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anonymousewrites · 6 days ago

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A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Eighteen

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Eighteen: Evil Spirits and Pranks

Summary: (Y/N) and Saiki get roped into more Occult Club stuff, and Kusuke plants bombs across the country.

“Do you know why Toritsuka dragged us in here?” asked (Y/N) as they sat in the Occult Club room beside Saiki, Kaidou, Yumehara, and Makino. Apparently, the omen had been right—they weren’t done with the club.

“He’s trying to impress girls again,” said Saiki.

“Let’s all go to the abandoned building together!” said Toritsuka excitedly. “We can flush out the ghosts, help our classmates, and revive the Occult Club!”

“We’ve always been active, you just haven’t attended,” said Yumehara, rolling her eyes. “You can’t just boss around after not showing up.”

“Honestly,” said Makino.

“Abandoned building?” Yumehara scoffed. “We’re not—”

“A haunted building? I’m intrigued,” said Kaidou.

“I have to go see it!” declared Yumehara.

“Really?” said Makino.

“Yare yare. I should have gotten us away,” said Saiki.

“But you can’t resist helping the town out,” said (Y/N), smiling.

“Only so it doesn’t come out that ghosts exist, mediums are real, and psychics are real,” said Saiki directly into (Y/N)’s mind so no one else heard the mention of ESP.

“Uh-huh,” said (Y/N).

“We’ll make the town safe,” said Toritsuka. I need witnesses. I’ll make a name for myself as reliable spirit medium.

Yare yare.

“You’re here,” said Toritsuka, smiling.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Yumehara.

“Makino, you changed your hair back,” said (Y/N).

“I thought it would be better for this situation,” said Makino.

“Atmospheric,” said (Y/N), nodding.

“It’s so dark and creepy here,” said Yumehara, shivering.

“No need to fear the darkness,” said Kaidou, walking up. Yumehara smiled. “I spend my life in darkness. It’s where I’m at peace.”

“Then why do you have that huge flashlight?” said Saiki, appearing behind Kaidou.

Kaidou jumped.

“You’re late, Saiki,” said Toritsuka.

“Kusuo!” said (Y/N), smiling.

“I checked the abandoned building first,” said Saiki to Toritsuka and (Y/N) while the others chatted.

“You did?”

“I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a hangout spot for criminals. There was a homeless man. He must be who people saw in the building,” said Saiki.

“What’s the point of going if you solved it already?” complained Toritsuka.

“Not necessarily,” said Saiki. “I felt something strange there. It really could be haunted.”

“Really?” (Y/N) shivered.

“Hey, if we’re all here, let’s go,” said Yumehara.

They walked around the corner to face the abandoned building. It loomed against the dark sky, and it was definitely the definition of scary.

“It is creepy,” said Toritsuka.

“This is a dangerous place. You shouldn’t go in just for kicks,” warned Makino. “So many ghosts are looking at us from inside.”

“You just wanted to say that,” said Saiki.

“We might as well go in,” said Toritsuka.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Makino darkly.

“It’s dark,” said Yumehara. “I can barely see.”

“I’ll turn on my flashlight,” said Kaidou. “Not because I’m scared, but because I don’t want to trip.”

“You’re so prepared.” Yumehara smiled.

(Y/N) held Saiki’s sleeve as he walked through the building. Since he had already been there, they felt confident in his ability to look out for them.

“Yikes!”

Everyone jumped and looked at Yumehara. Kaidou’s flashlight illuminated her frightened face.

“What is it, Chiyo?” said (Y/N) worriedly.

“Something just touched me!”

Kaidou’s eyes widened in fear. “It’s actually real?!”

“I knew it was dangerous,” cried Makino.

“Curse you, ghost,” said Toritsuka. He had a strangely satisfied look on his face.

(Y/N) and Yumehara looked at each other.

“Do you want to or should I?” said Yumehara.

“You’re the one he bothered,” chirped (Y/N). “But I’ve got your back, girl.”

Yumehara reared back and punched Toritsuka. He went flying into Kaidou and his flashlight, shattering it. However, Yumehara was extremely satisfied by Toritsuka’s pained groan.

“Pervert,” said (Y/N), going back to Saiki.

“Gross,” he agreed.

“My flashlight!” cried Kaidou. He shivered. “Walking in this darkness is scary…It’s dangerous!” He panicked. “Let’s turn back.”

“I thought you felt at peace in the darkness,” said Saiki. He looked at Toritsuka. “Sense anything?”

“There is something strange,” said Toritsuka, rubbing his head. “There’s not a single ghost inside here.”

“Isn’t that normal?” said Saiki.

“No,” said Toritsuka. “Normally, there would be a few roaming around. I’m getting scared!”

“Because of no ghosts? Weird,” said (Y/N).

“We’re done here! Let’s go!” said Kaidou.

“There should be five or six ghosts in a building of this size,” said Toritsuka. “There were plenty outside.”

“Outside?” said Kaidou.

“Yes. There were about twenty at our meet-up spot,” said Toritsuka.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” said (Y/N) cheerfully.

“I got it!” Toritsuka’s eyes widened. “There must be an evil spirit.”

“Huh?” said everyone.

“Ghosts aren’t evil or scary normally,” explained Toritsuka. “They don’t have any memories, so they have no malice. A lot of them are the type to just stare at flowers all day.”

“What a peaceful afterlife,” said (Y/N).

“But a very small percentage turn to evil,” said Toritsuka darkly. “That’s an evil spirit. They ignore other ghosts and sometimes insult a certain group of ghosts. The worst of them even turn to violence!”

“That’s pretty lame,” said Saiki bluntly.

“What do they do to people?” asked Kaidou with trepidation.

“They don’t harm people,” said Toritsuka.

“Who cares then?!” cried Kaidou.

“Ghosts are way nicer than people!” said Toritsuka. “I can’t turn my back on them!” He ran farther into the building.

“Wait!” said Kaidou.

“Toritsuka!” said (Y/N).

“What’s got him so excited? Yare yare.”

While Yumehara, Makino, and Kaidou stayed where they were in fear, Saiki and (Y/N) followed Toritsuka, the darkness disguising their escape.

“That’s him!” they heard Toritsuka cry.

“Let me see,” said Saiki.

“You came, Saiki, (L/N),” said Toritsuka in surprise.

“Yeah,” said (Y/N), smiling.

Saiki touched Toritsuka’s shoulder and (Y/N)’s hand, letting them all see the sullen evil spirit sitting in the room.

“Hey, evil spirit!” shouted Toritsuka.

“What? Shut up,” said the ghost.

“He looks weak,” said Saiki.

“Are you the one who drove away the other ghosts?” accused Toritsuka.

“They left on their own!” said the ghost.

“You shouldn’t pick on other!” said Toritsuka.

“What’s it to you!” shouted the ghost.

“You go apologize now!” ordered Toritsuka.

“I’ve never seen Toritsuka so focused,” said (Y/N).

The ghost sniffled and began to cry. “I just hit him as a joke, and they all ran away from me.”

Toritsuka patted him on the shoulder. “You just want to be friends, right?”

“Yes,” sobbed the ghost.

“Then let’s go apologize,” said Toritsuka.

“Okay,” said the ghost.

“Just go out the window and say sorry,” said Toritsuka.

The ghost nodded and floated to the window.

“That’s was an easy fix,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Hopefully the ghosts will all be alright.”

“Maybe,” said Saiki. He looked at Toritsuka. “It’s rare to see you do something for nothing in return.”

“What are you talking about? I always do,” said Toritsuka. “I can’t have ghosts be all bad people.”

“What are they doing?” The others had found them, and Kaidou was peeking into the room.

“It looked like he was talking to himself,” said Yumehara.

“It’s okay now,” said Toritsuka, smiling. “I have driven the evil spirit away.”

“So there’s no ghost now?” said Kaidou.

“No, they came back,” said Toritsuka proudly. “There’s about ten of them.”

“There’s more?” Kaidou trembled.

“So, please, tell everyone I drove away the evil spirit,” said Toritsuka. I’ll be popular once people hear what I did!

“He’s after the fame, isn’t he?” laughed (Y/N).

“As usual.”

“There’s a package for you, Kuu,” called Mrs. Saiki.

Saiki walked into the hall and looked at the brown paper box. For me? What is this? He used his X-ray vision and saw a coffee jelly design on the box within. He ripped open the box with a grin.

Boom!

…

Unboom!

“What was that?” said (Y/N), poking their head into the hall.

“Kusuke tried to blow up our front door,” said Saiki.

“Your family is so interesting,” said (Y/N) brightly.

Saiki opened the now-deactivated bomb and looked at the wires and doodle of Kusuke himself within.

“If interesting means pain-in-the-ass, yes,” said Saiki.

A tv screen popped on in the bomb—obviously, Kusuke knew Saiki would deactivate it and left a message.

“Kusuo, how’s it going?” said Kusuke on the video. “If you’re watching this, it means you’ve dealt with the bomb. I know you like coffee jelly, so I thought that would trick you into opening it, but I regret it. Now I’m stuck eating these coffee jellies every single day. Oh, it’s tasty.”

An irk mark appeared on Saiki’s forehead, and (Y/N) patted him encouragingly on the shoulder.

“I’ve placed another bomb in this city,” announced Kusuke.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Let’s play a game, Kusuo,” said Kusuke. “Well, the bomb is a lie!”

“Phew,” said (Y/N).

“He’s the worst,” groaned Saiki.

“Once time is up, fireworks will go off that reveal your psychic powers,” said Kusuke, pleased.

“That’s a lie, right?”

“Your brother likes threatening that…” (Y/N) sweat-dropped.

“The fireworks will go up in three hours, and there’s only one way to stop them,” said Kusuke. A map appeared on the screen. “Find the cards at these five locations.”

“Maybe I’ll go punch him instead.”

“I’m in a dark room right now,” said Kusuke. “I know you can’t teleport to a place you haven’t seen.”

“Wow, he even knew what you were going to say to a video of him,” said (Y/N). They were a bit impressed. They looked at Saiki. “So, what do we do?”

Saiki sighed. “Play his stupid game.”

“There should be one around here,” said Saiki, looking around the first location he had teleported himself and (Y/N) to. “I’ll try thoughtography, but I’m sure it won’t work.”

“I don’t think you need to try,” said (Y/N), watching a beatboxer walk up to them. Wordlessly, the man handed a card to Saiki before bumping off.

“It’s a clue,” said Saiki.

The paper read: “There’s one person in this mall who knows where the card is. Find that person with your telepathy.”

An irk mark appeared on Saiki’s forehead. “Impossible. How many people does he think there are? I can’t isolate a person in this crowd. That means listening to thousands of people.”

“I believe in you, Kusuo,” said (Y/N), taking his hand and squeezing.

Nodding, Saiki used their hand to ground himself. He closed his eyes and focused, spreading his telepathy to its full radius. No. No. No. He could hear everything, and it still wasn’t enough.

“Got it.”

“That’s good!” said (Y/N), smiling as Saiki led them in the direction of the person with the note.

“What a weird card,” said (Y/N), looking at the “HB” written vertically in orange.

“I don’t know what it could mean,” said Saiki. “Whatever. Onto the park with that ugly statue.”

“If it was a cube, it would remind of something,” remarked (Y/N) as he teleported them there. They stepped towards the fountain, and, yet again, Saiki was approached and given a clue by a random person.

“What’s this clue say?” said (Y/N), peering at the paper.

It read: It’s hidden inside the round sculpture in the middle of the park. Look inside with x-ray vision. Once you know, report to the person who gave you this letter.

“That statue is at least two meters thick, so you’ll have to not blink for two minutes, right?” said (Y/N).

Saiki sighed and nodded. He was flattered that (Y/N) remembered how each of his powers worked, but it would still present a problem for him. It seemed Kusuke really wanted to stretch Saiki’s abilities thin.

Saiki narrowed his eyes and focused. (Y/N) bounced on the balls of their feet as they waited for Saiki to succeed—they knew he would. Wind began to blow, and Saiki furrowed his brow. (Y/N) put their hands on their hips when they spotted Kusuke’s messenger with a fan pointed at Saiki’s face.

“I’ll handle, Kusuo, you just focus!” said (Y/N). They walked up to the messenger, smiled brightly, and stomped the fan into the ground. The messenger gulped.

“I’ve got it,” said Saiki. “Keyword: tuna.”

Staring at (Y/N) nervously, the messenger handed the second card to Saiki. This one read “PTY.”

“More weird letters,” said (Y/N).

“Three more,” sighed Saiki, knowing whatever his brother had planned, it was going to be a pain.

“Ready?” said (Y/N).

Saiki nodded.

“The next location is on a deserted trail,” said Saiki.

“We’ve got an hour left,” said (Y/N) worriedly.

“There’s a sign,” said Saiki. It wanted Saiki to dig twenty-five meters down. He sighed. “Another obstacle.”

“You can do it, Kusuo! We’re almost there,” said (Y/N) encouragingly as Saiki stretched.

He knew he had to dive down into the earth. He really hated his brother.

However, at the end, he had another card, this one saying “YH,” and it was onto the next obstacle.

The fourth card was inside a bank vault, and (Y/N) had to wait outside while Saiki turned invisible and floated through wall. That card had the letters “AID.”

Unfortunately, they only had thirty minutes left for the final card.

At the final location, Saiki and (Y/N) got another clue. It read: use your psychometry to identify the real card. The messenger pointed at a cabin, and when (Y/N) and Saiki peeked their heads in, they found every wall and the entire ceiling covered in cards.

“Wow. That’s a lot,” said (Y/N).

“Going through them all in thirty minutes will be tough,” said Saiki. “I’ll start on the left.” He peeled off his thin plastic gloves that helped him avoid psychometry and touched a card. Instantly, he reeled back in disgust.

“Kusuo?” said (Y/N) worriedly.

“Damn it!” He made a grossed-out expression and coughed. “He’s planted gross images into the cards that are wrong…”

“A psychological attack, yikes,” said (Y/N).

“I can’t look at all of them,” said Saiki, shivering.

(Y/N) grimaced. “You have to.”

They stared at each other and deflated.

Kusuke was diabolical.

Saiki stared at the “PRA” card, the final one. “We did it. But at what cost to myself…”

“We’ll get sweets to heal you,” said (Y/N) encouragingly.

I’m so glad I have them.

“You’re late by one minute, Kusuo,” tutted Kusuke.

“Kusuke!” Saiki glared at Kusuke as he stepped into the park with a grin. “You’ve got guts showing your face to me. What kind of sick prank is this?”

“It’s not time to worry about that,” said Kusuke.

“What?”

“You finished late by one minute.”

“Uh-oh,” said (Y/N).

“You’ll miss the fireworks that reveal your secret,” said Kusuke, turning the tree line.

“Hey, wait—”

“Hey!”

(Y/N) and Saiki watched a projectile shoot up into the air. It exploded, and they stared in surprise.

“Happy Birthday, Kusuo!”

“What?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s your birthday,” said (Y/N). They had been over celebrating with him—eating sweets, of course—when the whole “bomb-package-prank” incident had interrupted them. It had flown from Saiki and (Y/N)’s mind after that.

Kusuke took the cards from Saiki as he looked at the fireworks and held them up, arranged perfectly. “This is a birthday card!” He grinned. The cards together spelt out “Happy Birthday.” Kusuke chuckled. “It’s more fun if it’s a game, right?” he said.

“Fun? I was having a perfectly fine date with my partner. You interrupted it, you bastard,” said Saiki, glowering.

“Here’s your present!” chirped Kusuke, holding up a box. “A year’s worth of coupons for coffee jelly."

“You think you can placate me with that?” said Saiki.

Honestly, it doesn’t take a genius to know how to bribe you, thought (Y/N), smothering a chuckle.

“…I can really have this?”

“Of course,” said Kusuke.

Saiki’s eyes sparkled as he held his gift.

(Y/N) grinned and laughed out loud. Their boyfriend was adorably predictable. “Happy birthday again, Kusuo.”

Saiki looked at them. “With you, it is.”

“Even through all of this trouble?”

“Yes.” He could face anything with them. He loved them.

Taglist:

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#a not so disastrous romance #x reader #gn reader #nb reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #saiki kusou no psi nan #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #kusuo saiki #saiki x reader #saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki kusuo #saiki #the disastrous life of saiki k.#the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki kusuo x reader #kusuo x reader #kusuo saiki x reader

87 notes · View notes

boomhoon · 10 months ago

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if you’re a love and deepspace fan ily -> THIS IS FOR ALL U HOT PPL<3 Anyway, I was bored studying, and ended up typing this out (💀) so here are my random thoughts:

Driving with the love and deepspace love interests!

Content: Reader is implied to be the female MC in the game, you are dating them, kissing, mentions of food, mentions of crashing, SFW

Zayne- This man is your designated driver. TRUST that you will get to your destination safely, and efficiently. You are a passenger queen atp

The kind to remind you to take off your claw clip, and to wear sunglasses if it’s sunny. Safety first 🤓☝️

I imagine his car to be very clean. No clutter! Any cards, or paperwork is tucked away in a folder, and that folder is also tucked in some pocket in the car

Zayne would probably have a rule stating: No food in the car

^ If he sees you opening a bag of chips, he’ll shoot you a disapproving look before calmly snatching your snack away. “Save it for later”

^ He will allow liquids, and trusts that you won’t spill it

He will let you have aux, but the volume is lowered, and never blasting

The car will smell like his cologne, and the faint scent of a hospital (idek)

Will drive with both hands, but if the road is long and empty, he will switch to doing it one-handed. If he’s wearing a sleeve, they will be rolled up slightly— his skin is so pale, so his veins will show. It will look good ESP when he switches gears

^ And oh ma gaaaaa the watch adorning his wrist will show, AND IM GOING CRAZYYY, ARE YOUU???

Zayne will keep that chad face 🗿the whole time while driving, and you end up staring at his face the whole ride. He notices your stares but doesn’t dare take his eyes away from the road

If he’s feeling comfortable enough, he will put his hand on your thigh. His fingers will lightly caress the inside of your thigh, and give it gentle squeezes. His hands are mad cold though 🥶 BRR

- Overall Zayne is very trustworthy, so he is getting a 9/10. A point taken off because of the no food rule

Rafayel- Sorry to those Rafayel girlies, but you are a passenger survivor if this man takes the wheel! So instead he will be the passenger princess 😇 mwahaha 😈😈

To be his driver you better have the patience of a saint…

Demands he gets the aux, and will only consider letting a few of your favorite songs play if you do something for him (kisses)

YAPPER! NAGGER!

“Oh- you’re going the wrong way, where are you taking me? What kind of bodyguard is this…”

You explain that you know a shortcut, but he’s not buying it.

“If I end up being killed, just know I told Thomas I was going with you.” You simply roll your eyes for the umpteenth time

And if Rafayel notices you’re driving over the speed limit, be prepared for the most dramatic show on the side. His hands will grip the grab handle, eyes will close shut, “It would be a miracle if we don’t crash and die! I hope my legacy will be the same as Leonardo Da Vinci .” He mumbles to himself. “And what if we get arrested!? my career as a painter is over then…” Another mumbled complaint.

“Im sure Leonardo wasn’t this much of a complainer.” You mumble back, and his eyes shoot open before giving you a glare

“You humans don't seem to value life at all.” He huffs, a small pout gracing his lips.

If you swerve too much, it’s another thing to complain about, “I’m going to get carsick. As my bodyguard you should be taking my health into consideration.”

“Silly girl, you could’ve gone earlier.” Causally comments as you’re waiting for a chance to turn onto a street. You couldn’t have gone earlier

RAFAYEL IS A MENACE IM TELLING U ( a very charming one)

Now, if he’s feeling generous, and notices that your hands are busy at the wheel, he will feed you 🤗

^ “Open~” you do so, and he pops a piece of his food into your mouth.

^ He gives you a fond smile before swiftly taking a napkin, and wiping the corners of your mouth

“Are we almost there yet?” ← his favorite thing to say

Okay but if he does end up driving, you’re either crashing or getting arrested. He can’t even row a boat GOOD LAWD

When you finally reach your destination, he’ll reach over to give you a hug, and a chaste kiss on the lips. “Babe you drive well! Almost better than thomas!”

7/10, being in a car with rafayel is actually really fun! Love this man 🤞🤞

Xavier- okay now here’s MY MAN 😍😍! You are a true passenger princess here

I TRUST THIS MAN WITH MY LIFE.

so you should too 😝

Fs would create a road trip playlist to only share with you

But be warned… he may fall asleep at the wheel 😱

Bro would look so majestic as he’s driving with the sun on him.

You turn to the side where Xavier is, and there’s a sunset behind him. You sneak a picture, admiring the sun, and Xavier in all their glory.

Xavier will hold your hand throughout the car ride, and listen attentively to you talk about a variety of things.

^ Occasionally he will bring your fingers up to his lips and kiss them gently

^ Sneaks soft glances at you out of adoration

Constantly checking his mirrors, and surroundings to make sure everything is good

^ Do you want something for the road? We can pick up snacks on the way.” Doesn’t care much if his car is super clean or not, so food is very much welcomed!

His car will definitely have small little pictures of the two of you! Photo-booth strips, polaroids, you name it! 🙌

^ They’ll be hanging along on the visor, or kept safe in the glovebox

Please go on a drive-in movie theater date with this man!!!!

The trunk is open, and the two of you are sitting there with mountains of pillows and blankets surrounding you both

Xavier keeps an arm around you, pulling you in closer when the breeze travels by

Your eyes will glance up from the movie to stare at the twinkling stars above you. And upon looking at the stars your mind drifts to Xavier.

You look to your side to take a peek, only to find Xavier already looking at you

10/10 I KNOW IM BIASED 😒MB YALL

Taglist: @sanasour @mars101

a/n: THANK YOU ALL FOR MAKING IT TILL THE END! I just had to share my thoughts, any form of interaction is greatly appreciated

@mars101 had to tag you again because i know you love this game so much, play it everyday, and consume lots of media on it, isn’t that right ?😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇😇

#love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #xavier #zayne love and deepspace #zayne #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel #otome game #headcanon

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moneymartin · 6 months ago

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teen gf Shauna headcanons pleaseee

🐶 - losergf!shauna hcs

warnings: mostly fluff but a lil smut under the divider :p

a/n: i know u didn’t ask for loser but shauna shipman is soooo loser girlfriend u cannot tell me otherwise. kinda messy and trash… i’m so sleepy rn i’m writing this half awake nd lowk a lil drunk UGH

taglist: @deerlottie @ultrone

my brown eyed beautiful baby where do i even start.

def the most athletic yj i will stand by this till the day i die

MUSCLE MAMAAAA

rolls up the sleeves of her flannels so you can see her muscles pop 😮‍💨

not a gym freak though but she works her arms 100%

cuddlebug fosho

little spoon and you can argue with me about that all you want this girl loves to be held

when she big spoons though she’s burying your face into her chest all the time

she plays with your hair tho no doubt abt it

even when you’re cuddling her instead

super soft kisses all over you while you doze off

sleeps after you do just to make sure cause sometimes you end up sleeping a lil too hard and she needs to make sure you aren’t dead

well thats what she thinks.

wakes up early even though she sleeps the latest out of the both of you

when you sleep for way too long she ends up full on wrestling you until you wake up

music geek

she def loves the smashing pumpkins, radiohead, the cranberries, the cure, mazzy star, jeff buckley, pavement, the cardigans. artists and bands of that genre

had a walkman like nat’s that you guys share on walks together

also has a vinyl player that she keeps at hers so you could listen to music with her when you come over

writes about you in her journal while she listens to the music

also writes these cute little love letters for you and she’ll write what songs she listened to while writing

sleepovers all the time though she’s one of those girls

drives you all over the place too

no matter how far so that you know she truly loves you

she goes absolutely nuts when you’re wearing her clothes i fink

esp her flannels

the moment you’re seen wearing one she can only think about taking it off of you cause it looks so good 😞

loves when you wear her jersey too

or her letterman jacket

funny sock gal

wears the one w monster faces on em or something like that

south park socks… hmo

SMARTY PANTS

got accepted into brown for a reason

she’s always helping you with assignments in case they’re too hard

she runs through them so fast though it actually baffles you to how she can do it

book geek too

has probably read harry potter a million times

edgar allan poe is her main dude she def likes poems and stuff from him

genuinely has a momma instinct

before you even get sick she tells you to be careful with the cold

and you don’t listen.

so you do end up getting sick and she has to take care of you until you’re all better

babies you but is also teasing you cause you didn’t listen to her warnings about it 😭 she could tell beforehand that you were gonna get sick

unlike lottie i think shauna has the ability to cook and stuff like that

not a 5 star chef but she’s good enough for you

being touchy in her public is her thangggg

you guys are always touching somehow

pinky holding, interlocked arms, holding hands, her just grabbing your wrist. she’s always gotta hold you no matter whaaaat

not very possessive but definitely a jealous person

makes it known she’s jealous w her attitude

has those anger issues we all know it

is not afraid to make a scene in front of a bunch of people she will cuss someone out for even looking at you

but she’s just jealous cause she’s really insecure :( poor girl my god

she thinks that the people you talk to are better than she’ll ever be

you have to reassure her countless of times so she can feel better about herself cause she’s always questioning you abt it

she loves little make out seshes behind the bleachers

its def the thrill of being caught like she loves that so much 🥸

when she kisses you she isn’t rough i think she’s very gentle actually

caressing your jaw and cheeks so you know she’s there and its not just some dream 😭

loves sitting on your lap while kissing cause it makes her feel like she’s the one in charge

also cause your hands are always in the spots where she wants them without her having to ask

biting…

teeth marks EVERYWHERE!!!

dom fosho but that’s not relevant rn

during arguments this girl is ruthless

not because she wants to hurt you but it’s because she’s always bubbling up

bottles up everything cause she’s afraid people won’t listen to her

but she’ll apologize eventually after if it looks like whatever she said got to you

won’t mean anything she tells you she just gets so mad at everything cause she can’t express herself as well :(

she regrets it so fast too like she’s immediately saying sorry afterwards

def a lace girly

loves showing off her new sets for you…

red black and white are the favs

OUUHHH

whiny as fuck but also holds her noises in cause she thinks they’re embarrassing

PANTER AND GROANER FOR SUREEEE

switch i think

like if she really wanted to she could top you but she’d rather be a power bottom

have you ride her strap or whatever…

its blue.

loves when you eat her out though cause she gets to pull on your hair

makes you talk her through it and when you’re topping but when she tops shes SO bold

she loves when you praise her thats the only thing she wants to hear from you during it

makes you kiss around her tits for sure

thats where she always wants you to be

when she’s jealous you’re constantly asking if she’s okay which leads into an argument

meaning that it’ll probably lead into really hot angry sex from her

the car scene really spoke to me

initiates everything too

anyways i’m done i’m so tired

#afraid this’ll flop #shauna shipman #shauna shipman x reader #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman smut

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morownic · 4 months ago

Text

now one is too many, but it’s never enough

Don’t tell me you’re happy, because this isn’t love. (So be careful what you wish for.)

warnings/tags: NSFW MDNI (non-graphic smut), non-ultraman AU, afab + fem pronouns, mentions/implications of drug overdose and alcohol abuse

prev. // next — series masterlist · my other works · ao3

a/n: there is a specific feeling im trying to convey while writing this and its the vibe from oh no (peep the chorus lawl) and just kiss her (this one esp in the prom scene + only friend tbh) so i do recommend listening to them while reading this part! so far my writing is very narrative based, i need to work on writing dialogues lol

Surreal was one way to describe the mise en scene before him; Ken felt as if he had and had not seen this before, and that unease pooling in his stomach threatened to grow into constant anxiety as he stayed still.

Now, Ken was just seated on one of the VIP tables near the far back of that same club in Shibuya, the one some of his more rowdy teammates had dragged him to after signing his contract with the Giants, leaning back against the cushion with his left arm on top of the backrest and his right hand holding a glass of whiskey. He was nodding along to whatever Fucile was saying, obscured by the loud music, and it wasn’t long until the foreign player was called into a different conversation by another teammate. Ken took a sip of his liquor to soothe the gnawing coldness in his chest, one he couldn’t quite tell if it was because the beat of the music only served to louden his silence, because he felt out of place even in a room full of people who had practically revered him, or because that feeling reminded him of something from the past that he could not and would rather not recall just yet. Under the dim, multicolored lighting and amidst the thumping of the bass that rivaled his heartbeat, Ken hoped that no one caught on his restlessness while he downed his whiskey in one go, trying to figure out just what was making him restless in the first place.

Realization didn’t hit him like a truck when he saw her approaching the table where he and his teammates were seated, the sleeves of her dress shirt rolled up to her elbows and its first two buttons undone. She was holding her own glass of whiskey as she walked toward his direction without breaking eye contact, her gaze stone-cold and too unreadable for someone who had laid herself bare for him in the past. She looked even more beautiful under this kind of lighting, he thought, and he immediately remembered all those times he had seen her just like this. Still, realization didn’t pour and wash over him like cold water, and he wished it would, because it hurt even more when it didn’t, because it meant that he had been through this one too many times. Instead, it dawned on him slowly, like when he stood in front of her house with a corsage in one hand and a bouquet in the other and somehow understood that she, dressed in a gown that he thought made her outshine an angel, could never be his. It dawned on him slowly, like when he felt as if the world had slowed when she turned around after he hesitantly called out her name, her eyes gleaming in recognition yet her body unmoving from the hold of another guy whose name he couldn’t even remember while he was just there. It dawned on him that what he was feeling was just not the dread that came with feeling out of place in a world that both sang his praises and damned him with faint praise; it was this dread of knowing that, even in her world, he was still out of place.

“Sato.”

It was his first time in almost half a decade hearing her address him by name, and his first time ever hearing her address him by his surname and an honorific. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy that she remembered him or if he should pick the pieces of his heart that broke when she called him with such a degree of unfamiliarity.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” she continued. “You have an injury.”

Her hair was a little tousled, and under the dim lighting, he could barely tell that she hadn’t bothered to cover up her imperfections, something that she would have only done around him in the past. There was only a hint of red on her lips that had begun to fade, with a slight smudge on the left corner of her lips that made his mind wonder. He asked himself how the hell he could even see that and, out of habit, whether she had just left some dingy restroom after a quick hookup with some guy he didn’t even want to know. There were other times when he saw her like this, he thought, all pretty and cheeks slightly flushed from alcohol and practically glowing in the dark and always too far from his reach and never, ever his.

Ken Sato could be a selfish, selfish man; he could have anything in the world, what with how good-looking, well-off, and exalted he was. Yet, she was his first real lesson in ‘You can’t always get what you want.’

“Oh–huh?”

There was a scowl on her face as she leaned in across the table, and Ken could only think about how she still wore the same perfume all these years. He was growing lightheaded from her scent, failing to notice the way his teammates were staring at the exchange between them. There were too many thoughts running in his head at that moment. One was that, of course, she smelled as good as she looked, and it only brought the memories of nights spent in either of their bedrooms to the forefront of his mind. Then, there was the more rational thought of ‘How the hell did she know I was injured?’ that he interjected with another thought of ‘Anyone could tell, dumbass.’ And then, there was this awful, gut-wrenching realization that whatever this was, it was real. What was happening before him, the feelings suffocating his chest—all of them were real. His past with her and the present day where she made her way into his life again were not just one bad dream.

He hated it.

“Get yourself out of here before I tell Coach Shimura to bench you,” she snarled, and he didn’t know why. Vexation he understood, but resentment he did not. If anything, he should have been the one resenting her to death. But he couldn’t, could never. Not even with how egomaniacal he could be, not even with how he felt entitled to rage at the fact that she left him for Japan, just like his father did.

So, for the first time in a while, Ken found himself at a loss for words and only watched as she stood up and turned to address his teammates, her posture much more composed albeit with an air of disdain that was just as telling as his was—that they were both raised in a much different culture on the other side of the world. He briefly wondered if everyone else also damned her for it. He was, however, taken aback by her curt and polite forty-five degree bow toward his teammates, another contrast to her behavior toward him, as she spoke to his teammates in a much calmer and more dignified manner.

“Please remember that you have a game coming up. Take care of yourselves.”

He couldn’t find the courage to stop her as she excused herself and downed her whiskey in one go before disappearing into the crowd. It felt just like this, he thought. He would look at her, realize that there was no way anyone in the world could fill the hole in his heart when it was shaped to her exact likeness, and had to come to terms that, no, even she could not fill that hole. Ken, too, found himself pouring another shot that he downed in one go, hoping that the alcohol could at least outburn the pain searing in his chest. (It couldn’t.)

“Did you know her or something?” Fucile’s question pulled Ken out of his pity party, and he barely registered it as he craned his neck only slightly toward his teammate’s direction, eyes still glued to the empty glass he was holding.

Ken didn’t want to reveal that he did know her for several reasons. He didn’t want to get hurt again, and he selfishly thought maybe, just maybe, if he had kept some semblance of distance and indifference toward her, it could affect her just as much as it had affected him. But even if he wasn’t going to admit it himself, he knew that wouldn’t happen because she still had him wrapped around her finger even after all these years. He thought of the lonely nights he spent thinking about where she was, who he was to her, what they could have been. So his mind settled on the next best—or worst, depending on how you look at it—reason: that even if they were “friends,” even if the arrangement they had was a measure of closeness, even if they had laid themselves bare to each other, with him placing her in his heart next to his mother, there were days when he felt as if he barely knew anything about her, and now, it felt like he probably never did.

“Oh, no,” Ken exclaimed with a little exaggeration, to compensate for the silence that brought the attention of his other teammates. He shook his head, trying to ease the awkwardness and hide his unease by pouring himself yet another serving of whiskey and taking a sip of it. He hoped that his teammates would stop looking at him with suffocating scrutiny.

“We just went to the same high school.”

For the past four years, you found that it had become increasingly hard to put up a proper facade. There was no use for it at home; you no longer lived in Los Angeles where everyone thought you were perfect, and you no longer had to play the role of the good daughter anymore because your parents were long gone. Very few people had ever seen you past the pretense of the popular valedictorian. Your and Kenji’s mothers had passed away, you hadn’t spoken to your college roommate turned friend turned strangers after your falling-out, and he broke your heart into pieces that you had yet to pick up and glue together again to this day. There was another one, if you count his daughter as an extension of himself, which you did at some point as you bitterly laughed at the realization and irony that you could never get rid of him from your world, no matter how many times you tried to. But then you grew to love your daughter too much, even more so than you loved yourself, to think of her as a mere byproduct of failed love, and you didn’t want to turn out like your mother nor did you want your daughter to end up like you.

So, you named her after his mother instead—Emi—because you didn’t want to name your own daughter after your mother, who once invited some bashful younger man that came out of the foyer with disheveled hair, shirt untucked, and pants unzipped while she was lounging in the living room in her underwear, a glass of wine in hand, as she watched another episode of Love Island. Although everything about your daughter would inevitably and endlessly remind you of him, you still did what your mother had taught you best: curse the existence of the man who had taken away and given everything to you.

It was why contempt naturally came and etched itself on your face the moment you saw Kenji Sato since the last time you exchanged bitter words in front of that old diner somewhere in downtown Los Angeles. Years of trying to erase every trace of his existence went down in the drain, because the moment you saw him, you could only think about ‘What if we fuck it up again?’ knowing very well that there was nothing left between the two of you to even fuck up. You spent your first observation of the Giants during practice with a sour expression when you thought no one was looking at you. If Kenji was wondering to himself why he even left his career with the Dodgers behind for a father that was never there, then you were wondering to yourself why you had to come to Japan to escape from someone who ended up always being there anyway. You thought of what to say if he came up to you, or whether or not you should tell him that he had a child he didn’t even know of. All of that was put aside when you moved away from your conversation with Coach Shimura as he nodded in Kenji’s direction, when all you could feel at that moment was deep, indescribable longing and sadness that gnawed at your bones yet your face could only contort into an expression of scorn.

The next day, you didn’t come to practice for another observation, choosing to watch the game recordings in the comfort of your home and your daughter’s company. It was the first time in a while that you couldn’t look your daughter in the eyes properly because she reminded you of that doe-eyed boy you met in sophomore year of high school, and you were glad that she was at least preoccupied with talking your ears off about her new friends.

“The team is here, too,” a voice, one that you recognized had belonged to your senior shortly afterward, pulled you out of your train of thought. “Try to smile when you mingle, okay?”

Ms. Kudo—‘Just call me Eri,’ she said—was less uptight and less traditional compared to some of your previous colleagues. You didn’t know if it was because you were closer in age, because Eri was being considerate of your background as someone who spent almost half of her life in the States, or because she was just simply that carefree of a person compared to the typical office workers that you knew. She reminded you a bit of your roommate in college, and your heart tightened a little at the thought. Still, you weren’t sure how you ended up going along with your senior’s whims, or how you could even get your neighbor to agree to look after your daughter after a rushed phone call. You made a mental note to build your fortitude when it came to rejecting invitations to social outings and to buy something on your way home as a thank-you gift for your neighbor. A part of you reasoned that, since you had had your share of Japanese work culture, you knew better than to turn down a senior’s invitation to have a drink together. But you also knew that Eri was not that kind of person, that she would have understood anyway if you had said no, and then you were faced with the fact that you could use a drink or two considering what you had to deal with on a day-to-day basis. That, and the fact your face twitched at the mention of his name.

“I’ll… try my best,” you answered, forcing a smile. “I’m not sure if I could stay for long, though.”

Eri, who was leaning close toward one of the restroom mirrors and was about to apply her lipstick, paused her movement as she met your gaze on the mirror. She wore a frown that wordlessly asked you whatever you meant by what you said. You chuckled sheepishly as you crossed your arms.

“I have someone waiting for me at home.”

Her face lit up as she exclaimed an elongated ‘ooh,’ completely diverting her attention toward you. “You have a boyfriend?!”

You considered whether you should tell her or not. Maybe it would do you good to have at least someone else in your life other than your daughter. There was no one else left in the world for you, you thought.

“A kid.”

Eri’s eyes and mouth both widened as soon as those words left your lips. “You’re married?!”

“Uh, no,” you interjected almost too quickly after Eri’s exclamation before breathing out a deep sigh. “I just have one kid. A daughter.”

“Oh,” Eri’s response was soft, and if you didn’t know her a little past her cheerful persona, you would have thought it was out of character for her to look as pensive as she was. Still, the silence that lingered between the two of you was awkward enough for her to distract herself by finally applying her lipstick. You simply stood there, staring at the sink in front of you, noting how some of the droplets of water hadn’t dried yet.

You looked back at Eri when she cleared her throat as she put her lipstick back in her purse. “Dad’s not in the picture?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Okay, then,” she said, now turning back to you, her voice gentle and with a small, genuine smile on her face. “Just until 12 AM at most, I promise.”

You smiled back. “Okay.”

She gave you a gentle pat on the shoulder before grabbing her purse and making a beeline for the door. You followed her shortly after, opening the door for her to which she responded with a quick ‘thank you.’ As you exited the restroom area, you heard her ask for your daughter’s name, and you told her. You smiled when she said that her name was pretty, and she was sure that Emi herself was even prettier.

“Also, just drop the honorifics! I’m not that much older than you, you know.”

“Eri, you’re almost thirty.”

“Eek!”

Ken Sato might be prideful, but he was not stupid. He was well aware of his feelings for you. He simply didn’t act upon them when he could have very well done that, considering how often he did things his way anyway, but he pushed away the thought of acting upon them after that night when you asked if the two of you would be friends forever. If he could not have both of your worlds colliding, he’d take any chance he could get just to be a part of your world. So, while he was used to that somber realization and the little heartbreaks that would build up after, he had never felt so hopeless when he saw you walk down the stairs of your house dressed in a soft blue tulle dress that made you look like you came out of a fairytale. Or heaven, he couldn’t choose. You were like an angel, if not more beautiful. And it was at that moment, when Ken should have felt something akin to elation that you were coming to prom with him, that he could only feel the crushing weight of the reality that you could never be his. He forced a smile as he let you loop your arm around his and bid your goodbyes to your mother, and on your way to school, he didn’t know if you could tell that he wasn’t fully listening to your chatter about whoever had been causing drama among the circles you were in.

It wasn’t as if you did not know at all. As a matter of fact, you probably knew that he had feelings for you before he had even realized it. You were used to boys misunderstanding your words and gestures as an invitation, as a hint that they could lead to something more. Most of the time, you would have just ignored their advances until they were bored of you or tired of trying, or you would have turned them down as amicably as you could, unless they had somehow seen you past your sweetheart persona. (Not like anyone would have believed them if they told others that you were actually a total bitch.) But this is Ken, this is Kenji, the first person that you truly thought of as a friend, the first person that you ever let see through you, the first person that you had laid yourself completely bare to, literally and figuratively. You didn’t want to lose him, but you didn’t want to pursue something that could make you end up in the same position as your mother and him turn out to be a man as bad if not worse than your father. You didn’t want him to not be a part of your world, but you didn’t want to depend on him because your mother had taught you to never trust a man, let alone depend yourself on one. So, you did what you do best with all the things you wanted but could never have: you keep them at arm’s length so you could still have them, yet you never settle.

(Years later, you found out that it was exhausting to live a life like that, and you would finally learn to settle once you have a daughter of your own.)

You noticed how he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. It was nerve-racking, the way his gaze felt as if it was burning a hole through your back. You had been crowned as the prom queen and was called to have a dance with the prom king, who was some popular guy from the basketball team whose name you could barely recall a couple years later. There was no way you could remember him when you could only think about Ken while dancing with him; you could only think about Ken’s uncharacteristically solemn expression throughout the entire dance, you could only think about how Ken’s body was practically twitching when you had no choice but to laugh at some actually smart joke that the prom king had whispered to you, you could only think about what Ken would do once you were done with your stupid formal dance. You had expected some sarcastic remarks, as he would sometimes give, or for him to drag you to somewhere more secluded to do God-knows-what, but what came after only made your heart tighten in anguish. Ken only smiled sadly at you before asking for a dance himself, holding you close to his chest from the beginning to the end without so much as uttering a word. Rather than feeling awkward, you only felt this strange bittersweetness; the deep, comforting warmth and the profound, inexplicable sadness that both came just from him simply being there.

“Are you going to college?”

Ken had made a quick trip to that one burger joint you loved near your school and brought you to the bleachers to eat together, away from the meddlesome crowd of teenagers that wanted a piece of him or you. You were taking a bite of yours when you asked the question, distracting him from unwrapping his burger as he thought of an answer.

“Probably,” he said before shrugging. “But, like, we’ll see if I can get to the Minor League without college baseball.”

The snort you let out was anything but graceful, yet he found it endearing. “You’re Ken Sato,” you said while chewing, to which he responded with a disapproving look. He was just like his mother in that sense. You swallowed your food before continuing. “Of course you can.”

He chuckled. “You’re right.”

Ken had shared numerous comfortable silence with you, even if half of them were encumbered by an unspoken sadness that the two of you somehow understood. This time, though, he was on edge when you had kept quiet. Anticipation bubbled in his stomach almost violently, to the point where he nearly felt sick and just wanted to put his burger aside before you could say anything that would make his heart drop yet again.

“I don’t know if I’ll go to college here.”

Too late.

“Are you…” He trailed off, pausing for a moment. “Are you going back to Japan?”

Your hum was drawn out before you finally shrugged. “My parents said I’m next in line. It’s not like I can just say no.”

He frowned. “But you can, though?”

“That’s literally not how it works, Kenji.”

The way you deadpanned would have been humorous if it wasn’t for the way you addressed him by his full given name and emphasized the last syllable in mock annoyance, the way you rolled your eyes that contrasted the layer of sternness in your voice, the tone that you would use with him when you were trying to be serious yet lighthearted for the sake of his (or perhaps your?) comfort. He glanced at you, and you were chewing another bite as you looked to the distance. If he didn’t know you well enough, he would have thought that you were just blankly staring at nothing, but he could tell by the slight furrow of your brows that you were having some kind of battle with your own thoughts. He realized right then and there that you might be leaving. You could be leaving. He wasn’t sure what he should feel and when he should start feeling it and where he should even start dissecting it all.

“Well,” he cleared his throat nervously. “Will you be visiting?”

Another shrug from you. “Probably. Probably not.”

So much uncertainty from someone who hated uncertainty. Ironic.

“Are we…” Are we okay? Will we be okay? We won’t fuck this up, right? He didn’t know which question to ask. You were always vague. Untouchable. If he had asked one of those questions, you would just say things in an effort to soothe his worries rather than things you actually mean. “Can we still be friends?”

You remembered asking something along the same lines one night in junior year, within the confines of your bedroom and under the dim lighting of your old star projector. You had asked for reassurance. Reassurance that neither of you would fuck this, whatever the two of you had, up. Reassurance that he wouldn’t let you fuck him up. Reassurance that he wouldn’t fuck you up. But deep down, you already knew that the two of you had gone past the point of no return, of fucking each other up, that if something was to truly happen between the two of you, the pain that you kept contained in your chest, suffocating, would finally course through your veins and gnaw at your bones like some cancerous entity you were forced to live the rest of your life with.

“Yeah, of course,” you lied. Of course you did. You always did. “But what’s going on between us, that’s…”

He nodded, already understanding what you meant. This time, you turned to look at him. You saw him hang his head, seemingly losing his appetite as he stared blankly at his half-eaten burger. You were always like this, he thought. Always vague. Untouchable. He hated it. He hated it so much. You, on the other hand, were trying to decipher the solemn look on his face and suppress the guilt that was pooling in your stomach before you started throwing up the food you just ate. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want him. You’ve always wanted him. He was always the only one you ever wanted. But—

“Yeah,” his soft reply pulled you out of your trance. He was still looking at your burger, absentmindedly nodding. “Yeah, okay.” He took another bite, and you could tell that he was forcing it because he had a slight grimace as he chewed his food and swallowed it. “Be sure to text me about all your… stuff, yeah?”

You nodded, humming as you crumpled the empty wrapper in your hand. “I would say shit like, ‘You have to come to my wedding and my childbirth,’ but you know that I probably won’t even get married.”

He knew. So much uncertainty for someone who hated uncertainty. He knew you were not only going to not get married, but you were not going to let yourself be tied down to one particular person. He knew that even though you had placed him somewhere close to you in your world, he was still not a part of it; that he was not an exception. Ken knew all that, yet he still fell for you anyway. (He knew he had no right to call you stupid then.)

“Yeah, yeah,” he said coolly. He tried to feign indifference, he really did. But the way you looked at him made him realize that he had worn his heart on his sleeve for a moment too long. So, he wore a half-hearted grin as he held out his little finger and asked, “So, friends?”

At that moment, you cursed yourself for the person you were as you linked your own little finger with his, that familiar warmth and a heavier, agonizing weight blooming in and crushing your chest. You could tell he felt the same, somehow, if the way his hand slightly trembled was anything to go by. But you didn’t dare offer comfort that you could not sustain. You didn’t dare let another lie slip through your teeth just to break his heart again and again and again. You didn’t dare to tell him that you loved him, because your fear was far stronger than your love.

“Friends forever, bro.”

And so, the two of you spent what you thought was your last night together as blithely as you could. There were a lot of firsts and lasts that made your heart swell and tighten at the same time whenever you thought of that night. You rode his bike for the first time, and that memory alone made you purchase one for yourself after you enrolled in college. He told you that you looked silly with your dress bunched up carelessly around your hips, even though he himself was staring shamelessly at your bare thighs, but he didn’t tell you that when you took off his slightly oversized helmet and shook your head to untangle your hair was one of the times where he thought you looked the most beautiful. He smoked his last cigarette that night, and the lightheadedness he experienced almost made him try smoking again when you left for Japan. He wondered how did you even manage to smoke at least two a day. You told him that there was a reason why you didn’t mind that he didn’t go down on you, and he realized not only did you make him feel bitter, you also did taste a little bitter. He did eat you out for his own pleasure later that night, thinking it was the last time he could do it anyway. He still thought you were the best he had ever tasted.

And so, you let him sneak into your house for the last time, and you noticed how your mother was seemingly fast asleep on the couch, yet another Love Island episode playing on the television. She wasn’t, you knew that, he knew that, but you led him up the stairs anyway. He made love to you for the first and last time. Made love, not fucked. You knew because it was his first time holding you this gently as if he was afraid you would break or slip out from his grasp yet his hips collided with yours with a force that could knock the air out of your lungs and make you see all the constellations in the universe. You knew because it was the last time—and you just realized that after you let him into your world again in college—that he kept kissing you throughout the ordeal, as if taking a breath was the most unforgivable offense you could have ever done. His kisses weren’t rough either; not the clashing of teeth and borderline painful bites of the lips that you would sometimes get from him. They were slow, passionate, as if he was trying to tell you something wordlessly. You knew what he was trying to tell you. You felt the same way, too. But you simply kissed him back with the same fervor, taking his breath away with you.

The next morning, it was the first time he left without so much as waking you up, and the last time you ever laid yourself completely bare for someone else. It was the last time he let himself think of a future with you where he could finally be a part of your world, and the first time you cried, screamed, upon realizing that you loved him even more than you loved yourself.

There was always something about house parties that would make Ken retch whenever he stepped into the room. He used to think that it was probably the smell of sweat mixed with alcohol and puke somewhere in the corner, or how packed, poorly air-conditioned, and humid the room was that it was surprising no one had died yet from overheating. But the moment his eyes landed on her, he realized that it wasn’t the smell or the humidity that made his skin crawl. It was the fact that every time he stepped into one of these parties, he would either make an entrance with his arm looped around her waist or end up finding her making out with some other guy. It was the fact that every time he showed up to one of these parties, he would either have the time of his life and hook up with her in one of the bathrooms or drink his sorrows away for the whole night while she danced with her friends and some guys from the football team. It was the fact that every time he came to one of these parties, he would almost always come home with a freshly patched up heart broken into pieces again no matter what.

He couldn’t believe his eyes at first. The last time they spoke properly was on prom night, when they had ended the arrangement they had throughout high school. He didn’t have the heart to drop by her house anymore, and she stopped coming over to hang out with his mother. He even had a small argument with his mother because of that. They had kept texting each other at first, but as weeks went by, he stopped sending her memes at random hours of the day, and she stopped telling him small things that happened throughout her days. He didn’t tell her that he had ended up choosing college baseball and enrolled in one of the top universities in Los Angeles known for its varsity baseball team. He spent his days exercising, practicing, going out for a drink or two with his seniors, and coming to a few frat parties that he had been invited to. There was a girl or two that had wanted to involve themselves with him, but he brushed off one of them and scared off the other by muttering the wrong name when she went down on him. Ken did what he could to try to forget his high school days, sometimes drinking one too many to do just that, and that was exactly what he had in mind when he saw her giggling on the lap of some other guy in the middle of one of those frat parties in his freshman year of college.

Ken hesitantly called out her name once he arrived near the crowd of people around the couch, and he swore the world felt as if it had slowed down when she turned around. Her hair swept over her shoulder as she turned, and even with the unbearable anguish settling in his chest, he couldn’t help but think just how beautiful she was. Her lipstick-coated lips parted and her eyes widened with an array of emotions when she finally saw him. He recognized some of them. Realization. Surprise. Delight. Sadness. Guilt. Longing. (He hoped he hadn’t mistaken the last one.) Ken thought he couldn’t ever feel more brokenhearted than when he left her house without even sparing a glance at her front door while he revved his engine and sped back to his place, but holy shit—he thought he genuinely would rather die at that moment.

“Kenji?”

God, he wished he could hate her for how easy his name rolled off her tongue, or how she called out to him with his full given name instead of the name he used to detach himself from his reality. He almost shuddered at the sound of her voice. He berated himself for still being wrapped around her finger.

“Oh, hey,” he replied weakly, yet he willed his body language to be as normal as possible. “I didn’t know you also got in here.”

“Oh, yeah! Totally forgot to tell you,” she said. Ken knew that she didn’t forget. She knew that he knew. A moment passed before he noticed how she didn’t even bother to move off from the lap of that other guy, who was practically staring him down as he spoke with her. If he wasn’t a better person, he would have just abandoned himself to anger and start a fight right then and there simply for the way the guy was looking at him. Ken settled with an awkward nod in the guy’s direction, who didn’t even bother returning the friendly gesture. Asshole.

“No problem, uh…” He trailed off, unsure of what to say. There was so much he wanted to say, but there was no way he would ask for a conversation in the middle of one of these goddamn parties, not when she seemed like she was doing just fine after that whole ordeal on prom night and especially not when he felt as if he was going to punch the teeth off the guy who was holding her as if she was his. (Ken selfishly thought, if she couldn’t be his, then she could never be anyone’s.)

“See you… later?” Ken wanted to hit himself in the head for how unsure he sounded, again.

She exclaimed almost too quickly for his liking. “Yeah, totally!”

Ken was reeling, yet he managed to give her a half-hearted wave and even catch bits of her conversation as he slowly made his way back to the group of guys he came with.

“You know that guy?”

“He’s…” She paused. “We just went to the same high school.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, Ken caught the way she giggled as that guy whispered something to her ear. He stilled when he realized for the first time that, no, this wasn’t just a bad dream. He was there, she was there, and there was still a distance between them that not even an act that was supposed to be reserved between lovers could bridge. She looked beautiful, too beautiful even in the arms of another. He didn’t know how much he could take before his heart actually stopped beating because of some broken heart syndrome, so he looked away and turned somewhere else. He really could use a drink right now. Hell, he could down a bottle of liquor in one go right at that moment just to escape from and forget everything. He only thought of one thing as he shoved his way through the crowd of drunken college students.

I need to get away from her.

“Sato.”

There was a hardheartedness in your voice that even made you shudder when you called out to him. It was weird to call him by his surname when you’ve spent all those years addressing him by his full given name, a right he had only reserved for his mother back then. It was even weirder to add an honorific at the end of it because you knew him too well to be using any sort of honorific, because you were used to whispering pet names in either one of your bedrooms, with lighting as dim as the club you were in. You wanted to throw up at the absurdity of it all. Why did you even come to his table, anyway?

You recalled getting out of the restroom with Eri and was greeted with the sight of a sea of people that just made you want to go home. Eri held your hand as she navigated through the crowd and found the staircase leading up to the VIP section, showing her ID to the bouncer before dragging you upstairs. Her hand felt clammy as she led you to one of the tables where some of the staff members you recognized were seated, along with some new faces that you didn’t bother asking about. Eri patted the spot next to her as she poured you a glass of whiskey, while your eyes darted around and landed on the table near the far back to shake off the thought of just how similar she was to your roommate. The sight of a familiar face, one you knew all too well, successfully did just that; although you hadn’t even started drinking, you genuinely wanted to throw up right then and there. It didn’t take long for you to down the whiskey Eri handed to you in one swift motion.

“Hey, hey, pace yourself,” she said, leaning closer to you so you could hear her over the loud music and chattering. “Don’t come home to your daughter drunk.”

You wanted to snark out of habit, but as you had done for the past four years, you told yourself that you were no longer in high school or college, that you were supposed to be a responsible adult and mother and not some broken teenager trying to cope with your parents’ fucked up marriage and parenting, their eventual deaths, and your complex with your ex-best friend and friends with benefits by having sex with anyone that walked on two legs, smoking until your lungs turned black, and overdosing in the middle of a goddamn frat party. So, you took a deep breath and muttered a ‘sorry’ to Eri, which she only responded with a concerned stare before she was distracted by one of your other colleagues asking her about something. You wiped the damp trail of liquor from the corner of your mouth and shook your head, pouring yourself another glass when Eri wasn’t looking and turning your gaze to the table where Kenji was seated.

Say, perhaps it was liquid courage, even if it was weird to have it when you just had one drink. Perhaps it was your brain trying to trick you into old habits that you had to grow out of years ago, or perhaps it was your heart simply telling you to just go after what you want, like you used to all the time, without caring how others would feel after you’ve laid them bare and take and take and take. Perhaps it was the realization that he was there, he had always been there, and there was no telling how much longer you have until you would have to let him go again because you thought he deserved better. Better than you, who only kept him at arm’s length because you didn’t want to end up like your parents but you also didn’t want to be alone either. Better than you, who repeatedly broke his heart because you could never give him what he wanted, too scared of what ifs, yet you still craved for a place in it. Better than you, who couldn’t even open your world to someone who would give you his world if you had asked.

You were once a good daughter and you might have been a good mother, but you were never a good person, you thought to yourself as you absentmindedly made your way toward his table.

It was hard trying to keep a straight face, but even if you wanted to show your heart on your sleeve, you wouldn’t know where to start. There were millions of thoughts running in your head and feelings brewing in your chest, and there was no time to navigate through all of them in the middle of a packed nightclub while you were trying to confront your once best friend without any clear reason why. Your breath almost hitched when you saw how realization slowly dawned on him, how his expression turned from one of surprise to one that you could liken to your own anguish. You’ve lost count on how many times you’ve seen that expression before. Perhaps once, when you saw him staring at you sadly from the corner of your eye when you had your formal dance with the prom king and talked with your friends while he was mingling with his own circles. Or twice, when you caught how devastated he was to see you sitting on the lap of some guy that had said a pick-up line so corny you didn’t have another option but to laugh. Or when he found you lying on your side next to your roommate in some frat dorm bathroom, barely breathing after snorting lines of cocaine. (But maybe the one time you remember the most was when he used the stuff of your sleepless nights against you in front of that old diner before you could even tell him that your pregnancy test came back positive.)

You ignored the stabbing pain in your chest and willed yourself to speak once you stood in front of him.

“You shouldn’t even be here. You have an injury.”

“Oh–huh?”

You knew how much Kenji loved baseball. That was something that even you couldn’t take away from him, and you were glad that you couldn’t. So you supported him in any way you could; in high school, you practiced batting with him, you came to his games whenever you could with that stupid banner you made, you cheered the loudest for him whenever he hit a home run. In college, you watched his rival teams’ games and analyzed them for him, you helped him come up with an effective training regimen and even joined him on days you were sober, you gifted him a new glove for his 21st birthday that he still used to this day. (You still watched all of his games even after you stopped talking to each other.) Perhaps it was that instinct kicking in, in addition to all of the unease wedging in your chest, that made you lean forward, dismissing his confusion and snarling at him to basically watch himself.

“Get yourself out of here before I tell Coach Shimura to bench you.”

There was a flash of anger in his eyes that only you could see, but he was rendered speechless otherwise. At that, you quickly stood up straighter before he could blow a fuse right at you and turned toward his teammates, trying to appear more dignified than you had been mere moments ago. You bent a little in a curt and polite bow to appeal to them, unclenching your jaw and relaxing the muscles in your face before you spoke calmly.

“Please remember that you have a game coming up. Take care of yourselves.”

You didn’t wait to see their reaction or hear their response, quickly excusing yourself and downing the glass of whiskey in your hand as you turned around. You could somehow hear the clicks of your heels echoing on the floor amidst the loud thumping of the bass, and you swore your heart was about to jump out of its place when you finally returned to Eri’s table. She saw how distraught you were and tried to ask you what was wrong, but you dismissed her by saying you needed to go home because of an emergency and yanked your bag from the seat so harshly that you were even surprised its contents didn’t spill out. You only thought of one thing as you squeezed your way through the sea of bodies.

I need to get away from him.

#bungee.doc #ken sato #kenji sato #ken sato x oc #kenji sato x oc #ken sato x reader #kenji sato x reader #ken sato fluff #ken sato smut #ken sato angst #kenji sato fluff #kenji sato smut #kenji sato angst #ultraman rising #ultraman

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lowkeyrobin · 8 months ago

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hello! i was wondering if you could write a one shot for finn wolfhard? maybe like a date night or something but take your own route!

oooo fuck yeah of course!! ; I hate writing standard dinner dates (esp bc I've never been on a date before but we ain't gonna talk about that) so I hope you enjoy this! ; thanks for requesting :) ; also I'm so sorry this is so short, writers block kicked my ass on this :(

FINN WOLFHARD ; city boy

summary ; a little date in the city with Finn

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; I don't know shit about living in a city lol

track ; city boy ; calpurnia

word count ; 551

masterlist

"Jay-Z or Fleetwood Mac?" You ask, hanging Finn an earbud as you scroll through one of your playlists.

"Uh, Jay-Z" He nods, inserting the little device into his ear, making sure as he walked on your left side, that it went in his left ear, pairing with the earbud that you had in your right ear. "Now you're in New York~." He smiles, purposefully singing badly to play with you.

"Shush!" You laugh, taking his hand in yours.

When it came to dates with you two, anything but dinner was up for discussion. You both hated classy dates, you'd rather go do something fun and live your lives while you could.

You were walking down the streets towards one of the many bridges in the city, wanting to walk on one of the lower levels and experience the wind of the cars passing by punching your backs and being able to smell the water below.

The noise of the metal pittering underneath your feet was unintelligible, being defeaned by the whizzing of passing vehicles. The breeze brushes against your faces, pushing your hair back as you look over the railing, arms crossed over the ledge to get a bit of a better position to look down.

The water has a sort of quiet white noise to it, washing and running below the bridge. The tide pushes toward you, the large ripples, almost waves, stagger their way down the surface of the water, carrying the boats and canoes with them.

"This is nice" Finn says quietly, taking a glance at you to see your expression, trying to read you.

You nod in agreement, looking down at the water, feeling cars whizz past you above and behind you.

"You look nice today" He smiles, catching your gaze. "Really makes your eyes pop"

You lightly smile and roll your eyes. "Such a romantic, Finn"

"Yeah, I know"

"You wanna go down there?" You ask, pointing down at one of the boat piers.

He shrugs, "Yeah, sure"

You walk all the way back off the bridge, then make your way down the streets and across the other bridge to get you down to the docks. Near those docks was a huge fountain that you both liked to be misted with water by.

The walk down is calm and peaceful, hands tied with Blue Foundation playing in your earbuds. The breeze sends chills down your spine, causing him to feel the quick here-and-gone tenseness within the grip of your hand. His curls reveal his face as the wind pushes them back, nearly taking his jacket with it before he zipped it up.

The sun produces enough heat for a moment of warmth before it's back to chills, clouds filling the sky and hiding the firey ball of flame periodically. He pulls you a little closer, seeking your body warmth, considering you'd been wrapped up in jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a heavy hoodie.

You look over at him, an eyebrow raised at his actions, your pace slowing down a bit for him.

"I'm cold, shut up." He smiles, resting his arm around your waist, your shoulders brushing every few steps. "You're warm"

"I'm hot, actually"

"Yeah, yeah. You are hot." He giggles, placing a light kiss on your temple.

"Mhm, say it again"

"You're hot"

#lowkeyrobin #finn wolfhard x reader #finn wolfhard #gender neutral reader #gn reader #they/them reader #gn! reader #actor x reader

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tremendum · 1 year ago

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ok but Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex is so Joel and a younger reader coded.... ugh I just Love Him So Much

wow yes <33 i totally agree with u anon ugh i love that song esp this time of year.... you inspired me! thank u! def recommend listening to this song its so lovely

rating: mature. not nsfw but my blog is 18+ so mdni. word count: 1.9k warnings: not much tbh. mentions of alcohol, insecure Joel, soft!Joel <3, unestablished relationship, age gap (Joel is unspecified older), brief mention of Joel accidentally hitting reader in self defense, touch starved joel tbh, reader has a sister thats like it.

masterlist Joel fics: pretty little thing personal lies i've got headaches... Mr. Miller Series fever landmines

Joel hears his name echo as swinging arms plunge down below him, a splash following right after.

a strike of fear pangs through his chest, though he hides it with a glare when Ellie tugs excitedly on his sleeve. "did you see that?" she asks, brows raised. he scowls in response, squinting down to make sure your bobbing body still has all the pieces.

you smile up at him, waving and shouting something that he misses.

his shoes crush over the dust that riddles the crumbling bridge he stands on, the cerulean river calm below. your body is plastered with your wet clothes when, minutes later, you pant up to the two of them with a grin and a cut hand. "the rocks are slippery down there."

Joel stares at you now, jaw clenched slightly at the memory from weeks ago. he'd rolled his eyes then - hadn't spoken to you for the rest of the day, too angry with the recklessness of your leap off the drop, the once-tall cityscape behind you turned to dust by years of turmoil and failed humanity.

and noticing his irritation, for the rest of the day you'd stayed behind him, not trying to speak to him again. instead you whispered with Ellie, sharing secrets like you were high schoolers. when Ellie fell sleep with her head in your lap that night, you'd whispered to him, told him you were sorry. that you hadn't meant to upset him.

he'd pretended to be asleep.

but now, you're the one asleep - body curled slightly, his jacket pulled over you like a blanket as your fist curls around the necklace you'd never taken off. the same one that held a locket your sister had given you - the one you talk about all the time, the one you'd tried to get Joel to try on once.

when you'd tried that, he'd snapped for you to keep your hands away from him. so Ellie had tried it on instead, and you told her it looked very pretty.

guilt seems to find him a lot at night.

your face, illuminated by the moonlight through the grimy windows of the building you'd scouted, is too peaceful, too serene. he has to look away.

something about you settles a very deep melancholy that he cannot understand.

you shift slightly, brows furrowing in that look you get when you're upset or angry or scared - it looks disheartening when you're asleep. he stares with intent, hand on his gun.

he knew you'd wanted to leave before he'd even asked. he'd seen the agony, the confusion, the sadness in your eyes every time he packed up to leave the QZ without you by his side - such a strange reaction from a neighbor.

a neighbor who used to show up every day without fail to try and convince him and Tess to let you in on their jobs. a neighbor who would, instead, wait with a med kit for him to return the next day or the next week.

even in the QZ, he thought of you often.

he'd watch you with your friends, spinning in your own world. it would strike him with a deep longing; the beauty you exude is one that, until meeting you, he'd thought was gone from the world.

you've got music laced in you, in your eyes, your smile, your arms; though you have no reason to. you've lost everything, you keep losing everything, and yet, against all odds, you keep so much life within you that he thinks you may one day burst. something about it hurts his chest.

when he met you, he thought you were naive. a young girl on her own in the Boston QZ, hoping to make extra money smuggling but never being taken seriously.

you never even made it out of the zone until you snuck out after them. Tess had found you first - his heart pangs and he shakes his head, staring at the spot that had bruised on your cheek from when you'd snuck up on them silently and paid for it with the butt of his gun.

and you'd laughed it off, like it was funny. you'd joked about it, teasing him as the purple turned to yellow. all while he stayed awake for nights, staring at the bruise while you slept, his chest heavy and his throat tight.

you've got that piece of life that nobody else has, and he cannot understand it. he doesn't think he ever will.

despite his best efforts, he'd gotten to know you. Tess had liked you. Ellie likes you. he likes you, too. he loves you.

he could tell early on that, for whatever reason, you care about him. now, he wonders if you might even love him too.

he doesn't understand why.

you were well loved back in Boston. he'd seen it - in the hidden basements of bars, the shadows that walked you back to your apartment across from his at night, the same shadows that snuck from your apartments in the morning daybreak.

he'd tried not to stare out the peephole at the frames of lovers you'd taken as they kissed your forehead, hesitating in your doorway before leaving.

he'd seen handfuls of friends wrapped in your arms in the streets, wide smiles and bright cheeks.

there were nights where your friends didn't come around, and you were alone. those were his favorite nights, because you'd invite him over. even when he said no, it still gave him a warm feeling when you'd nod and mutter, next time, then.

you'd been making your own bottles of grain alcohol somehow - you'd invited him to a glass and once he finally took you up on it after months of asking, he'd seen how you'd been hiding them in the hollowed out piano that crumbled in the corner of your tiny apartment.

sitting on the piano bench, you'd told him that you had been in the QZ since you were around Ellie's age - when your sister had left for somewhere in the mountainous West; the two of you had been locked inside this crumbled city forever, she was ready to leave. but you had been scared - too young to travel - and you just couldn't find it in you to say goodbye.

she'd left without you the next day.

that was the night he learned that you played piano, too.

you've still got the music in you, and he doesn't understand why.

he's worried about you.

or maybe, he's worried about himself.

days after you'd jumped from that bridge, the scream of his name from your lips a song of its own, you'd snuck them all across a river.

there had been people tracking you; Joel had kept a tight grip on his shotgun the entire hour, eyes sharp as he'd stared at the woods behind you all, Ellie in the middle, you in front, with your own gun drawn and a stare so strong it'd made his head skip.

you wanted to erase your tracks - but the river current was strong, rising with the snowmelt as you took several steps in. you'd saved them both from the currents and built a strong fire once the threat was cleared and you were miles away.

he'd worried about the curve of your lips, the smile that graced you while he and Ellie were grim and cold. he'd worried about the warmth that your laugh had given his chest.

the fire that night was warm, but you still rolled closer to Joel when you slept. he'd let you. and when he woke up that next morning while you were on watch, he'd found that in his fitful rest, he'd stretched his hand out, towards where you sat. his hand splayed on your calf while your other leg was bent, housing your chin.

you'd just smiled gently down at him when he'd moved his hand quickly, his eyes sheepish. you'd let him.

"Joel?" your voice is very soft. even back in the QZ when he was in bed, your voice would come out and haunt him.

I know you want me.

it takes him a second to register that you've woken up from your sleep and slid up next to him. your thigh is warm where it touches him, but he doesn't dare look down. instead, he sets the gun down, turning to stare at your face.

your eyes are bleary from sleep, your hair tousled. you're so pretty it hurts.

his throat feels dry. "hey." he doesn't mean for his voice to come out that gentle. sometimes, when it's you and him, it just does.

guilt surrounds him as your hand slides over his thigh, burning warm, comfortable. how could something so beautiful exist in such a world? it makes him nervous.

you make him nervous.

"what are you thinking?" you ask. he knows you - knows that's your way of checking on him. you do that, just as he does to you. are you feeling alone?

he shakes his head, "lots of things I shouldn't be." he says honestly, his eyes searching the depths of yours. but you're good to me.. so good to me.

you're not scared of him like you ought to be.

you shrug, "tell me."

he doesn't see the reason to lie anymore; you've been haunting him for too long. and he's been hiding himself from you.

"just don't know why you're with me. with us. here." but he can't bring himself to finish his thoughts - because you, despite it all, loved your life before you left it. because you had lovers, you had friends your age, a life. you were so much safer without me. because you have that music in you, and it's still there despite it all. despite me.

you shift next to him, your cheek falling to his shoulder. he doesn't feel the urge to shake you off like he used to - that feeling melted away months ago, shortly after the desire to put his lips on yours burned in his soul.

"I just think you underestimate how much you mean to me." you say, eyes full of too much light.

he sees that music again; the unrelented spirit in your cheeks when you smile. the laughter that hasn't left you even when you left your old life behind for him and a girl you didn't know. tell me why, tell me why.

he doesn't know what to say, but his head turns gently to place a kiss to the crown of your head.

he nearly feels sick at the implications of such an action, but you just sidle up closer to him, your hand squeezing his thigh gently. he turns to look at you and you move off his shoulder, lifting your own eyes to meet his.

his breath catches in his throat as you look up at him, love and trust in your eyes. the locket glints in his peripheral as he stares down at your glowing, beautiful face.

your lips, my lips.

he intends to kiss your forehead - the way he'd seen all those lovers do months ago, back in Boston. the way he'd always ached to.

but you meet him halfway, and suddenly your warmth is on him.

it spreads from his lips and grows through his body - a beautiful, melancholic hum that sings along his veins. you are soft, you are pliant, strong, loving.

everything he doesn't deserve.

and yet you kiss him and you let your hand fall to his jaw, tilting yourself to feel more of him. he doesn't understand why, but maybe that's okay.

he kisses you back softly, then desperately.

your lips and his, something so kind, full of life. something that doesn't belong in such an apocalypse.

something he couldn't live without.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

(once again begging) send more requests! for Joel and Din! taglist: @satansgoatt @elissaaa @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspasms @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap @userpedros @feministfanboi @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @casssiopeiaaa @wannab-urs @redhotkitchen @joelapologist2001 @silkiers @alltheseperfectimperfections @whorror-s @scarletthefierce @worhols @hearthrooob

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:

#joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us (tv)#the last of us smut #the last of us #joel tlou smut #joel miller #joel x reader #joel smut #joel tlou #joel taglist 🏷️

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sant-riley · 2 years ago

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is it ok to request some headcannons with the team? if so, could you do a reader that’s covered in tattoos? like heavily tattooed. even their fingers. right? anyways, the reader is always covered during missions (like ghost level covered) and the team have subconsciously created this image of them under it all but haven’t really seen them until one day reader is wearing normal clothes and they’re like 🧍‍♀️ what? you have tattoos and like barely any skin 🧍‍♀️ IDK I JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE CUTE NVM THOUGH IF U DONT WANNA WRITE ❤️ NO ISSUE IF YOU DONT!

[Task force 141 and Laswell with reader who has a lot of tattoos)

A/N: I am not heavily tattooed yet but I did love this request sm soooo here this is :) Ty for the suggestion and I hope you enjoy!

They can’t really be blamed for not knowing about the tattoos, y’all are all covered typically in heavy gear and clothing and weapons most of the time. And they don’t question it when you’re covered up even more than usual bc yk, Ghost exists walking around in a Halloween costume 365 days a year. They’re used to it so they won’t prod.

Most task force members have tattoos of their own, it’s not a strange concept but they just assume you have none, they see you covered up and that’s that.

But then one day, let’s say there’s a mission and you guys get fucking d r e n c h e d in water, and you’re in a cold climate so leaving your clothes on is not an option. They need to dry by the fire and you cannot catch hypothermia.

Whatever reason you cover up, you know it’s only logical so you shyly take off your gear, quickly going by the fire while the guys quietly stare at your figure, staring at the ink decorating your body. Yes you’re beautiful and yes it’s their first time seeing so much of your skin but is that a fucking narwhal on your arm-

You have to snap at them to quit their staring bc you think they’re only staring at your chest or at your underwear but soap just blurts out “YOU ‘AVE TATTOOS?” And everyone else nods.

Individual reactions:

Ghost:

Ghost fucking loves it so much, he could stare at your tattoos for hours on end. He rolls up his sleeves to show you the ones decorating his forearms, letting you trace your fingers over the skull and withholding a shudder.

He immediately brings his hand up and traces yours back, asking questions about them and how long they took with you sitting in the chair, grunting in response as he zones out.

Asks why you cover them up as often as you do but when you send him that look he quickly says never mind.

Soap:

He immediately asks you about the meaning (if you have any for them). He admires them and thinks they make you look beautiful and badass.

He also will take a marker and draw ones on your empty bits of skin and color any grayscale tattoos you have.

If you were to ever get one of his doodles or drawings tattooed he would probably tear up on the spot. Also maybe kiss you stupid bc wow you have something from him on your skin forever and he loves you sm.

Would design y’all matching pieces, in your line of work tomorrow isn’t guaranteed so if you’re down, he’ll make the appointment for you both.

Price:

I personally don’t think Price has tattoos or would ever get any bc he doesn't care for them but he has an appreciation for yours.

Everyone would think he would be the type to talk down on them but all he said to you was “do you like ‘em? You do? Then why the fuck would I care?”

In between breaks, he’ll casually ask if you got any new ones and that he’d like to see them.

Gaz:

Gaz doesn’t have any but that’s just because he can’t fully decide on what he’d get, he’s young like you and cannot handle the commitment.

Therefore he lives by you and eagerly encourages all your ink and will always go with you to your tattoo session if he’s free.

He’s the best kind of person to have come along esp for long sessions bc he’ll go get you food, drinks, etc while he sits with you.

He always says he’s gonna get one when he goes with but always said never mind lmao.

Bonus <3 Laswell:

Now she's no stranger to ink, she's not covered up but she does have a matching tattoos with her wife and a few small patches of her wedding flowers on her.

She absolutely adores your ink and will not hesitate to defend you and it if someone were to disrespect you bc of what you've done with YOUR body.

She's a mom what can I say, she knows her authority and won't be shy to use it.

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel

@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom @solarslushee @areislol

@cluelessyasmin @sesshomaruwaifu @chaos-unchecked @kalamataolivesssss @arunasmisfortune @tbrfic

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hatkuu · 1 year ago

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wow no one has mentioned this yet????? ig i’ll be the FREAK to do it: vamp!kylar will absolutely eat the hell out of u when u have ur period 🧛 he can probably smell when it’s approaching too and gets so excited. esp bc he gets so fixated on when ur ovulating so when he knows ur period is coming he’s like a fruit fly and starts rubbing his hands together all giddy like

- 🎀

oh my gosh yes. yes. i was too embarrassed to write about it but. period sex with ANY kylar constantly floats around my brain. vampire kylar would be sucking on his fingers like he'd just ate a drumstick from kfc. finger licking good HAHSJSJAK

afab reader, period sex, period mentions, reader wears a skirt, general creepy kylar stuff., kylar's weird scent kink thing is in this too...

drabble continued utc!

I think the first time you're having a period with your freakish vampire boyfriend around - he's visibly on edge. Kylar's gnawing at the palm of his hand while sitting next to you in the cafeteria, sweating as his other hand grips on the sleeve of his hoodie. You note that he is looking at everything and everyone except you.

You'll reach out to touch him, placing a reassuring hand on Kylar's shoulder.

"Are you okay, Kylar?"

Kylar flinches back like you've just burned him - eyes bulging out of his head as his hands quickly shield his face from view.

"Y-Yes! I-I'm fine! J-Just—"

He peeks at you through his fingers, pupils dilated until only a sliver of green remains.

"—I-It's just really hot i-in here."

You throw him a weird look, rolling your eyes as you stand up from the cafeteria table. You absolutely cannot deal with this shit right now. Being hit with wave after wave of crippling cramps, the last thing you needed was your boyfriend being noticeably disgusted with you. You shuffle awkwardy, trying not to cause yourself more pain as you stand. Does Kylar hate you now? Is he scared of you? Fuck, you don't know if your irritability is stemming from the slick, sticky blood feeling between your thighs or your boyfriend - lost in his own little world - ignoring you when you need him most.

A strangled, panicked sound escapes Kylar as you stand. The hand covering his face reaches outward, snatching your wrist with a disturbing amount of strength. You try to slip out of his grip - upset that now he wants to touch you - but he does not relinquish his hold no matter how much you tug against it. He exhales shakily, his nails dig into you - they've gotten long - really long.

"Y-You can't go— You can't."

You try to pull away with more force, spluttering with confusion as Kylar refutes your struggle with ease. He can't possibly be jealous - you've spent almost the entirety of this week with him - he's staring at you with this horrible, anguished expression. It's the last thing you want to see today. Your bottom lip twitches beneath your teeth, tears pricking your eyes in frustration.

"Kylar! Stop being so weird— What is wrong with you today?"

Your scuffle turn heads. You can feel so many eyes on you, looking at you and Kylar, laughing as they see Kylar's hand is latched onto your wrist. Only then do you notice the gaunt, sickly shade of his face. Heavy, darkened bags rest under his eyes. His lips are chapped too, more than they usually are. Speckled bits of dried blood rest in between the grooves of each crack. Kylar twitches, sweat slicking his choppily-cut fringe to his forehead. He looks ill. He tugs you closer, talking in a low tone that makes your stomach churn.

"You're— You're on your period."

What. The. Fuck.

You don't remember telling him it was that time of the month? How does he know—

"W-What? What does that have to do with anything?"

"J-Just— c-come with me—"

He breathes in shakily, composing himself as his eyes trail up your form, lingering far too long on the juncture between your shoulder and neck. He stands to meet your height, breathing heavily as you flood his senses with a scent that is so undeniably you. Sweet, but not too sweet. It makes his body buzz with a sickeningly fuzzy feeling. His mouth fills with sailva as you hold his gaze, scrutinizing him with your cutely furrowed brows and a jutted-out bottom lip.

"I-I need to tell you something."

You can see the desperation in his expression. His other hand shakes at his side, aching to latch onto you and never let go. Festering like a fresh wound, Kylar's carnal urges get the better of him. His other hand grabs your shoulder, pushing you closer towards his chest.

He smells different. Like dust, dirt and nothing all at once. He doesn't smell like garlic and pepper. Normally, you're assaulted with the scent of the plants - but strangely - it's gone entirely. You look up at Kylar, brows still furrowed in confusion because this is your boyfriend but... something is inherently wrong about him.

Kylar tugs you out of the cafeteria.

You don't struggle.

"I-I need to taste you—"

"H-Huh?"

Kylar pushes you into the dilapidated storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him as he grapples you against the wall, panting against your mouth.

"I haven't— You smell so good, a-and I just need this," He cuts himself off, snapping his gaze toward you incredulously from his position against you. He visibly shudders, twitching as he falls forward onto his knees, grounding himself between your thighs. He eagerly tugs your school skirt down, panting as he is met with your panties. "I-I need this. N-Need to feed f-from you— no one else."

"W-What! Kylar! We are in school right now! It'll be too messy a-and it'll get all over you-"

You choose to ignore your boyfriend's weird phrasing of eating you out. 'Feeding' from you is new.

His forehead rests heavy against your swollen uterus - you don't know what he's doing - until Kylar leans closer to your clothed pussy and begins sniffing you. Sniffing you - and moaning like he should have gotten between your thighs the moment you sat next to him in the cafeteria. You squeak, latching your hands in his hair in a pathetic attempt to steer him away from your bloodied thighs. Your tightened grip doesn't deter Kylar. He groans loudly, unashamed as he tilts into your touch, panting puffs of hot wet air against your skin.

"Y-Yes! Oh, y-you have to let me— you smell so perfect, j-just—ah—just let me taste you,"

He's so close, so close to snapping and just biting into the soft skin of your thighs. His eyes dart between your face and your clothed heat. His jaw is clenched tight, gnawing at the skin on the inside of his cheeks. Strained to the last thread of his patience, Kylar lets out a hoarse, weak sound. His fingernails jab painfully into your thighs, carnal desperation evident in each action. Despite this, he looks up to you, teary eyed from the struggle of holding himself back.

"P-Please."

You nod, loosening your grip in Kylar's hair as he practically vibrates with excitement. He tugs down your panties, eyeing the pad that sits at the seat of them as his tongue slides over his bottom lip hungrily. You whine as his fingers nestle themselves against your overly sensitive folds. Slick with blood and wetness, Kylar's fingers prod at your folds, eagerly pressing against the spots that make your knees weaken against his hold.

Kylar's tongue inches out to lave at the smeared blood across your inner thigh, moaning at the taste. He latches onto you, lips forming a tight seal against blood-slick skin, mixing red with clear saliva as Kylar's teeth brush against you. Two particularly sharp teeth nick your inner thigh and you tug his head backward as his fingers continue softly rubbing at your clit. He presses an apologetic kiss to the wound, affectionately licking at the punctures, careful not to let any of the blood spill onto your white school shirt.

"I-I knew it'd be good—" He gasps, his mouth and wet tongue making quick work of your other blood-smeared thigh. "Y-You're so—ah—so, so, delicious, my love."

You blush, opening your eyes to look down at your boyfriend. Kylar's still twitching with excitement, tongue hanging out in anticipation as he nears your pussy. You whine weakly, pulling on his hair as dull throbbing cramps torment your lower abdomen. Kylar smiles at you, eyes much brighter - looking far less ill than before, too. He pulls his fingers away, admiring the sticky sheen of blood that coats them before quickly popping the digits into his mouth and moaning at the taste. He pushes you backward against the wall of the closet, spreading your thighs wide enough for his head to fit snugly between them.

He licks a stripe against the seam of your folds, eagerly lapping up the blend of arousal and blood. Your hands weave in his hair, pushing his nose against your clit as Kylar laves at your pussy, humming as your thighs trap him against your heat. Kylar groans, savouring the sweet, metallic taste of you against his tongue. He pushes closer, nestling his nose against your clit just close enough that with each press of his tongue against your entrance you cry out in pleasure, hands tightening in his dark hair. Kylar fucks you with his tongue until you're sobbing, wrapping an arm around each thigh to hold you firm against his mouth.

He moans as you grind against his tongue, chasing your release that hums deep within your core. Your grinding stutters as the coil burns hot within your stomach, tightening until it snaps.

You cry out as you cum, squirming as Kylar continues to hold you against his face. He groans, lapping up your arousal as it seeps onto his tongue. Your thighs clench against his head, quivering as Kylar slows his licking into gentle, loving laves against your pussy. He smiles as your hands fall from his hair. Kylar presses a loving kiss to your pussy, inching upward to press a kiss against your bloated abdomen as well. Even though he just gave you the most intense orgasm of your life, he's still so intimate with each of his actions, no matter how lewd or messy.

He pulls up your panties, your skirt, and readjusts the rest of your clothes before fixing his own.

Kylar stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then licking up the blood collected on it. He looks undeniably better than before; gone is the sickly tone of his skin, the heavy bags under his eyes, and now his eyes hold a twinkle that doesn't falter. He helps you up with ease, pulling you into his chest and nuzzling into your neck.

"Thank you," He whispers, smiling against your neck, pressing soft, affectionate kisses to the damp skin. You return his embrace even as your legs still tremble from the onslaught of pleasure Kylar gave you. You feel better now. Your boyfriend isn't disgusted at you. Quite far from it, actually. So you'll ignore that his teeth are sharper, that his skin is as cold as a cadaver's, that you swear his eyes were red at one point. He's your boyfriend. His strange, newfound affliction for blood doesn't mean anything. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder, breathing in his new scent of dirt, dust and nothingness. He giggles at your newfound neediness, rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

"Let's do this again tonight, okay?"

#god can yall tell i got inspo from jennifers body #kylar #kylar the loner #dol #kylar x reader #dol kylar #degrees of lewdity #also ik jennifer isnt a vampire but... hnngg the scene where shes like 'i only eat *boys* needy' like AAAAAAA BARKBARKABRk #probs my fav girl-love movie (guys i write for girls too i probably should have said that)#hnng gf kylar who very obviously takes inspo from jennifers body and kills all the boys you have crushes on so she can have u to hersself..#anwyas guys more vampire kylar !!! thankyewww #kuuskylarposting

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indie-ttrpg-of-the-week · 4 months ago

Text

CAIN

HE CAN'T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH THIS

Touchstones: Chainsaw man, SCP Foundation, Jujutsu Kaisen, Mob Psycho 100, all of which it wears proudly on its sleeve

Genre: Horror, Action

What is this game?: Cain is a game about being psionic exorcists tasked with purging humanity's sins

How's the gameplay?: Cain runs on a simple gameplay loop where players must go into investigations to find out more about Sins, powerful beings made out of psychic energy from deeply traumatized humans. The game uses a system similar to FITD, where you roll amounts of die equal to your skill in something, then add more dice equal to any advantages you have, then you make it so any result of 4 or more is a success, and you count up your successes to see if you succeeded in doing the thing! The game also has an economy, the Agency will provide you with most things for free, but you'll have to buy certain amenities and privileges. Your character will have an Agenda (determining how they act) and a series of Blasphemies (determining how their psionics manifest), character creation is as such pretty quick as you just pick between different blocks of skills that you can take up. As a final note, the game contains a system where players can "Spare" sins in order to spare their originator from copious amounts of mental scarring, so they may instead force the sin to collapse into itself, gaining a reduced reward, but keeping the victim safer.

What's the setting (If any) like?: CAIN is set in a world where a psychic warfare happens under the very noses of the common people between psionic exorcists, and Sins, creatures made out of humans under extreme duress, an organization known as Cain seeks to destroy and contain these creatures before they become problems, categorizing them and eliminating them before they grow in power, scale, and danger. There's also many neat details such as different psionic abilities the players may take on, past incidents, a categorization system for the Sins, and corporations that seek to counter Cain's efforts

What's the tone?: Dire, while you're saving people from trauma by defeating their sins, you're part of the meat grinder that is CAIN, being thrown at creatures beyond mortal ken to stop them from becoming a bigger issue, while retirees exist, its said 40% of exorcists die before they can reach Category 3

Length: 2-3 hours is recommended, the game is also deliberately tooled into shorter 10 session games

Number of Players: 4-6 is recommended

Malleability: Cain's setting is pretty baked into its mechanics, but you can definitely change some stuff around

Resources: Online sheets are available and look very good

CAIN's one of those games that you can just tell what its inspired by at first glance and it rocks for it, its a really nice little game, esp for something that's effectively a side project gearing up for the release of ICON

#ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpg of the week

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wannaeatramyeon · 2 years ago

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HIII i just discovered u recently and i love ur writing and acc sm!!! i was wondering if u could do a scenario where in the taehun’s s/o thinks that taehun’s dad is hot (i mean he is the ult dilf esp in manager kim 😩😩😩😩)

Aww ty anon your kind words fuel me, legit cant believe yall like my bs! YES I WOULD LOVE TO AND I COMPLETELY AGREE, HE IS THE BEST DILF

Seong Taehoon x Reader: meeting the DILF

"Is your dad going to be home?"

"How should I know?"

You click your tongue at Taehoon in annoyance. Today is the first time going to his house, you haven't actually met his dad yet despite hanging out at the studio occasionally. This asshole, he could be more considerate of the situation.

"What do you mean you don't know? Meeting a parent is a big deal! Should I have bought a gift?"

Taehoon flicks your forehead in response, "Stop worrying you big nerd, my dad won't care."

You remain unmoved by his front door, arms folded, and a nervous expression adorns your face. In an attempt to pacify, Taehoon snakes his arms around your waist.

"Listen loser, he might not even be in so you're worrying for nothing," he places a kiss atop your head. "Besides, he thinks you're good for me."

It works.

As soon as you enter, you catch Taehoon's dad in the hallway and freeze.

"Hi, you must be Y/N. Taehoon's mentioned a lot about you!" Hansu Seong gives you a smile. You take in his Taekwondo dobok, showing his defined pecs.

Even underneath the loose fit, you could tell that this man is well musculed. You could make out the shape of powerful thighs, and his top straining against buff shoulders and biceps. His sleeves are rolled up revealing strong, vascular forearms. You gulp.

"I haven't said shit, old man," Taehoon's words snap you out of your ogling.

"Don't be so rude to your dad!" you give Taehoon a light slap on the arm before returning the greeting, "Hello Mr. Seong! I can see where Taehoon gets his good looks from!"

Huh. It's also interesting to see where Taehoon gets his fluster from too.

"Oh. Ahem, well thank you, Y/N." Hansu clears his throat, cheeks pink.

Taehoon quickly ushers you away, "We'll be in my room!" and leaves his poor dad still standing there, not quite processing the compliment.

Taehoon slams the door and turns to glare at you.

"What the fuck was that?"

"What?" you throw him a cheeky grin, "Your dad's a DILF!"

It takes a moment for him to realise what you said. You could literally see the cogs whirring and the split-second the understanding dawns on him. Taehoon looked like he was stuck between beating you up or cringing so hard he would die. You think you might have broken him.

"Well you should have told me your dad is hot! I could have prepared myself." You try to defend yourself, poorly.

"Are you kidding me?" Taehoon rubs at his temples, he feels either the world's worst headache coming on or he might be on the verge of a mental breakdown, "Don't think I won't kick you."

"It's a compliment! If that's what I've got to look forward to once you're his age..." you glance at him slyly, weighing up if a kick is worth what comes next-

"...You know. A proper daddy."

Taehoon throws himself on the bed, not wanting to be a part of this world anymore.

#how to fight #viral hit headcanons #how to fight headcanons #how to fight manhwa #how to fight webtoon #viral hit webtoon #viral hit x reader #viral hit manhwa #taehoon seong #taehun seong #seong taehun #seong taehoon #seong taehoon x reader #taehoon x reader #taehun seong x reader #seong taehun x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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theemporium · 2 years ago

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i saw you writing for poly!wolfstar so i thought why not give this a try 😭 this will be my first ever attempt of requesting so please pardon me for doing this anonymously and horridly... poly!wolfstar who already knows that they both fancy you but still aren't confessing in fear of your reaction, so they resort to the next best thing they thought of, being protective of you like steering you out of other’s radar esp when they know that that person has an interest in you (sirius might have this himbo facade but he's actually far from it) & like lowkey gatekeeping you to themselves but it all boils down to when someone asks you out for the Yule Ball right in front of their faces.

thank you for requesting!🖤

Remus and Sirius may have been some of the brightest wizards to walk through Hogwarts’ doors, but they were by no means smart.

And a fine example of said fact would be the way they had gone out of their way to acknowledge their feelings for you without actually acknowledging their feelings for you.

It was never something they ever thought they’d consider, bringing another person into their relationship. Sure, Sirius would point out the odd witch or wizard he found attractive and Remus would voice his agreements.

But this was different. You were different.

Somehow both boys had fallen head over heels for you, yet neither one of them knew what to do about the feelings and emotions bubbling inside them so they did the next best thing—they just made sure nobody else could have you.

It was subtle at first, the way they went about befriending you. It started off with sitting near you during breakfast, eventually building up conversations and sitting next to you in class. Notes were passed and laughs were shared and you genuinely considered both boys as solid friends in your life.

Then they really started meddling.

“I don’t know, he just doesn’t seem like your type,” Sirius commented casually one morning when you had told him about a budding crush you had on your potions partner—the boy who had walked into the Great Hall moments ago.

“Really?” you frowned a little, tilting your head to the side. “Why not?”

“Just trust me, honey,” Sirius assured you, passing your coffee just the way you liked it.

Their tactics became a bit more obvious to the other students of Hogwarts—most notably James who continued to take the piss out of his best friends—though you seemed none the wiser of their behaviour until the Yule Ball returned to Hogwarts and you found yourself surrounded by friends and classmates getting asked to the ball in a number of grand proposals.

You watched each with a hopeful smile and a longing gaze, but never voiced your thoughts to anyone. And as the days passed, you had accepted the fact that maybe it wasn’t in your luck to have a date, that maybe you would just attend with a few friends and make a night of it.

Until you were sitting out by the lake, Remus leaning back against the tree with a book in his hand and Sirius lounging with his head in his boyfriend’s lap, some sort of muggle device playing music sat near him as he aimlessly tapped his wand against his thigh in beat. You were just enjoying a day with your friends, the weather a little warmer than usual for Scotland and you planned to take full advantage of it.

What none of you were expecting was the day to be interrupted by a boy, robe abandoned and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as he approached you with a nervous smile on his face.

It took a whole five seconds before Sirius and Remus clocked what was about to happen.

“Tommy, hi,” you smiled at the boy, the sweater you had been trying to mend for Remus now abandoned on your lap.

“Hi,” he said as he cleared his throat. “Listen, I know this is kinda last minute but I was just nervous to ask you because…I really like you and—”

There was nothing wrong with Tommy. He was a sweet boy, very kind to anybody he came across and never gave a reason for anyone to hate him. He was smart and, though he was a little shy, you had come to realise he was quite funny once he opened up a bit.

But at that very moment to the boys, Tommy was probably their least favourite person in Hogwarts—which was saying a lot, all things considered.

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Timmy,” Sirius suddenly spoke up, now by your side rather than a few feet away like he was moments ago.

“My name is Tommy,” he murmured with a slightly puzzled expression.

“I don’t care,” Sirius said with a smile. “What I do care about is that you’re clearly trying to make a move on our girl.”

“Our girl?”

“Your girl?”

Both you and Tommy looked at Sirius with matching looks of confusion.

“Yes, that is what he said,” Remus spoke up, not once looking away from his book as he flipped the page. “You wouldn’t happen to be asking our girl to the ball, would you, Timothy?”

“Tommy,” he repeated before letting out a cough. “And, uh, yeah I was—”

“Her answer will be no,” Sirius interrupted and waved him off. “Bye bye now, Tito.”

You gaped as you watched Tommy quickly scurry off, looking more confused than dejected by what just happened. And then you turned to look at your boys, both looking far too smug with themselves at what just happened.

“What on earth—”

But before you could even finish your sentence, Sirius was kissing you. And less than a second later, you were kissing him and moaning into his mouth when you felt his fingers tangle themselves in your hair.

Then he was pulling away, looking completely unbothered as he settled back into Remus’ lap as you sat there, flushed cheeks and open mouth as you tried to wrap your head around what just happened.

“Like we said,” Remus grinned at your expression, eyes darkening at the sight of your flustered face. “Our girl, right?”

“Right,” you repeated, still a little dazed and now a little eager to feel Sirius’ lips on you again—or even Remus too.

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qprpbj · 1 month ago

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for soda centric fics decentishoutsidersthoughts has some good ideas!

but some general ones to spur the thoughts:

middle child syndrome in the sense that he’s always playing the middle man between pony and Darry… and do they really stop fighting after canon even with his whole breakdown….

he’s the “stupid” curtis… both his brothers are so smart damn how would he feel growing up… his baby brother being able to do his homework for him :/ his convo with Darry abt dropping out after their parents die and Darry is trying to prove to the state that he’s a fit guardian

sandy. that’s it.

I lie that’s not it. but the girl ur so in love with and want to marry just up and leaves with no explanation. you find out later it’s cause she’s pregnant (with another man’s child?)

he’s canonically the crybaby of the family. he wears his heart on his sleeve but wouldn’t that get him into trouble? as a boy as a greaser in the south in the 60s

ADHD, dyslexia… in the 60s... end tweet

He’s 16 and also working as a breadwinner for the household. Hes even taking the place as one of pony’s guardians in a way…

Just his stress and anxiety abt pony being gone that week, the trial, his friends dying (and they’re all around his age more than they are the other brothers… do with that what you will)

Him finding Johnny in the lot

Pomyboy says he doesn’t drink and has never lost a fight BFFR he’s just hero worshipping and I believe sodas never let him see him like that

If ur a Stevepop gal…. yeah…. having feelings for your best friend…. and you really notice them after ur girlfriend disappears… but he’s still happily dating evie….

He probably has a shit ton of insecurities and just doesn’t show it… not being smart like his brothers… working at a gas station… not being enough for his gf to not cheat… not being enough for his brothers to not fight… not being able to help out with bills more… not being able to help his little brother out at school… people just talk about him for his looks….

Imagine ponyboy starting to grow up and not need soda as much anymore… no more bed sharing, no more late combos, pony grows taller than him (I’m a truther), pony starts hanging out with people other than the gang (curly Angela) and imagine how that feels after being such a strong parental role for your brother and he’s just starting to pull away from you like every teen does… but then again that’s your brother and you’ve always been close…. you were just immediately thrust into this parental roll and slowly it’s being taken away from you and you don’t even notice it until it’s too late…. ADD ON TOP OF THAT HOW OUT OF ALL THREE BROTHERS SODA IS THE LEAST LIKELY TO GET OUT OF TULSA BC OF REASONS (SEE ABOVE) AND SO HES FEELS LIKE HES BEING LEFT BEHIND

Shit wait I kinda cooked up more than I meant to… maybe I actually gotta learn how to write fanfics skdhfbcbbd

ok no but the soda feeling stupid compared to his brothers is sooooo insane to me. like one of them graduating, okay, but BOTH? esp pony a year early?? frankly once is a fluke but twice is a pattern!! so why couldn’t he graduate too, why did he have to be the only brother to perpetuate greaserhood and see nothing bigger for himself than working at a gas station?? also ponyboy doing his hw FOR him despite being two years younger is nauseatingggggg.

i DO think that soda genuinely is happy where he is most of the time but at the same timeee i think he’d sometimes have trouble reckoning with guilt esp on pony’s graduation day (i dooooo have a fic. coming someday about that. smiles), esp because we only know soda through ponyboys eyes. for all we know maybe he ISNT as happy as he always seems and puts up a front for his baby brother!!! in fact that’s most likely it tbh!! like he is canonically a crybaby and is probably just scared to show ponyboy bc he Knows pony looks up to him like a hero!!! it’s so!!!

adhd dyslexic soda in the 50/60s. yeah. i could yap that into the GROUND. lest this post becomes an Essay though i will leave it there unless someone else asks LOL

pony not needing soda as much anymore as he gets older is so. like ohhh you Hate me. it’s not even that pony doesn’t Need him it’s just that he’s growing up and bettering himself and making a better life than he was ever supposed to have and sodaaaa thinks he’s gonna stay stagnant his whole life 😣😣 pony who used to share every secret with him but now he’s all grown and doesn’t need to as much anymore. sighhhhh. sodapop curtis i LOVE YOUUUUU

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #curtis brothers #sodapop curtis #asks

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romanarose · 10 months ago

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If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 6

Co-written with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction my beloved Fen, who I could not do this without. Thank you for being my emotional sounding board, my dear friend, my wonderful cowriter and helpful beta reader. I adore you.

Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Santi takes Candy out, and Javier gets jealous, but still he defends them both. Drama erupts, and Santi finds something out about himself.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it. Covert/emotional incest in the past, Santi's mommy issues, m/m dynamics, internalized bi/homophobia

For the record, this is a fic that takes place in the drug trade and deals with the darker side of humanity, so anything from Narco's and Triple Frontier is liable to be discussed or mentioned here. This is your warning. This is not a dark fic nor is it centered around dark themes like Leather and Lace or Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside, but they are open to be talked about.

Reader has a nick name: Candy. Not her real name just what she goes by on her profession. Much of the inspo for this and for the title came from the Bruce Springsteen song “Candy’s room” so check it out for the vibes.

Reader speaks Spanish and has hair. I've decided Candy is just latina bc she's a sex worker in Colombia so this is what I'm doing. Reader also has curly hair and dark skin.

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS!: Santi's panicy trauma response. Santi's mommy issues in full swing. Javier is jealous, lots of arguments. Cumming untouched, titty sucking. We're in for it boys!

THE SMUT WAS 100% WRITTEN BY THE AMAZING @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction i knew i needed mommy kink and he was the one to go to. If you like subby men, Fen, my dearest cowritter, writes great fics esp with Steven Grant <3 What Fen said when they wrote it "Yoooooo, what am I writing Romana? Madness? I think so."

6.7 words (I'm so fucking sorry okay A LOT WAS HAPPENING)

A/N Since I am apparently an incomprehensible writer, please know that the smut scene in the last chapter was not a threesome, it's Javi fingering Candy and Candy flashing back to her giving Santi a reach around handjob. I wanted to compare and contrast the way the two pairs care for and pleasure each other. but it came across as a threesome :(

Support writers! Reblog and comment!

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Santiago didn’t know why he was so nervous.

“What we need is to get out into the actual field!” Javier exclaimed, setting his mug down loud enough to make Santi jump. “Sorry, Garcia.” He muttered, wiping a bit of spilled coffee with his sleeve.

Santiago rolled his shoulders, reaching back to rub his spine over the scar. The surgery saved his life, but damn did it hurt. “S’alright. Listen, I had an idea, but I don’t know if it’s going to be anything. It does get us out of the office next week.”

“I’ll take it, what do you have, Pope.”

Santi smiled. “Well, the nickname is fitting. It’s a rally for the beatification of Laura Montoya.”

A smile quirked up on Javier’s grumpy face. Unbuckling his belt after a second round of stress donuts, Javi kicked his legs up on his desk. “Of course you would know that.”

“My tia invited me.” He shoved Javi’s boots off, then wiped his hands on his pants. “We know what his family looks like now, maybe they will be there? It’s something.”

Javier agreed, it was something. Tracking Lorea had not gone as well as Escabar had. Not that that was a flawless mission itself, but at least it had traction. Martin Lorea was far less public.

The pair settled into an easy rhythm of planning the event. Santiago would have to avoid his tia’s, he thought. That may be hard, considering he had 4 and several cousins who will likely be attending the event. Colombia doesn’t have a canonized saint yet, and she was recognized as venerable so her potential beautification was a big deal for Colombia. Still, he couldn’t be recognized at the rally, his family would want to talk and talk and talk and ask why he didn’t have girlfriend and talk and ask who Javier was, and Tia Lupe would ask him if he had a ‘modern arrangement’ with Javier which would make Santi sick to his stomach with anxiety and- fuck he felt like the donut he stole from Javi was coming back up.

“Gotta go, be right back.”

“I’ll be timing you.” Javier kicked his legs back up on his desk and closed his eyes.

Over the toilet, Santi dry heaved, unsure if he was really going to puke or just felt like it. What the hell was it with Javier these days that made him so anxious? Things had been going well, their friendship repaired in the months since Javier caught him and Candy together. Other than Frankie, who would always be his number one, Javi was his best friend. He’d die for him the way he’d have died for Will, Frank or Ben… but there was something more. Since the day they met, Santiago wanted nothing more than Javier’s approval, he strived for it… maybe it was that he saw Javi as a father figure, almost 15 years older than him… that wasn’t right either. He couldn’t place it until earlier this week.

The DEA ball was coming up, Javier had asked Santi if he wanted to carpool since they both didn’t have dates and lived near-by… to which Santi said he actually had a date. She was a surprise. So was the fact Javier wanted to go.

The “Oh” that had fallen out of his mouth though Santiago off. It sounded disappointed. Santi couldn’t stand Javier disappointed in him. That’s when the thought happened. ‘I wish we could just go together’ Not arrive together. Go together. As a couple. His first thought was no, that’s illegal. His second thought was no, he’d go to hell. His third was him mami, god rest her soul, would roll over in her grave.

He shook the thoughts away, but ever since then he began noticing the way he stared at Javi, the way his body buzzed with any incidental touch… He had to shove it down.

Certainly, Javier was open-minded, but he would to spend as much time as he did with him if he was gay, right? He wouldn’t incite Santi over for futball games on the tv, he wouldn’t take him with him to get lunch… he wouldn’t even want to work with him. It would all be over.

That’s what made Santi sick.

That, and the anxiety over who his secret date was.

You didn’t know why you were so goddamn nervous.

You had to admit, you were very surprised when Santiago showed up for his regularly scheduled appointment, flowers in hand, asking you to join him at the ball.

“Santi… sweetie… I don’t know…”

His large eyes looked nervous. “It’s a job! I’ll pay you, I’m not expecting anything free! And I I know what you’re gonna say, I don’t care about Javi freaking out. Imean, if you care I don’t wanna pressure you of course! I’m not trying to come between you guys, but I doubt he’ll even show. He hates these things.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about…” You take the flowers, thanking him genuinely, and walking to your kitchen. Santiago anxiously paced your walls, trailing his hands over your posters. “Sweetheart, I know we have a good time, but I am a prostitute, you know this.”

“I swear, I don’t have any notions about us being in love… I just want you there.”

Placing the flowers in the vase, you turn to look at him. “I just… well…” You hesitate, unsure how to not freak the poor kid out. “oh my god, there's no polite way to say this, but, Javier is far from the only DEA agent I’ve slept with. Hell, I slept with the janitor once.”

“Mario’s a cool guy, I don’t blame you.”

“What I’m saying is,” She sighed out her words. “You’re a sweet young man, and I know you’re a lot younger than most of the guys there. I don’t want to cause you any trouble-”

“Candy-”

“And I know I’ll cause you trouble if I’m there. They are going to make fun of you for bringing a hooker to a ball.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care. There’s no one else I want there with me but you, and I don’t care what Javier says, or any of them for that matter.”

You smile softly at the young man. He was earnest, but although you believed he didn’t care about the other guys at the precinct, you didn’t believe him for one second about Javi. Santiago worshiped the ground Javier walked on, it was clear by the way he talked about his partner.

“If you really don’t care, then yes, I’d love to go.”

His youthful face lit up. “Really?!”

“Yes” You giggle. “It sounds like a great night.”

Santiago ran to you, making you squeal as he threw you over his shoulder. “I’m gonna make you cum so many fucking times on my face, Candy, you don’t even know.”

You had to admit you were a little nervous. A lot nervous. He said he didn't think Javier would be there, but you weren’t sure, and hadn’t had a chance to try and prod him for information. You’d asked around, and Javi had been spending several nights with Gabby. This was not unusual, he was known to bounce around women, but he always came back to you. Today, though, it made you jealous as all hell. Santiago made you nervous too.

You wanted to at least make a good impression for him, so you went out and bought a brand new evening gown for the occasion, something classy, showing the curves but not your tits. Your big Farrah Faucet curls that usually accompanied a night with Lorea and his men were dialed down more to a simple look, your make-up more natural that a night on the town with high rollers would see. Still you were beautiful and you knew it. Just less like a hooker.

Javier didn’t know why he was so fucking nervous. He never went to these stupid things, much preferring to spend a night undressed with his cock buried between a pretty woman’s legs than stuff himself into a suit that had only gotten tighter in recent years. But, Pope was gonna be there, he was gonna be dressed up in some overdone suite, Javi just knew it. And his stupid curls would be slicked back and inevitably a few would pop out and he’d spend the night trying to keep them back but they would want to be wild and he’d eventually mess with his hair too much and it’d be all every-which-way and, and, and…

So maybe he was late. So maybe he was a little tipsy. Maybe he had been taking pulls of a flask in the back of a taxi but there was coke baggie and a cum stain on the seat so was it really the worst the car had seen? He pulled up to the dance in his too-tight suit, stumbling out a bit, and attempted to find his way inside. He didn’t really want to see Santi dancing with a girl, but if he didn’t show, Santi would worry, and Javi didn’t like Santi worrying.

Javier hoped she was nice. A nice girl because he was a nice young man. Someone to take care of him in some ways, to let him care for her in others… Javi knew he could take care of Sant. He had when he was sick, hadn’t he? Therein lied the reason Javi was drunk. The burn of the liquor was to press down the feeling he couldn’t ignore sober. He wanted Santiago.

“Buenas noche, amigos. ¿Has visto Santiago?”

Javi asked as he stumbled on a few men from the DEA chattering in a corner

One of the men, Freddy, chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. “Oh, you haven't seen him yet?”

This caused all the men to laugh, but Javier didn’t get the joke. He got the feeling whatever it was, they were laughing at Santi. Javier knew Santi hadn’t really clicked with the men. He was too straight laced, too honest… too good.

“The fuck does that mean?” Javier asked with an obvious bit of bite. Santiago was his to protect.

“Young Garcia came here with a whore on his arm.” Another man, Josue, with a patchy mustache he should just call it quits on attempting to grow replies. “Wonder if he knows what she is, or if he’s going to wake up to a nasty bill in the morning.”

The group laughs, and Javier feels panic rising inside him. No. No way. Santiago couldn’t possibly be that stupid, could he? He was the smartest man Javier knew. He’d never risk her like this…

Freddy continued when he saw Javi’s confused look. “Yeah, Pena, thats what I thought too!” He said with a laugh that Javier knew was not the good natured ribbing he gave Santi. “You know Candy?”

“Uh, yeah, sounds familiar.” The room was spinning, lights and smoke and colors starting to blur.

“The whore on 7th that lets you play rough? Yeah, her.”

Javier snapped to attention again. “What did you just say?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it either!” He turns to another man Javier doesn’t have it in him to focus on. “I bet Virgin Maria thinks he’s in love.”

Grabbing him by the shoulder, Javier turned Freddy to him. “What the fuck did you say about Garcia?”

“Relaje, Pena. You call him Pope, different name, same meaning.”

But it wasn’t. Santi was Javi’s friend, Javier cared about him. Javier called him Pope to his face and if he thought it upset him, Javi wouldn’t do it. Freddy and the guys were calling him Virgin Maria behind his back, intending on being assholes. It was meant to hurt, it wasn’t true (Santi wasn’t a virgin even before Candy), it was meant to make a mockery of his good nature, his religion, and his morals. The effeminate name was meant to mock his slight build and stature as well as his passive nature. None of them knew the Santiago that Javier knew. They didn’t know the intelligent, compassionate, incredibly capable young former special opes agent who had saved his life multiple times and had given more break throughs on Lorea than he could could.

“Tell me again what you said about Candy.”

Despite the fact everyone was staring at them, you had never seen Santi so happy, so relaxed. He had a few drinks and for his small body it probably left him feeling warm and content. You had opted to stay mostly sober, only drinking one glass of white wine from the open bar; Santiago’s generous and soft smile to the bartender only endeared him to you more.

He was so much fun like this. You loved the time you spent with him in bed, that was fun too, but you’d also come to genuinely enjoy the moments where he wasn’t making you orgasm on his lips again and again. You genuinely cared when you asked him about his day, and had made a mental note of all the names he mentioned at the precinct that were causing him problems that you recognized. You weren’t sure how without outting him, but you’d figure out some way to fuck with them. One who was a massive dick to him, Freddy, was also a massive dick to you too.

Santi was indulging in a cupcake, telling a story of his friend Benny hitting on a woman only to realize her husband was standing next to her.

“It took me, his brother Will, Fish and Redfly to break the fight up. He still won’t go in that neighborhood anymore!” Santi giggles, taking a bite of the vanilla.

You laugh along; he’s an entertaining story teller. “Did he learn his lesson?”

“No! No! That’s the best part!” Santi said as he waved his hands excitedly. “He immediately, and I mean as soon as we cleaned the blood off his face, went and hit on another girl! And you wanna know the worst part?”

“It worked?”

“It work- how did you know that?”

“Women are easy, Santi.” Swaying to the music, you set his cupcake down. He has frosting on his upper lip, just under where his mustache sat.. “We love our men bloodied.” You pull him in close, eyeing his upper lip for the frosting, but he looks like he’s going for a kiss, and who are you to deny such a handsome man?

“Even when they lose?” He speaks, voice soft and sultry. Santi’s eye flick to your lips, his own push pillows parting to receive you.

“Especially when they lose.” You close the gap, taking his lips in yours and licking your tongue over his sugar-covered upper lip, brushing over his mustache. Sweet, just like him. Your sweet man.

For a moment, you are lost in him, the sounds of the Jim Croce floating in the air.

'Cause every time I tried to tell you

The words just came out wrong

So I'll have to say I love you in a song’

CRASH!

Immediately, at the sound of excitement, Santiago is in front of you, guarding your body with his. He doesn’t move, thinking clearly and assessing the situation; looking for where the danger is at and where the best exit points may be. Keep Candy safe. Keep Candy safe. His only goal was her, keep her away from any narcos, terrorists, freedom fighters or drunken men that might be causing a stir. When the center of the commotion was coming from the north, Santiago took Candy’s hand and began to take her to one of the south exits, a lesser used one with less potential for a second assailant, when he felt her tug away.

“JAVI!” She shouts, running towards the danger in high heels, rust colored skirt fluttering just as her flowy sleeves did.

“CANDY!” Running after her, he catches up with ease without the hindrance of heels. Santi tries to stop her, not wanting her near the drunken brawl, but she is on a single minded mission. Javier was under Freddy, who Santiago did not like, and getting the shit beat out of him. If he had a second more, if his focus wasn’t so on Candy, he would have beat her too it… but Candy was quicker

Santiago watches in surprise as she lifts her skirt, pulling a knife out of her garter, getting behind Freddy and gripping his hair hard, knife to his throat.

Everything was a deadly calm, everyone saying so, so still to not disturb the crazy woman with a knife. When Santi looked to Javier to check if he was okay, he saw Javi looking up at her with his big brown eyes, clearly fucking enamored.

“Freddy, get off of him before I tell everyone the weird shit you’re into.”

The next few minuets were a blur. As soon as Freddy was off Javier and Candy’s knife was off him, he was a big man again and the group began arguing. Santiago couldn’t quite pick up what it was about except “KEEP HIS NAME OUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!” From Javi.

They were all three escorted out by security; weapons weren’t allowed at the ball.

Outside the doors, a second argument erupted.

Candy tried to approach Javier. “Javi, baby, are you-” But as her hands reached for his swollen face, the older agent stepped back and turned his attention to his mentee. “Are you fucking stupid, Garcia?!”

Santi and Candy both are taken aback by this, but it’s Candy that speaks first. “Don’t talk to him like that!”

Javier’s anger is turned back to her. “And you! You should know better than this! Than coming here!”

She rolls her eyes. “Javi. It’s literally a part of my job, I’m an escort.”

“FOR DRUG DEALERS!” Javier shouts, throwing his hands in the air and stumbling back. “Not for YOU!”

“So what, he’s too good for me to take out? Dirty whore like me belongs in dirty nightclubs and dirty crackhouses?”

“Oh for fucks sake THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT!”

Instinctively, Santi places himself slightly in front of Candy. “Tone it down, Pena.”

His icy glare turns condescending as a short, drunk, sardonic laugh escapes him. “HA! Do you think you’re in love, Santiago? Do you think you’ll be the magical man that can ‘save her’? That’s not how this works! You aren’t supposed to be bringing prostitutes to government functions, you absolute IDIOT! And you’re especially not supposed to bring HER!”

“ENOUGH!” Candy shouts at him, eyes flashing in anger. “You don’t get to tell him what he can and can’t do, Javi! And you certainly do not have possession over me! I am not yours! Just because we fuck does not mean you own me, and you don’t get to decide who I sleep with. Like you said, I am a prostitute, one of SEVERAL you frequent, so I wouldn’t be getting too high and mighty about being careful when everyone knows Helena nearly died working for you! I am not yours!”

Javier scoffs. “Oh, and he is? You think he’s your little lover boy, someone to play pretend that you are having a normal relationship with? He’s a scared child, he’s terrified of intimacy and thinks a finger in the ass will send him to hell!”

“Javier, fucking stop it right now.”

“He can’t protect you! He can’t take care of you!”

“Oh, and you can?”

“YES!”

Javier’s shouted words hung in the air, dripping with anger and venom. Santi simply watches, watches them like a scared child watching his parents fight, wishing it would just fucking stop, but it won’t. Not between them. Javier doesn’t back down and Candy isn’t scared of him.

Then, Candy starts to laugh. It’s short little laughs at first but grows louder. “Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME JAVI!” She laughs once more before shaking her head, tugging a bit at her hair as she walks a short circle. Candy shook her head, suddenly calm. “Thunder only happens when it’s raining, players only love you when they’re playing.”

Javi blinked, his voice now noticeably slurred. “What the actual fuck was that.”

Santi stepped up, sliding an arm around Candy’s waist. If she said what she wanted to say, he wanted to guide her away from Javier before he could be more hurtful to her. “It’s from Fleetwood Mac, Javi. You’d know that if you cared enough about her to look into her interests.”

Candy turned to him then, surprised, her soft eyes looking towards him; the hint of a smile on her face.

Javier, however, looked bewildered. “Her interests?You. Are not. DATING HER!”

“I still care about her!” Santiago defended himself. “Just because I’m not a sad slut who can’t emotionally attach to anyone anymore doesn’t mean I treat her like she’s not a person!”

Javier looked like he was about to speak, then shook his head. “This is fucking insane. This is not a Hollywood movie, there is no happy ending here, FUCK YOU GUYS and FUCK THE GODDAMN PRESINCT”

With that, Javier stormed off, angrily mumbling about one thing or another and his broad form shrunk down the street.

It was then Santi felt her begin to shake. Thinking quick, he took off his sports coat and wrapped it around her. “Hey, hey bebita,¿Estás bien?”

“Si” She shook her head a bit, then turned to him with an irritated look “He just really pisses me off sometimes, you know?”

Santi chuckled. “I know. He’s an asshole, let’s not worry about him, okay?” He wrapped his arms around her, and Candy allowed herself to sink into him. Santiago felt her relax, laying her head on him. He was angry, so fucking angry at Javier for the things he said to Candy, the way he spoke to her, it was hurting with jaw with how much he was clenching it… but it was clear Candy was upset too. His feelings didn’t matter, her’s did. He needed to be her man, be her strength, so he pushed his feelings aside.

Through the doors of the ballroom they could still here the live music playing, and he felt Candy gasp as The Eagle’s hit song, Peaceful Easy Feeling, began.

“I love this song…” She whispered, beginning to sway to the music. The stars were out, shining on her. It felt like they shined for her alone.

‘I like the way your sparkling earrings lay

Against your skin, it's so brown’

“I know.” Santi whispered against her skin. “I asked them to play it.” He sang the next line into her skin.

‘Y quiero dormir contigo en el desierto esta noche

Con mil millones de estrellas alrededor’

Candy took her head off him to look into his eyes. Fuck, she was pretty. So so pretty. He wanted her with him all the time, even though he knew it wasn’t possible. He wasn’t in love. Santi wasn’t sure he was capable of romantic love, honestly. He wasn’t sure he was capable of a love that was safe. But whatever he had with Candy right now it was good.

“You requested this song for me?”

‘'Cause I gotta peaceful easy feeling

And I know you won't let me down

'Cause I'm already standing

On the ground’

“Of course I did… wanted to make sure there was music you liked.” Santiago stroked her hair, careful to not mess it up, just enough to feel her. He began to dance with her in earnest.

“You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“And I found out a long time ago

What a woman can do to your soul

Ah, but she can't take you anyway

You don't already know how to go”

Santiago twirled her, making Candy giggle.

“You listen to Fleetwood Mac?” She asked him through her laughs.

‘And I gotta peaceful easy feeling

And I know you won't let me down

'Cause I'm already standing

On the ground’

He shrugged. “I didn’t until I saw you had three albums, a Fleetwood Mac poster AND a Stevie Nicks poster.”

“So you… just decided to listen?”

“They're clearly important to you.”

He sings to her once again in Spanish

‘Tengo este presentimiento de que te conozco

Como amante y como amiga’

Candy whispers in his ear. “I enjoy our time together. I hope you know that. I do consider you a lover and a friend, Santiago.”

‘But this voice keeps whispering

In my other ear, tells me

I may never see you again’

Santiago believed her, but the ever-presant anxiety inside him told him this was temperary. Don’t feel safe, don’t feel comfortable. You are expendable. You are only loved as long as you are useful. You are only loved as long as you are perfect and good and right all the time. You can never mess up. If you do, WHEN you do, she’ll walk away just like Javi did. Still, he shakes these thoughts off and tries to focus on her. Focus on Candy.

‘Porque tengo un sentimiento tranquilo y pacifico

Y se que decepcionarás

Porque ya estoy parado

En el suelo’

As the song ended, Santi dipped a giggling Candy down low, admiring the way the dress flowed over her beautiful body.

“Hey Candy, they aren’t gonna let us back in there, wanna hop some shitty bars?”

“I’d like nothing more, Santiago.”

Back at his apartment, Candy and Santi giggled their way into his bedroom. A slightly tipsy Santi flopped down on his bed, sighing out a declaration that this was the best night of his life. When he opens his eyes again, he sees you smiling at him. He thinks that he wants to see you in his home more often.

“You look really pretty in that dress, you know that?” Santi says with a love-sick smile plastered all over his face.

You can’t help but smile back, unable to hamper the little laugh that lightens your chest. He was a bit more tipsy than you’d thought.

He pouts a little, being overly dramatic on purpose as he leans up on his elbows, his left leg half hanging off the bed as you stand watching him.

“Don’t laugh.” He pulls a face that has the opposite effect.

You don’t give him the chance to retort again and poke his foot with your index finger, while you school your face into a mock disapproving scowl. “Shoes on in bed?” You tut, expecting another pout and tease back from him, a shrug and a chorus of ‘Well it’s my bed, I can do whatever I want.’

But instead, his eyes widened a little, a small dusting of light pink blossoming over his brown cheeks and nose and highlighting his faint freckles. “S-sorry.” He mumbles quickly, scrabbling up into a sitting position to undo his laces. He’s pulled off one shoe and dropped it carefully to the floor before you even have a chance to register what he’s doing.

“Hey, hey,” you sit down next to him, your thigh touching his, and stroke your left hand through his curls. They’re a little stiffer than usual from the product he used for the occasion; it hasn’t stopped more than a few rough strands from breaking free though.

Santi leans into your touch instantly, instinctively closing his eyes and sighing, a weight lifting from his ribs. You wouldn’t be surprised if he started purring.

“You okay?” You whisper, continuing to run your fingers softly through his hair.

He nods and hums an affirmative.

You’re about to ask again, unable to stop yourself from double-checking his well-being. That seed of affection for Santi that first settled in your heart weeks ago has now grown and rooted into your chest, its vines and leaves twisted around your rib cage, seeking out your love like sunlight.

Just as the words form on your tongue you notice the not-so-subtle bulge in his trousers and bite back a smile.

Ah.

Not distress. Not panic. Nothing like that at all. Not right now, anyway.

Santi can’t see your expression with his eyes closed. He’s shifted closer, his temple gently against your shoulder as you stroke his hair. He sighs happily, almost dreamily.

It’s nice to see him like this, relaxed into your touch. He too often seems anxious, worried, worrying about his military friends, worried about Javi, worried about his family although those details remain vague. He’s mentioned his sisters lives in the US, Atlanta she thought, his tia’s he saw so often here, and every now and then a brief mention of his mom but only in passing. You place a soft kiss on his forehead, leaving a faint lipstick stain on his skin and he presses closer to you, nuzzling into the nape of your neck.

Languidly you run your free hand up his thigh, just tracing your fingers over his crotch before you squeeze.

The sharp, low moan that escapes his lips is more than worth it, though the gasped word that tumbles out is a bit of a surprise.

“Mommy,”

He freezes instantly, his eyes going wide and teeth audibly snapping shut. In less than a second he’s racking his brain, trying to work out how, why, where did that word come from? What deep, dark recess of his mind forced that word to the surface? Something was wrong with him. Something fundamentally wrong with him, deep down in the recesses of his brain. He was fucked up. He was going to hell.

Maybe you hadn’t heard it. Maybe you wouldn’t notice it. But already Santi knew those hopes were a lost cause. The way your hand had tightened momentarily in his hair the second it slipped past his tongue. He’d had a drink, a few drinks- although they’d mostly worn off throughout the night- that was a good enough excuse right? Oh god. What must you think? What would you-

“You’re my good boy, aren’t you?” Your voice was low and sweet, a caress to his very soul and he shivered in spite of himself, moaning again and squeezing his eyes shut as you stroked his painfully hard cock.

He nodded his head rapidly, not wanting to disappoint you. He’d be good, he’d be so fucking good for you. His breath hot on your neck as he pressed closer, angling his body completely towards you with a soft whimper.

You continued stroking him for a moment longer, pressing the heel of your palm firmly against his thick base before you unzipped his fly and flicked open his trouser buttons. You always loved this, loved how needy he got, how desperate for you.

Santi groaned loudly, his lips against your neck, half muffling his words against your skin as he squirmed into your touch.

“Hmm?” You halted your actions teasingly, waiting for him to repeat himself.

The small sob and bob of his throat nearly broke your resolve, but he pulled his face away from you a fraction to speak.

“Mommy, please,” he whispered.

You couldn’t help yourself, it wasn’t like it was the first man to call you ‘mommy’ in bed, but there was something about sweet, innocent Santi who had blushed his way through your first encounter not that long ago speaking that world that set your blood ablaze.

“Please what?” You teased.

He squirmed again, bucking helplessly against your hand. “Please?”

“You’re gonna have to use a few more words than that pretty boy, or I won’t be able to help you.”

Santi let out an anguished sigh, pressing his face into your neck once more.

Quickly, you moved your hand away from his weeping cock and firmly pinched his chin between your fingers, pulling him back ever so slightly so that you could look into his dark brown eyes as you title his face up.

“If you don’t speak, Mommy won’t be able to help you.”

Santi audibly moaned, his eyes rolling back for a split second before he shut them tight. His dick twitched uncontrollably.

“Yes, please, sorry, I’ll be good, I’ll be a good boy.” His words were all rushed together and there was a hazy look to his gaze when he opened his eyes again, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You petted his hair gently. “I know you will be, Mommy’s got you, sweetheart.”

He whimpered, rubbing his thighs together with every word.

“Now, tell me what you want.”

“Can I,” he swallowed again, placing his hand on the zip of your dress, “can I undo this?”

That wasn’t what you expected him to say, and you raised an eyebrow at him lazily as you smiled and nodded.

Santi let out a little nervous breath before hastily undoing the dress and carefully slipping it off your shoulders and down to your waist. You weren’t wearing a bra.

He held his breath as he gazed at your chest, his left hand hovering just above your skin as he stared with reverence. As if he hadn’t seen you semi-naked many, many times before.

You stroked his hair again. “You’re such a good buy, aren’t you? Asking for what you need?” You say softly, just to gently break him out of his trance. You did enjoy teasing him, but never for very long. He always listened, always did as he was told, and you were happy to reward him

He nods quickly, never taking his eyes off your breasts. The tip of his tongue pokes out and wets his bottom lip.

Ever so slowly he leans forward, placing a light, sweet kiss to your lips, the corner of your mouth, your cheek, before trailing down to your neck and collarbone. His kisses get messier, wetter, more urgent the further down he goes and you don’t expect him to pause, panting against your skin.

He looks up at you with large eyes that send a shudder of heat through your core. “Can I kiss your breasts… mommy?” He adds the name shyly, looking down momentarily so that his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks.

You keep stroking his hair as you nod, hooking your fingers around the nape of his neck and guiding him towards your chest. He takes the small movement and runs with it instantly, surging forward and covering your breasts in desperate, wet kisses. Switching back and forth between them constantly as if he simply had to lavish each with the exact same amount of attention. He moans as he lightly bites and sucks, his hands digging into your skin as he holds onto you for dear life.

You press him closer, urging him on by digging your fingers into his curls and scratching your nails along his scalp. He rewards you with another muffled groan, the vibrations reverberating along your skin and sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

Santi pushes closer, the force nearly knocking you onto your back as he latches onto your left nipple. You brace your right hand on the bed behind you so that you can keep your balance.

“Such a good boy Santi.” You whisper and he whines, looking up at you once with lazy, lust-blown eyes as he keeps his mouth against you. He sucks demandingly, the sensation almost bordering on too much, but still somehow not enough, and swirls his tongue around your nipple before lapping at it and starting the process all over again. His hips are bucking desperately, but he doesn’t dare ask for attention. He knows you’ll take care of him. You always will.

He sighs, shifting, simultaneously trying to get something and not knowing what he wants at the same time.

You know what he needs though.

You coo at him, soothing and sweet as you pull in closer into your arms, cradling his head as you gently ease him into your lap. He moans so loudly, the sound quickly becoming a whine in his throat as you embrace him.

For a few seconds, he seems to relax into you, all the stress of the day and previous weeks and months draining from his soul and bones as he gently sucks. But then he starts to squirm, his thighs shaking and stomach muscles tensing. He pulls his mouth off of you with a pop and low, desperate groan. His eyes shut tight and eyebrows knitted together as he whines and presses his forehead against your skin.

“Gonna cum.” At the very back of his mind he has a sense that he should be embarrassed, embarrassed that he’s this far gone and going to cum practically untouched. But he can’t fight the pleasure as it bubbles up his spine, doesn’t want to.

“You can cum Santi,” you whisper in his ear. “You’re such a good boy, cum for Mommy.”

He shakes his head, unsure why, tears at the very corners of his eyes, “please.”

“It’s okay,” you soothe, holding him tight and kissing his temple. “I’m here.”

He moans loudly, latching back onto your breast and sucking for all he’s worth.

“Mommy’s here.”

He groans again, pulling away a fraction to get his words out. His voice is breath and high. “Want Mommy to cum.”

The pleading in his voice spikes at the throbbing arousal in your core. “Santi, it’s okay-”

His whine is muffled against your chest as he reaches down, sliding his hands between your legs to caress your body the way he knows you like. You’d taught him exactly how you want to be touched, exactly how you touch yourself. He was an eager learner.

“Santi,” you manage to breathe out through his messy desperate kisses.

“Mommy needs to cum now please,” he murmurs, his speech slurred against your tongue,

Your breath catches, thighs squirming as he strokes you, the movements soft but sure. It only takes an embarrassingly short time before you’re moaning into his mouth and tensing as your release overtakes you in a rush.

When it’s clear you’ve cum, he tenses, his orgasm following through him and bursting behind his eyes. His cock throbs as he empties himself into his pants. You smile softly at his face as his forehead pinches in bliss, your hand still stroking his hair.

There’s a pause, a small moment of quiet just before he sighs deeply, feeling weak and boneless. And then he looks up at you with his dark, dark eyes. The softness, the relief, the adoration… the sleepiness.

“So good, Santiago… you’re so good. My perfect boy…”

Santi sighs against your skin, relishing in the tender moment as you play with his hair. “Was that weird?” He mumbles into your skin.

“Noooo, no not at all. It’s very common, actually.”

He looks up at you through heavy lids and suspicious eyes. “Really?”

“Oooooh yeah.” You chuckle. “More often than you think. I’m not here to judge anyone.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but he seems to relax. “Okay. Yeah. Okay.”

You opt to not talk about it anymore, at least for the time being. He’s so tired right now, coming hard and untouched, and you decide it’s time to put him to bed. By the time you lay him from your lap to his pillow, he’s half asleep, so you opt with minimal dress. Gentle, you unbutton his shirt and slowly, carefully slide his shirt off. When you take off his trousers and underwear fully, you replace them with sweats. You think he’s asleep, breathing slowly and eyes closed. He looks positively angelic. When your getting ready to zip up your dress again, and make your exit, you hear his voice once more.

“Stay the night?”

You sigh. “Santi, I dunno if that’s a good idea…”

His eyes open slightly, just enough so you can see him. “Please, I’ll pay you whatever you want, I just don’t want tonight to end…”

He looks so vulnerable in this moment… and you don’t want this night to end either. Rules be damned. Santi was different. Santi was better. Santi was good. And you? You deserved some damn good.

“Don’t pay me, I’ll stay.”

Santiago sits up ever so slightly. “No, no Candy this is your job. I don’t expect free-”

“It’s not free, honey.” You begin to strip down, Santi’s sleepy eyes drifting down your naked body, staring at the knife at your garter. “We’re going to sleep, just like I would at home. And tomorrow, you’ll make me breakfast. Sound like a fair trade?” The truth was, sleeping with Santi, actually sleeping with Santi, sounded wonderful. You didn’t want it to feel like a transaction.

So, you slip into his clothes. You wear a tee shirt and sweats and climb into his bed where you think he’s actually asleep this time. He snores lightly. He sleeps on his stomach, so you rub his back. He feels nice.

You want better for him. You want him to have a stable life, a loving wife who wasn’t a whore, kids if he wanted them, his family and friends surrounding him. He should have to live in danger, work a dangerous job. He should be allowed to be happy. It wasn’t a life you could give him, you knew… but you could imagine.

You kiss the scar on his spine.

******************

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for reading!!!!

If you're still hear, please drop a lil HI! It's 12 pm here, inching towards 1 but i promised to put this out so i will!!!

Everyone PLEASE GIVE A ROUND OF APPLOUSE FOR FEN FOR THE SMUT IN THE COMMENTS AND REBLOGS SO I CAN MAKE SURE THEY SEE ALL THE LOVE

I hope everyone is saying as safe as they can be in these temps, my heart goes out to all those struggling but especially those in war zones, poverty, homelessness, or in areas that were previously never this cold and thus unprepared for a harsh winter. I know us northerners joke about how cold we get, but I know its different when your infrastructure isnt equipped to take this on.

So tell me friends

Did Javier have a reason to be mad at Santi?

Or was he overreacting?

TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS ON THE ARGUEMENT AND YOUR THOTS ON OUR DEAR SANTI

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolb @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleurs @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleiite @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @kirsteng42 @mrsjavierp @nanfafnan @lovable-liar @axshadows @cookielovesbook-akie @reallyrallyauthor @solar-fics @criticalarchitecture

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