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grimmsbride · 2 months ago

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USELESS FUCKING JANITOR [ daisuke / reader ]

after a small incident with jimmy, you’re left feeling miserable and a little bad for yourself. luckily a certain useless ray of sunshine pops in just to comfort you

notes / this originally was gonna be smut but i decided to go a different direction, whilst the next daisuke fic will def be smut. please enjoy and please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes

You hadn’t know the co-captain for long. You didn’t know much about his background, values, or morals. You didn’t know a thing about him, yet you knew enough to steer clear of his path. Something about him was unnerving, and sometimes downright odd. One such being the way he loved to pick people apart. Metaphorically digging his fingers into a person, pulling each little insecurity as if perfect bullets for his emotional ammo. You’ve seen Jimmy do this to Anya, reminding her of her flaws and lack of accomplishments. You wondered how exactly she continued the day as if his words had no effect. Like water off a duck’s back.

Other times it was his captain and even friend Curly. Though far in between. While few times it was Daisuke, the only bundle of optimism left tracking around the ship. You couldn’t deny the affection you were slowly developing for the other. Was it simply you being a hormonal young woman in close capacity with another hormonal young man surrounded by grumpy older people? Or was it something else? Either way you couldn’t deny the way your stomach fluttered each time he would smile at you, wave, or even blink in your direction.

Let alone how he met Jimmy’s usually harsh words with a bright beam of a smile, declaring he’ll do better. Only for the co-captain to sigh and mumble something under his breath, truly bothered by the intern’s existence.

If only you were capable of taking a piece of his personality in times like this.

The day had started off simple, you walking around; earbuds shoved in whilst cleaning up. From dusting, scrubbing, to wiping down surfaces; you were nearly done with your daily duties. Unless of course someone made a mess later, but the others were luckily nice enough to clean up after themselves like the grown people they were.

The last task was to mop, one you dreaded quite a bit. While the clean smell the chemicals left behind were a nice touch, you truly hated how heavy the mop got or how bulky that ugly yellow bucket was. Regardless of your opinion you had a job to do, and fulfill it you would.

The wheels squeaked against the floors as you dragged the large bucket, the chemical-water swishing against the walls of the plastic container. You slowed your dragging as you came across the hallway, humming softly along to the music currently blasting in your ears.

You silently thanked your past self for the taking the time to pack your i-pod, knowing you wouldn’t be able to survive a second on this place without it. And despite Curly’s slight reservations about it — safety and all that — he didn’t bother you much since you got your work done efficiently.

Plunging the long stringed mop into the water, you slowly lifted the heavy weight up and between the unholy yellow contraption. Grabbing the black bar, you pushed, wringing out the excess water for a moment before releasing the mop from the tension. Once satisfied you lifted the mop out, slowly dragging it against the floor in careful strides, assuring each space was throughly cleaned.

In the midst of your focus, and between songs; you couldn’t help but hear a voice you came to enjoy. Your eyes flicked to the side, spotting Daisuke standing in the main lobby, wearing a nervous smile whilst his mentor stood over him.

You couldn’t make out everything they were saying but you got the gist from the expressions plastered across their faces. One of irritation and the other of nervousness. Nine times out of ten Daisuke accidentally messed something up with his overzealous nature once again.

You rose the mop blindly, plunging it into the water just when the man glanced over at you. You spotted a little crinkle of his lips, his once nervous smile growing just a bit cheeky. You could only chuckle softly, lip quickly being bit to silence your laughter. The last thing you wanted to do was get on Swansea’s bad side as well.

Unfortunately, however, with your focus elsewhere you hadn’t even realized how rough you were being with the mop. Attempting to pull it out suddenly grew difficult the moment it got caught on the edge of the bucket, tipping it forward and soon falling.

Just in time for a certain co-captain to be walking by.

All color drained from your face as a loud swear fell from his lips. Your eyes settled onto the man, spotting the darker colored fabric of his uniform. Luckily there was no bleach in the bucket.

Jimmy glared down at his clothes before turning the harsh stare to you.

“Are you incapable of mopping or something?”

You swallowed harshly, gripping the handle of your mop nervously. “I—i’m sorry Jimmy, I..”

“You have the easiest job in this entire place and you still manage to find a way to fuck it up.”

You clammed shut instantly, watching his lips continue to move yet not hearing a thing. You felt raw and open under the harmful speech he uttered, forcing yourself to breathe as not to shed tears. You had done so well before keeping your head down near this man, escaping his radar as not to cause tension.

But of course, your luck ran out in this exact second.

“Useless fucking janitor..” Jimmy finished, walking off, shoes noticeably squeaking with each step. You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling your rapid heartbeat slow the moment he was out of earshot. Still, his words rung through your mind, clouding it and soon your vision.

You blinked rapidly, quickly moving to lift the bucket and clean up the mess you created.

All under the watchful eye of a certain someone.

“Hey, what are you listening to?”

Your eyes slowly rose from the floor of your room, drifting over to the young man currently occupying space in the doorway. His lips were curled into a little smile, tapping his fingers against the entryway for a moment before stepping inside fully— the door sliding behind him.

You shrugged a little, waving your i-pod lazily. “Some random song.” You mumbled back, attention going back to the floor as drums and singing filled your ears. Usually you were up for conversation, loving to go on tangents about the music blasting in your ears. Through your talks, it felt as if you were still connecting to your home back on Earth.

Earth.. oh how you wished to go home. Away from that god forsaken co-captain that just loved to ruin another’s day. It’s not like it’s your fault his life is so shitty. He shouldn’t take it out on you or anyone else for that matter.

Stewing in your anger, you hadn’t notice Daisuke come even closer until he was standing right beside you. In a split moment he was dropping to sit beside you, knee grazing your own as he crossed his legs.

“Mind if I listen?”

You thumbed the circle button of the little device, lips pursed stubbornly. No, you can’t listen. I rather stew and rewind that complete embarrassment of a lecture I received hours ago. Was your first thought, ready to leave your tongue as your eyes darted over to the other.

Except you couldn’t. Not when he was smiling like that, so sweetly; eyes crinkled and pretty lips curled. You swallowed silently, a shaky hand lifting to the earbud closest to him and extending it towards the other. His fingers grazed your own as he grabbed the bud gently, coming just a bit closer to you as he tucked the bud into his ear.

Daisuke’s head went slack, hands falling to his lap as the music ran through his ear. It’s been a while since he heard good music like this. Not the typical instrumentals Swansea played — albeit rarely — when they were working. No, this was perfect. A nice reminder to what he has back home.

“Let me ask, do you listen to this music when you’re cleaning up?”

You nodded slowly, moving a bit uncomfortably whilst leaning back into your bed. “Yeah.. I can clean without music but ya know, I prefer it.”

“I get what you mean. Helps you stay focused doesn’t it?”

Daisuke peeked at you, causing your mouth to run dry; deciding just to nod. A silence entered the room shortly after, the two of you simply listening to your music; your lips slowly moving to mouth the lyrics. Within the second chorus of the song, was when Daisuke spoke again.

“What Jimmy said earlier..”

You shook your head, “Daisuke, you don’t have to say anything. I’m not a child, I don’t need to be consoled after being lectured.” You said cynically, eyebrows furrowing just a little as you glanced at anything but him.

But, the young man didn’t let up. Daisuke gently begun again;

“I’m not consoling you. Just.. reminding you how cool you are.”

You snorted at his words, eyes finally stealing away from the floor to glance at him. “You being funny?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow. You watched, in a rather annoyed manner, as the man shook his head— with enough force his earbud slid a bit, causing him to quickly adjust it.

Despite his assurance, you weren’t convinced.. at all.

“I’m a janitor, Daisuke. I highly doubt that’s cool.”

You watched as his eyes rolled, furthering your minor irritation and confusion.

“You’re a janitor.. yeah— but think about it!” Daisuke hummed, flashing another one of his perfect smiles. “Without you this ship would be filthy, smell bad, and maybe even dusty. Terrible conditions for someone to work or live in.”

You glanced away, struggling to keep your lips in a neutral position. “Anyone can clean, Daisuke.”

“Yeah but you’re the one doing it. Not me, Curly, Anya, Swansea— or Jimmy. You are..”

You shivered as you felt gentle fingers on the back of your hand, causing your eyes to blink back to the other occupying the space beside you. Drifting from that sweet smile down to your hand, you noticed his fingers gently tracing your knuckles for a moment. The feeling was.. pleasant, intimate— enough that a heat of warmth flushed from your chest all the way to your cheeks.

“—You’re just as important as anyone else on this ship.” Daisuke hummed, stealing your attention back to his words. With ease the man was curling his fingers around your hand, turning it over to then link his digits with your own.

“At least I think so. And..”

This time Daisuke leaned close, lips just a breath’s away from your ear. “Whatever you splashed on Jimmy just made him smell.. wayyy better.”

You snorted, now all smiles and teeth as laughter escaped you. Your own pleasant sounds mixed with his, the two of you bumping into each other in the midst of your joy. You hadn’t even noticed the squeeze he was giving to your hand, nor the way your head was practically leaning onto his shoulder.

Moments of this bliss passed before you two could slowly settle down, realization of your current positions quickly dawning on you. Your eyes drifted to the hold resting on your lap, the cool sliver ring he wore rubbing against your heated skin. Your eyes rose from the hold and over to the man beside you, spotting him already looking at you.

Again, that same warmth overtook you— the same warmth that has been doing so for months; every time you looked at this bundle of sunshine. Your lips curled in onto themself, struggling to keep eye contact as nothing seemed to swirl in the eyes staring back at you.

Only when they suddenly flicked to your lips did you get even an inkling of what he wanted. Luckily, the feeling was definitely mutual.

Squeezing his hand, you moved closer— Daisuke meeting your advance and pressing his lips to your own. The kiss was slow, full of uncertainty yet passionate enough that same bliss trickled throughout your entire body. His thumb circled your skin, whilst his other hand reached over to gently grab your arm.

Moments passed before the two of you were satisfied, or more like out of breath; pulling away as your chests rose and fell in tandem. Your head lowered to rest against his shoulder, smiling to yourself as his warmth and your music consumed you.

“So uh.. does this mean we’re… together?”

You chuckled softly, turning to stamp a kiss against his neck, feeling him shiver.

“Yes Daisuke.”

#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black tumblr #black!reader #chubby reader #poc writer #black reader #x reader #/ reader #reader insert #fluff #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #daisuke mw #intern daisuke #reader x daisuke #▌ ִ ♱⠀ׂ ִ gooey ⸺ fics. 𒀭

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cherryobx · 8 months ago

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Omg congratulations ❤️ may I have turn the radio up with jj and the song being never grow up by Niall Horan

Never grow up

a/n: thank you!! <3 literally one of my fav songs ever

pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

summary: watching the sunset with JJ and goofing around

warnings: swearing

wc: 0.9k

“Is it weird that I kind of want to braid your hair right now?” you ask, sticking your hand into JJ’s messy blonde hair and ruffling it.

He chuckles at that but lets you mess his hair up even more. “What hair? I barely have any.”

“It’s longer than usual. When’s the last time you got a haircut?”

He tilts his head knowingly at you. “You cut my hair, babe.”

“But that was months ago?!” you exclaim.

“So?”

“We’re cutting your hair tomorrow.”

“Yes, boss.”

You’re sitting at the beach. The heat wave of the day has passed and it’s not unbearably hot anymore. You’re sitting on the warm sand together and just enjoy the beautiful evening, sunset and the company of each other.

You look at the view in front of you but JJ only has eyes for you. You feel him looking at you so you turn your head to look at him too. “What?”

“You’re just really beautiful. ‘S all.” You feel your cheeks heat up at his compliment and you smile brightly.

“You’re not bad yourself.”

“I call you beautiful and I get a ‘you’re not that ugly I guess’ in return?” he jokes and nudges you with his elbow, almost knocking you over.

“Hey! I didn’t say ugly! You want me to call you beautiful too?”

He rolls his eyes playfully and says, “Obviously.”

“You’re beautiful too.” And you mean it. He really is. Really effortlessly so. It’s unfair actually.

“I know.” He smirks and you slap his arm with the back of your hand.

“Ow!” he yelps but you know he’s joking.

You scoff. “It didn’t even hurt.”

“Yes, it did!” he argues.

“No, it didn’t.”

“Don’t diminish my feelings.” He places a hand over his heart and acts as if he’s offended.

“I’m not.”

“Bully.”

“Baby.”

You roll your eyes and lean against his shoulder, resting your head. He stops arguing and tilts his head towards yours so his head is resting on yours. You wrap your arms around his bicep and hold him close. “You’re such a simp,” he comments.

“Says you. You’re so obsessed with me. Kinda creepy, not gonna lie,” you retort and he just laughs. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You sit there for a while and look at the sunset together and it makes you feel bittersweet because you know moments like these are just going to pass by and there’s nothing you can do about it. There’s no way to stop life moving so fast.

“I don’t wanna grow up.” You sigh and close your eyes.

“What?” JJ’s head shoots up and he looks down at you. You raise your head from his shoulder and meet his eye.

“I don’t want to go to college, I don’t want to get a job. I just want to stay where we are in life right now. I’m so happy and inevitably it’s all going to go away. We’ll probably grow apart with our friends and move away and get a boring career and move to the suburbs somewhere and get a house with a white picket fence and-”

“Okay, stop your rambling for a second.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“You’re acting like we’re going to retire tomorrow. We’re still young, a whole life ahead of us. We have time to be whoever we want and do whatever we want. And look at us, we’re still acting like fucking toddlers,” he says referring to earlier. “We might grow up but we don’t have to grow up. Do you understand what I mean?”

You smile. “Yeah.”

“Good. Now, whoever makes it to the water first gets to pick the movie tonight!” As soon as the words leave his mouth he’s on his feet and dashing towards the water, barely giving you any time to react.

You run after him as fast as you can but it’s no use. He has won. He jumps up and down and does a goofy victory dance as you slow down when you reach him.

“That was so unfair! I don’t want to watch Fight Club. Again.” You point a finger at him, completely out of breath.

“Not my fault you’re so slow.” He shrugs smugly.

“Asshole.” You splash him with the cold ocean water and he takes a few steps back as he yelps.

“Fuck, that’s cold!”

“Not my fault you can’t handle it,” you mock him. He leaps towards you and tackles you, both of you falling on the ground in the shallow water.

“Oh my god, that is fucking cold!” you shriek.

“Told you!”

You quickly get up and shake as much water off as possible but you still can’t shake the cold. You wrap your arms around yourself.

JJ stands up too and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against him and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“If I get a cold it’s all your fault,” you grumble and pout.

“Nope.”

You smack his chest. “Ass.”

He just laughs and starts leading you back to your house. “Come on, let’s get your ass back home before it freezes off.”

“I hope yours does.”

He gasps. “That’s so rude!”

You scoff and roll your eyes but then laugh at his ridiculous reaction.

He’s right. You’re nowhere near actually growing up yet.

join the picnic!

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank outer banks #jj outer banks #jj obx #obx #jj maybank obx #cherry's 2.4k picnic!

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squatch-and-stretch · 2 months ago

Text

Latrotoxin

Stanley Pines & Stanford Pines | 7,586 words | Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic

“He checks that Ford is still focused on Fiddleford— he is, completely and utterly— before he carefully rolls up one sleeve of his jacket to check the bite. There’s two messy holes in his arm, bleeding sluggishly. The skin around the wounds is flushed red.

Stan may be the idiot of the group, but even he knows this is bad news. Spiders are usually poisonous, right? Does that apply to alien spiders that are huge? Probably.

The small part of his brain that still cares about logic and being alive says he should tell the Fords immediately, before things get worse. The louder, larger part of his brain stomps it down and kicks its corpse for good measure.”

Warning for injury, poisoning, arachnophobia.

Fic under the cut.

It’s raining on Planet Boring. They’ve seen a lot of things in their short time wandering the multiverse together, but this planet’s pretty high up there in terms of ‘yeah, this is basically just Earth’. Ford is marveling at the size of the plants, but it all just looks like Central America to Stan. Besides, it’s raining.

“There’s a cave up ahead,” Fiddleford says, a hand cupped over his goggles to keep the rain off of them. “Le’s get outta this rain.”

“Sounds good,” Stan says, adjusting his hood to cover his face. It was going to take forever for the damn thing to dry.

Fiddleford leads the way, carefully weaving up the side of the hill until he can scramble up into the cave. Stan follows, once he makes sure Ford is doing the same.

“Well,” Fiddleford says, holding out his prosthetic to push the darkness back a bit further. “Reckon it’ll keep us dry, at least.”

Stan squints as he steps inside. Unlike the hill it’s carved into, the ground inside seems pretty flat. He wanders a bit further in, eyes catching against some white tangle woven across one of the walls.

“Hey, is that—“ Stan cuts himself off as his foot slips, only a small part of it landing on solid ground while the rest drops out from under him.

He stumbles slightly, ankle slamming painfully against rock as his foot lodges itself in the crevice. He reaches out to steady himself against the wall, but pulls away in disgust as soon as he feels it.

“Spider webs,” Fiddleford provides helpfully.

“Won’t you ever watch where you’re going?” Ford huffs, looking at the tangle of webs disdainfully.

“Oh yeah, Poindexter? Wanna tell Fidds here how many times I had to pull you out of traffic because you had your big ugly nose in a book?”

“We have the same nose! And besides—“

“He doesn’t need to tell me, I had to do the same thing for him in college,” Fiddleford chimes in with a smirk. Ford’s face flushes with indignation as Stanley barks out a laugh.

“It’s different when we’re in a potentially dangerous dimension that we know next to nothing about!” Ford huffs.

“Yeah yeah, I’m an idiot, just get me out of this shit,” Stan grumbles, tugging ineffectively at his trapped leg. It’s flexible, but at this point that really just means that it won’t break easy.

“I gotcha,” Fiddleford says, raising his prosthetic. Stan leans away.

“Woah, hey, I dunno if that’s really necessary!” Stan yelps, holding his hands up placatingly.

“The claws, Stanley,” Fiddleford reassures, but there’s a worrying glint of gleeful amusement in his eyes. “I ain’t gonna blast your foot off.”

“Yeah, obviously not,” Stan scoffs, folding his arms. He knew that.

“Hurry, won’t you? The cave opens up further in,” Ford calls, voice echoing. He's far enough away that Stan can barely see the shape of him in the dim light of the cave.

“Don’t you go wandering off!” Fiddleford snaps, and oh yeah, he really does have a kid, because that there’s a dad voice.

“I won’t go far!”

“Darn right you won’t, because you’re gonna turn right around and come back over here!”

Ford sighs, but he turns to face them and doesn’t go any further.

Fiddleford echoes the sigh with a shake of the head that looks pretty fond from where Stan is standing. With one foot in a crack full of spider webs. He directs his attention back to Stan and kneels in front of him.

“Woah, take me out to dinner first,” Stan jokes, hooking a thumb into his belt loop.

“Shut your mouth, Lee,” Fiddleford laughs, steadying his flesh hand against the floor.

Shit, he hasn’t been Lee in years. If Ford hadn’t all but called dibs already, Stan’d be all over that man like a seagull on the fries of an unsuspecting tourist. He laughed at his joke and everything!

What a guy. A guy currently clawing at the spider webs around his leg, even. His palm is a little too big to fit in the crack Stan had jammed his foot into, but he sure is trying his best. Stan sighs and resigns himself to standing there for a bit. For lack of anything better to do, he idly looks around the cave. For the most part, he can see the rough roof of it, but there’s some sections lost in shadow. There’s one pretty much right above them, in fact, the surrounding stone pulling upwards into a deep crevice.

It almost looks like something’s moving up there in the dark, but even Stan knows how much the human eye loves seeing things that aren’t there when you’re staring into pitch blackness.

It really does seem like something’s moving, though.

Stan squints.

“Hey, Fidds, give it a rest for a sec, would ya?” Stan says, wiggling his foot to get his attention. “Pro’lly just my eyes playing tricks on me, but is there something up there?”

Fiddleford hums, standing up. He lifts his arm above his head, and the dim light of his prosthetic pushes the darkness back just enough for Stan to make out what looks like eight dark eyes staring at them from the shadows.

“Huh,” Fiddleford says, voice pitching up slightly. “Yup, reckon you’re right.”

Just as he says that, the thing in the darkness skitters closer. With its head fully lit as Fiddleford rears around to face it, Stan knows it’s a spider, if the eight eyes weren’t enough to clue him in. It’s an ugly one too, eight eyes bulging grotesquely from a dark, shiny head. Two giant fangs protrude from the bottom of its face, with two little legs shifting as it stares at them. Little is a relative description, of course, because they’re about the length of his forearm which is far too large for any part of a spider to be, if you ask Stan.

“What are you waiting for, blast that thing!” Stan demands, and suddenly the spider lunges.

Fiddleford yelps, throwing out his prosthetic to catch it before those fangs can hit something more delicate. They clack against the metal, shifting as they try to dig into something with no give. The sudden weight of the spider knocks Fiddleford off his feet, sending him stumbling into Stan, who’s only there to catch him because his foot’s stuck. Luckily, their combined weight is enough to wrench his foot free, which, unluckily, means all three of them hit the floor.

Fiddleford rolls off of Stan, tugging the spider along with him. Considering the things got eight legs beneath it, the movement does nothing to knock it off balance. Its weird little legs prod at Fiddleford’s chest. Stan rolls to his feet, every muscle tensed.

The spider pulls away, finally getting wise to the fact that it can’t bite through metal. With his prosthetic now free, Fiddleford pulls back just far enough to claw it across the face, catching at least three of its gross eyes. It rears back, legs scrambling to get the threat away from itself, and oh shit, have spiders always had a nasty pair of little claws on the end of each leg?

Stan glances towards the entrance of the cave.

There’s not a lot of force behind the movement, not when it’s just trying to get away, but its claws scramble against the flimsy fabric of Fiddleford’s shirt and tear it with ease. Judging by Fiddleford’s pained yelp, they make it through more than that.

He’s spent a long-ass time looking out for nobody but himself, but there was a time before that when his brother was his first priority. Nothing much has changed, then. Ford would kill him if he let his boy get killed, and besides, Stan kinda likes the guy himself.

Leaving his typical taunting out just this once— it would be lost on a spider anyway— Stan threads his fingers through his brass knuckles and lunges. He doesn’t know what his good ol’ fists will do against a spider as big as he is, but the answer seems to be ‘enough’.

The spider lets out a wet noise as his fist cracks through its exoskeleton. He rears back on instinct, because gross, and that gives the beast enough time to turn itself towards him. Its five remaining eyes don’t have a shred of humanity to them, but Stan still gets the impression of a hateful glare. He pulls back for another blow, straight between those ugly eyes, but the spider lunges before he can. He steps to the side, but a person-sized spider is a lot wider than a person-sized person, and two of the legs catch him, bringing him towards that awful mouth. Those weird little mouth legs grab at his arm, and he struggles against its grip. He leans far enough away that its mouth lands far from his throat, but that’s the best of it. It still lands, fangs sinking into his arm.

Stan grunts against the sharp stab of pain, but the spider made a big mistake— it grabbed his non-dominant arm. He can’t throw his whole body into it like he should, but he can still punch this thing in the head, over and over and over until his arm is covered in bug blood and its legs stop twitching around him.

“Stanley! Fiddleford!” Ford shouts, suddenly deciding to show back up now that the action is over. “Fiddleford! What happened?”

“Big spider,” Fiddleford grunts, sitting up. He’s got a hand pressed over the worst of the wounds, and now that Stan’s looking, there sure is a lot of blood staining his shirt.

“I see that!” Ford says tightly, sparing the spider a glance. His eyes briefly spark with that bright-eyed nerd look, but it’s pretty quickly drowned out by concern. “Come on, there's a place deeper in where we can rest.”

“Are we sure this is the only spider here?” Stan asks, pulling his arm free of the fangs. It is not a graceful dismount, tearing at the skin around the punctures.

“Well, the vast majority of spider species are incredibly asocial, many even resorting to cannibalism if other food sources are unavailable,” Ford says in that enthusiastic lecturer tone that Stan can’t help but roll his eyes at. “Judging by the size and web-building habits of this individual, I have no reason to believe it’s an exception.”

“Alright, pretty sure I caught most of that,” Stan says. “Lead the way, Poindexter.”

“I shall,” Ford agrees, helping Fiddleford to his feet. Fiddleford hisses against the movement, pressing his hand more firmly to the worst of his wounds as Ford swings his prosthetic over his shoulder. He slumps a bit beneath its weight. “I forgot how heavy this thing is. You really wear this every day?”

“Y’know I do,” Fiddleford says. His accent means he’s always shoving words together, but the slur is coming in hard and fast. He’s losing a lot of blood. How much space is between the surface of someone’s skin and the inside of their organs, and how long were those claws again?

Stan isn’t a doctor, and even though the Fords have like, a hundred doctorates between them, he’s pretty sure none of them are medical. Still, it’s not like Stan of all people will be any help.

Ford half-carries Fiddleford into the next room of the cave, even if it’s a bit of a squeeze to get through the narrow passageway. While it’s further from the entrance, there’s an opening in the roof letting the rain trickle down into a shallow pool. That natural skylight is the only opening other than the one they just came through, and the room is small enough that Stan can see all of it, even in the dim light filtering through the clouds and into the cave. It’s a little slice of paradise, other than the giant dead spider a few feet away and the guy bleeding out all over his brother.

Stan’s been in worse places.

Ford lowers Fiddleford to the ground as soon as they enter the room. Ford sits down with him, all but cradling that scrawny little mechanic in his lap.

“Y’kay, Lee?” Fiddleford mumbles, rolling his head towards Stan.

“Are you seriously asking that right now?” Ford sighs, exasperated, before Stan can answer. He was going to say just about the same thing, but it confirms that that’s definitely what he should do.

“You’re the one who got gored by a giant spider, Fidds,” Stan says, waving his uninjured hand dismissively. “You can worry about other people when your blood’s back where it’s supposed to be.”

“Precisely. Now where do you keep those gauze…” Ford’s voice fades out as Stan wanders off. There isn’t anywhere to go, really, so Stan washes off the worst of the bug blood in the pond, then meanders his way over to sit against the opposite wall. There’s a clear view of both the Fords and the entrance.

He checks that Ford is still focused on Fiddleford— he is, completely and utterly— before he carefully rolls up one sleeve of his jacket to check the bite. There’s two messy holes in his arm, still bleeding sluggishly. The skin around the wounds is flushed red.

Stan may be the idiot of the group, but even he knows this is bad news. Spiders are usually poisonous, right? Does that apply to alien spiders that are huge? Probably.

Fiddleford looks like he’s got more blood outside of his body than in it. He is clearly the first priority for Ford, and with good reason, even if a small, childish part of Stan rankles at the idea. Besides, spider venom probably wasn’t the worst thing Stan’s had injected into his body, and he’s survived everything else.

It hurts, but not that badly. There’s a faint ache spreading up his arm, but it’s probably just from the way that damn thing had grabbed it. He’s fine.

He’ll sneak over and grab one of those awful bottles of whatever Fiddleford uses to keep wounds clean when Ford’s done fretting over all their medical shit. He can take care of it himself. With just a few exceptions, Stan’s been the only one taking care of Stan for the past ten years.

He watches Ford carefully remove Fiddleford’s prosthetic and cleans his wounds, holding him steady even as Fiddleford writhes against the pain of that awful antiseptic against torn flesh. Once Ford has a cap on the bottle and is blotting away the excess blood and liquid, Fiddleford slumps against him. Ford carefully maneuvers around him to bandage the wound properly, mumbling gently all the while. Stan can’t make out the words, but he can guess what he’s saying.

Ford had never been one for reassurances. When he used to patch Stan up all those years ago, he’d run through everything he was doing and why. If he ran out of things to say on that topic, he’d just start talking about whatever else was on his mind. It gave Stan something to focus on other than the pain, so he’d always appreciated that. He can’t tell if Fiddleford feels the same way, can’t read his expression or body language beyond ‘pained’ at this distance.

Once he’s taken care of, Ford leans against the opposite wall of the cave with a visible sigh. Fiddleford carefully maneuvers himself to curl into Ford’s lap, burying his face in his stomach and fisting his hand into the back of his shirt. Ford takes off his coat, and lays it over him. The cave is honestly pretty hot if you ask Stan, but the gesture is nice.

“I’ll take first watch,” Ford calls, loud enough to echo through the cave. Fiddleford flinches at the loud noise, and Stan does the same, quickly adjusting his leg to make sure his arm is hidden from view.

His attempt doesn’t matter, because Ford isn’t even looking. He runs a hand through Fiddleford’s hair as he burrows his face deeper into Ford’s stomach.

Stan scoffs quietly. He’s a grown man. Stan hasn’t looked for comfort in another person since he was like, ten.

It does look kind of nice, though. He hasn’t trusted anyone to look after him the way Ford is looking after Fiddleford in over a decade; even Ford got too busy to tend to his every bruise and scrape eventually, and Stan learned to stop bothering him. He learned to set his own nose at fifteen and never looked back.

Eventually, Ford will get tired and he’ll wake up Stan to get him to take watch. Once that happens, Stan will grab the bottle of antiseptic and the roll of bandages and patch himself up. Until then, Stanley rolls his sleeve back down, and tries to make himself comfortable.

•••

Stan wakes up to something jostling his shoulder. That never means anything good. Without even thinking, he scrambles away from the touch, kicking against the ground. His legs barely react, and a dull ache rages through his entire body at the movement.

Oh, he’s in a real bad way. Even more reason to get the fuck away. His eyelids feel thick as he forces them open. As expected, someone is looming over him.

His arm twitches towards his pocket, but that’s as far as he gets. His whole body hurts, but his arm’s definitely the worst of it, maybe followed by his chest. It’s hard to breathe. He has no idea how much of that is panic and how much of it is whatever happened to him.

Either way, he’s not about to let himself die here. He doesn’t even know where ‘here’ is. The ground is hard beneath him and the wall is hard behind him and it’s hot. He’s sweating like hell, but what else is new.

“Ge’way,” Stan slurs, raising his other, slightly less painful arm to defend himself.

“Stanley!” a voice scolds, and the hand releases him. Whoever’s looming over him even takes a step back. “What is the matter with you?”

The voice sounds familiar, but that barely even registers. This person called him by his actual name.

“Who the fuck’re you?” Stan says, words coming a bit easier now.

“It’s me, Stanford! Seriously, what is wrong with you?”

Oh, he got into some real bad stuff. As Stan continues to blink blearily at the person, their features resolve into something very similar to his own.

This isn’t the first time his addled mind has conjured up a vision of his twin, but it’s a punch in the gut every time. To make matters worse, there’s someone actually here, and his stupid brain is trying to convince him it’s Ford. It’s not Ford. It’s never been Ford and it never will be. The last thing he could remember is…

Shit.

“… Ford?”

He blinks a few more times. The face glaring down at him remains that of his twin brother.

“It’s morning,” Ford says. “Well, it’s midday, actually, but either way, the rain has stopped and we should be looking for a way out of here.”

“Shoul’ Fidds be movin’ around so soon?” Stan says. Personally, Stan doesn’t feel great about moving around so soon, but he’s not about to say anything for his own sake.

“I shoul’ be fine,” Fiddleford chimes in. “Not lookin’ forward to gettin’ to know the rest of the local wildlife here.”

“Yeah… yeah, le’s get outta here,” Stan agrees. He steadies himself with his uninjured hand and tries to use it to push himself up. He can’t get his legs underneath himself. That's no good.

“Come on, Stanley,” Ford says impatiently.

“I’m working on it,” Stan snaps, trying to sound irritated instead of panicked. “I’m not as young as I used to be, ya know.”

“We’re 27, that’s hardly an applicable excuse,” Ford scoffs.

“Myeh myeh myeh,” Stan mumbles mockingly.

“Y’alright, Stanley?” Fiddleford asks, supporting himself against Ford as he approaches.

“Tch, yeah, of course,” Stan grumbles, and tries again.

His entire body protests, but he manages to stand. His leg spasms beneath him, and he stumbles. He reaches out to steady himself, but his arm doesn’t react as quickly as he hopes, ends up just smacking his injured forearm against the cave wall. Sharp, sudden pain shoots through him, so intense that he feels his stomach lurch. He grits his teeth against the surge of nausea, cupping his other hand over his mouth and telling himself he is not going to vomit until it sticks.

“Stanley!” Fiddleford frets, leaving Ford’s side to reach for Stan. Stan smacks his hand away with a bleary glare. His eyelids still feel weird.

“I’m fine. Just a head rush, you know how it is,” Stan says. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I…” Fiddleford glances between Stan and Ford. Without anyone to hold on to, his hand flutters down to his abdomen, gently cupping it over his bandaged wound. “Y’know, I said I’d be alright, but I’m already feelin’ a little…”

Ford looks to him with alarm. Fiddleford meets his eyes, and there’s something calculating in his expression. He’s aiming for a very specific reaction, and not even trying to hide his search. If Stan could think straight, he’d probably be able to catch onto his game, easy.

“Are you okay? Do you— should I check your stitches? Nothing tore, right?” Ford falls for it without a second thought.

“No, no, I think I just need another day of rest,” Fiddleford says, and there’s a caution to his expression that’s only half-faked. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Ford says softly. “I may not have been the most… considerate of your physical and mental limitations in the past, but I truly am trying my best to rectify such transgressions. If you want to rest, we shall rest.”

So that’s his game. Why, though? Is he just testing Ford, seeing how far he can push him until he stops playing nice? He might not be fully lying, it probably is too soon for him to be moving, but he was specifically gunning for this result for reasons beyond his own injury. He had a point, earlier, when he was talking about dangerous wildlife or whatever, so what changed?

He's missing something that’s staring him right in the face, he’s sure of it.

“Thank you, Stanford,” Fiddleford sighs. “Sorry to get you up for nothin’ Stanley.”

Stan grunts, and holds his arm as still as possible to avoid further irritation. Just to spite him, his arm twitches against his will. Pain pulses through him with each rapid beat of his heart. He's not actively panicking anymore, but his pulse is still racing. That's no good.

He tightens his grip on his upper arm. He could swear he feels the rush of toxic blood from the wound to his heart beneath his palm. Spiders have venom, and Stan’s been injected with it.

Spiders aren’t that dangerous, Ford told him that again and again. He was always sticking up for the weird little animals that everyone hates. Only two spiders in the US have venom that could kill a person. Bites are few and far between. Lethal ones being even fewer and farther between. None of that really applies to giant fuck-off big spider in an alternate dimension though. Do bigger spiders have stronger venom? Does that make sense? A bigger spider definitely has more venom, those fangs were as big as Stan’s hand.

How fucked is Stan, on a scale from one to ten? Being locked in a car trunk in the deserts of Nevada during a heatwave was probably a nine, so maybe he’d rank this at a seven. The uncertainty could probably boost it up to an eight, though.

When he ended up in that trunk, he’d already been in plenty of bad situations with a head injury and his hands tied behind his back. He’d even had heat stroke before, knew the symptoms and survived them once before. On some level, he knew what to do and what to expect, and he survived.

Right now, he didn’t know what to do or what to expect. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive.

Maybe it’s a nine.

“Lee?” Fiddleford asks gently. Despite his tone, Stan flinches away, sinking against the wall. He didn’t mean to do that. His legs feel so weak. It hurts. Everything hurts and it’s hard to breathe.

“Stanley, are you alright?” Ford asks, and it’s weird to have his concern again. It’s been over a decade. It was weird to see him fret over Fiddleford, but this is definitely weirder.

“Feel… not so good,” Stan admits. He doesn’t mean to, but most of his body isn’t listening to him, so why should his big dumb mouth?

“Oh, Stanley…” Fiddleford whispers. “What happened?”

“Bit. Nasty lil’… fucker… stupid fangs…”

“Chelicerae,” Ford corrects, seemingly without thinking. He kneels down in front of Stan, holding out a hand. Part of Stan wants to flinch away, but he counts the fingers and can’t bring himself to.

One two three four five, the thumb makes six. The thumb isn’t technically a finger. Is that true? Ford would know. He’s always been called a six-fingered freak, so it doesn’t really matter. One two three four five six.

“Where’d it get you, Lee?”

Lee. Stan wishes Ford still called him Lee. How long has it been?

Fiddleford is nice, but he’s not his brother. He missed his brother so much. He still misses him.

“Stanley, where did it get you?” Ford says, a bit more harshly. No, not harsh, just firm. Stan’s heart stutters anyway. He doesn’t want Ford to be mad at him anymore.

Ford is still holding out his hand. Oh, Stanley gets it now. Even though he really wants to lean forward and press his forehead to Ford’s hand, he extends his arm instead. It’s shaking.

“‘S hot in here,” he says.

“It’s really not, but we should get you outta that jacket anyhow,” Fiddleford says, reaching for Stan.

Fiddleford is nice, but he flinches away anyway, curling closer to Ford. Fiddleford doesn’t push the issue. He takes his hand back, holds it awkwardly in front of his chest. Ford used to do that too, before he got into the habit of hiding his hands. Made him look like a t-rex.

“D’you still like dinosaurs?” Stan tries to say. He’s pretty sure most of the noises come out, but Ford doesn’t respond to him either way. He just carefully starts rolling up Stan’s sleeve.

He didn’t want Ford to see his arm. He doesn’t exactly remember why, he’s having a hard time thinking that far back, but it seems important. He tries to pull away. He’s always been stronger than Ford, but it doesn’t work.

Is it Ford holding his arm?

One two three four five six. In all his time traveling, he’s never met someone like Ford.

It’s definitely Ford. The brush of cloth hurts and he doesn’t want Ford to see, but it’s Ford. He’s really good at secrets, but not when it comes to his brother.

“Shit,” Ford says sharply, hand tightening around his wrist. “Sweet Moses, Stanley, what were you thinking!?”

Oh, right, that’s why Stan didn’t want him to see. He’s mad.

“Tha’s your job…” Stan says, trying very hard to get the words out.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ford continues.

He probably heard him, he just doesn’t care.

He misses when his brother cared about him. He misses his brother.

“Stanley!” he scolds, and Stan swallows back a pathetic noise. He sounds like Pa when he talks like that.

One two three four five six. The grip on his wrist is firm, steadying the shaking, but the fingers tracing the reddened skin around the bite are gentle.

Pa wasn’t always cruel, but he was never ever gentle.

Ma was. Her hands were bony and shook more often than not, but they were gentle.

He misses Ma too. He’ll probably never see her again. She’s getting old. She’ll die and only one son will attend her funeral.

Shermie keeps in touch with her. Stan calls when he can but he loses track of time so easily. Ford does too. How often does he call? Does he answer when she does? Despite everything, he always answered Stan’s calls, even though he never said anything. Because he never said anything, actually. How quickly would he have hung up if he knew who was on the other end?

Ford is talking. He sounds frantic. He can’t decide whether the fear is better or worse than the anger.

“I’m ‘kay,” Stan tries, flailing his injured hand in an attempt to pat Ford’s arm soothingly. His fingers brush against him, but that’s about it.

“No, you’re not,” Ford growls, returning his attention to Stan. It was off him, for a second, he was talking to… “that’s the problem, Stanley, how could you hide this from us?”

“I ain’t happy about it either, but now’s not the time for a lecture,” Fiddleford says, right, yeah, Fiddleford.

“What is it time for?” Ford says, more desperate than combative.

“It’s time to see what all’s goin’ on. If we get an idea as to the toxin, we can figure out how best to deal with it,” Fiddleford says, sitting down beside Ford. “Hey, Stanley, can you answer a few questions for me?”

Stan looks to Ford for guidance. He seems confused, but he nods.

“Please,” Ford requests.

“Mhm,” Stan says, nodding once.

“Alright, thank you,” Fiddleford says, reaching over to Ford and shoving a hand into his coat. He fishes out one of those journals he’s always carrying around, and surprisingly, Ford lets him. He flips to an empty page, clicks the pen a few times, and nods to himself.

“Can you describe your symptoms, or should I give you some yes or no questions?”

Stan shrugs one shoulder.

“I’s hot, and my stomach kinda hurts,” Stan says haltingly. “Everything kinda hurts, actually, feels stiff, an’ it’s a lil hard t’ breathe, an’ my eyes feel weird.”

Fiddleford scribbles this all down quickly. He doubts his notes will be legible to anyone other than himself later. He looks more and more troubled the more he writes, and the expression is mirrored by Ford.

“‘s not so bad,” Stan tries, and the grip on his wrist tightens. Fiddleford huffs unhappily, looking up at Stan.

“Lemme see those peepers,” Fiddleford says, not even acknowledging Stan’s attempt at reassurance.

He leans in close, and Stan leans away. Fiddleford isn’t particularly scary, but he’s got the capacity to be. Stan feels pretty frail right now.

If he’s feeling pretty frail, the last thing he should do is show it. He should push this guy back twice as hard as he’s pushed him.

His free fist curls weakly against the ground. That's about as far as it gets. A painful spasm jolts up his arm.

“Swollen,” Fiddleford says, and he leans away. “How’s his pulse?”

“Elevated,” Ford admits. He sounds scared.

“‘s not that bad,” Stan tries again.

“Stop saying that!” Ford snaps, loud and harsh.

Stan flinches, squeezing his eyes shut.

Fuck. They got into plenty of arguments as kids, but the last time Ford used that tone with him—

“Quit your barking, boy!” Fiddleford scolds, smacking Ford upside the head.

There's no real force to it, more of a pat than a smack. Stan jolts anyway, trying to pull Ford closer. His arm just twitches in his grip.

“Believe me when I say I ain’ happy ‘bout this either, not ‘bout Stanley getting hurt in the firs’ place, not ‘bout him hidin’ it, and not ‘bout his constant downplayin’ o’ somethin’ so serious,” Fiddleford says, accent so thick and words so fast Stan barely catches any of them. “But he’s in a real bad way right now, and you yellin’ at him ain’ helping!”

“I’m not yelling!” Ford yells.

Fiddleford just scoffs and turns away.

“Sounds ta me like a neurotoxin,” Fiddleford says, carefully calm now that his attention is on Stanley.

“Neuro, like, brain?”

That sounds bad. That sounds real bad.

“Neuro like neural tissue, the nervous system at large,” Fiddleford says, and then, a bit more quickly, like he doesn’t want Stan to hear it, “not just the brain, but certainly including it, yes.”

Well.

Shit.

That’s a new form of brain damage for him to blame his stupidity on. Assuming he even makes it out of this alive.

“If it makes ya feel better, I’ve gotten quite a hefty dose of neurotoxin m’self, and the only lastin’ damage was psychological!” Fiddleford says with a shaky grin.

Ford’s grip tightens around Stan’s wrist.

“Really?” Stan asks. He’s not sure if he’s curious or seeking reassurance. Probably a little bit of both.

“Spent a solid day barfin’ my guts out, so you’re doin’ better than me.”

“… that does kinda make me feel better, actually.”

“Happy t’ help,” Fiddleford says, faintly amused. “I’m gonna go get my bag. I know it’ll hurt, but we gotta clean out those wounds.”

Stan’s shoulder aches at the mere thought.

“It would have been easier and more effective if we cleaned it out when these wounds were first opened,” Ford mumbles angrily. The fingers poking around the wound get a bit harsher, and Stan’s arm jerks. His fingers go soft again, an apology he refuses to actually voice.

“But we didn’t,” Fiddleford says. “It’d be easier if none of us got hurt in the first place, but that didn’t happen either. We just gotta make the best of what we ended up with.”

“You’re being incredibly permissive,” Ford grumbles.

“I ain’t his dad,” Fiddleford scoffs, grabbing his bag. “I ain’t about to go lecture him when he’s already sufferin’ for his choices.”

Stan mumbles something about his own dad and insult to injury (further injury to injury?) and Fiddleford’s parenting, but even in his own head it doesn’t end up making any sense.

Fiddleford returns, and Stan is suddenly reminded of what they were doing in the first place. As Stan tries to shy away, Ford’s grip tightens around his wrist, and the other grips him at the elbow. One two three four five six fingers wrapped around his arm. Counting them is the only thing that keeps him from kicking away. Well, that and the stiff ache of every part of his dumb body, but he’s even less likely to admit to that.

“Sorry, Lee,” Fiddleford mumbles, carefully wiping away the dried blood with a damp cloth. “Shoot, it really did a number on ya, huh?”

“It’s…” Stan suddenly remembers Ford’s reaction to his earlier dismissals, and decides on, “yeah, guess so.”

Fiddleford starts to rub at the scabs, gently wiping away what little protection had formed there. It certainly hurts, but Stan knows it’s only going to get worse.

“So, we just clean it out and hope for the best?” Stan asks between gritted teeth.

“‘fraid so, ‘less we find a horse and a couple months of free time before you recover.”

“A horse?” Stan echoes, baffled.

“Yeup. You synthesize an antivenom by injecting a horse with a small dose of the relevant toxin over time,” Fiddleford explains, wiping away the blood that wells up to replace the scabs. “It builds up some antibodies that can be isolated and injected alongside an anti-inflammatory… which I suppose we also don’t have.”

“Why a horse?” Stan asks, watching wearily as Fiddleford rings the cloth out and soaks it again with the antibiotic. Antiseptic? Which was it? Was there a difference? There’s a topic to distract them with once they’re done talking.

“… y’know, I don’t rightly know.”

“I suppose it may work with any mammal,” Ford muses, glancing towards the way into the body of the cave.

“Don’t even think about it, fella,” Fiddleford snaps, and Stan feels himself lose track of the conversation. “Stanley’s gonna be just fine without you doin’ anythin’ stupid.”

“Obviously! It’s just… something to consider in the future.”

“It absolutely ain’t. If any of us get poisoned, none of the rest of us are gonna start poisoning ourselves to try an’ fix it!” Fiddleford insists. “And besides, if we did, I would be the one to do it since I’ve already been dosed with neurotoxins!”

“We have no idea how chemically similar this spider’s venom is to that of the Gremloblin, despite the somewhat similar symptoms!” Ford protests, releasing Stan’s arm like he’s about to start gesturing before he puts it back. “Any antibodies you developed, supposing that they haven’t already been lost, may be entirely irrelevant!”

“And besides, it’s a gradual process that wouldn’t be of any use to us now, we have no way to isolate the antibodies, and injection without an anti-inflammatory could cause an allergic response that’d only worsen the condition,” Fiddleford agrees. “So this ain’t a particularly useful line of thinkin’ at all.”

As the period to that particular conclusion, Fiddleford finally presses the wet cloth to Stan’s wounds. For a split second, he thinks, huh, that’s not so bad, before the pain sets in quickly and very, very intensely.

The bite has hurt like hell ever since he first got it, and it’s only been getting worse. The gradual increase in pain spikes, so intense and sudden that Stan can’t muffle a cry as his vision goes white. He tries to breathe in, but his chest locks up, his entire body seizing.

Oh fuck, Stan thinks, and that’s the only thing he can think for a long time. Maybe not so long. It could last anywhere between a few seconds to several hours, Stan has no idea.

Fiddleford and Ford are talking, but it’s just noise to him. Stan grits his teeth so hard he’s certain he can hear them creaking. He wonders if his partials or his actual teeth are tougher. He feels like both of them are seconds away from shattering. He’s seconds away from shattering. Ford’s grip on his arm is tight enough to hurt but it’s nothing in comparison to the white-hot agony between his hands.

He thinks he might hate Fiddleford, actually. He can’t keep getting away with this.

•••

He comes back to himself eventually. For some reason, he’s laying down now, no idea when that happened. His head in Ford’s lap and his arm propped up on a small stack of stones blanketed in Stan’s jacket. It still hurts like a bitch, but at least he can think straight. Straighter. Still not entirely straightly.

His arm is all bandaged up now, which is nice. As Stan glances around what little bits of the cave he can see without moving his neck, he realizes he can’t see Fiddleford. Stupidly, that’s a bit of a relief.

Ford has held him in place while Fiddleford poured white hot acid all over his wounds, but it’s Ford. Ford could dissect him alive without anything to help with the pain and he’d still trust him with his life. That’s his brother.

He blinks blearily up at Ford’s face. He’s not looking at him. He’s looking down at a book he’s got sitting on the ground next to Stan’s head, tapping a five-fingered rhythm against the pages.

Stan hums, just because he can. Ford jolts, and Stan hears the paper wrinkle beneath his fingers. Oops.

“Stanley! Hello, are you— how are you feeling?” Ford says, looking down at Stan like he’s a weird bug. A cool weird bug that he cares about, maybe, but there’s that bright-eyed scientific curiosity.

Bad. So so bad I feel terrible, part of him wants to respond, loud and stupid and childish. Do you remember how you used to run your fingers through my hair when I was sick, even though Ma and Pa told you to stay away so you wouldn’t get sick too? And then you would get sick, and I had to take care of you. I miss that, I miss you, I love you.

I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse, another says, practical and honest. Probably feeling a bit better than I was last time I was conscious.

Totally fine, another part insists. Let’s get outta here.

“Mmmgh,” he settles on. “Could be worse.”

“How would you rate your current pain on a scale from zero to ten, with zero being no pain at all, and ten being such severe pain that you can’t move, think, or speak?” Ford asks. “Well, I suppose it’s not a ten, since you’re speaking mostly coherently.”

Ten! Ten! We’re dying, you have to save us!

Maybe a seven. My brain’s a scrambled egg but most of it is saying ouch.

Zero, we’re fine, let’s go.

“Eh, a five I guess?” Stan says, rounding down.

“I see, so about a seven,” Ford muses, followed by the scrape of a pen against paper.

“Hey!” Stan barks.

He’s kind of mad that Ford doesn’t believe him, but the rest of him is so, so happy. His dumb genius of a brother remembers him, he knows him, they still speak the same language.

“You’ve always been this way, Lee,” Ford says, and his eyes return to Stan’s face.

Lee. Lee Lee Lee. Ford stopped calling him that in what, high school? Even earlier? The sudden return of their childhood nickname stirs such a flurry of emotions that he stops breathing. His chest hurts in general, but there’s suddenly a pleasant edge to that pain.

He huffs out a breath that sounds dangerously close to a whine. He’s embarrassed by how emotional he’s feeling, but he can’t stop staring up at Ford’s face, even as his vision starts to blur. He blinks to clear it, ignoring the wetness running down his cheek, and gets to watch as Ford’s eyes go wide.

He’s got dark circles. He always does. Bill can’t follow them everywhere, but Ford still avoids sleep whenever he can.

“Why are you crying?” Ford asks, then immediately winces. Stan huffs out a laugh. He’s so bad at being comforting.

“‘m not,” Stan scoffs, and he doesn’t even care if Ford believes him. “It’s cave dust, genius.”

Ford’s lips twitch, even as his brows remain furrowed.

“Yes, alright,” Ford says placatingly. “Do you think you can sit up?”

“Pfft, yeah, easy, done it a million times before,” Stan says, even as his stomach rolls in protest to the muscles flexing around it.

Ford helps him up anyway, one hand on his back, the other holding his arm steady as he props him up against the wall of the cave. Now that he’s up and able to see more than what’s directly above him, he can see Fiddleford tinkering with some scrap metal on the other side of the cave. He’s staring over at Stan, but as soon as their eyes meet he just gives him a tight smile and looks away. For all of his usual fretting, he stays where he is.

“Some water,” Ford says, drawing Stan’s attention.

He’s holding out a packet of water, the lid already twisted off. They’re running low, and Fiddleford hasn’t finished his water filter, hasn’t put together everything he needs for it.

Stan hesitates to take it, but Ford just shoves it into his hand. Stan doesn’t really have the energy to fight it. The moment the water hits his tongue, he realizes just how thirsty he is.

He hums appreciatively, slumping against the cave wall. Fiddleford told him something about drinking slowly at some point? Eh. If he’s going slow, it's only because holding up his arm for long enough to drain the packet is kinda a pain.

As soon as he’s done with the water, Ford exchanges the empty packet for a food bar.

Stan frowns down at it. His stomach rolls, but he can’t really tell if it’s hunger or nausea.

Moses, he’d kill for some plain crackers to test the water. Acid. Stomach acid.

He really does not want to eat this thing. He’s fairly sure the only thing that kept him from throwing up earlier (yesterday? He has no idea how long he’s been out) was his empty stomach. An empty stomach that’s only getting emptier. Stan should know better than to turn up his nose to a free meal.

Ugh.

Stan sighs, but tears it open and nibbles at one corner. His stomach tenses in anticipation, and a dull ache laces through his jaw. It tastes fine, and his stomach doesn’t hurt any worse, but he finds himself exhausted by the time he’s done.

It must be pretty bad, because even Ford seems to pick up on it. He eases him back down. He’s still sweating like a hog, but his skin has erupted into goosebumps and he misses the familiar comfort of his ratty jacket around him. He’s glad it’s nearby, at least. He means to run the fingers of his injured arm along the fabric of his jacket, but can’t manage much more than a twitch. So that’s still beyond his capabilities. Noted.

“Hey, Ford…?” he mumbles.

“Yes, Stanley?”

Thank you. I love you. Why are you being so nice to me?

“Shouldn’ we get a move on?”

“We will,” Ford says softly, and he runs his fingers through Stan’s hair. “As soon as you’re feeling better.”

#fiddleford mcgucket #stanford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls fic #silver scribe (writing tag)#mystery trio through the multiverse au

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anklebitingbrat · 9 months ago

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mdni ! 18+ this is inspired by Pencil Skirt by Pulp :3

It’s Tuesday at 5:48pm, he was over. Fiancé out of town on a work trip made this easier for you both, but the goodbye later on was hard, a lingering “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” would always fall from his lips as he stood in the hall. He would always be back, be back for you.

Anakin wouldn’t let you change from work, pencil skirt still on, blouse unbuttoned but still tucked in, he took his time, relishing in the moment. He would sit back on his knees, looking at you, slowly beginning to move the hemline further up, never breaking eye contact, a sense of teasing, a sense of power over you.

“You still miss me even when you’re with him?” it was hardly a whisper, he wanted to ask if you still loved him. You did.

“We shouldn’t be doing this Ani-” you reply, stating the obvious and dodging his question, but of course you did.

He liked when you said this, when you put up a fight. For the past 22 months whenever you would find each other again, you made a point to say this, to clarify just how wrong this had been.

But Anakin liked that it was wrong. He liked that you knew it was wrong, and still did it.

He has you bent over now, his hands running down your arched back, back up towards your hips, memorizing this feeling, he never knows when it’ll be the last. When you finally marry someone else, when you finally move away.

“Anakin, this isn’t right.”

He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care because that matters in this moment is how wet you are, how you respond to him.

He’s been teasing his tip at your entrance for over a minute, slowly dragging himself back up your slit, collecting your slick on the head of his cock. He always loved how responsive you are to him.

“Anaki-”

He knew you put on this show of regret because he liked it - loved it - he loved when you’d tell him to stop. But he needed you to shut up, finally. As he thrust into you, he felt his conscience disappear.

Picking up his speed, he forced his hips into the back of your thighs, already coated in your arousal made this easy. His hands had a harsh grip on the skin of your hips, leverage to angle into you deeper, to hit you cervix, so when he’s long gone you still feel him. Anakin would always say this was a “parting gift,” “something to remember him by” when your fiancé gets back.

“Shut up, tellin’ me stop but you’re the one who begged me to be here” his voice was seething with anger, every word punctuated by his harsh and unrelenting pace.

He would let one hand go from your hip, slapping the side of your thigh, you were just so pretty all bent over in front of him, especially like this, especially when he could feel you pulsing around his length, a creamy ring forming around the base.

The anger from his comments was never towards you, he could never blame you, god, he still loved you, he still wanted you, but that diamond ring on your finger kept glinting in his eye and he couldn’t help the rage he felt.

“Pretty ring on your finger, baby, too bad he can’t make you cum, that’s why I got you bent over right now, huh?”

“You gonna call me up like this when you got kids”

“You gon’ keep on creaming on me like this forever”

He knew you couldn’t respond. Your inner guilt, but mostly because your face was pushed into the bed, soft moans being pushed out in tandem with his thrusts. But he didn’t like that.

Bending at his abdomen, never letting up on his quick pace, he’d reach around your neck, pulling you up. Your blouse open, your back to his bare chest. His mouth just behind your ear.

“Answer me” he would demand in a growl.

You could hear his pants, you could hear the desperation lacing each labored breath he let go, he wanted this just as much as you did.

But this was too messy, it was too ugly to keep going back to him like this. Your lack of response was irritating him, the hand on your neck moved to your jaw, and he craned your head towards the engagement pictures on your nightstand.

“Look at that picture and tell me we’ll always do this” your head buzzing from a lack of oxygen not even realizing his other hand was between your thighs, rubbing quick circles on your throbbing clit.

A ragged breath came from your mouth, “Yes, Anakin - yes.” You meant it, but it came out in sobs, you hadn’t meant to sound like that.

That was all Anakin had to hear, he pushed your head back down into the mattress, noticing a small tear rolling down the bridge of your nose, he loved you. He loved your body, your face, your hands, you, how wet you got, how you made him forget reality.

He wanted to make you forget about the man who put a ring on your finger. It should’ve been him. But, it wasn’t, so if this is how he got to spend his life with you, he was fine with that.

His hand landed back on your hip, other hand still toying with your throbbing bud. He had moved one of his knees up for a better angle, you’ll feel it more this way, and he wanted to show you a good time. He would die here if he could, he had to let you know.

He was high and drunk on you, he didn’t mean to let it slip, but it did.

“I still love you-”

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin star wars #𑁍e’s thoughts

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latexb0n3z · 3 months ago

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Unrequited Love, Lots Of Blow, and a Visit From Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man

CW; self-harm, sexual mentions, drug use, mental illness yadayadayada.

This was kind of a vent in some weird way. Crashed out earlier and had to write something to cope.

Logan woke up to the sound of something(s) shattering. Again.

“Goddammit, Wade,” he muttered, dragging himself off the couch. It wasn’t even 8 AM, and his roommate was already tearing through the place like a tornado.

Roommate. Logan still wasn’t sure how the hell that had happened. Wade had been crashing at his place “just for a few days” six months ago, and somehow, he’d never left. Logan had considered kicking him out more times than he could count, but something about the mercenary’s manic energy—and the raw, broken humanity underneath it—kept him from following through.

Logan pushed open the door to Wade’s bedroom, which looked like a war zone. Clothes, weapons, and takeout containers were scattered everywhere, and Wade stood in the middle of it, panting, holding the remnants of a lamp in his hand.

“Morning, sunshine,” Logan grunted. “What’s this about?”

Wade didn’t look at him. His face was bare, his scars catching the dim morning light. “It was an ugly lamp anyway.” The more Logan looked, the more was wrong. There was blood, literally everywhere. The bathroom mirror was broken, glass and MORE blood everywhere— the living room was a disheveled mess, a broken bottle of Jack, and a shattered cup like Wade had just grabbed the first thing that was near.

Logan crossed his arms. “You gonna tell me what’s really going on, or should I start charging you for broken furniture?”

Wade flinched, then dropped the lamp base to the floor with a clatter. “What’s the point, huh? You don’t care.”

Logan frowned. “You think I’d let you live here if I didn’t care?”

Wade laughed, sharp and bitter. “Let’s not kid ourselves, Logan. You let me stay because you feel sorry for me. Big, bad Wolverine, taking pity on the ugly stray.” He gestured to himself. “Well, guess what? I don’t need your charity! I’ll leave— and like you said, it’s ‘God’s best joke that I can’t die’ and it’s on all of us!” Even though dying is all he wished he could do.

Logan stepped forward, his voice low and steady. “This about the girl?”

That did it. Wade’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing. “Oh, so you did notice. Good for you, Sherlock.” He took a shaky breath, his words spilling out in a torrent. “Yeah, it’s about her- and everything else- and- and, It’s about how you’ve been all smiles and soft eyes around her. How you go out on these little dates, come home smelling like flowers and happiness or whatever the hell normal people do!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You jealous?”

Wade barked out a laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. “Oh, I’m so jealous, Logan. Not because I want her or anything—God, no. I’m jealous because she’s… she’s normal. She’s pretty, and soft, and someone you could actually care about.”

His voice cracked, and his hands clenched into fists. “Not like me. Not like this.” He gestured to his scarred face, his mismatched, worn-down body. “You could never like something like me, right, Logan?”

Logan stared at him, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the room was silent except for Wade’s heavy breathing, his manic pacing, his sniffles.

“You done?” Logan finally asked.

Wade blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I said, are you done?” Logan stepped closer, his voice gruff but calm. “Because if you’re waiting for me to tell you you’re wrong, I’m not gonna do it.”

Wade’s face crumpled, but Logan kept going.

“You’re a pain in the ass, Wade. You’re loud, and messy, and half the time, I don’t know whether to strangle you or buy you a drink.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But you’re wrong about one thing. I don’t let you stay here because I feel sorry for you. I let you stay because you’re worth putting up with.”

Wade looked up, his eyes glassy. “You’re just saying that to make me stop crying and breaking things!”

Logan snorted. “Trust me, I’m not the type to say things I don’t mean. And I don’t give a damn what you look like.”

Wade swallowed hard, his hands shaking. “I don’t believe you.”

Logan grabbed him by the shoulders, his grip firm but not unkind. “Then believe this: If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. Got it?”

Wade nodded slowly, his breath hitching.

“Good,” Logan said, letting go and stepping back. “Now clean this mess up before I start charging you for rent.”

But Wade didn’t move and inch. He just looked down at the floor, and cried and cried. He just stood there, vulnerable, without any quips or witty comments to defend himself. Logan thought it was a pain in the ass, but he was still himself— empathetic no matter just how much he wanted to just tell the son of a bitch to get out.

“Wade?” He was sort of at a loss for words. Wade having outbursts wasn’t anything new— but just… standing there, crying. That was a sight to behold. His expression dropped,

“You have no idea, Logan.”

“You think you’re special, bub? I’ve been alive for two-hundred fucking years. I saw the invention of machine guns for one. You have no fucking clue what ideas I have, Wade.”

Wade finally looked up at him, his milky, yellowed eyes glazed over.

“Do you think I’m hideous?”

“What? I just said I don’t give a shit what you look like.”

“That wasn’t my question. I didn’t ask if you cared- I asked if I’m hideous.”

Logan gave him a once over. Wade already had the answer made up in his mind regardless of what Logan said.

He didn’t think Wade was hideous, but he wasn’t attracted to him by any means.

“Okay, Wade! Yes, fine, you’re hideous— that’s what you wanna hear right?! Seems like you’ve already made up your damn mind about the answer.”

Wade gave a half smile, and then just turned on his heel and left, slamming the door so hard it made the whole apartment vibrate.

—

And then weeks passed, and Wade never returned. He’d left all his things there, and Logan considered throwing them out after a while. He’d even left his mask on the couch, which Wade never left without.

Annie was her name, the girl. Soft, brown eyes and strawberry blonde hair, and a round face full of freckles. She wore blouses and skirts, and wedges with white little bows on top.

And Logan liked her. Loved her even. Fell for her harder than he’d wanted to. At first their relationship was casual— cute little dates that made Logan feel normal. And the best part— she was a mutant too. It was nothing impressive, mild telekinetic abilities. She could lift small objects from across the room and shut doors without touching them.

She was peaceful, and domestic and a soft body to lay on. He felt safe with her. She’d spend nights at his place since Wade had left- cooked food for him and let him rest his head on her lap while he stroked his head. Things had gotten serious between them in the weeks Wade had been gone.

They had hot, passionate, electrifying sex- made each other laugh so hard they cried and kissed- and then had more sex. Logan would take her against the counter, in the bathroom, on the couch, in the bedroom. Parts of their lives mingled together. Some of his stuff stayed at her place, and parts of her lived at Logan’s. It was unlike anything he’d had in a long long time.

Meanwhile Wade had been doing as much blow as possible and fucking off. Logan wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard from him. Nobody had. He was torturing himself. He knew he couldn’t die, but he could feel pain. One night he’d played Russian roulette with himself off so much coke it would kill a normal human. He savored what intoxication he could get from alcohol for a couple minutes before the joy was killed by his healing factor.

He’d shoot himself in the head, blow his brains out only to come right back with only half the memories. He’d slit his own throat to choke and watch his ever replenishing blood gush out. He’d cut his fingers off one by one after each line, only to watch them grow back after a couple of hours.

He hadn’t showered in weeks, and smelled like death, blood and straight ass. He didn’t change his clothes, didn’t speak to anyone. Just restarted the same routine he did when Vanessa died. Trying to kill himself but never really dying.

Oh how he missed her. He wondered what she would say to him now, what she would think of who he was. He wondered if she’d be horrified seeing him, or if she’d have loved him anyway. He’d escaped the Weapon X program only to find out from Weasel that she’d been shot and robbed while hooking after he’d disappeared.

He’d had a couple years to reconcile with that… only to fall in love with Logan. What a fucking idiot he was, right?

Unrequited— though he knew Logan had considered him… sort of a friend.

Wade knew he was a pain in the ass, and pissed himself off too most of the time.

It didn’t matter though. He was hundreds of miles away from his life now, taking his shit show all the way to New York City, in the good old United States of America.

—

The New York alley smelled like garbage and rain, a mixture Wade found oddly comforting. The dumpster beneath him was cold and sticky in a way he didn’t want to think too hard about, but it didn’t matter. He was home. Or something like it.

He lay flat on his back, arms spread out like he was trying to make a snow angel on the grimy metal surface. His mask was half-pulled up, just enough to let him belt out an off-key rendition of Total Eclipse of the Heart.

“There’s nothing I can dooooo… a total eclipppse of the heaaaart!” he howled, his voice echoing through the narrow alley.

Somewhere nearby, a rat squeaked in protest.

“You’ve got an audience,” came a voice from above.

Wade froze mid-note, craning his neck back to see a familiar figure hanging upside down by a thin strand of webbing. The bright red-and-blue suit was unmistakable.

“Spidey!” Wade gasped, sitting up so fast he nearly fell off the dumpster. He was hopped up on cocaine, meth, angel dust, anything he’d managed to get his hands on tonight. “My second-favorite insect-themed hero! What brings you to my garbage palace?”

Spider-Man tilted his head, his mask’s lenses narrowing. “You’re laying on a dumpster and singing power ballads. Should I be concerned, or is this just a Tuesday for you?”

“Wednesday, actually,” Wade corrected, wagging a finger. “And I’m celebrating my triumphant return to the Big Apple! Came here with nothing but a bag of cash and a dream. And maybe some mild emotional baggage. But mostly the cash.”

Spider-Man flipped down to the ground, landing lightly. “I’m pretty sure that was illegal cash.”

“What isn’t, these days?” Wade said, waving him off. “Besides, it’s not like I’m hurting anyone. Unless you count your ears.”

Spider-Man crossed his arms. “You’re avoiding the question. Why are you really here, Wade?”

Wade leaned back against the dumpster, sighing dramatically. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s a tale as old as time. Boy meets mutant, mutant moves in, mutant gets jealous of said boy’s weirdly functional romantic life and flees to New York to sulk in an alley and reevaluate his choices.”

Spider-Man blinked. “Okay, wow. That’s… more personal than I expected.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the Deadpool Show.” Wade gestured broadly at himself. “We like to keep things raw and unscripted. Keeps the audience engaged.”

Spider-Man crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I know we don’t… vibe exactly, but you seem like you’re going through something. Do you need help?”

Wade laughed, a sharp, hollow sound. “Oh, Spidey, my sweet, built like a gymnast summer child. I’m beyond help. I’m like a car that’s been totaled, set on fire, and then run over by a tank. But thanks for asking.”

“You’re not that bad,” Spider-Man said, though his tone was hesitant.

“Aw, you think I’m redeemable,” Wade said, clutching his chest. “You’re adorable! Like a little web-slinging therapist.”

“Seriously, Wade. You don’t have to do… this,” Spider-Man said, gesturing to the dumpster and the alley. “Whatever’s going on, there’s got to be a better way to deal with it than running away and singing ‘80s ballads in the rain.”

“It wasn’t raining when I got here,” Wade pointed out. “But, fine, I’ll bite. What do you suggest, Dr. Spidey?”

Spider-Man hummed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Maybe talk to the person you’re running from instead of hiding out here. Have an actual conversation.”

Wade snorted. “You think I’m the ‘talking about my feelings’ type? Adorable. Really, top marks for optimism. I already tried- got blood all over the poor guys’ apartment and broke his mirror… Oh- you know Wolverine- Wolvie- Logan? Yeah he’s alive again and I haaaave itttt bad, Spidey.”

Spider-Man sighed. “Wolverine… like? Like… The X-men’s Wolverine? He died! How the hell is he alive again?— wait, don’t tell me he came from a different universe or something.”

Wade tilted his head, clicked his tongue and made finger guns, “Ding Ding Ding! That’s exactly right.” He dropped his hands but remained looking up, studying Spider-Man for a long moment. “You’re way too good for this city, you know that? It’s like watching a Disney protagonist in Gotham.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Spider-Man said dryly.

Wade slid off the dumpster, landing with a flourish. “Fine. You win. I absolutely cannot go back to Canada anytime soon but— I will try to stop doing massive amounts of narcotics and cutting off my limbs are even though they just regrow.”

“You’re really a strange guy, you know that, Wade?”

“Yes— quite intimately actually. Very large part of the reason I’m torturing myself out here in the good old United States of America.”

Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “Quit your sulking, grab my hand.”

Wade raised a… well… what would be his eyebrow if he had any, but said, “Fuck it,” and took his hand.

Suddenly, he was suspended in the air, wind whipping past his ears as they swung through the towering skyline of New York. Wade let out a loud, exaggerated scream. “OH MY FUCK, SPIDEY, THIS IS THE CLOSEST I’VE BEEN TO FLYING SINCE THAT TIME I STRAPPED FIREWORKS TO MY BACKPACK!”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Spider-Man shouted back, his voice barely audible over the rush of the wind.

“BECAUSE I’M AN ICON OF CHAOS!” Wade cackled, twisting his body mid-swing to strike a pose, one hand outstretched dramatically. “LOOK AT ME! I’M PETER PAN BUT WITH MORE TRAUMA!”

Spider-Man groaned. “Do you ever stop talking?!”

“Do you ever stop being an uptight boy scout?” Wade shot back.

Spider-Man didn’t dignify that with an answer, instead twisting midair and flinging a web to the next building. The sudden shift sent Wade swinging wildly, his legs flailing.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” Wade yelled, clutching Spider-Man’s arm like a terrified cat. “Careful there, Spandex Man! Some of us are delicate flowers who bruise easily!”

“You literally can’t die,” Spider-Man said, exasperated.

“Emotionally, Spidey!” Wade quipped. “Emotionally!”

Spider-Man sighed, expertly landing on a rooftop and depositing Wade less-than-gently on the gravel.

Wade sprawled out on his back, catching his breath. “That was either the most fun I’ve ever had, or I’m having a stroke. Maybe both.”

Spider-Man stood over him, hands on his hips. “You’re impossible.”

“Ha! Logan says that too!” Wade sat up, pulling his mask back down. “So, what’s the plan, boss? You didn’t just web-nap me for a heart-to-heart, did you?”

Spider-Man crossed his arms. “I didn’t exactly plan this. But you’re clearly in a mood, and I figured some fresh air might knock some sense into you.”

“Aw,” Wade cooed, “you do care about me! Admit it. I’m growing on you, like a sexy barnacle.”

“Don’t push it.”

Wade leaned back on his hands, glancing out at the city below. The lights of New York twinkled like stars, and for a rare moment, he was quiet.

“…It’s kind of nice up here,” he said after a beat.

Spider-Man sat down beside him, still keeping a cautious distance. “Yeah. It is.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the noise of the city far below fading into the background.

Finally, Wade broke the silence. “You ever feel like you’re just… too much? Like you’re this big, messy disaster that everyone tolerates but no one really wants around?”

Spider-Man glanced at him, surprised by the sudden vulnerability. “I think a lot of people feel like that sometimes., and trust me, you’re definitely a disaster. But… you don’t have to be.”

Wade turned to him, his tone light but his voice just a little too tight. “Wow, Spidey, you’re really laying on the compliments tonight. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.” He said, sarcastically.

Spider-Man rolled his eyes. “Okay, and we’re back to that.” He blushed under his mask, a bit bashful. Everything was an innuendo to Wade somehow.

“Hey,” Wade said, nudging him with his elbow. “Thanks for this. The swing, the chat, the unsolicited life advice… it’s nice to know someone’s got my back, even if you are a dork in pajamas.”

Spider-Man smirked under his mask. “Anytime, Wade. Just… try not to end up sulking on a dumpster again, okay?”

“What a sweetie pie you are, Peter.”

“How the hell do you know my name? It’s not like yours is a secret… but I thought I was doing a good job at this secret identity thing…”

“I’m a mercenary, I know everything even if I don’t want to.”

Peter huffed. “That’s not an answer but… okay, Wade.”

Wade huffed and then tried to push his luck.

“I don’t suppose your kindness extends past swinging… like- a place to-“

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh come onnnnn! I thought you were all about being helpful.”

“Hey- I’m all for giving a little support but how do I know you won’t just break my stuff too?”

“One night?”

Peter bit his bottom lip under his mask in thought.

“Ugh, you’re such an ass. Give you an inch and it turns into a mile.”

Wade just stared at him, expecting.

“Fine! One night and then you’re back to whatever you have been doing.”

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whore-era · 2 years ago

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under the weather

☁︎ ellie williams x fem!reader ☁︎ fluff ☁︎ summary: in which ellie takes care of her sick girlfriend. ☁︎ a/n: my first ellie fic! let me know how u guys like it, reblogs and comments r much much appreciated! ☁︎ word count: 1,475

“babe! open up!”

“i’m coming, i’m coming,” you muttered, tightening the blanket wrapped around you.

opening the front door, a gust of crisp, frigid wind blew in your face inducing a full-body shiver. stepping inside the foyer of your house, ellie gave you a confused look as she leaned down to greet you with a kiss on your forehead.

“why’re you still in your pjs? we start patrol in 45 minutes,” she asked. about to answer her question, you let out a deafening sneeze.

“i know, babe. i’m sorry- i- i woke up late this morning and, you know, i’m still trying to wake up a little bit but i’m feeling a bit-,” you pause to sneeze, “-a bit groggy.”

you use your long sleeve shirt to wipe your nose, and as disgusting as that was, you couldn’t be bothered to care. your head was pounding, your throat was sore, and your nose was all red and runny. it was obvious you’ve seen better days.

“just give me 10 m-minutes, els. i’ll be dressed for patrol,” you murmured, attempting to reassure ellie with a weak smile.

you should’ve known she was smarter than that. she took one look at you—still in your pajamas with messy hair and a blanket cocooning your frame—and determined that you wouldn’t be going anywhere; knowing that if you were to step out of the warmth of your home into the freezing, jackson winter, you’d probably pass out.

“oh, no. you will not be getting dressed, little lady, let alone going to patrol,” she raised a brow at you, and her cold hands made their way to cup your cheeks. the unexpected chill of her palms on your face evoked a wince from you.

“fuck, baby, you’re burning up,” she cooed at you, “you’re in no shape to be leaving this house today.”

“then what are we gonna-,” sneeze, “-do?”, you look up at her with glossy eyes. her green orbs soften and she lets out an apprehensive sigh.

“well, i’m gonna go let jesse know that we won’t be going to patrol today,” your brows furrowed in confusion. did she say ‘we’?

“what do you mean ‘we’?”, you asked, your voice coming out all congested and muffled.

“uh, yeah. you think i’m gonna let my favorite girl stay here all alone?”, ellie narrowed her eyes, “especially while she’s sick?”

“els, i can take care of myself just fine,“ you countered, “just have jesse or dina take my place instead. i don’t want you seeing me all ugly and germy and gross.”

she let out one of her award-winning laughs, “you’re still the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen, even if you’re quote-unquote ‘germy and gross’,” “besides, it’d bug me all day knowing i left you alone while you weren’t feeling good.”

“but-“ you began, but before you had time to interject, your girlfriend interrupted you.

“no buts, you know damn well you would do the same for me, baby.” ellie walked over to you, taking your ice-cold hands into hers, squeezing them tenderly to warm them up. “let me take care of you.”

of course, you couldn’t say no to her. the way she’s just so insistent on taking care of you, even when you’re all snotty-nosed and sneezy. it made your heart swell.

“m’kay.” you gave in softly looking down at your feet, “i..i just feel bad, y’know? they need you out there.”

ellie’s finger lifted your chin up softly, your eyes meeting with her green ones. “i know, sweet girl. but right now, you need me in here.” she leans down and kisses you briefly on the lips, sending your heart in a frenzy, as all her kisses did.

“why don’t you go in your room and lay back down? yea, baby?” ellie instructed, “i’m gonna go real quick and tell jess the news. i’ll be back in a sec.”

you weren’t sure when you woke up from your short nap, but by the time you did, ellie still hadn’t been back yet. it worried you a bit, and if you weren’t feeling so feeble and faint, you’d definitely be searching for her right now.

so, there you were, sprawled out on your bed, blankets tangled between your legs every which way. your eyes shut closed, but your body sank into the silence, soothing you.

you hear the front door open and then close. god, if i’m about to be robbed, then this will be their easiest heist yet. you had no energy to even call out who it was.

“babe? y’awake?”, ellie greets with a knock on your bedroom door.

“mmm.” you managed to groan in response, you pick your head up and squint your eyes open, seeing that your girlfriend has changed her clothes into something a bit more comfortable—a hoodie with sweats—and that she has a bag in her hand.

“what’s that?” you question, using your elbows to prop yourself up in bed. ellie walks over to you, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. she opens the bag and inside is a thermos, various snacks, tea bags, medicine, and a DVD.

“i just thought i’d pick up some things for you. i mean— we’re gonna be here all day. didn’t wanna be unprepared,” she scratched the back of her neck and smiled sheepishly. you wrapped your arms around her tightly, “thank you.” you whispered.

her arms wrapped around your waist, one of her hands rubbing your back soothingly, “it’s nothing. anything for you, sweet girl.”

as you sat in bed, watching the DVD ellie picked up, ellie took care of everything.

turns out, maria made a batch of chowder for you after hearing that you were feeling under the weather. she also threw in some tea bags to help soothe the sore throat. ellie made sure you were bundled up like a baby, and had no complaints tending to you or cleaning up after your messes.

now your head laid on her lap, both of you intent on the movie playing in front of you. you turned your head, admiring the way ellie’s eyes were so focused and how perfectly her freckles sprinkled her face. she looked down at you, catching you red-handed.

“what?” she asked, shakiness in her voice.

“nothing.” you murmured, your eyes still studying her.

“y’sure?”

“yea,” you smiled, “i just like looking at you.”

hues of pink faded onto her cheekbones and across her speckled nose, “well— stop.”

“why?”

ellie let out a nervous laugh, which was new to you. “because you’re making me nervous.”

you smiled and rolled your eyes, “fine, fine.” but now ellie couldn’t stop looking at your face. she intently studied every detail; the wisps of your eyelashes, the curves of your nose, the way the soft glow of the TV illuminated your face, the shape of your lips. it was like she was seeing you for the first time all over again. falling in love with you all over again.

ellie didn't care if your hair was all over the place or if your nose was red from rubbing it all day. she didn't give a fuck if you were dressed down, or if you sounded 'weird'. even in your sickest state, she still thought you were the most gorgeous girl this universe had to offer.

she bent her head down, planting yet another warm kiss on your lips.

“you’ve got to stop kissing me before you get sick, silly goose.” you contended, eliciting a laugh from her.

“if i were to get sick for every time i kissed you, put me in the hospital,” ellie joked. you snorted and rolled your eyes, “ha ha, nice one.”

you got up, and sat against the headboard of your bed next to her. “seriously though, els. thank you for doing all of this for me,” you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “no one’s really ever done this for me before.” you looked down at your hands, beginning to feel all shy in front of her now. it was a habit, avoiding eye contact with ellie everytime you were opening up to her. it made you feel vulnerable and anxious.

“hey, look at me,” she lifts your chin up, your eyes meeting hers again, “what’d i tell you?”

ellie’s eyes studied yours, “i’ll always take care of you. as long as you’re with me, i’ll be the one taking care of you.” no doubt was in her voice.

“‘kay, sweet girl?”, she asked, and you nodded. ellie smiled at you and her lips pressed against your cheek.

“i love you.” your heart warmed up and your stomach erupted with butterflies. it always took you by surprise how much of an effect ellie had on your body.

“i love you, ellie.”

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff

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karterrrrr · 7 months ago

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Noah Sterecra Yandere alphabet!!!

———————————

(I tried my best but this might be a little bit ooc, if so I might be redoing this or smth)

(Also I don’t mind doing any other characters! Just request them!!!)

———————————————————————

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Noah’s never been one for physical affection… especially not after breaking up with Emma (He was utterly devastated:().

Well, then YOU showed up.

Now, he somewhat likes it. I’d imagine it’s nothing too much but he will hold your hand, maybe hold you from behind, rest his head on your head/shoulder, and MAYBE just maybe a few kisses on your neck/cheek/forehead.

Bonus: if you start the affection he is utterly flustered, he doesn’t know how to react! You’re just so amazing!!

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Noah hates getting dirty so normally he would just insult or threaten said person.

“I don’t think Y/N likes inbred freaks.”

“Trust me, I will slam this book into your face if you even think about pulling that stupid stunt ever again.”

However, if needed he can always kill using less messy methods. No, he doesn’t regret it.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He would.

Noah would find it kinda funny how miserable you are.

“God, you’re such an ugly crier.”

“Stop whining, it’s annoying.”

Both of those things are lies. You’re beautiful even when you’re miserable. Noah just loves teasing you.

… but maybe he’ll apologize later.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Nothing too much, he doesn’t want you too uncomfortable but if he does something nice, YOU BETTER APPRECIATE IT.

“I MADE YOU DINNER! YOU HAVE TO EAT IT!”

“We’re going to hold hands, I know I kidnapped you but I gave you like two weeks to get used to it.”

“But, Noah I don’t-“

“Doesn’t matter.”

If you don’t, Noah’s not above forcing, maybe even some good guilt tripping. He’s gonna get you to accept. If you cry, he’ll just tease you.

“What’re you? A crybaby?”

“N-no…”

“Yeah right, crybaby.”

There’s a huge chance he’ll feel a little bit guilty after but it’s not HIS fault you don’t listen… right?

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Vulnerable? Never heard of that. Just because he loves you doesn’t mean you get to know much about him. This is a one way street, he gets to know everything about YOU. You don’t like that? Too bad.

“You seem moody what’s up?”

“Why do YOU want to know?” *Insert annoyed scoff*

Getting Noah to be open is like asking a lion to become vegan. You can try but it’s not gonna work… and you will be scarred for life.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Annoyed and frustrated but also kinda hurt. He thought you love him. You love him. Don’t you?

He might chain you to a bed and smother you with affection. He doesn’t know why he does that. Maybe the thought of losing you scares him.

Kinda like when Emma almost died, it is a HUGE moment of realization. He wouldn’t want to lose you. No matter what.

You’ll be guilt tripped but you can kinda tell he’s worried. Don’t expect him to admit it.

However, he WILL isolate you for a bit (a day or two) if you do it consistently. It takes a bit for him to snap but try to escape twice in a week? Pfft. Sucks to suck. He’ll sit outside your door to make sure you’re okay though and he can’t IMAGINE starving you. Food and water are always provided.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Kinda.

He loves teasing you, watching you struggle against your restraints if you’re in any, he loves watching you make a plan.

I’m sure Noah has cameras everywhere, he sees everything. He finds your expression of pure joy and happiness when you’re about to escape… but he loves your expression of pure despair when you realize it failed.

Of course he’s gonna tease you afterwards.

“What? You thought you’d escape?”

“Come on, I thought you were smarter than this Y/N.”

He still loves you though.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

His teasing, duh.

Noah’s relentless. You’re sad? He’s teasing you. Angry? DEFINITELY TEASING YOU. Happy? He’s happy too but you’re getting teased. Scared? Aw, you’re still getting teased.

It’ll get annoying but you’ll get used to it. Not like you have a choice anyway.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Funny enough… he thinks about it all the time.

He imagines a future with you all the time, he wants to get married. He wants a big traditional wedding. He wants you. Plus, it makes it harder for you to leave.

At first children aren’t something he wants. Kids? They’re just brats that will take your attention. Plus, animals are good enough kids. Actually, they’re better. Then, you either babysit your sister/brother’s child or maybe your baby cousin and he gets baby fever.

*Cue Careless Whisper*

You two will have kids a nice house and if you really have some ambitions and you prove you won’t leave maybe you can get your dream job. He wants you to be happy too, even if he’s cruel sometimes.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He’ll get jealous, alright.

How dare someone interfere with your OBVIOUS relationship. Even if you two aren’t dating yet. Noah’s going to glare at them, kiss you, and maybe even start being a lot more passionate.

He’ll insult them. Threaten them. And if they don’t get the memo…? Darling, they’re already gone. Sorry not sorry but you are HIS.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He’ll tease you for sure, but he will be soft.

Noah loves making you laugh as much as he loves making you cry. Matter of fact he loves it more… a lot more. Even if he has some sadistic tendencies he does want what’s best for you. Which just so happens to be you staying with him.

There’s nothing Noah likes to do more than teach you things, if you ask a dumb question he will answer it… just prepare to be absolutely ridiculed for it.

Noah loves reading to you, especially when you two are cuddling and about to fall asleep. He knows you are listening to the very end! He appreciates it too!

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He’ll start helping you out with test stuff, sharing more information about him (probably not), if he doesn’t need to kidnap you he would love just doing acts of service.

Noah has an ego, he ain’t afraid to compliment you face-to-face. He might even get more affectionate! Lucky you.

You know that absolute adoring look he gives Emma? Yeah, when he thinks you’re not looking he’ll give you that. Noah’s blunt yet shy, well, more so he doesn’t want people to think he’s soft… sorry?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

He’s sweeter.

A lot sweeter, more than you expected especially when time goes on. Noah’s even softer when you are around which shocks everybody… especially Owen but Owen’s just glad his little buddy has found love.

Speaking of Owen, that man is your life line. Noah only allows Owen to be platonically affectionate with you (hugging, high fives, etc.) without getting too jealous.

Owen helps Noah calm down, and also helps you feel safer if you’ve been kidnapped.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Taking away rights, smothering, and as much as he doesn’t love it: isolation.

Noah doesn’t love isolating you! You’re his beloved but if you misbehave too much you need to be taught a lesson. Just because he doesn’t like doing it doesn’t mean he won’t be cruel… he will… just in secret he’ll cry and miss you.

“Noah, I am sorry! Just let me out! We can even cuddle! Please…”

“Please? That’s pathetic. I don’t want to cuddle with you, stop whining. If you didn’t want this you shouldn’t have tried to escape three times this week.”

He’ll then go into his room and bawl his eyes out.

He does want to cuddle you.

But he can wait another day or two for when you’re punishments over.

If you decide to be petty and refuse his affections after your punishment he’ll smother you. Correction, he’ll bind your hands and legs and then smother you.

… if needed he’ll break your ankles/legs but he doesn’t like it, maybe snuggles will make it better? Why’s it not working? This was your fault, you should be glad he’s giving you affection to make you feel better. If needed afterwards, to make you like him again he’ll get Owen.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

This is basically part 2 of Noah’s punishments! Explanation of his go-to!

Space, privacy, and maybe freedom if he already kidnapped you he’ll take away more of your freedom somehow, maybe he’ll lock you up in his room.

The more you misbehave the more you will lose. However, if you start behaving he’ll reward you with more rights. He’ll even take you to go on a walk with him!

Just… behave… please…? He’s not asking for too much, right? Just your love and attention! All of the time.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

A lot, surprisingly. He doesn’t seem to snap at you much and when he does he’s quick to calm down. On rare occasions he’ll hit you.

“I’m sorry, but you are just getting on my nerves. I don’t want to hurt you, so please behave.”

He says the same thing every time.

Please behave.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Noah can’t move on.

I mean this man has NO in his name. Bad pun, I am so sorry.

Dead: No, no, no, you can’t be dead. He will preform everything he knows to bring you back to life… he’s in denial. He can’t have the love of his life dead! You have to be pretending. Just wake up he won’t be mad… he can’t lose you. Don’t ever die please. He actually had nightmares about that, when this happens he will cuddle with you. This is the only time he will end the isolation punishment earlier than intended. He loves you.

Escapes: First off, how? Noah will be greatly annoyed, but impressed in a way. His darling is getting smarter! Yay? Ugh. He will make sure this doesn’t happen and you will be smothered when he gets you again. All rights will be gone and you’re going to be teased, but he is glad to have you back.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Maybe?

He loves you a lot and having you around is amazing but every now and then he feels so guilty.

It makes it worse if you had ambitions in life, it’s even worser if you were so crushed now that you can’t do them, but maybe in the future…? He will console you and give you even more time to warm up to him. Surprisingly, he’ll even apologize.

“I’m sorry…”

“For what…?”

“Everything.”

“Does that mean you’ll set me free?”

“No.”

He’ll say no in the most pouty ever. He feels bad he won’t set you free.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

After Noah’s breakup, he expected not to fall in love again… he was so heartbroken that Emma would leave him.

But when you came along he didn’t want the same things to happen, he can’t lose anyone else. Even if that means kidnapping you. Noah refused to let another person go… even if you weren’t even dating yet.

I’d imagine you come along about five months after the breakup, he was still heartbroken but you made everything better. He might of not been thinking clearly… whoopsies?

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He likes and hates it.

I don’t need to explain any more than that.

He loves their cries and screams. However, if you isolate yourself for too long he will get grumpy.

Here’s a little scenario since that head canon was so damn short!

———————————————————————

You have been staying in your room for the entire day after Noah had snapped at you, Noah had been trying to pry you out but you fought back pretty well. He may or may not have a black ever right now, which was so fucking deserved.

But of course you hear knocking! Of course! Before you yell out to tell Noah to go fuck himself, maybe for him to jump off a roof… which he may do a familiar voice called out to you. It was not Noah.

“Y/N, little buddy is starting to throw a temper tantrum because you’re not talking to him… please come out.” Owen said, smiling softly. His presence alone calmed you down. Even though he reeked of hot dogs… so that’s how Noah bribes Owen to help him out. Good to know. “I know he was being super mean, I also know that you think I’m always on his side but I’m not. You’re a great person; you don’t deserve this but Noah really does love you… please… before he breaks something important.”

You wanted to say no but it’s Owen, how could you say no? You just couldn’t, the thought of that goof getting hurt because of you doesn’t sit right.

“… fine.” You mumbled in the softest tone known to man, wiping your tears.

The two of you walked out of the room, and automatically Noah tackled you to the floor pressing kisses everywhere on your face, even neck! You tried to pry him off but he just clung on tighter, like a koala to its favorite tree. It was cute…? Well, it would be cute if you weren’t scared shitless but eventually you calmed down.

“Y/N, I THOUGHT I WOULD NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN! NEVER LEAVE ME ALONE!”

That’s the first time he was just completely sweet with you.

He cried for two hours.

———————————————————————

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Noah wasn’t always like this, he used to find the whole yandere cliché so… ugh, gross. But of course the breakup happened and you were so gosh darn perfect he couldn’t help himself.

Man’s really switched sides. He went from bullying yanderes to being one. He also is probably a lot more smart and intelligent than most yanderes, he had everything perfectly planned out. He knows what to do.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

He can be soft, when he is… there’s your chance. Noah’s not dumb, he manipulates you himself… but if you’re good and sneaky at it maybe you can get him to set ya free or something.

But you gotta be good at the game.

Like, even better than Alemanwhore (Alejandro). That oil dipped eel was really good too. So you need to be a master manipulator.

Good luck.

Oh, and maybe you can use Owen to your advantage too. He’s a lot easier to manipulate and I’m sure Owen doesn’t approve of Noah’s actions.

Also maybe try using Emma against Noah just be careful. It’s a sensitive topic, but if you play your cards right it’s super rewarding.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Oh God he never wants to physically hurt you, please never think he does. If he does, it’s either on accident, he’s just so stressed and it just kinda happens, and maybe if it’s a punishment but only if it’s necessary!!! He doesn’t ever want you to think that he will be violent.

Emotionally though…? He kinda enjoys it, he thinks you’re so cute when sad it makes him want to hurt you more. He is your number 1 bully sometimes. He loves when you are pathetic. Though, afterwards he may feel bad… that’s when he will try to earn back your trust with acts of service. Noah’s a guilty sadist.

But sometimes he just enjoys it too much.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Ehhhh, maybe he can. But he doesn’t want to, sorry.

He’ll be nice and maybe he’ll compliment you but that is it. He isn’t the type for worship.

Maybe in private when he’s alone…

He totally takes your stuff and makes a shrine of everything. But it’s hidden! And don’t you dare try to find it.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Give him like… maybe a month, he tries so hard not to but then one day he just gets so worried… and he just yoinks ya!

Don’t worry you’ll learn to love him. You don’t have a choice!

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

NOOOIOOOJSJWOWJFBEIS.

Nope, he loves you for you. Your personality makes you unique he doesn’t want that to be gone! Jeez. He needs you to love him not be an emotionless zombie.

Noah goes out of his way to make sure that doesn’t happen. He loves you a lot!

You’re his darling for Chris’s sake!

———————————————————————

Hope ya’ll liked this it’s my first time posting my writing I put all of my effort into it.

#total drama #noah sterecra #Yandere Noah #yandere #Kidnapping #Obsess #noah x reader

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tunastime · 2 years ago

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Let’s Talk About Feelings

(1316 words)

The first thing that Etho finds out is that day and night pass too quickly.

Etho has never been a man running out of time. To his left, currently sharpening the back edge of his diamond axe, is a man who has. Right now, for Etho, the passage of time is not only a visual sensation, it’s a physical one. He feels it in the way his body tires, the way he moves, the way everything takes less time than he’s expecting. Even sitting here, the dull da-dump of his heart is enough to mark the seconds of his life passing. He drinks from his canteen. He swallows. He loops his pickaxe over his head, the weight settling on his back, and stands. Tango’s eyes flick up to him. He doesn’t look as tired as Etho feels.

There is no downtime. There is only time wasted.

“Ready, T?” Etho asks. Tango smiles, a mouth full of sharp teeth, and nods.

“Sure, E,” he says, standing with a sway. “Let’s do it.”

It’s a quick trip down into the mine from the top of the base. The two part system works surprisingly well—there’s a modest looking home on top, ugly, as per usual, and the real stuff happens below. Wheat, sugarcane, two cows, at long last, and the mineshaft down to pools of lava and dark, cool tunnels. Tango follows beside Etho down the two-wide staircase, humming to himself.

“I can’t believe it took us that long to get two cows,” Tango grumbles, glancing back up the staircase. Etho huffs, trying to laugh, but finds that his tiredness just sort of pushes the air from his lungs, rather than do anything important. “Our ranchin’ skills have plummeted, man.”

Etho hums, shaking his head. He can feel a soft heat radiating out from Tango’s shoulder every time it brushes his.

“That’s too bad,” he starts. “Thought we had a rancher on our hands.”

Tango laughs, though it peters into something a little hollow.

“Mm, I wish. Wasn’t me, though. ‘M notorious for gettin’ things killed, you know that.”

Etho knows Tango well enough to place the validity of his sentence. Not even just here, either. Wardens to cows, mob farms to personal, accidental deaths. Etho laughs, finally warbling out a complete one, until Tango knocks into his shoulder. He shoves back. They rebound back and forth for several steps, until Etho nearly loses his footing and Tango clamps a hand around his wrist. He doesn’t let go, though, and Etho drags him along. They stand together at the landing for a moment, a handful of tunnels branching off from the sides. Etho glances down one, tilting his head in the direction of the torchlight. Tango nods. There’s a cave further down that opens up into a ravine, one Etho knows more diamonds have to be in. He can feel it, like an itch under his skin.

Tango’s sentence says something he doesn’t voice out loud, though. Etho tugs on his arm. Tango makes a questioning noise.

“You doin’ alright? Not seein’ him?”

Tango furrows his eyebrows. His features are obscured, half by lack of light, and half as the torchlight warps when they step into the next room, and the cave walls open up. Tango waves the torch around, passing it off to Etho.

“Yeah,” Tango starts. “‘S fine. Hate that Joel’s rubbin’ off on him, but…glad he has someone.”

“Mm,” Etho agrees. “Last time I checked it was Joel and Grian.”

Tango squawks.

“Ugh! I just—oh, no…”

Etho frowns a little as they stand in the center of the room.

“What d’you mean, “oh no”?”

“You threatened to kill Joel! I can’t not back you on that.”

“You’re gonna stick yourself in another messy situation, T,” Etho says. He climbs down the lip of another crevasse, sliding part of the way. He offers his hand to Tango, who worms down, bumping into him.

“‘M gonna try not to,” Tango grumbles. Etho can see his tail flicking back and forth. “‘S long as you don’t do somethin’ stupid.”

“Hey, no promises, man.” Etho doffs his pickaxe, placing the torch in the center of the room. Here, it lights up the space, stretching outward with a yellow halo. The places it can’t reach go grey with dark. He turns a slow circle as Tango tracks the ceiling. Nothing yet.

“Speakin’ of people,” Tango starts. Etho feels his limbs go cold, a static electricity pooling in the pit of his stomach.

“Mm…” he starts, but Tango beats him to the punch.

“You talked to him any more?”

Etho shakes his head.

“No, no, I haven’t. There’s not really a point, I think.”

“I mean, you two were partners…” Tango continues. Etho shakes his head.

“We shouldn’t be partners in things like these, it always goes south.”

Tango shrugs.

“Suppose so…” he agrees. Something about his tone suggests that he doesn’t really agree, but he’s giving Etho the chance to explain if he wants to, and the space to stay quiet if it’s more than he’d be willing to share. Etho worries the inside of his cheek. Then, he takes a swing with his pickaxe and breaks into the rockface.

Between the clunk of the pickaxe and the shnk of his armor as he swings, he hears Tango start in the opposite direction, tossing a question over his shoulder.

“You don’t miss him?”

Etho’s stomach folds over itself. Part of him begs to turn and ask his friend what he could possibly mean by that, what it could imply, but the words seem sad. They seem expectant on something. On Etho, maybe, to refute the claim, to prove to Tango that he does, to give Tango the peace of mind, maybe. Maybe Tango’s scared, Etho thinks, of the possibility that Bdubs comes back with vengeance, rather than anything else. Were they not all indirectly both advocates and victims of Bdubs’ death? He realizes, after a moment, that he’s been leaning on his pickaxe, staring at a chunk of iron in the ground. He drops to his knees after a moment, prying the block up.

“Etho?” Tango asks.

Oh. Etho hadn’t said anything, had he?

“No,” Etho says. “Let’s keep digging.”

He thinks he hears Tango sigh. It doesn’t sound frustrated. It just sounds tired.

“Sure thing, E,” Tango says. Etho swings his pickaxe into the rock and watches it crumble at his feet. He isn’t thinking about a night in the middle of nowhere around a soup pot. A night in a fort half built cradling cups in his hands. A life forked over by the man behind him that wasn’t Etho’s to negotiate. A night outside of a base that isn’t is, calling Bdubs’ name like he was forbidden to step inside. A clock in Bdubs’ hands he never made. A happy marriage Etho wasn’t part of.

Part of him thought going home would fix it. It didn’t. He still never saw him. They were better, they weren’t leaving, but there was still a distance. And it doesn’t matter—clearly, it doesn’t, because otherwise Etho would be lamenting about a man who can’t love him in a dangerous place because he has to keep every feeling for himself just in case they get used against him. He can’t even be mad. It’s a trait Bdubs picked up from him.

He isn’t thinking about that, though. He’s thinking about a fireplace in a basement. And he’s thinking about dinner and tea in a half-built base in the jungle. And he’s thinking about a color palette getting commented on. And he’s thinking about anything but the idea that he might just have to kill him this time. He doesn’t have much of a choice, does he?

“I think I found diamond,” Etho says. His voice echoes until Tango hums.

“None for me, yet.”

Etho keeps digging.

There’s no room to talk about feelings.

#limited life smp #limlsmp #limited life fic #limited life spoilers #tangotek #ethoslab #BEAR WITH ME AS I POST TO THE WRONG BLOG BECAUSE I FORGET TO CHANGE TO SIDEBLOG WTF #anyway limited life friday yippeeee (< weakly)#i cannot believe i just did that #if you just saw this no you didnt #anyway etho and tango should just talk i think!!#and no do not speak to me about their episodes im not well #it's fine dw about it sdjkfhksdjfh #been thinking a lot about the day night cycle though... hmmmmmmm #since it is 24 hours. anyway just a thought!!#ethubs is next heehhehehehe #as it should be.. i mean. monolith you already know

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mkiss723 · 8 months ago

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LItG: S9, Volumes 123

Vol I: Ep. 1-3

So Chen/Henri are the “I’m all in already” type LI. Can’t have Finn or Hamish yuck! yet. I enjoyed the ex-game. Good that C/H gave up their ex stories in full. Probably will come up again and lead to issues. But whatever. Sneaking out the first night is very s8, but being able to flat out tell your couple LI what you’re doing is nice. No hiding. I like that bit. I guess we shall see if Melissa is telling the truth about C/H telling her the same things or if she’s just stirring…

Here’s my S9 MC: Cordelia

Ugly blue dress, I regret buying! I should have worn the oversized tee shirt instead and waited for an outfit I actually like, but oh well 🤷‍♀️

I’m getting tired of seeing the “heads roll from left to right” line in almost every single kissing scene now. It was good at first but now it’s overused…

And I’m super offended with this scene... They FINALLY give us bedtime options that are not underwear that you have to BUY and this is the reaction from the other girls?!?! Excuse you all! I had to use gems for this and it’s cute!! 😤

Vol II: Ep. 4-6

The dates were a mess with Hamish and Finn, but whatever. I kind of just assume it going to be Finn and Kay messiness all over again 🙄

Had a cute shower moment with Chen. Not quite sure how I really feel about turning the shower on and getting wet for it though, but whatever, smooch away!

Cute scene under the stars cuddling with Chen. I only chose to kiss him but the next morning the game and Kay implied we did bits! I’m trying to not be a hoe this time round thank you very much!

Breakfast from the boys is cute! Annnndddd I’m not going on the date with Chen, but 2 new bombshells… ok then

So I like Chen so far, but it’s giving Jin vibes and I don’t know if I want that again. Right after that season just ended…

Vol. III: Ep.7-9

I was bummed about not going on the date with Chen initially BUT not gonna lie Jude is hot 🥵

I really liked chatting with him but when I picked the stay longer this popped up and I soooo wanted to pick the top because 5 kids is literally my nightmare, but I went with the “that’s so cute” option instead 🤣

Truth or dare was fine. I felt bad for Chen when I chose Jude as the hottest and smooched him, but I like him and I’m also trying to not go for the first guy I meet in here 😅 so I’ll go for the second guy

This was very sexy of him. He seems like a great guy for that. And I am definitely willing to try this at a later time with him when the good old prop box comes out again!

Side note: so far this season isn’t blowing me away like the last one did… I’m not dying for the next weeks episode. Hopefully that will change

#love island the game #litg #fusebox #litg s9 #litg all stars #litg season 9 #litg chen #litg jude

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misfits-of-zaun · 1 year ago

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"I don’t see or hear her trashing anyone or…anything. So if you ruined things, you probably could have done a better job of it.”

Yeah, he seriously doubted that.

Ekko felt his lips twitch upwards in a small, bitter smile. So the lessons Jinx had learned in managing to keep her shit together under stress had held firm so far, and his fuckup hadn't immediately put his friends in the firing line - small mercies. It probably just meant she was more hurt and shocked than angry, which stung deeply in a different way.

You freaked her out.

You made her run away from you.

You've just undone months of progress and she'll never look at you the same way again.

No one will ever look at you the same way again.

Where the hell would things go from here? How could he fix it? You couldn't just take back a fucking kiss, any more than you could shove a pin back in a grenade after pulling it out.

"...You have no idea, " he muttered, thick with chagrin and a wobbly sort of despondency.

"Dude, come on. I'm on your team, but there's no way anyone's picking up the slack if we're in the dark on this."

Eve seemed very nonplussed by his messy spiralling display. Ekko supposed he couldn't blame her. It was rather pathetic of him.

Almost as pathetic as having a stupid one-sided crush on his former childhood friend-turned-rehabilitated enemy.

Gods, he felt sick. Ripping out every single one of his teeth with pliers felt more appealing than admitting the truth in all its ugly glory to his friend. Oh, she was going to judge him so fucking bad for this shit. He'd sworn to her and Scar that this whole thing hadn't been about feelings, that there was no history between them beyond a semi-familial sentiment and a very entirely platonic connection. Which had technically been true.

They'd never been anything more than friends. What did it matter if he'd had a dumb little puppy crush a decade ago? Crushes came and went all the damn time.

Except now - now, that little detail was higgly relevant, and his omission would only be counted as further evidence against him, a further sign of his incredible lapse of judgement.

Shit, he'd been silent for too long, hadn't he?

“...I am gonna speak to Scar after this.”

Ekko visibly tensed at her words. He was running out of time to come up with some sort of explanation for what had happened, and he could hear it in the increasingly exasperated impatience in Eve's voice. Holding his tongue wasn't making him look any better than confessing the truth. Which could well have been spilled to Scar already. Whatever he did, this was a lose-lose situation.

“If you’re cool with me hearing her version first, knock yourself out. Keep your head up your ass if it’s so comfy.”

Ekko flinched, swore under his breath, and scrabbled at his mask, yanking it roughly off his face. It hit the desk with a clatter; his elbows thumped against the surface as he promptly reburied his face, ran frantic hands through his hair, transparently trying and failing to recompose himself.

At last, he managed to force himself to speak up, half-muffled and shaky.

"...Have you ever had a moment where you felt so sure of something - and then you realised your calculations were off and you'd gotten it completely, horribly, wrong?"

@hoverpunk

“Alright, how bad is it?” ((@hoverpunk))

Ekko continued pacing the length of his workshop, bristling with barely contained agitation. He didn't look up at the sound of his friend's voice.

"Fucking catastrophic," he bit out through his mask, kicking an empty crate out of his path with excessive vehemence to punctuate his point.

I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up -

His brain kept replaying it. God, what the fuck was wrong with him? Things had been going so well - and now he'd screwed everything up in a matter of a few seconds.

Fucking hell, she'd jumped on Scar's board just to get away from him, afterwards.

He had no idea how to fix this.

How could he have been so stupid?

...I'm never taking this mask off again.

If he'd just kept the dumb thing on, this wouldn't have even happened. It wouldn't have mattered that Jinx was so close, grinning up at him in exhilaration from their slick teamwork. He wouldn't have been able to impulsively lean in and -

Ekko recoiled from the memory and came to a stop, breathing hard, pressing his gloved hands against his masked face.

I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up so fucking bad -

"...I don't want to talk about it. Just. Leave me alone."

@hoverpunk

#firelight jinx au

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moemoemammon · 3 years ago

Note

I just found ur blog and read thru some of ur stuff and im in love !! Ur writing is nice to read, and always gives a nice picture of the situation

If its aight, could u do some headcannons for the demon bros Finding out mc goes real hard on housekeeping ? Im talking fast and good cleaning, does chores without problems, propably even cleans after them (totally doesnt mother them in anyway), all without complaint, mc just cares

Housekeeper MC!

(Feat. GN!MC and the Demon Bros)

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Lucifer

The fact that he didn't have to shove a mop and bucket into your hands like the evil stepmother has him like 👀👀

Out of every person he's met, you and Barb are the only ones that actually enjoy cleaning? And now he's wondering if you've been influenced by him in some way because got damn are those floors sparkling-

Ever since you've arrived, the house has been immaculate. But as much as he enjoys that, he worries that you aren't leaving enough chores for his brothers to do.

They're gonna be lazy at this rate, especially if you keep cleaning up after them like that. He's planning to sit you down and have a good talk about how you should rest a bit, and- D...did you polish his desk????

"MC... as grateful as I am to you, I thought I asked you to rest? You don't have to clean every little thing in this house. You're here as our guest, and more, so I won't have you behaving like a maid. But if you're that interested in keeping your hands busy, you may feel free to maintain my desktop. It looks as good as new, thanks to you."

Mammon

Oh, so you're one of THOSE types, huh? The goody goodies that like to make everything clean and sparkly, huh?? Well don't expect him to help ya!

Was an asshole at first. Made messes to see if you'd clean them, tried to dump his chores on you, etc. But now that you've stolen his heart? Yeah, he wants you to sit down.

You're messing up your hands with all that time spent scrubbing crevices and dusting ugly old paintings, when you could be spending time with him!

Tch, that's it! If it's chores that're keeping you from looking his way, he'll just finish them before you can do anything! Checkmate!

"You're always scrubbin' somethin'! Let my brothers take care of the messes, while YOU sit down and watch this movie with me! Ain't no point in watchin' it by myself, so I ain't takin' no for an answer!" "Huh?? Waddya mean 'when was the last time I vacuumed'??"

Levi

Oi oi oi...! What do you think you're doing with that feather duster?! You don't think you've got the right to approach his figures with it, do you?! WRONG!

But you quickly discover how ticklish Levi is, and he squirms out of your way while watching in horror as you... delicately handle every figure? And dust them from top to bottom, without so much as an accessory out of place..?

Wait... are you seriously okay with picking up all that trash?? S-some of it's sticky from all the junk food, and- Gah! Don't go messing around in his closet!!!

Yeahhh Levi doesn't let you clean his room lmao. It's way too stimulating to watch you carefully touch every surface in his room... I-it's like you're heaven everything with your presence, and...

"S-so yeah! The only things you're allowed to clean are the figures and the outside of Henry's tank! Nothing else, got it?! Anything more and I seriously won't be able to handle it...I won't even be able to sit still in my own room......." 👉👈

Satan

Satan found it funny how willing you were to take up every little chore there was to be done in the house and he's got to admit, reading is much more enjoyable in a tidy environment.

But what he REALLY wants to know is how you managed to dust off every single book in the house, his room included, without him?? Knowing?? And you've done every shelf as well, cleaned out the cobwebs behind it, and even repaired that little tear in the upholstery of his favorite arm chair????

Has also deduced that you're probably the maid character in the books that knows everything. Actually, you're a lot like Barbatos. What secrets are you hiding human 🔫

Just kidding. But yeah, when you insist on dusting his room, he follows you around the room and watches you. You know, just in case you fall or something falls on you! No other reason.

"As much as I like having you here all to myself, it makes me feel bad watching you do that by yourself. Why don't you we clean together? We'll get it done twice as fast, and when we're finished, I'd like to read a book to you. You remind me of a certain character from a murder mystery novel I've started."

Asmo

Eeehhh?!?!? You've seriously managed to organize both his endless skin care product collection, and his ENTIRE wardrobe?!? You're amazing...!

And you don't stop there. You were more than happy to clean his tub for him and everything, and you know how hard it is to get oil off the side of a tub, right? You're a lifesaver!

Asmo casually pawns off his chores too you. Oh, he just did his nails! Can you do the dishes? Ah, he just bought this outfit. Can you take out the trash? He's about to go out with his friends to a party, so be a dear and take care of the common bathroom for him?

Lucifer scolds the shit out of him every time he catches him doing that. You're welcome. But don't think Asmo won't repay you! He'll give you so much love, you'll be drowning in it! Figuratively or literally, depending on your preferences-

"Fufufu... if you wanted my attention, you should've just told me! You didn't have to go tidying up my shoe collection, but I'm happy you did~! If you keep spoiling me like this, I might not be able to keep my hands off of you! Unless... that's what you wanted?"

Beel

Things tend to get pretty messy with Beel around, with the trail of crumbs he always leaves in his wake, and how he manages to get every surface he touches sticky. But you must be a miracle worker...

You're like a living roomba, and his ravenous appetite is no match against your cleaning skills! You seem to predict when the food bits will fall, and it's thanks to you that he can eat without a care in the world!

It's actually kind of scary, though. He'll drop a bite of his sandwich and move down to retrieve it to eat, and... it's gone. Poof. Into the ether of the garbage can...

You can still rest once in a while though, you know? Beel offers to help you with the cleaning, and he's more than happy to let you climb up his shoulders to reach those high places. It makes him happy to know he can lend a hand.

"MC, I already cleaned over here so you don't have to do it. I cleaned there, too. That means you don't have anything else to do, so why don't you have a lunch break with me? It's not good to work so hard all the time."

Belphie

Belphie's one for the more observant brothers, so your clean freak habits didn't go unnoticed. He didn't know if you were obsessed with cleaning, or if you genuinely enjoyed it, but at least you were doing it without a fuss?

And man did you do a good job. Everywhere you cleaned was left with the lingering smell of vanilla and lavender, and... you know, the smell is making him sleepy.

Every pillow his head touches seems especially fluffy, too! When he found out you made a regular habit of washing and fluffing them, and they smell amazing... He feels like he's laying on a cloud...

He won't admit it genuinely, but he really does love what you're doing with the place. It makes him feel a little fuzzy inside when he finds his pillow on his bed, freshly laundered and soft to the touch. He clings to it extra tight those nights.

"You know if you keep this up, I might prefer the pillows to your lap. Ah, but don't worry, I don't really mean it. There's no way a pillow could replace you, no matter how good it smells. I think."

#I can vibe with this because I clean pretty often when I'm stressed and I just generally enjoy most cleaning #obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#shall we date? obey me!#shall we date obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me writing #obey me scenarios #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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blankinsidecards · 2 years ago

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Steddie fic rec list

Absolutely nobody asked for this but here we go! These are my top 5 favorites, meaning they live in my brain 24/7 and I want them tattooed on my eyelids. Edit: this has been updated!

oh, happy dagger on sunshine bones by inallthingsgoodorbad

Rating: M • Edit: Complete!

Eddie Munson is stuck in the Upside Down. Barely alive. Steve Harrington is trying to sleep and failing at it, miserably. What a strange thing it is, to save the world alongside friends and come away from it with nightmares and loneliness.

A fix-it fic to a heart wrenching degree. Deals with the trauma and ptsd of each character in really careful detail, and plots out a bright future for them in the same breath. Lots of gorgeous, if messy, original poetry that fit with Eddie’s emotions throughout the fic in really beautiful ways. This fic is criminally underappreciated, but it’s an absolute masterpiece. Highlights include: the nickname of ‘Angel’, bedsharing, a fluffy lumax subplot that made me sob with joy, a wonderful appreciation for our dear Uncle Wayne Munson, and food as a love language. Slooowww burn with so much pining.

the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by @greatunironic

Rating: E • Complete

Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?”

Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

As the writer says in the notes of the first chapter, it’s a love letter to “Steve Harrington, father figures, + metalheads everywhere” which I think says more about the feel of it than I can convey here. The way that everyone is written, specifically Joyce and Hopper’s relationships with Steve, as so firmly family is something I didn’t know I needed so bad. I don’t reread fics very often, but I’ve read this one all the way through three times, and have listened to the podfic twice as well. (I’ve never been able to get into podfics but @itty-bitty-blondie did such a beautiful job with it) It will have you ugly crying through every chapter, I guarantee. And as fucking sad as it will make you, it also the softest, most comforting thing I’ve ever read in my life.

You’re Divine by OonionChiver

Rating: E • Edit: Complete!

‘Blood?’ Eddie says again.

Eyes black but for the slice of iridescent white in the centre. His teeth are sharp, his hands are weapons and Steve thinks maybe he’s made a mistake doing this without telling Eddie first. Eddie’s focus lowers, it moves to his left hand which is…

Oh fuck.

It’s dripping blood onto the floor.

‘Shit,’ Steve says, takes a single step back, swallows. ‘Eddie, I’m so sorry, fuck.’

Eddie can’t seem to look away, can’t bring his ethereal gaze back up where it belongs. Steve thinks he should run, he should flee. A tiny part of him knows Eddie will chase him. Eddie will catch him, outrun him easily.

It's more than a little fucked up how that thrills him.

So far, this is definitely my favorite Vampire!Eddie fic I’ve read so far. I’m going to come right out and say it: I’ve read my fair share of toe-curling smut in my time, and this is the only fic that while I was reading it, I felt like I got a ‘New Kink Discovered’ alert. If you like your ships to be co-dependent in the most fucked up ways possible, this is for you. I cannot stress enough how absolutely drunk on this fic I was at the end of the first chapter. Good lord, PLEASE check the tags yourself before reading, it is A Lot. Apart from how hot it is, the author has put a huge amount of detail into the technicalities of Eddie’s vampirism and, I’m not sure if this is accurate due to my own lack of knowledge, but it seems like a lot of it is directly drawn from D&D mechanics and Kas lore. I may be wrong here, but it’s impressive either way. Another big highlight is that they take a sledgehammer to the Mr. & Mrs. Harrington’s shit in a beautifully cathartic way. Don’t be put off by the fact that there’s so few chapters, each chapter is really long and covers several days. It took my two an half hours to read the latest chapter (and I only had to put my phone down to scream into my pillow like, six or seven times)

the lathe by @palmviolet

Rating: M • Complete

"This time, do it right. This time Eddie won’t bleed out in his arms, in anyone’s arms. This time, Steve will do it right."

— or, Steve relives the day they try to kill Vecna over and over, and Eddie just can't seem to stop dying. Steve finds this totally unacceptable.

It’s a time loop fic. It’s a Steve-centric time loop fic. It has more themes and symbolism than Chekhov could shoot a gun at. It peels Eddie’s character apart like an onion. It’s the ultimate put-your-blorbo-in-a-glass-jar-and-study-him-like-a-bug for EITHER of them. It had me waiting like a war widow for each update. I was more anxious over the ending of this fic than I was of the actual s4 vol2. Again, check the tags and individual chapter warnings for yourself because, as the author warns, it really does get so much worse before it gets better- but it gets better. I think this may be one of my favorite fanfics of all time, of any fandom, and that’s really saying something.

a bottle of rouge (just me and you) by @anniebibananie and @galmance

Rating: E • Edit: Complete! • AU

Eddie was sure 1988 was going to be his fucking year. Harringley had finally made it big enough for their first national tour, and, sure, they might all get sick of each other on the bus and kill their livers over the course of several months, but this was his fucking dream. None of that other shit could wreck it.

But Eddie Munson’s life has always been a dumpster fire of massive proportions, so really he should have expected it: Steve Harrington ruining his fucking life.

[Over the course of Harringley’s first national tour, band rules are made, broken, and might just cause feelings that leave them on the precipice of destroying everything they’ve built.]

Eddie-centric band fic where the Fruity Four is a band and everyone is too fucking hot for their own good. Classic friends-with-benefits setup with delightfully fast realizations of Actual Feelings. I’m talking a -‘no fucking bandmates’ rule at the beginning of chapter one, and a blowjob by the end of chapter one- kind of pace. I haven’t seen a lot of bi/pan Eddie fics yet, and this one does a good job describing how he feels attraction. (I’m NOT saying it’s ‘good bi/pan rep’. The man is a SLUT and it’s FUN) I also love how they’ve written Nancy as this hardcore drummer while somehow keeping her completely in character. Highlights include Jonathan Byers being Steve’s ex-boyfriend, Argyle being the band’s beloved bus driver, and several absolutely electric concert scenes. There’s also not a SHRED of ‘period-typical homophobia’ if that’s something you, like me, have a hard time reading.

Edit: the sequel come right inside (welcome to my new life) just began and it’s from Steve’s pov five years later. Where Side A was the epitome of Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll; Side B is already addressing the recovery the characters have needed from that destructive lifestyle, and I’m so down for it. Edit: also now complete and with a very sweet happy ending!

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic rec #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic rec #stranger things fanfiction #fic rec list #steve x eddie #steddie #fanfiction #top five favorites #top five Steddie fics #steve harrington/eddie munson #free to reblog

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i-cant-sing · 4 years ago

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Promise: Yandere Godfather Hawks x Todoroki reader

This is a side story takes place in the YRHR series, after part 1, when the reader returns home, blind.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"Y/n... Come on, wake up. Its 9 already." You heard him say, feeling the bed dip as he sat on it, gently touching the back of your shoulder. "Aren't you hungry? Mom's making your favourite."

When you gave no response, Shotou pulled the covers away from your face, his brows furrowing at the bandages around your eyes that had loosened up. You had did that, clawing at the meticulously tight knot Natsuo had done; you didn't like how it settled on your eyes.

"You're awake, right?" The only answer he got was you turning your cheek further away from him when he tried to caress it. Shotou didn't like your silence and he missed it when you used to ramble about almost anything to him. He missed when you were happy.

The door bell rang.

Shotou looked at his watch confused. Wasn't Natsuo supposed to come around at 11? He could hear Enji walking to the main door, and after a few seconds of silence, he heard footsteps coming towards your room. But then he heard some scuffling, and people talking- he recognised Enji's and Dabi's voices, his brother's getting louder by the second.

"I'll check who's there. Stay."

Stay? You would've rolled your eyes if, you know, you still had them.

A few more minutes passed and you could hear Dabi arguing with someone, and you think that Shotou is trying to calm him down. Deciding to take advantage of the situation, you got up from the bed. For the past whole month, Shotou would come to wake you up everyday, carrying you in his arms to the bathroom, never letting you walk on your own, claiming "you'll get hurt".

Idiot.

Taking one small step at a time, you stretched your arms out trying to reach the wall. Once you felt the cold, smooth surface, you used it to guide you towards the door.

No matter what you did, or how many times you told them to back off, that you can do this on your own, they wouldn't let you. Hell, you were pretty sure that if they could, they would breathe for you too. As if trying to instil in your mind that you're helpless without them, incapable of making your own decisions.

I'll show them how fucking capable I am.

After stubbing your toe only once, you finally reached the door, your hand gripping the metal knob. You placed your ear on the door, trying to figure out who and where everyone is standing. The corridor seemed empty and you think everyone is downstairs.

Opening the door, you used another wall to guide you towards the stairs. You hoped Shotou doesn't see you; he'd throw a hissy fit at you attempting to walk down the stairs.

As you took one careful step at a time, you heard the commotion grow louder. You could hear Dabi yelling profanities at the other person, certainly not Enji because Rei or Fuyumi would've stepped in by now to stop him. You used to stop him too, but ever since what happened, you don't really care anymore.

"Why the fuck are you even here?! She doesn't fucking want to see you!"

"Dabi-!"

"And who is gonna stop me? You? I'd be happy to knock you down on your ass- its about goddamn time!"

"Hawks!"

Hawks?

Hawks.

Hawks!

You almost stumbled down the last few steps, but you needed to know- was he, was he really here?

"K-Keigo?"

You heard his wings flap before you felt him, the wind gushed at your body strongly, making you lose your balance. But muscular arms wrapped around you before you could fall, and the winged hero lifted you up and spun you around, making you burst into laughter.

Rei was the first one to cry.

You laughed.

Not a bitter, sarcastic one.

A genuinely happy laugh.

And she missed her baby's laugh so much.

Dabi's eyes widened slightly. His heart clenching up a bit as he realised how he missed that beaming look on your face. He realised how fucking naive you were, how you were his little sister that he needed to protect.

Shotou felt envy. Why- why didn't you laugh like that with him? Why didn't you laugh for him? Was he... not a good brother?

Fuyumi actually rushed out of the kitchen when she heard you, her hands coming up to her mouth to suppress the sob that was building up. Too long. It had been too long since you were happy.

Natsuo smiled. He smiled as he saw you chortle when the hero's feathers tickled your cheek. He wished you would smile more often.

Enji's breath hitched as he saw you chuckle into Hawk's shoulder. It was so natural, so lively, so radiant. He had been dying to hear that sweet sound again.

Your heart was beating fast and your stomach was doing somersaults as you felt the air rushing through your hair and cooling on to your neck, the soft feathers brushing across your skin.

He really was here.

But so were they.

And you could feel their eyes on you.

Keigo frowned when he saw you curl yourself into him, as if trying to bury yourself into his chest. When he looked around, he saw them glaring and that's when he puffed out his wings before curling them around you; shielding you.

"I'll be spending time with my goddaughter. Do not disturb us." And with that, Hawks flew you up to your room, locking the door before they could sat anything. He could hear Dabi arguing, but he trusted Enji to handle him.

He set you on your bed, chuckling as you didn't let go of his collar.

"Its okay, dove. I'm here, now- ow!" You cut him off by punching his arm.

"Where were you?!"

"In your heart- ow! Stop hitting me!" He caught your wrists.

"You said you were gonna visit me at home! Its been a whole month-"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry but believe me, I really was busy!" Sighing, he continued. "The hero commission sent me to Europe for a mission and things got a bit messy, so I got caught up."

Yanking your hands out of his grip, you scowled. "Would it have killed you to call?"

"I mean I wouldn't say kill, but I probably could've lost a limb or two-" He started laughing when when you began getting up to walk to the door.

Keigo wrapped his arms around you, smiling cheekily"Y/n- I'm sorry, I'm just kidding. Come back-"

"No, let go! I don't have time for your bullshit" He continued laughing, easily picking you up and dropping you back on your bed.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Come on, now. Stop being mad." You heard him shuffling. "Besides, I've got something for you!"

He dropped something in your lap. You picked an item, your hands feeling around it, trying to figure out what the rectangular shaped box was.

"Whats this?"

"Oh, here. Let me help you." He lifted the lid of the box and you were immediately hit by a familiar smell.

"Chocolate?"

He hummed in confirmation"Your favourite ones too! They were always sold out! Luckily, I was able to use my charm on the owner."

"Charm? Oh, you mean where you pull that ugly smirk and do that half lidded look with your eyes, and you think that you look hot but you actually just look creepy?"

"Yeah- hey!"

And then the next 3 hours were spent like that, Hawks telling you about Europe and the bad guys he caught, you telling him about the way your family had been treating you.

"They don't let me do anything, they don't give me any privacy! Its like- its like they want me to be a doll!" You gave an exasperated sigh. "They- they act like they are being so generous. Like it was somehow my fault that my eyes got fried!"

"Oh come on. They can't be that bad-"

"They are! So much worse than before. Look, I'm a grown up- I need my space too! You know what Shotou said when I asked him to get me a walking stick? He said I don't need one since he can carry me everywhere. Do you know how embarrassing it is to get carried to the toilet every single day? Do you?!"

"Well, no-"

"And then Fuyumi cuts up my food and spoon feeds me herself! I know I'm blind but its not like I'm gonna stuff the food up my nose or something!"

The hero snickered at that.

"And then Enji reads me these novels or the newspaper and he skips over the parts he thinks I'm too "young" or "immature" to understand! They even monitor what I listen to! Fuyumi or Shotou would be quick to change the channel if something above pg 10 comes on!" You ran a hand through your hair frustratedly. "I asked Enji to get me a Braille and the first few time he pretended like he didn't hear me, before finally saying that I don't need one!"

"Don't worry, I'll sneak in a Braille for dummies the next time I visit."

"Hey-! Wait... what do you mean "next time"?"

"Oh come on! I promise I'll come earlier next time. Maybe in like 2 weeks-"

"No."

"What-"

"No. I want to leave this place today. You promised."

"Y/n-"Keigo reached to place a hand on your shoulder but you pushed him off.

"You. Promised. You said you'll get me out of here when I leave the hospital" You inhaled deeply. "Well, guess what, Hawks? Its been a whole month."

"I know but you're not well enough-"

"I AM! If anything, staying here is harming me more!" Your tone was getting angrier. "You said- you said you would take me away from them."

"I can't do it right now. The hero commission needs me-"

"I need you! Or am I just not worth your time?"

"Please, dove- try to understand. How will I take care of you if I'm out at the agency?"He tried to pet your head but you smacked his hand away, snarling at him.

"You're a liar. A big fucking liar! Was this the plan all along? To give me hope that you'll save me, only to fucking crush it?!" The hero managed to dodge the box of chocolates you threw at him. "I don't need fucking chocolate or your stupid presents. I need to get out of this goddamn house!"

The hero began walking towards the door. "You're not thinking rationally- I'll- I'll leave." But before the hero could manage to take another step, you were leaping towards him, but since you couldn't see, you only managed to fall near his feet. When he grabbed your shoulders to help you up, you were quick to latch onto him, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly.

"No- no! Don't go. Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. Please, don't be mad. I swear I'll behave, just don't leave me here!" Your hold onto him was becoming painfully tight.

Keigo felt like someone was breaking his heart piece by piece as he looked at you. The way your body shook from your pitiful sobs, the way you held onto his jacket as if your life depended on it- he was forced to remember how vulnerable you looked the night he brought you back to the this house. The same night when you begged and begged him to fly you away, that you'll do anything as long as he didn't dropped you back at the Todoroki estate.

"Y/n- darling, love, listen to me. I promised you that I'll keep you save, didn't I? I promise I'll come back soon-"

"YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE! CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT SHE'S DONE TO ME! SHE BURNED MY FUCKING EYES HAWKS! I'M FUCKING BLIND! DO I NEED TO LOSE A LIMB FOR YOU TO GET ME OUT OF HERE?! DO I HAVE TO SUFFER FROM ANOTHER "ACCIDENT"?!"

Hawks knew that bitch Rei did this on purpose, he knew and it killed him that he couldn't save you from her. He wanted to tell you that he believed you, and he was preparing a place for you. But the hero knows your siblings were eavesdropping, right on the other side of the door.

He had to be careful and play the fool if he wanted to get you out of this hell hole.

"Y/n please-"

You shook your head repeatedly, pulling him closer to you as you shrieked at him. "No. NO! I wont let you go! I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE WITHOUT ME! Keigo, I'm begging you! Take me with you, please! I'll die! I'll die! I'LL FUCKING DIE, KEIGO! PLEASE!"

Your loud screams had your siblings bursting through the door, obviously using a spare key. "Y/n, whats wrong-" You jumped away when they touched your shoulder, giving Hawks chance to slip away.

You instantly reached out for him, flailing your arms around to get a hold of him again. But the hero was already out the door and your siblings quickly pulled you back into their arms, shushing you, trying to calm you down.

But you were inconsolable. Thrashing around in Shotou's arms, you kept begging for Hawks to come back. "HAWKS COME BACK! LET ME GO! HAWKS, PLEASE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE!" It pained them to see you like this, so hysterical; Shotou and Fuyumi whispered sweet nothings but you payed them no mind. Natsuo knew you were going to hyperventilate soon, but he was more worried about you bursting a vessel in your head.

Thinking fast, he quickly brought up a tranquilliser- and the moment the sharp smell of the alcohol swab hit your nose, you were wrestling harder to get out Shotou's and Fuyumi's arms.

"Y/n, please calm down-"

"FUCK YOU! LET ME GO! KEIGO! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! COME BACK- STOP! STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP!" You screamed louder than before when you felt her cold hands gripping your arm, holding it still so that your brother could administer the dose.

As the drug began taking effect, your thrashing slowed down before you finally slumped into Shotou's arms. The tranquilliser numbed the headache that was forming, and you felt Fuyumi use a tissue to wipe the snot and the spit off your face.

"I'll die... I'll die... And you won't be there. And I'll die..."

Hawks was in a trance like state as he watched Shotou tuck you under the covers. He wanted to use his sharp feathers to slice off that cold bitch's hand that brushed the hair out of your face, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your daunting screams rang through his ears; his chest felt like some was shoving a knife through it slowly as he played back the image of you trying to wring yourself free from their arms, one hand still reaching out for him. It took everything in him not to grab it and pull you away from those monsters, but he had to remind himself of the bigger picture.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice the pyromaniac standing next to him until he spoke.

"This is all your fault."

Hawks looked at Dabi. His fault?

"You shouldn't have come here."

"She's my goddaughter-"

"Shut the fuck up." Dabi narrowed his eyes at the hero. "She's like this because you gave her false hope. Hope, that one day she'll get away from us. You and I both know that's not gonna happen." He sighed before continuing. "You call yourself a hero, but in reality, you're no better than us."

As Hawks turned to leave, not willing to let the villian get on his nerves, Dabi spoke again.

"Dont bother coming back. She won't forgive you. She'll never forget this betrayal."

Hurtful as they were, he knew the words he said were true.

Hawks was almost out the gates when he saw Enji sitting in the garden, looking at the koi pond. He should've left, should've flown away but there was something in Enji's eyes that had the winged hero walking towards him. He recognised the emotion as soon as he got close.

Sorrow.

Or was it guilt?

Perhaps a mixture of both.

"Endeavour, are you... alright?"

The number 1 hero looked away from the fish and blinked at him.

"Hawks? What are you still doing here?"

The blonde chuckled nervously. "I was just on my way out." He gazed at him. "Are you okay? You seem to be in deep thought."

Enji only stared at him. Taking his silence as the answer, Hawks turned to leave.

"Why did you come here today, Keigo?"

Keigo.

He suppressed the urge to shudder the way his name rolled off his tongue.

"She's my goddaughter too. Why? Do you think it was a bad decision to come?"

"No." Enji sighed. "I just- she hadn't laughed like that in a long time."

Hawks stood beside him. "She's still traumatised from the kitchen accident. Its understable-"

"No. She hadn't laughed like that for a long time, even before this happened." Enji's eyes moved towards the night sky. The stars were twinkling extra bright tonight. How he wished you could see it. "Before she lost her sight, she used to look out the window, her eyes searching sky." He gulped. "She was looking for you, Keigo. You- you made her happy, you make her laugh. I don't."

Hawks placed his hand on Enji's shoulder. "That's not true, Enji. You do make her happy. She loves you. She feels safe with you. She sees you as her protector."

"She does?"

He nodded. "Of course. If you want things to return to normal, you need to treat her normally too. Just- just talk to her. Sort out the issues and wash away whatever fears she has." Hawks wanted Enji to listen to you, to really listen to you and protect you from Rei. He could only hope that Enji understood what he meant.

Hawks was right, Enji realised. Whatever delusions you have of Rei wanting to hurt you on purpose, of being the "bad person", they can all be cleared up if he just talked to you. Ever since the incident, the family avoided talking to you about Rei or the events that had occurred that day.

If he just talked to you, things will return to normal. You'll become happy again.

"Thank you, Keigo."

Hawks only smiled in return. "I'll be leaving now."

"Okay. When will you visit again?"

"I'll be gone for longer now. The hero commission is sending me on another mission again."

"Oh. Safe travels, then."

As Hawks flew away, he began thinking about the house.

The house where he was going to take you to soon. He just needs to add a few finishing touches before he sets his plan in motion. The plan to rescue you, and eventually Enji, from those sadist that call themselves your family.

He will not let his dove get hurt again.

He'll save you this time.

He promises.

Thoughts?

Idk how this turned out, angst wasn't the plan initially. Guess I'll write godfather Hawks fluff for another day.

Anyways, now that this is done, I'll start working on RE 8 fic now.

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

0X1=?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You were one and he made you both zero. He has it all, a stable life, all that money, a wife lined up, and your body as his drug, him coming back for hit after hit. They called you a bad influence. You called yourself Jeon Jungkook's ex.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; angst; cheating; stereotyping of tattoos; reader is verbally abused by JK's wealthy parents; JK and reader are foolish, wounded animals and act accordingly; rough hate sex (fem reader, biting / marking / scratching, f and m-receiving oral, cowgirl, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - exes, tattooed, rich!Jungkook x rebellious!reader, ft cameo of Kim Taehyung as JK's best friend

–

now playing – 0X1=LOVESONG (i know i love you) by txt ft. pH-1, Woodie Gochild, Seori

"I hate you."

"Join the club. Current members, me."

He narrowed his eyes and tossed his keys onto the table next to the door, kicking off his sneakers.

"We gonna fuck or what?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You tell me you hate me and then you want to fuck?"

"Stranger things have happened. I could tell you I love you."

You made a gagging noise. "Disgusting."

He pretended to be shocked. "How could you say such a thing?"

You slammed the door shut and walked past him, not saying anything. You heard him stride behind you, following to your bedroom.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Right, and I'm a dog. We done lying now?"

"You are a dog," you replied, falling onto the bed.

His head popped into view, long black hair hanging down, half of it pinned back to reveal his undercut and two dangling black earrings on his right ear.

"You fuck dogs? Nasty. I'm not into bestiality, sorry."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Shut the fuck up, Jungkook."

Jeon Jungkook cocked an eyebrow, adjusting his black turtleneck by hooking a finger on the collar and sliding it from side to side, the small tattoos on his knuckles and fingers dancing with the action.

"Why are you stressed like a nun?"

He clicked his tongue. "Her idea of getting freaky was trying to chew my neck off. Went full piranha on me."

You snorted. "Maybe you deserve it. Would have saved me the trouble."

"Ha, ha, very funny."

He glared at you and you glared back from the bed.

"So, how was fucking my best friend?" he snapped.

You scoffed. "I didn't fuck Taehyung. I told you already."

"That's not what he said."

"So what? I've never seen his dick or had it near my pussy. If he wants to make up shit, that's his prerogative."

Jungkook didn't look like he believed you, but you weren't the one cheating on your girlfriend with your ex, so it wasn't something you cared about. He narrowed his eyes.

"Swear."

"On what?" you shot back. "Your right nut?"

"Your life."

You snorted. "Well apparently to you, that ain't worth shit."

He was reaching for the bottom of his turtleneck and pulling it up and over his head. You felt a tinge of annoyance, seeing the dark, spotted bites on his side and shoulder. He yanked the article of clothing over his head and you spied the one on his neck, a blotted, messy patch of red-purple. It was ugly on his pretty tan skin.

You could do better.

"Your girlfriend know the meaning of sexy?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"That's not what she or your parents think."

"She and my parents can suck each other's dicks."

"Didn't know you liked dick. Guess that's why we didn't work out."

He tossed his turtleneck aside and growled, crawling onto the bed. Large, powerful, shoulders flexing, copious black tattoos covering his right arm and shoulder, a full sleeve. On the inside of his right bicep was a skull with a knife in its head.

You picked that one, a long time ago.

You looked into his eyes.

He had noticed you glancing at it.

She's ruining your life! Look at you! Tattoos all over your arm and hand! How could you get these ugly things?

Jungkook didn't say anything. He just grabbed your arm and started yanking your clothes off, just like how you grabbed his pants and started pulling them off his body, throwing them violently aside.

Don't you dare speak to our son ever again, you good-for-nothing whore. You think we wouldn't notice your poisonous influence sullying him? It took us months to find a nice, sensible girl willing to put up with your mistakes!

Hands and skin and teeth and hate, tumbling onto the covers, the taste of his flesh on your tongue and his cologne attacking your nose, his large hands gripping your soft thighs, pushing them apart, looking down into those chocolate eyes, the voices melding together, arguments, tirades, chaos, a fucking mess of you biting your tongue while Jungkook stood there and did nothing to defend you.

I hate you so fucking much, Jungkook!

And calling my parents dogs licking the shit off countryside roads is any better? The fuck is wrong with you?!

They were eating me alive in there and you said nothing! Absolutely nothing! I'd go to hell and back for you and you couldn't even say a single fucking word!

You were in hell. You came back.

And now you were in hell again.

"Damn, she must be fucking horrible at making you feel good if you keep coming to me."

Jungkook rolled his eyes and you clamped your thighs around his head, nearly a triangle choke as you dragged him along the sheets, him half-crawling to follow you, shuddering at the close proximity of your pussy to his face. When he spoke, his warm breath saturated your wetness.

"She doesn't even taste half as good as you and never fucking listens when I tell her what I like," he grumbled.

"Yeah? You tell her you like it when you shove your face into pussy?"

He scowled.

"Like I said, she doesn't taste good. I never give her head."

And he attached his lips to your heat, slurping noisily, sighing in satisfaction as you squeezed his head with your thighs, hot and slick tongue sparking your sensitive skin, fuck, yes, this is what pussy should taste like, so sweet, fuck, familiar and erotic, his hands sliding up and gripping your ass, firm and solid while staring up at you, opening his mouth and letting you see the pink, wet muscle flick and dance over your clit, ghosting it with pleasure but not giving it to you, your honey-like juices glistening on his lips and chin.

You clenched your jaw. "Get serious already. Stop fucking around."

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

"I'm always serious with you."

His lips closed in and he made your mind go blank, soft black hair fanning out on your thigh, fast, swift, powerful licks all over your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shocks and jolts of pleasure shooting up your spine from your core, one of your hands twisting in his hair, bunching it up, his sharp jaw cutting into your inner thighs because you were squeezing so hard, but Jungkook didn't care, always saying, do it, choke me with your thighs, if I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die eating you out, his long fingers splayed out over your ass and pushing your hips into his face, making you hump his waiting mouth and his punishing tongue, hot flames of desire taking over, your head tipping back, pulling on his long hair, moans of his name tumbling from your throat, suck harder, fuck, seeing black from the sudden blinding tension, his skillful tongue fiercely teasing your engorged clit in the overwhelming tightness, snapping the strings of sanity.

"J-Jungkook!"

The impossible high, the violent shivers, shooting into accelerated free-fall, your fingers unclasping from his hair and pushing his head into your throbbing core, his tongue shoving into your folds and moaning at the sensation of your muscles clamping around it, sucking it all out, your orgasm consumed by his greedy mouth.

Your name vibrated in your own pussy, delivered by sinning lips and hazy dark brown orbs drugged with lust.

Back then, when it was falling apart, you told Jungkook all sorts of things and he said all sorts of things back. Painful things, hateful things, pitiful things, pointless things, never having a real conversation about how deeply he hurt you.

Only later, a strange moment, seeing Jungkook at your front door, seeing it in his eyes. Something different.

He asked you if you wanted to fuck with no strings attached.

You bit back, as wounded animals do.

Why? You were such a waste of time.

Jungkook didn't know it, but his next words made you agree to this ridiculous arrangement.

Yeah, but I was your waste of time and that's all I ever wanted to be.

When he kissed you now, it was hungry and heady, drunk on your taste and you, forcing his tongue into your mouth and thrusting into your lips. Tangled bodies, tangled tongues, tangled minds, falling into the bed, his hands in your hair and yours in his, whispers of, she'll never make you feel as good as I can make you feel, your lips and tongue all over his jaw and ear, biting down on it, earrings jingling against your cheek, his moan above your head as you traveled down, marking his skin with sharp bites and thick swipes of saliva, pretty pink marks all over his torso, contrasting the bruises.

"Of course not," Jungkook panted, a shuddering groan torn out of his throat as your nails raked down his back and then glided back up, fingertips pressing into the irritated skin, soothing it. "She never fucking listens to me or my body because she's an idiot."

You traced the curves of his muscles, lips ghosting kisses, hot and soft and sharp from breath and tongue and teeth, his body becoming yours from persistent, familiar touch, his name in your mouth and on his skin, your saliva dripping over his hard, thick length, and then your mouth was on it, his taste on your tongue, in your throat, and in your memory.

Jungkook moaned your name.

With longing, pain, and love.

When's the wedding?

Next year.

Huh. Good for you.

No, it isn't, and you know it. Bet you're glad I'm going to be miserable forever.

You've made me miserable forever, so serves you right.

"Get off, I don't want to blow my load in two seconds, fuck!"

You swallowed him as deep as you could and then pushed your head down so the tip was buried into your throat, swelling and twitching at the unbearable, euphoric constriction.

"F-Fuck, please, let go, fuck... oooh, shit..."

Your tongue outlined the underside of his length, humming around his cock, rubbing the base of the head and straining to slurp at it, letting him hear you, lewd, obscene, unafraid.

If he really wanted to, he could pull out now.

Jungkook breathed your name, savoring every syllable.

You stared into dark brown eyes, black pupils expanded, watching his jaw flinch and his shoulders shake, black tattoos shivering as you slowly removed your tight mouth, popping it off his cock with a wet plop.

His normally smooth, silvery voice was trembling, the pleasure deepening it.

"God, I hate you."

Jungkook and you could say it a thousand times, a million times, for all of time, and both of you would know neither ever meant it.

I love you.

Get out, Jungkook.

But–

Get the fuck out! You think you can fuck me and tell me you love me? Like that's going to somehow negate all the previous bullshit you put me though? No. Take your clothes and your pathetic self and get out. Come crawling back to me on your knees when she reaffirms to you that I'll be the best fuck you'll ever have.

He would. He did.

Over and over.

You towered over him now, waiting for him to roll the condom down, watching his face as you sank down onto his stiff length, seeing the elation, the gratification, the absolute bliss in the way your pussy suffocated him, tight, wet, his, your head dipping down and taking his lips, yours, fitting yourself around his girth that became harder as you bottomed out, his moan feathering over your lips as you rolled your hips into his with a firm smack.

"Oh, fuck, feels so fucking good..."

He knows you're not going to fuck someone else. You have to see other people so he finally realizes how important you are to him.

That's the stupidest shit I've ever heard in my life, Taehyung.

If you don't refuse him, he won't change.

I was never important enough to him in the first place.

Those chocolate orbs watching you, his strong hands on your hips, fingers pressing into your skin and leaving crescents of his nails, matching your pace, harsh, deep slaps of skin to skin, your name on the tip of his tongue, balanced in the tightrope of all or nothing, zero or one.

They want me to take over the family business.

Having a trophy wife is important for that kinda shit.

You're the perfect trophy.

Yeah, me and my mechanical heart.

Jungkook switched your positions, rolling over and pinning you down, perfect white teeth sinking into his pink lower lip, the black mole underneath prominent against his tense jaw, fucking you into your mattress, panting, giving you his all, aching pleasure with every rough thrust, your back arching and hands on his long black hair, clutching his head and raising your hips to meet that full hardness and to hit your favorite spot, sending bursting sparks of ecstasy up your spine and into your lungs, rendering you airless.

Nothing but pleasure, nothing but need, nothing but physicality.

“Look at me,” Jungkook rasped, hoarse from breathing so hard.

You lowered your head and raised an eyebrow. His parted lips had small cuts from stress-biting them. His tan skin was as lovely as ever, dotted with small moles on his nose, cheek, neck, underneath his lip, kisses from the moon, not bothering to wear makeup to cover them. He never did, not with you, not when his time could be better utilized being all over you. Dark brows and chocolate eyes, large, sharp, expressive, beautiful, your Jungkook.

Your country, your world, your universe.

You smirked as you looked at that face. He cocked a brow, black curls falling over his eye as you lifted your hand.

“You know what would piss them off?”

You didn’t need to say who.

He clicked his tongue and slammed his hips down on you, but you only clenched around him, causing him to pause and savor the feeling. His length wrapped in your warmth, connected in the most visceral way, his breath mixing with your breath. Dark brown orbs on you, half-lidded and shadowed by his lashes and long hair.

“What?”

You pushed his hair aside and traced his right eyebrow, stroking the hairs of the tail.

“If you got a face piercing.”

Jungkook grinned, low chuckle in his throat. “Yeah?”

You lifted yourself up to smack your hips into him, holding onto his broad shoulders with your other arm to balance yourself, devious smirk on your lips.

“You won’t do it.”

He leaned down, putting more force into each thrust. Your grip tightening, gasping into his face, eye to eye, dragged along by Jungkook’s intensity and passion, breathing in his exhale, drinking in his fervor, blind to the wrongness, deaf to everything but the sound of bodies, wetness to hardness, and the way he said your name, like there was nothing else, nothing but you and him and ecstasy, nothing but the sensation of how hard and how full his cock felt when he was inside you, nothing but how strongly and viciously you pulsed around him, toppling over the edge, moaning his name and staring into his eyes, into the eyes of the one that made you orgasm and mean it with every fiber of your being.

“Jungkook…”

He sucked in a breath and gasped your name, cock twitching and spurting into the condom, plunging forward, kissing you hungrily and deeply, shoulders shaking in your hands, stealing your breath, muffled cries sliding into your throat from his, anguish at the force of his climax, sweeping you up with him.

It was a long kiss.

He finally broke it, heavy exhale against your lips, not lifting his head, his black hair spilling all over your face, not letting you see anything.

Mouthing words against your cheek that you could feel, but it was a silent utterance, a soundless scream into the abyss that he alone was sinking, living a life without you.

Enjoy your piranha.

Ha, ha, very funny.

She’s not gonna notice?

He hadn’t said anything, pulling his turtleneck over his head and shaking out his long black hair like a dog. You had pulled your blankets over your naked body and looked away, not wanting to see him any longer.

You’re trash, Jungkook.

Yeah, but I could buy you a Louis Vuitton bag, easy.

You’ve been hanging around your parents too much. I don’t give a shit about your money or your influence and I never did.

Everyone likes money.

Everyone likes you too. Oh, wait, except me. I guess I’m excluded from everyone.

He hadn’t said anything more. You didn’t tell him goodbye when he left.

You waited until your heart became numb again. Then you mechanically crawled out of bed and cleaned up all traces of his existence, going all the way outside to dispose of the condom and the wrapper so you wouldn’t accidentally look at them in the trash later. You put your clothes back on, one by one, and went about your day. And the next day. And the next. And the.

And.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine,” you would say to whoever asked. You would smile and nod.

Time went on.

You would open the door and no one was there.

You would close the door and go back inside.

You would open the door.

And Jeon Jungkook was there, with a cut on his lip and a black-purple bruise underneath his left eye.

His right eyebrow was slightly swollen, two stainless steel balls connected by a silver bar pierced into the end of his brow. His clothes were torn up, his white dress shirt dirtied and his dark wash jeans torn, brown mud caked on one knee. He looked at you, chest shuddering, wheezing for breath.

“Hah…”

He smirked, the gesture not reaching his eyes. Those dark brown orbs were desolate, numb. He wiped his lip with the back of his hand and winced.

“I think they’re mad at me.”

You raised your eyebrows.

He flicked a hand through his now short black hair and ticked his head. “They told me not to show my face in front of them ever again and that I can kiss my inheritance goodbye.”

You leaned against your doorframe. “They took the silver spoon from your mouth over an eyebrow piercing?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I guess it pissed them off when I said I wasn’t going to take it out.”

He made eye contact and you saw him trying to tell you that he had changed.

Well.

Was forced to change, now poor and cast away.

“I know you said I was a waste of time,” Jungkook sighed, heavy and remorseful. “But I was your waste of time and that was all I ever wanted to be.”

You looked into those chocolate orbs that always told you they loved you.

“They knew, huh?”

He smiled ruefully. “I didn’t try to hide it. She knew, they knew, they probably all knew where I went.”

“And what will you do when they ask you to come back?”

Jungkook stood at your doorstep and told you words that you had always wanted to hear, but he had been too afraid to say, afraid of the repercussions, confused of his own feelings, too selfish at the time to realize how much he had hurt you. Time and emptiness had taught him pain and taught him what it meant to be without.

The time taught him how it felt to be not one, but zero.

“Tell them I should have left a long time ago and stayed with you, because you always let me be whoever I wanted to be even though all I was doing was wasting your time.”

He faced you, you and your mechanical heart that he created with his silence.

“I’m sorry.”

His apology meant nothing to you, far too late.

“Now I have nothing but time.”

It never mattered. You always knew Jungkook was sorry from the moment he asked to fuck with no strings attached. It was for him and for you. For him to touch you once more, even if it was all a lie, and for you and your mechanical heart, cleaning off the rust and giving it a moment to feel. He knew. You knew.

Without each other, you were both zeros when you could have been one.

And it was all his fault.

I know you’re not here, but I love you, Jungkook.

You sighed.

Then you shrugged.

“Yeah, well, I got nothing but time too.” You tilted your head, chuckling. “And even now, I waste it on you.”

Jungkook smiled sadly. He didn’t ask to be forgiven. He didn’t ask to be invited in. He just stood at your doorstep, finally able to say the words he should have said. He didn’t ask you to love him. You already knew he loved you. He mouthed it all the time, I love you, against your cheek, after each and every rendezvous, without fail.

Now he had nothing.

But you could see he was going to give it his all this time.

You stepped away from the doorframe and turned around, waving him in.

“If you’re gonna be my waste of time, at least wash your face.”

continued in LO$ER=?, m | jjk

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

528 notes · View notes

kiridarling · 4 years ago

Text

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐤𝐮, 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐨

𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔.

→ Okay. Izuku Midoriya? A sadist.

→ And you've been a brat all day, because he's been busy fighting crime as a newly debuted pro hero, and you can't help it if Izuku's new suit fits him a little too well.

→ And of course, the one day he finally has time to take you on a date you two go to the mall, only to be swarmed with thousands of Pro Hero Deku fans buzzing with requests for photo's and autographs and other bullshit and you just want to clobber them in the head and spit the ugly truth in their faces—that at the end of the day, their lovely Deku comes home to you, and sleeps next to you, and the fact that they can steal his attention away from you is absolutely outrageous. Blasphemy.

→ So naturally, you start acting up. You roll your eyes at the next fan who asks you to take the picture and you scoff at the next fan that announces their love. You pile them on, offense after offense, and by the time you get into the car, Izuku's practically vibrating with anger.

"Say one word and I'm bending you over the hood."

→ Oh.

→ Needless to say, you're squirming the whole ride; though you're unsure if it's from his words, the dead silence, or the tight grip Izuku has on your thigh but either way, the trip back home feels painfully long.

→ The second you two get through the door, he's cornering you into the living room and bending you over the arm of the couch without a second thought, big hands yanking your hips back so your ass sticks out just the way he likes it.

"Bratty doll...you wanted my attention that bad, huh?”

→ Izuku exaggerates every other word with a harsh spank that has you whimpering behind a bitten lip. Though eventually, he deems your muffled moans not enough and aggressively yanks your bottoms off, stuffing his fingers into your mouth.

→ Once they're wet enough, he slides a finger in, (because no matter how angry he is, you’re still his baby). But once you're ready? It's game over.

→ You figured Izuku was going to be a tease about it, but once he sits you on his cock and doesn't move, it has you squirming in confusion. What the hell could he be waiting for?

"Awe, what's the matter, doll? Did you want me to move?"

→ The hold his hands have on your waist is tight enough that you can't even twitch your hips—and the grip only gets tighter the more you wiggle in protest. Izuku tuts, landing a slap to your bruised ass that makes one thing clear: You’re not moving.

→ The green-haired bastard turns on the tv, for fucks sake. And has the audacity to pretend like he's paying attention to whatever's on—because it's not like you're paying attention, too preoccupied with the cock in your guts. You can't squirm because something tells you that'll only lengthen the punishment you've been sentenced to, but by the end of the first episode, it's a little hard not to.

→ Izuku caves the second you start begging. Mostly because it was what he was waiting for, but also he's probably struggling worse than you while he watches you whimper and squirm in his lap.

“Fine, doll. Since you waited so patiently, I guess I can make you feel good.”

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈.

→ 100% your idea

→ And he had absolutely no warning. The Bakusquad decided to hold a movie night in the common room on a random Saturday evening when the dorms were pretty much empty. Katsuki didn't even want to be down there in the first place, but after you winked so prettily and promised he'd get a treat if he came, he didn't grumble nearly as much.

→ But what he didn't know was that you meant right now.

→ Katsuki knew something was up the second you sat in his lap and asked Denki for a blanket—that's rarely your Bakusquad move night cuddle position, plus you're always saying how you never need a blanket because Katsuki runs so warm.

→ And he definitely knew something was up when you started grinding against him, not even ten minutes into whatever shitty action movie Denki and Eijirou convinced the group to watch this time. His hands rush to your hips because if Katsuki Bakugou is anything, he's not a goddamn exhibitionist.

"Oi, the fuck are you doing, dumbass? They're gonna fuckin' see."

→ But as always, you take his words with a grain of salt, already blindly fiddling with the buckle of his belt despite his threats (AKA, I'm gonna fuckin' kill you, you fuckin' heathen). The metal clinks for a second and both of you tense, but it seems no one hears it over the movie, so. You relax.

→ Katsuki does not.

→ You wait for a loud crash from the television speakers and you're sinking down on Katsuki's cock, his teeth tearing into your shoulder as he holds back a moan. Both of you let out a shaky breath when you bottom out.

"W-Well? You gonna fuckin' move or what?"

→ You shake your head.

"No? Fuck."

→ And honestly, all is well until about twenty minutes into the movie. At this point, Katsuki's semi-comatose, eyes half-lidded from the surprisingly peaceful warmth you're both encompassed in. But unfortunately, this peace is disturbed by a rude awakening that comes in the form of none other than Denki Kaminari.

→ All he does is mention how Katsuki looks much too out of it, owing it all to "y/n's juicy caboose," but it has your boyfriend practically rearing on his hind legs in fury either way.

→ In the middle of all the commotion, you take the opportunity to wiggle your hips a bit, rendering the majority of Katsuki's arguments repetitive and ineffective. The bickering blond's shut up once Mina calls for it, and Katsuki returns to whisper-yell threats in your ear again.

"Do you want us to get fuckin' caught? Huh? I ca—fuckin' hell—stop movin’!"

→ But you giggle, having a little too much fun with this. The death grip Katsuki has around your thigh implies he’s closer than you thought, and the moment the action in the movie starts to pick up again, so does the steady roll of your hips.

→ Katsuki practically whimpers into your ear, body shaking with restraint because he lacks the proper space to “put you in your place” or however he wants to put it. You know he’s teetering on the edge when he resorts to something Katsuki Bakugou never does—begging.

“Babe—babe c-c’mon please, I don’t wanna—”

→ Katsuki’s nails dig into your thigh and he shivers as he fills you up, bottom teeth digging into his swollen lip. His quiet moans push you off the edge as well, adding to the mess under the blanket as fake explosions emanate from the tv screen.

→ That was...something.

“I hate you so goddamn much.”

→ You snort, rolling your eyes at his overdramatic ass. But?

“...But that was the hottest sex of my fuckin’ life.”

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀.

→ You and Hanta definitely do this once a month. At least.

→ Getting high with Hanta as your boyfriend is probably one of your favorite things. He's got snacks, cool LED lights, a monitor that constantly plays animal planet while the speakers play lofi. It's an experience.

→ And of course, you two get horny—though sex is a little hard when you're feeling fuzzy. Hanta's a high-functioning stoner but frankly, you're not, and even he gets a little fumbly when it comes down to it. Cockwarming seemed like the only viable option.

→ Half of the time, it's not even that sexual. Watching otters chase each other with his back pressed up against yours as you bask in a familiar warmth that only comes from true human connection is nice. Feeling his lips place butterfly kisses against the column of your neck is nice. Just...being with Hanta is nice.

→ But tonight? Tonight it's definitely sexual.

"So warm, Princess. You know your body does things to me, don't you?"

→ You didn't, but the way he says it definitely makes you believe him, and so does the way he rubs his hands up and down your sides. Hanta bites into your neck and you stifle a moan, balancing yourself on his knees.

→ You jump when his hand ghosts your inner thigh, and he chuckles when you bite your lip, eyes trained on the hand moving between your legs.

"Like it when I rub you like that, Princess? Like it when I turn you into a messy little puddle in my arms, hmm?"

→ You whine and nod, chest shuddering with the threat of an impending orgasm. Hanta curses behind you, the hand holding you steadily by the waist tightening.

"Shit—keep clenching like that and you might make me cum, Princess."

→ Hanta huffs out a laugh but you can hear the genuine implication behind it, can feel it in the pant of his breath against your neck. The thought of making him cum from something so simple has you hurtling towards your orgasm at an alarming speed, nails digging into his forearm as the weight of your marijuana-laced orgasm hits you like a fucking freight train.

→ Hanta moans breathily, eyebrows knitting as his own orgasm catches him by surprise. His hips twitch and it almost sends you flying off his lap but somehow, you don't go tumbling—though you might owe that to the vice grip Hanta has on your hip.

→ You two come down, basking in the gentle blue of the ocean as the chatter from the Australian narrator about the Humpback whales and their baleen teeth fills the room. You move to get up but Hanta whines, hands keeping you still via your waist.

"Lemme stay inside for a bit...'S warm."

[a/n: thanks for stopping by angel, and let me know who you want to see next <3. see you soon!]

—ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀɴ 𝟷𝟾+ ʙʟᴏɢ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅɴɪ

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