#thank you for the angst fuel Adam!

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hate That I Love You

adam x insecure!tsundere(ithink) GNreader

Summary: You’ve been Lutes friend for a long while, and occasionally you ran into Adam; after finding out about the extermination thanks to him, you become a three party group. Except you can’t accept liking Adam, him being obnoxious and egotistical, you pretend you hate him. That blows up in your face.

Warnings: Suggestive, swearing, angst ish, hurt/comfort i think, insecurities around strength (mental and/or physical), implied but never confirmed virgin reader, readers looks get insulted nothing intense nor specific, descriptive panic attack/fainting, reader throws an object at adam’s head, NO YN, GN, No alluding to or mention of bodytype/hairtype/skin colour. oh possibly OOC adam idk, not proofread so sorry luvs, I think that’s it if not let me know! enjoy :3

Word count: 2K

Your index finger sat atop the straw sitting in your drink, moving it around the glass as you mindlessly listened as Adam ranted to you and Lute, mostly Lute, about Charlie Morningstar. You weren’t an exorcist- no, you actually didn’t know about the exterminations at all…up until recently. Thanks to one of Adam’s childish outbursts, you had a long night with Lute explaining the whole situation to you. Now you were sworn to secrecy, and conversations of the madness that the extermination were and everything they came with, AKA Charlie.

Adam wasn’t ever your buddy, he was just someone who shamelessly attached himself to Lute's hip; but you put up with it because of your good friendship with Lute. Now, he’s somehow weaselled his way into believing you were part of this weird “team” purely based off of association.

“I mean who does this long horned, pointy teeth, pussy mucher think she is?!” Adam screamed slamming his hands against the table, you rolled your eyes at him and his stupid antics. “You’re one to talk,” You replied, his eyes snapping toward you. “You’ve got both horns and teeth. Why don’t you take that funky band mask off anyways?”

Scoffing he rolled his neck side to side. “Because this is my job, my persona, how’re people gonna recognize me without it!? Duh, dumb bitch.” Muttering the insult quickly, he leaned his cheek on his palm and went back to sucking his drink.

“With all due respect sir, this is really bad news, we can’t let Charlie persuade Sera.” Lute piped up, her mask discarded showing the genuine emotion on her face. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if he was a friend, someone she was in love with, an annoying brother-like figure, or just her lazy ass boss. Maybe all of the above.

Which is probably one of the reasons you kept your tiny little crush on Adam to yourself. He was cruel to you anyways, always comparing you to someone faster, funnier, stronger, hotter at least that’s what you told yourself. Instead you chose to be more of a bitch back, acting as disgusted and disinterested as you could, especially when Lute was around as she could sniff out a lie like some psychic canine.

“Yeah, duh Lute i fucking know that. You think I've been jerking off this whole time! No, eyes, ears focused, I haven't cum in days.” He whined, throwing his head back. Lute only scoffed glancing over at you slumped back in your seat barely sipping your drink, eyes casted downward. “You don’t have to be here for this kind of talk,” Lute started saying, her hand inching across the table to yours, but she was stopped by Adam once more leaning forward, gloved palms slapping against the table.

“The fuck are you saying Lute!? We get another fucker in this circle and you wanna cast her out. Un-fucking-believeable. It’s like you want Charlie to win.” Throwing a napkin at Adam, Lute slid her hand away from you. “They’re not even an exorcist Adam, you’re the fuck head who got them in on exterminations!”

“No i didn’t, they walked in on a private conversation.” Eyebrows knitted together you lurched forward, anger fueling you. “Oh piss off Adam, how many times are we gonna go over this stupid situation! I’m not your fucking friend, i’m not ‘in’ on it, i’m here for Lute and you won’t fucking leave!”

Adam had a bored expression on his face while you ranted, unfazed by anything you’d said. Lute however bit her lip clasping her hands together. In a fight between her boss slash friend, and her friend, she didn’t know what to do. “You always have your nose up in Lute's business, it’s so annoying. Lute’s my man, okay she works for me! Guess who comes first in this business chica? Not you.” Adam mocked sticking his tongue out at you.

Standing you picked up your cup whipping it at Adam’s head, he dodge it easily, but your emotionally fueled violence made you quickly regretful as both Adam’s and Lutes eyes looked at you questioningly. You’d never really lost your shit before, and this wasn’t the worst Adam has said, so they were a little confused at your outburst, yourself included.

“Listen, Adam, I’m-“ Before you could finish Adam keeled over, laughing maniacally as you watched. After a few short laughter filled moments, Adam straightened, elbows on the table, hands hammocking his chin as he smiled up at you.

“Got some bite in you for sure huh babe, ha! I’m not surprised, honestly when i saw you i was like ‘this bitch has a face made for hell’, you probably got up here cause you were unfuckable so, like, virgin. Oh! Oh! That makes so much fucking sense dude! Ha! Bummer, I could smell the weak loser on ya, didn’t I tell ya danger tits?” Adam questioned head turned toward Lute after his animated, and very condescending speech.

Lute only looked down, not responding. Meanwhile you were horrified, you’d always felt a little less than Lute, after all she carried out holy duties, ones that you hadn’t fully known up until recently, so hearing Adam say the same things you thought of yourself, shattered you. Your face felt hot as tears gathered on the waterline of your eyes. You didn’t belong here, you said it for the longest time everyone here was mindless optimist zombies, Lute was your only lifeline, and for a few months you suppose-Adam.

You never hated him, but it’s clear he’s only fond of Lute. You’re the intruder, you’re the odd one. Clenching your fists you didn’t even bother with a come back, you slid out from your table booking it to the door. Tears unwillingly slid down your cheeks, your chest heaving as your throat closed silencing whatever weep dared to exit your throat.

You could hear Lute calling after you but you genuinely didn’t want to be followed by her, you were embarrassed; the last thing you wanted was the strong exorcist coming to witness you crumble. Throwing the door to the building open your wings sprung out on reflex, and after a few quick steps you took off. You couldn’t quite see, or breathe for that matter. Your mind lagged behind you, replaying the moments in your head that matched up to Adam’s insults.

You blinked rapidly as you attempted to focus on the clouds beneath you and breeze around you, but you couldn’t. You choked once more, your stomach convulsing inward causing you to gasp, a sob violently escaping you as you rocketed toward whatever surface you could find. Suddenly you hit something solid, stunning your flight and causing you to spin down, plummeting. As you fell, the breeze stabbed you as you cut into it, your wings sagging and loosely flailing above you, it felt so calm and freeing you didn’t feel the will to stop.

By the grace of god, however, you were caught and roughly smacked against the chest of someone, their arms clutching you tightly. You barely heard a ‘gotcha’ before your vision tunnelled, stomach flipped and you lost consciousness.

——

Waking slowly, your eyes stung the moment they opened, nearly watering at the blinding white that invaded them. Willing yourself to rise, you lazily scanned the room you laid in. A living room, coloured with yellows, creams and whites, it was, in all honesty, way too much. A large portrait of a man with a woman, meticulously scrapped out, hung above the fireplace. You’d never seen this man ever before, and the woman was too scratched out to get any idea on who it was. Suppose these people never existed as it was a painting, but there was something about the man that captivated you so deeply.

“Look who finally rose, sleeping bitchy.” You immediately felt sick, turning your head unsurprised to see Adam standing there smugly. You frowned deeply, it felt nearly impossible to twist your mouth in such a way, but there was no hiding your distaste in seeing the angel. “Why am I here, Adam.” You say scaldingly, eyes closed attempting to shield yourself from whatever foul look took over his face. “Well after your little shit show, a little over dramatic by the way, Lute left to find you, and I went for a fly. Then suddenly minding my own business I see you tryna play asteroid! Then when I caught you, your dumbass went out.”

Sighing loudly you pulled your hand down your face. “Please, admit Lute put you up to it.” Slamming a glass of water down on the table along with a platter of fruit, including oranges, pomegranates and mangos, Adam grunted moving his hand to sit on his hips. “The fuck she did, she’s not getting the praise for this one.” You looked up at him and then down at the fruit and drink on the side table just to your right, you nodded at it. “What’s this?”

You barely whispered out. Blowing air out threw his lips effectively raspberryingring the air, he shrugged. “Stuff for you, duh, you’re like sick or something right?” You nearly smiled at that, you’d never had Adam have that reaction. Quite the array of fruit as well, carefully you picked up a few pieces of orange, as well as mango that had a toothpick sticking up from them you munched down. You hummed, watching like a hawk as Adam walked across from you and sat on the other couch.

“How long was i out?” You questioned after swallowing, gulping down some water feeling the soothing sensation on your raw throat. “Maybe thirty minutes, not long. I texted Lute, I told her you were with me, safe.” That made you pause, you gazed up at him from the bowl of pomegranates you started digging into. “What? Why didn’t she come?” Adam huffed, throwing his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Because I told her not to.” Your mouth fell open eyes wide.

“Why thee holy fuck, would you tell her not to come?” Sitting up straighter you swung your legs over the side, sitting properly instead of lounging. Adam wouldn’t meet your gaze drifting off to the left and right. “Fucking… fuck!” He exclaimed almost in what sounded like exhaustion. Watching him closely, you waited as he seemed to have an inner debate with himself. Then swiftly he gripped his face and ripped off his mask.

The face you were met with was like a punch in the gut, yeah he could be compared to men you’ve seen in your lifetime probably at a gas station or cheap bar, but it was Adam. The man you’ve been trying so hard to hate, getting into cussing battles, throwing insults at each other that rolled off the back, occasionally praising each other's insults, forcing yourself to loathe him when you both kinda knew it wasn’t and now it was real. You got to look in his gold eyes, the dark thick lashes accentuating the uniqueness of his eye colour, the chin hair that crawled just under his chin -which you never expected him to have-, his tousled brown hair, thick eyebrows one eyebrow pierced - also a shock to you-.

He looked like the asshole he was, and it made you fucking sick. Trying so hard to hate him had come to this? Him unmasking himself after saving you? Cruel, you wanted to hate him, get over him not know that all he said about him being the hottest, the dickmaster, pussypounder-whatever, was probably true, that he’s hot. You were embarrassed to feel the nasty hum of jealousy claw at you when you could see the woman in the painting in your peripheral, that was obviously him, with some woman. He was wanted, and taken before.

Flicking his tongue over his lips you caught a glimpse of a tongue piercing because of course the pretty boy would get whatever he wanted without worrying about rules. He shuffled nervously biting his lip as you eyed him shamelessly, which to him was judgemental, his nerves suddenly making him feel sweaty. “Why?” You ask breathily, you were too enchanted to care how he perceived that however. His eyes properly met yours, your legs crossed subconsciously at the zap you felt just by a look.

“Youre fucking dumb you know that? You think I hang with Lute when you’re around because Lute’s there?!” Adam stood after the exclamation, his eyes shooting around the room, hands flying to his hair. “I can’t fucking do this a third time! Fuck!” Tossing a vase across the room you watched unfazed by the sudden explosion, after all this was your thing too.

“I only go round Lute like that because you’re there dumbass, i tried easing up on you; just like Lute said! But you, oh noooo little bitch, just had to be so fucking bratty.” Standing over you sneering, you made no attempts to move, not genuinely scared of his anger but instead, perhaps, a little aroused. You in a way understood where his frustrations came from anyway, you in a sense felt the same way. Might be why you lost it earlier, the yearning had gotten too real, and he seemed so focused on Charlie.

“I am so disgustingly attracted to you, not even in a sex way! And I know how to deal with that a lot better.” Swinging his hand out sassily, he smirked to himself. Plopping next to you he rested his cheek on his hand, elbows rested on his legs. Plucking an orange from the table you watched him eat it, juice moistening his lips. “You think i’d peel fruit, save, house and give water to some broad I genuinely hated? No, stupid.”

Laughing dryly, you looked up away from Adam’s intense gaze. You smiled, eyes falling from the ceiling to your lap. “God i fucking hate you,” Adam’s face looked horrified, opening his mouth to speak, you stopped him grabbing his cheeks and pulling into a searing hot kiss. Your lips crashed against each others’ lazily but passionately, opened mouthed and slightly sloppy. It was slow however, a kiss that wasn’t just a kiss, neither of you wanted to haste past such a moment, such emotion. Adam’s arms wrapped around your hips nudging you forward, understanding the message you moved in closer, your body’s pressing against each other as much as you could from the seated position on the couch.

You dug your fingers into his hair, brainlessly playing with different strands as your tongues slid along one another’s without care, tasting the orange he just ate presently on his lips and to tongue. It felt heavenly being up against him, Adam smelt so good, he was so warm and you could feel how badly he wanted this. His body jittered, his hands gripping you like you’d disappear if he loosened. Pulling away and looking at Adam, he made no effort to move eyes still closed like trying to etched this memory in his mind. You hummed lovingly, brushing hair away from his forehead. “You’re a dumb bitch.” He whispered raspily, opening his eyes, although not by much as they lidded with lust.

You smirked at him brushing your thumb against his bottom lip. “I know. You too.”

[mak-be-ghouled]

The Sound of the End of Day

2.1k Words of Angst/comfort

Mountain/Dew (and a bit of Aether)

Terzo, Copia, and other ghouls mentioned

A huge thank you to @nastylittleghouls and @divine-misfortune for their thoughts under this post:)

the tittle being from Monstrance Clock only felt right

When Copia is lifted by the Skeleton Dancers during Dance Macabre, Mountain and Dew are taken back to one of the worst days in their time topside. 

They had officially made it to the final leg of the Re-Imperatour.  

Unfathomable hours were poured into rehearsals long before the tour was even announced. Any one of the ghouls could've played the show forwards, backwards, and in their sleep. They knew the order by heart, had already performed it more times than they cared to count. 

But this one was special, Papa was adamant about how important the shows in LA would be, and the ghouls were determined to do their part for their Papa. Hell, they even had choreography coordinated with real dancers. 

And so, more rehearsals were called, plugging in the Chamber Ghoulettes and the Skeleton Dancers. Sure, the ghouls weren't exactly used to sharing the stage with so many others, but they couldn't deny the sheer talent of the new additions. They rehearsed until every moving part was perfect. Until they were certain there would be no surprises. 

But something about the crowd’s screaming, the blinding lights, the shadowy figures, the music, the lift.  

The fucking lift.  

Mountain and Dew hadn't made the connection until now.  

The audience screamed, their Papa was in the air, and the music was still going.  

But Mountain and Dew were back on that dammed stage. 

That Gothenburg stage where they were promised they’d never have to return to. That stage where they saw their former Papa for the last time. That stage where Terzo was ripped from them before they even processed what was going on. That stage that haunted their nightmares and the darkest corners of their minds.  

Papa was in the air and Mountain was stuck behind his kit. He was frozen, just like last time. Just like he had sworn he wouldn't allow himself to do ever again. It's a wonder he only stalled for a moment. Straining to focus on Rain’s base line, to keep up. His head was swimming and he was drowning. 

And yet, no one else seemed phased. Swiss was still singing, still dancing--well moving his hips in a way that could maybe be interpreted as dancing. Aurora and Cumulus were still singing and dancing together, mimicking the Skeletons from earlier. Phantom was still working the audience as always. Cirrus was still playing. Rain still stood strong, was still in time. 

But Dew.  

Dew saw it too. The moment Papa was in the air his eyes fled to Aether. But Aether wasn't there. Aether wasn't on tour. There wasn't anyone to run after Copia. Dew’s heart stutters as he scans the stage. 

Finally, his eyes land on Mountain. Just like they had that night.  

Dew was certain they’d lost another Papa. He turned to run backstage. To follow those shadowy figures this time. To do what he hadn't then. What he beats himself up for not doing. What fuels that nagging voice in his mind.  

Dew is in auto pilot. He’s straining to find tempo again. To find the right notes on his bass. Dew’s hands are shaking so hard he's not sure any of the notes he's played in the last minute have been even remotely correct. He doesn't recognize the song anymore; this isn't Monstrance Clock and his bass feel wrong. Too Small. Too Light. 

Dew sees the fear behind Mountains eyes. Knows it's the same fear that is clouding his vision too. Dew watches Mountain shake his head, desperately trying to clear the fog.  

After what feels like an eternity Mountain returns Dew's gaze. Mountain gives him a firm nod and a half smile. It's so incredibly forced but that doesn't matter. Not right now. Somehow it makes everything okay. Confirms that Mountain saw it too.  

That it's not real this time. Papa is okay this time. He won't have to watch Aether run after him this time. He won’t have to run after them both this time.  

Finally, Dew can feel his hands again and The Forum isn't spinning quite so fast. He looks down. He’s not holding a bass. Fucking of course he isn't, he's got his guitar in his hands. He thinks he might hear Dance Macabre echoing in his mind. But it's so distant. A dream maybe? This certainly wouldn't be the first dream Dew’s had of this moment. 

And then, everything goes quiet. Copia is back on the ground. He isn't shouting or fighting. He’s singing. The crowd isn't screaming in fear, they're cheering. Those shadowy figures have disappeared. The Skeleton Dancers are still surrounding Copia, but he's still there. Still standing. Copia isn't being dragged off the stage kicking and screaming. He’s safe. He’s alive. 

Mountain can barely hold his drumsticks and Dew is sure he would've dropped his guitar if it wasn't for the strap on his shoulder. They shoot each other a final glance before Square Hammer starts. Before they have to pretend like they didn't just watch their Papa get pulled from the stage, leaving them helpless.  

And yet, by the looks on everyone else's faces, they hadn't. No one seems to care.  

Dew’s stomach twists and he's positive he's going to throw up. 

Mountain’s not much better, swaying slightly behind his kit, dizzy. 

They want nothing more than for this fucking show to be over with. To know that their Papa is okay. That they didn't fail him again. To call Aether.  

As soon as Copia finishes his farewell speech, Mountain and Dew are flanking his sides. This isn't their normal spots for bows, but they have to be around Copia right now. To hold his hand. To know that he's alright. They don't want to overwhelm him. They don't want to do anything too drastic; they know how important this show is for him. But they have to know he’s okay. They pull Copia into a bone cracking hug, and while Copia appreciates their affection, something neither Dew nor Mountain are particularly fond of sharing in front of this many people, he can't help but wonder what has prompted it. 

The ride to the hotel is a blur. Mountain vaguely remembers Cirrus’s questioning glance and Swiss’s hand on his back, leading him towards the bus. 

Dew thinks he hears Rain’s voice send comments and compliments his way, the beginning of a call and response of sort, a habit they’d fallen into after Rain’s first ritual. But this time Dew’s response is just a nod, hardly even perceptible had Rain not been burning holes into him with his stare since he caught whiff of Dew’s distress during Dance Macabre.  

When they arrive at the hotel, Dew is a bit more present. Asking Copia to ensure he and Mountain room together. He reassures the pack that him and Mountain are okay. Drained, but okay.  

He tries his hardest to guide Mountain to their room. To be the life preserver he knows Mountain needs right now. But fuck does he need one too.  

He feels bad calling Aether without checking what time it is over there, but doesn't even have the time to consider anything else before his arms are moving on their own accord. Pulling out his phone and finding Aether’s contact. Mountain needs Aether right now. Dew needs Aether right now. 

Dew knew how much Mountain still thought about that night. Mountain had confided in Dew shortly after it.  

In The Pits, Mountain was ridiculed for being a plant-specialized Earth Giant. Others thought that made him soft, pointless. Earth Giants were meant to be geological, what good would a giant with a knack for plants be, that job was for the little ones. 

Mountain was paralyzed with fear. He was stuck behind his drum kit. Forced to watch as Terzo disappeared. He was helpless. Years of working on himself, his self-image, his confidence, flushed down the drain in that single moment. Again, Mountain began to wonder if they were correct. Maybe he really was soft. Useless. A sorry excuse for an Earth Giant.  

“Hi Sweet Thing. You with us?” 

Mountain is ripped from his thoughts as he hears Aether's voice. It’s crackly and a bit robotic through the speakers of Dew’s phone, but it is undeniably Aether.  

“Hmm?” 

Mountain hums, his eyes finally focusing on something for the first time in hours. 

Dew is holding his phone in front of his face, Aether is dimly lit on the other end, smiling softly at them. 

“There he is.” 

Aether's eyes light up as Mountain acknowledges him for the first time since he'd answered Dew's call.

“Wasn't right without you Aeth. Fuck. Kept looking around for you. Imagined you running after him”  

Dew laughs dryly to himself but tears fill his eyes. 

Aether wishes he could just crawl through the screen and hold his boys. He knows how much they love Copia, how much Terzo's death affected them. How much it affected himself. But he’s on the other side of the fucking world, so he just hopes his words and presence, even if though a phone screen, can provide them enough comfort to get some rest before they have to do this all over again tomorrow. Without him. Again.  

“I know baby, I'm so sorry. Wish I was there too”  

Aether smiles sadly though the phone. 

“Guess neither of us made too big a fool of ourselves though, maybe those pointless rehearsals weren't so pointless”  

Dew tries to joke, but Aether can see right through him. 

“Why didn't I see it?” 

Mountain mumbles into the space between Dew’s neck and shoulder that he’s crammed himself into. 

“What was that Hun?” 

Dew asks, rubbing the back of Mountain’s head where his hair had been tied back for the show. 

“The lift, I mean why didn’t I see it before. We practiced--Satan knows how many times-- just like you said, and I never once thought anything of it until tonight. Why'd it have to hit me in the middle of a fucking show. Probably made a dumbass of myself up there loosing time during the second to last song of the night... Was supposed to be perfect for Papa.”  

Mountain whispers the last part, but Dew and Aether are still able to catch it.  

Dew pulls Mountain closer to himself and Aether’s heart breaks, longing to reach out, to whisk those worries away. 

“Mountain, I didn't make the connection until tonight either. It was different. I dunno how, but it... was.”  

Dew silently curses himself for his lack of explanation, he knows that's what Mountain needs right now. Mountain needs logic. Something that tells him why something happened so he can avoid it next time. But truthfully Dew doesn't know. He doesn't know why tonight was different, but it was, and it fucked him up too. 

“I'm sure it had something to do with the crowd and the stage lights. I remember those helmets; you can't see shit in ‘em. Hearing people screaming, being blinded and burned by those lights, watching someone you care about, who holds the same title, in the same spot as one of the most traumatic events of your time topside. That’s probably why it was different. I know that doesn't change anything, but it does make a difference.”  

Aether adds.  

And logically Mountain knows Dew is right, that Aether is right. That it was different. But he still hates himself for faltering, even if no one else noticed.  

“Plus, I'm sure if you really did mess up, anything noticeably at least, we all would've gotten a smartass text from Swiss. I'm thinking something along the lines of ‘The All-Mighty Mountain Crumbles at the Sight of a Dangerously Handsome Multi's Hips"  

Aether jokes while drawing a rectangle in the air with his hands, mimicking a news headline, hoping to bring his mates back down to Earth.  

Dew giggles, a genuine giggle and Mountain huffs out a laugh. It isn't much, he knows that, but Aether has never been prouder of himself.  

They talk for a bit longer, until Mountain and Dew’s minds have cleared a bit and their eyes have returned to that deep forest green and the vibrant copper and ocean blue Aether had fallen so in love with, before any of this mattered.  

Mountain and Dew finally settle into their bed. Their position is awkward at best but they’re comfortable. They're Here. They have each other. Copia is alright. They're alright.  

And that's all that matters right now. 

All that can matter right now. 

[amournoir]

Hi can u do a fic where the reader and Klaus are in a relationship and the mikaelson's hate her .

Thanks

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭 ┄ 𝐢

pairing: niklaus mikaelson x f!reader

count: 1.4k

warning: angst

author’s note: thanks for the request hun! 💋 p.s, here's part 2

The streets of New Orleans pulsed with life, and Y/N, Klaus Mikaelson's spirited and vivacious girlfriend, seemed to embody the very essence of the city's energy. She reveled in the thrill of the night, seeking joy and adventure wherever she went. But little did she know that her vibrant spirit was causing a storm within the Mikaelson family. 

Rebekah and Elijah, Klaus's siblings, observed with disapproval as Y/N led Klaus into the wild festivities of the French Quarter. They detested her carefree nature, seeing her as a disruption to the carefully constructed order of their lives. In their eyes, Y/N was a distraction, a youthful folly that would only lead Klaus astray. The siblings had made their opinions known countless times, urging Klaus to end the relationship. They saw her as a threat to their family's stability and tried to set him up with a "more suitable" woman— a 30-year-old socialite whose poise and maturity contrasted sharply with Y/N's exuberance. 

One evening, as the Mikaelson family gathered for a somber dinner, tensions reached their breaking point. Rebekah and Elijah, fueled by their desire to protect their brother, confronted Y/N, leveling accusations of infidelity.

“You're nothing but trouble,” Rebekah hissed, her eyes flashing with disdain. “You're not right for Nik.”

Y/N's face paled, her heart pounding in her chest. “What are you talking about? I love Klaus with all my heart,” she protested, her voice trembling.

Elijah shook his head, his tone cutting like a blade. “You're young, reckless, and unreliable,” he stated coldly. “You're only going to hurt him.”

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she struggled to find the right words to defend herself. She had always tried to be honest with Klaus, to give him everything he deserved, but now she felt like she was being torn apart by the very people she had hoped to call family.

“I love him,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “I would never hurt him, and I would never cheat on him.”

But her words fell on deaf ears, and the Mikaelson siblings remained adamant in their disapproval. Klaus, torn between his love for Y/N and his loyalty to his family, was caught in the crossfire of their bitter dispute. For days, the rift between Y/N and the Mikaelson siblings grew wider. Each encounter was fraught with tension, with accusations and misunderstandings that only deepened the wounds. Y/N felt isolated and alone, her heart heavy with the weight of their judgments.

One night, as the moon hung low in the sky, Klaus found Y/N sitting alone by the fireplace, tears silently streaming down her cheeks. He approached her, his heart aching at the sight of her pain.

“Love talk to me,” he pleaded, his voice soft with concern.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. “Your family hates me,” she whispered. “They think I'm not good enough for you.”

Klaus wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “I don't care what they think,” he said firmly. “I love you and I won't let them come between us.”

But as the days turned into weeks, the constant pressure from his family weighed heavily on Klaus's mind. Doubts began to seep into his heart, and he found himself torn between his love for Y/N and the desire to mend the fractures in his family. In the depths of his turmoil, Klaus faced an impossible choice— to stand by the woman he loved or to appease his family by letting her go. His heart and mind waged war within him, leaving him in a state of inner turmoil that threatened to consume him.

As the darkness of uncertainty loomed over their once blissful relationship, Y/N and Klaus were left to navigate the shadows of doubt and find a way back to each other. The storm of angst and heartache showed no signs of abating, leaving them with the ultimate question…could love conquer all or would the family's disapproval be too much to bear? 

A few months had passed without another confrontation from his siblings but that silence period was over today. The Mikaelson mansion stood in silence, its opulent halls shrouded in a heavy tension that seemed to seep into the very air. Y/N, the vibrant and spirited love of Klaus Mikaelson's life, felt the weight of disapproval from his siblings bearing down on her like a storm cloud. At 23, her heart beat fiercely with a passion for life, but to Elijah and Rebekah, she was nothing more than a youthful whirlwind that threatened the delicate balance they had carefully crafted. 

It was a chilly evening, and as Y/N wandered through the dimly lit corridors, her footsteps echoing emptily, she couldn't shake the sense of unease that seemed to linger around her. The disapproving glances, the hushed conversations that ceased when she entered a room— all of it gnawed at her soul. It had been months since she had embarked on a romantic journey with Klaus, a love that burned with an intensity she had never known before. But even that powerful connection couldn't shield her from the critical eyes of his siblings.

Rebekah's icy words had sliced through the air like a blade. “You're just a child, Y/N,” she had said with a condescending tilt of her head. “My brother deserves someone who understands the dangers of our world.”

And Elijah, the embodiment of elegance and poise, had looked at her with a mixture of pity and dismissal. “Klaus is not one to be taken lightly,” he had warned. “You need to be more mature, more level headed.”

Each word had etched itself into Y/N's heart, a constant reminder of her perceived inadequacy in the eyes of those she so desperately wanted to accept her. As she entered the living room, she found Klaus standing by the grand window, nursing a tumbler of bourbon in his hand. His gaze was distant, his features etched with a mixture of frustration and weariness. She approached him, her heart aching at the distance she felt growing between them.

“Klaus,” she murmured, her voice soft and uncertain.

He turned to her, his eyes meeting hers with a mix of conflict and affection. “Y/N,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of regret.

The silence that followed was heavy, a chasm that seemed to swallow their words before they could be spoken.

“I can't do this anymore love,” Klaus finally confessed, his voice breaking the stillness.

Y/N's heart shattered, the pain more intense than she could have ever imagined. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Klaus's gaze was tortured, his emotions warring within him. “Elijah and Rebekah,” he said with a sigh. “They won't accept us. They think you're too young, too impulsive.”

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes, and she felt a lump forming in her throat. “And what do you think?” she choked out, her voice quivering.

Klaus reached for her, his hand cupping her cheek with tenderness. “I love you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “But I can't keep going against my family. It's tearing us apart.”

The pain in Y/N's chest was suffocating, a weight that threatened to crush her. “So, what are you saying?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“I'm saying that we need to take a step back,” Klaus admitted, his voice barely audible. “Perhaps it's best for both of us.”

Y/N's heart shattered completely, and she took a step back, her eyes welling with tears. “You're choosing them over me?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Klaus's eyes filled with anguish, and he reached out to her, his fingers brushing against her cheek. “Y/N…” he started desperately. “I love you, but I can't keep fighting this battle. I'm sorry sweetheart.”

The room seemed to close in around her, and Y/N turned and fled, her heartache echoing in the emptiness that surrounded her. Days turned into weeks, and the absence of Klaus felt like an ache that she couldn't escape. She could feel the weight of his absence in every corner of her life, a constant reminder of what once was.

As she stared out at the moonlit night, Y/N realized that love was not always enough to conquer the obstacles that life placed in its path. She had lost the man she loved, not because he didn't care, but because the world they lived in was too complicated, too tangled with expectations. lol She whispered his name into the night, her heart heavy with sorrow, Y/N learned that sometimes love wasn't enough to mend the fractures that threatened to tear their world apart. And in that painful realization, she felt the bittersweet ache of a love that had been both beautiful and heart wrenching—a love that would forever remain etched in her soul.

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[tessa-liam]

Turning the Page  

Now and Then

 - Chapter 9-

Choices, The Royal Romance, AU 

Series Premise: As Riley Brooks journeys through life as a single parent in New York City, an epiphany strikes as she contemplates the future for herself and her two-year-old son. 

Turning the Page Series Masterlist 

Main Pairing: Liam Rys x F!OC Riley Brooks 

All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except William Brooks (Rys) and Matteo Magro, who belongs to this series. 

Category: On-going series, contains angst/fluff/depression. Cross-over fic with Choices, Perfect Match. 

Rating: M🔞Warnings - Series will contain crude language, NSFW material – not Beta’d - please excuse all errors. 

Words: 2498

Now and Then – 9 

Chapter Summary: Riley and William arrive in Cordonia 

Title & Music Inspiration: 

Now and Then, The Beatles                                       

When You Love Someone, Gretchen Peters, Bryan Adams 

Wherever You Will Go, The Calling 

A/N1: In this alternate universe, after King Constantine orchestrates two individual scandals to humiliate and entrap Riley Brooks and Olivia Nevrakis in shame, Madeleine Amaranth secures her position as the Queen of Cordonia. Riley, as the King’s mistress and Olivia, in self-imposed exile. Tariq is never found.  

A/N2: My submission for @choicesflashfics, Week#67, prompt #1 - “Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.” 

A/N3: My submission for @choicesjanuary2024, prompt Day 25 - ‘Remembrance’ #choices monthly challenge @lilyoffandoms #choicesjanuary2024 

A/N4: Damien Nazario has been assigned as William’s personal bodyguard. 

In Flight, Cordonian Royal Jet, above the Mediterranean Sea 

Looking out over the vast expanse of water below her, and under the clear blue skies above the Mediterranean Sea, no clouds were in sight ... not a white cloud, nor a black cloud. 

Riley gazed out the large passenger window of the private jet, in solace, with her memories. Everything felt calm; almost too calm. The flight from New York to Cordonia was eight hours in duration, and even though they left early in the morning, they would not arrive at the palace until late in the evening with the change in time zones. 

Trying to and not getting any rest, her thoughts returned to the events over the holidays.

...Remembering when Liam arrived at her door, in New York on Christmas Eve, a short week ago. The expression of elation on his face as she opened the door for him... 

[‘Hello, my love,’ he tenderly smiled; He was standing there with an exquisite bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, as uniformed delivery drivers from the toy store waited patiently at a distance behind him, as the Royal guard performed a security check. 

Liam stepped over the threshold, leaning down to draw her in for a kiss on the cheek, as she accepted his gift. ‘Oh Li, these are gorgeous; thank you so much.’ 

At Bastien’s prompt, the delivery people entered the brownstone with prewrapped gifts and placed them under the Christmas tree, also filling the extra space in the living room very quickly. 

Chuckling, Riley watched as Liam thanked them with a generous tip, as he closed the door after them. 

“Our son will be so thrilled at what Santa brought him; wait till he wakes up tomorrow.”  

Liam laughed, moving quickly to put his arm around her, pulling her to his side. “Who says all these gifts are just for him? Hmmm?” Riley turned her head towards him, as Liam bent to capture her lips in a passion-fueled kiss. 

“Ah yes, your gift is right here.” Liam slipped his hand inside his coat to reveal a small box, wrapped in gold with a red ribbon. “This is for you.”} 

Riley breathed out, shaking her head. 

...Remembering wanting him so badly that evening ...as he kissed her forehead to say ‘good night’ before turning to the guest room; Leaving her feeling so confused, once again. 

...Remembering how excited LiLi was when he saw his father again Christmas morning ... and the look of pure joy in Liam’s expression as he watched his son blissfully playing with his new toys. 

...Remembering the look of adoration between Liam and his son; a private and sacred bond established between the two ... a bond only meant for them. 

Riley looked down at her phone and smiled fondly at the picture of William. He was proudly standing beside his gingerbread house gift for Liam, alongside Daniel and Matteo, to smile at the camera. Riley marveled at how unequivocally her son loved his father, so quickly. As if two loose puzzle pieces finally clicked into place. There was never a doubt in her mind that William needed to be wherever his father was. The connection between father and son was undeniable. 

...and with those thoughts, she agreed to return to Cordonia.  

And now, she found herself on the Royal jet headed back, leaving behind her New York world for the place that shattered her ‘happily ever after,’ again. 

Liam, being the new, ever-doting father was pointing out to his son the shores of Cordonia through the window. She saw the look of marvel in Liam’s eyes, as he watched his son’s reaction to seeing Cordonia for the very first time. They were sitting in seats across the aisle from her as she glanced over. 

Catching Riley’s eye, Liam responded with a wink and a smile. 

"Welcome home, love." 

Riley smiled in return, as her heart skipped a beat. 

Home... 

It had been a while since she had felt this way about Cordonia. Another lifetime; so much has changed, and yet remained the same. 

***

Damien Nazario, the Interpol agent who was now permanently assigned to be William Rys's personal bodyguard, was reviewing the Crown prince's dossier, and his duties to the Cordonian crown, his new employer. Bastien took a seat beside the young agent to answer any questions he may have, as head of the Royal guard, at the rear of the plane's cabin. 

"So, Damien, any questions for me?" 

"No, sir. I believe I have a handle on the situation.” 

"Good, because you are now the official head of the security detail for Prince William, the future king of Cordonia." 

"Understood, sir.” Damien was well aware of the complexity of a constitutional monarchy. 

"Now, there's one more thing I need to discuss with you,” Bastien eyed the young agent. 

"Yes, sir?" 

"Madeleine Amaranth, the former queen of Cordonia. I have forwarded her updated dossier to you." 

"Yes, I've read it through.” Damien paused, waiting for more information. 

"Good, because she has expressed malicious intent towards Prince William and Lady Riley, should they return to Cordonia." 

"Understood. I'll ensure her movements are tracked and reported inside and out of the country, sir." 

"Thank you, Damien.” 

"My pleasure, sir.” 

Bastien, looking pleased, leaned back in his chair, checking the time on his watch, as he felt the plane begin its descent. 

Cordonia, Capital 

The jet touched down smoothly on the tarmac, as the engines powered down. The cabin door opened, and the stairs were lowered. 

Riley could feel the warm breeze blow past her as she stepped off the plane. 

Taking a deep breath, Riley looked around. The air was different here. It was fresh and clean. She closed her eyes and let the wind brush her cheeks. 

Liam followed, with William sleeping in his arms.  

"Is everything alright, love?" Liam’s brows were raised in concern, noticing her hesitation. 

"Yes, I'm just taking it all in." Riley, looked down, unable to keep eye contact. 

"Are you sure, Riley? You've been very quiet throughout the entire flight home." 

"I'm fine, Liam. It is just a lot to process. I'm just a little overwhelmed." 

"All right, I understand. Let us get to the palace, so you and William can get settled and rest ... okay?" 

"Yes, thank you, Liam." 

Liam glanced over at Riley with concern as he personally buckled his son into the car seat. It was quite easy for him to see and feel the apprehension in her mood. She could not hide her emotions from him as well as she always thought she could.

Riley had remained noticeably quiet during the ride to the palace as well, looking out at the passing countryside. Liam could not help but wonder if she was having second thoughts about returning to Cordonia, and/or to him. 

As they pulled up to the palace gates, Liam looked over at Riley, noticing a small smile on her face. 

"What is it, love?" Liam spoke softly, reaching for her hand. 

Riley returned his touch with a squeeze. "This place...it's beautiful." 

"Thank you, that, it is. Welcome home." 

“William will be so excited when he wakes up.” Riley glanced at a still sleeping William as the SUV slowed to a stop. 

"I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me.... to have you both here." Liam confessed. 

"You're welcome, Liam. It's the least I can do."  

Liam's heart sank at her words. He hated the distance between them. He wanted to take her in his arms and make everything right, but, for right now, he knew that was not the best strategy. 

He had to accept that things had changed, and their relationship was different now. He had to be patient and give Riley the space she needed. 

But he also had to make her see how important she was to him. He had to show her how much he had missed her ... that he wanted a future with her and William in Cordonia. 

As the SUV door opened for her, Riley felt a sense of Deja vu. This was where she had started her journey with Liam in Cordonia all those years ago. And now, here she was, back again. 

"Do you want me to take you and William to the guest wing, or do you want to stay in my chambers?" 

"I would like to stay with you, if that's okay." 

"Of course, Riley. I would love that." 

It was surreal for Riley as she walked the pristine palace halls towards the Royal Chambers. Liam carried William, who was fast asleep in his arms beside her. 

 The memories of the past times she was here flooded her mind and her heart ached as she pushed the painful memories aside. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. 

As they reached the large double doors of the entrance to the Royal east wing, the guards opened the doors for Liam and Riley to enter. 

Riley stepped inside; the same chambers where she had spent so much time before. The familiar scent of Liam's cologne filled the air, sending a wave of longing for a past time through her mind. 

Walking into her room ... it was exactly as she remembered it. Everything was in its place, from the elegant chandelier hanging above the bed, to the intricate paintings adorning the walls. 

Riley took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked around the room, taking in every detail. 

 She felt a pang of sadness as she remembered those past times. 

After tucking William into his bed in the adjacent room, Liam came in and sat down next to her. He gently placed his hand on hers, and she looked up at him, their eyes meeting. 

"What are you thinking about Riley?"  

"I'm okay, Liam. I was just thinking about how much things have changed since I was here last." 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close. "I know it's a lot, but I'm here for you, and I'll help you in any way I can," Liam whispered. 

"Thank you, Liam." 

He pulled away and cupped her face in his hands, staring into her eyes intently. "You're welcome, Riley. Always. Nothing could ever change how I feel about you.” 

He moved in to press his lips to hers, and she melted into his kiss. 

It was soft and gentle, and full of longing. 

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, breathing heavily. "God, Riley, I've missed you." 

"I've missed you, Li." 

He leaned down and kissed her again, deeper this time. 

His tongue swept across her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to him. 

Their tongues tangled together in a dance that was familiar and yet new. 

They were no longer the same people they were when they had last been together. They were both older and wiser, and the passion between them burned even brighter. 

Riley pulled away and put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath her palm. 

"Liam, I..." 

"Shhh." 

He placed a finger over her lips. "Don't say anything, Riley. Just feel." 

His lips found hers again, and the world disappeared. There was nothing but the two of them, lost in each other. 

She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

She moaned into his mouth as he slid his hands down her back and pulled her closer. 

He broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. 

"Riley," he breathed. "God, I want you so much."

“Liam, I ...” 

Liam pulled back and looked into her eyes, “stay with me tonight.” 

📌All fics & edits: @ao719 @txemrn @queenmiarys @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @alj4890 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @harleybeaumont @busywoman @karahalloway @kingliam2019 @imjusthereforliam @lovingchoices14 @kyra75 @tinkie1973 @emkay512 @malblk21 @kristinamae093 @charlotteg234

📌Liam x Riley, OC: @emersyn-in-cordonia @mainstreetreader @belencha77 @walkerdrakewalker @iluaaa @mysticalfangirl @queenwalton @bascmve01 @umccall71 @choicesfrog @amandablink @ownworldresident

📌Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesflashfics @choicesjanuary2024

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

Post-Mortem

Summary: Spencer wants to get back with Reader a month after their breakup, and it doesn't go the way he planned.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Angst

Content warning: Breakup, recovering from heartbreak, rejection, sad ending

Word count: 1.3k

Spencer Reid broke my heart, plain and simple. Eight months of wonder and joy were destroyed at one dinner. A romantic one, just to twist the knife more. I was sure we would’ve been together longer, which is why it felt like the world caved in when he ended it. I never felt so broken. At that moment, I could say it was the dinner to end all dinners. Because I told Spencer I never wanted to see him again.

So you can imagine his surprise (and mine) when I agreed to meet him for a coffee a month later. I took deep breaths in the car because, like the breakup, this location was just as methodical. The spot where we first met in our respective rushes to work, he decided would be the last. When opening the shop door and hearing the familiar bell ding, it's like a neck-breaking transport. And when I spot Spencer at a table, with two cups and a pastry wrapped in front of him, the reminder to breathe comes back. 

One of the most painful things about heartbreak is that it doesn’t rip up memories like your body. They’re as clear as ever when Spencer stands from his seat while we lock eyes. The chair legs scooting across the floor were as loud as it was when we came here for quick breakfasts. Quick breakfasts were never my choice, but duty calling never involves convenience. A call from Spencer’s phone was equivalent to a brace for impact. The anxiety of waiting for the pleasantries to inevitably end was as real as the others in the shop turning their heads at the sound of Spencer’s chair. Brief and dreadful.

Nevertheless, I walked forward, keeping eye contact and an optimistic look. “Hey,” I said.

“Hi.” His hand pops up to wave as his lips thin out in his classic unrelaxed half-smile. “How are you?”

I sit. “Alright.” I can lie if I try hard enough. That’s one perk of dating a profiler. “You?”

“Good.” He nods while shifting in his seat. “Yeah, good.”

“You look exhausted.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Did you just get back from a case?”

“Yeah, last night. Los Angeles.” He rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept. “I got you an iced vanilla latte.” He points to the cup, condensation already layering the outside of it.

I take a sip. It’s watered-down but sweet. “Thanks.”

He then slides the mystery pastry toward me. “And a scone.”

This will be a long sit-down. He wants it to be. I can smell the scone. Nostalgia hits hard and doesn’t apologize. “Chocolate Chunk,” I say. It’s what I ordered the first time. He and his damned eidetic memory remember how I entertain desserts whenever I eat somewhere. And I remember our last dinner, how he ended it before they even had a chance to offer the selections. I didn’t touch it. Instead, I leaned in my chair. I thought I should kick back. “Why’d you call me here, Spencer?”

He looked around the room as if others wanted to listen in on this riveting conversation. He takes his coffee and slowly sips, putting it down. “One of the victims, her girlfriend… or ex-girlfriend was devastated during our interview. They had been on a break and she —”

“Regretted the way things ended, and now that she’s dead she can’t say sorry.” I’ll admit I didn’t care for my monotone voice, but he’s told me similar stories and a range of others that cut him deep. And I listened and held him then.

Then is, unfortunately, not now.

Spencer’s eyes darted from the cup to the scone, to me, back to the scone, then to me again. “I really am sorry.” His voice is strained.

I gripped my sweater sleeves under the table, like how the dinner ended. Except I stood up from the table with my fists deep in the soft linen covering it. The anger boiling inside fueled my force as I walked out of the restaurant. It was literally a raging spectacle, despite the deafening sound of my heart cracking in my ears.

The anger had long subsided. “I know.”

His eyebrows raised, likely expecting a more spit-in-your-face response. “You do?”

“The phone calls made it easy to assume.” That doesn’t mean I answered. He called once a week, but picking up the phone any earlier than yesterday would’ve led to undignified sniffles, giving me away instantly. My broken heart has calcified significantly in record time.

Spencer nodded. “I know I hurt you, and I hope you can forgive me someday.” For a minute, I wondered if this was the workings of a genius or a psychopath (he hangs around enough of both). Because despite the cruelty of such a planned-out ending, I somehow felt sorry for him. And I hate to admit there’s a small part of me that wants to crumble to his side.

“It’ll be okay,” I told him. “Water’s making its way under the bridge.” Time was all I needed.

Quiet takes over for a brief moment between us, and even though we’ve been apart for a month, it doesn’t take away the other eight. Spencer’s eyes, puppy-like in shape and oaky in color, are as obvious as the rest of his behavior.

“That isn’t why you wanted me here. Isn't it?"

He licks his lips and shakes his head. “I was hoping… in due time, of course, we could try again.”

The sigh that came out of me was involuntary. I wouldn’t have held back my response even a week ago, and he was lucky about that. “Spencer, I’m sorry. It may not feel like it now, but I think, in retrospect, you made a wise choice.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Nothing has changed. You were just in Los Angeles.”

“But I could try harder. Like you wanted." He swallows again. “I miss you.”

Damn, that was all I thought.

“Well,” I cleared my throat. It didn’t help. “Maybe… maybe we can be friends someday. But for now, I hate to say this,” I do. “But it might be a smart idea to keep our separate ways for a while.”

The best thing I could do is avoid diving headfirst into my true feelings. To expect things to suddenly change just because he wants to return. It's vulnerability and blissful ignorance I can’t afford. Calcified is an accurate way to describe my current state, but fragility is still there. I’ve managed to get to bed without crying for a week, but the sucker punch of memories, the freshness is very prevalent. I can still pretend here.

Spencer though, no matter how hard he tries, is not a stoic person. It’s not in him. If he’s angry, it comes out in passive-aggressive remarks or emotional outbursts containing at most a single swear word. And when sadness comes, tears are sure to follow.

I see one fall, and I try to avoid erosion as he wipes the trail off his cheek. “I understand.” He doesn’t look up.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” That's all I can say. Having the tables turned is painful.

“I don’t blame you. I handled it terribly.”

I said nothing.

“And if I could, I’d —”

His phone vibrated. Brace.

“Duty calls,” I say with a lilt, and he isn't amused. I take another sip of my coffee before I scoot my chair back.  I push the scone toward him, but he stops me halfway. We don’t flinch at the contact, fingers nearly laced.

“It’s yours. You take it.” He pushed.

“I think you need it more." I push.

“Please.” He adds force.

I let go, leaving his hand alone on the wooden surface. I try to concoct a smile. “Take care of yourself, Spencer.” I stand up from my chair and turn to head toward the exit. The ding of the bell comes and goes, and the sun splashes my face with warmth. Tears collect and cool my cheeks as I walk to the car, but I let them.

[brightymir]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 || 𝐮. 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 + 𝐰𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬

》 contains: vivid description of gory injuries, heated arguments, tengen shouts at reader & vice versa, misspellings, final battle heavy spoilers

》 angst, hurt/comfort

》 wc: ±2k

》 uzui tengen x gn!demon slayer!reader x hinatsuru x makio x suma

》 a/n: i hope you guys enjoy this, lmk what you think! thank you so much for your continued support, have a wonderful day!

the entire room was silent, even the clattering of the utensils came to a halt and everyone held their breaths in tension. three pairs of eyes flickered back and forth between you and tengen, one filled with worry, the other with anxiety, and the other with shock. tengen set his chopsticks and bowl down, letting out a long and aggravated sigh, one that was directed at you.

your eyes were trained on the dumplings in front of you while tengen's magenta ones descended on your form. your three wives looked at each other with apprehension and nervousness, not knowing what to say at the moment.

"i thought we all agreed to retire after defeating an upper rank? what's with this sudden suggestion, y/n?" tengen's voice started out calm and soothing, trying to appease you and coax you into forgetting the silly little idea you thought of at the dinner table.

the meal started nice and slow, the four of them chatting away about the mission they had recently where they defeated an upper rank six. you were silent up until halfway, wherein you expressed your desire to go back to the corps and continue your service as a kinoe.

you resigned from the corps shortly after your marriage with tengen, suma, makio, and hina. you were the most loved out of everyone and they prioritized your safety very much, eventually convincing you to put down the sword and store away your haori in the back of your cabinet.

but life was mundane ever since. especially when you've been practicing the sword ever since you were fourteen. it is wonderful to be married to wives and a husband like them, you are grateful to wake up next to them everyday but you know that you are destined for better things, and the world needs you.

you retrieved your hands from the table and settled them on your lap, where hinatsuru held it and rubbed the back with her thumb. you watched suma as she took a sip of water while beads of sweat formed on makio's forehead.

your eyes flew up to tengen’s, yours filled with determination while his was adamant, unrelenting. 

“i... i did not defeat an upper rank. why must i retire? i’m clearly still meant for so many things and my talent is needed out there. the corps needs me, and moreso the world. i love this, i love the four of you and i love this marriage. but it’s not right for me to turn my back on those who-” you were cut off by the banging of a porcelain cup on the wood table, the contents spilling. 

you let out a choked cough and re-focused your gaze to tengen's. his eyes now, however, were filled with fury and irritation. he did not look like he will back down on you anytime soon and instead, was adamant on getting you to give up on your suggestion.

"i have already established a clear life hierarchy, and the four of you are on top of it; my priorities. i am not going back on my word and i will not allow you to put your life in danger" he retorted, voice shaking. whether fueled by anger or desperation, you didn’t know.

you heaved a sigh and inched closer to him. “do you belittle my skills that much?” you asked sharply and your three wives stood from their chair. they knew how it’s gonna be when you used that tone; things were not about to go down nicely. 

tengen’s magenta eyes looked over at you, this time filled with an incredulous look, turning a darker shade at your provocation. 

“i don’t care, i’m going to go-”

“do you not understand what i want?! are you seriously so dumb that you cannot comprehend how dangerous it is going to be from now on?! we killed an upper rank, and more upper ranks will start to emerge! are you so inferior that you didn’t kill an upper rank which is why you’re being like this?!” he shouted, voice booming and resonating in every corner of your home.

huh?

what?

inferior? who? you? 

you blinked and flinched a few times. you have never seen him this mad. he insisted on always being calm, flashy, and flamboyant; anger never seemed to be his outlet. 

you felt angry, confused, surprised, and everything all at once. your mind not functioning properly, you just reciprocated his actions the last few moments.

“s-so what?! you four were able to defeat an upper moon! everyone is alive and here, recovering! why... why can’t you let me be, tengen?! i am more than capable of helping and aiding the corps, they need me!” you shouted back and hinatsuru came to your side, attempting to soothe you. 

“goddamn it! we need you too! your family needs you; makio, suma, and hina needs you. i need you! we are retiring honorably, we all lived our lives prioritizing others-”

“and i’ll die that way if needed” you cut him off with a cold tone. your three wives gasped at your statement, suma’s eyes watering while makio looked distraught, hinatsuru’s grip tightening around your arm.

tengen had a dumbfounded look on his face, refusing to believe what you just uttered. then, his face curled up to anger and anguish, walking off from the table. the four of you stood together, listening as tengen’s footsteps disappeared into the shared bedroom. 

you wriggled off of hinatsuru’s grasp and began to walk out the front door, deciding to get some fresh air. 

you sat by the pond, looking at your reflection. you did not contemplate your choices, you knew what you wanted and you knew exactly how to get it, and you knew what you had to give up to get it. 

a few minutes later, you heard three pairs of footsteps approach you. you chuckled to yourself at the way they announced themselves. they could, after all, be as quiet as they want but chose to inform you of their presence, trying to gauge your mood and aura first. 

makio sat to your left while suma snuggled to your right, hinatsuru opting to embrace you from behind. they sat in silence and waited for you to speak. you surmise that tengen must have either given them the silent treatment or have requested them to check up on you, the latter being more likely. 

“i won’t change my mind, you know” you started and sighed, feeling your wives stiffen at your blunt words. you hear them sigh altogether, lost and at their wit's ends trying to calm down tengen and get you to change your mind.

"love, must you really go back to the corps?" makio started, trying to hide the quiver in her voice even though the firm grip she has on your arm gave her sadness away.

"y/n, can't you just stay with us? those upper rank demons are all so scary, so mean!" suma sobbed and whined, snot running down her nose which made makio smack her.

hinatsuru was calm, tracing patterns on your back. "i won't stop you from doing what you feel like you need to do. but, darling, we'd love to just have a peaceful life with you" she whispered.

your eyes, still trained on the your reflection, began to water at the mere thought of probably losing what you treasured the most. you smiled and pulled them in for a hug, pressing kisses to their temples, cheeks, and lips.

the four of you walked back to your shared bedroom where you see tengen sitting on the edge of the bed, clearly anxious and waiting for the four of you. once he sees you enter, he wastes no time in rushing up to you and engulfing you in a hug.

"oh y/n, i'm so sorry. i did not mean what i said back there i was just too caught up in my emotions. i was not thinking straight, i apologize if i hurt you in anyway. i-" you cut him off by chuckling and tapping him on his shoulders.

"it's fine, tengen. don't worry about it, i understand and i'm alright" you replied and he smiled at your statement, pulling you in for a soft kiss. his lips felt extremely warm and comforting against yours, molding perfectly like it does every time.

that night, you were all huddled up in bed. you were sandwiched between tengen and makio, their arms wrapped around your waist. suma and hinatsuru were on tengen's other side, both reaching out to you as well.

"you'll stay right?" tengen's hoarse and sleepy voice sounded through the room. it was silent for a few seconds, not a sound was made.

"hmm. i love you, good night" was all you said before drifting off to sleep. the four of them exchanged glances but did not utter a word. they simply hugged you tight and fell asleep, content that the five of you will spend a lifetime together.

or so they thought.

for what greeted them in the morning was your empty cabinet, haori missing.

and a sword that used to be hung on the living room wall next to tengen's was not in place.

the only thing that they found was the exquisite hair pin they gifted you on your birthday a few months ago, alongside a short note.

i'll come back home, when muzan is reduced to ashes. i love you all.

the next news they heard about you was that you aided and played a crucial role in the defeat of upper moons four and five. the sigh of relief they let out was large when they found out that you did not sustain any life treathening injuries.

they did contemplate going to the headquarters to check up on you but they knew you would not like that that's why they only relied on shinobu and kasugai crows to know how you were faring back in the corps.

they had hoped to see you during the hashira training but you were nowhere in sight. mitsuri noted that as a kinoe, your participation was not required and instead, was only voluntary.

when the day of the final battle arrived, shinjuro noticed how tengen was restless and uneasy. the flamboyant and collected former sound hashira was clammy and kept sighing, a thin sheet of sweat coating his forehead.

"worried?" shinjuro began, attempting to calm tengen's nerves. tengen huffed and bit his lower lip.

"they're strong, i know that, i believe in them. but even rengoku did not survive upper moon three and i barely got out alive from upper moon six. i just... i'm worried sick. i wish i'm with them but as if i can do anything in my current state" he rambled and fought back tears. shinjuro tapped him on the back three times.

"you believe in them. then, you have to believe they'll come home" the older man replied, before returning to high alert, guarding the little children of the ubuyashiki clan.

every minute felt like hours, hours felt like days. tengen thought the moon had no plans to descend. it felt like he has aged twenty years from simply waiting for the sun to rise.

when they confirmed that everything was well and safe, they went with the children to the site of muzan's ashes; relief and flowing through their bodies as they shed tears of joy.

in the midst of happiness, tengen felt a kakushi tap his arm to get his attention. he then understood and followed the woman who led him to you.

tengen felt sick. he wanted to throw up, he wanted to cry, he wanted to shout. even from a distance, he could see how bloodied and disfigured you were sitting next to gyomei. he could hear breathing, faint, but it was there. he could hear heart beating, slow, but it was there.

he knelt on the ground next to your body. you were seated, back against the cold wall, hunched over. hair tangled and messy, mouth still ejecting blood. right arm was nowhere to be found, right leg was sliced severely with countless cuts decorating the expanse of it. your stomach sliced open with a big gash, your guts threatening to spill out. your sword resting on your cold left palm.

carefully, tengen scooped you in his large arms. he held you with so much tenderness, care, love. afraid that you would slip away soon.

because you were.

your eyes were barely open, but you could see your husband. crying like a big baby. he was holding you delicately, pulling you flush against him. his teardrops fell against your uniform, quickly creating a damp spot.

he was only crying silently, afraid to startle you. he sniffled and fought back the tears when he felt you raise your left hand, resting it against his cheek.

"t-tengen, i... i'm s-so—" you had a coughing fit, more blood spewing from your mouth. tengen cried harder at this. seeing you in pain, like this, felt like his heart was being pierced by a million swords.

he hushed you, not wanting to hear how you gasped for breath, how you tried to not choke on your blood, how you fought for your life which was hanging by a thread.

"'m sorry... b-but i.. i couldn't have done it any other way." you wheezed, trying to prolong your oxygen supply even though it was getting more difficult by the second.

tengen pressed a kiss to your temple, a kiss to your eyes, a kiss to your cheek, a kiss to your lips.

"y/n... hush my love. save your breath please, please. you can make it, baby. hang on please, you told us you'll come home" he said and shed tears even harder. the kakushis around the two of you also started sobbing especially those who have always been with you after your every mission.

you smiled and opened your eyes fully one last time, looking at the beauty of your darling. your eyes filled with love and adoration, laced with pain and brimming with sadness.

"don't come up too soon, alright? live a happy life, i love you, and our wives. i love all of you, 'til my last breath" you mumbled and your eyes fluttered shut.

tengen sobbed, pulling you closer, mumbling incoherently as the cries of the kakushis from all over were heard.

hah, 'til your last breath indeed.

tears were shed that fateful day, both from joy and grief.

blood were shed that cruel day, for the sake of peace and safety.

lives were loss that historic day, all sacrificed for the future of humanity.

they were glad you passed with no regrets. but for tengen, makio, suma, and hinatsuru, you will always be their greatest.

greatest regret, greatest love, greatest thing.

© 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐑 2022 - all rights reserved. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or share my work on other platforms without permission. thank you.

[calibabii21]

|| you're a godsend || l.mk

pairing: idol!mark lee x foreigner!reader

genre: mild angst, fluff, sweet mark, a bit of flirting if you squint

warning(s): mention of anxiety, reader experiences discrimination

a/n: I'm heavy in my Mark feels (what's new), so here's a lil smth short and sweet :))

"안돼요, 현금 없음. No cash." The sales lady's adamant tone only fuels your bubbling anxiety. You signal her to give you a minute as you rummage through your purse. God why did this have to happen right now? And to you of all people. "I'm sorry, can you-" She immediately cuts you off with a sigh and grumbles to herself as she begins closing the transaction. "Wait, no-" "죄송합니다 , you can add her items to my tab."

Your head snaps to your savior, tears welling in your eyes. From embarrassment or relief, you aren't sure. "You're so kind, thank you." Sniffles now uncontrollable as you dab your tears away. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't treat your customers in such a way," He hasn't yet acknowledged your words of gratitude, but you aren't offended- though it seems he is.

The frown on his youthful face looking out of place. At least from what you can see. To be fair, his features are covered by a black mask. "Enjoy the rest of your day." Yet he still gave her a smile, and left a tip. In cash. You're not sure how much you meant it, but you bow and thank the lady as well on your way out of the door.

The sun is beaming as you walk side by side in a comfortable silence. Truthfully, you don't even mind the quiet. For some reason you feel a strong sense of safety when near him. "I apologize, ya know, on behalf of the owner," he looks over at you through a squinted eye, "I understand how it is being a foreigner."

When you smile his eyes immediately flicker to your mouth, then back up to meet your own. "Thank you, for stepping in. I don't think you understand how much I appreciate it. I was nervous so I wanted to stop for a little comfort snack before going to my first meeting at my new job and-" you stop yourself short, "sorry. I'm rambling."

He shakes his head letting out friendly chuckle, "No worries, it's cute." There's no added statement as he leaves you flustered and passes your snack. As your walk continues, you pull your phone out to check the navigation, am I even walking in the right direction?

Once it's confirmed that you actually are, you pocket your phone and begin excitedly eating the bulgogi kimbap you'd fought tooth and nail for. Okay maybe not tooth and nail, but surely sweat and tears were spilled. "Want some?" He cutely nods and shocks you by pulling his mask down and biting off the top piece from out of your hand. "Oh.."

So handsome. He replaces his mask and faces forward as he finishes chewing. That is, until you reach a traffic light and he abruptly turns to you with a determined look in his eyes. "You're very pretty." It's said with such certainty and confidence that you can't help the feeling of immense attraction flowing through you.

"Not gonna lie I.. find you quite handsome, myself." The two of you smile at one another and share a laugh as the light changes for you to walk. "Still nervous for your first day?" You ponder the question before shaking your head, "I'm not actually, and it's really thanks to you." You come to a stop and face him, "You're truly a godsend, how can I show my gratitude?"

"You can go easy on me for being late to our first practice." Immediately you check your phone and gasp realizing you're late for your introductory meeting. "Oh my God! Wait- how did you-" He solutes you and backs away holding his arms out with an eye smile, "Welcome to SM Entertainment, Y/N."

[14dayswithyou]

hi. /homosexually 🥺❤️ i couldnt pick one so just do your favourite !! ♡♡ also lowkey half of these are angst fuel LMFAO?

for Leon.

"feelings change, but mine about you wont" / "i am so exhausted, but i'd sleep so much better with your arms around me"

for Jae

"I'm always going to support you. without even a second thought, I'll be there when you need me. I want what's best for you." / "let's sleep together under the stars."

for You <3

"hey, guess what? i love you" ♡♡♡♡

Soft spot prompts | No longer accepting !!

Omgggg Puppy hiiiii >:3 <- with homosexual rizz <3 I did them all because you are my favourite + I love being Silly teehee

Under a "read more" because it got long!!

001.

"Just like old times, yeah?"

It was probably illegal to camp out in the woods near the lake you used to frequent as kids, but Leon was adamant on holding onto your childhood tradition ever since he returned from overseas. The Davis family always enjoyed camping with you — even as kids — but the fact that Leon had you all to himself this time made the moment even better.

This time, his dad wasn't around to ask if you wanted to go fishing. This time, his mum wasn't popping in every 10 minutes to see if you wanted any snacks. It was just you and Leon; with your limbs tangled together inside of a swag that felt far too big for just two people.

A beat passes as you both stare at each other, before the soft pitter patter of rain bounces off the the tent roof and breaks the silence. And just like how the sky opened up, Leon finds himself wanting to speak what's on his mind as well.

"My feelings for you never changed either. Even when I was back in Australia, all I ever thought about was you." He shuffles closer, "But we're reunited again, aren't we? This time, I'm not going anywhere. I belong by your side."

Your matching bracelets intertwine once Leon reaches out for your hand — much like your feelings for each other.

002.

"Haha! That one kinda looks like Teo and his pointy nose!"

It was certainly uncomfortable laying in the back of Jae's beat-up truck, but his company made it all worth it. He'd thrown in a couple of pillows and a wooly blanket over the both of you earlier, but it was only now that you started to feel the biting sting of Colrand Bay's Autumn breeze.

But the stars were pretty and the cityscape view made it all better.

"Y'know, we are sooo going to get kidnapped later..." Jae cracks a joke from beside you, "But I'll have you to support me, right? I'll offer our kidnapper my left kidney and you'll offer to pay ransom?"

Support. That's all he's ever wanted from his friends. Someone who'd be there to love and accept him for all that he was — flaws and all. Jae didn't know if he truly felt like himself yet, but he was grateful to have you by his side for every step of the way. And he was determined to do the same for you.

"Thank you, Nate. I mean it."

003.

"Omgggg wait, really? That's sooooo crazy!!"

Deciding that your words were truthful, Saint puts the unused bone saw away and unchains your arms from the table. You finally get a moment to stretch out your tired limbs, as she casually skips her way to the mod cell door to unlock it and let the light in.

The rest of the mods are waiting for you upstairs, obviously used to seeing this kind of behaviour already.

"It only took like, two days for the Stockholm syndrome to kick in! That cute doctor said it'd take at least five..." You can hear her ponder from the staircase, "But aaaa it doesn't matter!! I love you too!! ^^ Wanna go to the beach to celebrate? Maybe Jae and Leon will be there!!"

Firstly, how the fuck did they say "^^" out loud... And secondly, why is Emile in her basement as well.......

[badgerwithagun]

Hazbin Hotel theory, AKA, how time effects immortals.

I have actually found a way to fit 3 theories I made together. I am very surprised, but here we go. As you can see they are all connected to how time effects immortal being in the Hellaverse.

To start off, my theory for how old Zestial could be. A lot of people have suggested he could be from the Tudor period, due to his shakespearian mannerisms, but I have an alternative. He reminds me a lot of a character from Percy Jackson, someone named Zoe Nightshade. She is a hunter of Artemis, a clan of immortal maidens who hunt alongside the goddess. She is thousands of years old, and there are some comedic moments from her speaking in a shakespearian manner, then getting annoyed when corrected because she finds the English language irritatingly prone to change. It's entirely possible Zestial faced a similar problem but decided to just not bother changing. If so, this could mean he outdates the English language as we know it. If you don't know what I mean, just take a look at the original draft of Beowulf. Then you'll understand what REAL Old English looks like.

However, this does raise a question. If Zestial, a mortal soul who at most can't be younger than William's conquest of England, is having trouble adapting to the modern language, how come beings that date back to the start of creation, like Lucifer, Adam, Sera, and the other Deadly Sins, fully embrace modern slang. It needs to be remembered that these entities are not human. They do not age, they do not wither, their bodies are fueled by primordial magic. Even Adam only barely counts as human, with him, Lilith and Eve being the progenitors of our race. Nothing completely mortal can kickstart a globe spanning species with just two participants. It seems that with natural, ingrained magic power comes a great ability to adapt and change. This could also explain how, well, nice some of the sins are. It's entirely possible that spending millennia marinating in failure and spite can get tiring, leading to a desire to seek self care. That's part of why Stolas had been my favourite character before I found out he was 35, I loved the idea of an ancient force of evil just becoming burnt out and depressed. (Don't get me wrong I still think he's great but it's a bit of a let down. Episode one of season 2 was great for angst fans, not so much for lore fans.) This would explain a lot, and would allow me to ignore all the 'the king of lust believes in consent' memes I keep seeing. Bee for example was probably quite a bitch (hahaha) until recently, I can imagine her just randomly eating people when they annoy her. I don't even want to say what Ozzie once was. I would have said that Lucifer might have once taken a more hands on approach to running hell, but my third theory disputes that to explain why he's the way he is (sorry to string you along.) To be fair, they might not all have changed for the better. Mammon, for example. I headcanon he was once more like a Great Beast guarding his vast wealth, like the dragons of old, as his many servants brought him more treasures. Then he discovered capitalism, possibly when global trade and slavery became a big deal. Thanks Britain. I know I'd prefer to deal with Smaug than Jeff Bezos.

I also suspect that they changed mannerisms as well as behaviours. After all, it doesn't really make sense that many characters have american accents when they were around before the first humans even made it across the land bridge to Alaska. They've likely changed with the times. Not only that, their rings have likely changed. I imagine that the ring of wrath once was very similar to Sparta, and maybe after that the viking idea of Norway. As Greed is currently overrun with mafia stereotypes, it was probably once a haven for blackbeard era pirates. I also for some reason imagine Bee as having been french. No hate intended (except for when I need to make jokes about the centuries old blood feud that existed between britain and france, in which case Confound You, you snail eating poltroons!) Now here's the part you wouldn't have been expecting. With all this in mind, what was Lucifer like way back when. Well here's the thing, I think he was Irish.

I have been rereading some old british folklore, and honestly, despite the devil being a prince of darkness, the great dragon, the tempting servant, he's a bit of a failboy. Like, there's this one legend where he was digging a trench to flood some churches, only for some random lady to light a candle and cause a cockrel to crow, tricking him into thinking the sun was rising and running away. There's also the legend of Jack O the Lantern, where he came to drag Jack to hell, but jack went 'oh, lets play a trick on those priests, you turn into a multiplying coin, and I'll give it to them, and then you'll leave and they'll think they robbed each other' the devil immediately cancelled his plans to play, turned into a coin, and was unceremoniously shoved into a bag until he promised never to send Jack to hell. Even when the puritans came along and ruined everyone's fun, it was implied that instead of utilising his many minions to spread evil, the devil would just go around randomly convincing farmers daughters to do interesting things instead of being good little repressed women. I could totally see this guy personally going down to Georgia and challenging some kid to a fiddling contest for his soul, or spending years depressed making ducks because his wife left. Dear god.

[itsjuneofallthings]

dear yuletide writer,

This is my third yuletide! Yay!

I’m still kinda overwhelmed from all of this, but still madly in love with it so - let’s just roll with it.

And no, I still have no idea what's really helpful in a letter and what's just babbling but - well. Here we are.

So, first and foremost let me tell you:

Thank you so much for writing for me!

I hope this letter helps to spark some inspiration and you'll have the utmost fun writing and please, don’t just write for me! It’s first and foremost for you and I’m just a happy beneficiary!

This being said, let’s get started:

Likes:

M/M Pairings (But I don’t mind and also like good written M/F Pairings, or M/M/F)

Friendships

Found Family Dynamics

Soulmate-AUs

Hurt/Comfort (dealing with PTSD, trauma, phobics, you name it, and being taken care of, getting help and being loved)

Slow Burn

Smut (just mind the dnws please :))

Porn with Plot

Angst

Fluff

Happy Endings

Cuddling

Tender Touches (holding the neck, caressing the cheek/lip, hand in hair)

kisses

getting together

first times

DNW:

A/B/O Dynamics

Rape/Non-Con

Incest

BDSM

Dom/Sub

Daddy-Kink

Underage

Abuse of animals

Bloodplay

Watersports

Impact Play

de-aging

humiliation

vampires/werwolves AU

reader-insert

My beloved fandoms are

The Hurog-Series

Seriously, I LOVE THE BOOKS!

Oreg got me after his first sentence and I kept falling deeper and deeper for him.

I love his banter, his wit and his power, and I love that he, as the probably most powerful mage walking around, still has boundaries.

I love his and Wardwicks dynamics, the friendship, love and trust they share and of course I love Wardwick, our little dumb looking hero with a heart of gold and caring nature.

I also really, really love Tisala because she is a wonderful, loving person and a fierce badass and she wouldn’t hesitate to put Ward back in his place if she had to.

That being said:

I’d love to read something about Oreg being taken care of, I’m sure he still suffers from plenty of PTSD and he deserves hugs and love and soft strokes through his hair.

Maybe, if you’d also like, a polyamourus relationship between the three of them, maybe just deep and reassuring friendship moments between the dragon and the hurogmeten.

But there is also Seleg! And so much that happened between them and- there are so many things to explore and so many stories to tell!

I'm already excited!

Anyway, I’ll be happy!

Chernobyl

My beloved.

Boris and Valery have written hurt, no comfort wide across their lovely faces in big, bolt letters but they deserve some comfort nonetheless, right? Right!

I’d like the fear and the glooming doom, the invisible death, lingering in every breath take, the fighting against windmills and against invisible, untouchable party members who just order something so utterly stupid that-!

I like the ship of them because the ever present fear of being caught, (generally don’t like homophobia, but canon and period typical homophobia are such a great fuel for drama and hurt/comfort plots…) and that middle aged men can still find and fall in love.

But also, the friendship between these two is awesome and I love to read more about them.

FOREVER (2014)

I have to admit, I am an Adam-Apologist.

This guy is just— Well, you know him, right?

But, I really think Henry is most of the time reallyyyy unfair. Adam didn’t do anything else than call him and Henry immediately put him in the “you are a villain” corner and didn’t even question that decision like- just once.

And yes, Adam is an extreme character, he has virtually no moral code - or at least that thing didn’t get checked in the last 500 years, but I think we have to take into account that he had a) 30 years to put Henry on a pedestal and imagine absolutely everything about him - I really don’t think he even thought about coming of threatening when he called him. I think he was just his sarcastic little bitch self and didn’t even think about the fact that Henry didn’t know him and didn’t know what to make out of that. b) he is 2000+ years old, no, he doesn't want a pet-human, thank you very much, the lifespan is just ridiculous and he can’t take getting attached one more fucking time.

I think he really, really, really just wanted a connection, but Henry had one brief conversation over the phone with him and didn’t bother any further. :( My poor Adam. (Yes I have a problem I know XD)

That being said, I’d really like some light on Adam and his character, maybe some episodes from his past, maybe some musings about what’s happening parallel to the series.

I also think he and Lucas Wahl would just be chiefs kiss together! And I think he could talk hours with Abe about antiques.

Maybe he and Henry can finally come to a common ground together? I don’t know! Whatever you can think of, I am sure I’m happy as long as Adam has a role in it!

So, that’s it.

I hope this got you some insight, feel free to also browse my ao3 for more, if this isn’t enough.

have a great yuletide!

And, again, thank you so much!

lots of love

masked_madness

[fakegingerrights]

Awww thank you for the tag! I’m rbing because that is too much to remember the format for and I’m very tired. Thank you so much for the tag though!

Favorite color: I don’t really have one, I can appreciate the beauty of all colors in different contexts… I guess I have a preference for cooler tones and gem shades over pastels and neons.

Currently reading: Regicide, Dakota Krout. (Book two of the completionist chronicles, I love Krout’s Divine Dungeon series too, go check him out.)

Last Movie in Theaters: The second SHAZAM movie. Not black adam the other one. Not a huge DC fan but I had a good time.

Last Series: gonna assume you mean television and not Book series (again, Krout for that second one he is Amazing) Idk, I don’t watch a whole lot of TV unless it’s a carride binge. I guess Doctor Pol? And Merlin if you’re looking for a dramatic show.

Craving: Pain relief, I got really excited over school being out and had a minor flare up (chronic pain caused by a dopamine disorder), and my insomnia hates me too so I’m starting to hurt pretty bad.

Tea or coffee: Depends. To wake up, I like coffee. Tea is such a comfort drink though too. I’ve recently discovered London Fogs and I love them.

Currently working on:

A Dramatized account of Jefferson’s Presidency (fueled by history passion, not Hamilton although I did love that production) that my APUSH teacher has demanded more of at the price of being my beta and editor.

A superhero/powered organization system original (loosely inspired by season 3 of Agents of Shield and The Games Heroes Play book series, would highly recommend if you like conspiracies with a touch of biblical allegory.)

Pirate original (no excuse, or real plotline, just vague scenes and vibes that I’m hoping will turn into something. A comfort write)

Vermilion Bite (loosely based off of the Green Guide MHA fanfic featuring quirkless Deku combined with an old idea I’ve had for a while. All the vigilante vibes and a truly good hero in a morally grey world, will fight to do the right thing even if it breaks every. Single. Rule.)

Kaminoan!Mermaid!reader x Crosshair (not sure if I want to keep it as an x reader or do an OC… might do an OC in reader POV. Completely self indulgent)

Lay Down Your Head (debating between post finally Alive!tech x reader or Echo x reader… it also may turn into Rex because he’s all I have motivation to write for rn. Just angst and hurt/comfort fluff.)

Tongue Tied (alive!tech x reader, in which the impact that damaged his glasses has left him with aphasia, and almost completely unable to speak or write, although he can read (and on occasion, sing) just fine.)

Walk by Faith (a massive ongoing project with blind!crosshair x medic!reader, and really should be broken into chapters but I’m terrified to overcommit and as such it’s sitting half done in my drafts still in one big 16,000 word chunk.)

I’m Screaming (I’m Sorry) (in which soulmates share a mental bond that lets them communicate telepathically, but only when one is in pain. Pain can also be shared or taken over the bond, giving some reprieve to the suffering party. Crosshair’s soulmate grew up with his constant pain, between sore muscles and aching eyes and growing pains, his soulmate often begging him to let her share his pain and him being selfish and refusing. Until she starts getting hurt too, from monthly cramps to getting in fights to her hands aching as she keeps with compressions, forcing a soldier’s heart to beat on a battle field. Crosshair x republic turn rebel reader.)

Too tired to tag. Night yall.

Tag people you want to get to know better!

Tagged by @starrylothcat!

Favorite Color: Green!

Currently Reading: The Whispering Dark by Kelly Andrew

Last Movie (in theaters): Uh.... Grease with my mom for Mother's Day. I had to think about this one.

Last Series: Picard (Because I dual-wield my sci-fi fandoms.)

Last Song: All as One by Miracle of Sound (Gav is almost all I've really been listening to for the past eight months.)

Craving: SLEEP

Tea or Coffee: Tea. Coffee and I tend to fist-fight on sight.

Currently Working On: Clone x Reader Bingos, a Hound piece, my Crosshair multi-parter, a Kix piece, and a few others (some of these others may or may not be good enough to post, they started as self-indulgences ages ago.)

Tagging: @toomanybandstocare, @tecker, @fakegingerrights, @a-single-tulip if you all want to join in or haven't been tagged, yet!

[icylook]

True Love's Last Kiss

Pairing: Leon x Leri (MC)

Rating: Mature; Word count: 1252; Read on AO3

Tags: Spoilers for the AMR demo; Not canon compliant - Leon and Leri (MC) started their relationship half a year before the final battle; Established Relationship; Angst; Hurt No Comfort; Feels; Heartbreak

A Mage Reborn demo 👑✨ @mage-parivir

Fic title inspo from the song - True Love's Last Kiss (Eternal Eclipse) 🎶 🤍

“Why did you do it?”

The question grates on his mind like long nails on a blackboard. A restless needle poking at his brain.

Why, why, why?

He heard it so many times, from so many people. 

Why? Murderer. Traitor. Why, why, why?

Asking, shouting, demanding, threatening, using force so he breaks and tells them.

Why?

He endured. 

“It had to be done.” Wearily he says the same thing he said to others. Over and over again, because they wouldn’t listen even if he told the truth. He was already doomed in their eyes, maybe from the start. No one likes a stray that gets the attention of those in power and steals them from you.

“Tell me your reasons. Why did you do it?”

But the way Leon asks the same question is different. He demands like a king he is. The way he squares his shoulders like he prepares for an attack, the jut of his chin when he stands up to a challenge. The fire in his eyes, dark in their silent fury and only a gentle tremble of his voice betrays how deeply Leri’s repeated words sting. 

Right now Leri is the enemy that refuses to be conquered and he’s aware how stubbornly clever Leon is with his foes.

“I know who you are, Melmesne.” 

Oh. So they’re using that to paint him a villain. Briefly, he wonders who was so smart to dig up that particular information, serving it to their king to fuel his wrath. The venom in his voice when he spits Leri’s forgotten surname feels like a slap to the face and he closes his eyes. The phantom feeling of a knife in his chest twists without mercy. He feels it since he’s learnt in the ruins of the old laboratory of what has to be done to stop the countdown to a massacre.

“Did you plan it? Pretended to be a friend, use me, use all of us just to strike when it suits you best?” 

Leri silently watches how Leon prowls in front of his cell, like an agitated predator that would tear into his prey at the smallest provocation. He sways on his feet when he slowly gets up from the floor, his bad knee screaming in pain thanks to the hours in one position.

“Did you lie about everything? About us?”

No. 

He didn’t. Even now Leon’s accusations are like a whip cutting at him until he bleeds. And he does bleed, silently.

“Was it lie that you loved me just to bend naive prince to your will?”

No, no, no. 

It’s the first time in his life he was able to taste something as sweet as love and love back. He still does, with every bitter word, keeping it in his heart even if it shatters. 

“Tell me why you did it!”

Leon so rarely asked him for things. Leri never wanted to deny him anything. It hurts to see him like that. To hear the desperation mixed with loathing in his voice. 

Why why why-

It’s too much. It builds and builds until it finally spills.

“There was no other way!” The shout tears straight from the depth of Leri’s chest like thunder. 

Leon flinches, stopping his pacing.

Leri’s breathing hard, shivering. The sudden outburst snuffing out his fragile energy like wind a candle flame. He stumbles, limp hair covering his face as he hangs down his head. Doesn’t see Leon moving closer like he wants to catch him when he curls his dirty hands on the bars of his cell, the chains pulling at the gesture. The bruises flare with fresh pain under the cuffs, threatening to re-open the scabbed wounds on his wrists. 

He doesn’t care.

“No other way.” Leri rasps, leaning his forehead on the cold iron. A second of relief on his feverish skin. He ignores the hot threat of tears at the back of his eyes.

He recoils when Leon’s fingers close over his, holding on tight and he briefly relaxes under the warmth of his palms. 

“Leri…”

He looks up at the face of a man close to his own, bowing over him with all his frame. “Truth can save you.”

Leri blinks, lost in the green eyes so bright he feels like drowning. The hold on his hands grounds him. 

“Let me save you.” Leon whispers, earnest in his hope.

He hates to crush it. Hates the light to dim to nothing when he says softly, “Truth won’t bring back dead.” 

The chain doesn’t allow him to reach for Leon’s face, halting him halfway. His fingertips twitch in the space between them and Leon doesn’t move, gaze fixed on him.

“I promised.” 

Leon’s eyes widen. “Don’t-”

“I promised I’ll come back to you.”

“Stop it, I can’t-” The crack in his voice breaks Leri’s heart further.

The smile on his face hurts, splitting the cut on his lip. The words taste like copper. “I came back. Aren’t you glad to see me, love?” 

And before Leon’s stricken expression turns into something else Leri’s the first to withdraw, even if it pains him to do it. Stepping back, until there’s a wall behind him, sinking down to the ground in a heap. His head lolls to the side as he watches Leon’s hands flex over the bars, knuckles white in his grip. 

“You waited.”

Leon grits his teeth, jerking his arms away from the cell, eyes burning and too wet for his comfort. He angrily wipes at them, half turning from him and Leri bites the inside of his cheek to keep the hot and heavy tickle in the back of his throat from spreading up.

“Kept your word. Thank you, love.”

Leon chokes on a mirthless laugh, his gaze weighty before he turns his back at him. “You’re so cruel.” 

Before he storms out his parting words reach Leri’s ears, a raw whisper of painful secret. “May the god be merciful to you because I can’t.”

The silence when he’s finally left alone is deafening. 

First, Leon.

Then, Ilya and Saine. 

And after all of them left him, there’s Ante, who quietly peels off from the shadows to show him she’s been there all the time. Listening and observing. She steps close to the cell doors, staring at him wordlessly. The blankness of her face, the rigid stance say it all without voicing it out loud. 

“I was right about you.”

Leri looks at her, golden eyes half lidded. He hurt her companions. She would kill him with her bare hands if not for the orders of keeping him alive until execution.

He’s so tired, the cold of the floor siphoning what little warmth his battered body still has. Leri closes his eyes, the corner of his mouth curling up. 

“It’s good to be right, no?”

And when he’s truly alone the tears leave clean traces on his skin, pouring freely from closed eyes. The chasm in his chest feels almost like during the worst experiments he had to endure. He didn’t know it was possible, to feel pain this great again after what happened to Eli. The risk of having something to lose, the agony of having your heart pulled straight out of you. It would hurt less if it was done literally.

Maybe Nyx will finally swallow him in his death and he'll come back to haunt them all.

A ghost, memento of their mistake. 

But, even if they knew, it’d be too late.

Truth won’t bring back dead.

[katsukikitten]

Synopsis: Assigned the grueling task of profiling the former hero Shouto you find yourself skulking around the most miserable parts of the city just for a simple touch of the skin. The hero agency promises your safety as you take a big risk going out into city along side some b rated heros instead of waiting until the villain at large is incapacitated. With false promises come false hopes as the thought to be passed out villain was just playing opossum, jewel eyes snapping open just to snap your fingers backward. Will you get away unscathed or will Todoroki Shouto haunt you?

Warnings: Villain Sho bb! Bit of branding, sex and angst near the end. Yandere?? Dub con/non con biting. Violence and depictions of child abuse (flash back not super detailed?) Upper 20s my guy ya know what he's 30 and you're like 29 and fueled by coffee and dread, manga spoilers

A/N & WC: do not look at me, the brain rot is REAL it's thanks to one gif what would suki say?! 3107

You're not sure how you end up in these messes but you always do. The worst part? You weren't a hero.

Hell you weren't even a sidekick.

Just a desk jockey who occasionally went out on the field, mostly to touch the skin of passed out villains in the middle of the decimation they created. Getting flashes of thoughts, memories, as their lifetime unfolded before your eyes. Not like an old VHS tape with speckled film and warped edges, no nothing like that. If it were then at least it would be in chronological order. How you see it is different.

Much different.

More difficult as it's more of an explosion of images. Like standing in a dark hub with millions of screens of various sizes as their brain plays out everything for you. Usually the most traumatic things are what you’re thrown into head first. As if the seconds have slowed to sloth paced ticks as the mind replays everything to save your sorry ass before you die.

Like your own mind is doing now. Looking for that split decision you made that's saved you before. Except nothing comes.

Nothing but boring flashes of life. Of parents who you left half away across the world, of a string of ex boyfriends and girlfriends. Of past crushed and unrequited love. Of the thousands of other people's memories that you gleaned into to do your job.

Building profiles on a lot of fucked up people.

They said you'd be safe, that the villain wouldn't come to. Little did they know he was playing dead. He bent your two fingers straight back before you could reach out and touch the large nasty red scar over his eye. Shortly after that he threw up a large wall of ice freezing everyone within a ten mile radius before taking you and slamming you against the brick of an alley by your throat. His red and white hair is pulled back into a bun at the top of his skull while the lower half of his face is covered with a black cloth mask. Skin tight shirt that leaves his muscular arms exposed but covers his adams apple paired with tight black jeans.

The same outfit he's worn for the past six months your team had been following him.

"Are you stalking me little hero?" He moves his grip from your throat to your wrists, pinning them over your pretty little head.

"N-not a hero." You stammer, struggling in the grapes of his large palm.

"Then what else are you?" You don't answer him, can't. Too busy trying to remember how to form words now that your tongue was molten lead.

"You were so mouthy before. What happened?" He pulls the mask away from his mouth, giving you a full view of his handsome face. Your skin heats up, he looks much different in person and up close at that. His gemstone eyes sparkle in the late afternoon sun. One smokey quartz and one stunny sapphire.

He was breathtaking. The deep tones of his voice, the power in his stature and the way he smelled.

No one told you he smelled like home. Like a hot wood stove starving off the biting winter air. Like warm blankets on dreadfully snowy nights. No one said how his scar looked up close. How the burn was still an angry red as if it couldn't forgive who marked him.

How sad his eyes looked even if for just a moment on his normally cold and expressionless face.

"For months you said you'd figure out my next attack to help bring me in." He leans closer, a mirthless smile on his lips, "So take me in. I've been so bad haven't I?"

He tilts his face pressing his nose to your throat, lips trailing over your quickened pulse. Teeth grazing the supple skin now and again as a tease.

A promise for what's to come.

"S-S-stop. They'll find you. They'll rescue m-me." You struggle to speak, dazed by his hot and ice cold palms caressing your skin, by his smell while he smiles with delight.

He's got you right where he wants you. He noticed you pretending to be his little shadow after the second day a few months back. If he were any other villain maybe it would have worked out. Maybe your tiny portfolio on him would have helped predict his next attack and you could have helped organize a great ambush. Like you did with all the others before him.

But he couldn't help but notice you. You weren't obvious, you were quite good in how you didn't stand out. How you blend in with the crowd, a face almost lost with your average looks. But to Shouto, you were a beauty.

Ethereal and now that he saw you up close he wasn't sure he would ever be able to let you go without having a taste first.

You must find him attractive too, what with how your pulse races every time he presses his lips to the point in your throat. How your skin heats against his and how you occasionally rub your thighs together.

"Why so shy now? Your voice is so small, little one." His overly sweet voice drops into a deadly growl, "Are you nervous? Ashamed that you're turned on by the big bad wolf?"

Before you can answer he knocks his knee between your legs, his strong thigh rubbing into your sex before his mouth is on your throat. Teeth leaving beautiful pink indents as he threatens to puncture skin.

All the while you let out a long, loud moan that has him grinning into your vulnerable flesh.

Just like a cat Todoroki Shoto plays with his meals before he devours them.

"Aw look at how sweet you sound, Love." He chides, "I've been wondering what you sound like when you're aroused. What you'll sound like when you're bouncing on my cock."

"Todoroki-" His hot palm pressed against your throat dangerously, burning hot as you wonder if the shape of his palm is your newest necklace. His eyes a flash of murder as he growls out a heavy, nasty.

"Don't." He squeezes his eyes shut as if to compose himself before his voice is dripping syrupy syllables, "It's Shouto."

You stare up at him, words lodged in your throat under the weight of his too hot palm. His voice dips again.

"Say it." He snarls, it's as if a mask is cracking and he doesn't like it.

Hates what hides underneath.

"Sho-Shouto." You barely rasp before his smile returns.

"Good girl." He purrs, grinding his knee against your clothed cunt as a reward. Hand cooling and loosening as soft whimpers fall from your pouty lips. Occasionally he'll bite at them, those pretty little lips on your cute little face. Like he can't get enough of you or the sound. Like he wants to bottle it up and keep it for when he feels too icy.

Numb.

Like you call the fire that licks up his veins and in his loins when he's felt nothing but cold for years.

You can feel his hard length pressed against your thigh, as he half ruts against you while grinding you against his knee. You're unbearably wet as he toys with you even before he's touched your skin. Ripping open your grey blouse, popping every button before he pulls the fabric you so nearly tucked into your skin tight jeans.

"Lovely." He marvels over the lacey bra you wear, a deep blue with a little red bow in between your breast, "Wear this for me, my pet?

You say nothing and he sighs, leaning closer to your throat until he bites down harshly. Tasting blood on his tongue as you cry out with a mixture of pain and ecstasy as he teases the weeping marks with his tongue.

"It's quite boring if you don't respond, my love." He says it so softly, as if this were a simple game of twenty questions over coffee, "Didn't you chase me down for this?"

"That's twisted." You mewl as his knee hits your clit just right. Moments stretching into what felt like hours as you felt your body begin to over heat. Betraying you as you already felt so close to coming undone from a few bites and dry humping.

Panting you felt cagey, hungry even as your hips bucked into his powerful thigh.

"It must be true. Look at you." He leans back to marvel over you before he rips your bra from your body, exposing your erect nipples to his prying eyes.

"Trembling from so little contact." He cups your heat softly and then roughly as his eyes rove over your face. He must like what he sees, like how your pretty mouth forms a silent O from his touch. Before he reaches up and tears your jeans from your body, ripping burning away the crotch of your panties carefully while ice collectes around your wrists to hold you in place.

His cold fingers swirl around your nipples as his warm hand hovers over your sex. Feeling the warmth radiating and wondering just how wet you are for him.

"Your pretty little pussy must be drooling for me." He sighs as if he were in love, "Think that's true?"

You hold your breath unable to answer. Too embarrassed by how right he is, how you have a second pulse between your legs. He flicks a finger, just grazing your outer folds and when he feels your arousal he growls. Lashes fluttering before he holds eye contact with you. Roughly spreading you open with two fingers, his middle searching for your seantive bud. When he finds your clit another one joins his middle as he circles around it roughly. Occasionally passing over it, pressing and prodding at you as your knees buckle.

"Fuck, fuck." You moan, loudly enough it echoes back to you in the alley.

"So you do like me?" He chuckles, "Or at least you like my fingers I should say."

He keeps up the deadly pace, switching from hands so you know what burning hot and ice cold fingers feel like against your most sensitive nerves. While his mouth explores your chest. Biting and sucking, leaving beautiful blackened marks. Purple blooms and pink thorns in neat little rows tail from your throat to beneath your nipples. As much as you try to hold it back your body cannot help itself. Fueled by intense instinct as his comforting scent invades your senses, the battle of hot and cold against your skin as the coil snaps under the pressure. Arching your back towards him as you buck your hips wildly. He presses his head to your shoulder as he pants with delight, pulling back to watch you whimper. Watching you as if he had hearts in his eyes.

"I could watch you do that all day my pet." And he makes good on his promise. Pulling sound after pretty sound from your lips as his fingers send you to new heights.

You're sobbing now from the number of times you've soaked his digits. From the bites he's left across your breasts and throat. Whimpering and whining as he pulls another one from you.

Shouto watches the fat tears fall from your long lashes with delight, shoving two fingers up into your fluttering cunt as he laps up the salty droplets.

"So pretty." He curls them, making a come here motion in your velvety walls causing you to wilt beneath his touch, only to explode as black dots blossom against your vision.

"So responsive." He sighs, pressing a tender kiss to a bruising bite, to the small burn he's left against your throat from earlier. He pulls back, fingers still tucked away safely within you as he looks you over.

Somehow, somehow his thick fingers weren't enough. You needed more. Hungered for more as your hazy mind thought about what it would be like to be split open on his cock.

To be fucked so stupid you forgot why you were even in this unfamiliar prefecture.

Hell you were already beginning too.

"Please." You say so softly and he leans towards you, tilting his head so his ear is close to your mouth.

"What did you say my love?" He mocks and yet his tone makes it sound as if he really didn't hear you, "I didn't catch that."

"Please Shouto. Please."

"Hmm what does my pretty girl want?" Another coax against your spongy spot, "Use your words."

"Please Shouto. Please please please. I need you." Begging, begging a villain for his cock in a back alley way was the last thing you thought you'd ever do.

But you were burning alive only to be doused too quickly. Too slowly with each flayed nerve ending wanting more. Craving it.

With only one man who could soothe them with gentle strokes of icy fingers.

He leans away from you faking a face of understanding.

"Oh!" He chuckles, "You want me to fuck your pretty little cunt?"

You nod quickly and it pulls a laugh from him. Deep in his chest and the sound makes you sigh. Relief floods over you as you watch him unbuckle his belt with one hand while the other melts the ice that pinned your arms overhead. The pain ebbing in your fingers a ghost to the pleasure that fried your nerves.

"One rule, angel eyes." He says softly but you can hear the underlying venom in his tone, "Just don't touch my skin."

With that he prods your entrance with his fat cock, easing into you as your hands instantly find his shoulders, and the covered part of his throat. Clawing at his back as you coo into his chest from each teasing roll of his hips.

"Need more." You whine knowing full well his length wasn't fully buried inside of you. Tears soaking his shirt as he smiles down at you.

"Yea Angel, you need me that much?"

"Yes. Yes Shouto. Please." His hips thrust on their own from your whiney voice. From how you're desperately clawing at him while he breathes you in. Pushing you roughly against the scratchy brick wall, supporting your weight as he plays with the mounds of your ass. Your legs wrap around his thick waist

"So tight." He mumbles to himself, relishing the way you're forced to mold to his sheer size with desperate flutters of your cunt. Coating him in a warm slick before he rolls his hips again. Hitting all the right places as you cry out. Moaning over and over until you barely know your name.

Just his, a cry of Shouto. Shouto please. Vision fading in and out while he fucks you into oblivion.

Melting into him, sweaty forehead pressed into his throat as his groans and the slapping sound of your bodies egg you both on. Until that coil starts to wind tightly again as you feel his cock begin to twitch within you. Pulsing with stuttering hips as your body races to match his release.

Grinding your hips to meet his as he pants. Nudging his cheek against you to get you to face him as his mouth crashes into yours. As you moan into his mouth while his tongue explores yours. Grunting as your cunt fills with a pleasant warm sensation, your hands move on their own and without thought. Cupping his face to kiss him again, fingers ghosting over his scar and then it happens.

That slow motion as you're warped into that small dark room.

Fire, so much fucking fire as screams echo around you. Blue flames, orange ones dance and meld together while the dreadful feeling of being powerless settled deep in your sinew.

"Touya! TOUYA!" His voice is raw, throat burnt from the intense heat. His older brother lie motionless as Shouto breaks free from what was supposed to be his closest friend who was holding him back. The jade haired man rendered powerless himself, as Endeavor did the unthinkable.

He slides on his knees to his broken and battered brother. Of his charred skin, even by his own doing, that burns into Shouto's retinas, his nostrils. Hell he even feels it in his own skin as his brows furrow. Cradling his older brother to him as his vision blurs.

"We were supposed to get a bowl of Soba together." He sniffs, and tears fall down onto his brother's face. His blue eyes dulling as he smiles up weakly at him. Voice so, so fucking quiet as he says.

"In another life, Sho, I'll eat all the cold soba you want." He coughs, smile fading as he barely rasps out, "A better brother too."

And with that bright blue flames are snuffed out as something new boils over in Shouto's chest. In his heart that freezes and heats again.

Unstable.

He felt fucking unstable.

And he wanted everyone else to feel that way too. To watch the world burn in his white hot rage. To freeze hell over just to raise it again.

He wanted everyone in the entire fucking world to know that Todoroki Shouto wasn't a Todoroki anymore.

That Shouto wasn't his hero name anymore.

Suddenly an old tatami door slams open, quick flashes of vomit, tired, beaten little body and yelling echo through the darkness before a blaring white light blinds you.

A whistling kettle that slowly crescendos as a woman speaks in hushed voices.

"He looks so much like him. He's going to become him."

Her voice is broken and clear at the same time. A phone pressed to her ear as she shakes. Sweats despite her cold blood as the kettle gets louder.

And louder.

And louder.

Until small hands open the door.

A quiet.

"Momma…"

Before the screaming kettle dies. A splash of water that's hot.

Too hot too hot too hot too hot.

Too fucking hot for a five year old to feel over his little face. His tears falling and falling and falling. Voice a cracked sob of sorry momma sorry momma.

As if he poured the kettle onto himself.

Before you can see anything else you're ripped from the eves of his mind. He's panting, sweating from reliving what you've seen as his face pales.

He holds your hands tightly against his chest. Still holding you up precariously against the wall, it all happened in less than a breath or two.

"I didn't mean-" He shakes his head and you let your voice drop to nothing. He stares into your eyes for a long, long time before he says anything.

"Now you've seen me." He growls, butting his forehead against yours roughly.

"Now you're mine."

[x-avantgarde-x]

Morning sun-Viktor (pt2)

Summary: part two of my Viktor fic were we explore the feelings that a very clueless reader and a very clueless Viktor have for each other. Pt 1 it’s the reader’s pov and it can be found here.

Warnings: angst, smut at some point. This is written from Viktor’s POV, so there’s the use of the word cripple once in the fic (literally stole that line from the show). This was written I one go and it wasn’t proofread, but I guess you are used to it by now.

This has almost nothing to do with the fic itself, but the amazing @arcanescribbles made this beautiful Viktor fanart named just as this chapter and I couldn’t help but love the coincidence (go check her stuff out, she is extremely talented and all her Viktor content fuels my soul. Edit: you can also find it now at the end of this fic, thanks to it’s lovely artist allowing me to (she has my heart).

“You're the sun, you've never seen the night but you hear its song from the morning birds. Well, I'm not the moon, I'm not even a star. But awake at night I'll be singing to the birds.”

———————————————————————

“Radiant” that was the first thought Viktor had the day he met you and the first word that, as time passed, he found himself using to describe you whenever he had the chance.

There were many other words too, of course: brilliant, talented, gorgeous, smart, loving, sweet, attentive being some of them. But he always found himself coming back to the same resolution, you were radiant.

Viktor has always viewed you as this being of pure light. This entity that shines as bright as the sun, the light and warmth you irradiate just as powerful and adamant as the fireball that hangs up on the sky. And just that it’s what comes to his mind as he watches you move around his lab, putting discarded objects and books back on their place, picking different dishes and mugs that he’s been letting accumulate for far too long.

He tries to apologize, the poor man tries to step up from his chair and offer you a helping hand as he tries to take the trial of discarded plates from you. But you nudge him back to his working place, sit him back on his chair and leave said dishes on the edge of his table to free your hands. You hit his chest, jokingly, before grabbing his face and nag him about how he should take better care of himself; he tries to tell you he is sorry once more, tries to lure you into leaving the cleaning to him to tell you that this is not your work, but you take none of it and leave a kiss on his forehead before going back to taking the dirty plates to kitchen.

He feels his cheeks burn and his heart ache with a longing he can’t subside as he watches you walk out of the door, mouth left ajar as he tries to control his feelings. Once the racing inside pf his chest has calmed down he tries to get back to work, unsuccessfully.

There is one thing on his mind and one thing only. That thing being you. As analytical as Viktor is, he can’t point out when was the moment his feelings for you evolved from a sweet fondness to this unspoken adoration, to this ever so beautiful pain that is described as love, a feeling that is only supposed to exist between lovers.

Whenever you are around, whenever he has the chance to be washed by you light -by your soft words and gentle gestures- Viktor wonders if this was what Icarus felt when he flew too close to the sun. The burning of his skin and melting off his wings because of its heat matching the intensity in which his heart burnt for her. A feeling way too intoxicating to give it up, even if it would end up killing him.

He wonders about many things surrounding the subject of you and what it may be like if his feelings were returned, as he has noticed recently -his brainstorms over stuff related to the hexcore and their other inventions becoming fewer and fewer as only you flood his mind, and Jayce’s complaints increasing by day-.

At times, Viktor wonders how it may feel like to kiss you. He wonders if your lips will be as soft as the look (and as he imagines), he wonders if the chemical strawberry flavour of that gloss you like so much must taste just as good as you make it seem. Sometimes his mind likes to picture what it may be like to come back to you at the end of another tiring day at the lab, how it must be to sit by your side as you brush his hair -an habit you’ve recently taken up- as if by that you could brush off the tiredness of his body. How nice it would feel to go to sleep next to you, your body holding his tightly as you both fall into slumber.

Sometimes, the thoughts are a little different. As he wonders what it must be like to have you, naked on his bed, legs part open as he admires the beauty of your body. He tries to picture just how soft your skin must feel under his touch, how goosebumps would appear on your body as he ever so attentively explored each and every part of you. Viktor imagines what you must look like, what you must sound like, as he drank from your very essence fingers in and out of your hole as he laps your folds like a man starved.

He reflects on what I must feel like to have you looking at him with the same ardor in your eyes that his own behold for you. The way you would caress, kiss his body; the way you would worship him and everything that he is as if a body like his deserved to be worshipped by someone as magnificent as you.

Although he knows he would never allow himself to know the answer to his questions. He knows far too well that someone like him, a cripple from the Undercity, could never partake of the light that you bring into this world. You are a being from high above, something far away, out of his reach. Perhaps it’s because he fears rejection, perhaps it’s because he fears losing you all together from his life if he so dared to confess to you his feelings, that he hides them deep inside to protect the friendship that you two share.

At the end of the day, he comes back to his bedroom alone, walks out of the lab alone. And as he stares at the moon and the stars in the sky, the sun long gone, he reasons that it’s better this way. That as much as his heart aches for you, you are the sun, and his far from even being on of the many stars in the night that long to shine just as brightly -that longing to join the sun in the sky-.

[quietmyfearswith]

longing stares ; august walker x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 5,515 words

summary — in which august walker made the mistake of hurting the love of his life — thinking he had the upper hand, but in reality it hurts him even more than he cares to admit.

warnings — SMUT, unprotected penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, degradation? angst?? fluff? swear words, august talking down/shit about another boy, window sex

pairing — august walker x fem!reader

summary — in which august walker made the mistake of hurting the love of his life — thinking he had the upper hand, but in reality it hurts him even more than he cares to admit.

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18, so this was inspired by this post, but i wanted to twist it up a bit to fit the song that inspired me to write,,, so i hope it turned out alright :> feedback is very much appreciated! 

tagging — @cruelfvkingsummer​

masterlist | series masterlist

The pencil that he balanced between his fingers snapped into two as he saw a sleazy employee's frail hands touch her shoulders affectionately. At first the Hammer found it foolish when Sloane told him his personal office would have two-way mirrors for walls; but now he was more than thankful for it as he was sitting down behind his desk because it allowed him to watch the scene unfold without them knowing about his intense stare at them. His piercing gaze would have buried this son of a bitch who dared touch what’s his as she was burying herself with work.

Well, what was his to be more accurate. But his brain couldn’t fully absorb that fact as his fingers were hastily sending a text to Benji that he was sending someone over to his department and to keep the idiot busy for as long as it took. Leaving his phone on the table, he didn’t bother to wait for a reply as he sauntered over to the outside of his office and opened the door as he called out, “Jonathan, Benji needs you in his department. Something about a malfunctioning gadget.” The brunette pointed to himself as he wondered, “Me? My name’s Joshua.”

“In case I haven’t made it clear, I don’t care about your name, John, I just need you to get over down and check out the malfunctioning device — and I’m not talking about your brain.” Y/N gasped out loud at what August said, for it was unusual for him to talk shit about others; she could only watch Joshua as he excused himself to go to the 30th floor where he was being called for.

Once he vanished within her line of sight, she brought her eyes to look at August who had a stern expression on his face, “You, in my office. Now.” As his voice left no room for questions, she stood up from her chair and entered his all too familiar work space. “What the hell was that about, Walker?” Her hands rested on her hips as she raised her voice at him once he came in too after closing the door to give them privacy. “What was what, princess?”

He mimicked her by placing his hands on his hips too; but he didn’t have the combination of a frown and pout that she had, instead there was a smirk on his lips. “You don’t get to call me that,” Even though she loved the way the nickname rolled off his tongue and how it was reserved solely for her, she now hated how it just served as a reminder of their past, “Not anymore, Walker. So cut the shit and answer my question”

Bobbing his Adam's apple up and down, August was cursing with how cold and serious she was being. “I didn’t like the way he was getting too close with you,” There was no reason for him to fabricate a lie so he decided to just tell the truth. “Well that’s rich,” She scoffed as she crossed her arms against her chest and looked at him with disgust, “You decide you don’t want me and yet no one else gets to have at least a chance with me?”

His brain interpreted what she said differently as he slowly moved towards her, speaking dangerously low, “Yes, princess, that’s exactly what it means. No one in this fucking world gets you, because you’re all mine. I don't care if they're a rookie in the CIA or some royalty. They will have to kill me before they get to you.” If it were someone else, they would have shivered in fear once they were backed against a wall by a trained, skilled CIA agent who has planted his hands on the wall by her torso, caging her in. But not Y/N because she knew two things — one, he would never harm her, not in a way she wouldn’t enjoy. And two, she was his weakness. 

“I’m not yours, Walker,” From a venomous tone she shifted to a calmer one which surprised the man as he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “You made it extremely clear that night about how what we had doesn’t mean anything to you.”

It was a miracle that August managed to open his apartment door as his focus was on leaving his marks on her neck. “Hated seeing him so close to you,” He growled without his lips leaving her skin as his foot closed the door. Lifting her up over his shoulders made her squeal, more so when he smacked her ass while he effortlessly brought the two of them to his bedroom. Y/N bounced slightly as she was dropped on his comfortable mattress.

Large hands ripped her dress in two and revealed the black lingerie set she had hiding underneath her office clothes. “You trying to kill me, princess?” August husked out as he tore his own dress shirt off before spreading her legs, thumb rubbing against her clothed core, “Princess, you’re staining through the thin cloth.” Sliding the cotton material off of her, he brought it to his nose and smelt her arousal before throwing it off the bed. Every time they ended up in his place, he sneakily hid her underwear so he could jack off to them when they aren't together.

Y/N gasped out as she felt his moustache tickle her skin as his lips left kisses on his ascent to her. A toothy grin was plastered on both their faces. His fingertips graze the under band of her bra, “As much as I love this bra,” August unhooked it and threw on the floor as his lips enveloped her breast as his hand grabbed and played with the other, “I’d rather see your body in all its glory.”

Her hands tangled in his hair as she arched her back, feeding more of her flesh to him. “Fuck bear, more please,” She moaned out loud when his tongue drew circles around her nipple before biting on the pebble. Pulling away from her tit, August smirked at her blissed out state as he undid his pants, sliding it off him as his cock sprung out. “And why were you going commando today, bear?”

Kissing her lips passionately so her smirk would be wiped off, he rubbed the tip of his cock on her slit, “Because I wanted to tease you at work,” Her mewls of need fueled his ego, her hands were clawing at his ass as she was trying to guide his cock in her hole. “What’s the magic word, princess?”

“Please! Please bear, need you so bad,” As soon as she whined out the final word August slid his cock right in her; velvet and warm walls welcomed his cock by gripping onto him tightly that it made him struggle to thrust in or out of her. Her grasp on his ass didn’t take and if anything it made her just dig her nails againdt the skin even harder, which only added to both of their pleasure.

Ruthlessly, August ripped both her hands from his plump ass to lay them above her head, his hands forbidding her to move them around His other hand lifted her leg, resting it on his shoulder, which allowed him to reach even deeper. “You like how deep I can reach in you?” Each word was accompanied by a harsh thrust to every word; her moans brought pride to his chest for they both knew he was the only one who could pleasure her this well. 

“Tell me, princess, tell me how much you like it when I fuck you,” The vein on his neck became even more prominent as he growled at her. Feeling the vibrations of his growl against her lips just made her glaze even more of her juices in his cock; a firm swat on her thigh had her focusing on his command, “You fuck me so good, bear,” She gasped out when his cock poked her sensitive flesh which made her an even more out of focus, “Only you can make me feel this good, bear. Want no one but you.”

Her words paired with the way her walls clamped down on his cock pushed him right over the edge; both of them gasped out when August pulled out of her cunt and let go of her hands. Before getting to question what he was up to, he leaned down until he was face to face with her cunt, quickly inserting his tongue on her pussy.

“Oh fuck, please bear, please rub my clit,” Graciously, his thumb rubbed on her clit as his other hand jerked his cock off while he shook his head side to side, driving his tongue even deeper in her. “Cum for me, princess,” Convulsing upon feeling the tremors of his words on her mound, she could only grab onto his head to grind her closer to her as she relaxed her body as she came.

“There’s my good girl,” He praised her while lapping her juices and drinking it all up. Opening her eyes once she felt herself significantly calmed down, she whimpered upon seeing his cum-covered moustache and red cock that was red and aching to cum. Sitting up, she moved closer to him and wrapped one hand on his balls while the other stroked the length of his cock, “Coat me in your cum, bear. Please, bear?” The innocence her eyes held contradicted the way she spoke and jerked him off sultrily — which made him throw his head back as he spilled his cum on her hands. 

Giving kitten licks on the tip of his cock prolonged his orgasm as he stroked her hair lovingly; once he let out all of his cum, Y/N licked some of the cum that spilled between her fingertips. Smiling widely, she looked up at him and opened her mouth to show how she had drank up all he had to give. Patting her head gently he praised her again, “Such a good girl for me, princess.” He kneeled beside her before taking her in his arms before collapsing beside her, August cuddled her close to him as she moved around to face him. Her finger was tracing over his jawline as they both silently cherished the post orgasmic haze they both were in. He loved being with her this way — loved the way their bodies worked in tandem. But they weren’t just a great pair in bed, Y/N was one of the few capable and intelligent employees Hammer has met. Though he often displayed a tough exterior, he could easily show her as well a vulnerable side of him.

There was an instance wherein she accidentally barged in on his night of wallowing in self-pity with the intention of fucking so she could release tension, she was instead faced with a sorrowful August. That night, she made it clear to him that he didn’t have to open up to him if he was uncomfortable. She just wanted to be there for him, even if they just both drank in silence, just so he wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts.

He did end up letting her in and voicing out what was going on in his mind. Upon taking it all in she made it clear that he wasn’t the villain he made himself out to be. “You are not defined by what you have done,” Concern was laced on her voice that night as she held her face with gentle hands, “You were asked to do so in order to guarantee the safety of the whole damn world. If anything, it’s us who doesn’t deserve you.”

Just as he was about to rebut what she said, Y/N sweetly pecked his lips to shut him up right away, “Never talk shit about yourself, bear. You’re a great person and I would be more than glad to help you realize so.” From then on every time he entered his office there would be a sticky note taped on his desktop screen where she wrote something great about him.

“What are you smiling about?” He wondered as her lingering hand settled on his cheek, rubbing the prickled skin. “Just thinking about you,” Her vague answer just had him even more curious than he already was. It wasn’t unusual for the two of them to be quiet after sex, but there was something about the way she was looking at him and the way her touch seemed gentler, softer.

“What about me?” It was a rhetorical question, he didn’t expect any answer from her. So imagine his surprise when she mindlessly confessed, “I love you, August.” 

Sitting up against the headboard he stared at her with bewilderment evident on his face, “What the fuck did you say?” Clutching the blanket to hide her nudity, Y/N could not help but feel vulnerable and exposed as she sat up to level with him, “You heard me, August, loud and clear. I told you I love you.”

It was like a dagger pierced through her heart as he rolled his eyes and stood up from the bed as he rummaged through his drawers and grabbed a tank top and sweatpants, “I call bullshit on that.” Offense and hurt overcame her entire being as she hastily dressed herself up as well, “And why do you call bullshit on that?”

“Because it’s not real!” He shouted as he turned to face her shocked face; he has never raised his voice to or in front of her. Part of her was terrified — she didn’t know what he would do in a confrontational situation like this. Sensing her startled state, he then spoke in a lower tone, “The love that you feel for me, isn’t real. It’s just in your head, you’re just coming down from your high.”

Enraged she chewed him out, “Why are you invalidating what I feel? I know in myself that I love you!” Shaking his head no, August crossed his arms as he challenged, “We’re just friends! Fuck, we’re just colleagues!”

As soon as the words left his lips he could see the effect it had on her for her tears were threatening to leave her eyes and it caused him to feel as though someone had squeezed his heart roughly. “Do friends do what we do?”

Her weak voice made him feel even more bad than he already was but he still couldn’t stop himself from being an ass, “Friends with benefits do.” She smacked his chest as she yelled out in frustration, “I’m not just talking about the sex, idiot! I’m talking about whether a friend comforts you everytime you feel pity for yourself? Would a friend clean up your bruises and cuts after a hard mission? Or when I make sure you have enough homemade meals, what am I to you then?”

“Nothing,” The way he said it so casually and without a second thought should have scared her; and it did, “It doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re not mine nor are you my girlfriend.” That was the final nail in her coffin — the rude awakening that while she was out here going out of her way to make him feel loved and appreciated but he would never do the same for her, or so she thought.

“Okay then,” She shakily sighed out, “I’ll see myself out.” Bending down to grab her discarded purse but not before saying, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, Walker.” Not bear or August, he called her what everyone else did. It was a painful reminder of something he had lost and not appreciated enough. It was for her own good, he thought, she doesn’t deserve to be with a monster like myself. 

His hands abandoned his position against the wall as he recalled his harsh dismissal of her, “We aren’t together, in any shape or form. You made it very clear that night.” Taking advantage of the gap he created between them as he stepped back from her, she walked away from his office before he had a chance to say anything. Sitting down on his office chair he banged both his fists on the desk, which made all the objects in it jump slightly before coming back down. Deciding that he had enough for the day, he hastily collected his belongings before exiting the office to head home. 

As he got on his motorcycle, he remembered how firm her arms clung around his waist every time she rode with him. She feared falling on the vehicle and despite August’s repeated promises that he wouldn't ever let that happen to her; secretly, he loved it when she pressed her frame firmly against his back. It made him feel loved and appreciated — and that wasn’t the only time or her only way to let him feel so.

Turning off the engine as he parked, he trotted up to his apartment and once the door opened he took in the messy state of it. Ever since her exit, he neglected to take care of it because he wasn’t impressing her anymore. Besides, he fears that once he does organize his flat he just might find more relics of their shared time. 

Quickly showering the day’s dirt, he then laid down on his bed with a hand behind his head as subconsciously — or purposely if his brain decided to torture him as well — his would often replay what happened during these quiet, lonely moments of the night. And without fail, it always gives him the urge to smack himself for breaking her that way. Truth is she was everything he wanted and needed. Upon meeting her, he knew he wanted to change for the better just so he would be deemed worthy enough to be with her. There was something about her being magnificent in her own account that made him feel inferior to her.

It also didn’t help that he had never been in a serious relationship before; he often went for hookups and one night stands since his fear of commitment did not allow him to easily open up to anyone. But with her it was as if it was his instinct to tear down the facade he displayed to the world. “I love her,” He came to that conclusion and it shook him to his core.

Before closing his eyes to enter a state of unconsciousness, he then decided that he would confess what he felt to her, beg for her forgiveness, and ask for a chance to start a relationship with her. “Gonna do whatever it takes,” He promised to himself with a smile before pictures of him with Y/N clouded his dreams. 

The moment he stepped foot on his floor, he noticed how Y/N wasn’t in her cubicle. Maybe I’ll talk to her after work, he thought to himself as he entered his office and busied himself with work.

Y/N knew it was an atrocious idea — one that could backfire in her face — but something about yesterday’s encounter with August fueled her to do so. It was nearing four in the afternoon when Joshua stopped by her cubicle to ask her once again if she wanted to hang out with him; in all fairness, he was a nice guy. But once you’ve had a taste of gold in your life, you would never settle for a nickel.

“So Y/N, I was wondering maybe we could grab dinner after this? I know this great restaurant that just opened a couple blocks from here,” The brunette nervously suggested as he leaned against her post. Not sure if August was seeing the whole exchange, she decided to stand beside him as she trailed her hand to his forearm as she sweetly smiled at him, “Yeah? What do they serve?”

Cue Joshua nervously rambling about the menu and ambiance of the restaurant as a Hammer prepared to nail down his mark on his woman. The moment he saw the sleazy boy once again drop by her cubicle, he was closely monitoring the situation and was more than displeased to observe how his woman flirted back at him. The fucking audacity you have, princess, He thought as he sauntered over there.

Gasps were emitted from both Y/N and Joshua when August stormed in to interrupt their discussion— pushing the brunette away as he pulled Y/N in for a searing kiss, ending their conversation. With his hands pressed against her cheeks, he poked his tongue on her lips as he demanded she let him in; and he could not help but smirk when she rested her hands on his arms, not pushing him away and instead feeling more of him, while she parted her lips to welcome his tongue without hesitance. 

Pulling away from their kiss, August placed a few more pecks on her lips before placing an arm on her lower back before arrogantly turning to Joshua, “Sorry pal, I don’t think the memo has reached you, so I’ll just make it crystal clear for you — Y/N is my woman so you better steer clear from here unless you want an excuse to use your health insurance.”

Nervous gulping down and walking away from her cubicle was how Joshua rescinded to the situation; while August led Y/N into his personal office despite the gasps and stares of the other employees. Right now, he didn’t give a damn about their gossiped hunches for his princess tested his patience.

““What the hell was that about, princess?” He angrily asked as he turned to her with a stern expression as he rested a hand on his hip. Opposite him was a smirking woman who threw him the same answer she was given when they talked, “What was what, Walker?”

Realizing how the tables have turned, he exhaled through his nose in order to remain calm before huskily explaining how he saw things, “What were you thinking when you grazed his arm,” To emphasize, he ran a hand in her forearm to reenact how she sensually touched the other boy, “But you know what I find the most interesting? Was the way you eagerly kissed me back; do you know what that was all about?”

His breath touched her cheek having walked up right in front of her; this distracted her for a bit as her brain scrambled to formulate an explanation for her actions. “Well?” August lifted a brow as he slightly moved his head, prompting her to answer the question.

“I don’t know what that was, bear.” Despite her timid answer, he heard it loud and clear. But what really pleased him was the fact that she didn’t use his name rather she used the nickname she graced him that one time Y/N poked fun about how hairy he was since he refuses to shave his chest hair and moustache.

“So you had no idea as to why you touched him like that when you know for a fact that you belong to me,” He clarified to her as he tilted her chin up with the other hand that wasn’t resting on his hip to get her to look at him. 

“How many times do I have to make it clear to you that I do not fucking belong to you; that is what you said to me, right?” Her bold facade quickly disappeared as he grabbed her arms, walking towards the window. Making her turn to face the window, he pressed her cheek against the glass window, “Well I’m gonna fucking remind you that you belong to me and only me.”

Rough fingertips lifted her skirt, leaving the velvet bunched up around her waist, and ripped her panties to shove it in her mouth, “Don’t need you speaking if all that’s gonna leave your dumb mouth is you don’t belong to me. You’re not gonna speak unless you state my claim on you.”

A muffled whine was all she could let out as she nodded when her pussy welcomed two of his thick fingers that were ruthlessly slamming in and out of her. His other hand creeped towards her clit as he alternated between rubbing and pinching on the hardened nub. “Can you feel your cunt dripping? This is how your body reacts to me because you want me so bad.”

With the hand that was previously on her nub, he tore her blouse open and fondled a breast, “Such a naughty princess, not wearing any bra,” Pulling on her nipple elicited a prolonged moaned as she rested her forehead against the window, “Were you planning this the whole time?”

The answer she let out was obscure with her mind fuzzy from the way his fingers were hammering in and out of her mercilessly while he helped her remain on her feet by having a firm hold on her boob. “You’re still the needy princess I know you are.”

August smirked at how she let out a pathetic moan when he pulled his fingers out of her for it proved he was right. Palms resting against the cold glass, she turned her head around and watched as he lowered his zipper to pull his cock out. “Do you even deserve to have my cock?”

Nodding her head and up down was all the response she could give him as he continued to degrade her, “I don’t think you do,” To amp up his teasing, he rubbed the tip of his cock from her clit down to her opening multiple times; causing her legs to shake in need as she moved her hips towards his tip. “You’ve lost your princess privileges the moment you talked to him,” He whispered, lips pressing against the shell of her ear.

One of her hands left the crisp window and instead sought out for the warm hand that was in her boob, clawing onto him desperately to let him know how badly she still wanted him in any way she could have him. The sting of her nails made him smile wickedly as he took pity on her and slid his whole length in one go, “That make you happy, princess?”

The side of her head leaned against the window but she still managed to nod as she was extremely thrilled for having him inside her. Blindly, her other hand left the window as she searched for his vacant hand and collapsed them together. Even though her eyes were closed as she was blissed out with the way he was pounding in and out her hole without a care; August however felt touched that there was this part of her instinctively reached out to hold his hand affectionately.

He guided their entangled hands down to her stomach so he could press her back firmly against his front, “Never forget that you belong to me, princess.” It was in that moment that his wide tip grazed her g spot so she could only mewl and nod weakly as her overwhelming gratification blocked out her senses. 

Coughing up a bit once he pulled her panties out of her mouth, her shoulders then bore the weight of his arm, “Tell me you’re all mine, princess!” He demanded as barked it out on her before biting the shell.

“I’m all yours, bear!” She gasped out when he repeatedly hit her g spot every time his cock entered her. Her velvet walls were now making it harder for the Hammer to nail her for it clung to him like glue to the point that it was almost choking his cock, almost triggering an early orgasm from him. Wanting to focus on something else, his mouth peppered kisses on the skin of her shoulders and neck with the full intention of leaving dark, purple bruises so people knew she was off limits.

Y/N never felt this simulated in all the times she slept with August; the way his cock rummaged her hole with vigour and determination made her buckle her knees, the feel of his rough facial hair prompted her to push her neck more to his lips while her feeling his hand firmly against hers made her feel loved. In the haste of a moment, she let out a confession of, “Missed you so much, bear.”

Feeling his heartbeat increase at her confession, he snapped his hips faster to drive his cock even harder to her, in tune with the way his heart beat against his chest, “Really though you didn’t want me anymore.” He couldn’t take the way she sounded so broken — what made it worse was that he made her feel this way, and he vowed to himself that he wouldn’t cause her to feel that way again.

“I’m so sorry, princess,” Hearing him apologize, she turned her to face him again and was surprised when he kissed her lips softly — in contrast with how he was driving her cock in and out of her roughly — before letting his lips rest against hers as he continued to speak, “Never gonna let you go, never gonna hurt you.”

“You promise, bear?” Her small voice made her seem even more vulnerable than she already was; meanwhile August nodded fiercely as he kissed her once again. “I promise, princess,” That promise left his lips repeatedly against her lips.

Unvolutaringly clenching her walls on his cock, she moaned out loud against his prickly lips, “I’m so close, bear. Please let me cum.” And that reminded him how he was in charge and still has to decide if she gets to cum. 

“I think I can grant you one princes privilege, what do you think?” His smirk widened upon seeing her pleading eyes looked at him and moaned in agreement. Still holding onto her hand with one of his own, the other went to graze her cheek as he coaxed her, “Cum for me, princess; let me feel how much you missed me.”

He then drove his cock deep in her to the point he repeatedly bumped her g spot which set her orgasm off — she screamed out loud as her hand squeezed his hand so tight yet it didn’t have any effect on him. Loving the way her walls immediately relaxed their grip on his cock, he took advantage of it by chasing his own orgasm.

“Take my cum, princess,” He breathed out and felt his thrusts decrease their pace while they still had the same vigour. Stilling as he shot loads of his sperm, he pressed her against him needing her to ground him back. With a kiss on the side of her temple he let out, “I love you so much, princess.”

Despite her brain being a fumbling mess, she caught on what he said and pushed herself off his cock and turned to look at him, “What?”  Her fingers were busy lowering her skirt and trying to make her blouse look presentable as it could be while August tucked his meat back in his pants so he could hold both her hands.

“I love you,” He reiterated before taking a deep breath, “I love you and it scared me to find out how strongly I felt for you — because this was something I have never felt for anyone.” A breathless gasp was all she could let out upon being presented with this information.

Sensing her confusion, August placed a kiss on the back of both her palms before speaking once more, “I know this is a lot to take in, but maybe we can take it one step at a time? We go out on actual dates so you can also let me prove to you how much you mean to me.”

Her eyes were searching for any indication in his that he was just pulling her leg, “I know I haven’t shown you exactly what you mean to me — and that is due to my stupidity and immaturity — but if you let me, I will treat you like the sublime and divine being that you are. Spending those days without you made me realize the vital role you fulfilled in my existence.”

Her lips broke into a smile as her heart fluttered at what he said; Y/N lunged to him, wrapping his arms around her neck as she kissed his lips passionately. The Hammer was more than happy to reciprocate the passion she had for the kiss as he wrapped his thick arms around the middle of her back. 

“Does this mean you’ll take me back?” It was shocking how soft the tone of his voice was when he asked this to her as they pulled away from the kiss. Bopping his nose with a finger, she smiled at him before nodding, “It means exactly that, bear. I love you and you have me now. Officially, that is.”

Loving the sound of that, he pecked her lips once again and pulled away with the widest grin his lips had ever made, “I love you more, princess. You always were officially mine, you just didn’t know it yet.”

[roanniom]

The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~ 

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield. 

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.  

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst 

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.  

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.  

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.  

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left