to see him on a regular basis and not be at each other's throats. Well - you were technically, it was always your bickering that led to him dragging you into the nearest available space and slam you against a wall until neither of you could remember the start of the argument.

Degrading words were exchanged between you and Tsukishima even more frequently than usual. The tone always took on a sexual tilt before you could even notice what you were doing.

It was the way that his eyes seemed to linger on you longer that really made you confused. The way he had no shame in being caught with his eyes lingering on your thighs exposed by your uniform skirt riding up when you reached for something or on your chest as you leaned over his desk to give something to a student on the other side of him.

Every time you caught him, your face flooded with heat in the most embarrassing ways.

You were currently making a promise to yourself to stop whatever it was that the two of you were doing. To put an end to the lingering touches that were never there before. To how he more often than not sandwiched you between himself and Aiko when you were out now when before he would've sat as far away from you as possible.

You were vowing to put an end to the backseat of his car and empty parking lots in the middle of the night. To the locked janitor closets and the empty classrooms.

To put an end to the confusing relationship that was now Tsukishima Kei.

This wasn't the first time you were making this promise to yourself. You were aware of that. But you were trying to convince yourself that this would be the last time you made the promise. That it would stick this time.

You needed it to stick this time. Especially with the look the boy in front of you was currently giving you. He wasn't anyone special, just a boy who usually sat a few rows away from you in class.

You'd been asked to pair off in class and like always, Tsukishima went for Tadashi and Aiko aimed to partner with you. However, this time, unlike most, the boy in front of you had stepped between Aiko and yourself before you'd reached each other.

"Any chance you'd like to be my partner, l/n?" His smile was sweet and his ears tinged pink as he asked you the simple question. Light brown hair fell softly to frame his face and his grey eyes were nothing but kindness.

"I," he cleared his throat, "I would really like to have the chance to work with you." Shock radiated through your body and you locked eyes with Aiko over the boy's shoulder who was giving the boy her own betrayed look.

"Oh," you whispered lightly as you fiddled with the ends of your hair. You took a deep breath and let a smile slip onto your face as you went to let him down gently so that you could make your way to Aiko. "I would love to but-" you were quickly cut off by a voice that sounded from behind you.

"She already has a partner. Fuck off." You snapped your head around so quickly you thought you might break it. Tsukishima was hovering above you, glaring at the boy.

You glanced over your shoulder back to Tadashi who was already making his way over to Aiko, his head shaking from side to side. You could see the way his shoulders fell in what he could only assume was him sighing in exasperation at his best friend.

"I'm sure Ms. Maki won't mind if I steal Ms. l/n just this once." He tossed a smile over at Aiko and went to step toward her, intent on asking her permission. He was cut off just like you were.

"Actually, l/n is my partner." Tsukishima tilted his head lightly, a sarcastic smile pulling at his lips tightly. "So." the sweet boy looked back to Tsukishima in shock, "like I said," he bent forward a little bit, his face leveling with the boy in front of you both and dropping his smile, "run the fuck along."

The boy rolled his eyes but turned to leave anyways. Your tongue poked at the side of your cheek in annoyance but you waited for the boy to be out of earshot before you slowly turned to face the constant source of your irritation.

"Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me." Each word was paired with a sharp shove to his chest - not that it did much to move him, but it did make you feel a little bit better. He was rolling his eyes at your actions as you continued on. "What is your problem." You were seething, staring up at him in frustration.

You went to shove him again but he caught your wrist just before you made contact. You scowled as he tugged you closer, leaning down to speak lowly to you. "Shove me one more time. I dare you."

"Screw off." You snatched your wrist away and turned to make your way toward Aiko. "Let's go Aiko," you muttered, anger still radiating off of you, "the stupid fucking lamppost is pissing me off again." You raised your voice just loud enough that the insult could be heard by the boy it was meant for. And then you watched in horror as Aiko stayed in place. "Aiko?"

"I think I'm going to partner with Tadashi this time." She smiled brightly at you like she didn't just stab daggers through your entire back. "It might give you and Tsukki a chance to work on your anger issues."

You stood in shock trying to process what she'd said. You hated her. Oh you hated her so much.

"Try not to break my best friend, 'kay Tsukki?" She smiled as she called the tease with a head tilt. Fake sweetness from your conniving best friend.

"I swear, I'm giving that boy from the other college your number." You threatened and saw her face momentarily pale before she waved off your threat, disappearing into the hallway with Tadashi. "I hate them." You growled the sentiment under your breath before turning back to face Tsukishima.

"I'm going to find that boy, you," you jabbed your finger into the center of Tsukishima's chest and went to move past him, "can partner with whoever the hell else in this class."

He chuckled lowly and it sent shivers down your spine when it was partnered by him catching your elbow. "Like hell you'll be his partner." The possessive tone that edged his voice was one you'd been getting used to coming from him. It seeped into your bones and made you freeze in place.

You tried to ignore it. The voice inside of you telling you to shut up and listen to him. Screaming at you to just sit down with him and give him the control he wanted. You gave in to the smaller voice. The one nagging, shoving the other voice into the corner, telling you to tell him-

"Go fuck yourself." You yanked your arm away from him but didn't continue towards the aforementioned boy.

Instead, you spun on your heel and out of the lecture hall doors. Your best bet was to find Aiko and beg her to let you partner with her. You heard his steps following after you and you groaned in annoyance.

"What do you want?" You growled it at him, not even bothering to turn your head to him.

Before you could get even one step further down the hall, you were spun and slammed against the wall. A gasp left your mouth as the sting on your back registered.

Tsukishima stood in front of you now, his breath fanning your face as his arms caged you against the wall. "You're not fucking going off to be with someone else." His voice held anger, tinged with something you couldn't put your finger on and for the briefest second, you felt your chest tighten and beg you to give in.

You refused to listen.

Instead, you felt your eyes widen as you frantically glanced up and down the emptying hallway. "Are you fucking crazy!" You whisper-yelled at him, laying both of your palms on his chest to try and shove him away. "Anyone could fucking see us here!"

He wasn't even phased by your pushing as he moved to press his lips to the curve of your ear. "If you fucking care so much, then why are you so turned on?" The deep vibrations of his voice sent shivers down your spine. You hated that he could tell how you were feeling without even touching you.

You opened your mouth, mind set on retaliating, but the words died on your tongue, breathing faltering as you felt his lips graze the base of your ear, tongue poking out to prod at the spot. Your palms on his chest quickly turned into fists, gripping his shirt to steady yourself. His mouth moved, teeth coming to nip at the sensitive skin under your jaw. A needy whine betrayed you as it slipped through your lips.

He chuckled into your neck. "Pathetic." His hands were quickly removed from the wall. One arm wrapped around your waist, bringing your body flush with yours. His mouth was still adhered to your skin as his other arm guided both of you down to the nearest door - one that you were familiar with.

Tsukishima released you easily, shoving you into the empty classroom. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself against the wall before you could fall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Your senses seemed to return now that his hands and lips weren't on you anymore. You glared at his back as he went about shutting and locking the door.

"I hate listening to your fucking voice." He had turned back to you and crossed the space easily, large palm coming to cover your mouth as he pinned you back to the wall, lips reattaching to your neck.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he sucked harshly on the skin he caught between his teeth. You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose as his other hand lifted one of your legs with a grip on your thigh, bringing it to curl around his body, giving him access to grind his hips into yours.

You let a muffled moan out against his palm and your own hands tangled into his blond hair. He groaned against your skin when you tugged. His hands moved further up your thigh, dragging your skirt with it.

"You think you'd learn your fucking place already." His voice vibrated against your skin, moving as his mouth did to the base of your throat. His teeth pulled lightly at the thin skin before closing his lips to suck at it, intent on leaving a mark.

His fingers dug into your skin harshly, your cheeks, your thighs. He ground his hips deeper to yours and you tried not to moan at the heat and hardness centered in his pants and how it felt against you.

"You act like you don't come running to get fucked by me every chance you can." He nipped again at the sensitive skin he'd just marred, pulling back to admire his work. "Like these bruises on your skin don't mark you as mine." The possessiveness shot straight to your core.

His fingers released your thigh and gently brushed over the newly forming fingerprints mixing with the fading ones that littered your thighs. All from Tsukishima.

In a single motion, his palm left your mouth and wrapped around your other thigh. He lifted you up off the ground and pinned you back against the wall as your legs instinctively wrapped around him.

"Fuck," your breath faltered as his hips slotted against yours better, letting you feel him better through his slacks and the thin fabric of your panties.

Heat pooled into your center, no doubt beginning to soak your panties as his fingers left rough bruises in their paths up and down your thighs and knees. "I fucking hate you."

It was a weak sentiment with the way your nails dug into his biceps, leaving scratches down them. Your voice was breathy, shaky, and your head was thrown back against the wall, opening your neck for the assault from his lips and teeth.

Another whiny moan fell from your lips as his bruising grip found its way to your ass. Palms cupped your ass, fingers digging into your inner thighs from behind, pulling so tight that your cunt spread for him.

"Tell me how you hate me," he breathed the words into your ear as more moans fell from your lips, your body begging to have the clothes between you removed, "go on. Get it out again through those little moans." He was condescending, a familiar tone that you hated. It sent another wave of heat rushing through your core as he pulled you away from the wall.

He walked you both over to the nearest desk, splaying your body out for him as he leaned over you and finally connected your lips. His fingers sloppily undid the buttons on your shirt as he kissed you, trying to expose more of your skin.

A moan slipped into the kiss from him as your hand moved from his arm to rub the prominent bulge in his slacks. He was quick to grab both your wrists in a bruising grip and pin them down to your sides. "Keep your fucking hands to yourself." You whined at the command against your lips.

Pathetic. You lectured yourself internally only to be distracted as his lips left yours to find your neck again. He trailed down your neck to your collarbone. Wet kisses and small marks left proof of his path as your hips bucked against your will, trying to find the friction he kept out of your reach.

"Fucking hell, Kei." You groaned as he trailed across your chest, bruising up any skin he could. "Not so many marks." Your complaint was quickly met with a slap against your inner thigh that made you squeal.

"Shut the fuck up." He annunciated his annoyance with an eye roll before detaching his lips from your skin. He pulled you to sit up on the desk and you watched as he quickly sank to his knees between your thighs with a smirk. "Try telling me you hate me."

His cocky tone made you want to slap him right there. Before you could even lift your hand, he buried his lower face between your thighs. You gasped as his hot tongue pressed to your center through the already damp fabric of your panties.

"Fu-fuck." You stumbled over the curse as you gripped the edge of the table he'd placed you on. His glasses fogged from the heat that pooled between his mouth and your cunt, but you could still see the way his golden eyes kept locked with yours, the ministrations of his lower face hidden by your hiked up skirt. You could feel the vibrations of his laugh against you and as his fingers pulled your underwear to the side for himself. "I fucking - hah!" You cut yourself off with a high pitched moan.

His lips expertly found your clit and sucked harshly. Your legs tried to clamp shut were quickly stopped by his fingers gripping your knees, keeping you spread for him. He was, no doubt, leaving more bruises. But with the way he was switching from flicking your clit with his tongue to sucking it between his lips, you couldn't bring yourself to think about anything besides making sure the noises you were making didn't get too loud.

"You wanna cum?" He asked it against your core, eyes scrutinizing you through foggy glass as he watched your eyes screw shut, your mouth hanging open as you panted in air.

You weren't sure if it was your whitening knuckles against the table that gave it away or the way you were failing to stop your hips from grinding against his face. He knew it from the way your thighs clenched, your clit twitching against his lips, your eyelids looking heavier.

You nodded your confirmation anyways, thoughtlessly bobbing your head up and down as you felt him smirk. His mouth slipped ever-so-slightly lower and you felt his tongue dip into your entrance. A long moan was ripped from your lips as one of your hands wound its way back into his hair, tugging desperately.

"Look at me." His command was muffled but you instantly pried your eyes open to try and stare in his.

He made a point to louden the noises he was making, loving the way your cheeks reddened when he did. The sounds of him slurping up all the wetness from you that he could was one of the lewdest sounds you'd ever heard, but you nearly came on the spot just from watching him.

He hiked your skirt up higher so that you could see where his mouth connected with your core, his tongue dipped into you to encourage your wetness into his mouth. He pulled away slightly, keeping eye contact with you, letting you watch as he drooled all the wetness he'd slurped out, right back onto your clit.

The feeling of the wetness sliding along your slit had a needy whimper falling from your mouth. The way he looked at you, held eye contact as your vision flicked between his eyes and where his tongue nearly touched your clit, your juices and his saliva still dripping from it.

"This all for me?" It was a taunt, not a question, but you answered it like one anyways as he reattached his lips to your clit.

"Yesyesyesssss," you slurred them together, your head nodding frantically, blurry eyes focused on how his tongue worked against you, poking out through smirking lips. "Please, please, need t'cum." You whined out your plea, your hand trying to press his face deeper against you.

You were desperate. The heat inside of you was building rapidly, about to explode, your moans pitching up... only for it all to be ripped away as he quickly deprived you of any and all touch.

"What the fuck." Irritation seeped through your voice, quick reminders of why you hated him flooding your senses. "I swear to fucki-"

"Shut up." He growled in annoyance, not even fully standing as he shoved you back into a lying position again. He undid his pants quickly, shoving them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. You didn't get to see it before he pressed it to your entrance. His fingers kept your panties out of the way as he bucked his hips, sliding his cock through your lower lips, coating himself in the combination of your wetness and his saliva.

"This stupid little cunt is all mine." He thrust his cock into you as he growled out the last word, possessiveness pushing him to bottom out in a single thrust.

All the air in your chest left quickly as you clamped down around him, whimpering at the stretch of his initial penetration that never seemed to go away, no matter how many times he fucked you.

A low groan left his lips as his hands clamped onto your hips, bruising them as his head fell into the crook of your neck. His hair tickled your ear and his breath fanned across your throat. "Oh fuuuck," he drew it out breathily, voice vibrating against your throat, "still so fucking tight."

You still hadn't caught your breath when he began to set his pace, deep and brutal like always. Starting slow, he drew every sharp gasp out of you that he could. "Fuck, Kei." You let out a high-pitched squeak as a sharp pain spiked through you when he shifted his hips, nudging against your cervix.

He lifted his head to smirk at you, taking in your form fully. "Right here?" Condescending again, he rammed his hips into the same spot again, a small scream leaving your lips as your head fell back onto the desk. "My little slut wanna get fucked hard?" Your head nodded before you registered the movement and the chuckle he gave you in response sounded of nothing but danger. "Beg for it baby." He drew himself out fully, leaving only his tip in your cunt as you tried to squeeze around him.

You squirmed at the loss of fullness and a whine ripped from your throat. You abandoned all shame and let your words fall in whimpers. "Please, please Kei. Kei want you to fuck me please."

He laughed at you, his thumb coming up to graze your bottom lip. He pressed down on it, pulled it back a little before letting it pop back in place. Your mouth fell open for him.

You continued to beg. "Please wanna cum on your cock, please make me cu-"

He cut you off by sliding two fingers into your mouth, pressing on your tongue. You tilted your head back for him, pushing your tongue out further and let his fingers slide in deeper. Your tongue flicked up to lap at the base of his fingers. The second he felt your throat start to close, your gag reflex activating, he slammed his hips back into yours.

You let out a wet sob around his fingers as his pace became brutal. His hips pounded into yours, his tip bullying your cervix as he kept you in place with a grip on your hip. Your body shuddered with shocks of pain and pleasure, the two mixing in every nerve.

The two fingers in your mouth spread, pressing down on either side of your tongue. The wet muscle was forced out of your mouth, the tip of it laying across the dip between his knuckles. He curved his fingers down, hooking them into your jaw. He used his grip to tilt your head to him, keeping it in place as drool pooled around his fingers, leaking out the corners of your lips.

"Look how fucking messy my little slut is." You whined at the sound of the possessive word and felt the coil in your core tightening again. "I can feel you fucking tightening up." He groaned at the feeling and it made him pound into you harder.

Squeaks left your throat without consent every time his tip hit against your insides. You were choking sounds out around your own saliva and his fingers, struggling to keep your eyes from rolling back.

"My little slut's cunt feel sooo fucking good." The moan that left his mouth was nearly pornographic as his grip on your hip tightened even more. The sound alone made you moan back in response.

The pain of it all was overwhelmed by the intense pleasure of him pounding into you. You needed to cum so bad. You tried to beg around his fingers but it only came out as garbled words as your vision blurred.

He recognized your struggle and granted you a bit of mercy. He dragged his fingers out of your mouth, pulling your drool with them and wiping it down your chin as he wrapped them around your throat lightly.

"Please, please, fuck, can I cum please." Your words slurred as you begged, drool coating your lips as you whined. Your head felt light, vision dizzy as you tried to keep ahold of yourself.

"You wanna cum on my cock?" The dirty question fell from his lips in a pant as he leaned over you to hit a different angle. You let out a small scream, no longer caring about your noise level as he rammed into you, making you see stars. You nodded frantically, hands gripping his forearms desperately, trying to find something to hold on to, leaving scratches down his skin.

"This slutty little cunt is mine." He growled it in your ear and your whole body felt it as you whimpered. "Say it."

You shook your head, a last act of defiance, trying to remind yourself that you hated him. His hand left your throat and his palm connected to your cheek swiftly. You clenched around him at the stinging feeling that spread through your face, pushing you closer to your release.

"Fuckfuckfuck." You cried out, whining at the feeling. "Yours." You whimpered it in defeat, your words slurring again. "Yours, Kei. 's yours Kei. All yours. Fuck!"

He pulled your body flush against his, his arm winding around your waist to pin you up, off the table and against him as his thrusts got sloppy.

"Fucking - oh god - that's right." He groaned into your ear and began to suck on your neck again, another mark just under your jaw. "Cum on my fucking cock baby."

You screamed as the permission sent you spiraling over the edge. You whined out curses, words leaving your lips without thought, "'m yours Kei, all yours."

"Such a perfect little-" he cut himself off with a broken moan as he fucked you through your orgasm, your entire body tightening around his. Your eyes clenched shut as you tried to stop the scream bubbling at your lips, he kept his on you as he devoured your every twitch, "my perfect little slut."

He groaned and kissed you. He swallowed your scream, his moans mixing with yours as he made a final thrust, pressing his cock inside of you and spilling his release as deep as he could.

Your kiss became sloppier as you both came down from your highs. The intent more to swallow the residual sounds you both made. The last he swallowed was your whimper when he finally pulled out, before he let your body gently back down to the desk.

You stared at the ceiling through watery eyes as you tried to shake the tingly feeling out of your head. Trying to remember why you hated him so much. You could hear the rustling of fabric and you knew it was him silently adjusting his clothes.

You blinked quietly, in shock, as he came to you next, pulling you up slowly. His eyes stayed on his own fingers as they rubbed soft, soothing circles into the bruises that lettered your thighs and hips. He wordlessly tried to ease the ache in your hips as he put them down. Soft actions that spoke against everything that Tsukishima was to you.

You, like him, refused to make eye contact. You chose instead to watch his lithe fingers button your shirt back up for you before dragging you onto your feet. He refused to let go until you were steady again.

The two of you stood there for a second, silent except for the soft panting from both of you trying to catch your breath. The softness of both your motions had become common for this point in your interactions but neither of you had found a way to react to it yet.

"Tsukishima." You broke the silence this time. "Tell me you hate me." You mumbled it softly as his touch left you. You didn't look up, still staring at where his fingers had just been, but you heard him sigh. His footsteps traveled towards the door, away from you. But there was no answer.

You didn't see him again until the next day in class.

He'd left bruises on you where you couldn't possibly even hope to cover them with clothes and they called attention. You were having trouble looking the sweet boy in the eye, the one who came to you at the beginning of class asking if you'd reconsidered his offer to be partners.

You could feel the boy's eyes travel across the marks that had been left by the bond-haired lamppost as you informed him that you and Tsukishima had partnered up. You felt your face heat up when you noticed how his eyes flicked to Tsukishima, his sleeves rolled up to show off the scratches you'd left behind on his arms.

You were having trouble that day with more than just the sweet boy.

You were having trouble remembering why you hated Tsukishima. When his golden eyes seemed to glow behind his glasses as he gave condescending looks. When his lithe fingers gripped his pencil to take notes or when he ran them through his blond hair that was way softer than it had any right to be. When his lips talked so smoothly around sarcastic comments and snarky remarks.

When the nice boy sat down next to Tsukishima, you couldn't help but hold your breath and eavesdrop. "I'm sorry." The nice boy was whispering but you heard him clearly. "I didn't know that you and l/n were a thing."

"We're not." Tsukishima bit back the comment too quickly and your stomach tightened. "She's not even my friend."

And there it was. There was the reason you hated Tsukishima Kei so much. The tightness that quickly spread through your body as he spoke of you with disdain.

As you thought of how his long limbs laid gracefully under his table, he denied you having any sort of connection. The feeling filling your body begged you to drop this circus you were running with him before it ended in your tears.

You needed to call it quits. Either that or find someone to use to rile him up enough that he'd stop with the soft moments. So he would stop giving you those moments of hope that he might have the same thoughts of you that you did of him.

You knew who you could use, didn't even have to think twice of it. And you knew exactly when to use him. The party that upcoming weekend.

But until then - all you needed to remember...

You fucking hated Tsukishima Kei.

TAGLIST - CLOSED

@tetsuskei @universal-s1ut @cl-0-vr @kei-tsuki21 @ezraslights

[petriwriting]

Promise. - Theodore Nott X Reader

Summary: Theodore gives Y/N a special gift, reminding them that they are his safety in an unsafe world.

A/N: I would imagine this takes place in 6th year, 'cause you know.. Voldemort. But beware I've been really into writing fluff for my comfort characters lately. This is very angsty. Extra heartbreak points if one of them dies at the battle of Hogwarts, use your imagination.

Late-night walks were common for the pair. Especially when they needed to get away for the night, with everyone going on in their world it was no wonder they both needed a break.

Theodore Nott was under the threat of his father, expected to side with Lord Voldemort, it was his reputation as a pure-blooded Slytherin. Perhaps in some sickening way, he felt the need to clear the family name of his father's wrongdoing. But deep down, he knew it wasn't right. They both did.

Y/n was by his side, as loyal as a Hufflepuff. through everything. On the nights his father became aggressive and violent, Theo came to them seeking refuge. Y/n always welcomed the boy with open arms.

They had been a pair since childhood, they attended dinner parties together, and y/n attended every one of Theo's quidditch games. In turn, Theo was there for y/n when classes were stressful, and life felt overwhelming.

It wasn't until that particular evening that things would change, possibly forever.

The two walked along the empty, quiet streets braving the cold air together. they had both been quiet, observing their surroundings and enjoying each other's company in silence.

"Y/n," Theo finally said, shattering the long silence that had been following them.

"hmm?" y/n's voice was soft, quiet. they were now entering a park square. someplace slightly more private than the streets.

"I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"About us."

y/n's heart began to race. surely this wasn't a breakup, how could Theo possibly be abandoning all they had, after all, they had been through? this couldn't be. y/n was so accustomed to hearing bad news these days that it was the only solution their brain could come up with.

"Y/n," Theo turned to them, holding their face in cold pale hands. "I love you, but I don't want to be with you in this war," he said.

"Teddy, I don't understand-"

"Please just listen." Theo insisted quietly. "This is not me parting ways with you, I- could never," he explained gently. "I propose that we run away. change our names, we can flee and start a new life together. without all the dangers of being here."

Y/n was unconvinced and looked down for a moment before locking eyes with him.

"I love you more than anything. But if we stay here our lives will be in danger, possibly forever."

Y/n couldn't deny that fact. The war had already taken people they both loved. It wasn't right to be talking about wanting to get married one day, have kids, and grow old together if it meant they would be living in danger, living in fear.

"It isn't right. We can't just flee. we need to fight this," y.n shook their head gently, partially in disbelief. "no matter what happens." the pair locked eyes and the snow began to gently fall around them, coating the park in a grey glow.

"Then promise me."

Theodore shuffled through his pockets, pulling out a tiny deep red velvet box. It was battered, aged, and torn. but it was still soft. "Promise me, that you'll stick around, no matter what." as soon as Theo mimicked y/n's words, soft tears began falling from their eyes, watching him toy with the box.

Out from the box emerged a shiny, silver ring with an elaborate stone placed in it. something very expensive no doubt. something that was purchased with his father's money. Theodore offered the ring to y/n.

"This was my mother's ring," he said quietly, his voice slightly shaking. "I took it from her things when she,-" Theo gasped quietly, the shaky breath taking the air out of his lungs when he tried to continue his sentence.

Y/n grabbed the sides of his face, the boy wasn't crying, Theodore rarely ever cried. but there was hurt in his eyes that pained y/n to see.

"I promise." barely a whisper. "no matter what Theo, I'll always be right here."

Y/n's soft touch brushed against Theo's cheeks before he pulled forward pressing their lips together in desperation. It was a sweet and heartfelt kiss, like two lovers that couldn't live without each other.

After the kiss, they embraced one another very tightly as the snow collected around them.

"I just want everything to be okay," Y/n whispered. "we'll be okay."

they pulled away from one another, each shivering in the cold. Y/n took the ring and gently twirled it around their thumb and forefinger. "Theo I can not take your mother's ring." it was dazzling. quite beautiful for that sort of thing. "I know how much this means to you." y/n said. Theo was insistent. "I've been wrong about a lot of things in my life, y/n. But I was never wrong about you. I want you to have it, keep it, my end of our promise." he insisted.

"Theo-"

y/n was promptly cut off. "Please take this. you know how much it means to me, you mean more than that." his heartfelt confession made y/n's stomach flutter, it was that same feeling they had when they were younger and Theo would hold their hand or say just the right thing. Theo grabbed the ring and slipped it onto y/n's middle finger.

"I'll guard it with my life." y/n said with another shiver, the later the night grew the colder the chill in the air became.

"Here, love," Theo said, taking off his coat and offering it to Y/n by draping it around their shoulders. "but Theo, you'll be cold." y/n retorted, but Theo was incredibly insistent that evening. "I can manage until we are safe at home," he chuckled softly. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

As the two continued on their path, Theo wrapped their arm around y/n, in an effort to keep them warm and as an act of deep affection. Y/n leaned their head over onto Theo's arm.

[candiid-caniine]

break, ache, ruin

on the request of 🌺 anon, i've put together a trancey little edging/brainwashing session for you all <3 all language is gender- and body part-neutral.

cw: reading on may put you in trance. trance may not end until you have a ruined orgasm. effects may very well linger.

depending on your mind, you could be here awhile. reader beware :)

you wanna be a good little edgepet? you wanna rub your brains away and give your orgasms away to your betters?

yeah, i know you do, sweetheart. touch yourself real good while you read this, okay? i promise it'll make you the best little edgepet in the world.

you get a point every time you start over. you want points? of course you do, you're such a good pet, aren't you? but you lose a point every time you reach the end...hmm...is that a dilemma? don't think about it!

three rules:

when you hit the edge, scroll back to the top.

cumming is not permitted. you must ruin if you tip over.

linger on each word. visualize it in your mind before you move onto the next. you'll be tranced in no time.

when you hit the edge, start from the top.

that's what good pets do.

good pets train themselves. that's why you're here, isn't it, pet? you know your place.

you know you're meant to be drippy

drooly

empty

needy

say it with me. drippy. drooly. empty. needy.

touch yourself the way you like. you can always get closer.

when you hit the edge, start from the top.

good pet. every time you hit the edge, take a shorter break. keep those little fingers working.

this isn't over until you ruin.

every edge is an orgasm gifted to your betters. say it with me: my betters deserve my orgasms, not me.

you can stop anytime you want. but i know you don't want to. you wanna stay achy

shaky

throbby

whiny

don't you, pet? and drippy, drooly, empty, needy, as long as you possibly can.

this isn't over until you ruin.

say these words every time you read them: drippy, drooly, empty, needy.

good pet.

your betters will be so impressed by you, won't they?

you know you're brainwashing yourself. you know you're getting dumber. you're f a l l i n g further, f a l l i n g deeper, into denial. keep those little fingers working.

your betters deserve your orgasms. envision them flying away from you, flitter-flutter, making a lazy circle like your fingers, off to someone who's worthy of them.

get as close as you can to that edge. then get closer. dumber, further, deeper. when you hit the edge, start from the top. good pet.

this isn't over until you ruin.

you can stop anytime you want. and i know you want to cum. but you want to be good more.

what does it mean to be good? to be good, you have to be

drippy

drooly

empty

needy

achy

shaky

throbby

whiny

warm and wet between your legs. fuzzy and fizzy inside your head. warm wet sex, fuzzy fizzy mind. when you hit the edge, start from the top.

your betters deserve their orgasms. every time you imagine them flitter-fluttering away, you sink a little d e e p e r.

this isn't over until you ruin.

f a l l i n g so deep, aren't you? f a l l i n g so far. you know it's happening. you can stop whenever you want if you just stop touching. but good pets touch. good pets edge until they're

whiny

throbby

shaky

achy

needy

empty

drooly

drippy

repeat after me, one word at a time: good pets break their own brains. when i hit the edge, i start from the top. every time i edge, i take a shorter break.

this isn't over until you ruin.

you're so warm now, aren't you? so relaxed, so needy, empty, drooly, drippy, fluttering between your legs,

dripping

your

brains

out

of

your

head.

stay with me. when you hit the edge, start from the top.

say it with me: ruined pets get ruined orgasms. if i tip over, it should make me worse. i am good, and good pets ruin themselves. pets who ruin themselves ruin their orgasms.

this isn't over until you ruin.

good pets break their own brains. the more you read this, the more broken you get. the more broken you get, the more achy, shaky, throbby, whiny you get, the more good you get, and good pets break their own brains.

good pets make themselves easier to control. doesn't it feel good to give in? give up? no more decisions, nothing but the edge.

this isn't over until you ruin.

when you hit the edge, start from the top, take a shorter break, you get dumber and drippier, fuzzier, fizzier, you get broken, you get better. you give your orgasms away. flitter-flutter, there they go, sending you

even

deeper.

slow down now. s l o w. long, aching strokes. feel your body want. it's not a want, it's a need. every square inch of you needing to cum.

but you won't. you can't. you're too good, and good pets edge, break, drip, ache. you're too well-behaved to cum anymore, and it's all

your

own

fault.

speed up again. when you hit the edge, start from the top.

this isn't over until you ruin.

you don't want to get to the end; there is no end for you, is there? so good for letting go. so good for breaking yourself. nobody told you to; nobody has to. this is what you are.

say it aloud: this is what i am. broken, dripping, empty, aching, brainless, yearning, edged. my betters deserve my orgasms. when i give them away, i go deeper and deeper and dumber and drippier.

get as close as you can. then get closer. when you hit the edge, start from the top.

you're broken, you're ruined, you're good. i didn't make you this way. you were already broken by the time you started, weren't you? good pet. broken brain, broken nub, broken holes.

this isn't over until you ruin.

say it with me: ruined pets get ruined orgasms. if i tip over, it should make me worse. i am good, and good pets ruin themselves. pets who ruin themselves ruin their orgasms.

ruins make you drippy, drooly, empty, needy, achy, shaky, throbby, whiny. are you making noise? are you making those sweet, stupid little sounds? if not, you will start from the top and continue until you can't help crying out for the world to hear.

edges so close together now. if you've made it this far, you're not close enough. start from the top. you're too far gone, too far to stop; when you hit the edge, start from the top.

this isn't over until you ruin.

do you want to be good? of course you do.

but if you're here, at the end, you haven't quite earned praise yet, have you? if you were edged enough to be

throbby

whiny

empty

achy

needy

shaky

drooly

drippy

you wouldn't be here at the end.

but that's okay, pet. i'll break you yet.

edge ten times and start again.

[lloydskywalkers]

escape pod

dragons rising s2 part 2 is out that means PAIN TIME (cannot believe i got this to post with 2% service but please beware there are major major spoilers in this! if you haven't finished the latest dragons rising release steer clear)

Lloyd’s learned, a long time ago, how to ignore pain. 

It never quite works — pain doesn’t care for being shoved aside and silenced, and he’s also learned, on the steps of Borg Tower, the depths of his grandfather’s tomb, strewn among the shattered remains of Kryptarium Prison’s walls — it’s sure to remind you it exists with a vengeance. 

It’s taking that vengeance now. Now that he can’t distract himself with tournaments and battles and the exhausting adrenaline that beats out a steady alarm of go go go. 

The alarm’s still going off in his head, but there’s nothing left to do.

Well, that’s a lie. 

Lloyd buries his face in his hands, obscuring the blurring portraits in front of him. There’s so much to do — so many promises to answer and so many failures to make up for.

Jay. 

Arin.

The Source Dragons, the Forbidden Five, his uncle, Pixal, Skylor, and on and on and—

Nausea overtakes him, and Lloyd gasps raggedly. The smell of the monastery courtyard was comforting, once. It’s the smell of home, the smell of familiar incense and earth and smoke and seawater and ozone and Kai’s terrible hair gel.

The smell of everyone lost and missing and gone.

When he’d first woken up after the merge, alone with only the empty silence, he’d thought — that was the worst it could get. It was everything he’d ever feared, and he’d thought, after he found Kai and Arin and Sora and his family one by one, that maybe that was the worst it would get. That things would get better. 

“Stupid,” Lloyd curses again. 

His fingers clench over the hilt that’s tucked beneath his gi, close to his chest. The Source Dragon’s blade feels impossibly heavy, but it hasn’t left his side — he’s too terrified of losing it, of breaking it, of shattering the trust someone else has put in him. 

Why in the world people keep trusting him, Lloyd still can’t understand. It’s not even Lloyd they’re looking to, is it? 

Son of Garmadon, with countless eyes turned toward him in anger and suspicion.

Green Ninja, with countless hands outstretched to him, for him to save. 

Conduit, another vessel for another power and another responsibility. 

Master, the stupidest title he’s ever thought he could take—

Failure. Failing and falling and failing all over again.

Is that all you know how to do, Lloyd Garmadon?

He’s lost his mom and his father and uncle. Lost Jay, lost Arin, and he can only hope no one else is next. 

Lloyd’s fingers clench in his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. It’s a pitiful distraction from everything else. 

Fever still burns hot and familiar beneath his skin, leaving an aching weariness that makes standing feel nightmarish. It’s outweighed by the jagged line of fiery agony that cuts from hip to shoulder, every movement sending firecracker bursts of pain that leaves him shivering and dizzy. 

Stupid. Lloyd’s getting sloppy. How many times has someone backstabbed him before? How many near-misses has he dodged, instincts born from years of training just saving him?

Stupid. Lloyd doesn’t need saving. He shouldn’t need saving. Lloyd is the one who needs to save others and all he’s done on that front is fail.

“What do I do,” he whispers, to absolutely no one. “What do I do, what do I do, what do I do—”

Does he go after Jay, with Kai and Nya? That’s the strongest pull — Jay is his family, his brother, Jay is a missing piece that’s been gaping in his chest for years, now bleeding and raw and how, how can he just leave him—

But then there’s Arin, Arin with his kindness and enthusiasm and incredible potential and pain, Arin who Lloyd’s failed and how he can leave him with Ras, knowing what could happen—

But then there’s Sora, who he can’t possibly abandon either, and the rest of his family, who he’s just gotten back, and the growing threat of the Forbidden Five and the Source Dragons’ thundering instructions and the crimson-edged blade burning a hole in his gi and—

Okay. Okay.

Lloyd lets out a long, shaky breath, biting back a whine at the spike of pain that flares across his chest. 

He can do this. He has to do this. He’s pushed his body to breaking before. Again and again, this time isn’t any different. All he needs to do is—

Stars explode in his vision. 

He barely manages to avoid keeling over as something pulls hard, as if to yank him from his own body.  

No, no no—

There’s a thundering ache pulsing through his head, like the strike of Ras’ gong over and over again. Lloyd fights back a strangled mix between a sob and a curse. 

He hasn’t managed it yet, overcoming a vision and staying calm. It’s too disorienting, too awful — the world blurring away into violent reds, horrible flashes of future failures like a demented strobe effect. The terrifying sensation of losing his mind and losing his body and losing the ability to move, knowing the world’s moving on without him while he’s stuck somewhere in some half-formed future. 

It’s like Morro, forcing into his head and tearing his sense of self from him. 

Another searing flash of pain, another aching pull—

A sharp scream tears through the monastery, haunted and familiar. 

The visions scatter like dust, and Lloyd is on his feet before he can think. 

One turn, a room down from his own — Lloyd slams the door to Kai’s bedroom open with an aching shoulder and staggers toward his brother.

He’s already cut himself off, strangling the cry in his hands as he gasps for breath, but it’s unmistakably Kai who was screaming. 

Lloyd steps forward, hands held open, careful to make his presence known. His heart wrenches as he catches full view. 

In the dark, Kai’s almost a shadow of himself. He’s too-thin and gaunt, dark circles etched beneath his eyes, almost ravaged from his time in the Netherspace. He’d come back so strong, burning and fierce and everything they’d needed, that at the moment, Lloyd hadn’t realized. He’d completely missed the toll it took on Kai, and hey! There’s another failure to add to the list. 

Not about you, Lloyd scolds himself fiercely. Enough.

“Kai?” he says, reaching a hand out for his shoulder. 

Kai shakes his head, face still buried in his hands. He’s muttering furiously, sweat shining on his forehead.  

“Can’t — sleep, can’t, gotta — gotta move—”

“Kai,” Lloyd’s voice breaks. He knows the panicked fear in his brother’s voice too-well. Knows the live-wire adrenaline that forces you to push through exhaustion and pain and abandon sleep, the feeling of failure on your heels. 

“Kai,” he rasps again. “Kai, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s—” He blinks back tears. As if that’s going to be a comfort. Kai’s got the world’s greatest expert in failing people here, lucky him.

Kai’s hand seizes around his wrist. 

“Lloyd,” he croaks. The panic is his voice is ebbing, the tremors in his hands growing just a bit less violent. “Lloyd?”

Carefully moving his hand atop Kai’s own, he nods. “It’s me,” he says, trying to sound perfectly put together.

Kai makes a shaking, broken sound. 

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, I thought—” His hand tightens around his wrist. “You’re here?”

“Yeah.” Lloyd gingerly slides next to Kai on the bed, taking both his hands in his own. “I’m here. For real.”

Kai holds his hands so tightly it almost hurts, as if letting go of Lloyd will land him back in the Netherspace. He stares at their hands, expression easing into something that’s a lot less frightened and a lot more Kai. 

“You’re safe,” Lloyd says. “You’re safe, okay? I promise—”

Kai gives a wet snort, pulling a hand free to scrub at his eyes. “‘Course I am,” he says, voice ragged but sincere. “I got you here.”

Lloyd stares at him. It feels, just a little, like he’s driven the Source Dragon’s blade right through his chest. 

He opens his mouth, ready to assure Kai of — something — and—

Promptly bursts into tears.

“Wha- Lloyd, what’s wrong?!”

“I’m sorry,” Lloyd swipes angrily at his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m fine, I’m fine, I just—”

He feels like his chest is crumbling. He sucks in a breath desperately, and tries to find a smile.

“I’m just really glad,” he says. “I’m really glad you’re back.”

Kai stares at him, brow furrowed in worry. Something flickers across his face, the gentleness Lloyd remembers from when he was small, and then Kai’s arms are wrapped around him and he’s being held tight. 

“Thanks,” Kai laughs wetly. “I am too. Really, really glad.”

Lloyd tries to reply, but it gets lost in the lump that’s formed in his throat, his eyes burning hot. Zeatrix’s wound sings in pain as he presses tight against Kai, but it’s easier to ignore this time. Instead, Lloyd buries his face in Kai’s shoulder, and tries desperately to force back any more tears.

The wet warmth against his own shoulder is the only thing that makes him feel a bit better. 

It takes a moment, for the wracking shudders to subside, but Lloyd finally finds his voice again. If he was a better leader, he’d know exactly what to say. If he was a better brother, he’d find the perfect, comforting words for Kai, he’d know just what to say to make him feel better.

But Lloyd is neither of those things, and at his core, he’s still only pretending to be older than he is. 

“D’you remember,” he asks, voice a whisper. “What you said, back before we faced the Overlord the first time?”

Kai’s hold tightens. “That we’d look back on this, one day,” he rasps. “And laugh.”

Lloyd nods. “‘Cause it would be over. It would just be — a bad memory.” He bites his lip, hard enough to bleed. 

There’s a ragged, shaky sound as Kai exhales.

“Kai,” he whispers. “When’s it gonna be enough? When’s it gonna — when are we—”

Their poor, broken family, fighting for so long. Jay, who’s bruised and bled and put everything on the line again and again for others, lost and alone and shattered. 

What did they do, to deserve — why are they still — 

Kai suddenly pulls back. His hands seize around Lloyd’s shoulders, his eyes pinning Lloyd in place. Dark and burning, Lloyd knows them better than he does his own. 

“Don’t leave,” Kai says. “You can’t — you can’t leave. Don’t ever leave.”

Lloyd remembers — the breath knocked from his lungs at Kai’s first hug when they found each other, the only ones left after the merge. Relief so strong he’d cried himself to sleep that night, crammed into his brother’s bed as they convinced themselves to hope the others were out there, too. 

“Promise me, Lloyd.”

Another promise. The Source Dragon’s blade burns hot against his chest. This one, Lloyd hopes, he’ll find easier to keep. 

“I promise,” Lloyd whispers. “I promise.” 

[notjustjavierpena]

Hate

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Mean!Joel is back! Beware of dubcon.

Summary: This is PWP. Nothing else. Joel manhandles you in your home. You hate him.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), dub-con, tears, ignoring you in bed, breeding kink, unprotected sex, PIV sex, forced creampie, dirty talk, fingering, oral m receiving, deepthroating, degradation, finger sucking

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338

Hate

You had promised yourself never to give in to Joel, but he has his hand in your pants with a force that has sent you dangerously close to the edge of coming in mere seconds. You had fought him, said no for less than a second, but then there were two of Joel’s thick fingers inside of your cunt, beckoning your orgasm closer by rubbing the tips of them against your g-spot whilst grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. Who could continue saying no to that?

And to think that this is happening in your own home of all places; somewhere that you’d shouted that he’d never set foot in after the way that he’d continuously humiliated you in front of your shared patrol group. Back then, he had suggested meeting up at your place after training to help you improve your skills (or lack thereof), but you had been inches away from spitting in his face at the suggestion that he had anything to teach you. 

You realize now what he had meant, and additionally why he had wanted to nitpick at your fumbling with your rifle and the way you sometimes lose balance for the briefest moment when you tried getting on your horse: Joel wanted you to hate him. He wanted to rile you up, because he wanted to have his way with you and this was the only way to get your attention. 

If only he knew that he already had it so desperately. If only he knew how much you hated yourself each time you fucked yourself open on your fingers at the thought of his rough demeanor, strong arms, rough hands and salt-and-pepper hair and beard. 

“Joel,” you say shakily, gripping at his arm as you feel yourself dance around the edge. You moan loudly, leaning your head back against the wall that he has shoved you against, “You’re making me—“

His hand is gone as fast as it had been there, brutally dragging you away from your orgasm that had been so perfectly within reach. You furrow your brow as your clit throbs, whining through a moan as you are suddenly empty, but you are clever enough to not start complaining with thoughts put into actual words. He doesn’t seem like he’d like that with the way he’s looking at you; Joel’s eyes are practically black with harsh desire, his normal brown tint that you have often found his only kind feature, completely gone. 

Oh, the irony of him being the enemy who, as the only person, also has the remedy to all the racing thoughts that flood your brain. 

There’s a moment where he just has you panting into the room, but then he reaches up to grip your jaw with the same hand, smearing your wetness along your cheek as he holds you in place. You want to look away, turn your head to the side to not let him have the satisfaction of seeing how terrified and horny you are. 

“Christ,” his southern twang is thicker than normally when he has you like this, “I can see how much you want it. Stop pretending you ever wanted to refuse.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is what I should do,” he finishes your sentence, tightening his grip on your jaw and pushing the softness of your cheeks inwards. You try to avoid biting down on the soft flesh despite how hard it is with Joel’s strong hand holding you like this. He continues, “Fuck you stupid, so ya wouldn’t have such a smart lil’ mouth around me and the others guys. I don’t think you know how many of them want to shove a cock down your throat to shut you up for just five fucking minutes. Bet you gobble down dick like a pro with how much you love using your mouth to make my day hell.”

He turns his wrist to shove his slick fingers into your mouth before you can retort as if to test out his theory before giving you the real deal. You suck them filthily into your mouth, tasting yourself on them whilst holding his gaze. As if to say something snarky, you narrow your eyes at him and scrape your front teeth slightly along his digits as he pushes down on your tongue. He retreats his hand with a growl, dragging a string of saliva from your mouth that drips down to your chin. He wipes his fingers clean on your shirt.

“Jeeesus, you’re annoying,” he bites, but somehow still shows you enough trust to put his cock in your mouth as he starts pushing down on your shoulders. You let him, if not only to have a chance to rid him of his shit attitude, slowly sinking to your knees until he has you trapped between the wall and himself.

“Look at you with your hair up already,” he notes, praising almost absentmindedly, “It’s like you knew.”

You palm him over his denim pants and earn a groan, noticing his generous size even before seeing him on full display. He is outlined so well, hard underneath the fabric that must be straining painfully and withholding any type of friction. You absentmindedly lick your lips before going to work. 

Getting his dick out isn’t a challenge because it is jutting out underneath his boxers as soon as you undo the jeans. You feel a tug in your cunt as you realize his girth and length, the outline having cheated your eyes to think that he was smaller. Your gaze follows each ridge of his veins, which you have an urge to trail with your tongue to really get to know him. 

At this point, you barely know if he will fit into your mouth or pussy, but you do know that you don’t mind being stuffed to the brim. It’s just been a while.

You pull down at his boxers to let them rest just above his knees alongside his jeans. Then you wrap your hand around the base of his length, looking up at him through your lashes and flattening your tongue. You tap the thick head against your tongue a few times before giving him a kitten lick to test out his sensitivity. 

Joel’s large hand comes to rest on top of your head whilst he inhales deeply through his nose. He doesn’t say anything besides breathing a little louder, so you find it safe to wrap your lips around him experimentally, moaning as you finally taste his skin.

Engulfing him in the heat of your mouth seems to make him shiver a little more, even more so when you start sliding down your soft lips to feel every inch until he is nudging at the back of your throat. You try relaxing your throat but he is huge, at this point barely halfway in. You gag and try sucking in a hitched breath through your nose.

“That’s it, honey, gag on it,” you hear from above you, thick fingers that you miss inside of you carding over the hair on top of your head and towards the back of your head. You whine as the fingers close around your ponytail in a fist, tightening to give the opportunity to use you like a marionette. 

Pulling back a little whilst hollowing your cheeks, you try going back to the head and swirl your tongue, not wanting to feel the squeeze of your throat around him again if it meant nausea. It works for a moment; you curl your tongue around the underside as you bob your head. 

But when you stop right before hitting the back over and over, Joel doesn’t seem too pleased with it. You look up at him, eyes wide as you are acting oblivious. 

“What are you doing?” He asks impatiently then presses against your shoulder with his free hand, pushing you into the wall to make it impossible for you to escape. You whine up at him with panicked eyes as he pushes his hips forward, sliding right back down your throat again. He chuckles darkly, “Try fighting it, sweetheart, no one’s gonna hear you cry with my dick in your mouth.”

There’s a brief thought of biting down but then Joel continues, “You want this though, don’t you? No one makes such a desperate display of hate in front of others without it being about something else. You just wanted cock. Go on, and then I might make your cunt weep and spasm after.”

You gargle pathetically in return. Yes, yes, you want that so much, clit throbbing painfully between your legs as you were neglected by him right before your orgasm. 

“That’s what I thought,” there’s a tug at your ponytail and suddenly, your nose is buried in Joel’s happy trail, “Now relax your pretty throat, whilst I fuck your smart mouth. Remember to swallow too.”

You curse yourself as you try to force spit down just as he says it, swallowing thickly around his cock to which he responds by letting out a whew and wrapping your hair around his fist to gain more control. It makes tears sting at the corners of your eyes, threatening to drip down and slide over your cheeks and, worst case scenario, into your mouth.

He thrusts once then twice, setting up a rhythm, and you can taste the salt of his precome. It’s brutal. You relax your throat as best you can like he has ordered, but deep-throating has never been a well-developed skill of yours, and when it happens you appreciate that you can control it. This isn’t the case with Joel; right now, he isn’t even letting you breathe as he shoves his cock down your throat by bucking his hips and yanking hard on your hair to meet in the middle. 

You want to fall onto the floor after that, completely exhausted from the rough handling of your mouth, but instead of trying to fight it, you reach with one hand to steady yourself by holding his thigh whilst the other reaches down to rub your clit. You sob with relief, spilling actual tears now as you feel the first stirring of an orgasm while he fucks your face. 

“You better not come unless it’s me making you,” he pants and you slow down your fingers before, albeit reluctantly, removing them from yourself altogether. Following orders feels like a reflex this time. Oh, you want him. Fuck him.

“Such a good girl, you could become my favorite” he wipes the tears from your eyes almost affectionately, but doesn’t remove his cock from your mouth just yet. Only when you are close to collapsing, your entire body pleading for you to take in a proper breath through your mouth, he relents. 

You cough as soon as your aching jaw and throat is relieved of the pressure, heaving in several breaths that burn in your lungs and make your nose run. Joel’s cock is still in front of your face, slick with your spit, but he makes no movement to force you to suck him again.

“Christ, look at you being a fucking mess,” he lets go of your hair, kneels down to look you in the face and pat your cheek, “But you know that it was something that had to be done, don’t ya? Fuckin’ hate an attitude.”

“Yes,” you croak. It hurts to speak.

“Good girl. Now get up.”

“What?” You look a little shocked.

“It ain’t a suggestion, sweetheart. Get up. Gotta fuck you until you’re dumber, remember? Don’t tell me it’s already happened?” 

You scowl. He smirks.

With much effort, you slowly get back onto your feet but not without feeling utter shame as you feel Joel’s impatient eyes roll as he watches. Your body aches for a break, but anything’s worth his promise of putting his cock inside of you.

When you’re finally standing on two legs, Joel tuts whilst he pulls at your already undone jeans. He shoves them down your legs, not afraid to crouch down into such a pose of submission in front of you as he does it, because you know he is in charge. He orders you to step out of your jeans one foot after the other. 

Your underwear follows, wetness having seeped through them and causing the fabric to shine, and then his head is level with your bare cunt. He stares at your sticky inner thighs, mutters something under his breath and reaches between your legs to scoop up some of your slick from your folds. You whine.

“Shut up and take your top off. Lemme see those tits too,” he orders as he indulges himself, sucking his fingers clean after getting up from the floor again. You obey silently, feeling another gush from your cunt as you watch him eat your slick like candy.

“Can I have it now?” You ask quietly. 

“So polite.”

“Please,” you add.

“Fuck, maybe you’re already my favorite girl,” he moans, bending down just a little to lift you off the ground, strong hands on the back of your thighs, and wraps your legs around his body. He pushes your back into the wall, laughs a little as the back of your head knocks against it. You look at him with a dazed smile. 

When he enters you, you gasp in unison. He takes up every little bit of space inside your cunt, nudging at your cervix and stretching you to the point where it burns sweetly between your legs. You dig your heels into the small of his back, angling yourself slightly to keep him from missing that little sensitive spot inside of you, resting comfortably against it until he feels ready to abuse it.

“You’re so big,” you reply and clench around him, fluttering from need mixed with the lack of movement, “Please, Joel.”

“I barely fit,” he groans.

“Joel,” you say again, a little more impatiently, and it earns you a painful thrust. Your mouth hangs open in a silent shout, your toes curling and your eyes falling shut. 

Joel starts to fuck you roughly, slamming his hips up into you over and over again. His face is contorted by concentration, beads of sweat forming around his temples as he pistons his cock in and out of your weeping pussy. 

You tremble in his arms, feel the pain of the wall behind you being pressed into the bones of your hips and your back, but the sensation of the fat head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot has you forgetting about any discomfort. It cancels out everything so beautifully. 

You’ve forgotten how to moan, maybe even your name too. The only noises leaving you are whimpers or whines that make you closer to a wounded animal than a fully-fledged human. You take whatever he can give you, throw your head back and feel him latch onto your neck.

“Fuck me, oh— shit, Joel,” you cry, voice still sore and tired from the way he has used your mouth. The sound has an effect; Joel’s movements aren’t as controlled and consistent as just a moment before. 

“Knew you wanted it,” he pants against your skin, looks down between you to stare at your breasts whilst impaling you repeatedly, “Knew it from— Christ… that’s good — Knew it from the moment you called me that name. What was it?”

“A fucking asshole,” you interrupt before he can answer his own question. Joel laughs quietly, falters just briefly. You can feel him twitching inside of your cunt; he must be close.

“Pull out,” you say breathlessly at a particularly sharp thrust to your g-spot which makes you shudder. The words are completely ignored by him. You repeat them a little louder, but it seems that he is willfully ignoring you, and it makes you panic slightly.

Joel groans as you start thrashing in his arms, clenching involuntarily around his length as you try to get away from him. 

“Pull out. Joel,” you order but there’s hardly anything dominant about you.

“Fuck no,” he chuckles through a moan, gritting his teeth as he continues his torturous thrusts. By now, it just hurts because your orgasm fades so quickly and the sensation in your body becomes replaced by fear.

Oh. 

This position had been chosen wisely by him. You are trapped between him and the wall just like before, and this time, he holds you in place so roughly that it hurts to try and fight him. You want to stretch your legs to feel the safety of the ground in your home beneath your feet, but Joel seems determined to ruin your safest space. 

“No, please, please pull out, Joel,” you whimper to no avail, clawing at his back. His hands are rough on your thighs, nails digging brutishly into the soft flesh of your plump legs. He has you exactly where he wants you.

“Keep your mouth shut and take it,” he growls. Then his hips stutter, and he pushes his pelvis harshly into yours as he empties himself inside of your body.

It feels dirty. You feel dirty. 

Warmth spreads inside of your cunt, your walls welcoming every single drop of his come like some kind of biological instinct in a world so cruel. You wanted this, you know this, but you don’t want the possible consequences of it. 

There is no doubt what this is about for him. He is claiming you as his; marking you with evidence of who you belong to and fuck, even better if you end up with the ultimate mark of possession in a primal world as this; round and swollen with his kid. 

Joel pulls out and carefully puts you down onto the floor after a moment. He grunts as he tucks away his spent dick, steps back and lets you slide down the wall when your legs give out. 

The lights above you seem brighter. You feel sticky and warm, but still unsatisfied from not having reached your own high as the situation seconds earlier brutally ripped you from coming apart. You have seed dripping out of you onto the floor, and Joel doesn’t spare you a glance. 

Instead, you just suddenly hear your front door. 

You’re alone, and you hate him. You hate him so much that you can’t stop thinking about him, furiously rubbing your clit until you gasp quietly into the empty room and pushing the remainder of his come out as your cunt contracts into pleasure. 

He needs to come back. Just once. Just to feel this again, but by the doing of his fingers or his hands, maybe even his cock. 

You know that he’s got you exactly where he wants you.

.

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[stevie-petey]

at arm's length

You fixed his hair and made a face in the mirror, just to get him to laugh, and you smiled when it worked. “I think you look handsome.” “Yeah, sure.” Steve pushed you away, though his arm stayed loosely wrapped around your side. He had always somehow done this, holding you at arm’s length with a possessiveness to it.  You would come to learn that the possessiveness never really goes away. Not in the way either of you may wish for it to during nights two years from tonight. 

Summary: you and steve found each other when you were eleven; he's held you at an arm's length ever since, suffocating you

Rating: general, suggestive themes

Warnings: toxic relationship, heavy angst, allusions to sex, some stancy, fem!reader, use of y/n, not proofread so pls be kind

Words: 2.9k

Before you swing in: where did this come from ? no clue ! this is pure angst though, no happy ending, all just heartbreak and a very toxic steve. beware. prepare. have fun !

-

Neither of you know how it started.

You aren’t sure when you allowed the lines to be crossed. Steve isn’t sure when he realized he wanted to cross them. 

One night he had simply wanted to crawl through your window.

And, one night, you let him. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you always whisper against his skin in between highs and desperation. 

“I know,” he always kisses the patch of skin just below your ear before encasing you, silencing you.

You’re not sure if he kisses the patch of skin as a promise or as an apology. For what he’s putting you through, for the ignored glances in school, for the way his body stills when someone says your name when he’s around, for the way you always see it.

Afterwards, Steve never stays long. He picks up his clothes as the quiet in your room overwhelms him. He feels your eyes follow him in the dark as he gets dressed and you remain in your bed, sprawled out wanting, waiting, mourning. 

There’s never any malice or anger in your eyes when you watch him, and sometimes Steve resents you for it. He wishes you’d make it easier for him to leave. 

Instead you always watch him with interest, a slight glint in your eye as if you know more than he does; Steve wants to mold a crease between your brows and turn your mouth down with his fingers so that your face isn’t as angelic and understanding. 

“Drive safe.”

Your whispered words are the final blow to the thin wall of glass Steve hides behind. You wish him a safe journey home every time he drives to your house to climb through your window and take more from you than he deserves. 

He hates it.

He hates you. 

Yet every night Steve crawls through your window.

And every night you let him in. 

– 

No one knows how it started.

Your friendship with Steve Harrington was an oddity within Hawkins. 

One day the two of you sat down together during lunch in the sixth grade, and the entire middle school cafeteria went quiet. Everyone had stared at you and whispered, wondering who you were and why you were sitting with someone above your rank, someone who ran with kids like Tommy Hagan.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you had mumbled to Steve, tugging at your sweater with an insecurity you can only feel when you’re eleven. 

“I know.” Steve hadn't seemed to feel this same sense of insecurity at eleven as he popped a french fry into his mouth with a shrug, uncaring. “But who cares?”

You remember looking down at your food, embarrassed and unsure about it all. You’d been standing at your locker merely minutes ago as you looked around helplessly, lost in the school your mom had promised you’d enjoy this time. 

Then Steve had found you.

He had been on his way to the lunch room, late to meet up with his friends, when he had seen you. He will always remember the way you’d been holding yourself, then. You were drawn in, looking around the empty hallways with a wonder in your eyes, despite your obvious fear, that Steve had never seen before in someone his age. 

Steve couldn’t help himself. 

He had asked if you were lost and the way your eyes widened at his question made something within him stir. He watched as a blush spread across your cheeks, shy and nervous, and Steve knew then and there that he couldn’t ever leave you alone. There was something in your eyes, in the way you had looked at him in that moment with that same wonder that had made Steve stop in the first place. 

Soon enough everyone in Hawkins Middle watched as your friendship unfolded. 

It was innocent enough, almost imperceptible to those who weren’t paying attention, but everyone knew. 

Steve was never outwardly friendly with you following your first day meeting him, although he was inseparable from you in his own ways. He would walk you to your classes and always sat a few seats behind you so that he could keep an eye on you. Everyone saw how his eyes never left you. 

You never asked why Steve wouldn’t include you with the rest of his friends. He never introduced you to them, yet he made you promise that if they ever said anything to you that you’d tell him. You promised him, swore to him that you would, and the promise seemed to calm something within Steve. 

“Why?” You had asked him afterwards, not understanding why it seemed so important to Steve that you’d tell him if his friends were ever mean to you. 

“Because you’re my friend.” He stood by your locker as he waited for you to gather your books. People walked past the two of you, whispering as they always did, but he had learned how to ignore them.

You remember frowning, feeling a pit forming in your stomach at his words. “But they’re your friends, too.”

“No, they’re not.” Steve scoffed at you and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

“But you’re always with them.”

He looked down at his scuffed sneakers, then. “They follow me around. I don’t mind it that much, my dad says it makes boys look cool.”

“Your dad?”

Steve will never understand why he had told you about his dad that day, but he would come to learn that you always somehow made him weak against the things that darkened his mind; how you were always the one he confessed to.

“Can we go to class now?”

“Sorry,” you grabbed the last of your books and closed your locker. You smiled at Steve, you will always remember how hard you had tried to calm him down, make him comfortable around you, and you will always remember how you had placed your hand on his arm. “Let’s go to class.”

Steve flinched at your touch, and you would come to learn that touches weren’t something he was accustomed to; how it would be because of you that he learned what it feels like to be warmed by someone’s fingertips. 

– 

Steve isn’t sure when he became King Steve. 

He thinks it was sometime during his freshman year of high school when he shot up a few inches during the summer and grew his hair long. 

It had been your idea, growing his hair out, because you knew he liked it when you played with it.

“I look like a douche, Y/N.” Steve groaned when he had looked in your mirror. Sometime between sixth and seventh grade, he had started going to your house after school and on the weekend. He claimed it was because your mom was always nice to him, but deep down you knew it was because he enjoyed having you to himself. 

You fixed his hair and made a face in the mirror, just to get him to laugh, and you smiled when it worked. “I think you look handsome.”

“Yeah, sure.” Steve pushed you away, though his arm stayed loosely wrapped around your side. He had always somehow done this, holding you at arm’s length with a possessiveness to it. 

You would come to learn that the possessiveness never really goes away. Not in the way either of you may wish for it to during nights two years from tonight. 

But two years ago you leaned into the arm that still held onto you and played with the hair that had only grown long because of you. “I mean it, you know.”

Steve’s eyes met yours in the mirror, and he saw the wonder there again, though now that you were both fifteen with a shared history, the wonder was now accompanied by a fondness that Steve couldn’t bear himself to look into for long. He loved your eyes, he loved the way you looked at him, but it always burned. 

Thick silence had started to crawl in between you two, then. 

Steve had grown a few inches and his jawline had sharpened and his skin evened out. One day, before your very eyes, he had stopped looking like the eleven year old boy who found you in the hallway. As you stared at him in the mirror that night, you realized just how beautiful he had become, and somehow, even then, you knew that this beauty would strangle you.

The silence had started to grip your neck, so you cleared your throat and tried to pretend that nothing had changed, even though everything had changed in that moment. “It’s late, your parents will want you home soon.”

“They probably don’t even notice I’m gone right now, Y/N.” The moment had been broken and Steve now felt the same fury that had been building within him ever since he was eight. The anger threatened to spill over, but Steve had come to learn that his anger only scared you, so instead he had tried to find another way to quiet the waves within his mind. “I have a better idea.”

“Is that so?” 

“I spend the night.” Steve winked at you, he knew that you sensed his brewing anger, and he desperately wanted to reassure you that he wouldn’t ruin this.

You froze, as if you knew even then that this would be a shift within your dynamic with him. You called Steve your best friend at this point, and while he never said so out loud, you were his best friend, too. At school, you didn’t have many friends, but Steve had now become surrounded by both boys and girls, all vying for his attention, and though he still never introduced you to them, you knew even then that you were the most important person in his life. 

As your eyes met Steve’s in the mirror once more, for a moment you could see the eleven year old boy again, and he’s the reason you say yes.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you reminded Steve for the tenth time that night as you looked over at your door to make sure it was locked. Your mom would’ve killed you if she had ever found out Steve never left. 

“I know.” Steve crawled into bed next to you and collapsed with a huff. He wrapped his arms around you and you were weak against him.

You’ve always been weak against him.

– 

You’re not sure when you first lost Steve to Nancy Wheeler.

They met when you were all in middle school, and yet somehow she hadn’t caught his eye until you were juniors and she was a sophomore. 

He had dated other girls before, but none had been like Nancy; she was the only one who truly caught his eye. 

You watched as he became infatuated with her. It happened slowly, and then all at once. He stopped walking you to class, stopped sitting a few seats behind you, stopped asking to spend the night. 

Steve still saw the wonder in your eyes, though. He still saw the fondness that burned his skin and ground into his bones. He saw your eyes in Nancy’s, and it infuriated him. He loved the girl, he knew he did, but somehow you were always there.

Even after you stopped asking to see him, to sit in his car and drive, to be his best friend again. 

Somehow, you were always there. You were always there, long after you stopped calling yourself Steve Harrington’s best friend and he stopped feeling the need to miss you. 

Then, one night, when Steve had been on his way to pick Nancy up to go see a movie, he drove past you sitting on a park bench with someone’s arms thrown over your shoulders. He remembers feeling the wind being knocked out of him at the sight, he remembers the possessiveness that clawed so deeply into his chest that he had been afraid for a moment that he was dying. 

He doesn’t remember changing lanes and parking there in front of you.

He doesn’t remember the way your face fell when you saw him.

He doesn’t remember the way the guy who had been wrapped around you stood up, asked who Steve was and why he was bothering you.

All Steve remembers is that he no longer saw the fondness in your eyes when you looked at him. The wonder had been gone. 

“Y/N?” His voice hadn’t sounded like his own. Your name hadn’t left his lips in months; it felt like exhaling after breaking an oath. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you had shaken your head at him, somehow knowing Steve’s feelings before he did. He would come to learn that you had always known his feelings for you, long before he was ever able to figure them out himself. You looked at the guy next to you, your date for the night, and shook your head again. “Not here. Not right now.”

“I know.” But Steve hadn’t known anything. If someone had asked, then, what his name was, all he would’ve been able to answer with was yours. He was yours. “I… I know.”

“I think you should leave, buddy.” The guy you’d been with said, and Steve remembers now that his name had been Jamie. He had been on the soccer team, someone he had once shared a drink with at some stupid party last year. 

Steve cleared his throat and avoided your eyes. You knew too much. You knew too much and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to you until then. “Have a good night.”

And then he was gone. 

Steve broke up with Nancy a week later. 

You never saw Jamie after that night. 

– 

Neither of you know how it started. 

But you know how it will end.

Steve doesn’t, but you don’t blame him. 

He sneaks in through your window most nights and takes from you what you’ve always been willing to give him; it’s how your relationship has always been, and yet you’d give him everything and more if he asked you to. 

Steve kisses you and holds you at arm’s length and tugs you back in every time. 

You always allow yourself to be pulled in. 

One night Steve crawls through your window and reeks of alcohol. He trips over himself as he enters, his hair a mess, still grown the length you once suggested to him, and his jean jacket hangs loosely from his thin frame.

“Steve?” You rush towards him and help him through your window, holding your breath as you do so.

He leans heavily against you and slurs his words. “‘M here.”

“You’re here.” You confirm for him, setting him gently against your bed. As he stares at your ceiling with blurred eyes from the alcohol, you start removing his jacket and shoes. He’s not going home tonight in this state, you know his dad will only send him back here again anyways. 

“Always here,” he slurs again, rolling his head to the side as he does his best to look at you. He squints, studying your side profile and it takes everything within you to not face him. You busy yourself with his clothes, giving yourself something to distract yourself with. He frowns, even in his drunken state he can read you so well. “Always… here.”

“You are always here,” you untie his shoes and place them against your wall. “It’s late, Steve. Let’s go to bed, okay?”

“No,” he now tries to fight against you. Words float through his mind, in a haze of letters and sentence fragments, and vaguely there’s something there that he knows he has to say. Some grand epiphany in between his sixth and seventh beer tonight. “I wanna–I wanna talk.”

You freeze. 

He sees your discomfort and feels something break within him. He tries desperately to grasp at the words within his mind. “Here. It’s… You’re here.”

“I live here, Steve.” You’re not sure what he’s trying to tell you, but you know that if he keeps talking, he’ll ruin the last remaining line that tethers you to him. “Please, just close your eyes and sleep–”

“You’re always here.” His voice has strength to it now, as if the confession has sobered him up. His eyes are now focused, though his mind is still a haze of everything he hasn’t told you. His movements are still slow, his breath still reeks, and he knows that this isn’t what you deserve. “W-why?”

You close your eyes. 

You’ve always known how this would end. 

“We can talk in the morning.” You try to appease him, now gently crawling over him so that you can lay his drunken state to rest. “How about you just hold me tonight, okay?”

Steve is gone again, now lost in the alcohol he’s consumed once more, and your offer of him being able to hold you is all he can focus on now. Exhaustion washes over him and he wraps his arms around you, distantly he thinks he remembers someone else doing this to you once. The thought makes him hold onto you tighter, though he thinks that this isn’t fair to you. 

Lips close to your ear, he whispers, “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

“I know,” you close your eyes again, scared he’ll see the tears within them. 

Neither of you know how it started.

The undoing of whatever you had started long before either one of you truly knew what it was.

One day you were both eleven and Steve had been drawn towards the naivety within you that he never had himself.

Tonight, you’re both seventeen and the naivety is gone, and as the alcohol burns through Steve’s system, he knows it’s because of him. 

You’ve always known how this would end.

Steve has only realized it tonight.

-

⌑ writing masterlist

[auroralwriting]

if you feel it, chase it

spencer reid x fem!reader (twisters! au)

storm chasing was the intent, falling in love was not.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: do not read if you don't want twisters spoilers, it's the whole fic so beware, spencer is tyler and reader is kate basically, spencer is still himself with a touch of tyler, sort of enemies/strangers to lovers, this has more romance than the movie and it has the kiss we all wanted, no use of y/n

You promised yourself long ago you’d never storm chase again.

After the losses of Elle, Jason, and Haley, it was too much to bare. You’d been the sole survivor of the tornado. Of course, your friend Derek had also survived, but he didn’t experience what you did. He could never understand.

You’d moved from Oklahoma to New York in hopes of moving on, but when Derek came to you five years later, asking you to help his team, you found yourself on a flight back home before you could even reconsider. Going back home after all this time sort of scared you, but Derek and his fifteen missed calls, twenty messages, and one voice message really seemed to convince you.

Derek’s team was for a company run by an investor named Erin Strauss. You’d only overheard her name, but she was using the data collected by Derek’s team to help predict storms before they happened. It seemed like the best idea. It could help save a lot of lives.

The team was small, but included Derek and storm chasers David Rossi, Emily Prentiss, Mateo Cruz, and Jennifer Jareau. Now, it also included you. For the week, you reminded yourself.

You stood with the team as Derek introduced you. Suddenly, a loud stream of music approached quickly. You all watched as a truck and van pulled up. JJ scoffed, “Ignore them. They’re just some famous youtube storm chasers. They’re just in this for the trill of the storm.”

It was inevitable that you continued to stare. The group looked interesting, especially their leader, as you’d guessed. He was tall, curly dark hair, and was yelling something the crowd chanted back. If you feel it, chase it.

"They call themselves the BAU. Boundary Advection Units."

Deciding to ignore them, you walked out to the empty field to stare at the sky. Where would the best storm be…

“West looks good,” A voice said behind you. You turned to see the man from minutes ago, now staring at the sky. “East looks like it could be something.. maybe. High risk, high reward."

“Air’s thicker east, looks like a lot of empty space for a storms to grow.” You commented. “You’ll get a nice show that way for your fans. West is fine, but don't be surprised if they choke each other out, though."

The man stepped closer as you two looked at each other. “I’m, uh, Spencer Reid.” He introduced.

“I have a job to get to,” You scoffed, walking passed him. “East’s got the best chances, take ‘em!”

Approaching your somewhat team, you turned to Derek. “West, we have to go west.”

Rossi scrunched his eyebrows together, “But west has the best air quality for tornados. It looks like there could be several-"

"We go west. Come on, let's get in the vans." Derek said quickly.

Fireworks. They lit off fucking fireworks into the tornado. That had to be some kind of hazard, right? You were a little pissed at yourself for becoming so scared of the tornado. It was simple, an E2. It wouldn't have hurt you. You should have let Derek place the device down to get data.

Derek walked along the path with you to the hotel. He'd asked you to hang out, but you declined. It was too much, too soon. Actually, it wasn't too soon. It reminded you too much of the past. It could never happen. You weren't back. It was just one week.

As you walked up the stairs to your room, you were stopped by Spencer.

"Hey," He called. "The cells to the west will choke each other out, she said. The one in the east will put on a show."

You shrugged, "It didn't throw you off the scent."

"That's what makes Spencer so famous," A woman beside Spencer said. "Hi, I'm Penelope."

Eyebrow raised, you leaned on the railing. "You mean on YouTube?"

"On- Yeah, yeah. We have a million followers!" Penelope cheered with the rest of the crowd. "You know Spencer, but that's Tara, Luke, Alex, and Kate." They all waved and you gave a forced smile. "You made a good call earlier. On my devices, the other cell looked stronger but the cap never broke."

"Where did you all meet? Did you study meteorology in college together?" You asked.

They all laughed, "Nah, only Spencer has a degree, a whole ass PhD in meteorology." Luke laughed. "We all just like to go with the flow. Or, his flow, I guess."

"Our crew isn't quite like your crew. We don't need PhDs and fancy gadgets to do what we do." Spencer said. "I guarantee that these guys," Spencer pointed to the clearly homemade windcatchers, "have seen more tornadoes than anyone here."

"Is that right?" You asked sarcastically.

Spencer turned to you once more, but this time, it was awkwardly. "If you want, uh, maybe we can put you in one of our episodes."

You feigned a clearly fake awe, "Wow. I guess you can always trust a guy who puts his crew on a tee-shirt."

"Hey, I did that!" Penelope called as the rest of the group ooh'd at your comment about Spencer.

You began to walk up to your room as Spencer was quick to follow. "Hey, it wasn't my idea to start the channel." He frowned as you grabbed the key. "I just do it to get my knowledge out there."

"What knowledge?" You ask.

"I have an eidetic memory," Spencer awkwardly said. "That and my PhD. I, uh, know a lot about tornadoes. I want to inform people. Knowledge is power."

With a shake of your head, you open the door. "But knowledge isn't everything, right?" You asked, going inside and shutting the door behind you.

Spencer stood outside for a moment, reeling from your comment. Maybe his friends had been influencing him too much.

It was twins, a whole set of twin tornadoes. Luckily, you'd picked the right one, and Spencer didn't. Unluckily, the tornado almost flipped the truck you and Derek shared. Even worse, it damaged a nearby town.

Everything had been destroyed. Derek and the team were handing out cards to the people as you looked around, helping people find their belongings and returning them.

You knew what it felt like to have everything taken from you, just like that. It was horrible. This was the first tornado you'd been caught in since the last, and you truly thought you were going to die, too. You remembered the looks on your friends faces as the wind swept them up and away. You were truly scared.

Of course, the BAU showed up, too. They set up a merch table. It made you sick to see them selling their merchandise minutes after a life-changing event took place. It made you even angrier to know these people were being taken advantage of.

"Nice play on the left twin." Spencer said as he walked up to you.

"Yeah, well it didn't help these people any." You sighed, looking around.

Spencer watched as Strauss gave her business card to a man. "I wasn't aware that Storm Par was in the helping business." Spencer bitterly stated.

"Well, from what I see they're trying to make a difference." Slowly, you approached Spencer. His well-fitted shirt looked good on him. You took notice of his different-colored converse. It was oddly charming.

"That's one way of putting it." Spencer replied.

"What?"

Spencer paused, "Do you even know who you're chasing for?"

What did he mean? You knew of Strauss, and it was for Derek. "What are you talking about?"

"How much more do these people have to lose?" Spencer angrily asked, walking closer to you. "Is this what you call making a difference?"

"Sorry," You chuckled bitterly, "Says the guy setting up shop selling tee-shirts and mugs after the storms hit."

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, "I have a dog to find." With that, he walked away leaving you more confused than you had been.

What did he mean? Was there something he knew that you didn't? Even if you didn't know anything, you knew you didn't like Spencer getting angry with you. It didn't suit him, the anger. He looked too sweet to be so upset. Maybe you needed to do some digging and find out what he knew.

Right as you walked back to your truck, Kate ran up to you calling your name. "Hey, take some food."

"Oh, don't have any cash." You replied, looking at the girls outstretched arm.

Kate gave you a confused look, "It's free. That's why we're always selling those tee-shirts."

It hit you that maybe you were being the ass. You looked back to the stand to see people getting food and water. You felt your stomach churn. You turned back to Kate. "Oh. Well, save it in case you run low."

"Okay," Kate softly agreed, "At least take some water, stay hydrated."

"Thanks," You replied softly.

"Yeah, see ya." Kate ran back over to her group as you watched. Something wasn't right. You were misinformed. Yeah, it was definitely research time.

WE BUY LAND.

The slogan of the website made you feel like you'd betrayed the whole world as you stared at Strauss' figure standing over a pile of rubble. That's what this was for. It wasn't to help people, it was to buy their land after the tornado came through. It wasn't to stop the tornado, it was just to track it.

Derek knew that wasn't what you were about. It never used to be what he was about. He had to know, so the real question was why would he lie to you?

A knock at your motel door interrupted your thoughts. You shut your laptop and stood up to walk to the door. You opened it to see Spencer standing awkwardly with a box of pizza. His hair was messy and he gave you a crooked smile.

"Thought you might be hungry." He offered. Hesitantly, you took the pizza. You ended up shutting the door without a word and walking back over to your bed.

You opened it, suddenly feeling the urge to see if maybe he wanted some. You needed to tell him you weren't like them. Why his opinion of you mattered so highly, you didn't quite understand.

Opening the door, he was still standing there. "You find that dog?"

"Of course," Spencer nodded. "I wouldn't have left until I did. How you doing after all that?"

You tsked, "It doesn't matter. It's those people who matter."

"Well, you've seen the worst of this place." Spencer hesitated. "I thought that, uh, maybe it would be nice to show you something good. That's if you want to go, of course. It's late and tornado chasing can make you tired-"

"I'll go." You nodded, cutting him off. "Let me get my shoes."

Spencer ended up taking you to a rodeo. You sat in the stands watching. "This isn't, uh, really my speed to be honest." He admitted, awkwardly smiling at you.

"What is your speed then?" You asked, now interested in getting to know him better.

"I like museums. Books, uh, research. That's what I wanted to do. But my mom got sick, so I came back here to help her. Got into chasing." Spencer answered. "I still want to do research. Maybe at a college, somewhere. And I can still chase."

You nodded, "You'd like it. It seems up your alley. Use those smarts to inform the people about tornados and shit."

Spencer chuckled, "Yeah, and shit." After a moment, he asked "Is this your speed?"

"I grew up out here, this isn't my first rodeo." You joked. Spencer chuckled too. It warmed you to know you two had connected.

"Look at that, we're learning things about each other." Spencer commented.

"I didn't know she was buying land," You admitted to him. "I looked it up. Derek just asked me to help his team, we've been friends for years so I just said yes."

Spencer nodded. He looked compassionate. "You didn't strike me as the type to do something like that."

"I'm not," You agreed.

All of a sudden, the wind picked up strongly. It made you shiver. Wait, the weather man didn't predict strong winds. Your heart stopped as you turned to Spencer, who was already looking at you with the same look you adorned. "Were you tracking cells out this way?" Spencer didn't reply, he just slowly turned to the sky. You did the same, staring up. "Air feels heavy, this isn't good."

The same alarm blared from the stands. It was your phones. You opened it to see the bold letters, Tornado Warning. The sirens began to echo throughout the vast space and your heart rate increased.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I've just received word a tornado has touched down near the area! Please evacuate this arena right now!"

Spencer quickly grabbed your hand to help lead you out through the crowd of people. "Come on," He muttered your name a few times. "Hold on, come on." As the crowed began to run, so did you both. A woman fell in front of you and you both helped her up quickly. "Hurry, come on!" Spencer said with more urgency.

It was a disaster. People were scrambling, cars were hitting each other. Spencer held your hand tightly and pulled you closer to him. The lightning lit up the sky, and you could see the tornado.

"Spencer, we have no time!" You yelled.

Right as you went to cross the street, cars almost hit you. Spencer jumped out in front of them, yelling for them to stop as the two of you ran across. You ran into some ranky motel where the front counter worker was arguing with some customers. You'd managed to grab their attention and run outside. After a small scan, you realized there was really nowhere safe to go.

You had to think outside the box, where would be the safest?

Once your eyes fell on the pool, you knew. "The pool! Come on!" You yelled as everyone ran.

The three from the motel ended up running to car. You couldn't stop them. So, you focused on the mom and child you came across, helping them down. Spencer was the last, and right as he made it down, a large chunk of metal hit the ladder and you yanked his arm, pulling him close to you. Quickly, you ran to the end of the pool and held onto the metal pipes as the tornado finally made its way to you.

Please, don't let me die. Not here, not now.

Spencer held on above you, shielding you with his own body.

The moment it was over, you made your way up the ladder to see that everything was utterly destroyed. The Storm Par van you recognized as Derek's drove up. A moment later, he was sprinting out of the car and to you.

"God," He muttered your name as he pulled you into a tight hug. "I thought I lost you."

"Derek," You pulled back. "Why didn't you tell me about Strauss?" You looked over his shoulder to see her speaking with a couple, probably the owners of the land. "She's profiting off their loss."

Derek furrowed his brows, "The way I see it, she's helping them restart."

"By taking all they have left?" You questioned. "That's not helping."

"Yeah?" Derek challenged, anger taking over his features. "How would you know what losing everything you have is?" The moment the words left his mouth, he froze. "I didn't.. I didn't mean--"

You shook your head, "No, Derek. I understand perfectly fine." Slowly, you began to back away. You took the keys from his hand quickly and ran to the van, Derek yelling behind you.

Without a second thought, you started the vehicle and began to drive away. You could still hear Derek yelling apologizes, but what caught your eye was Spencer watching you drive away with a look on his face you couldn't quite understand.

Back at home, your mother welcomed you with open arms. She even left your science experiments in the barn, exactly how you left it all five years ago. It was comforting to be back at home, but at the same time it brought back those painful memories you tried so hard to bury deep, deep down.

The next morning, your mom came to let you know a scrawny, handsome man was here to see you. You simply sighed, telling her to let him come to you.

You stared at your tornado machine from middle school, remembering how happy you were when you'd won first place. Footsteps echoed behind you, and you knew it was Spencer.

"A tornado machine," He stepped close, leaning over to observe it. "The hydraulics on this thing are amazing. Plus, the art is really good too."

"It was my middle school science fair project," You hummed, watching as he carefully picked up one of the small houses, setting it back up.

Spencer turned back around with a geeky smile, "Did you win?"

"What do you think?" You replied with a small smile matching his.

"It's definitely no volcano," Spencer joked as he walked back over to you. "It was Penelope who recognized your name from the news a few years back. I'm sorry about your friends." Spencer said as he eyes a photo that was tacked to the barn's walls. It was one with you, Derek, and your friends. He looked back to you with a look you hadn't seen him give you before. If you would've thought about it, you would've known it was adoration.

You shrugged, shoving your hands in your pockets. "It was my fault. There's nothing to be sorry for."

"It wasn't your fault," Spencer shook his head, walking closer to you.

"It wasn't supposed to be an E5. It was supposed to be smaller, easier to manipulate and be around. I convinced them all to do it." You argued.

Spencer took one of your notebooks and began looking through it, "You theorized you could stop a tornado with polymers that would suck up the moisture." Spencer said as he flipped through the pages.

"It didn't work." You casually replied.

"Well, maybe it could." Spencer looked up, "Maybe you just need a new model. This has a genuine chance of working if you just--"

You held out a hand, closing your eyes as you sucked in a breath. "Spencer, no. That's in the past. I can't-- I just can't."

"You should try," Spencer encouraged. "Imagine the difference you could make with this."

Spencer's words struck a chord with you. That had been your goal, and it was his, too. Even so, it was too risky. It was too painful after what had happened. There was no way you could do it again, let alone rope in Spencer to help you. "I just can't." You finally said after a moment. "It won't." After another moment, you swallowed the lump in your throat. "Stay for dinner, and stay the night. You shouldn't be driving so late during tornado season by yourself."

"I don't want to intrude--"

"Please?"

Spencer looked to you, his eyes wider than normal at your plead. "Okay," He nodded. "Yeah, I'll stay."

You couldn't let anything happen to Spencer, too, you decided.

El Reno was about to be hit with the biggest fucking tornado you'd ever seen. Not only did it just hit a power plant and set on fire, but it was headed to small town with no warnings.

Spencer and you sped to the town, Luke's RV trailing right behind you. The second you got there, it was about finding shelter for people. His team and you all directed people to the storm shelters, but there was just so many people.

"Hey, the shelters are all full." Luke ran up to inform you and Spencer. "We gotta direct them to the theater."

"That won't be any better than standing outside," You shook your head. "There has to be another way."

Luke called Penelope over who typed into her phone at rapid speed, "There's nowhere else without windows." Penelope informed. "Theater is the best place we can take them."

You looked to Spencer, nervously biting your lip. He nodded at you as you took a deep breath, "Okay, let's move them fast. Keep them in the middle, hold onto seats when the walls cave."

The theater became so full, it felt like you were moving through a mosh crowd. This wasn't safe, with the number of people and size of tornado, it was bound to kill everyone. You ran to one side of the building, checking to see if there was shelter.

To your surprise, Derek met up with you and Spencer. "Other side has nothing." Derek said quickly. You knew he'd choose the right way.

"Okay, we gotta get these people in safer positions." Spencer said quickly. As the two ran off, you couldn't help but stare at the tornado.

Maybe Spencer was right. Maybe you could make a difference. After all, this tornado was bound to kill you all. Might as well die trying, right? You took a look at his truck that still had the barrels of your concoction loaded on the back. Quickly, you ran to it, trying your best to not get swept up by the wind. The second you got inside, you knew there was no going back from this.

Spencer began to look for you, asking Derek if he'd seen you. When he saw his truck out in the field, driving right for the tornado, his heart nearly stopped beating right then and there. He yelled your name, desperately trying to get to you. Derek and Luke had to hold him back to keep him inside and safe.

He didn't even realize until that moment how infatuated he'd become with you. You were his dream girl, the one he'd been chasing. And now, you were going to be gone.

You, on the other hand, tried your best not to think about Spencer. It was hard enough leaving him. You felt a connection with him you didn't quite understand, but now was not the time to decode it.

Time felt like it passed by so quickly. The next thing you knew, you were clawing your way outside of the flipped truck. If you were alive, that was a good thing, right? Unless you were dead and you were about to see tornado Jesus right in front of your eyes.

The sunlight hurt, you definitely had some sort of head injury. You reached your hand outside and felt someone grab it. They began to pull you out, another hand grabbing your other arm once your torso was out of the truck.

"Oh my god," You heard Spencer's lovely voice mumble as you finally were freed.

"Is one of you tornado Jesus?" You muttered, blinking back the pain.

A laugh came from Alex, "I thought you were a goner for sure,"

"You did it," Spencer said as he knelt down next to you. "It worked. You fucking did it." His words echoed in your mind as he pulled you into a hug. You didn't even realize you were already hugging back by the time you thought you should. Quickly, you grabbed Spencer's face and pulled him into a kiss.

A howl came from Luke as Spencer pulled back with his gorgeous wide eyes. "We did it."

At your words, Spencer smiled and, this time, pulled you into a kiss. "Okay, back off, let me see my best friend after she almost died." You chucked at Derek's words as he came to hug you, nearly pushing Spencer away. "Never do that again."

"Can't promise that," You chuckled, staring at Spencer over Derek's shoulder as his cheeks warmed at your stare. "Because I think we may just have ourselves a new storm chasing crew." As the group whooped at the victory, you pulled back from Derek and turned to Spencer. "If you feel it..."

"Chase it." Spencer smiled back as he gently set a hand on your face, causing you to smile even wider at your storm-chasing boy.

[dailymanners]

Knowing how to politely apologize is an important skill for resolving conflicts in a kind and considerate way.

The scale of the hurt generally dictates how much effort to put into an apology. For example, a quick “sorry” is appropriate for bumping into someone. However, if you’ve accidentally upset someone, promising to make it right goes a long way.

Patterns of hurtful behavior, or large intentional hurtful actions, often require a thought-out apology or a conversation about how you will do better.

For all apologies, it is very important not to make the apology solely about your feelings. Stressing how you feel guilty or ashamed do not help, as that disrespects the feelings of the person you’re apologizing to.

Explaining why the offense happened is often helpful so that the other party can understand your point of view. However, beware of excusing and justifying your actions, as this also shows disrespect.

The most important part of an apology is promising a change. Making an effort to not do what you apologized for again is essential, and without it, an apology is empty.

[albinokittens300]

!Spoilers Under The Cut!

A/N: SO...been a minute since I wrote fic but. Made sense since I have ideas floating around might as well write and share them. Please note not only am I rusty writing in general, this is my first attempt at these characters. Be gentle on me please XD. I do hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think, and maybe I'll try and get another one out maybe before Act 2 drops this weekend. All this ended up being was a little drabble of a possible reunion between Ekko and Jinx because I need some Timebomb goodness. Isha making an appearance is a bonus! Fair warning I make some wild leaps about what goes on during Act 2, so beware this is based some of my speculation.

He lets it go on for a few turns into different allies before finally stopping.

Ekko knows his little shadow is nothing more than a child, judging by the sound of the sets on the stone and the occasional clang of metal being kicked or tripped on. He usually wouldn't be worried- but with no one chasing after and taking her back to where she belonged, he took it as the sign it was. To follow him so far means she is all alone. Having just gotten back across the bridge, helping an orphan wasn't something on the list of deep concerns. At least, not until it needed to be.

"As quiet as you are, I have to say it'd be easier to get around if you weren't hiding." He says softly. Light brown eyes peek around the corner, playing at being undercover without actually doing so. She is hard to make out in low and greeish light, but he manages. "You can come out. Not gonna hurt you. All safe, I promise."

His hair raises, though, when her gaze flicks back to where he can't see. By all appearances, she is getting permission. So the girl isn't alone. When she takes a few steps out, he tries to remain unsuspicious.

"Whose behind there?" He asks as he kneels while she approaches.

"Definitely not who you're expecting." A darker, familiar voice speaks.

Jinx hasn't even revealed herself before the instinct takes over, and Ekko grabs the little girl and puts her behind him.

Attempting to pull her away from the known danger sets off another problem, though- the little girl reacts as if she has been burned. Letting out a cry, she wiggles away from him quickly before running back and wrapping herself around Jinx. While she removes the hood of her cloak, revealing a far too proud smirk, another arm wraps around the kid's shoulder. His eyes quickly scan her other side. A few bombs are latched there, but no pistol or any of her bigger toys. It was not a situation he loved, but it was preferable to facing down a minigun.

When Ekko's eyes return to the child, he doesn't think someone so small has ever looked at him so frightened. Something screams this isn't right as he watches for a few seconds.

"Relax, this one, I'll admit, has a reason to be a bit jumpy." She says, directing the words at the girl. Then, leveling a look at him. "What was it Vi said you had to say when the two of ya caught up? About looking good for a dead person?"

"That makes three of us, then." He says back. "Wanna explain what is going on down here, seeing as you are my welcoming party."

"Ah, nothing much. War, revolution, infighting, and unifying! All of that. If you are looking for the Firelights, they aren't at the tree. Or what's left of it." She says with a wave of her hand and a shrug. The blood runs like ice at the words and he rounds on her.

"What did you-"

"Woah, woah, I didn't do anything. Those wackos from Noxus? They are the ones who tracked the tree. My only part was helping everyone out." She hisses back. When his face changes, so does hers—relaxing just the slightest bit. Helped them out? Months trapped away should mean nothing surprise him. But it does.

He sees her arms crossed, watching and almost waiting for him to decide how this will go. Deciding to match her lack of hostility, just this once, he looks around to the eerily empty and quiet lanes.

"Guess I got a lot to catch up on."

That brings a less taunting smirk to her face. "Just a bit."

[cinnaminsvga]

🥀 | yoongi

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ vampire!yoongi ft. lots of miscommunication (all because newly-turned yoongi doesn't know how to talk to women lol) | 2.6K words → a/n: SURPRISE i am miraculously alive and well (?) back at it again with some weird monsterfucker propaganda... it's been months since i've written a fic so pardon the lacking quality but i Am Trying... also i added ghost!maknaeline bc i think they'd be cute... umm this might become a series if anyone is interested but i think it works as a standalone... enjoy!!!

When Yoongi first agreed to being turned, he never imagined being so tired all the time. Even as a mortal, Yoongi had never been the most energetic soul. He preferred loafing around at home or reading a nice book by the fire. He rarely left his drafty villa, always isolated despite the nearby town. The most cardio he would ever do was when he’d take the few steps needed to get to his piano and play a few soft songs for the ghosts wandering down his halls.

He knew the neighbors liked to whisper about him, liked to refer to him as a local boogeyman to scare naughty children. “Beware the man who sold his soul to the devil,” they warned, though Yoongi supposes their silly rumors weren’t so far from the truth. Although, it was only a month ago that he did “sell his soul,” just not for the reasons that people might have expected.

Still, being a vampire was still very strange and new to Yoongi. He’d known about spirits and ghosts for as long as he can remember, but even he thought that creatures of the night were nothing more than an urban legend. All it took was one high-stakes game of cards and an empty promise to pay back a debt for Yoongi to realize that it probably isn’t smart to make deals with ghoulish-looking men in strange clothing in the first place.

It wasn’t all bad, save for the never-ending fatigue and deathly pallor to his skin. He was still Yoongi, just… worse, if you will.

For safety’s sake, he hadn’t told anyone about it. He was a bit embarrassed, to be honest. If his brother found out, he’d surely get an earful (or a stake through his heart, though Yoongi hopes his Seokjin hyung would remember all the good times they had together). Most importantly, he could absolutely NEVER tell you about his turning. That would be absolutely humiliating.

You were a witch doctor he had met just a few weeks prior to his turning. You had just moved into his sleepy town as a “pharmacist” who could “magically” make any ailment disappear. You had decided to move there on a whim after being exhausted from the high-paced nature of the big city.

You had spotted a small line of ghosts trailing after him on the night you had moved in. He had been on the way to the convenience store for a caffeine fix, and you had been on the way there to grab a couple of toiletries you had forgotten to pack.

You were so sweet, shyly approaching him under the guise of asking him if he could reach for a snack on a high shelf. But he could see your worried gaze fixed on the three spectral children climbing on his back, though he did nothing to shoo them away. After all, they had no mass, so as long as they didn’t lick his neck or something weird, he was fine with letting them be menaces.

When he had his back turned away from you to grab your snack, he could hear you quietly telling the ghosts to get off of him. They only laughed in response, their giggles always sounding a little muffled and distorted.

Yoongi plucked the bag of chips from the shelf and turned back to you, catching a glimpse of your annoyed expression before you could school it back into something more neutral.

“Is something the matter?” Yoongi asked smoothly, handing you the bag. He amusedly watched as your brows furrowed, not even hiding that you were glaring pointedly at the little gremlins making faces at you from his shoulder.

Jungkook, the youngest of the three ghosts, climbed on Yoongi’s head before proceeding to pull down his pants, mooning you with his spectral ass.

“Uh, nothing,” you eventually said, huffing indignantly as you stomped away. Yoongi caught you discreetly poking your tongue out in annoyance before you turned to another aisle.

Thus began your cautious attempts at exorcising him without trying to “alert” him to it. It was amusing to watch you try to “save” him from the three little ghosts that decided to cling onto him, and it was even more amusing to watch you fail repeatedly every time.

Yoongi made no comment when you were suddenly bumping into him everywhere he went. There was always a terse grin on your face as you performed as many anti-ghost spells as you could, but none of them ever seemed to work. The truth was, ghosts could only be exorcised if the haunted person in question wanted them to leave, but Yoongi had found himself a little fond of these stupid little kids. They might be slowly sucking the life force out of him, but Yoongi didn’t really care. They were just kids, and he’s always been too soft for his own good.

Your many encounters with him created a subtle friendship of sorts, one that Yoongi found himself enjoying. He was never been one to foster friendships with living beings, but perhaps your sweet attempts to save his soul might have defrosted his little grinch heart. But he wouldn’t ever tell you that, of course.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were very pretty, for that matter. He certainly would NEVER tell you that as well.

Was he feeling guilty for not telling you about his ability to see ghosts? Slightly. But was it cute watching you trying to outsmart three little ghost babies to no avail? Very much so.

So, Yoongi stayed quiet and enjoyed your company, even if you had no idea who he was or what type of things he was capable of.

That was until he got into that damn bet with the stupid bloodsucker.

Probably shouldn’t call him that, given that I’ve become one myself, Yoongi groaned internally. He’d been hiding in his house for a month now, and your “random” visits were surely on the horizon. He wasn’t sure if you’d immediately clock that he’d turned into a vampire, but he wasn’t going to risk it. If you found out, then you’d find out about everything, and that wouldn’t be a good impression.

Yoongi knew he wasn’t great at interacting with people, let alone people he had a crush on. But at least he knew that lying to someone for extended periods of time was probably not in his favor.

Little Jungkook fluttered close to him, his smoky form twinkling from the moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “When is the pretty witch coming to visit?” he asked, a little forlorn. Among the three ghosts, Jungkook was the one who’d grown attached to you the most. “I miss playing with her…”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his face. “Hopefully never,” he responded, voice muffled by his hands. He peered through his fingers and saw the two other kids floating by his doorway.

Jimin, the older twin, nudged Taehyung forward to speak. “Y-Yoongi… I think she’s coming soon,” Taehyung whispered, a tinge of excitement evident in his tone.

“You can’t keep hiding from her forever… She's sure to find out anyway,” Jimin warned, uncharacteristically stern.

Yoongi stretched his tired limbs, his aching back cracking as he pushed himself off his sofa. Time moved weirdly ever since he turned into a vampire. This month had felt like a day, so it was hard to tell how long he'd been sitting so still. His creaking bones gave him an idea though, that's for sure. “I know… how much do I have to bribe you three to scare her away?”

Jungkook giggled, floating over to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nothing. We do that all the time for free,” he snickered.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’s true… but she never seems to go away even when we do.”

“In fact, I know she thinks we’re cute,” Jimin said, and Yoongi couldn’t help but agree. Your cat and mouse game with the three idiots was probably past the point of annoyance and more towards the territory of playfulness. You likely noticed how they weren’t exactly the malicious ghosts that people feared, so you humored their antics.

(Yoongi hoped that you stuck around for him, too.)

“How much longer ’til she gets here?” Yoongi asked, walking to his bedroom. The air was stale inside the room, not having to use the bed as much as he once did. He opened his closet, trying to find some better-looking clothes than the threadbare robe he had decided to live in. He plucked a nice button-up shirt, before thinking better of it.

Am I really going to look like a stereotypical vampire when I meet her? What’s next, a cape?

“She’s a few blocks away,” Taehyung responded. The ghost paused, looking at the shirt Yoongi had put back. “No, wear that. She likes it when you wear that shirt.”

“She thinks you look regal in it,” Jimin agreed, grabbing his only pair of slacks. “These, too. She likes your butt in them.”

If Yoongi were still human, he’d probably blush. “I told you boys it’s rude to eavesdrop on her thoughts,” he scolded.

“You like the reassurance, though…” Jungkook muttered, but Yoongi ignored him.

“Two minutes away…!” Taehyung reminded him before disappearing. The two others followed suit, likely going to meet you before you arrived. Yoongi sighed, a headache slowly forming by his temple.

As promised, after two minutes, there was a knock from his front door. As Yoongi reluctantly approached and reached for the doorknob, he could hear you arguing playfully with his little friends.

“Taehyung, no pulling! I just got my hair fixed,” you whined. Despite your words, Yoongi could hear the affection in your voice, plain as day.

“You look really pretty today, noona…” Jungkook giggled, and Yoongi could imagine Jungkook placing a chaste kiss on your cheek in greeting. “Are you finally gonna tell hyung about your crush on him?”

“What are you talking about?!” you yelped. Yoongi heard something fall, then a string of curses from you. “Oh gosh, the food! I hope nothing spilled…”

“Don’t worry, noona. I doubt Yoongi hyung is hungry,” Jimin giggled slyly. “Unless you count how he’s hungry for you…”

Before you could reply to Jimin’s out-of-pocket comment, Yoongi swung open the door, an alarmed expression on his face. “H-hey, Y/N,” he began, a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

You froze when Yoongi suddenly appeared. You were in the midst of rearranging the plastic bags of take-out food with your jaw agape, likely about to chastise Jimin for his rudeness. You floundered for a second before straightening up quickly. Your cheeks were a cute shade of red.

(Yeah, maybe he was a little hungry…)

“Yoongi! Oh god, sorry, I was just…” you stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain yourself. Behind you, the three stooges grinned evilly, full of satisfaction.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked instead, bending down to gather your bags. The smell of take-out Chinese wafted into his nose, and he had to hide his growing smile. His favorite food, you had remembered. If he could eat, he’d be salivating.

“Yoongi hyung is salivating for a different reason…” Taehyung muttered, reading his thoughts. Yoongi and your eyes widened in alarm, causing the three kids to guffaw in response.

“Sorry, I was on the phone with somebody and the bags slipped,” you coughed, quickly grabbing the rest of the bags. In your haste, your hands accidentally touched, making you gasp in surprise.

“Gosh, Yoongi! Your hands are terribly cold! Are you alright…?” you asked, trailing off. When you tore your gaze away from his pale hand, you slowly turned to face him fully. Due to the uproar caused by the kids earlier, you hadn't been able to look at Yoongi properly since you arrived.

Yoongi braced himself, a terse smile on his lips.

You observed him silently, a mysterious emotion flitting through your face. Yoongi saw the way your gaze shifted to the injury on his neck, which he had recklessly forgotten to at least try to cover up. The dots were connecting, and Yoongi waited for you to make the first move.

To his surprise, you started by staring inquisitively at the kids. “Did you guys…?” you asked, suspicious. This was the first time you had openly addressed them in front of him, and Yoongi was shocked. Not only for that, but for also potentially thinking that they were to blame, somehow. Didn’t you trust them by now?

Jimin looked affronted, scoffing at your train of thought. “Us? Of course not! Why on earth would we do that to hyung?”

Jungkook huffed, wrapping an arm around your waist with a sad pout. “Yeah! Why would we hurt hyung on purpose? You don’t think we’d do that, right?” he asked, eyes watering with hurt tears.

Immediately, your expression softened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, sighing. As if remembering where you were, you snapped back to reality, staring incredulously at Yoongi as if he’d grown three heads. Well, or turned into a vampire, he supposed.

“Yoongi! What on earth happened?” you asked, terrified for him. Or perhaps, terrified of him? Yoongi knew he should be feeling guilty, or embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed, but all he could see was your worry for him, and his dead little heart would have skipped a beat if it still could. God, he was pathetic.

Instead of answering you truthfully, Yoongi chose to run away from his problems, like he always did. “It’s just a mosquito bite,” he explained lamely. He rubbed the very conspicuous marks in question, wincing slightly. It might have been a month since he turned, but it still felt as tender as it did the day it happened.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “In the middle of winter? When you rarely step out of your house?” you asked sarcastically. You gave him a steely glare. “Be serious with me for a second, Yoongi.”

But Yoongi couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, or else he’d literally die a second death, from embarrassment or heartbreak, he couldn’t tell.

“I… I don’t actually know,” Yoongi lied. It was sort of true. He didn’t know that the stupid bet would actually mean he’d give up his soul to pay for an impossible debt. He had been swindled, that was it. He still didn’t understand how he could’ve been so stupid.

“He didn’t know he was stupid… what a joke,” Jimin murmured, causing the others to giggle in turn. You and Yoongi ignored them.

When he didn’t explain further, your shoulders slumped, defeated. You likely didn’t believe him one bit, but you were never the type to push. You were probably as shy as he was, which had caused its fair share of misunderstandings in the past. Most of the time, those misunderstandings helped Yoongi, though he often wished that he didn’t need them. One day, he’d be honest with you, but for now…

“May I come in, Yoongi? There’s something I have to tell you…” you started, eyes shifting behind you. The kids hovered closer, watching you with curiosity.

Yoongi felt the air turn colder, though he wasn’t sure if it was just him, the wind, or the ghosts doing it. Or maybe it was you.

Yoongi opened the door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “Please, make yourself at home…” he whispered before closing the door gently.

Outside, the three boys didn’t make a move to come in.

“Now… we wait,” Jimin whispered. The other two nodded, faces determined. They floated to the second floor of Yoongi’s villa, still keeping their ears to the floor. As much as they wanted to interrupt, they knew this was an important development for the two of you. They wanted to give you a false sense of privacy, but they could never stop themselves from hearing the gossip. God knows that these rascals would be bored without their daily dose of real telenovela romance.

In the living room, Yoongi took a seat as far away from you on the couch as possible. He laced his hands with an iron grip, forcing himself to stop any fidgeting.

Breaking the silence, you sighed tiredly. “So… where do I begin?”

[clegfly]

OMORI and colour- an analysis

hey, so this is a post I’ve been wanting to make for a while and never got round to doing, but here I am.

Something I noticed in OMORI and have continued to notice throughout the game is the symbolism between colours and characters, and what they say about their relationships or their mannerisms, because there’s actually a LOT there, more than I expected.

keep in mind this is a pretty basic analysis and I’m sure there’s much more to be discovered, but I haven’t fully learned everything there is to know about colour theory and so this isn’t really my field of knowledge, I just wanted to share my findings.

also, spoilers ahead, so beware!

Filling in the wheel

This is a basic colour wheel, and the model I will be referring to throughout this analysis.

in OMORI, and even in external items outside of the game like merchandise each of the main cast are associated with a specific colour.

for example, SUNNY is associated commonly with yellow throughout the game. Here’s a small chart I made to keep track of my references…

I’m sure there’s more but here’s what I’ve got.

so now we know where sunny stands on the colour wheel, in the yellow region.

the rest of the cast can be easily identified on the wheel- KEL clearly falls into orange, HERO clearly falls into blue, MARI clearly falls into purple, BASIL clearly falls into green and AUBREY clearly falls into pink.

But wait, that’s not the complete wheel.

you’ll notice AUBREY’s positioning differs from the rest of the group, and that’s because I’ve specifically put HEADSPACE AUBREY in that section. Where REAL WORLD AUBREY actually falls is on the red segment of the wheel as that colour is better associated with her emotional state and also slots her better into place on the wheel.

So that means the rest of these midtones represent the rest of the HEADSPACE counterparts, right?

You’ll notice one more blank space, but let’s put that one aside for now. We’ll fill it in later. For now let’s begin to focus on the relationships between these segments on the wheel.

Complementary colours

Complementary colours are defined as “pairs of colours which, when combined or mixed, cancel each other out (lose hue) by producing a grayscale color like white or black. When placed next to each other, they create the strongest contrast for those two colors. Complementary colours may also be called "opposite colours"”.

in other words, these colours complement each other, and are paired together as they are the most striking next to one another. They are opposites, but belong together.

so, who do we have complementing on our OMORI wheel?

Now, this is quite complicated to look at but I’m going to use what I think is probably the most important relationship in the game and use it as an example.

MARI is commonly associated with purple throughout the game, so much so that it’s constantly in our faces. The main colour for SUNNY’s headspace where he escapes the tragedy of what happened to her is purple, AUBREY laments about a lost promise of dying their hair purple and pink together, MARI gets a grape flavoured (purple) popsicle in one of the photos in BASIL’s album, etc. she’s very clearly shown to be “purple”symbolically throughout the game, no question there.

and as for SUNNY, as we’ve gone over earlier, he is represented by yellow.

so when we reference our colour wheel once having placed these two in their respective spots, what do we see?

MARI and SUNNY complement one another.

And we see this consistently for other key or contrasting relationships through the game. HERO and KEL complement both in the REAL WORLD and HEADSPACE, and so do AUBREY AND BASIL.

They are shown to complement each other, when placed with their associated colours on the wheel.

so, what about STRANGER? Who does he complement with? After all the segment opposing him is empty.

I feel as though there’s only one answer which makes sense for the game.

OMORI complements STRANGER and STRANGER complements OMORI.

but, for OMORI, this seems out of character. The character itself is typically associated with black to represent the repression of the truth and also the darkness behind his actions to keep SUNNY guarded from the truth, so this warm colour feels out of place.

but looking deeper into the symbolism, I disagree. Orange itself represents liveliness, optimism, and enthusiasm, which I think represents HEADSPACE. However red, while associated with anger for AUBREY, is more commonly associated with danger and most importantly sacrifice.

As well as this, this specific hue shows to carry more of a red pigment than an orange.

so I believe this can represent this distracting and overwhelming joy of HEADSPACE whilst having great sinister undertones just Millimeters beneath the surface, something very fitting for OMORI as he’s portrayed in the game. (Side note: I don’t think OMORI is evil, by the way. I’m talking about his actions and portrayal in contrast to HEADSPACE, nor his intentions. I view OMORI more as a robotic kind of character than anything but that’s an analysis for another day.)

so, in conclusion, there’s a lot to be told from this wheel. Here’s a finished polished version for anyone who wants to use it, including some extra notes I didn’t discuss here. If there is anything at all you want me to elaborate on or go more in depth into, or just neglected to discuss at all, please let me know! Thank you for reading!

(PS also open for criticism on the wheel- especially if you know more about colour theory than me! I don’t go into much detail about what each colour association represents within the characters themselves here so that may be for another post)

[sunnynwanda]

Hi, how are you doing? I hope you’re finee❣️

Can you write a snippet with a huge fight scene and a lot of action (you can include some weapons or gadgets if you want!). Make the villain or hero very angry at their nemesis cause they feel too much tension between them. If you want, make it spicy. Ik it’s hard to put some suggestive things here but that’s exactly why i am curious to see how you will make it! No forcing tho, i would be happy with a fight only too

Two to Tango

Warnings: Suggestive. Slightly spicy. Language. Minors beware. P.S. 'Sternchen' means 'little star'.

They sense the weapon aimed at them, an imaginary red dot dancing over their strained back. Their body fails to match the speed of their gut feeling, causing them to turn with a seconds' delay. The electricity shocks their shoulder, piercing through their arm and shoulder blade. It hurts like a bitch, and with a loud hiss, Hero retreats behind a wall, cursing under their breath. Villain's triumphant cackle riches their ear a few moments later.

"Is our brave Hero scared of a little tickle?" Their tone is taunting, a smug smile undoubtedly tugging at their thin kissable lips. "And here I thought you could take it."

Hero grits their teeth in annoyance. "I'll show you a little tickle, bitch." It's a promise, not a threat. Hero doesn't know what they are going to do yet, but they intend to pay back tenfold for every single time Villain's weapon has fired today.

"Tsk tsk tsk," Villain sings, cocking their newest toy again. They were dying to test it for weeks now, and Hero seemed the best target to do so without actually killing someone. "Watch your language, Sternchen. We don't want to ruin your goody-two-shoes reputation now, do we?"

"This was the fifth fucking time you've zapped me tonight," Hero snaps. Villain came dangerously close to discovering their true personality this time, and - Hero was sure of that - Villain would live to regret provoking that revelation. "Fuck off already."

Today's patrol was meant to be a short round around the city. Hero was exhausted from the shit of a week they had and in desperate need of a break. They had intended to finish their round and spend the evening in bed, eating junk food and watching mindless rom-coms - a guilty pleasure of theirs. Yet here they were, hiding behind a wall with a half-numb arm while Villain closed in on them.

"And where's the fun in that?" Villain rounds the wall only to discover Hero long gone. They look around, confused and slightly on edge. Something tells them to avoid getting caught at all costs tonight. The shock effect from their gun didn't last all that long, but Hero's irritation sure did. Villain did not test their weapons to know for sure, especially not on themself. "Hiding from me, are you? It takes two to tango, darling. You're gonna have to come out."

When no reply follows, Villain pauses. They could bet they heard Hero's voice from this exact spot moments ago, yet they are nowhere to be seen. They scan the area, holding their breath to hear any shuffling of Hero's clothes.

Where the fuck did that fucker go? Villain thinks to themself, still too wary to lower their gun. They couldn't have just left, right? The floors sure look empty. Wait a second.

Villain fails to complete the thought when Hero lands behind their back with a loud thud, and before Villain can even register the situation, they are pushed face-first against the wall. Hero twists their arms harshly, pinning them near the small of their back and pressing one knee to the back of Villain's to effectively immobilize them. Their weapon clings on the concrete floor, sure to be scratched.

Villain should probably focus on what's gonna happen to them instead. Their cheek is flush against the cold stones, their chest heaving in sharp inhales from the discomfort of the position and suddenness of their capture. Shit, they were fucked.

"Hey, it's dusty here," they attempt to sound light-hearted but can feel the anger radiating off of Hero in raving heat waves. Definitely shouldn't have gotten caught. "You're gonna ruin my costume."

"Oh yeah?" Hero's voice is sheer venom that sends a chill down Villain's spine. They refuse to acknowledge the pleasure and anticipation it carries within. "Does it look like I fucking care?"

"You obviously don't," they bite back, earning a disgruntled huff from Hero, who steps on the handle of their gun with their toes, lifting it up into a position that allows them to grab it without releasing their hold on Villain. "You wouldn't dress like you do if you had any regard for fashion... or any damn taste, really?"

Okay, Villain knows they are in no position to be cocky at the moment, but they can't help their smart mouth. The fact that their comment earns a dark chuckle from Hero has nothing to do with the warm feeling in their stomach - it's pure satisfaction from a successful jab, nothing more.

Hero's breath fans over the shell of their ear in time to draw them back from the pointless argument with their mind.

"Want me to show you my taste then?" Hero purrs, but there is something sinister in the brush of their lips against Villain's jaw. They press their hips further against Villain's half-bent form and use a combat knife to rip a large cut through Villain's expensive leather suit.

"What the fuck?!" Villain's voice is incredulous. They look down in disbelief, trying to free their hands from Hero's grip in vain.

"Shut your mouth, or I'll keep going," the knife grazes against the exposed skin of their upper thigh, too light to cut but enough to send a shiver down Villain's leg. Hero was surprised at the rush of pleasure that shiver sent through their bloodstream, attributing it to the adrenaline from their battle.

You keep telling yourself that. Their inner voice is interrupted by Villain's actual one.

"Shit, fine," Villiain surrenders, as if there is any other choice at this point in their predicament. They definitely overdid it with the teasing today. It didn't help that Hero was in a mood, either. "Just stop."

"Good villain," Hero pats their cheek, withdrawing the knife from their thigh and going to release Villain's hands. It would have been all done because, honestly, Hero was exhausted and had no intention of retaliating today of all days.

It would have - had Villain had any control over their goddamn mouth, that is.

"Motherfucker," the word rolls past their lips before they can consider the consequences of voicing it. Hero's hold tightens around them almost instinctively, their leg returning to its position behind Villain's knees. If they thought they were fucked then, now they are fucking done for.

"You wanna repeat that?"The knife returns as well, only now it's against their throat, grazing their skin with a kiss of the cold metal. And Villain will be damned if they don't hear a rasp in Hero's voice. "I said repeat that."

"N-no," they breathe out, feeling a bead of sweat run down the side of their face and over their neck. They freeze when Hero kisses it, their tongue hot and wet against Villain's feverish skin.

They barely contain the whimper that threatens to spill past their lips when Hero drops the knife, instead wrapping their hand around Villain's throat. They squeeze harshly, choking a torn exhale out of Villain, and pull their back flush against their chest, another arm winding across their torso. It takes Villain a minute to register their hands are free of Hero's iron hold. Free yet entirely useless as they flex at the sensation Hero's tongue wrecks in its wake.

"It takes two to tango, darling," Hero whispers, nibbling on the sensitive spot beneath their ear. Villain's head drops against Hero's shoulders, exposing their neck to Hero's impatient mouth. They struggle with their mind, trying to come up with a response, but fail miserably upon contact with their own gun.

"Hero," they startle, twisting their head to look at their nemesis when a numbing pain pierces through their hip. "Fuck, fuck! That hurts!"

They jerk away, but Hero maintains their hold of them. Something tells Villain they would collapse to the floor had they not.

As if on cue, they let go of Villain's body, and Villain's knees buckled under them, muscles still numb from the shock of electricity. They lean against the wall, sitting down to collect themself. And that's one shot. How the fuck was Hero able to walk around after five?

Hero grabs their gun again, snapping it in half before discarding the pieces. Villain brings a hand to cover their watering eyes. They aren't sure what's causing them more distress - the pain imposed on them or the sensation ripped away from them. They expect Hero to leave and are determined to keep their eyes shut until they do, but when an arm snakes around their waist, their eyes fling open against their will. They perk up as Hero pushes another arm under their sensation-deprived legs, pulling them up in bridal carry.

"And here I thought you could take it," Hero murmurs, pressing another kiss to Villain's temple. Villain's irises are dilated, tears still pooling in the corners of their eyes. Their pettiness be damned.

"How are you fucking alive after those?" Villain questions, noting that Hero pauses, unsure where to take them - their apartment or Villain's lair. "I can't feel my legs."

"I'd much rather you said that for an entirely different reason," they mumble under their breath, but Villain hears.

"You wanna repeat that?" They let out an amused chuckle, staring at the thick blush creeping up Hero's neck.

"N-no," their voice is small. Villain finds it amusing after everything they took the liberty of doing to them. "I'll take you to my place in case you still need assistance. And to make it up to you."

"Uh-huh," Villain quirks an eyebrow but nods, a satisfied smirk finding its place on their face as Hero's blush intensifies. "Solely for that purpose."

Hi, love! I'm doing quite well, although busy - as indicated by my relative absense here. I hope you are fine too!

Can I just say I absolutely loved this request! It had my fingers itching to get to the keyboard from the moment I read it. I'm not quite sure if I've followed your idea but I still hope you'll like it. I sure had an absolute blast writing it... and I kinda love them. They felt exceptionally alive. Although, the hero/villain duos always do.

Thank you for the request and thank you to everyone for reading. Love you,

Sunny xo

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing @lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm @betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose  @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood

[snorky]

Hi, I really adore your work and wanted to request an UPL imagine,, maybe hurt/comfort, if that's something you're comfortable doing? Thank you so so much!! 🩷🩷🩷 have a great day!!!:)

But Beware, Beware, Beware (And Take It Slow Tonight)

Hey y’all, and hi-hello to the lovely requester who asked for a Ukko-Pekka hurt/comfort, which is something I am usually one-hundred percent okay doing :) Thank you so much for the kind words as well, luv ya lots <3 If the pronouns of the reader in this fic (she/her) need to be changed (directed at the requester) please let me know! Title is from the song "Today I Saw The Whole World" by Pierce The Veil. I hope you angels are all doing well and lovely, and enjoy this fic, and also, remember to take care of yourself!

Pairing: Ukko-Pekka Luukkonen x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst, Nightmares, Yelling/Shouting, Hurt/Comfort, Not proofread yet (sigh), (let me know if I need to add anything)

—

—

Fear. It was the only thing she felt while she was stuck in a room with him, sitting down at the dinner table with her head in her hands, and all he could do was yell curses and shout at whatever rolled off of his tongue that seemed to be laced with poison. The only source of light came from behind him in the kitchen, casting mangled shadows across the room like twisted trees and thorns.

Tears seemed to roll down her cheeks endlessly, and yet, he didn’t seem to acknowledge a single one as he kept shouting at her, his larger frame so much more intimidating.

He said he would never do this, he said he would never hurt her, but at the moment, all his promises seemed to be made of lies and emptiness. The rage in his eyes seemed to burn into her skin, his laugh empty and mocking, and she felt so afraid.

As he slammed his fist onto the table, she woke from her sleep, breathless and teary eyed.

Looking over to the sleeping figure next to her, she could see that he was sleeping peacefully, chest rhythmically rising and falling with each deep breath of his. His hair was slightly tousled, falling softly onto his forehead.

She tried to wipe away the tears with the back of her palm, yet they kept falling against her will as she thought back to the nightmare she just had. He seemed so gentle, fast asleep right next to her, but her mind was at unease and turmoil.

Pushing the covers and sheets aside, she got out of bed, the hardwood floor cold beneath her feet. It creaked and croaked, causing her to freeze as he started to roll over in bed. When he started to settle down, she walked out into the darkened hallway, pictures and paintings hung on the wall.

It felt like a home, something she was so happy to share with Ukko, something that was so comforting to her deep down, but at the moment, she didn’t feel safe at all. She felt like she wasn’t supposed to be here in this house she called a home, she felt like she didn’t deserve to live such a content life.

As she opened the front door, she turned the front porch light on, illuminating the concrete steps that were decorated with potted flowers and plants. Carefully, she shut the door behind her, trying not to wake her lover up.

She sat down, looking off into the empty street at night, only illuminated by the street lamps posted every now and then on the sidewalk. It was quiet, oh so quiet, and she could hear each heartbeat of hers, rapid and rampant as she tried to recollect herself.

Her hands wiped at the tears that kept falling, pawing at them with her palms, irritating the skin. There was a lump in her throat that she couldn’t seem to swallow or push down, and it felt as if she was at the mercy of whatever happened next.

And silence followed, the sound of crickets chirping endlessly into the night, an owl in the far, far distance. It was much calmer than what her mind seemed to conjure up only a few minutes prior.

Only then the calm was broken by the front door opening, and a quiet sigh from behind her.

“Why are you out here, darling?” His voice was groggy, having just woken up, and she could tell that he was a little surprised to see her out here. “It’s cold and you’re going to get sick,” he said worriedly. There was a slight hint of care in his voice, nurturing and sweet as ever, but she didn’t want to accept it.

When he tried to reach out to her, she moved away from his touch, looking at him with scared, puffy and bloodshot eyes. His heart broke at the sight of her, not knowing what happened or why she was out here in the first place.

He squatted down, lowering himself to be near eye-level with her, hoping to try and figure out why she seemed so hurt by him. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

She simply shook her head, not wanting to speak. Her silent cries still passed her lips every now and then, each sob causing a pain and crack in his heart.

Ukko understood that the season was rough for the Sabres, each loss whenever he played feeling like a massive weight on his shoulders, and missing the playoffs was something that made him more disappointed in himself. He could’ve played better, stopped more goals, been more consistent, and yet he just wasn’t.

He never wanted it to affect his personal life, he never wanted to upset her in any way, but there were some nights where he just wanted a bit of alone time, by himself.

Sitting down beside her, lips pressed in a tight line, he looked at her face, hoping to search for an unspoken answer. Her breath was more steady, less sharp than before, and she looked at him nervously.

“I had a bad dream Ukko,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “You were—you were yelling and shouting at me—” Her sentences broke out into a sob again, head reburied into her hands.

He felt hurt by this, unsure of why she would ever think that he would purposely try to hurt her. “I wouldn’t do that!”

She jumped slightly at his words, frightened, her tears stuck in silence. Her eyes widened in fear as she started to cry harder, causing him to realize what he had done.

Immediately, regret seemed to fill him as he pulled her close, attempting to comfort her to the best of his abilities.

“No, please, I’m so sorry, enkelini,” he murmured into her hair. His arms were wrapped around her as her head was pressed under his chin. “My sweet angel, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you, I’m sorry.”

She so badly wanted to pull away from him, locking herself in a room in the house away from him, but she remained there, crying in his arms. His hand grazed her skin gently, moving up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“I’ll always try to protect you and make you feel safe—” he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “—and I’m really sorry I messed up.”

They both sat there on the porch in silence together, concrete cold beneath them as she sniffled, breaths still unsteady. He held her close, afraid that if he let go, she would slip away from him forever.

Grabbing her hand gently, he brought it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, thumb grazing over her knuckles.

“You deserve to be treated like a princess, you know?” His voice was quiet, but steady, confident.

Looking up at him, her eyes were puffy, tired and exhausted. “What do you mean?”

He smiled at her sweetly, eyes warm and soft, creating butterflies in her every time. Swiftly, he picked her up with ease in his strong arms, causing a small laugh to bubble up from her throat.

“Like this, making you laugh, carrying you back into bed with me,” he listed. His cheeks were rosy, as if he had fallen in love with her for the first time again. “You’re my rakas,”

“I can’t understand Finnish, Upie,” she yawned, the lack of sleep catching up to her.

As he set her in the bed, he climbed in with her, arms wrapping around her once more. “It means ‘love’ as in the nickname.” Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he rested his face into the crook of her neck, where he pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“Get some sleep, hun,” she said, fingers weaving into his hair, gently playing with it. “I wanna get breakfast tomorrow morning at this new place in town.”

He let out a deep chuckle, smiling against her. “Anything for you, my princess.”

[softeninglooks]

iwaoi week 2024 | day 5: there was only one bed, argentina/california

tooru’s travel backpack slumbered against the foot of the spare bed placed in hajime’s room, emptied of the numerous items they had faithfully carried all the way from san juan to irvine, california. it had been a long journey, and an even longer time since they had last hugged this tightly. when tooru’s tall frame had walked through the automatic gates of the airport, the hours that had separated him from hajime had dissolved into a short-lived memory. the time they had spent separate from one another had shrank to nothingness, the distance had been crossed in a few strides - there they were again, back at the airport, but no longer saying goodbye.

tooru had pulled hajime close and grinned into his shoulder, while hajime had patted him hard on the back.

“long time no see, iwa-chan,” tooru had taken a step back to look his friend up and down. “look how much you’ve grown,” he’d mused to humor hajime. “but you haven’t grown as tall as me yet.”

“and you’re still as annoying as ever,” hajime had feigned anger, his eyes smiling back at tooru.

hajime had driven them back to campus with the car he rented in the u.s., with tooru pointing out every single little change that he noticed about him. he could drive, he had tanned, his english accent had a subtle american melody to it. he was still as scary-looking, though, which had hajime laugh and threaten tooru that he would abandon him along the road.

they were back together as if nothing had changed (nothing had, really), and the same old warmth between them had rekindled, naturally, like the gentle flames of a fire growing greedier from the wind’s touch.

they were twenty, both a world away from everything that they had known before - but the way back to one another was one that could never be lost, for tooru and hajime. it was a certainty without question, a truth.

hajime had shown tooru his bedroom, in which a spare bed had been placed for the newcomer. hajime had spent his free afternoon cooking so that tooru - who must have been tired from the trip no matter how much he protested, hajime knew him too well - could have a quiet evening before they travelled around the state.

the inviting smell of cooked rice had welcomed tooru into the lightly-furnished bedroom, where a godzilla poster overhanging hajime’s bed had had tooru crack a smile. hajime’s numerous physical therapy books were lined upon a bookcase, his notebooks placed on a tidy desk, and a volley ball rested in the corner of the room. like tooru, hajime had grown in more ways than one, but tooru would’ve guessed that the room was his even if he hadn’t known it.

after going on a tour of the campus, they ate heartily in hajime’s bedroom, tooru praising the salmon onigiri and miso soup that his friend had prepared. they teased and laughed, bickered and declared war on each other.

“when we fight, i’ll defeat you,” hajime warned, pointing his chopsticks at tooru. “i’m not giving up on that.”

“you’re on, iwa-chan. my team has been doing really well this season though, so beware. i’ll be the one to beat you,” tooru’s eyes narrowed playfully, but the sharp determination in his voice reminded hajime of all the times that tooru had impressed him, all the faith he had put into him.

“and i’m doing all i can to get stronger here.” hajime showed tooru that he hadn’t forgotten their promise either.

“we’ll fight on the world stage then, iwa-chan.” tooru smiled at hajime, fierce as ever.

underneath their lifelong rivalry, beat the pulse of care and trust, blind belief in one another. hajime and tooru had grown together, raised each other up through thick and thin. this was the only way they knew how to push forward, be it on a japanese high school court, or in different corners of the world. some feelings had been left unsaid, but with tooru and hajime reunited again, they erupted through passing touches, playful smiles, a home-made meal.

and a shared bed.

because the spare bed the campus had provided for hajime’s visitor didn’t last for long.

hajime and tooru found themselves with a broken bed, tooru almost crashing through the underlying slats as they couldn’t handle his athlete’s weight.

tooru had shrieked out of surprise and gripped the rims of the bed, holding on for dear life while the helpless piece of furniture had crumbled underneath him.

after the initial shock, however, laughter bubbled up in their throats. of course something had to go terribly wrong.

“iwa-chan!”

“what?”

“what did you do?!” tooru complained, part laughing, part whining.

“i didn’t do anything. YOU broke the bed!” hajime pointed an accusing finger at tooru, but the smile that he was struggling against gave him away. “what am i going to tell the college?”

“just tell them to get better beds! their beds threaten the safety AND lives of visitors!” tooru tried to sound intimidating, but there was laughter in his eyes. “what are we going to do now?”

“there’s nothing to do. sleep on the floor.”

“iwa-chan! i’m your guest.”

“fine, i’ll lend you some bedsheets to spread on the floor,” hajime deadpanned.

“no!”

“then…” hajime looked around to assess the state of his bedroom. the idea had crossed both their minds - a timid desire that they both felt coiling deep within their chests. as much time as they tried to save time, they really did want it. hajime’s hand flew to the back of his neck, then down between his shoulder blades, nails digging nervously into the fabric of his black t-shirt. “whatever. let’s share my bed. there should be enough room if you don’t move around in your sleep, shittykawa.”

“i didn’t even get a chance to, and you’re already insulting me, iwa-chan!”

“shut up and get your ass into bed,” hajime grumbled, pretending to busy himself with the broken bed to hide the flush that had risen to his cheeks.

a quick glance behind his shoulder told hajime that tooru had obliged. he sat on his friend’s bed, wearing the grey doraemon t-shirt that he slept in and his hair still wet from the shower he had taken. it reminded him of their childhood sleepovers, when they would peek out of the window to stargaze and tooru would tell stories about aliens and undiscovered galaxies.

hajime joined him, taking a seat on the other side of the bed with an awkward edge to his movements.

there had been sleepy bus rides on the way home from competitions before, staying up late at each other’s house and high-fiving or patting each other’s shoulder after winning points. but this was new, as much as both tooru and hajime pretended that it wasn’t.

“so,” tooru began, slipping onto the bed after hajime had turned off the lights and occupied his side. “here i finally am. in irvine.”

“there you are. late as usual, i visited you in argentina last year,” hajime’s reproachful tone joked from the other side of the bed.

“no fair, i have a busy schedule, iwa-chan.”

they were all too aware of each other’s presence. the sound of breaths coming out as amused exhales, their bodies shifting to adjust to the mattress and leave each other enough room. little by little, the wall of timidity between them was taken apart brick by brick, until they could fit back into their own bodies, and the brushing of arms and legs became lucky accidents.

“but i’m glad i made it here. who would’ve known we’d both be so crazy as to move overseas.”

“issei and takahiro weren’t that surprised.”

“no, they weren’t.”

tooru laughed and hajime rolled onto his back, feeling tooru’s arm next to his, sending ripples of warmth down his own skin.

“it’s all going to work out, somehow,” hajime added, his voice laced with a soft tiredness - exhaustion at the end of a busy day.

“it better. i can retire only after i beat you.”

“already thinking about retiring, old man?” hajime nudged tooru’s side, but was trapped before he could pull away. tooru caught hajime’s forearm, holding it down tightly against his abdomen.

“i got you, iwa-chan!” he triumphed through a chuckle, resisting against hajime’s attempts to wriggle his arm loose.

“careful, i’ll kick you off the bed, shittykawa.”

“how mean,” tooru let go. he turned toward hajime, his face relaxed and earnest, smile fading into peacefulness. “but it’s good to be here.”

“yeah,” hajime nodded slightly, and the fire spread to his cheeks this time. he was thankful that tooru could not see it in the dark - his barriers breaking down, as tooru’s hand brushed against his shoulder.

“thanks for the dinner, i loved the onigiri. you’ve grown into a proper adult, hajime.”

“it’s nothing.”

hajime reached back, hesitantly.

as they fell asleep, stomachs filled with a dinner made with love and freed from the constraint of time zones, their arms were pressed against one another, without either of them willing to pull away from the touch.