#like people you love getting hurt or dying and you’re just left like??

[rederiswrites]

[read it on AO3]

It had been a week since they’d found D’Meta’s Crossing. A terrible, helpless week, in which they’d turned up no new leads, no next steps. No way to fight back against the vastness of this cruelty and destruction. A horrible emptiness and fatigue had crept into Arden’s every waking moment.

“I don’t know, Varric,” he said. “I just don’t–how can something so cruel exist? Why would any thinking creature do this?”

There was a moment of silence as Varric shifted in his cot, trying to sit up more. Arden got up quickly, arranging the pillows behind him, until Varric settled back with a nod of thanks.

“You know, I like to pretend I have a knack for words, but that’s one I can’t explain. People do a lot of evil. Sometimes they’re just so tangled up in their own hurts, they think they’re just protecting themselves. But this? I think this is something different.” Varric stopped, scratching his chin where the stubble was getting thick. “Solas said they were Blighted. Well, that’s like Corypheus. Like Meredith, at the end, given what we know about red lyrium. I think they were always cruel people. But the Blight made everything so much worse. And if that’s true–Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, they’ve been Blighted for thousands of years.”

On the floor next to Varric's cot, Arden put his head in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes. He leaned into his hands hard, trying to gain an inch to think. Maker, why couldn’t he just think?

“I feel so…bad!” he finally burst out. “Varric, why do I feel so bad? What’s wrong with me? I can’t sleep, and I can’t wake up. I ache! And there’s this…this burning in my chest, and it just won’t go away. It’s like I could swallow it down but I can’t.” For a second, he felt himself shake, as if he were about to cry, but as always these past days, no tears came. “Am I Blighted? How would I know?”

“No,” said Varric. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Rook, you ever lost someone? Someone close?”

Arden looked up, confused. “I mean, my grandmother.”

“The one that called you ‘boy’ and liked to tell you they should’ve left you on the battlefield as a baby?” Arden nodded. “Yeah, not sure I’d call that someone really close, then,” Varric said dryly.

“Why? What’s that got to do with it?” Arden asked.

Varric sighed. “Because I think what you’re feeling is grief.”

The two of them sat in silence, the shadows of the room wrapping around them. Arden stared at Varric, but Varric was looking into the invisible distance, seeing who knew what.

“Grief?” It didn’t make sense. 

“Grief,” said Varric, “is a terrible thing. It eats everything around it. It drains you, body and soul. You feel it in your heart.”

Arden sat with that, eyes closed, and at last he felt the bloom of tears against his eyelids. He took a shaky breath.

“D’Meta’s Crossing. All those people. Children. There were children, in the–” he couldn’t say it, and couldn’t erase it. In the pulsing, tangled masses, amidst the boils and sickened roots. In the piles of dead, heaped up by the uncaring hands of people who had once loved them. “All dead. And how many more, Varric? How many dying right now, and I’m just sitting here, and I can’t even pull it together.”

“Yeah, that’s the grief. I’m sorry, Rook.”

“How…how do you manage? How do you live with it?” There were tears on Arden’s cheeks now, but it was no relief. “It’s crushing me!”

“I know. I know, kid. I’m sorry. It–” he broke off, closing his eyes for a minute. “It gets lighter, bit by bit. You go for stretches where you forget. Sometimes you wake up in the morning and it’s not the first thing you think about. But it’ll hit you again, out of nowhere. You just…get used to it.”

“It feels impossible.”

“Yeah, but people do it every day. And it’ll teach you something, too.”

“What’s that?” Arden asked.

“To value what you have, while you have it. To make sure you love things while they’re here.” Varric sighed again. “Especially if you didn’t do that before it was too late.”

It hurt so much. Arden took breath after breath, but every time it felt like he wouldn’t be able to take the next one.

“Nothing can ever be the way it was,” Arden choked out. The burning in his chest was so strong; it was agonizing. “Can we even stop them? Can we save anything? Varric–” and he said the name like a plea; please, please tell me it’ll be okay, but it can’t. It can’t be okay. “Varric, this is my fault.”

“Hey! Hey, look at me.” Arden obeyed, looking up at Varric, vision warped by the tears. “We’ve been over this. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. Well, mine and Solas’. You did what I asked you to.”

“What difference does intention make if it destroys so much!?” Arden was nearly shouting, now. “What I’ve let out–it’s worse than anything Solas was doing! At least he meant there to be a world left when he was done! This–this is going to destroy everything!”

“Okay, you want to talk about fault?” Varric snapped. “Let’s talk about fault, because we’ve been over all this before but I know you’re forgetting. Who was it that found that knife in the Deep Roads, back when it was red lyrium? Me. Who was there when we freed Corypheus? Me. Sure, I thought what I was doing was good then, too. How many people have died? Nobody can count. We’re still fighting the red lyrium. Maybe we always will be. I’m too old to pretend about this, Rook. Almost every damned time something went straight to the Void in the last twenty years, I was right there in the middle. So do you hate me?”

“No!” 

“What about Solas? His ritual. His dagger. His war, that we’ve gotten sucked into thousands of years later. Do you hate him?”

“I don’t…I don’t think so? I mean, we’ve seen what he was fighting. I don’t even know what to think, any more.” Arden swiped a sleeve across his nose, trying to stop sniveling like a child. “I don’t know, any more.”

“We didn’t create all this cruelty, Rook. We just…tripped over it, I guess you could say. Tore the wound open. And maybe I should hate myself. And maybe some days I do. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. A lot of really big mistakes.” Varric stopped, taking a deep breath. “Maybe that’s why I don’t want to give up on Solas, who knows.”

“Varric, no–” Arden ached. Varric almost never opened up like this, and it was terrible to see.

“But you aren’t one of those mistakes, kid. You’re one of the best decisions I ever made.” Varric nodded to himself. “And I know that you’ll find a way through this.”

“How?”

“For now? One step at a time. Just figure out the next step, Rook. It’ll get easier once you’re moving.”

[chiefguideandcentre]

Have you ever been bored and started thinking up a scenario that’s a little too real, a little too plausible and a whole lot upsetting so much so that you, oopsie daisy, ended up making yourself bawl your eyes out bc i just did and this is ridiculous

[madamechrissy]

Cursed Promises

Pairings: Sukuna x Fem reader

CW: This chap, Sukuna fks reader with both his cocks in both holes ahem, (yayyy) lots of use of all his tongues and mouths OF COURSE, public sex, cockwarming, Sukuna calls you little bunny and slutty etc, soft Sukuna, he's falling in LOVE but is stubborn lol true form Sukuna, smacking (pussy, titties, ass, face- all of it lmao) THIS CHAP IS ALMOST ALL SMUT and fluff w/a little angst at the beginning

Summary: You have been promised to Ryomen Sukuna, King of curses, for as long as you've been alive, ostracized from your village, 'special'. Now you are to marry him, sight unseen. People everywhere fear him, but will you find yourself intrigued by him. Just who is the King of Curses to his new wife? Arranged marriage au

A/N: This is ALL fluff and SMUT lol, Four Parts (this is the final one) you're not gonna get much plot, I really wanted them being cute!? don't ask.- also I suck at writing powers, so sorry if I fk anything up that's canon lol! - WC this chap- 7.9k

Comments/ reblogs appreciated if you like this silly stuff, ty for all the love on these little parts they make me so happy❤️

<<<part three

Part Four- Final Part

Two weeks later

Why have you fallen in love with such an ass?

You had asked this question to yourself many times, finally Sukuna was back home, but you refused to go see him, hiding in your room instead. Sukuna had summoned you to dine with him, but you simply locked yourself in, fiddling with the brilliant necklace, the only thing he’d left aside from his infuriating note, watching how the candlelights reflect the facets of the gems.

Knock knock knock.

“I’m not coming, Uraume.” You say, knowing their knock now.

“The King is demanding you come, you must obey.”

“Then he can drag me out.” You hear their footsteps softly padding along the corridors, echoing in the halls.

You wanted to see him, you were dying to see him, but you were far, far too angry, too hurt right now to face him. The past couple of weeks of loneliness, of curling up in his throne and inhaling the scent he left, of being just pathetic over him, over everything he had said. He acted as if he could make you not love him, but that was completely impossible.

You fell for him, for the King of curses, who you have been promised to, the one that your powers are the antithesis of. The being so intimidating to all, but you knew what it was to have his arms around you, what it was to sit on his lap in the throne room like his Queen, which you were. You know what it was to be kissed so thoroughly, the little intimate moments he tries to brush off.

You’re in love with him, and you can’t face him.

Suddenly your door is being banged on, you tense just a bit, jumping now, breath coming in small pants when you hear his booming voice. “I’ll blast this door off the fucking hinges if you don’t come out, wife.”

You huff, scowling as your slippered feet gently pad across the cold marble floor below you, hand shaking as you touch the brass knob, you’re terrified you’ll fold once you face him. You have no willpower, he could just look at you and you’ll open for him, so pathetically, but you’re so angry with him too, you’re conflicted as you pause, knowing he’s right on the side of the door.

“I don’t want to see you.” You choke out then, hiding a sob and failing, Sukuna smacks the door again, making it vibrate.

“Open now, brat. I swear I’ll destroy your entire wing right now.”

“Why? You don’t even like me.”

“Psh, you insolent-”

“Go away, your Majesty.” You can practically hear him seething, feeling his energy so strongly then.

“You open this door now and eat. I command you as your fucking King and husband.”

“Ugh! Fine.” You open the door then, tears glimmering unshed in your eyes, Sukuna sees it then, the hurt on your face, the face he couldn’t get out of his head for weeks. Eyes that haunted him as much as they annoy the shit out of him.

“Do not dare cry.” He orders, you stand straight up then, fists clenched at your sides.

“Your audacity knows no bounds, you cannot constantly command me not to do things, to feel things. If it is so terrible just leave me be, you’ve more than had your chances to make an heir I’m sure. We’ll see if it takes.” Sukuna slams the door open when you try to shut it, walking in now, step by step.

“When were your monthlies?” He asks, you blink then, shaking your head as you try to think.

“I am due this week, so we will know soon if you must lay with me again.”

All four of his ruby eyes glare now. “If I must!?”

“Indeed. I’ll inform you, now… if you please-”

“Fuck that.” Sukuna shuts your door, turning and pressing you against it now, intimidating as his arms bar you, two on either side of your head, two cupping your face. “As if you don’t desire me.”

“I do, but I will not be hurt and dismissed like I’m some stupid child.”

“You basically are to me.”

“Then go. Concubines must miss you- ah!” Sukuna’s slammed his lips on yours now, melting you completely, you’re clinging to him so desperate as he lifts you like you are nothing, you’re just fucking dangling as he holds you so high, lips already swelling from his kisses.

“I am here, I want you, got it brat?” Sukuna speaks through his teeth, two hands gripping your ass rough over your robes. “I need you.”

“Need me?” Your brain short circuits, he’s kissing you desperate, it is needy how he’s all over you, you’re trembling, thighs shaking around his thick waist, tasting the sweet wine on his tongue as it devours your mouth.

“Need to be inside you, fuck I’ve missed it.” You gasp as he parts your robes with two hands while the other two press you against the door, his tongue on his bare abdomen lapping at your bare pussy, you’re whimpering at it, clit throbbing. “Missed your taste, gods.”

“Kuna… you’re…” His thick, long tongue is lapping at you, his lips back on yours again, you’re clinging to his bare shoulders, long nails are pressing against his skin, you’re shaking when he’s lapping at you, over and over, eyes rolling back.

“Need my cocks inside you, bunny. Waited too long.” He huffs, carrying you to the bed now, undoing his robes, you stop him, shaking your head and closing your thighs, earning his glare. “Excuse me, brat?” He shoves them open, only for you to close them once more, glaring right back.

“You left me with a stupid note and some necklace, as if that’ll make anything better! Don’t, I can’t think straight when you touch me.” You whimper those words, he’s cupping your face, red eyes dilated, lips hungry as he lays naked over you.

“I’ll buy you more things, anything, have you dripping with every gem in the fucking country, hmm?”

“No, Kuna. No. You didn’t have to love me back, but to leave me like that? To write your stupid note!? No!” You shove at him, tears falling from your eyes, your body and soul ache for him, but your heart is hurting, as you look at his face in the night, the lights casting shadows on all the hard planes of his face.

“You are stupid to think you do, have you not come to your goddamn senses? Why can’t you just enjoy it… enjoy this.” He’s slathering kisses down your ribcage, your tummy, nipping at your flesh with sharp teeth, his long black nails pressing into your skin, making you soaking wet with every stroke of his hand, of his tongues darting out from all his damn hands.

“If you’re… so… mmm… horny then go… to them- ah!” Sukuna slaps your cheek then, you slap him right back, then you’re devouring each other again, it’s insanity, you’re biting the King of Curses lip so hard you draw blood.

“I don’t want anyone but you, annoying pest.” He grips your chin then, kissing you with the blood all over his mouth, you whine into his lips now, hips arching.

“Why?” You whisper, he sighs, shaking his head. “Why? If you do not answer you will not lay with me.”

“You’re commanding me!?” He leans up on his arms, looming over you, and you’re nodding, watching his ruby eyes narrow. “I cannot explain why I only want a stupid bunny like you, but I do.”

“Is it because you care? At all?” He leans off you then, groaning and running a big hand through his pastel hair.

“I cannot fathom how I’ve come to have such an annoying, insolent girl. Perhaps I should lay with them, if you say so.”

“Go then!” You stand, shoving at the big luk of a damn man, he’s like steel under your palms, his jaw set.

“You want me to?”

“No!” You’re sobbing then, and he’s shaking his head, studying you, hating that you drive him to insanity, hating that all he wants is this brat who smacks him, who bites at him, how can he handle this? You’re making him so fucking crazy, he just wants you screaming in pleasure, not this. “But you should, if you don’t care.”

“I do care, foolish brat.” You shake your head even as he cups your face once more, thumbs brushing under your jaw line, feeling your fluttering pulse point. “Fragile little human, I’ve let you go on too much.”

“You keep trying to scare me away, it won’t work, all you’re doing is hurting me instead, hurting us.” You let him wrap his enormous fingers around your throat, he does it gently, hand shaking, losing his composure.

“What can I do to make you smile again?” He whispers, releasing your throat, thumb brushing your lower lip.

“Let me express myself without doubting me, without making fun of me for it. I know my own heart, you cannot tell me what to feel.” He curses then, looking up at the ceiling, despising the way he wants to make you happy, please you.

You’ve become everything he can think of and he despises that too.

“Must you say the nonsense?” He murmurs, and you smile just a bit, stepping closer, how insane are you, to have the King of Curses hand around your throat and not even flinch? No, you smile instead.

“I won’t constantly say it, but you needed to know how I felt. What if I never saw you again?” The guilt eats at him now, picturing you, the staff has said you’ve barely left the room, that you’ve barely eaten, he even sees your cheeks more hollow, your waist smaller under his touch, infuriating him further.

“I hear you’re refusing food, how are you to make an heir if you waste away?” He says terself, grabbing you tightly now by the waist.

“I was depressed, I cannot eat when I’m depressed.” You whisper.

“So you’ll eat now, even if I have to force food down your throat, got it?” Come to dinner with me.”

“What, you’ll feed me like some baby?”

“You are a dumb little baby. Now.” You stomp after him, tying your robes as he does, you sit far away from him, across the giant table, further infuriating him as you chew your meal.

“Happy, King?” You ask, sipping your water now, Sukuna scoffs, standing up and walking to you.

“Am I happy that my bride is the most petulant brat? No.” You smack at his hands when he starts trying to shove fork fulls in your mouth. “Stop it this instant.”

“I don’t need you to feed me, I need you… I need…” You shake your head, standing and turning, earning him yanking your back against his chest, two arms wrapping you now. “S-stop…”

“You’re aching for me, bet your cunt is soaked. Why fight this, you stubborn girl?” You gasp in pleasure as he cups you between your thighs, feeling your heat against his fingers. “You know you want me inside your slutty cunt.”

“I want you to not be an ass. Ngh!” Sukuna has you bent over the table now, one hand pinning your wrists as the other lifts your robes, your thighs tremble when he sinks two long fingers, curling them just so, you’re weakly whining out and dripping down his hand and wrist, head pressing against the tablecloth. “Mmm…”

“You want me to fill you, don’t you?”

“W-want you… not so fucking… mean.”

He laughs, leaning over you now, but his eyes catch yours, and something takes his breath away, making him gulp now. “Fine, say your stupid sentence if it makes you stop those tears. I only want you moaning.”

“You won’t g-get mad again?” You whisper, he shakes his head, continuing to move his fingers up and down inside your slick little hole, aching for his huge cocks so badly you can’t think.

“Just get it over with, bunny.”

“Love you.” He moans now, kissing you deeply, your words hit him so hard his usually steady hands tremble, he hates those stupid words, from your perfect lips, but he hates you sad much more. You exhale, sniffling, when he stands, turning you and picking you up, holding you tightly.

“Annoying.” Is all he manages, gulping then, you sigh, clinging around his neck now, kissing him softer, so soft he feels too much. “I need to be inside you, do not make your King beg.”

“Would it be so bad, you begging for once?” You whisper, he exhales, sitting you on the table, between your spread thighs, two hands shoving them apart while two fondle your breasts over your robes.

“You think I’ll beg? I’m a King.” You hum softly, trailing your hands down his hard body, finding one of his cocks under his robe, stroking then, catching his eyes as you feel his hard length, you watch his lip part, lashes lowering.

“Maybe you will beg for me. Beg to be inside me again?” You bring his tip against your soppy cunt, he grips you tightly, but you shove him back, smiling.

“You’ll not tease me.” He pulls you against him, but you shake your head, back to stroking him instead, he moans out, resting his head against yours. “You want me just as bad as I do, stop pretending.”

“You alright, Kuna?” You whisper now, teasing your clit with one of his leaky tips, he tries to pull you again but your free hand stops him. “What do we say when we want something?”

“I am so not fucking begging.”

“Hmm. Good night then.” You let go of him, hopping off the table, he scoffs, yanking you by your wrist now, yanking you back, leaning over you, he is intimidating.

“Your pretty pussy is aching, isn’t it?”

“Pretty?” You whisper.

“All of you is. Pretty and irritating.” He kisses you deeper, you feel it then, how much of himself he’s putting to you, and you want to cave so badly.

“Then why don’t you beg to come to my bed?” 

“Tch, no… you beg for me to fill you.” You’re whining out as his tongue slips against your clit again, your eyes roll back. “So stubborn, clit is twitching, pussy is drooling.”

“Sh-shut up.” Sukuna smirks though, carrying you up the stairs now, so quickly he has you there before you can blink, you get dizzy when he’s got you back laid on his bed, moaning when he parts your robes and gazes.

“This is where you belong, in my bed naked, constantly.” He huffs, watching as your hair splays out, your purple robes under you, you look so fucking pretty he can’t stand you, how bad his cocks hurt, the precum oozing out of his tips, decorating your inner thighs with white droplets,be spreads them across your skin.

“You need to apologize.”

“What!? Absolutely not.”

“Then we will just lay here.” Sukuna is infuriated now, shoving up off the bed to stare at you, as if you've grown four arms yourself.

“What do you want from me, woman?”

“To apologize for being a dick, leaving without saying goodbye.” He sighs and clenches his teeth.

“Cease that eye watering nonsense. Will you smile if I say it then?” You nod. “Fine, I'm sorry that I did not say farewell, and for… for finding your words foolish.” You stroke his face then, thumbs brushing over the sharp jut of a cheekbone.

“Thank you, Kuna. I missed you.” You whisper softly, you feel the warmth spread through your body, find yourself falling deeper and deeper.

“Your body missed me too, didn't it?”

“Did yours?” Your hand goes to his bare chest, where his heart thuds faster under your touch. He gulps, nodding just a bit, an imperceptible movement that anyone else might miss, but it emboldens you then. “Then lay on your back, my King.”

“Me on my back?” You can tell then, he hasn't done it, let someone have control. You stroke down his chest, his abdomen, trailing his tattoos.

“I'll make you feel very good, husband.” He does as you command, laying on his back, two hands behind his head as the other two find purchase in your hair while you're kissing down his throat, his chest, tasting the salt of his sweat when your tongue darts across a flat nipple.

“You’re an annoying pest.” He grumbles, you smile against him as your lips trail even lower, kissing along the black lines that slide across him, while your fingers set to tug and expose his cocks fully, earning his groan. “Stop teasing me.”

“Why can’t I? You certainly do enough, hmm?” You’re kissing the tips of him now, tongue flicking across the little slits that keep pumping white, inhaling his musky scent as you go.

“M’gonna shove them both in your insolent mouth at once.” He grumbles, but he doesn’t, he watches you with four dilated eyes, the lower ones so lidded they’re just slits that are glimmering in the soft candlelight of his room, which casts shadows across the wall so lewd, your head bobbing on one of his cocks now. “F-fuck…”

You enjoy sucking him, you’ve had much practice in a short time, enjoy the way his lips part, the way his muscles tense, how his hips buck up and jerk. You brace yourself with one hand on the bed, the other stroking his lower cock, his huge, muscled frame trembling under your caresses, his moans urging you.

“Take it deeper, brat, hmm? Can you?” He’s taunting you, but his voice is breathy, you feel him losing his control when his hands yank on your hair, and you take his cock deep in your throat, swallowing and moaning around it, making it vibrate. “Fuck! Need to be inside you, now.”

You pull back, cheeks hollowing, lips smacking and leaving trails of saliva like little glittery strings when you kitten lick his tip again. “Not yet, Kuna-ah!”

Sukuna uses his lower arms to drag you up now, holding you damn near suspended in the fucking air, you’re panicking as he’s chuckling. “Oh you little brat, you really think I can’t do anything I want to you?”

“Put me d-down this instant!” He’s chuckling at you, ass of a man, before he starts dragging your hips to slide across his cocks, between your soppy slit, you’re coating every inch of him, tears falling at how good it feels.

“You’re gonna get filled all night, bunny.” He slams you down on one of his cocks then, you’re screaming at the stretch, cunt throbbing around him, he hisses. “Loosen up, now.”

“C-can’t, m’gonna…” You’re getting eased off his cock again, then yanked back on the other, as his tongue from his stomach slathers your clit, you’re nearly sent over the edge, head falling back, hair falling like a curtain down it. “Ngh!”

“Wanna fill both your slutty holes.” He huffs, one of his tips pressing against your little puckered hole now, he chuckles at your expression. “Not yet, you’re too much of a frightened little prey.”

“M’not, ah- close, close… please…” You whine now, he’s just teasing you with his tips again, one slipping in your other hole, it feels so good you can’t take it, especially when his tongue is lapping at you again, two hands squishing your breasts.

“That’s it, cum all over me, now bunny.” He huffs, looking at you as you fall apart over him, you’re shattering while your cum is pouring all over, making a slick mess, body twitching when he sinks you back fully on one again. “There she goes, she loves being filled by her king, huh?”

“Yes, yes!” You’re over pretending to have control, just clinging to him as he fucks up into you, faster and harder, thrusts jostling you so much your damn teeth click, your pussy is pulsating all around him, your arousal pooling at the base of one cock, while he pummels into you.

“Perfect pussy, s’mine, hmm? Made f’me, made to take me.” You’re whimpering your answer, pathetically, and Sukuna’s thrusts falter, he leans up, kissing your lips, making you fall even deeper, as you struggle to stay on this plane of existence whatsoever, it’s like you’re floating and falling into the abyss that’s him.

“Mhm.” You manage, but it’s enough to urge him, to make his cock pulse for you, leaking against your cervix.

 “Gonna take this seed, fill your womb with my heir.”

“Please, please Kuna. Want it, w-want it.” He moans then, sloppy kisses between you both, as your cunt milks his cock for every spurt of cum that starts shooting up inside you.

“Feel m-me?” He’s exhaling, his voice a whisper, he can barely handle how good your cunt feels around him, how she’s gripping him, your eyes roll back in your skull, your mouth open, breasts arched against him when he stuffs you so full. He feels your cervix as he keeps pumping more and more cum. “Asked you a question, brat.”

His gentle smack on your face only makes you cum harder, he groans then, smacking your ass, your tits, little gentle thwacks that prolong you, while his cock stays buried. You’re a trembling goddamn mess, blinking blackness out of your vision as you struggle to focus on your King, sprawled under you, his eyes locked on every movement of your body and face.

“Kuna…” You whisper, blinking rapidly then, he eases out of you, moaning when he watches the mess pouring out of your hole.

“You’re wasting it again, tch.” You barely register how you are on your back, Sukuna’s long fingers stuffing the cum trickling all over into your sore cunt.

“Too much, mmh!” He laughs then, booming laughter that fills his chambers, easing his fingers out and shoving your thighs up, folding you in half. “Wh-what are you doing, I’m sore… ass of a man- ah!”

Sukuna’s thwap on your cunt stings, as he glares down at you. “I’ve had enough of your mouth running, you missed me filling you, didn’t you? Answer.”

“Y-yes.” You’re shaking when his face is between your thighs, despite all of his tongues, the one on his face was the sexiest when it laps you up, something about your little hands in his hair, his broad shoulders spreading you wide, just did more to you. Like he was worshipping you. “I’m sorry I was so… mad at you… my feelings…”

“Your feelings this and that, tch, you’re so needy aren’t you?” You scowl right back, but his tongue is swiping up your slit now, before he leans up, and your mouth eagerly opens, you swallow both of your tastes, earning his satisfied smirk. “Since you’re so needy, I’ll clean you, get you ready for more, yes?”

“Please, my King.” He is between your thighs again, lapping you up, shoving his tongue inside every bit of you, your cunt is pushing out all of his white ropes, which he greedily drinks. “Kuna!”

“Stupid name.” He huffs, tongue flicking your sensitive clit, he spreads your puffy lips wide, watching the little thing twitch with an amused smirk. “We taste so fucking perfect together, you know that?”

“We do… ah! Sensitive!” He’s grinning, sharp teeth against you as he exposes your clit, flicking his tongue over and over, while two of hands grip your hips, dragging you on his mouth. Your hips try to back off but he doesn’t let them, until you’re cumming all over his face again, which he has buried against you, orgasm wrecking your mind and any resolve you ever had.

“How many loads can you take in this tummy, hmm?” He looks up, face coated in your arousal, one hand pressing on your tummy now.

“As many as you want to give me.” Your words destroy him, to hear them from you? It’s like the dreams he’s been cursed with for weeks.

“Good bunny.” You eat it up, the praise, the way he looks at you when he is back to fucking your now sore pussy, his other cock stroking your clit, making you feel so much, too much, wh. “Good, good bunny. Take it all, greedy f’me aren’t you?”

You do, you take all of him somehow, you can’t figure it out, how she stretches to accommodate his length, his thickness, but she does. Your body is begging for more, your eyes glazed with pleasure, as his cock slams into your womb, filling you so deep you swear he’s fucking up your insides, and your cunt keeps greedily milking him, taking everything he’s got.

Sukuna flips you so suddenly you’re breathless again, climbing on top of you, two slick fingers slipping in your little untouched hole again, while he fucks you with one cock, his other arms wrapping your waist. His breath is against your ear while you’re crying out at the stretch, still pushing out remnants of his cum from earlier, dripping with your cum down his red blankets.

“Ready for me to cum in both your holes?” He murmurs, one hand cupping your face, turning you towards him you nod weakly, craving him, he moans into your mouth, tongues sloppy as they play, and he slips his other cock into that hole now.

“Kuna, too much… too big…” You’re crying out when he enters you, both cocks now, just their tips then a little further.

“Relax, bunny. You’re all mine, aren’t you?” You nod weakly, and it starts feeling so good, when he puts you on your knees, your ass arches for him, which he’s gripping brutally, spreading you wider. “Look at you, both your slutty holes begging for me.”

You can’t speak anymore, already weak from the orgasms, now he’s never even softened you don’t think, his cocks full of blood, when he sinks them further, you’re gripping the blankets, head buried, muffling your cries. He’s fucking both of your holes steadily, not going fully in, he’s maybe a few inches, but it’s so good, you’re so full of Sukuna.

“Feel me everywhere, you’re mine, all of you.” One of his hands entangles in your hair, messy already, as he feels both of your holes clenching him, your cunt is soaking wet, your ass so tight it’s strangling his cock, all while his balls are smacking your clit. “Hear it?”

“Y-yes…” You do hear it, the smacking of skin, the wetness of your cunt, making your ass arching up for more.

“Perfect f’me, fuck I missed you.” You tremble under him now, trying to turn your weak neck to look up at him, and he’s bending over you, big body taking you completely over, sinking deeper and deeper. “Yes, brat, I d-did.”

“Love you, Kuna.” You whisper, instead of yelling at you, he moans, kissing your mouth, a hand choking your throat, taking your oxygen while he takes you over, cocks moving easier and easier.

“Cum all over me, lemme feel it, you can do it hmm, my Queen?” At those words you’re ended, to hear how he professes them, you begin climaxing, ass clenching one cock while your pussy drools over his other, he has to pause, you feel so fucking good all around him.

“Kuna!” Your stupid nickname ruins him, as does how tight you’re gripping him, when he sees your pretty face all fucked out.

“Ready for me to fill you so full you can’t walk or run that mouth?” He huffs, you nod eagerly, and he’s pouring his seed in both your holes, the sensations just prolonging your orgasm. Sukuna’s grip tightens as he cums so hard, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, leaving a bruise, you love it, love the sting, love the way he marks you, the way he feels.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, his cocks still buried deep, your pussy and ass spasming around them, catching your breath now, as is your King. His eyes are closed, his breathing ragged, but his grip on you doesn’t loosen, not one bit, keeping you pinned, keeping you full.

“You’re mine, stupid little bunny.” He whispers, his voice hoarse, his teeth sinking into the back of your shoulder now.

“Yours.” You whisper back, your voice trembling with satisfaction, your heart fluttering at the possessiveness in his tone.

He pulls out slowly, a gush of cum following him, painting your thighs, your holes, all over until it’s a dripping mess, the wet spot under you growing, mixing with your sweat soaked bodies. He turns you, cupping your face and hovering over you, watching your breasts rise and fall, spreading your thighs and smirking at all the cum oozing from your holes.

“You called me… your Queen.” You whisper, and he rolls his eyes.

“Tch, that is what you are? Foolish brat.”

“I enjoyed that.” He smirks now, leaning down to hover over you, studying a face that’s become far too important too fast.

“Did you now?”

“I did. Thank you for… not telling me to stop saying it.” You manage, emotions in your throat, you don’t expect him to ever say it back, and that hurts, but you feel so connected then, in the quiet night under him.

“It’s foolish but I tire of your frown, that upsets me. With annoyance.” He covers up the truth, that your sad face breaks him.

You smile almost knowingly, as if you can read him so well. “My King, may I start the training finally, tomorrow?”

“You’re still set on that, huh?” You nod. “Fine, I’ll do whatever you wish, as long as you…”

“Smile?”

“That.” You do so then, brightening your face, making his stomach flip, he hates that you control him this way, still wondering just what powers or spells you’ve put on him. “Better.”

Soon you’re snuggled up to him after being cleaned up, bare against his naked frame under the heavy covers, Sukuna loves even your little cold hands and cold feet, but he sure wouldn’t be letting you know. “Warm them up, now you pest.”

“We’ve been through this, I need you to do that.” He scoffs, pulling you against his chest, one hand brushing your hair back soothingly, as you yawn. “I missed this, you holding me.”

“Shut it, brat.” You smile as you nuzzle him, and soon you fall asleep, while Sukuna stares up at the ceiling, the one painted with ancient wars, wars he’s participated in, and he doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to live without you.

How annoying you are.

*****

“Sore, bunny?” Sukuna teases the next day, as you begin training, you glare at him now. “What?”

“You know I am.” You hiss, considering he’d fucked you twice last night, you’re sore in places also you can’t even explain, in ways that make your cheeks heat up while you walk.

“Weak little human.” He taunts, you hold your hands up then, focusing as he’s been showing you for hours. “Gonna do something, bunny?”

You glare when he taunts you, and then gasp as he begins to cleave several trees in half. “Holy…”

“This is why we needed to be outside.” He’s smirking sadistically, so very proud of his powers, you roll your eyes. “Try to stop me, bunny, close your eyes, don’t get distracted.”

You concentrate, feeling your own energy fill you, shutting your eyes, and positioning your hands just so, until you hear a grunt. You open them, realizing you’ve completely locked Sukuna’s arm up, he’s grinning though, nodding at you, and you use the energy to slam him into the ground.

“Fuck…” He’s huffing, you gasp now, running to him, letting your energy fall, only for him to drag you on him, laughing. “You are a witch.”

“A witch?”

“Yes, a witch. Dropping me to my fucking knees, making me stupid for you, haunting my dreams.”

“Your dreams?” You whisper, hair falling to the side, brushing his broad shoulders over his bare chest as he holds you on him, his head on the grass below. Trees are decaying, grass is withering, all from him, but you think it’s beautiful, the destruction he’s brought.

“All of you, endlessly irritating.” You smile then, realizing he cares just as much as you do, though he surely wouldn’t say that.

In his own way, this was it.

“Maybe I am bewitching you, one day you’ll fall in love with me.” He snorts, rolling all four eyes, shocking you when he has you flipped on your back, breathless.

“You wish, brat. Keep dreaming.”

*****

“Sukuna, you cannot leave me again. Please.” You’re pleading two weeks later, as he tells you he must leave for a few days again. “Take me with you, or send your damn armies.”

“A King must stand with them, you have me be a stupid bunny like you?”

“Stupid bunny!?” You use your energy then, crashing everything off the giant table with a clatter, earning his grin.

“You’re sexy when you’re using your flimsy little fucking powers.”

“Oh fuck you!” You stomp off then, but he’s got you in his arms before you can leave, holding you tightly. “Stop it. I’m angry.”

“You’re always angry, bunny really thinks she’s not just prey.” You shove at him now, knocking him back, only making him grin wider.

“Take me with you, please. I can help.” You see it then, the emotions in his gaze, he shakes his head at you. “You think I'm incapable?”

“Not at all, fuck you’re more capable than most of the dumb boys that fight for me.”

“Then why not?”

“Because I need you safe.” His roaring voice echoes in the dining hall now, he cups your face with rough hands. “I have to make sure you’re here, where I know no one can touch you.”

“I don’t want to be without you.” You feel tears streaming down your cheeks now, he swipes at them, the gnawing in his heart and soul growing with every moment he spends with you, with every look you give him. He can’t take it, all that he feels for you, building and building. “I feel sick.”

You rush out then, and he sighs, watching your retreating form when Uraume walks up. “Could you check on her? She’s angry again, little brat.”

Uraume nods, smiling just a bit, and soon finds you, throwing up. They blink in concern, coming up to you then, holding your hair, as you whimper miserably. “Has something upset your stomach, my Queen?”

“I didn’t even eat or drink, he’s got me s-so angry, Uraume. He doesn’t think I can help…” You’re sick again, and Sukuna is standing by your door, watching in concern as Uraume rubs your back.

“Something is wrong, when was your last monthly?” You blink then, rapidly, leaning on your knees, eyes catching Sukuna’s at the door.

“I haven’t had one since I’ve been here.” You touch your tummy then, smiling, and you see it, not a smirk or sadistic grin, it’s a beautiful smile from Ryomen Sukuna. “I am with child?”

“I’ll have the royal doctor examine you tomorrow. My King, perhaps we can put off the journey for a few days?” They ask, as they’re helping you clean up, you’re cleaning your teeth, even the water you drink after making your tummy hurt.

“For a few days then. Leave us for a moment, please.” Soon Sukuna picks you up carefully, in his arms, cradling you to his chest. Your arms wrap his neck, as you caress his face, so much unspoken between you both, you just study each other, breathless. “You’re carrying my heir?”

“I hope so, Kuna.” You admit, while he sits on the bed, still holding you across his massive lap with two arms, the others, brushing back your hair. “I want to have many heirs for you, I promise I will be a good mother, and a good queen.”

“I already know that, foolish girl. God help me if they’re stubborn like you.” Your eyes narrow, earning his laughter.

“I hope it will be a son for you.”

Sukuna hopes it’s a girl, one just like you, but he doesn’t say that, he shouldn’t say that, he’s a King after all, he needs male heirs. But as one hand rests on your still flat tummy, he pictures it, many children with you, emotions making his heart race faster and faster.

“You cannot come if you are, you know this, don’t be so stubborn.” You sigh, looking up at him.

“I know that. I can’t risk something happening.”

“Finally you see reason, pregnancy becomes you. Don’t glare at me, brat, come on now.” He pulls you against him you rest your head on his chest, nausea easing then as his energy consumes you both, surrounding you. “This baby, with both of our powers, will be a menace.”

“He will be sweet like me, thank you.” Sukuna smirks.

“We’ll see.”

*****

After confirming you were indeed pregnant, Sukuna put his journey off a few days, and he surprises you even when he’s gone, he has an entire nursery made by his servants, it makes no sense to this early but he’s so sure about it. All of his concubines also have disappeared, you’re not really sure where they went, and the servants pamper you.

But you miss him. When he does return weeks later, you’re curled up in his throne asleep, breaking his heart, he’s covered in grime and sweat from his trek, you look so fragile and tiny to him. He’s been consumed again by dreams of you, of fears of something happening to you, to the baby, so to see you so peaceful allows him to breathe for just a moment.

Sukuna gets down on one knee, kneeling for his sleeping queen, so beautiful in front of him, caressing your face carefully, brushing your hair off it where it’s fallen. You snuggle against his big hand, brows together, he notices your hand is on your tummy over your robes, he places his other hand there as you’re mumbling then.

“Kuna… miss you… love you…” You’re babbling, head shifting, your brows knitting together, and he exhales, leaning close, the words that have been stirring since he met you ready to spill.

“I love you, bunny. Infuriating, annoying, silly, stubborn brat.” His whisper is so quiet, and you’re still asleep, he exhales in relief that you don’t hear him yet, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You make me so foolish.”

You come to then, seeing him and your eyes widening, before they glimmer in tears and you smile so big at him. “You’re home!”

Home, the castle never really felt like a home until you, did it?

“I’m here, why are you sleeping on my throne?” He demands, you blush then in the night, shifting to sit up, looking into his glinting ruby eyes.

“I feel so close to you here.” You admit softly.

“I need to bathe, you’ll wash me hmm?”

“Yes, Kuna.”

You’re both in the onsen, it reminds you of the first time you were taken by him, memories in every bit of the steamy room, as you start cleaning him, sitting on the edge, your legs draped in the water. You frown as you find new scars have formed, although he heals quickly, these must have been deep. You tense as you trail your washcloth across his shoulders.

“They’re just scratches, bunny. Calm down.” He says, feeling it, your worry behind him. He can feel every bit of you, even when he’s gone, he turns then, seeing your beautiful body, smiling as he sees a little roundness of your tummy. “Look at you… this body, fuck…”

“It’s showing a little.” You smile, touching it now, Sukuna leans down, pressing a kiss against it, your hands stroking his hair, feeling it slick under your fingers.

“I need you, bunny. Now.” He tugs you in the water now, you gasp as he pulls you against him, tongue on his stomach thick and wet as it laps at you between your thighs. Your head falls back for his brutal kisses, his rough bites. “Your marks have faded, need new ones huh?”

“Need them everywhere, Kuna.” Sukuna realizes you didn’t hear him earlier, because you would have been boasting about his confession if you did, but you still seem to just know, infuriating in your ability to assess him completely. “What is it, my King?”

He’s looking at you this certain way, opening and closing his lips, you wonder then what he wants to say, but holds back. Your heart is racing as you cling to him, but he kisses you instead, muffling your cries while his tongue works your cunt over and over, sliding inside you, preparing you for him.

“Miss your taste.” He huffs, lips parted, little droplets falling from his lashes. “Missed your annoyance.”

“You missed me, hmm?” You’re grinning, he’s scowling, it’s what you both seem to do, but you love it, love when you’re stretched by his cock and pressed against the wall of the bath, water undulating around you.

“Do you ever shut up?” Your giggles turn into cries soon of pleasure, as his cock drags on your walls, and she’s tightening around him.

“Kiss me.” He does as you demand, desperate and hungry, four arms taking over every bit of your body as he destroys your mind, biting your lips until they’re swollen, sinking deeper into your welcoming cavern, so warm and wet for him.

“I love you, brat.” You gasp now, blinking rapidly as you stare at him. “I won’t say this nonsense again, got it?”

“You love me!? Ah!” Sukuna shoves his cock hard in you now, you’re trying to register his words, as he fucks all sense out of your mind.

“I’ll not repeat it. You know it, yes brat?” He cups your face, gripping your chin, as your heart races, you’re trying to form a coherent word, wondering if you’re dreaming. “Your King asked you a question.”

“You l-love me?”

“Tch.” He pulls out of you, making you whine. “You’re too cock drunk to focus, aren’t you? I said I’ll not repeat myself.”

“You love me too?” You’re laid down on the towels once more, he’s hovering over you with two arms, the others gripping your face.

“Yes, you’ve cast whatever spell, evil bunny. Do you know now?” You’re sobbing, but you’re smiling, confusing the shit out of him. “Are you sad or happy, fuck!?”

“So happy, so happy. I love you and our baby so much, my King.” He rolls his eyes, scoffing, but your words melt him.

“Enough of that. Now.” He sinks back inside your cunt, moaning as he feels your wet heat after weeks of not having it. “Need to feel you cumming for me.”

*****

Your arranged marriage with Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, was by far and away the best thing that happened to you. You’ve already had your first child now, a son named after his father, but Sukuna is determined to have more and more of them. When you feel insecure, he scoffs and demands you stop, before his tongues and hands worship your body.

He doesn’t profess his feelings too often, but sometimes when he thinks you’re sleeping, he’ll caress your cheek and whisper ‘I love you, bunny’ thinking you don’t hear him. And every so often when he cums, he cries out in your ear just so, you hear some jumbled ‘fucking love you’ before he catches himself.

He was still a force to be entranced by anyone, but he is soft with his wife, you, his Queen, he’s soft with his son, when he thinks no one sees. Sukuna is a conundrum, and you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to his duality, brutally dominating the world one moment, and the next he’s sweetly kissing your baby’s forehead, or caressing your face softly.

Now, having recovered from having the baby, Sukuna has you on his lap during his meetings with the council often, however this time, your devious husband has his cock inside of you, under your robes. Your cunt is gushing all around him as you try to maintain your composure, and he’s delighting in it, laugh soft in your ear, tickling you as you throb.

“Stay still now bunny, they’ll know what a slut their Queen is for her King’s cocks, hmm?” He taunts, you glare at him, only serving to make him jerk his hips up just so, your eyes roll back in your skull, being stretched like this on him.

“Y-you’re the worst, K-Kuna.” You whisper back, he chuckles again, two of those huge tattooed hands pressing your hips down, stuffing his full length inside you, his tip drooling against your cervix.

“I’ll put two babies in your womb this time. Need twins.” His words end you, the council are speaking now, and you’re trying so hard not to scream out, his other cock his pressing against your clit, you’re gushing down his muscled thighs, his veiny length, feeling so fucking good you can’t take it.

“Your Majesty, we-”

“No, I’m busy.” Sukuna fucking flings his subjects, you’d normally get on him about his antics, but you can’t speak when his cock is buried so deep. He rests his chin on one hand lazily, as the other people speak, and he keeps you still, warming his cock as the other drizzles precum on your belly.

“Kuna, please…” You whisper now, and he feels you tightening, scowling up as you make him sensitive.

“You brat, you mean to tease me?” You bat your lashes innocently.

“No, my King.”

“Keep going and they’ll have their next heir right here.” He hisses, serving to make your heart race, your cunt dripping all over, he sinks a hand under your robes, his tongue from his hand lapping it up, as you bite your lip, stifling your cries. “Want them to watch me fuck another in you?”

“N-no, sadistic ass.” He glares right back, someone is saying something, but the two of you are too consumed in each other to notice.

“Stay still, brat, and I’ll let you ride me right here when we’re done, if you don’t I won’t wait, you’ll have a royal audience.”

You make it through the meeting, just barely, and soon he’s got your robes parted, and you’re straddling him on his throne, taking both of his cocks, riding him, your hands braced on his strong shoulders. He’s sucking on your nipples as your breasts bounce in his face, letting you control the pace, letting you ride him, he won’t tell you but he loves it when you do.

“Going to keep you pregnant, brat.” He huffs, wrecking you with his words, you swear you hear an I love you when he’s cumming so deep, but you let him think you don’t.

“Love you, Kuna.” You murmur, it makes him melt, but he just glares.

“You can still talk, huh bunny? Need to fix that.”If Sukuna is a little softer these days, he has only his very bratty bride to blame, you.

A/N- aww this was so fun, I loved writing this fun little mini series here. It was fluffy and filthy and I enjoyed making Sukuna soft, idk idk lol!. Ty for the love on this little thing!? Ya'll I'm hooked on Sukuna fr lol (already wrote modern Sukuna nowww) so plenty more to come.

Taglist (Rest will go in repost!) - @mistygrovesarchive @mima0127 @janrcrosssing @thejujvtsupost @clp-84 @makingtimemine @silvarys @after-laughter-come-tears @yenayaps @vantedaes @liivzen @just-lilita @jdevilmadness @lixern @spaceeyhem @thisisew @bozos-r-us @slootbear @pamemoonlight @xxyaoi-nationxx @jschlattsgff @alessdramawouldbenice @sukunasfavgroupie @1emma1 @nanamjai @1-800-blues-clues   @watashiwasohidesu @vynwan-cbq  @mouseyboo @imbacklovie @cyberket @chuuminn @diannana @hanham10 @arilxup88 @suna-is-my-one-and-only @yv-ania @urgirlraven @sillymortalblob @nana-thee-galaxy-g1rl @jiahu

[steddiebrainrotramble]

Steve had always been the one left behind. First his parents who as soon as they deemed him capable at ten, had left for longer and longer. They hadn’t been home in almost two years at this point. It had been about two months since they had defeated Vecna.

Then it had been Nancy, calling him bullshit. He believed it now, knew that anything he loved was just that. Bullshit.

Robin had shown him true friendship though. That maybe some of his love was okay, if it was platonic. That was his platonic soulmate, his best friend. He loved her deeply. But he knew she’d move on eventually too. Go to college, find a girlfriend. She wouldn’t need him for long.

And Eddie. Steve knew he was destined for great things. You don’t survive dying and having your heart restarted without some kind of stubbornness. And Steve knew the songs he wrote and his voice. It would only be so long before he got out of this god awful town and onto a stage where people loved him. Because Steve knew what his love did, it pushed people towards better things. Away from him.

He’d begun to really like Eddie. The hangouts, getting high. He was his bi awakening. His first kiss with a man. The person he wished he could love but knew he’d loose so he’d save himself the hurt.

Until the day Eddie showed up at his door, looking hopeful. Excited. And Steve knew this was it. He was leaving him for good.

“We got a record deal! An actual record deal.” Eddie jumped up and wrapped his arms around Steve, spinning him in the doorway. “We’re going to L.A. Steve.”

Steve hugged him back tightly, trying to keep the tears from his voice. “That’s great! I’m really proud of you!”

Eddie pulled away, staring at him intently. “You’re coming too. Can’t do it without you.” He whispered, taking his hand. “Please say you’ll come with me?”

“You can have the world. Why would you want me there?” Steve asked, voice rough from the tears he tried to hide.

“Because I can’t have the world without my sunshine.” Eddie said like it was the simplest thing in the world.

He couldn’t hide the tears anymore.

Steve yanked Eddie close again, burying his tear soaked face in his neck as he cried. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t bullshit after all.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 5

<-former chapter -AO3 link -next chapter -> Call of duty. My ko-fi, Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 6.3k

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

MDNI. MDNI. Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: do note there will be the use of prong collars in this. Just like all the other fucked up stuff in this, i don't support that irl, but this is fiction. On a different note, it will probably be at least a week before I can give you another chapter lol, shit is happening, my sinners and im holding on. Also thank u to all the nice asks and comments ive been sent. means a lot <33. ENJOY!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You could only stay in the farmhouse for so long; even though you desperately wanted to stay inside, Price dragged you outside, talking about fresh air and enjoying nature. 

To you it was nothing but lies and the smell of animal shit.

There were no pavements, no cars flashing by, no advertisements or shops, no scents of food or sweets trying to lure you in. There were no hybrid clothes shops, where John would play dress up with you for his next party. Show him how the lingerie set he picked out looked against your tail.

He would make sure your nails were always perfect and manicured. Without the claws, he made sure you knew you were loved anyways, your nails adorned with expensive nail polish and gemstones. Anything that his Daisy, his princess, his darling, his puppy wanted, she always got.

Now you were here, following him into the stables, to see how far Nikolai - who had forced himself into your life - was with the tractor.

Warily looking out for the hybrids, staying close to your owner.

The stitches were gone and everything was healed all nicely - that didn’t mean that you wanted to start over and get more bites that would need stitches. Once was enough. Hopefully Price and Nikolai understood that too.

Also, you didn’t want to get fucked dumb by those mutts again; they didn’t deserve your pussy. Especially not Ghost or Gaz. Not really Soap either, he had just been nice because he had to. You were sure. They were nothing but stupid working dogs, who didn’t know how to behave.

Your owner, John Price, looked in love; he was watching Nik just as much as he was watching the tractor. The stress that had sometimes followed him home when you lived in the city was no longer visible. It had left his bones, made him happy and pliable, clearly blossoming in his new role as a farmer. You loved him but what the fuck were you supposed to do with this whole situation? Pretend to be happy?

You were a pet, so it wasn’t like you had any options. And your attempts at persuading him to move back to the city hadn’t gone well. Resisting your ever present urge to let him fuck you, would probably not do you any good. Earn you a spanking from both him and Nikolai. They might even throw you to the hounds.

One of those said hounds were getting closer to you, the hybrid making you tense up a little.

“You’re looking good, princess,” Gaz said casually, shooting you an awfully charming smile, his tail wagging while you tipped your ears backwards instead of replying.

“Feeling better?”

You didn’t reply, merely stared at the tractor, boring as it was. Maybe if you ignored him, he would go away. He stepped closer to you, his dark gaze resting on you, while you stepped closer to John, growling as a warning.

“Behave,” Price said over his shoulder, clearly more interested in that Russian man of his, than your safety.

It only took another step and Gaz’s teeth a tad too close to you, to send you bolting out. Back inside it was then, you concluded, enough farming bullshit for today.

Only to meet Ghost in the way, his scarred face grinning smugly, ears tipping towards you.

“‘Ello pup.”

Nah, you weren’t fucking with that today. You managed to see the shadow of Soap before you bolted again.

Running still wasn’t your best talent; so though you knew it was stupid, you decided to do what you weren’t allowed to anyways. You crawled the wooden fence, ignoring the male hybrids' shouts and barks — as well as the fence’s slight squeak - and landed on the other side with a grunt. 

The corns were tall and you took a breath, looking over your shoulder, only to see a worried looking Soap being the closest.

He let out a concerned whimper.

“Dinnae lass,” he warned, a softness in his voice that you recognized from your moments inside.

You would deal with the consequences and the punishment that Price would give you for leaving the ground. It was better than getting your shoulders bitten to pieces - so you got up and rushed into the tall corn field. Abandoning the male hybrids.

Stupid. They were all stupid.

Maybe this should be your new go-to hiding spot. You could hear them bark aggressively but not getting nearer. They weren’t allowed to leave either. You felt your chest swell a little with pride over the idea. You wouldn't be gone for long, just until they lost interest in you.

It was several seconds before you stopped, panting with your tongue out. You couldn’t see the fence or the farm from all the corn by now, which finally meant some peace. Your tail wagged and your body relaxed, a soft wind playing with your fur for a moment, making the corn move around you, like waves in the ocean.

However, that peace didn’t last long.

“My my,” the voice almost appeared out of nowhere and you turned slowly, unsure but still afraid of what you would see, “what are you doing here, perrita? On my property?”

You knew Alejandro and Rodolfo had gotten a hybrid, but you had been too swept up in your own nightmare to ask about her; now, as she towered above you, seeming more wolf than dog, you would rather have one of the mutts on your own farm. A scared little whimper escaped you.

“You must be Price’s precious lapdog, no?” She asked, slowly moving in between the corn with ease, as she circled around you, fear making you stay still, “a little city puppy, forced to be out on a farm. How sad.”

There was no trace of sympathy in her voice. It took you a moment to swallow some spit and another moment to take a proper breath.

“I’ll go home again, I’m sorry.” You tried your best to seem submissive, leaning forward a little, tail tugged along your leg. You at least had your owner at the farm - but here? Here, with this new, wolf-like hybrid, you didn't have anyone. You weren’t even supposed to be here, weren’t allowed. Sure, you knew Alejandro and Rudy, but they also knew you weren’t supposed to be there.

“Hmmm,” she answered in a rumble, licking her teeth slowly, casually showing off her fangs, “what’s your name, perrita?”

She screamed danger. Her energy screamed ‘I can make worse wounds than them’ and you certainly didn’t feel like testing that. In fact, you would rather get as much distance between you and her as possible.

“D-Daisy.” It was the name Price had chosen, not that you were really called it. But you weren’t going to tell this hybrid woman who looked like she could swallow you whole, that you were usually called princess, pretty girl, puppy or sweetheart.

“I’m Valeria,” she replied, finally stopping her circling, only to step closer to you. She wasn’t really that tall, but her energy was as if she was,  she had strong arms and legs; scars littered her too, her hair short, ears big and tipped forward without a care in the world. Her collar was thick and sturdy, opposed to your own fancy one.

You almost wanted to point out that yours was prettier. That you were a lapdog, not one of the working ones, that you were not made to be played rough with. That you were no threat.

You could hear barking in the distance. Voices calling out for you. Even though you hadn’t met Valeria for more than a minute, you already knew you wanted to get a good distance between you and her.

“Uh nice to meet you, but I better get back home, sorry-“ you turned around quickly but before you could even think to bolt, strong arms were around you and the other dog hybrid pulled you close to her chest.

“Eres tan linda e ingenua,” she almost lovingly growled into your ear, and while you didn’t understand what she was saying, you were much more distracted by her tongue. She licked your cheek a couple of times, slow and wet strokes; you got the feeling that she might eat you raw without regret and you twisted a little in her grip, letting out a louder growl. She laughed, one of her hands pawing at your tit, claws sinking into the fabric. She smelled of danger and lust; like the mutts at home when they first got their dirty paws on you.

“I’m gonna enjoy me—“

“VALERIA!” Her name echoed through the fields, making both of you freeze. Like a warning rushing in between the corns, her name couldn’t be ignored.

She growled deeply, seeming annoyed with the disturbance, while you wanted to kiss whoever of your neighbors it was. She rolled her hips, humping your ass twice, before she was interrupted again.

“Valeria!” It was Alejandro, you realised then, who yelled once again, “ sé que la tienes! Let her go!”

With one deep sniff of you, while you whimpered, the wolf-looking hybrid finally let go of you.

“I won’t be as nice next time, perrita - now go, before I change my mind and take you from your boys.”

You didn’t need to be told that again and didn’t want to argue that they weren’t your boys - the moment she let go, you bolted towards the way you came. 

How they knew that she had gotten a hold of you wasn't clear, but it wasn’t like you were gonna turn around and ask Alejandro or Rudy.

The answer came to you anyways; one angry looking John Price stood with crossed arms, phone in hand. A grinning Nikolai next to him and three growling hybrids moving back and forth along the men and the fence. Every single one of them stilled and stared at you as you sheepishly walked to the fence, tail between your legs and ears tipped down.

You stood, just for a moment, with the fence in between you and the others. Considering staying there, as if that would be a good solution.

“Get your arse over here,” Price snapped, his voice stern and dark, as he put his phone in his pocket, marching towards you. 

You hastily and in a rather inexperienced manner, climbed the fence and got to the right side. Instantly, tears welled up in your eyes and you let out a whimper, almost ready to tell about the horrors you had just been through - only to bark loudly at the hybrids as they all charged towards you, hands touching you, only stopped by a sharp whistle. 

“Nyet,” Nikolai called harshly, “off her. Now.”

Soap and Gaz instantly let go, stepping back as John reached you, but Ghost didn’t move. His hand rested on your neck, pressing your collar against your skin, his nose almost fully pressed against your temple. 

“Let go.” Price’s voice was sharp and you let out a little whimper- not sure who of them you would rather deal with right now.

“She smells wrong,” Ghost replied, not moving, but his voice not as harsh as it could be, “smell of her.”

Her. You didn’t know whether Valeria would be in trouble over this or not. You had been the one to step into her territory anyways. She wasn't the one who had jumped a fence after all.

“We will fix that.” 

Ghost let out a grumble but after two seconds of staring at each other, the hybrid finally let go of you, earning himself a swift “Good boy.” 

Then Price grabbed into the ring in your collar and pulled, ignoring how you instantly broke into tears, excuses and explanations spilling from your lips like a waterfall, desperate to avoid punishment. You didn't want to stay with Valeria, but you didn’t want this either.

You were dragged past Nikolai who shared a short glance with Price - and they gave each other a short nod.

“C’mon boys,” Nikolai then called, the hybrids instantly moving to him, even though you could feel them staring at you, “we’re gonna join them.”

They were what? You cried harder, tugging at John’s arm, your owner ignoring your pleads and cries.

“I’m sorry sir, I got scared, I didn’t mean to run away,” you babbled, every second word followed by a small sob or whine, tail between your lets, almost making it hard to walk normally, “ they scared me, I was gonna come back, I’ll be good sir, I’ll behave! I wasn’t running away!”

There was no mercy from your owner, who just marched you towards the farmhouse that had almost become home by now.

If someone had told you a year ago that you would be a dog on a farm by now, surrounded by working hybrids, you would have laughed in their face. Loudly and impolitely.

You? Pretty lapdog living in the city out on a farm?

You weren’t even at the house yet, somehow crying harder because you felt so sorry for yourself in general. You were such a perfect lapdog, such a perfect being, forced to be out here, in the cold countryside. A tragedy.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The prong collars looked like they would choke too and you wanted to scream merely at the sight.

“I’m not running the risk of having my darling all bitten to pieces again - this will hopefully help you to remember.”

None of them seemed too happy about it; you couldn’t blame them, you wouldn’t want those either, but you were horrified by the idea of getting bitten as harshly as they did last time. If both Price and Nik hadn’t been there, you doubted it would be possible to get the collars on them.

You were still crying yourself, from the shame of having jumped over the fence and creating chaos, only resulting in this.

The moment they were allowed, they were on you, ignoring your whimpering and fingers trying to push them off - Soap was the nicest, helping you get your clothes off instead of letting the others rip them, even if all of them were obsessed with your smell. Or well, with how you smelled of Valeria to be exact.

Soap licked your cheek and you growled at him, tipping your ears back, trying to push him away, fingers against his chest; but he didn’t move, only pressed himself closer, growling back to prove he was stronger than you - that you were supposed to be submitting to him.

“They shouldn’t be this aggressive,” you heard Price point out to Nikolai, but you were too distracted by Soap grinding his still clothed crotch against your poor, exposed cunt - you whined his name, but he didn’t stop. 

“Gonn’ mark ye, hen,” he promised in a murmur, teeth sinking into your jaw for just a moment - a warning tug in the leash made him let go almost instantly, instead licking the spot a couple of times, “gonn’ make ye smell all bonnie again.”

Both Gaz and Ghost were barking, but they were both held by the collars by Price and Nik, kneeling next to them, clearly antsy.

“-are working dogs-” it was hard to hear them, over your own mind buzzing so much, over the barks and the pleasure that you hated, “-hierachy is importa-”, one of Soap’s hands disappeared and a moment later, you heard his fly get tugged down, “show them where the line is, so–”

You howled in a high pitched tone as he forced his cock inside you, making you twist and try to push Soap okay. The stretch was intense, burning despite how wet you felt. “It's okay, bonnie lass,” Soap growled, forcing his cock a little deeper into you, nosing at your shoulder, near one of your scent glands, his hands moving to grab onto your thighs, “we’re nae gonna hurt ye.”

You both knew it was a lie - but you at least trusted Soap a little more than the two other mutts who were watching, knowing he could control himself. They were barely able to sit still, tongues out, almost drooling, while their eyes were dark in a way that reminded you of that time in the shed.

He forced his cock deeper, the knot finally reaching the opening of your poor, stretched cunt and you let out a sound at the fear of it sliding inside you. The scent of Soap was already beginning to overwhelm the scent that Valeria had left behind against your will - a part of you wished you had fought her more, had attempted to hurt her more.

The cry that left you was pained and afraid - his fangs almost having forced its way through your skin; you were only saved by John, who pulled Soap back by the collar, the prongs digging into the hybrid’s skin.

“Behave, boy,” John snarled while a mixture of a whine and a growl left Soap, as he helplessly pawed at the collar, “No breaking skin - already told you.”

“‘m sorry, sorry,” he promised, a pained tone to his voice, “dinnae mean tae.”

You doubted it was true; there was a darkness in the air despite the way your owner tried handling them.

He was let go off and the moment the prongs didn’t painfully dig into his skin, he was on you again, tongue on the indent he had left, his cock pressed into you again, his tail wagging.

“‘m sorry,” he barely managed to say in between his licks and moans, before his hands were back on you, his moaning louder, as he ignored your whines of slowing down. Your own hands grabbed onto his mohawk and ears, but the hybrid did nothing but moan even louder, moving his hips a little upwards and fuck - he hit the perfect spot, grinning like a feral hound when he noticed and heard your sounds.

You came against your will, crying out and spasming around him, his hands grabbing harder onto your thighs, claws teasing the skin.

He was panting and moaning like a hound, mounting you like there was nothing in his mind but the feeling of your cunt.

“Gonna fill ye up,” Soap promised, words barely escaping his mouth, drool dripping down on you; not like you cared, too gone yourself to really do so.

“DON'T knot her,” Price’s word cut through the air like a sharp knife, slicing into your mind; you wanted him to knot you, a part of you realized, no you needed him too - while another screamed in delight of not having to be stuck to him.

“Nnngh,” his hips were going so fast it almost hurt as they clashed against your skin, “please sir, please plea—“

“No.”

The hand that appeared made you shudder - and then a second later, Soap came, almost a guttural scream leaving him; you could feel Price’s fingers near your cock, stopping him from sliding his knot into you. 

“Later,” Price answered, then pulling Soap back by the collar and hair, your own hands slipping easily from him, “we don’t have the time to wait for all of you to knot her right now.”

The moment he was pulled away, you moved, whimpering and curling to the side, wincing as cum slid out from your pussy; it wasn’t John’s, you wanted it to be your owners. You barely had time to breathe before Nik released one of the others. Gaz pushed you onto your stomach - one hand on your neck to keep you down as you snarled.

“Wait,” you barked, ears tipping down “lemme breathe, for fucks sake—“

“Need you, puppy,” Gaz merely replied, grabbing onto your collar and tugging, his other hand pulling on your tail, ignoring your yelp, “gonna make it all okay again.”

“Nothing happened-“ you snarled, trying to make him let go, but you separately rose to your knees in order to levitate the pressure on your tail.

“Why did you smell like her then, huh?” He all but snarled, finally letting go of your collar, to push down his own pants, “stinking of her lust!”

You tried twisting to grip onto his ears to tug at them, hoping it would make him let go of you but he merely let go of you fully for a moment - your wrists were caught by his hands and he slammed them against the wooden floor.

“Be nice, собака,” Nik warned him, “I’m in no mood for broken bones.”

You barely heard him nor Gaz’ aggressive reply; you were too busy, having a realization. 

They were jealous ; you weren’t sure why it had taken you so fucking long to realize. The three mutts were jealous somebody else, somebody they didn’t know, had touched you and hadn’t you been so fucking upset, you might have laughed.

Instead, you felt a cock forcing its way into your cunt, making you howl in pleasure against your will; the slide was easier this time as Gaz fucked you, as you were already wet from the round with Soap - and now with his cum as well, Gaz fucked you almost smoothly. If not more aggressively than Soap had.

It didn’t take long before his teeth sank into your skin, the first two seconds it was nothing more than an extra grip, his cock roughly thrusting into you as if attempting to move your organs, his drool sliding along your skin, mixing with your sweat. His claws were digging into your skin slightly, but even more into the floor - while you were a mess, panting and attempting to growl in between your pathetic moans, barely able to see straight.

The pressure he bit you with changed quickly however and suddenly you were whining in pain, so loudly that you almost didn’t recognize your own voice.

Apparently Gaz had tried to bite Price in aggression over being ripped away from ‘his bitch’ as Nik called it, and you heard the harsh words and slaps, while you sank down a little, your tits pressed against the cold floor, your cunt empty. 

He was back as soon as he disappeared though, pulling you up again, only to almost instantly try to bite you again – halfway pulled away once more. You looked over your shoulder, seeing how the prong collar dug into his skin for a short moment until Price let go of him again.

The moment he was back, you turned however, using the moment to grab onto one of his long, dark ears and tug; it was almost a squeal that left Gaz and you heard both the hybrids bark and growl, Nik saying something – but it was the harsh spank from the leather leash that made you loosen your grip. 

“Behave, Princess,” John was squatting down next to you, strong hand on your pretty collar; it stood out so violently when compared to the others’ current prong collars, “or I’ll get you a collar too.”

“They’re mean!” you whimpered, giving him your best puppy eyes, before sending Gaz an angry look, as he was barely held back by John.

“Well you’re not quite playing nice either, eh?” There was a slight amusement in his voice but you didn’t get to comment on it, before he moved again.

Price gave Gaz more leash and the hybrid was instantly on you again, but this time Price didn’t let go of the metal ring in your own collar, keeping you in place, as if to remind you to behave; to remember he was right here, calling the shots.

“Yeah, Princess,” Gaz mocked, pushing into your cunt again with a moan, the movement in his hips exposing the fact that he was wagging his tail, “Behave.”

“Shut up!” you hissed angrily, a tug in the collar reminding you that Price was right there. 

Gaz’ hands were mostly on your hips - he nuzzled against your back and neck, licking your shoulders and in between your shoulder blades - he bit you a couple of times, but they were barely anything more than nips, a gentle tug on his collar reminding him to behave.

Then one of his hands moved, almost catching you off guard and making you whimper - it slid beneath your stomach, pawing at it for a moment, before it found its way to your cunt where the two of you were still connected, his thrusts still hard; he touched your clit without hesitation, snarling out words you could barely recognize. Mercilessly forcing you towards another orgasm.

Price let go of your collar and you let your head slumber down against the floor, wincing at the small pool of drool that had been created, hating how you pushed back against Gaz, the dual pleasure of his cock hitting that right spot and the fingers on your clit, so good you could barely breathe.

You barely heard Price’s command of not knotting you, from the mere tsunami of pleasure that overtook your body as you came, a howl that barely made any sound, snapping of your teeth and the pawing at the floor. You tightened around his cock, the knot having been so close, oh so close to being forced into your over oversensitive cunt - but then it was pulled out of you, almost making you sob.

Cum spurted on top of your lower back and ass cheeks, before Gaz willingly went - you could hear the almost instant sound of him and Soap making out with each other. And there was only one person back, which meant you had to go now.

A hand grabbed onto your ankle, dragging you backwards as you managed to crawl forwards a few steps - you turned around, back on the floor, raising your opposite leg to kick Ghost in the face, but the other hybrid caught it easily; grinning at you, almost feral-like, lust heavy in the air. Sometimes you forgot they had been in the military for so long.

Leather connected to your skin once more, this time on your raised thigh, a whine leaving you, your eyes flickering to look up at John who stood with the leash curled in his hand, ready to spank you with it once more.

“behave,” John hissed at you, while Ghost chuckled. Idiot.

You didn’t have much time to argue, Ghost letting go of your ankles, just to grab onto your thighs and pull you closer; he was kneeling, almost pulling you into his lap, that feral grin still there, fangs exposed.

He leant over you much quicker than you had anticipated, ignoring your growling and snapping with teeth - one hand resting next to your head, the other pulling down his boxers, pants already open.

Was his cock this big last time? It was like you couldn’t remember the last time right now, you could barely think, in fact, your mind was overwhelmed with so many things. Pleasure, oversensitivity, pain and anger - his dick seemed inhumanely long.

“Not so snappy now, huh?” he crooned, voice low, his free hand grabbing onto your plush thigh, fingers digging into the fat, ears tipped towards you as he spoke, “cockdumb already?”

“nnngh,” you tried pushing at his clothed chest, twisting in his grip, but it was no use; it was like the cock inside you kept you from doing anything. Somehow you managed a small “shutup” and that was enough to set Ghost going.

“Gonna teach you to not go whoring again,” Ghost snarled against your skin, tongue sloppily leaving a wet trail of spit over one of your bouncing tits, simply ignoring your hands trying to push his face out of the way, a plethora of moans and small yaps leaving you as he didn’t stop fucking you with that monster cock of his. You knew you were being watched, both by your owner and his boyfriend, as well as the two other hybrids, it only added to the humiliation of being turned on.

“Belong to us,” his words were barely audible as he growled them, the wet sounds and rustling of his clothes seeming to overtake it, “not her.”

“I won’t, won’t go, won–” you were barely aware of the words slipping from your lips, the volume rising as you felt his teeth scrape against a spot on your shoulder over your right breast, “nonon, please, I wont–”

“Ghost–” Price’s warning was stern, the little tug in the prong collar making him grumble, licking over the spot a couple of times - your eyes met. 

Ghost’s eyes almost seemed like they wanted to own you too; as if it was no longer John who you bowed to, but the pack that you didn’t want, on a farm you didn’t want to be. His thrusts quickened and then his eyelids lowered together with his head – biting down into your skin.

Despite his fast attempt at breaking your skin, mauling your flesh into his, Price was quicker – pulling him back by the collar. He held an extra grip on his hair and you managed to look up, see through the tears.

It was like there was a flood in your ears, Price looking mad, Ghost’s ears tipping backwards as he spoke.

Fighting to get some air into your lungs, you panted and tried wiggling free. Ghost’s fingers merely dug deeper into your plush thigh even though he was currently pulled back by the prong collar, the tips of his claws pressing against your skin as a warning.

The moment he let go, Ghost was back at it, staring down at you with a dark smile, grunts and small moans even leaving him. It took a couple of moments before Price let him have enough leash to bend down over you again and this time Ghost growled into your ears instead of your skin. Licking your furry ears while you whimpered at the feeling and the words.

They owned you; were going to breed you, use you, keep Valeria away, and do whatever they needed to keep you. You were theirs. The moment you let us, he had panted, we will love you.

There was an odd feeling in your stomach, almost as if you were going to piss yourself, but with no mercy from any of the men, one of your hands dug into his short hair and the other grabbed onto his shoulder as you screamed.

It had been a while since you squirted and it took you by surprise, just as it did the others. There were several barks, voices but then Ghost was fucking you even harder than before, bordering on painful, forcing his mouth against yours. You came a second time, this time not squirting but it almost felt more intense.

Ghost came just a moment later, perhaps caught by surprise himself, but he made sure not to knot you. 

The world was spinning around you. There were teardrops in your lashes as you squinted up at the hybrid, who was still pushed inside you. Price’s hand petting him shortly on the head before pulling him back.

There was speech but you barely noticed - then strong hands pulled you up into a lap. The overpowering scent of leather and oil told you who it was and despite your slight hate for Nik, your tail wagged as he pulled you into his arms, cooing at you.

“Such a strong puppy,” he praised, one of his hands drying away some of your drool, caressing your cheek as he sat on the floor with you on his lap, cum no doubt dripping onto his clothes, “you deserve treat for being so good, da?”

Compared to the first time you had met Nikolai, you didn’t want to bite his hand anymore - he clearly didn’t fear you doing so either. You snuggled into his hand, nodding as you squinted up at him, a  small “uh-huh” leaving you.

His hand disappeared and then there was a faint rustling of plastic - even without seeing it, you smelled it. It was that mouthwatering scent that made you weak in your knees that first time and your nose instantly sniffed, almost trying to sit up further to get a look of where it was - to get it before the boys did. Nikolai laughed, letting out a “there you go, milaya,” letting you grab the piece of jerky from his finger, instantly sinking your teeth into it with a pleased sigh. Your tail wagging a little again as you heard Soap whining over not getting a piece.

You even had to take a bath with them afterwards. Your life was officially over - you made sure to tell Price that, who just huffed and rolled his eyes. Sure, you weren’t the biggest fan of showers, but you wanted the cum off and you wanted a bath in the tub… alone. That was your thing.

“- ‘nd they’re gonna use up my shampoo and my conditioner -” you continued overdramatically as Nik carried you in front of John, the russian man merely snorting at your pitiful complaining. 

“We’ll buy more-” John tried to point out, but to no avail, life might as well be over for you right now.

“- ‘nd my brushes - all my nice brushes!”

“I will be sure tae use yers, Mo ghràdh,” Soap happily proclaimed, sending you a wink, fully naked as he was, his usual collar back on, small red marks on his neck from where the prongs had been, “I will use theim the wrong way. Just fer ye.”

Gaz snickered and even Ghost let out a chuckle.

“Jooohn,” you whined, only struggling a little as Nik sat you down in the tub, the water already nice and warm, your poor body having needed this, “I’m gonna need new brushes.”

“I doubt that, Princess,” he cooed, petting your hair, “Now who wants to join in th–”

Soap was in the tub, sliding in behind you before John could even finish his question, happily ignoring your pout and growl.

“Dinnae be like that,” he crooned, “where is yer special shampoo?”

This day had been awful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Princess.”

You almost jumped as the voice called for you and you turned, squinting slightly in suspicion at the sight. Gaz stood in the doorway, all calmly, looking at you, playing a little with his gloves. He didn’t look aggressive and didn’t smell turned on; in fact, he looked pretty harmless, his tail wagging ever so slightly, ears turning towards you and an almost shy smile.

“What?” you asked, sitting up in the dog bed, crossing your arms, not caring about sounding nice, looking him over for a moment before adding, “you’re dragging in mud.”

He looked down at his shoes, letting out a little ‘oh’. They weren’t really supposed to be in here, so you didn’t really understand why Gaz stood there. You didn’t really care either.

The other might be beautiful, but he was still not one of your favorite people. 

“I - want to show you something,” he finally said, one of his charming smile appearing, though it was a little more careful this time, “Soap said you would probably like it.”

“What is it?” You didn’t sound too impressed.

“It's a surprise,” he smiled a little more.

“If it's your knots, then you can–”

“Jeez,” he rolled his eyes, as if they weren’t fucking you silly on the livingroom floor the other day, “it’s not. Nothing like that.”

“Promise?”

“I do,” he answered, wagging a little more than before, “Swear on my tail.”

"Hm. Where is it?”

“In the barn.”

You scrunched your nose at the mention of the barn, the idea of being stamped to death by a horse already scaring you.

“It’s nothing scary - I wouldn’t bring you if it was.”

You let out a sigh, before getting up - he went to the hallway again and you followed, stealing one of John’s jackets as well as a pair of his boots, before following Gaz outside. 

“Some air would do you good once in a while, ya’ know,” Gaz said after a few moments, “we’re not that bad all of the time, Princess.”

You huffed, wondering for a moment if you should just turn around and go back. “You haven’t really proved me otherwise.”

He let out a hum that almost sounded agreeable but opened one of the doors to the barn, ushering you inside.

“It’s all good, I promise,” he said once more and you reminded yourself, that if he tricked you, you were going to snap off his tail. Pretty as it was.

He steered you to a booth where you noticed the heat lamp at first, more than anything else - but then you saw them, letting out a little gasp.

Tiny baby goats, all snuggled together in the hay beneath the lamp. A few of the mothers stood nearby and one of them came to the door of the booth, sniffing at Gaz’ hand, before letting out a bleat - then turning around again.

“They’re adorable,” you whispered, looking back at the babies, some of them looking at you, others sleeping with no worries in the world. 

“Aren’t they?” Gaz asked with a smile, “They were born yesterday night. Come.”

You let out a scared sound as Gaz opened the door to the booth.

“Won’t the mothers attack us?” you didn’t like how Gaz chuckled to your genuine, fearful question but he shook his head.

“Nah, me ‘nd the others hang out with the animals all the time.” He explained, petting one of the mothers who came to greet him for a moment.

It was cute. You had to admit that, even with your limited love of the farm animals.

“But I don’t.” you pointed out, still standing in the door of the booth, afraid to step into the hay and join the other as he sat down next to the baby goats.

“No, but the mothers know I won’t let a predator near,” he explained gently, “Not at daytime and not during the night.”

“Oh.”

There was something special over this that you could not explain. You didn’t want to explain it. You sat down next to Gaz as he patted the spot, still a little unsure about the momma goats - but none of them battered an eye as Gaz took your hand and made you gently pet one of the babies.

“They’re so tiny,” you whispered, almost to yourself, for once not hating or fearing Gaz. At least for right now, you were just in a moment together with him, doing something that you hadn’t expected would be that nice.

[radioactive-mouse]

i keep thinking about like. how the brutality levels vary between seasons and how secret life is the natural culmination of everything these people have been through and the watchers pushing everything to extremes. i’m going to try to articulate how crazy this makes me

3rd Life: god. 3rd life was a clear cut war. we haven’t seen a season since where nearly everyone has such an intense devotion to their chosen faction. the fact that there’s no precedent that they’re coming back next season, the fact that as far as they know, dying means staying dead, makes just how much they’re willing to go down with the ship that much more heartbreaking. grian ended the season exactly how it was played by damn near everyone else— i love you, i would do anything for you, i would rather die than keep going without you. the season of widows.

Last Life: and then they come back. and then ending things isn’t an option. and all of a sudden it’s not a war, it’s a death match, and damn is the competition is vicious. deaths are more often than not a vague, impersonal thing— not get away from my king, my husband, my charge— just the flash of a knife and a quick sorry, just playing the game! if 3rd life told you to hold the ones you love close, defend them to your last breath, last life urges you to burn that love out of your chest entirely.

Double Life: but everything slows down eventually. no more dying for the one you love— just learning to live with them. double life is about knowing that when you die, you will go together, hand and hand into the dark. a soap opera, the players joke. a small kindness, the universe replies. again, pearl wins the same way everyone else lost— no, not yet, please, just give us a little longer together, i’m not ready, i’m so sorry—

Limited Life: but the clock, unyielding, ticks ever onward. and god, everyone is starting to feel it. that sick, nauseating feeling of dread creeping up on them: what if it never ends? what if this is it, this is all that’s left for us— tearing each other apart over and over and over again, and for what? for a show? to feed those hungry things lurking in the dark? we’ll give them a show. bombs rain from the sky, the world shaking under the weight of it. there isn’t a thing left by the end that’s not rubble. we’re all doomed! the players cry, laughing with nothing but nihilistic, unrestrained joy. none of it matters! we come back again, and again, and again, have a little fun with it! light the fuse, collateral be damned. when death means so little, what’s the point in pretending they don’t take a little joy in it? we settle this like grian and scar before us, scott jokes, armor and weapons tossed to the side. are you insane? martyn thinks, remembering the hollow look that would wash over grian’s face when he thought no one was watching. it ruined him. it will not ruin me. this is a death match for a reason.

Secret Life: and here it is. the natural conclusion. this season is candy colored, the map dotted with cute pink houses and silly builds, the players all running around doing these ridiculous tasks. it’s so easy to forget how bloody this season was. unclosing wounds, bruises that don’t fade, the sting of fire or falling from a simple misstep. the hurt never goes away, but it gets easier to ignore— distract yourself with something silly to pass the time: spyglasses and frogs and the ugliest house you’ve ever seen and matching leather jackets and the doghouse and the relationSHIP and a weird tunnel full of doors and secret soulmates and god it’s almost, almost, enough to forget how much it all aches, how much the grief weighs on you, how many times someone you love has died, sometimes to your own blade. almost none of the grudges you hold are real by now, not really. not when you’re going to live and die with these people for as long as the hungry, many-eyed things delight in your suffering. you love each other, in the strangest way— sure you’ve all killed and betrayed each other in a thousand different ways, but at the end of the day, they’re all you have. clinging to each other in the face of the vast, unknowable horrors that drive you to slash each other to pieces. it’s still a game, after all. they’ve gotta figure out how to be good sports about it eventually.

[seraphhskies]

angry love confessions

--⋆♱✮♱⋆--

wolverine (logan howlett) x gn! xmen! reader

word count: 807 type: fluff! cw: 18+ language, anger & cursing but it's wholesome, slightly suggestive ending

summary: reader (you) come back after a solo mission, one that Logan specifically didn't want you going on. a/n: AHH ok i wrote my first requested one, n my first logan fic! please leave any feedback you have, and feel free to leave requests :) i like to write fluff and smut mostly, so leave whatever you'd like! this is short for one of my works, but we'll get there dw (i'm absolutely dying to write a wade fic, so pleaseplease send those i'm begging)

--⋆♱✮♱⋆--

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Logan exploded, yelling at you from across the counter. You scowled right back at him, standing up from where you had previously been trying to eat. It had been awkwardly silent, until he finally just snapped.

“I was thinking that I could be helpful for once!” You returned, matching his tone with a much calmer energy. Your brow was furrowed as you placed your hands on the counter. Logan paced, angry eyes studying your face before he looked away, taking a few steps in your direction.

“You could have been killed,” He hissed, pointing at you as if to prove a point. You scoffed. “I’m fine! We needed to get them out and you wanted to wait too long!” Your tone was pointed, briefly registering the sound of footsteps before they turned back the way they came. 

“Yeah, it’s safer to have people with you.” Logan growled, eyes darting towards your bandaged shoulder. You rolled your eyes. Logan’s protective nature was really showing, but it wasn’t making sense.

“It’s not a big deal,” You insisted. “Nobody had to get hurt, and I handled it just fine.” You were defensive, a bit irritated that the man was babying you. Logan, without a doubt, was who you were closest to- and sure, he was as protective of you as everyone else. But this? This was new. 

“You got hurt,” He huffed, almost in disbelief. “I’m. Fine.” You repeated, in the most defiant, sure tone you could manage. 

“Yeah, and what if you weren’t?” Logan asked rhetorically. “Who woulda saved you then, bub?” He growled, crossing the room towards you. You could practically feel his breath on your face. You looked up at him, the man quite a few inches taller than you- but you stood defiantly. 

“It didn’t come to that.” You argued. 

He groaned in irritation, turning away from you and running a hand through his hair. Hurt coursed through you, but mostly confusion.

“Why the fuck do you care so much, Logan?” You finally voiced, still argumentative as you stood up for yourself. “I mean, you’re acting like me saving people- doing my job, is a big fucking problem!” 

You could see his shoulders tense, but you kept going- anger pooling in your stomach as you vented. 

“I am here, I’m safe, and I’m fine. What’s the big fucking deal?” At your accusing tone, he finally turned around- his scowl practically forming a snarl. 

“You could have died.” Logan ground out. 

“Yeah, and?” You scoffed, waving off your possible death as though it were nothing. “We’re X-Men,” A mirthless laugh left you. “Don’t see why you ca-”

“Because I love you,” He yelled, chest heaving with his confession. Your eyes went wide, processing what he said. 

Oh.

“What?” You breathed, just standing there in shock. 

“I-” Logan hesitated, anger finally starting to dim. “I fuckin’ love you,” He confessed. Emotions flickered through you. Was he being serious?

“Always have.” He said gruffly, crossing his arms in a defensive manner. “And you just go off and nearly get yourself killed- but the worst part is you don’t care.” The last part was a hiss, but you were already starting to grin. Your anger was practically forgotten.

“You love me?” You asked, just double checking. Logan glared at you, but nodded silently. You felt like a schoolgirl who’s crush was returned, as you had been pining for Logan since as long as you had been friends. 

God, was this real? 

You took two steps, crossing the distance between you easily, and clutched his shirt. You drew him to you as roughly as you could manage and pressed your lips to his. He groaned in surprise, quickly returning the kiss. 

You sighed against his mouth, feeling his stubble prickling you as you cupped his cheek. Your mouths moved together in perfect sync, before the kiss turned rough- quickly becoming all tongue and teeth. His hands were warm on your waist, drawing you impossibly close as your bodies molded perfectly together. 

By the time you separated, a string of saliva connected the two of you. 

“For the record,” You said with a grin, making no move to escape the man's hold. “I love you too.” 

His lips captured yours once more in a searing kiss, one that sent burning need coursing through your body. He felt so right against you, and you felt yourself melting against him once more. 

“Argument’s not over.” Logan grunted once you pulled away, resting his forehead against your own. You hummed. 

“Argue in the bedroom.” You cracked a smile, opening your eyes before a yelp left you. Logan hoisted you up- practically tossing you over his shoulder. You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he held firm, hiding the smug look on his face. 

And argue he did. 

[rambling-at-midnight]

omg a part 2????

i loved it so much!!!

Ahh I'm so glad you liked it!!! It's my first Jason x reader fic :) Here's a part 2!

Pros and Cons of Midnight Snacks (Part 2)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Civilian!Reader

Summary: Now it’s time for a meet-ugly-ish with some dude named Jason. Also, you see the Red Hood again.

Word count: 6.3k (holy shit)

You’re not crazy, right? It’s weird that the library is completely empty because it closes in two hours and the weather is actually nice outside for once, and some random dude wanders in and sets up two seats down from you. He’s not even here to study; he pulled out a sci-fi novel as soon as he sat down.

Who comes to a GCU campus library to read recreationally? The seats are uncomfortable and plastic. And the sun is shining. Everyone else is outside soaking up the Vitamin D.

Honestly, you’re mostly surprised the chair he’s on didn’t snap as soon as he sat. The dude is huge. Football player huge. Shouldn’t he be at practice, instead of forcing the chair to make the most irritating squeaking noises known to man every time he moves an inch?

You grit your teeth and put on your headphones, but you can still hear the poor chair’s dying lamentations, so you turn on an instrumental playlist that hopefully won’t distract you too much from studying.

You let yourself stew over the annoyance until your stomach growls so loud you hear it over the soft music. He has the good grace not to look at you, but you definitely see him pause.

Okay, you’ll call it even. This is what you get for running to the library right after six hours of classes. You need to cement the knowledge in your mind while it’s still fresh, and if that means you have to forego lunch…

He’s still there two hours later when the closing time alarm goes off. It’s a shrill old-school bell, the kind no one can ignore, and he jumps like he’s never heard it in his life. The poor chair finally gives up. He tumbles to the ground.

You look over in case he needs any help, but he’s scrambling for the book, face bright red.

If he is a football player, you wouldn’t be surprised that he’s never heard the bell before. That sort rarely stays this late at the library—if they enter at all.

He rushes out. You pack up a little more methodically. All that’s left for you to look forward to tonight is trying to study in your apartment, but you never have much luck.

He’s outside the library on his phone when you walk out. Maybe waiting for a ride? You’re a little on edge from the events of two days ago, so you watch him out of the corner of your eye as you walk away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t follow you.

At least the library closes earlier on Wednesdays, 6 pm instead of 9:30. You don’t know why. It’s still a weekday. But it forces you out while the sun’s still shining, which is probably a good thing.

Within two minutes of the twenty-minute walk home, your hip hurts. By the ten-minute mark, you’re trying not to limp.

Despite your better judgment, you keep your gaze turned to the rooftops, even though you know the vigilantes are nocturnal. It’s stupid to want to see a flash of red helmet, anyway. The Red Hood probably saves hundreds of people every week; there’s no way he would remember you.

Of course, when you finally get back, there are the stairs to contend with.

Your cat, that ungrateful little beast, beeps at you furiously for being gone so long. Never mind that your roommate works nights, so at most the cat’s been alone for an hour. He makes a break for the hallway, and you box the doorway with your legs and slam the door closed against your hip as you slip through.

Your injury explodes with pain, but at least the cat doesn’t get out. Ungrateful little beast. As if he isn’t fed and loved enough.

You finish slipping through the doorway and just stand for a moment listening to the blood rushing through your ears. Damn, but that hurt.

In the bathroom mirror, you hike up the hem of your shirt and check the state of your injury.

All in all, it could have been much worse. The bullet scooped out a fair chunk of skin, but it was just a surface wound. There’s no fresh blood on the gauze, and when you change the wrappings, the skin is pink and raw but starting to scab. It scooped out a chunk and left a trail of bruising, but you got off fairly lightly, all things considered.

The GCPD released the robber’s mugshot yesterday morning. In the picture, the man’s eyes were so swollen from your pepper spray he could hardly open them.

You preferred the bullet, honestly.

You try in vain to study a bit more, but even after you take more painkillers, you’re not in the mood. You feed your cat, then curl up on the couch to watch a couple episodes of the show you’re currently in the middle of.

That was the first time you see the huge guy, but it’s certainly not the last.

You wouldn’t notice him so much if he wasn’t the size of a damn refrigerator. He’s gotta be a linebacker for the Knights, but he’s not on their roster. You looked it up after the third time he wandered into the library just a couple minutes after you. It’s probably not updated yet, but you see him so often, you’d like to know his name.

Also, he’d bleached a patch of hair right at the front of his head—was that a trend now, or something?—so it wasn’t hard to spot him.

On Saturday, your feelings shift from mild annoyance and curiosity to a sinking sort of dread when you notice him at the coffeeshop you always visit on the weekends. The employees know you by name and use it to call out your order, so now he knows it, as long as he’s paying attention.

You think he might be.

You don’t want to be that person. Not everything in the world revolves around you, obviously. But you might still be shaken from what happened on Monday, because the thought wiggles in the back of your brain: what if you have a stalker?

You try to tell yourself that it’s just paranoia. GCU isn’t that big a campus, after all, and there are only so many places in the city that are: A. close to campus, B. reasonably priced, and C. comfortable to work in. You’ve run into classmates here before, and you don’t have a monopoly on the library or this coffeeshop. Just because he shows up at the same time you do doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He might be establishing a schedule that just so happens to line up with yours.

But, you have to admit, it is easier for stalkers to stalk people when they know their regular schedule.

You keep a watchful eye out and are pretty good about keeping off the streets after dark, but a week and a half later finds you stranded an hour’s walk from your apartment. The buses worked for two days, then shut down again, and you foolishly believed that following the detour that said would get you home would actually get you home. You don’t want to call an Uber because traffic would make the ride longer than the walk and bankrupt you in the process. Same reason you can’t call anyone to pick you up unless you waited the two hours until rush hour dies down.

Walking is, unfortunately, the best option.

So you clutch your trusty pepper spray and prepare yourself for a long night of looking over your shoulder and ignoring the pain in your side. The wound has mostly closed, although the bruising has gotten worse.

Three minutes later, you hear the roar of a motorcycle followed by angry car honks. You barely pay it any mind until the motorcycle pulls up next to you and doesn't pass.

You keep walking, avoiding eye contact. Maybe ignoring them will dissuade the rider from catcalling you.

It doesn't work. "Hey," the rider says, and it's only because the voice is mechanically distorted, recognizable only because of how many videos of him that you won't admit to looking up the last week, that you look at him. "What are you doing?" asks the Red Hood.

"What are you doing?" you counter. He's blocking the flow of traffic talking to you.

The Red Hood looks over his shoulder, flips off the person honking behind him, and steers his motorcycle onto the sidewalk. He drives fast, and you flinch in case he tries to run you over, but he screeches to a halt at the last second.

"Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks," he says casually, like you two meet up often.

"I've been staying out of trouble," you say.

"Not tonight?"

"No. That wasn't my fault, though. I took the Southwest bus because it was supposed to connect with the L line, but all the signs they posted were a lie, apparently, because—" You cut yourself off. "Never mind, I'm sure you don't care. Point is, I'm walking home. It's not too far."

"It's about an hour," he points out. "How's your bullet wound? Will it object to that walk?"

"I'll be fine."

He pats the back of his motorcycle seat. "Hop on. I'll drive you."

You take a couple hasty steps back. It may not be a white van, but you know better than to follow candy into someone's vehicle. "Oh, no, thanks. Traffic's pretty bad right now."

You get the sense he's smiling when he says, "I bet I can get you back faster than walking." If only he wasn't wearing the stupid shiny helmet, you would be able to read his expressions better.

"Really, I'm okay. I'm sure you have better things to do than drive me home."

"Helping people is literally my job," is his response. "I have to make sure you get home safely. So either you get on the back of my bike, or I follow you the whole walk back to your apartment."

You know a losing battle when you see it. As a general rule of thumb, it's usually smart not to argue with the dude carrying at least two guns. "Don't kidnap me," you order before slinging your leg over the seat.

He chuckles. It's the first time you've ever heard him laugh, and it makes him sound so much younger. "You can't ride like that."

"Like what?"

He cranes his neck to look back at you. There's at least six inches between both your bodies. You clutch the sides of the seat with both your hands, hoping he doesn't take off with such a lurch that you topple off the back. "I drive fast. You'll have to hold on."

"I am holding on."

"To me."

You've only met the man twice. You're pretty sure clinging to someone's back is at least a third-meeting type of touch, but he reaches back. The Red Hood snakes a hand nearly twice the size of yours into the crook of your knee, then yanks you to him. You shoot forward with a strangled yelp and catch yourself on his back.

You've never before understood the phrase 'wall of muscle,' but you get it now.

He is huge. And strong. You gingerly put your hands on his shoulders. That's not an inappropriate touch, you think.

He has to live at the gym, right?

"You're still not holding on," he chides. "I don't have a helmet for you, so you really shouldn't fall off."

You swallow and move your hands, but he's too thick for you to link your hands around his front. So you fist both of them into his jacket. It presses your bodies tight against each other from shoulder to thighs. Through the layers his body radiates heat, but you shiver.

"Going," is all the warning you get.

Then you're gone; the bike shudders beneath you, then takes off like a jet.

You can't catch your breath. This must be what riding a dragon feels like, is your first nonsensical thought, a side effect of your roommate's obsession with Game of Thrones.

The bike roars beneath you, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of wind and the pound of blood in your ears. You can't see much with the wind drying out your eyes, so you press your head against the Red Hood's back and squint to one side. Cars and street lamps blur together into a stream of mismatched lights and colors.

The Red Hood drives fast. He weaves between lanes, runs through red lights, cuts onto the sidewalk. A couple bikers shake their fists at him when he passes them in the bike lane. A lot of cars honk at the two of you.

Judging by the way his shoulders shake with laughter, he likes pissing them off. You have to admit, the feeling is a little intoxicating.

You can't hear the sound, but your front is plastered to his back. Even with the layers of his suit and leather jacket, you can feel the vibrations of sound deep within his chest. He has a fairly deep voice, after all, unless the helmet changes that.

No less than ten minutes later, he parks abruptly. You lift your head, blinking moisture back into your eyes, and stare dumbly at your apartment building.

He'd actually brought you back.

Maybe he really was reformed.

You stumble off the bike onto unsteady legs. The Red Hood kicks his stand into place and rests against the bike, leaning with elbows on his handlebars. Like he expects a Midwest goodbye. And you find yourself dawdling.

Maybe you want one, too.

"Thanks for the ride," you finally say awkwardly.

"Anytime," he says, and you laugh, thinking it's a joke, but he doesn't. After a brief awkward pause, the Red Hood tries, "So how have you been?" as if you're old pals meeting up for brunch, and the question is so ridiculous coming from a sort-of-reformed crime lord slash serial killer that you respond without thinking.

"Pretty good, except I think I may have a stalker."

His helmet doesn't do a great job translating whatever sound he makes in response to that. It comes out as a crackle. "What?"

"I've noticed this dude recently showing up wherever I go," you say. "But I think it's just a coincidence. Sorry. That was a bad joke." It wasn't, but you don't want to accuse someone without proof of stalking you. If he's not, you'll seem self-obsessed. If he is, then he knows that you know, and it's not like the GCPD will do anything. One of your friends from your hometown had a stalker for literal years, and the police never did anything, even after he sent her death threats. They said there wasn't enough proof to make an arrest then, so someone showing up at the same places you are definitely isn't enough proof now.

The Red Hood tilts his head. "Does he make you uncomfortable?"

"You don't need to beat him up or anything on my behalf," you say. "I mean, you've seen me with a bottle of pepper spray. I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"I know you can," he says. You can hear the smile in his voice, like he finds something about the situation funny. "And I'm pretty sure that you know that I'm going to check this out anyway."

"No," you say, surprising yourself with your firmness. You can't rely on vigilantes to solve all your problems for you. "Seriously, it's okay. Thanks for the ride. Maybe I'll see you around."

"I'm counting on it," he calls as you walk away.

And he's right. Two days later finds you at the gas station at ten-thirty at night. You don't want to see him, per se. You're definitely not looking over your shoulder at the slightest sound. You definitely didn't check the parking lot for a notorious red motorcycle on your way in, and you certainly aren't taking peeks out the window every time headlights pass by on the street.

You're just... curious.

Maybe.

But you have absolutely no warning, not even a suspicion that someone is behind you, when you reach for a box of Cheez-Its. Someone else's hand gets there first and you nearly jump out of your socks.

"Hey," the Red Hood wheezes. He's clutching his side like he has a cramp. "Question: if I buy these for you, will you patch me up?"

"What?"

"I may have been cut," he admits. Judging by the angle of his hunch, it's a little more serious than just a 'cut'. "So: do we have a deal?"

The thought occurs to you, as you help him up five flights of stairs to your apartment, that you're escorting a strange man into your place of residence. You haven't even given your roommate a heads-up, though you're pretty sure tomorrow's his night off.

Sure enough, the only person there to greet you when you walk in is your cat. As per usual, he tries to escape. The Red Hood gently but firmly ushers him inside with his foot with such ease he must have one of his own. "It's cute," he says, still clutching his side.

"Thanks," you say. "He always tries to get out, but if he actually escapes then he just freezes in the hallway until I bring him back inside." Then you realize that you're discussing your cat, of all things, with the Red Hood. You clear your throat and say, "Let me take a look at you."

The crime lord and cat trail after you into the bathroom. It gets a little cramped because the Red Hood's about as small as a fridge is small, but you two figure out a passable system: he's too tall, even while sitting down, and you don't want to bend in half while you stitch him. So you sit on the toilet, he stands in front of you, and your cat jumps on top of his leather jacket on the counter to observe and judge. Luckily, the suture kit is still in the bathroom from when you thought you would have to stitch yourself up, so it's not long before you're instructing him to lift up the hem of his shirt so you can see the damage.

You hiss between your teeth at the sight. Someone grazed his side with a knife, by the looks of it, but the wound is deep. It might go all the way to his subcutaneous tissue.

After you clean it off, you're sure that it does. "You call this a cut?"

"I've had worse," he says gruffly.

"And you're still alive?" You squint at him.

He huffs like that's funny.

"They basically cut you in two! I don't know if I can fix this. I've never stitched someone up before!"

"What do you mean?" He tilts his head. "You stitched yourself up, remember? You told me you would."

Shit. Of all the ways to stick your foot in your mouth—

"It wasn't that bad," you say weakly.

“It looked pretty bad.”

“It just looked bad because I was wearing a light colored shirt. Don’t worry; I’ve learned my lesson.”

The Red Hood scratches under your cat’s chin. “About wearing light colored clothing, or about getting shot?”

You’re trying to thread the suture needle, but the stupid thread won’t cooperate. “Hmm?”

“Which lesson did you learn?”

“The former, mostly. Believe it or not, ‘try not to get shot’ is something most people, including me, know intuitively.”

"Let me see."

"Yeah, right," you say, "my apartment's basically a strip club, isn't it? First your shirt's coming up, then mine. Absolutely—" You slap his hand away— "Not. I'm fine. Now hold still while I stab you."

The process goes by quickly. He stands like a statue the whole time, like he's used to the pain of getting stitches. Considering his profession, he probably is.

Actually, you can see a couple healed-over scars on his torso just from the small bit of skin he's revealed by pulling up his shirt. And, you're pretty sure, a perfectly defined six-pack, but that's none of your business.

"I don't have the fancy dissolving sutures, unfortunately," you say while you tie off the thread. "These should come out in about a week."

"Yeah, I know," he grunts, letting his shirt fall back down. And you're not disappointed. At all. "Same time next week, then?"

"What?"

"To get them out."

"Uh." Your brain stalls out. You'd been operating under the assumption that this was just another freak coincidental run-in.

Is it just you, or is the Red Hood looking to make a friend out of you? Or maybe just a free pseudo-surgeon?

"Sure," you say. It's not like you can stop him, really.

"Thanks," he says, stroking your cat one more time. Then he nudges the pest off his jacket and shrugs it on, even though there's not really a need for it. The weather's been pretty mild the last week.

You walk him out the door. He pauses in the hallway, turns, and says, "By the way, what's your name?"

You tilt your head and tell it to him.

"Nice to meet you," he says. Then he walks away.

You watch him walk down the hallway until your cat escapes, and then you have to chase him. You're pretty sure the Red Hood sees it, because low-pitched laughter hits your ears as you gather the little bastard up, but when you look, the vigilante's gone.

"God, I hope he's up to date on his tetanus shot."

You find yourself at the coffee shop the next morning, determined not to let a buff bookworm change your routine. You're the first customer, and they have your order ready by the time you finish setting up your stuff on a small table in the corner of the shop, far from where the line will build up when more people trickle in.

Like clockwork, the bookworm wanders in just a couple minutes after you do, orders two coffees, and settles down across the room with his front to you.

Every time you glance up, he's utterly focused on his book. He's probably not watching you. Right?

Fifteen minutes later, the coffees untouched, he stands up. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he picks one up, approaches the counter, and...

Walks right past it.

Walks in your direction.

You stare blatantly, and he holds your gaze with a set jaw and something a little challenging in his gaze.

He's walking to you.

The coffee cup slams on the table, splashing a little over the edge, and you jump to move your laptop away from the liquid.

"Shit, sorry," the bookworm says. He runs away.

You stare until you realize he's grabbing napkins and hurrying back. At least ten, even though the spill's pretty small, and he piles them all onto the table.

His face gets redder the longer you watch without saying anything.

Once he's absolutely sure your laptop is safe from the couple drops he spilled, he balls them all into one large fist and rushes out, "I'm sorry—I was supposed to meet my brother here, but he canceled, and your drink cup's empty, so I was just wondering if you wanted this one? It's a little warm, but..."

"But free is good," you say, deciding to put him out his misery. And he certainly looks miserable rambling in front of you. Like he's mortified for some reason. "Um, thanks. What..."

"Just an iced coffee. Probably watered down."

You take a sip, just to be polite. It is watered down, but he didn't add any milk to it, so that's probably a good thing. "Thanks..." You tilt the cup to look at the name written on the side. "Jason?"

"Yep." He nods. He's still standing in front of you, like he wants to be invited to sit, but you have a lot of work to do, and he's a complete stranger, and all his stuff is still on his table across the room.

Something clatters behind the counter. You both turn in time to see the two baristas duck out of sight, whispering furiously. Probably about the spectacle you two are making.

"You go to GCU's campus library a lot, right?" Jason asks suddenly.

"Yeah, I do. So do you." You don't phrase it like a question.

"Yeah," he says. "It's peaceful to read in there. Quieter than my apartment."

"Okay," you say slowly. You're really not interested in this conversation, but you don't want to be rude.

He must understand you, though, because he rubs the back of his head and steps backwards, mumbling something about getting back to his book.

Jason's brother never does end up meeting him. You tell yourself that's why you keep glancing at him. Once or twice, you two peek at each other at the same time, and you always look away first, face hot like he's caught you doing something wrong.

The next time you go to the library, it's packed. The weather has turned, so students have nothing better to do than prepare for their finals. You head to the quiet floor, slowly losing hope that you'll find a seat.

A head snaps up the moment you walk in, dark-haired with a striking streak of white at his forehead. Jason.

Something like relief passes over his face, and he waves you over.

"I saved your seat," he whispers, dragging his bag off of the chair.

"Thanks," you say, actually touched. "You didn't have to."

He shrugs. "You're my reading buddy."

The next day, he's sitting at the library's entrance when you walk in. Jason shakes his head. "All the seats were already taken when I got here."

"Ugh." Strictly speaking, you don't need to study tonight. You're pretty confident about the next test's material, and you're also pretty burnt out.

"We could check out the Student Center?" he suggests. As if it's a given that the two of you are going to spend the afternoon together. And, you realize, after two straight weeks of studying in his proximity, you don't mind the presumption. That's how you made your closest friend in undergrad, anyway.

In fact, you think you might want to get to know Jason. Maybe ask about his white streak; you've been growing more and more curious about it. And why he's about seven feet tall and two hundred fifty pounds of muscle but has a passion for romance novels.

"I don't think I've studied in there before."

"It's not too bad, but it's a little louder than the library."

So you two head to the Student Center, but he doesn't open his book, and you open your laptop but don't turn it on. He buys you coffee, though you insist that you can pay for it yourself, and a simple query into what book he's reading currently turns into a two-hour conversation.

Jason likes to read every genre, but he likes classics and romance best. He doesn't just have one brother, he has four, and a sister. He's not on the football team like you'd assumed; he just likes to work out. He's finishing up his sophomore year of undergrad studying English Lit—he sees how your smile freezes at those words, and you're asking how old he is, and he's laughing when he tells you he took a couple gap years. He's your age, actually, and that's relieving for reasons you can't quite put to words.

When you check your watch and curse at the time—it's almost time for your cat's dinner—he asks for your number, and you put it into his phone.

You feel good on your walk home. You haven't made a new friend since the first semester of vet school; the course load is too demanding for you to participate in any GCU clubs. Your roommate asks why you're smiling and you wave him off. Of course, your cat doesn't care that you're in a good mood. He only cares about getting fed.

You see Jason a couple more times over the week, and soon you're too embarrassed to admit that you thought he was stalking you. He's almost as bad a texter as you are, responding at such hours you're half-convinced he doesn't sleep, so you're less self-conscious about taking hours to respond.

You've just gotten around to answering his last text when something knocks against your window.

You drop the phone on your face.

The Red Hood is laughing at you when you open the window to let him in. You'd forgotten he was coming, but you don't say so. He tumbles in, moving a little stiffly, but a lot better than he'd been last week. Your cat, the little traitor, runs to greet him and rubs against his ankles, purring like an engine. The Red Hood bends to pet him. "Hey, kitty." The red helmet tips up and those unnerving white lenses fix on you. "Hey, doc. Here to get my stitches out."

"How have you been feeling?" you ask.

"Good," he says, almost defensively.

It makes you suspect that something is wrong, but when you all pile into the bathroom again like it's a clown car and he pulls up his shirt, the wound is healing nicely. No pink or heat that signals infection, no puffy skin. You remove the stitches quickly, and again he hesitates, like he wants to stay longer.

You find yourself thinking about Jason. You're pretty sure you wish he was here.

"Well, thanks."

"Anytime."

He pauses. "Really?"

You shrug. "I mean, not if you need a hospital. Then I'd expect you to head straight to a hospital. But stuff like this—no worse than this, ideally—I guess I can help you with."

"You're pretty cool for a vet," the Red Hood says. "The last one I visited kept freaking out on me for stealing codeine."

"Well, that's a restricted—wait, you were stealing codeine? What for?"

He shrugs.

"What were you using it for," you repeat sternly.

"Okay!" he says loudly. "Well, thanks for patching me up, doc. I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Wait," you call out uselessly, but he vaults out the window. You gasp and rush to the sill, but there's no Red Hood-shaped puddle on the ground. Instead, his rapidly shrinking form disappears in the distance, swinging between the buildings that make up the Gotham skyline.

You don't see the Red Hood for a while after that, but you hear whispers of him wearing a new costume. You get caught up with finals and Jason, who asks you out after the semester ends.

Your vehement 'yes' takes you by surprise. Him, too, judging by his wide eyes and wider smile. You wonder why he asked if he thought you would say no. You wonder why you didn't realize earlier how desperately you wanted him to.

Now that you're out of school, you pick up shifts at the vet clinic. By some unhappy circumstance, they can only schedule you for the evening shifts. Jason works nights, too, and you've never fully squirreled out where he works, but at least you can spend some days together.

It's when you're walking back from your first shift that you see the Red Hood again after almost three weeks of radio silence. He pulls up next to you on the motorcycle. It's so late that there's no one on the road, so he stays on the asphalt and idles along at your walking pace until you break and say, "Long time no see, Hood."

"Did you miss me?" he teases.

You stop walking, because.

Most of his costume changed. Because it's summer, and even the nights are hot and muggy, you assume.

The pants are the same. So are the boots. But his jacket is red and sleeveless and has a hood that goes down to his eyebrows, the armor beneath short-sleeved, which means most of his arms are bare.

And...

Your mouth is dry. You swallow.

You're pretty sure not even Batman is that ripped. He looks like he's chiseled out of marble.

The longer you're speechless, the more amused he gets. You don't know how you know that, but something about his posture seems smug.

"You're taking 'red hood' seriously now, are you?" is all you manage to say. Because what else are you supposed to comment on? His bare forearms? His veins are so beautifully pronounced, they would be a dream to take blood from, but you have a boyfriend of a whole one and a half weeks, and you may be many things, but you're not a cheater.

He laughs, then pulls his hood low when it slips back a bit. His voice is still modulated, although it's not through a red helmet anymore. This is more like a muzzle. You can't tell if the eye covering is part of it, or like the domino masks that Batman and Robin wear, but the lenses are red now instead of white.

He's really leaning into the theme.

"You want a ride?"

"We're two blocks from my apartment."

He shrugs. "I'm heading there anyway."

What the hell. You've already hopped on the back of his bike before. It's easier to do so the second time. You wrap your arms around his torso again, and when his arms settle over your own, they're warm with his body heat, but not hard, even though the muscles look sharp enough to cut glass. He's firm all over, but his skin is soft, apart from the raised, bumpy scars that seem to cover him from head-to-toe. It makes you worry about him, just a little.

He doesn't drive fast this time. He drives slow enough to hold a conversation and tosses over his shoulder, "So what's new with you?"

"Not much," you say into his ear. Is it just you, or does he shiver? "I finished another semester of vet school."

"Top grades, I'm sure. Did you get extra credit for patching me up?"

"I wish." No, your grades are good, but not exceptional. But exceptional is what got you into vet school. As long as you graduate with a DVM, even if you're the lowest in your class, you're a licensed doctor. There's some relief in that. "The dude I thought was stalking me asked me out, actually."

"Really?" he asks, interested and alert. "Was he really stalking you? Do you need me to scare him off for you?"

"No," you say, smiling at the thought of the Red Hood trying to scare off Jason. They're about the same build, now that you think about it, which you're sure the vigilante isn't used to. And Jason's never been anything but gentle and polite, but you saw an undercurrent of something strong, something like titanium, under that gentle spirit the one time he stood up for one of the baristas at the coffee shop that you first spoke to each other. He hadn't needed to do much apart from stand up and glare at the beleaguered corporate guy angry that there wasn't enough sugar in his coffee, and the dude shut up and scurried out as fast as he could.

It was probably the hottest thing you've ever seen him do, except for that one time you pushed your laptop a little too close to the edge of your desk while studying, it tipped over, and he caught it one-handed without looking up from his book. What can you say? Saving you a couple hundred dollars in getting that fixed was hot.

"It was a misunderstanding," you say. "We just ended up in the same places at the same times."

A gust of wind pushes back the Red Hood's hood, exposing a head of thick, dark hair, the same shade of black as Jason's. The motorcycle swerves in his haste to pull his hood back up, and when you reach your apartment and hop off the bike, he's pushing his hair back, back, beneath the hood.

What's the point of ditching the helmet if he's just going to be fussing with the hood all the time?

"What's new with you?" you ask, scuffing your toe against the sidewalk. Your shoes are falling apart; the sole is peeling away.

"Same old, same old," he says. His voice sounds rougher, but that might just be the new modulator.

"How's your side?"

"How's yours?" he counters. "You still haven't let me see it. I bet it scarred because you were too stubborn to take my advice and patch it up."

You will never admit that he's right. You challenge, "Let's compare scars, then," knowing full well his armor dips below his pants. It's a little silly to picture the Red Hood wearing an armored one-piece, but that's all you can imagine.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head. It dislodges the hood. A patch of hair falls down to his forehead, and it's white.

But the back of his hair is black.

White and black—

Your stomach flips.

"I thought you had a boyfriend, honey. Why're you asking me to strip?"

So that's what all the teasing's been about. He hasn't been flirting—or he has, his own weird version of flirting, because he's a dumbass.

For a moment all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears, then you flex your fingers to regain feeling in them. You roll your eyes and say, "I think we've established that my apartment is basically a strip club. Why don't you come up and show me, Jason?"

"Well, I'm flattered, but—what?" He splutters like he's choking on his own tongue. Serves him right. "I'm not—why do you think that—I mean, I could be anyone—"

Yeah, he can have his little crisis on the street. You tug on your own fringe, then swipe into the building.

You hear his muffled cursing as the door closes.

You look forward to him catching up.

(My requests are open, so let me know if you want me to write anything in particular! Also let me know if you want to be added to a taglist.)

Forever tag list:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[faygosoda]

Angst w hyun-ju? Where reader gets attacked really badly during the special game and hyun-ju couldn't protect reader. Hyun-ju is like really worried because reader is like kinda on the verge of bleeding out and dying

A/N: Oh yeahh my first req!! I hope I did this justice n Im sorry if she comes off as ooc!!

Title: So Much Lost

“Fuck..” you mumbled, hand holding your side as you stumble into one of the beds, tears welling in your eyes.

Stupid games, stupid debt, stupid bob having druggie stabbing you with the fork..

You held back a groan as your knees became weak, left hand bracing yourself on the post of the bed.

You didn’t want to worry the others with this but considering the fact that you were on the verge of passing out and bleeding (which was such a lame way to go), you would have no choice but to tell someone..

Something just always had to go wrong in your life- family abandoning you, forcing their debt on you, a fuck ass love life, and more AND now you have a stab wound.

Great. At least I’m away from the others.. this would just cause more pani-

“(Name)?…. Holy shit-“

Fuckkkk, of course Dae-ho found you.. always the one to search and help those in need.

“Dae-ho listen don’t go and tell-”

“Like hell I won’t!” He runs off as you groan your left hand which wasn’t currently putting pressure on your side slapping your forehead.

Multiple rushed footsteps are heard from god knows where.

“(Name)!”

“Oh my goodness-”

“Everybody move out the way!”

Blah blah lots of talking lots of worry and concern from who knows who..

You didn’t really pay attention to who was saying what besides one voice that belong to the one person you had came to admire the most throughout the days of being here.

“Hyun- Hyun-Ju..”

It was a quiet mumble but able to be heard from her attentive ears.

“I am right here (Name), stay awake for me okay? Who did this to you?”

Her words were shakey along with her hands that came up to sit you up as.. Gi-Hun? Yeah, Gi-hun and some of the others rushed around to find stuff that could possibly help.

“That- uh.. that one guy with the bob who w- was with the purple h- haired dude..”

I groan out, glancing down at the red spot that progressively got bigger, soaking through the fabric of my tracksuits zip up and onto my hand.

“Son of a bitch..” Hyun-Ju mumbled, tears evident in her eyes.

“D- definitely..” I slur, head falling back as my eyes close before a hand comes to my chin, making my eyes re-open.

“No. Keep your eyes open and look at me. Do not go to sleep.” Her hand hold your chin, turning it her way and you can’t help but look at her adoringly, eyes half lidded and a strained smile on your face.

“I.. I can’t- it hurts so much- I’m- I’m sorry I should’ve listened to- to you..” A choked sob comes from you, tears slipping down your face.

“Stop it- (Name), stop don’t apologize please do not- I can’t lose you too!” Hyun-Ju’s words are rushed yet quiet.

‘I can’t lose you too!’ Oh right, Young-Mi.. shot dead after the third game. One of the many people Hyun-Ju has lost besides her family and well.. now you

Your hands move up to hold her cheek and her hand that held your chin as your vision blurred, colored shapes of those who you now considered your friends gathered around the bed you sat up on.

“Young-Mi’s right.. you’re beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t say so earlier.. you make me nervous. Hyun-Ju, you- you have to make it out for- for me.. please Hyun-Ju.. Don’t let me hold you back.” You spoke quietly, eyes lidded to the point your lashes blocked view of the womans face that had tears falling down her cheeks.

Hyun-Ju nods, face leaning into your touch as she cries, shoulders shaking.

“I promise you I- I will (Name). For- for you.”

You smile, breath slowing down and a meek sound comes from your throat.

The last thing you hear are her sobs which continue to go on for who knows how long.

The only thing that riddles your mind is ‘what would have happened if we met under different circumstances?’

The end!

A/N: Hi guys thanks for reading that oneshot! I hope it was okay n I hope u liked it😇 I #hateangst cuz wdym that bob ho killed us I js wanna chill w my wife😢💔 SORRY THAT ITS SHORT, I WAS LWK BLANKING BUT FOR THE NEXT FF ILL TRY MY BEST TO MAKE IT LONGER!!

Btw pls send in my requests cuz this saved me from boredom💋

[ceruark]

Yandere MBTI: Sunday

credit: Yandere MBTI System created by the amazing @ddarker-dreams! used with permission. words: 1,046 cw: yandere themes: abduction, brainwashing, manipulation. a/n: happy birthday to me! here’s my gift to all of us :>

Final Assessment: RDMS

Reverent

Sunday holds you nearly as high as the aeon he worships. He adores you, and your endless happiness is one of his primary motivators for pursuing that perfect world. It’s because of this that he keeps you locked away in Dewlight Pavilion; the world is an unforgiving place, and he’s already lost so much. As long as you’re safe and by his side, where he can shower you with affection and make sure every single one of your needs is met, you won’t have to know suffering the way he has.

Any material possession you ask for is left outside your bedroom door the next morning. Exquisite dishes are served to you every night, no matter how much the imported ingredients may cost. Every single article of clothing in your closet is made from the finest materials and fitted to perfectly suit your body. He’ll give you anything your heart desires, darling— just not your freedom.

That isn’t to say that Sunday can’t be cruel, though. As is evident in the Penacony story at times, he enjoys toying around with others and does possess somewhat sadistic tendencies. If you resist him too much and for too long, he’ll feel justified in putting you through some type of punishment: trapping you in the miniature display city, locking you in your room for days and ensuring that none of your attendants speak to you, or warping your dream to be something more of a nightmare. The slight satisfaction he gets from watching you suffer just a fraction of how agonized he’s been without your love is enough for him to brush off any guilt he feels, and the way you cling to him when it’s all said and done makes it even sweeter.

Delusional

Though he does fall under this category, he’s not blind enough to convince himself that you love him unconditionally the way he does for you— no, he can recognize that you begrudge him for taking you away from your home and the people you once called your family. However, he is delusional in the sense that he believes he can get you to love him.

After all, not too long ago you were falling for his charm, blushing at his delicate touches and clinging to his arm as he walked you through the hidden alleyways of Penacony. Back then, you were always eager to rendezvous with him when he could make time and find a place out of the public’s eye— certainly, you’ll be able to feel such tender emotion for him once more. You just need time to adjust to your new home, your new life. 

However, his patience is not endless, and he will use more drastic measures if it means earning the love for him he knows is sleeping somewhere deep within your heart. At times where he feels particularly paranoid and vulnerable— such as after losing Robin, or when leaving Penacony with the Astral Express— he may resort to using the brainwashing power of The Harmony to make you more docile and willing to bend to his whims. It does hurt him to do this to you, but the few moments of you peacefully sitting in his lap or holding him in your arms makes it worth it.

Manipulative

Sunday needs you like a dying man in the desert needs water. That being said, almost nothing is off the table for him when it comes to winning your love.

As the Oak Family Head, it’s incredibly easy for him to get into the good graces of your family and friends. If you’re able to see through his carefully crafted mask this early into his pursual of you, then he’s pulling at the strings of those in your inner circle, commandeering them like puppets. They do his job for him by challenging your hesitation over accepting his affections; this is the most powerful man in Penacony you’re talking about, and he’s such a gentleman who’s so clearly smitten with you! Why would you possibly turn down a man like that?

If you’re not able to see through his facade, though, he’s doing everything in his power to make sure he shines like gold in your eyes. Unexpectedly, things in Penacony start falling apart for you: you’ve been kicked out of your residence, your friends have turned against you, and the sweet dream you’ve found here is rapidly unraveling before your eyes due to the will of some unknown higher being. Not to worry, though— Sunday is here for you, and he’s more than happy to help you rebuild everything lost, making sure to root himself into the foundation of your new dream as much as possible.

After becoming part of the Astral Express, though, his means of trying to coax you into loving him are a bit different. He knows he’s pitiful after his fall from grace, and he’s willing to swallow his pride and appear more pathetic and subdued if it means you’ll pardon his previous actions against you and comfort him.

As mentioned in the previous section, he’s not against using more unsavory methods of manipulating you in the name of keeping you close. Using The Harmony on you is a last resort, but he will if he must— the end always justifies the means.

Strict

As is obvious, he’s keeping you chained by his side. As the Oak Family Head, he’s got you locked inside Dewlight Pavilion at all times. During the few instances you’re permitted to wander Golden Hour, two Bloodhound members are glued to your side if he can’t escort you around himself. You’re never alone, and you’re never out of his sight— the nightingales that lurk in the shadows just a few feet behind you are a testament to that.

As a member of the Astral Express, he’s still hesitant to let you out of his sight. He may not possess the same means of following you around or trapping you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t guilt you into staying with him after everything he’s been through. If anything, he’s even worse now than ever before; you’re the only familiar thing he has control over in the uncertain, vast journey before him, and he clings onto your love and those last shreds of power like a lifeline.

[neptilius]

I feel like a lot of people write gojo when he’s being playful or sarcastic but could you write moments where he’s serious or he’s genuinely having a heart to heart with the reader?

yesss i love these concepts! in my opinion i think he’s sexier when he’s more serious because we rarely see that side of himmmm 😛

“i quit.”

satoru froze in the middle of adjusting his jacket, the sound of your voice cutting through the quiet in the room.

he turned to look at you, his brow furrowing as confusion painted his features.

“what?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief. his eyes narrowed as he studied your face, trying to make sense of what you just said.

“i quit,” you repeated, your voice steady but quiet.

you were done. done with the constant pressure, the constant fear of what might happen next. done with the world you had found yourself in, a world of curses, jujutsu sorcery, the thought of losing yourself completely, of dying before you even had a chance to live, had become too much to bear.

satoru’s eyes softened, but the confusion never left. “babe… you can’t just quit. not like this. not when things are tough.”

“and why not?” you shot back, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice.

“why do you think i have to keep doing this? why do i have to keep risking my life, getting dragged into these fights, and walking away with more scars every time? i’m just… tired of almost dying.”

your words hung heavy in the air between you two, and for a moment, the room felt suffocating.

“you’re not the only one who’s tired,” he said softly, but there was a firmness beneath his words that didn’t match the softness of his expression.

he took a step toward you, like he was trying to reach out to you in the only way he knew how. “but quitting isn’t the answer. when things get tough, you don’t just quit.”

he didn’t understand. how could he? he was Satoru Gojo. nothing fazed him. he was invincible, or so it seemed. but you weren’t like him. you didn’t have that same untouchable strength. you were just human, and your body was starting to feel the toll of everything you had been through.

“you wouldn’t understand anyway,” you muttered, barely able to meet his gaze. “i don’t know why i even bothered telling you.”

the words felt like a slap in the face to him, and you immediately regretted saying them. his eyes hardened, but the anger didn’t burn, not the way it normally would when he felt disrespected.

“don’t say that,” he replied, his voice low, almost too gentle.

“i may not understand what you’re going through, but that doesn’t mean i don’t care. i’m not gonna let you throw everything away just because it’s hard. if you quit, you’re just letting the world win.”

“maybe that’s what i want,” you shot back, the bitterness slipping out before you could stop it.

“maybe i want to stop fighting. i’m exhausted, satoru. fighting, training, always putting myself in danger for some cause that doesn’t even feel like mine. all i’ve done is survive—barely. and for what? to risk my life over and over again? i’m done.” you exhaled sharply, trying to hold back the tears that had been threatening to spill. “i just don’t care anymore.”

satoru’s expression shifted. there was no anger, no frustration anymore, just a deep sadness. he stepped closer, closing the distance between you two until there was barely any space left. he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt.

“i get it,” he said softly, the words so different from the usual brashness of his character. “i get that you’re hurting. but you can’t quit. not like this. not because it’s hard. i won’t let you give up on yourself. i can’t.”

he paused, his thumb gently brushing your skin as his eyes locked onto yours, as if searching for something.

“look, i don’t know what it’s like to be where you are. i don’t know what it feels like to be on the edge of giving up, but i do know this: you matter to me. a lot. and i’ll fight beside you because i care about you. i care about you more than you know.”

the sincerity in his voice cut through you like a knife, and despite yourself, your heart ached.

“i’m not letting you quit,” he continued, his words steady. “if you want to stop fighting, that’s fine. but you’ll have to do it with me. i’m not going anywhere.”

you could feel your chest tighten, the weight of your emotions threatening to break free. you had been so consumed by fear, by exhaustion, that you had almost forgotten the one thing that truly mattered. not the curses, not the missions, but the people who cared about you. and the one person who was always there, even when you tried to shut him out.

you closed your eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath. “i just don’t know if i can keep doing this,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “i’m scared.”

“i know you are,” he replied, his hand gently cupping your face.

“and that’s okay. but you don’t have to be scared alone. i’m here, and i’m not letting you go through this on your own.“

you stared at him, the weight of his words settling in your chest. maybe you couldn’t quit. not like this. not when you had someone who would stand by you, even in your darkest moments. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep going.

[greengoblinswifey]

https://www.tumblr.com/greengoblinswifey/771997285730205696/thanks-for-ur-answers-on-the-dbfrafe-asks-im

OMG YESSS, I was dying for them to have an actual serious relationship 🤩🤩 just one more thing, how did the dad found out? Bc when he said “you and rafe are what?” at the beginning of the blurb I was like “why are we late to the conversation, roll that back from the beginning” 😭😭🤣 like I want to see his initial recation upon finding out if that makes sense

Thanks for everything omt

a/n— because i’m so generous, enjoy xo

The world as you knew it would come crashing down if your father had ever caught you and his best friend fucking. You and Rafe snuck around too much with a plethora of close calls, thus, you thought it was probably inevitable.

It was weird to wrap your mind around it, but Rafe knew your father better than you did with their friendship surpassing your twenty years on earth.

He was serious about you. You weren’t some dirty secret and he loathed that your entire relationship was you sneaking around behind your dad’s back.

His hands held yours as he stared into your eyes, waiting for your father to enter the living room. “I know your dad better than anyone else. And I know that it’s better we be honest with him about us being together.”

You nodded your head slowly, chewing on your bottom lip.

Your father was chill, he wasn’t an old head or anything and you believed him to be open minded but that didn’t stop you from being scared of what his reaction might be.

Rafe sensed your nervousness and brought you in for a kiss that soothed you, though it didn’t last for long.

“What the fuck?!” your father’s voice boomed throughout the entire house.

You jerked back, startled by his sudden entrance. This was exactly what you were afraid of. Granted, he didn’t catch you fucking or anything, but he saw something before you said anything.

“You’re taking advantage of my fucking daughter!” your father continued, anger evident in his tone.

“Dad, please,” you interjected. “It’s nothing like that. Rafe and I are in a relationship.”

Your dad’s voice thundered through the house, shaking the very walls. “You’re what with Rafe?!”

And that started the most heated discussion you’d ever had with your father that ended with him walking away angrily. Though, he did hear you out a bit.

Before Rafe left he wanted to at least have a one on one conversation with his best friend. They’d never had a disagreement this big and he was couldn’t leave without at least attempting to mend things.

He knocked on your father’s office before opening the door. Your father looked up, still seething from the ordeal.

“Why the fuck are you in here, haven’t you done enough?” he asked, clearly upset.

Rafe took a deep breath before starting. “I’m so sorry man. It was never my intention to hurt you or betray you. I’ve never seen her in that way until a few months ago.”

“It’s my daughter Rafe, that’s what gets me. Why did it have to be her? I know your reputation, you could’ve gone for anyone else,” your father bellowed, fists clenching.

“It had to be her because the love in my heart is only reserved for a woman like her. It’s only reserved for her. I didn’t seek her out, the connection just sparked in a way I didn’t expect. And you’re right, I have a reputation but that’s in the past. I’m ready to settle down and I would never ever hurt her. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

At the mention of Rafe’s mother, your father’s eyes shot up from his clenched fists. Rafe would never mention his mother or even swear on her unless he was serious.

He thought for a moment. You were twenty years old and capable of making your own decisions, he trusted your judgment wholeheartedly. You were one of the most intelligent people he knew and you had good discernment. You never brought home any guys so if you had decided to inform him of your relationship with his best friend of all people, it was serious.

“Alright fine. You can date her, I’ll give you a chance just this once. But I swear to God if you get my little girl pregnant this young or break her heart, I’ll fucking kill you and they won’t find your body,” your dad told him, firmly.

“100% valid and I’m on board,” Rafe said, “thanks man. You know I love you and I love her. I’ll treat her the way she deserves, you raised such an admirable woman.”

Your father stood up and Rafe pulled him in for hug. It was hesitant at first before they both melted into it. The hug signified the love, trust and years of friendship between them. It reminded Rafe of the hug your father gave to him the day his mother died, signifying they’d always be there for each other no matter what. It signified they would remain best friends through whatever hardships they faced.

Now, decades later, that promise stood firm, no matter the circumstance and apprehension.

“Take care of her man. She’s my entire world,” your dad said, tears threatening to prick his eyes as he pulled away from the hug.

“I will. She’s my world now too,” Rafe replied and pulled him into another hug.

Slowly, you pushed open the office door and seeing the sight before you made tears flood your eyes. You walked over to them and Rafe pulled you into the hug.

“I love you both. I’m sorry if I disappointed you dad,” you said, one arm around him.

“I love you more, pumpkin. And you could never disappoint me. Go live your life and be happy, I’ll always be in your corner no matter what.”

[casanovawrites]

random sentence prompts  ━ from various tv shows, part 11

you’ve been such a pain in my ass.

you’re the most fascinating person i’ve ever known.

can you stop needing to be the hero here?

people don’t just disappear. 

we are saying goodbye. just not to each other. we’re saying goodbye to everything else, our old lives.

everything that kept us safe is gone.

i would rather prepare for the worst before the worst happens.

i am basically 100% headache right now.

you’re the only one who ever let me feel normal.

maybe i suck too. i just don’t know how yet.

i’m not choosing anyone. i’m choosing work over play.

doesn’t it feel like everyone wants us to be someone we’re not?

a sleepover? am i invited?

it has to be you. you’re all we’ve got.

you know me. we know each other.

it’s called keeping up with the times, asshole.

but fuck all of you, and i mean that.

people don’t usually follow my lead, if you know what i mean.

there’s nothing wrong with us.

i want your point of view on things.

you’re killing me. you get that, right? that’s what you’re asking me. to die for you.

i’ll follow your rules. that’s all you get.

i’d love to trade witty one-liners with you.

you’re the worst. you know that, right?

today is the first time in my life that feels like the right time.

there is a point to everything. there are answers.

god doesn’t just play games with people for fun.

the sun just keeps coming up every day, and you can’t cry forever. 

you have to have hope, don’t you? because who knows. maybe tomorrow.

you don’t get to decide what matters.

a lot of what’s happening is us being scared, and alone, and bored. so we do scary things to each other, we hurt each other. 

it’s like she wants to turn the whole world upside down.

who’s been there for you more than me?

bullshit. we’re not the same person.

you didn’t pick me. because you didn’t think i belonged.

if i had to pick anyone in the world when things got bad, i’d pick you.

this isn’t about us. this has nothing to do with us.

there is no us. because of everything.

i love you. i know i don’t always show it, but i do. i love you.

the universe does not care about your love life.

i’m not sad. i’m pissed off.

you say too many things you don’t mean.

i’ve thought a lot about dying. i’ve gotten used to that. but i don’t like to be afraid.

sometimes when i’m angry, i want to hurt people.

i’m worried that i’m not real.

all you can do is have an advantage, and this is mine. it’s all i have.

what i did is not the worst crime in the world.

given everything, can’t i get a tiny break?

why? what’s so special about me?

are we going to fight each other over food? that’s fucking crazy.

you can live wherever you want, just not with me.

we should get some food, before it’s all gone.

what if things don’t go back to the way they were?

don’t give me a fucking speech. you have no idea.

i guess i can learn to get along with a few more people.

what’s so hard about being honest with yourself?

it’s been ten days. i’m not the same person i was.

if there are things that need to be done, i want to do them.

there are no sides anymore.

you’re the best decision i’ve ever made.

we’re the same. you have to stick with your own.

i’m scared, and i have to take care of myself.

i live in your shadow, and now you suddenly want to disappear?

you know that you’re the love of my life? and whatever comes after this.

if this is it, this is where i want to be. i mean not here, but with you. you’re where i want to be.

i was a different person before we fell in love.

thank you. for loving me. 

right now, we could use all the love we can get. 

you get scared, and you get mean.

is this how you want to spend the time you have left? always looking over your shoulder?

you’re giving me a headache instead of having my back.

it’s just, sometimes i know what i want, i just don’t know how to say it.

the only feelings that anyone cares about are yours. 

people keep dying around me.

i feel really lucky to have you. you’re my rock.

the end is none of your business.

i like you exactly the way you are.

i’m so sick of feeling different from everyone else.

after “fuck you,” i don’t have much.

i think about you too much.

i don’t think about you.

i’m not scared. i’m just realistic.

it feels like i’ve been starting forever.

no one cares about the best player on the worst team.

i’m tired of losing. i just don’t know what to do.

that’s hopelessly romantic. and this isn’t hopeless.

i haven’t been happy all year. why start now?

i’m sorry i can’t turn off my feelings whenever you want.

seems like everything i do hurts your feelings.

i care about you. i just don’t know how to prove it.

i like who i am in your eyes. i like how you see me.

i’m not sure i like myself in a relationship.

i’m way easier to replace.

when it ends, it’ll hurt.

the right thing is just to be here with you.

death is not beautiful, it’s final.

i keep failing everyone, and i don’t know what to do.

i don’t feel sad. i feel numb.

i ask people if they’re all right too much.

you never needed me. you needed someone.

i made myself sick to make you feel better.

this whole time i thought it was dying, but it’s living what scares you

you’re afraid to commit, and i need constant validation. 

you don’t belong here. not after what you did.

there is no mystery here. nothing to avenge.

i made a wish, and it came true, and i couldn’t take it back.

he was a bad person and a worse father. the world is better off without him.

you never know when to stop, do you?

you do whatever it takes to survive. or you die.

you think i didn’t try everything to get back to my family?

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXXI)

Chapter 31 : ‘Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! This is The Party… chapters 31 and 32 are twin chapters, the party will be told from both perspectives, this one from Andrew’s and the next one from MC’s. Just so you know…

This is one of the first scenes I’ve written when I began working on this project, so I’m quite fond of it even if it makes me cry…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3678

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Watching my friend pretend her heart isn’t breaking

On Earth, just a teaspoon of neutron star would weigh six billion tons. Six billion tons equals the collective weight of every animal on earth. Including the insects. Times three.

Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief – just a teaspoon and one might as well have consumed a neutron star. How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then. How impossible to believe that anything could lift that weight.

There are many reasons to treat each other with great tenderness. One is the sheer miracle that we are here together on a planet surrounded by dying stars. One is that we cannot see what anyone else has swallowed.

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

It was working, Andrew was certain of it.

He had hoped it wouldn’t, that seeing you flirt with another man would leave Frank unbothered, ignoring you completely. It was a little cruel, maybe, because it meant that you would be sad, that you would be hurt by his reaction. But as he stared at you letting a man trace a line up your arm… your bare arm…

Andrew looked away, feeling sick, feeling like his world was crushing down around him. Collapsing. It was like… like being dumped by Samantha all over again…

He downed his whiskey, letting the burn of the liquor ground him to the present once more, but the relief was temporary, and soon enough, he was looking up at you again and you were leaning to whisper something in that stranger’s ear.

He turned around this time, unable to stomach the sight of him resting a hand on your waist.

The plan was simple. You were to make Frank jealous, by wearing that divine dress you had bought with Andrew, by flirting with another man. Andrew had thought about playing that role, being the man you would flirt with, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t have survived the cruelty of that situation, of you faking to be interested in him that way. Not when he loved you so ardently. And so, he was merely keeping an eye on you now, staying close to one of the tables where whiskey was being poured generously, avoiding to talk to anyone at this gigantic party, checking that you were safe, while you let another man flirt with you and touch your waist…

He downed another glass…

“You’re alright, Andy?”

He turned to his left, following the voice that now called him. Samantha, of all people… brilliant.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” he answered, shifting awkwardly.

“Thanks for coming today. I’m glad we can still be friends despite all of this. I know that it must be… peculiar sometimes, but… Thank you, I truly appreciate it.”

“No need to thank me for that.”

She placed a hand on his forearm, and once, not so long ago, it would have made his heart grow warm. Now, he felt nothing. It felt like they had happened a lifetime ago, the days when he loved her.

He thought of you, behind him, and he tried not to picture you kissing that stranger, because then he…

He poured himself another whiskey, downed it again.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” she asked, raising up an eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you drinking so much since college!”

“Well, we’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

“Andy?”

“Hmm?”

He looked at her once more. Her and her dark hair, and her beautiful eyes, and the lips he thought he would spend the rest of his life kissing. How strange… now she let another man kiss them, and he wanted to kiss someone else… Their mouths didn’t belong together anymore. And Andrew then realised that he was okay with that. He wasn’t okay with how it had all happened, how it was still happening… but he couldn’t picture himself loving her again. He was looking at her, beautiful and perfect on paper… and all he could think of was you.

The music was loud, they had to raise their voices to be heard over the shallow beats. The chatter of the room Sam and Frank had rented for the special occasion was almost deafening. Andrew’s head was spinning a little, the alcohol kicking in. He still wanted another drink…

“Do you… do you hate me?”

He frowned, surprised by her question, by how direct it was too. She was a pro at circling an issue.

He thought for a moment, didn’t find an obvious answer.

When he thought of hate, he thought of that man with his hand on your body. He thought of Frank and the way he still made your heart bleed…

“Why are you asking this?” he asked back instead of answering.

“Because I… I know that the way we ended things was… messy. But I don’t want you to hate me. I… I still care about you, Andy, even if…”

“Even if you don’t love me anymore.”

It was becoming a little hard to remain standing, his world was spinning.

Were you still there with that guy? Would you… would you let him kiss you the way you had let Andrew do it in your office? God… would you be the one kissing him, the way you had kissed Andrew that night in your flat?

Samantha blinked, Andrew was puzzled as he noticed tears in her eyes.

“I think… a part of me is always going to love you, Andy.”

His eyes grew round in surprise. Was it working? Was their stupid, idiotic, foolish plan working? This was ridiculous…

… would you go back to loving Frank? Frank was a fucking dickhead…

“Do you ever wonder what could have been our lives if we had remained together?”

I wouldn’t have loved Y/N the way I do now…

And yet a couple of seconds later, he was changing his thought.

I would have fallen for her still… despite loving you…

“I used to,” he answered truthfully, stopping his answer before it would hurt her, but she insisted.

“And now?”

He was too drunk to lie. And if he were to be fully honest, he didn’t mind being rough, hurting her a little. He hated himself for the selfishness of it, but he answered earnestly anyway.

“Not anymore, no.”

“Really?”

“I… I don’t think of you like that anymore. I’ve moved on.”

She raised an eyebrow, but seemed unimpressed.

“Have you? So quickly?”

He shifted, uncomfortable. And he didn’t like being bitter, being too honest and being hurtful because of it, but… but you were flirting with another man, and Andrew was drinking too much tonight… And you were wearing that green dress, the one you had bought together, and he could picture you now, and he didn’t want Frank to see you in it and regret you, because he didn’t deserve it and… and you had bought that fucking dress for Frank… for Frank…

“I don’t love you anymore,” he said plainly, the flatness of his tone hurtful by itself. “Like I… I’m not in love with you. I… I want someone else.”

“Someone else?” she asked, and her voice was annoyed but he noticed the glimmer of a tear at the corner of her eyes.

She was hurt. But then again, she had been the one shattering his heart and his self-esteem, and his world, and the confidence he had taken so long to build…

He went on anyway.

“Yeah… I… we’re not dating or anything. But I… I like her. A lot.”

“Have you asked her out?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think she’d be interested. That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

No, he didn’t mind that you didn’t feel the same. You were a little too good for him anyway. Out of his league. You ought to deserve better…

“Now, that’s just your head saying dumb things,” she said, and even if her tone wasn’t kind, her words were reassuring.

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“Andy… when are you going to understand that… You do deserve to be happy? That you are worthy of happiness too, huh?”

His next comment was unnecessary, but it felt good to tell the truth anyway.

“I had grown better at that while we were together. You breaking up with me to run off with someone else kind of destroyed that progress…”

He stopped resisting the urge to drink, reached for another whiskey, downed it in one gulp.

“I’m sorry, Andy. But we… weren’t right for each other.”

He wanted to argue, for the sake of it, to contradict her, but he was honest instead.

“I have to agree with that.”

He looked in your direction again, just a quick glance, just to check that you were alright. Frank was staring at you from afar too. That guy was leaning closer now, although you didn’t seem so willing to play along anymore. Andrew’s heart quickened, and soon it was pounding…

“Andy?”

“Hmm?” he asked back without looking at Samantha.

A sign… just one sign from you and he would come and make sure that guy would stand back…

Frank seemed to have read your body language as well, the bastard… he was walking over to you. Andrew closed his fists tightly, refraining from crossing the distance between you and him, from pushing that guy away, from telling Frank to fucking leave you alone because, Christ, you deserved so much better than him…

“Are you listening to me?”

Andrew almost jumped as Sam touched his arm again…

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, yeah… sorry, I was… lost in thought…”

“I was saying that I’m glad you and Y/N seem to get along. As you’re working together. I was worried when I learned she was Frank’s ex that it would make things awkward at your workplace.”

“We’re fine.”

I’ve fallen in love with her when I didn’t even think I was capable of loving anyone else after you…

“She seems nice,” she added, but her voice was weirdly flat.

“She is,” Andrew nodded, his heart fluttering as he talked of you. “She’s… she’s grand. She’s really nice, and… she’s a laugh, like… and very smart too.”

“Sounds like a catch.”

He didn’t answer, she didn’t seem to notice.

She was staring at you now too, while Frank had reached you and that stranger. He was talking with the guy, seemingly ignoring you, and even from afar Andrew could see that you were disappointed. The son of a bitch. He was pushing that guy away, without acknowledging you, he was making you feel terrible about yourself, Andrew could tell, and…

“I wonder what Frank saw in her.”

Andrew pondered on her question, and… God, he had so many things he saw in you. Your kindness, your wits, your passion for your work, your sense of humour, your smile, your eyes, the curve of your eyelashes, how fucking smart you were, your warmth, your voice, your way to scrunch up your nose a little when you were thinking, your anger, your talent, your…

… you, just… you…

But Frank? Did he see all that?

How could he have seen all of that, and still leave you?

The guy you had been talking to left, his drink in hand and a polite smile on his lips. Frank turned to you, got a conversation started. And Andrew wished he was right when he thought he could read in your expression that you were forcing yourself to look happy with his attention. Andrew didn’t believe in God, but he prayed still, silently, for you to see that Frank was not good enough for you, for you to long for his company instead… Christ, he hoped he was right when he read in the way you leaned away from Frank that you had changed your mind, that you didn’t want him to touch you the way he had just held your arm…

“Anyway, who’s the lucky woman you’ve spotted then? Do I know her?”

Andrew looked at Samantha, but he couldn’t hide the annoyance in his voice as he answered.

“I don’t really want to talk about that with you, honestly.”

“Right…”

Frank was taking a step closer to you, his hand inching for your waist…

Andrew was never one to pick up a fight, but he wanted to punch your ex in the face so bad…

“I feel a lot of resentment today, Andy…” Samantha said, trying to dissect his brain, the way she used to when they were together, but Andrew was not in the mood. “Did something happen?”

He let out a long exhale through his nose, refused to answer.

“You said you were ready to put all that happened behind us.”

He was about to argue, but he couldn’t. She was right. What a fucking fool he had been… to think that he should still want her after she broke what they had spent years building, for some random guy she had met a few weeks before. And then she was inviting him to her wedding, and he was there running back right into her arms? She was marrying Frank after knowing him for mere months when she had claimed not to be ready for marriage with Andrew when they had spent seven years together? She had not even agreed to move in with him… It seemed to hit him then, how much of a fool he had been, and the little self-esteem he had left finally took over to show him that he deserved better than to be treated like that. Anyone would deserve better. He was being an absolute fool. And you were too, you and your broken heart and he couldn’t do this anymore, he couldn’t pretend that all this was alright, that he didn’t want to kiss you…

He had one last question to ask, one last thought that was holding him back, one last answer he was too afraid to receive. He finally asked it.

“Frank left Y/N two weeks before you left me,” he started, the coldness of his tone unusual for him. “Did you sleep with him while we were together?”

Samantha blinked.

“Why are you asking me this?” she asked back, but Andrew didn’t back down, his hazel eyes turned into steel.

“Answer me. Did you sleep with Frank before you left me?”

She remained silent, and he knew what it meant.

He thought he would be hurt, and he was, but the main emotion that came rising in his chest, made his blood boil, blinded him for a moment, was hate. Rage and hate. A lethal combo…

He huffed, shook his head.

“I left right after, and it wasn’t planned… it happened once, and then I left, and it didn’t last… it’s not like I was having an affair.”

“Shut it!” Andrew hissed. “Just… shut up for once!”

Her eyes grew round. It was so unlike Andrew to use such a mean tone…

“Andy…”

“I can’t believe you did something like this to me…”

“You’re not perfect either, Andrew, don’t pretend…”

“Don’t pretend what?! That I was always faithful to you? That I loved you? That I wanted to spend my life with you when you dumped me for a guy you barely knew?!”

“And why do you think I did that?” she answered, with venom in her words, and Andrew hated himself for falling for it. He knew she was being mean, that he shouldn’t have believed her, but he was the one always doubting his own worth, he couldn’t help it… “I’m sorry, Andrew, but you weren’t perfect either. And the truth is, I wasn’t happy enough with you.”

The word enough echoed in his head, out of context, he applied it to himself. He could feel his brain starting to spiral… but he forced his gaze to remain on Samantha. His thoughts had turned to you, and he had to check…

“Did Frank cheat on Y/N too?”

“What does it matter to you…?”

“Just. Answer. The. Damn. Question,” he hissed through gritted teeth, struggling not to shout it instead.

She heaved a sigh, but answered still.

“No… no, he didn’t. The first time anything happened between us was three days before we two broke up. And Frank had already ended things with Y/N to be with me.”

Andrew heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair, and Samantha frowned at his reaction.

“What does it matter to you?” she snapped.

“It matters to me that I’m glad her partner didn’t do this to her,” he replied, grabbing another drink.

“If you’re so angry at me, what are you doing here?”

Andrew bit the inside of his cheek to refrain his earnest answer.

Because Y/N needs me here.

“Honestly, I have no fucking clue…”

He downed yet another glass, walked away before Samantha could answer anything, and he headed towards the exit, fleeing the reception. He caught your eyes as he was passing not too far from you, refrained his urge to reach for you and hold you close, but his expression made you frown.

The cold air hit his cheeks, he realised he hadn’t picked up his jacket. The alcohol was getting to his head, the inky sky filled with stars was spinning above his head. He spotted an area with a few trees and a corner covered with grass. He aimed his feet in that direction, unstable, struggling to stay upright.

And you were still in there, with Frank, why fucking Frank, why him, why couldn’t you want…

“Andy?”

He turned around at the sound of your voice, almost falling in the process.

“You’re okay?” you asked while you walked closer, extending a hand to steady him if he needed.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied.

“Are you drunk?”

“A little bit,” he admitted, averting his eyes in a sheepish way.

“Do you want me to take you home? I didn’t drink at all tonight…”

But the image of Frank leaning closer, reaching for your waist flashed before his eyes. He clenched his jaw, opening and closing his fists repeatedly, not knowing what to do now with his own body, with his too-long limbs, with the knowledge that you too wanted Frank and not him. And Andrew hated that guy for taking everything he wanted away. For making Samantha leave him. For taking the life he thought he was going to build with her. But most importantly, for taking you away, even now… Andrew hated your ex for hurting you, for breaking your heart, and for being unable to let you go, for dragging you along with him, for keeping you dependent when he had someone else, and of course… of bloody course, Andrew had to fall for you, when you loved Frank.

What could you see in a guy like him? What did Andrew lack that made you unable to choose him instead of Frank?

He sat down in the grass, his brain swarming with thoughts that made him as dizzy as the liquor did.

“I think I’m… gonna stay here for a couple of minutes,” he answered, voice distant and words slurred by too much whiskey.

You sat down beside him.

“You’re okay?” you asked again, voice gentle, caring. Andrew wanted to cry at the sound, to hide in your arms and let it all out… his rage against Samantha, his jealousy against Frank, his love for you…

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Frank?” was his answer instead of yielding to his own wants and lean closer.

“You didn’t seem well.”

“I’m fine. This is your chance, it was working…”

He saw you clenching your jaw, even if there wasn’t much light around the venue. The parking lot was close by, with a few lampposts there. The moon was high and bright though, and through the windows of the venue behind the two of you, light was pouring into the night. It made for a dim lighting, but just enough for him to distinguish your features.

“I’d rather stay with you for a while,” you breathed, something pained and aching in your voice.

That fucking asshole… Andrew was certain Frank had hurt you somehow, said something wrong…

“I saw you talking with Samantha… what did she say?” you asked, changing subject and aiming straight for the sensitive one without knowing.

It was Andrew’s turn to clench his jaw. He didn’t say anything.

“What did she say?”

He shrugged, but you insisted, and he ended up yielding.

“She cheated on me with Frank.”

Your eyes grew round, and there was wrath shining in them too.

“He didn’t cheat on you,” Andrew hurried to add, wanting to alleviate your pain and worry, but your expression didn’t change. “It happened right after he broke up with you, but she hadn’t broken up with me yet… so technically…”

“What a fucking bitch…” you spat, and he was surprised by the harshness of your words, so much so that he giggled.

“Yeah, you can say that.”

“I’m so sorry, Andy,” you breathed, reaching to rub his back.

“It’s okay. I just… I just want to forget her now.”

You nodded but looked away.

“So… I’m losing my partner in crime for good?” you joked, but there was something strained in your voice, revealing of some kind of ache.

“I’ll still help you with Frank, that’s alright. If… if that’s what makes you happy…”

He froze when you leaned closed, rested your head on his shoulder. He reached out without thinking, the alcohol making him bolder than he usually was, and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in a tight hug. You remained like this for a couple of minutes, or perhaps a little longer than that, Andrew wasn’t sure. He was too drunk to notice the passing of time, he felt too warm holding you in his arms…

“Let’s get you home, Andy,” you broke the comfortable silence that had settled around you, broke his embrace to get up. You offered him your hand and helped him up, let him lean on you while you walked to your car.

And he wanted to tell you that he loved you, that he had for some time now. That he didn’t want Samantha anymore, only you. That he dreamt of you in his bedsheets, dreamt of what you would look like under him, dreamt of kissing your eyelashes. That he wanted to hold your hand, that he looked at you sometimes when you worked, in your shared office, because he just couldn’t help it. That you were beautiful, that he thought about you all the time, that he couldn’t eat at the thought of spending a moment with you. That he wanted to kiss you now, and forget about your exes, and take you on a nice date, whatever you would like.

He wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t.

[theformulaimagines]

Look at that woman (breaking my heart) | part nine

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Vettel!Reader

Summary: For one and a half years Lewis and y/n managed to keep their relationship a secret, until it blew up in their faces. Now, they're trying their hardest to pick up the pieces...

Warnings: angst

masterlist

Three weeks later…

This whole situation feels like a bad dream. Like a horrible nightmare. How could they have this sort of slip up? They’ve been so careful this entire time…

She can still remember the look on his face when she left their Airbnb to get into the taxi. The awful presence of their mutual heartbreak was visual in his eyes. A little break, that’s what they decided on. Their managers suggested they should get some space to breathe, some time apart to figure out what to do next. How to move forward.

She also remembers Sebastian‘s silence when she got into his car. He picked her up from the airport, his voice was coated in disappointment and hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”, he had asked her when they parked outside his house. “We didn’t tell anyone.” “I’m not anyone.”

Y/N sighs as she brings the cup of coffee up to her lips. The cold air feels good on her hot skin as she watches the sun rise over the mountains.

“Morning.”

The young woman slightly flinches and when she turns her head she catches a glimpse of a small smile on her brother’s lips:” Sorry.”

Yet she shakes her head:” No, hi. It’s fine. Good morning.” Her hands bring the blanket closer to her chin, while the blonde sits down next to her, positioning his coffee on the table in front of them:” How are you doing today?”

Y/N licks her lips and immediately regrets it:” I think it’s too early to decide on that.” She wants to sound witty, but it just comes out sad. Her eyes fixate on the mountains and a few seconds later she blinks away the tears that are forming. Sebastian notices them out of his peripheral vision and sighs, his hand reaches for hers.

No matter how angry he has been about her keeping her relationship a secret he still loves her. So much. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”, he lets out after a few moments and watches how a weak scoff leaves her. He wonders what she would say if she knew that Lewis has been texting him regularly since they last saw one another.

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f1gossipofficial: Breaking News! Recent information from reliable sources suggests that Y/N Vettel and Lewis Hamilton have not communicated in several weeks, as they are currently taking a break from their relationship.

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user 1: NOT A BREAK NOOOO

user 2: i hope everyone who has sent hate their way has a horrible life from today on

user 3: thank you GOD!!!!

user 4: you’re awful

“Is she okay?”

Sebastian turns his head and when he makes eye contact with his wife he takes lets out a shaky breath. “I mean, I always reckoned that something was going on between them… but I wouldn’t know what to do if I was her.”, Hanna whispers and watches Y/N through the closed glass door:” She’s probably dying inside.”

The blonde man tilts his head at her confession:” You knew?” “You didn’t notice the way they looked at one another?”, she asks and turns on the coffee machine:” The giggling and smiling? The way he would always gaze down at her from the podium? He did take more risks whenever she was watching. God, Sebastian.” He lets out a beaten sigh.

“I wish I could do something about this mess.”

“I know you do.”, Hanna says, walking up to him:” I mean, I am glad she’s not using her phone at-.” But she is cut off by the doorbell ringing, making Sebastian roll his eyes:” It’s 8 am on a fucking Sunday, I swear to God.” He lets go of his wife before walking down the hallway. With one swift motion, he opens the door.

His eyes instantly widen at the sight in front of him.

“Hi.”, Lewis says, trying his best to smile at Sebastian but it looks more forced than genuine. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to see Y/N.”

[alittlebitofloveliness]

More Darry Curtis headcanons

-Goes to every single parent/teacher interview night or open house at Ponyboy’s school, even if he has to take off work. Part of it is because he’s determined to be a good guardian but part of it is because he just proud of Pony and likes hearing from teachers how great he is

-Speaking of how great Pony is, Darry brags about Pony SO much. Like his work crew and the gang never stop hearing about how great the kid is…except when the kid is present. Then you couldn’t get a compliment out of him if you pried his jaw open

-He and Sodapop both have a soft spot for soap operas and watch them together super late at night so no one else in the gang- Pony included- will find out. (Steve caught them once but he just sat down quietly, waving away their hasty attempts to explain themselves, muttering for them to shut up, and that he used to watch them with his mom when she was still around. The three of them finished the episode and went to bed without saying anything else.)

-Loves music of all kinds (I just know he’d be one of those guys that is SO into music history and makes it everyone else’s problem) “did you know this song was meant to be an apology to-“ “-to some random broad, we know Dar, now shut up would ya?”

-Is left handed

-He and Two-bit butt heads quite a bit but he’s also closer to Two than almost anyone else in the gang because they’re the closest in age. They have so many inside jokes that the rest of the gang gets confused because Two can sometimes get him to snicker from seemingly innocuous remarks that aren’t funny to anyone but Darry

-Has dragged Soda (and Steve by extension) away from Buck’s too many times to count and is pissed every time

-Worries the whole time when he goes on ski trips with his old buddies. He worries a lot anyway, but it’s always worse when he’s too far from home to get there immediately  if something happened. Both Soda and Pony know this so they’re actually better behaved when he’s gone than when he isn’t

-Speaking of the ski trips, he always comes back glowing, for once looking his age, so the gang encourages him to go as much as possible. They have to be subtle about it though, because he gets suspicious that they’re planning something if they make it too obvious they’re trying to get him to leave, and then there’s no way in hell he’ll go

-Loves rodeos but unlike Soda has never and never wanted to participate in one

-Mother's day and father's day are contentious days in the Curtis house ever since the accident, so Soda and Pony just designated a random day as 'Darry Day" and got him little gifts, and did all the housework because they really do appreciate everything he does for them. Darry was super touched and vehemently denies tearing up when he saw the card Pony made for him

-His bond with Tim Shepard is hard for the gang, Darry himself, and even Tim to figure out, but it’s very strong despite how little they actually interact

-Despite refusing to ever go to the hospital, he’s actually the absolute worst patient when he’s sick. It takes a lot for him to admit that he’s ill, but once he does he’s absolutely insufferable. Pony and Soda takes turns taking care of him because they’re both liable to lose their temper if they have to do it for too long without a break. (“Soda my head hurts” “I know Darry” “Soda I need a glass of water” “you have a glass of water” “but Soda it’s not cold” “I got you a new one five minutes ago” “but Soda it warmed up” “damnit! Pony tag in, you deal with him, I need a smoke” “Pony I’m dying” “you’re not dying Dar” “yes I am” "no you're not")

-He’s a super fast walker. Like, anyone shorter than him has to jog a lil to catch up

-He’s a cat person. Pony and Soda are both dog people, and it has caused more than one argument despite the fact they have no pets and couldn’t afford  one even if they could agree on what they wanted

-He and Soda definitely made a secret handshake when they were little, and he still remembers every single move of it even though they haven’t done it in years and he isn’t sure if Soda even remembers making it