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hongcherry · 2 years ago

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Stolen Kisses || khj

"Balancing work and his personal life wasn't easy, but Hongjoong made do by stealing kisses from you when he could."

💋 Pairing: boyfriend!idol!Hongjoong x Reader (cis f)

💋 Rating/Genres/AUs: NC-17; 100% fluff; Idol au, established relationship

💋 Warnings: They shower together but nothing sexual occurs, reader is referred to as girlfriend/girl, lots of kithes hehe, reader is a foreigner, usage of pet names (baby), a cringy nickname for Hongjoong lol (let me know if there's anything else!)

💋 Word Count: 4.6k

💋 Author's Note: I've had this sitting in my WIPs for months since July but I always got distracted while editing it. However, I finally sat down and looked it over thanks Syd if you see this lol. This is my first of many Hongjoong fics, which I'm excited about! This live got me feeling warm and bubbly, so I hope you all enjoy the fluff with me (:

Key: English | Korean

ateez masterlist | main masterlist

A heavy sigh left your lips as you strolled through the narrow hotel corridor. It had been a long week dealing with picky clients—each wanting things created to the “T” according to their visions. Some just didn’t understand that no, you couldn’t put white text on a pastel pink background as it would be difficult to read with the lack of contrast.

You shook your head, hoping to rid the memory of the clients from your brain. At least for now. You just wanted to snuggle against your boyfriend until the responsibility of both your schedules forced you apart. You had flown out after work one day to visit Hongjoong while he was on tour. While Hongjoong had his own schedule to attend to today, you decided to explore the city.

As you approached the room you shared with Hongjoong, you could hear a faint voice inside. You recalled he had texted you earlier to let you know he had planned to do a livestream with his fans tonight. They were usually scheduled beforehand so you didn’t accidentally interrupt him or any of the other members. That must be what he’s doing now, you thought to yourself.

You kept that in mind as you carefully unlocked the door and pushed it open. You tried not to make a sound, so it wasn’t heard in the stream.

Hongjoong and you were lucky to have your own room, but the fans may get suspicious if they heard the door opening if he were to be alone. Sure, they may think it’s one of the members or staff, but you knew Hongjoong didn’t want to risk it. Understandably so because you felt the same.

The streams were normally conducted with a staff member in the room so they could monitor the member(s). Despite this, they made an exception tonight and monitored the stream in another room. If anything were to arise, they would contact Hongjoong via text.

It’s no surprise your relationship with the famous idol was a secret. You didn’t want to bring any drama to his career. You both figured if you were still together in the future–hopefully, you would be–then you may consider disclosing your relationship to the public. Though, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Hongjoong quickly glanced up mid-sentence when he heard the soft click of the door opening. From where the entrance was located, you couldn’t see each other. You made sure the door was locked before peeping your head around the corner to show yourself. You gave him a little wave in greeting as you took off your shoes.

When Hongjoong saw you, his lips instantly curled in a small smile. However, the smile was quickly directed to the camera to act like the grin was for his fans—not his girlfriend.

“Yeah, it’s spicy,” Hongjoong said to the phone that was propped up as he sat back against his chair. He set his chopsticks to the side of his empty noodle bowl.

You soundlessly made your way further into the room and set down your purse before making your way to the closet.

“Yeah, definitely spicy,” Hongjoong continued. He quickly licked the corner of his lips to rid any remnants of the spicy noodles he had just consumed. His eyes stole a glance upward to see you starting to remove your clothes.

He’s seen your body multiple times throughout your two-year-long relationship. Seeing you change was normal for him now, yet, he could still feel his body tingle at the sight of your figure. Perhaps it was because he loved your body, but another part of him was just so enamored with the reminder that you were his. That this domestic life with you was something he could really have, even with his hectic schedule.

“I need some water. Just a moment,” Hongjoong quickly told his fans and left the chair.

You were finishing changing into more comfortable clothes when you felt warm hands grab your hips.

You snapped your head up in surprise to see Hongjoong behind you.

“Hi, baby,” he whispered in your ear before pressing a soft kiss against your temple, trying to keep the sound inaudible to the stream. “I’ll be done soon, okay?”

“It’s fine,” you reassured and turned in his grasp. You placed a gentle hand against his cheek as you pecked his lips, wishing you could indulge in his affection longer, but you knew his fans were waiting for him to return.

Reluctantly, he let you go and went to the mini fridge in the room. He retrieved drinks for both of you and handed you one.

“Thanks,” you murmured and grabbed it. After giving you one last kiss, he went back to his chair.

It wasn’t the first time you had been in the same room as him while he did a live stream. Although you had to stay silent during them, you got used to them over time and ended up doing your own activities.

You quietly broke the seal of the water bottle, sat on the bed, and took a sip. Your eyes wandered to your boyfriend in the corner of the room.

His two-toned hair was slicked back to expose his forehead. Some pieces fell into his eyes, but the look just made him more attractive. He donned a plaid button-down shirt that appeared a little too big, but you knew he didn’t mind the oversized fit. Hongjoong has always been handsome, but today he just shone more than usual. You could probably sit there and admire him until the sun rose.

“Ah, I brought soda, but I don’t think I can drink this right now,” Hongjoong said after a while of reading the comments. “One moment.”

Hongjoong took the chance to be near you again.

“Was that an excuse?” you giggled softly and peered up at him when he neared the bed.

He smiled and shook his head, leaning down to give you yet another kiss. He didn’t care if he was being excessive with the kisses. He missed you too much to care. Plus, he would be unable to feel your lips due to his schedule, so he was being greedy while he could.

“No,” he said after the short kiss. “But I might as well steal a few kisses while I can, right?”

As if to be true to his word, he gave you another one.

You laughed quietly and grabbed his hand, shaking it gently to show your own affection. You would have done more, but you didn’t have time.

Hongjoong understood and grabbed a juice from the fridge before going back to his chair. And no, he didn’t forget to give you a kiss, but this time on the top of your head.

You sat for a few more minutes watching him interact with his fans. A small smile formed on your lips involuntarily. You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at how he composed himself.

“I’ll work hard to prepare with confidence,” Hongjoong continued his talk.

Despite wanting to watch him, you tore your gaze from him and pulled out the book you brought with you. Though, it was hard to focus. You stared at the words on the pages, yet you weren’t really reading. Your attention kept drifting off to the man in the corner of the room. His calming voice lured your attention to him.

Hongjoong was the third member you met of ATEEZ.

You were hired to contract for the company three years ago to help with graphics for their promotions. You ran into Yunho and Wooyoung on your first day. Ironically, you had met them down the block from the company building but didn’t recognize them at the time. It was your first time going to the building and being a foreigner, so you had a little trouble with directions. You had enough knowledge of Korean to live by, but some words or phrases still had you puzzled. Nevertheless, you found the building with their help.

Two weeks later and you met Hongjoong during a briefing meeting. You didn’t see him after a while and every meeting was nothing spectacular. What made the difference was that you and Hongjoong often got to the meetings early and made small talk. He didn’t mind which language you decided to speak, as long as you were comfortable. He even encouraged you to speak English since it helped him learn and retain it better. Likewise, it helped when he spoke Korean to you constantly. You were learning from each other, and it was a lot more beneficial than learning from a textbook.

You both tried to keep things professional despite the growing feelings toward one another. For some time you sat at opposite ends of the table to increase the distance—hoping the farther away you were, the more your feelings would disappear. However, it was to no avail. Like two teenagers in love, you both snuck off after meetings to exchange forbidden kisses in abandoned rooms.

You and Hongjoong knew your contract with KQ was coming to an end after the promotions, so you made a deal that you wouldn’t continue whatever you two had any further until your contract ended. Although there wasn’t a dating ban, you still wanted to remain professional. You were always told it wasn’t good to be in a relationship with a coworker—conflict of interests and such.

Once the contract was finished, Hongjoong asked you for a proper date.

It was easy to fall for Kim Hongjoong. He was hardworking, thoughtful, open-minded, and of course beyond attractive. You always felt happier around him and the feeling intensified when he became yours.

“‘Will you go watch the Minions 2’?” Hongjoong read aloud the comment. He gave a small smile. “I’ll try.”

A few more seconds passed as he read the comments.

“Yep! So… ‘Go to sleep!’ Noo!” Hongjoong paused with a chuckle but then relented. “Okay.”

You glanced up from your book at the sound, catching a glimpse of a smile on his lips. Your body was growing tired as the minutes passed, but you forced yourself to stay awake. You wanted to spend some time with Hongjoong before you went to sleep.

“I have to wash my face and body and hair and all that,” he continued and gestured to the parts he was listing.

You smiled hearing him speak in English. Even though he wasn’t able to study lately, he still tried to have conversations with you in English to remember the words he did know. You knew he wanted to work diligently in any way he could.

“I’ll get going now,” Hongjoong began to sign off, a hand waving to the camera. “Have a good day, and have a good night. Bye bye! Bye!”

Hongjoong fiddled with the phone for a second before quickly repeating a bye and turning off the live.

He waited a moment to be sure the live ended then got up and walked toward you.

“Sorry,” he said as he sat next to you on the bed. He wrapped his arms around your body and hauled you into his lap.

“Don’t apologize, Joongie,” you replied and snaked your arms around his shoulders. You nestled your head in the crook of his neck. His body was warm and he still smelled faintly of his cologne. “You need to talk to Atiny. They love seeing you.”

Although you did want more time with him, you knew it was important for him to build that connection with his fans. He wanted to talk to them, too, just felt bad that he couldn’t do both—talk to them and hang out with you. There weren’t enough hours in the day.

“But I love seeing you too,” Hongjoong whined softly and squeezed your body tighter.

You giggled and nodded, showing that you loved seeing him in return.

“You look really handsome today,” you complimented and pulled away to look at him.

He grinned, teeth on display while his eyes stared at you fondly.

“Thank you, baby,” he said and leaned forward. You met him halfway.

You smiled into the kiss, your heart still fluttering after years of constant smooches. You weren’t sure if you would ever get over the way he made you feel.

Hongjoong massaged your sides as he deepened the kiss. His tongue found yours and you giggled lightly when you tasted the lingering spice from his noodles. At the sound, he squeezed your sides playfully. Your hands trailed up to his hair; your fingers tangled in his locks. Although they weren’t as soft as usual due to the hairspray, you still liked the way it felt between your fingers.

When you were both out of breath, you pulled away. His eyes were shining under the lights.

Carefully, you leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed the makeup remover wipes. You freed one from the package and slowly began to wipe the makeup off Hongjoong’s face.

Hongjoong’s lips twisted up in a small smile at the action. His eyes fluttered closed while he continued to trace random patterns on your sides.

None of you spoke a word, but that didn’t matter. You just wanted to feel him against you. To be in his presence.

After you wiped away his eye makeup, he opened his eyes and slid his hands to your back.

Hongjoong lazily rubbed your lower back as he watched you. He started to hum a random tune while he did so. Your head was tilted as you concentrated on not being too rough on his skin.

“Come join me in the shower,” he spoke as you finished removing the last of the makeup.

You tossed the wipe in the trash and put the package back on the nightstand.

“But I’m too tired for sexy time,” you confessed with a small whine, already feeling your eyes getting heavy.

Hongjoong smiled at you chastely. “We don’t need to have sexy time. I just wanna spend more time with you.”

Your eyes squinted while you hummed in disbelief.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he begged, lower lip sticking out in a childish pout. “Please?”

Your eyes remained on his face for a moment. His eyes were round as he silently pleaded for you to agree. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” you caved in.

Hongjoong grinned and patted your butt to indicate to move. You followed his silent order and climbed off his lap.

Hongjoong started to unbutton his shirt, revealing more of his honey skin a button at a time.

“You’re staring,” he teased when he noticed your eyes glued to the way his fingers worked to unfasten the fabric.

“Yes I am,” you boldly replied and flickered your gaze to his.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened slightly, and he ducked his head when he felt his cheeks redden. You supposed he wasn’t expecting that response.

You laughed and raised his chin to see his face. “You’re cute when you’re shy.”

“I’m not cute or shy,” he huffed and finished undoing his shirt. He stood in front of you, blue jeans on and shirt hanging open to show his defined torso. If he weren’t being pouty, you would’ve found him sexy in his fit. You just thought he was more adorable right now.

You placed your hands on his chest, and he shivered at your cool touch.

“Yes you are, and I love you because of it,” you said and pressed your lips against his pouty ones.

During the kiss, you pushed his shirt off his shoulders. You helped him pull his arms out, clothed chest pressed against his.

Hongjoong’s hands trailed up your hips to your waist. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and gently peeled it from your body. Because you had dressed comfortably, you had opted out of wearing your bra.

“You’re cold,” he said when he felt your chilled body against his warm one. “Let’s get you under warm water,” he instructed.

Hongjoong quickly removed his pants and took off his watch so he was only in his underwear. He grabbed your hand and led you to the bathroom.

After adjusting the temperature, he pulled off his remaining clothing. You followed suit and wrapped your arms around your body—the cool room causing goosebumps to form quickly.

Hongjoong stepped inside first to ensure the temperature was fine then held out a hand for you. You put your hand in his without hesitation.

A sigh left your lips when the hot water hit your body.

Hongjoong held you close to his figure to help warm you faster. You rested your head against his chest, letting the water fall over both your forms for a while.

“Better?” Hongjoong asked while he rubbed your back.

You nodded.

“Good,” he said and reached for the shampoo. “How was your day?”

You turned around when Hongjoong gestured for you and closed your eyes when you felt him put the liquid on your hair. He began to gently massage your scalp.

“Just some more annoying clients. They wanted a dark… Uh,” you paused when the word in Korean escaped you. You’ve heard it, even used it before, but for some reason, you couldn’t remember at the moment. Hongjoong paused in his movements to give you more of his attention.

“Gradient,” you said, glancing at your boyfriend over your shoulder.

His eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he tried to understand you. He didn’t know that word in English.

“When the color fades from one color to another,” you tried to explain. You could see the imaginary cogs turning in his head, trying to guess the word you were attempting to describe.

“Ahh!” he exclaimed when he recalled the word. “Gradient.”

Of course.

“Gradient,” you repeated sheepishly, though Hongjoong didn’t mind that you had forgotten. He gave you a reassuring smile and grabbed the shower hose. He rinsed your hair, careful to ensure no soap got on your face.

You closed your eyes again and continued, “They wanted a dark gradient with similar shade text. I tried to explain that it wouldn't look as nice but they insisted.”

Hongjoong listened carefully as he washed his own hair quickly. You felt bad that he helped you without you asking, so you stopped his movements and replaced his hands with yours.

“Maybe they’ll change their mind when they see it in its final version,” Hongjoong tried to comfort.

“I hope so,” you replied. You helped him rinse his hair then you each put in your own conditioner. “If they don’t, I don’t want to put my name on the work.”

Hongjoong was used to you switching between languages. Although it took him a little longer to understand what you had said, he never complained as it always helped him with his own English.

“It’ll just show how you’re able to adapt to others' requests,” he assured and reached for the soap bar. You let him glide the soap across your body, enjoying the feel of it and his fingertips against you.

Hongjoong hadn’t been a fan of skin ship initially. During the first few kisses you had, his touches were light. You could barely feel him on your clothed waist. Even his kisses were gentle to the point you felt you were simply brushing lips rather than actually kissing. He gradually became accustomed to your touches, but he still limited a few of them because he wasn’t used to such affectionate actions. Although he did receive love from his members—whether voluntarily or not—it felt different when the touches were from you.

Eventually, he was used to feeling your skin against his. Even started craving it so much that it was hard to even go to the bathroom without him clinging onto you like a koala. It was rather cute. Now, he only gets that way if he hasn’t seen you in a long time. Though, you are never upset with it. You like needy Hongjoong.

“That’s nice of you to say,” you replied and grabbed the bar.

“You’re talented, baby,” Hongjoong said.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

Hongjoong let out a small sigh at the feel of the soap rubbing against his skin. His head lolled back, and you took the time to admire his fit figure. His muscles were not as defined as some of his members, but they were still easily visible. Although you didn’t care either way, you had to admit it was a nice plus.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Hongjoong answered softly after a few seconds. He tilted his head downward in time to see you rinsing the bar, a habit of yours, before setting it down.

He stepped under the water and let the soap run off his body.

“I have a lot to thank you for,” you said.

Hongjoong grabbed your hips and swung you around to be under the water. You laughed and wiped the water from your face, but it was useless as more water kept coming.

“Like what?” he whispered and captured your lips with his before you could answer. Water raced down both your faces, but neither of you minded. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he smiled into the kiss at the feel of your body flush against his.

You pulled away and adjusted your bodies so he was more under the water. You reached up to tilt his head back as you rinsed the conditioner from his hair. He closed his eyes and kept his hands on your waist.

“Like how thankful I am to be able to be the only one who gets to kiss you,” you answered belatedly.

“Or how thankful I am to have a boyfriend as amazing as you,” you paused when you noticed Hongjoong’s lips twitching upward. It was as if he was trying hard not to smile. Wanting to see his full grin, you continued.

“Thank you for being so good to me… For making my heart do all sorts of cartwheels.”

“Cartwheels?” he asked and opened his eyes as he moved from the water. He stared down at you confused, not understanding what you meant.

“Cartwheels,” you explained. His mouth opened slightly in a silent “ah” as he understood, nodding slowly. However, his expression quickly turned bashful as he averted his eyes briefly. The words had finally sunk in and he felt his heart thud faster.

“Y-you still don’t need to thank me,” he mumbled and returned the favor of helping you rinse your hair.

“Maybe not,” you said even though you truly believed you did. Hongjoong was such a blessing in your life; you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. “But I want to.”

Hongjoong bit his lip at your words. He could run in circles with you about this all night long. Instead, he shut the water off and went to grab a towel for you.

He enclosed the towel around your body before he quickly dried off his chest and hair with his own towel. He wrapped the material around his waist and secured it. As he did so, you dried off and fixed your towel around your body.

You both did your night-time routine hastily then climbed into bed together.

“I hope you have a better day at work tomorrow,” Hongjoong said once you were both settled under the covers. You were facing each other, legs tangled under the sheets. Hongjoong had a hand placed on your side, rubbing his thumb against your warm skin absentmindedly. He spoke slower than usual as he focused on using the correct words in the correct order; yet, you were patient as always. Switching languages wasn’t easy and you admired that he still tried to use your native language even if he wasn’t totally confident in speaking it.

“Me too,” you replied with a smile.

“So, I have a question,” he said. You hummed to show your curiosity.

“Will you go watch the Minions 2 with me?”

You giggled. “Of course, my Minioong.”

Hongjoong sighed at the nickname, acting as if he disliked the pet name you had given him when you first learned about his love for Minions. Though, deep down you knew he liked it. Even if it was cringy and sounded a little funky, it came from you.

“I’m not going to share my popcorn with you now,” he huffed. Playfully, you stuck out a tongue at him. This earned a teasing poke from your boyfriend to which you whined in response.

“My silly girl,” Hongjoong said fondly and moved his hand back to your waist.

The softness of the mattress and the comforting feel of his hand on your bare skin had your eyes drooping. You blinked rapidly when you caught yourself dozing off.

Hongjoong chuckled softly at you trying to fight off the sleep. He pulled your body against him so your head was tucked in his chest. He rubbed your back and closed his eyes, basking in the feel of you engulfed in his embrace.

“Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said and pressed a soothing kiss against your head.

“Are we still going to breakfast?” you wondered quietly, still not wanting to rest just yet.

Hongjoong hummed in affirmation. “You still okay with the members joining us?”

“As long as I get to sit next to you, yes,” you teased as you recalled the time Wooyoung rushed to occupy the only seat by Hongjoong. It forced you to sit away from him, which isn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. However, your time with your boyfriend in person was limited, and you just wanted to cling to him until you couldn’t anymore.

“I’ll make sure of it. You’re not leaving my side tomorrow,” he replied with a smile.

“Only tomorrow?” you asked softly and peered up at him.

Hongjoong caught your gaze, carefully raising your face more so he could plant a chaste kiss on your lips. “Forever, baby.”

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” you confessed glumly. Your trip to see Hongjoong was ending soon. Once their concert ended tomorrow, he was taking you straight to the airport so you could catch your flight. Despite being sad you weren’t able to spend your last few hours with him directly, you were still happy to see him on stage—doing what he loved for the people he loved. He was meant to be a performer, and you loved seeing his passion shine brightly under the stage lights.

“I don’t want you to either,” he sighed, tugging you against his body and resting his head against yours. “’m going to miss you too much.”

There was silence as your mind ran, sprinting from one sad thought to another. You wanted to stay with Hongjoong longer.

“Don’t be sad, pretty girl,” Hongjoong mumbled. “It’ll be okay.”

“I love you, Joongie,” you replied softly, eyes closing as you let Hongjoong hold you. He squeezed you tenderly before lifting one of your hands to plant a lazy kiss.

“I love you more,” he answered.

Knowing Hongjoong was too tired to argue with you, as he usually did when you said this, you answered, “I love you more.”

“Just this once,” he said with an airy chuckle. “Now, go to sleep, baby.”

“’kay,” you mumbled softly and closed your eyes, a triumphant smile on your face. You felt him adjust a little before settling down. He kept you close as you drifted off to sleep. Instead of dreading tomorrow, you focused on being with Hongjoong now.

It was difficult to be in a relationship with an idol. You knew it would be from the moment you fell for one, but actually living through it pained you more than you realized. However, feeling Hongjoong’s warm body flushed against yours—hearing his heart beat steadily as sleep slowly consumed him—made you remember why you risked it all. Why you overcame the lonely nights, the three-in-the-morning facetimes, and the virtual dates.

He was worth it all.

A/N: For my "shy/silent" readers, I've created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY. Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

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reds-skull · 7 months ago

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Post script on BLOOD||HUNGER

OOOkay, like I said in the ask I got earlier, this post is gonna be LONG. I’ll be covering the poems at the start (and sometimes end) of each chapter, the source of inspiration for them, the timeline of the fic compared to canon, deleted scenes and maybe most importantly the true identity of the Hunter.

I’d like to say before I start rambling that I appreciate each and every one of you that commented, liked and gave kudos! It really means a lot to me, that you’re here reading my silly little stories haha.

I’m gonna start with the beginning - how I started thinking about the main plot of BLOOD||HUNGER.

So, I kept thinking about the Alone mission in mw2 (as we all do), but thinking about “what if Soap was a civilian in Las Almas when it happened?”

(This is slightly inspired by this fic by TRaena, which I read months earlier and kept thinking about its setup because it was so damn good. I highly suggest reading it!)

So originally, I imagined a whole plot where Soap is a football player, having a vacation in Las Almas when Graves suddenly attacks. Ghost is in the 141 like in canon, but he’s the one that gets shot in the shoulder. The two of them meet, and because Ghost is injured, and Soap is stranded alone in a foreign country, they decide to fight together to get out.

In that original plot, Soap continues sticking by Ghost throughout the campaign, creating distractions for Rudy and Ghost while they rescue the vaqueros, and getting kidnapped by Hassan where he gets dangled over a window in Chicago and Ghost saves him. As you can tell I thought about that version quite a bit, but I made one change that moved it in the direction of the actual story I ended up writing.

What if Soap was dishonorably discharged instead?

That trait changed his entire character, from a guy that got dropped into a war where he has no experience fighting, to someone that is bitterly familiar with it, yet he was exiled from participating. And yet it followed him.

Ghost’s character is actually inspired by who I originally thought he was, when I first saw the mw2 campaign.

See, I first watched my friend play it, and he’s been playing cod since the original mw. He built Ghost up for my like he’s this op guy (which he is), and when he said that he’s been doing guerilla warfare for years in Alone, I thought to myself ‘was this guy just running around fighting with scarp, when the British Military just… decide to pick him up and make him a soldier since he was so good at it??’

I didn’t know about any previous campaigns, and obviously not about ‘09 Ghost’s backstory. Straight up thought he was just some weirdo the SAS recruited because they went ‘why the hell not’.

Now, let’s get to the timeline differences between B||H and canon.

So, like mentioned in chapter 5, the reason Soap got dishonorably discharged was because he killed Makarov on the helo when they were exfiling with him, as seen in a mission on mw3. Soap shot him, by the way, because Price and Ghost weren’t on that mission. He didn’t respect his COs enough to not succumb to his gut reactions, so he ignored them. Because mw3 takes place in 2023 (if I remember correctly, since mw2 took place in 2022), that happened in 2019, and I specifically put it before the formation of the 141. When Soap and Gaz meet for the first time, as Ghost reveals his true identity, Soap mentions he didn’t know Gaz was in the 141, and that was the reason.

Price did want Soap on the 141, even with his track of insubordination. It was another reason he felt bad about his discharge.

I put Ghost’s capture by Roba and torture in 2009. He managed to run away and kill Roba in 2010. B||H takes place one year after Soap killed Makarov, meaning it’s 2020, so Ghost has been a mercenary for about a decade (as is mentioned in one line).

Ghost tried initially, like I wrote, to avoid fighting. He didn’t want to return to the military. After discovering his family was killed, however, he realized he has nothing. And so, he became a merc.

Which brings us to the last difference between canon and the fic (and the biggest one) - the Hunter. And to explain the Hunter, I have to first talk about the poems.

I’ll say it straight up, I have no clue what made me come up with the idea of the poems. One day, right before I was going to sleep, I shot up in bed and wrote down one poem. I put my phone down and instantly fell asleep. No idea what was rattling in my brain that night, but in the days afterwards I wrote down a few more poems, establishing the story of the Blind Man and the Beast.

Those poems I wrote in my notes app weren’t written in the same format as the ones in the fic, instead they are more… modern. I didn’t like that, I wanted them to emulate the format of a classic fairy tale or folk tale, but I didn’t really know how to write that. So I started doing research, and I decided to focus specifically on Medieval English poetry.

That is where I found the Exeter Book. And that find shaped the entirety of the fic.

Small history lesson on the Exeter, it is a codex of Middle English poems and riddles from the 10th century. Most of the poems are older than that, but the first (sometimes only) appearance of them written in text was in the 10th century.

The first poem I found a translation for and read was “The Wanderer”. The name just jumped out for me, so I chose it first.

The Wanderer is a poem that is basically a monologue of an exiled knight. His lord and companions have died in a past battle, and he now roams the land, with no goal, pondering the nature of men and war. He starts the poem as a melancholic, frankly depressed man, with pessimistic views on the world, and by the end he is referred to as the wise man, learning the values a man must keep close to his heart in order to be a good man.

Soap, as he is a sort of exiled fighter, fitted right in with that poem. Honestly, I was shocked at how much it fit. And so, he is based on that poem, the first word in the fic “often”, is the first word of “The Wanderer”.

Often, in The Wanderer, means “always”, according to the translation I was going off of. The first line of The Wanderer is “Often the solitary one”. In truth, The Wanderer is always the solitary one. The first line of the first chapter (not in the poem), is “Often was Soap told, “stop trying to be the hero, MacTavish.””. Often here, also meant to be “always”. The first line of the first poem, “Often were the stars, the only witness to me”, is in the same vein.

After reading a few poems, I moved on to the riddles. A lot of them are quite odd, some having innuendos on purpose, and some having such a weird answer I honestly have no idea how anyone found the actual solution. One riddle jumped out for me, though. It’s one I refer to as “the sword riddle”, as the answer is sword. Or at least, so it seems so, at first.

See, this riddle has possibly a different solution, but it is unfinished in the Exeter, as some pages seemed to be missing. The sword riddle starts out as follows: “I’m a wonderful thing shaped for fighting/beautifully dressed, dear to my master.” (sidenote: many riddles were in first person). The first half of the riddle continues similarly, as is a sword was explaining its victories in battle, and how it protracted its master. Except, the poem suddenly shifts, when the sword says:“I have often hurt another/at the hands of his friend. I am far and wide hated, /accursed among weapons.” as the riddle progresses, it becomes clear that this is not a sword talking, but a knight.

This riddle was the basis for Ghost, his struggles with his failure as a Lieutenant, and the resulting dehumanization he did to himself to distance himself from those emotions, as Ghost. The first lines of his introduction chapter, chapter 2, are inspired directly from the sword riddle: “It was an extraordinary thing - shaped for fighting, a strong, solid body, adorned with black…”

You can actually at some chapters find my direct inspiration for that chapter’s poem/s, if you look at the names. Every chapter name in B||H is taken from a poem or riddle in the Exeter, and I’ll list them here:

1 - Wræclast (Path of Exile): The Wanderer, line 6a.

2 - The Death-way: The Seafarer, one specific possible interpretation of a word in line 63, onwælweg.

3 - The Ruin: The Ruin, the poem is in reference to the church Soap and Ghost fight their way out of.

4 - Vainglory: Vainglory.

5 - Hell Rising: a line from “The Descent into Hell”, from a translation I don’t really like, but it’s the only complete one I found.

6 - Droops and Decays: The Wanderer, line 63a.

7 - Wont of Devils: The Whale, towards the end.

8 - Accursed Among Weapons: the sword riddle, line 16.

9 - The Downfall of Kinsmen: The Wanderer, line 7a.

10 - A Secret Disease: The Rhyming Poem, from a specific translation I chose.

11 - The Battle-Sick: Wulf and Eadwacer, again specific translation, this website has a weird format that might be broken, but it kinda makes the poem feel different, and I liked it. [Here's the Wiki for it]

12 - The Bearer of Gold: this one is from a fragmented riddle, one where the answer can’t be determined.

13 - The Song of Us: Wulf and Eadwacer, same translation.

14 - Famous Fate: The Wanderer, 100a. The translation notes this means “turn of events”.

15 - Where All Permanence Rests: The Wanderer, 119a, the last line in the poem.

To properly see all the little tidbits I took from each poem, I’ll have to explain each one, and probably also paste it here so you can read. I would if that hadn't taken five years to do, and I want to talk about other stuff haha. But I just wanted to list the ones I did reference.

So, now that I’ve explained how the poems are referenced in the main fic… what about the poems I wrote?

Obviously, the first poem references The Wanderer, just as the first lines in the fic do. But what is the story of the poems?

Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde, a fictional codex I made for the fic, is a book similar to the Exeter, collecting stories from the 10th century. Except, unlike the Exeter, all the poems in the book tell the story of the same characters: the Blind Man, the Beast, and the hunter (not to be confused with the Hunter, capital H, which refers to the character in the main plot). Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde, by the way, meaning “Blood Starvation” in Middle English. Or, Blood Hunger.

Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde does exist in the world of B||H, Soap, Ghost and the others are simply not familiar with it. I had a plot for the story in the poems I wrote, which is in direct parallel to the main story in the fic. In fact, some poems spoil some plot points, if you go back to read them after you finish the chapter they were in.

Like I mentioned in the ask I got today, I’m not sure how much, if anyone, really understood what’s going on with the poems. I honestly don’t know if it was clear, I never have anyone beta my writing, unfortunately. So, I’m going to explain the story told in the poems, and how it connects to the main plot.

I’ll be explaining the poems in the order they appear (not always the order of the book itself, as noted by the page numbers on each poem).

The Blind Man is a fallen knight (sidenote: the Beast never refers to the Blind Man with that name, and he usually calls him Fallen Knight), who lost his mates and Lord in battle, the same battle that took his eyesight. He roams the earth with no destination, simply mourning what he used to have.

The Beast starts out as a terror on a road leading to a village. The trader that first meets him decides to go to a different road, and the young girl is so afraid of him, she turns back. All the village people fear the Beast, for they know how it terrorized others in the past. The Beast at present, however, is mostly docile.

The Blind Man bumps into the Beast, while he walks on his road. The Blind Man apologizes, explains how he lost his sight in battle, and asks the Beast kindly to move. The Beast does, but he also asks the Blind Man (the Fallen Knight), if he could let him follow, as the Beast too doesn’t have a goal or destination. The Blind Man agrees.

The Trader sees the Blind Man walk with the Beast, and he worries about him, as he thinks the Blind Man didn’t realize he’s walking alongside a Beast. The Blind Man asks the Beast if he plans on hurting him - to which the Beast answers, if the Blind Man finds that the Beast pushes him on a path of death, he asks the Blind Man to kill him.

The Beast, at a later point, asks the Blind Man why isn’t he afraid of him. The Blind Man answers, that he doesn’t believe in monsters, he believes in mankind, to be kind, and cruel. For him, there is not such thing as monsters.

A knight, who once fought besides the Blind Man, spots him alongside the Beast, and he stops them both, threatening the Beast to leave the Blind Man alone. The Blind Man assures the knight, that the Beast is calm, it doesn’t hurt him. The knight asks, how come the blind lead the sinner, and the Blind Man replies, that when all other paths are unavailable, sometimes only the blind can truly lead.

The Blind Man asks the Beast what is his true name. The Beast answers, that Beast is the only name they know. The Blind Man insists that it is only the name the village people call him, and the Beast repeats his answers. It is then that the Blind Man decides he will name the Beast himself, with deeds this time, and not words. He is telling the Beast he can be defined by more than his past, than his looks. The Beast asks how, and the Blind Man answers, with ferocious will to mark yourself with actions yet to come.

At this junction, they meet a man called “the hunter”, who announces that this land is infested with many Beasts, and if one wished to do good in the world, they must kill them. It is why he, the hunter, slays such creatures. He asks how could the Blind Man protect such evil, to which the Blind Man answers, that the Beast is no more different than a man than he is. The hunter accepts the answer, but comes to the conclusion that they’re both Beasts.

One day, the Blind Man asks to see the Beast’s face. The Beast answers, confused, that he thought the Blind Man was, well, blind. The Blind Man says he’s correct, but that his hands have yet to fail him. So the Beast lets the Blind Man feel his face, his hands. The Blind Man then realizes, that the Beast isn’t actually a beast, but a man like him. He tells the Beast as much, but the Beast says that perhaps the Blind Man is also a Beast, if he thinks the Beast is like him.

The Beast asks the Blind Man how could he care for a monster like himself. The Blind Man smiles and says, how could I not?

They come across a village the Beast terrorized in the past, and the villagers come out to curse at him, telling of how the Beast took their children and ruined their crops. The villagers ask how could the Blind Man stand to not kill the Beast. The Blind Man first asks if what the villagers are saying is true, and when the beast confirms, that he was a terrible thing before anyone saw him as more than a monster, the Blind Man understands. He, too, felt like nothing more than a blind man, an injured knight, before the Beast joined his travels, and treated him as more than just his bloody past.

In the next poem, it is revealed that the Beast was once a knight himself, one that slayed friends and foes, as his masters ruled. He was cursed to be seen as a Beast by everyone that casts their eyes upon him, and that he’s damned to be starved of blood and flesh. It is here that the reason the Blind Man recognizes the Beast to be a man becomes clear - because he is blind, he doesn’t cast his eyes on the Beast.

The following poem is a riddle that its answer is “the hunter”. The hunter used to hunt for consumption, but now hunts sinners. He says, only those that know justice will know his name.

The Blind Man asks the Beast, one night right before the sun rises, what he thinks will be his fate, once he dies. The Beast replies that death comes to all equally, knowing the Blind Man’s past. The answer comforts the Blind Man, that his death will be the same death as his fellow knights, and as his companion, the Beast.

The knight returns to warn the Blind Man and the Beast, that he learned what makes someone a Beast. He tells them of knights who were tortured many years, that were labeled “Beast”. Of the young girl, that instead of cursing the Beast blocking her path, only prayed for her safety. Of a man, that fell in battle, and was abandoned by all but death, that he was also labeled “Beast”. This man is implied to be the Beast travelling with the Blind Man. The knight goes on to say that the hunter, who says he’s versed in justice, calls himself a hero. The knight disagrees, says he’s no better than any of them, and that a man like the hunter, who thinks he’s above God, must be sent to the only equalizer, to death itself.

The knight leaves his sword with the Blind Man.

The hunter approaches, and he swings towards the Blind Man, but the Beast slashes his face, blinding the hunter. The Beast tells the Blind Man, that they will fight as equals. The Blind Man, with the Beast’s aid, manages to kill the Hunter.

The village people hear of the hunter’s death, and they come out to investigate. They find the blind Man and the Beast, but now instead of a monster, they see the man that he truly is. Killing the hunter lifted the curse. The Beast, the Cursed Man, however, isn’t extremely happy, because the Blind Man has always seen him as a man, when the rest saw a monster, and that is what he cares about most.

The Blind Man asks the Cursed Man, where would he go now that he is not viewed as a Beast. The Cursed Man answers, that he has no place he belongs to, but by the Blind Man’s side. The Blind Man replies, that then they will travel together, until their death, and perhaps, if God gives them mercy, they will always be together, no matter which path they belong.

Now that I explained the story of the poems, I can start explaining how it connects to B||H.

Each main character in B||H has a direct parallel in the poems, with a few exceptions.

Soap is the Blind Man, a man who is defined by his failure. He is the first one to see the Beast for what he truly is, and consistently compares himself to the Beast. He is the one that kills the hunter.

Ghost is the Beast, later on the Cursed Man. Everyone sees a monster when they look at him, and he himself ended up convinced he is one, after years of being called a Beast. He admires the Blind Man greatly.

Price is the trader (I chose that profession because of his surname), he meets the Beast before the Blind Man. Unlike Price, the trader does not know the Beast before he became a monster.

Gaz is the Knight (because of his relation to Soap and his VA’s surname is literally knight). He threatens the Beast, thinking he means bad for the Blind Man. He also ends up being on the Blind Man and the Beast’s side, giving him his sword so he could kill the hunter.

The village people are the city people in the story. Alma actually accuses Ghost of being the reason their children are dying, just like the village people do in the poems.

Other characters like Laswell and the communicator do not have a parallel character in the poems.

And the last one… The Hunter. He is the hunter, obviously.

Except, he’s literally the hunter. The only character that is exactly the same, and I mean, the same person, is the hunter. The only one whose name is identical to the one in the poems.

And this is the plot twist I was keeping hidden in the poems all along - BLOOD||HUNGER is a fantasy story, only not from Soap or Ghost’s perspective.

There is a third story, beside the main one and the one in the poems. The story of the hunter.

The hunter, after being killed by the Blind Man, finds himself in the future. He doesn’t know how, doesn’t know where, but he knows one thing:

The Beast is alive, he walks with the Blind Man, and he must be killed.

The hunter finds them. And again, he fails.

It’s not known how many times the hunter fails. But each time he’s killed, he wakes up decades into the future, with an innate knowledge that the Beast and the Blind Man are alive, and he has to kill them.

The hunter wakes up again in 2019. He knows the Beast and the Blind Man are alive, and this time, he tries something new. He gathers an army, he hides his face, and he waits for the right moment to strike.

He thought, perhaps if someone else kills the Beast, he could be free from the curse placed upon him centuries ago, by death itself, as punishment for his hubris.

And the events that follow, are the plot of BLOOD||HUNGER. And as you know, the hunter fails yet again. He will wake up again, but Ghost and Soap will be long gone by then.

This is why the Hunter seemingly didn’t exist on paper, a year before B||H. Why he knew so much about Simon, despite the fact it shouldn’t be possible. And this is why he says to Soap what he said to the Blind Man the first time he died. Because, in the Hunter’s eyes, Soap IS the Blind Man. Soap mentions that when the Hunter’s face is uncovered, he seems familiar, and after he dies, he feels like it happened before. Because it did.

The claw marks on the Hunter’s face are the biggest clue that he is the hunter, as the hunter’s face was slashed by the Beast in the poem.

And the Blind Man’s wish, to always walk alongside the Cursed Man, is the reason both Soap and Ghost feel like they belong with each other. They’re destined to meet, no matter what form they take. Whether as enemies, friends or lovers, they will walk the same path eventually.

See, I don’t write stories like BLOOD||HUNGER usually. I write fantasy, sci-fi, supernatural stuff like every other work I posted. But this, the poems, the Hunter, are the reason I wrote BLOOD||HUNGER.

Because it’s not fully set in the real world. Still, this fic was quite a challenge for me, with no magic, enemies-to-lovers (which I never use, I don’t know why I decided to here, but that’s how it ended up), and limited characters.

A little tidbit about the city - it isn’t named on purpose, I wanted it to have more of a vague vibe that fairy tales (and the poems in the Exeter) have. I was also initially considering having the entire fic set at night, one night, but with the amount of things that happen it felt a little ridiculous. Most of it is at night, though, as Soap and Ghost sleep through days more than they do nights.

Also fun fact, the names of the civilians are all names of family members of mine, with the exception of Mihail. The name he’s based on is Mircea, and it’s a little too Romanian for my purposes, so I changed it so something more vaguely Eastern European, which is where the city is.

Now, onto the last section of the post script, the deleted scenes! (Are they really deleted if I keep them, though?)

Like with Not Alive, Nor Dead’s PS, I’ll try to give each of them context and the reason they were cut:

[Context: the entirety of the scene where Ghost gets betrayed and poisoned by the Hunter in chapter 2.]

He didn’t get a potential location for intel, so he started methodically searching all drawers and cabinets, lightly passing over surfaces to search for abnormalities. The longer he goes on finding nothing, the more an icy chill spreads through his gut.

Every cell in his body is screaming something is wrong here.

Footsteps on the lower floor catch his attention. Multiple, heavy, hurried. Ghost snarls.

The soldiers climb the stairs quickly, Ghost melting into the shadows, watching them pass by him. The soldiers are the Hunter’s, their blood-red insignia staining their black gear.

He’s being betrayed again. He needs to get out. He has to get out.

“We know you’re here, Ghost. Change of plan, we need you on another location.” The soldier communicating for the Hunter calls.

No, no, no. They’re lying.

“Commander”, another soldier says, “he might be gone.”

The Hunter doesn’t answer, but frantically, Ghost hears the floorboards creak closer and closer to his location, until a red glove reaches out and pulls him out of the shadows.

He instantly shakes it off, “the fuck are you doing here?!” he growls. The Hunter looks to his communicator, “this target was a ruse, Ghost. We have a new one for you.”

They’re lying. They’re lying. Ghost can feel the barrels of rifles at his back, lifting slowly to strike him down. He can smell the gunpowder and the bite of metal-

Ghost glances behind him. The soldiers are busy searching the house. He nods.

It feels so wrong, but… could he be wrong? Is he just getting paranoid over nothing?

“Give me the location.” he grunts, his back constantly tingling with the weight of phantom gazes.

The soldier walks over to the balcony, pulling out a spotter scope, “your target will be in the central city, the high rise building next to the church.” the building is lit by neon lights, red and foreboding in the darkness of night.

Ghost carefully walks to the balcony, taking the scope from the soldier. He doesn’t put it up to his face, not when there are phantom breaths on his nape.

They’re waiting. They’re watching. They’re going to-

A hand wraps around his neck, roughly pulling his mask up to reveal the pale skin underneath. Ghost grabs it, pushes it away, when a sickly cold sting bites the side of his neck, followed by a disgusting chill that seeps into his bloodstream.

Poison.

Ghost shoves the soldier off, swiftly sliding a knife to his palm and slicing his neck. The man doesn’t have time to react, before Ghost drops down to avoid another attacker. The world explodes with hands reaching for him, weapons slung with purpose to strike.

Not kill. They want him alive.

He has to GET. OUT.

A hostile rushes to tackle him, and Ghost uses the momentum to grab him and jump off the balcony. Glass surrounds them both for a moment, before they all fall down.

The body beneath him crashes with a sickening crunch, and Ghost takes the pistol in his hand to swing around and shoot at his attackers. A few of them fall over the railing, and the resulting confusion is enough for Ghost to take off and run.

Ghost feels the poison corrupt his blood, physically sense the way it travels down his neck, the chill spreading to his fingertips. He mutters a few curses.

He should’ve listened to himself. Never trust anything but himself.

[Reason to cut: I didn’t want Ghost to suspect anything before the Hunter attacks, I thought it would be scarier than if he anticipated it.]

[Context: the last lines of chapter 2 (can you tell I struggled with that one lol)]

Ghost internally sighs. This whole ordeal drudges up too many old memories, things he rather would’ve stayed buried in an unmarked grave. But he just has to put up with Soap until they leave the city.

And after that? He can leave him to the wolves.

[Reason to cut: Ghost sounds here like he wants something bad to happen to Soap when he leaves him. I wanted him to just not care about what happens to him.]

[Context: the talk Ghost and Soap have in chapter 6, when Soap reveals he killed Makarov.]

The Sergeant laughs bitterly, “he was already captured. I slit his fuckin’ throat when his hands were cuffed.”

“Really?” Ghost drawls, “as if bars would’ve stopped Makarov.”

Soap bristles, “so what, yer saying I was right?”

“You were the only one with half a brain there, it seems.”

Soap is visibly stunned at that, quieting down and averting his gaze. Did he really believe that he shouldn’t have done that? Shouldn’t have killed the worst man in modern times?

Really thought those restraints were made for the betterment of humanity, rather the benefit of the powerful few?

They continue walking in silence, the only sound accompanying their steps is the bristling of crops.

[Reason to cut: didn’t like how the dialogue sounded, wanted the conversation to be longer.]

[Context: the first time Ghost called Soap “Johnny”, chapter 7.]

Soap has a feeling the nickname just slipped, and he didn’t mean to call him ‘Johnny’. His mind, as it often does, starts mulling that small detail over.

If it was a slip of the tongue, it means this wasn’t the first time Ghost thought to call him that. How long have he thought of him as “Johnny”? Does that mean, under that bleached bone, he

[Reason to cut: didn’t like where Soap’s thoughts were going. Didn’t know what to do with them.]

[context: beginning of chapter 8, when Ghost’s real identity is revealed.]

(From the grave rises someone else, someone wrong-)

Soap takes a step back, the sound echoing through his mind and returning him to the surface-

(They know. The communicator. The Hunter.)

Johnny knows.

[Reason to cut: I liked the first line, but I wanted it to be memories of Simon’s rather than introspection of Ghost.]

[Context: start of chapter 8 again. It’s always the Ghost POV ones I struggle with huh?]

“Didn’t you,

Simon Riley?”

Ghost ceases his attempts to move. Thoughts slipping away from him, sinking down to the dark sea, drowning him.

(Don’t cry like a pansy, son. Just like your mother, you’ve always been weak-)

(You always had a bleeding heart, Riley. Time you wake up, see how the world really works-)

(The rotten flesh, the maggots borrowing into his ears, the dirt and grit between his teeth-)

(Lieutenant Riley was his most caring soldier-)

(What’s wrong, son?-)

(LT-)

(SIMON-)

Ghost feels him claw out, from the fortified casket he buried him in. Memories as his weapon, he rips through his chest, uncaring of the trails of broken bone and blood he leaves behind, splattering on the floor.

From the grave, a dead man rises. A man who always found the world too cruel, too loud, too unforgiving.

And with him, emotions Ghost long buried; Hurt, sadness, confusion. Fear.

Rage.

The knife in his sleeve slides easily to his palm, cool metal doing nothing to soothe Simon. He winds his hand back, and throws.

The blade shines almost blindingly across the room, missing Johnny by less than an inch and hitting the gleeful communicator in his eye. The man slumps over, smile melting away with the last of his life.

Simon heaves a breath, arm still forward, eyes snapping from the corpse to Johnny.

Johnny, who turns around, shock in his bright blue eyes, mumbling, “What… the fuck… did you do?”

He can’t look at those eyes again, can’t see the betrayal cloud them over, the pain he caused, always causes, spread through him. And so Simon, the coward he is, looks away.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Johnny repeats, stomping forward to haul Simon up by his vest. “LOOK AT ME! YOU JUST KILLED OUR ONLY WAY TO THE HUNTER!”

Johnny’s hands are trembling, Simon notes, when they take hold of his face to force him to make eye contact. Simon watches Soap’s expression falter.

What do you see, he wants to ask.

Do you see the man he was, Or the monster he became?

The clanking of the metal staircase behind them makes Soap sharply turn. Simon can’t see, doesn’t care to when Johnny is in front of him.

Tell me, he wants to scream, tell me I’m irredeemable. Tell me you hate me. Bury me, please.

I can’t be Simon again.

But Johnny ignores his silent pleas, grabbing his forgotten rifle and throwing it to Simon. With a dirty glance, he growls, “don’t think I’m lettin’ it slide. Get up, we need to fight.”

And Simon would’ve stayed in the tower, waiting death to take him for the final time, if he could stomach the idea of taking Johnny down with him. Simon, stupid, foolish Simon, wants the Sergeant to do what he couldn’t. To be better than him.

He takes the rifle, military instilled instincts helping him push up and take aim. Johnny is already ahead, fighting his way down the stairs.

The world outside is loud, gunshots and screams, bullets dinging off metal, blood dripping down to the earth below. Soap shoots them as the come up, but he’s quickly getting overrun. Simon spots a pile of crates right at the edge, where Johnny is currently taking cover.

He runs at it at full speed, shouldering it and pushing it down. Johnny curses at him, before he watches how the heavy crates clear them a path down. The soldiers groan, struggling to get up. They run down, barely avoiding the hands grasping at their feet. Below, soldiers attempt to shoot them, but they make an almost impossible target on the spiraling steps.

Simon jumps the last few, firing at the group around their truck to cover Johnny. The Sergeant shouts at him something, but he’s too focused on the enemies aiming at them.

A few bullets hit him square in the chest, knocking the breath out of Simon.

He doesn’t get time to recover when another bullet pierces through his shoulder.

It hurts more, oddly enough, after Simon clawed his way out. Everything feels… more.

Johnny takes out the shooter, and drags Simon to the truck. Throwing him to the passenger sit, he starts up the engine and shifts it to reverse to run down a few hostiles.

“Yer not gonna die on me, are ye?” He grunts, examining the blood sluggishly flowing down his gear.

Simon opens his mouth to answer, as he sees from his peripheral a wounded soldier shakily lifting his gun to aim at Johnny.

He pulls out a knife to throw at him before Soap can even clock the danger, the soldier crumpling back down in a blink. “...Thanks.” Soap’s eyes narrow. His eyes are no less bright for it, Simon reckons.

He returns to his sit, applying pressure to his gunshot wound, “drive.”

In the silence, Simon’s mind drifts. He’s finding it harder and harder to focus on anything besides Johnny.

[Reason to cut: a few things here are the same as the final version, but I specifically didn’t like how Soap acted here, and the fight Ghost soloed.]

[Context: chapter 10, after Soap bit a guy, and Ghost lost control of his limbs because of the poison again.]

The pain doesn’t even register in Ghost’s mind anymore. Nothing does, except Johnny’s form, sure-footed as he rushes back to battle, mouth still red.

Johnny is a disaster. An omen of ruin. A harbinger of death.

Simon wants to be destroyed by him.

If only to feel that searing touch once more.

[Reason to cut: Ghost is a little too in love with Soap with the way he’s talking here. Didn’t want that yet.]

[Context: chapter 11, the very end of it, where they realize who could find the Hunter.]

Soap inhales sharply. That’s it!

“Simon.” Dark eyes look up at his urgent tone, “I know how we can get to the Hunter.”

Gone is the softness in his eyes, Ghost turns to face him fully

[Reason to cut: wanted Ghost to come to that conclusion, not Soap. Thought it would be more impactful, if Simon chooses that fate on himself.]

[context: chapter 12, when Ghost and Soap explain to Price and Gaz that the Hunter is responsible for everything that happened in the city, not Ghost.]

“The Hunter?” the name makes Gaz falter, “who-”

Ghost cuts him off, “who do you think is in charge of this militia, Lieutenant?” he says the rank mockingly.

The Lieutenant fires back, “according to our intel, you!”

Soap shakes his head in disbelief, he and Ghost sharing a baffled look, “yer tellin’ me ye never heard of the Hunter?!”

This complicates everything. Ghost himself knew of the Hunter because of his line of work, and he was aware their existence was a closely guarded secret, but for the 141 to not even know of them…

It’s like they popped out of nowhere, a special hell designed for Ghost.

It does clear out one thing. The reason they wanted to pin the massacre of the city on him, leave him poisoned to rot until the 141 catches him. If the SAS believes they took down the militia, the Hunter would be free to do anything they wanted, under the radar.

Cut the head off the snake, it dies. Unless you cut the wrong head.

“You’re telling me”, Price starts, “that we’re after the wrong person?”

Soap sighs, “Ghost may not be a bleedin’ saint, but he’s not the leader of the fuckers shootin’ everyone out there.”

Gaz scoffs, “John, you know I’ll fucking take a bullet for you, but I won’t be able to believe that without some solid proof.”

Price joins him, “even if there is another individual… “The Hunter”, you called him?” he realigns his gun with Ghost, “we still need to take Ghost into custody.”

Soap bodily pushes Ghost behind him, again, “if you want ever want to catch the Hunter, you’ll need him! We’re not gonna-!”

[Reason to cut: Okay, I did a little mistake and completely forgot that Gaz and Price brought up the Hunter by name before, therefore they know of their existence. Had to cut a few pages because of that, as you can see…]

[Context: chapter 12, after Ghost falls because of the poison, still discussing the Hunter.]

Price holds it still, “Laswell said local police reported of a skull-masked man.”

“I haven’t seen a single police officer in the entire city.” Soap says slowly, “fuck- how did we miss that?”

“This city…” Gaz’s brows lift in shock.

Simon grunts, “the Hunter’s soldiers took over before I ever stepped foot here.”

[Reason to cut: didn’t like this explanation, didn’t feel like it made sense to me. The final version uses the informant instead, which ties in with the man Ghost kills for the Hunter in chapter 2, and I like that way better.]

[Context: chapter 13, when Soap and Gaz talk while he’s smoking.]

“John, mate. C’mon.” Kyle places a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to whisper, “tell me, what are you going to do after?”

“After what?”

“After you kill the Hunter. Are you going to leave back for Scotland, never see Ghost again, go back to your civilian life? Or…” Gaz nods towards Simon, “you’re going to stick with him?”

Oh… He didn’t even think about that. ‘After’... Soap swallows around the excitement the second option rises within him, “yer jokin’, right? I don’t- that’s not even a choice. What am I gonna do with Ghost?”

[Reason to cut: didn’t like how I phrased things here, felt like I could do it better.]

[Context: chapter 14, right before the operation to kill the Hunter begins]

It strikes him then, how much he wished they could’ve met on different circumstances. Perhaps if they knew each other before, they could’ve been more.

Perhaps he wouldn’t feel as doomed.

[Reason to cut: just didn’t really like it, it kinda introduces new feelings that I didn’t have time to explore in the last chapter before the epilogue.]

EDIT: I FORGOT TO PUT THE POEM AAA SHIT

Page ?? of the “Blooede Starvatfōre-dēde”, parable ?:

What drives a monster from the woods, the merchant questions,

As evil often lies within the dark, feasting on sin and vice,

What drives a man from his home, the Beast replies,

As he is nothing, when his steps sound alone,

What drives a knight from his kin, the Blind man finishes,

As a vow cannot be fulfilled, when it is voiced to the dead.

[The only reason I didn't put it in is because there wasn't a good point to, sicne I wrote it when the fic was already ending]

And that’s it! Another fic done!!! I had a lot of fun, I think you can tell haha. I also feel like I improved a lot compared to Not Alive, Nor Dead, I love seeing the progress. Thank you, if you read this monster of a post script, and for reading BLOOD||HUNGER.

As a little thanks… I will probably talk about it more later, but I am planning on beginning work on Revenant AU part 2 after I finish my semester. It will involve new villains, new Revenants, new Reapers… I’m excited to be able to return to that universe again!

#BLOOD||HUNGER #not tagging everything bc this is a post script #fellas Ill be honest its like 2 am #if there are any mistakes pls tell me Im very tired and I dont think i got all braincells working rn lmao #edit i did forget. I forgot to put the cut poem. its here now

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c2-eh · 8 months ago

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Oh my god I'm so so sorry eva. It completely slipped my mind. I was going to follow up with what I wanted. I was trying to be dramatic. Girl (gn) I'm terribly sorry. But I was going to ask you to please give me your entire versainz thesis cause oh my god "after the battles comes the reward" was such an amazing fic. I was just going to ask you not to gatekeep your versainz brain and give me all the thoughts you had about them. I'm reading to read essays. The fic was amazing. The personalities were so contrasting to each other and at the end when Charles and max see each inherent and that whole moment was so guckin spectacular. I loved the whole thing. That's all I wanted to ask. Once again really sorry for leaving you hanging like that.

<3<3

i'm so so sorry anon for leaving you hanging like that, but i was not in the right place to answer and i wanted to answer this properly!! also don't apologize so much it's fineee!! :)) i should be the one apologizing because of how long this took 😭

okay so first of all thank you so much, i'm so happy you liked the fic!! <3 i have to put it under "keep reading" because i went kinda insane with it hehe

so my versainz thesis is partly reflected in the fic. i don't think it is appreciated enough how great their relationship is after all these years – even after all the "alleged" bullshit and toxic atmosphere that was going on in toro rosso (the toxic versainz was jos and sr, no one is changing my mind). they were each others' first teammates, they kinda eased into the whole f1 world together – young and eager and trying so so hard to beat each other because that is what you do, no? they tried to prove themselves (especially in the team that would get them to RBR) and still managed to be friends, to respect each other and that stayed with them till today. they both are sons of famous fathers so the expectations and pressure was even worse (from public? NO, from their own fathers) so that is another thing to bond on. why? one understood what the other was going through and he got why the mood was swinging here and there every day, and why the mood depend on if "he" was at the race.

another thing is that i am sure carlos was max' gay awakening (max wasn't carlos' because carlos was dense and way too convinced his dad is the god (iykwim)). they might not have been bestest of friends (they still kept their distance because they did not know having friends in this sport is ok), but you can see by every single of their interactions how much they respect each other. they have very contrasting personalities as well, which is so very compelling to me. as i portrayed it in my fic, max is all "no bullshit guy" when it comes to racing and he is not afraid to be blunt and tell how things are. all while carlos is calmer and more well spoken. if we combine them, it is perfect balance. i see max as the one that is overprotective - when he talked about how carlos felt in vegas 2023? that moment is integrated into my brain forever. on the other hand, carlos is the one that is calm, stands for what's right and protects his loved ones, but does it with more grace and peace. they just fit so well, because they are the definiton of thunder (but not really) vs calm (but also not really) (but for that we would need another convo lmao).

i just think these two are the definition of "right person at the very wrong time" because they understood each other (and still do), but the time was not right – too young, too soon, so much responsibility, distraction and so on... there are SO many things that speak so loudly about these two. like, they are not even "getting back together" trope, but "finding someone you loved again and it is finally a right time". also max is soft – soft and giggly but not many know it, but carlos does. and carlos loves it, which makes max even more soft.

the fact they started together and saw each other win – carlos even was right there (literally next to max, might i add) when max won his first wdc. the hug is so personal to me to this day. they just love each other, thank uuu

i would pay good money to have these two as teammates again to see the relationship and the dynamic and how it shifted now they are older and more experienced <3

so sorry it is so long actually haha, love u anon ! sequel to that versainz fic will come in the summer!

#i feel like i forgot something butttttt it was sitting in my inbox for TOO long :/#eva answers #versainz #carlos sainz jr #max verstappen

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hargrove-mayfields · 2 years ago

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It’s Harringrove Week! Billy’s Birthday Bonanza Edition! @harringroveweek

prompt: Time Rewind (note: this fic is basically a prequel to my other two pieces for Harringrove week! I II)

warnings: lots of discussion of pregnancy in this one, specifically a trans man carrying, so if that makes you uncomfy don’t read

——

In Steve’s lap, there’s a eight month old, and a scrapbook.

Baby Carol is going through her second sleep regression, the poor teary-eyed babe fighting against the tiredness in her body that she can’t beat. Right now she’s chewing on the plush blanket that covers her and Steve as they sit; He allows it only because it came straight out of the dryer to be extra warm on this chilly spring evening, and because he’s taken it out of her mouth about a dozen times already.

He’s been trying to keep her distracted by showing her pictures from his old memory albums, though a lot of the memories are painful to relive, he’s still glad to have them, and to be here now, with his two little girls and another baby on the way.

The walk through his past, a tactic he’s used multiple nights in a row, does good enough distracting her, except for the times when it doesn’t since this little lady is just so unpredictable, but because she’s in an okay mood currently and neither of them are any closer to sleeping, he'll open up another one.

The last two albums have been of his childhood, photos taken by relatives, the school, those kinds of things. This one though, this one is him in his teenaged glory days.

Steve takes baby Carol’s chubby little hand, and guides it to a particular photo, letting her crinkle the protective paper over top. It’s from the house party where his world changed, for what seemed like the worse, and then the better.

In his silly Tom Cruise costume, with his arm around Billy Hargrove in a worse terminator get-up, and a glint in his eye that actually wasn’t from the tears, but from the laughter Billy had gifted him that night.

“This right here, this was the night we met. A long, long time ago.”

The baby prods at the edges of the photo, squeaking out a tiny little giggle. Steve kisses the top of her head, where her striking red hair is starting to grow just a little, “Yeah, he looks funny in his costume, doesn’t he?”

Her response is to put her lips together and blow a spit bubble. Steve isn’t sure what that means, but he nods like he does. He’s learned from parent groups, the kids’ pediatrician, and one extremely helpful nanny Joyce that it’s best to talk to little ones like he can understand every word they try to say.

The next page of the book progresses his life’s storyline, and since Carol is grasping at the heart stickers standing up off of that one, Steve moves on with her.

The first picture is a well-worn Polaroid, that used to be kept in the sun visor of his car.

“It was only a week after that that we went on our first date.” He slips it out of the protective sheet and lets her see, only taking it back when his precious memories almost become a chew toy. Instead of making a big deal of it, he points to the next picture to distract her before the cranky baby can get upset about her current fascination being taken away. “Here. He took me to the diner at 3am for waffles! Who eats breakfast at 3am?”

Another bubbly giggle. Steve kisses her soft little face. She’s so smart already, better at understanding than even he feels he is sometimes. He can tell why this helps her baby brain grow, because she looks at him with all the love and adoration in those precious, light colored eyes as can fit in the whole wide world.

Just like Steve’s heart. And his heart for his past too.

He sighs a little bit, “They had the best food there. We moved away though because I wanted to see his hometown. The beaches and the boardwalks. See how it’s so sunny?”

For that part, he has to skip ahead a few pages, past first kisses and first holidays.

First days in the hospital.

It’s supposed to be good to talk to his little girl, but now Steve doesn’t think he can relive certain moments without crying. That can wait until she’s finally put down for her much needed sleep.

Instead, he just moves on. To some photos from his first trip back to Indiana, to reunite with his friends and family back there. Gas is too expensive to make it too much of a commonality to head home, but he tries when he can. Since Carol was born he hasn’t made a trip down, though he really should. Dustin at least deserves to meet his new niece.

From that trip, he finds one of his favorite photos he has.

Nobody knew it yet, but Carol's older sister was on the way when it was taken.

“But see? Even though we’re smiling, the backgrounds in Hawkins are all dark and dreary. And it rained all over us that day!”

A couple of pages later, on top of the picture of him with a cold from getting wet, there’d be pages upon pages of snapshots from the moment the pregnancy was announced, to the baby shower, to the day little Chrissy was born.

Steve catches an accidental quiver in his voice when he reflects on the photo on this page though. Stuck in the past.

The one of him kissing Billy Hargrove during a Hawkins thunderstorm.

“He always hated the rain. Did you see his silly hair? I always teased that he looked like a little poodle dog when it got frizzy like that.”

A tear runs down his cheek. Baby Carol is none the wiser of what that means, as she looks up at him, probably to see why he got quiet, when his voice was supposed to be putting her to sleep.

“He was the most gorgeous boy I’d ever seen.”

The photobook isn’t over, but he can’t take anymore. Blame first trimester emotions or something else, he shuts it, and a tear drops on the hard cover.

“Sometimes I miss those days.”

Steve composes himself, enough to wipe his tears away on his shirt sleeve, and readjust so he can set the book down on the floor and hold his baby closer to his chest. His heart is warmed when she snuggles right up to him and almost closes her eyes, finally trying again to get some sleep.

He whispers to her, “But I’m happier now that you’re here, baby girl.”

Then the nursery door opens up, softly so it doesn’t disturb the baby as she nods off slowly, and Steve instantly feels the rain clouds part.

It’s Billy, returning from getting their older daughter back to sleep after the high wailing from Carol woke her up. He asks softly, barely audible to accommodate the need for silence, “You two sweeties gossiping ‘bout me in here?”

Steve looks up at his fiancé, a loving smile adorned on his face, “A little bit.”

Kneeling in front of the chair, Billy kisses his little girl's head, finally getting her to close her eyes fully, and eventually sleep. Watching her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the pink flush of her pale face, Billy’s eyes shine and glimmer like he's meeting her for the first time all over again.

He jokes quietly, maybe to cover for the fact that they’ve both been tearing up, Steve about the photo book and Billy just from seeing his baby girl, “I bet she said she loved me, and that I’m super awesome.”

“I think she actually said- I’m the super best, but she does love both of us.” Steve corrects playfully, after being with Billy for years now, getting good at his teasing games.

It earns a little chuckle out of Billy, that makes baby Carol roll towards him, just a little bit, though her journey into sleep is undisturbed. That softens Billy up right to his core, and has him letting Steve win before their jokes even really started, too busy watching this little human they created in fascination, “Hm. I guess that works.”

Eventually, the chair starts being uncomfortable on Steve’s back, and Billy doesn’t feel great either on the floor anymore, so they carry Carol to her actual bassinet where she’s supposed to sleep, their breaths caught together as they see if being disconnected from her papa will wake her. But she doesn’t stir one bit, so they turn the baby monitor on and leave to their own room, where their older daughter is sleeping until they can finish turning the empty office space down the hall into an appropriate bedroom for their Chrissy, and for Carol too when they nursery has another little resident in six more months.

They crawl into bed, each on their own side because being in his third month of pregnancy with their third child means Steve is basically guaranteed to get up at least once in the night to get sick, or use the toilet, or something random his body decides it needs. Still, Billy reaches over and tucks some of Steve’s messy, needs-trimmed hair behind his ear.

It reminds Steve of something he wanted to say earlier, when they expressed their adoration for their baby but not one another. He declares in a voice that is both passionate and gentle, “Love you too by the way.”

Billy is sleepy, or more like exhausted after a long night trying to get the babies down for bed. That means he doesn’t respond with his words, knowing they’d probably come out in some unintelligible slurring, but rather, just scoots a tiny bit closer so he can extend his next and kiss Steve softly, to wordlessly reiterate his feelings too.

Steve knows that even if it meant getting to go back in time and relive those happy memories he’d reflected on, he would never ever trade this contentment away. Not for any price.

#harringroveweek #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #transmasc steve harrington #tw pregnancy #my writing #ej writer

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promisinininining · 1 year ago

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post project rambling

blood spills over is finished!

The whole thing has been planned from the beginning, but the exact scope of it kept creeping and creeping until it went form something I thought I could finish in around 5k words, to 10k, to 20k, at which point I gave up trying to estimate the length it would end up at. The last part (five of pentacles, reversed) ended up being longer than the previous parts added together, sitting at 26 out of 47k. Oops! That's longer than the previous longest fic I'd written on its own! It was only supposed to be a little thing to tide us over until the final part but ,,. uh, well, I got carried away a little. I had only written parts 1 and 2 before I started posting, and at that point I thought I was mostly done, so I thought it was safe to do so. (As an addendum, I did start posting because of my cute little stalker digging up my old accounts and sending abuse to those inboxes, where I hadn't closed anon off yet, so it was a bit of a spite fuelled adventure at the beginning.) I don't normally like to post things before they're finished because quite frankly I didn't trust myself to actually finish it, but I guess because I had a clear ending in mind, I was able to get there eventually.

I am not used to being in such a big fandom, so the support has been a completely new experience, and it's honestly been a little overwhelming (in the best way possible). I have been on the struggle bus these past few monoths with moving to a new house and a ton of unexpected bills on top of it, and I don't think I would have been able to get to this point without my friends and reviewers. I've met so many wonderful people, and it's been fun being in a fandom that isn't just me and my best buds.

About the story itself, there were a few deleted scenes that I wished I could put in, but ultimately decided against. Goro was initially going to physically meet Rumi, for one, but it didn't quite fit, and it felt like it was distracting from the main story too much, which was ultimately Goro finding something to live for. There was definitely not enough time for him to learn to love himself in just the short space of time where the third semester took place, but he has the rest of his life to learn how to, surrounded by people who are willing to show him by loving him back.

Sumire's relationship with Goro is also one that I really wanted to play with, especially as two extremely cynical people who don't really interact in canon. I feel like it's easy to just see Sumi as someone who's peppy and a little airheaded, but she's also extremely depressed, and put her entire existence on fulfilling her sister's wish, much like Goro's existence is based on killing Shido. I think they would understand each other intrinsically on a level that is very fun to explore, beyond "well we both love pego". Also, Atlus what the heck did you do with her. Give her to me. Let me sort it. I didn't think it helped her character any by being kidnapped for a week then beaten up and suddenly being like "wow you're right I can live as myself now". She needed to find that inner strength herself, with a little nudge from Goro who recognises the same pain. Of course, Goro's solution was "kill the person responsible" and Sumire can't reaaally do that with a hit and run, but she has a better support system than Goro and can learn to channel that more productively. If it's gymnastics, or something else entirely, I don't know.

I don't want to go too deep into the details with futaba and haru because this is already getting QUITE LONG, and I'm certain that there are only going to be a few people who have read this far, and those people already know how I feel about their relationship. I mean I was pretty clear in the fic itself, it's one of the less subtle things, I think; Futaba is the youngest, and she's extremely traumatised, and people have been enabling her bad behaviour by indulging it. It's 'helpful' rather than invasive, and okay, it saved Akira's life... but I do think there was definitely a better way to do it than bugging his phone. (Actually, another thing I didn't get to touch on is how the Thieves blatantly used Goro for their own plan regarding the interrogation room rather than attempting to understand him or his motives, perfectly fine with manipulating him back to thinking he's manipulating them, and how much that would fuck up someone who already has a complex about being used... but that's for another day and another fic, I think).

Finally, Maruki: this man is fucked up. I know it's easy to see him as sympathetic when he has the best intentions, and wants to 'help' people, but intentions don't matter when it comes to hurt and abuse. You can intend to be a perfectly kind person and still abuse your power over them. Don't get me wrong, I love him dearly, he's such a fucked up little skrungley boy, but he's definitely not the wet cat that he looks like at first glance. He's a researcher, forward in his field of cognitive pscience to the point where he awakened his own powers by himself, and has been shamelessly abusing his position as a therapist to get more information for his own gain (which, I emphasise, is to control the lives of everyone ever so that nobody suffers again) from the main cast.

Anyway, before I sign off, I will put out there that I have been thinking about Strikers, But With Baby Rei On Board. It's been spinning in my head since I finished. it's not going to happen (I refuse to do an entire game rewrite--just the third semester was an entire Thing, and I hate rehashing canon scenes), but hopefully you can glean some fun and entertaining thoughts about it. If you do, let me know! or don't.

A'ight, that's it from me. Thank you for reading. It's been... well, not long, but I feel like my writing is a little dense and requires some re-reads to fully experience it, so it FEELS longer than it is. Either way, I am kissing gently every single one of you who have made it this far down my massive ramble. Thank you, truly.

MIS

#the content creator is gurgling again #mis-types #comments welcome

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thedeliverygod · 2 years ago

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Merry Christmas to @asin-ka! It was I, your secret santa—your own personal delivery god. I wrote a kind of established relationship yatori fun in the snow fluff fic for the @noragamisecretsanta event. Enjoy!

PURE SNOW

“C’mon, Hiyori. It’s a record-breaking snowfall! You don’t even have an excuse; your classes were cancelled today. I saw it online.” Yato leaned over her desk, his arms lightly resting over her notes and book while he used his face to block her view with a grin.

Unamused, Hiyori slipped her book out from underneath him and used swivel function of her chair to turn around and kept reading. “I do have an excuse. Even if there aren’t classes today, my mid-terms are coming up and I need to study. Why don’t you play outside with Yukine-kun?”

“Because I want to do it with you. Not to mention Yukine is helping Daikoku shovel around the shop.” He draped himself over the back of her chair.

She looked up from her book, commenting, “Sounds like something you should be helping with.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get an earful from Daikoku later, I’m sure. But Hiyori, when are we gonna get a chance like this again?” He leaned down even further so that his forehead touched hers, begging, “Pleeeeaaaaseee?”

She stared back into his eyes for a moment before letting out a sigh and relenting, “I guess a small break won’t hurt.”

“Yes!” He cheered gleefully before pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. Leaving Hiyori in a surprised and flushed state, he dashed towards her foyer to grab her winter attire. Tossing her coat, scarf, and gloves onto the bed, he waved her forward, “Let’s get you dressed!”

After she stood up, she was immediately gathered into a whirlwind of clothes as he wrapped her up into layers. “Alright, alright. I think I’m dressed for Antarctica now.” Looking over Yato’s usual tracksuit, she tilted her head and asked, “What about you?”

“Oh, I don’t need much.” He waved her off, “But I’ll borrow a scarf and some gloves if you don’t mind.”

“Take whatever you need.” Hiyori answered automatically, asking again, “Are you sure that’s enough?”

As he wrapped a scarf around his neck, he raised an eyebrow, “If it’s such a small break you’re taking, it should be fine, right?”

Letting out a huff of air, she agreed, “Right. Let’s go outside, it’s too hot in here with all of these clothes on.” As soon as she had opened her door, he rushed out and down the stairs of her apartment building.

“Snowman first?” He suggested loudly as he passed her.

Giving another sigh but smiling, she answered, “Sure.”

“I’ll do the bigger piece for the bottom.” He announced, already rolling snow together as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

Hiyori nodded in agreement, “Okay, sounds good.”

A few minutes later, Yato’s voice rang out, “What’s taking so long? I’m going to make snow bunnies while I wait for your half.”

She scoffed in annoyance, “Unlike someone, I’m only human.”

“Right, right.” He answered, but she noticed he didn’t even look up as he got distracted with his new project.

After a few more minutes, Hiyori clapped her hands together loudly, “Done!” She looked up and noticed an entire swarm of snow bunnies. “So many…” She mumbled to herself.

He quickly reappeared by her side, answering with a smirk, “Well, you know the phrase multiply like rabbits.”

With flushed cheeks, she stammered back, “You don’t have to make the snow bunnies biologically accurate!”

“Had to burn time while you finished up.” He shrugged before bending down towards Hiyori’s smaller snowball, “Can you hold the bigger one in place while I put this one on top?”

“Sure.” She took the few steps in the other direction and bent down to anchor herself to the giant snowball.

Making a few low noises, Yato carried the slightly smaller mound of snow and gently placed it atop the other before pushing it down to meld them together. “Alright, let’s take a look!” He took a step back and Hiyori joined him at his side.

“Good job, it’s not crooked at all.” She hummed, impressed.

He scoffed, “Of course not, I’m not an amateur.”

“Um, okay.” She laughed, not knowing what to say in response, “I didn’t know it was that serious.”

“Gotta make it look the absolute best for Santa, duh.” He answered as if that were obvious before bending down to pick up some sticks, “Time to decorate!”

With a soft smile, Hiyori took some from him and nodded, “Okay.” Once again, by the time she had added arms on either side, Yato had already finished the intricate details of the face. Her mouth opened in a gape, “Wow, it looks really great!”

A hand on one of his hips, he gave her a doubting look, “You’re not joking?”

She shook her head rapidly, “Not at all!” After a moment of digging, she pulled out her phone and held it out, “In fact, do you mind if I post it?”

At that, Yato beamed with pride. “I’d love that!”

Once she had completed her own photo shoot with the snowman and a few of the snow bunnies, she noticed him seemingly half-heartedly taking pictures with his own phone. As she approached him to ask him what was wrong, she noticed him shivering. “Um, Yato. How about we go back inside and warm up for a bit?”

“Why, you cold?” He looked up with a teasing smile.

Truthfully, she was fine. But he seemed to be seconds away from his teeth chattering, so she fibbed for his benefit. “Y-yeah, a little bit. So lets just go sit under the kotatsu for a bit. Oh, and I’ll make some hot cocoa.” She turned towards the apartment building and he eagerly followed her.

“Mmm, okay!”

Immediately ditching her layers of clothing, she waved towards the living room, “You go ahead and get warm.”

“Weren’t you the one that was cold?” He tilted his head in confusion as he unwrapped his scarf.

Flushed, she quickly answered, “I just meant you go ahead and get under the kotatsu first. The cocoa will only take a minute. Carrying it to the table will help warm my hands up.”

He looked her over suspiciously for a moment before he gave in and slipped under the kotatsu blanket without argument.

Alongside the cocoa, Hiyori grabbed a cookie tin and placed it on the tray. With a bright smile, she carried it into the living room and announced, “I had some cookies too, so enjoy.”

“Thank you.” He smiled before patting the spot next to him, “Come here.”

She slid the tray to the center of the table before moving next to him and sitting down. Immediately, she was collected into his arms. “W-what?” She blushed in surprise.

He let go of her briefly to pull the kotatsu blanket over her legs, “I know I have a habit of overdoing it with… well, pretty much everything. So thank you for looking out for me—even though you know I’m a god and I won’t actually die or get frost bite.”

“But you do get sick.” Hiyori huffed back, “Even if it’s really mild and only for a day… You should still take care of yourself.”

Yato chuckled and snuggled himself against her neck, “I will, I will.”

“Promise?” Hiyori asked quietly.

He kissed the crook between her neck and jawline, “Promise.”

#yatori #noragami #noragami secret santa #my writing

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years ago

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You and I - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry comes over to fix your computer

Warnings: reader is a henry fan, pandemic theme, lockdown and quarentine-ing, little bit of second-hand embarrassment?, heatwave, henry is feeling deprived in this one, oral sex (f), masturbation (f), dirty talk, brief hairpulling, the name of God in vain, Henry’s monster dick, laughing and teasing while fucking, hand over throat but no actual choking, orgasm control, p in v, unprotected sex

Word count: over 3k, ‘cause I got no chill

A/N: this was inspired by a tik tok someone requested me to write a fic about it. Obviously I took it in a different direction because can I ever follow guidelines? No. I do love this fic, though. Thank you to @lokiscollar for giving this a read for me!

Y/N’s P.O.V

Driving to a secluded location to spend lockdown in felt like a wonderful idea. There was a working wi-fi connection, so I could work remotely from the seashore cabin without any problem whatsoever, and the view was obviously to die for.

I did not expect someone else to have the same idea as me. The cabin next door had been occupied on the same day that I arrived, and much to my surprise, I recognized my new neighbor as someone I never expected I’d come to meet in my entire life: an actor. An actor I actually had a crush on.

Thankfully, the situation didn’t exactly call for mingling. I ran off to hide inside my cottage as soon as I realized who he was, occupying myself with fixing everything for the next day instead of daydreaming about the man next-door.

There would be time for that later, once I got in bed. But weirdly enough, that was the only time I really thought about him during those first weeks of quarantine. Every once in a while I’d get the random wave of curiosity about what he was doing - what did Henry Cavill get up to while spending lockdown by himself? But that was pretty much it.

I woke up every day, had breakfast, worked and then went to bed. Sometimes I’d sit by the balcony and watch the birds fly, taking in the scenery and breathing in the salty water. Even as a kid, I’d always loved the sea. It was comforting, so it made sense for me to turn to it in such a stressful time.

Sometimes I’d hear a bark or two, reminding me of the man who was staying in the other cabin, and it made me smile. I always did like his dog, whenever I saw pictures of him.

I hoped they were alright and that the absence of any human contact wasn’t getting to them, even though it was getting to me. I could feel my own social abilities - which weren’t exactly stellar before - slowly becoming decrepit, and I was scared to think of what my first human interaction would be like once lockdown was over.

I just hadn’t anticipated it would be come so soon.

The morning began as it usually would. I took my shower, I had my breakfast, and I sat in front of the computer with my coffee in hands, ready to start working for the day.

Only the computer wasn’t ready for it, too.

“What?” I talked to myself - something that had become more usual the longer lockdown went on. “Oh, no, no, no…” The situation was looking drearier the longer I stared at my lifeless screen.

Looking up at the clock, I considered my options. Even supposing I could get someone to come to this middle of nowhere to fix it, there was no way I’d be able to get it done before work started.

Sighing, I pushed away from my designated desk to call my boss. Thankfully, he understood and I was left to repair the damn thing and come up with a solution for the next day.

My heart ached at the prospect of having to abandon my refuge because of an electronic malfunction. And that is, if there even was anyone willing to fix the damn thing, considering the pandemic and the rules of social distancing. That’s when suddenly, an idea popped up.

I remembered all the fuss a few months back over a video of Henry assembling a computer all by himself. There was no way someone with that much hardware prowess couldn’t at least know enough to fix this simple laptop.

With that thought in mind, I gathered all of my courage to leave my little shack and make my way to the neighboring cabin. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, and after a few seconds of silence - he was probably surprised and certainly not expecting anyone - a voice sounded from within.

“Who is it?” Now, I had thought this through. If this man came as far as I had come to this damn forgotten town, it was because 1) he wanted peace and quiet and 2) he was as terrified of the virus as I was. So I knew what I needed to say - what I would like to hear if the roles were reversed.

“It’s your neighbor. My name’s Y/N. I’m so sorry to disturb, but my computer broke and I need it to work and you’re the only person I’m 100% sure has been socially distancing for long enough not to put my life in risk.” After all, I would have seen if someone had come to visit him. I didn’t need to say this because both of us knew it. “Would you pretty pretty please come and check it out?”

Silence followed my question and I sighed, rubbing my sweaty forehead as I knew this was a long-shot. “I understand if you’re unable or uncomfortable doing so, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks anyway!”

I had already turned my back to his front door when I heard it swinging open, the pitter patter of paws following close behind. My eyes took in the man in front of me for only a second before looking down at the dog at his feet, head tilted in interest as he analyzed me.

Immediately, my eyes lit up. “Kal!” I exclaimed, kneeling down to let the animal sniff me so I could pet it. My heart stopped working for a second when I realized what I’d done, though.

“Sorry!” I looked up at him from my kneeling position, trying to ignore how awkward it was, considering what I was close to. “I-I do know who you are, I’m not gonna lie about that.”

I straightened up as he kept looking at me in a way I couldn’t quite define. Neither could I determine how it made me feel, just that it made me avert my gaze so I’d stare at my feet.

“So… Are you gonna help me?” He chuckled at my question, closing the door behind him and taking a step in my direction, making me fumble as I instinctively stepped back.

“Sure.” It was the first thing he spoke to me, but we walked back to my own place in silence. He had his hands in his pockets as Kal followed us closely, his tongue hanging outside his mouth as he happily explored the outside for this little while. “Come on in.”

The way the cottage was set up left little space for him to wonder where he should be helping me. The desk in which I had prepared my set-up stood right by the wall to our left, and there he went without me having to point it out.

I watched a drop of sweat roll down the nape of his neck and fall under his tank top, distracting me as I licked my lips at the sight of it. Then his head turned to look at me and I realized that he was waiting for an answer to a question I hadn’t heard.

“Yeah, huh?” He chuckled again, making my face feel warm - an not (only) because of the overwhelming heat.

“Is it okay if I disconnect the wi-fi?” I wave my hand dismissively, shrugging.

“As long as you’re able to fix this, you can do whatever the hell you want.” I got the impression that I amused him, but he didn’t say anything else as he got to work on my (seemingly) dead computer.

Minutes went by of complete silence, safe from the sounds of typing and metal as Henry worked on the machine and I tried not to bite my nails. Finally, he pulled away from the screen and put his hands on his hips as if assuming some sort of decided stance - but if it was a good or bad thing, I couldn’t tell.

“Tell me, doctor.” I asked, pushing myself away from the sofa to approach him. The smell of a man’s sweat really had no right to be this arousing. “Is it life or death?” Henry turned to stare at me with a quirked eyebrow, and in the seconds it took for him to answer, I was once again distracted by just how hot he was.

“Sorry, what?” I asked when he became silent and I realized he’d asked me something I hadn’t heard once more. His smile said he was annoyed and entertained at the same time. “Sorry, you’re hot, it’s hot, and I can’t think straight,” I sighed, brushing the hair away from my eyes as I pressed my palms against them, trying to pull myself together.

“I swear to God, I’m not crazy.” I tried to look him directly as I said that, but was surprised at what I saw when our gazes met. There was a peculiar sense of yearning that he exuded, something I couldn’t quite place but that took my breath away all the same, especially when he took my silence as an invitation to invade my personal space.

“If you want me so badly, all you have to do is ask.” Silence fell heavily and I was out of breath just from his words - not a good sign. My throat felt dry, too dry, so I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip as I struggled to say something.

“W-why, though?” He tilted his head to the side, eyes inscrutable while he judged my question, trying to understand where it came from just like I was trying to understand his interest in me, when he suddenly smiled.

“I figured it’s a nice way for you to pay me back.” It took me a second to understand what he was referring to, and then my eyes darted from the computer to him, my mouth falling open in offense until he started chuckling. “I’m joking!” But even so, the question remained…

“Sweetheart…” He spoke, voice low and velvety as two strong hands suddenly enveloped my hips. “You’re seriously underestimating how hot you are.” I didn’t know what to say, so I had to make sure I’d hear him right.

“M-me?” A predatory smirk took over his face, slowly. I gulped under its intensity, feeling much like prey as he started to back me against the couch. I fell on top of it with a gasp, and another one escaped me when he used my ankles to pull me closer.

“I wanna eat you out.” It was all I got as an answer, but I can’t say that I minded it. As he dropped to his knees before me, pulling down my underwear before spreading my legs for his eyes to take in, it felt like I got a response from the gesture in itself.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I ate pussy?” The unexpected question made me choke on my own saliva, as he chuckled darkly in amusement at my bashfulness. I could only breathe through my mouth when he leaned down to run his tongue on the edge of my lips, slowly acquainting himself with my taste, making me moan softly.

“I-I definitely and decidedly don’t.” He seemed to like this answer, understand that it delimited exactly the type of fan that I was: the kind that knew what he was and what he liked - his dog, his computer - but not someone who was obsessed with his entire dating history, eager to know his every secret.

The longer Henry ate me out, the clearer it became just how long it’d been since he’d done this. It was obviously something he liked - the way he buried his face against my cunt and engulfed it entirely with his open mouth showed so. And the fact that he licked me and sucked me like he was a starved man? This was a man denied of a pleasure he genuinely enjoyed, that much I was certain of.

“Do you like this?” He asked once he inserted one of his thick fingers inside of me, already stretching me beyond what I could do with my own hand.

“How could I not?” I managed to moan a response, making him chuckle.

“Show me how to find it,” he instructed, eyes sparkling with determination. “I want to find your sweet spot.” I’d never had someone I was with so interested in giving me pleasure before.

Hypnotized, my fingers circled his wrist as best as I could, slowly moving him to run his digits over the top of my channel. He knew when he found it because I cried out for him, closing my eyes momentarily.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, and how could I deny him that, especially when he was looking at me with those darkened eyes? He milked my orgasm until my pussy had stopped clenching around him, but the second that it was done, he growled, getting up to his knees. “Gonna fuck you now.”

He pulled me by my hair, making me moan out loud as he slowly inserted his monster cock inside of me. “Oh, God!” His groan had me panting, cunt clenching around his thickness. I couldn’t understand how I was able to take it, but I was glad that was the case. “So… tight…”

Through his grip on my hair, he pulled me to deposit quick kisses down my jaw. “You take me so well, darling.” It was a compliment I was proud to receive, even though I wasn’t too sure how I managed to earn it in the first place.

“I honestly don’t know how,” I admitted, gasping when he slowly dragged his cock out to slam it in me, but I instinctively pulled my hips away, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Come back here,” he ordered, already pulling me back to spear me with his painfully hard length. I’d have to be inhuman not to cry out at the feeling of his bulbous head bumping against my cervix. “Are you scared?” He joked as I bit on my bottom lip not to give in and laugh. “You think I’m too big?”

“You’re more than enough, I’ll tell you that.” Now, that had his own laugh escaping his chest, making my body tremble underneath his, inadvertently getting some friction between the both of us. It earned me a moaned out, “Yes…” that got his attention back to where I hoped it would be, and as his eyes settled on me, I briefly wondered if I was prepared for what was to come.

“But now that you got all of me inside of you, do you really want to go?” The whispered question made me shiver. I never expected him to be the type to talk dirty, but then again, I never expected I’d be fucked by him, either.

“No.” It was all the permission he needed.

“Then let me fuck you hard.” And hard he did fuck me. He was hard inside of me, it probably would have been painful for him if he wasn’t so desperately trying to alleviate it by frantically fucking me against the couch.

It was the most deliciously torturous experience I’d ever gone through. I had to bite my lip while I held onto his shoulders for dear life, trying to stop my moans from escaping because I was sure that for once, I’d become a screamer.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Henry didn’t appreciate my efforts to keep his ears from deafening. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, fingers tightening on my hips. “I thought you wanted this.”

Confused, all I could think to say was, “I-I do.”

“Then let me hear you,” he insisted. “You know you can scream all you want. We’re all alone up here on the coast.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. And with that reassurance, I allowed my head to fall back and my mouth to fall open, my moans flowing freely from my body as Henry kept fucking me.

“This is so much better than touching myself in search of a release,” he mumbled at some point, like he was talking to himself. “I was so damn lonely and you have such a tight little pussy.”

Being fucked by him felt like a religious experience. Henry somehow knew the map to my pleasure, easily bringing me to the brink of bliss before I had even managed to wrap my head around this turn of events.

My moans grew louder as I climbed higher and higher, but before I could fully tip over his hand curled around my throat, not constricting any air, just calling my attention.

“Ask for permission, baby.” Just the order had me clenching around him, prompting him to release a moan of his own. All the while, I was groaning in frustration, trying to control myself or say what he wanted me to say, but all that came out of me was, “Goddamn! You can’t say stuff like that.” Henry’s laughter flowed freely once more, making my heart skip a beat. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a fucking movie star and I am not up to fall in love with you.” That had his eyebrows raising in surprise, the smile disappearing from his face before it came back as a teasing smirk.

“Oh, so this is a one-time thing.” The taunting manner in which he said it surprised me in turn, so I hesitated before nodding. I mean, of course it was, right? He didn’t even know me. This was strictly sexual and physical, I would not be fooled by my own hormones. “My cock is not enough for you to want to get to know me some is that it?” … Was he testing me?

“Yes.” His smirk only grew at the word. “This is a one-time thing.”

“We’ll see about that.” His fingers ran down my body to graze over my clit. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep it in, knowing I was going to lose. Eventually, as my thighs began to tremble, I gave in altogether.

“Please, let me cum, please.” His eyes softened at my broken and desperate plea, hand gripping my cheeks as he finally nodded.

“Keep staring at me as you cum,” he commanded, still just as bossy. “Show me how pretty you look when you cream all over my dick.” That was all I needed to succumb to the pleasure he was subjecting me to.

I felt his cock, still hard as it pumped rope after rope of cum inside of me, and by the time I was able to open my eyes again, he was panting over me, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my face.

I didn’t have the time to think about what I should do - push him away, try to pretend this didn’t happen - because the second I began to adjust on the couch, he pulled me to rest against his chest.

“Let’s stay here for a little while,” he quietly asked me. “Then we’ll figure out if there’s enough room for me to take you in your bed.”

#my fics #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #smut #henry cavill request #henry cavill requests #my requests #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill reader #henry cavill reader insert #henry cavill reader inserts #rpf #fanfiction #henry cavill oneshot

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

What’s yours is mine 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape, allusions to abuse, stalking, possessiveness, pregnancy, and more tags to be added.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: dark!Ransom Drysdale x pregnant!Reader

Summary: After five years, your past is far behind you but just as you think you can live your happily ever after, your ex shows up at the worst moment.

Note: I couldn’t sleep and ended up writing this and it will not be a long ongoing series but it will be a few parts. But Roo you say that all the time. Yes, well, I’m trying and I’m sorry but I’m gonna try to not be the worst.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“Oh my god, is that really you?” the voice made you stand stalk straight.

You took a breath and forced a smile before you turned to the indomitable woman. You never expected to see Linda again, not after you broke up with her son almost five years ago. And there she was, as rigid and righteous as ever, her thin lips curved in a mocking grin.

“Linda,” you greeted her in a singsong and looked around the grocery store. You never went to the overpriced organic market but your local shop didn’t have dragonfruit and you had a painful craving, “how are you?”

“Darling, I’m just great,” she held an empty basket on her arm, an odd sight as you never expected her to do her own shopping, “oh, and look at you!” Before you knew it, her hand was on your stomach and you struggled not shy away, “how far are you?”

“Um,” you looked down at the large ring on her finger and resisted the urge to step away as you often did in this situation, “almost five months.”

“And married?” she grabbed your left hand and pretended to admire the small teardrop diamond, “gorgeous.”

“Mhmm,” you waited for you to release you and swayed in place, “you barely look a day older than the last time I saw you.”

“You’re well? You look well,” she primped her short hair at the compliment, “oh, a baby.” She reached out again and you sighed as she rubbed your stomach, “for luck.”

You tried not to frown and ended up laughing at the tension, “well, it was nice running into you.”

“Oh, you know, I barely come down here but we’re headed up to my father’s place, you remember, such a cozy house, and Joni is in charge of food and well, I wouldn’t trust her with a plastic spoon so of course, I have a back up plan.”

You nodded along with her awkwardly, frozen in the spot as the dragon fruit barely seemed worth the torture. Linda was hard to please and alway derisive, but for as long as you were with Ransom, she had taken a keen shine to you. That alone came with an edge but it was rarely used to cut you.

You forced another laugh, “that sounds fun, getting away from the city.”

“Ugh, just another family gathering,” she waved it off with her free hand, “I’ll have to tell Ransom I ran into you, if he even shows up.”

“Well, I don’t think--”

“He’s grown up so much,” she interrupted, “you wouldn’t believe it. He got his own imprint in my father’s company publishing true crime. He’s really making a place for himself now.”

“That’s great,” you tried not to falter at the mention of her son. You hadn’t ended on the greatest terms and your relationship had been tumultuous and regrettable.

“I hope you have a great weekend, Linda,” you said, “but I got to--”

“Oh, not at all, I’m keeping you,” she squeezed your arm, “God, he was such an idiot to let you go.”

You nodded and swallowed through your tight throat, “I’m glad he’s doing better for himself.”

“You too,” she trilled, “oh, before I let you go, darling, is it a boy?”

You blinked and your smile wavered, “how did you know?”

“I could always tell,” she said, “so precious.”

She gave your stomach one last pat and disappeared into the produce section. You blinked as you looked down at the scaled fruit in your right hand. Chocolate, you needed chocolate.

You were rattled as you waited in the express line and put your things on the belt. You hadn’t thought of Ransom in a very long time. Not much. His shadow followed you around in those moments when your heart raced and your head spun, but you had learned to work through those fits. No one else knew what happened behind closed doors, they only knew Ransom, not Hugh.

You paid and shoved your fruit and candy into a paper bag. You headed out into the misty spring air. The rain had finally stopped and left the streets slick and shining. The sun was hazy as it clung to the last of the clouds and you inhaled the wet scent of grass and gravel.

You let your key hang from the ignition as you took a moment to gather yourself. You stared at the modest ring on your finger and held your stomach and you swore you could still feel Linda’s bony hand there.

You had a loving husband, Dez, and a son on the way. Ransom wasn’t a part of any of that and this was just a blip on radar, the aftershock of the storm that ended years before. You sniffed and turned the engine. You wouldn’t go back to that store, it was far too expensive and the clientele were certainly not of your ilk.

🍼

Dez was in the kitchen when you got home, the smell of steak and peppers rose from the frying pan. You kissed his cheek as he kept one hand on the spatula and you dropped your bag on the counter beside the stove. You went to the fridge and poured yourself a glass of water. You turned and leaned against the marble and drank deeply.

“So, hon, how was your day?” he asked as he put the spatula down and peeked in the bag, “hmm, odd pairing but I don’t hate it.”

“I had a craving,” you shrugged, “it was… okay,” you heaved, “what’s for dinner?”

“Steak fajitas,” he said, “I trimmed the fat for you and,” he turned and reached out to you, “and I got you some champagne… non-alcoholic, obviously.”

“You know it doesn’t have the same effects,” you kidded as you put your glass down and settled into his arms, “and well,” you looked down at your stomach, “we already got one drunken night growing.”

He laughed and bent to kiss you on the lips. He rocked you as the pan sizzled behind him. You closed your eyes and tensed as suddenly your head flashed with the memory of Ransom, of the way he’d kiss you, harder than Dez, and the way it always turned to more whether you wanted it or not.

“Hey,” Dez pulled back, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, “hormones.”

“Aw, hon, well I have the perfect dessert planned,” he purred.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, strawberry massage oil,” he framed your face with his hand, “a nice long back rub…”

“Perfect,” you giggled, “why are you spoiling me?”

“Don’t I always?” he smirked.

“Hmm, rarely without reason,” you said.

“Well…” he voice trailed off and slowly he dropped his arms. He turned his back to you and grabbed the pan, stirring the contents with a shake, “I didn’t want you to miss me too bad.”

“Miss you?” you came forward and bent your arms over the counter, “where are you going?”

“Chicago, there’s some evidence down there we need to look at and they refuse to transfer it to our office so… bullshit confidentiality clause, but we need it.”

“How long?” your heart dropped.

“Well, I gotta leave in the morning but I told Gary I won’t stay longer than Monday.”

“And what did he say?”

“He laughed,” Dez shook his head, “I promise, I’ll do my best to be back as soon as I can--”

“No, I understand,” you said gloomily, “it’s just…” you cupped your chin and tapped your lips with your fingertips, “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said as he turned the burner off, “and this little guy,” he touched your stomach and you shivered as you remembered how Linda had done the same with her cold palm, “so, you choose a name yet?”

“Still not naming him Superman, babe,” you chided, “but no, I can’t make up my mind. God, it’s like my mind is in shambles, I can’t remember why I go in a room or even focus on one thing for more than two minutes before I’m distracted by what colour I want to paint the nursery and I can’t even decide on that because then I’m thinking about what kind of wood the crib should be--”

“It’s fine, you’re fine,” he assured as he opened the bag of tortillas, “you’re still there, you’re just… sharing a brain right now.”

“Wasn’t enough to go around in the first place,” you scoffed.

“Shh,” he arranged the plates carefully, like a five star restaurant, tortillas stacked, steak and veg together, a little dish of cheese, some sour cream, lettuce, salsa, all divvied out in a spectacular salsa you would only make a mess of.

“I thought the pregnancy would give me a chance to finish my book, but--”

“Well, you got maternity leave after that,” he said.

“From what? Sitting at my keyboard and crying? I’ll just be holding a baby and crying,” you sighed, “you said you’d take some time off.”

“I did say that and I will,” he grabbed the plates and nodded you out of the kitchen. He set the plates on the table and you sat as he went to grab two glasses and as many bottles. He poured you your spineless champagne and had a beer for himself, “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You can’t take forever off,” you muttered, “we both know that. I could go back to copywriting and maybe--”

“Babe, that job made you miserable and you will finish your book,” he handed you a napkin, “I’ve read your stuff, it’s… you said your ex was in publishing?”

“Did I?”

“I thought you did, you never really… talk about the exes, which I love but, I think you said something about it. You don’t think he would--”

“No,” you snapped, “no,” you said softer, “he wouldn’t.”

“Sorry,” he said startled by your reaction, “I didn’t--”

“It’s nothing, I just-- exes, right?”

“It was a stupid suggestion,” he said, “I’m sorry, but… I have a client, he might have some contacts.”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“I don’t have to, I want to because the world deserves to hear your voice,” he insisted, “I hate to share you but I’d be selfish to keep you to myself.”

You smiled and unfolded a tortilla. Still, your heart raced as the second mention of Ransom that day had you on edge. Dez watched you build your fajita and you looked up at him.

“Well, since you’ll be in Chicago, maybe I’ll get a few pages done.”

🍼

The call came on Monday, Dez wouldn’t be home that night. You contented yourself to stay in with your laptop and sugar cookies. Still, you barely got a sentence done before you snapped your computer closed and gave up with a frustrated grunt. You slept, not well, and got up with some trouble as your hips ached.

A good morning text from Dez made you smile but there was still no promise of an impending return. You felt pent up in the apartment and lonely as its emptiness reminded you of your absent husband. Too tense to sit down and type, you opted to go for a walk, hoping it would calm your nerves.

You walked past the shop windows and stopped to peek in at used books and handmade candles. You had no destination in mind, only a restless step. There was a little store at the corner with locally made quilts and knitted sweaters. The smell of potpourri wafted out from beneath the painted door and made your throat tickle. Even so, your curiosity drew you inside.

A small woman greeted you from behind the desk. She held two needles as she crocheted some indistinguishable craft. You smiled and said hello as you headed down the centre aisle. You looked along the racks of quilts, floral, striped, plaid, and polka dot. You stopped at a bright yellow piece with honey bees along the border. You hadn’t thought of yellow for the nursery.

You felt the soft fabric and checked the tag. You lifted the quilt from the bar, content that it was worth it and a great motivator. You stopped before you could turn back, a familiar voice chilled your blood.

“It’s cute,” Ransom said as he stepped up next to you, “kinda girly for a boy though.”

You glanced over at him and folded the blanket over your arm. You backed up but as you turned he did too. He blocked your bath as he stretched his arm across the aisle.

“My mother told me you were expecting,” he said, “and she was right, you look good.”

“What do you want?” you whispered as you clutched the quilt.

“Nothing, just saying hello,” his mouth slanted.

“Hugh, I’m not stupid,” you hissed, “it’s been five years.”

“Hugh,” he repeated dully, “you remember your manners.”

“Leave me alone and let me past,” you tried to duck under his arm but he shifted his body over and backed you up to the end of the aisle.

“And married,” he taunted.

“He’s outside,” you lied, “if I stay too long--”

“I didn’t see him when you walked up,” he intoned, “he must be easy to miss.”

“Have you been following me?” you uttered.

“Only from the cafe,” he shrugged, “short walk.”

“Please, get away from me,” you quivered.

“I’m not doing anything--”

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” you hissed, “now I will scream so move.”

“Mama Bear,” he crooned, “I love it, you’re so protective.”

“Hugh,” you warned.

“Sweetie,” he hummed.

You shoved his shoulder but he didn’t move. You hit him harder and he winced. He chuckled and stood straight. He waved his arm down the aisle and stepped aside.

“Don’t make a scene,” he said, “you always did like to be dramatic.”

“Fuck you,” you snarled, “don’t come near me again.”

“Don’t act like you don’t miss me,” he called after you as you dropped the quilt on the counter, “we were so good together.”

You left without buying, a shrill apology to the lady at the counter as you went as fast as you could out the door. The bell tinkled after you and the door clamored shut. You felt nauseous and dizzy. The last thing you wanted or needed was to ever see that man again.

#ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #fic #series #knives out #dark fic #dark!fic #what's yours is mine

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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

Text

Peeping through the stacks

Jason todd x reader

Valentine’s fic

Warning: smut

I recommend the book I mentioned if you like the classics.

“I have a proposition,” Jason said and your eyebrows rose. “Not that kind. We separate. I grab you a book and you get me one. And we meet up afterwards to go to dinner to see what we got. No cheating. No following each other around. Whoever gives the better gift, wins and gets to control the rest of the night.”

“Sounds like plan. Just know Todd,” you said moving up in his space standing on your tiptoe to talk in his ear. “I’m going to crush you.”

“Only if you win, baby. Only if you win,” he said with a smirk. He opened the door to the largest used bookstore in Gotham. 3 stories with a section of just records and another of old comics, it was heaven. They even had a coffee shop in the back of the second story. You went left and he went right.

You went straight for the classics. Jason would pour over old novels for hours and his favorite were clearly dog eared. You thought about replacing them but, while he’s appreciate it, it wasn’t exactly exciting. You milled around the area, looking at books that were nice but not it. As you moved to leave the area, a section caught your eyes.

If you love the classics but need a book written in the last 50 years:

This is what you needed. A careful list of books that you like next to new books was perfect. Jason had been reading his copy of Moby Dick and talking about the hubris of man recently, heavily alluding to Bruce. You grabbed the recommended book: In the Heart of the Sea.

Now to find Jason. You had agreed to no cheating but it wasn’t really cheating to just watch him if you had already picked. He was probably in your favorite area and you walked upstairs to watch down low.

Jason was holding two books in hand and looking between them both. You felt a thrill to watch him. He almost always caught you quickly but the store with multiple patrons and levels must have thrown him off a little. He finally grabbed a book and looked directly up at you with a smirk. You threw your fist playfully. He’s certainly caught you. You came downstairs with a grin.

“I knew you were watching me. That’s cheating,” he said. You held the book behind your back as you kissed his cheek.

“It’s not cheating if I didn’t change my book,” you protested and he kissed your forehead.

“Tell yourself that. Let’s check out and then I can win,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and walking to the counter. You both laid them down, face down because you’re competitive, and paid. You carried two separate bags and held hands as you walked down to a little cafe on the corner.

The place had the coolest vibes. Fresh coffee day and night, records and music memorabilia on the wall, and a band of musician played on a tiny stage every night. Valentine’s was no exception. You found a table in the back and promptly ordered your favorites from the menu.

“Okay. Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” you said with a grin.

“I thought we’d wait until tonight to do that,” Jason said with a roguish wink. “Oh, you mean the books. Yeah, let’s swap.”

You gave him his bag and he yours. It almost looked like a drug deal if it wasn’t books. You pulled out the book. A continuation of a series you loved but had a hard time finding the next parts. Jason pulled out his and read the back.

“Okay, you won,” you said with a teasing scrunch of your face. “This is really great.”

“This looks great. But you did cheat too...” he said pretending to take his time deciding. “I guess I’ll take the win. But it was pretty close, I’m not going to lie.”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Seriously, I can’t wait to bore you with more whaling facts.”

“I’m taking it back,” you said and he laughed. “I can’t learn anymore. I’m not kidding.” Jason’s eyes smiled too and you loved the sight. He looked happy. You food arrived and a folk band started playing.

As your food dwindled and it was fully dark outside, Jason’s gaze lingered on your body. His hand sat on your knee as you talked.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said randomly and you exhaled quickly with a shy smile as you looked away. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay,” you said, letting him pull you from the cafe and a few blocks down. Jason pulled you close and rubbed his nose against your cheek. You turned your head up to close the space between your lips. It started as soft, gentle, cute. But Jason gripped your hips and pulled you closer and you wrapped your arms around his neck and before you knew it, you were being pushed against a wall as he kissed down your throat. You made soft sounds as he nipped and kissed the sensitive skin.

“Jason,” you said breathlessly. He hummed against your skin. “Take me home. Take me home.”

You ran your hands along the muscles under his shirt as you rode behind him on the motorcycle. Jason insisted on helmets and you wished you could kiss at the back of his neck. Probably best. Your hands on his stomach were distracting enough.

Jason barely drove the bike into the parking garage of his building before pulling off his helmet and turning towards you. You did the same. Neither of you climbed off as you made out. His tongue slid in your mouth as his hands held the back of your skull in place. He reached behind him to turn it off as you kissed.

“Upstairs,” you breathed. He nodded before getting up and picking you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed his neck as you walked towards the elevator. The knee high slit in your skirt had scooted up to expose most of your thigh. Luck was on your side as no one was around to watch but security must have gotten a great show with the pair of you aggressively kissing. Jason pressed your back against the wall in the elevator as you rode up to his floor.

He carried you down the hall. You were less lucky as your elderly neighbor was sitting in the end of the hallway as she always did everyday. She’d watch the sunset and people watch everyone coming home from work or school. She giggled and looked away. Jason put you down the second you both realized and you flushed with embarrassment.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I was married once. Happy Valentine’s,” she said with a big smile looking out the window. Jason quickly pulled you in the apartment.

“I forgot about her,” he said. “Gross part is that she’s probably thinking about her dead husband and all the times he used to rail her.”

You glared at Jason. “That’s.... so gross. Why? Like you ruined it. Your dirty mouth.”

“I can get it a little dirtier,” he said with a wink but ruined by bursting into laughter. “Like do old people blow each other? Can their hips bend that much? I know their knees are bad. What age did they have to give them up?”

“Shut the fuck up. That’s so gross,” you said putting you hand over his mouth and he laughed before pulling you close.

“You look really pretty tonight. I forgot to tell you because I kept staring at you,” he said with a soft look. He bent and kissed you sweetly. Not rushed or hard like earlier. He slowly pulled you to the bedroom. You pulled each other’s clothing off as you walked. Shirt here. Pants there.

“Thank you. You look good too,” you said as you pulled the bedroom door closed. Jason rolled his eyes. He never agreed with you but had given up on arguing.

Jason pulled you on top of him in bed. His nose ran up your throat until his lips met yours. He was slow and deliberate in his movement. His hands roamed your body as you moved your legs to straddle him. You didn’t bother teasing either of you but instead sunk down on him.

“Princess,” he breathed with closed eyes. You sat for just a moment, get used to him, before starting to move. You bent at the waist to give him long deep sloppy kisses. “Baby,” he pleaded before you started moving.

“Remember, I won,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” you asked with a grin. “What do you want, Jaybird?”

“This. Keep riding me. You look so good,” he said breathlessly. His hands gripped your hips as you bounced. He grimaced as you swirled your hips. “Fuck!”

“Oh we like that,” you commented. He chuckled distractedly. Jason pulled you down to where he could kiss and nip at your chest. You whined as he took your nipple in his mouth. He let go with a loud smack.

“Mmm someone seems to like that,” he quipped. You pressed yourself back towards his face and he chuckled against your skin before giving your breasts the attention you wanted.

“I love your Valentine’s gift. You’re so thoughtful,” you said breathlessly. Jason looked up at you confused.

“Yeah no problem. Is now the time?” He asked with his eyes half closed and mouth open as he breathed heavily. His hips jumped to meet yours and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit. You moaned loudly and he smiled as he watched you come undone. He thrust your faster to finish with you. You both moved together jumpily as you buried your head in his neck. You breathed for a few second before softly kissing his lips.

“I seriously loved today,” you said.

“Yeah, I’m glad. Me too. Surprised that no one call-“ Jason started before his phone rang and he sighed. “At least we finished. I’ve got to take this,” he said and you rolled off and curled in the blanket. He answered the phone as he threw on boxer briefs. He looked at you wistfully as he talked. It sounded important.

“My source said Black Mask is getting a shipment early this morning so I’ve got to go. We can’t have those guns on the street,” Jason said after hanging up. He leaned over to give you a dizzying kiss. “I’ve got to go but here is your book and a glass of water. Don’t stay up. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Be safe,” you said before he climbed out the window.

“Aren’t I always,” he said and you just knew he was grinning under the helmet before jumping from a 6 story window. No, you thought, no you aren’t.

#jason todd x reader #Jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #batboy smut #valentine fic

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 4 years ago

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not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.)

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not.

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look," you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him. First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions.

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him.

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

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skyler10fic · 2 years ago

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that's why i love fall: Ch. 3

Summary: Carol is a park ranger in a growing mountain town. Daisy is a cybersecurity city girl in town for a job interview at the town’s biotech lab. Under the autumn leaves, fate brings them together (aided by Daisy’s parents, Phil and Melinda). As sweet as a PSL and with as much plot as apple pie.

Notes: This one is pretty canon-free. Basically original fic but with the personalities, names, and faces of my ships.

Read on A03

This is chapter 3/4, so subscribe on Ao3 to make sure you don't miss the end!

----------------------

The next morning, Carol met Daisy at the diner with to-go coffees, and they walked around the town square, going in and out of businesses. The antique shop held the most fun, with funny hats to try on, weird nostalgic knick-knacks that provoked stories of childhood, and a bag that was just Daisy’s style, which led to a long conversation with the shopkeeper about the bag’s eccentric previous owner.

On a longer stretch between notable landmarks, Carol brushed her hand against Daisy’s. Daisy returned the gesture, and Carol took it as permission to hold her hand. Daisy smiled when she did, but otherwise continued on as if they walked through town hand in hand every day.

They took silly pictures together by some tall abstract “modern art” sculptures that Carol wasn’t sure how to explain, and Carol noticed Daisy specifically took selfies of the two of them, not just alone, though Carol took a few good ones of Daisy farther away with the full sculpture. When Carol showed her the photos, Daisy tried to self-deprecate, but Carol insisted she was perfect. This earned Carol a fast but sweet kiss on the cheek. Carol thought about kissing her fully, right there in public, but decided to wait for a more romantic moment than a sidewalk with cars whizzing by.

It didn’t escape her, though, the way Daisy took her hand when they walked this time. Carol allowed herself to acknowledge maybe Daisy wasn’t just a kind, flirty, charismatic person. Maybe she was falling for Carol just as Carol was falling for her. But the problem was Daisy didn’t have the job yet. She kept this fact in her mind like a life preserver ring in the ocean. Flirting and imagining possibilities in the dreamy autumn of her hometown was one thing, but if Daisy didn’t get the job, if her move didn’t happen, it would break both of their hearts.

They ordered takeout from Carol’s friends’ cafe and ate lunch in the town park at a picnic table.

Daisy was suspiciously quiet. She absently picked up a chip but put it back down again after a minute and picked up her sandwich.

“What’s on your mind?” Carol prodded gently after a few moments of silence.

Daisy seemed to awake from her distraction. “Oh! I’m fine.”

Carol sent her a look of doubt but didn’t push. “Okay. We could see the library next. They have a little museum about the town’s history.”

“That sounds good.” Daisy nodded but went quiet again.

Carol opened her chip bag wider and offered it to Daisy. “Cheeto for your thoughts?”

“It’s just,” Daisy began before taking one, “what happens if this isn’t it? What if all of this is just a teaser of a life I won’t have?” She waved the Cheeto for emphasis.

“One, you graduated from MIT,” Carol listed, counting points on her cheese-coated fingers. “Two, they brought you all the way out here. Three, you’re an obvious choice with family in the area. And Jemma said the interview went well from what she could tell on that side of things.”

“Yeah, I think it did.” Daisy had stopped gesturing with the Cheeto and ate it. A good sign, from what Carol could determine.

“But this is all so wonderful.” Daisy said it as if it posed a dilemma.

“Failing to see the problem there,” Carol admitted.

“It’s…,” Daisy sighed. “Before I came, I didn’t really think I was going to like it, so I didn’t put as much into my application and earlier interviews as I would have. And that sucks because now I’m nervous about getting the job. I think I could really have a future here. With the lab and this town… and you.”

“There you go again.” Carol teased, “Charming me with your powers when I’m the one trying to reassure you. How do you do that?”

Daisy laughed. “C’mon, I was promised a library tour.”

They cleaned up their trash before continuing their plans for the day.

Eventually, after the library and museum and sharing more of their stories prompted by the town’s history exhibits, Daisy admitted she had an addition to their plan.

“My parents are getting dinner at the Golden Arrow and said I could invite you,” Daisy rushed out. “Okay, actually, they insisted you come.”

Carol grinned. “I’d love to.”

“I know you’ve already met, but if it’s too soon, with all of us together, or if it’d be awkward, or if you have plans…”

Carol stopped their walking and turned to Daisy. “Hey. I’d love to.”

“Good.” Daisy exhaled. “That’s good.”

Carol realized they were back at the diner where they started the day. “We could go back to my place until then.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow.

“To see it!” Carol explained. “And hang out with Jemma. Jemma will be there. You two can talk. We can all talk.”

Daisy smiled at Carol’s verbal fumbling. “That sounds good. I’ll follow you there?”

Carol found herself reluctant to drop Daisy’s hand but gathered her willpower and succeeded. The road home had never felt longer.

To Carol’s delight, Jemma and Daisy bonded over mutual MIT friends and music and fandoms. Jemma was able to offer some housing options from her research, and she and Carol showed Daisy around their current place. It was comically fast, but Carol hoped Daisy would feel at home enough to move into Jemma’s old room once Jemma left to live with Fitz. And Daisy just seemed to fit there—the music of her laughter in their kitchen, the sight of her relaxed on their couch wrapped in Carol’s blanket, the warmth of her beside Carol on the wood balcony looking out at the forest view with a peek of the lake to the right…

Even if things didn’t work out romantically between them, it just felt right to have Daisy nearby as a friend. Like the sun breaking through the clouds once a grey day was done, just in time for a firey sunset.

Daisy drove home before dinner to get ready and ride with her parents, and Carol promised to meet them at the restaurant.

Jemma leaned against the bathroom doorframe as Carol did her hair and light makeup.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Jemma wasn’t teasing, but she wasn’t discouraging. It sounded more like empathy.

Carol met Jemma’s eyes in the mirror.

“Yeah, ‘fraid so.” She smiled weakly. “There’s something about her. It’s magic. I can’t explain it.”

Jemma observed Carol’s reflection, pausing for a moment before adding, “She looks at you the same way.”

“Yeah?” Carol surprised even herself with how young and hopeful it came out.

“Yeah.” Jemma let out a little laugh at Carol’s puppy love. “I’m really happy for you. You deserve something good like this after so long. I hope it works out for her with the lab.”

“Thanks.” Carol held her gaze a second more before returning to her task, all the struggles Jemma had seen Carol through passing unspoken between them, from Carol’s family issues to failed attempts at dating in the past.

Carol did get a little nervous heading into the dinner with the Johnsons, but all went swimmingly. Melinda was kind and witty, but Phil was the more outgoing and talkative of the two by far. The rapport Daisy had with her parents tinged a little place in Carol’s heart, but they didn’t let her feel sorry for herself for a second, always explaining their inside jokes and stories until Carol was drawn in as part of the family. It was a bit like she felt returning here to Mountain Skye after being away for so long.

Everything about this day felt like home.

#skywriting #daisy johnson #aos #agents of shield #captain marvel #carol danvers #wlw #f/f #femslash #philindaisy #jemma simmons #aos au #captain marvel au #autumn fic #fall fic #fluff

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winter-soldier-vibes · 4 years ago

Text

Reason to Come Back (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Reason to come back

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 3574

Request: "can you do something where seb(or one of his characters)and reader used to date and one day he broke up with her and after a short time he comes up with a new girl(not cheating)and the reader thinks that she’s worthless and not beautiful or good enough and that’s why he broke up with her and tries to be better(you know what to do•_-) and silently suffering etc. and with a happy ending where they get back together"

Warnings: mentions of a breakup, angst, depression, very slight mentions of disordered eating and exercise (very slight, not like most of my other fics), general feelings of worthlessness, angst

Tags: @buckys2thicc @mardema @stucky-on-spiderman @abitgryffindorky @freigeistundanderes @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @buckfics @babyboibucky

A/N: I AM SO SORRY TO THE ANON THAT REQUESTED THIS SO LONG AGO AND THAT IT TOOK SO LONG! I don’t even know if they’re still here, I feel so bad. I got an anon request for this fic and I did not know about the inbox for Tumblr accounts until just recently because I’m incompetent. There’s no excuse for me taking so long to write it, but I wanted to even though it’s been 9 months since they sent it. If you’re still here anon, thank you for sticking with me!

NEW NOTE 06/04/21: I rewrote this to be for Bucky as opposed to Sebastian. It is still mostly the same, just reworded in some places. This is meant to take place in reference to the timeline of tfatws and mentions moments from the show. I am referencing “the time he was gone” as the series episode 1-6. I don’t know how much time passed but I assume it was at least a few weeks if not longer (especially between episodes 5 and 6). That’s how I wrote it.

------------------------

It was a quiet night, you under some blankets on the couch watching a movie. There was an empty bowl aside from a few popcorn kernels on the coffee table in front of you, the movie more for background noise than entertainment. You were scrolling through your phone mindlessly, looking for a distraction that would keep you occupied.

Not that it was working too well. There wasn’t much that could distract you from the fact that you were alone.

9 months. You had dated for 9 months. Not that he had been around for much of it. He had been with Sam on an extended mission, and he had been gone for a few weeks. You didn’t know much about the mission, Bucky wasn’t allowed to tell you. For your safety. You understood. It was his job, you knew that, but it could be lonely most of the time. He would call or text you if he could, but he couldn’t compromise his location. You were always happy to hear from him, but it wasn’t the same as when he was around.

You knew this would happen, and you had accepted that. It was hard, but you could manage.

You hadn’t heard from him in a weeks, but you didn’t think much of it. He and Sam must have gotten closer to the answers they had been looking for. You could only hope that he was safe. it took a toll on you, worrying about him, but you had been so happy when he had said he was coming home. But when he walked through the door, he didn’t seem excited at all.

You had wrapped your arms around him, and he had hesitantly hugged you back gently. You had known something was wrong almost immediately, pulling back and trying to meet his eyes. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“We should talk,” he said, struggling to meet your eyes.

You pulled your eyes together with concern. “Yeah, yeah what’s wrong?”

“I, uh… I don’t know if this is gonna work out.”

You shook your head, surprised. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“I just don’t think you and I work with 1,000 miles between us.”

“What?” you said in disbelief. “You’re the one who has to leave and I told you that I’m okay with it, and I am. I never thought you’d be the one with the problem with it.”

“Y/n -”

“We can work this out, Buck. You said it yourself, you don’t normally go away for that long. I’m not going anywhere, I - ”

“I can’t ask you to stay, y/n,” he said, cutting you off. You shut your mouth and shook your head. “Where is this coming from, what happened?” you asked.

He cleared his throat. “I should go.”

“You don’t get to walk away from this like that!” you exclaimed, nearly yelling.

“And I don’t have the right to expect you to wait for months while I’m out trying to save people. I thought it’d be fine but I couldn’t stop thinking about you here, alone. There’s going to be more missions, more danger. They recreated the serum. Who knows what else they’ll be able to create? You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me! I told you I’m okay with it and I still am, Bucky! I know the risks!” you said, tears pricking your eyes.

He looked away. “You deserve much better than me. Someone who can be there for you.”

You walked up to him and cupped his face. “You’re all I could ever want Bucky. Distance be damned.”

He sighed and pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly for a moment. “I have to go y/n. I’m sorry.”

He let you go and turned around, not even looking back to say goodbye.

That had been a couple of weeks ago. You had been crushed at first, devastated. But you were still able to function in your day-to-day life. You had a few friends to hype you up or cry with you, whatever the day was. You were able to still get to work, try to move on. And it was getting better, but the nights were still hard. It wasn’t the same when you knew he wouldn’t be coming home.

During the day you could pretend like you were waiting for that night when he would be able to call you. But at night, it was dark and you didn’t have a person you wanted to call.

You weren’t bitter, in a way you understood. You had known how relationships could be ruined by distance and work. But being a super soldier wasn’t a typical line of work. You had been okay with it, but you hadn’t thought that it would’ve affected Bucky as much as it seemed to. You had been emotional at the time, but looking back on it you could understand where he was coming from. Relationships were two-sided - just because you felt okay didn’t guarantee he was.

You knew what he did was dangerous. You had accepted that there might not have always been a happy ending. Maybe he hadn’t.

But then one day you had walked into a bar, only to see Bucky flirting with another girl, laughing away..

That was all you needed to see.

You didn’t want to read too much into it, any kind of situation could be misread. But him laughing with a very attractive girl over drinks shortly after becoming single - you couldn’t help but wonder.

You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that you were reading everything wrong, but your heart still felt as though it was breaking.

She was gorgeous. Much more so than you, you had thought.

Was that why he left? Was he just wanting to get himself back out there? Had he met her and just needed to get rid of you?

You didn’t want to think that way, none of it was true. He wouldn’t do that, he was a good man. But still…

Maybe if you were different it would’ve been harder for him to leave.

Maybe you hadn’t given him a good enough reason to stay.

And maybe, if you were better, prettier, he would come back.

It started small - making more of an effort to go to the gym, not ordering takeaways every night, that sort of thing. Not that you had much of an appetite to begin with. But you didn’t realize when your days had become full of going from work to the gym, nor why you had freaked out so much when you had sprained an ankle and couldn’t do your normal workout.

You had decided to work your arms those next few days to supplement the cardio you had missed. You had kept this up until you woke up one morning struggling to turn over because you were so sore. You decided that that day, you could take a rest day.

A rest day turned into a rest week, and soon enough you were only leaving your house to go to work. And only because you needed money.

You had cut yourself off from most of your contacts, still replying every now and then so they wouldn’t be concerned. You didn’t go out with them or call them because you were worried they would see right through you. Better to stay home. Your bed would never judge you.

You had become familiar with the spots on the wall, the streaks from god knows what, the way that light would filter through your window as the sun ascended and descended the sky. Hours could pass and you could still be in the same position.

You had to keep up a front around everyone. Letting people know how much you were hurting was not an option for you. Then they would ask what was wrong and pull you aside and look at you with this concerned face that you couldn’t deal with. It was the one that everyone always gave when someone was having a bad day, the one people put on when they wanted you to think that they cared. Sometimes they did, but most of the time a person with any sense of morals would put that face on to make a person think that they cared. It’s the same way “How are you?” is more of a greeting than a genuine question.

There were people who cared, but you didn’t want to have that conversation. You didn’t even know what you were doing anymore. It was an honest thought of bettering yourself, but it was for the wrong reasons. Trying to be better for Bucky made you realize how much you missed him. How angry you really were at him. But you couldn’t take it out on him, he didn’t deserve that at all, he didn’t earn that. But you were angry at...something, and maybe it was yourself, at letting him walk out that door, of not calling him and leaving him messages. Maybe if you had fought for him he would’ve stayed. If you had said something when he distanced himself.

You felt like this was your fault. And maybe if you changed something about yourself, you would learn from your mistakes.

Not that you knew exactly what you had done or what isolating yourself would fix, or teach you for that matter.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because your ringtone jolted you awake. You groaned, shutting your eyes again. You would let it go to voicemail, just like all of the others. If it was that important they would text you.

You let it ring, sighing when it had stopped. You readjusted in your bed, trying to fall back asleep. It was a Saturday morning, you had until Monday morning to sleep. You were going to make the most of it.

But then your phone began ringing again.

You opened your eyes again, picking up your phone to see who it was. You dropped the phone when you saw the name

Bucky Barnes

Why the fuck was he calling you? What could he possibly have to say to you?

You watched the phone ring through to voicemail, soon after seeing a voicemail was left. You didn’t bother listening to it, you didn’t need to. You simply rolled over in bed. If it were that important, he would have called sooner.

Bucky’s POV

As the call went to voicemail again, Bucky was confused. He had never known you to miss a call, ever. It wasn’t like you, he knew you would drop anything to take calls. You had said you hated people leaving voicemails because you hated them having to listen to your voicemail message. You had thought your voice had sounded weird. It was one of the little things he remembered about you that made him smile

And realize how royally he had fucked up.

Being away on a mission wasn’t anything new for him, but maintaining a serious relationship for him was. He had never met anyone like you, and he had missed you so much when he had left. He hadn’t felt anything like what he did when you smiled at him since the 40′s. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but all he could think about was how much he had missed you. And that made him think about how much you must have missed him.

He felt like he was holding you back in some way. He was used to being away in dangerous situations for periods of time but you weren’t. And no matter how much you had assured him that you were okay with the long-distance relationship, as the months went on he felt guilty for not being able to be there in the way that he wanted to.

In the way you deserved.

He broke up with you because he thought you deserved better than relying on phone calls and texts for months at a time. Someone who could be there all the time for you. Someone who you didn’t have to worry about getting shot when he left for a mission. Someone predictable and reliable. Something he couldn’t always do.

But God, did he miss you.

He regretted walking out that door. He regretted not giving you a better reason, for not calling you or texting you until now, weeks later. The more time went on, the more he felt it would be inappropriate to call you to apologize.

But he couldn’t take it anymore, so he dialed your number. And when it went to voicemail, he had gotten a little worried.

He knew he didn’t have much of a right or reason to be worried, but he had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right. So, he decided to reach out to one of your friends.

Hey, is y/n alright?

Why do you want to know?

Look, I know I messed up. I just wanted to apologize and give her the answer she deserves. But she’s not answering my calls.

She doesn’t do phone calls anymore.

What do you mean?

She won’t answer calls. She won’t even come out with us anymore. Something’s up but she denies it.

When did this start?

When do you think?

Bucky’s heart sank to his stomach. This was his fault. And he had to go make it right.

Your POV

You were still in bed, wondering why Bucky had called you. It didn’t make sense to you, for him to call after all of this time. What could he possibly have to say to you? Did he want to inform you of a new girlfriend before the news caught wind of it? Did he want to come up with some dumb excuse to tell you he was sorry?

It made you scoff slightly, but the tug at your heart let you know that it wouldn’t be unwelcome.

You couldn’t deny it. As much as his leaving had hurt you, you missed him more than anything.

You wanted another chance with him, one that you weren’t sure you would get. And the thought of him coming back to you was comforting. Like maybe it wasn’t your fault. Or maybe you had done enough to win him back.

Wishful thinking.

You had lost track of time, once again, but were snapped out of your daze by knocking on your door.

What? Why would anyone be here?

You sighed. It was probably just some random person selling some random product or something.

More knocking. More insistent. You sighed, standing up and silently groaning at the soreness you felt in your body. Not necessarily from overuse, but more so from underuse. You stood you slowly, walking quietly over to your door.

More knocking.

You made it to the door and glanced through the peephole you had, eyes widening and a small gasp leaving your mouth.

Why the fuck was Bucky here?

More knocking.

You ran a hand down your face. Knowing him, he wouldn’t leave. But why did it go from calling straight to ‘I’m coming to your door’? As if he hadn’t been the one to leave you?

More knocking.

You swallowed dryly. “Why are you here?” you called out through the door.

Bucky let out a breath. “I just want to talk to you”

You shook your head on the other side of the door, wondering if you should let him speak. As if he wasn’t already living rent-free in your mind.

“Please y/n.”

You set your face hard, pulling the door open. At least you would get to say your piece to him.

“Now you wanna talk? Fine. Let’s talk.” you said, coldly.

Bucky was slightly taken aback, though he couldn’t blame you. He took in your appearance, exhaustion seeming to overtake you. Dark circles under your eyes, pale skin, you just - all life seemed to be drained from you. He scratched the back of his neck nervously before he asked quietly, “Can I come in?”

You stepped to the side, silently allowing him in, closing the door behind you. You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged slightly. “What do you want Barnes?

“I’m sorry,” he said. You scoffed slightly, shaking your head and looking away. “Y/n look at me, please. I fucked up.”

“Well it took you long enough to figure that one out didn’t it?” you snapped, looking at him.

“Y/n please -”

“Tell me, when exactly did you figure out that maybe, just maybe, you should say you were sorry?”

“Y/n please - “

“Who was the girl? The one in the bar from a few days after we had broken up? The one you were hitting on over a couple of drinks?”

“The… what?”

“When did you feel the slightest bit of regret? When did you change your mind and decide that you didn’t want to leave?”

“I never wanted to leave you!” he exclaimed. “Can you please just listen to me?”

You looked at him, anger in your eyes but you closed your mouth. You gave him a look that said ‘I’m listening.’

He took a deep breath. “The woman at the bar was an old friend of Sam’s. He had introduced the two of us at one point. I was at a bar one night and and she came over to say hello and stayed for one drink. It’s nothing more than that.”

You took a breath. Situations could definitely be read wrong. You knew it had probably been nothing.

“When we first got together we had talked about me leaving for missions. Long-distance, unpredictable times, dangerous missions. A lot of people have a hard time keeping that going.”

“And I knew that and was okay with it.”

“Let me finish, please.” he pleaded. “I knew you knew the risks but I’m not sure I was as ready as I thought I was. I left and suddenly I couldn’t talk to you because I was worried for your safety. I couldn’t be there for you in all the ways I wanted to be. In all the ways you deserved. I just...you didn’t deserve that. You deserved so much more than that.”

You felt tears prick your eyes. “You already told me that. When you left. What’s really going on?”

He shook his head slightly. “ Sam’s sister had gotten a call with a threat towards her and her children. I couldn’t put you at risk. These people, they were super soldiers just like me. I had a few close calls with serious injuries. And I realized that if I got hurt I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t let you get hurt and I couldn’t let you worry about whether or not I would come home alive. I thought… I thought it’d be less painful for both of us if we stopped seeing each other before that happened.”

You shook your head slightly. “Why couldn’t you tell me that?” you said, a little more softly.

“I don’t know”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna have to do a lot better than I don’t know.”

“I - “ He sighed slightly. “I was scared. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was scared that I was going to lose you.”

“So you gave me up?” you asked.

“And made the biggest mistake of my entire life.”

You looked to the side and bit your lip slightly. “You know I thought it was my fault?” you turned your face back to Bucky’s confused one. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. That if I was enough you wouldn’t have left. Or if I was better you would’ve come back.”

He shook his head and started walking towards you to comfort you. “It was never your fault angel -”

You backed up slightly. “You don’t get to call me that. Not right now, not yet at least.”

He looked hurt slightly, but he nodded. After a few moments of silence, you scoffed slightly.

“You know, as much as I hate to admit it, I fell apart these past few weeks. Told myself that the only thing I wanted and needed was having you come back. And here you are and...I don’t know, Bucky.” you shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or think, you broke up with me because you were afraid of hurting me? I - “ you rubbed your eyes. “I just… I get it, but I just wish we could’ve had this conversation weeks ago, Buck.”

“Does this mean we’re done?” he asked timidly.

“I… I don’t know. I just…. I think i need a little bit of time. Please. Just some time to think.”

He nodded, though he looked slightly disappointed. “Yeah, of course.” you nodded, walking him over to the door, opening it. He turned around. “Is it okay to give you a hug, y/n?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as you looped them around his neck. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, tears forming in your eyes as you realized how much you missed this. How much you needed this. When he went to pull away, you held him a little more tightly before letting him go.

He smiled at you before turning to leave. “Take as much time as you need, y/n.”

You gave him the smallest of smiles back. “I’ll see you later Bucky.”

And with that, you closed the door behind you, not having a clue what any of this meant. This didn’t make it okay by any means, but maybe, just maybe, the two of you could start fresh. Together.

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #40s bucky barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x you #bucky fanfic #bucky #angst #angst angst angst #part two coming soon

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

Note

Happy Holidays! Can you write a Jimin hybrid Au? I love you and your fics!

Every day, we stray closer to being a furry.

↳ Floof’s Tail

3k || 80% Fluff, 20% Angst || Park Jimin || Hybrid!AU

You’re beaming with excitement.

The first time you saw her through the glass window, you thought she was just a visitor. You were so happy when she wanted to play with you and only you. And you were even more ecstatic when she came a second time days later. You spent time together for hours on end, just like many of the other humans that came around to keep you and the other hybrids company.

But unlike them, she adopted you.

You still can’t believe you now have a home, something to call yours, and an owner that you love so much.

Soyeon stops in the hall and her hand lifts to pet you, gesture affectionate and eyes loving. You lean into her touch, and she smiles before withdrawing away much to your disappointment.

“This is it, Y/N.”

Her arms motion theatrically to the door, and then she pulls out her keys with a grin. “This is my home and it’s going to be your home from now on too.”

Your tail is practically wagging and you look at the gray door, loving what’s inside already without needing to see it. You don’t remember much of the street name or the apartment building, but you know that it’s the seventh floor, that it seems super nice from the outside, and they’ll probably be big windows looking out at the city. Not to mention from the drive here, there’s also a park close by!

You can’t wait.

The door opens.

Soyeon brings in your small bag along with the other stuff she bought for you at the store, and then she turns around to beckon you to come in, smiling softly. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Y/N.”

This is a dream. It’s all you’ve ever wanted and wished for. An owner. A home. A place to call your own. But you should’ve known, nothing is what it seems.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with a thick scent. It slams into you, choking your lungs and overwhelming your senses. Warm and earthy, like vanilla and the trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. You don’t know why you didn’t notice before. It always lingered on Soyeon, a scent underneath her laundry fabric softener and sweet perfume. Maybe you had unconsciously ignored it because you wanted so desperately to be hers.

But of course, someone as perfect as Soyeon would have another dog.

Before you can dart out the door, she calls for him. “Jimin!”

He comes barreling out of the hall with a big smile and his tail wagging.

Only, he stops short a meter away with his eyes pin-pointed on you. His grin instantly falls, ears drooping. His brows furrow as if to ask ‘what the hell is this’.

Soyeon smiles. “Y/N, this is Jimin.”

Jimin is a dog hybrid just like you. You can tell by the triangle ears on the top of his head that’s a slightly darker shade than the blonde hair that falls over his forehead. His face is round, cheeks full and his lips are pouty. But his brown eyes are mean. They’re half-lidded and glaring at you.

“Jimin, this is our new puppy, Y/N.”

“Leave!” he suddenly barks at you, growling at the back of his throat. You yelp, ears pressed flat on your head and you jump to cower behind Soyeon who’s bigger and taller than you are.

“Jimin,” Soyeon scolds in a low tone.

But he isn’t dissuaded and steps closer to you with one large stride.

Your back hits the door, fear making your eyes grow round. He’s much larger than you are and his scent is thicker too. Jimin’s nose twitches, but before he can get to you, Soyeon blocks his way.

More sternly than before she commands, “Jimin, stop.”

Soyeon takes your hand, turns around and shushes you. “It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry,” she coos and then shifts to the other hybrid. “Stay right there, Jimin.”

He glares as Soyeon leads you away, down the hall into a room. But he doesn’t move.

“This is my room and the place that’ll be yours too.” She shuts the door and realizes your distressed expression. “Everything will be okay,” Soyeon tries to reassure and comes to brush a hand through your hair. Then she looks over to the small bag she had dragged with her and lights up. “Oh, here’s your kitty cat.”

It’s a tattered stuffed toy you’ve had since you were born in the shelter, but the moment she passes it to you, you hug it and find comfort. Your heart begins to slow back to its normal pace and Soyeon smiles, seeing that you’ve eased.

“Get yourself settled, okay? I’ll be a second. I just have to talk to Jimin.”

“Okay.”

Her room is large with plenty of space. There’s a massive bed bigger than you’ve ever seen and a TV opposite of it. By the other wall, there’s a bookshelf, vanity, and desk with a computer. There’s a walk-in closet, dresser and another door to a bathroom too. It’s everything anyone could ever need in one room.

You marvel at your surroundings before staring out the enormous glass window.

But your ears perk. Outside the room, there’s muffled voices.

You shuffle your feet over the door and you pick up what’s being said.

“—your friend and heat partner.”

“I don’t need a friend or a heat partner!”

“Jimin. This….this isn’t the way to act.”

There’s a long sigh and you hear steps coming down the hall. You step back and Soyeon opens the door before shutting it. She looks at you with your eyes on the ground, tail drooping and your ears pressed to your head again.

“It’s okay,” she suddenly says in a higher-pitched voice. You head lifts to her and she smiles, petting you softly behind the ear. “Jimin’s really sweet and kind, I promise. You just have to get used to each other.”

You nod.

Soyeon asks, “Do you want snacks?”

Your eyes widen and your head bobs more enthusiastically.

...

Soyeon does a good job of distracting you. She pets you, plays with you, shows you her room and the connected bathroom. The TV has you especially captured for a while, but you’re broken out of your trance when you hear knocking on the door. Followed by scratching.

And then there’s Jimin’s whine.

Soyeon looks at you and says. “I’ll be right back.”

She slips away and you’re left by yourself again.

Deep down, you know you shouldn’t get too comfortable. This isn’t your home.

…

“Yes. I tried to introduce them, but it isn’t going as well as I thought it would.”

Soyeon’s voice is quiet, barely above a murmur. Yet it’s enough to stir you from your sleep and your eyes flutter a few times before you see her outline standing in the corner. She’s facing the wall with her phone pressed to her ear. You don’t know what time it is but it’s still dark outside.

“My other dog, he’s a guard dog, but he’s more possessive than I thought—….okay…..okay. Oh, alright. Yeah.”

She stops talking and you shut your eyes again, pretending you didn’t hear.

When Soyeon turns around, she doesn’t see the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

The sheets, the pillow, the blanket, it all smells like Jimin. Even if you’re stowed away in this room for the rest of your life and kept separate, the walls have already been plunged with his scent.

...

You don’t realize you’ve drifted back to sleep until you wake up with the sunshine on your face.

And your heart feels full when you see Soyeon right there with you. You’ve never been taken care of so closely by someone before, never been solely doted on, never had someone call you in such a soft voice and look at you that lovingly. And she chose you. But you don’t let yourself become too happy. Not when there was someone else on the other end of the apartment.

Still, you very much like it when Soyeon smiles and sweetly chimes, “Rise and shine.”

You rub your eyes, voice still sleepy, “Morning.”

As you sit up from your spot on the bed, your nose twitches. Your pupils instantly dart to a wool sweater draped at the back of the desk chair. It smells strong. Stronger than the rest of the room.

Soyeon follows your line of sight. “Oh. I thought you looked cold in that dress. I ordered you new clothes, but they’ll arrive later tonight. Do you want to wear that for the time being?”

“M-Maybe later.”

She nods. “Are you hungry?”

You nod enthusiastically and the corner of her lips quirk.

As she leaves to get you food, you stare at the sweater. It looks softer than the blankets and much warmer too. Before you can think twice, you approach slowly, feet cold on the floorboards.

You hesitantly sink your hand into the plush fabric of the sweater.

It doesn’t bite you. No one yells.

You pick it up and bring it to your nose, inhaling deeply. It actually smells….good. Comforting.

Soyeon grins when she returns with a tray of food, noticing the sweater slipped on top of your dress.

Halfway through your meal, she looks at your stuffed cat and boops its black nose. “Hey, Y/N. Would you mind if Jimin took a look at this? I think he’d really like it.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“I have other toys for you, like the sheep.” She plops down the white stuffie next to you that looks like a huge cotton ball. You picked it out yourself, but still… “I’ll only borrow this one for a few hours.”

It takes a second, then you’re nodding. “Okay then.”

Soyeon’s hand lifts to gently ruffle your hair. “Thank you.”

…

After breakfast, you watch TV as Soyeon cleans up and probably attends to Jimin on the other side of the wall. But no later is she returning to play with you. The two of you end up reading a story as you cuddle up to her. She shows you how to play a game on her laptop too. But then all of it is interrupted when the phone rings.

Your ears perk and you flinch from the loud sound.

Soyeon picks it up and stands in the corner of the room. “Hello?” There’s silence and then she’s sighing. “What do you mean, Taehyung? I put the file on your desk before I left.” A long pause has you worried. “It should be somewhere in our email correspondence. Figure it out.”

“No. I can’t come in! I’m on personal leave for the next two weeks, remember?” Her voice moves up a pitch and you wince. Soyeon’s clearly upset and you hate it. “Ugh. I hate you. I swear to god, Kim.”

She hangs up.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“I have to go into work, but I’ll be back in an hour.” She’s frantically rushing around, entering her closet and emerging with a blouse, pants and a coat. Still, she finds the time to come over to you and she presses a kiss on top of your forehead. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“It’s okay. I can wait.” You muster a smile, trying to make her feel better. After all, she’s done her best to comfort you. Now you want to do the same to her.

“It’ll just take a jiffy. Be back before you know it.” Soyeon steps towards the door. “Don’t leave the room, okay, Y/N?”

You nod.

Soyeon leaves a few moments later. You hear footsteps in the hall, muffled voices and then the larger door shutting. Instantly, you become drowned in silence without the television or the laptop or Soyeon’s comforting voice and soothing hands petting you. You’re abandoned.

On the other side of the wall is someone who hates you and wishes you were gone.

The truth that’s been blaring in your head becomes noisier than ever: this isn’t your home.

Maybe what she said was just an excuse. Maybe the phone call was an act and maybe Soyeon hates you too. Maybe you’re more problematic than she expected, and she’ll return you to the shelter tomorrow or even today. You wouldn’t blame her if she did. Soyeon probably wanted someone to get along with Jimin and you’re too much of a handful for her.

You don’t realize you’re crying until it’s gotten so loud that it’s deafening to your own ears. But you can’t help the wails choking out of your sobbing chest or the tears streaming down your face. You lay curled up in the bed, ears pressed to your head as you clutch your toy to your chest.

Through your clouded vision, you don’t notice the bedroom door opening. Not until you hear—

“You know she’s not leaving forever, right?”

Instantly, you jolt and scramble back on the bed. Until your back hits the headboard, pillows bent underneath you.

Jimin looks at you, eyeing the way you’re wearing his sweater, and he swallows hard. “She’s supposed to leave five to six hours a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. But she always comes back.”

You whimper and he frowns.

“Stop making those noises.”

“I can’t help it,” you hiccup and rub your eyes. “W-Will she make me go back?”

“What?”

“The shelter. Will she leave me if we don’t get along?”

Jimin shifts his weight from one foot to another, expression almost uncomfortable. But he says, “Soyeon’s not that kind of owner.”

You hiccup and snivel, unable to make the lump in your throat go away. “I...I just want a home.”

You almost start to cry again, but then Jimin extends his arm. You see him holding your kitty cat. “I think this is yours,” he says and you nod, teary-eyed. He points to your body. “That’s my sweater. You’re not supposed to touch it.”

You look down, not sure if you should take it off. But you’re too scared to move.

At once, the concern vanishes. Jimin takes a step towards you and your spine and ears straighten on reflex. Then he takes another. You whimper and his brows furrow again. “Stop it. I won’t bite you.”

He places the kitty cat on the edge of the bed and in a moment where your courage has swelled, you lurch forward to grab it. Immediately, you withdraw and hold it to your chest.

You frown when you realize how much it smells like him.

You’re too busy paying attention to your toy to see the bed dip. To see Jimin crawling closer to you. Not until he’s facing you, practically nose to nose. Your back hits the headboard once more and your breath hitches. But instead of being barked at or bitten, Jimin leans in. You feel a tickle as his nose sniffs at your neck.

You release your breath, unable to hold it any longer and when you inhale, you smell him.

Jimin’s scent is warm and earthy, like vanilla and trees at the park after a rainy day in Spring. When you’re not scared, it actually smells really nice. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

Jimin sniffs at your neck incessantly with his nose and then at your hair. You whine, slumping downwards, and he practically hovers over you, caging your frame in with his arms, smelling down your body.

The tip of his nose travels from the valley of your breasts down your tummy. He pauses at the apex of your thighs, right where your underwear is and you shut your legs together.

You’re vulnerable beneath him and you’re not sure clutching the two toys to your chest will do much good in protecting you if he decides to attack. But when Jimin’s done, he looks at you and simply says, “You smell like flowers.”

“Is that bad?”

He pauses. “No. But I like it when things smell like me.”

You gasp when he suddenly leans in, brushing his cheek against yours, nuzzling into you. It tickles and you can’t help but giggle. Jimin’s ears perk at the bubbly sound and his tail starts to wag. The toys roll off your chest, and they’re left beside you when you let go. You wiggle and shift away from him, yet he pounces after you with a smile on his face.

You laugh, managing to dodge his arms and slip off the bed.

But Jimin’s much too fast and swift for your liking. He corners you by the closet with an enormous grin on his face, half-moon eyes lit up in mischief. Before you can dart to the left, he snatches your waist and follows after you as you collapse on the soft carpet.

Jimin brushes his cheek against yours, the weight of his body pressed to yours with a knee placed between your parted thighs. You’re never going to completely smell like him, not when you have your own scent, so you’re not sure why he’s trying so hard. But you don’t mind.

You take the chance to smell him too, nose twitching at his neck. A hum leaves the back of your throat as you allow yourself to become immersed in the comforting scent.

...

When Soyeon comes home an hour later, she’s surprised that Jimin isn’t already waiting at the door or doesn’t come barreling out to greet her. It’s much too quiet. She doesn’t have a good feeling.

Blood drains from her face when she walks down the hall and she sees the bedroom door wide open. The woman rushes inside, nearly tripping her feet, mouth falling open.

Yet the words die in her throat and a smile lifts onto her features when she sees Jimin cuddling you. The pair of you are fast asleep.

#bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin hybrid AU #bts hybrid AU #bts scenario #bts fluff #jimin reader insert #cherry-lala #Jimlings #aka. Jimin is a guard dog and our OC is a lap dog :(

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madamedevien · 4 years ago

Text

Infernal Heat

Hey! It’s been a while - I really miss you guys. Anyway, I know that a lot of you were keeping up to date with my Mammon x GN! Reader fic...while I’m updating it regularly on my AO3, I thought that I’d post the chapters that I’ve got here as well. I’m planning for it to be a 4 chapter fic, but let’s see how that goes! Warnings in tags (both here and AO3) - monster fucking comes into play much more come Chapter 3 and 4. The biggest thanks to @mawwart for their inspiration and @popcherrypop for reading over what I had all those months ago and actually helping me find direction. I’ve got a bigger/cheesier spiel on AO3, but anyway. Fingers crossed that the ‘Keep Reading’ line shows up here...

Chapter 1: Embers

The Great Mammon had woken up in a mood. He'd felt this creeping up for days now and he wished that it would just come and go already. It was hella distracting to have a constant tug of warmth and want in your gut, y'know? And it was annoying to feel the incessant need to primp and to add to the nest of pillows, blankets, sentimental and decorative items that now overtook most of his bed. But he was due a heat cycle. Annoyingly, he felt that it was probably going to settle in properly on that particular day and he'd been wrangled into going shopping by you. And for whatever reason he'd agreed. Not because he had a crush on you or anything. Damn, he couldn't even remember what you two were meant to be shopping for, that's how addled his mind was. Mammon really just wanted to stay put and perfect his nest. Maybe show it off to you. Although he wasn't sure if you'd appreciate the fact that he'd stolen a few items of yours while on laundry duty to tuck into said nest. Or that he wanted to maybe do something kind of nasty to a piece of your clothing. If not you.

But would you want to? To see his nest? To lay in it, lay with him, to mate with him? He wanted you to. So very, very badly. He didn’t feel like he deserved you but, oh, to say that he wanted you was a vast understatement. Fuck.

He groaned and threw one of his tanned arms over his eyes. The silveret realised that he was going to have to partially dislodge his beautiful nest to pull out Goldie (he couldn't go shopping without her - the very thought was offensive!) and that he was going to have to get rid of his raging boner before he faced you.

So into a cold shower he trudged, loudly cursing the whole time.

---

Longest shopping trip in fucking history.

It seemed like you were in need of freakin' everything imaginable. He wasn't to know that you were actually just taking your time because it'd been a while since the two of you had some time to yourselves. The demon had been acting strangely around you the past few days, although he was completely oblivious to just how weird it’d been for you.

And today, the Avatar of Greed just wasn't engaging. Questions went unanswered, as if he hadn't heard even when clearly looking at you, no boasting or sulking occurred, no bets or harebrained schemes hatched...he didn't even take you up on your offer of Hell Sauce Noodles! The demon was completely disinterested in all of this - the only thing he was interested in was you. He was also trying very very hard not to let his thoughts slip into anything inappropriate. Which was probably the single most difficult thing he’d had to do in all of his many years. Mammon wanted to take your hand and lace your fingers together; to shamelessly nuzzle your cheek in front of everyone on Silent Avenue. The thought made his heart swell. Better yet, if you were mated, he could kiss you in front of the whole crowd before publicly mounting you and-

Damn, it was hard to keep lewd thoughts at bay. He could feel his cheeks burning and looked away when your concerned expression turned to him.

On the trek home (finally!), he fell into a lazy pace behind you and Mammon couldn’t help it as you walked together. His cerulean gaze raked over the beautiful curve in your neck - the space was perfect. In his mind, he could see how perfectly his head would fit and how the mark he could leave there would only accentuate the beauty of your skin. It’d be a gorgeous brand that would loudly proclaim to all, ‘I am mated to THE Great Mammon, the Avatar of Greed and Second of the Seven; don’t you dare even think to touch me’. The very notion only caused the flush of heat over his skin to worsen and his breath to hitch; he wanted to tear into his flesh to relieve himself of the insufferable and fiery itch.

The same thoughts washed over his brain again and again like some cruel tide, even once you'd passed through the doors of the House of Lamentation.

It took only a scant moment. He didn’t even think. The silver haired demon was aware that he was losing his mind due to his damned biology, but he didn’t realise that he was so far gone that he would do something so stupid. It was only your screech that alerted him to the fact that he had pulled you tight to his chest, that he was actually in the process of sinking sharp fangs into your supple skin. The sudden realisation made him tear off of you in surprise.

Beel had been the first to burst through a doorway and into the corridor. The redhead stopped dead in his tracks and stared wide-eyed at the two of you; you with your hand clamped over the section of your neck that had been bitten, and Mammon an arm’s length away from with a look of abject horror painted over his handsome features. Stupid Mammon, indeed. The next to burst in was Lucifer, who looked ready for a proper melee. The sound that had come from you had genuinely startled the older brother, not that he’d admit that if asked. As his garnet gaze took in the scene before him, his mouth twisted unpleasantly. “Mammon…” Lucifer’s voice was dangerously low. Mammon shook his head urgently in response, “Nonono, Luci, it didn’t - I mean, yeah, it is what it looks like an’ I didn’t mean ta, but it...it’s not deep enough. Y’know?” The second brother sounded desperate. Mammon anxiously twisted his rings around his tanned fingers and had to fight back the tears that threatened the edges of his vision. He could have hurt you. “Oh, I think you’ll find that it’s more than deep enough.” Lucifer stalked toward you and put his hand on top of the one you were using to cover your wound. “Let me see how much damage the fool inflicted on you”. Mammon could see the frown that pulled at your mouth as you revealed the bite mark to his brother. No proper damage - the indents might linger, but no blood had been drawn; no skin had been broken.

“It was more from the surprise than pain, Lucifer. I just wasn’t expecting someone to bite me, you know? That’s the kind of thing that I’d expect more from a very hungry Beel.” Your attempt to lighten the mood only made the Avatar of Pride’s expression sour further - but Beel muttered a small, “Fair”. Lucifer sounded positively glacial when he spoke again. “Beelzebub, please take our brother to his room." The Avatar of Gluttony nodded solemnly, gently taking the second eldest’s shoulder. Mammon stared miserably at the floor, guilt clearly written on his flushed face although he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He didn’t trust himself to. Not after such a stupid stunt. As the other two made their way up the stairs, Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose.

This wouldn’t be pleasant.

It was no surprise to Mammon that Lucifer texted him shortly after the whole ordeal. He was just thankful that Lucifer hadn’t decided to come up to his room and literally tear into him after biting you. Of all the people to bite in the entire Devildom, it just had to be you didn’t it? Lucifer: Mammon. I have strictly instructed the household that you are not to be disturbed until I have given the all clear. You will stay in your room and I will bring you provisions at regular intervals. If you need anything, you will let me know. Are we clear? Mammon: Yes. Lucifer: Good. He waited, hopeful that Lucifer would provide an update on you. After an eon of waiting (which was actually all of seven minutes) he decided to ask. Mammon: Are they okay?

Lucifer: They are. And they will continue to be so long as you stay in your room and do not venture out. Ensure that you lock your door and remember to take your pheromone blockers as well or the whole house will reek of your mating scent. What were brothers for, if not a good motivational speech? --- Chapter 2: Flames Even with Lucifer’s reminder, Mammon had forgotten to take the pheromone blockers and to lock the door. He’d been far too distracted; worrying about your state of health, whether he’d damaged your relationship beyond repair, still trying to keep the lewd thoughts at bay, his instincts fretting over the piece of nest that had been dismantled earlier… It was a lot to be preoccupied with, okay? Without the pheromone blockers, the corridor outside of Mammon’s room was thick with the sweet perfume of a demonic male in heat. It was rich and cloying, the kind of scent that would cling to one’s clothes much to the annoyance of the other residents (Asmodeus excluded). Mammon, however, didn’t care. He was too busy now attempting to cool the heat in the pit of his stomach and to regain some clarity of mind. An attempt at sleep had been made once his nest had been repaired and Goldie tucked into her rightful place, the lights turned down low and his clothes discarded to some far corner so that he could crawl into the nest in a comfortable state...but how could he sleep when obscene images of you kept popping into his head? At first, he had tried to keep some semblance of his mind. The demon didn’t like to lose control during his heats. If he could keep his mind, he would keep to his more humanoid forms - and that was what he wanted. Because if you did, by chance, happen upon him...well. He didn’t want to scare you. Before he allowed himself to spiral into the anxiety of your imagined reaction, he reached for his ridiculously large bottle of lube. If he was going to dwell on the thought of anything, it was going to be how good he knew you’d feel… --- Mammon wouldn’t have been able to say how much time had passed. He had brought himself to orgasm more times than he could count - but it only seemed to just take off the edge. A demon’s heat was never an easy thing, but why was this time around so damn difficult? Satan would have been able to answer that with ease, the smug bastard; if a demon chooses a mate they will, naturally, be most inclined to couple with said mate for optimal breeding. To not couple with a chosen mate could make a heat worse - but to withhold coupling at all? Well, it would be a foolish endeavour. The Avatar of Greed hadn’t realised just how he was slipping ; wings and horns had appeared without him even registering and his fangs had dropped to a predatory length (which he only noticed when he had apparently attempted to put a mating mark on a pillow covered in one of your stolen shirts that he’d been desperately rutting against, much to his embarrassment). His breathing was rough. Mammon was equal parts exhausted and invigorated. He wanted nothing more than to let his knees fall out from under him so that sleep would hopefully take him - he wanted to stalk down the hall and into your room and fuck you senseless. And if Lucifer found out? Well, Mammon would love to see him try to pry you from his arms. The very thought made him snarl, his grip on his cock tightening. It was enraging to even think that his brother would dare, a thought that had him so preoccupied that he didn’t hear the door click open. His blue eyes slipped over to you and the wet sound of him furiously fucking his fist stopped abruptly. It was impossible to tell which one of you was redder. This was not what he had been expecting. “Uh-” A rasp of your name interrupted you. “Didn’t Lucifer tell you not to come?” He watched as you nodded dumbly, “Yes”. Heavy breath was the only noise to pass between you several beats. The demon in front of you was wondering whether this was fate; you weren’t running, you looked interested and, fuck, you smelled so good. You smelled aroused and it made him growl; “C’mere then”. The way that you slammed the door and scampered toward him practically had him preening in pleasure. Just as eager, Mammon scrambled over to meet you, flustered yet excited, and hauled you up close to him. He bumped your foreheads together. From here it was easy to see how incredibly blown his pupils were, to feel how desperately ragged his breathing was. You were dangerously close. “Now, see here, I'm gonna give ya one chance to go. ‘Cause if I kiss ya, I’m not gonna be able to stop. I won’t be able to let ya go. You’ll be stuck with me for the whole fuckin’ ride, ya hear?” Holy shit, his voice was so strained. “Then kiss me, you dummy.” No repeat was necessary. Mammon threaded his fingers into your hair, hesitating for only the briefest moment before pressing his lips to yours. When you responded in kind his fervour, his deep rooted greed, quickly followed. He’d wanted to kiss you from day one and not a moment had gone by since without him imagining it. This felt so incredibly right. But he couldn’t ignore the heat curling in his gut. He needed you, wanted you. And as far as he could tell, despite the dark whispers in the back of his mind saying otherwise, you seemed to feel the same.The way that you returned his greedy kisses, how your fingers had twisted sharply in his hair, how you didn’t seem to mind the messy clicking of his elongated fangs against your blunt teeth as he tried to figure out how best to navigate your mouth in this form - how could he deny that he was wanted? Mammon's only regret when looking back on this evening with you would be not savouring your body laid bare for him for the first time. His mind was too heat-addled to appreciate it; he was unable to slowly peel off your layers and to have the sentiment returned in kind as he had previously fantasised about. In his mind’s eye, he had a whole big romantic gesture planned if you had decided to sleep with him. Previously, he had imagined how he would make love to you and treasure every moment of it...but alas… Your clothes were quickly stripped from you, sharp fangs nipping at new skin as it was exposed. There was no delicate treatment here and he paid no heed to the sound of torn material. When he next plundered your mouth, it was far smoother than the first time - he was a fast learner, after all. The only complaint that he had about kissing you was that it muffled those beautiful noises of yours. When he broke the seal of your mouths it was to gently toss you back toward the top of the bed, deeper into his nest and into the comfort of a ridiculous amount of pillows - to properly secure you into his nest. To see you like that felt...good. It felt right. It was clear that was exactly where you belonged. The very image had him growling in satisfaction as he took the opportunity to crawl over your body, his fingers gripping at the meat of your thighs and hips as if ensuring that you were truly there with him. Thankfully, his nails had not yet turned into talons or they would have pierced through you with ease at the way that he handled your flesh. Mammon had to take a deep breath when he looked at you this time. He needed to make sure that he didn’t hurt you while doing this - it was the last thing in the world that he wanted. It was unusual for the Avatar of Greed to put the needs of others before his own...but you weren’t just some ‘other’. You were you. His very own treasure, his very own mate. Reluctantly, a hand left your body to fish for something buried within the nest. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” He coated his fingers generously in lube, desperate to ensure that he would cause as little pain as possible, “Just fuckin’ perfect”. Two fingers slipped into you as Mammon spoke, his tone low and hoarse. Never had he imagined just how difficult it would be to hold himself back like this, nor could he have been prepared for just how much desire he felt in that moment. The sensation of your hot core wrapped around his fingers had him shamelessly rutting against your thigh, a poor attempt at taking the edge off of his lust. A human really had no business wrecking him like this. His heat cycles were normally pretty boring - desperate rutting for a day or two and then back to normal life. You had no right to set his skin aflame like this, no right to have him feel like he could cum just from the noise you made once he had three fingers fucking into your heat. The way his blood was rushing in his ears was deafening...and he wanted more. It didn’t take too long for it all to get too much. Even all of the dark hickies that he had furiously littered your neck, chest and shoulders with weren’t enough to distract him from the wet sound of his fingers preparing you or the stunning sounds he managed to pull from you when he got the angle of his hand just right. Mammon would never admit it, but he kind of missed his target. The point of removing his hand from you had been to slip himself right in. Instead, as he kissed you he rolled his slick cock against your sex...which, to be fair, had felt better than your thigh. And if the sound that you’d made in response was anything to go by, you thought so too. He liked that noise. A lot. So he rolled his hips against you again, groaning in response to you. Ever eager to please, the greedy demon found a rhythm that you both seemed to enjoy in the interim. “Ya like that, huh?” Mammon wasn’t sure where the cockiness in his tone was coming from when internally he felt so nervous. It was those very nerves that quickly had his hand moving to guide his cock to your entrance and thrusting into you before you could retort. Mammon didn’t realise it would silence both of you. By no means was he a virgin. The Great Mammon would have it known that he was a proper Casanova type, thank you very much. He just didn’t realise how different it would feel coupling with someone that he truly and deeply loved. The heat causing that deep need to breed the closest thing with a pulse didn’t help things, of course. It was...incredible, for lack of a better word. Divine. Mammon choked on an Infernal curse once seated completely in you and had to literally bite his tongue to keep an anchor on his self-control. All of that hard earned control was thrown out the window when his name passed your lips. There was no hesitation in how his hips pistoned, fucking into you relentlessly. His hands manoeuvred to cradle the back of your knees and he pushed your legs back to allow him more access to your body, his fingers gripping hard enough to bruise. The noises that left him were snaps and snarls of Infernal praise, not that he realised. The only thought on Mammon’s mind was his primal objective of breeding you until neither of you could move ; it didn’t matter whether you could actually fall pregnant or not. No logic or worry clouded his mind with these thoughts. All he could focus on was filling you with his seed until he couldn’t any more, the thought of your stomach tender and round because of his affections toward his mate... Mammon’s first orgasm came with an embarrassing quickness. When he spilled inside of you, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your chest, he was quickly filled with a relief and warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. For the first time since his heat had set in, there was true clarity in his mind. While his natural instincts weren’t completely quelled, it was enough for him to actually think with something other than his adamantly pulsing dick. His relief quickly fell to mortification, the shadows of which were clear on his features when he pulled back to look at you. His cheeks were tinted red both from exertion and embarrassment ; he hadn’t paid enough attention to get you to climax. He was quick to stutter out your name, mouth tripping on the words that were trying to get out of his mouth as his sluggishly content brain tried to supply words just beyond reach. “What, isn’t The Great Mammon going to make me cum?” Your sass fanned the flames in his loins. A playful snarl was made in response, “Oh sweetheart. I’m going to make you cum so fuckin’ hard you black out. You won’t be able to feel your legs by the time I’m done with you”. And so The Great Mammon set to work. --- Mammon hummed contentedly as you lazily played with the hair at the nape of his neck hours later. This was perfection. Strong fingers stroked your thighs as he enjoyed the sensation of you wrapped around his hips, the pleasure of you sat on his lap while cuddled up together in your nest. The demon toyed with the thought of pushing his hips up just to make you gasp from the overstimulation, but decided against it. Although he was loath to admit it, you needed rest - because Mammon had been good to his word, ensuring that you both had more than your fair share of orgasms. But this was good. The fire in his gut had died down to crackling embers, although he knew it would flare up again soon - but you would be there to help ease him through it. And you even seemed to like helping him out. What was the phrase… ‘mutually beneficial’? Somethin’ like that. His eyes fluttered open when he heard your chuckle. He couldn’t help but wonder if you knew how freakin’ stunning you were when you smiled like that. “What?” When your eyes met his, he was pouting frowning. The laugh that you let out only made his brow furrow more, “I said what. What’s got ya laughin’ like that, huh? You should be out like a freakin’ light by now”. It wasn’t until you replied that he realised how obvious it was, “I didn’t know that demons could purr”. Mammon squawked loudly and attempted to divert your attention - he sounded like a damn motor! It wasn’t fair! He wasn’t even able to control the way he was going off… It was embarrassing. “Well, yeah, y’know, sometimes. We’re incredible ‘n mysterious creatures us demons, y’know! Demons are capable of things that your human mind couldn’t even comprehend! Anyway, ’s not like ’s all the time or anythin’ like that…” He tried to occupy himself and forget about the heat radiating from his face by playing with your hair - but he could feel you smiling against the crook of his neck. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” The incredible and mysterious demon sounded more like a petulant child (well, a purring and petulant child). “So, when do you normally purr?” “I dunno. When we’re happy, I guess?” “Does that mean I haven’t made you happy before?” The way that he spluttered was definitely worth teasing him. “Who said that ya haven’t made me happy?! ‘N besides, this is different!” Even Mammon couldn’t deny that he was now pouting, but he tried to focus on the feeling of your fingers running along his shoulders. It was nice; soothing, even. Until he felt a sharp tug on the back of his neck. “Ouch! You gotta be more gentle than that!” The look of surprise on your face made him want to curl in on himself. “Mammon - are those feathers?” “Phffft,” The greedy demon rolled his eyes and tried to deflect your query, “Shaddap. You dunno what you’re talking ‘bout”. When your mouth opened again, he did take the opportunity to thrust sharply into you. At the gasp, he lurched forward with a passionate kiss. Simply to shut you up, of course. No hidden agenda. His pleased purring melted into a deep rumbling, the fire in his belly stoking itself back to life. It was impossible for him not to roll you over to allow him to bask in more of your shared passion. The laughter that ensued, laughter that he was sure was aimed at him, only made his heart swell as much as his cock.

#obey me #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #deVien writes #deVien writes for asmo #Infernal Heat #Smut #mammon x gn! reader #mammon x gender neutral reader #Gender neutral reader #Mating cycles #Heat cycles #mating cycles/in heat #Feral Mammon #Monster fucking #Well gradual monster fucking #Insecure Mammon #Kind of a breeding kink but that's more instincts

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