#is it just me. does anyone else feel this pull.

[mononijikayu]

is it new years yet? — nanami kento.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now." "Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different." “My darling, behave.” “No <3” ".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, secret coworker romance, co-workers to lovers, romance, fluff, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, creampie, p to v sex, stairwell sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my darling, babe, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, actor! nanami kento, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 6k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the first fic of 2025!!! this was specifically written because of a conversation between me and @midnight-138 on the afternoon of december 31st 2024. i started progress while on a bus on the way to my grandma's house and for a bit on the 1st. i still wanted to write more for it, but i had to stop because i caught a cold. i still have a cold. and i need a massage cause i feel my body hurt real bad, cause its working hard to save my life from this cold TT TT

but that being said, i shouldn't complain too much. good things have been happening to me despite my problems. i hope that good things continue to come!!! anyway, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy this little fic. happy 2025!!! may good things, good health and happiness come your way always this year!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN YOU AND KENTO GET TOGETHER. But it was to be expected, since you graced the screens since you were a child. Nanami Kento was like that too. Of course, it wasn’t something of a brag at all. It was just your normal.

You were lucky, you were favored like that. Kento was favored just like that. Both of you were so beloved. And especially so, in a way that they end up hoping that you both were together. 

Ever since you worked with him on Jujutsu Kaisen all those years ago, it was just too strong — the chemistry between the two of you. It pulls people in for more. They wanted a story, they wanted something that could ease their days from the mundane boredom that it was to the fun, exhilarating excitement that comes with the tea in both of your private lives.

You didn’t mind, your company didn’t mind either. Neither did Kento or his side of the aisle. It helped that you were both good friends. You had met even before landing your roles on Jujutsu Kaisen, after all. So, the ‘will they, won’t they’ between the two of you really did help your careers.

But of course, just like in Gege–sensei’s scripts, some parts are sentences with too many blank pages. And the wholeness of your relationship with Nanami Kento truly only belonged to you and him. And you were not willing to expose it to the world. Not just yet.

Yet — this does not stop them from trying to do something about that.

The studio buzzed with activity as you adjusted the earpiece in your ear, stealing a quick glance at the veteran actor, singer, producer, writer and entertainment personality that is Nanami Kento.

He stood near the stage, his posture relaxed yet impossibly refined. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie a subtle but elegant shade of deep blue,everything about him just exuded a quiet confidence that made it hard for anyone to look away. 

You, however, knew better than to let your gaze linger too long. You knew too well that those are reserved for just him and you to interpret and to see. No one else should. You were as possessive about your private moments as he was. But you would never say that outloud and neither will he.

“Can you believe these two again?” a stagehand whispered slowly, behind you. It was still, of course, loud enough for you to hear. “It’s like they were made for this. If they don’t end up together after tonight, I’ll lose faith in love. Really!”

You bit back a laugh, focusing on your notes. No one knew the truth, after all. That you and Kento were already together had been for a while now. Not even your publicists or managers — hell, not even your entertainment companies, knew that this was for genuine actuality, a real thing now. But you and him liked it that way.

You had let your fans go wild with their theories over the years of course. Every post, every comment, every little interaction, every collaboration, every press tour — almost everything seemed to spark a new wave of speculation and fan shipping. 

For years now, the internet was rife with hashtags like #OurSecretLovers and #MrAndMrsNanami with fans pouring over every detail like it's an investigatory report they were doing, a documentary study. You had to admit, it was amusing at times, watching people try to connect dots they couldn’t see. 

Nanami Kento had a reputation for being rather serious, because he gets roles in that league often. But he was a silly little man, well your silly little man. And he often had the knack for finding the most random, yet oddly endearing, posts about the two of you on Twitter. During your five-minute breaks between shoots, when you were in separate rooms or on different sets, his messages would pop up on your phone, accompanied by a link and a deadpan caption.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now."

"Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different."

“My darling, behave.”

“No <3”

".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

You’d giggle to yourself, your shoulders shaking as you tried not to draw attention. It didn’t matter how serious the production you were working on either. He had a way of making you laugh even from miles away. And that relaxes you a lot.

When it was your turn, you’d send him TikToks. Fancam edits of the two of you together had exploded in popularity as of late, especially since you both played a married couple who were spies deceiving each other recently. People thought he looked so good, especially when he had his shirt off. You loved teasing him about it. After all, he was really pretty hot in those scenes. And if you were being honest, they did in fact rile you up.

"Look at us, babe." you texted once, attaching a video with dramatic lighting, a love song playing over clips of you two stolen from interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. "We’re icons."

His reply came almost immediately: "Icons, sure. But I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be yours, you know?"

Those words made your heart swell every time. He’d always been effortlessly humble, never letting fame or admiration inflate his ego, even as his star rose. After all, you were the senpai here—the darling of the Japanese screen since childhood. 

You’d grown up in the industry, your name synonymous with household stardom. He, on the other hand, had been a late bloomer, starting as a teenager and building his career with quiet determination.

He never let the difference in your status get in the way, though. If anything, it only made him more in awe of you. He’d often remind you how much he admired your grace, how you’d navigated the pressures of fame with a poise that still left him speechless.

“You’ve been dazzling audiences since you were a kid.” he’d say, his voice warm with pride. “I’m just lucky to share the screen with you now and your life.”

And you’d roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kento. You’re a fan favorite for a reason.”

“Maybe.” he replied with a soft smirk. “But you’re my favorite. And that’s what matters.”

No matter how busy your schedules got, those small exchanges, be it a funny link or a sentimental text, every bit of this kept you connected. It reminded you both that beneath the glitz and glamour, what truly mattered was the quiet, enduring love you shared.

You were out of your bubble soon enough when Kento suddenly caught your eye from across the room, offering a small, reassuring smile and then a small gentle nod. You felt your cheeks turn red but lowered your head immediately before anyone was to notice. He was too good at making you feel like this. And certainly so, he was hiding his smirk under his cue cards.

“Alright, places, everyone!” the director called.

You finally stood up from your chair, taking a deep breath and calmed down. You gave yourself one more look in the mirror, trying to make sure that your cheeks were natural now. When you felt like it was, you smiled at your manager who handed you the mic and swiftly thanked them. You went to your position. Kento soon approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” you replied, flashing him a smile.

You were grateful for the reassurance. Even if you were already such a big name, you still did get nervous. And even more so, with such a big show like this — the New Year Countdown, of course you could feel yourself slipping.

The two of you took your positions on stage as the lights dimmed and the opening music swelled. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he fixed himself up, your pinkies touching. Even briefly, you could feel the warmth. He did that on purpose. You could see it in his caramel eyes. 

You let a brief smile echo on your lips. You gathered yourself as the lift came up slowly. When you both were in the sight of the gathered audiences and the cameras started to broadcast it all live, you both slipped effortlessly into your roles. After all, you both were professionals.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this year’s New Year’s Eve Countdown!” you began, your voice bright and enthusiastic.

“Thank you for joining us as we bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.” Kento added, his tone smooth and polished.

Your banter flowed naturally, as always. That well beloved chemistry between you is still ever so undeniable. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him; he was your partner in every sense of the word. And that made your job tonight a little bit easier.

But of course, the real challenge was hiding the little moments that threatened to give you away that bit you kept so dear to you. You just can't help it when it comes to him. He has such a powerful pull on you and he knows it.

There were those little lingering glances, watching and feeling the way his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a card, the subtle softness in his smile when he looked at you. After all, this is the longest you could be together in your very busy schedules this year.

Still, you kept yourself in that cage. And so did he, despite his lack of patience when it comes to you and everything about you. As the night progressed, the energy in the studio grew electric.

Various music performances lit up the stage, and interviews with special guests kept the crowd engaged. Throughout it all, you and Kento remained the perfect duo—professional, poised, and completely in sync.

After nearly a few hours of composure, it came almost all too suddenly. In just a few moments, the final countdown approached, and the excitement was palpable. The two of you stood at the center of the stage, along with the other participants for this year’s event. In front of you, the crowd behind you cheering wildly, waiting excitedly for the new year.

“Here we go!” you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

Kento leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing great, darling..”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your composure. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, babe.”

The countdown soon began.

You took a breath, looking at the screen.

You held your cue cards tightly to you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The lights soon dimmed, and the giant screen behind you displayed the numbers as they ticked down. The crowd’s voices grew louder with each second. The emotions coming through you were indescribable. Another year had gone by. But he was still by your side, like this. And all you could pray for as the time passed into a new age — that you would always be together.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Confetti soon rained down, and the studio erupted in cheers. You turned toward Kento, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you disappeared. The look in his caramel eyes was unmistakable—warm, tender, and filled with a quiet pride that made your chest tighten.

But just as quickly, the moment passed, and you both turned back to the crowd, waving and smiling as the cameras captured every angle. People of course started to pay less attention to you both and the stage and more onto the fireworks now blurring the sky with its bright hues. You and Kento made a steady exit off the stage. 

“Another successful project, isn’t it?” you said, breaking the silence as you leaned against the wall.

Kento smirked faintly, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his tie. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks, you know?”

“And shipping us even harder, hm.” you added with a laugh.

“They’ll never know, though.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture grounding you in a way nothing else could. “They don’t need to, babe.” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “This is ours.”

Kento’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Happy New Year, my darling.”

“Happy New Year.” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You had thought it would end there, sweet and innocent. You had thought you both were safe for one more year. But when you two are together after a long time…..it was a whole new animal. And nothing can stop such a wave in high tide from occupying something whole. 

The next tithing you know is that the internet exploded the moment the photos dropped. Headlines blared across every platform, hashtags like #FINALLYOMG and #NewYearNewScandal trending within minutes after they were taken.

The pictures were pretty damning. They were blurry but unmistakably you, disheveled and wrapped in Nanami’s coat, your hair a mess. And him? A rare sight indeed.

It was none other than Nanami Kento, usually the epitome of composure, looking uncharacteristically undone. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the telltale bruises blooming on his neck left little to the imagination.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the coffee table as you buried your face in your hands. Beside you, Kento sat unbothered, calmly sipping his tea like the world wasn’t on fire—or at least your career’s PR team.

“I told you we should’ve been more careful, babe.” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips quivering into a teasing smile. “You were the one who couldn’t wait with it, y'know?” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with an elegant clink.

His tone was infuriatingly calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Who was it again, begging me to fill you up? By round two, you were going—‘Kento, I need you. Right here. Right now.’ and I was happy to heed the request like always.”

Your scarlet blush was immediate, your head snapping up to glare at him. “Kento!” you hissed, glancing around the living room as if someone could overhear, even though it was just the two of you. “Not helping!”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with the air of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m just stating the facts about, I'm the same.” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening as you shot him another flustered look. "That's not a bad thing."

Your phone buzzed again on the table, your manager’s name flashing on the screen. You sighed, picking it up only to immediately huff and toss it back down. “This is really…” you trailed off, searching for the right word but settling on a frustrated groan instead.

“Chaotic? Consequential? Hilarious?” Kento offered, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You shot him a glare that was far more affectionate than threatening. “Horrible. That’s the word. This is horrible.”

He chuckled, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on your knee. “Darling, it’s not the end of the world. Scandal or not, we’ll deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say.” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Your team probably thinks this is great publicity for your brooding, mysterious heartthrob image. Meanwhile, I’m the one getting texts about how unprofessional it looks for ‘Japan’s sweetheart’ to be caught sneaking around with hickeys and wearing her boyfriend’s coat.”

“Unprofessional?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “It’s not like we committed a crime. We’re adults in a committed relationship. And in any case my darling....….” he added, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You look adorable in my coat.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me. Very much." he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, instead letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Next time, though….really.....” you muttered. “We’re finding a stairwell without photographer cameras.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Noted.”

As you leaned against your lover, the memory hit you both like a freight train, vivid and unrelenting. It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as it could between the two of you. The countdown show had gone off without a hitch, and the studio was still buzzing with post-show chaos. 

You both talked for a bit, had a cute moment and then went back to your professional mode when everyone started to surround you both again. It was like a switch, and it was easy. No one suspected a thing.

You went ahead into the dressing room, you talked with everyone. You’d been polite and professional, thanking the crew and chatting with some of the guests. But the moment Nanami Kento had caught your eye as you left the green room, something in his caramel gaze had made your pulse quicken.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Between his packed schedule and yours, the countdown project had been the only excuse to be in the same room together. The public facade you maintained only added to the frustration. Every fleeting touch, every shared look—it all built up, an unbearable tension neither of you could ignore.

So, when he’d quietly grabbed your hand and guided you down a quiet, rarely-used stairwell in the building when no one was looking, you hadn’t protested. You were excited, happy even. This was the chance to feel him again this close to you. 

And you were glad for that opportunity. You could feel his touch be so genuine and warm despite the heavy chill in the air, and the firm grip of his fingers around yours sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Darling, I missed you, really.” he murmured as soon as you were alone.

His voice low and rough, filled with a longing that made your knees weak. His hands cupped your face with a reverence that always left you breathless, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was searing, his lips melding with yours as though it had been an eternity since your last stolen moment together.

The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin, but his touch set you alight. His coat had slipped from his shoulders in a quiet, unspoken gesture, draped over yours as his lips moved to your neck. The kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and deliberate, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin before his teeth grazed your pulse.

“Kento, babe….” you gasped, your voice trembling from a mix of the frigid air and the heat of his attention. Your fingers clutched the lapels of his suit, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, just enjoy it......” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. 

His hands slid down your sides, firm but gentle as they gripped your thighs. Without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the wall. The rough texture scraped against your coat, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way his body pressed into yours.

His strength always caught you off guard, even after all this time together. Your eager legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he stepped between them, his body fitting against yours like a missing piece.

“Babe!” you breathed again, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He kissed you like a man starved, his lips leaving your neck to reclaim your mouth. The intensity of it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him. He was hungry, perhaps even more than you were. But you had expected that. He has a habit of yearning to touch you a lot.

“I hate not being able to touch you, with all the schedules we fucking had.” he muttered against your skin, the words tinged with frustration and longing. “Hated every fucking minute of it……”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you tugged him closer. “Then don’t stop, babe.” you whispered, the plea soft but desperate. “Cause….I need you badly too. I need you so bad in me—”

He growled softly, the sound rumbling against your throat as his touch shifted. One hand remained steady on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, while the other slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers were deliberate, pushing aside the delicate lace of your panties with practiced ease.

When his fingers slipped through your slick folds, a gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall. He groaned softly, the sound low and satisfied as he gathered your arousal, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“You’re already so ready for me, aren’t you, my darling?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers moved with precision, finding the spot that made you arch into him.

The cold air around you was a stark contrast to the heat building between you, the quiet of the stairwell broken only by your uneven breaths and his whispered praises. It was reckless, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating—just like him.

“Kento, babe….oh!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his fingers continued their unrelenting rhythm. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as waves of pleasure began to build within you.

“Shh, darling.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing back to your neck. His voice was low and soothing, laced with a quiet intensity that only made your pulse race faster. “You’ll have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape as he added a second finger. The stretch was delicious, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing you higher with every stroke. His thumb brushed over your sensitive bud, and your thighs instinctively clenched around his waist.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s my good little lover, hm? My only beloved darling.” he murmured, his praise sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “So perfect for me.”

Your fingers slid up into his messy blond hair, tugging gently as your body arched against him. The rough texture of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his touch, grounding you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Kento, please, b–babe….oh!” you breathed, the words barely audible as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. “M–more…..more!”

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient, aren’t you? Greedy too.” he teased, though his fingers quickened their pace, curling just right to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. “I missed seeing you like this, so needy for me.”

The heat pooling in your core intensified, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—” you began, but the words dissolved into a strangled gasp as he pressed his thumb harder against your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, pretty for me, so fucking pretty." He says, coaxing you like a pied piper. His voice was low and intoxicating. Everything about it just burns you as much as his touch did. "I’ve got you. Always.”

With one final stroke, the beautiful echo, that blossoming coil inside you just snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tensed, your thighs tightening around his waist as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped your lips.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as your body shook with aftershocks. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple.

When you finally relaxed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction that made your chest tighten.

“Better?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with affection.

You nodded, still too dazed to form words. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on you as he gently set you back on your feet. Your legs wobbled like jello against him, and he immediately steadied you, his hands firm but gentle on your waist.

“Careful, darling.” he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, babe.” you managed, your voice breathless but steady. “More than fine.”

His lips quivered into a soft smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

As the reality of your surroundings sank back in, you couldn’t help but glance around, the abandoned stairwell suddenly feeling far less private. “We should… probably get back, babe.” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He followed your gaze, his expression calm and unbothered. “Let them wonder where we went.” he said simply, shrugging off the concern as he adjusted his coat around your shoulders. "It's none of their business."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped you cold. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he was guiding you gently back against the wall. His lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, igniting the fire he’d only begun to stoke. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth chasing away the chill of the stairwell as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Kento, babe.” you murmured, a weak attempt to regain your composure, but he silenced you with a kiss that left no room for argument. 

“I missed you, a damn whole lot.” he said, his voice low and filled with longing as his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly once more. "Like I always do."

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your heart pounding as the desire you’d both tried to suppress flared back to life. He pressed against you, the hardness of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric of his pants. The teasing grind of his hips against yours drew a gasp from your lips, and he smirked, his composure slipping just enough to show his need.

"Really....." Kento effortlessly whispered to you, his voice vibrating onto you like a wave crashing onto you at sea. "We shouldn't schedule much this New Year, hm? So we can be together."

"Hm.....Kento." You echo back to him, intoxicated by his touch. "'ake time....for me, okay? I'll.....I'll do the same."

“That's the plan already, you know?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he shifted, his hands tugging at the barriers between you. “Let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Soon after that, you could feel the wet, thick head of his member pressed against your entrance, the heat and pressure stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as he began to push in slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.

It was too good, too damn easy to fall into a high to. You could feel the stretch inside of you, it made you so full. Everything about it was intoxicating, your body yielding to him as he filled you inch by inch, your walls clinging to every part of him like he was made to fit. 

It was like he was trying to make a home inside of it. Inside of you. And it just made you feel so good. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he buried himself deeper.

“Darling.” he muttered, his voice strained and low. “You feel so perfect.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support as your body adjusted to the delicious fullness. The sensation was overwhelming, the slight ache quickly giving way to a heat that spread through your entire body.

“Kento.” you breathed, the sound a mix of plea and surrender.

His large hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, the motion slow but unyielding. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the friction only made you crave more.

“God, this is so…..you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with need. “You’re so tight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go slow like this with you.”

“Don’t, babe.” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”

His carmel eyes darkened almost instantly at your words, a flicker of something primal overtaking his usual control. With a growl, he began to move in earnest, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the stairwell, a symphony of shared desire that neither of you could hold back.

The rough texture of the wall behind you only heightened the sensation, grounding you as he took you apart piece by piece. You could feel your back burn against the concrete wall as you throw your head back against it. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body claimed yours.

“Darling, my pretty baby darling.” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged and desperate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

“Yes, babe. Yours….O–oh…only! Only yours!” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as he kissed along your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. 

The coil in your core once more tightens with every spark you feel as he pushes deeper over and over in a fast pace. Everything about the pleasure you feel keeps building to an almost unbearable peak. It just felt too good. He felt too good.

His pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as his control began to slip. One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your sensitive nub and rubbing it in quick, precise circles.

You cried out, your body arching into him as the tension finally snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly around him as your release tore through you.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m close!” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he shuddered against you, his body going taut as he spilled himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared, labored breathing, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your thighs and waist, grounding you both.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern despite the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gently setting you back on your feet. His hands remained steady on your waist, holding you as your legs wobbled beneath you. You leaned into him, your breath uneven, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just transpired.

But that wasn’t the end of it, of course. 

The hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded, and neither had yours. The raw desire that simmered between you was far from sated, and you both knew it. Kento’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing soft, teasing circles against your hips as he studied your flushed face. 

“I just think that I…..” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I still want more.”

You barely had time to process his words before your lover’s lips were on yours again, roughly consuming you in a kiss that was as demanding as it was all encompassing. Your hands quickly found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Your body instinctively responds to the magnetic pull of his, over and over.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered between kisses, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s going to make people suspicious.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, his smirk returning as his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, trailing up your thighs. “But repercussions are damned when we’re hungry. I can’t stop. I know you won’t too..”

The wall pressed against your back once more as he claimed you all over again, the cool stairwell air doing nothing to cool the fire that raged between you. It was reckless, but neither of you cared. Not here, not now. Hunger demanded to be fed, and with Nanami Kento, you were always insatiable.

After a while, you were both removed from the plane of normalcy and you were both panting with joyous weariness. He presses a kiss against your jaw as you keep a steady bite on his neck. He grumbles against you as he gathers himself from seeing stars. You follow him soon after. You released his neck and started kissing his lips once more. 

When you both found yourself satisfied, you both started to make yourselves as presentable as possible. Well, at least what remains presentable and salvageable for both of you. Kento ripped too much of your outfit as much as you did. Still, you both did not care. 

“We should get you cleaned up.” he murmured, his tone tender as he placed his coat on your shoulders and adjusted it tenderly on you, to keep you warm. “I’ll call my car and then we’ll just hop in there. We’ll go to my hotel, okay?”

You nodded again, your cheeks flushing as the reality of your surroundings began to sink in. But as he laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the main building, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of contentment.

Of course, things too did not go the way you both wanted once again. You didn’t know that there were many SNS photographers  and gossip journalists waiting to catch some other celebrity in that area where Kento’s car was going to be. And that’s just how you were caught, not thinking about the logistics of it all. 

But how could you? It was New Years. 

You just got mindlessly blown with really, really, really good sex.

And you were together once again with your lover.

How could you think about anything else after all that? 

Now, back in the present, the two of you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment. Nanami Kento’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your frazzled nerves. You sighed, looking up to your lover who presses a kiss on your forehead.

“You know this is going to be everywhere, babe.” you said, gesturing toward your phone.

He set his tea down and leaned back, regarding you with a look of quiet amusement. “Let them talk, darling. It was bound to happen eventually.”

You groaned. “Eventually I didn't need to include hickeys and a ruined coat. And oh god….. was I leaking your cum?” 

You took your phone once again to inspect, but your lover took your phone with his free hand and put it away. You looked at him, almost sulky as one would look as a child. He laughs. He presses another kiss on your hair. Kento couldn’t help but smirk. Both acts had made your heart skip a beat. 

“You look good in my coat though. I could hardly care if my cum was dripping out, darling.” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure I look just as ridiculous. You mauled my neck so happily after that first round.”

“You  do look like you’ve been ravaged.” you shot back, though your cheeks burned at the memory. “I mean, it made sense at the time….I was hungry.”

“Hm, I don’t blame you.”

You sighed. “We’ll contact our PR and everyone later, okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm.”  he said softly, his voice filled with the steady reassurance you’d always loved about him. “We’ll be fine, okay? I don’t care as long as I am with you.”

You sighed, leaning into his warm touch. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I don’t mind. As long as we're happy together, I say let them say whatever they want.”

You blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Hm.” He smiles at you. “Because no one will truly know who you are to me. That’s only mine. They’ll have a headline, but I’ll have the whole spreadsheet.”

You feel like your heart is melting with his tenderness. “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your lips, smiling wider at you.

And just like that, the storm outside felt a little less overwhelming.

[beloveds-embrace]

https://www.tumblr.com/beloveds-embrace/769747896273862656/im-sorry-did-you-say-neglected-omega?source=share

You can't just drop that bomb on us. I feels like I should sue u for emotional damage

I very kindly request some fluff with this 🙏🙏

Can i be 🦋 anon? Pretty pretty please

if i got sued for emotional damage each time I fear i’d have to declare bankruptcy 😭 but ne ways, here you go 🦋 anon! <3

The room still smells faintly of a sour, lonely heat, even weeks later. No matter how many times Gaz scrubs the floors or Price washes the sheets (when you are not there yourself, with your own permission because for all that you wanted to just… keep them away, you had no strength or will to clean the room. That was the only inch you were willing to give), the scent lingers- a sharp reminder of everything they let happen.

Everything they let you go through alone.

They’re careful around you now. Slow. Quiet. Desperate not to spook you, not to push you any further away than they already have. But the distance is unbearable. It feels like walking on glass, and no matter how hard they try to reach you, you stay just out of reach.

So they simply try harder.

Price leaves things outside your door- practical, thoughtful things. Your favorite snacks, warm socks, a thermos of tea that stays hot for hours. Quiet gestures that let you know he’s paying attention. Sometimes he sits outside your room, low voice rumbling through the wood as he tells you about his day. Nothing important, just pieces of himself- things he’s never given anyone else.

Soap is softer, but more desperate.

He leaves drawings, slips them under your door like little apologies. Sketches of you smiling, of the pack piled together, happy and whole. There’s always a note attached.

I’m sorry, bonnie.

Please let me fix this.

And then one day, he spots one of them taped to your wall.

It’s small, but it’s something. It’s enough to lighten his heart just a little, giving him a sliver of hope.

Gaz doesn’t say much, but he does.

He cooks for you, warm homemade meals left outside your door. He waits, heart twisting every time the plate is left untouched. But then one morning, the food is gone, and he has to duck into an empty room so no one sees his reaction. He’d been so stressed seeing you thinner than he remembered, not eating as much as you should’ve, but he feels so, so much better when the plates he leaves you are cleared- eaten, and not just picked at.

Ghost doesn’t know how to fix this with words, so he doesn’t try. .

Instead, he sharpens your knives. Fixes the drafty window. Reinforces your bedframe even if all he wants is for you to return to them, to their nest. Leaves a scarf that smells like him. Little things, pieces of himself, pieces of his devotion.

Because even if you never let him close again, he needs you to know

He’s not leaving. He almost doubts himself, lets his fears cloud his judgement, until he sees the scarf around your neck one day.

It’s slow. God, it’s so slow, but they persist and don’t give up. Never even consider it for one precious second, not when it’s you they could lose.

But one night, Price finds you in the kitchen wearing his jacket.

You freeze when you see him, and for a second, he thinks you’ll run.

You stay.

“…It’s late.” You whisper, shuffling your feet. He smells your hesitance, your worries and fears, and hopes the distance he keeps soothes you. The thought of you feeling like that because of him… it leaves the taste of ash coating his throat.

“So it is.”

And yet, you don’t leave. You don’t push him away, or pull back when he slowly walks closer towards you. You just look at him, eyes tired and sad and-

It’s not forgiveness, when you let him gently caress the back of his hand against your cheeks.

But it’s a start.

[sugucvnt]

PERFECT ROLE | 2.7k

alcoholic! toji fushiguro x fem!reader

description: you’ve always been his perfect housewife. you’ve been there to keep the bed warm, keep the food hot, and there to cry when he’s been out all night drinking.

tags/warning: angst, crying, kitchen sex, clothed sex, mentions of drinking, implied alcoholic, toji's not a great husband but he is trying, REPOST (from my other account lolol), emotional sex

all of your days seem to start the same.

laundry, feeding your child, cleaning her room, etc. when you signed up for motherhood, you weren’t expecting the redundancy that tags along with it. still, even your bad days feel good and you couldn’t imagine trading motherhood for anything else. you smile a little as you tuck your last child into bed, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead before leaving quietly.

you have no regrets because you love your little girl. and sometimes, you love your husband too. the sound of jingling keys seems to snap you out of your thoughts and you huff out a breath, making your way downstairs. the stairs croak a bit, so you’re aware he knows you’re coming.

it isn’t written on your face, but you are rather upset. you’ve known your husband since he was a teenager- which means you’re aware of things he may not even be aware of. like the fact that he honestly prefers eating with other people. you’ve noticed the man goes a little crazy when you refuse to eat at the table with him. not just that, though, but you know the way his mind works.

toji doesn’t know what a promise is. or he’s got no idea what it means to make one.

he’ll make tons of empty promises that he never intended to keep in the first place, and then he’ll get pissy at you for being upset with him. it’s unfortunate, but you’ve always learned to just accept it and work around that flaw. until now, you’ve never allowed his blatant disregard for your feelings to send you into such despair. your emotions are a tool you’ve worked diligently to keep in place. it’s like a stone wall: they aren’t so easily broken or disturbed. not by just anyone, at least.  the only person who could disturb the artificial peace you’ve created to keep yourself sane is toji.

you’re barely near the man, still leisurely walking down your loud, wooden steps- but you can smell him.

cheap liquor. it’s all you’ve been able to smell this week.

“‘m back,” he calls, the shrinking scar on his lip pulling into a sickening grin. it seems so long ago but there was a time when you enjoyed his smile. there was a time when it brightened your day just to see the stupid little smirk he’d have on his face when you did something for him, or even when you’d wore a pretty outfit he liked.

“it’s late, toji,” you start, finally making your way down the steps and right past your husband. he barely feels like that to you anymore. “haven’t even had work this week but you’re out all night. it’s funny.”

you shoot him a quick glare before brightening up the kitchen a bit when you turn the stove light on.

“don’t be like that, i let you go out when you wanna.” he sits in one of the chairs in the dining area, a sly grin still glued to his stupid face. your eyebrows furrow and your head turns to look at him, your hand anxiously playing with the loose strings of your nightgown.

“let me? toji, you can’t let me do anything. i haven’t even been out to do anything but run errands.” another sigh escaped your lip and you feel like you might vomit. you’ve been up since 6, running errands, doing laundry, and making breakfast. not to mention, crying yourself nearly to death worrying about your husband. is he alright? why’s he been out so much recently? does he need to talk?

you’re worried out of your mind. it’s like your head’s been spinning and your thoughts aren’t even your own. so anxious, you’re nearly on the verge of vomiting daily. toji hardly even notices you said anything before he’s back to picking at the food on his plate.

“you promised you wouldn’t keep drinking.” he’s draining your energy day by day and you’re unsure if you can even keep up. your voice is merely a croak, fingers still widely tangling and untangling in the loose threads of your satin gown. you wanna say good night and kiss him on the cheek? even tell him that you aren’t mad, just worried is all.

you don’t.

you’re about to move past him. you’re tired and irritated- you need some sleep and a long bath and much to your dismay, he carefully grabs your arm. you’ve been with the kids all day. the kids you’d agreed to procreate when he promised a foolish illusion of a perfect family. you won’t regret your children- don’t think you could ever live with yourself if you did, honestly.

but you’re starting to think you chose the wrong person to start a family with.

he doesn’t speak. his presence is so subtle, it’s like he’s holding his breath. you feel a chill run through your back when he pulls you into his lap, attempting to have you straddle him. your energy, the rest of it, has been used up for the night. you don’t have the proper motivation to even fight with him. on a normal night, maybe you’d push him away a little hard and then come back to apologize. maybe on a normal night, you’d just bury your face in his welcoming neck without fighting him. maybe even ask if he’s okay. you wanna know. you gotta.

however, tonight isn’t a normal night. you haven’t had one in a while.

you have enough energy to turn your head to the side. you can barely stomach looking at his flushed face and wild hair. he’s as red as a tomato, with individual strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. you’ve been missing him so much that the images of how happy he used to look simply from being around you and your children flash through your mind, almost as if your own head’s mocking you. like your mind’s telling you how pathetic it is that you’re losing the family you built. going from a loving housewife to your husband’s burden.

does he hate you? is that why he’s been acting so recklessly? you’re no stranger to fantasizing about your life before a family. you often thought about a different career choice or how much free time you’d have if something, anything, had changed. that didn’t mean you didn’t want toji anymore, though. the thought of him hating you or feeling any type of disgust with you caused your stomach to churn painfully, embarrassingly enough. he was still your lover. always had been.

“you know how much i love you, yeah?” he whispers, the scent of liquor heavy on his thick tongue. his words cause you to flush with a bittersweet sensation. loves you? he’s constantly gone and making you worried. you can’t remember the last time he asked about your day or helped out at home.

you pout childishly, stifling an unwanted laugh. nothing about this is amusing to you, but you genuinely can’t help the laugh beginning to escape your lips. “yeah? then i don’t see why you make me worry so much.” you finally bring yourself to face him, tears awkwardly welling in your eyes. blinking them away, you subconsciously pressed your head against his. you can hear his breath hitch in his throat before his hands gently grip your clothed waist. you’ve been doing well at keeping your frustration with your situation at bay, but something about sitting in your husband’s lap just broke you. when was the last time you were able to feel his warmth? it felt nice. you were starting to remember just how much you missed feeling his body against yours again.

god, you were beginning to feel so needy.

“hey,” you hear him start before he quickly stops talking. you assume he’s attempting to rack his tipsy brain for the right words, but it must be difficult in his haze. still, he’s seeming to sober up in your presence. “don’t cry, please. not over me.”

tears still drip from your eyes, your body ignoring his words. how can you stop now? you’ve been crying all day. all week. he’ll never understand what he’s doing to your mind until it’s too late for the both of you. you’re constantly on edge, feeling like you’ll break. he’ll tell you something sweet, claiming he’ll stop or that he’s sorry- but won’t do anything to make you believe it. you’ve stopped trusting him and you hate that so much. hate how much you’re regretting a relationship with him and how far you’ve both taken it.

neither of you is ready to be together.

even then, you can’t leave. you have a child together. and secretly, even if you won’t admit it, you still love him. even if you’re angry and frustrated, and depressed- you’ll always love him. you’ll always be here, keeping the bed warm and keeping food on the table for when he gets home.

that’s one promise you can’t break.

“please, you’re hurting me a lot.” you’re trying to be honest. until now, you’ve held the way you’ve felt for as long as possible, only confronting him when the situation escalates. you’ve been a good woman. a good wife, for him. “i can’t- not by myself. please, toji. please.” you plead with him, bringing the back of your hand up to quickly wipe away your unwelcome tears.

even in the dim light, you can tell how much his face drops seeing you cry. you’re aware of how his mouth opens, but then quickly shuts. his eyes find yours and his hands squeeze your waist a little. nothing is stopping you from releasing a low groan, so you do. poking your lip out while you watched, or rather felt, for his every move.

he presses a chaste kiss to your neck and suddenly, you can’t remember what you were so upset about. the feeling of his scarred lip bewitches you and forces more groans from your lips. your body seems to move on its own, hips gyrating over his clothed bulge in a steady movement. your lips move to his neck now, your brain filling with fuzz while his hands travel over your needy body. goosebumps begin to form along your skin when he touches you, but he barely notices. it’s been too long since you’ve been touched like this.

“there she is,” toji pushes his strands of hair out of his face before gently grabbing your chin. his eyes are intimidating as ever, but you feel a sudden warmth when he looks at you now. the same gentle fire in his stomach you used to feel. it’s dangerous. it’s dangerous because it feels like hypnotism. every worry or stressor in your life seems to become so blurry they’ve disappeared. your feelings are surprisingly at ease, and shoulders that were once tense now drop lazily. “my pretty lil’ housewife. knew you couldn’t stay mad at me…”

his words should snap you out of your daze. they should upset you because now it’s clear he’s either attempting to make a shitty apology or distract you. despite your awareness, you’re unable to bring yourself to stop.

“yeah…” you breathe out hoarsely, attempting to roll your hips against his hardening bulge once again before he stops you, tightly gripping your waist. your head shoots up to stare at him, silently questioning him. his hands quickly leave your waist before silently fumbling with his belt and zipper. you suck your lip into your mouth and nervously pull your nightgown up to your tummy. the world around the both of you seems to fade away, the only thing on your mind now being your husband. toji, toji, toji.

you breathe out a cool breath, shaky fingers snaking down to pull your sticky panties to the side. your husband’s mouth pulls into a grin when he notices his effect on you, blowing some air from his mouth. you watch intently as his thick fingers wrap around the base of his cock. he glances up at you for a split second before he’s rubbing the top of his cock against your wet clit. you shiver, your chest rising and falling dramatically from such a simple touch. you can feel nerves surge throughout your stomach from both pleasure and anxiety, but you ignore it.

it’s painfully quiet, the only sounds being your soft groans and toji’s grunts. he slicks his cock with a mixture of saliva and your arousal before lining it with your entrance. once he pushes in, you can no longer contain yourself. your eyes water again from the stretch, but you’re still moaning. couldn’t stop if you wanted to. your mouth hangs open, tongue lolling to the side while bottoms out in your tight heat.

“been so long baby,” he whimpers, fucking whimpers, in your ear, the familiar feel of his hands now back on your waist. “missed feeling you like this so bad.” you can feel his hips thrust upward, fucking into you in swift movements while you just take it. you feel his cock drag against your sopping walls, the sound of your slick gushing not going unnoticed by either of you. it’s almost awkward the way you just sit there and take what he’s giving you.

his pace slows down now and then, the gentle drag of his throbbing cock sending waves of pleasure through your body. you huff out gentle breaths into his neck while toji has his way with your body for the first time in a while. neither of you feels talkative tonight given the tension, but you wanna cry out to him. your body’s been on fire these nights without feeling his cock filling you up so, so so perfectly.

with a free hand, he makes a gap between the both of you and presses his finger to your aching clit, causing you to cry out loudly. you throw your head back, finally gaining a bit of control. you leisurely rotate your hips, holding onto toji’s broad shoulders as a way to keep your balance. toji never stops moving. he never stops fucking himself inside of you, one hand gripping your ass while the other gently presses down on your clit.

you know he isn’t good at apologies. is this his way of apologizing? you can’t help but wonder.

he could feel your walls gripping him like you were too afraid to let go- and it was driving him insane. you could tell as much, groaning from the way he throbbed inside of you. “gripping me like-” he stops and grunts, pace quickening once again. you can hear the sound of his cock pounding you, along with the sound of your slick continuing to escape your pussy. it’s almost too much, really. “like you want another baby. do you? you wan’ another, hm?”

goodness, no. you don’t need another child in this situation. you wouldn’t be ready and you know he wouldn’t be either. despite that fact, the fantasy of him pumping more children into you was starting to force a reaction from you. your toes clenched tightly while you rode his cock, pulling yourself off a bit before sliding down quickly. the nerves in your stomach were out of control and you broke out in chills. you were almost there. you buried your face in his shoulder while you moaned, riding out your quiet orgasm. his fingers sped on your aching clit, encouraging you to use him for your own pleasure. he was so lovely in bed.

toji whispered how much of a good girl you were for him before he found himself painting your walls in thick ropes of hot cum. he thrusts into you a few more times before halting, hands weakly wrapping around your hips in an attempt to pull you even closer.

he didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was sorry.

“‘m sorry i haven’t changed.” his voice was croaky, you’d noticed.

“‘ts okay. won’t leave you. can’t.” your lips were pursed while you lay your head on his shoulder, thinking about your words. there was nothing sadder to you than your own desperation. no matter how this played out, you couldn’t see yourself leaving him. no matter how much you were regretting your marriage, you’d never leave.

you were realizing that maybe you weren’t good for each other after all. the toxicity of your relationship was nothing to laugh at.

but even then, you’d continue playing the role of his perfect housewife.

[hvnlygrl]

can u pls pls pls write this, nobody is taking my rqs.

so basically jj/rafe comforting reader bc shes crying after he overstimulated her as a punishment for spending time w pogues/kooks and her touchy bsf jj/rafe

hold me now.

pairing — rafe cameron x pogue!fem!reader

word count — 1.4k

warnings — overstimulation, rafe gets in his feelings, reader cries, mention of throwing up, hurt/comfort, brief smut (minors dni), p in v.

synopsis — you’ve been spending too much time around the pogues, and more specifically around your touchy best friend jj and rafe funnels his jealousy into your sex life. he goes too far and he hates himself for it.

notes — i love this request idk why nobody else wants to write it 😭 hope you’re okay with me picking rafe for the pairing ive been wanting a rafe request 💌

you’d known jj since you were four years old, his dad living right next door to your mom. you grew up together, learned how to ride bikes on the same day, were there for each other’s first heart breaks in elementary school and fought off the other’s bullies without a second thought. to you, he was the brother you never had, and to him, you were his entire world. he’d never admit it to anyone but he was positively in love with you.

jj had no idea when his love for you turned into more than it was in the beginning, but he couldn’t deny to himself the feelings he held for you. and to your boyfriend, rafe, it was obvious. 

rafe felt the rage building in his chest as he watched jj wrap his arms around you, a grin across his lips as you laughed and laughed. he couldn’t hear what jj said that was so funny, but judging by your laugh, it was probably some inside joke about some niche topic that he wouldn’t be able to begin to understand. 

rafe tried not to be the overbearing type with you, knowing that it brought you great stress as it reminded you of the relationship you witnessed between your parents growing up, but he just couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel to you and jj. he knew it was trivial, and that you would never in a million years be the type of person to cheat on him, but he also feared that if it came down to it, you would choose jj over him. 

rafe knew he couldn’t yell at you or cuss you out over it, because ultimately it wasn’t your fault. but he had to do something to stop himself from bursting at the seams with everything he was holding in. it drove him insane that he couldn’t do anything about the close relationship you held with the pogue, but he had to find another alternative. 

so he funneled his frustrations into your sex life. 

you lied there, looking up at him with big doe eyes as he drilled into you harshly, one hand gripping the bed frame above you as the other held onto your hip tightly. 

you cried out, eyes rolling back as he continued his momentum, growing closer and closer to yet another orgasm as he fucked you. you wouldn’t say that it hurt, because it didn’t hurt per se, but you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the way he was fucking you tonight. 

“r-rafe-” you whined desperately, hand reaching up to dig into his bare chest. 

“yea?” he breathes out through a groan, head turned up toward the ceiling as he brings himself closer to his own orgasm. 

you whimper as another climax rushes over you without warning. rafe doesn’t realize how overstimulated you are until tears begin flowing from your eyes. he sees the look on your face and wants to punch himself. you look so fragile, face turned away from him as he quickly pulls out, backing away from you as he catches his breath. 

“baby,” he reaches out toward you, heart aching when you turn further away from him, curling into yourself. “babe?”

you groan in response, naked body folded as tightly into itself as humanly possible. 

he hangs his head as he makes his way to the bathroom. rafe nearly throws up when he hears your delicate sobs emanating from the bedroom. “fuck,” he whispers as he looks in the mirror at himself. his chest and back are covered in scratches, his cheeks red and blotchy, and his hair completely askew. 

he has no idea when he got so carried away with everything, or when it became too much for you and he wants to throw his head through the wall at the fact that he didn’t notice. he should’ve noticed that he was taking it too far with you. 

rafe quickly finishes himself off in the bathroom, heart in his throat as he returns from the bathroom with a damp washcloth. he watches you breathe in and out slowly and deeply, trying to stop yourself from crying further.

you genuinely had no idea why you were crying, but you couldn’t get yourself to stop. you weren’t even upset in the slightest, you just were so overwhelmed that your body was having a visceral reaction to anything and everything at this point. 

rafe threw a pair of boxers and sweatpants on and grabbed you your favorite comfy shorts and one of his shirts and a pair of loose cotton panties. he carries the clothes over to the edge of the bed and kneels beside you. 

“baby?” he reaches out to you again, letting out a soft sigh of relief when you don’t shy away from him. “can i clean you up?” 

you nod pitifully, body still tensed as he gently opens your legs again to wipe at your sensitive area. you whimper, unable to prevent the tears from flowing yet again when the cloth touches your clit. “s’too much.” 

“i know,” he whispers, “i’m so sorry, my love, i went too far, i should’ve paid attention to you and how you were feeling.” 

you want to comfort him, but part of you knows that nothing you can say will even begin to ease the thoughts in his mind. rafe had done countless hours of therapy to try and be better for you, and you knew that to him, this was a major setback. 

“i love you,” you whisper back, “it’s not your fault.” 

he leans forward, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, “i love you. thank you.” 

you hum in response, body feeling like jello as he pulls the clothes he picked out for you over your body. he adjusts you so that you’re comfortably sat under the comforters, back resting against the pillow on the headboard. he slides in next to you after turning off the big light and adjusting the a/c to your preferred settings. he sits near you, without touching you, unable to bring himself closer to you due to the thoughts racing through his mind. he feels awful, he never meant to take it that far. 

you both sit in silence for a beat, just listening to the sound of the a/c kicking on and the dog’s claws clacking against the hardwood floors. after a moment or two, you roll over, inching yourself closer to him slowly. your muscles are sore and your body aches from overuse as you put your head on his stomach. 

he drags his fingers through your hair mindlessly, listening to your soft hums of approval. 

“it’s not your fault, rafe,” your voice is soft and raspy, “i don’t blame you.” 

rafe wants to believe you, and he knows that you mean what you say, but he just can’t see it the same way as you. you were always the optimist in the relationship. “i just get so worked up over jj, i know i shouldn't, i know he’s not going anywhere, but i can’t help it.” 

you’re silent for a second. “i know.” you turn your head so that you can see his face, and he can see yours. “but look at me, baby, i’m not going anywhere. and i love jj, yes, but he’s my brother. i will never be able to look at him the way i look at you, we’ve been through too much together.” 

“i know, that’s what scares me,” rafe’s brows furrow deeply, “i’m scared that because he’s been there for forever and he knows everything, that i’m always gonna be left out. that it’s always gonna be the jj and y/n show and i’ll always be a background character.” 

“you won’t, you aren’t,” you frown at him, “it's our show, baby, and i’m not going anywhere. and i'm sure as hell not gonna let jj be the thing that gets in between us.” 

he nods, but you can tell that he’s still struggling to believe it. 

“i love you, rafe cameron. you’re my soulmate, you’re my entire world. i would die if anything happened to you, do you understand that?” 

“i know,” he nods again, this time more sure of himself. “i would kill if anything happened to you. i can’t even imagine that.” 

“good. don’t imagine it, because nothing’s gonna happen to me, and nothing’s gonna happen to us. i love you so much, baby.” 

“i love you so much, y/n.” 

“forever and a day?”

“forever and a day.” he kisses the top of your head, letting his lips linger for longer than normal before pulling you closer into his arms. he squeezes you tightly. “i promise i won’t hurt you like that again. i’m so sorry.” 

“apology accepted, rafey,” you wrap your arms around his, kissing his hands gently. “now make me a sandwich please?”

“anything you want, my love.” 

-> back to masterlist

taglist — @lanasb0ngwater

[multiheadcanons]

MEMES AND TRAITS THE MERCS STOLE FROM SCOUT AND POORLY USE TO PISS HIM OFF

soldier: soldier started calling everything a “glizzy” after he heard scout say it exactly once. he was eating a hot dog and said “damn this glizzy is perfectly dressed.” he did not get it, he did not care enough to ask what that meant. he just started calling everything a glizzy. rockets? glizzy. ammo? glizzy. the medigun, fully charged and primed for an ubercharge? “HIT ME WITH THAT GLIZZY, DOC!” this was the beginning of the end with scout, once he got past the white knuckled shock of hearing that man say glizzy way too many times to the wrong things.

pyro: pyro eats up a whip and nae nae, no lie. they saw scout do it after a successful push of the payload, and everyone looked at scout weird, but pyro registered that smile, and those movements and committed it to heart. on the next battle, pyro physically dragged scout to a location near the edge of the map, and made a motion to stay still and watch. it freaked scout out until pyro air blasted one, two, three, four of the opposing team off the map; and after the fourth’s screams were cut short from hitting the bottom; they turned slowly to scout, and hit a whip. it’s the only time scout actually laughed. “yeah, get that shit pyro!”

demo: everything scout knows demo knew well before him, it just never came through right with his accent. but when scout started dapping people up demo was ALL IN for that. always brings scout in way too hard and knocks the wind out of him and stings his hands. “you’re not doing it right, lad! like this!” scout never wants to complain because it feels cool to get dapped up by someone he also thinks is cool, though he doesn’t want to admit that. scout does not want demo dapping up anyone else though because they’re not cool enough, except heavy he’s got no opinion on that because it’s funny to watch demo get the wind knocked out of him.

engineer: engineer hits that “gyat DAMN” often because of his accent. scout is convinced he’s using it wrong, that pisses engie off because it’s literally his accent and scout can get the fuck over himself he’s not from the first generation that made up language. sometimes to piss him off he’ll say skibidi toilet with no actual context to go around it. and scout hates that bc he hates skibidi toilet. also an enjoyer of the dap even when heavy and demo practically lift him off his feet with it.

heavy: heavy will dap people up. he loves it. makes him feel like he’s getting closer with his team. will always end a dap by pulling them in for a brief, yet crushing hug. everyone eats it up, laughing after they catch the breath he forcibly removed from their lungs and patting his arm or back, whatever the recipient can reach. also loves to say rizz, it makes his teeth vibrate in a good way. “doctor, you are a rizz master!” “demoman, keep rizzing your weapons!” “i LOVE my weapons rizz!” he doesn’t know if he’s using it right, scout just wholeheartedly assures him he’s using it right.

medic: medic heard scout say something fucks once. now, for him, EVERYTHING fucks. he himself DEFINITELY fucks. he assumed it’s a good thing. there was one time in the throes of battle, he managed to catch scout to heal him, and used the speed boost he got from it to catch up and yell over the din “you’re FUCKING today, scout!” and scout jumped his ass about how he’s not even using it right and he never wanted to hear that again. unfortunately, the doctor is a hellish bastard who loves pissing people off, so now everything does indeed fuck. he definitely fucks. “oh, my medigun? ja, that fucks. and i fuck too.” “doc, nobody wants to hear what you’re fucking, dude”. pissed scout off more when he and soldier were ubered, running into battle, and soldier said very confidently “your glizzy tops ALL OTHER GLIZZIES” and medic responded, making direct eye contact with scout in the heat of battle; “ja, my glizzy fucks.”

sniper: snipes dabbed twice in the privacy of his own nest to see how it felt and couldn’t get over his own shame that he did that. he did it twice because he alternated arms to see if it felt less stupid to do it the other way. it didn’t. he will never bring himself to do that again. that was embarrassing. has a dreadful feeling the other teams sniper saw him do it. sometimes after a really good kill streak he’ll do a small dab as a treat. he does unironically use “deadass”

spy: anything that will piss scout off spy is happy to do. spy has used words he knows does not exist to confuse scout as to the current slang going around. he’ll have scout on the internet desperately searching words that not only don’t exist, but he can’t even spell, just to make sure spy isn’t a step ahead of him. but spy is always two steps ahead of him. spy will say shit just to feel the bostonians eyes burn holes in the back of his skull, only to turn to him and say “what, you’ve never heard that before? look it up!” then hides in his room to watch him desperately search a word he can’t even spell. unironically uses “deadass” because he heard snipes say it once and it wriggled its way into his mind like a worm. he says it after like… everything.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Vampire!Eddie?!!! Omg yes just everything about him. I need a good vampire blurb

cw: mention of blood

This takes place in the 1800s because for some reason that's the time period I imagine all vampires in.

"Eddie, please!" You beg as you grab hold of his shoulders, trying to get him to look you in the eye but he won't. He's just staring at the door, desperately wishing he had the ability to walk through it. But he can't. He won't. Not as long as you're there. No matter how many time he's convince he's put you in danger, he still can't manage to walk away from you. You will remain to be his only weakness.

He knows exactly why you've invited him into your room, looking like a vision as you're lying on the chaise lounge, the fire in the fireplace behind you giving you a pretty orange glow. You're wearing his favorite dress, a cruel trick to get him to give in. He wants to, god does he want to, but doesn't think it's something you can handle.

"I can't," he says, taking your face in his hands, his eyes boring into yours. That's always his answer but you keep asking just hoping that maybe he'll eventually change his answer.

"Why?" You ask, your lip jutting out as you feeling tears welling up in your eyes. He knows they're nothing but a show you're putting on, but he can't help but feel his heart break just a little seeing you like that.

"You know why." He presses the tip of his nose to yours and you know exactly what he's about to do. It's what he always does to cheer you up. But not this time. You're not going to give in so easily.

"Tell me again," you demand as you inch your lips closer to his, grabbing hold of his arms as you get up onto your knees. He's still leaning over you, his hands moving to each arm rest, pinning you there so you can't get away. You always look so pretty on your knees.

Your lips find his in a gentle kiss, the two of you holding back because he doesn't want to hurt you like last time. If he turned you, he'd never have to worry about hurting you ever again.

His hands move to your back, holding you in his arms, the only place he wants you to be for eternity and if he had it his way, that's where you'd stay.

"Because you're not ready," he murmurs against your lips, his tone sounding like you're a child who's asking for a cookie before dinner.

"Yes I am." You tell him as you pull away. Your tone is eager as one of your arms wraps around his neck, your other hand moving to his hair to twirl one of his curls around your finger the way you know he likes. "Think about it this way: if you turn me, then we can be together forever."

"You think I haven't thought about that?" He asks, raising his voice ever so slightly as his eyebrows pinch together. He's the most beautiful man you've ever seen, his curls framing his pale face beautifully and he doesn't even have to try to look good. It's all so effortless.

You tilt your head to the side, your neck completely exposed as you stare at him, a flirty look in your eyes as you can see his eye darken because of how badly he wants to suck your blood.

"See?" You ask. "Look how inviting it is," you grab hold of his shirt and pull him forward, his face hovering right over your neck and he can feel himself drooling as he stares down at it. "Together forever," you whisper as you push his head down.

And he takes the bait, opening his mouth as he says something along the lines of "you asked for it" as his teeth sink into your skin, feeling you go limp in his arms as he sucks, moans falling from your lips at the feelings.

You're the first and only person Eddie's ever going to turn. You're the only person he needs to because he doesn't need anyone else. He tried so hard to push you away, but you're it for him. You have been since the moment he met you and will continue to be for eternity.

Once he's done, he pulls away, pressing a gentle kiss to the marks he's created on your neck before he pulls you into his lap, waiting for you to wake up so he can propose like he's been wanting to. Now that he's sure that you won't ever leave him, he can give you his mother's ring he's kept in his jewelry box since the day she passed. She told him to give it to the person that owns his heart and he thinks after over a hundred years, he's finally found the right person.

[empressdede]

The Lyon’s family Christmas

Summary: You lie to your mom and tell her that you have a boyfriend to bring home and begs your best friend Jon to come with you to meet your family.

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Jimmy x Y/N

A/N: Happy New Year and Happy Holidays; I am so so so so sorry that this is so late but I literally worked the entire holidays so this was the best day for me to release. I hope you guys enjoy!

P.S. Guess who’s officially back? 🙂💙

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As often as this was a reoccurring issue, Y/N don’t know why she expected the conversation to take a different direction unlike the very worn out route her and her mother usually seemed to take.

“Do you remember Trent from church? I’ve heard the younger girls were saying he’s single now, and I was thinking about inviting him to our Christmas party. I think he makes for a nice boy, don’t you?" Her mom asked over the phone. And there it was, the same damn conversation causing Y/N to roll her eyes. Thank God her mother couldn’t see her.

Her mom never knew how to stay out of her business, always going out her way to try and set her up with damn near anybody because she thought it was the most terrifying fact that her daughter was single at 30 and have been for the last three years now.

But Y/N valued her peace more than anything, and all her past relationships have not always bought her peace, just heartache. So she wanted to be very cautious her next go round because she was being very serious when she told everyone she only had one more relationship in her. She just wished her mom understood that.

Y/N let out a sigh, "Mom, I haven’t seen Trent in forever. Do NOT invite that boy over for no foolishness. Plus, he’s really not my type." Y/N expressed which caused her mother her scoff.

"And since fuckin when was Trent not your type? I thought you were trying to get with a good man Y/N?" Her mother questioned.

Exactly.

Y/N let out a huff in annoyance, she knew way more than her mom and knew that Trent was definitely not the way go. But she didn’t know want her mom to think she was trying to push at the conversation so instead of being honest, Y/N does the first thing that comes to mind.

“I didn’t wanna tell you like this but Trent ain’t my type because I have a boyfriend now Ma.”

Y/N’s POV

The silence on the phone made me more nervous, why the fuck would I just say that?

“You got a boyfriend? Since when you found a boyfriend? And why haven’t you said anything about him?” The questions were leaving her mouth like quick fire, barely giving me anytime to answer her. But I did the best I could.

“I didn’t say anything because I wanted to make sure this was something worth bringing up.”

“Mmhmm, and how long you’ve been seeing this guy?” She asked

“Five months now, but we were friends before we started dating. I’ve been trying to take it slow.”

Another beat of silence took over the phone and for a second, I thought she knew I was spewing nothing but bullshit just to get her to shut up.

“Hmm, well baby you ain’t getting no younger. Tell this man I wanna meet him, invite him to the party and I’m not taking no for an answer.” She finally replied, but her response took me aback.

“Wait- mom..”

“Great! I’ll see you guys next weekend, Love you baby.” And with a quickness, she hung up in my face.

I was left amuck, staring at the phone in disbelief because what the fuck did I just do?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In retrospect, you didn’t really have anyone to ask but him. You weren’t comfortable asking anyone else but your best friend - who has yet to meet anyone in your family, which was perfect.

Who else would’ve agreed to do this for you?

“You want me to what?” He asked, choking on the fried rice he was eating prior.

Okay, so maybe it’s going to take a little bit of convincing.

“Please Jon, you’re the only person I can ask and I feel like we’re close enough; we could definitely pull it off.” You exclaimed, a small smile on your face; trying to be as persuasive as possible.

Jon was not amused, for all he knew this was another one of your tired ass pranks that he refused to fall for.

“So you want me to lie to your mom for Christmas?” he questioned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Why don’t you just tell her you’re single? I’m sure it won’t be the end of the world.”

You sigh, shoulders sinking in a bit. “She wants to set me up with some guy I haven’t seen in years. You know how I get with guys Jon and she won’t stop until she sees me with someone.”

You turn to fully face him with pleading eyes. “C’mon Jon, I already told them I have a boyfriend, who else am I supposed to ask?”

Jon watched you with careful eyes, silent as if he was thinking it over. You couldn’t help but keep your gaze hopeful as you guts sat in your living room waiting for him to respond.

You knew it was a big favor to ask but you would owe him the world if he could help you get your mom off your back.

The silence that filled the room made goosebumps litter all over your skin and the anxiety that bubbled in your stomach made you want to throw up. Just when you were going to tell him to forget it, Jon cut you off.

“Fine, I’ll go. But if we do this, we need to get our story straight.”

And just like that, the planning began, and for the rest of dinner, the two of you sat and theorized on how their fake love story came into existence:

Two friends who danced around the possibility of what could be till one night Jon stepped up and asked you to dinner and you agreed and you guys have been taking it slow from that night on.

____________________________________________

Two days after that, Jon surprised Y/N with matching pajamas for this impromptu trip.

“What kind of couple would we be without matching PJs?” Jon had asked when he dropped them off.

It made Y/N more appreciative of the effort he seemed to put into it. Of course Jon would play the perfect gentleman like boyfriend, who else would’ve did this for her?

The night before they had to drive six hours to your mother‘s house, you two agreed that Jon spend the night. This instance wasn’t anything new, Jon was your best friend and he slept over before, but something within your dynamic changed.

It was as if they were falling into the role of a loving couple for each other instead of Y/N’s family.

Jon sat on the bed watching Y/N finish applying her night cream, getting ready for bed.

“Is there anyone I should expect to give me a hard time?” Jon asked and you shook your head.

“Honestly, my mom is probably going to push you to marry me.” You joked causing Jon to chuckle.

“Well, if that’s the case, you ready to be stuck with me for life babe?”

The nickname caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Babe?” You questioned and Jon sends you a shy smile.

“You gotta start the habit now. I can’t call you that when I get over there, what if I just randomly call you princess and you get flustered?” He slightly teased, and there was those damn butterflies again.

He was right though, they needed to fall into the role of a devoted couple because how else were they going to make everyone believe they were in love?

You playfully rolled your eyes, and respond back, “what if I call you, baby boy and you get flustered?”

At that, Jonathan laughs and shakes his head at you. “I thought you said you wanted it to be believable?”

“How is that not believable?” You questioned as you walks out of the bathroom and towards him where he sat on the bed.

You cupped Jon’s cheek and talked in a baby tone, “Who wouldn’t think you’re my baby boy?” Cooing softly in a joking manner.

Jon decided he’s had enough of your antics and stood up to tower over you. Your hand falling back to your side as you stare up at him, a small smirk slowly formed on his lips as he stared down at you.

“C’mon now, you really think anyone is going to see us and think you call me anything but Daddy?” He had lowered his tone on purpose, and just like that the playfullness was sucked out of the room.

Your breath hitched at the sound of his voice, taking note of how close you guys actually were. Why did he have to do all that?

You felt your cheeks warm up and you couldn’t be more thankful than you are now that your skin had a darker hue to it - but Jon didn’t need to see it to know that you were flustered because your silence gave it away.

His smirk grows, almost tauntingly as he stared down at you. Maybe he knew what he was doing to you or maybe he didn’t and just got a kick out of this, but you did not appreciate his little game.

“Isn’t that right princess?” Even though you knew that Jon was teasing, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran up your spine.

You squinted your eyes to glare at him, “You’re not funny Jonathan.” You hissed out but he only chuckled at you and shrugged his shoulders.

It was all fun and games until it was his turn.

Just to put the icing on the cake: Jon’s hand lifted up to cup your cheeks, “Say you love being daddy’s baby.” He cooed back causing you to smack your lips and slap his hand away.

Your nerves were still a little rattled as Jon doubled over in laughter.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny; you ready for bed or what? We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow and you’re driving.” You stated, walking past him for bed.

This is going to be the longest four days weekend ever.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The drive to your childhood home to Orlando FL, wasn’t so bad, three hours into it anyways.

When there was three more hours left to go, you became just a little restless, whining about how cramped your legs were starting to feel.

It went to show how much you really disliked long distant roadtrips.

“You don’t think you can wait another hour? We’re almost there.” Jon tried to negotiate but when he turned to face you and seen the pout on your lips, he let out a tired sigh and looked for the closest exit to stop at the nearest gas station.

You flashed him a cheeky smile, “Who knew you loved me so much?” You teased and he rolled his eyes letting you have this little moment because you guys had three more hours to kill and he’d rather you be in a good mood.

Another pro for stopping at the gas station is the opportunity to restock on snacks. After Jon filled up the tank, you both entered the gas station to look for whatever looked good enough to replenish you guys for the rest of the trip.

You both split ways to look for your favorite road trip snacks: Honey flavored chex mix, gummy worms and sunflower seeds since it was Jon’s preference.

Humming along to the Christmas song playing in the store, you went looking for Jon. Your eyes skimming through the isle looking for the tall idiot until your eyes fall on two figures: a girl laughing and holding herself up on Jon’s arm.

You raised an eyebrow at the scene, the feeling of annoyance swirled around in your stomach.

What the fuck was he doing?

You watched as the girl flash him another smile while fluttering her lashes in a flirting manner, and you couldn’t stop the scoff that left your lips. Your eyes squinted into a glare before an idea flashed in your mind.

It barely fully registered in your mind before you found yourself walking towards the two with the fakest smile on your face, “Babe did you find us some drinks?”

Jon turned to face you, a small smirk on his face cause he had watched you walk up to him.

The jealousy that burned in your eyes was very amusing and very apparent for him to see. If he didn’t know you well enough - he would’ve pushed his limit just a bit to see how far he could take it.

But knowing that they had three hours to kill before reaching Orlando, he’d rather not be in the car with an irritated Y/N, no matter how amusing it was to him.

Little did he know it was a little too late for that.

“Uh.. No, sorry babe. But we could go get it together.” He replied, and without bidding the girl goodbye, he locked arms with you to walk you towards the refrigerated section.

The girl watched with a frown on her face, as you guys walked away from her, and you couldn’t help but turn around to flash her a quick smile - almost taunting her before returning to face Jonathan, with the meanest glare, you could muster.

“I could’ve stayed in the car if you were going to be hot and fresh chasing hoes.” You gritted out once you were out of earshot.

Jon just chuckled softly, shaking his head at you while looking for your favorite drink. “She was just being nice.”

You roll your eyes again, “I’d rather you not insult my intelligence Jon.”

The frown was prominent on your face, and Jon couldn’t help the small smile that seemed almost glued to his face. You were cute he could definitely give you that.

A small chuckle emitted from him again as he walks closer to you to pull you into a hug. “You’re absolutely right princess, Daddy’s sorry.” He cooed, causing you to tense in his arms.

“Jon.” You grit out in a warning tone but he completely disregarded you. He lifted his left hand to tilt your head up to face him, and suddenly the air shifted between the two of you like it did back at your house.

“Jon.” You whispered out this time and he still chose to ignore you, his eyes flickering to your lips instead causing your breath to hitch.

“Jonathan.” You repeated, almost pleading with him and his eyes slowly traced up your face to lock eyes with you.

“You forgive me?” He rasps out; goosebumps littered all over your skin at the deepness of his voice.

“Y/N,” He muttered and you hummed to let him know you heard him. “Do. You. Forgive. Me?”

What in the world were you mad about again?

“Yeah.” You breathed out, hoping Jon with snap out of it, but he still didn’t let go of your chin.

“Good.” Was the only thing he stated before closing the gap between you guys. His lips pressed against yours and just for a second you both forget that this was supposed to be an act.

The butterflies that erupted in both of your stomach’s made the moment even more real for you guys. Your lips locked in a slow kiss, Jon’s hand slid down from your chin to grip behind your neck to keep you in place in deepen the kiss, just a little.

Your heartbeat filled your eardrums as blood rushed to your cheeks. When Jon finally pulled away, he seen how flushed you were, despite your darker skin tone.

He flashed you a small smile, “Was that okay?”

You nodded your head to assure him that it was more than okay. After the two of you finished up buying your snacks, you got in the car with childish grins and giggles slipping through your lips, both of you now in a way better mood than you were not less than 10 minutes ago.

You couldn’t help but secretly thank your mom for the invite to your family Christmas party because you don’t think you would’ve been here otherwise; and even though you’re pretty sure there is a conversation that needs to be had, maybe there was something to finally look forward to this holiday season.

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Lmao this was lowkey eh, but I did my bestest😭🫶🏾 Thank you to those who like and read it!

As always please, like, comment and reblog if you feel like and lemme know how you feel.

Tagging the lovelies: @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @blacst4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00

(If you would like to be added to my official taglist please comment and I will add you, and if you want to be removed, please let me know🤍)

[cannibalisation]

every inch of me is full of pain

luigi mangione/fem!reader

idgaf how anyone feels abt the ethics of writing ff for luigi, ppl literally be writing for the worst individuals ever so… 🤷🏻‍♀️ and i will add that this fic is not a reflection or representation of luigi, tumblr pls don’t ban me 🙏🏻 (1.1k words)

caution. rpf, reader and lu have matching chronic pains lol, ambiguous relationship (yearnful situationship type 😈), flower symbolism, set before his incarceration.

THE grip held on your own palm is unbearable. The metallic stench of blood breathes through the crevasses of your skin. The pain of the wounds has generally died down now, leaving only the numbing sting of regret.

Luigi is asleep; you couldn’t bear to wake him up.

It was a deal the two of you shook on. If the pain was too much to endure alone, you’d let the other know. It was mutually beneficial, this relationship.

No, you weren’t dating; he introduces you to others as a friend, and you do the same with a racing heart. It was more of an oath, a pledge between two bodies, tied to the earth by a turn of phrase.

His body is warm beside you, rising softly with each breath. His back faces you head-on, the ripples of muscle and skin stretched with growth are prominent in the dim light of your bedroom.

A breath hitches in your throat. How domestic it is for him to be like this. Safe and content in the comfort of your bed. Normally you’d laugh at the scene of him swaddled up in the blush-coloured sheets—teasing him at the idea of the forget-me-not flower patterns. But now, all it does is let guilt pool in your gut.

Your hand trembles under the weight of your form as you press it against the mattress. He is safe here; you hope to keep him safe for as long as possible.

With a dismissive scoff, you pull up off the bed, and it squeaks under the release of your form. These thoughts aren’t good for your conscience; you'd hate to let it make you keel over.

The hallway is dark, but after the past month and a half of living here, you’ve become used to it. While you navigate the length of your apartment, an all-too-familiar pain builds in your lower back.

The winter weather fell short on aid when it came to your aches; you could only pray that the wind wouldn’t shatter you whole.

A faint light bursts through the kitchen curtain, leaving a hollow glow of orange. Regardless of the chilling air, the light brings warmth to the room. Non-fluorescent lights were always a must in your living spaces; they were the most efficient to your mind.

Green tea typically helped with the heated fuss of pain, but you had forgotten to grab some during your last stop at the grocery store. Luigi had been kind enough to offer to go and purchase some for you, but you had declined. It was a rainy day when he did; you wouldn’t ask him to go forth into it just because of your poor decisions.

The effects are more placebo-like in your mind anyway.

Cinnamon has always been a common item in your pantry, on account of your mother’s teachings. Paired with the acidic juice of a lemon, the tea proves worthy to combat the stir of aches and pains.

The water will take a few minutes to boil, and even then it will be too loud. Perhaps it would be best to have lukewarm tea, just so the squeal of the kettle doesn’t wake Luigi up.

He bears a similar inflection to you. That’s really the main reason as to why you both get along so well. There’s a reciprocal understanding, one that is unknown to everyone else. You don’t expect anyone else to be aware of it—nor do you want them to be.

No words have to be shared for the pair of you to understand.

The moment the kettle starts to let out a faint whistle, you pull it off of the stove.

A rich aroma of cinnamon fills the space, and you already start to feel the tension leave your spine. As you reach out for the handle of the refrigerator door, a pair of mellow footsteps sounds out from the dark hallway. Despite your mindful precautions, you still somehow managed to wake him up.

The jug of milk is heavy in your grasp as you briefly lock eyes. His are sleep-ridden and squinty; it almost causes a smile to form on your face.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

The hushed tone leaves your throat, croaky with lack of use. Luigi stands to the side of you, blinking away the sleep from his eyes. The shirt he has on is straining over his shoulders; it’s one you recognise as yours. He had a habit of raiding your wardrobe whenever he was over.

“You should’ve.” Was all he said back, voice equally as quiet. From the corner of your eye, you see as he brushes a hand through his messy curls. He’s stood beside you now, lent down so he could rest against the kitchen counter.

In a show of guilt, you smile lacklusterly. It was a part of the deal to make sure the other knew when it got particularly bad—but something in your heart was telling you to act differently.

How would you know if he were to do the same? How many sleepless nights has Luigi gone through merely because he didn’t want to burden you with it?

The tea is hot against your lips; the cinnamon is overpowering, but you like it; at least that makes you feel something. The liquid is murky; the milk manages to convince you that it’s anything but a placebo-featured remedy. Hot chocolate would be nicer.

You tilt the mug towards Luigi as an invitation. He takes a moment to peer into your eyes, like he’s searching for something so specific it’s unseen to the naked eye. The eye contact makes your heart pound wildly, the intensity of his gaze picking at you like one would whilst analysing a century-old painting.

Unfazed by his own sudden actions, he takes the mug from your hand with a hushed “Thanks,” and you lean back against the counter. You subtly push at your sternum, aiming to quiet your racing heart.

Silence envelops the room once more, and somehow, you couldn’t be more at ease. Luigi has a knack for making you flustered but always manages to keep you sane. His presence beside you is anchoring. It’s a lingering feeling, warmer than any cup of cinnamon tea. You wonder, does he feel the same about you? Does he feel content, just alone, in your company?

The mug is handed back to you with a gentle brush of touch. He doesn’t flinch at the contact, so you don’t either.

“Lu,” you start, teeth tugging at your lips, “I’m.. tired.”

He hums, bringing his hand up past your shoulder. His fingers start to toy with the baby hairs at your neck.

He says nothing, and neither do you.

No words have passed, and yet, you’ve both said all that was necessary.

[welp-back-on-my-bs]

Okay, since i haven't seen anyone talk about it, I am going to.

We have a list of what Hyde says about each of the houses, stereotypes, and what each of the doorms do

Frosthime: "you value success, you're self-confident and relentless in pursuit of your goals"

Rich people are often placed here because they were born into success and have an easy time getting it, their confidence probably has been less likely to be challenged due to their position in life, and the relentless pursuit of their goals because its easier to do so when you have the money for it.

Jin: absolutely fits into this in every way. He is the epitome of success with being a highly influential figure and can pull strings to get anyone to do what he wants. He has the confidence in himself but doesn't trust those around him besides Thoma (mostly). He absolutely makes sure that his goals are achieved no matter what and looks into things when he feels something is up (ie. Chapter 1)

Thoma: Yes, he was originally in Vagastrom, but he does fit perfectly here, too. You can tell just by the way he acts and talks that he has a lot of self-confidence, he doesn't doubt himself or his abilities, if he fails he just changes what is needed and tries again. He absolutely works for success, no matter what it is or how shady it is. He clearly has a goal in mind and has been relentless about it.

Lucas: The first thing we learn about him is that he wants to find a demon. He has been relentless about it since the start and that he needs to find one to be able to save his brother. He absolutely believes in himself. He knows he has things to work on, but that doesn't hold him back. He keeps working on his weaknesses so that he WILL succeed, there is no room for failure.

Kaito: The way we have seen his talk to others in Frosthime, he blends in really well. He may not have monetary, relationship, or academic success, but he succeeds sotially in the environment he is in. He needs to work on his self-confidence a lot, and that is something that holds him back in battle and in other places, too. He is very stubborn with things. He wants to make money and pay off his debt to Romeo, so gambling is easily something he fell into to try to relentlessly pursue that.

Yuri: This man is about success in every way. He needs to succeed in Mortkraken and be better than Darkwick General. His confidence? Absolutely explosive and has a body count. This man overworks himself all the time to finish his goals. If that isn't relentless, tell me what is.

Haku: he is obviously self-confident, you kinda have to be to be so shamlessly flirty. He is aimless for the most part and would rather play a supportive role in other people's lives than take over himself. His goals are the goals of those he cares about, and he makes sure that the work is done

Vagastrom: you value ideals, you're mission oriented, and direct your efforts to reform and innovation

The stryotype is Vagastrom is filled with delinquents, which makes sense. 'Delinquents' are people who often don't fit into the world as it is and are trying to do something about it, even though it comes our violently. They can come from fractured homes, be victims of abuse, be of minorities, and other things. The systems in place are making their situations stay the same or even worse, and none else will stand up for them, so they have to.

Alan: history of Delinquitism, he absolutely holds his ideals close and wants to make a change for the better after experiencing the system first hand. He absolutely makes sure those around him (aka Leo) are focious on the mission and get it done. He is more directed to reformation and wants to be better and wants those around him to be better too and holds a high standard for that, but makes sure it is reachable (specifically Sho)

Leo: Mmm, beloved little shit. This man has made the law his bitch. He goes after those in power who are corrupt and scams them out of power, showing his ideals. He is mission oriented in the way that he is very smart and good with tech and how to work things sotally (on a broad scale, not so much interpersonally). He is leaning toward innovation and change. He likes to challenge what's already in place and constantly makes bets with Sho. I also believe his curiosity about other Ghouls and why they made their pacts with demons is another thing to add to this

Sho: his ideals, specifically around food, are very strict. In simple words, don't mess with food, and you're in his good books. His passion for food even led to him opening up a food stall that is clearly popular and shows that innovation and reformation. He helps Leo scam those with power and abuse it. He is a good balance between Leo and Mido, although he isn't one for being a leader, he is more of a follower, but that doesn't mean he won't stand up for himself or his beliefs (ch 2 with lessening the emotional damage that could have happend to MC. Ch 11 with fighting the inmates and arguing with Mido)

Thoma(again): he was originally in this house, so we should see why that is. He is clearly mission oriented. He gets the job done when needed. He works with Mido on reforming the relationship between Vagastrom and Frosthime. His values are set in stone, and he holds to them (ep 1 when he doesn't out Jins secret)

Jabberwok: You value trust, are caring, and are loyal in all your endeavors

Jabberwok is an anomalous zoo. Only Ghouls can be a part of this house.

Haru: This man is such a mystery to me. Most of Jabberwok is tbh. He absolutely does have a lot of care for the anomalies and even calls them his babies. The house is probably underfunded, so he made it into a zoo to get funding so that the anomalies can be treated as good as possible. He trusts Ren and Towa will do what they need to and helps out if something goes wrong

Towa: He absolutely values trust and is very loyal to Haru (even when upset at him). His opinion of you is clear depending on what plant he calls you (I love the idea he called Haru Sunflower before eventually calling him Haru). He absolutely cares about those he considers his friends (ie. Haru and MC)

Ren: On the surface, it looks like a mistake for him to be here. He clearly hates it. He whines and moans the whole way through it. But, these can be placed in any situation, not just in the zoo. He probably does value trust. It just needs to be earned first, and in some way, he probably does trust Haru, just not explicitly. He absolutely cares about Calamri in literally every way that he has treated him. He just couldn't say goodbye.

Sinostra: you value challenge, you're powerful and decisive

Siinostra has a casino that is run by the two captains (mainly Romeo)

Taiga: Yes. He loves a challenge, a challenge in anything you throw at him, and if it's not enough of one, he makes it more of one. He is clearly powerful, sotally, probably economically, and more. He can be decisive when it comes to things. The only thing that can sway that is his own memory.

Romeo: Challenge? Running a casino, literally hunting down debtors, and working with Taiga. That's all a challenge that he takes on with fucking g l e e. He is powerful sotally and physically, once economy. This man is super decisive and will hardly bend what he has decided on.

Rui: he wants to be the paralegal for either Taiga, Romeo, or BOTH, so clearly, that's a big challenge that he is searching out and relentless in. He is the definition of knowledge is power, and he records everything he does daily. The law is there for a reason, and he is there to make sure it was put to use properly.

Hotarubi: You value creativity, individuality is important to you, and you celebrate differnce

Subaru: he worked all of his life in a very creative feild, he cheers on Sho's cooking and supports him there are a friend, and he leads this house of course, he values creativity. Lyca, he absolutely adores his friend and hates that darkwick had him locked away. He supports Lyca in his goals and who he is as a person.

Haku: he absolutely is there to support anyone he cares about, it's clearly seen in Zenji and MC. He supports her and gets her back with the Frosthime boys, he films Zenji's work and posts it and does whatever he needs him to do.

Zenji: Everything about him screams this. He is a very creative poet and musician, wishing to share it with the world even after death. He doesn't want Jiro to know that he is still there so that he can continue to grow and not have to hold onto him and the past. He absolutely adores a doll that is a bit creepy because it reminds him of Jiro.

Obscuray: you value Harmony, You're peace loveing, and open minded

This is the doorm that only has half human ghouls and cursed. Rui runs a bar made from anonymous plants that grow there.

Edward: he absolutely wishes that there could be harmony, but experience and his sixth sence has taught him that that isn't likely to happen(implied in chapter 10). He likes it when things are peaceful around the doorm, so he can just rest. Besides, peace is a better option than what he can do. He absolutely wants to be proven wrong. Please prove him wrong. He gave MC a chance to join him, to not have to suffer, but she says no.

Rui: it's clear that he is suffering because of his curse and doesn't take any pleasure or joy in killing with it. He is much more against it than anything. He helps Lyca in getting used to human customs and how to act to assimilate. He cleans up Ed's things, sure he complains about it, but he doesn't make it into a fight. He is open to a lot of things and is very go with the flow

Lyca: his main one for this is harmony, specifically with humans and those he cares about. With that harmony comes peace and safety. He is also a little open minded to what he needs to do and it isn't too hard to convince him to do things

Mortkraken: you value intelligence, you're insightful, and you can observe objectively

Mortkraken is a medical facility that students can go to

Yuri: Of course, he values intelligence, specifically his, but it's still intelligence. He may be competitive when it comes to his research, but he can take a step back and look at things and situations objectively (chapter 8), clearly insightful as well since it's what the situation that MC helps him with stems from the knowledge and research he is doing, he helps Sinostra in the next chapter aswell

Jiro: yes? That all just describes Jiro

Dividers made by @/sweetmelodygraphics

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Thirteen

Fenrys x f!Reader

Summary- Fenrys helps Y/n after her brother’s devastating revelation.

Warnings- Overprotective Fenrys, a little angsty, a little sappy, possessive Fenrys

Series Masterlist

Part Thirteen

   He’d heard her cries, heard her scream, and the panic that followed was so intense, so debilitating that he hadn’t been able to control himself.

   Fenrys ran, finding her scent like it was an extension of his own and honing in on it, running through the halls, leaping small distances with his power to get there faster, gods he needs to be faster. He barely registers the members of the Eridun clan diving out of his way, his friends shouting far behind him. He can only hear her heart wrenching cries bouncing around his skull, can only feel the need to get to her, to kill whatever caused her to scream.

   “Y/n,” he yells her name, turning sharply down a hall where her scent streams from, where this little voice in his mind tugs him along, here, she’s here, go this way.

   He sees her, and he leaps the final distance between them, putting himself directly between her and her brother. Fenrys snarls at the male, snapping his teeth at Vaughan, nearly tearing his throat out for making her cry. The shock in Vaughan’s eyes is brief, and Fenrys barely registers the way the male looks between him and Y/n.

   “Fen-“ she chokes on his name and Fenrys sees red.

   “I’ll kill you,” Fenrys snaps at Vaughan, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

   Vaughan stares at him, more emotion on the males face than Fenrys had ever seen in the near century and half that he’d known Vaughan. He looks completely destroyed, tears free falling, his mouth open as if to plead for her forgiveness.

   “Stop,” she cries behind Fenrys, gripping the arm he’d thrown behind him to protect her, to shield her from whatever was seeking to hurt her, “Fenrys stop, it’s okay, I’m okay.”

   There’s a war waging in his head, the wolf in him ready to tear apart anyone who dared to hurt her, and the part that heard her begging him to spare her brother. 

   “Please,” she says, “I’m okay.”

   Lies, gods she isn’t okay, not at all, he can fucking feel it. That aching sorrow in his chest that feels so gods damned cold he shivers despite his warm leathers. Fenrys tears his eyes from Vaughan to look back at her, and he sees those tears streaming down her face, the plea in her eyes, to spare the sorry excuse of a male behind him. He’d do it, for her, only for her.

   Still reeling from the rage and fear, Fenrys does the only thing he’s capable of doing in that state, he leans down and sweeps her into his arms, turning down the hall to take her far away, like distance would heal her broken heart.

   “What is this?”

   The sound of Vaughan’s voice nearly drives Fenrys back over the edge, only the weight of Y/n in his arms keeps him in check.

   “Stay there,” Fenrys snarls, “She’ll talk to you when she’s ready, and you will stay right in this room until she is, got it?”

   There is no room for argument, and the male nods, looking at his sister in Fenrys’s arms, heartbroken. She hides from his gaze, burying her face in Fenrys’s chest, her hands clutching onto his shirt like the fabric is her life line.

   “It’s alright,” he says, turning shield her from him, “I’ve got you, kitten. I’ve got you.”

   No, I wasn’t. She’d known, some distant part of her had known that her brother hadn’t intended to come home, to see her again, why else had he spent the past year running from her. She’d known, but to be faced with that truth, to hear it from his own mouth, was devastating.

   Fenrys carries her for what feels like hours, but perhaps only minutes, cradling her in his arms like she was a child, she feels like one. Feels like the child she’d been when Vaughan had found her, when he had carried her just like this away from the ice.

   Y/n doesn’t bother to look up, to pull her face away from his chest to ask where he is taking her, she trusts him. She knows he will take care of her, will protect her from any threat, including the ones to her heart.

   When a door shuts softly behind them, and Fenrys stills, Y/n finally peals her aching eyes open. They’re in a dimly lit room, similar to the one Vaughan had been trapped in, a single bed pressed against the far wall, a trunk open with their packs peaking out on the other. Her head aches and spins when she lifts her face to look at Fenrys. His face is still etched in that fury, his eyes dark and shadowed by it. 

   He’d appeared between her and her brother the image of a wrathful god, ready to strike down any foe. And she’d realized he would kill Vaughan without remorse, his friend, a male he had fought side be side with for over a century, for simply making her cry. 

   And suddenly she’s crying again, so overwhelmed by every word she’d screamed at her brother, at every year she’d spent alone, until she wasn’t, until this male holding her in his arms had taken her with him. He’d pestered her and teased her and fell apart with her, but he never left her, not like her parents, like Vaughan.

   “I’ve got you,” he whispers against her hair, tucking her beneath his chin as she sobs into his shirt, “I’ve got you.”

   He sat them on the edge of the bed, resting her in his lap so he could wind both arms around her waist. He had her, and he would never let her go, they would stay like this, bonded together by the pain and heartache they’d suffered, by this invisible string of fate that had tugged them into each other’s lives so that they could begin to heal, together.

   He holds her until her sobs turn to hiccups, holds her until she can finally take a full breath of air, holds her until the tears finally cease and she is left utterly exhausted. She’s practically limp in his arms, relying solely on him to keep her from falling to the floor. Fenrys carefully lifts her, enough to drag the sheets down the small bed, laying her down and climbing into the bed right beside her.  Taking her into his arms so that she lays on his chest, she’d end up there in her sleep anyway.

   “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.

   His hand finds her cheek, lifting her face so she looks into his. She’s struck by everything she sees there, his eyes darker than the night sky, unguarded and fully open to her. He lets her see him, all the broken and healing parts, all the confusion and fear, all the raw terrifying emotions that mirrored her own.

   “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, “I am here, and I will stay here, right beside you through it all.”

   And Y/n reaches back, her palm resting on the invisible scar, where she could still feel the darkness raging beneath the skin, “I am here, and I will stay here, right beside you through it all.”

   It’s a vow, a promise more sacred and more eternal than if he slipped a wedding band on her finger right this second.

   Fenrys woke in the late evening, the smell of roasted rabbit drifting through the halls, setting his stomach grumbling. The last thing he wanted to do was get out of their bed, to not have her pressed against him where he could feel her steady beating heart against his skin. But if he was hungry, she must be starving.

   He hesitates, staring down at her, the soft features of her face that had been twisted in agony only hours earlier. She’s at peace now, and he wants to keep it that way, to keep her safe, content, and happy. He wants to keep her in his arms.

   “Y/n,” he whispers, “It’s time for dinner.”

   She stirs, her nose twitching up in a way that has Fenrys smiling. Y/n blinks at him, her eyes still swollen from crying, her hair still a tangled mess from their flight.

   “Food first or bath?” 

   They both needed to bathe, but he hoped she’d pick food for the sake of his own stomach.

   “Will he be there?”

   Fenrys doesn’t ask, doesn’t need to know who’s she’s asking about. Gods he wants to throttle Vaughan, his anger still hot in his chest. The only reason the male still breathes is because Fenrys knew Y/n would hate him for it. 

   “I don’t know,” Fenrys admits, “I can go while you bathe, bring you something.”

   She nods, “Okay.”

   Y/n pulls back, lifting herself off of him with shaking limbs, his hands move on their own, placing their steadying grip on her hips. He helps her stand, and he stays seated on the edge of the bed, keeping his hold on her.

   “I’m not going to fall,” she says, softly tugging at his grip.

   Fenrys nods, not letting go, “I won’t let you.”

   She rests her hands on his shoulders, and for a moment he thinks she’s going to push him away. But she doesn’t, and Fenrys can only stare up at her, his hands trailing down her hips, feeling the soft flesh beneath his palms. Her grip on his shoulders tighten, and her legs tremble as he grips the back of her thighs. And looking up at her like this, holding her like this, is the most intimate thing he’s ever done. 

   “Fenrys,” she says, a heavy breath dragging through her lips.

   He wants her, so damned desperately, but his wants came second to her needs.

   “The stairs at the end of the hall lead down to the baths,” he says, and he tries to ignore the gruffness in his voice, the ache, “I’ll get us some food.”

   He holds her for a second longer, memorizing the feeling of her. And when he lets her go, she takes a few careful steps towards the wooden trunk that holds their things. He watches her go through her pack, meticulously folding the clothes she drags out, like she needs the motion to calm her.

   He stands and she goes completely still, like her awareness has zoned in on him and she can feel him prowling towards her. Fenrys closes the distance between them, her back to his chest, and in a moment of weakness, he ghosts his hand over her arm, needing to feel her. He feels the shuttering breath she takes in, so similar to the one she’d taken on the ship, when all of this need for her started. 

   “I’ll be right back,” he says, and he leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to her shoulder.

   Fenrys has to force himself to back away from her, especially when he hears her sigh at his departure. Each step he takes away from her is agonizing, and the door closing behind him is nearly unacceptable. But he keeps walking, finding his way through the maze of stone hallways back to the great hall. The cavern is packed full of riders, talking and laughter filling the air as Fenrys searches for his friends.

   He finds them seated around a large circular table, and sitting across from them, was Vaughan. Rage reignites in his chest and he’s glad Y/n went to the baths instead of coming here, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to see him lose his control and beat her brother to a bloody pulp.

   “I told you to stay put,” Fenrys snarls as he nears the table.

   Vaughan looks past him, “Where is she?”

   “None of your business,” Fenrys snaps, crossing his arms over his chest to keep from lunging across the table.

   Vaughan goes still and his gaze narrows on Fenrys, “She’s my sister, Moonbeam. You stay away from her.”

   There’s a possessive voice in Fenrys that growls, she is mine. He has to take a deep breath to keep from shouting the words, from declaring that to the world when she wasn’t, not yet.

   “You lost her the moment you left her,” Fenrys growls instead, leaning on the edge of the table to lean closer, “You. Left. Her. Alone for twenty years, and you ran away like a coward the second Maeve was gone.”

   Fenrys lowers his voice, his tone lethal, “She is not yours to claim anymore.”

   He can feel the eyes on them, his friends anxiously waiting for him to either back down or lunge across the table. He wouldn’t make a spectacle, wouldn’t cause mayhem in his friend’s home like this. So Fenrys pulls back, taking two plates from the center of the table full of roasted rabbit and whatever vegetables they could grow in this hazardous climate. He turns his back on the male, stalking back towards the hall.

   “Where is she?” Vaughan asks again, demands more like it.

   Fenrys stills, turning to look down at the male over his shoulder. And with a somewhat sick satisfaction he says, “She should be back in my room from the baths by now.”

   He doesn’t miss the way Vaughan’s eyes flare, rage lighting the usually calm male’s face. Fenrys revels in it, in whatever conclusions he was coming to, his baby sister, with the wolf of Doranelle. 

   “Now if you’ll excuse me,” Fenrys grins, “She’s well spent and needs to eat.”

   He knows how it sounds, can see the innuendo settle on the male. Fenrys doesn’t give him the chance to respond, to finally lose his temper and turn the great hall into a brawling pit. Let the bastard stew with the image of his sister and Fenrys together in his bed, doing much more than simply lying there, doing all the things Fenrys had dreamed of doing with her.

Let him wonder, Fenrys felt himself smile, let him suffer.

Tag list -

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace @jesskidding3 @raginghellfire 

[kinardsevan]

2 + 49 for the numbers prompt

“This was a mistake,” Tommy mutters as Evan moves off of the couch, searching for his pants on the floor. The younger man whips his head up at his words and narrows his gaze at his ex, ire set into his expression. 

“Oh like that’s shocking,” he hisses as he finds his pants. “You need the god damn cover of nightfall to even call me and fuck.” 

Tommy gulps but doesn’t respond. Evan isn’t wrong. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” Tommy rasps after a moment when he stands. he pulls his pants back up and buttons them, looking around his living room for his own shirt. 

“That’s so fucking convenient for you to say, isn’t it,” Evan growls, stepping into his jeans. He looks over at the other man. “It’s a mistake. We can’t keep doing it. You’re weak and you just, what? Need me?” 

Tommy forces down a breath, keeping his mouth shut still. 

“But apparently not enough to fuck me for the rest of my life,” the younger man grumbles softly. “No, apparently I’m not good enough for that. Just one night stands now.” 

“Hey!” Tommy grips his forearm tightly as he spins Evan around, his face red and his jaw tight. It’s taking everything in him not to let the tears that desperately want to come to actually fall. 

“What,” Evan taunts, anger still laced through his tone. “You said you couldn’t be my last, but you clearly have no problem letting me think I’m good enough to fuck. So is that what it was the entire time, Tommy? I was a good place to put your dick? Work out the baby bisexual while I made you my god-damn human diary? Because you have all my secrets now and-…” His voice chokes off as his own emotions threaten to take over, rage ebbing off of him like steam after a hot shower. 

“Walking away from you is the hardest thing I have ever done,” Tommy rasps at him. “You think I thought you were just a good lay? You’re the whole goddamn package, and I knew I was blowing my entire life up the first time I kissed you, because you were never going to pick me. Not in the end, Evan. No one does that.” 

A small amount of the anger coming off of Evan seeps out of his expression, but Tommy shakes his head, glancing up at the ceiling to keep his emotions reigned in as best he can. Tears are swimming in his vision, and it’s all he can do to keep them from actually falling. 

“You think you know what you want, but six months from now-..” 

“I’m so in love with you that I went to bed thinking about what we’d name the kids every night,” Evan cuts him off. “Thought about what color we’d paint the nursery. If we’d have a two-stall garage or if that would even be big enough for the car lift and the muay thai setup. You think I was being hasty? I was bursting to keep it all inside, Tommy. A-and you think it was just bisexual haze? I never thought about all of that with anybody else. Not Abby, not Ali, not Taylor.” 

Tommy stares at him as Evan goes off, feeling stripped by his statements. He’s heard exes talk about feeling that way when they inevitably found the next person after him time and time again, but he’s never so much as gotten an inkling of it from anyone after Abby, and with her, it was never actually going to happen. 

“You say no one picks you, but I was fucking trying,” Evan tells him. “Not for five seconds, or a year, or two. For the rest of my fucking life. But apparently, that’s too hard for you.” 

Tommy’s breath is shallow as he steps forward, his free hand wrapping around the back of Evan’s head as leans his forehead against the younger man’s. 

“Loving you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Evan,” he whispers, his eyes closed as the tears finally fall. “It’s the losing you part of it that would kill me. When I said I couldn’t deal…” He leans back slightly, his fingers wrapped around Evan’s jaw to push him back a few inches, although he doesn’t remove his hand. His gaze runs over Evan’s face and chest and back up. “It ends at you. There’s nobody after you. I don’t move on from here. I was just trying to find a way to make it out alive.” 

Evan lifts his hand up to where Tommy’s is still on his face. 

“Then meet me in the middle, and believe me when I tell you there’s never going to be anyone else,” he rasps. “And let me love you anyway.” 

[yallthemwitches]

It's enough to make him embarrass himself right then and there. The danger of it all—her writhing on top of him where anyone can see, the soft flush of her skin and the glassy stare of her eyes. How could he say no to anything she asks of him now? He can’t, it’s unfathomable. 

It's the year our lord 1.1.2025 and I'm already posting plotless jily smut. Happy new year?

NSFW---read on AO3 or below the cut!

“Can the Quidditch Captain spare some time for his girlfriend?”

James looks up from the various parchment littering the couch. Lily stares down, her potions kit swung at her waist. He loves all versions of Lily but he has a particular fondness for this one: her right after potions, hair a bit blown out and wavy from leaning inwards towards the steaming cauldron, a slight sheen to her skin, and a triumphant, irresistible smile on her lips.

He responds by theatrically pushing all of the scribbled quidditch plays off the couch and onto the ground in a cloud of parchment. Around them, various students look up to watch the gesture—averting their eyes when they realize that it’s not a scuffle, but just them. From the corner of his eye he can see where his mates have sequestered themselves to avoid his endless quidditch speak and Sirius lifts his hands in mock exasperation. So you will stop for her but not for US?

She slides down onto his lap with learned ease, ignoring the empty space on the couch beside him. He would have been happy with her legs dangling just over the side of him, but at his beckoning, she swings herself into a straddle with both thighs on either side of his—something she has gotten experienced at in unused classrooms in the past months. 

It is forward—probably wildly inappropriate—but fuck does he love it. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while,” she hums, carding a hand softly through his hair. 

“You saw me this morning.”

“Catching you bleary-eyed as you sleepwalk to your classes is hardly seeing you.”

He knows she is right. The full moon this month had been brutal—the cold air seemingly doing something to Moony’s nerves. Nights spent corralling a restless werewolf left little energy for much else once the morning came—and that was before considering the match approaching and homework piling up. It felt like in the past week the only time he had been able to see her was when she put in the effort—stealing herself to crawl in his bed at night just to wake up and find him already gone for practice.

He sighs, pulling her in close so she can rest her head on the crook of his neck. 

“I’m so sorry Lils—really I am. How can I make it up to you?”

She hums again, pressing her lips against where his neck and collarbone intersect. The vibration shoots straight through him and his body reacts in turn. He might be busy—fucking knackered—but that doesn’t mean that he’s forgotten how hungry he is for her. He could be half dead and that part of him would never subside. 

“You could let me help you relax a little.”

Another press of her lips, parted and hot against his neck. He can’t help himself, a low moan falls out, leaning his head back to give her more space to roam. At his feet, the abandoned parchment crinkles faintly, the noise distant and hollow as though heard through a long tunnel; the buzz of other students around them turning into a singular white noise that only heightens the feel of her against him. 

“Evans.” 

He doesn’t need to say anything else because she knows exactly what she’s doing to him. She’s the expert at it—riling him up until the whole world falls away except for an acute sensation to have her. They are pathetic really—they shagged a day ago, maybe two days ago. They should be content with that right? Normal couples, regular sane ones that is, would be perfectly happy with those numbers. So why did they both always feel like every second passed not tangled together is fucking hell?

She pulls her head up just enough to slowly take his top lip between hers, moving like honey as her nails scratch at the nape of his neck. He goes limp underneath her, hands untucking the back of her uniform so he can press into bare skin. 

Above his hammering heartbeat, he can hear her whisper a breathy fuck and she tilts her head upwards to give him access to the pale underside of her jaw. He sucks softly against her skin and her hips drag forward, teasing an already straining erection in his trousers. 

“Godric Lily.”

He knows they should calm down. They are Heads students…in the bloody common room with a quarter of the Gryffindor house for merlins’ sake, but another wave of her hips and all coherent thought spirals again. 

“It’s a shame I had to sleep in my own dorm the past couple nights,” she murmurs, lips wet against his ear. Under her shirt, his hands traverse around to her front, shifting upwards to find her nipples pebbled and sensitive. 

“I quite like how disheveled you look after full moon nights—your messy hair…rumpled clothes…it makes me so desperate for you I can hardly focus for the rest of the day.”

A foreign noise leaves his mouth, fingers pinching softly at her nipples, wishing he could just rip her blouse open, lean forward and take one in his mouth. 

“I’m so pathetic. I don’t think there is a single day this week where I haven’t touched myself thinking about you. You always think you're the hungry one, Potter, but I’m just as addicted. I need you.”

A small, hot hand reaches under her shirt and takes hold of his hand. She guides it down against her ribcage and stomach before pulling it out of her shirt and towards their laps. Breath catching, he has just enough mental capacity to look down and watch both their hands disappear under the flare of her skirt and come in contact with the warm, soaked knickers at her center. 

“I want you.” It comes out rushed, breathless. His urgency at a critical level. “Merlin fuck how are you this wet already? How are you this wet for me?”

Her hand doesn’t leave his, moving slowly so it drags against the sticky fabric and presses down into her folds. Her hips undulate forward but with a certain constraint that a more coherent James would recognize as stealth due to their current setting. He knows he should survey their surroundings, be more aware of who might be watching, but her hips grind into his hand and his eyes snap upwards, catching her head falling back in a gasp. 

“Please, touch me. I’ll be quiet.” 

It’s enough to make him come right then and there. The danger of it all—her writhing on top of him where anyone could see, the soft flush of her skin and the glassy stare of her eyes. How could he say no to anything she asks of him now? He can’t, it’s unfathomable. 

Her hand leaves his against her slick center, but instead of emerging from her skirt, he feels the shuffled of her knickers and a pressure pushing past. He holds back every colorful word he wants to scream into the air as her eyes close from her own touch, her finger pumping inside herself once, twice, then reappearing over her skirt. 

He doesn’t think twice. He moves his other hand quickly to catch hers and pulls it up to his mouth. Arching an eyebrow, he parts his lips and slips the fingers inside, tasting her sweet and tangy against his tongue. 

Her eyes clamp shut and she leans into him, rocking all the way forward to rest her forehead against his. 

“Fucking christ, James.”

He doesn’t need a hand against her to know she is already close—her lips are parted and breathy like they get when she is edging on a release, her eyes absolutely pleading.

“Godric, I want to be inside you—I want to use my mouth to make you scream. Give me a second, and we can go upstairs and I swear I’ll do that Lils. Just a moment–”

“No.”

Her hips crash against his hand again—it's not a question but a demand. 

“We can do that later, but touch me first. Fuck, I’m so close already. Please, baby.”

Her thighs press into his sides at the use of the pet name, taunting him to continue. It’s a dirty trick on her part—she knows how much he loves when she calls him that, knows that when she uses it, it means she’s fucking desperate.

His fingers curl around the shred of fabric and slide easily into her. Her center feels like hot oil and it takes little effort to work in and out. He’s thankful for it, his hand only needing to move in slight increments to reach the little knot of nerves inside her–a motion he hopes looks at least vaguely unsuspecting to an outsider. 

On top of him, she leans on his chest as though sleeping. He wraps his other arm around her waist, holding her to him while his other continues to pump between them, hidden from view by the press of her body. Under her breath, she bites back moans—noises that if in any other setting she would have screamed into the air like affirmations. 

“Right there baby. I’m close—right on the edge—fuck James fuck.”

His hand twitches upwards, curling right into the place he knows will break her. She snaps away from him, pulling herself up with wild eyes. Grabbing at both sides of his head with her hands she slots his mouth open to catch the moan that he knows all too well as the sound of her climax. Her fingers massage through his hair, enticing him to keep moving, pulling her through orgasm.

Only until she pulls his head back does he realize he had closed his eyes. Despite coming seconds ago, she is already moving again, breathing heavily against his cheek and body craning forward so her hand can reach down and grab at his belt. 

“That was fucking incredible.” Her hand fumbles with the belt, getting it undone with a tug. “

“Let me show you. Let me feel you inside me.” Another tug. Her walls constrict around the fingers still inside her, already ready for a second go…

“I think we could do it—it would only take a few adjustments and I could–”

“Well–isn’t this cozy.” 

A new voice cuts through her plan, breaking the heavy mental fog that had descended on him since the moment she sat down. His eyes snap open, neck moving slowly to find what he already knows is waiting.

Sirius leans his body across the armrest on the other side of the couch, head propped up on his hands with an expression so smug it looks downright lethal. 

“Am I interrupting something?” He purrs, his grin growing wider. James watches his eyes flick from Lily’s flushed face to his undone belt back up to him, an eyebrow arched to say you’re never living this down. Not ever. 

Lily pushes away, locking her arms straight against his shoulders in an almost comical gesture, but James keeps holding her against him, hoping that by doing so Sirius can’t see everything going on between them, saving at least some embarrassment. 

“I would like to go on record saying I was more than willing to let you two fuck each other’s brains out in front of unsuspecting impressionable minds…but prissy prefect over there–” Sirius juts a thumb behind him towards a frowning Remus and blushing Peter, “--seems to think it is unwise for the Head students to disturb the younger members of the student body.”

Lily leans forward, pressing her forehead into his chest with a moan, making Sirius’ smile only grow more triumphant.

“Don’t hex the messenger,” Sirius tuts, “I’ve done my duty as a civil servant and lackey to more conservative minds. By the way…Prongs, where’s your hand?”

“Please piss off,” James seethes through his teeth. Against his chest, Lily mouths various muggle swears into his shirt. 

With a flash of his teeth, Sirius picks himself up and lopes away, his shoulders holding a mirth that can only come from amusement at others’ expense. Afraid to look, James steals a glance at Remus who had begun shaking his head. Fucking unbelievable. 

“We are the worst,” Lily whines into his shirt, hands balling up into the fabric. “They should revoke our Heads’ titles.”

“Absolutely worth it,” James snorts. Lily pulls her head up, giving him a discerning glare. 

“This is your fault, you know. If you hadn’t left me the past couple days to—”

James rears back, incredulous. “My fault? Lily, you climbed on my lap and started…y’know wiggling. What is a bloke supposed to do? Take that lying down?”

She frowns, considers it, then collapses back into his chest. 

“Fuck, ok—so I’m the worst. You were just the… the accessory.”

“An accessory, eh?”

He gets up so fast she has to wrap her legs around him to hold on, lest she fall back onto the floor. He picks her up, cradling her and moving quick—behind them, at least a dozen sets of eyes stare in shock.

She has half the mind to ask him what the fuck he is doing, making even more of a scene than they already have, but she doesn’t need to. Against her, he is still hard, unbearably so–and he slopes his way towards the boys’ staircase like his life depends on it. 

“Not that I’m not absolutely chuffed to be your little toy, Evans. But I seem to recall a mention of some reciprocation.”

He bounds up the steps, meanwhile, his hand has already found its way under her skirt, clawing at the band of her knickers. 

“I hope you don’t mind but I’d like a little privacy though,” he says as he kicks open the door to the dorm. With a quick flick, he silences and locks the room. 

“Call me modest—a traditionalist if you will– but I much prefer you completely unrestrained..” he throws her on the bed and in a second has slotted himself between her legs, arms wrapped around her thighs and lips kissing upwards. She steals herself a loud, guttural moan when his lips make contact with her center, tongue already passing through his earlier work.

“--and for fuck’s sake, as loud as you want.”

[vechter]

2024 WRITING REVIEW

tagged by @malinaa my beloved <3 tagging: @acediscowlng @androxys @burins @danishsweethearts @daringyounggrayson @mintchocochipsposts and anyone else who hasn't been tagged yet!!!

number of stories posted to ao3: i kinda went crazy in the second half of the year... 4 fics although 3 are one-shots

word counted posted for last year: 46,426 of which LBIA is a whopping 40,444 oops

fandoms i wrote for: dc comics

pairings: dickroy... my brand and my heart <3

stories with the most kudos, bookmarks and comment threads: look back in anger sweep with 432 kudos, 277 bookmarks and 71 comment threads

work i’m most proud of (and why): gotta be look back in anger just bc it was a huge undertaking... for the 2 months before i posted the first chapter, i was furiously consumed by thoughts of it every free moment... so to finally get it out was just a catharsis... relief and a moment of pride

work i’m least proud of (and why): angie, they can't say we never tried because it was just a way for me to avoid writing the final chapter of LBIA lmao and i think it kinda shows in the writing... like it feels like a very surface level read? it's sweet but it's just a bit lacklustre

share or describe a favorite review you received: anything mintchocochips comments bc she's so good at pinpointing the metaphors and the moments that are integral to the scene... like it rlly feels like she really considers each line with love and that's so, so wonderful to hear <3 also this one just hit me rlly hard too:

(special shoutout to lys's long-winded threats on shaking it off to find a higher low... consider me endeared and scared bb)

a time when writing was really, really hard: can i say this whole year... like fr the first half of this year was a LOT so i had ideas but they never came to fruition. also november. fuck that month.

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: listen... i write what i love so anytime you guys see dickroy in my fics, it should not be a surprise. but the dick & garth scene in chapter 1 of LBIA was very fun for me bc we don't often see garth get the same love as the other members of the fab five (i'm guilty of it myself sadly)... and i just thought it was such a missed opportunity for them to connect and mull over their respective deaths + subsequent resurrections. so, to write that was really interesting bc i wanted the tether of the titans to be a different thing for them post-death.

a favourite excerpt of your writing:

i've posted a part of this before but i looove this section from it builds and builds and builds:

It’s exhausting trying to keep track of Dick’s faith in him. The glow of moments Dick will trust him implicitly, the gut-punch when Nightwing is implacable, even to him. He doesn’t know how Dick does it— how he lives like that, the uncontrolled chaos of his mind that can either be a deadly laser or an explosive bomb on a dime. There’s no pattern to it at all; Roy thought he knew all there was to know about fickleness after Ollie but Dick’s always proving him wrong. (The first lesson Oliver Queen taught him: when you pull back the bowstring, you learn how to let go.)

how did you grow as a writer last year: bro i regressed... i used to be capable of writing happy endings... i don't think i remember how to do that anymore. but tbh, i did get a lot into the visual considerations and rhetoric of prose + how it contributes to overall mood while reading. it's why LBIA is so fragmented and so densely littered with indents/parentheses.

how do you hope to grow this year: i need to write less vignette based stuff and focus more on building a flow of events in the same chunk of text... i would like to be capable of moving from point A to point B on screen itself.

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.): @dandeeliion elle you were the first person to really hear about LBIA and you're one of the main reasons i got the courage to put the fic out so you have my unending love and appreciation. also, @ekleiipsis for listening to all my rants... i love you mar <3 also big shoutout to the gc for just generally gassing me up and loving my writing it means the world 🥺

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year: hahahah... what if you had been performing your whole life and you didn't know who you were when that performance was taken away... what then

any new wisdom you can share with other writers: a first draft is a first draft no matter how shitty you may think it is

any projects you’re looking to starting (or finishing) this year: pre-flashpoint long fic with a focus on dick, donna and roy + their respective traumas during dickbats era/blackest night/rise of arsenal. also really want to write a dick and cass case fic where their individual strengths and weaknesses are highlighted... only for the power of teamwork to save them ultimately <3

[the-clumsywitchtarot]

What is Your Future Husband's Love Language?

Because maybe his love language is quality time and you need to know ahead of time to work it into your schedule.

Cards

10 of Swords (Reversed)

2 of Wands (Reversed)

Wheel of Fortune

I feel like your future husband's love language is acts of service, anything that would make their life flow more easily. Before starting the reading for this pile I felt a pull to listen to a song called "A Little Bit" by Erika de Casier so they may also have quality time as a love language but I feel like they're too proud or stoic to admit it. This person could definitely be someone that avoids becoming too emotional or lovey dovey. They seem like someone that only knows how to show love from a practical side, for instance if you need your oil changed they'll have it done to keep you from having to do it. But if you are someone that likes to have deep talks or is touchy feely they may reject that. Another song that came up was "Strong as Glass" by Goapele.

Cards

6 of Wands

10 of Wands (Reversed)

The World

Apparently this is going to be a musical reading because starting your pile I felt the need to put on the song "All This Love" by Trey Songz. Your future husband's love language is words of affirmation, he is someone that is going to love hearing how well you thinks he's doing. And how much love him, when you give this man a compliment he is going to be in cloud 9. And if you send him text throughout the day just to let him know that you're thinking of him, he will love that! I can see a man getting a text, reading it, and then just beaming afterwards. He just wants to know that he is loved and appreciated. You do that and he'll be willing to give you the world (I know, an ironic choice of words considering you got the world card!) This is a side note but this pile gives me stay at home girlfriend vibes, well at least before you get married.

Cards

The Moon

4 of Swords

6 of Swords

This pile is interesting, I don't think your future husband will have any love language in particular but rather a combination of all of them. I feel like this person is just looking to quiet their minds and whichever of the love languages does that at any particular time is the one they'll want. I feel like this is a man that could've struggled opening up and expressing his needs at first. They may have been raised in a home or environment where their needs didn't matter or they were shown that they were not important in the eyes of their caregiver(s). This is a man that may have grown up in the foster care system. I feel like you will help him to realize that he is just as important and worthy of love and care as anyone else. I feel like he'll be so comfortable opening up to you that you will help him become in tune with what he needs. For any of those of you that are worried that this is someone that is an emotionally wounded boy man. Don't worry, I don't see that being the case, I think this is someone that has emotional intelligence when it comes to others but he just needs to be given permission to have it when it comes to himself. I feel like you guys will bring out the absolute best in each other effortlessly. I'm hearing the phrase "there are no perfect people but there are people perfect for each other."

Thank you for reading and please feel free to let me know which pile you chose! 🩷

- Erika, The Clumsy Witch

[mylovesstuffs]

Hoshi is THAT type of boyfriend !

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Hoshi will randomly show up at your workplace with bubble tea and your favorite snacks just because "I was passing by, and I thought you'd be hungry. Also, I missed you." Spoiler: He wasn’t passing by; he planned it all day.

He’s that boyfriend who will drape himself over you like a warm, affectionate koala while binge-watching Netflix. You’re his personal pillow, and he doesn’t care if his arm goes numb—he’s not moving TT

Hoshi loves to tease you endlessly, whether it’s about how cute you look when you're annoyed or your inability to resist his pouty face. It’s all in good fun until you flip the tables, and suddenly, he’s the one blushing lol.

4. The “Look at Me” Type™, he will do anything to grab your attention. Dancing around the house in a tiger onesie? Done. Random aegyo attacks in public? Absolutely. But the second you look at someone else for too long? He’s all pouty and sulky until you reassure him he’s your favorite. Pls- he's too cute.

Beneath all the jokes and goofy antics, Hoshi is a great listener who genuinely cares about your feelings. Late-night conversations with him often turn into soul-searching moments where he opens up about his dreams and fears, making you fall for him even harder.

He’s that boyfriend who will brag about you to literally everyone—his members, staff, the cashier at the convenience store. "Did you know my y/nie can bake the best cookies? She should have her own bakery!"

When you do something sweet, but his ears turn red, and he starts giggling uncontrollably. Give him a compliment, and he’ll probably hug you so tight you can’t breathe.

Whether you’re chasing a career goal or trying out a new hobby, he’s that boyfriend who’s always cheering you on. He’ll show up to your event with a handmade sign and yell, “That’s my girl!” so loud that everyone knows exactly who he’s rooting for.

Hoshi doesn’t hold back when it comes to showing love. Whether it’s forehead kisses, random hugs, or pulling you close while you’re cooking, he makes sure you know how much you mean to him every single day.

If you’re wearing his hoodie or his favorite shirt, he’ll tease you with, “Wow, that looks way better on you than it does on me.”

He’s that boyfriend who can’t resist touching you—holding hands, resting his hand on your thigh during car rides, or pulling you into his lap when you’re too far away for his liking.

Don’t let his playful side fool you. If anyone hurts you or crosses the line, Hoshi’s protective instincts kick in hard. His usual goofy smile is replaced with a serious, determined expression, and you realize just how much he values you.

He’s the type to shamelessly flirt with you in front of others, only to lose his cool when you flirt back. One playful wink from you, and he’s a stuttering mess.

At the end of the day, Hoshi is that boyfriend who makes you feel like the most cherished person in the world. Whether it’s through words, actions, or the way he looks at you with stars in his eyes, he ensures you never doubt his love for you.

[laswells-ashtray]

Okay, here me out on this. Gonna do this anonymously cause social anxiety is scary and I've never left an ask before, first time for everything I suppose. :')

I was randomly just watching the missions for MW3 cause I loved the concepts of some of them, just hated how most of it played out (Like how did Graves survive being blown up? Or how it felt like the story was rushed at points). Then I remembered the mission where Price got trapped in that silo thingy with the poisonous gas stuff that I cannot remember for the life of me what it is called (Think the mission was called Reactor,if you wanted to look it up if I don't explain it that well). Loved that mission cause to me it showed that Price wasn't this almighty powerful captain that doesn't get injured that badly compared to everyone else in 141.

Had a random thought of just the in-between part of when Price passed out to when he woke up on the helo. Was scrolling through the random posts and when I got to the one where Mac had met Price's team and stuff all I could think about was what if Gaz or Soap or anyone who's met Mac just tell Nik or Laswell to call for grandpa. I find it hilarious just the thought of Price's subordinates panicking over the fact that their captain, (and practically father figure sometimes due to how often he mother hens them), had inhaled poisonous gas then passed out and wanted help from someone who's known Price for years. Then cue Mac just showing up on base in Price's office or calling Price really late at night being like "You have 5 seconds to explain what happened and how in the world you got into that situation Mister. I do not care that you're a captain now I still hold seniority over you Price, I will pull that card you little shit." Cause despite the fact that Price was a pain in the ass when he was Mac's sergeant he still cares for the stubborn Brit's wellbeing.

Sorry if I started ranting, I love cod and finding the posts have made me do my happy stims. :) Especially reading the silly ones, always makes me feel better when having a bad day.

Made me get my glasses for this one, in a good way I'm just blind as shit. A little bit. Also never apologise for ranting, this is a safe place for ranting, rambling and threats of bodily harm but only if they're polite about it.

Firstly, I know exactly what mission you're talking about because I can't get past the second juggernaut and had to rage quit because I was giving myself a stress headache.

Secondly. I've missed writing more Mac if only because I have to write so English-ly for everyone else.

When the door opens, John doesn't look up. He assumes it's Nikolai coming to check on him, Ghost popping his head in to call him a twat again or one of the sergeants asking how he's doing. He doesn't expect to see the same, worn soles of some battered old boots that he's been trying to convince Mac to get rid of for over ten years park themselves on his desk.

Nor does he expect to see Mac watching him, arms crossed over his chest, and a look of blatant fury on his face that makes the hair on the back of John's neck stand up.

His chest is still tight and there's a familiar ache in his throat, he's too old to be getting fucking gassed anymore. Whatever cancer he'll be riddled with in ten years is not worth it.

"Well?"

He isn't stupid enough to answer that, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. If Mac didn't look ready to deck him, he'd likely be lecturing John about "uncooked joints on the table".

"Jus no gonnae say a fucking hing tae me? Dae a luk like a store dug?"

He groans and ignores the rattling behind his ribs, running a hand over his face as he prays that maybe, just maybe Mac will go easy on him.

"What have you been told?"

He doesn't bother asking "and by who?" because he doesn't want to be annoyed at any of them, and it was likely Kate.

"Ye inhaled a fuck ton ae somehin ye shouldnae 've and a hud to hear about it fae someday else."

He nods, looking at the older man wearily. "That's about it, didn't think you'd need a play-by-play."

Mac lowers his feet off of the edge of the desk and drags his chair closer to the desk with a grating scraping noise that makes john wince.

"Right, lad. Genuine question, are ye a fuckin tit?"

It appears to be just that, a genuine question if the way Mac is arching a brow at him means anything. The Scot doesn't allow him the opportunity to answer before talking again.

"Ye must be, cuz we both ken launchin heed first intae somethin filt wae somehin that mangles ye is some biblical arsehole-ity, John."

John briefly considers slamming his head on the desk. It'd do no good to explain that it was for the mission, Mac would probably just skelp him over the back of the head for implying that wasn't something the retiree already knew.

"You did worse back in the day."

MacMillan only narrows his eyes at him, clenching his hands into fists on his lap.

"Dae ye take me as a gid fuckin example wae these things, son?"

John shakes his head, staring down at the desk in front of him.

"Swear tae fuck, ye pull a stupid stunt like that again and a'll huv yer fucking knees wae a crowbar. Christ, is yer self-preservation that far oot the fuckin windae?"

That has John looking back up at him through narrowed eyes, everyone kept jumping down his throat about it as if they wouldn't have all done the same for the sake of a mission. It was part of the job.

Mac slams his hand down on the edge of the desk, irritation washing over his face in waves.

"Dinnae fuckin luk at me like that, crabbit wee git. A get tae rip intae ye fir stupid shite like this or did ye forget that? The fuckin heart attacks ye put me through fir years and ye huvnae changed a bit? Ye canne be dain that tae every, ye might act like an ignorant arse but ye've got folk aroon here that actually don't like the thought ae attending yer fuckin funeral, ye daft cunt."

Maybe the older man can see the exhaustion that's settled in John's bones, wearing him away from the inside out. Or maybe this is just how MacMillan felt years ago, it might just be an inherited trait that presents itself alongside the captain title.

"Get tae bed, son. We're talkin aboot this the morra. And tea wae lemon fir yer throat, ye sound like ye've been gargling shrapnel."