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lovelyhan · 1 year ago

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— 505 ⟢

i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck; or i did, last time i checked.

★ FEATURING; joshua x afab!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 3.4k words

★ TAGS; coworkers au, friends with benefits, typical gentleman in the streets sexual deviant in the sheets joshua, a hint of pining if you squint, slight angst?, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; this specific picture of shua is years old but it incited the most visceral reaction out of me anyway so here we are with another short oneshot that sidetracked me from the monster that i'm SUPPOSED to be writing :| this also turned out a bit more emotional(?) than i originally intended, so heads up on that i guess

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), choking, slight dumbification (i'm sorry, i normally have more dignity than this but i miss him so so dearly)

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti-red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin

★ JOSHUA TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @lunaryoongie

Joshua arrives five minutes after the first clap of thunder and ten minutes after the rain started pouring outside.

You hear him before you see him. The automatic lock of the hotel room turns as he scans the spare keycard from outside — one that you made sure to leave with the receptionist in the lobby when he told you he'll be running a little late. When the door swings open, light spills from outside and he greets you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart stutter.

It's the same look that makes your female coworkers swoon and giggle to themselves in the office pantry — talk about Joshua's adorable eye smile never straying too far from your ears.

If they knew what kind of person he was past the usual pleasantries, would they still engage in that kind of fanfare?

Joshua is soaked all over when he enters, having tracked rainwater all over the carpeted hallway and into the floor of Room 505. He doesn't seem all too fazed by it though — quickly shrugging off his coat before hanging it behind the flimsy plastic hooks screwed to the back of the door. He shuts it behind him with a kick, sighing through his teeth as he loosens the coil of a sushi-patterned necktie around his collar.

You got that one for him as an exchange gift for last year's Christmas party. Joshua uses it a lot more frequently than you expected him to. In fact, he always wears it during casual Fridays. You're not sure if he actually likes the stupid necktie or he's just trying to get a reaction out of you, but his choice to wear it isn't lost on you either way.

"Team dinners are really something else," Joshua chuckles as he tosses the flimsy material atop the complimentary dining table. He cards his fingers through his damp hair and you try not to think of how good he looks as he does it.

"You should've come with us. It's not often that you see Manager Yoon convince Jihoon to down a shot of soju. Oh, Seungkwan also got his ass handed to him at karaoke with the girls from sales. I had no idea Jihyo could hold her high notes like she means business."

You don't take a bite at his feeble attempt at small talk. He knows damn well why you don't show up to any of Jeonghan's team dinners, but you tell yourself that Joshua's just being polite — still thinking of the outcast of the marketing department despite the fact that you do not want anything to do with the people you work with.

...Although there are some exceptions here and there.

"Really? You're just going to give me the silent treatment all night?" Joshua sighs dramatically as he unbuttons his dress shirt — baring his rain-beaded chest to your unwitting gaze. "Well, if you need a bit more time, I'll go hop in the shower first. You're free to join me if you'd like."

He knows you won't, so you find it strange that he offers each and every time anyway.

You let your gaze wander to the full length mirror attached to the cabinets once the door to the bathroom clicks shut. There's nothing remotely special about your getup tonight. You're still donned in your work clothes — brick gray pencil skirt with a brick gray blazer to match. Apart from the heels sitting on the rack near the door, you're pretty much still in uniform.

You had half the mind to go home and change when Joshua said he's going to dinner and karaoke with your boss and some other colleagues, but that would mean you actually cared about what you looked like in front of him.

Which, for the record, you don't.

You can hear Joshua singing a familiar song in the bathroom — one that he always belts out in the most annoying way possible every time he showers. You wonder if he even knows any other song apart from that, but tell yourself you don't really have any business asking.

As the near-silence persists, however, your thoughts start to wander. Did he also sing this song when he was at karaoke earlier? Did he get to duet the high notes with Jihyo? You wouldn't put it past either of them to do so — being two of the company's renowned social butterflies.

That train of thought brings forth the same question you've been asking ever since the first night you shared this hotel room with Joshua and found him still lying beside you in the morning:

Why'd he choose you?

You're an in by nine and out by five unless there's paid overtime kind of employee. You never bothered establishing any worthwhile friendships in the workspace because you know better than to trust the backstabbing fiends in the corporate ladder. You're perfectly aware of what other people say about your individualistic behavior — how you're the worst team player in your department — but you never really cared.

Not until Joshua Hong inserted himself into your life.

To put it in the easiest way possible, he's the epitome of a perfect coworker. He's the guy that greets you every morning with an charming smile. The guy who drops by your cubicle to give you a coffee he made himself before saying you're doing a great job with that report you're putting together. The guy that everyone just adores simply because he's always been likable from the get-go.

That's the kind of person Joshua is — the exact opposite of you. Surely the jury won't condemn you for always questioning how you wound up spending your Friday nights fucking the man your entire department is basically in love with when you're so unlovable yourself.

Every time you try to recall how your transactional relationship with the company's unofficial sweetheart happened in the first place, your brain simply refuses to cooperate — memories muddled by a few pints of beer too many and an eye-crinkling smile that you're better off not rationalizing.

Besides, it's not like Joshua kisses and tells. Whatever happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505, and that's one of the many reasons why you haven't deigned to walk away from the setup altogether.

You meet up, he makes you feel good — makes you feel wanted — he cycles through whatever aftercare you might need, you fall a little more in love with him, then you both decide if you want to sleep in for a couple more hours or —

Wait.

Did you just admit you're in love with him?

"Hm? Didn't think you'd actually hop in with me today."

Joshua's voice is clearly laced with amusement as you shut the door to the bathroom — cheeks hot with both the steam billowing from the shower and the embarrassment cloying in your chest. You had the foresight to take off your uniform at least, leaving you in an unassuming set of cotton underwear that makes Joshua lick his lips with anticipation.

You make a show of stripping the rest of your clothing before him — nothing but the glass door to the shower separating the both of you. It's nothing sensual, nothing grandiose. You simply take off everything that's keeping your body hidden from your nighttime lover's hungry eyes.

When you step into the warm drizzle of the showerhead, Joshua hums before reaching for a bottle of shampoo — squeezing just the right amount into his palm as he lathers the product into your scalp.

The gentleness weighted into his actions startles you a little — not having expected him to do something so...domestic. You came in here with the full intention of getting fucked against the bathroom wall, but the way he massages your scalp so tenderly makes you reconsider your course of action.

But no matter how much of a gentleman he acts around you, not even Joshua can do anything about his own body's physiological reactions.

You feel the length of his cock nestled against your ass, hips rocking back and forth as he stimulates himself into full hardness. A soft moan tumbles out of your lips when he squeezes some of the hotel-provided body wash all over your chest — large hands lathering the soap across your body all while paying special attention to your tits.

"You finally snapped out of it, sweetheart?" Joshua sighs before latching his mouth onto the thrum of your pulse, biting down for only a moment to get your attention. "Ready to take my cock like a good girl?"

The way he murmurs those last few words along the column of your throat makes your legs feel like they'll disintegrate at any moment. Joshua continues to murmur sweet nothings into your ear, helping you clean up properly first before actually trying anything.

You're not sure if you should be pissed off or endeared by his stalling, but by the time he's finally rinsed out all the suds from your heated bodies, you're more or less ripe for the taking.

"Brace your palms against the wall, pretty girl. Yeah, just like that." Joshua chuckles softly as he presses a kiss to your nape, lips traveling down the length of your spine until he's eye-level with your sopping cunt.

"God, I'll never get tired of looking at this pretty pussy. Been thinking about sinking my cock into you all fucking week," he practically growls. "You really knew what you were doing with that cute maroon skirt you wore the other day, weren't you? The one that kept riding up your thighs when you reached for something from the high shelves? Little fucking minx."

You mewl helplessly when you feel Joshua's tongue prodding your soaked folds — forcing you to press your cheek against the cold tile as he massages your ass gingerly.

Joshua does his best to keep you anchored, making sure you won't accidentally slip as he laves at the slick between your thighs. He has no problem doing just that — driving you to near insanity with how his tongue sucks and slurps at your cunt like it's the first meal he's had in days.

"S-Shua," you whimper pathetically, pushing your ass out for more friction. "You're eating me so good..."

Had you not been so quickly drowned in this haze of arousal, you would've exercised more restraint. Joshua normally has a hard time getting you to be more vocal whenever he makes you feel good, but you suppose that there's just something in the air tonight that makes it so easy to just surrender yourself to him.

You can feel the vibrations of his laughter along the millions of nerve endings on your clit as he traces it with the tip of his tongue — further incapacitating you from coherent thought. When he slips in a finger into your awaiting heat, you all but gasp into the steamy air of the hotel bathroom.

"You're so cute when you start calling me that," he coos without halting his ministrations — that sinful tongue darting out to tease and lick and stimulate as he eases in another thick finger into your gummy walls. "Wanna eat you out underneath your desk someday... Would you act as cute as you're acting right now if I did that?"

The prospect of having sweet, gentlemanly Joshua Hong on his knees for you under your work desk makes you tighten conspicuously around his fingers. From the sordid chuckle that leaves his lips, you're fairly certain that he's noticed.

"You like that, huh? You like it when I put my mouth on you? Make you feel so good, you forget about everything else?" he chuckles darkly, rising back to his full height without taking his fingers out of your needy cunt. "But we both know this is hardly enough for you, right sweetheart?"

You hate how he knows you so well.

Joshua spends about one minute max towel drying both of your bodies before he quite literally sweeps you off your feet. You let out a surprised shriek as he princess-carries you onto the bed — gently laying you on the undisturbed sheets before crawling on top of you like a predator circling its next meal.

"Wanna tell me why you were so out of it earlier?" Joshua murmurs as he nips at your jaw, the words followed by a crackle of thunder in the distance. He chuckles when you jolt in surprise before peppering your face with a collection of kisses that ends at the tip of your nose. "It's not the weather, is it? I remember that I literally fucked you in the middle of a storm last month."

"Quit running your mouth and just fuck me," you mumble, lacing your fingers around his nape before grinding up against his leaking cock. "I've waited for you long enough."

"Ahhh," he drawls with resounding epiphany, as if he'd just figured out some ancient secret. "So you were sulking because I took too long to get here? Don't worry, sweet thing, it won't happen again."

When Joshua leans close to your ear, his hot breath fans against your flesh — making your toes curl with quiet anticipation.

"The next time we meet in this room, I'll have you mounted on my cock the moment you come through the door."

Joshua doesn't bother with foreplay or any sort of preamble. He simply guides his cock into the give of your entrance, sinking his length so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.

"Fuck," you whimper, fingernails seeking purchase across the rippling muscles of Joshua's back. He doesn't quite move yet — letting you get used to the stretch like he always does.

"Pretty pussy's so fucking tight around me," he groans. "Did you need me this badly? 'm sorry for making you wait so long, sweetheart. If I had known, I would've ditched karaoke and made you feel good as soon as I could."

Empty words uttered in the throes of passion — you're well aware that's all they are. Yet Joshua has no trouble making your heart flutter with the sentiment anyway.

"J-Joshua," you manage to gasp as you feel his girth throb inside you. "Please move... Need it. Need it so bad, please."

You're on the brink of tears with how desperate you are for mind-numbing release, but amidst your mounting delirium, Joshua sighs a little too endearingly before pressing a long, hard kiss on your lips.

"Anything for you, pretty girl."

He eases himself into you slowly at first — making sure you feel every ridge of his cock dragging along your tight walls. Joshua particularly feels smug when your eyes roll to the back of your head, addicted to the way his cock is splitting you open.

It's only when you start to loosen up that he picks up the pace, strong hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. The squelch of your arousal echoes within the walls secluding you from the rest of the world.

When Joshua hoists your hips higher before hooking the back of your knees across his shoulders, you knew it was all over for you.

Admittedly, you don't remember the first time you've had sex with him anymore. Or the second. Or the third. You've had each other so many times in so many ways that every instance kind of just blends into the next — painting a messy caricature of all the illicit meetings you've had with your nighttime lover.

But you don't care if it's messy. You don't care if it's strange. At the end of the day, you're comforted by the fact that all these experiences you shared with him are irrevocably yours.

Even if you can't really say the same for Joshua himself.

He stirs the pot of your arousal with practiced ease. Joshua stares at you like you're the most precious thing he's laid eyes on before letting one of your legs fall back on the mattress.

Your lover trades the depth of his thrusts for enough leeway to flatten his thick fingers across your throat — making you bleat with expectation as he presses down just enough to make you feel lightheaded. He hisses when he feels your velvet walls clamp tighter around his cock, further informing him that he's on the right track.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly — his gorgeous face the only thing you can see. "You'll let me do anything to you, won't you? All I gotta do is fuck you stupid and you'll take everything I give."

At this point, you're too far gone to even deny a word he says. "Mmmm... Your cock feels too good, Shua. 'M so close already. You'll finish inside me, won't you? Make both of us feel good?"

"Dumb little princess couldn't even answer my question," Joshua chuckles before making a particularly harsh thrust that jostles you further up the mattress. "Of course I'll finish inside this pretty pussy. It's all mine, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," you mewl as Joshua's fingers tighten around your throat again, making your toes curl with unadulterated glee. "My pussy's all yours, Joshua. All fucking yours."

He chuckles again, fingers climbing up to your jaw until Joshua is able to prod his thumb against your bottom lip. You respond in earnest, suckling at the digit as he rails you into the mattress. There's no longer any room for intelligible thoughts — lost in the sea of pleasure that Joshua choose to drown you in every time you come together like this.

"Close, close, close," you practically sob, thighs winding around his hips as you bring him impossibly closer to you. "Shua, I'm gonna cum. Please, I need to cum. I need you—"

"You already have me, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly yet full of intent that you're too fucked out to notice.

"You'll always have me."

That's what does you in. That's what always does you in — his sweet words, his tender gaze.

As much as the pleasure he gives with each drive of his cock into your battered cunt sends you to cloud nine, nothing makes you fall apart harder than the thought that maybe Joshua Hong is capable of loving you back.

Because how can he stare at you with so much adoration in his eyes if he doesn't actually love you at all? How can he keep meeting you like this in secret if there's no hidden agenda behind it?

But when all's said and done, you come back to your senses. Your rose-tinted gaze fades back into the darkness of Room 505.

Joshua is still beaming at you like you're the only person that matters to him on this entire earth. But you know damn well that he'd never smile at you the same way once you're out of the four corners of this room.

That's just the way things are.

As you pick off your clothes from the floor of the bedroom and the bathroom alike, Joshua stirs from where he momentarily passed out on the mattress — bleary eyes observing your every move as his brows furrow together.

"You're leaving?" he murmurs sleepily. "But it's raining outside. We should stay until it stops at least."

Hesitating for a moment, you stare at the bundle of rumpled clothes in your arms as Joshua practically tells you to go back to bed.

You know it's for the best if you don't lay back down beside him. The distance keeps you grounded — anchored to the truth that beyond these weekly trysts you share together, you and Joshua are nothing but civil colleagues at most.

He isn't your lover. He isn't even your friend.

But a stubborn part of you believes that maybe if he breaks you apart and puts you back together again, you'll be a different person. Someone who can keep up with his outgoing lifestyle. Someone he'll have no problem showing off to his friends and fellow coworkers.

But, really, when have things ever turned up daisies when it comes to you and Joshua Hong?

"Fine," you mumble, dropping your clothes in a heap next to the sushi necktie that looks more worn out now that you're seeing it up close.

You make a mental note to buy him a few more once the Christmas sales start coming around again.

"You coming to cuddle before we sleep or what?"

Joshua stares at you sleepily and expectantly from the bed, even patting the vacant space between him for added effect. If only those girls swooning at him in the office pantry could see him now...

Too bad what happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505.

⟢ end notes: finished this at 3:05 am with zero proofreading dedicated to it <3 if you spot any mistakes, they're not really mistakes since they're all crucial contenders in the creation process <333

#svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #joshua smut #joshua fanfic #seventeen joshua #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons #joshua hong smut #full length fic 📚#lovelyhan

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brehaaorgana · 1 year ago

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ADHD money/budgeting system I'm currently using for my benefit is going well (I've been using it for like half a year now?), and I wanna recommend it.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT. 10/10 do recommend. Uhhh rambling about it and my generic disclaimers + gushing extensively under the cut but TL;DR I think it's great for ADHD ppl, I've used it for 6+ months now and I find it super SUPER helpful. also weirdly fun.

DISCLAIMERS:

Budgeting helps you understand/know your money, it can't make money appear where there is none.

Everyone should learn to budget even if you don't have much money (especially then)

This is NOT a magic trick solution. Just like everything else, it is an assistive tool. This is one of those adult things we can't simply opt out of without negative consequences, though.

My advice is based on something I am currently able to do. That is, I can spend an amount of money on this specific thing that works well for me. If you have no extra money to spend then previously I was tracking things in a notebook. So you can still do this.

I believe Dave Ramsey is a fundie fraud/hack and no one should listen to him about money.

DID YOU KNOW THEY CANCELLED MINT???

Okay? OKAY.

Ahem.

You Need a Budget is EXCELLENT.

It is called YNAB for short. The first 34 days are your free trial, and that is my referral link. If anyone uses it and then signs up for a subscription, we both get a month free. Also you can share a subscription with up to six people (account owner can see everything but individuals can pick and choose what they share amongst each other) so like...idk your whole polycule can be on one account. Or your kids. Whatever.

If you are a student, it's free for a year. If you aren't, a subscription is $99 for a year (paid all at once) or $14.99 monthly, which is equivalent to paying Amazon prime. Go cancel Prime and get this instead tbh.

They got a whole article just on ynab and ADHD. They also have like...a big variety of ways to access their info? They have a book, podcast episodes, YouTube videos, blog posts, q&A's, free live workshops you can join (you can request live captioning), emails they can send (if you want) a wiki, and so on. They got workshops on all kinds of topics!!

So whatever ends up working for your brain. It also has a matching app.

If you lost Mint this year they have a gajillion things for moving from Mint.

Also they have a "got five minutes?" Page which has a slider so you can decide how much attention/time you have before going on lol:

They only have 4 rules of the budget, they're simple and practical, and it doesn't get judgey or like...mean about your spending.

1. Give every dollar a job 2. Embrace your true expenses 3. Roll with the punches 4. Age your money.

THEN THEY BREAK THESE DOWN INTO SMALL STEPS FOR YOU! They even have a printable! Also these rules are great because there's built in expectations that things WILL HAPPEN and it's NOT all or nothing with a fear of total collapse into failure. Reality and The Plan don't always align, especially if you have ADHD. So it's directing our energy towards the true expenses and not clinging to The Plan!! over reality.

You can automate a lot of shit (you can sync with your bank accounts just like mint, but also automate tagging the categories of regular expenses/transactions). And if for whatever reason you accidentally do something that makes the budget look weird or wrong:

A) you can usually fix it somehow OR b) they have like, a button you can press that gives you a clean slate and archives the previous version of the budget for you.

So if you forget for a few weeks or months, or accidentally input something wildly wrong, or just don't want to look at a really terrible month anymore and feel like you need a fresh start you can usually either fix it or start fresh which is really nice.

The app also (for whatever reason) scratches my itch to have things like...have incentives or little game-like goals in a way mint never did? I don't know why. Filling up the bars or putting money into the categories to cover my expenses is satisfying lmao. You can also make a big wish expense category for all the fun shit you want, and fund it whenever you can and then you can see the little bar go up and that's fun.

Anyways I've been using it for like 6+ months now and I think it's really helped me when I use it.

#adhd #adhd money #adult adhd #ynab #adhd blogging

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the-kr8tor · 1 year ago

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You stay the night at Hobie's for the first time

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: You sleepover at Hobie's houseboat.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, FLUFF, smut implied.

My Masterlist

Inspired by this post

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Obsessing over the pimple on your forehead, you try to pop it in between your forefinger and thumb.

"Ughh" you grimace while staring at your reflection on Hobie's grimey mirror.

You glimpse at your form, you're wearing one of Hobie's numerous band shirts, after you accidentally spilled mouthwash on your pajama shirt, you asked to borrow one. You're giddy that you smell like him.

He joked that you spilled mouthwash on it on purpose just to wear his shirt.

"Stop it, you're gonna make it worse" Hobie says as he watches the disaster in front of him. He's lounging on his bed, arms tucked under his head. His dark jumper rides up a bit showing his toned stomach. His legs are properly tucked under the patchwork comforter.

"But it's bothering meee" you kick your legs like your throwing a tantrum.

"It doesn't even look that bad," Hobie pats the open space beside him "come to bed, lovey"

"Says the man who has clear skin even though you wash your face with the same soap you use on your body" You turn to face him, ignoring his exposed skin.

You've never seen him this relaxed before. He's a pretty laid back guy already, but this? His half-lidded eyes looking at you, paired with him in his comfortable non-spiky clothes– maybe you should come to bed.

"It's genetics, all natural, baby"

"It's actually au naturel" you cross your arms on your chest, hiding your uneven breathing.

"No, it's not"

"Yes, it is" you step forward.

"Nuh uh"

"Yea uh"

You stare at each other for a second.

"...C'mere" Hobie concedes defeat or else you would be at it all night. He takes his left arm from under him to reach towards you.

"Fine" you head towards the bed, your sea legs swaying when a small wave hits the houseboat. You crawl under the covers.

"Why are you so far, get over 'ere" he grabs the cover under you to drag you towards him, closing the already small distance. He's been waiting for this the entire day. He feels elated, he couldn't wait to finally cuddle with you,

You hoped he didn't notice the small distance you made, but alas he's a perceptive one who doesn't like admitting he likes cuddles. Truth be told, you're actually nervous spending the night with him for the first time, you're not expecting for something to happen tonight, but if something did happen you're prepared for it, kind of, sorta, maybe?

Not to mention, the houseboat is a little intimidating, like what if you get sea sick and puke all over his carpet, well you're floating on a river, but nonetheless the rocking motion could still give you motion sickness. Or what if you kick him off the bed while asleep, or you sleep walk and you fall overboard. Or what if–

Hobie pinches your nose, keeping his fingers around it. "Oi, where did you go?"

"Nuhn of yhor bhismes" you swat at his hand.

"Your eyes went glossy for a second, thought I lost you"

"I was actually thinking about your houseboat"

"And here I thought you were thinking 'bout me" he holds his arm out behind you, unsure if you're okay with the action.

Noticing his uncertainty, you swallow your shyness, you lean against his arm placing your head softly on his shoulder. Any doubt from Hobie is quickly washed away by your reaction. He pushes you closer to his warmth with the hand around your shoulder.

"What about the houseboat?" He stares at you while you play with a loose thread on his jumper.

"Like.. how'd you get it?" You absentmindedly twirl the thread around your fingers.

"Bought it off a bloke"

"That's it? No crazy or wacky story behind it?" You stare up at him suspiciously.

"Yes, there's no wacky story behind it" he mocks your word choice by copying your voice. "I needed a place, my friend's cousin's friend sold it at a cheap price. That's it, nothing madcap 'bout it"

"Hmm, Do you even know how to drive, wait no sail? Is it called sailing when it doesn't have sails? Nevermind you get what I'm talking about, do you know how to do that?" You ramble, he finds it adorable.

"Yes, how do you think I brought it here from Amsterdam?" He's now curious whether it's sail or drive.

You gasp, sitting up "See! There IS a wacky story behind it" you poke his chest playfully.

Hobie grabs your finger to stop you "There IS nothing wacky about it. Well-" he remembers something, you perk up "we had to dodge the coast guard, but that's about it"

"THE COAST GUARD?!" A huge grin blooming on your face.

"All right calm your beans" Hobie pushes your head back down lightly.

"How long did it take you to get back?" You snuggle closer to him.

"It would've just taken us 6-7 hours, but we had to hide from the coast guard so it took us about 10 hours"

"Who were you with?" You fight a yawn.

"Why? You jealous?" Hobie shakes you lightly, he wants to talk to you more.

"Why would I be jealous of your friend's cousin's friend?" You rub one of his unruly eyebrows, shaping the strands back into place.

Hobie chuckles. He wants to stay like this with you, sleep be damned.

"What do you want for breakfast?" A yawn escaping you. You situate yourself on his chest.

"You gonna cook for me?" Hobie holds on to you tighter.

"Hmm, if you're nice to me in the morning, yeah"

"What do you mean? I'm always nice to you"

"You say that as you're staring at my pimple" you start to close your eyes.

"Well, gorgeous, I'm not staring directly at it, I'm looking at you, you wear my shirt really well"

"Well, handsome," you tease him back "anything looks better when I wear it" you feel sleep taking you.

"You're right," Hobie whispers against your hair "I like my eggs sunny side up by the way"

"Hmm" a soft smile on your face.

Since you're wearing socks, with a sly smirk on Hobie's face, he slowly lifts up the leg hem of your pajama pants with his cold foot, once there's enough space, he quickly lays his ice cold foot on your leg.

"Ack! What- Hobie!" You shoot up from your position.

Hobie laughs loudly, you feel the houseboat shake lightly.

You playfully slap his chest.

"You!" Slap "Menace!" Slap

In one swift movement, he grabs your slapping hand, then he flips himself over you, his legs on your sides, caging you in.

You gasp at the weight above you, a wide smile blooming on your face.

"Hobie! You're too heavy!" Drowsiness is now completely gone.

He half kneels on your sides so he doesn't completely crush you.

"You're not allowed to sleep" Hobie leans slightly towards you, you can see his playful smirk illuminated by the moonlight.

"What do you mean I'm not allowed?! You invited me to a SLEEPOVER, you dork!" You gasp out as he's a few inches away from your face.

"Lemme guess you're the kind of person who falls asleep first in a sleepover? you're the dork here, sweets" he leans closer his lips ghosting over yours.

You close your eyes in anticipation. Instead of a kiss, you feel Hobie blow raspberries on your jaw.

"Ack! HAHAHAHAHAHA" your legs kicking up trying to stop him from tickling you.

Hobie pulls back breathlessly.

"Oh you're ticklish? Got it" he smirks devilishly. "Wonder where else you're ticklish?" Hobie tilts his head.

"No! Don't you dare, Hobart!" Your eyes widen when he winds up his arms to tickle your stomach, despite the threat you can't help but grin.

"Oh using my government name now, huh" Hobie tickles your sides relentlessly, your laughs echoing throughout the space.

"Okay! Okay! I'll stay up!" You say in between laughs.

He finally stops his attack, letting you breathe.

"Yeah?" He takes his tickling stance again.

"Yes" you giggle "please stop or I might piss my pants"

"Ooh kinky" he squeezes your cheeks together as you glare at him.

"Can you please kiss me already so we can properly cuddle like you wanted" you say with your squished lips.

Hobie chuckles "saw right through me, huh" he leans down finally giving your most awaited kiss.

He eases up from squishing your cheeks so you could kiss him back properly, you hold on to the back of his neck, grounding you.

Hobie pulls away, he stares at your wide eyes lovingly. You lift yourself up using his neck as leverage, quickly peppering his face with kisses, until he laughs with every peck.

You pull back, taking in his lovesick stricken face, his smile lopsided, eyes basically shaped like hearts. You're sure you mirror his expression.

"I should invite you more often" he lays back down next to you, arm wrapped around your torso, half of his body staying on top of you, his legs splayed over yours. Hobie relaxes immediately.

You crane your neck "yeah you should. I really love your home, babe" you rub his arm soothingly.

"Really? You're not sea sick?"

"I gotta be honest with you, I took a kwells tablet beforehand," you laugh.

"That's pretty smart" Hobie fights a yawn "you're really smart, love" he rubs the side of your neck.

"You're only saying that so I'll make you breakfast" you whisper, once you notice his eyes slowly close.

"No, you're really smart, and lovely, and a bloody good cook" he parks his head on the crook of your neck with a sigh.

You chuckle softly, pulling the covers up to his chin, you lay your head just above his.

You both fall asleep listening to each other's steady breathing with the houseboat rocking you both rhythmically.

A/n: I'm sorry that my last fic made y'all cry lmao, here's some fluff. As always thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*picture above is from pinterest*

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #reblog reply #hobie brown #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider punk x gn! reader #fluff #established relationship #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #fanfic #atsv x reader

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mimimui · 1 year ago

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hellooo i saw your 'genshin men asking for a kiss' and i loved it sm your writing is amazing <333

can i request relationship headcanons for the genshin men. specifically alhaitham but idm who else you add

stay cool and have a good day/night :)

genshin boys as your boyfriend

includes: alhaitham, scaramouche, kazuha, diluc, kaeya, childe, xiao

tags: established relationship, endearments, fluff, not proofread, non-mortal/adeptus reader in xiao's

a/n: thank you so much ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡ aaaah i am back after being mia..! the writers block is beating me up so hard rn + its 3am :') i wrote each part in different time frames so the writing might seem inconsistent aghuahgu i hope its still ok :( anyways, as always .. enjoy !

ALHAITHAM

he asked you to be his s/o while you were playing tcg together. you were in the middle of your turn when he asked you, and it'd be an understatement to say you were shocked.

(y/n): i'll use this support ca- alhaitham: will you be my s/o? (y/n): what? (shocked) alhaitham: what? (questioning)

while alhaitham is a bit aloof, he does loves teasing you. he would hide your things and help you look for the lost item like he doesn't know where it is.

when you're eating outside, he would step on your feet under the table. you can confront him about it all you want, but he will keep acting innocent.

if he's standing behind you, be wary because he might just throw his coat over your head as a joke, and then act like he did nothing.

alhaitham: do you want help putting on my coat? (y/n): seriously, haitham? alhaitham: yes? i'm seriously asking if you want my help.

when it comes to cooking, he'd leave you to do it. alhaitham would rather look forward to a meal you cook rather than a meal he helped make.

dinners are usually quiet, but if you want to tell him about the person that skipped in front of you in line today, then he's all ears.

the first time he told you he loved you, you were giving him a gift. you were smiling so brightly when giving it to him that he didn't know whether to be thankful for the gift or for you.

or at least you think that was the first time he said he loved you.

it was actually when you were asleep the first time you slept over. a very meaningful "i love you" was whispered softly in your ear.

SCARAMOUCHE

he brought you somewhere with a nice view. he grabbed your hand without warning, and when you asked him where he was taking you, he said, "no need to be nervous, just want you to see something."

(y/n): thank you for bringing me here, scara. scaramouche: you're my s/o, there is no need to thank me. (y/n): i'm your s/o...? scaramouche: are you not informed about that or what?

it turns out that scaramouche planned to ask you a long time ago, and from the amount of times he's rehearsed in his head, his mind convinced him that he already asked you.

you laughed at him when you witnessed the moment he realized he forgot to actually ask you. he huffed at your reaction.

he acts annoyed whenever you ask to try on his hat, but his actions contradict his words as he places it on your head.

scaramouche: there are a lot of places where you can get hats, i don't even know (places hat on your head) why you want mine. (y/n): :D scaramouche: if it falls, i'll laugh at you. (y/n): >:(

scaramouche would make you food if you ask him to. he's glad to do it, but he wouldn't want you to thank him. he thinks thanking him for things he's happy to do is a waste of effort.

it's somewhat his unspoken rule to never leave you alone at the table. even if he doesn't join you for the meal, he'd sit down just to accompany you while you eat.

he denied it when you heard him tell you he loved you. the three words escaped his lips when you were busy picking fruits together. or, rather, you were the one picking fruits while he holds them.

you asked him to repeat what he said, but he was quick to reply with "it'd be a waste of effort to repeat what i said."

but he knows. and you know. you both know he loves you.

KAZUHA

while he was out on sea, he wrote you a letter asking you to be his. along with all the other letters he wrote you, he made sure this was was sent out especially.

(y/n): welcome back, kazuha! about your letter... kazuha: yes, what about it? (y/n): my answer is yes. kazuha: i'm glad. thank you, (y/n).

he loves taking you out on adventures. even when he doesn't have a certain goal in mind for the day, kazuha will always find an excuse to bring you along with him.

you will always find him surrounding himself in nature. thanks to his extraordinary sense of hearing, he enjoys being outside even more. the world has a lot to offer.

one day, you ask him what his favorite sound of nature is. immediately, without fail, his reply is 'your voice', which you're flustered by.

(y/n): that doesn't even make any sense... i asked about your favorite sound of nature. kazuha: the world is full of nature, correct? (y/n): your point being? kazuha: you're my favorite sound of nature because you are my world, (y/n).

you both take turns cooking, always excited to try each other's new recipes. it's become sort of a competition of who can suprise the other one more.

his reaction is the cutest when you compliment his dish. if you're happily chewing the food he fed you, watch out because his hands will pinch your cheeks.

you two were hanging out one night, and you asked him to create a poem for you on the spot. he liked the idea, and immediately got to it.

without any hesitation, without thinking twice about it, he ended his poem with a very sweet "i love you."

when you stayed silent afterwards, kazuha got nervous. but his nervous expression soon washed away when you wrapped your arms around him, complimenting his impromptu-poem-writing abilities.

DILUC

he was closing up the tavern for the day, and you two were the only one there after work hours. he decided to take his chances and ask you right then and there.

diluc: can you pass me the wash cloth? (y/n): sure! diluc: can you fix the chairs? (y/n): sure! diluc: can you be mine? (y/n): sur- wait.

he's never said it outloud, but diluc actually enjoys having senseless conversations with you. just last night you told him he reminded you of an owl, which he found amusing, and he asked you to explain why.

whenever diluc takes shifts at the tavern, you'd be somewhere around helping clean tables or wash dishes. he has enough staff at angel's share, but he appreciates your assistance nonetheless.

if you know how to play chess, he would regularly ask you to play against him. he thinks it's a great game to play while also being able to converse with others. he loves talking to you.

(y/n): the main character realized—check—his feelings too late, and lost the love of his life to someone else. it's sad. diluc: what happened—oh, good move—to the main character after that? (y/n): he was never able to express his true feelings to her. he should've taken the chance. diluc: hm.. i agree. he was too coward when he had the opportunity. and checkmate, by the way. (y/n): wh- hey! i didn't see that move! diluc: better luck next time, my dear.

when you offer to cook dinner for him instead of the maids, diluc doesn't try to hide his smile. you've prohibited him from entering the kitchen, wanting to cook something for him all by yourself.

he will always stand by the archway and watch you cook. you go over to him occasionally, asking him to taste some parts of the meal you're making. these are some of his favorite moments with you.

it was when you were eating dinner that he first told you he loved you. you had just finished cooking a meal, and you were sharing details from your day with each other while eating.

halfway through the meal, he says, "i've been wanting to tell you something all day. may i?"

as you nod your head, he tells you he loves you. or, rather, he tells you he's in love with you. but what's the difference? diluc is all yours.

KAEYA

you brought klee back to the knights of favonius' headquarters after playing with her outside all day. albedo and jean thanked you, but kaeya wanted to express more than just gratitude.

kaeya: klee always returns happy whenever you're the one bringing her back. (y/n): she's precious. i'd do anything to keep her smiling. kaeya: likewise. but i also want to keep you smiling, sweetheart. (y/n): what do you mean? kaeya: be mine, (y/n), and i promise i'll always make you happy.

you, klee, and kaeya are always seen running around mondstadt. not only in the city, but also around the mountains. you'd all go find a big, empty space for klee to blow up.

rest assured he will always invite you for a drink, even if it's the morning. you've rejected about 90% of his offers, but he will always, always, make sure to invite you.

he is one call away when it comes to you. you have something urgent and needs his help? he's on it. you simply just miss him? he misses you too, he's on his way to see you.

(y/n): kaeya, aren't you supposed to be working right now? what would acting grandmaster jean say? kaeya: i missed you. that should be enough reason. (y/n): kaeya. kaeya: what? just wanted to see your face, sweetheart. i- ow! okay, okay, i'll go back now!

kaeya really enjoys when you cook for him. of course, he'll step in to help you, but the thought of you making him his favorite food is so heartwarming.

he insists on feeding you, even embarrassing you sometimes by pretending the spoon is a crystalfly and your mouth the cave it's about to fly into.

he first told you he loved you immediately after you agreed to be his. after you said 'yes' to his confession, he was quick to tell you those three words, and your heart fluttered at his boldness.

he will never forget to tell you he loves you. when he greets you good morning, when you drop by to pick up klee, when you come back to drop off klee, and so many more instances.

there was never a moment you doubted his love for you. he constantly reminds you of it, and kaeya will never let you forget it. he loves you. so much.

CHILDE

he had it all planned out when he asked you to be his s/o. he made restaurant reservations at your favorite place, and even made sure it was on a day where not much people visited.

childe: (y/n), will you be mine? (y/n): are you serious? yes! childe: you are the only one i've ever been serious about. (y/n): you're so corny.

whenever he gets back from missions, he always makes sure to bring you back a little gift or a souvernir. one time, he brought you back a ruin hunter eye because "you're the light of my life" he says. it didn't make any sense.

the first time he brought you to snezhnaya, he wrapped you in so many layers that you were better off rolling on the ground than walking.

he absolutely loves it when you play with his siblings. when he comes home tired, he'll immediately be energized if he sees you and his siblings spending time together.

(y/n): ajax, join us! we could use another person to play tag. childe: do i get a kiss if i win? (y/n): ...i was just kidding, you don't have to play with us anymore. childe: hey! okay, okay, i'll join. no kiss needed, i swear!

cooking is one of his favorite activities to do with you. doing something so loving and domestic as cooking with someone he loves is heartwarming.

no matter how much you try to keep yourself clean, childe will find a way to get you messy. he says you can't blame him if you can never catch him wiping his hands on your shirt.

he wasn't the first one to tell you he loved you. his siblings did it for him, actually. well, who was going to stop them? childe was asleep, and you weren't.

he brought you all on a camping trip outside snezhnaya, and he promptly passed out first after story-telling time. as you were cleaning up the campfire, his siblings all walked over to you.

"(y/n), our big brother loves you very much."

it was very random, but very sweet. you smiled at them as you gave them a hug each, asking them why they were suddenly telling you this.

"if you leave him, you leave us, and we don't want you to leave. he loves you a lot, we swear!"

XIAO

being uninterested in relationships, neither of you ever asked each other. but you've been together for as long as you could remember, and your memory goes back for centuries.

(centuries ago) (y/n): xiao, can you promise not to leave me by myself? xiao: that's a hard promise to keep. (y/n): but you'll try? xiao: ...yes.

xiao has never been the type to express much of what he was feeling—if he felt anything at all. unlike you, he has never bothered to fully understand mortals.

you thrive around the people of liyue harbor, and xiao will always find you casually strolling around or stopping to pet a cat you found on the sidewalk.

when xiao rests at wangshu inn, you find yourself accompanying him, staying with him on the highest balcony. this is the only time you accompany him though, as he has his duties to eliminate evil.

(y/n): need any help? xiao: you always ask, and i always say no. (y/n): well, you might need me one day. xiao: we've been together for centuries. you know i'm capable enough. (y/n): i know. you always have been. xiao: rest easy, (y/n). i'll be here. (y/n): good night, xiao.

food has never really been a problem for either of you, but if you want to treat yourself to a mortal meal, xiao will come along with you. with enough convincing, of course.

you eat at wangshu inn, and chef yanxiao prepares your meals. eating with xiao is quiet, but if you were to start a conversation, he will always reply.

he's never told you that he loves you, at least not directly. his actions will speak for him—one of them being always ridding the path you're taking of monsters.

whenever xiao has to leave you at the inn, he will never fail to tell you to "rest easy" before he leaves. he has sworn to himself to protect you, and eliminate all evil that might affect you.

his duty is to protect liyue, but it wouldn't hurt to make you his duty as well, right?

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

#genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #xiao x reader

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wandasgf · 1 year ago

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PRETTY WHEN YOU CRY. mdni. 19+.

pairings ; dark ! wanda maximoff + bunny hybrid ! f ! reader

summary ; wanda just loves to play games with her little bunnygirl, especially when she gets a prize at the end.

warnings ; mommy kink, dom!top!wanda, sub!bottom!reader, reader has long hair, pet names (baby, sweetheart, bunny, etc.), cnc (just in case), slight like so very minor violence, predator/prey dynamics, outdoor sex, hair pulling

wc ; 1.8k

Your heart pounds as you make your way through the cold winter forest that surrounds Westview, looking behind you every once in a while to make sure Wanda hasn't caught up with you. You were freezing, your thin layers and short skirt providing no warmth in the frigid cold of your current environment. You had tripped a few times already, your knees and palms a little bloody, so you're sure to make sure your glances behind are fleeting, enough to miss small details if you weren't looking for them specifically.

You stop to catch your breath near a small fire when you're sure it's safe. It is a little strange that this fire was here in the middle of nowhere, but you're not thinking too hard about it, just grateful that it's there. Your ears perk up when you hear a branch snap in the distance and your head whips around just in time to catch a flash of red hair moving through the trees. It takes about half a second for you to start off in a full sprint and you hear Wanda laughing behind you.

"You can run but you can't hide, Зайчик. No one can hear you scream all the way out here." And if they do hear, they won't dare come interfere, but Wanda doesn't add that part. She's quick to follow after you, heart racing, but for the opposite reason that yours is; she's excited. She's been waiting for this practically all week. She loved your little games, especially when you were the prize. She's been chasing after you for the better part of an hour by now, letting you think you've gotten away just to sneak up on you when you're catching your breath.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." She sings, grabbing onto a tree branch and snapping it off, knowing your ears would easily pick up the noise. Her pretty little bunny... out here all alone, scared, tired and running. Just the thought of her catching you makes her dizzy with want. She hears a small thud and she grins, knowing she's got you now.

You'd tripped over a rock, not watching where you were going when you'd heard the branch snap, too busy trying to get away. You got up quickly, but not quick enough because she's gaining on you, so so quickly and you're too tired to run any faster. You know you've lost when you hear her steps slowing down, into a light jog, before they pick up again and then...

Oh no.

You feel yourself being pushed forward for just a split second until you're pulled backwards by your hair. Your back collides with Wanda’s front and she's quick to lock you in place by sliding a hand over your stomach and gripping your throat with the other. She leans down so her mouth is right next to your ear, "Tag, you're it." Wanda whispers, sadistic grin taking over her features, her warm breath makes you shiver and you tense in her hold. "You didn't really think you were going to get away, did you?" Her tone is condescending and cruel as her hand that was previously on your stomach starts to wander up towards your chest.

"It’s no fair, Mommy. I tripped..." You pout, turning your head and looking up at your girlfriend. "Mm, you did. And you still lost, silly girl." Wanda loosens her grip on your throat to use her thumb and index finger to tilt your head up, capturing your lips in a rough kiss. It lasts a second before she pulls away, "And since you lost..." She starts, pushing you down into the cold snow. You land with a whimper, barely having enough time to put your hands out and stop yourself from getting a face full of snow.

Wanda towers over you, dropping to her knees and caging you between her thighs. "...Isn't it about time I get my prize?"

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you wish your girlfriend had chosen somewhere else for this game to take place. The bitter cold is making you shake under her, and you know she's done this on purpose, she even picked out your outfit for today. There's just something about seeing you so helpless that has her heart trying to tear through her chest. It's a harsh tug of your hair that pulls you back to reality, your back arching to try and relieve some of the strain on your long locks. You kick up one of your legs in retaliation, your heel colliding with the back of Wanda’s thigh. “Mommy, I’m cold!" you whine, "can't you get your prize at home?" She has the audacity to laugh at you, only pulling back farther on your hair, "Of course not, little bunny. I want my prize now, and I'm going to get it now."

She flips your skirt up with her free hand, palming your ass and digging her rather sharp nails into the plush skin. You think she may have sharpened them somehow before starting this game. "Now be a good girl and hold still for me." She lets go of your hair and you're quick enough in your reaction that you don't let yourself get a face full of snow, dropping your head down onto your arms. Wanda grips your hips and pulls you up so you're on your knees before speaking, "If you're lucky I'll let you make me cum later." Your ears perk up at that and she laughs, "Awww, is my little bunny that eager to please Mommy?” her tone is mocking, but you know she's pleased. "So desperate for me you're gonna let Mommy fuck you out here in the open, hm?" She pulls your panties to the side and you shiver as you feel her sharp nails as they drag against your slick folds.

"M–Mommy, you're gonna… make those go away, right?” Your ears flatten against your head as you imagine how much it would hurt for her to finger you with nails so sharp. "Of course, Зайчик. How mean do you think I am?" She waves her fingers and her nails go back to how they were before on that hand, but she leaves the others sharp as knives. "It's insulting, really..." She punctuates by pulling you up by your hair, your back flush against her front and you gasp softly, "that you think I’d hurt you like that." She trails her other hand down your thigh, across, and then up before flicking her index finger at just the right angle, slicing your soft skin with a nail and you gasp. "Silly girl." She brings her hand up and licks the blood from her finger.

She brings a hand up to grip your throat, keeping you flush against her while the other one moves to grope your breasts. "Please, Mommy." You whine impatiently, bringing your hand up to grab her wrist and try to tug her hand downwards. "Patience, bunny." She coos, tightening her grip on your throat, but she allows you to tug her hand down. " 'mph, please." You whimper, letting your head fall back against your girlfriend's chest. She chuckles, taking the hem of your skirt and bringing it up to tuck it into the waistband. "Alright, alright, if you insist." She leans her head down to press a kiss to your forehead and it's tender for just a second until she moves her hand up to pry your jaw open, forcing her middle and index finger inside.

her harsh grip is almost bruising and you whimper, trying to shake her grip but she holds you in place. "Be a good girl for me, baby." she hums, playing with your tongue. With her other hand she moves your panties to the side, too impatient to take them off, and gathers some of your slick on her fingers. "So wet for me, baby. I bet you've been waiting for this all day, hm?" She teases, circling her fingers around your clit. "Mhm, want you, please." You whine, though it comes out muffled due to the fingers in your mouth. You grab onto her wrist just in case she tries to move her hand away, she did love to tease you. But she was feeling rather nice today, and she knows it won't be long until you're whining at her to take you home because you're too cold so she decides to skip the teasing for today.

"You want me, do you, Зайчик?" She muses, moving her fingers down and teasingly circling your drooling hole. "Do you want me like this?" She asks, though it's rhetorical, as she plunges two fingers inside your cunt. You gasp out a moan around Wanda’s fingers, fighting the urge to bite down on them in case it results in punishment. She takes that as a sign to keep going as she sets a steady pace, grinding the heel of her palm against your clit. Her other hand busies itself with alternating between fucking your mouth and playing with your tongue, wanting to make you a drooling mess.

Wanda knows her way around your body quite well by now, so it's no surprise that she's turned you into a pathetic moaning mess within a matter of minutes. That and she's quite positive that your heat is coming up soon. You've given up on trying not to bite down on her fingers, but it's not an unwelcome feeling for Wanda. You're trying your hardest not to bite too hard, but you swear you can taste a bit of her blood in your mouth. It's not long before you're close to the edge, begging and pleading for Wanda to please let you cum as best you can with her fingers still in your mouth.

"You gonna cum for me, bunny?" She coos, removing her fingers from your mouth to wrap her hand around your throat, squeezing just the way she knows you like it. She speeds up her thrusts when she hears your moans get higher in pitch and she lets you grind against her palm. "Please, please, please. Mommy, I'm gonna cum." You whine, her fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "Then be a good girl and cum for Mommy, baby." She curls her fingers at just the right angle and you fall apart, nails digging into the skin on Wanda's arm as you can't help but grab onto it, needing something to hold. She lets you ride out your high before eventually slipping her fingers out of you and you whine at the loss, suddenly empty. "Open." is all she says as she brings her fingers up to your mouth, prompting you to lick them clean.

"Time to get you home, sweetheart. It's too cold out here for little bunnies like you."

#alice's fics !#wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #scarlet witch smut #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine

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bloodynectarine · 2 years ago

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Boiling point

After weeks of holding himself together and setting clear boundaries, only for them to be broken over and over again, MC snaps.

tags. male mc, post-lesson 16, belphie is his own trigger warning, angst, ptsd, mild violence, hurt and comfort.

notes. i don't want therapy, i want revenge. everyone got over belphie killing us way too quickly, and i find it frustrating. you know what would be really fun? to punch belphie. love him, but the amount of serotonin he would bring into my life if i could just… punch him once. a boy can dream.

Dying and somehow living to tell the tale was not exactly in your plans when you decided to help the demon stuck in the attic.

Sure, you knew it was dangerous and sure, you understood it was a gamble. But you never quite got that your life was at stake until you felt Belphegor's cold grip around your neck and your vision started to get fuzzy at the edges.

Oh, you thought, with startling clarity.

I'm going to die.

You may still be here, but no, you did not survive Belphegor's wrath and hurt. The sensation of phantom hands pressing down your throat never quite left you.

And Belphegor is nothing but a cruel reminder of the night you died.

First, comes the terror. Even with the pact to protect you, in the days following the event, you can't help but freeze every time Belphegor is in the same room.

As you get used to his presence around the House of Lamentation, as he insists in siting next to you during breakfast and in holding your arm on your way to class, the terror slowly subsides, opening way for a different, less familiar feeling.

Annoyance. Anger. Borderline rage.

Who does he think he is?

Who does he think we are? Best friends, family?

“Belphegor…”, you call for the demon that's already laying on top of your lap, with a tense smile hanging from your lips.

This week's movie night was held in your room. It was one of the rare occasions in which all the inhabitants of the House of Lamentation were present. Even Lucifer is here, looking comically out of place, regal and all seriousness, as if he were in the middle of a meeting and not watching a three-hour-long romance anime film.

Mammon got off from his “rightful place” (“DIBS”, the demon of greed shouted as soon as you sat down, throwing himself across your lap), to rip the remote control out of Levi's hands, who kept rewinding the same scene over and over again (“It's really important for the plot!!!”).

And in the middle of the squabble, Belphegor appeared out of nowhere to climb into your lap, and just. Cuddle.

At your call, he looks up and blinks lazily at you, with his big eyes and his messy bedhead. And the image should be endearing, really, but your chest feels cold, and you can feel your limbs locking in place. You feel trapped, uncomfortable. Ah, it's fear.

“I need. A bit of space. Could you sit somewhere else?”, you manage to let out, and your voice is the only sound in the room. Quarrel and movie long-forgotten, everyone is watching the two of you. Beel was the one who took over and put the film on pause.

Belphegor blinks the drowsiness out of his eyes. His brow furrows, just a little, and if anything, he looks put off by the question, a little lost.

“I don't want to sit anywhere else. I know Mammon was here just seconds ago, but I'm a better cuddle-partner than him anyway. You can ask anyone.”

And he doesn't move. He lays his head against your chest with a yawn.

“I don't…” want to be close to you. You stop yourself from uttering those words, mindful and considerate, truly doing your best. You don't want to lie either, so you decide to play around with the phrasing. “I'd rather you gave Mammon his place back. Or, you know what? I can change seats myself.”

Your tone is as lighthearted as you can manage, and you start to get up from the couch, with Asmo, who's sitting next to you, moving out of the way to give you the space that you need. The space you very specifically asked for.

But Belphegor's weight is heavy against you and traps you in place. Not only that, but his hand reaches for your arm and pulls, looking at you with the same bewildered expression as before, genuinely confused. When you fall against the couch, still under him, you're reminded of how strong he is. Of how weak you're in comparison.

“Oi, Belphie. No one is better at cuddles than me”, says Mammon after a too long pause. “And of course he wants to be with the great Mammon, everyone does. Now move, we still have, like, two hours left of the movie and if we don't finish it tonight, Levi is going to complain all week.”

Levi, who would normally jump into the conversation to defend himself, is barely visible, half hidden between Beel and Satan. His eyes dart between you and the hand that's holding your arm.

“Well, we are already so comfy, so I won't get up”, you wonder who “we” is. Belphegor talks lazily and moves the hand that isn't holding you in a dismissing manner, as if this was not more than a bothersome request, interrupting his nap for nothing.

Your teeth grind together, and there it is, once again. The ugly pressure that holds your gut in a tight grip, the heavy discomfort in your throat. Once foreign, but now you can tell it apart so easily. Anger.

“Belphegor. You heard him already.” This time, Lucifer is the one talking, and he sighs as he gets up, coming closer in an attempt to pry him away from you.

“Oh, please.” Belphegor rolls his eyes, clearly irked by Lucifer's intervention. “We are okay. Right?”, he looks back at you, and this time around his voice is filled with doubt, bordering hopeful, searching for something in your eyes.

“We aren't.” At last, you say it, flatly, and it comes out sharper than you intended, if the way Belphegor flinches and Asmo whimpers is any indication. You're tired, what little patience you have left is quickly running out thanks to the stubborn remarks and your words falling on deaf ears. “Let me move.”

The demon on your lap has the gall to look affronted, hurt. His bewildered expression does nothing more than increase the feeling already boiling deep within you. You can feel Satan's eyes boring in your cheek, but you refuse to look at him.

“Hey… Relax”, Belphegor mutters, now looking a little concerned too. For you. He's worried about you, and yet he still won't get up. “Are you okay? What's wrong?”

What's wrong.

What's wrong?

You're so taken aback by the question that by the time you react, his hand is already on its way to hold your cheek.

The most violent of flashbacks comes through you, a whiplash that hits you with the force of a truck. His handprints on your neck, trying to catch your breath, feeling cold all over, with the only warmth coming from your own blood ringing loudly in your ears, flowing right next to his voice, so full of hatred.

You can't freeze this time around, you need to move, you need to run, you need to do something, anythi--

“Belphie, I don't think you sh--” Satan tries to warn him, but it's too late.

By the time Belphegors fingertips touch your cheek (and this time they're warm, not dead-cold, you notice with surprise) your fist is already hitting against his nose, punching him right in the middle of his face, with a force you didn't even knew you had in you.

Not that you've ever done it before, but you can imagine this is what it feels like to hit a wall. Your hand hurts and goes numb.

The impact pushes Belphegor against the cushions, his hands flying to cover his nose. And any other day it would have been impossible, your punch would never land (he's that much faster, that much stronger), but right now he was so worried about you, so desperate to stick by you. His guard was as down as it will ever be.

His nose is bleeding, you notice, at the same time as Asmo gets up with a gasp. Levi shrieks in the background, and Mammon let's out this weird noise, a mix between one of his “Oi”, your name, and a scream.

Everything stands still, and, to your credit, you're just a shocked as everyone else.

With the punch, all anger has left your body, and now you're just a bunch of nerves, looking at Belphegor with big eyes. Belphegor looks back at you, so shocked, and you suddenly feel like crying. Oh, how much you hate being an angry-crier.

Satan is the one that breaks the silence, with a heavy sigh. “Told you so.”

Beel comes next, taking two steps in your direction but stopping when you raise your palm. You're trembling, but you come close to Belphegor all the same, refusing to back down.

“Asshole.” It's the first thing you say, and defying the impossible, Belphegor's eyes grow even wider as you tower over him, kneeling on the couch.

“Are you deaf? Wasn't I clear enough? Loud enough?”, and when you raise your fist in the air, Lucifer approaches, but all you do is gently punch Belphegor's chest. Again and again. “I told you to move. Several times. And still, you didn't. I was… I was dying of fear, and you weren't moving.”

“You, inconsiderate shit.” Punch. “You, deaf moron.” Punch.

“You… Stubborn cow.”

Belphegor has let the blood simply flow across his face, and now he's kneeling in front of you, holding his own hands, the same surprised look on his face.

And that's that.

You let your arms fall with a groan and simply sigh. For Diavolo, violence really isn't for you, you are so tired.

“S-Should we separate them?” Levi asks in a trembling voice, frantically waving his hands, unable to decide whether to approach or flee.

“No. He has more to say.” Satan gently holds Levi's wrists, and waits.

That's when you realize that yes, you got more to say. In fact, you've had something to say for way too long, and now you're dying to get it off your chest.

“I gave you my trust, and I knew I was being childish and reckless in doing so, but all I wanted was to help. I cried for you, I felt for you, and I did everything I could to be by your side even though all I had to offer was just. Just me. Mortal, human. And in response, you killed me.” Belphegor recoils at your words, but you go on.

“It hurt. It still hurts, even now. Sometimes I see you and all I can think about is your betrayal.”

Belphegor looks down, biting his lips, in silence. You can see his hands shaking, and you remember your talk under the stars, his eagerness when he offered you a pact. When he gave you the control you needed. His hands were shaking back then, too.

With a groan, you reach out to hold his chin, lifting his face. You take the long sleeve of your pajamas and begin to wipe the blood running down his chin, across his lips. Slowly, with care.

Your fingers run through his hair just to be able to look directly into his eyes. He looks anxious, fearful, and you know that your next words have the power to break or mend his heart.

So you decide to, once more, open yours and leave the rest in his hands.

“I don't hate you. And this isn't me cutting our ties. I understand your pain, I really do. Please, understand mine.”

Your thumb caresses over his forehead. Carefully, gently.

“I need time. I'll let you know when I'm ready.”

Belphegor inhales and exhales deeply, holding your gaze. Slowly, but surely, he takes your hand between his, from his forehead to his lips, leaving the lightest of kisses against your palm. You feel the pact mark that binds you together tremble and sing.

“I'm sorry. For the pain, for my insistence, I just… Wanted to be close. I need to be close. I'll wait for you.”

Straightforward as ever. But you are struck by the sincerity in his voice, in his eyes, and this time around it takes you no more than a second to nod.

“Right. Be good and wait for me.”

Unable to resist, you pat his head, just as you would to a small, rebellious child. He's the baby of the family, after all. He groans, and you laugh, feeling so much lighter. And unbelievably tired.

By the time you remember that you're not alone in the room and turn around to placate the others, you make eye contact with Satan.

He's looking prouder than ever, the little smile on his lips telling enough. “Go on”

The brothers needed no further prompting to launch themselves at the two of you, a jumble of limbs and shrill voices.

“MC, that was, as usual, reckless. From now on, fist fights are forbidden in and out of the house. Evade further conflicts.”

“B-But wasn't MC so cool?!?! Belphie is so much stronger, but he was down with one punch! W-way too op, MC!!”

“Oi! Human, how dumb can ya be?! Tell me before you go around punchin' demons, I can punch them for ya!”

“I knew you were good at controlling your anger, but I never imagined that much. You are full of surprises.”

“Belphie, gosh, your clinginess finally got you in trouble, mh? Your surprised face was so cute! Do you need concealer?”

“Belphie, does it hurt? Do you need ice? We have popsicles in the freezer… Wait, I ate them all yesterday, sorry Belphie… Do you want me to go and buy more? MC, which flavor would you like?”

“We are good, Beel.” Belphegor answers, still looking at you. “Right?”

You laugh at his not-so-subtle search for assurance, and your chest feels astonishingly full. “We will be, for sure.”

Movie night turns right into a sleepover after that, as every single one of the demon brothers refuses to leave your room. Lucifer might roll his eyes, but he still settles on your couch, right next to Satan.

And for the first time in weeks, you're able to close your eyes and rest, feeling safe and at home.

ao3 ― writing tag

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galacticncrazy · 3 months ago

Text

Loid Forger and Weakness (Analysis)

I was watching gameplay footage of What Remains of Edith Finch and towards the ending I thought about the idea of memories, and one thing led to another and I thought of Spy x Family, specifically Loid. It made me wonder if he ever did confront his past and what exactly weakness means to him.

(These thoughts may not be organized since it happened so late at night but bear with me.)

Initial Thoughts

I always thought about being taught that the idea of, "you have to be strong" which often goes hand in hand with this idea of "you can't show emotions". I feel like Loid constantly tells himself he can't be weak, buy what does that mean if his idea of being strong is to not show any emotion?

Memories

I don't believe it being so long ago is the reason he doesn't remember his parents faces, I want to believe he purposefully forgot what they looked like, and this probably applies to his actual name too. His home was destroyed, any and all photos of his family were lost in the debris, he burned his identification papers so there's also no record of him ever having existed. He said it himself that there is no one left who knows his name.

I should also mention how he remembers the faces of his friends and croquette lady. Loid remembering his friends faces are a given since he believed they had died during the first bombing but he later reunited with them when he was a teenager, only to lose them during a botched military operation, leaving nothing behind but dog tags.

While it may be random to include the croquette lady I feel that remembering her face is still significant given that she was the last person he spoke to before the bombs dropped, as well as being the first casualty he saw.

Memories (continued)

It may not mean anything but find it interesting that his name is hidden like this, maybe I'm thinking it about it too much but it's almost as if it were blocked out, much like how classified files have certain sentences edited out because of their sensitive nature. If he had forgotten his name it liked would've been blurred but instead it's redacted, this paired with not remembering his parents faces, it's almost as if he made himself forget, but why?

Weakness

I think his parents faces specifically his mother and his actual name are all that connects him to who was before, he likely still remembered up until he joined WISE where he was possibly taught to let go of the past, not because they didn't care about what happened to him but because it likely would've had an impact on his work, and he passed on that same mentality to Fiona, about spies not showing emotion, to stay alert and not be ignorant, because to him those two things are what make someone weak.

I find it interesting to believe that Twilight wasn't always this way but rather he adapted his own experiences and the mindset he was taught into him and realized that his emotions and overall ignorance is what led him to participate in a war, without even knowing why. The reason he did so was because of those weaknesses and that he needed to discard them. So it's no surprise that during his fight with Wheeler, but mostly Yuri, that he came to terms with the fact he's getting weak, because instead of doing what he would normally do if it was anyone else, he instead chose to spare him. If he was the Twilight that he was prior to Strix then he absolutely would've killed Yuri because he wouldn't have any reason not to, but he does, and in doing so that decision to spare him almost cost him his life.

"You're getting weak"

It all comes to a head when he recalls the event, he acknowledges that Wheeler is for lack of a better word, perfect. Someone that he himself used to be but somewhere along the away something changed. Twilight acknowledged that he was getting weak and the source of that weakness, was his small but still very present feelings for Yor, if those feelings weren't there and if Yor was just another person to use for the sake of the mission, then he wouldn't have spared Yuri but he did, for her sake.

While he may have been thinking about doubting himself while thinking about the encounter with Yuri I believe the panel still holds some weight, Loid knows he's starting to slip up and this time was too close of a call, he knows he's experiencing.

It may have happened long ago but it still relevant to how Loid is as a character thus far, that being Fiona's observation that his smile had a shred of genuineness to it when she visited, that bit of emotion being a result of spending time with his family, and learning to form connections again so it's only a matter of time before he actually expresses his own emotions directly in some capacity.

Closing Thoughts

This entire post came as a result of What Remains of Edith Finch, which I highly recommend people play as it has a nice mystery element to it as well as its overall themes of death and memories and being presented in such a unique way. The concept of keeping your emotions hidden and locked away is something I relate to which is all the more reason as to why I'd like to see Loid be more open about the way he feels or genuinely breaks down and lets all those bottled up emotions out, allowing himself to fall apart be vulnerable around people, specifically his family. There's this really nice artwork I saw once of Yor and Anya hugging a child Loid, and I always thought that externally Loid is a grown man but internally he's a child wanting someone to lift him up and tell him, "it's going to be okay".

#spy x family #loid forger #sxf #spy family #sxf manga #twilight spy x family #yor briar #spy x family meta #JrsRant #spy x family analysis #yuri briar #yor forger #spy x family spoilers

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starryeyedjanai · 1 year ago

Text

words that are hard to swallow

rated: teen | @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: christmas tags: modern au, christmas gifts, birthday gifts, accidental come ons read on ao3

Steve doesn't know what to get for Eddie for Christmas so he finds an Etsy shop that does custom candles where you can choose the scent and the message on the candle.

Steve puts in the order note that he’s getting this for someone that probably likes woodsy scents and that the message can be the seller’s choice.

He doesn't look at it before wrapping it because it gets to him a day late in the mail, on Christmas Eve when everyone is exchanging gifts, and he barely has time to wrap it before he leaves to meet everyone for dinner.

Everyone exchanges gifts around the tree after dinner and Eddie pauses for a really long moment when he gets to Steve's gift and it makes him nervous.

Does he not like the scent? A candle seemed like a generic gift that anyone would like, but maybe Eddie is particular about his scents.

A minute passes and then Eddie leans over to say, “We should probably talk later,” before putting the candle back in its box.

Steve follows Eddie to his place after dinner, wondering the entire time if he somehow mortally offended him and when they get inside, he asks, “Did you not like it?”

Eddie says, “I mean, it was a weird time to give that to me, don't you think?”

Steve is confused. A weird time to give him a candle?

Eddie sees his confusion and says, “You have no idea what it says, do you?”

Steve shakes his head. “I told the Etsy shop to surprise me.”

Eddie laughs. “Oh, you’ll be surprised alright.”

He takes the candle out of the box and turns it around.

It reads Light me when you want a BJ.

Steve is obviously mortified.

When he goes back to it later, the Etsy listing was apparently for “Candles for Him, Husband, Boyfriend, 18+ Messages.” He thought it meant there were over 18 messages to choose from.

He sighs and vows to pay closer attention to the listing next time.

—

The next time he needs a gift for Eddie is his birthday and he really does mean to pick his gift up earlier because he’s known for a while what he wanted to get him. But he lost track of time and then suddenly Eddie’s sending him a reminder about his birthday dinner and Steve still hasn't gotten the gift.

He heads to Target hoping and praying the Lego set Eddie mentioned a few months ago is in stock.

He finds it, luckily, and heads to the card aisle, but he’s pressed for time, so he just grabs one in the birthday section and hopes the message doesn't have anything age specific in it.

The cashier rings him up and places the card face down on the envelope, asking if he wants it in the bag.

He says no and asks if she has a pen because he doesn't have one in his car.

He grabs the pen from her and writes Hope you have a great birthday! on the inside, shoving it into the envelope and into the bag before taking his credit card out of the reader.

He rushes out of the store and is only a few minutes late to dinner.

He tells Eddie he’ll give him his gift at his apartment since he forgot to get a gift bag, so he meets Eddie at his apartment afterwards and brings the Target bag inside.

Eddie is appropriately surprised and happy, wrapping Steve up in a hug when he sees what’s inside the bag.

“You wanna help me put this together?” Eddie asks, and Steve says yes because that’s also part of why he wanted to give it to Eddie here.

They start putting together the set, the Bomber Starfighter, and it takes hours to get even halfway through, so they call it a night and agree to finish it tomorrow.

When Steve shows up a few hours before his shift the next day to finish it, Eddie opens the door with an envelope in his hand—his card must have fallen to the bottom of the bag when they took the Lego set out.

“So I don't know if this was a ‘haha remember the weird candle I accidentally bought’ thing or a come on, but I nearly choked on my coffee this morning when I found this,” Eddie says, letting Steve inside.

“Oh fuck, what does it say?” Steve asks, cringing.

Eddie turns and looks at him. “No fucking way this was an accident. I’d buy that it was a gag card, but there’s no way you picked this up by accident.”

“I was running late and didn't have time to read through the cards in Target. I just went with one that looked plain and simple,” he says.

Eddie hands him the card.

On the front, it says I LOVE YOU FOR YOUR PERSONALITY, BUT THAT D*CK IS A REALLY NICE BONUS.

“Jesus christ,” Steve says. “Why did Target even have this card?”

Eddie snorts. “Either the universe is trying to tell us something or you have supremely bad luck, my friend.”

Steve looks at him and hesitantly says, “Maybe it’s both?”

Eddie looks taken aback. “Yeah?” he asks with a shy smile.

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “I dunno. I was… thinking about it after the last time, with the candle.”

“Thinking about…?” Eddie trails off, looking at Steve's lips, his eyes going dark.

Steve nods, biting his lip.

Eddie takes a step closer and says, “I don't know if you realized, but I lit that candle last night before you got here. It was burning while we were building the Lego set.”

Steve's breath comes a little bit quicker. “I didn't notice that, no.”

“Do you want me to light it again?” Eddie whispers and Steve doesn't even have to think about it before he nods.

They don't end up getting around to building the rest of the Lego set that day.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st fic #st ficlet #merry christmas to those who celebrate!#janai.doc

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 11 months ago

Note

Hello can I request Luxiem reacting to you taking off their engagement ring (assuming them and reader are engaged)? The situation can differ per member. Also if you’re not comfortable doing all members then at least Vox, Shu and Ike will be okay. Thank you!

oooo i saw “the situation can differ” and i took the fattest sip out of my coffee. i love drama. if you’re looking for something specifically fluff or angst with your oshi i hope the rng works in your favor

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, engagement and marriage, fluff, angst, breakups, arranged marriage, misunderstandings, unrequited love alternate universe, reader gets sold to one direction, i popped off a little too hard on some of these so sorry if you can detect a bias 😔

⚠️ forced marriage, implied dubcon (non-explicit), yandere(?) in vox’s entry

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🖋 Ike Eveland

Ike spent all the time in the world examining every last ring at the jeweler's with the eye of a detective, whittling down each choice until he found the perfect ring to propose to you with.

Now he looks back at the white gold and how it reflects his face as he holds it up close, glasses up on his forehead while his nearsighted eyes take it in. The diamond in the center divides his reflection up in facets that gleam even as his shadow covers the overhead light, while the two sapphires on either side make the blue in his eyes all the more prominent.

He thought he had it all planned out, and he wasn't so presumptuous that he knew everything would go like how his wildest dreams unfolded, but he thought he had done at least something right. The moment he got on one knee was the number-one proof there was magic in the world.

So why, then, isn't the engagement ring in its rightful place on your hand?

He turns it over, inspecting the band as if there would be a clue engraved on the metal. Nothing, and it makes the growing panic in his head all the louder. You've already left the home much earlier that day, and he hasn't gotten a single text from you since. That's not surprising—he's clingy but not so much that he needs updates from you 24/7—but it's gnawing at him. You were so happy when he proposed that you cried with him, and your eyes rarely left the band around your finger. You swore you'd never leave it behind with wet eyes and the biggest smile in the world.

The memory just makes Ike all the more confused. He found it in the bathroom, on the sink counter like just any old piece of jewelry, even though you always keep it on your nightstand in the same place every day. It's a ritual to slip it on every morning and take it off every night, and there's been more than a few times Ike placed it on your finger before anyone's left the bed, as if the magic of the proposal still lingers with every day he's your fiancé.

At least, he thought it did. Something about plans and not being presumptuous, and doing something right. Or God forbid, doing something wrong.

He clutches the ring closer in his hand as he kneels on the bathroom tile, the cool metal turning warm with how long he's been holding it, while he puts the last few days on replay. Did he ruin something without noticing? He dreads the thought, and when he can't think of any recent transgressions, he tries to recall every day since the proposal.

Anxiety dyes the memories over. He always treasured every moment, even the imperfect ones where he's made a fool of himself (because what else is he supposed to do when he's in love like nothing else), but now he's starting to realize that he could've done better. He should've done better.

He's so lost in his thoughts and the labyrinth of deceit they invite that he doesn't recognize the world around him, even as the home comes to life while he sits still. He ignores the latching of keys and doors opening and closing. The only thing that snaps him out if it is footfalls along the flooring, slowly growing in volume as they approach the bathroom, until they're interrupted by the door creaking open and—

"Holy—Ike! You scared me!" Your hands are raised, startled, but lower to your side. "I just got home, and I was wondering where you went and... Why are you on the floor?"

Count another moment of foolishness. Ike returns to the waking world, where he sits on his legs over the tile of the master bathroom of the house, hands cupped around the engagement ring and the one he cares for above all else behind him, and yet still he can barely muster the strength to raise his head, much less speak out loud.

"Reader," he says. "I, uh, I have a question."

The words end there, and too ashamed to look up, he brings his hands out instead. Diamond and sapphires shine through his palms.

He hears a sharp intake of air. A gasp. Of shock, certainly, but whatever fuels it is lost to him.

"No way, you found it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You plop down on the floor right next to your fiancé, leaning along his shoulder in disbelief. "It wasn't in any of my pockets, and I was just about to turn the house upside-down. Where was it?"

"I'm not sure how to approach this," Ike mumbles, before fixing his glasses and raising his quiet voice a bit louder. "It was in the bathroom."

"Ohh, that explains it. I probably took it off to wash my hands, then."

Ike falters. "Wh-what?"

"I usually take it off before getting my hands wet," you explain, as if it's the most mundane thing in the world. It is. "I know gold is waterproof, but I don't want it to lose its shine or anything."

"Right. The shine."

Ike Eveland, certified idiot, at your service.

The ring sits pretty in one hand while the other runs through his hair. Another foolish moment, but with your head up on his shoulder, his anxieties calm.

Fingertips rest along his palm, and when he looks at its source, you return the gaze. Your eyes sparkle nearly as bright as the gemstones, but your lids are lowered, trying to discern something. "Ike, you look like you have something on your mind."

"I do, don't I." At that, he muffles a laugh, fingers still tangled in his ashy hair. "No, I'm just glad that the ring reunited with its owner."

"Thanks again." You nod, the elated smile on your face fading into a dopey one. "Can you...?"

The exchange is wordless, and in his palm, warm. Ike takes the ring and turns it upright, while the hand it rested on takes yours instead.

Every morning when the both of you are too sleepy to even speak, he manages to treat your hands like fine crystal glass, and still he does now, with your palm resting under his grasp and fingers dangling out. The metal's temperature doesn't shock you at all. It's an extension of you, even when it was under Ike's watch.

Ike affixes the band with care, lashes and disheveled hair covering his eyes as he focuses, but you can discern the small, struck curve in his lips as he twists the band into place, certain it won't budge for the rest of the day.

You start to raise your hand, but before you do he gently tugs it back down, still focused on the way the engagement ring gleams. Then up at your knuckles, and higher on your arm until you can see a hint of green through the lashes. That green blinks back under his eyelashes as he lifts your knuckles to his lips.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro

It's late. You haven't checked the time in hours, but it's dark, and the false daylight from the old floor lamp in your living room cuts through the night in the window.

You should be asleep by now. You haven't gotten a good rest in what feels like forever. You've always been too worried, and when worry eased it turned into hollowness, even when the other side of the bed sinks with added weight.

You sit along the couch in the corner you always occupy on late nights when Luca is out. Whenever he comes back, he always wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head. A metallic scent follows him.

The door opens. Warm arms envelop you. Squeeze. Lips against your hair.

You don't have it in you to smile.

He can tell. His grin falls as he peels back his gloves. They're tinted darker on the knuckles. "Reader. You've been so distant lately."

"I will be. It'll be better for me to stop seeing you. It's not safe." The dredges of all your past arguments curl into your throat.

It breaks your heart to see Luca so stunned. Months upon months cleaning and dressing his wounds, and you've never seen him so taken aback.

That's one of the reasons you can't go on like you used to.

"I've spent so much of my time telling you to watch yourself, and so much time just asking you to come home," you explain. "You know as well as I do you can take a break. But you don't.

"And I can't control you, but do you know how many times I've had to stay up just to know you'll be safe? To know I'll be safe?" Your fingers tense. "The gunfire outside, the spyware, I stopped ordering packages because ever since that threat last year I've been paranoid one of your enemies might actually leave a bomb at my doorstep. I don't know how you can do it, but I can't.

"And I've spent so much time alone."

Your eyes fall to the engagement ring on your hand. It's glamorous and gold, with tiny diamonds that line the band and frame the large diamond in the center like pawns to a king. Is that what you are to him?

You raise the back of your palm up, and the lamp makes the diamonds shimmer. "What does this even mean? You tell me you love me but you never give me your time anymore. You can't just do that, Luca. Not when I stay up night after night worrying what if you got shot, or stabbed, or kidnapped, and every night you don't come home or even send me a text I can't help myself from thinking that."

"I wouldn't." Luca's big purple eyes make contact with yours. The way his voice wavers and his face is set into a grimace, you know he's serious, and those purple eyes are honest. "I wouldn't get hurt and leave you by yourself like that."

"But you did! There are days in a row where I don't see a trace of you and consider calling in a missing persons case! Weeks, even, and so many times I have to patch you up after a fight!"

"I can take care of myself."

"And I want to take care of you! We're engaged, that means we're in it together, but I can't do this! I'm not some superhero mafioso like you. I'm just-"

Your throat tightens. You were doing such a good job at keeping yourself together, but the diamonds are your chain.

You rip the ring off yourself, and Luca watches in horror.

"I'm just normal."

The ring lands on the table, next to the water stains from the previous tenant. Your fiancé is motionless.

"I'll help you collect your things tomorrow when it's a decent hour," you snap, patience lost. "But you're not staying here. God knows you've found places to spend the night without me."

"We're not over," he says, utterly in disbelief.

"Yes, we are! You can't get it through your head that you're dangerous, and you can't even make up for it by being there when it matters. I'm not safe. How could I ever feel safe when the man that proposed to me is never around to actually protect me? You said you would when you got down on one knee, and ever since it's only been more danger! That's the opposite of what you promised me!"

You snatch the ring with one hand and his own in the other. He winces, and you can see a newly formed bruise where his own band glints up at you. Another late fight tonight, when he could've rested.

You push the engagement ring into his palm and force the fingers closed around it. He doesn't even protest. "Go home. Let me be alone like I know you're so good at doing."

"I'll be back for you. I'll make it right. I swear."

"You had your chance and you blew it. You're lucky I'm not changing the lock before you get your things." You leer, scorned and scarred. "We're done."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👟 Shu Yamino

Your hand shakes, and the engagement ring between your fingers glints in the lighting. The gold is stark against your skin even in the glow, with a pear-shaped stone in the center of the ring that catches the glow in little reflections off the surface of the fabric of your attire and your skin. They start purple, then gleam in subtle rainbows of fire.

It’s an elegant piece with slanted filigree wrapped all around like Shu's flames around your finger. The stone smiles, and when the light bounces off the facets, it giggles speckles of glitter against you.

Shu is so beautiful in white. His eyes are a brilliant royal purple just like the stone, especially as he blinks back tears, and even though his hair is braided back, a strand of hair strays by his right side. He spent the last twenty minutes blowing it out of his face nervously.

Your fingers graze over the gold. The fiery stone lets out a laugh as it slides off your finger.

Shu's hand meets yours. "Let me help you," he whispers, so quiet that no one could ever hear it but you. He shakes too, but he is together with you, and as you present him your hand, the engagement ring finds its place on your right ring finger.

He produces another, one that the both of you picked out together. It, too, is gold, but simply bent upward in a point like a chevron. Two stones, one diamond and one deep purple, are placed on the side. One to represent each of you, set together in metal.

"I've been dreaming about this for so long," he admits. His voice is wet. You know your eyes are too, and even though you gingerly wipe them, you focus on how much care he puts into placing the band around your left ring finger, both hands trembling at the excitement.

It takes you time to find your words. Even as you bring out his ring, you're still speechless, and the weight of the gold is both air and boulder. "I love you," you say, because that's all you can think. His band matches the angle shape of yours, but the metal is thicker to fit his hands, and flat enough to reflect your ring alongside his. As you place it on his finger, you brush against his knuckles.

"Reader. Do you take Shu as your lawfully wedded husband, to live in matrimony, to have and to hold, in both sickness and in health, dedicated to him for as long as you live?"

"I love you, I do, I do, I do."

"Shu. Do you take Reader as your lawfully wedded spouse, to live in matrimony, to have and to hold, in both sickness and in health, dedicated to them for as long as you live?"

"I do. God, I love you." You don't retract your hand, and he wraps around yours. The gold weaves between your fingers. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

"You have pledged before these witnesses to be joined in marriage, and you have now sealed this pledge by exchanging these wedding rings. By the power vested in me, I pronounce you officially married!"

You barely hear the officiator before Shu leans in. You meet him where your wedding ring presses against his skin and the engagement ring spreads royal freckles across his face.

You're set alight, gold on gold, lip against lip. You take his first kiss of many as a newly married man.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

👹 Vox Akuma

The Lord Akuma may be self-assured, but he knows when his intuition is trying to signal something, and so he approaches you with what you can already tell is hesitation. "My love."

"Lord."

"It has come to my attention—"

"There's a first for everything," you mock.

You know your attitude more than justifies the trepidation. Good. You'll admit that talking back to a noble is a death sentence, and anyone that dared to disrespect Lord Akuma’s name would be strung up for their rudeness.

However, you are not simply ‘anyone.’ You are the royal heir to a kingdom of your own, and your death would bring upon a far worse fate to the Lord than any public execution.

Lord Akuma’s harsh red makeup squints together as he leers—then sighs and tries again, shoulders still square as if that would intimidate you. “It has come to my attention that you reject our engagement.”

Years of etiquette has taught you otherwise, but now, you understand the commonfolk’s urge to spit on the shoes of another. “Of course I reject it. I would never marry someone like you.”

“As you’ve made it abundantly clear. You have my apologies if your time in my castle has been lackluster. Please, if the accommodations have been subpar, or the staff neglectful, just say the word. It will be handled accordingly.”

“I don’t give a damn about your castle. I’m not marrying you!” You snap. “You’re a disgusting pig of a warlord. My kingdom will never accept this.”

“Is that truly what you think?”

You nod, hair in your face and teeth gnashed together. “They’ll come for me. They’ll stand up against the empire we’ve been at war with for the abduction of their royal heir.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, my love.”

“And quit calling me that!”

“Look at me.”

In an instant Lord Akuma lifts your chin with a finger, forcing you to face him even as you try to turn away. “But that is who you are.” Vox’s eyes, a pallid yellow most days, turn darker than sunsets. “Despite your kingdom’s political climate, you are no ruler. A heir, yes, but no ruler. Making your own choice in marriage was never an option.”

He produces the ring, a gold band in a traditional style practiced in his empire alone. You’re no jeweler, but it’s clear it’s a heirloom passed down from blood to blood until it fell into Lord Akuma’s hands. You don’t need a artisan��s knowledge to know those rubies feel much heavier than they look, either.

“I was heartbroken to see you left this behind in your room,” Lord Akuma said, coolly and evenly, and certainly not heartbroken at all. Ice slides down your spine as you realize that hesitance wasn’t out of fear at all. No, you’ve underestimated him entirely. “Especially after the true rulers of your kingdom, your parents, accepted the terms and gave me their blessing.

“If you see me as simply a political figure, then I’m sure you can recognize you aren’t half of the politician you claim to be.” His grin grows wider. “Perhaps a bargaining chip is a better title.”

Your vision flares red, then white as you thrash. “You—“

“Hold still.”

Lord Akuma’s grip is startlingly strong. His nails dig into the sides of your cheeks as he shoves you against the wall.

As much as you try to slip away, the Lord Akuma is the general of his army as well as a noble, and has dealt with much more cunning minds than yours. He pins you down, hot weight pressing your arm away while he catches your left hand.

“It would be wise not to resist me,” he commands.

Still you writhe, even though Lord Akuma shifts his weight to disable you further. Your knuckles are turning white under his grip.

Your strength is on the verge of giving out, now that the adrenaline is wearing off, and Lord Akuma is no longer shocked. You grunt and force every last bit of energy into your fist, but his fingers weave around yours, pulling your fist apart until he wrests the ruby ring onto your finger.

“You bastard,” you hiss. You must be a wreck right now, in improper dress and sweltering under Lord Akuma, and with every last courtesy abandoned in your hatred. The exhaustion from the fight fuels both anger and humiliation, especially now that Lord Akuma is so close. “You’re sick, Lord Akuma.”

He looks down at you, and has the gall to look disappointed. “My love, your fiancé’s name is Vox.”

You growl. “I hate you, more than anything.”

Vox is barely an inch away, and grins as he closes the distance. His teeth point daggers. “Then kiss me like you hate me.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#luxiem x reader #ike eveland x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #shu yamino x reader #vox akuma x reader #ike eveland #luca kaneshiro #shu yamino #vox akuma #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #luxiem #ike eveland fluff #luca kaneshiro angst #shu yamino fluff #vox akuma angst #4402 writes #listening to the gardens from little big planet while writing shv's entry #i'm also the loudest crier at his and reader's wedding these two things are correlated

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zyinn-corner · 1 year ago

Text

I have procrastinated this long enough that I should just post it

Demon Molly, Cat witch Caleb, and Vampire Essek! Below is just some setting/ story that was brewing in my mind while I was drawing this. If you want to read it, beware of grammar mistakes that I have probably made. I'm not that good with language/writing and it's kinda long?

Cat witch Caleb who lost his memories of quite a large chunk of his life and for some reason that he can't remember, can't hide his cat ears and tail to have his full human form back. Which he knows instinctively that he should be able to do. He has been living a quiet and kind of isolated life with his cat familiar in a forest under the protection of vampire Essek. One day a lost demon, Molly, somehow gets past the protective barrier that Essek has set around Caleb's area to hide and protect Caleb from people who appear in Caleb's nightmares who might be real, who will want to hunt Caleb down and hurt him. Caleb can't seem to retain the memories of the appearances of those people who appeared in his nightmares. Molly asks Caleb's help to find a specific rare flower for his best friend and to help lead him out of the thick forest. After some convincing and promise that he will protect Caleb and his cat, Caleb agrees.

Caleb hasn't really spent any time with a demon before (or if he had, he can't remember) and Molly who is not careful enough (is he really though? Or does he do this on purpose?) accidentally entered into a pact with each other. Essek, who had a verbal pact with Caleb, is not that pleased about the situation. He stays by Caleb's side more often now, being protective because he is worried and he doesn't trust this demon that comes from nowhere, yet. Essek knows that Molly is hiding something. Caleb and Essek have been pining for each other for a while now. After spending some time with Molly, Caleb realizes he is starting to fall for Molly too. Molly who had loved Caleb before Caleb even realized it, has a talk with Essek, and they both agree that they can share Caleb, as long as Caleb is happy with the arrangement. So yeah, Caleb has two purple boyfriends here! :D

If you are wondering, Molly did know Caleb during the years that Caleb lost. He tried to save Caleb and sort of half succeeded? He did manage to get Caleb out of the bad situation but also lost him in the process. He had been trying to search for Caleb for quite some time now without much hope. The last time he saw Caleb before they were separated, Caleb was on the cusp of death. I imagine Caleb was in the care of Essek for at least 4 or 5 years before Molly stumbled upon Caleb again.

Molly is hesitant to bring up the past after learning Caleb doesn't recognize him and also doesn't remember what happened during those years. He is not one that likes to bring up the past anyway.

The only reason Molly manages to get past the barrier without having to force his way in is because subconsciously, Caleb still trusts Molly. Essek had set up the barrier so that only people that Essek or Caleb trusted could get through it without problems.

Also, do I tag this as shadowidomauk when technically it's widomauk and shadowgast? Essek and Molly are not really in a romantic relationship with each other here.

#mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #widomauk #shadowgast #critical role #critical role fanart #critrole #critical role art #zyinn art

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phantom-of-the-501st · 11 months ago

Text

Let's Talk About Tech (Or Not)

Tags for people who I feel like would have some interesting thoughts about this: @eriexplosion @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @inkstainedhandswithrings @saturn-sends-hugs @the-bi-space-ace

One of the most frequent comments I see about season 3 so far is the lack of discussion surrounding Tech and what happened, and I want to look at this from two angles: the personal aspect and the context within its position in the show. Because while we're all getting frustrated about it, I think it's something that definitely deserves a closer look.

The Personal Side

One of the biggest questions people have so far is why are the Batch not talking about Tech? Losing a brother is very significant for them and it seems like it would be something that they would talk about more. They discussed the issues they were having following Echo's departure from the group, so why are they not talking about Tech?

I think one of the key things to consider here is time. When we see the Batch talking about Echo, it is only a matter of hours if not days after he went. It would make sense for them to be getting to grips with the situation because they haven't really had time to process it. On the flip side, at the point when we see Wrecker and Hunter, it has been at least 150 rotations from Omega's capture and therefore around 3 months from Tech's fall. A lot of the discussions that they would probably be having about it have likely already happened.

3 months isn't really that long, but in the context of losing someone, and in the context of the lives of these characters specifically, it can be enough time to start moving on. Not to forget it, or to not have it affect them, but to not really discuss it anymore. While I've never lost a sibling, I have lost family members on more than one occasion, and it surprises me how little time it can take for things to go back to "normal". Not to not be thinking about it, or to be 100% okay, but to be able to live life without ever discussing it. This happens particularly when something else significant is going on.

When you have another goal to focus on (in this case, rescuing Omega), you can't always focus on the loss. It sounds stupidly harsh and very much like an arsehole thing to say, but realistically, that is what happens. When you lose someone, you want life to stop, you want everything to pause so that you have time to grieve before you go back to living again. But life doesn't work like that. Things keep moving and sometimes the only thing you can do is focus on the events happening now, not the ones that you have no control over.

I don't think the Batch are ignoring it, or have forgotten about it. I think they've simply started focusing on what they need to be doing: rescuing the people who are still here. They can't get Tech back (as far as they are aware), they can't change anything and so at some point they just have to accept it. They probably did talk about it, did cry about it, but we're 3 months along at this point and they've probably said all they can. And Wrecker and Hunter have only just reunited with Crosshair and Omega. They're not going to instantly jump on that discussion again.

And we don't necessarily need to see the discussions to see how it's affecting them either. Tech's death and Omega's capture have made Hunter more impulsive and reckless. He isn't thinking as clearly as he should and now Wrecker is having to step in as the mediator. Wrecker, who was always the one to jump into a mission and ignore the plan, is having to hold Hunter back from running headfirst into things without thinking. The situation has affected them and is still having lasting effects. Even if they aren't talking about it, it isn't like it's just been totally ignored in the show. Of course we'll have to see if this changes now that most of the Batch are together again, but this is already more than we got with a lot of the other clones (Fives never seeming any different following Echo's "death" for example).

And then there's the matter of Crosshair never questioning why Omega only talks about Wrecker and Hunter. This may be because he already knows about Tech. If Omega has been talking to him on Tantiss, he may already know that his brother is gone. But once again, we are watching the events happening 3 months on at this point. He may have had to compartmentalise that fact the same way that everyone else has. We're saw him and Omega briefly discussing Tech and how he made sure Omega memorised all of the plans. Sure, there was more softness there than sadness, but that's what happens sometimes. Sometimes reminiscing about someone that you lost doesn't make you cry, it makes you smile, because you're remembering the little quirks about them that you love. So no, Omega and Cross haven't been shown talking about Tech's death, but I wouldn't be surprised if he already knows.

In the Context of TV

And now onto the other matter. The fact that all of this is happening as part of a narrative.

I think this is where the lack of conversation about it becomes frustrating: not because it doesn't make sense in the context of the characters themselves, but the fact that we are watching this as part of a show. It doesn't feel right to have something that significant happen only for it to never be mentioned again. We can't really ignore the fact that that happened and move on because while the characters have had time to process things, we haven't seen that. That chunk of the story is missing to us and so it feels unfulfilling to have that turn of events not have enough closure.

Imagine if you lost someone in your life and then you automatically skipped to the point where you were starting to feel somewhat okay again, while removing the entire chunk in the middle where you actually processed things. That is effectively what has happened to us as an audience. Yes, we've had months between seasons, but we have this gap of narrative nothingness between the season 2 finale and the beginning of season 3 where the actual processing would have happened.

So our frustration is justified. Not because it doesn't make sense narratively, or that it doesn't seem right for the characters to be acting the way they are, but because we haven't been able to process the events in the same way that the characters have. The characters aren't discussing it because they don't necessarily need to at this point in time. But we need them to discuss it because that part is missing for us. We haven't seen that bit so we can't fully compute the events.

Yes, it's annoying. Not because it doesn't make sense in the story, but because it doesn't make sense to us. Because as an audience the context is different to that of the characters within the story we are watching.

#despite the sleep deprivation I still managed to get something out!#this has been playing on my mind since last week #and things finally started falling into place just now #so here are my thoughts!#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #tbb tech #tbb omega #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb echo

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viburnt · 11 months ago

Note

So hear me out! You did leopard touya and i FELL IN LOVE how about a lion or tiger bakugou tho🫢

LISTEN- HEAR ME OUT-

CONTENT WARNING: SEX, BREEDING, POLYGAMY, MENTIONS OF PREGNANCY

Lion! Bakugo SFW+NSFW

Lions, kings of the jungle: known for their manes and imponent roar, basking in a reputation a bit too big for them. Lion! Bakugo boasts about his skill and power, even more than normally, that is. Adding a Lion to this blond only accentuates his egocentric behavior, but there are some new traits to discover with this hybrid.

Lion! Bakugo is all roar and no bite. He yells and curses, and pretends to be the leader, but lions (specially male ones) take care and try to provide for their prides (in this case, his clique).

Lion! Bakugo can't bear the thought of having other guys close to you. You're his partner, not some pesky pray for others to take! He keeps a close eye on who your friends are and who you are with, defending his territory. This hybrid is also very possessive; if you had a previous partner, he'll make sure to get rid of any trace of them.

Talking about territory, lions get extremely defensive with their stuff: he doesn't share. Once Lion! Bakugo starts feeling comfortable in a determined space (like an specific lunch table, library spot or your/his bedroom) he'll make sure others know that area is his as soon as he steps into the room. Oh, you wanna sit in his spot? How dare you?!

Did I mention lions are polygamous? Both sexes are. Bakugo doesn't really practice it because you're more than enough to breed and form a family, but sometimes (just sometimes) certain redhead is added to the mix. He doesn't allow you to have more partners though, female lions can only have one or two males to mate.

Mating season is intense, to say the least, Lion! Bakugo tries to breed you multiple times a day. Alone at the library? He may be bashful but he'll sit you in his lap. After training? Don't worry, he doesn't mind a bit of sweat. Are you doing homework? You could work on his cock too, right? Prone bone is his go-to position, right where he can bury his girth deep inside you while also having access to your body.

He wants to knock you up so bad.

Lion! Bakugo is also strangely affectionate towards you outside of his rut, planting chaste kisses on your face and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He is very calm and easy-going with you when you compare his behavior with others, you can even say he relaxes with you.

Going back to how this species accentuate his self centered traits, however, Lion! Bakugo is even more hated by others than normal. There's not a second where he is not talking big game about him and his strength.

He roars (unironically).

Also, one of the main predators lions have are hyenas... remember who is a hyena hybrid? Shiggy. Suits him right considering how he was kidnapped by the league.

Lion! Bakugo also has an even messier hair, a lion tail, and matching ears. His body is a bit more sturdy and even has a bit of a tummy because, well, cat pouches. He's still such a pretty thing to look at!

"Bend your legs a little more-" Bakugo growls, tightening the grip on your hips as he pulls you closer to him. You lost the count of how many times he's had his way with you that day alone, his thrusts making your legs weak.

You pant, looking at him over your shoulder. "Fuck, you're gonna give me a cub soon, I promise..." He grunts, hissing as he digs his nails onto your plush skin, painting your insides white once more.

You have to change your sheets.

Tags: @i-literally-cant-with-this @shonen-brainrot @doumadono @imagination-mess @trickster-kat @shionancientsblog

#my hero academia #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugo katuski x reader #Lion! Bakugo

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akkaweo-akkaweo · 2 years ago

Text

Fed Up

Ha Sooyoung/Yves x M!reader

Tags: bratty sub? & switch, post orgasm

WC: 1.6k

—————

By now you've lost track of how many times you've thanked a higher being for it, but you loved being in love with Ha Sooyoung. Not because she was pretty much the woman of your dreams – beautiful, talented, and physically and emotionally strong – but because you had great sex.

Both of you could come from a tiring day of overtime work and still find enough energy to toss each other in the sheets. At worst, one would coax the orgasm out of the other, and that was it for that night. But more often than not, it's Sooyoung who begs you for release, a bit more than you to her. And you know what? You found it hot.

This fun setup practically laid out a red carpet for both of you to get into BDSM. Not the chains and leather variety, but more specifically the needy sub kind of top-bottom relationship. And Sooyoung perfected the brattiness on a regular basis, even on the uncommon days where you would ask for a break. But when you bit into that side of her, she bit back harder. Hell, she even preferred using her stage name – Yves – when she was ready to perform her nightly duties.

Tonight was no different. You had a meeting with a client on the other side of the city, while she had to wrap up a photoshoot that stretch past dinner. When you both got home and settled, it took Sooyoung no time at all to start whining.

"Baaabe," she cooed, "I'm booored. I want to lie down and cuddle already. I wanna feel you all over me. Can you hurry up already?"

You, fresh out of the shower, put a hand to her head, saying "Calm down, Sooyoung. I'll be right with you." If you were being honest, on a horny scale of 1 to 5, you really only were about a 3.5 at the moment – up for it, but not in a rush.

Sooyoung was.

"Don't 'Sooyoung' me," she whined again, "your hot model girlfriend Yves wants you right now and that's not up for negotiation. Besides," she says, trailing off. Suddenly, you feel something light hit the back of your head as you were hanging up the towel. Turning to face her, you see her covered up in your blanket, shoulders bare, hair messy, and a stare that said exactly what she was thinking. But the telltale sign was what hit you earlier: a black lace bra.

Oh, Yves was most definitely here.

"Okay, you little brat. Come here," you growl, crawling under the sheets to try and grab her in a tight embrace. She giggles as she tries to kick and slap you away, but eventually she's no match for you. When you have her in your arms, she melts and starts kissing you every which way possible.

You make deep, sensual kisses down her neck, taking a quick break from drowning in her to taunt, "There, is that enough for you?" She doesn't retort, moaning from the ecstasy of your hands, legs, and lips writhing around her, but in an instant snaps up and replies, "Hmm, not quite."

Yves then tries to kiss you back, on to your chest and your nipples (something that caught you off guard, but didn't complain about). The quickness of her tongue sent jolts up your back, cut short by Yves saying, "Babe, you're still moving too slow. I'm moving across you much faster than you are. How about you actually beat me to it and suck on my tits?"

Yves being playfully feisty was amusing, but it did rile you up enough to actually catch her bluffs with enough vengeance to shut her up. So respond immediately you did, even lightly nibbling on her nipples with your teeth. The reaction was immediate: Sooyoung arched her back as you switch nipples, right to left between your fingers and your mouth.

Thinking she's had her fill, you slow down, taking your mouth off her breasts and pinning her wrists down, giving her another deep kiss. Once you break away from it, it's your turn to rile her up. "Sounds to me like you've been pretty satisfied."

Yves starts kicking her legs, almost like a child having a tantrum. "Don't just tease me like this! I want more right now!," she scowled. You're only half sure she's still playing around this time, so you peck her on the lips and work your way down to her pussy.

As you lick her clit, Yves starts moaning and giggling, pleasure streaming all throughout her body with every pass of your tongue. As the moans start to lessen and her insides lubricated, you try fingering her, using only one to try and tantalize her – a light punishment for getting just a bit your nerves. More of the same moans and giggling, followed by her pleas. "Harder, baby," she moans, "I want you deep inside me, please..."

You keep doing this, and Yves continues to ask for more. Just the sound of her deep but whiny voice was enough to get you throbbing hard. What you didn't notice over your focus on touching and licking her, however, was that Sooyoung was no longer amused by your pleasure-making. Moans started to turn into growling commands. "Come on baby, just like that. Give me more." Of course, you try and catch up, using two fingers, flicking your tongue on her as fast as you possibly could.

Suddenly, Yves screams out, "Screw it, I can't take this anymore!," before pushing you off of her. She pushes with enough force, in fact, that it is you now the bottom. Logic would dictate, then, two conclusions: one, that Yves is now on top of you; and two, that she is furiously dissatisfied with your roleplay.

"Wait, Yves, time out," you try to say, but she immediately places a hand over your mouth.

"I don't think you quite get what I'm asking of you," she growls, slowly moving her pussy over your cock. "I don't want you to tease me, or replicate some corny porno scene."

She slides your dick into her all the way with little effort. "I want you to fuck my pussy hard until I'm done!," she exclaims, slamming her hips hard into you at the end of every syllable towards the end of her outburst. That alone gave you what you felt was the first and only fear boner of your life, and Sooyoung's thrusts were way too stimulating to give you a mind clear enough to think.

"Hah... haaah... Yves... Sooyoung... fuck, you fuck me so good...," was the only thing you could say.

"Good for you then! Then show me you like it by actually fucking me!," she replied.

You start to meet her bouncing on your dick with a thrust on your hips, each impact causing her tight, muscular ass to ripple. Moans turned into screams of "Fuck yes!" and "Just like that!", and the sensory overload of her pleasure-filled screaming, high-speed fucking, and just the idea you were her fucktoy start bringing you to the edge much faster than you thought.

"Wait, fuck, Sooyoung! I'm gonna cum! Slow down!," you cry out.

"No, hold it in! Please, fuck! Don't stop!," she begs, starting to fuck you harder and push you deeper into her more than ever. The pleasure was way too much to handle, and before you knew it, you used every last ounce of force to push her off and finish all over her ass, each string of cum trickling down onto your belly. You take a moment to catch your breath, and it appears so does Sooyoung... for about 10 seconds, before putting your dick back into her pussy.

"My turn," she smirks.

Uh oh.

She turns around, with her ass on full display to you – which she knew would make your dick hard enough again – and continued at the pace she was in just before you finished. And holy shit was it good. Your cock was sensitive from head to base, and Sooyoung's tight walls ensured that feeling was everywhere all over you. You couldn't help but start clenching your teeth and moaning, laughing and giggling but trying to buck her off, like your body was trying to stop the overstimulation.

"It's not so fun being teased isn't it?," she interjects with a vindictive laugh.

This continues until you stop bucking and start feeling another wave of cum well up, now frozen and unable to moan out of pleasure. "Yves... Please... You're gonna... make me... cum again..."

"I'm going to cum too, please, let's finish together!," she replies, and you dig as deep as you can to hold it in. Yves's hips start to convulse as she nears her climax, screaming louder than ever.

"Fuck yes! Cum for me baby! Cum inside me! Fill me up, daddy!" she screams.

Fuck, her saying that one word sent you over the edge in an instant, sending another pool of hot cum out of you and straight into her. The feeling must have been mutual, because the instant you do her walls tighten over your dick, spreading your seed all over her walls and your shaft.

Sooyoung hops off you and onto the bed, both of you still a mess and catching your breath. After a few minutes of silence, you look towards her, and she looks back at you.

"That was fun," she said, before making a pouty face. "But I'm lazy to get up, can you get me a towel? Please, babe?"

I guess some things never change.

—————

A/N: this concludes this first batch of fics i had in mind. lets see where the next round of self-contained hard hours imagines takes me

#girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader #loona smut #yves smut

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the-kr8tor · 7 months ago

Text

On These Metal Tracks I Lay Myself Bare

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, CW guns, TW violence, CW injury, Cowboy AU, wild west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 5 >>> CHAPTER 6

The train station is packed with people, all finely dressed, waiting along the tracks, their luggages weighing heavy in their hands. The place smells of iron and steel, sweat soaked wood and rough leather. Your eyes wander around the station, domed ceilings loom above, carvings of horses and birds decorate the chestnut wood. Sunlight filters through the cracks, rays of light acting as a spotlight to the ornate building. It's a busier train station than the town you were in, the city you've stopped in is huge in comparison to the little towns you've passed by. The station is full of ticketing booths, lines stretching a few feet away that are full of impatient passengers. You look across the train tracks, seeing parents chastising their children, hearing hurried murmurs from husbands, holding their wives’ hands even though the luggage in their hand slows them down. You look at Hobie's gloved hand that's resting upon the ticket booth, you stare at it longingly, eyes getting glossy by the minute.

He's taking you home, and just like back home, you have no say in it.

A train whistle echoes, a signal of its metallic arrival. Its steel body creaks as it stops, its copper inlay is slowly turning green, and there's rust around the wheels. Soon, the station fills with smoke, dark tar belching smoke that sticks to your lungs as you cough. You feel a warm hand on your back, in a second you look back, the warmth is gone.

“You alright?” Hobie asks, lighting up a cigarette in-between his lips.

“It's the smoke,” you say, scratching at your throat that he cannot keep looking at for the scar in his neck throbs at the memory from the mundane act.

“Alright,” without a second thought, he takes his freshly lit cigarette from his mouth and then flicks it away from you, embers fly off in the distance just before it lands on the dirt outside.

You feel like the golden light in the summer. “I was talking about the coal smoke from the train. But that works too, thank you.”

He scoffs, a small smile ghosting over his lips. “Right, didn't do it for you, I did it for myself. Heard it kills people y'know.” Nudging you, he doesn't expect for you to shuffle away. Blinking, he avoids your eyes, “that's our train, it's an overnight one so we can rest in our cabin.” He tugs you in by the sleeve of your coat that's tucked in between his middle and forefinger, guiding you towards the waiting doors.

“That's good.” You follow, eyes trained on his back lest you get lost.

As much as you don't want to go home, you still don't want to leave him despite your mind telling you to forget about him and just leave on Cherry and wander around the west like a tumbleweed caught in the wind. You'd probably last a week.

Hobie stops by the doors, waiting in line with the other passengers. You flick your eyes downwards, his fingers wrapped around your sleeve, not taut, just holding you close to him as the crowd grows. So close to your own hands, yet so far from your heart.

“Tickets?” The man clad in a blue uniform asks, Hobie shows the pink papers and the man nods.

You enter the train car, it's a cute little thing filled with blue velvet curtains with golden tassels, and carpeted floors that run towards the end of the car. On your left are filled with little cabins, with clear windows that you can see through inside. It's big enough for at least four people, five if possible, though it would be a tight fit. The hallway is already small enough that only two people could walk side by side, you'd like to walk side by side with him, unlike now that you walk behind him, behind his shadow that gathers around you like dandelions in the spring.

“This is us,” he stops at cabin number three, opening the door with a creak, he leans away to let you enter first. Closing the door behind him, he pulls down all the curtains so that wandering eyes can't watch your every move. It's bad enough that there's a bounty on both of your heads, you don't want gossiping passengers peering inside.

There are four collapsible beds on each wall, all held by golden ropes, bed sheets in rich red cloth, pillows fluffed to perfection and blankets neatly folded. Hobie scooches in between you and the beds to close the top bunks so that there's more space for his tall frame. He has taken his hat off not for politeness but if he wore it inside it'll be squished by the low ceiling. Then there's the large window that sits across the door, before you could take note of the people outside, Hobie shuts the curtains close.

“What do you think?” He asks, taking his jacket off with a flourish. “It's not even close to the ones back home but it'll do for now. We'll be train hopping to get our scents off the lawmen.”

“It's nice— wait, train hopping?” You sit down on one of the beds, the mattress is surprisingly soft under you. “Please don't tell me we'll be jumping from train roof to train roof.”

Hobie chuckles, copying your actions, sitting across from you. Back resting against the wall, comfortably slouching. “Think you can handle it?”

“God, no.” You can't help but rest your tired head upon the goose feather pillow.

“Good, because we're not doin' that, love.” Again, he copies you. Arms tucked under his head, eyes above the ornate ceiling. “We’re not gettin' off at the last station, so we'll be ridin’ with Buck and Cherry for a bit and then to another train station. Confuse the wankers with our brilliant wiles.”

You lift your head off the pillow, and in turn, Hobie turns his head to look at you. “Wait, what about the horses?”

“They'll follow the train.” He smiles.

“Follow? Like they have our scents?” Hobie laughs, not teasingly, no, it's full of endearment, chuckling softly, but it flies over your head.

“Don't laugh. It's a genuine question.” You roll your eyes with slight amusement.

“They're in the back carriage,” he tamps down his laugh but his smile stays.

After that silence prevails in your cabin as the train slowly chugs on, sharp whistles piercing your eardrums, and the hum of machinery bringing you back home. You want to speak to him, to finally tell him of all your concerns about going home, going back to them. But most of all, you want him to speak to you about everything, to tell you how he was faring for the last five years, and how he became such a terrifying figure to outlaws. You want him to just…talk, and make up for lost time. You gather the courage, but just as you were about to speak, he no longer lies across from you. Hobie is sitting on the bed, body facing the door, hands busy with oiling his guns.

“Hobie…I—”

“What is it?” He flicks his eyes briefly to you, his tone was sharp, but he didn't mean it, blaming it for his own worries and fatigue. He'd say something about it but you're already facing away from him. Back turned, blanket shielding you from him.

“Nevermind,” you mumble into the covers, falling into a deep slumber where the conversation happened in your dreams.

This goes on for three days, hopping from train to train, from busy cities to dead empty towns. You barely speak, talking only when Hobie asks you something. It's like you're back at that empty mansion, with only the plants to talk to.

Hobie silently hates it, he doesn't know what to make out any of it. You seem hungry so he gives you a can of strawberries, you look tired so he lets you sleep without him saying a word. When goosebumps appear on your arms he gives you a blanket, when you're nervous, lips bitten until it's bleeding, he leaves you alone to calm yourself down. None of it works, he misses your chatter that has kept him sane the entire journey. The silence gives him time to think though, a situation that he despises since nothing good has come out of all the thinking.

—

The rest of the journey goes without a hitch, except for that one bit where Bucky was stolen by an outlaw while you and Hobie were buying train tickets. You panic while he sits and waits. People look at you like you were a mad woman pacing back and forth, hand petting Cherry, voice whispering your thoughts to the poor hitched horse. And Hobie just…stares. After what seemed like forever, or fifteen minutes, Bucky returns, riderless, still has his saddle on his back, and seemingly chipper. Turns out, Hobie trained Buckeye to throw off would-be thieves, and this time, Bucky found a convenient ledge to throw this particular man off. You and Hobie quickly ushered both horses into the back just in case a sheriff comes looking for a murderous horse.

You've been seeing a few familiar faces in the crowd of travelers, the same children that's tugging at their father's coat, the same old couple that helps each other up on the platforms. Some have taken notice of you too, to which you smile politely at them while they wave kindly at you.

—

It's another warm humid day, another train to ride in. You don't bother to look at the interior this time, only deciding to sit on the cushy seat you were assigned to, sliding inside the booth, eyes already staring longingly at the outside world. Hobie once again tries to speak about something— anything to try to get you to finally speak your mind, but his rapid pulse tells him otherwise. So he clamps his mouth shut, deciding to sit across from you instead of sitting next to you like he wanted to.

He feels eyes on his form as he picks mud off his spurs, raising his head, he comes face to face with a freckled child staring at him curiously with her big blue eyes. Her tiny hands are curled around a teddy bear, her fiery red hair is tied into a neat ponytail. You notice her a second later, smiling softly at the child.

“Hello,” you greet kindly, and the girl scampers back to her family's seat, hiding her blushing face behind her mother's skirt.

“Sorry about that.” Her mother apologizes, round pregnant belly prominent as she tries to coax her daughter out. “This is Clementine, she's a bit shy.”

“That's alright,” you speak on behalf of Hobie. “Hi, Clementine, my name's Y/N, and this is my companion, Hobie.” The second your eyes meet his own, Hobie's breath gets stuck in his throat.

“Say hello, Clem, be polite.” The girl's father playfully pokes her side. Blue eyes hidden behind rounded glasses.

“Hi,” she says in a small voice, giggling when she looks back at Hobie.

“I think she has a crush on your husband.” Clementine's mother chuckles, patting her daughter's back for a job well done.

“My husband?” Panic sets in your chest until you see her gesturing towards Hobie. “Oh,” you chuckle shakily, fists bunched around your trousers.

Hobie notices, he doesn't say anything about it. He takes your reaction as something else, so to keep your embarrassment at bay, he tells the couple otherwise. “Not her husband. Just escortin’ her.”

The air becomes awkward. “Oh,” the mother rubs her belly, smiling gently. “Sorry, you two just look like a good pair.”

Her husband taps her shoe with his. “Just like us, eh, sweetheart?” The wife shakes her head with a bashful smile, bringing a grin to the man's lips. You start to think that this is what marriage is supposed to be. Caring, loving, clinging onto each other in the best way that doesn't stifle or choke, just love in its most natural form. It's unlike any marriages you've seen and experienced back home. “So where are you folks off to? I'm guessing south? We've been seeing you two around since Valentine, it's nice to have some company during the journey don't you think?”

Hobie doesn't sense malicious intent from the parents. “Sure, whatever you say, mate.”

“You're not from around here aren't you?” The little girl listens to the conversation, head moving from side to side whenever someone speaks. “That's alright,” she laughs softly, rummaging for something in her bag. Hobie has his thumb pressed along the side of his gun. “I can tell you'll be good neighbors,” she hands you a small jar of honey, it's bright yellow and clear, you wish you had some tea to go with it. Hobie breathes a sigh of relief. “Here you go!”

“Oh no thank you, we can't possibly take it.”

“Please do.” The husband says, “we used to have a colony of bees, but we had to sell them all before we moved.”

“We have dozens of unsold honey, we're honestly just looking to get rid of it before we get to our destination. They're heavy, y'know.” His wife finishes for him. “Clem, can you give it to sweet Y/N for me?”

“That's so kind of you.” You smile, nodding. “You're moving to the south?”

“Okay.” She happily takes it, walking across the aisle to you and Hobie. Unsurprisingly, she gives it to Hobie instead of you. “Here you go.” She copies her mother.

Hobie takes the jar with trepidation. “Thank you?”

You quiet down a laugh while Clementine’s parents guffaw across you.

“Oh she's in love.” The mother says, arms raised to embrace her daughter who welcomes her touch. You can't help but feel a pang in your heart at her love for her child. “And yes we're going to be living there with my in-laws. Rent has gone too high in the west, y'know.” You nod along, making friendly conversation.

“Wish I had tea,” you hear Hobie mumble. You smile softly at his words.

—

It's been a couple of more trains, and more smoke in your lungs, you start to feel like your hands are starting to smell like the steel that you now know as your temporary home. The scenery outside your window has changed. From grassy dusty plains of tumbleweeds and windmills to rolling mountains that rise up high with large looming trees that shield you from the sun. Soon your view will be full of the southern charm, but you don't look forward to it, being there means that you're closer to getting back to the place you dread.

You've grown quite close to Clementine and her little family, even the other familiar passengers that are heading the same way as you are quite fond of you as well. You eat breakfast with them, have afternoon tea, and have even introduced Cherry and Bucky to the children. They've lovingly named them both ‘horsies,’ to which you'd always giggle at.

Clementine has latched onto you, you teach her about plants and flowers, and have her draw them for you just like you've sweetly described it to her. But when Hobie's near, she opts to be his shadow for the time being, following him everywhere until her mother calls her back. Hobie is half annoyed that he can't find the time to speak to you, but he's glad that there's someone as a mediator between the two of you or he'll start vomiting out words that may or may not make the situation worse.

Your back aches at the lumpy mattress that you've unfortunately landed into. You can't help but give up the assigned cabin for you and Hobie to Clementine and her family since the beds are much more comfortable in that cabin. So you offered to exchange it, citing that the mother, Florence, you've come to know, needs it more because of the growing baby in her. She gratefully gave you another jar of honey for your sacrifice.

Hobie enters the booth, heavy boots thumping against darkened wood, spurs clicking, footsteps rolling along like a thick heavy fog of loneliness.

“Where were you?” He asks even though he's afraid that he'd be overbearing. His worries win over him.

You grip the spine of the borrowed book, knuckles tightening, eyes drawn downwards to the written word that spells out ‘grief.’ “I visited Cherry, I don't want her to be lonely.” You barely look at him.

Hobie flexes his hands not out of anger, no, out of fear of losing you, this time, just like the last time he did, he doesn't know why or how he could even lose you. He sits down across from you, bed creaking from his weight. He tries to play as the nonchalant cowboy like he always had for the past five years.

“Clementine was lookin' for you.” *I was looking for you. “Cherry won't be lonely, she has Bucky with her.”

“Bucky hasn't been much help when all he does is look at her. Not much of a conversationalist.” You flick your eyes over to him, flashes of anger and hopelessness are melted into your irises.

“Maybe Bucky just doesn't have the words.”

“And maybe Cherry just wants to talk to him.”

“That fuckin’ horse,” he laughs, you don't find the humour in his words. But he clearly does. Your anger flies over his head. “that horse is already worth half of your bounty.” His words are a sharp sting in your arteries. “If she actually speaks she'll be worth it.”

“And what if she doesn't? That she's not worth your damned money?” You toss the book aside. Anger seeping out of your pores. “You'll sell her after you bring me in to my aunt?” Your voice breaks, and you hate yourself for it. “Am I just that to you? A bounty?” The dam breaks, and everything you've kept to yourself bursts open.

“That's not—” The heart that he has sewn together breaks at the seams.

You abruptly stand up, tears pricking your eyes. Inhaling, you stare down the man you love. The only man you've ever loved. “You are not what I hoped to find when I escaped on that ship.”

Before he could say something, anything, you disappeared into another train car, and amidst the metallic halls.

—

Another grueling day, another steel cage to get into. The train whistles as it comes to a stop, you've grown acclimated to the smell of burning coal, you let it coat your lungs as you enter the train with Hobie silently trailing after you.

Your eyes are glossed over, red and swollen from the sobs you've let out over the course of the last sixteen hours. Hobie hasn't talked to you since then, always looking at your back, face unreadable. You pass by familiar faces, you don't acknowledge them. You're tired, bones aching, muscles twitching from lack of sleep and water. Head thrumming, you enter your designated cabin like a doe who has lost its way.

There's a sinkhole underneath your feet, slowly it eats at you, up to your shins and up your thighs, coating your flesh in mud and dirt. You don't tug at him anymore, the small ember of hope in your chest has diminished, instead, you let the ground swallow you whole— letting it suffocate you, letting it drown your lungs in soil.

Just like he did on the first train ride, there's four beds on each wall, but instead of an empty space in the middle, there's a little foldable table. You close the top bunks and lay down on one of the bottom ones, head heavy against the soft pillow. You feel his presence behind you, and then a cool steel atop your bicep. You flinch away, thinking it was a barrel of a gun.

“I figured you're thirsty.” He says, hand hovering above your shoulder in an attempt to calm you down. The train whistle rings out, and the engine whirrs and starts up as more smoke bellows outside your window.

You take the flask, sitting up to take a drink. He sits across from you, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped in front of him.

Hobie sees the glow of your ring, he instinctively brings his hand up to his own that has made its home around his neck; hidden behind his clothes, finding comfort in its gilded form, the closest thing he can get to you.

“Why do you still hold on to me? After all these years?” He asks, eyes swirling with unknown emotion.

“Why did you let me go?” You answer, and that was the end of the conversation. Then it hits you, he truly doesn't love you anymore.

—

Night comes, and with it your sadness comes flooding through you, getting in the corners, slithering around every crevice— it has memorized your form and made it its home.

Weirdly enough, Hobie hasn't left the cabin, his lingering presence doesn't stifle you, unlike the man back at home who watches you with piercing glares. Even with your fury, your mind still finds comfort in Hobie.

He hears your almost silent cry, he wants to hold on to you, to brush his palms on your cheeks, to wipe away the tears and press his lips against your own. But he can't, or you'll think that he didn't mean it, that he only did it to make you calm down. It would be a cheap satisfaction for the both of you.

“I didn't let you go, I had to go.” He suddenly says above the quiet cutting of an apple in his hand, leaving pieces of it on your side just in case you want it. His voice doesn't waver, perhaps he has been saying the exact words to you in his mind for the past five years. You still have your back turned facing him as the deep rumble of the train goes on. “I was young and stupid. I was forced—”

You suddenly turn towards him, sitting up on the lumpy mattress. “And I was young and stupid too, yet I knew in my heart that running away with you wasn't foolish. Was it stupid to you? Escaping with me? That you'd rather run away, alone, to another country than be with me?” The memory of a young you waiting for him with your luggage in your grip has you seething.

Hobie matches your anger, hunting knife pausing on the red apple. “Did you hear what I said?” He angrily skins the fruit, slicing and dicing at its flesh. “You have no idea what I've done to survive. I have endured a lot to be where I am now—”

“And what of what I endured?!” You stand up, taking your bag, rummaging through it. “I'm truly sorry for whatever happened to you— but how could I apologize for something that I don't even know?” You toss the letters on the desk after struggling to take it out of the bag. “There! The letters that were sent back to me because I had no idea where you would be! Read them, and you'll know of the things I've endured. Unlike you who would rather look at me with contempt than tell me why I deserve that horrid gaze.” You gasp for air, he lets you speak, his own anger dissipating, fear once again encompasses him. “I thought you were dead, everyone kept telling me you were, but I didn't believe them. It's been years, my hands are raw from— I mourned you.” You pause, watching your golden ring glow in the lampshade. “Do you know how much that hurt? To start to believe their words? To lose hope? I didn't know where you were but you knew where I was and yet, not a single fucking letter went my way.”

Hobie stares at the letters spilled all over the table, apple juice seeping into the yellowed paper. He takes one, the oldest looking one that has its edges burned. Breaking the wax seal, he reads as he listens to your words coated in venom and grief.

“One letter, Hobie, and I would've understood. Then I wouldn't have come after you if you just told me you didn't want to be with me anymore.” You nod, “and now you're bringing me home, to the same people who would rather keep me locked up and tell me lies. I don't know how your letter got in my possession, but now I know that you didn't mean anything you wrote in it.” For five years you've asked yourself, ‘was it me?’ ‘Was I the reason you left?’ you never got the answer to your question, so now you ask him finally. “Was it me?”

Hobie raises his head to look upon your sorrow, his hand shakes at the act they've done to you the second he escaped. He had thought they'd leave you alone, that they'd finally let you go once he was gone and forgotten; but he never thought it would get worse, the hurtful words and slaps on the wrists were nothing compared to what they've done after that night he was almost buried alive— the night you tried to escape with him. His mind draws the scene, blood coating your knees, your pained cry as your aunt jabs your hands with the tip of a fountain pen. And then her words of hollow apologies as she heals your wounds so that it wouldn't scar. You're filled with them, invisible to the eye, but not to you, the only person who has felt every single torturous wound.

‘It's terrible,’ you wrote, ‘not ever seeing you again.’ And he agonizingly read it. No, it wasn't you, it was them, them who would rather commit murder just to mimic what he had. Hobie can't form coherent words at what he just read, anger and sadness piercing his veins like a poisoned arrow of guilt.

You sniff, wiping the tears in your eyes as he just stares back at you. His hands shakes, paper crumpling under his tight grip, he needs to bring you home. But not there, not at the gilded cage he left you in.

The cruelty of memory has plagued you, you try to remember, you reminisce, but did it actually happen? Did all his love for you even happen?

“You don't have to keep reading,” you say solemnly, “it doesn't matter now, we're nearly there.” With a slide of the door, you leave.

—

After the twelfth tear stained letter, with his own tears flowing down and leaving moistened webs on the paper, he has had enough. His eyes always seem to see the same words now, ‘was it me?’ ‘Are you alive?’ and ‘When will you come back?’ Hobie hasn't even made a dent on the letters, barely reading half of the pile of longing you've left. Hobie's mind swirls into different emotions, going through every scenario where he didn't run away, where he came back for you while clutching his still bleeding throat and body covered in moist soil.

He was foolish to try and push you away, to hold you at arm's length, to only look at you like he has let the poisonous words thrown at him by the very same man that gave him the scar curl around him like blackened smoke that stains his clothes. He thought that wanting you back would bring nothing but hurt, especially that he thought that he didn't deserve it. To want is his demise, to have you again in his arms is his folly, but what a wonderful folly it would be.

How could he do all of that to you when his scarred flesh is in the shape of your name.

He pockets the letters, tucking it inside his waist coat, right above his heart just to feel your words through them. The door opens with a click, and he walks towards your direction like a compass built inside him that always points towards you. His fingers glide along the scar on his neck, raised skin felt through his gloves as he walks from carriage to carriage. Where there's open air in between, cool breeze stinging his moistened cheeks. Then he stops at the edge of a crowd, a jaunty tune plays from a traveling musician, playing for a scrap of coins in the corner. People gather around the brightly lit bar, alive and happy, and there you are standing as if you're frozen in time. As if he's seeing you just how he left you.

Amidst the familiar faces within the crowd that gathers in the small bar to converse, he stares at you, and by some miracle, you stare back at him, meeting his jade eyes that are surrounded by a sickened red. There's a soft, ghost of a smile on your lips, even after what you've told him— eyes full of love for the same man who has your heart in the palm of his hands; gentle, caring and yet unknowingly the only person that could truly hurt you the most without the painful slap of a wooden board against your back. It brings him back in time, under the cloudy gas light and the whir of the metal machines whose maw opens and closes to reveal heated metal— His mouth opens and he says the exact same thing that he has been saying every single time his eyes meet yours in secret— ‘meet you back at home.’ He utters, a promise kept under the smell of unlit gunpowder and cheap champagne that your aunt always buys to placate the workers. And you say the same words back without a bated breath— ‘wait for me.’ You almost cry out into the crowd, you'd scream it if it weren't for the forbidden relationship. It has been like that through every cheap congratulatory milestone the factory and your aunt has thrown. You don't speak to him, but your longing eyes do. He doesn't come near you, but his hand would always gravitate towards your velvet clad hand. ‘No one else knows.’ ‘No one else knows,’ those words echo in your mind like a root taking its place. Yet, someone saw, it only takes one good pair of eyes to see the growing love between you— ‘no one knows,’ he mirrors, but one does. It only takes one to set off a domino effect, an effect that would lead to his attempted murder, and to your demise that he isn't fully privy to. ‘No one knows,’ ‘no one knows,’ you whisper to yourself as you pack your bags to escape the life you haven't got a say in. No one knows, and yet, one did, and that one got your love's neck slashed and buried alive in the same soil you once kissed above on, under the same tree that you were supposed to meet in.

He wondered why you didn't show up, but the one that knew did. No one knows, and the one that did lived in your house, ate your food, shared a bed with your aunt— a story told through a letter from a man he once worked with, a man who now has one eye, a man that helped dig him out of the shallow grave they've put him in, waiting to bleed out in the earthbound soil. A dangerous letter that he had burned in the fire from anger. He wanted revenge, but you would be the cost. So he survived and killed, and survived again, always seeing you in the corner of his eye, always hearing your almost forgotten voice when he's on the edge of sleep. He survived and now he's here, meeting with your eyes amidst the crowd once again— with the evidence of his survival curling around him like a heavy rope, and your own hovering above you like a grey cloud that threatens to spill, yet he still utters the same words above the murmuring happier crowd, “meet you back at home.” His throat closes in around the words, almost screaming it to the crowd.

A tear slips from your eyes that are full of woe, and you say the words back, quieter, unsure, yet, the love is still there— “wait for me.”

Hobie breathes for the first time, his feet carrying him around the crowd, weaving through bodies to get to you while you stand still, waiting for him, watching as he desperately trudges to get to you.

You look just like how he remembered, standing by the oak tree, waiting for him even if his hands are stained black from grease— you'd still hold his hand. Now his hands are soiled in crimson that drips onto the floorboards, and yet you still hold your hand out towards him. He would atone for his sins if that's what you'd ask of him, but no one would grant him his penance, he has accepted that fact long ago. Only your touch could mimic it.

Hobie finally makes it to you, now he stands in front of your form, now he notices your hand grasping his own. Featherlight, unsure, if he'd reciprocate, giving him enough time to shake you off. But he doesn't, instead, he holds on to you tighter as he leads you outside of the noisy carriage and away from prying eyes, what he should've done all those years ago.

Hobie tugs you out of the hole that has consumed you.

Silently, you follow him, squeezing his hand twice to let him know that you're right behind him without him looking over his shoulder to inspect. You feel his fingers run along the ring on your finger.

The sound of the metal wheels are loud in your ears, steam rolling off in waves as it warms your back. It's dark out, the moon above guiding his path while he opens the other door leading towards the last carriage that carries horses and baggage.

The moon has always been a comfort to you. You thought in those years without him that he'd be staring at the same moon as you, that at least you've still got a connection with him. Even if you weren't sure he'd be alive to look up at the sky. Arms suddenly envelopes you, hands cradling the back of your head to keep you close to him, face hidden in the crook of your neck.

You're the first one to speak while you tentatively raise your arms to embrace him back. He's warm, warmer than you remember. “Do you mean it?”

Hobie sniffs, diamonds rolling off his cheeks, a promise falling from his lips, “yes, I'll bring you home, my home.” He molds himself to the shape of you once again. An act that you've been trying to attain since the beginning of the journey, now you're both perfectly aligned with each other, heartbeats synching and full. “I'll tell you everything, everything you need to know.”

“Just the ones you're willing to tell, Hobie. I'm so sorry for yelling those words at you.” You hold his head in your hands, gentle, caring, cradling him like you're holding the moon. Guiding it upwards so you could stare at his viridescent eyes that's full of hope for the first time in years. But the gnawing in your mind draws too close to you. “They'll never stop, they will keep hunting us down.” A sob breaks through your throat, “You have to bring me to them.” Tears flow out of you, “or we'll never be at peace. You'll never be at peace.”

The horses neigh behind you, Cherry huffs while Buckeye just stares at the scene. The carriage rattles for a moment before Hobie leans, laying his forehead atop yours, squeezing the soft skin on your nape. He closes his eyes, inhaling you in, you almost crumble in his arms. You've dreamt of this day, dreamt of holding him like this once again.

“You're my peace.” he whispers, “They can try to ruin that peace, but I'll stop them. I'll kill them if I had to.”

“Okay,” you close your eyes, just as he opens his own. “Take me home.”

“‘m sorry,” he kisses your forehead, lips lingering, a heavy kiss that brings you back to life, mending all your doubts. “Let's go home, yeah?” Leaning away, his eyes dart over to a man coming your way, he doesn't find it suspicious, but then the stranger brandishes a gun, raising it over your head. “Y/N—!”

Your body flings off to the side, hip hitting harshly on the corner of a crate. Then a loud cackle of a gun goes off, the sound bouncing off the walls, gunpowder flying over head, hiding Hobie from your vision. You yell his name, but you can't hear your own voice from the ringing in your ears.

Everything happens slowly in your eyes. Smoke spreads as you see Hobie still standing and unscathed, gun raised, barrel aimed at the man's head. Said man runs towards him like a bull, making Hobie miss his shots. Yet the man still shoots at him, slower than Hobie but just as deadly. Hobie leans his head slightly to the side, effectively dodging a bullet. You scamper towards Cherry, lifting yourself up, waiting for the right moment. And then you slap your precious horse, making her kick before he could reach Hobie. Cherry's deadly kick hits the perpetrator right on his back, where a sickening crunch can be heard. The sheer force of the kick has dust flying off his body, and now he lays motionless on the wooden floor.

“Fuckin' hell.” Hobie gawps at you, smile spreading across his lips. “You alright?” He walks over to you, or tries to while Cherry gives one last kick towards the dead man.

“Yeah,” you nod, patting Cherry, Keeping her calm. “It's okay, girl. I'm so sorry.” You coo at her, Hobie goes around the horse to hold you. “Are you—?”

His arms wrap around your waist, lips smashing on yours. You inhale and it's already over. Even if it was quick, it wasn't a cheap satisfaction, it's everything. He pats your cheek affectionately, beaming at you, holding you close. “You're brilliant.” His thumb rubs softly where you hit your hip on the crate, a silent apology.

You smile, heart thumping loudly like an engine. “It was all Cherry.”

“Should I snog the horse now too?” Hobie says smugly, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“No, preferably just me, for now at least.” You tap his chest, bashfulness encompassing you.

“Nah, it's you until the end, love.” He clicks his forehead against yours, making you chuckle.

A scream rings out from the other carriage, hurried footsteps bounding away. “Do you think—?”

Hobie reloads his gun effortlessly, giving the spare one to you. “You're a better shot than me anyway.” He takes one last look at you, as if this is the last time he'd ever set his eyes on you. “Whoever they are, I'll cut through them. Cover my back?”

“Always,” You nod, taking the silver six-shooter, “then we'll go home after this.”

He grins, hope in his eyes. “Home, you'll love it there.”

“Let's cut through all of them then.”

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