#last week I almost started crying when an old man sat down next to me on the bus and our arms touched

[sh0ek0]

I feel so lonely

[dearhargrove]

Survivors

Evan Buckley x reader

summary You're taking care of Christopher when Buck comes home, looking absolutely drained and in shock and goes straight to Christophers room. You overhear the news and make sure to care for both Chris and Buck.

word count 1639

tags pretty much episode 14 season 4, Eddie gets shot but it's not described, Buck is sad :(, Chris being the precious kid he is

a/n the way I sat there in silence when Eddie got shot is crazy. Like first they hurt us with Athena and Bobby's fight and then one second passes and Eddie (my bb) gets shot I'm so confused 😭 anyway I couldn't take it when I saw bucks reaction so I wrote a fix it for me. Also I screen recorded off of an illegal site to make gifs LMAO

masterlist

You're washing the dishes when the front door opens and closes, footsteps echoing through the hallway and living room - right past the kitchen.

“Eddie?” You call and the steps stop. Instead of the man you'd expected there's your husband, Buck. He looks distraught, eyes bloodshot and lips bitten raw. What the hell happened? He doesn't even really look at you, it's like he's looking through you. “Buck? You okay?”

He licks his lips and blinks a few times but he doesn't reply. He walks straight to Christopher's bedroom, you following after him in confusion and worry. Why was he alone and why did he look like he'd seen a ghost or worse?

He stops before entering Chris’ room, but not to wait for permission to come in but more like hesitancy. He balls his hand into a fist and takes a deep breath before walking in. You take his spot in the doorway and watch with a worried frown as Buck squats down in front of Chris who's sitting on his bed, playing a video game.

“Where's Dad?” Buck looks down and you see him swallow again before he looks into the kids eyes. “He's.. not coming home tonight, Chris.”

Chris seems almost unbothered by it but considering that Eddie had to stay in the hospital overnight almost regularly due to his job, it was a reasonable reaction. But Buck doesn't seem to think the same and shakes his head minimally.

“Did he get hurt? In a fire?” Chris inquires and Buck turns his head to the side and slowly shakes it in negation. Before explaining it he sits down next to Chris and pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. “No, not- not in a fire.” He takes another deep breath before continuing, “The truth is someone hurt your Dad.”

It's been a while since you've heard his voice so sullen and raspy from crying - probably since the last visit from his parents and that was weeks ago now. You slowly and quietly come into the room as well, standing at the foot of the bed and next to Buck with his back turned to you.

He regards you with a short glance before focusing back on Christopher, confirming his question, “Yeah, a bad guy.”

You see him reach up and wipe under his eyes, frowning in empathy as you put your hand between his shoulder blades and slowly move it up and down in hopes to calm him down a bit.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Chris asks and you're glad he did because you want to know too. Buck looks at him again and nods. “Your Dad is tough. He's a fighter.”

“He's with the doctors now? The ones that fixed you?” Chris inquires and Buck nods. You see the conflict on his face before the ten year old nods, “Then he's gonna be fine.” You hum and Buck glances your way before focusing back on Chris. Just as he's about to say something his phone pings twice and he looks down at it.

Over his shoulder you see the message as well, stemming from Bobby.

Out of surgery. Doctors say it went well.

Your heart basically drops in relief and Bucks seems to as well when his phone drops from his hand and he pretty much caves in, dropping his chin to his chest as he sniffles and exhales deeply.

You thread your hand in his hair and he automatically leans into you, resting against your stomach as he starts to cry. His hands grasp at your hips before his arms wrap around you and he sobs.

“Shh, it's okay, baby. Eddie's gonna be fine. Right, Chris? Your dad's strong.”

The young boy nods and you smile assuringly as he reaches out and wraps his arm around Bucks shoulders to pat his back. You melt at the sight and ruffle his hair which he usually doesn't like - only his dad is allowed to - but now he just looks at you with worry and confusion.

“How about you go and get ready for bed, hm?” It's not a question and it is a reasonable time for him to head to bed anyway, so he complies and slowly walks to the bathroom.

When he's out of earshot you sit next to Buck and let him fully wrap his arms around you and put his head on your chest as he cries. “H-He got shot right in front of me,” he starts with hitching breaths. “He just dropped and his blood was all over me-” he sobs deeply and you kiss his head while trying to process this yourself. He got shot?

“You couldn't have prevented it, love. He's gonna be fine. Eddie survived a lot, he's going to pull through this time, too.” Buck shakes his head and pulls back enough to look at you, blue eyes glossy and chin quivering as he gasps between another sob.

“It shouldn't have been him!” This devastates you and you cup his face in your hands, your worried expression replaced by a stern one. “It shouldn't have been anyone. Not him and not you, either. You hear me?”

He whimpers and you sigh, wiping your thumbs under his eyes and placing a long, soft kiss on his birthmark. “As soon as we can, we'll go visit him. But now you have to be strong, for Christopher. He looks up to you, if he sees you sad he'll be sad, too. Let's get him to bed, and I'll take care of you after.”

You take his hand and put it over your heart, exaggerating your breaths so he could match his and calm down. Right when he does he opens his eyes again and his frown fades enough to only be barely visible. “‘m sorry.”

The shake of your head is immediate, shutting up any further apologies. “No. It's good to let it out. I'm here so you can do exactly that if you need to. I love you, Evan. Nothing's gonna change that.”

He pulls his hand from your chest and tangles it with yours instead, gently kissing your knuckles and then your inner wrist.

He used to hate his name after it reminded him of his parents- of how they treated him. It reminds him of a life where he had to endure pain to receive love and attention.

But when you say it, it makes his heart beat faster in a good way. It makes him want to move on from his trauma or at least learn to deal with it.

And moreover it makes him feel validated. With you, he's not just Buck. He's also vulnerable, emotional and a bit cheesy. He's Evan. Evan, who's had more jobs in more cities than he can count on one hand because he was trying to find his place in the world. Evan, who likes the ocean but has been uneasy around it ever since the tsunami.

You smile lovingly and peck his forehead just as Chris comes back inside. He's wearing some dino pajamas and you ‘ohh’ at him which makes him giggle and turn as if to show off his outfit.

You move up from the bed - Buck going with you and standing at the foot of it - and untuck the bedsheets. “Get in there.” Chris grins and lays down, letting you tuck him in.

“Don't be sad, kid.” He says to Buck, who tries and fails to hide a new round of tears building up in his eyes. You had no clue where and why Chris sometimes calls Buck or even Eddie ‘kid’ but both of them seemed to love it.

“I'm just a bit worried for your Dad. But he'll be fine,” he adds the last part when you glance at him warningly, not wanting Chris to worry, and smiles. “Goodnight, bud.”

You leave his nightlight on and the door open as you leave.

Buck settles on the couch and watches as you approach and stand in front of him.

He leans back into the couch and looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that make you melt every single time he looks at you. Damn him and his beautiful eyes.

“I'm really scared. I don't know what I would do without him… when he laid there and looked at me, I-” he inhales sharply and looks at his hands, picking at his nails and reopening an old abrasion in the process.

You take his hand into each of yours to stop him and sigh, “I think you're gonna have to move from monthly sessions to biweekly, babe.” You know his therapy has been helping him a lot and you're glad he's working on coping with his trauma, but this addition is going to complicate not just his home life but also work - especially when Eddie comes back.

He groans and pulls you down until you're sitting on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and his hands on your hips. “I appreciate your help, lovie, but just let me try and rest a little right now, please?”

You smile and card a hand through hair, moving to get off his lap so he could get comfortable on the couch. “Where do you think you're going?” He huffs and you're pushed onto your back before he's leaning over you, laying between your legs.

“You're gonna use me as your pillow?” You prompt and he nods, laying his head on your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck and against your pulse point. You're familiar with his constant search for proof that you're alive and well; you supposed it comes from not just the job but his abandonment issues, too.

It didn't matter to you though, as long as you got to hold him at the end of the day you'd let him maneuver you into whatever way made him happy.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Heyyy idk if you've done this before but Maid x prince ( or any other monarch) but it's kinda smutty and angsty because they can't be together ❤️

She knew there was one thing he loathed more than dancing: social gatherings.

He bored himself to death when he had to talk to other people. When he had to pretend to be interested in others, when he had to smile and laugh all evening. He wasn't a very talkative person and he was certainly not a social one.

She knew that he could come across as harsh or cold but she was also aware of his many interests. And how passionate he could be about them.

However, she had not expected him to return this early.

She looked up from the bed she was making, fearing the worst. Although he didn't like it, these social gatherings were incredibly important to secure their country's alliances.

Admittedly, she was interested in politics and power. But she also knew her place.

"Are you alright, my lo-" She swallowed the my lord. He had asked her not to call him that quite a while ago. But old habits were hard to kill for her. "Are you alright?"

The prince looked at her, exhaustion painted all over his face.

"...no," he admitted. He was always someone who buried his true feelings and replaced them with indifference. Today, he seemed frustrated enough to start crying.

The maid's heart clenched in her chest.

"If there is anything I can do for you-" She walked up to him and took his hands.

She knew what they had been doing for the last weeks wasn't right. She knew they weren't supposed to do the things they did, but...she couldn't help it. She loved him. And she didn't want this man to fall apart.

They had spent their entire childhoods together and for some reason, he only smiled when he was with her.

The maid couldn't watch her prince, her friend turn into someone callous. He was too important to her for that.

"I'm tired," he said. He gave her hands a little squeeze and kissed her temple before he was heading for the bed. "I wish you could join me next time. You make these things bearable."

"I think it would be quite strange to let your maid join you," she said. She watched carefully as he took off his clothes.

"I wish it wasn't," he said. "I can't help it, I am not good at it. Whenever I see so many people in one room, the world starts to spin. I loathe it. I loathe what they are talking about. Do they seriously think I care for their dog? Or their third cousin? Do they think I actually enjoy their presence?"

Good heavens, he was almost naked.

He slowly crawled under the blankets but he kept talking.

"What about literature? What about warfare? Are these people not interested in anything?" He groaned. "My head started to hurt as soon as I had to dance. Horrible. I left as soon as I could."

He was laying down, head buried in a pillow. His entire back was exposed. The maid could see a few scars she recognized. One time, he had fallen from his horse. Another, he had survived an assassination attempt. There were other scars she didn't recognize.

She wished she could name every single one. She wished she could know him so thoroughly that she wouldn't have to read his lips to know what he desired.

The maid walked up to him and kneeled beside the bed. Her hand went through his hair a couple of times before she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"It may seem irrelevant to you but appearing to be interested in someone's family or dog can be quite helpful. It's even better if you remember those details. You need to know your allies. You need to maintain good relations." Her gaze stayed on a new scar. Absentmindedly, she let her fingertips follow it.

He shivered.

"Forgive me," she whispered. But all he did was turn around and take her hands into his again.

"Sometimes I imagine what it would be like if our roles were reversed. If you were a princess and I was your knight..." He kissed her knuckles and her heart started to pound. Witnessing his softness was a privilege exclusively reserved for her. Sometimes, he really made her feel like a princess. "You understand all of this so well."

"The court was a good teacher, I suppose," she said. "Books can only get you so far."

That made him smile.

"Are you doubting your prince's way of education?"

"Well, he is misanthropic. So something must have gone wrong," she said. She seized the opportunity to get on top of him and focus on some other scars on his chest. Somehow, she ended up with her palm pressed against his chest right where his heart was.

"Still beating?" he asked. The joke didn't really come across though. She had stopped counting the many instances where she had had to tend to his wounds.

"Still beating," she said. His eyes didn't leave her.

"I don't think I will ever get married unless you are my bride," he said softly.

Instead of answering, she leaned in and kissed him. Deep down, she knew he couldn't afford that. In his world, the court and politics had no real meaning. But she knew it dictated all their lives, especially his future marriage. He was a quiet dreamer.

But some couldn't even dare to dream.

So, she kissed him softly. Kissed him until she could swallow her own tears and forget about all her worries.

[acehazbin1]

The Elections 2024

THIS IS A JOKE (I write better then this 😭)

…….

“Melania, this election, vote for me at least.” The orange man tried to reason with the Slavic goddess who wore 6-inch heels that dug into the carpet of the limo. She was looking out the tainted windows seeing all of Trump's fans hold up signs begging him to ‘Fix the country’ She rolled her eyes and muttered, “I dont want to do another year of fucking Christmas decorations, your lucky im even in this car with you.”

They were on their way to a Trump rally. He wanted her at one at the start of his campaign as his followers could show clips if anyone doubted her support, but he was lucky to have her in the limo with him. He was running out of money from the law suites to afford her. He could only offer her 1 million this time to support his campaign, which only included four rallies if he didn't need her for another public appearance. “Melania please, I-I won't ask you to hold my hand at this rally.”

Melania looked over at him making her eyes narrow her hair threw itself over her shoulder. “Still not enough.” Donald thought for a second before pulling up the calculator on his phone after a minute of seeing how much he could spare, “50k now, if I win 70k for the next four years every 3 months,” Melania thought about it for a second and then nodded, “That’s more like it.”

“C-could I still hold your-” “Dont even ask.”

….

Biden was on the way to his rally, at 81, he was getting a bit old for this. Jill was in another car behind them, Biden a few weeks ago decided he needed a little bit of a break from her. He sat there twiddling his thumbs as his phone kept blowing up in his pocket, it was Jill sending Joe texts about how even Trump and Melania were travelling together. “Is she texting you?” A voice came from the woman sitting next to him, she had dark hair which complemented her warm skin.

Biden nodded, with his lips pursed, Jill still didn't know the definition of space no matter how many times Joe had bought her a dictionary for Christmas. “I told you to block her, the white house is big enough to keep you two in separate areas at all times like they did with Trump and Melania. It worked for them.”

“D-don’t, w-we’re not like t-them…” Biden stuttered out, Kamala nodded respectfully but quickly typed on her smartwatch to the ‘Security service 💚💥’ group chat, “What are you doing?” Biden quickly looked over at Harris's watch. He stopped for a second as he realised something, “You have a group chat… without me??”

“Joe it's not how it looks-” “N-No! It's e-exactly how it l-looks!” Joe said as he started to choke on the tears building up, Harris looked at the 81-year-old cry and began to tap his shoulder for comfort. “Come on… you have a rally to do.”

“NO! I DONT WANT TO DO THE RALLY ANYMORE!” Joe's voice shouted as it cracked from the strain, Harris looked horrified but then he conuited. If you have group chats and want to control my life then why dont you just take my place!” Harris stared at him and then smiled as she realised that would make her the 47th President of the United States of America, she could finally do something. “Fine.”

…….

Breaking news! Joe Biden has stepped down!

A billion dings came straight to Donald's phone, he was almost at his rally when he saw the message, “What is it now?” Melania said rolling her eyes but trump’s breath hitched. “B-Biden s-stepped d-down..”

“Oh…”

“OH FUCK.”

Melania swore as Donald's nose began to run, who would insult him instead, have those little debates he loved so much put him down the right way, criticise him and his letter to Kim Jong-un who he just wants to send them to Joe instead, oh how many nights he stood up thinking about those silly little names they called each other How he would beg to be insulted by Joe just want more time but at last he can’t anymore, which made tears stream down his face.

[casspurrjoybell-24]

The Alpha's Beta - Chapter 13 - Part 1

BOOK ONE: The Alpha's Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

Valium - Part 1

Alpha Silas Claymore

I got the call at around noon on the 28th from Dr. Victors.

The test results were back and he'd like to see me as soon as possible.   

As I made my way from the house, Simon 'who was out for a jog' spotted me and decided he wanted to join, that it was wrong for me to go alone and find out I was drugged.

Even if we already knew it.   

He seemed to be in a better mood.

He smiled more and talked more calmly.

Running did great things for him, it got his mind off all the demons that played in his head.

The office was empty when we walked in, Tara, Victors receptionist told us to sit since he was seeing someone at the time.

She smiled brightly at Simon who was wearing tight jogging pants and a tight blue jogging t-shirt with it.

Leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

He didn't seem to notice her as he sat down and continued on about Ellis' younger brother Ivan and all the fun they had, had at the mall yesterday.   

Ivan was by far the cutest kid in the pack, he's only eleven but his attitude is like a sixteen year old girl and his fashion.

Don't get me started on his clothing.

I saw him walking around the other day at the near by park, in a green kid-size football jersey with 'King 00' on the back and a pink tutu with black leggings and of course beaten up sneakers.

Ellis' mother was never a fan of gender rolls and liked to let her kids dress in what ever they pleased.

I can remember Ellis coming to school in pink tank top's and baggy jeans.

No one really cared how they dressed though.

Not just because at the time Ellis' father was the lead hunter and would kick anyone's ass who talked bad about his boys but because they were both well liked kids, never getting into  to much trouble and always able to poke fun at themselves if needed.

Everyone enjoys the spunk Ivan has and wouldn't dare make him upset because frankly he was far to cute to make cry.  

"Alpha. Simon. It's nice to see you both today. Come with me please," I hear Victors say, pulling me from my thoughts.

I get up with Simon and follow the doctor to the room at the end of the hall.

It looks like any normal doctors office.

Medical tools on the wall, charts with a human body and of course a wolf's anatomy too.   

After doing all the regular check 'my heart beat and my temperature' he asked if I felt odd.

Which thankfully after a goods night sleep, I felt 100% back to normal.

The doctor grabbed a file, placed it in his lap and looked at Simon and myself.

"Now, I need to ask you. Have you let anyone handle your food in the last, say four years?"   

I sit back in the chair provided, next to Simon and thought about it, then nodded my head.

"My father used to make me coffee in the mornings but besides that Simon would normally cook supper, after he moved out I started making my own. Why?"   

"Well," he says, clearing his throat.

"It seems for a good while, I could only assume your coffee had been drugged. We found high traces of diazepam, better known as Valium in your system, so much so any normal human would have overdosed long ago."

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to take in what he just told me.

My own father drugging me.

But why?   

"But,'" he continues.

"Whatever was given to you this passed week seems to have flushed your system. I say if you didn't ask me to take blood when I did I wouldn't have found the Valium at all. Though its normally used for an anti-depressant, the dosage you were given could have blocked emotions or thinking clearly."

"Now you seem like a level headed man Alpha Silas. So I can only assume you must have been given it to block emotions. Why? I have no idea. I also can't tell you what emotions were blocked. You may feel angry or tired in the next few days. So just be aware. Besides that, you seem very healthy."

I nod before getting up and shaking his hand.

Thanking him for doing all that he's done.

Then reassure him that I'm fine and haven't had any mood swings.  

It explained it though, why I didn't know Darren was my mate when we first met.

I felt a slight bond but pushed it aside as a Alpha/Beta bond.

When really it was the mates bond but the real questions still stands.

Why would my father drug me and why would these shifters want the drugs out of me. 

'And how did they know.'   

I mull everything over as I walk along side Simon, who has his ear buds in and is scrolling through his cell-phone, 'again'   

"So," he says taking one ear bud out and looking over at me.

"Have you been feelings any different?"

I shake my head and watch as two of the pack warriors walk by.

They nod to me and continue what they're doing.

Which is gathering all stray animals and taking them to the city for 'adoption.'

Thankfully the only animals that come near the pack are dogs.

Deer's, moose and other animals don't come to close because they can smell wolves and what smart deer would walk right into wolf lands.

We normally have to go a few miles out for hunting and even then there aren't to many.   

"The only thing I'm feeling right now is stress. After the pack meeting yesterday everybody seems to be a little spooked. I mean I haven't seen anyone out for a walk today and the kids all got drove to school, when they could have walked. I hate seeing the pack paranoid. They should all feel safe."    

"Silas we should talk about this. I mean. That man drugged your coffee for four years. I mean that has to hit pretty hard."

"No Simon it doesn't 'hit me hard' it's really no shock to me. Dad was crazy and unstable. He was probably trying to weaken me so I wouldn't become Alpha when I turned of age. You know how paranoid he got. We were all out to get him. He would have done anything to make sure he stayed in control."

Simon nods along but I can see the pain in his eyes.

I hate bringing our father up because I know all it does is cause him pain and nightmares.   

I try not to think about him either because his face still haunts my dreams.

Whether it be him smiling or the smirk he wore when he died.

I shake the thought from my head as I placed my hand on Simon's neck.

"Listen, how about I come over tonight and make supper, give you a break."  

He smiles and nodded before biting his lip.

"But be there on time or I'll start making it without you."

I chuckle shaking his head, knowing good and well he isn't joking when he says that.

[runaway-wife-syndrome]

Chapter 2 (TW: DV)

The next night:

Well, I guess he caught on to the fact that the silent treatment doesn't bother me anymore.

Every single night, after I've made dinner for Toddler (using code names Toddler and Boyfriend from this point on for anonymity), I get in the bath. That has been the case for three years at this point. Boyfriend has never been a considerate man, but he's at least always let me have that time at the end of the day. It's the only time I get at the end of the day for me. The only break.

Tonight, as I'm finishing up dinner, he gets in the shower. It's been 30 minutes, he's still in there. He knows, he's well aware that I'm supposed to be in there. He's decided to take away my only break now.

Maybe I shouldn't be this upset, but I am sitting here writhing in anger right now. Seething. Mostly because I know that he did it on purpose. He gets creative and finds new ways to hurt me. He knows that last night I was 100% done with being hurt by his old ways, so he sat down ans thought up a new way. Yet he plays dumb when I ask where the fucking spoons go. *hint, same drawer they've gone since we moved here.

He gets out of the shower and asked me what my grandma said on the phone, I said I would talk to him about it later. I just didn't have the energy to fake nice to him.

Without missing a beat, he laughs, "Oh, are you mad about the shower?" I hate it when he laughs at me for being upset.

I can't contain it. "You are just so inconsiderate."

"I am not, I took a cold shower to save you hot water." I can literally still see steam wafting from the bathroom.

Obviously, this man doesn't want to be with me just as much as I don't want to be with him. Why doesn't he leave? Why won't he just find somewhere else to go? Does he enjoy this? Does he get some sort of high putting me through this shit? I've been self-harm free for months now, but his actions tonight made me want to self harm. And God, the night isn't even over yet.

And to think, I almost made him dinner, as a sort of white flag. Thank God I fucking didn't.

Boyfriend has never cared. He has never gone out of his way to do anything nice for me, he's never brought me home flowers just because, never left me a nice note to find in the morning when I wake up, never done anything considerate. It's been 11 years. I have had to scratch and claw and beg and fucking scream for every scrap of affection and attention that I have recieved from this man. He promises he will change. Sometimes he does. For a week, maybe a month. It never lasts much longer than that. Just enough for me to start to believe it is real this time, and then once again he's twisting the knife in my back. Laughing at me for being hurt. The usual. Nothing new.

He sits at the kitchen island, eating his dinner, watching some stupid fucking YouTube video on his phone ignoring me sitting here wiping tears away. Ignoring his sick child's plea for a tissue. I get up and help her blow her nose.

Even if he had said, "You're right, that was inconsiderate, I'm sorry," it wouldn't have mattered. Because regardless of an imaginary apology, he did that shit on purpose. That was a malicious attempt to cause me pain. And it worked. And he laughed.

Don't let him see you cry. He'll know he got to you. Don't self harm. Your daughter will see it.

"There's still hot water." He repeats.

I ignore him.

If I have to sit in lukewarm water to get away from him, so be it.

At this point you might be wondering why I don't go to my bedroom. Well, he gets angry when I go in there and lock the door. I've had to replace that doorknob once. It happened when we first moved in here, we hadn't even unpacked yet.

It was ironic because he'd always promised me that when we moved and finally had a house things would be different. I am disgusted with myself for ever believing that lie.

I told him I needed a break from a fight we were in and I got up and left. I am not EVER allowed to walk away from conversations. He is, but I am not. He broke the doorknob off the door to get into the room. We told my grandma it was the people who lived in the house prior to us. She believed us, no one in my family thinks Boyfriend can do anything wrong.

I can't lock the door to the bathroom either, but at least he rarely bothers me in here.

I did lock it tonight, though. I hope that he knows better than to try to escalate this any further.

Ah, never mind. Door just unlocked.

My breath begins to get shallow and my heart is pounding. I am just waiting for him to tear back the shower curtain.

But he doesn't.

He just...unlocked the door and left it wide open.

It wasn't enough to force me to sit in a cold tub of water but he has to devoid me of any privacy as well. Of course, since the door is open, Toddler is in here asking when she can come take her bath. I love her, but I've been with her since 7am and he is her FATHER and he should have a turn. He gets breaks at work. Why shouldn't I? I don't get a lunch period, or an employee discount. I don't get paid. I barely have time to make sure I'm drinking enough water, yet he's got the time to make sure I'm not in here with the door locked. What does he even think I'm going to do in here? Cheat on him? Like what is going through his mind?

I think he might be trying to start a blowout fight. I think he wants me to start it, so he can say I'm the one who escalates shit.

He's trying to hurt me. I don't know why I always think that when things are this bad he will step up and try to make things better. I know better than this, yet I still somehow always have hope. Why? It ends the same way every single time. Nothing has ever changed, nothing will ever change. The only thing that has changed is me. I've completely given up on boundaries I previously fought so hard for, I've given up on things I wanted for years, I am the only one in this relationship who's given up anything at all. He gets to gain and gain and gain while all I do is lose.

This time, he's losing me. And it'll be his greatest loss, and when he's crying and begging for me to come back, I'll send him this. I'll send him this and every single journal entry I've ever made. Not that I haven't tried that before, he just never made any effort to actually read them. Maybe he will when it's too late. And that's on HIM.

[drakenology]

the yakuza wife - yakuzaboss!bakugo x housewife reader - inspired by @hanji-is-life ‘s sexy ass. 

yakuza au

tw: violence, sadism, mentions of blood, smut, cum, cussing, daddy/ddlg kinks undertones, mentions of guns, very much harley quinn and joker only joker actually loves harley in this ya know?

“where the fuck is my money?” bakugo asks this bludgeoned man tied up to a metal chair in some god forsaken warehouse god only knows where. 

“please sir, i’ll get it to you as soon as I can! please stop!” the man pleads, flinching when bakugo raises his fist to land a mean left hook into his jaw with a dark chuckle. 

“you know you shouldn’t borrow from people if you have no intentions in payin’ em back. it’s fuckin’..” he pauses before taking a crowbar and bashing the man in both his knees, blood curdling screams filling the empty space. “rude!”

bakugo smirks as the man begs for mercy, pulling a set of pliers of his pocket and holding them up to the man’s face to tease him, grabbing by his neck to make him meet his intimidating gaze. 

“shoulda thought of that before trying to playing me for a fuckin’ fool.. hey, I wonder how many teeth I can pull outta ya before your weak ass passes out.” he grunts, waving the plier in his face until the sound of his phone ringing stops him from doing anything.

“you’re lucky I gotta take this.” he mumbles, taking a piece of dirty cloth and shoving it into his mouth to keep him quiet.

bakugo turns away and rolls up his sleeve, setting up his tools for torture as he answers the phone. 

“hi baby!” you chime, at the mall having the time of your life with his credit card. 

“hey. ‘m workin’ whaddaya want?” he says, holding up his pliers and sitting them down on the table as his hostage screams in the background. 

“just checking on you, dummy! whatcha want for dinner, hm? i know you haven’t eaten yet.” you say, holding up different dresses to your frame to imagine yourself in them. “hey, pink or powder blue?”

“pink. and ‘m not hungry. you’ve got security with you, right baby?” he asks, kicking the man onto the floor with a loud thud. 

“of course. you won’t let me leave the house without them.” you respond, not even paying attention to the muffled screams you hear in the background. you’ve learned not to ask too many questions when it comes to being a yakuza wife. 

“gotta keep my baby safe, right? listen, princess I gotta go. i’ll be home before 9 okay?” 

you suck your teeth and roll your eyes, “fine. be careful okay?”

“always am. love you baby.” as he hangs up and returns to his task. 

the difference between you and katsuki was night and day. everyone knew you to be so sweet and kind; unbeknownst to them all how you ended up with a cretin like Bakugo. even though Katsuki was immoral in many ways, he knew marrying you was the right thing to do. who else would want to dress his wounds and pick out his suits for the day?

katsuki demanded you quit your job. in fact he came with you to put in your two weeks notice, tough scowl staining his features as your boss signed the approval with shaking hands.

from that day on he ensured you were well taken care of and that marrying him and becoming his housewife came with many perks.

for starters, your husband was loaded. all those years of extorting and money laundering paid off every time you come home with a couple shopping bags from the mall.

katsuki loved lavishing you in the finest of everything, adoring how you look in designer. so much so, he fucks you by the bay window of your luxury penthouse, the Chanel dress he just bought you hiked up over your ass as his calloused fingers make way into your mouth. you’re pinned to the glass, bare breasts pressed against the window as he railed you from behind. and he wonders why you turned out to be a spoiled brat.

your gifts always made you stand out above the rest. many men fawn over you and he knows this. just a small price to pay for having a fine ass wife. but if anyone ever forgot their place, if anyone ever got to close. well. that’d be the last time you’d ever see them. course you have no idea why. but even though katsuki loved you with all his heart, you could be a real pain in the ass. you were so bratty, especially when he was busy. 

one day you came trotting into his office in the middle of some business deal. whatever. your jimmy choos popped and you needed a new pair before the yacht party you were attending started. 

“daddy’s taking care of business right now, okay? go wait outside.”

“no! you promised we’d go shopping! I need new shoes what the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” you whine, pouting like usual to get your way. bakugo’s brow raised, walking towards you and gesturing for the meeting to continue without him. his hand rested on your lower back as he escorted you out.  

he fucked your brains in in the next room for disobeying him, panties around your ankles, your charm anklet jingling as he picked up your legs. 

“spoiled fuckin’ brat. told you to wait didn’t I? hm? or did you make a scene ‘cause you wanted my dick?” your head hangs back as your hips are held down by him, thrusts brutal as you cry for him to slow down, face turned away from his. he grabs your chin and turns you around harshly with his scarred and calloused hands, bruised knuckles turning white with a tight grip. 

“look at me when i’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.” 

he came inside you when he was done, pulling your panties up for you as it dripped down your leg. 

“now.. back to what I was doin’. tell the driver to take your ass home.” he huffs with a zip of his pants and a shake in his sleeves to fix them. bakugo leaves you on the desk, leaving the door cracked for you to leave when you got yourself together. and when you did you could hardly hold yourself up, holding your high heels in your hand as you limp to the car waiting outside for you. 

having a yakuza boss as a husband was always exciting. something in you liked the danger; the thrill.

you tell this tale to your other socialite girlfriends and they almost never believe you.

you were out with bakugo on a date when work called. to your dismay, he had to get up and leave. you insisted on being brought along, hating being left alone in that big house that was often empty without him. he agreed but only if you promised to be quiet like a good little girl. 

when you arrive at some warehouse (the same one mentioned earlier), a man was already hog tied on the ground, muffled screams behind a piece of duck tape as bakugo ripped it off. you sat by a table, legs folded in annoyance. this interrupted date night? you scoff and fold your arms. 

“ah. good seeing you old friend. remember me?” he asks, taunting him a little with a gun in his hand pressing it against his jaw as the man let out muffled pleas for him not to shoot. 

“you tried stealing from me. fuckin’ idiot. my boys caught you in some hotel with your little girlfriend. did you think you were gonna have a victory fuck after you made off with my money, hm?” bakugo asks, hitting him upside the head with the butt of his pistol.

you jump at the sound of the blow, a small part of you turned on watching your husband beat the crap out of a complete stranger. your pussy starts to ache when you peer over at bakugo’s strong tattooed arms as he flung his jacket aside, rolling his white sleeves up to ensure his expensive suit doesn’t get soiled. 

“oh fuck, where are my manners? this is my lovely wife, y/n. say hi baby.” he coos at you, a switch from rough to gentle when he spoke to you. you smile and wave, the hostage sobbing out a weak greeting when bakugo demands him to. 

“anyways. what’d you do with the money, asswipe? gonna tell me or are you gonna make me fuck you up in front of my pretty wife. god, look at ‘er, ain’t she gorgeous? you know I was about 30 minutes from railing her before you had to go along and ruin our night. I should kill you right here.” bakugo turns his head towards you with a sick look in his eye. 

“whaddaya think, princess? what should I do to this motherfucker, huh?” he asks. 

“smack him again. he ruined date night.” you grumble, folding your arms. 

“he sure did, baby.” bakugo says, punching the hostage in his jaw. he gestured for his men to crowd around him, all of them taking turns kicking and beating him with metal bars. katsuki walks towards you and pulls you into a passionate kiss, a bit of blood on his knuckles as he pulled your hair. god, this whole situation was sick. but why was it so hot?

bakugo carries you away to the car, tells the driver to fuck off somewhere while he rails you in the back seat, knowing his men will take care of the rest of what he started inside the warehouse. you straddle his lap, bouncing up and down on his stiff cock as the car rocked back and forth. the car windows fog up as your body heat commingled throughout the space, your hands pressing against the glass to gain to balance as you rode his fat cock. 

“fuck, daddy. you’re so hot when you’re handling business. ooh, you’re dick’s so hard.” you purr, bakugo’s hand pinching and playing with your breast as his hips thrust upwards. He smirks at you, almost a bit shocked you got as turned on as he did from the pain he inflicted.

“hmm, I know baby. god, you’re sick. getting this wet from watching me beat up some punk. dirty fuckin’ girl.” he huffed into your hair, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck followed by harsh nibbles.

truth is even though you were so sweet and caring, you had a dark side no one knew about. I mean why else would you marry into the yakuza? 

you were both fucking insane. 

[esdaleo]

numbered days

hi there everyone! im back from my writing hiatus for 2 seconds. i fell head first into the rdr2 hole so i bring u some arthur morgan content. this isn’t the happiest fic out there - i apologise. but yeah sorry for the hiatus!

summary: arthur is acting off - he’s lethargic and can’t seem to go a minute without coughing. when you ask him about his condition, he tells you the truth, and it’s worse than you could have imagined.

word count: 612

genre: arthur morgan x gn!reader.

(Y/N) hitching their horse at the entrance of Beaver Hollow gave them a chance to survey the area - aside from the musty cave that loomed behind and the tension that gripped them by the throat and nearly suffocated them, it appeared to be a nice and relatively mundane day around the camp. One thing they couldn’t help but spot from the corner of their eye was Arthur, a man usually never standing still, sitting on his cot and taking heavy, laboured breaths. It was an odd and unsettling sight. They had been aware of his declining condition before this moment, but they had never seen it exhibit itself so outwardly until now. Instead of handing Pearson the fish like they intended to, they approached Arthur’s cot, their footsteps slow and apprehensive on the rough ground. 

“Arthur?” They hated how vulnerable and concerned they sounded, and by the glance Arthur passed in their direction, he hated it too. It wasn’t a glance of annoyance, but one of sympathy and sorrow - he didn’t want them to see him when he was on his deathbed, but he supposed it was inevitable. “Arthur,” they repeated, but this time it was less of a question. “You don’t look so good.” 

The answer they got was the one they expected. Arthur waved his hand dismissively, adjusting his posture to look less fatigued, and a coarse chuckle escaped his throat. “Y’don’t need to worry ‘bout old me.”

“No. You’re sick, Arthur,” They were insistent, he would give them that. As they sat down next to him on the cot, he coughed inwardly and shuffled to the side to give them more room. His figure that was once so large had shrunk over the last few weeks, and that was made evident when he didn’t even have to move a centimetre. “What’s going on?” 

He sat for a few moments, contemplating what he should say. He picked at the stray threads of his pants with a blunt, dirty nail, tearing some of the said threads out in the process. The silence was almost deafening between the two - on one hand, Arthur wanted to be truthful to them - he cared about them a lot, and lying felt almost like a sin. But telling the truth was equally, if not more, painful. His condition was declining at a rate that scared him. Day by day, he’d be worse and worse off.

“Tuberculosis,” he stated plainly and simply. There was nothing more to add. (Y/N) physically flinched at the word. In their eyes, Arthur was invincible. They knew he was sick, but something terminal like TB ... it rubbed salt into the wound. 

“Oh.” They took a heavy breath, and Arthur tried to do the same - only, he started coughing again. This fit was drier than the last, and as it came to an end, he discreetly rubbed his palm on his pants. “You’re ... you’re not going to make it, are you?”

When he shook his head, (Y/N) swore they felt their heart split in two. Invisible tears stung at the corners of their eyes and they looked away from Arthur. Somehow, they couldn’t stand the sight of the one thing they always went to for comfort. Instead of studying him some more, they gazed out into the camp, waiting for someone to do something and take their mind off the situation. 

“My days are numbered,” Arthur’s coarse voice forced (Y/N)’s eyes back on him. He had a sad look on his face - he didn’t look like he was about to cry, but the emotions that festered behind his eyes were powerful. “Don’t go tellin’ the others ‘bout this.”

[seijorhi]

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?���

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too. 

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it. 

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo. 

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away. 

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy. 

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences. 

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife. 

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would. 

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.” 

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you. 

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication. 

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder. 

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign. 

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you. 

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in. 

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is. 

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever. 

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe. 

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you. 

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin. 

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place. 

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her. 

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign. 

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator. 

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening. 

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold. 

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law. 

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally. 

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide. 

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite. 

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit. 

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites. 

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with. 

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you. 

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same. 

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him. 

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick. 

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is. 

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind. 

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you. 

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second. 

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind. 

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him. 

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland. 

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance. 

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

All My Firsts Were With You (K.SM)

Warnings : suggestive, swearing

Word Count : 2487

Synopsis : they grew up together, practically attached at the hip. they were each other’s first kiss, first time, first love, and if it was up to seungmin, she would be his last as well.

“I think the only thing I’ll miss is you.” She smiled at her best friend, holding back the tears that wanted to fall so desperately.

           “Don’t be so cheesy.” He replied, lightly poking her shoulder. She let out a laugh that almost made Seungmin’s heart stop beating. He studied her upturned smile and sparkling eyes, wondering why he suddenly felt warm.

           “I should board now. Don’t want to miss my flight. I’ll call you later!” She hugged him quickly, and in the next moment she was gone. And that’s when he realized; he’s in love with his best friend.

           She was standing in front of him, the same smile she always had adorning her face, the same face he fell in love with. He had to pinch himself to check if it was a dream, having her right in front of him, close enough to touch. “I missed you.” He was silent, studying just how much she’s changed in the three years she was gone. Her hair was longer, and she seemed to have lost a bit of weight, but she was still the girl he loved.

           “Seungmin!” Jisung called, throwing his arm across Seungmin’s shoulders. “Who’s this?” He smiled at the beautiful girl in front of them, holding out his hand for her to shake.

           “Y/N.” She smiled, sliding her hand into his.

           “Jisung. How do you two know each other?” Jisung looked between the two of them, wondering exactly how Seungmin, the same guy who never looked at a girl, knew this absolute goddess.

           “We grew up together.” Seungmin said before she could say anything. “Nothing special. Let’s go before we’re late.” He shrugged Jisung’s arm off his shoulders and took off in the opposite direction of her, leaving her standing there absolutely bewildered. She thought they’d always be best friends, but it seems like Seungmin had other plans.

           “How did you nail that choreography that quickly?” Felix exclaimed; his eyes widened in amazement at the new girls talent. “I’ve been practicing that routine for weeks now.” He added, walking over to her with a water bottle for her to drink from.

           “It’s not that hard when you break it down. Here, let me help you.” She handed the bottle back to him after taking a sip before immediately jumping into the routine, taking it slower to help Felix.

           “I did it!” Felix yelled in excitement, catching the attention of other students using the same studio. The two spent the last hour working out the kinks of the routine before Felix finally nailed it. “Oh shit, I gotta go meet my friends for lunch.” He said as he looked at his phone. “Why don’t you come with? Unless you already have lunch plans.” He smiled his infectious smile at her, and she couldn’t help but agree, grabbing her things and following him out of the room.

           “Hey Y/N!” Jisung beamed as he saw her walk up to the table he was sitting at, Felix looking between them wondering how they already knew each other. “I’m guessing you’re a dance major.” She smiled as she took the seat across from him, Felix sitting next to her.

           “Yeah. Dance has always been my passion.”

           “Listen, I’m sorry about Seungmin earlier. He’s not good around girls.” She giggled, telling Jisung it was okay.

           “I disappeared for three years, I can’t just expect to come back and everything is normal.”

           “I swear Professor Park has it out for me.” Seungmin cut off their conversation, slamming his lunch on the table, collapsing in the seat beside Jisung. “I studied my ass off and I only got a 92.” She smiled to herself while listening to her old friend rant, happy to know that some things do stay the same. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” He asked when he finally met her eyes. His voice was cold, so different than the way he used to talk to her. It was as if they didn’t spend everyday together, experiencing all their firsts with each other, and it broke her heart more than she’d like to admit.

           “What’s wrong?” Seungmin asked her, cupping her face, and wiping her tears away. “Who made you cry?” His heart broke more and more with each tear that fell down her cheeks.

           “The girls in my class. They keep making fun of me for being 16 and not having my first kiss. It’s so dumb, but their words really hurt.”

           “Hey, look at me.” With his hands still on her cheeks, he angled her face to meet his eyes. “It’s not dumb it if hurt you.” He gave her a soft smile, wiping away another tear. “If it makes you feel better, I also haven’t had my first kiss.” He chuckled when her eyes widened in surprise. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s true.”

           She sat there, studying her best friend’s handsome face, coming to a conclusion she was too afraid to say out loud. She knew why she hadn’t had her first kiss, and it’s not because guys didn’t like her like the girls assumed. It’s because of all the guys who confessed to her, none of them were Kim Seungmin. “Would you be my first kiss, Minnie?” She pouted, looking up at him.

           “You want me to be your first kiss?” She wanted him to be her first everything, and if she was lucky enough, her last as well.

           “Only if you want. I’d be your first kiss as well, so if you wanted to save it for-“ She was cut off by his soft lips pressed to hers. The shock quickly wore off and she kissed him back, taking in the feeling best she could, not knowing if she’d ever feel it again.

           “First kiss completed.” He whispered, his forehead pressed against hers, his hand still on the back of her head. And in that moment, he not only became her first kiss, but her first love.

           “So you and Seungmin grew up together?” Felix asked her the next day. They agreed to meet up at a café just off campus and walk to class together. “What was he like as a kid?”

           “Pretty much the same way he is now, but he was nicer.” She giggled. “He’s always been worried about his grades. If it’s not 100% then what’s the point.” She quoted words he told her many times throughout high school. She remembered sitting with him while he studied, amazed at just how smart and organized he was.

           “Was he always this cute?” Felix chuckled. She quickly pulled out her phone, showing Felix pictures of the two of them she had saved; some of the pictures taken from a photo album, whereas some she transferred from her old phone.

           “He’s always been handsome, yes.” She answered, heat rising to her cheeks when she realized what she had said. Three years was not nearly long enough to get over him.

           “Are you sure about this?” Seungmin asked as he hovered over her. Both of them were breathing heavy from the heated make out session they just shared, that slowly led them to the bed they were on now.

           “You’re the only one I trust enough.” She answered. Her arms were lazily wrapped around his neck, and she looked up at him with stars in her eyes. Seungmin could get lost in the galaxy she held in her eyes, and if he’s honest, he has many times.

           “It’s my first time too, so we’ll figure this out together.” He smiled before pressing his lips to hers again, melting into the kiss while he reached under her shirt.

           The next morning, she woke up wrapped in Seungmin’s arms, a feeling she could get used to. She smiled at his sleeping figure, tracing over his face with her finger, studying each part in detail. She wasn’t sure if she’d get to see him this close again, so she was going to take in as much as she could. “You’re tickling me.” Seungmin mumbled with his eyes still closed.

           “If you’re awake, we should get breakfast.” She laughed, trying to move from his arms, but his grip only tightened, bringing her closer to him.

           “Ten more minutes. Just give me ten more minutes like this.” The feelings he thought he got over in high school were slowly returning, and he just wanted to hold her close a little longer. Mornings didn’t seem so bad when he woke up next to her. He hoped for many more just like this.

           But it was at that breakfast that she told him she was leaving. And within that moment, she was his first time, and his first heartbreak.

           She started spending more time with Felix, meeting him at the café every morning before class, and joining him for lunch, where Seungmin would ignore her existence as if she wasn’t there at all. She knew that the friendship she once shared with Seungmin was completely gone, and she knew it was her fault. If only she didn’t leave, then maybe Seungmin would still be hers.

           “Hey, Y/N, right?” She turned to face the stranger asking for her and was met with a handsome man from her dance class, the same one she shared with Felix. He brushed his long, black hair out of his eyes before introducing himself as Hyunjin. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me today? I really want to get to know you better.”

           “Oh, uh.” Before she could say anything, Felix was jumping in.

           “That’s perfect! I was just going to tell you I couldn’t do lunch today!” He winked at her. “Take good care of her, Hyunjin.” And with that, he left the room, leaving Hyunjin standing there awkwardly.

           “Looks like my lunch is clear,” She giggled. “Let’s go then.” Hyunjin picked up her bag from the ground before she could, and the two headed for a diner on campus.

           After getting passed the cliché questions, both of them started to open up more, and the conversation flowed better. She found herself enjoying his company, laughing at the stories he told her, and watching as he laughed at the ones she shared. “You and Seungmin seemed to have quite the adventures with each other.” He chuckled, taking a sip of the drink he ordered. “You talk about him a lot.”

           She blushed at the realization that every story she told Hyunjin included Seungmin. “Sorry.” She giggled, tucking hair behind her ear. “It’s just, we spent every day together growing up so all my stories include him.” Hyunjin smiled, shaking his head, and telling her it was okay.

           He walked her to her next class when they were finished eating. “I enjoyed getting to know you. Hopefully we can do this again.” He told her before she could walk into her class.

           “I’d like that, Hyunjin.” She smiled up at him. There was no doubt that Hyunjin was an attractive man, every girl at the school seemed to fawn over him, and maybe if her heart hadn’t been stolen years before, she would too. But unfortunately for her, her heart only beats for Kim Seungmin, even if he hated her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She just wished she could move on.

*

         “Where’s Y/N?” Jisung asked when Felix approached their table alone. A wide smile took over his face as he told Jisung about Hyunjin asking her out. “No way!”

           “She was going to say no, so I told her I couldn’t do lunch with her today.” Felix shrugged. “Her and Hyunjin would make such a cute couple.”

           “Talented too! They’d be the talk of the school.” Felix agreed as Seungmin sat down, asking what they were talking about. “Hyunjin and Y/N.” Seungmin couldn’t help but scoff.

           “As if that would happen.” He chuckled before realizing that she was missing from the table. Though he ignored her when she was around, he had gotten used to having her around again. And honestly, he couldn’t explain why he ignored her. He knew it wouldn’t help rid the feelings he’s had for her for years. They spent three years apart, and he was still just as in love with her.

           “It could. Hyunjin asked her out after class today.” Seungmin froze, his appetite completely gone. “You okay, Seungmin?” Felix asked as Seungmin threw his food back down, packing up his lunch and leaving. “You don’t think Y/N is the first love he told us about, do you?”

           “If she is, why is he so cold towards her?” The two boys sat there, staring in the direction Seungmin walked in, coming to the same conclusion in their minds; Kim Seungmin was an idiot in love with his childhood best friend.

*

         “Minnie, what are you doing here?” She asked when she opened the door, surprised to see Seungmin standing there. His hair was messy, like he couldn’t stop running his fingers through it, a habit he has when he’s anxious.

           “Please tell me you’re not dating him.” Before she could say anything, he was speaking again. “Please just tell me you aren’t dating Hyunjin.” A scoff came from her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest.

           “What does that have to do with you?” She asked, annoyed that her best friend has been ignoring her for months, but now he’s standing on her doorstep, begging her not to date someone else. Not that she could with how in love with him she was, but he didn’t have to know that.

           “Because I don’t want you to be with someone that isn’t me.” She could see him blink back tears. She could see how distressed he truly was over the idea of losing her to someone else. “I don’t have a right to say this, but I couldn’t hold back anymore! I have no excuses for how I’ve treated you these last couple months, but I’m in love with you.” The tears could no longer be stopped and flowed down his cheeks as he continued to speak. “I’ve had all my firsts with you; my first kiss, my first time, my first love, and even my first heartbreak! It’s all been you! And I want to continue having all my firsts with you. I want to have my lasts with you. I want you to be my only because I’m only ever going to want you!”

           She stepped forward, cupping his face with her hands, wiping away his tears with her thumbs before calmly speaking. “I’m not dating Hyunjin.” Relief flooded over Seungmin knowing he hasn’t lost her. “It’s always been you, Minnie. You stole my heart years ago, and no one else has had a chance since.” He wasted no time in crashing his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her as close to him as he could. This time, he wasn’t going to let her go.

[blushled]

Love | Dallas Winston

MASTERLIST

other Tumblr: sunkissedspidey

taglist is open!

requests are open!

pairing: Dallas Winston x female!reader

summary: Your relationship with Dally was always weird, you weren’t dating and you definitely weren't just friends. But after he almost loses you, he realizes just how much he needs you.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it), language, angst, fluff, etc.

word count: 3.7k+

a/n: Please forgive me for how gross and choppy this is! This is the first thing I’ve written in months!! Sorry for any spelling and/or grammar errors!

Your relationship with Dally had always been a little weird. Not by much, but definitely compared to the other guys.

You were the only chick in the group, and everyone in it had a phase at some point where they were completely enamored with you, all expect for Darry, mostly because he saw you as a little sister. But it was always special with Dally.

You had met Dally, and the rest of the guys, when you were 15, right after he had gotten back to Oklahoma from New York. You two were always close, and you were the only person he had ever opened up to, so it's no wonder that you two had lost your virginities to each other, and still have casual sex to this day. The both of you had an unspoken agreement to not tell anyone, but Soda had walked in on the two of you one time, so now it was only you three that knew the secret.

Anyways, regardless of the hours upon hours of sex that was shared between you at least once a day, your relationship was closer than anyone else in the group, even stronger than yours and Soda's, despite the fact that the two of you had been best friends since second grade.

You never really cared about the fact that Dally was sleeping with other people. I mean, it's not like you weren't doing the same thing. You'd had sex with Dally, then Soda one night after you had both gotten absolutely hammered beyond belief, and even Peter Torlini from school a few times. But it always was better with Dally. Not just because he was amazing in bed, but because you were positive that you were head over heels in love with him. And, goddamn, if he didn't feel the same way, he was amazing at faking it. Like, you don't always have that sort of connection with someone when you have sex. Your bodies became one, and you knew exactly what the other needed at that exact moment. Who knows... maybe he was just good in bed and knew what you needed because you had been having sex for so long, or maybe... just maybe; he felt the same way for you that you did for him.

***

"Fuck, Dally! Oh, my god!" You moaned out, his cock so deep inside of you that it had your head spinning.

"Goddamn," He breathed out, his face close to yours, same with the rest of his body, as he pumped into you at a fast, steady pace, a slight sheen of sweat covering both of your trembling, naked bodies. "You're so fucking good and tight for me. 'M not gonna last much longer, Y/N." He groaned out, his breathing heavy, along with yours, as he thrusted even deeper. He wrapped his arms underneath your head, tugging on your hair as you scratched down his back.

"God, please cum for me, Dallas." You moaned, his pace quickening even more so, leaving you screaming as your eyes squeezed shut tightly, your orgasm crashing over you, your walls clenching so tightly around his cock that he couldn't help but cum, quickly pulling out and helplessly spilling his seed all over your stomach as he let out load, drawn out moans, before his muscles gave out and he collapsed back on top of you.

Your hands ran into his hair as he gave you another hot, passionate kiss before rolling over next to you on your bed, reaching over onto the night stand to grab two smokes and a lighter, passing one to you before lighting both of them up, as you both smoked, and exhaled, simultaneously, your brains started to feel foggy with euphoria as the nicotine began to enter your bloodstreams at the same time.

***

A few weeks later, you and the rest of the guys were sitting around, just talking about nothing in particular, only until Two-Bit brought up a fun topic.

"I got it!" He said, a large smirk on his face. "Best lay... Aaand... Steve, go!" Pointing at the brunette with both hands shaped as guns.

"Uhm... Probably Gracie. Big tits." He laughed out, a smoke in between his teeth.

Everyone erupted with laughter, Ponyboy and Johnny rolling their eyes and turning their attention to the cartoons on the small television.

"Y/N! Your turn!" Two-Bit said, laughing as he took a sip of his third beer.

"Not telling." You laughed as you sat on the countertop. You rolled your eyes heavily and let out an annoyed sigh as everyone booed at you. "Ugh, fine," You said, closing your eyes. "Uhm, I'm not saying the name, but he was tall with brown eyes, massive dick, and goddamn, he knew how to use it well, dark hair, and also the best kisser I've ever met before."

    Dally automatically knew that you were talking about it, a smirk spreading across his face as you enthused about just how good the "mystery man" was in bed.

*** You and Dally sat in your old, run down car, eating Dairy Queen and talking about nothing in particular.

"You wanna know something funny?" He asked before licking the melting ice cream off of his waffle cone.

"Always." You smirked, turning the music playing on the radio down a bit so you could hear him more clearly.

"You're the best I've ever had, too." He said, smirking as your cheeks lit up a bright pink shade at his words.

"And why's that, Mister Winston?" You laughed, your eyes meeting his again as he leaned in closer to you, using his free hand to circle around your clit over your underwear, your skirt covering Dally's hand from the wrist down, your eyes slowly rolling back as you moaned quietly into his mouth.

"That's just one of the reasons. You're so goddamn sensitive and I fucking love it." He laughed when you whined after his touched left you, a small huff of anger leaving your lips at the loss of contact.

After a few seconds, you grabbed his ice cream and shoved it in an empty cup, his eyes meeting your with confusion before you moved over the center console to straddle him, your lips immediately going to his as you grinder your hips together, small groans leaving both of your mouths. You tugged at his leather belt, unbuttoning his jeans after, sliding his boxers down, your mouth watering at the sight of his hard cock.

    He reached around your waist and lifted your tight shirt off of you quickly, his soft lips moving to kiss all over your breasts and he left the occasional hickey, his cool, slender fingers i clipping your bra, before he started kissing up and down your neck until you were begging for more.

    "Dally, please." You whimpered, your body trembling from want.

    He moved your underwear over to the side, right before his cock slammed into you as he pulled your hips flush against his, both of you letting out moans because of how fucking amazing it felt.

"Fuck, Dally! Shit, you feel so fucking good!" You screamed out, glad that it was night and that no one was around the two of you.

"Goddamn, you're so fucking tight-" He said before a groan cut him off, his hands gripping your waist even tighter, bruises sure to be left there (not that you were complaining in the slightest).

    One of his hands moved down to your clit, rubbing it in harsh, fast circles as his eyes rolled back, your head dipping down to suck dark purple bruises onto the soft, pale skin of his neck, his hips thrusting up to meet yours in sync, his cock hitting inside of you deeper and deeper with each thrust, the other of you chasing yourself highs as best as you could.

    Your eyes clenched shut tightly as you bit down on muscles of his shoulder, your orgasm crashing over you so strongly that you could barley breathe. Dally's arms wrapped around you, scratching up and down your back and you tugged harshly at his hair, knowing that he was coming close.

    "Cum for me." You whispered into his ear, biting down slightly on his earlobe, and then that was it. He came with a cry of your name and a load groan, his cum coating your walls as you clenched around him tighter, his teeth sinking into your breasts as he continued to thrust up into you until his muscles gave out. Your collective breathing was heavy as you both came down from your highs, his hair sweaty as you ran your fingers through it, the smell of sex and cigarettes lingering in the small, cramped car.

    "Goddamn," He said, laughing as you sat back, moving your hair out of your eyes. "That was fucking amazing."

    "Isn't it always?" You smiled cockily, grinding your hips once more, causing another load moan to come from Dally's throat, partially because it felt amazing and partially because he was so fucking sensitive.

    "What'd I turn you into?" He smirked, biting down on the skin of your neck softly, his perfect teeth skimming your jaw as he made eye contact with you again.

    "A sex addict." You said simply, a smile breaking across your face as Dally started laughing at your blatant tone, his head tipping up to kiss you softly and slowly.

    The two of you had made an agreement not to do anything with anyone else after a while, figuring that it would save the both of you from getting jealous because, even though you weren't official, the both of you were super mad every time you walked in on the other with a different person.

*** "Oh my god, fuck off!" You yelled, laughing as Soda had beaten you in poker for the fifth time that night, the rest of the guys whooping and cheering as you flipped them all of, taking your shirt off, a black bra the only thing covering your chest. Strip poker was a weird game to play with a big group of your closest friends, but it had been a favorite of everyone's for years. Dally stood in the corner, a cigarette in between his teeth as he stared you down, his eyes dark with oust and squinted with anger.

"Alright," You said, standing up and putting your shirt back on, boos coming from the guys. "I think that's enough for me tonight."

You made your way to the bathroom of the Curtis' house, putting your hair up in a ponytail before you washed the dark eyeliner surrounding your eyes off, using a rag to dry your face before changing into an extra t-shirt and pajama shorts that you always kept there, since everyone usually spent the night there.

You walked out into the dark hallway, making your way to the living room before Dally pushed you up against one of the walls, his lips meeting yours harshly as one of his hands made its way into your loose shorts, his long, slender figures toying with your clit as you tried your best to control the volume of your moans.

"Never, fucking never, pull that shit again. You got that? You know how fucking hot you are, and you know how those dudes think about you." He said, his voice low and commanding, but a tone of sweetness underlying in it.

You knew that he wasn't mad, he was just worried, even though there's no way in hell that he would ever admit that to anyone. He was your best friend, and you were his.

*** "Oh, come on, Dally. It's not even that bad. It's just a movie." You whined, gripping onto his denim jacket.

"It's a stupid movie." He laughed as your head sunk even lower, your lower lip stick out as you widened your eyes, your face jokingly pleading.

    "Dallyyy, pleaseee?" You dragged out, kissing his neck softly.

    "Fine. But if I hate it, it's on you." He laughed as you squealed, leaning over and kissing his cheek. And after a second you both looked at each other and then moved away, realizing that you were acting more like a couple than like fuck buddies.

    "I'm- uh- I'm gonna go home. Gotta get ready, ya know?" You said, standing up from the couch at Dally and Buck's place, grabbing your purse and jacket, and waving goodbye to the brunette that had your heart.

***

    As you made you way back over to Dally's, you checked how you looked in the reflection of a storefront window. Your tight white t-shirt clung to your body perfectly, your black ripped jeans hugged your frame, and you had on your favorite jacket. A thick, worn, black leather one that all of the guys had gotten you for your birthday after they had pooled their money together, a switchblade, a pack of smokes, and a lighter in one of the pockets. Your black eyeshadow and eyeliner was done perfectly, and was an amazing contrast to your bright red lipstick.

    "Dally!" You smiled, wrapping him in a small, short hug when we opened his door, throwing a shirt on and leading you down the street towards the drive in.

***

    "I'm gonna go get some popcorn." You said to Dally, smiling as you stood up from one of the cheap, grey folding chairs.

    "Be careful." He said, handing you some money before turning his attention to the movie that he claimed was stupid.

    "Medium popcorn and a large Coke with two straws, please." You said to the worker at the concessions stand, handing him the money in exchange for your food and drink.

    You walked out of the concessions stand, making your way back until some shuffling on the side of the building caught your attention. You turned your head, and the second you did, you instantly regretted it. You saw Dally making out with Polly Winchester, her hands running through his hair as he pinned her against a wall. His eyes met with your for a second and he instantly pulled away, his lips smeared with her red lipstick and his breathing hard.

    "Oh shit." He said quietly, walking over to you, trying to take your hands in his, put you instantly pulled away.

    "You fucking asshole." You said calmly, turning away towards the exit before he grabbed your arm, and then you snapped. "Don't fucking touch me!" You screamed, the people sitting near you turning to look at the two of you.

    "Y/N, I'm sorry." He said, trying his best to reach out for you agin until you took the top off of your drink and threw it in his face.

    "Fuck. You." You said clearly, finally being able to turn and walk away, tears filling your eyes as you walked back to your house.

***

    A few days later, practically in the middle of the night, you were sitting on your bed, a cigarette in one of your hands as you used the other to flip through your favorite book, music softly playing on your record player in the background as you tried your best to ignore the ache in your heart at the fact that Dally was practically fucking a chick against a wall right in front of you.

    A knock on your front door shook you out of your daze, ashing your cigarette before making your way down the hall to your front door. The second you opened it, your heart sank, your stomach dropping as you saw Dallas standing there, a pleading look on his face.

    "C-can I come in?" He asked quietly, his hands stuffed into his pocket.

    You didn't say anything, you just opened your door more and stepped to the side, allowing him to walk into your small house.

    "What do you want? Another pack of smokes? I have some on the counter and a Coke in the fridge and then you can go back to the drive in so that you don't have to pay." You said blankly, sitting down on your couch as flipping through a book that was on your coffee table.

    "No, I don't need any of that. I just wanna talk." He said, standing next to the couch awkwardly.

    "About what? About how you basically fucked Polly during a movie that we were supposed to be watching together? About how you ditched me to go stick your dick in some whore on the side of a goddamn building?!" You said, not being able to control your volume as you stood up looking at him, absolutely fuming.

    "Yeah, pretty much." He answered, not knowing what else to say.

    "You promised me, Dally. You fucking promised." You said, your eyes boring into his.

    "I know, but listen-" He tried to say before you cut him off.

    "No, Dally. You listen to me. You are such a lying fucking asshole! I can't believe I ever thought that we could be something other than friends with benefits." You said, your eyes becoming puffy. "Fuck you, Dallas Winston. I never want to see you again." You said calmly through your teeth, silently seething. You turned towards the hallway to go into your room, before Dally grabbed your arm, your eyes meeting his again, both of your eyes red as silent tear streamed down your faces simultaneously.

    "Please, Y/N." He said, his voice not much louder than a whisper. "Please don't leave me."

    "You've never listened to me when I've asked you not to leave... Why should I listen to you?" You asked quietly.

    "Because I love you, Y/N. More than I've ever loved anything in my entire life. More than smokes and parties and beer. More than sleep and sex and rumbles. So please, Y/N... Please don't leave. And I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

    "I love you too, Dally. So much more than you'll ever be able to know."

    At this point, his hands were tangled in yours, your faces close together as you both finally admitted your true feeling for one another after all of this time.

    "You do?" He asked, shock evident in his voice. "You love me?"

    "Of course I love you, Dally. I've loved you ever since we were kids." You whispered, your lips only inches apart.

    "Can I kiss you?" He asks softly, his hands going slowly and tenderly up to your neck.

    "Please."

    And with that, you lips met in the most perfect kiss you could ever think of, like your lips were pieces of a puzzle and were made to fit perfectly together. After a few minutes it grew more passionate, more lust filled.

    His hands went down to the back of your thighs, gripping them tightly as you jumped up to wrap your legs around his waist. The two of you continued kissing as he walked the both of you to your room. He placed you softly on your bed, kissing down your body as he lifted an oversized white t-shirt, that just so happened to be his, over your head. He kissed all over your chest and your neck, only stopping for a few seconds to shed off his leather jacket and black shirt, before immediately going back to your lips to kiss you as you moaned into each others mouths while your hips grinned against each other's.

    "Dally, please." You moaned, your hands smoothing over his back.

    "Please what?" He asked, looking at your with swollen red lips, a beautiful contrast to his pale skin.

    "Make love to me." You whispered, your lips close to each others until he closed the distance between your mouths.

    He kissed down your neck, chest, and stomach again as he pulled your shorts off of you, moving to kiss your inner thighs as you whined from the feeling that you missed.

    He stood up again to unbuckle his belt, taking his pants off not shortly after. You pulled him back on top of you, reveling in the feeling of his bare skin against yours. He took his length in is hands, lining it up with your entrance before stopping for a few seconds to stare deeply into his big brown eyes.

    "I love you." He whispered.

    "I love you too." You replied before you met your lips with his again.

    The second he thrusted slowly inside of you, you both let out moans at the amazing feeling. he started with a slow, tender pace as you breathed heavily into each others mouths, your eyes still staring into the others.

    "Oh my god." You moaned out, eyes finally shutting tightly as he continued to pump into you, his pace quickening as his groans started to grow louder and loader, along with your moans.

    "Fuck, I love you so-" He said, getting cut off as he groaned loudly. "I love you so much."

    "I love you too, Dally- Fuck!" You screamed, the feeling of him being inside of you so goddamn intense that you could barely speak coherently.

    And then it made sense. Every feeling that you had ever had for him made so much sense. Every time that he would look at you and smile at the completely ordinary thing you were doing, every time that he told you to call him when you got home, every time that his figures brushed against yours while watching a movie made sense. He had loved you even longer that you had loved him. From the second your eyes met his when you met, he was absolutely head over heels in love with you. He had never realized how much he needed to tell you until he almost lost you, until he realized how much he needs you.

    "Dally, I'm not gonna last much longer." You moaned, lips moving to kiss the sides of his clan shaven face and his smooth forehead.

    "N-neither am I. Fuck, please cum for me, Y/N. Please. God, I love you." He moaned before his head dipped down to meet your lips with his.

    And with a few more thrusts, you were completely spiraling underneath him, your whole body trembling as you came at this same time, his final few thrusts harder and deeper than before until he finally collapsed on top of you, his lips going to kiss your red cheeks as you both breathed heavily.

    "I love you so much. Please be mine, Y/N. Please." He said, his lips skimming yours.

    "I love you more, Dally. And I'll be yours, forever and ever and ever." And with that, you both fell asleep, all sweaty and gross. But you were sweaty and gross and happier than you had ever been before.

[pcvensies]

*.• what do the jjk boys do when you have a nightmare.

{ itadori yuuji, fushiguro megumi, gojo satoru, nanami kento + female reader }

Itadori Yuuji.

Your rooms are next to each other at the school, because of you both coming in last.

Because you two didn’t know many people there, and were the new ones, you had grown very close.

That was around a year ago, and now, you two were dating.

Yuuji knew you had nightmares sometimes, being a sorcerer wasn’t easy.

So when he woke up to your pained screaming, he rushed to your room as fast as he could which was very fast!

He opened the door, and found you in your bed, your sheets all tangled, and your palm pressed against your chest as you gasped.

Your teary eyes found his figure, and his heart shattered at the sight of your terrified eyes.

He rushed to your bed, holding you in his arms as he knelt next to you.

Yuuji’s hand held your head to his chest, as you sobbed, fists clenching onto his tshirt.

“Shhh... it’s me, babe... just me princess, you and me”.

His fingers combed your hair softly, lips pressed against the crown of your head as he cooed you.

“You’re safe, okay? I’m here now, I’ve got you”.

You held onto him like if he was going to disappear, or someone was going to take him away from you, and he noticed.

Yuuji let go of you for a second, hands cupping your face as he laid down, pulling you back with him.

You rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, pressing a small kiss to your temple.

He held you in silence for a few minutes, humming little melodies in your ear, as your breathing started to match his.

“Yuuji..?” “Right here, princess”.

He looked down at you with those brown puppy eyes of his, and you felt warmth grow inside of you, calming you down.

You sniffed, and he wiped away a tear that rolled down your face, leaning down slowly to press a sweet kiss against your lips, then your nose.

His hands roamed up and down your back, his gentle touch grounding you again. He was here. Yuuji was here, and you were safe.

“I’ll always be here”, he whispered as he caressed your cheek, and your eyes closed again.

Fushiguro Megumi.

Megumi didn’t have a heavy sleep, he never has have.

So when his phone started vibrating at four in the morning, he woke up immediately.

Your name popped up in the screen, and he frowned, worry shaking away any kind of tiredness he could have in him.

“Y/n?” “...” “Babe, are you okay?”.

He was away in a mission with Itadori and Nobara, and anxiety started growing inside of his chest, knowing how far away he was from you.

His heart stopped when he heard you sob from the other side of the call.

“Angel, what’s wrong? Please talk to me, let me help you”.

His voice helped you to calm down a little, and you took a deep breath as you managed to speak.

“N-nightmare”.

Megumi sighed softly, relief filling his body, and he put the phone away from his ear.

You heard silence for a few seconds, before the Facetime screen appeared, and you picked up.

His face dropped at the sight of you, tears rolling down your cheeks and red eyes looking at him with panic.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, angel?”

You told him how you had dreamt of him dying in the mission, and your boyfriend sighed softly.

He turned on the small light besides him, and he gave you a small smile.

Your heart started beating normally almost immediately.

“Still in one piece, see?”, he reassured, giving you a soft look that was only for you to see.

You nodded slowly, arms wrapped around yourself, and he noticed you were wearing one of his tshirts.

“Smells like you... sorry I took it”.

“Don’t apologise, please. It looks better on your anyways”, he spoke softly, and smiled, “Why don’t you try to sleep again, huh? I’ll be right here”.

“You don’t mind? I don’t want to keep you awake, ‘gumi...”, you said shyly, worried that he wouldn’t rest well, and would be tired during his mission.

He shook his head, laying down again, as you did, resting his phone against the nightlight so you could still see him.

“I’ll sleep better if you’re with me, angel”.

Gojo Satoru.

Satoru sighed deeply, opening the door to your apartment and dropping his bag at the door.

It was late, almost three in the morning, and he had just arrived back from a week-long mission turned into ten days.

It got complicated, and the elders hadn’t allowed him any contact with home, as he ‘had to remain concentrated on the mission’.

He knew it was a punishment to him, but it angered him that you got some of it too.

He took off his shoes, followed by his blindfold, and he walked to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

That’s when he heard it, a soft whimpering coming from your shared bedroom.

He ran to the room, senses still in alert, and opened the door with a push.

Nothing was there, just you, twitching in bed as you mumbled in your sleep.

“No... No, no please... P-please don’t... Not S-Satoru...”.

Gojo walked to the bed, kneeling in front of you, and he shook you softly, hand in your forearm.

You opened your eyes at the unexpected touch, jolting up and screaming.

“Hey, hey... It’s me, little one, I’m home”, he spoke through your soft cries, as he took your hands, guiding them to his face.

Your shaky fingers caressed his skin in the dark, soon finding his hair, and then his shoulders.

A sob left your lips as you pulled him into your body, his weight making you both fall in the bed.

He turned you around, so you were on top of him, and he chuckled softly.

“Someone really missed me, yes?”, he asked softly, pressing a kiss to your head, “It’s alright, baby, really... I’m alright”.

You nodded against his chest, face buried in his clothes, and he caressed your hair gently, feeling your breathing slow down.

“They... I had a bad dream, and you... y-you... they had...”, you struggled to find the words, but Satoru already knew what you wanted to say.

His blood boiled with anger, rage for what those old bitches were putting you both through. But he simply clicked his tongue, pulling you from his chest so you could look at him.

“Here, look at me, Y/n. I am the strongest, remember?”, he asked, and you nodded slowly, “No one is taking me away from you, alright? No one, bunny”.

You nodded again, rubbing your eyes, and Gojo covered you both with the blankets as you kept looking at him, still shocked by his presence.

He looked down at you, a sweet smirk plastered on his face, and he held your chin with his fingers, pulling you closer to his face to kiss your lips.

“I’m sorry for being late, little one... I’ll make it up to you, ye-“, he started speaking, playful tone disappearing as he realised you had fallen asleep again.

“Sleep well, Y/n... I’ve missed you too”.

Nanami Kento.

It was 5 pm when Nanami’s phone rang, but he couldn’t pick it up.

He was in the middle of a mission with Gojo, fighting a special grade that had taken a school.

His eyes coloured with worry when, at seven, Ijitchi came to pick them both up, and informed him that you had called to ask for your boyfriend.

“Please, drive me directly home”, he asked, ignoring Gojo’s questions about what had happened, or if you were alright.

He knew the white haired man was being genuine in his worry for you, but he couldn’t think about anything.

When he got home, he called for you as soon as he opened the door, but you were already there.

Your frame was cuddled on the couch, a blanket over your shoulders as your head rested on your knees, which you were holding to your chest.

“Darling, what happened? Are you sick, is everything alright?”, he asked, walking to you.

You didn’t give an answer before throwing yourself onto his arms, your own wrapping around his neck as you started crying.

Kento knew what had happened as soon as you did that, and he held you gently, rubbing your back with one hand, as the other pulled your legs to wrap around him.

He walked to the kitchen with you in his arms, and with one shift hand, he put water to boil.

“Do you want to tell me what you saw, my love?”, he asked gently, looking at you as he sat you on the counter, his hands brushing some strands of hair away from your eyes.

You shook your head, and he hummed in understanding, hand now on the back of your head to pull you closer.

He kissed your forehead sweetly, fingers running through your hair as his free hand held one of yours, thumb running over your knuckles.

When the water boiled, he poured it in a cup, and threw in a bag of tea and some sugar.

Kento carried you back to the couch, sitting down with you in his lap, and he held the cup for you, as your arms were still wrapped around his neck.

He wasn’t much of a talker in this situations, knowing his words were not what you needed, but his presence and touch.

He caressed your back with his free hand, and pressed another kiss to your forehead as you rested your head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t pick up, darling”, “It’s okay... You’re here now, and that’s what matters”.

He rested the cup in the table, wrapping his arms around you to hold you as close as possible, and smiled when you pressed a little peck to his shoulder.

“That’s all what matters...”.

[midnight-dreamerness]

Savior

Chapter 2: Finding Strength

(This is NOT my gif. Credit to the creator <3)

series summary: when your protector returns, he finds you broken and abused and helps you climb out of the darkness

chapter summary: you finally have had enough and you find the strength to escape

pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

warning: mentions of death, acts.mentions of abuse, mentions of self harm

word count: 2.1k

-

Quitting the job you love was really hard. After your brother died you got back together with Kade after a short break in the relationship, you moved in with him. You didn’t have the best relationship with your parents, and it only got worse when Danny, your brother, died while overseas.

You walked into the apartment, your head bowed trying to hide the tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. He’s already home, you saw his car in his usual spot in the parking garage when you pulled in. You could also make out the sound of the tv playing in the living room.

You headed towards the bedroom until he called your name, making you turn and slowly make your way into the living room.

“Did you do it?”

There are empty beer bottles everywhere along with a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table. You sighed but nodded nonetheless, playing with the hem of your blouse.

“Good. Start cleaning. This place is a mess.”

And you did what he said, all day. He made you scrub the floor down with a scrubbing brush. You had to clean every inch of the apartment, while picking up the trash he left behind him all day. When night came, you had officially cleaned everything and cooked him dinner. You sat down at the table, ready to eat after not having breakfast or lunch all day.

“What are you doing? You think you deserve to eat? No. You're going to sit there and think about what you did.”

With sad eyes and an ache in your stomach, you didn’t fuss. You didn’t even say a word. You didn’t want him to see you cry so you held it in as much as you could. You hold back sobs, it creates a burning feeling in your chest and throat.

After you got home yesterday, Kade had been enraged. Accused you of cheating, he didn’t even mention you telling Jay about the abuse. It was worse because it was Jay. He knew your background, and how you fell in love with him when you were younger. Last night's memories were fuzzy after that. All you can remember was the agonizing pain and the god awful headache you had after he slammed your head against the kitchen counter. Kade has made you quit your job, you weren’t sure why.

Kade wipes his mouth with a cloth once he’s finished eating. “I try to be nice to you. But you test me. Every single day, you test me.” He stands from his seat at the table, coming closer and closer to you. You look up at him pleading with your eyes.

“Worthless. Pathetic. Get up.”

You do as you're told and stand up. He roughly grabs your arms, dragging you down the hall. You think he’s heading towards the bedroom but he stops at the hallway bathroom. He opens it and tosses me inside.

“This is your new room now. You should get comfortable,” he snarls. You're on the ground now, groaning. He takes the chance and shoves his foot into your chest.

When will it stop! When is enough, enough for him? Why am I not good enough? What did I do that made him so violent?

These things run through your head as he continues his abuse. Pain and suffering, blood and tears are things you have gotten used to.

It’s an hour later when he stops, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he stares down at you in disgust. You look at him weakly and in pain. You're almost positive you need medical attention, but you say nothing.

“Cheating whore,” he spits. With one final look, he’s gone. The sound of the kick in the bathroom door clicking, only making more tears pool in your eyes.

What has my life come to? When did it get this bad? How did I let it get this bad?

The bathroom floor was ice cold, even with a towel laid underneath you, you were still freezing. You know he bumped the temperature down, torturing you even when he wasn’t at home. You twirled the card between your fingers. His name sticking out along with his number.

Deceive Hay Halstead.

You remember fourteen year old you, rushing into your brothers room where he and Jay were playing video games. You remember how excited you were when you told the both of them you got the lead role in your dance group.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jay had exclaimed.

You wondered if he would be proud of you now.

Would he?

There’s so much history between you and Jay, a lot of things your brother never knew about, and now he never will.

It’s been days since you saw him. You can still see his smile and his perfect white teeth as he spoke to you. You can still feel his body against yours from that day he had you against the wall.

You should’ve told him. You're filled with regret. He could’ve helped you get out.

I wouldn’t be in this stupid bathroom if I had agreed to let him help me.

You could’ve called him the day he made you quit your job. You could’ve driven off, anywhere. Somewhere, where Kade couldn’t find you.

Yet, here you are. You have a few - a lot - new bruises that have replaced the old ones. There’s still a harsh pain in your chest and your stomach from not having eaten in days. You know it’s been at least a week.

He comes and goes. Sometimes you can hear giggles pass down the hallway to your shared bedroom. Then…you can hear him pleasing other women in your bed. The ones he would love you on, on good days.

But no…he is with other women while the woman he should be with is withering away down the hall.

You didn’t scream, you should’ve. You know that now. You were scared he would kill you or those girls. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself if something happened to them because of you and your stupidity.

So you sucked it up.

It’s been two weeks. Yesterday had to be one of the worst days. You recall the rage burning like fire in his eyes. He was angry, more than usual. Something must’ve happened. Either way, there’s no excuse for what he did.

The cuts along your back sting like hell. You begged him to stop, and it was a mistake. You should’ve let him beat you till it was out of his system for the night. If it’s even possible, he got angrier. He threw you into the bathroom counter, your back crashing into the mirror, causing it to shatter agains you. Your thigh had hit the faucet, creating a huge bruise on the back of it, but nothing hurt worse than the pain in your heart.

“Pathetic slut,” he snapped before walking out, locking the door behind him.

You sit on the floor only a day later, staring at yourself through the glossy flooring. A large shard of glass sat next to you, your eyes wander to it ever so often. It tempts you. Taunts you like a clear voice in your head.

“Do it.” It would say.

Then you would hear the sound of his voice. Familiar, warm, and inviting. Your heart aches. You miss him.

You can see him at the elevator, waiting for it to open while he looks at you.

“You’re strong. Remember that.”

You wonder why you pushed him away. Why you don’t let yourself trust the one man, that still lives, that would never hurt you.

A sob racks through your body as you pick up the large piece of the mirror and throw it across the room. An aggravated scream leaves you as you stand up with trembling legs.

How could I let this happen? Why didn’t I ask for help? The abuse has gone on for three years.

Your throughts were only “why” and “what if’s.”

He’s taken everything from you. Ripped you from your friends, your old life. You didn’t even notice at the time. You just needed someone. You followed him blindly. He told you you only needed him. Nothing - no one else.

I lost myself trying to please him.

You decided you're done letting him win. You're done letting him control your life. Your choices were dying here in this bathroom helplessly, or die trying to get out. You chose the latter.

You searched around the room in a haste, looking for anything to break the doorknob off. Your eyes trained on the top of the toilet. You take it off, arms falling at the weight. You are weak from the two weeks with no food, but you still find it in yourself to raise it over your head and lm it down in the knob.

You weren’t sure the exact time, but Kade would be home soon. So you knew you had to hurry

One hit didn’t seem to do it, so you raise it again and with a grunt, you use all your strength to slam it back down again. Your mouth falls open in surprise when the knob falls to the floor with a loud clanking noise.

It took you a moment, but you dropped the lid and rushed out of the bathroom. You made your way to the home phone, picking it up with shaky hands.

You're hit with a wave of dizziness, but you still dial the number you now know by heart. You were filled with hope when he answered after a couple of rings.

“Halstead.”

“JJ?”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone for a second, but soon he repeats your name.

“I want out. P-Please help me,” you beg, tears streaming down your face as you pathetically spike.

“Address. I need an address.”

The sound of the front door unlocking catches your attention. Your body goes ridged, frozen in place.

Jay repeats your name a couple of times.

“No. No,” you mutter as you begin to back away.

“Hey! What’s going on? I need an address, sweetheart.”

You somehow manage to tell him the address with a, “please hurry,” at the end. You hang up, throwing the phone to the side. You're filled with dread as Kade stumbles into the room, pulling at his tie. You're starting to regret what you just did.

Kade narrows his eyes, ripping his tie from his neck.

“How the hell did you get out?”

He stalks towards you, and although your first instinct is to run, you stay put. You're done taking the abuse.

“I’m done, Kade. We’re done.” You stand your ground, head held high and a new found confidence in your words. He laughs. It’s evil and sickening.

“We’re done? I say when we’re done!” He exclaims, his hand rising and connecting with your face before you had the chance to move. You fall to the floor from the power of the slap. Although you act confident and strong, you're weak. Two weeks without food would be the cause. It didn’t help that you were still in pain from the most recent beating.

You let out a cry as he pulls your hair back with a huff. “When will you learn?” He asked, pulling your head back so you were facing him.

“You look pathetic,” he laughs. You're slapped in the face once more before being dragged towards the kitchen by your throat. You grabbed at him, your instincts kicking in.

“God, your stupid,” he spat, shoving you into the table. Your eyes widen as you feel your skirt, the same one you’ve worn for two weeks now, being pulled around your hips. You felt hopeless now. You only hoped Jay would be here soon.

“At least you're good for something.” You heard him mutter before the sound of his zipper being undone filled your ears. You clamped your legs together and attempted to move, but it was no use. He overpowered you easily. You cried softly as he moved closer and held you down with a deadly grip on your bruised and cut back.

There’s a knock on the door that paused Kade’s actions. He hissed and pulled away, fixing himself.

“Who the hell did you call? Did you call someone?”

The look of fury in his eyes was enough to have you cowering in fear. A scream rips from your throat as he grabs you by your hair again.

“CPD! Open up!” You heard his familiar voice. The same voice you heard as you laid on the bathroom floor.

Kade’s grip on you tightens. “I’m going to kill you, you little bitch.”

~

A/N: Small cliffhanger? Yep. Chapter 3 should be out Tusedsy! If you want added to the Saviors taglist let me know!

@miranada0102 @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @kelelas-life

(Not sure why some of these didn’t work.)

[captaindarkchocolatesstuff]

Day 11: The Headless Horseman [Nacht Faust]

He was a man, once, at least that is what you understood from researching his kind. 

Honestly, you really should’ve caught on quickly to see that this man, this being, was far beyond mortal understanding. The black horse with eyes of blood was a big enough indicator that his man was not at all what he seemed to be, but the beast wasn’t the only one. There were many red flags, yet you chose to ignore them for the sake of ignorance, you were content with your blanket of security. But even a blanket couldn’t shield you from him.

The hell endured in his home made you wish for death, a form of release that could let you escape him for eternity, to hopefully never meet him again in your next life and the ones after. So when you saw an opening you took it, never once stopping or turning to look back as you ran until your body begged for a break. 

When you came back to civilization, many years already passed since he stole you away from the home you once knew. You had to start at square one and build yourself up with what you had. 

You had to admit though, being a tour guide was rather enjoyable. So there you sat on the public bench, reading a book next to an older gentleman.

“Oh my, is that the last book in the series?”, you hear him ask.

Turning to peer over at him you gave him a kind smile, “Yes, it came out this past week, I just had to get it when it was in stock at the time”.

The man smiled at you, “He has quite vivid imagery doesn’t he? Have you read his other works?”.

You beam at him, making the old man chuckle as you answer, “Of course, the very first book I read was the one most forgotten about, it is such a shame that it was drowned out by other works at the time”. 

You and the man covered like that for a while until the man leaned in close, “have you heard that he plans on making another book?”.

“No, I haven’t, but I’m sure it’ll be interesting as his other works”, you chirp.

“Yes, it would be wouldn’t it? I hear that it will revolve around a dullahan”, he reveals.

You almost flinched at the name of the creature, but forced a smile, looking up at the man you were about to say something but froze at the thing far past him, far away on the hill he sat upon his beast staring down at you.

Stammering you stood up and gave the old man an apologetic smile, “W-well I’m sure that the- the story will be a fascinating read of his yet! Sorry that I’m le-leaving so abruptly but I best be going, I- um- I just remembered I have something to attend to”.

With that said you speed away from him, taking the most crowded places possible to hopefully deter him, you felt something jerk your foot making you yelp as you fell to the ground. Shooting up you gaped at the void space around you, the once loud and buzzing people gone within the next second as if they vanished within the air.

A whiney made you stand as the horse’s thundering stomps shook the ground.

Tears quickly filled your eyes as you began to run, screaming, “Leave me alone!”.

There was a chuckle, but you didn’t dare turn around as you ran, where the buildings once stood, trees began to blend. Denial shot through you, the familiar scene that haunted you was coming back to seal you. Still, you ran, staying in denial wouldn’t help you with your current objective.

Hearing the loud cry of the horse and feeling something nick your ankle forced you to look back, only to cry out when you ran into something firm.

The dread finally sunk in when you felt his arms wrap around you, “No! Let go of me you devil-! No-!”.

“I was being very lenient with your behavior my love”, Nacht smiled down at you while he picked you up, carrying you like a bride as you kicked about, “then you had to run away, I knew you needed a break from this realm but I had to admit that the thought of you being surrounded by other men was rather irritating”.

As his horse trotted toward you two, you sobbed as you tried to push him away, “I can’t go back! I’ll never go back to that hell!”.

Nacht merely smiled down at you as he grabbed his rope and began to bind you, making you cry louder as you squirmed, “It became your home the moment you stepped foot in the place, I know you’ll miss your temporary housing but if it brings you comfort I can bring your collections along”.

You sniffed and hiccuped as you were hiked up alongside him as he placed you both upon his horse, with quiet orders the beast routed back to your prison, Nacht lifted your chin as you gave a weak glare in return.

He only chuckled as he placed a kiss upon your temple.

“Welcome home my love”.

[twinklelilstarkey]

Can I Maybe request a fight with mtkachuk but ends happy???

A/N: Of course. Hope you like it!

You and Matt had a fight. It honestly didn’t come as a surprise. The both of you were in a bad mood the whole day and all you wanted to do was stay home and be alone. And, well, that didn't happen. All because of your plans.

You had planned, weeks prior, with your friends to go have a big evening and dinner out together. The plan was purely for the enjoyment of everyone. It didn’t require a lot of moving or walking around or even driving, so, no complaining about that. It was just a big hang out in someone’s backyard, a late lunch while you talk about life, and, eventually, late at night, a drive to a restaurant to end the day and have the last group meal.

Again, it was supposed to be something light-hearted, but it didn’t take long for Matthew to get under your skin.

Even though the bad mood was from the both of you, he didn’t even care enough to fake a smile when to greet people. Oh, and you were pissed.

You sat beside him during the whole afternoon while he scrolled through his phone and ignored most conversation starters. You tried to overcompensate and be double as social as you normally are because of it.

By the time you got to dinner, it was safe to say: you were exhausted.

And Matthew? His phone had just died so he had nothing to do but actually talk to people. Your friends were nice enough to welcome the moody man into their group conversations but no matter how many pokes you gave his side or pinches on his arm, he just didn’t seem to understand what you wanted. Which was, of course, to be slightly nicer with everyone.

The drive home was complete hell. The first few minutes were just silent, yet as soon as you get to the first red light, a simple unnecessary comment from him and you just snapped.

You two screamed at one another the whole drive, and scream after scream, it surely just ended with you just hurting one another more and more with each sentence.

You remember flashes of the last minutes before getting inside the apartment. You remember slamming the door of his car, sobbing your way through the lobby of the building, and closing yourself in your shared bedroom to cry in peace.

Matthew stayed in the car for a while longer, he ignored the shivers that ran through him when you slammed the door and he heard you sob over the loud thump. He then just stared at the grey wall in front of him in the parking lot.

Minutes passed and you still hadn’t heard the front door reopen, yet you didn’t go to check on Matt. You continued laying over the sheets of your bed, with your wet cheeks and tight chest, as you stared and sobbed at the doors of your wardrobe.

Matt had actually gotten in the apartment already, but he was so silent with the door that he believes not even a ghost heard him walk in.

He took off his shoes and winter jacket, hanging it by the door. He then dragged his feet from the wooden floors of his home and made his way to the bedroom door.

His hand laid over the door handle and he stopped his movements when he heard another soft sob from the other side of the door. He lifted his hand and took a step back, staring at the dark door in silence.

He made you cry and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Matthew closed his hand into a fist and let it fall to his side. He couldn’t just walk in there and act like what happened just didn’t. Right?

He brought his hand over his curls and brushed them back in frustration. His eyes drifted to the ground as he thought of a solution but nothing came to mind.

And with that, he decided to walk back to the other side of the house, to the living room, where he slept.

This morning, the first thing you did when you woke up was to quickly lay your hand over the opposite side of the bed. Cold. Your eyes opened slowly over the bright sunlight and you let out a groan.

You had a headache that was completely out of this world, almost as if you were with a hungover. But guess that’s what crying until you fall asleep gets you.

You forced yourself out of bed and quickly changed into some comfortable clothes - some shorts and one of Matt’s old shirts.

Now, when you're washing your face, as you look at yourself in the mirror, you tense up.

You didn’t hear Matthew come home, yesterday.

You, in light speed, turn off the water and dry your face with the towel. You walk out of the bathroom and bedroom and start making your way down the hallway.

The house is silent. Too silent.

As you reach the front door, you eye the hanger by it. His jacket is there, and so are his shoes, right under it. His keys are in the little platter on top of the table right at the entrance.

He’s home.

A sudden feeling of relief washes over you and you decide to make your way to the living room. And that’s where you find him. Sleeping on his side over the large couch.

You take silent steps over to him and notice the soft scowl over his features. You also notice that he didn’t change clothes, he’s still in his jeans and hoodie. Probably not very comfortable.

No matter how mad and sad you were yesterday, you didn’t want him to sleep on the couch, or even not go into the bedroom to get clothes. This room is the coldest of the apartment and the couch is only good for short naps. You can’t even imagine how much his back will hurt when he wakes up.

You walk closer to him and decide to not fight off your wishes. You crouch next to the couch and eye Matt’s sleeping form. You raise your hand and brush his curls back, away from his forehead.

He shifts slightly at your sudden touch, yet you don’t pull away. Your fingers play with the shorter hair on the sides of his head and your fingers then move to caress his temple.

No matter how much he hurt you yesterday, you still love him. You guys have known each other for years, it’s not your first fight, so, it’s not as painful as one would imagine it. At least not on the next day.

Your gaze shifts over to his phone on the side table next to the couch. You reach for it, and, yeah, still no battery. Without taking a second to think, you stand up back on your feet and go over to the charger by the TV.

While you’re connecting it to the charger, a voice breaks the silence in the room.

“What time is it?”

You quickly stand back on your feet and turn to Matthew, who is still laying down but is squinting at the light in the room.

“It’s early.” You tell me, “Probably around 9.”

He nods to let you know that he heard you and you finally force yourself to walk over to him again. Matthew opens his eyes when you stand in front of the light that was attacking him and he stares up at you in silence for just a few seconds before lifting his hand up at you. You take it hesitatingly and he pulls you closer to him. To lay with him.

Matthew turns on his side to open some space for you between him and the couch and you finally do as told. You, carefully and slowly, step over his legs on top of the couch and take a seat before finally laying.

Your faces are close to one another. Your back is glued to the couch and your chest to practically touching Matt’s, yet you don’t hesitate to look up at him.

“When did you come home?” You ask, still with your hand in his.

“Right after you did.” He tells you and you frown a bit, “I was just quiet.”

You nod understandably and feel him start to move his hand on yours. For a second you expect him to pull his hand away, but he does the opposite, he intertwines your fingers with his before letting your hands fall between you two.

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” He breaks the silence. “I was an ass and you didn’t deserve that.”

You give him a small smile and a little shake with your head as if to dismiss whatever had happened yesterday.

“I should’ve apologized right away, but I didn’t. I’m so sorry.” He says it again.

“I forgive you, Matty. Don’t worry about it.” You tell him with a soft tone.

“I have to worry.” He tells you, “You were crying, Y/N. I said so much stupid shit. To you and your friends.”

You let go of his hand and lay yours over his cheek.

“You’re forgiven.” You tell him while looking into his worried eyes, “Just- just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” He tells you, “I promise. I’m never going to be that much of an ass ever again.”

You smile at him and look down at his lips.

You can tell just by the look he’s giving you that he’s still beating himself for it, probably feeling like his apology wasn’t good enough. He has reacted like that before, in smaller arguments, and did end up apologizing to you for more than a week straight - even though you forgave him on the second day.

Sure, his apology is not the long romantic one that leaves a girl swooning at how good he is with words or makes a heart melt, but it’s good enough for you. For all the years you’ve known him, you can tell when he’s apologizing because he needs to and when he wants to. It’s all in his tone and his expression.

He means what he says, even though it’s not much. And just in case you still have a little voice in the back of your mind telling you that you forgave him too quickly, don’t you worry, because he is not done. Expect a minimum of 20 more “I’m sorry’s” just for the rest of the hour.

“Another thing.” You start and he nods quickly, “Please don’t ever sleep on this couch again. Just go sleep on the bed.”

“I didn’t want to make you more upse-”

“You wouldn’t.” You tell him, “Believe me.”

He nods understandingly and you finally land a kiss over his lips. It’s a simple peck, but it’s one that Matthew was dying to get. It relieves some of the pressure in his overthinking mind, and he felt right away. Even if it’s just temporary, it gives him some sort of comfort.

When you pull away and give him a soft grin, his eyes stare back at you lovingly.

“I love you.” He whispers at you. “I’m sorry.”

Your grin stretches into a smile and you give him a very quick kiss.

Here we go.

“Love you too, Matty.” You tell him.

Hope this is good!! I’m kinda worried that this is too rushed but sometimes I just really don’t know how to make it better.

[nev3rfound]

blame it on the neighbours : b.b

having recently moved in next door, you and bucky become fast friends. however, there's something looming between the two of you and it comes to light when it's revealed you're in the hospital. (1.7k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the very sweet @didsomeonesaybucky warnings: bucky freaking out if that counts? descriptions of hospitals

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Ever since you moved in and became Bucky's next-door neighbour, he could tell things were going to be different. In the first instance, he could hear you in the corridor, chatting away happily to your other neighbours, offering baked goods. He watched cautiously through the peephole, still having to yet meet you, he merely observed from afar.

When he finally met you, it wasn't the interaction he quite hoped for.

Standing in front of his door with a tray of cookies in hand, you release a shaky breath having heard from your other neighbours that the occupant in apartment 4F wasn't the friendliest. But you would simply have to judge that for yourself, you told them.

"He's a bit of a strange one, dear." Your neighbour, Clarissa in 2F warned you as she accepted the container of muffins you had made that morning. "Doesn't really leave or go out much, I think I've only ever heard him say morning once in the six months he's been here!" Her words echo in the back of your mind as you lift your hand up, knuckles lightly tapping the door.

With wide eyes, Bucky hesitantly walks toward the door and stares straight through the peephole. His breath halters, watching as you stare down at your feet.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky glides his fingers over the several locks across his door and slides through the small gap in the doorway with an attempted smile gracing his lips.

"Hi," You start, now lifting your eyes up toward this mysterious neighbour who is definitely not what you anticipated. "I, I'm Y/n, I moved in next door a week ago," Motioning to your apartment, Bucky forces his eyes to glance across down the hall before averting them back to you, taking in your features up close as you rub your lips together.

"Yeah, I heard you moving in." Bucky comments, internally cringing at his choice of wording. "I mean, I," His words falter at the sound of you chuckling softly to yourself. "can I start again? Is that alright?" He asks, grateful that you nod. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm James."

"Well, it's lovely to know my other neighbour, James. I, these are for you." Thrusting the tray forward, Bucky pushes his door open further with his foot to accept the tray, forgetting he didn't have his glove on.

Your eyes wander down to see his left arm is entirely metal. "Thanks." He mutters, feeling your eyes burning into his arm.

"I'm sorry," You quickly say, looking up at his face. "it's rude to stare, my Mom would scold me if she were here right now."

Bucky shakes his head, moving his leg to catch the back of the door. "Don't worry 'bout it." He brushes it off, but he notices your eyes wandering around the bland corridor and your lips parting.

"You don't happen to know any good places for dinner 'round here?" You move the conversation on, causing Bucky to raise a brow in response. "I'm kinda new to the area and I was wondering if you knew any good spots." You shrug your shoulders, hoping he couldn't read your mind and know that sentence was a complete lie.

"Erm, yeah." He sheepishly tells you, hearing Doctor Raynor droning in the back of his mind about putting himself out there, and not on those godforsaken dating apps again. "There's a great sushi place I know of."

Your smile brightens at his suggestion, and Bucky can't ignore how his lips rise at the sight. "Great, wanna join me then since you know it so well?" You suggest nonchalantly. "And you can always enjoy those as a dessert afterwards."

Looking down at the tray of warm cookies, Bucky tries to hide the sound of his stomach grumbling against the tray.

"Sure," He reaches into his apartment, grabbing his things including his gloves before following you out. "so, what brings you to Brooklyn?"

*

It's been several months since you moved in next door, and Bucky couldn't be happier that you plucked up the courage to knock that day.

Every week you two hang out, sometimes you join him and Yori for lunch who spends most of the time trying to convince Bucky to ask you out (only to be scolded when you're absent.) Sometimes you'll cook dinner, dance around your apartment and watch movies or wander around the city whilst Bucky tells you old stories; just like normal friends do, right?

It was truly blissful, but there was still so much about each other you had yet to learn.

Running his fingers through his combed hair, Bucky tugs on his blue henley before heading out.

As he locks his front door, he carries out dinner that he promised to make for you tonight.

"Oh, James." Your neighbour in 2F, Clarissa, stands in front of her door with her handbag and walking stick.

"Hi, Clarissa." Bucky forces a small smile, having heard her conversations regarding his past, muttering about having a murderer in the building shouldn't be allowed.

"Heading into Y/n's I take it." She hums, eyeing him carefully as he nods in response. "She should be back later, told me she had to go to the hospital." Waving herself off, Clarissa turns the lock in her doors.

"The hospital?" Bucky speaks up as the containers in his hands begin to slip, his mind going a hundred miles an hour. "Y/n's in the hospital?" Trying not to yell, Bucky steps closer, causing Clarissa to clutch her handbag tightly in front of her chest.

"Yes," Clarissa states calmly, but Bucky notices the keys in her right hand begin to shake.

"Thanks." Bucky mutters, stepping away as he darts back into his own apartment and grabs his coat, barely able to process his thoughts before rushing down the stairwell with nothing but you on his mind.

Reaching the entrance to the hospital, Bucky hands the driver some money without any words being exchanged. Bucky knew he looked like hell; he couldn't focus properly on anything. He had only seen you last night, the two of you in his apartment painting his living room walls, laughing together as you accidentally flicked paint across his cheek.

The reception area was crowded, voices bounced from wall to wall as Bucky strode toward the desk where a woman sat, staring blankly at a screen.

"How can I help?" She asks, briefly glancing up at Bucky before focusing on her screen once more.

Suddenly lost for words, Bucky homes in on a man crying in the waiting area, loudly sobbing into his hands as a nurse stands over him.

"Y/n Y/l/n, I'm looking for Y/n." Bucky forces the words out as the Nurse simply nods whilst typing away, humming a tune to herself.

"Oh okay," The Nurse pauses as her eyes scan over the monitor.

Clutching the edge of the desk, Bucky can hear the plates in his metal arm whirring as his grip tightens, nearly tearing the panel off as the silence becomes insufferable.

"So Y/n is currently in the operating theatre." The nurse tells Bucky nonchalantly, glancing up to see something change in his expression.

"No," Shaking his head, Bucky steps back. "she, I, I we were going to have dinner." It sounds pathetic to him, saying it aloud. But seeing you, having any moment with you made him feel human again, almost normal.

"Yeah, crazy how schedules fall." A heavy sigh leaves the nurses lips, unaware of the cool gaze that is locking in on her.

"Do you know when she'll be-" Before Bucky can finish his sentence, he's caught off guard by someone calling his name from the corridor.

"James?" You chuckle, walking toward him wearing your uniform adorned with your badge.

"Doll?" Bucky stutters, stepping closer as he tries to stop the tears in his eyes from forming. "You, you're okay?" He mumbles, looking you over, keeping his hands on your arms.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You ask, evidently surprised. "Everything okay, James?" Lowering your voice, you peer down to look him in the eyes whilst his head hangs low.

"Clarissa said you were in the hospital." Bucky huffs in annoyance to himself. "I, I didn't put it together," He mumbles. "I forgot that you,"

"That I'm a Doctor?" Holding back the laugh in your throat, you sigh before tugging Bucky closer into your embrace. "I'm okay, James. I'm only sorry you came all this way."

Keeping you in his arms, Bucky doesn't want to let go. Whilst your face rests in the crook of his neck, he allows a few stray tears to fall in relief. "I, I made us dinner." He eventually says, feeling you pull back to look at him, your eyes softening at the trails left on his cheeks.

"Oh, James." Raising your hand, you cup his cheek. "I'll be off work in an hour. I'm so sorry I should've said something or let you know sooner."

Shaking his head, Bucky takes your hand from his cheek and runs his fingers over your knuckles. "Don't worry 'bout it, Y/n. I'm just glad you're safe." He tells you, wishing he could say something else, but for now, that was enough.

"Did you make,- Your eyes light up in excitement, but Bucky cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

"Yep." Bucky chuckles as you do a little dance. "You're such a dork sometimes, doll."

"Yeah," You admit, slipping your hand from his as you bury them in your pockets. "but would you have me any other way, neighbour?" Raising a brow to him, Bucky shakes his head. "Thought as much."

"I'll keep dinner warm for you." He smiles, hearing the word neighbour circle his thoughts. Yet, for once, Bucky forces his intrusive thoughts aside as his lips brush across your forehead. "Be good, Doc." He can't help but laugh to himself at the sound of your heart beating rapidly whilst externally, you remain cool.

"I'll try my best, Barnes." You salute him, watching as he walks back out of the hospital, knowing he's one step closer to calling you his girl.

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