#this was def the right hair decision

[hotmess-exe]

locs coming in nice 🥰

[imaginedisish]

Unchained Melody (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Get ready to cry again. Here is the *what if you and Logan went to a wedding together* request. Heavily inspired by "Unchained Melody." That is such a Logan song and you cannot tell me otherwise. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan decide to go to Rogue and Remy's wedding together, but you don't know what together means. Logan helps to clarify...

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT, thigh riding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), softdom!Logan, praise kink, cocky!Logan (literally), multiple orgasms, aftercare, Logan will do anything for you, afab!reader/f!reader, reader wears a dress, reader has hair (length/color/texture not described), feelings, so fluffy and cheesy, cursing, Scott is a little shit, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 4,452 I wanna dance with Logan

Maybe this was a mistake. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning around and around. You scan your face, check your hair, and smooth out your dress. Everything is in its right place. But, maybe, just maybe, this is all a mistake. 

You and Logan—somehow—came to the decision that you would go to Rogue and Remy’s wedding together. As in…

Together. 

And yet, you weren’t entirely sure what together truly entailed. Was this going to be a date? Or were you two simply going as friends? Friends friends friends. That god-awful, misery-inducing word you’re all too familiar with. Its meaning and restrictions haunted you as you got ready, and they’re still plaguing you now. You are so incredibly sick of being just friends with Logan. You want more—want him, all of him. But you can’t tell him how you feel—you can never find the words or the courage. 

So, you’re simply going to the wedding together, unlabeled out of fear of getting an answer you don’t want to hear. 

You slip on your heels, straightening out your gown one last time before heading towards the door. You take a deep breath, nervous beyond belief. You twist the knob, pulling the door open. 

And there he is on the other side, fist clenched like he was about to knock. Logan. He’s wearing a black suit, a bowtie tied perfectly at his neck. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Hi,” he husks, his eyes trailing up and down your body. He smiles softly as he meets your gaze. He shakes his head in awe. “You look beautiful.” 

“Oh, please I—” But he cuts you off, his hand reaching out to rest in the crook of your neck. “Really, you look beautiful. You always do.” Your breath hitches as his hand slides down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours.

You take a deep breath, suddenly overwhelmed by the contact and Logan’s words. “You look really great too,” you choke out, a slight tremble in your voice. “Perfect,” you say, and Logan tugs your hand, guiding you out the door and into the hallway.

Rogue had told you the wedding would be small—just her and Gambit’s closest friends and family on the grounds of the institute.  

Logan leads you down the stairs and out the back door of the mansion. The first thing you see are flowers; an absolute abundance of flowers. There are lilies and irises, asters and chrysanthemums. Daises, tulips, every single flower one can imagine—adorning tables, white tents, and planted in pots and boxes. It’s beautiful—a rainbow of colors and fragrances. The lawn has been transformed into a secret garden. 

Logan guides you down a cobblestone path toward a trellis covered in vines and wisteria. Surrounding the trellis on either side are rows of white, wooden chairs. You and Logan walk to the front row on Rogue’s side of the aisle and sit down next to Storm, Charles, and Jubilee.  You wave as you sit down. “You look amazing!” Jubilee shouts, reaching over Charles and Logan to get a better look at your dress. 

“You look beautiful too, Jubes,” you say, motioning in her direction. Logan sits back, slipping his hand from yours and draping his arm over your shoulder instead. Jubilee notices the movement, her eyes flickering between you and Logan, a small smile playing upon her lips. She winks at you and settles back into her seat. 

Footsteps sweep through the grass as people find their chairs. You struggle to ignore the warmth of Logan’s arm around your shoulder and the way it makes you feel—the soft circles he’s drawing into your bare skin. It’s like he needs the proximity, needs the touch. 

You can feel Logan lean in, his lips at the shell of your ear. “You are the most—”

“Wow,” a familiar voice interrupts Logan. You turn your head, and there’s Scott, with Jean just a few steps behind him. “Didn’t expect that.” He raises his brows and cocks his head to the side. 

“You need something, bub?” Logan asks, annoyance and irritation heavy in his voice. 

Scott swallows nervously as Jean chuckles behind him. He shakes his head and sits down next to you. “Nope, I just…” He trails off, looking towards the trellis. 

Logan leans forward, his arm still around your shoulder. “You just what?”

Scott throws his hands up, feigning innocence. “Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

Logan leans back, squeezing your shoulder gently as he settles into the seat. You turn towards him, catching his gaze. You need to ask him what this is, even if it’s clear to him. It’s obviously something to everyone else. You part your lips, finding the courage to finally ask Logan what you two are. “Logan,” you whisper so only he can hear. “What is—"  

But the music starts up, a whimsical rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” filling the air as Hank walks down the aisle, stopping underneath the trellis. Next is Remy, in a cream-colored suit. He grins from ear to ear as he trails down the aisle, nodding to Charles as he steps under the arch. And finally, at the end of the aisle is Rogue. Her dress is bright white, lacey, and tight. She walks down, her bouquet of lilies of the valley and baby’s breath in hand. 

She meets Remy’s side, and the music stops. “Friends and family,” Hank starts, smiling widely at the crowd. “We have gathered here today for the marriage of two people who should have been married long ago.” The crowd chuckles as Hank goes on. “But it is always better late than never…”

He continues, talking about their story, their love. Hank—naturally—finds a few Shakespeare quotes to scatter throughout his speech. It’s incredibly cheesy, but it’s beautiful. And, as Remy and Rogue exchange vows, you can’t help but well up. Their admiration and passion for one another is so undeniably clear. They’re committed, a team, partners until the end. 

“I will always love you, chere,” Remy says, slipping the ring onto Rogue’s finger. 

A single tear slides down Rogue’s cheek. “And I will always love you, sugar,” Rogue says, placing the ring in her hand onto Remy’s finger next. 

You look up at Logan, and you notice that he’s looking down at you. There’s something in his eyes, but you can’t quite place it. He tugs you closer, his thumb still stroking your shoulder. 

Hank sniffles. “With the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Hank says, his voice shaky, his eyes glossed over, holding back tears. “You may now kiss the bride!” 

Remy wraps his arms around Rogue’s waist, and he dips her, his lips capturing hers. Everyone stands, clapping and cheering. You and Logan stand too, his arm falling from your shoulder, leaving you feeling cold despite the summer heat.

But as Rogue and Remy walk down the aisle, Logan’s arm wraps around your waist.  Rogue’s smile widens when she spots you, her eyes flitting between you and Logan. She laughs knowingly. Finally, she mouths to you, and blows you a kiss. The couple finishes their walk down the aisle, and they head into a nearby tent.  

Given that this is Rogue and Remy, the party starts right away. Music blares from the tent, and you can see the happy couple hitting the floor. You recognize the song immediately: “Take on Me” by Aha. Jean drags Scott across the grass to join them. Jubilee and some of the other kids trail behind. Charles, Storm, and Hank head over together. 

You look at Logan and smile, grabbing him by the hand and tugging him towards the tent. You can’t remember the last time you saw everyone this happy. It’s rare that you get to let loose, to have a good time. It warms your heart to see all the students dancing, to see them having a normal childhood experience. 

“Come on!” Jubilee calls. “Come dance!” She’s twirling around, dancing with Kurt and Morph, sparking her signature fireworks every now and then.

You squeeze Logan’s hand and pull him towards the dance floor. You’re shocked that he doesn’t drag his heels, that he doesn’t protest or tell you no—he lets you tug him onto the floor. You turn to face him, swaying to the synthy pop. Logan lifts his arm, twirling you around, laughing as you spin back to him. He grabs your other hand and bounces with you to the music.

“I didn’t know you liked dancing!” You shout over the song as Logan spins you again. 

He smirks, chuckling softly. “I don’t!” He shouts back, pulling you in and out to the beat. “But I like dancing with you.” He draws you in closer, letting go of your hands as his arms wrap around your waist instead.

You can feel the heat rising to your chest, spreading up your neck. The song fades out, and a much slower one starts up. “Something” by The Beatles echoes across the lawn. Rogue and Remy take the center of the floor, and everyone steps off, watching from the side. Logan guides you off the floor and towards your table, his hand in yours again.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur. You see the way Remy looks at Rogue, the way they move as one, fluid unit. “Don’t you want something like that?” You ask, your gaze finding Logan’s. He has that look in his eyes again—all soft, relaxed, happy. 

Logan nods, squeezing your hand. “I think I’ve found it already.” 

Your lips part as you rack your brain for the right thing to say, your breath catching in your throat. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted—the words you’ve been waiting to hear. “Logan I—”

But Jubilee is grabbing your hand as the song changes. “If you’re not gonna dance with my girl, then I’m stealing her!” Jubilee calls out to Logan, pulling you onto the floor as “Can’t Take My Eyes off You” by Frankie Valli rings out. 

“Jubes,” you protest. “Logan and I were actually talking about something kind of important and—”

“One song?” She begs, frowning, putting on her best puppy dog eyes. You look over at Logan, and he’s still standing where you left him, smiling widely. Dance with her, he mouths, arching his brows expectantly. 

“Fine,” you say, still looking at Logan. 

Jubilee cheers, taking your hands in hers, spinning you around. You jump with her, screaming the words. Logan watches from his seat. He loves the way you move, the way you shake your hips, the way you throw your head back and laugh. He can see how much fun you’re having, how happy you are. He can’t keep his eyes off you, can’t help but be mesmerized. And he knows—just by watching—that he wants to be with you forever. Longer than that. You’ve changed him, made him different. And all for the better. 

You look over at him, his arms crossed against his chest as his eyes follow your every move. He’s smiling widely, clearly getting a kick out of you. 

“He loves you, you know,” Jubilee says, twirling you. “I mean, just look at how he’s looking at you!” Jubilee smirks, nodding towards Logan. Her eyes widen. “I think he’s coming over here!”

“Jubes…” Logan chides as he steps closer to the two of you. “Think I can cut in?”

“I don’t know Logan,” Jubilee says sarcastically, grinning ear to ear. “We’re having a great time.”

Logan puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’d like my girl back now.” 

My girl. His girl. 

Jubilee lifts her hands, stepping away from you as the song fades out. “Fine,” she says, pretending to be heartbroken. “Guess I’ll just have to give her up.” Logan steps between the two of you, and you lean to the side to peer at Jubilee as she walks away. She catches your glance, thrusting two thumbs up, mouthing a You got this! as she wanders to her seat. 

“Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers starts up, and Logan wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. The sun is setting in the distance, a honeyed glow washing across the lawn, painting the tent and the dance floor in golden light. Logan sways you from side to side, and you let your head fall to his shoulder. 

His lips find the shell of your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers so that only you can hear. 

“Lo, before, when we were watching Remy and Rogue…” you pause, lifting your head to look up at him. 

The corners of his mouth turn up. “I meant what I said,” Logan rasps. “I want you.” He presses his forehead to yours. “Just you.”

“I want you too,” you say, your voice soft and breathy. Logan holds you tighter, his lips just inches away from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your face. 

“Wanted you the whole time,” Logan husks, rocking you gently as the song plays out. “You’re all I ever think about. I can’t get through a day without seeing you, without talking to you.” He pauses as the music grows louder, the strings and piano echoing across the dance floor.

Woah, my love, my darling I've hungered, hungered for your touch A long, lonely time And time goes by so slowly And time can do so much Are you still mine?

“You feel like home,” he says, his eyes glossing over. “I’ve been alive a long time, and for once in my life, I finally understand what that word means. It’s you. This is what love is supposed to feel like.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath, his jaw working. “I love you, so goddamn much.”

“I love you too,” you confess. “More than anything.” 

And then his lips are on yours, and suddenly everything is nothing. The people around you are gone. Your problems have long melted away. Every ounce of pain and every second of suffering you’ve ever felt—that he has ever experienced—are forgotten. It’s all warmth and comfort, languid and slow, but passionate. He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. It’s perfect. Beyond perfect. 

His lips part from yours, and he looks down at you, taking you in, committing the moment to memory. “Pretty girl,” Logan mumbles, tugging you off the floor as the song fades out and a pop song starts up. “What if we slipped away for a few minutes?” 

“O-okay,” you stutter as Logan guides you past your table and out of the tent. The bass of the music echoes across the lawn as you and Logan wander hand in hand toward the mansion.  

He pushes the back door open, leading the two of you inside, and immediately pins you against the wall. “This okay, sweetheart?” Logan asks, holding your hands above your head, his fingers wrapping tightly around your wrists. 

“Yes,” you breathe, your chest heaving against his. He closes the gap between you completely, his lips pressing to yours. It’s hurried now, hungry and frantic. His knee nudges between your legs, spreading you open. You can feel the fire burning in your core—the growing ache. 

You squirm underneath him, your arms fidgeting against his hold, longing to reach out and touch him. “Wanna make you feel good first, princess,” Logan soothes, his grip on your wrists tightening. “Let me take care of you.” You can’t help but grind down on his thigh at his words. 

“Lo,” you whine, searching for more friction. “Please, need you.” Logan swallows your moans with a kiss, his lips melting against yours. “I know, darlin’. I need you too,” he coos. “But I like watching you get off on my thigh,” he says cockily. “That feel good?” He pushes his thigh harder between your legs as you slide up and down. 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, rolling your hips. “N-need more.” 

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Logan whispers, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw to your neck, softly biting that sweet spot underneath your ear. “Gonna make this pussy feel good.” He lets go of your wrists as he slides down your body, hiking your dress up above your hips as he kneels in front of you.

Logan yanks your panties down your legs, leaving your core bare in front of him. “Wanna taste you, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning against your heat as he settles between your thighs. 

“Please,” you beg, his face just centimeters from where you need him most. His palms splay across your inner thighs, squeezing and nudging you open. You look down at him, hunger, desire, and desperation darkening his half-lidded eyes. “Lo—”

And then he’s licking a long stripe through your folds, his tongue flicking your clit. You shudder underneath his touch as he does it again, his tongue pressing harder this time. 

“Tastes so fucking good,” Logan mumbles against you. “Knew you’d taste perfect.” He pulls your clit between his lips and sucks, his teeth grazing the bud lightly. Your knees buckle at the sensation. 

Logan pushes your legs further apart, one of his hands sliding up your thigh and toward your center. It’s teasing, achingly slow as his fingers finally reach your folds, toying with your slit and spreading your slick. He laps at your clit, and he’s desperate, ravenous, his mouth swallowing you hungrily.

He teases your entrance with two fingers—gentle compared to the way his teeth graze your clit, to the way he’s sucking every last drop you have to give him. You part your lips, ready to beg for him, but he’s thrusting his long fingers inside you—down to his knuckles—only to pull out and pump back in again. 

You moan his name, your back arching off the wall, your thighs trembling as he fucks into you. Logan smiles against you. “That feel good, pretty girl?” He asks, his fingers pumping in and out of your entrance at a rhythmic pace.

“S-so good, Logan,” you say, your voice shaky and uneven. His tongue flits out, flicking your clit before his lips wrap around the bud. He sucks again, harder this time, longer, his face buried deep inside your cunt, like he needs this. Needs to feel every inch of you. To explore you. To remember you. Your heart thunders in your chest as he thrusts in and out, his fingers hitting that sweet spot deep inside every time. 

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him, taking him deeper. Logan laughs against you, the vibration rolling through your body in waves. “I know you’re getting closer, pretty girl,” Logan whispers, lapping at you between sentences. He looks up at you under those dark, hooded eyes as he plunges into you. “Let me get you there, wanna taste it when you come.”

You flutter around him again, his words threatening to spill the heat building at the bottom of your belly. “Lo,” you whimper as he brings a third finger to your entrance. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, say my name,” he demands, shoving the third finger deep inside on his next pump. 

“F-fuck,” you stutter, your legs shaking as you chant his name. Logan Logan Logan. 

“So fucked out that I’m all you can think about, huh?” Logan teases, edging you closer along. You moan in affirmation as Logan laves at you, stuffing his fingers deep inside. “So fucking beautiful,” he praises. “Doing so good for me.”

“L-Lo,” you choke out, clenching down around him. “I’m so close.”

You can feel yourself coming undone, melting into nothingness as he rams into you, sucking your clit roughly. “I know, princess. Let go for me, wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

Your hips buck and your legs tremble as you fall apart. Your orgasm crashes into you, pleasure coursing through your veins. Logan works you through it, his face still buried between your legs. His tongue laps at you softly, his fingers pumping slowly until they stall inside you. 

His gaze meets yours as he pulls his fingers out of your cunt and brings them to his mouth. His lips wrap around his fingers, and he sucks, savoring your release. He pulls his fingers out with a pop as he stands up. 

Logan presses his forehead to yours. “You know, there’s something else I want,” Logan says, his voice deep and raspy. “I’m not done with you yet.” He cages you in, a hand on either side of your head. 

“W-we need to be careful,” you stammer, nodding towards the door. “Someone could come in and—” Logan cuts you off. “Locked it the second we came inside, sweetheart,” Logan whispers, grabbing your dress and bunching it up around your waist. “No one’s coming in here. It’s just you and me, princess.” Logan pushes his hips into yours, and you can feel his erection straining against the fabric of his slacks. “Need you, darlin’.”

You wrap your arms around Logan’s back. “Need you too,” you pant. Logan’s lips find yours, crashing down needily, starvingly. He swallows your moans, one hand still collecting the fabric of your dress while his other tugs at his belt. He throws it to the floor with a clink and works at his button and zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down his legs. He hoists you up, one hand gripping your ass tightly, pushing your back against the wall for leverage.

“Fuck,” Logan curses, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. Everything is rushed and frantic. He needs to be inside you, needs to feel you, needs to be as close to you as possible. His head slides through your folds, spreading your slick. “Wanted this for so long,” Logan huffs, his tip slipping into your slit. “My girl.”

With one thrust, he sinks himself deep inside you—down to the hilt. You’re suddenly so full, so whole. “Yours,” you answer as he pulls out and thrusts back in, somehow deeper this time. He’s everywhere and he’s everything. “All yours.”

Logan curses under his breath, panting your name as he sets a brutal pace. “Mine,” he growls between placing open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. “All fucking mine.” His free hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit and drawing tight, rapid circles around the bud. 

You dig your nails into his suit jacket as he splits you open. You want to feel him—to feel his skin, his chest pressed against yours. But this will have to do for now. 

“Next time,” he mumbles, knowing exactly what you’re silently asking for. “You can have more of me next time, okay sweetheart?”

Next time. The words replay in your head as he fucks into you, taking everything you have to give. He knows you so well, already knows every curve and inch of your body, knows your dreams and desires. You fit, like two puzzle pieces, like magnets finally drawing together. 

His thumb brushes your clit soothingly before pinching roughly, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. Logan thrusts in and out, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the foyer. 

“Feels so good, pretty girl,” Logan groans. “So fucking perfect, so tight.” Your walls flutter around him, and he grunts as you squeeze him. “Taking me so well.” 

You’re already close, every thrust bringing you to the edge, every flick of your clit sending you spiraling. It’s all too much. And it’s all because of him. 

“Lo,” you whine, his hips rocking into yours, his cock dragging along your walls. “I’m so…” You trail off, squeezing him again, taking him deeper. 

He moans your name, sinking inside you and pulling back out. “I know, princess, me too,” he murmurs, his pace faltering, his hips sputtering. “Come on my cock, wanna feel it,” he pants. “Wanna feel you. Forever.”

And then the tension snaps, heat spilling out of you as Logan thrusts again. He’s throbbing inside you, close behind. Pleasure pulses through your body, wave after wave. You wrap your legs tighter around Logan’s waist, keeping him close as he spills inside you, filling you up. He chants your name, his forehead pressing to yours, looking deep into your eyes as he comes undone.

Your chests heave together, sharing the same breath. His cock is still inside you. Everything is calm. Quiet. “So perfect,” Logan breathes, his lips finding yours again. “So fucking perfect.” He finally slips out of you and sets you down on the ground, keeping your dress bunched up around your waist. 

He leans over to the side, grabs a paper towel from a conveniently placed nearby roll, and sinks down to his knees. He’s cleaning you up, taking care of you, wiping away the mess spilling down your legs. He pulls your panties back up and kisses each of your thighs before standing and tossing the paper towel into the garbage by the door. 

He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, letting your dress go. He fixes each of your straps, straightening them out, and smooths out your dress. “Beautiful,” he praises, swallowing harshly, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out and taking you again. Part of you wishes he would.

But he bends over and pulls his pants and boxers up, tucking in his shirt, zippering and buttoning his slacks, and securing his belt back in place. He’s still a little disheveled—sweat on his brow, his hair out of place. But he looks perfect. He looks just like him. 

“You ready to go back out?” He asks, taking your hand in his. You nod and let him lead you outside and towards the tent. 

You find your seats just as dinner is being served. “Where’d you two go?” Scott asks, arching a brow. 

“Got a little too hot,” Logan says, smirking to himself. He finds your thigh under the table, squeezing gently, possessively. “Needed a break from the heat.”

You hum in affirmation, turning your head towards Logan. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “That’s one way to put it,” you whisper so that only he can hear. 

He squeezes your thigh again, harder this time. His lips find the shell of your ear as the rest of the table starts up a conversation. “You’re coming back to my room tonight,” he husks. “Got it?” You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he separates from you. 

You nod, his hand still on your thigh. 

“Good, because I’m not finished with you yet.”

tags: @starfleetteddybear @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr @cosmiccandydreamer @Movhoney.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine falls in love with his pretty neighbor.

Genre: Fluff 🍰

Warnings: swearing, blood, def a cliché mess but in a good way (hopefully)

~ breaking my T.S title streak for this one! inspired by the song Too Sweet by Hozier ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

It truly was some cruel sick joke that the sweetest looking girl he had ever seen had moved into the house across from his.

Tangerine honestly couldn't remember the last time he let himself have anything truly good in his life, since he knows everything he touches burns right in front of him. Which meant he made the decision that he can't afford that with you—so he's stayed as far away from you as possible.

You, on the other hand, have never wanted to become friends with anyone so much as you did with your two, mostly quiet, neighbors in the house in front of yours.

You'd overheard some neighborly gossip that they weren't to be messed with—gangsters or something like that. You didn't really believe those rumors considering you'd seen one of them, the one with dark skin and platinum hair, feeding the birds that rest on their porch. 

What kind of dangerous gangster would care about birds?

So, that's why, one month into having moved in, you stand in front of their door with a plate of miniature strawberry shortcakes displayed neatly in a pink tray. It feels corny and stupid when no one answers the door for a moment. You raise your hand to knock again when eventually the door opens and you look up, making eye contact with eyes that are the prettiest shade of blue you've ever seen.       

The man is dressed in a white button-up, half of it unbuttoned in his trousers and his brown hair is curled naturally, the ends sticking up messily as he looks you over. He tucks something behind him, clearing his throat awkwardly as his gaze falls to the tray in your hands. "Pastries," he says, his voice velvety and his British accent thick. 

You hold the tray out closer to him. "Shortcakes. I made them myself," you say with a smile and the man just looks annoyed—his lips twitching as he looks you over again, taking in your apron and the cream that's smeared on your cheeks. 

"It's late," he points out calmly, "much too late for afternoon tea."

He's right. It is. It's almost seven—you'd just taken more time with the cakes than you'd wanted. You feel embarrassed now and lower the tray.

"Oh," you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd had a whole introduction plan and now you're flustered. "You could use them as a late-night snack—" you pause, trying to explain, "Most nights, I see that your lights are on when I wake up at around three or four am for water and–well if you already can't sleep, a sweet treat wouldn't do you any harm?"

You feel like the creepiest stalker as the man's eyes widen. 

"Sorry, this was a stupid," you say and turn around, preparing to walk away when the man's voice interrupts your thoughts. 

"I'm allergic to strawberries," he says, "but my brother isn't. He'd love them. Here, I'll take 'em." He takes the tray from you as you turn back around and he looks down at the cakes he's now holding. Tangerine can tell you clearly spent time on them and he has to fight himself not to smile. 

"Thank you—"

"Y/n," you say your name much too quickly, itching for connection to this mystery man. 

"Thank you, Y/n."

You don't even hesitate when you ask, "And you are?"

Tangerine hesitates. He can't tell you his real name. Speaking to you like this, out in the open, is already risky. He sniffs nonchalantly and uses an excuse, one he hopes you won't question too much. "My friends call me Tangerine."

You laugh and the sound is so beautiful it's unfair. "Tangerine? What? Is that some shitty drunken inside joke with your mates at Uni?" you guess, pushing down the curiosity to jokingly ask if you using his nickname makes you his friend. It's too soon for questions like that.

He shrugs. "Mm, something like that," he says and he doesn't elaborate further. You wonder if you'll be worthy of his real name one of these days, but for now, this feels like some progress. You smile at him, rocking on your heels for a moment and then you look back across the street at your house. 

"Well, Tangerine, it was lovely meeting you but I should—" you point behind you with a smile. "I'll see you around and hopefully I can meet your brother! Enjoy the shortcakes!" you wave and skip down the steps as Tangerine watches you, his stomach filled with unfamiliar, normally dormant, butterflies.  

He chuckles, biting his cheek, and then walks back inside. He untucks his gun from his trousers and slides it into the designated drawer of the entrance table, shaking his head with a small smile as he remembers your wide grin. He returns to the living room and puts the tray next to Lemon's puzzle. 

"Someone important?" Lemon asks and then he looks up and sees the cakes. His smile widens and he doesn't hesitate to take one. "Ooo, pastries," he exclaims and practically stuffs one in his mouth, humming with joy. 

"Nah, just our neighbor," Tangerine says and runs a hand in his hair, leaning against the table and mindlessly playing with one of the puzzle pieces as he remembers how pretty you looked. 

Lemon cocks an eyebrow and speaks with his mouth full. "Which one?"

Tangerine shrugs. "Does it matter?" 

Lemon rolls his eyes. "Yer bein' weird as fuck. It was that cute bird from across the street, wasn't it? The one ya keep starin' at when you can see 'er from 'er window—like some creep—"

"Oh, piss off," Tangerine grunts, lowering his head to hide how pink his cheeks have turned.

Lemon hums, continuing to eat the pastries you'd made them, and grins. He knows how his brother is; always too damn proud to admit he has any feelings other than nonchalance and disdain. But he's seen how Tangerine is smitten with you without even an interaction and he can't wait to see where this goes. 

"Want one?" Lemon asks as he motions toward the tray.

"No. I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lemon laughs. "Ya aren't allergic to strawberries, you numpty."

Tangerine stands straighter, eyeing the tray of what looks like really delicious shortcakes for a moment until his jaw clenches and he turns around, his thumbs hooking in his pockets. "I am now," he says bluntly.

* * *

Lemon has gone inside first as Tangerine hangs behind, making sure the garage is fully secured. He's exhausted and there are dark bags under his eyes. Usually, he'll take the inside entrance into the house, but this morning he needs some fresh air after that mission. He walks outside and looks up at the dusty pink sky. It's 4:30 am in the morning—no sane person would be up. 

"Mr. Tangerine!" 

He startles at his name, holding his hands behind him—knowing they're still covered in blood. He looks up and his eyes widen when he sees you.

You're walking across the street to meet him, tightening your ponytail as your grin widens. You don't look sleepy at all. "Good morning," you say and look him over, "Weird running attire," you joke, mentioning the navy blue suit he's wearing.

"Running?" he echoes. 

You drop your arms to your sides, looking him over with a small, amused, frown. "Oh– I just assumed—most people, including myself, are only up at this hour for a morning run. What are you doing?" 

You ask the question so innocently that Tangerine doesn't know how to answer. 

He can't exactly tell you what he's been doing. How the truth is he's been out all night killing for money. He pushes the image of your disappointed and scared look from his mind and lies. "Oh, I like seeing the sunrise," he says, sounding nonchalant, pushing his hands in his pockets quickly so you don't see the dried, crimson, mess. 

Hopefully, you'll leave him alone soon. 

Unluckily for him, you don't leave him alone. "Oh! I love watching the sunrise!" you say, smiling as you point behind you, adjusting your sneakers. "We should go see it someday," you offer kindly, your tone a more sincere nonchalance than he was, "no pressure or anything." 

Tangerine is speechless. He blinks at you, his sharp blue eyes scanning you up and down. You must be kidding. No sensible soul would invite a stranger to do something seemingly so intimate. You shouldn't be inviting him like this, you don't know him. He's dangerous. 

"You don't know me, why would you want to do that?" he asks bluntly. 

You shrug, still looking as nonchalant as ever. "Can't know you if you shut me out," you say, smiling, as you return his bluntness. When he doesn't answer, you just send him a small wave, saying your goodbyes as you begin your run. 

Tangerine is tempted to run with you now. To protect you. He shakes that thought. 

Lemon interrogates him the moment he comes back inside. "Flirtin' with her now, Tan?"

"You're gettin' on my fuckin' tits," Tangerine grunts, your offer still swarming his mind. Lemon laughs. 

Tangerine doesn't have much peace until he eventually, after you deliver more and more pastries as an excuse to talk to him, accepts.

He doesn't sleep a wink that night. He's a nervous wreck as he plays every scenario in his mind and spends hours in the kitchen just to see your smile when he walks out of his house with a covered basket as the morning sun prepares to peak from the clouds.

Your eyes widen and you rush over, your pretty sundress hugging you in ways that make him lose his mind even more. 

"You made something?" you ask, grasping at his arm. Tangerine hums, guiding you to his car. 

"I know a spot," he whispers, hiding his smile. The drive is silent but comfortable and when he drives you to a park, he walks with you up the hill. You watch with amusement as he fusses over the picnic cloth and then opens his basket and pulls out a bowl of strawberries drizzled with frozen chocolate and a small bowl of whipped cream. You both sit down and you look at him, slightly confused. 

"As a thank you for the shortcakes."

"I thought you were allergic to strawberries."

You both say in unison and you laugh. Tangerine's cheeks turn pink and he runs a hand in his hair, answering you, "I- I lied. I just, I was nervous," he says as he picks up a strawberry and outstretches his hand. You smile and look at the cream.

"You whipped this yourself?"

He nods. "The store-bought cream is always disgustingly sweet," he shakes his head and dips the strawberry in the cream before he turns to you again, your knees almost touching as you lean in. You refuse to take the fruit and instead, you part your lips and stare at him, your heart hammering. 

You wonder if this is too forward, but Tangerine brings the strawberry to your lips. It takes bittersweet, like how you assume he would taste, the dark chocolate mixes with the whipped cream, and some falls from your lips. He doesn't say anything as he catches the drip with his thumb, looking at you intensely as his heart beats loudly in his ears. 

"Were my shortcakes too sweet for you?" you ask in a murmur, his hand not leaving your face. 

Tangerine knows he shouldn't. He knows he'll hate himself after but nothing sounds more appealing than kissing you now—so he does.

He can taste the chocolate on your lips as his hands cup lightly around your throat, his touch light. Just enough of a warning as to who he truly is. You gasp, not minding at all, as you kiss him back.

As complicated as you know it will be, this feels so right. 

Tangerine's hand finds your waist and, bunching up your dress a little in the process, he pulls you in closer. He takes a breath, looking down at you as he ignores the screaming in his head. "No," he whispers, knowing damn well he'd held himself back from tasting them, "No, they weren't too sweet for me."

It doesn't matter because, in the end, he isn't talking about the shortcakes.

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv

[beardedjoel]

smother - part ii: resistance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: joel knows how to break you just right, to get you feeling helpless enough to accept what he believes you need. somewhere deep inside of you, you think you might like it. 10.9k words (sorry) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) masturbation (m), nipple play/groping, manipulation, joel def has a corruption kink, joel gets a bit violent in this chapter, y'all get a lot of touching and (kissing), if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: okay i'm even more nervous about this chapter than the first, idk how it got so long but i really hope its tense and enticing for you all! i love writing dark joel, this has been such a thrill so far tbh! get buckled in for heavy duty smut next chapter too ✌️

Light spills in around the thick, heavy curtains, drawn tightly shut. Just a glowing sliver on the edges and underneath, telling you it’s at least well into the morning, that you’ve been asleep for longer than you’d expected to. Your brain is a scrambled, hazy mess from the way you’d finally been able to pass out, still encumbered by Joel’s grasp holding you down. After a while his heaviness had a calming effect, the opposite of what you’d ever thought would happen when he first came into your bed last night. But now, he was nowhere to be found, the other side of your bed cold and empty, such a stark difference that you start to wonder if maybe you’d imagined it, dreamed it all last night. 

You get up to let some light from the day in, your eyes burning as they adjust and you see that it looks to be late afternoon already. How many hours had you been out for? 

Recollections of the night before flood your brain - Joel’s warmth pressed so close to you, his hard body molding softly into yours like he knew how to keep you safe, take care of you, just like he’d said. Yet there’s still an unease surrounding the thoughts, that he’d made the decision for you, came into your bed and lied. It sends a shiver up your spine, half thrill and half fear as you contemplate what you should do next. Maybe plotting a way to Jackson is the right move, but something about Joel was keeping you here, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet. It was more of a feeling, something indescribable that came over you when thinking about him. 

Could he really save you, like he said? Or was he just a sick old man with a fantasy? One he’d fulfill before tossing you out just as easily as he’d taken you in.

You sigh heavily and sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You finally decide you have to leave this bedroom sometime and face Joel again to see if those same confusing feelings from last night persist, or even to clear the air between you two. You freshen up a bit with a toothbrush and homemade toothpaste that Joel had left out for you before fixing your hair to an acceptable enough level. You creep out of the bedroom, soft and quiet movements with socks padding your feet as you listen to hear what Joel is up to downstairs. No sounds of cookware or silverware clinking on plates, no rustling on the pages of a book, no distant sound of him chopping wood outside again. Until you do hear something. 

A sound almost in between a whimper and a groan, and it’s right there, the door diagonally down the hall from yours. You freeze, brows knit together as you wait to try to hear it again. The next time you hear it, it’s more urgent, more gruff, a loud exhale. Was it a pained sound? You couldn’t quite tell as you walked closer, noticing the light spilling from a crack in Joel’s door out into the dim, windowless hallway. 

One peek through the opening in his door has your eyes widening. A gasp sticks itself in your throat but you clap your hand over your mouth when you take in the sight before you. Shit…

All your eyes immediately focus on is Joel’s cock, heavy and thick, hanging out of his pants in a tight grasp in his hand. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, practically in perfect view through this open sliver in the doorway. His eyes are closed, lost in the moment as he grunts a little bit more. You avert your eyes almost immediately, standing frozen with your cheeks burning. You’re not completely unaware, and you do have an idea of what he’s doing. You can’t help but flick your eyes back to him as another strained exhale leaves his lips, your eyes drifting down to where he’s sliding his hand in quick jerks. His cock is pink and slick as he runs his hand along it, and you start to tune into the lewd, sloppy sounds that it's all making as flesh hits flesh over and over again. You squirm in place, feeling your knees go a bit weak before you finally notice it. 

Your underwear. 

It feels like something screeches to a halt inside of you, everything moving in slower motion for a few seconds as this information sinks in. Joel’s face, turning more red and eyes rolling back as he pumps his cock with your underwear from yesterday in his other hand, a fist tightly wrapped around the material. You shudder, but find the little zing traveling further to a spot right between your legs, making you clench your thighs together tighter.

It’s all so… so… a feeling you can’t quite explain that starts to make your skin hot, and a scene you don’t know if you want to stop watching. You are just curious after all, you lie to yourself in those few seconds of continued peeking on Joel’s private moment.

You sense a difference in his movements, flashing your sight up to his face where his eyes are open now, gaze locked on yours, heavy lidded as a smile plays on his lips. He doesn’t stop, though, like you thought he would, and it practically steals the breath from your lungs. 

“Oh… sh- sorry,” you blurt out, panicky and quiet before you can think about it, covering your eyes with your palm and hastily pulling the door shut. 

Joel can’t stop smiling, a wry, devilish thing as he continues in fast, long strokes on his cock. You knowing exactly what he’s doing in here is only urging him on even more, the look in your eyes as he’d caught your stare on his glistening, ruddy cock making him harder. 

His smile grows when he realizes you haven’t stopped enjoying the show, not at all, despite your appearances of shutting the door behind you. What he realizes you don’t know, is that he can see the shadow of your feet underneath the door, tiny, anxious movements that catch the light and cast shadows. 

If you want to listen, he’s surely not going to disappoint you, another little groan slipping past his lips and he tightens his grip and speeds up, picturing you in his mind. He can practically see it now, one of your perfect little hands clasped over your mouth outside his door, trying not to make a peep, your body rigid as you lean closer to listen. Those perfect little hands that should never have to lift a finger, should always be taken care of. A pulse of pleasure wracks his body at the thought of him being the one to do that for you. 

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely. “Fuuuuck…”

A few more swift tugs on his length and he’s stuffing your underwear right at the head of his cock, thrusting once and cumming hard into the fabric with a loud moan, the only thing on his mind the mental image of you in nothing but these. 

He’s not too weak to admit he’s already completely addicted to you. Your pretty face, the way you’d finally given him those few little smiles yesterday. How you fit so wonderfully in his arms last night once you’d decided that you needed him. Joel knows he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you as his, to make sure you understand just what you need, how you need him. He sighs as he leans back a moment, then stares down at your underwear, his creamy release staining it now looking like one of the most beautiful sights. To paint you with it himself would nearly kill him, send him into a point of no turning back. No, there’s no doubt now that he’s addicted to this… And god help anyone who tries to take it from him, even you.

The moment you hear Joel’s longer, drawn out groan you scurry away, light as can be on your feet and tiptoe down the stairs in a hurry. The mortification you’d feel if he opened the door to you standing there listening in is more than you can bear. You wish you hadn't been curious, hadn’t wanted to stop and stare just to watch just a bit longer. It wasn’t your fault that you felt completely embarrassingly lost when it came to… sex, but you know it was wrong to invade Joel’s privacy like that. He had left the door cracked, hadn’t he, though? Your brain devours the information, barely able to latch onto that train of thought before the next one comes barreling in. 

You pace back and forth in the kitchen, hands wrung anxiously over and over again in front of you. You gaze at the staircase practically every millisecond, waiting for Joel to come down, wondering if he will. You two have to confront this, right? He knows what you saw, and you certainly know what you saw, the image burned into your mind now. All the details seem hazy in your panic, but all you can think about is your underwear in his hands, and how your current pair feel damp now against your own will. You’d felt this before - attraction and arousal - but not like this. You had been so close to everything this time, not just hearing stories or thinking about kissing a boy you thought was good looking. This was a full fledged man, pleasuring himself right in the next room to you. It makes you break out in a sweat, your body hot and breathing shallow as the floorboards creak under your rushing movements. 

You sigh and continue pacing for another moment before trying to make yourself busy by putting on the kettle, maybe to make some tea, something to calm your frayed nerves. If Joel didn’t wind up kicking you straight back out into the wilderness after that debacle, you’d be surprised. Maybe you should think about kicking yourself out to avoid any of this awkwardness. You make a split second decision to grab your things and go, your first steps out of the kitchen interrupted by heavy footfall upstairs, lazily making its way down to you.

You stand frozen, your plan quickly forgotten when you see Joel, moving with confidence, his steps nonchalant and unhurried as he approaches with a satisfied look on his face. Not angry, not embarrassed, just a casual, almost smug look plastered on his features. You look at a spot past him before dipping your eyes to the floor, your face already heated and flushed. He’s wearing jeans again but this time with a plain, moss green henley shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. Another shirt showing off his strong, muscular form, and it’s killing you inside, especially now that you’ve seen just that much more of him. 

“Sit,” he says plainly, finishing his walk to the kitchen table where he pulls out a chair, settling himself down. When you dare to glance in his direction, he’s giving you a look that sends a shudder up your spine, already knowing he’s about to ask much less nicely if you don’t heed his words. Your shaky hand pulls out a chair, perching yourself on the edge, hands holding on to one another for dear life in your lap. You feel like a child about to be scolded for doing something naughty, and you suppose in many ways that’s exactly what’s happening right now. 

“J-“ you start, with Joel cutting you off before you can even get a syllable out. 

“You enjoy listenin’ to that little show? Gettin’ a little peek?” Joel asks smoothly, a hint of irritation but also gratification in his tone. He leans forward onto the table with his forearms pressed against the wood. 

“N-no I didn’t… I mean I didn’t see much. I didn’t hear… I swear. I’m really sorry, that just made things so… uncomfortable…” you ramble on, feeling like a bumbling idiot as you’re sure your body is about to catch fire. 

“Did it?” Joel asks, eyebrow lifted in casual questioning. It makes you stop, your lips sitting parted with words you can’t express, clouded by confusion. 

“Well… didn’t it? I’m - I don’t know what’s… normal… That didn’t feel…” Your eyes search his face wildly, and you know he can see you, trembling like a fawn stood in the clearing of a forest just before it bolts. 

Joel sighs out a long exhale. “Seems like you enjoyed it, standin’ outside my door.” He states it as a fact, not a guess, and your stomach twists as it sinks. How he knows is beyond you, and you can only sit in your shame now, eyes fixed downwards on the table. You’ve never found knots in wood so interesting before as you stay transfixed by the glossy surface.

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Just curious, weren’t ya?” he says, his voice rumbling softly. His hand inches towards you across the table and you finally get the nerve to look up at his eyes. They’ve gone gentler, full of understanding. You’re sure your expression gives everything away, your shock, your intrigue at what you’d witnessed. “Weren’t you?” he asks again, and you finally give him a little nod.

His lips twitch upwards in a wry grin just as the kettle starts to whistle, the sound ramping up rapidly into the silent room. You both stare at each other for a few moments, still processing your answer to him. The screeching reaches a fever pitch, making your skin start to crawl, so you push your chair out in a hurry to grab it off the stove. Joel’s hand shoots out, his large hand snatching your thigh, fingers wrapping around and digging into the flesh through your sweatpants. You halt, your ass plopping right back into the chair as Joel stares at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ve got it,” he says sternly. He waits a moment longer, making sure you’re fully seated and about to heed his words before standing up. The kettle is at a deafening scream, but Joel seems in no hurry, sauntering over to the stove. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the sound tapers off, Joel setting the kettle to the side while he busies himself with reaching up to some open shelving along the wall where you see several jars full of different types of tea leaves. He’s silent, moving slowly, as if to make you sweat it out, and you admit that his plan is working. You don’t know the last time you felt such an odd, burning fear inside of you. Different than facing infected, than being so hungry without knowing where your next meal is coming from. It’s primal, deep down inside of you, meek little claws in a vice grip at the core of you, a burning that travels downward repeatedly, right between your legs. You notice you’ve started trembling without even realizing it.

He brings a steaming mug over, setting it on the table in front of you. It smells mainly of chamomile, maybe some lavender - you see Joel read your mind on wanting something for your nerves. Instead of retaking his seat across from you, he walks around the table, doing a slow, deliberate lap. His feet, although shoe-less, make an impact along the floor, and you feel like each one sounds like a drum along with the way your heart is beating in your ears. He circles back and pauses behind your chair, sliding his forearm across your chest, tucking it close to your neck.

You really were trapped now. Not just by your own mental doing, unable to make yourself leave at the first sign of trouble with this man for god knows what reason, but truly, physically ensnared by his embrace. His arm wraps tighter across the top of your chest, his hand squeezing on the shoulder where it snakes around.

“Tell me…” he leans closer, lips coming to your ear, a hint of a smirk in his tone although you can’t see his face now. “That the first cock you ever seen? Or just the first time you seen one like mine?” 

Your head swims, unsure of how to answer. He has you trapped with this question, either answer damning to you. You sputter and scoff out a chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, you say? Which one, honey, c’mon it’s a simple question.” His arm tightens, fingers digging in along your shoulder. “No judgement here, just a curious man, thas’ all.” He says the words as if he’s expectant of a certain answer for you, following a hunch and looking to confirm it for himself. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows you so effortlessly, reads your mind like it’s the simplest thing in the world. You worry he sees right through you right down to your debased thoughts, the ones where you give in to him and these foreign feelings you want to chase.

You shake your head again. “I haven’t…” Your cheeks burn with the confession, hoping he won’t make you actually say the words. You struggle uncomfortably in his grip, his scent invading your senses now as well, mint and leftover coffee from this morning and your stomach burns so hot you think you might be sick now. He responds with a tighter grasp, his arm starting to press a bit on your windpipe.

Joel blows out a breath, the sound nearly grating next to your ear. “Never seen a cock before till today? Till you saw mine the way you did? That so, darlin’?” He sounds amazed, excitement creeping into his voice. 

You swallow hard, fighting back tears, but you nod for him. “Y-yes…” you admit with a shaky voice, willing yourself not to cry again in front of Joel. 

“Oh, hey, hey, that’s okay. Must be an awful lot to see it jus’ like that, no context for any of it…” he murmurs, his voice oozing a sick sympathy as you sense his excitement building. “Shouldn’t have had to see it as a surprise. If it were up to me, darlin’, I’d have made sure it was perfect. Y’would’ve been amazed by the things a cock like mine can do for ya.”

He tuts quietly, his lips grazing along the shell of your ear. You squirm a little, your breathing picking up as you strain against him. You remember how much you’d liked his lips right under your ear last night, how badly you’d wanted to hate it, but here you were yet again, enjoying it. 

“Now I’m gonna ask you somethin’, honey, and I want you to be honest with me, mkay?” Joel says. Your options feel limited so you motion with a nod for him to go on, his arm digging into your throat further when your head bobs down.

“Be honest, now, remember.” He squeezes your shoulder hard. “How old are ya, honey?” His lips graze your ear again and your legs tense, thighs pressing together. You nearly have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the little moan that wants to slip out of you. 

You chew your lip, telling him the truth before you can even think about it too hard. “I’m nineteen.” You don’t know why you tell him the truth, why you give him any part of you, but you do. 

“Hmm,” he murmurs in a low little groan. His fingers brush along your shoulder, across your chest a bit, loosening his tight grip. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart. I appreciate that.”

“H-how old are you?” you ask in return, getting a haughty chuckle from Joel. 

“Older’n you,” he says simply, a little growl caught in the back of his throat as his nose buries itself in your hair, taking in a deep breath.  

“B-but I told you…” you whimper a little as he tightens his hold again, leaning further to press his head into your shoulder and neck. 

“Why d’ya wanna know? Wonderin’ why an old man like me is gettin’ your panties wet?” he asks, amused at your expense, knocking you down just one more peg. 

You blink hard and feel yourself flushing again, warmth radiating throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips. You’re angry that he seems to know every damn thing about you, and you feel like you know nothing about what he’s thinking. “I don’t understand… any of it. Why -“

“It’s all natural, sweetheart. Happens when you find yourself likin’ what I’m doin’,” Joel tells you, voice starting to sweeten like honey. His hand strokes your hair, smoothing the sides. 

“I know…” you bite back, only to feel Joel move his forearm closer to your neck. Your breath hitches. “I just mean… I - I want to know how old you are.”

“You persistent little thing…” He smirks again, looking impressed by you. “I’m in my fifties, that’s all y’need to know.” He pauses for a brief second, not wasting a second to keep contact with your skin, his calloused fingertips stroking along the hollow of your neck. They trickle down, gentle and fluid as water as he ghosts along your chest and over your stomach. You shudder and try to keep your eyes open, succumbing to the pleasure of it all - nobody has ever touched you like this, taken their time to feel you out and seem interested in every part of you. It’s a slow, tortuous movement while his arms reach down over you, thick muscles on display, until his fingertips brush along your waistband. They trace back and forth along the crimped edges of the band, tied tightly. He plays with the strings, a clear contemplation to untie them any second. It makes you start to tremble even more, the way you feel powerless and know you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to.

Joel abruptly stops, pulling his arms back before he starts to walk around the chair, standing in front of you now. He doesn’t crouch to your height, standing tall and proud as he towers over where you sit. His fingers reach forward slowly and gently, thumb and forefinger taking your chin delicately, holding it like something he might break. You can finally see his expression, look into his eyes, and they’re a dark abyss full of mystery and that hungry look he’d flashed at you a few times yesterday. 

“Get the sense you’re feelin’ a bit scared right now, hm?” he suddenly asks.

You swallow and then nod for him, eyes barely blinking as you try to keep track of every single movement he makes. His grip on your chin flashes tighter for just a moment before he lets it go, leaving a little red mark in his wake.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach turns as you realize he wants this, wants your fear to permeate the room so he can devour it, to know that he has this hold on you. Joel leans forward, one hand planted on the table next to you, the other coming down to rest on your thigh. He’s tender in his touch, letting his hand soothingly find its way up your leg.

Joel’s eyes bore into you, trying to capture your attention and hold it, but you can barely summon the courage to look into those dark pools, worried they’ll draw you in forever. Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on your shaky inhales and exhales as Joel’s hand rubs your thigh.

“Don’t you like it, sweetheart? Feels good to be touched here, doesn’t it?” You don’t answer him, eyes squeezed shut even tighter, a quiver starting on your lips. You try to ignore the way your body responds to the touch, skin blazing right where he’s touching and that pooling of heat starting between your legs.

“Now c’mon, open your eyes f’me. I want to take care of you, honey. Jus’ like we agreed to last night. You need me to take care of everythin’ for ya, never make you have to worry or lift a pretty little finger again. I can show you everything.” Joel pauses, waiting to see if you’ll heed his command. His hand wraps a little tighter around your thigh, fingers squeezing.

“I said… look at me. Open your eyes. Nothin’ to be afraid of.” His voice has a shake to it from trying to keep it even amongst his building frustration, his desire to have you under his thumb already. You finally brave it, your eyes opening slowly to find a softer smile playing on Joel’s lips as his face comes into focus, just a few inches from yours now.

“I want you all to myself… d’you understand what I’m sayin’?”

You nod. His smile grows, much more foreboding now.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, fingers squeezing your thigh again, brushing his thumb along the inner part, sending a set of sparks hurtling up your spine. “And you’ll stay? Won’t try to get away from me, will you?” he asks, a wicked raise of his eyebrow telling you there’s only one correct answer here.

Your face falls a little bit. “Wh- what would you do if did?” you dare to ask.

He laughs, a mirthless chuckle before he can even stop himself. “Oh, honey, what’re you gonna do? Where’ll you go? You wouldn’t get barely ten steps outside this door ‘fore I got to ya.” His eyes pierce yours before studying your face for a few moments, challenging you. “Best that you don’t even try, yeah?”

You don’t reply, hoping that the fear in your eyes and trembling lips are answer enough for him.

“Come and sit w’me, how about that? I’ve got a few more questions for you.” Joel offers you his hand and you pause, eyes fixed on his tan, rough skin - hands that have worked hard for an entire lifetime. He takes the initiative to grasp your hand instead, giving you a quick tug that has you standing up to start following him. He completely dwarfs you in every way, his hand practically enveloping your entire fist as he pulls you along towards the couch.

You don’t know what otherworldly urge possesses you so suddenly, but you glance over towards the door, then back at Joel before you muster up everything you have and shove him square in the back, yanking your captured hand back in the process. He stumbles forward, your hand slipping from his and you quickly gain your balance and bolt. You reach the front door, fumbling with the lock and knob as you hear Joel grunt loudly behind you. 

“Don’t you understand? There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” he calls after you angrily. You don’t dare turn around as you fling the door open with a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, feet moving of their own accord as you sprint down the stairs and towards the oncoming woods. You can hear Joel’s huffs behind you, both of your shoe-less feet pounding on the frozen earth. It hurts, the cold ground combined with all types of brush and wood littering the forest floor that are now jabbing into your feet with every step. This was stupid, this was a mistake, you’re going to die out here if he doesn’t do it first.

“God… damn… it…” you hear Joel pant behind you, knowing he’s close, that it’s almost over now. You’re weak and frail still, much too slow to outrun a towering powerhouse like Joel. He was right - there’s no fighting it, no escape from here unless he allows it. Maybe it won’t be so bad… maybe you do enjoy the way he speaks to you, the way he’s been touching you… maybe it’ll all be just what you’ve needed. You’ve always wanted more than what you had, wishing for someone to care just a little more, to have a family again.

You lose yourself to an almost transcendent train of thought, letting it wash over you. As if the universe was trying to tell you the right decision, you feel your foot collide with something sharp and you stumble, a sure way to get you back into Joel’s arms. He catches you as you go down, upper arm squeezed into his grasp as his other wraps around and yanks you by the front of your collar, tearing your shirt all the way down to the middle of your chest as he tugs. You’re pulled into his chest with a hard thud before you both go down with the momentum of it all, his body landing on top of yours on the hard, frozen earth.

“God damn it, girl, what the hell you think you’re doin’, huh?” Joel huffs out, arms pinning you down by the wrists as he breathes heavily right in your face. You grunt and struggle, squirming against the ground, but it only serves to help Joel push you into the frosty dirt even harder, his own grunts slipping out of his lips. 

“Like it when you struggle…” he says closer to your ear, leaning down. His lips turn into a chilling leer as he bares his teeth down at you. “But too bad we can't play a little longer, you’ll freeze out here. Get up,” he demands, pulling back and then fluidly plucking your body up off the ground as he stands. He hooks one of his arms through yours and begins drags you, your feet scrambling to keep up with how quickly he’s moving. 

You’d barely gotten far, just like he said you would - it’s only a short distance back to the cabin where he slams you against the wall, clutching one hand around your throat, not hard enough to put much pressure, just to show you he could, if he really wanted to. His body crowds closer as your back presses against the hard, unrelenting wooden logs adorning the outer frame of the cabin. The chill of the air settles in and you shiver, feet throbbing and chest prickling with goosebumps from the frozen air entering your lungs in large heaves. 

“Told ya, girl. You don’t need to go anywhere. All y’need is right here. I can do anythin’ I want with ya, can’t I?” He spits his words out angrily, eyes blazing. His head is cocked, looking down on you with scornful, yet hopeful eyes. His gaze travels to your chest, the way your shirt is torn to almost reveal everything there, eyes flickering hotly on the sight. Both of you stand with huffing breaths, chests heaving and letting out little cloudy puffs of air as your exhales hit the air. 

You nod, whimpering as his grip gets slightly tighter around your throat when you don’t answer right away. Your entire body trembles against him, afraid you’ll collapse any second as your knees buckle. His entire frame is pressed against you, keeping you upright, the warmth of him the only thing keeping you grounded and afloat right now.

“Thas’ right, it’s just me ‘n you out here. I’ll take real good care of ya, never let anyone hurt ya again. Ever.” A hand snakes around to your hair, smoothing it as he pulls your head off the wall, tracing his palm down as he pets you. “Now c’mon.” He yanks your entire body by the waist, holding you close as he hauls you back inside, pulling the door shut behind you two and locking it.

Joel brings you to his original destination before you’d run - the couch - and sits back, pulling you down with him, maneuvering you to settle on his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands wrap around your back in a possessive, tight hold. You squirm a little bit, the feeling of him enveloping you like this making you hot, a sheen of sweat breaking out over your entire body.

“S-stop…” you mumble as you continue to struggle, his hands only seeming to get stronger the more effort you put in. You start to shove and push at his chest and one of his arms comes from around your back to catch your wrists in one fell swoop, pinning them against his chest. 

“Better knock that shit off quick,” he commands, grunting as he continues to hold your squirming body. “You got me offerin’ you everything I know you want, and all I ask is you do what I want, sweet girl. Be here w’me.” His tone is somehow cruel and hard but soft and caring at once, like he really believes that he needs to act this way to care for you right now.

“N-no, you’re hurting me,” you cry out. “You said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me…” You think that maybe your reasoning will have any kind of effect on him, and he only smiles softly. It disarms you a little, your struggle starting to die out as you look at the hidden anger behind the smile, the desire to let out the hidden beast within him. 

“Let’s get one thing clear,” he says, letting go of your wrists to grip your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, squishing them together. Your hands fall limply to your sides, skin burning on your cheeks where he’s pressing in harder. “Only I can make you feel pain. Nobody else. Nobody’s gonna hurt you when I’m around. And I’m the only one who can make y’feel good too, understand? But if you’re not gonna be a good girl ‘n pull this shit, I can’t help what I’ve gotta do to get you back to bein’ good, hm?” His eyes track across your face, awaiting a response. 

You shake your head in small movements, squeezing your eyes shut and squirming one final time to try to slide off his lap. He sees your desperate eyes and his blood rushes a little hotter through him, tugging you harshly to situate you back perfectly centered on his lap.

“Please…” you whimper quietly, unsure of what you’re asking for now. To be let go? To be held tighter? For someone to just make it all okay?

Joel drops your cheeks from his tight grip and looks at you a little more sympathetically. “Okay, okay, c’mon, no more strugglin’ sweet girl. I’ve got you. Not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help ya.” 

He leans forward and his lips find your neck, peppering wet, urgent kisses from just underneath your chin all the way down to your collarbone. It’s all too much, the emotions bubbling up as the adrenaline leaves your body. You shake a little, feeling the now all too familiar sting of tears behind your eyes that quickly manifest as tears that roll down your cheeks. Joel must sense a heave in your chest as you try to hold back your sob because he pulls his lips off of you and looks up to see your eyes shining as tears start to fall at a more rapid pace. 

“Shh, shh,” he coos. Both of his arms wrap around your back and pull you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your head drops instinctively to his body and you find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his neck before burying your face in his chest. 

“Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. Let it all out… shh…” Joel says quietly, his palms splayed along your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing pattern. You finally break completely, finally let yourself sob. Your entire body is wracked with shaking heaves of breath each time you start another wave of tears. You bury yourself deeper into Joel’s chest, your face burning red hot with embarrassment, but unable to stop nonetheless. He’s warm and soft against you, the comforting fabric of his shirt soaking up the tears you pour out. 

Joel continues his soothing ministrations, his hands uncharacteristically kind and sweet, holding the back of your head against him now, like he’s encouraging this, even, this release of emotion from you. It makes you sob even harder to realize the only person you have in this world to comfort you is a man you met yesterday, one who hasn’t shown you a consistent side to himself since then. You don’t know how long you cry for, the last two weeks of pure desperation and the flood of emotions since meeting Joel have all collided into this one meltdown, Joel’s chest taking the brunt of it as you continue sobbing.

“Oh, that’s it, there we go…” he hums calmly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he keeps stroking along your back. You finally start to let up, choking back little sobs as they climb their way up your throat. 

“Jus’ breathe… there ya go, honey. Take some deep breaths for me now, okay?” Joel says calmly, continuing to chant little encouragements in your ear. You turn your face to lay the side of your cheek along Joel’s chest for a moment, a few remaining hiccups shaking your body as you sniffle. Your entire face feels puffy, like everything is two sizes too big for you now, cheeks wet and sticky as your tears start to dry. You slowly lift your head up and Joel quickly catches your face between his hands, thumbs going to work wiping your tears.

“Beautiful…” he murmurs as his eyes scan your flushed, glowing face. His lips turn into a gentle, small smile while he continues to wipe down your cheeks for a moment longer. “Now don’t that feel better?” Joel looks at you with concern now, his head tilting as his fingers continue to stroke along your face. You look so broken and fragile right now - the thought exciting him, sending a twitch beneath his jeans that he doesn't even have the mind to be ashamed of. You're close... so close to being his.

“I g-guess…” you murmur, unable to say if it really does feel much better. You feel lighter now, unburdened of the pent up emotions that had been weighing you down the last few weeks, but you still had to grapple with the fact that you were here now, with a dangerous man who seemed intent on keeping you here no matter what.

“Listen, darlin’...” Joel starts, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You’re too sweet for this world, you deserve to be protected… That’s all I’m tryin’ to say here, to do here. You wanna know what I thought when I first saw ya?”

Your eyes widen in curiosity, letting him go on.

“Thought that the universe sent me a gift. One look at ya and I knew you had to be all mine. Like y’were made for me, I swear it…” he gushes before his eyes go more serious. “I can show you how good it all feels, sweetheart, d’you understand?”

You shake your head slowly. “S-show me how good what feels?” you ask tentatively.

Joel leans forward, his lips brushing along your jawline then ghosting to that sensitive spot under your ear. His breath tickles you in just the right way and you shudder, hating that he seems to have pinpointed your weakness.

“Show you… just how good it feels… to submit to me.” His lips press onto your neck gently, his tongue poking out to taste the salt of your skin. “Show you what your place is here.” He sucks a little harder on your neck, eliciting a tiny sound from the back of your throat. “I’ll give you everything, you’ll see. I can see you want it, sweet girl. I can see how badly you need it.” His hips thrust upwards into yours on his last words, grinding against you slightly. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips kiss your neck again, rough but gentle, as Joel always seems to be. You squirm, your body and mind still mixing signals with each other, unsure if you’re fleeing or giving in. 

You consider his words heavily, the weight of them pressing down on your chest, nearly choking you. It makes your entire body tingle, the way he’d said the word submit, not even fully understanding all of what that would entail. But he’s right, you do need someone, you need something in your life that won’t fail you or run or disappear. You’re desperate for it at this point, needing it like you need air and water. You’ve seen nothing but loss and sadness and lived with a desperation to just be loved and cared for in the deepest ways. 

Maybe it was fate, like he said. Maybe you were meant to stumble into that clearing just at the right time, just when you so fiercely needed everything he’s offering to you. 

He pulls back and stares into your eyes, trying to read the look behind them, trying to gauge how you’ll respond as you sit silently. You feel tears building on the rims of your eyes again, quickly wiping them away before they can fall. 

“Let me show you, hm? How I’ll take care of you.” He thumbs your chin as he stares at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. “We need to get some more food in you, darlin’. Barely ate a thing yesterday.” His bargains immediately begin to work as you notice your stomach rumbling and empty again as if on cue. You nod slightly and he gives you a half smile.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Now hold on tight.” Before you can question him further on why, he’s lifting you up off the couch, and your arms scramble to fling around his neck so you don’t fall backwards. Your legs wrap around his middle for extra support as he carries you to the kitchen table, settling you down on top of it now, legs dangling off the side as he lets go of his grip under your thighs. You find yourself reluctant to untangle your arms and legs from his warm, safe body, but he begins to pull away, heading for the fridge. You watch him with a frown as he bends down, shuffling a bit in the fridge before pulling out an item wrapped in a thin cloth. He opens a breadbox on the counter and reaches in, tearing off a chunk of bread before plating it and unwrapping the block, revealing some type of cheese.

“Sheeps cheese from Jackson. And some bread I made. Should tide y’over till dinner time, don’t you think?” he asks, bringing the plate over. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, a silent command that you follow mindlessly before he steps in between your thighs. One hand brushes along your thigh as he gets closer to you, eyes pasted right onto yours. His near glare is nearly too much to keep focused on as he grabs the piece of bread and brings it up to your lips. You pause, gaze faltering as you scan his face, a little stunned.

“Y’need some food, darlin’. Now eat.” Another command, another test to see how pliant you are, how willing you are to accept the entire package he offered you. You crane your neck forward enough to bite down on the piece, tearing some off as he holds it for you, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes quickly flash back to a satisfied, pleasant look from the darkness that had threatened them moments ago.

“Good girl.” The words burrow in a little more, your thighs tightening against his, sending Joel gazing down with a smirk pulling at his lips. “Another,” he says quietly, holding the bread up to your lips again. You don’t falter this time, taking a quick bite and chewing as Joel smiles down at you, letting his thumb brush across your lips.

“You’re bein’ so good f’me now, what happened?” he says smugly, picking up the cheese and feeding you again. Each time he does it, you take the food more eagerly, Joel stepping closer until he’s pressed against the table, his hips as close as they can be to the apex of your thighs. You can sense the excitement radiating off of him now, the pure satisfaction that you’re not putting up a fight, accepting the care he’s pouring out onto you.

“Now you see how I can take care of you, darlin’? That’s just a small thing, honey, makin’ sure you get fed. Now tell me how much you appreciate it, hm?”

You feel your cheeks warming up at the blatant coaxing from Joel, the way the heat of his body presses so close to you now as his finger lingers on your lip after the last scrap of bread goes in.

“T-thank you, Joel,” you say, quiet and mousy as you avert your eyes downward.

“Oh, such a good girl.” He pets the top of your head down the side, stroking a gentle, long path down to your shoulder. “Feel better now that we got you full?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes, thank you.” Mousy. Quiet. The way Joel seems to like, the way that you can’t help but be when he questions you like this, when his eyes search your depths so intensely. Your heart clenches at just how quickly he’s already worked his way in, has you saying just what you know he wants to hear. 

“Not bad for an old man baking bread, huh?” he asks, winking as he caresses your cheek. You tilt your head down, failing to conceal your little smile in time as a breathy chuckle makes its way out of you. You can sense the lightness fill Joel and the entire room as he notices, cocking his head and leaning closer to you.

“That a smile I see, darlin’? You think it’s funny to call me an old man?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips tight to suppress your smile. “N-no, you’re n-not…” 

“Oh, too sweet, ain’t you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you close again. “Y’know, you’re so pretty when you smile. This old man’d like to see more of that, y’know.”

Your smile falls quickly as discomfort settles in again at the way he’d cracked through your façade just now.  “Why haven’t you just… hurt me yet? Or done what you want with me and tossed me out?” you ask suddenly, blurting the words out before you can think twice about the possible consequences. 

Joel clicks his tongue and lets his lips part slightly, showing his surprise - a rare moment from such a guarded man. 

“That what you think this is?” he asks quietly, forebodingly. The pure control in his voice is a skill that you can tell he’s exercised many times. “Just want to squeeze the life outta you and toss your body out for the damn animals? Or fuck you senseless then turn you to the cold? You really think that little of me after I fed you, clothed you, helped you?”

He doesn’t sound quite angry, but something deeper that takes a minute for you to register - you’ve hurt him. Wounded his ego, made a dent in this brick wall of a man. A power you suddenly wish you didn't have over him.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” you admit. “You scare me.”

He leans forward, his dark irises going icy as he captures your rapt attention with this one single glance. 

“I should,” he spits out with a twitch of his lip. “But only if you give yourself reason to, yeah? I never want to hurt you, sweetness, never.” He goes softer, brushing a finger along your cheek, sending you trembling with a quivering lip. “Jus’ want you to be here w’me, lettin’ me take good care of you, and you do the same f’me. Somethin’ so beautiful here, you ‘n I…”

You sigh heavily, your body slumping in defeat. You’re exhausted, your nerves frayed and mind overstimulated from all of the inconsistencies, the back and forth with him. If what he says is true, if he wants to treat you kindly, give you all he’s promised, you know what he expects in response. You can feel it in the undertone of every word he says, every tiny movement when he touches you. He wants you to belong to him, to have you sucked so completely into his world there’s no going back. To have you fear him and look in wonder at him and worship at his feet and let him touch you and feel you and be completely yours and you be completely his. Your head spins, a dizzy sickness overtaking you at how utterly lost you feel right now. How badly you crave it and are equally repulsed by it. 

You dip your head down, eyes on your lap as you let the wave of churning fear wash over you.

“Eyes up, darlin’,” Joel reminds you, fingers tracing on your thigh to get your attention. 

“I… believe you,” you say, turning your gaze to him again. It’s not an answer yet, not a yes or no or anything at all. A fact.

“I know you do,” he says, a serious expression curling into a smile. “Only say what I mean. Are we clear, then?”

Joel’s face inches closer to yours, leaving just a few inches between you, now. “Y-yes,” you mutter, rapidly scanning over his eyes to try to read anything there but the inky darkness that seems to permeate above all else.

“Good,” he says proudly. “Now gimme a smile, darlin’. Need to see you lookin’ happier ‘round here.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile that seems to suffice for Joel as he carries on, moving until his lips hover just above yours. You notice yourself starting to tremble a little bit, shoulders tightening up, and Joel holds you close as his brows come together.

“You ever kiss a man like me, darlin’?” he whispers, licking his lips.

Your lips part, words failing you for a moment as you contemplate him. Your throat is suddenly dry and itchy as you glance down at Joel’s lips. “N-no…” You shake your head. “I haven’t… haven’t been with… anyone…”

Joel stills completely for what feels like minutes, his lips twisted to the side in a wry smile now. “You sayin’ you’re a virgin?” he asks bluntly, his hands naturally tightening their grip on your back, fingers digging in as they slide a little lower towards your waist.

Your face burns first, then your entire body is set aflame as embarrassment sets in. You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you can sense Joel’s experience, almost having some strange need to impress him with your own, coming up empty. Your eyes look down, staring at the middle of his shirt before you nod once, blinking away a quick sting of tears at your sudden humiliation. 

“Christ,” Joel bites back all the things he wants to say for a moment and tuts as he notices your glassy eyes, scraping his fingers along your back. He tightens his hold on your waist and tugs you even closer so that your hips are flush with his. He moves his lips right next to your ear, making you shudder as they brush close enough to touch for a moment. “Had a feelin’. You have no idea… how turned on that makes me, sweet girl.”

Joel’s crude words have you gasping a little, a breath caught in your throat as you stutter out a sound to try to answer him. His lips press on your neck again, kissing a little more fervently down to your collarbone and then he pulls back, one hand going to your face to cup your cheek. 

“Such an innocent little thing… so sweet…” he murmurs. “‘S okay to touch me, y’know.” Your hands tingle with anticipation as he says that, but you don’t know how to move them, where to move them to, or if you want to touch him.

“I - I don’t…” You shake your head, and Joel captures one of your hands in his, holding it gently and rubbing his fingers along yours. 

“I got ya, I’ll show y’everythin’ you need to know, how’s that sound?” he says, gazing down at you intently, waiting with baited breath to hear your response. 

“You mean…” you ask, cheeks flushing as you’re unable to finish your sentence. Joel places your hand on his chest, spreading your fingers out to splay across the space between his pecs. He nods softly and you wiggle your fingers a little, feeling the planes of his chest, hard but warm underneath your palm. He glances down to where your hand explores a little more, running your fingers gently over to the right side of his pecs, then the left, and smirks. 

“I mean all of it, you sweet little thing. You don’t know how good y’could feel, do you?” Joel breathes a little heavier, his expression losing a bit of its controlled façade, that vague look of craving revealing itself in his eyes again. “I could give you so much… oh, you pretty thing, you need it.” He shakes his head in disbelief of everything he’s learned about you. “Untouched… so innocent…” he says more quietly, his hands finding their way back to your waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband at the back of your pants.

“I’m n-not sure… I-I don’t know -” you stutter as you feel his thumbs touch bare skin before one of his hands trails under your shirt, moving upwards. Your eyes blink a little slower, a flutter of your lashes as his calloused pads scrape along your skin, leaving a blazing trail that tingles all the way to the base of your spine. It pools quickly there, your core starting to heat up as his hand travels higher, the other playing at the hem of your shirt, starting to lift it. Your breath hitches, eyes going wider as your shirt moves, but you don’t squirm, don’t try to stop him.

“Y’do know. I can see you want it, sweetheart, look at how you respond to me…” He breathes in and out a little shakily. “Respond to a man takin’ good care of you…”

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your back almost halfway exposed to the air.

“Think you know what I’m doin,” Joel huffs a stony hearted chuckle. “Just wanna see how pretty y’are, take a peek, thas’ all.”

You shrink back a little, eyebrows pulled close together, shaking your head in small movements. “I’m scared…” you whimper finally, showing Joel the fear that’s been building deep inside of you. You don’t know how to want this, when to know your body is telling you it’s okay. You’ve somehow lost complete trust in any of your instincts, unsure of where along the way that happened. 

“I know, I know,” he purrs, still pulling your shirt higher. His lips dart down to your stomach, where your bare skin is starting to show, kissing sloppily along all the fresh skin he hasn’t seen yet. He starts speaking against your body, kissing in between his words. “Nothin’ to be scared of when you got me though, y’understand? You let me take care of you, and you’ll never worry a day in your life. Be my good girl, my everything. Just gotta trust me.” His nails dig into your back, a sweet, welcome pain, bringing you to the present. It’s too easy to lose yourself to his lips, his touch, his words. Your hand stays steadily placed on his chest, barely daring to move now.

You stare with your mouth open, and at your silence Joel drags his mouth up your chest and to your neck before looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t… know…” you murmur, less convincingly than the other times, an observation that Joel doesn’t fail to notice. He gathers the fabric of your shirt and tugs on the front hem of your shirt, pulling it taut along your back, drawing you closer to him as his lips sit merely an inch from yours.

“Think y’do know,” he says, greedy hands under the front of your shirt now, pulling the hem up. “I’ll be so gentle, honey…” He pulls your shirt up further and you drop your hand from his chest, allowing him the freedom of movement he needs to finish the job. 

“Okay…” you whisper, unsure if the two syllables even resonate far enough to reach Joel’s ears. You start to feel your legs trembling as you see his face registering your one word, the only thing he’d needed to hear. 

“Good girl,” he breathes out, exuding pure elation. “Oh, I’m gonna make you so happy, darlin’, gonna give y’everythin’.” He practically snarls as his hands get back to work on your shirt, lifting each of your arms to tug them through the sleeves, then tossing your shirt aside after it's over your head.

A growl tumbles out of his throat when he takes in your breasts, and you hunch your shoulders up a little more, your arm flying up to cover your chest now that it's exposed. Joel’s hand grabs your wrist, strongly wrapped around it as he tugs it away.

“Don’t have to hide ‘em from me, nothin’ to hide from me now,” he snaps, tossing your arm back to your side. His hands reach up to tease at the swell of your breasts, and you sit half in shock, letting his fingers send tingles across your skin as he explores your chest. He runs errant fingers down along the curves as he stares downwards. Your breath catches when he rubs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples, you back arching towards him as you gasp. 

“So soft ‘n pretty…” He grins, continuing to watch the way his hands work along your skin, a little more rough as he gropes your tits, rolling your nipples just to observe your reaction. The little pinch sends waves of arousal through your body, pooling deep inside of you, making you feel your underwear get damp again. You’re already panting, the sensations he’s bringing out in you so strong that you can hardly contain the little noises slipping out of you as he continues touching your chest.

“I - I’m…” you pant. “Joel…”

He pauses for just a moment, leaning closer and brushing his lips across your cheek. “Know you’re feelin’ good, aren’t ya?”

You nod dumbly, completely awestruck as he pinches your nipples again, sending your back arching and hips pressing into his. It’s maddening and confusing all in one, the way he’s able to work your body like this and make you feel a hot burning starting to blaze across your skin. 

“Pretty girl never had her tits touched, has she?”

You shake your head urgently, a breathy moan pulled out of your throat as he pinches and tugs a little harder on the hard buds. “P-please… stop… it’s too…” you whine, scrunching your face, unsure if you actually want him to stop. You feel wild, feral almost, the strangest sensation pulling at your insides as he tugs one more time.

Joel smirks in satisfaction, going back to caressing you more lightly, giving you some relief. One hand travels down to rest on your hip, the other up to your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. 

“You’re fun to play with, jus’ like I thought you’d be…” Joel muses as he touches your face. “You’re bein’ so good f’me, too, honey. Lettin’ me see you ‘n touch you.” He looks at you almost curiously now, like he’s studying you. 

“Think you deserve a little reward for bein’ so good for me, finally seein’ some sense.” He pauses, watching your face morph into a soft, intrigued look. “How’s that sound, hm?” he asks, pinching your cheek. 

You tilt your head at him. “A reward? Wh-“

“Exactly. If you act like a good girl, gotta reward ya for it.” Your heart beats a little faster as you take in his words, your thighs clamped as his voice comes out low and teasing. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his fingers around your cheek and pulling you closer as he leans in. “You deserve to feel good, do you realize that? You’ve been denyin’ yourself somethin’ so good, but turns out it was so that I could show ya.”

“I - Joel - I don’t know…” you blurt out, your stomach twisting. The fact you can barely say anything but those same three words over and over is starting to frustrate you. 

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” Joel replies, his hand now cradling the back of your head. “You’ll enjoy this.”

He leans forward again, completely closing the gap between the two of you as he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, testing you, and you blink once in surprise, not able to force yourself to press your lips back into his at first. But your body naturally starts to melt into him a little, his hand stroking against the back of your head calming you into submission. Your hands twitch forward, gently touching the bottom hem of his shirt and holding onto it just slightly. The feel of the fabric grounds you as you feel your lips press back into Joel’s, sending a wave of heat over your body. Your cheeks burn and your skin prickles as he groans quietly and pushes his lips a little more aggressively against yours before pulling back slightly. 

He looks down at you with a smirk. His hand digs into your waist a little harder, the possession he’s feeling clearly evident. 

“Tastes sweet, darlin’,” he says quietly before leaning back in, kissing you again. Your hand tugs a little harder on the bottom of his shirt and you feel yourself cracking under the pressure, like you’re about to burst into a million little parts like a piece of dropped china.  

His mouth opens and invites you to do the same, so you follow his lead. You’re frustrated, unsure of yourself, not understanding the way your body just moves with his, mirroring his motions. 

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe your first kiss is supposed to feel just like this. Maybe you’re supposed to be afraid and unsure and terrified yet intrigued in a way you can’t ignore. You wouldn’t know any different, after all, and your body already yearns for Joel to keep going, to press his lips harder onto yours, to feel his warm, soft lips all over you. You don’t even quite understand where the thoughts come from, it’s like your body is telling you without your mind having to get involved. 

You open your mouth the tiniest bit, allowing Joel to kiss you deeper. He pulls back just enough to suck a little on your bottom lip and you whimper and your brows scrunch. How… how could it feel so good?

As if to send you asking that question a hundred more times, one of his hands skates his fingers up your spine and you shudder, falling apart just as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You nearly gasp but find your own tongue hesitantly brushing against his. He hums quietly in satisfaction, continuing the motions of his tongue with small variations - darting into your mouth, licking your lip. 

You feel your entire being aching and warm now with the way Joel is pressed as close as he can, hips flush with yours. You want to move your own hips, to push them further and further, your body urging you on again without telling you quite what it’s doing. 

You yank your head back, completely breathless. Joel’s hand scrambles to the back of your head, holding it in place as he devours your lips again, not letting up just yet. 

“Wasn’t done w’you yet…” he mumbles before kissing you again, his tongue and lips more aggressive now as his hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping tightly. When he’s had his fill he tucks his head back enough to get a read on your expression, smirking. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the confusion, the struggle, but he welcomes it all, now. He knows he has you - his prize, his to keep, his to take. He can practically feel the ache of want oozing out of your pores now as you sit trembling slightly on the table, your soul and tits bared to him, equally enticing. A perfect paradox, he thinks.

You look so perfect - like a pure, innocent angel sent just for him. He knows you can be exactly what he’s looking for - someone to call his own, to protect and guide and keep close to him. His perfect girl.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and musk like it’s the last time he’ll ever get a chance to before his lips rumble against you. 

“Lemme take you upstairs, show you how to be mine," he offers, in a way that's not an offer at all, but an instruction, a test.

He’s quiet and seductive with his words, a low, gravelly lilt to his voice that makes your head swim. You’re hazy, a practically drunk feeling coming over you now - cloudy and out of control of your own body. 

Before you can stop yourself, body buzzing and lips puffy and parted in need, you nod for him.

reminder i have no taglist now! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs!

[bitchimasnake-sss]

nsfw alphabet ft. monkey d. luffy!

set-up: no set up, just a collection of short nsfw drabbles featuring the most himboest himbo in town <;3

warning: nsfw themes (obviously 😭); mdni thankyouu <3

💟aftercare:

look, luffy sleeps in the middle of actual fights. there's no fucking way this man can stay up after y'all are done fucking (esp. if you've gone for a couple of rounds already). it's not too bad, since you get too tired too and he gives the best cuddles when he's passed out. just get used to getting the aftercare in the morning because that's when he checks up on you, get's you both some food (v.v. imp)

💟body part:

his favourite part of you: he is actually infatuated with every aspect of you but holy shit your tits??? he might actually be clinically obsessed with them. whenever you're cuddling, his hand finds your boobs (even if it's just to hold onto them lightly). he doesn't give a fuck about sizes and will 100% go on them for hours (i think it's his oral fixation lmaoo) his favourite part of himself: he loves his arms. other than the fact that they are one of his major weapons in any fights, he can see how you silently stare across his biceps when he's just helping around the deck. you always hold onto his arm when you're out in public too. he also loves when you get so pent up that you end up driving crescent cuts in his arms and shoulders as he fucks you.

💟 cum:

luffy's a nasty, messy man. do what you will with that info. he will cut off an arm and a leg just to finish anywhere on you whether it's inside, on your face or on your chest. just knowing that some essence of him remains on you drives him feral.

💟 dirty secret:

he's probably addicted to your smell. this sounds weird but i def think he's one of those people who steal their girlfriends underwear and then get off of them. like if he goes into the shower right after you and can smell your lingering shampoo and soap then he will fuck his fist as if it's you.

💟experience:

luffy was a complete dumbass in anything sexual but yk he is willing to learn anything that pleases you, so, once you teach him just what he's supposed to do, he will practice it on you till he reaches perfection. be prepared for a fuck lot of practice sessions tho.

💟favourite position:

i think his favourite position is missionary. he's a simple man. you're pretty as fuck and he's obsessed with your tits, what else is he supposed to do? but he's down to try just about anything and everything if you ask him to.

💟goofy:

goofy and luffy sound similar for a reason. im not saying he's giggling and kicking his feet as you go down on him but if something embarrassing happens, he needs atleast five minutes just to laugh it out. he doesnt do it in a mean-spirited way, ofcourse. he's just a silly little dude and that was funny.

💟hair:

on you: he literally doesn't care. it's totally your decision. if you wish to keep it shaved/trimmed, great but if you cannot be bothered, then that's more than fine too. he is more than excited just to have you to himself, he doesn't really care about anything more than that.

on himself: again, he doesn't really care. but incase you say that you wish he kept himself a certain way, then he'd go out of his way to pay heed to your preferences. your wish is his command.

💟intimacy (how romantic is he during it?):

luffy isn't a inherently romantic person. romance and love for him come in the form of small moments and acts of kindness rather than gigantic speeches and gestures. so in the traditional sense, he isn't romantic. but he will always make sure you're comfortable and feeling well. and to him, that is peak romance.

💟jack off:

he has a very very high sex drive and he quickly learnt that you can't exactly keep up with that so, he usually masturbates whenever it gets too much and you're not available. prefers your hands over his tho. so, like, he only does it himself if he absolutely needs to. otherwise, he would beg and whine till you please him.

💟kink:

food play (he loves you, he loves food, whats not clicking??) i think he definitely has a mommy kink (except he wont actually call you mommy. he's just act submissive and let you do whatever.) he loves to do whatever it is to please you when he's in that sub headspace but normally, he can get quite absorbed in the way he's feeling (especially when you're giving him head), so, dont blame him if he goes a teensy bit overboard.

💟location:

literally anywhere or planet earth or even beyond earth for that matter. just give him a surface to fuck you against and he'd handle the rest. in terms of favourite, i definitely think he's just sticking to the bed cause it keeps you comfortable and gives him enough safe, secure place to do whatever.

💟motivation (what gets them going):

anything and everything 😭🤭 his turn ons are so random. like you could be just chilling, talking to some crew member and suddenly he has this blinding urge to fuck you and there's nothing you can do about it.

💟no (things they are completely against):

although he's down with whatever, he won't do the classic stuff like scat, age play (extreme) or anything too disgusting. i think he's also pretty apprehensive about hitting you in bed cause he knows his strength and it feels against his entire moral code to hurt a woman. especially the woman he is in love with.

💟oral (prefer giving/receiving, how skilled are they?):

luffy goes both ways. he loves when you give him oral but he is also physically obsessed with you and will spend hours on end against your aching cunt, so, he likes going by turns. he doesn't even have to fuck you for real, just having his face pressed against your core as you rut on him is enough to make him cum in his pants. but since he's so impatient, i think he just prefers 69ing for the efficiency of it lmao (and also your moans feel so delicious against his weeping cock, please don't stop).

💟risk (how risky are they):

omg risk is the very essence of who luffy is. his risks are not even calculated, he just does shit that feels right to him. so, please do not object when you are exploring abandoned streets in an unknown island with him and he pines you against the wall and whines in that soft voice of his to have you right there and then. it also doesn't help that he doesn't feel embarrassed like ever. so, if you ever get caught he's just gonna laugh it off.

💟stamina:

ooooof, his stamina is insane!! can easily go a couple of rounds without feeling much fatigue. but he gets distracted easily, so fuck him before he gets too hungry to keep going lmao as for how long can he go for? i don't think he can hold off his orgasms for long, so, he cums fairly fast but he can push through it and keep going for a good while.

💟toys:

luffy didn't personally know much about toys till one night the boys got drunk and sanji asked them if any one of them owned a pocket pussy. he might have bought one the next time the landed on shore and well, he isn't afraid to admit that it's a handy little tool. but he doesn't know any more about toys than that. and he only got to know more once you started dating him and told him about it. he's not insecure to use toys during sex because he knows what he brings to the table. but he would pout if you fuck yourself with a toy instead of just asking him to give you some sweet sweet relief, so just dont do that mkay?

💟unfair (how much do they tease):

holy fucking shit this man LIVES to tease you. skimming touches, feathery kisses, endlessly toying with your cunt. he does it all. but do NOT tease him cause he can't stand it so, he would either lose patience and fuck you his way or he will get so overwhelmed that he would start whining and crying, begging you to ease up on him. both are good options tho 👍🏼

💟volume (are they vocal during it):

YES!! luffy is super vocal in bed. you make him feel great and he's not too shy to show it. i mean who tf will judge the would be king of the pirates?? he also adores your moans and whimpers too because all he wants is his pretty girl to feel good, obviously. (also when you tell him how good he's fucking you, that puts him over the edge because i just know he has a praise kink)

💟wild card (random headcanon):

luffy gets fucked out so easily. like literally, even if you have just been making out for like 5 mins then also his shirt will be halfway open, eyelids droopy, lips swollen, cheeks red, the whole sha-bam. so even if you both did nothing more than some pg-13 makeout, the entire crew will think you just fucked his brains out. evidence: 7th of august, 8:53 pm "ew." nami makes a face of disgust, "can you not do it before dinner? you're both nasty doin' it right before you see us." "we didn't do anything!!" you defend yourself before nudging luffy, "right luffy?" but he's in a daze, too blissful to say anything but: "uh yeahhh" ussop is holding sanji by the shirt like a rabid dog when zoro walks in. his eyes are lidden with sleep. he gives you and luffy a look before saying, "don't fuck before dinner, that's nasty." "we didN'T FUCK-"

💟x-ray (whats going on under those pants):

look he's the rubber man??? does it matter??? but no, i think he has a pretty decent size like im thinking 6" but definitely a bit more thinner. he also has a slight curve to it.

💟yearning (how high is there sex drive):

VERY HIGH. very fucking high. he's like an animal in heat or something except its all year long.

💟zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards):

he's passed out before you can say "that was so good" he's asleep and you should sleep too, you can compliment him when he wakes you up in the middle of the night for something or the other. go sleep. seriously. i see you reading smut on your screen. go sleep.

a/n: thinking i might make a sfw list too lol. if i do, ill add the link here! thankyouu to anyone who reads the stuff i write lol, you're the coolest

[blueberrymocha]

their love language ˚୨୧⋆｡

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ׂ╰┈➤ fluff

➣ characters: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio, hisoka, illumi, chrollo

➣ word count: x

➣ a/n: unedited, so if you catch some errors no u don’t 🔫🤗

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gon

- physical touch

- as i mentioned, he just loves to be touching you

- it doesn't matter if you're eating breakfast or at the beach

- it's mostly a subconscious thing for him so he probably doesn't even realize when he does it

- like sometimes mid conversation his hands just gravitate to your waist

- you know this boy is all cuddly at night too

- the love language he'd want to be shown most is probably the same

- it'd suck for him if his s/o didn't like touch, so knowing you love it just as much as him is perfect

- he thinks you're made for eachother

killua

- quality time

- he's usually pretty independent

- but if he loved you, suddenly he's around very often

- he'd find whatever reason he can conjure up to hang out with you

- you might just be grocery shopping, but he'll come too

- and he'd invite you to do things with him as well

- the love language he'd want to be shown most is words of affirmation

- he goes on all sorts of adventures and loves to talk about them to you

- plus your praise makes him feel sm more confident in his decisions and also himself generally

- hes def eating those compliments up

kurapika

- words of affirmation

- he can't be around to spend as much time with you as he wishes he could

- but when he is he loves to listen to you talk or ramble

- he might get home at 2AM and roll into bed next to you, but as long as you're awake he's gonna ask how your day went

- he's also really good to go to for advice

- the love language he'd want to be shown most is probably touch

- he loves a physical reminder that you're there with him

- and it's also been a while since he's gotten to just hug someone and kiss them good morning or anything like that

- so he'd truly treasure it

leorio

- gift giving

- whenever he sees something you might like while out, he's sure to grab it

- whether it's a nice purse or a trinket

-expect it to be at your doorstep the next time he sees you

- he'd also hand make you gifts too for your birthday, maybe a picture frame or something

- the love language he'd want to be shown most is acts of service

- he's got a lot going on with school, so whenever you help out with cooking or tidy up his room he's forever grateful

- it's the little things you do to show you care that he loves about you

hisoka

- physical touch

- at first, his touches would be absentminded and teasing in nature

- but you know you’ve got him when he plays with your hair instead of caressing your thighs for example

- and in that case, he’s all over you, all the time

- in fact, he’s rather clingy at times

- if either one of you is down, touch. if he hasn’t seen you in a while, touch. if he just comes home wanting to hold you, touch.

- he doesn’t care what your love language is; it’s amusing all the same.

illumi

- gift giving

- i’d say this is the most obvious

- he’s rich—rich and lacks emotional intelligence

- that being said, he doesn’t lack logic

- his gifts aren’t just going to be of material value (though they usually are)

- he’ll get you a kitchen set because he heard that complaint a few weeks prior

- or maybe a bouquet because you’ve been watching a lot of romance recently

- and with each one he’ll give his little explain of why he chose that

“you were needing __, right? don’t worry, i already got it for you.”

- he does struggle with any other form of affection, so his gifts are a good way for him to remind you of his love

- even if he can’t express it at times

- hot take: he actively doesn’t like most love languages

- physical touch, gift giving, and quality time would just be things he tolerates

- so he prefers a love language that isn’t one of those

chrollo

- quality time

- now he’s usually a huge loner, but eventually he’d rather have you around

- if he’s reading, you can sit in his lap

- if he’s strategizing, you can give counsel

- he also loves to do mundane things with you

- not because he likes the normality in any way

- but because watching you do the dishes with that rhythmic humming, or sleeping in gives him a glimpse into your more vulnerable, personal side

- and as much as his mind is arguing to exploit those parts of you

- his heart just wants to enjoy them

- the love language he’d like to receive is the same as his own

[zepskies]

Dream With Me - Part 1

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized!Reader (Latina)

Summary: When your asshole ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.

AN: Here we go, a three-part story for the Espresso-verse! This is set in the dreaded 15x20 (or the time gap within In Bad Weather.) There are implied references back to Devour Me and Show Me.

Word Count: 4.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, some spiciness, past body insecurity, references to body shaming, references to smut, PTSD, peril, blood and violence.

Start from the beginning of the series: ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 1: “On the Drop of a Dime”

Silence reigns as you and Dean get ready for bed. Tonight, it’s your boyfriend who’s watching you closely. 

Something’s off, he thinks, even as he checks you out in the little sleep shorts you just put on. It’s not the spandex ones he likes, but he still gets to see your familiar curves.

It's been a minute since he's gotten reacquainted. He and Sam just got back from a long hunt yesterday. You stayed home this time, for reasons Dean still hasn't totally figured out.

But his eyes trace over you, from thick thighs and tempting ass, to all of what you’re hiding under an old Def Leppard shirt. The rest, he can trace from memory alone.

You notice him watching you from his side of the bed. Your lips tug upwards.

“What?” you ask. Dean nods over, beginning to smile as well.

“Come ‘ere already.”

Huffing a little laugh, you tie your hair up in a big scrunchie and slide your way into bed, and into the inviting space between his arm and chest. He wraps that arm around your waist, pulling you comfortably close. You expel a deep breath and rest against him.

And you smile. “He’s snoring again.”

Miracle, a shaggy mutt Dean rescued, is curled up in his doggy bed at the foot of the humans’ bed where he likes to sleep. And rumble through his nose. He always goes to lay down when he sees Dean venture to the sink to brush his teeth. It’s like he knows his parents are about to go to sleep, so it’s his way of joining you.

“Dogs snore. Who knew?” Dean remarks.

“Who knew you’d be the one to get us a dog,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees in amusement. “Taking home strays is more your thing.”

You smirk at him. “Worked with you, didn’t it?”

Dean scoffs. “Hey, you moved in with me. Which makes you the stray.”

“Hey!” You shove at his shoulder. He traps your hand against his chest and tugs you in to kiss into your neck.

“Aw, but a sexy one,” he says, humming in pleasure against your skin, where he inhales that alluring mix of floral soap and coconutty shampoo. “Mmm. Less Annie, more Pretty Woman. Like Julia Roberts, if she had a Latina ass.”

You have to laugh, despite the arousing graze of his teeth against your pulse point. You hold him close by his shirt. He takes the scrunchie out of your hair with a practiced hand, letting the wild strands curl around his fingers. You tsk at him. He can never just let your hair be.

“Are you really comparing me to a prostitute right now?” you retort. You feel the shape of his grin against your skin.

“What can I say, baby? You’ve got moves,” Dean teases, low and gravel in your ear. A shiver runs down your spine, but you’re both turned on and incredulous all at once.

Again, you hit his shoulder with a burst of laughter. It briefly lightens you from the funk you’ve been in.

It’s been a couple of months since Sam, Dean, and Jack ended Chuck’s reign of terror. Jack snapped the world back into existence and brought you back, along with everyone else…and the monsters.

It means your work isn’t over, even though that work is starting to wear on you. You haven’t let this on to Sam or Dean, however. It’s just been this thing, weighing on you for two months.

Unlike them, you don’t have as much experience with apocalyptic-level events, let alone dying. (And coming back, for that matter.)

Dean’s lips begin to break you from those thoughts, however, when he blazes a warm trail of sensuous, grazing kisses up your neck. Then along the curve of your jaw, as he holds your other cheek. Finally, he claims your lips.

You breathe into it, and into him as he almost succeeds in distracting your weighted mind. You give him a couple of sweet kisses in return before you slowly break from him.

“You have another long drive tomorrow,” you remind him, rubbing a hand across his chest. “Maybe you should sleep.”

Dean frowns as he looks on you. He tries to read whatever you’re hiding back there, behind your eyes.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” he asks, and not for the first time. “Could use your help on the case.”

Sam already found another one: a string of suspicious murders in Boston—potentially a cursed Red Sox collectible cycling its way through unsuspecting baseball fans. In the morning, he and Dean are going out to investigate. You’ve elected to opt out. 

“It’s okay. I want to give Jody a visit,” you reply. You reach for the bedcovers to cover yourself up to your chest. Dean strokes your hip underneath.

“We could always swing by Sioux Falls after the hunt,” he says.

“It’s okay, baby. You and Sam go ahead,” you say. You twist away from him to turn off the light, but Dean stops you.

“All right,” he says with a sigh. “What’s going on?”

You raise a brow at him. “What?”

“You what,” Dean retorts. “This is the second time in a row that you’re blowing off a hunt.”

He’s right, but you don’t have a good answer for him. Your lips purse.

“I don’t know, I mean…are you going through some kind of slump?” he asks. “‘Cause you know I’ve been there.”

It’s your turn to sigh. You sit up in bed, and you debate the words you want to use to broach this with him. It’s been percolating in your mind for a while now, but it seems like this is the time to finally let it out.

“Okay, here it goes,” you mutter, trying to ignore your trepidation. “Do you ever think about…retiring?”

Dean’s attention piques, along with his frown.

“Retiring?” he repeats.

You reach out to grab his wrist, and you draw your thumb back and forth across his skin. 

“You ever think of…a house,” you pose. “Maybe a cozy cabin, or a little cottage-style thing somewhere, with a backyard for Miracle. And like, at least three bedrooms.” 

Dean smiles a little. He allows himself to contemplate the picture you’re painting.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why three bedrooms?” he asks.

Hope begins to flutter in your chest.

“Well, there’s our room of course,” you say, with a flirtatious gleam to your smile. “That’s where the magic happens.”

He smirks. “I’m in agreement so far.”

“Then there’s a guest room, for whenever Sam and Eileen come to visit,” you continue. “And then…there’s a third room for whatever we need.”

Your tone is leading him somewhere, along with your hand trailing up and down his arm.

“Like, you know, a gym. Or an office. Or a kid’s bedroom…or maybe two,” you say.

Dean’s expression slackens as surprise overtakes him. He probably should’ve known though.

“Two,” he intones, chuckling nervously. But, his face softens as he watches you with new understanding. “You’ve really been thinkin’ about that, huh?”

“Maybe,” you confess. You gain some courage and take in a deep breath. “Do you think about it? Dean, do you ever want to have a simpler life?”

He hums deep in contemplation. It’s a heavy sound, and it doesn’t spark your confidence.

“You know I’ve tried that before,” he says at last. “That life…sweetheart, it’s not my life. It never has been.”

“It could be,” you insist. “Chuck is done—”

“But the monsters ain’t,” Dean retorts. 

“There are other hunters,” you point out. “Haven’t you given enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You squeeze his hand to punctuate your point. Dean glances down, feeling the near desperation in your grip. Eventually, he’s able to meet your eyes again.

“Look…I’m the Job, you know? What the hell would I even do if not this?” he says.

You raise up his hand and lay a kiss to his knuckles. You know he thinks being a hunter is all he’s good for—all he’s equipped to do. You also know that he’s so much more than the Job. 

“Dean, you’re one of the smartest, most resourceful people I know. You can…restore cars, build cars,” you suggest. Your excitement grows as you brainstorm for him. You tap on his thigh.

“Oh! You could open up a bar. Call it the Roadhouse, after the one your friends had. Or hey, we could open up a bakery. We’ll sell pies and flan and whatever the hell else you want me to make.”

You say that last bit with a giggle. It earns Dean’s smile, but you know, looking into his eyes, that he’s not convinced. You grab his hand again with both of yours.

“Come on, Dean. Dream with me for a second,” you implore. “I know we could do this. We could…we could have a different life. A peaceful life. We could have a family.”

Dean sighs, glancing down at his hands. They’re calloused and scarred, and he has the memories to match.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last. “I just uh…I think it’s too late for me to dream like that.”

Tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. Dean sees the fractures, and immediately feels guilty for it.

“Sweetheart,” he tries, reaching out for you, but you shake your head and turn away from him. He feels the loss of your hand.

“Good night,” you say, more sharply than you mean to. I knew he wouldn’t go for it, and I opened my mouth anyway.

He touches your shoulder. “Hey, come on—”

“Good night, Dean,” you repeat. I knew he wouldn’t…

You shouldn’t have said anything. You turn off the lamp on your nightstand, casting the room into darkness.

Dean hesitates. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, even though he knows he has. He just doesn’t know how to comfort you this time. His hand falls away from you as he turns onto his back, his lips pressing together.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to go to bed angry,” he dryly remarks.

“I’m not angry,” you mutter.

She said, friggin’ angrily, Dean finishes in his mind.

He sighs and tries to go to sleep. 

In the morning, you’re quieter than usual. You keep saying you’re not mad. You keep telling him to forget about it. But after four years together, Dean knows when you’re pulling away from him. 

You don’t even make espresso from your little cafetera press, like you usually do. You’re rummaging through the pantry, seemingly trying to decide what you’re going to have for breakfast.

“Coffee?” Dean asks.

You point to the percolating machine that spits out normal black coffee—a silent gesture that tells him he should make it himself.

Which he does, while frowning in annoyance at your attitude. He thinks it might be good that he and Sam are leaving on this hunt soon. It’ll give you a chance to cool off, and Dean a chance to figure out how to make this right with you. The problem is, he knows he won’t be able to do that without giving you what you want.

Retired? He scoffs in his mind. Bobby and Rufus never fucking retired from the life. Hell, Dean never even thought he’d live this long.

And what happened to Bobby, Rufus, Ellen, Jo, Cas, and too many others…

Dean doesn’t let himself dwell on that interjecting thought for too long, even though it adds a familiar weight to his shoulders. He makes himself some buttered toast. He then sits across from Sam, who’s eating cereal while scrolling through the news on his laptop.

You sit next to Sam after grabbing a steaming cup of an Americano and a protein bar. Dean can tell by your face that you’re not enjoying either one. He debates if he should ask if you still plan to drive out to go see Jody today.

Sam glances over at his brother. He’s sensing the unspoken tension between you and Dean, but the latter can only give a small shake of his head.

You don’t want to know, Dean’s face says.

Your cell phone rings, breaking the silence. It’s an unknown number. You frown in confusion, but you still pick it up.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Hey. It’s me.”

Your frown deepens. You think you know the voice on the line, but you figure you should make sure, before your shitty morning gets even better.

“Who’s this?” you ask.

“It’s Carter,” he replies.

In other words, your insufferable ex-boyfriend. The last time you saw him was at a wake for a fellow hunter, Alicia Jackson. By the end of it, Dean nearly broke the man’s hand by the table of mini quiche. 

“You have some goddamn audacity,” you say in a biting tone. It has both Sam and Dean perking up in curiosity. 

“You’re the one who didn’t change your number,” Carter points out. You sigh and cover your eyes with your hand. 

“Why the hell are you calling me?” you ask. There’s a pause on the other line, but you lose patience.

“Carter, don’t waste my time. What the hell do you want?”

At hearing that name, Dean’s face falls with a dark frown. You raise a placating hand to him while you listen. 

“I need your help,” Carter says. “I’m on this case. A town in Nebraska on the edge of the woods. Three infants taken from their cribs. Townsfolk have been hearing noises from the woods. Sound familiar?”

Unfortunately, it does. You remember a case you worked a few months before you met Carter, in a small rural town in Louisiana. It had affected you so deeply, you remember telling him about it, when you two were still together.

“A cadejo isn’t going to go that far north,” you say.

Originally from South America, cajedos are dog-like creatures, except for their hooves. They’re creatures of habit, and they like the warmth. They also prefer the taste of children. The younger the better.

“It will if it’s hungry,” Carter points out. “You’re the only one I know who’s hunted one of these things.”

“…Okay. Where are you?” you sigh in defeat. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Dean whisper-yells. Your lips purse, and again you raise a hand, wordlessly telling him to wait. 

“Arcadia,” Carter replies.

You shake your head at the prospect of actually going along with this. 

“You know I’m probably not going to meet you alone, right?” you say.

“Yeah, I heard Hasselhoff back there,” Carter remarks. “I’m sure he and the other Twin Terror will be right behind you.”

“If you’re gonna be an asshole, you can get fucked by the cadejo for all I care. Call another hunter.” You’re ready to hang up when Carter backtracks.

“Okay, okay! I can be civil,” he says. “Come on. I need your help.”

You deliberate internally with indecision as you set down your phone for a minute. You glance up at Dean, whose facial expression makes it pretty damn clear what his stance is. Sam seems to be waiting on whatever you decide, but is still wary.

You reluctantly hold the phone back to your ear.

“All right. I’ll be on the way in a bit,” you reply.

“Well, all right then. See you soon,” Carter says, in a quasi-flirtatious tone that makes you grimace in disgust.

You hang up the phone and set it down on the table in exasperation. When you raise your gaze, you find exactly what you expect to see.

Dean’s jaw is clenched.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was?” he asks. You frown at him in annoyance.

“You want to calm down?” you say.

“What, so I’m supposed to be okay with you agreeing to go see that son of a bitch?” Dean says. “After what happened last time?”

“Dean…” You rub at your forehead, frowning at the beginning of an ache behind your eyes. 

Sam knows instinctively that this is a conversation better had between just you and Dean, but he feels weird about getting up from the dining table. In his indecision, he stays. 

“This isn’t about me,” you say at last. “And it’s not about him. This is about saving people who need help.”

It’s a point Dean can’t readily refute. So you give him a sly smile. 

“Besides,” you say. “Are you really going to let me go alone?”

That’s how Dean ends up driving you and Sam to Nebraska on a Tuesday morning, after calling another hunter to take on that case Sam had found.

Dean is taciturn and downright grumpy all the way there. Even though you know why, it still irks you. Despite your argument last night, he’s become an amazingly supportive boyfriend in so many ways. So why is he being such a man child about this?

When you all get to the motel, you and Dean book a room while Sam grabs his own. You don’t blame him for wanting some distance from the tension the elder Winchester is exuding. You only wish you could get a room by yourself.

You text Carter to let him know that you’ve arrived at the same motel he’s staying at: 

Where do you want to meet up?

Dean notices you texting. 

“Right, let’s get this over with. Where’re we meeting your boyfriend,” he snarks.

But you’re not laughing. You let out an angry huff, your hands moving to your hips. 

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stopped being such an ass about this. I have enough on my mind without dealing with your pouting,” you say. 

Dean looks down at you, crossing his arms. “I’m not pouting. I’m here trying to watch your back while you go and let that bastard play you like a damn fiddle.”

You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Do you really, actually think I want to see Carter?” you ask. “Do you think I’m that stupid, that I don’t know what he’s trying to do?”

You already know Carter is using this to try and get back into your life, or at least, under your skin. You don’t intend to let him accomplish either one.

Meanwhile, Dean’s frown deepens.

“Okay. If you’re seeing 20/20, then why’re we here? Why not call another hunter and let them fill in?” he asks.

“Is that what you would do?” you counter, pressing a finger into his chest. “If it was your ex who needed help, you would be doing the same damn thing that I’m doing, and don’t pretend it’d be any different. So stop trying to make me feel guilty for trying to do this right.”

You grab the empty ice bucket from the counter. Right now, you need any excuse to get some air, and get out of this oppressive room. 

Dean lets you go, even though he’s silently fuming. The door slams shut behind you. 

He sighs. He doesn’t feel like being in this room either, so he steps out and knocks on Sam’s door. 

Sam opens it, and has to move to the side when Dean slips inside without asking. 

“Sure, come right in,” Sam says wryly. He watches Dean sit down on the bed and drop his head into his hands, rubbing his face. 

“Dude, you need to chill out,” Sam says. Dean’s head raises, and he gives his brother a sarcastic look.

“Oh, really? Is that what the fuck I need to do?” he says. He draws a frustrated hand over his mouth. “This guy’s a problem Sam. This whole thing…it doesn’t feel right.”

Sam doesn’t understand just how bad the repercussions were, after what happened at Alicia’s funeral. You having to deal with Carter that night had set you back, mentally, in more ways than one. It had you thinking things about yourself, and your own body, that made Dean want to track that bastard down and bash his skull in.

But instead, Dean had spent that entire night trying to help you feel comfortable in your own skin again, and comfortable with him. He’d continued trying to erase those old insecurities from your mind for the rest of the damn week—mainly by fucking it out of you.

In your bed, in the shower, in the backseat of his Baby, on that comfy couch in the library that's already been christened three times before (luckily, no one caught you guys that time), and even in the dirty bathroom of a roadside bar after a hunt.

...Yeah, you’d taken some convincing on that last one.

Worth it, Dean thinks, smirking internally.

Besides all of that though, there’s something else gnawing at his insides. Something he hasn’t told Sam, or even you for that matter.

Since the world nearly ended with Chuck and his snapping fingers, Dean has lived with…a kind of edge. An edge that makes him wary whenever your safety is concerned, beyond the usual dangers that come with a hunt. Beyond the things Dean feels equipped to handle with certainty. 

“Be that as it may, she can take care of herself, Dean. You know that,” Sam says, breaking Dean from his thoughts. “All we can do is watch her back on this. And we will.”

After a beat to consider that, Dean nods, however reluctantly. Despite your recent struggles, he also knows how strong you are, and not just in your stubbornness that’s more than a match for his own.

Even though he’d rather you not have to go through this bullshit at all with Carter, Dean knows you. He knows you’ll do what you think is right, with or without his say so.

His shoulders deflate with his breath of exasperation. He gets up, claps a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Dean leaves his brother’s room to return to his own.

He frowns when he finds it empty. 

He backs out of the room and looks down the sidewalk. There’s no one in sight. 

He follows down the path you must’ve gone to find the ice machine. He turns a corner, and he finds a half-full bucket of ice…on the ground, laying on its side. Dean rushes back to the parking lot.

He doesn’t see you anywhere. The Impala is still parked where he left her, so you haven’t taken off by yourself. At least, not of your own volition.

He goes back to Sam’s motel room and pounds a fist three times on his door. Sam opens it with an annoyed frown and a ready protest, until Dean speaks over him. 

“Sam, I can’t find her,” he says. “She’s gone.”

Slowly, you wake in what looks like a dusty old barn.

You’re sitting in a wooden chair that hurts your ass, and your back is aching due to the thick knot of rope holding your wrists behind the chair. There’s a pounding in the back of your skull that makes you wince.

You have a dull memory of feeling a presence behind you, and then being hit before you could even throw a punch.

Someone calls your name gently. You turn to your left, and there’s Carter, strapped to his own chair. He looks rough. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, and he bears a ragged wound on his neck. It’s weeping with blood that stains his shirt, likely hours old, by the way it’s dried. 

You would know that kind of bite anywhere. You feel the phantom pain where your neck meets your shoulder.

Vampires.

“You okay?” Carter asks. He looks genuinely worried for you.

“What?” you utter. You’re still a bit dazed, until a woman steps into the room. Her long brown hair is tied up in a ponytail, and her leather jacket matches her dark wash jeans and black boots. She gathers her hands behind her back and gives you a smile. 

“Morning, sweetheart. Have a good little nap?” she asks. 

“You know...I’ve had better,” you reply, rolling the crick out of your neck. Again, you glance at Carter. He looks like he’s been here for days. And, he looks guilty as hell.

A terrible feeling grows in the pit of your stomach, but you take in a breath and return your attention to the woman in front of you.

“It’s a cocky game, hunting for hunters,” you say. “What, got tired of sucking on cows and hookers?”

What can you say? After four years, Dean has rubbed off on you.

The woman cocks her head, and her smile deepens. She steps closer. Close enough to smell you as she leans in close to your cheek. She inhales your scent, her lips brushing your neck and earlobe. You grimace and try to pull away, but she grabs your head, her nails tangling sharply in your hair. 

You fucking hate vampires.

Especially after a nest of vampires turned a child, who then tried to take a chunk out of your neck. It’s been a few years since then, but you’ve always been uneasy on vamp hunts ever since. 

“I’ll make it easy for you,” the woman whispers in your ear. “You’re here because I want one thing. Just one thing… Sam and Dean Winchester.”

That shocks you, but you manage to recover enough to reply.

“Who are you?” you ask. “Why are you after them?”

“Jenny. At least, that's the name they'll remember,” she replies, toying with a strand of your hair. “And let’s just say, we have history. They killed my family. And that crime has no statute of limitations.”  

“You really think you’re going to get the drop on them?” you say, even though you’re trying to calm your breathing, and your racing heart. “Good luck, bitch.”

She grabs you by the hair, making you wince. 

“Leave her alone!” Carter says. He’s exhausted, but his anger and frustration fuel him.

The vampire suddenly releases you. But she walks behind you and moves over to him. She grabs him by his short blonde hair and forcefully cranes his head back. He makes a sound of pain, and her lips draw near to the open bite wound on his neck.  

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Jenny threatens. She abruptly lets him go and comes around to stand in front of both of you with her arms cross. She glances over at you, and gestures at your companion. 

“If you want to find the world’s most infamous killers, ask a killer,” she remarks.

You slowly turn your head toward Carter. Your expression tightens with anger—such anger that even brings furious tears to your eyes. 

“You…you lured me here,” you realize.

Carter confirms it when he can’t meet your eyes. His face tells a story of immense guilt. 

“I just thought they’d try to get the jump on Sam and Dean,” he says.

“Cooooño,” you mutter a drawn out curse through clenched teeth. Briefly you close your eyes. 

“I figured the three of you could take ‘em. I didn’t think they’d take you!” Carter exclaims.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’d lied to you, betrayed you. He tried to trade his own life for theirs, and yours as well.

“I knew you were a fucking asshole, but I never thought you were this big a coward!” you hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he tries.

“I don’t want to hear it!” you snap back. You look up at Jenny, who looks bemused watching the scene.

“And you better come packing, Twilight, because Sam and Dean are gonna gut you like a fish,” you say snidely.

Jenny smiles as one, two, three and more men step into the barn and join her. She greets them all with a nod of her head, before she turns back to you with a sharp grin.

“Oh, I’m certainly not alone.”

“Son of a bitch. I fucking told you," Dean grouses. "I knew there was something off about this whole deal.”

“I hear you,” Sam says. His tone is steady to try and anchor his brother. “We’re almost there.”

Dean is pushing Baby to her limits on a dusty road out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Nebraska. Sam has been able to track your cell phone, and even break into your text messages from his laptop. Carter’s last text to you held the location of where to meet in exact coordinates. Even Sam agreed that was strange, as if your kidnapping wasn’t bad enough. 

It has Dean white-knuckling his grip on the steering wheel. Sam’s route is leading him further away from civilization, and deeper into the woods on either side of the road. 

“How much longer, man?” Dean asks. 

Sam gives his brother a reassuring look. He’s worried for you too, but he knows he has to lock it up for Dean’s sake. 

“Couple more miles," Sam replies. "Then it looks like we’re going off-road.”

“Into the woods?” Dean asks. 

“Most likely,” Sam says. 

Fuck, Dean thinks. His gut churns with apprehension. He doesn’t even know what you’re going through right now, let alone who (or what) has you. All he knows is, he’s not losing you.

Not like this.

Not again.

Spanish Translation: “Coño.” -> "Fuck."

AN: 😮‍💨 Diving into the thick of it on this one! Lots of conflict and tension, but what did you think of her argument with Dean about her "dream?" And how do you think it's going to play out with Carter? 😬

Here's a sneak peek at where we're going:

Next Time:

Your lips thin into a line. “Or you’re just stupid enough to leave a couple of hunters alone. You better damn hope he doesn’t find Sam and Dean. Even when they don’t know what’s coming, they should be the stuff of your nightmares. But when they’re prepared?”

You lick your dry lips and give Jenny a grim smile, with more confidence than you actually feel.

“Say goodbye to your family,” you say.

After a beat, Jenny smiles tightly and grabs your face. Her nails bite into your cheeks.  

“All right, Nate. You can have a taste,” she says.

She steps to the side as one of the larger backup dancers in her little entourage draws near. Jenny wrenches your head back by your hair so he can lean in and bite into your neck. Your scream reverberates on the barn walls.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy

@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @twinkleinadiamondsky

@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk

@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester

@chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords

[eerna]

How would you describe the face shapes and facial features of The Lunar Chronicles girls? (Since you draw them so beautifully, I wanna know how you figured out what features to give them based off the info the books give us. Plus I began to imagine cinder's face looking exactly like your art).

Also what undertones do you give them (you don't gotta be specific, just list whether they're cool or warm). oh! You can info-dump if you want. I find it really helpful.

Yayyy thanks for the compliments and for asking this, I love talking about why I draw faces the way I do!! :D

Ok so first off here's an explanation of my general book character design process which I will base these descriptions on. For TLC specifically the canon descriptions are based not only on the books, but also this guide from MM's website.

CINDER

The starting canon point was ambiguously mixed (but definitely Asian), tan, brown upturned eyes, mousy brown hair in a ponytail, tall, all angles, boyish build and clothes. I HC her as specifically Cambodian (based on her family names and general description), so I based her features on it. She is characterized as brave and decisive ina protagonist way, so I gave her an oval face shape because ovals are serious and constant, and thick eyebrows to intensify her expressions. She sees herself as unfeminine, so I gave her thin lips and short, brown eyelashes. She is always messy and unkempt because of her work, so I gave her an uneven, shaggy haircut to match (inspired by Link LoZ for absolutely no reason). But she is also an awkward nerd, which I integrated through her big, goofy ears. I give her a warm undertone to match her eyes and offset her desaturated hair.

SCARLET

The starting canon point was white skin, curly ginger hair, super freckled, very feminine build, full lips, farmer girl vibes. Her color scheme is very low contrast with hair, eyebrows and eyes that are all within the same value range, because at one point she is described as soft curve shaped as opposed to Cinder's sharp angles, and I wanted to bring out that softness not only in shapes but colors too. She is also brave and decisive, but in a mean old lady way, so I gave her a long, pointy face to match it. I should def give her more defined curls than I usually do. I don't often color her so I thinkkkk I mostly give her a cool undertone, but it's inconsistent.

CRESS

The starting canon point was super pale white skin, nose freckles, heart shaped face, extremely messy wavy honey blond hair, sky blue eyes, super tiny. Everything about her is supposed to scream "pure sweet innocent little baby who never did anything wrong in her life" (even if it isn't the exact truth), and her face is based on a girl I saw at school when I was a teen. Her eyebrows and eye shape are anime inspired because I was an anime fan and so was MM. I give her a cold undertone.

WINTER

The starting canon point was very dark skin, Black, three scars on her right cheek, and a ton of other descriptions because she is the most beautiful girl in the galaxy and the epitome of soft, gentle, princessy femininity. We're talking full lips, gently curving features, insane eyelashes, etc. Her scars should realistically be darker, but the description of them resembling tears and their symbolism of Winter choosing to stick out like a sore thumb stuck so far into my brain that I simply gotta make use of artistic license in this case. I went for 3C type hair and its shape fits the cloud-like dreamy vibe she embodies while keeping to the glossy corkscrew description. Her eyes and lips are her mother's, and thus bear resemblance to Levana's. I give her a warm undertone.

IKO

The starting canon point was light brown skin, golden eyes, button nose, blue braids with golden accessories, and capitalist-made beauty. She is fun, fashionable, and flirty, so her color palette is braver and more expressive than the other girls'. Her beauty is noticeable, but man-made as a product instead of Winter's natural appeal. Her undertone is sometimes cold and sometimes warm because it makes the various color combos easier to execute, and also she is an android so I bet it is possible to do it anyway.

Hope this was interesting~

[goingsunnythousandmerry]

Sabo x Marine!Reader. Ya know like enemies to lovers

Sabo x Marine Reader

Authors Note: Hey as requested, here is my attempt at Marine Reader x Sabo, enemies to lovers. I blame Yamato for my marine character being the daughter of Akainu Sakazuki, because fuck that guy, and I bet his kids would hate him. Marine Reader also  kind of seems like a female version of Koby. Anyways, attempt at enemies to lovers as requested. Let me know your thoughts below, next time I may do Sabo x Subordinate, because I love an authority figure. Not sure I got Sabo’s voice quite right, I haven’t watched episodes with him in them in awhile. Hope you like it. Let me know your thoughts or requests below. Thanks Friends!

Def some fluff and for sure some NSFW. Daddy issues for days with this marine reader.

Warnings: MDNI, Daddy issues, penetration, vaginal sex, breeding kink, fingering, strip search, glove kink, finger sucking, I do not own these character, messy aftercare, I hate Sakazuki

You were a vice admiral in the marines, promoted for your valor at Marineford. A decision not suggested by your father, the new fleet admiral, Akainu Sakazuki. He’d taught you from a young age to believe in justice, however you never embraced his views of absolute justice. You failed to see life as only black and white, as he did. Rather, you saw a world full of color. With this view you knew there were reasons behind criminal actions. Your desire to help others was why you joined the marines like your father. Continuing your beliefs under your father’s regime had been hard, especially, when you came face to face with a criminal you had met before. A criminal who, by your father, was wanted desperately to be made an example to the world, for his crimes.

You stood in a hallway on an upper floor overlooking the socializing plaza at this year's Reverie. You were assigned to guard the hall, a floor above the meeting rooms for the Reverie, you didn’t expect much trouble. You listened vigilantly and walked the hall of your post, occasionally looking out below at the socializing royalty in the courtyard below. You’d been on duty a few hours and so far, nothing roused suspicion. Looking at the people below, you took particular notice of those from Fishman Island, Arabasta Kingdom, Cherry Blossom Kingdom, and Dressrosa. These characters were all from areas Strawhat Luffy had been to. You found it fascinating how they had found and flocked to one another.

To you, Strawhat Luffy was an interesting character, a pirate in what seemed like name only, he helped people. Yet, he declared war upon the world government, the agency you worked for. He also had done a great job of making your world government look bad for its involvement with pirates and in pirate affairs. You knew changes could be made and hoped that in your slow rise to power, you could help change them. However, you knew with your father in charge everyone was in danger. Trying to have open discussions on justice as a child with your father led to more training hours and more meals you were left unfed.

As you stood and stared out the window, you reflected on those discussions. Your train of thought was broken by the sound of a small chuckle from behind one of the columns down the hall from where you stood. You gasped and turned your head in the direction of the noise, your hair whipping behind you as shifted. You looked on as a man with a top hat and burn mark to his left eye stepped out from behind a column. Your breath caught in your chest as you studied him.

“Sa-Sabo, Chief of Staff of the Revolutionary Army.” You stuttered out through gritted teeth.

You unsheathed a (weapon of your choice) and ran at him. He laughed harder as you came hurtling towards him. As you were about to strike, he stopped you by grabbing your wrists. Hands still in the air mid-strike, you fought through gritted teeth to hit him with your weapon. The two of you panted and stared directly into one another's eyes.

“That’s no way to treat an old friend. It’s good to see you again, Y/N.” Sabo said to you with a smile in his calm voice.

“Friend? Sabo, you are part of the Revolutionary Army working against the World Government. I’m a Marine, thus you fight against everything I believe in! You’re no friend of mine.” You replied as you lifted a leg to kick him.

Sabo took the hit, but didn’t budge from his position. He chucked again and easily overpowered you for your weapon, tossing it down the hall behind you. As he took your weapon, you lost your footing and stumbled backwards.. Sabo caught you by the waist, ensuring you didn’t fall.

“Well the last time we met, you let me go.” He replied as he looked deeper into your eyes, now holding tightly to your waist.

You shoved him off you and took a step away from him. Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to calm your angered breathing. Your eyes fluttered to the ground then back to the man before you, who was now thumbing at his top hat.

“Shut up. I thought I told you to forget about that and never speak of it…” You said with a pause.”I’d seen enough bloodshed at Marineford. I wasn’t ready for another execution… another war.”

“As you wish, vice admiral. That look suits you by the way.” He replied as he examined your outfit up and down. 

You were wearing the signature white Marine coat over your shoulders, a low cut top, and short skirt. You felt your outfit displayed your femininity while proving you were still ready to throw hands at any time. Sabo looked down to adjust his gloves, then returned his gaze to meet yours.

“Although, I don’t hate the World Government. I hate Celestial Dragons and what they do to the world.I hate that the World Government protects them.” 

Sabo stopped speaking and stared at you with more intensity. You took another step back as your mind raced through strategies to get your weapon back. Without it, you knew your actions were fruitless. You were willing to fight in hand to hand combat, but you had seen first hand the strength of Sabo’s dragon claw when you last met. You weren’t willing to take your chances with that, you had too much good to do in the world still. You breathed through gritted teeth as Sabo shook his head at you.

“I don’t think our views are all that different if we broke it down.” Sabo said.

“What are you doing here Sabo? Come to ruin the Reverie? I thought the Reverie would only help your cause, it’s a meeting for countries to discuss their issues and broker peace.” You argued as you aggressively took a step towards him.

In the gray walled hallway intermixed with square windows, you stood alone with Sabo. You looked at the wall behind Sabo and studied a tile, remembering that the hallways that connected to where you were stationed were empty of fellow Marines. This portion of the floor was guarded by you and you alone. You could try to scream, but that would make you look weak. You wrinkled your nose at the man in front of you and thought harder of ways to get back up to assist you. With your weapon, you could deal some damage, but you knew how strong Sabo was. You’d need an admiral to face him, especially now that he had the flame-flame fruit. Who knew if he was alone or if he had backup nearby. It of course, had to be one day you had grabbed your regular handcuffs instead of your sea prism ones. 

Suddenly, you remembered the transponder snail in the pocket of your coat. If you could just manage to call someone and let them hear you in casual conversation with Sabo, surely, they would send an admiral to help you. You didn’t know what your father would do to Sabo, but coming to Mary Geoise during the Reverie meant he and the rest of the Revolutionary Army were up to no good and needed to be stopped. Peace was at risk. 

“Well I’m here on business that won't affect the Reverie, I assure you, but it needs to be done. I saw you standing here all alone and wanted to say Hi, and thank you for last time.” He spoke with a smile as he tipped his hat to you. “So thank you, Y/N. I’ll be taking my leave now. I hope we meet again.” Sabo added as he began to turn and walk away from you.

You quickly shoved your hand in your pocket and grabbed for the transponder snail. Your thumbs began to dial before it was out of your pocket, knowing the precise number to call. In an instant, a hand was grasping your forearm and blonde hair fell into your face.

“AGH!” You yelled as you were slammed into one of the hallway walls. 

Sabo’s hands were pinning your wrists above your head. You squirmed, trying to break free from his grasp, but to no avail. The transponder snail fell from your hand with a thud. Sabo shifted his arms, holding your wrists above your head in one of his hands and searching your coat pockets with the other. Your legs separated father apart as you squirmed against his hold, and he Sabo stood between them. 

“Now, why would you go and do something like that? All I was doing was thanking you. I’ve searched your coat pockets, but be honest with me… do you have any other weapons or ways of making calls hidden under your clothes? You know besides those weapons of mass destruction.” He said as his eyes trailed down to admire your breasts through your low cut top.

“No.” You replied through gritted teeth, still trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp.

“I never thought the man who killed my brother would have such an attractive daughter.” He replied with a small chuckle.

“Brother!?” You asked with a gasp, pausing momentarily from fighting his gloved hands that confined your wrists above your head.

Sabo looked down at the ground between the two of you. Then returned his gaze to you. His grip loosened slightly. He took a deep breath as his eyes turned to meet yours.

“Ace.” 

You gasped.

“Then are you also….” You began with widened eyes as your jaw fell closer to the floor.

“Brothers with Strawhat Luffy? Yes.” He replied with a nod.

You sank down the wall and as your breath caught in your chest from the news you had just received. Sabo put his other hand around your waist to keep you from sliding to the ground. He smiled at you then looked down the hallway to where earlier, you had been gazing at the socializing plaza.

“I saw you. That group of people you were watching out there, they were all brought together by my brother. That’s what he does. He may be a pirate, but he helps people and brings them together to make the world better. He’s going to be King of the Pirates and the World Government isn’t going to be able to stop him… or I’ll be the first to stand in their way and I won’t be the only one, but I won’t let anyone take his dreams from him.” He responded, returning his gaze to meet yours. 

His gloved fingers tightened on your waist. A small breath escaped your lips as you stared at Sabo. There was so much love in his eyes. Love and determination, like what you had seen from Ace and Luffy that day at Marineford. Before your father had… Your eyes started to water as you looked at Sabo’s kind features. He let go of your wrists, allowing your hands to fall to your side. You reached for Sabo’s shirt, gripping it tightly between your fingers. A gasp escaped his lips as he looked on at your eyes filling with tears. You shook your head as tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“Sabo, I didn’t agree with it. I didn’t want Ace to be executed. I still can't believe it… He was such a nice guy. Hell, he convinced me to keep being a marine when I was over my fathers justice tirades. He thought I should go after my dreams if it was what my heart longed to do.” You yelled, looking at eyes glistening wet with tears.

“What?” Sabo asked, gasping as he took a step back from you and the wall.

“In my early days of being a marine, I had a night off and went to a bar to cool off. I was frustrated with my fathers expectations. I sat next to a guy at the bar who noticed how upset I was. He listened to me and told me to go after my dreams. Little did I know until I saw him again atl Marineford… that day it was Ace, the FireFist himself… just in a crappy disguise. A pirate telling a marine to keep being a marine, just because it’s what she longed to do. That’s not someone who deserves to die because of who their parents were.” 

You looked down at your hands on his chest. You could feel how chiseled his chest was through his shirt. You slowly let go as you started to realize you were enjoying being this close to Sabo, you liked the feeling of his hand on your waist. He was your enemy, a sworn enemy of the World Government, a sworn enemy of what you believed in. Yet, here you were having a meaningful conversation with him and enjoying his touch.

“That’s Ace for you. Luffy’s just like him… Never give up on your dream, Y/N. If you ran the World Government I know the world would be in better hands. Keep making your way. Understand, knowing that though, I can’t stop living my dream either. Even if it opposes yours. I have to keep fighting for a world not ruled over by Celestial Dragons.” 

He took a step closer to you and wiped your cheeks. His calloused fingers felt comforting against your soft water covered cheek. Fireworks shot through your body as he moved his hand from your cheek back to your waist. You straightened up against the wall and pulled him closer to you. Your eyes met his as you nodded in understanding about what he had just said. 

“You never answered my question about the weapons…?” Sabo prodded as he slid a hand up your torso.

You laughed. Your stomach filled with butterflies as you stared into his dark caring eyes. He, an enemy, just wanted you to pursue your passion, and he thought you’d make the world better for doing it. He was so handsome standing before you, so commanding in his white blouse and jacket. His typical expression, full of determination and rage, but in other moments, you could see the softness he was showing you now. You bit your lip as you began to notice his lips inches from yours. You took a deep breath as you let the warmth of his touch envelop you with courage. 

“Guess you’ll have to search me.” You replied, raising your eyebrows.

His lips raised to a smirk. Sabo nodded his head and sighed. 

“As you wish, Vice admiral. I tried to offer you the easy way, but you’ve chosen the hard way.”

Sabo’s hands roamed their way from your waist to the base of your plump breasts. Your head leaned back to hit the wall at the feeling of his caress. He squeezed and began to play with your covered breasts. His lips fell to your neck where he placed wet kisses and took small nibbles until he reached your collarbone. A moan escaped your lips causing your hands to fall from his chest to the wall behind you. He continued to study your breast with one hand while the other circled your aroused nipple that poked through your shirt and bra. You let your legs spread and lifted one hand to run through his hair as he nibbled at your cleavage. 

Your right breast continued to be played with as his other hand traced down your torso and waist to your thighs. At your thighs his hand rubbed up and down your skirt a few times, stopping as he lifted his head from your chest to look you in the eye. You nodded at him as his hand played with the hem of your skirt. His hand rubbed up your thigh until it found your core. Your hands fell back against the wall as his hand traced your wet core through your panties. 

“So wet for me already… A wanted man is making you this wet… who knew the vice admiral could be such a rule breaker.”

“Did you find what you were looking for..?”

“Not yet, I’m going to have to do a more thorough search.”

You grabbed Sabo’s wrist to stop him from moving further. You bit your lip and raised your chin to look him in the eye. 

“Come with me.”

Sabo nodded back at you, allowing you to take his hand and lead him from the empty hallway. You turned a few corners, stopping to look for other marines before you did, finally stopping in front of a doorway. You rummaged through your pocket and pulled out a key. You opened the door and flipped on the light inside the room. The light revealed inside the room sat a desk with some paperwork and a picture frame on it, a desk chair, a bar cart, and a few pieces of artwork. The art on the wall mostly quotes about justice. You entered the room and sat on the desk, crossing your legs as you did.  Sabo stopped in the doorway and looked around.

“What is this?”

“My dad’s office.” You said, blinking your eyes at him. “Not his main one, just an auxiliary one. Just remember, we aren’t friends and don’t thank me for it next time. I’m a vice admiral, Sabo. So next time… I’m turning you in. I’ll train, so I’m strong enough. You’ll be my ticket to admiral.” You said with a smirk.

Sabo stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

“And this time..?

  You shoved some papers off the desk onto the floor and rested your hands on your crossed legs. Sabo rested his top hat on the bar cart and stared at you.

“This time? You can show me what being a Revolutionary means.”

“I like the sound of that. Now where were we? I think I was still searching for weapons and communication devices.”

Sabo approached the desk. You leaned back, relaxing on your hands which rested flat on the desk surface, supporting your weight. Sabo’s gloved hand caressed your knee and pulled your legs apart, spreading them wide. He stepped between your legs, his lips slamming against yours as his hand inched its what up your legs to grip your thighs. His tongue tickled at your bottom lip waiting to be let inside. Your lips parted slowly, letting him in and  allowing his tongue to take over yours. Your breathing grew heavy as you reached for his neck, pulling him deeper into your embrace. His pelvis rubbed against your still clothed core causing his pants to grow tighter against you. Your hand fell from his neck to his waist where you felt at his hardening member through the fabric of his pants. 

Your lips separated from his, allowing you a moment to breathe. Sabo’s lips trailed down your neck as one of his gloved hands slithered up to your heated core. A finger pulled your panties aside and began tracing your wet folds. You moaned as his fingers slid upwards and began circling your clit. His other hand roamed its way to your entrance and teased at your folds. Lost in the sensation of his fingers, you were caught off guard as his teeth dug into your shoulder.

“Sabo.” You moaned in his ear from the mixed sensations from his body parts.

“Do you want a criminal to finger you, marine?”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“Fuck me, Chief of Staff Sabo.”

“Never knew a marine to beg like this, but I like it.”

Sabo pressed his lips back to yours and ran his fingers through your hair. He bit at your  lip causing you to moan louder against his kiss. You moved your hands down his chest to his waist, where you started to unbuckle his belt. His hands met yours and forced them to wrap around his neck.

“Not yet. Have to search you first.” He said with a smirk before pulling at your clothes.

Sabo pushed off your coat and lifted at the hem of your top. Once your top was removed all that remained was your purple bra. A smile formed across his lips as he admired it for a moment before his lips established connection with yours again. Calloused fingers danced on your back until they found and undid your bra clasp. He pulled your bra off you in one swift motion. His tongue fought yours for power as he began playing with you exposed sensitive nipples. You moaned against his wet lips causing him to laugh against yours. Kisses began trailing down your chest until they found your nipples, where Sabo began taking small nibbles. As the tingle in your abdomen began to grow, Sabo’s still gloved hands trailed down your waist back to your exposed thighs.

In another smooth motion, Sabo lifted you from the desk and pulled your skirt and panties off. His lips still pressed to yours, as he returned you to the desk. He began rubbing his thumb in circles higher and higher up your bare thighs. His hands froze just before your core. You moaned with desire pulling out of the kiss to rest your head against his cheek and catch your breath. Sabo stood up tall and admired the view before him.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that’s what you were hiding under there.” 

“Well, what are you going to do about it? Such a high bounty, you have to be good for something.” You said with a chuckle as you bit your lip. 

Sabo’s gloved fingers moved up your thighs and slowly traced your entrance. You needed him. Your hips bucked towards his at the start of the new sensation. You moaned as a second hand began drawing shapes over your clit. You leaned back on your elbows against the desk. Your breathing grew heavier and more rapid.

“Sabo.” You moaned.

His gloved middle and ring fingers moved between your folds and pushed inside you. You moaned at the feeling of the cool leather and new thickness inside you. His fingers steadily pumped in and out of you, while his other hand began tapping and rubbing at your clit. Your hips bucked furiously against him as your craving for his fingers to stay inside you grew.  He chuckled and brought his lips back to yours. This time your kiss was sloppy as drool began dripping from your lips as he finally began giving attention to your sensitive spot. You loved his fingers, especially with his gloves still on, but you couldn’t help but wonder what was under his trousers. As his lips easily overpowered you, Sabo began switching between tapping and holding pressure on your sensitive spot with his gloved fingers. Sabo’s left hand slowed its motions against your clit as his other hand played with your sensitive spot. You moaned against his lips as the heat built in your abdomen.

“Sabo, going to cum.”

With that Sabo removed his fingers from your folds and removed his lips from yours. You whined at the loss of thickness within your walls. He deviously looked at you and brought his gloved fingers to your lips. 

“Sabo, need you.” You begged, hips bucking towards him and hands grabbing at his waist.

“Look at the mess you made. Better clean it up.” He instructed as he pushed his fingers into your mouth.

You licked and sucked on his gloved fingers, swallowing every last drop of your wetness. When he was satisfied he removed his digits from your lips and began unzipping his trousers.

“Now, I have somewhere to be, so we have to make this quick. You were so tight against my fingers, I can’t wait to feel you clench against me. Are you ready?” He asked as he dropped his pants and briefs to his ankles. 

You licked your lips as his hard member flung out and hit your throbbing core. He was big, and you questioned whether you could take all of him. You sat up and reached for his member, pumping it a few times. He grunted as you moved it up and down your wet folds. He repositioned as you played with his length at your entrance and grabbed your thighs with his gloved hands.

“Put your hands on my shoulders. You, marine, need to learn what your enemy is capable of.” 

You nodded in response. Sabo took his member from your grasp and as he did, you placed your hands on his shoulders. Slowly, he began pressing his pink tip against your entrance. You clenched your jaw as the girth of his member was a bit painful as it entered you. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You wanted this, so you smiled through it. Sabo stopped and looked at you, having noticed your breathing had changed.

“Can’t handle me, Y/N? Want me to stop?” He asked.

“No, Sabo. Need you.” You said as your eyes fluttered open and you pulled his lips against yours.

Sabo gently pushed his length in further. He stopped your kiss as your walls began to clench around him. He grinned as his length began to twitch inside you. Once your walls had relaxed some, he started to move his length in and out of you. His pace was moderate at first. You saw passion build in his eyes. He pulled your hips closer to his, forcing you to lie back some. His hips began to buck furiously against you causing his length to hit your cervix and the desk to shake. His balls slapped against your pelvis and perineum.

“Sabo” You called as your eyes widened.

Your head fell back in pleasure as he slammed against your cervix again, causing a picture to fall off the desk. Your hands moved to grip the edge of the desk for dear life, as the heat in your core built again. Your eyes started to water at the mix of pleasure and pain from Sabo’s pace combined with his deepness.

“Can you handle this?”

“Yes! Sabo!”

Sabo continued thrusting into you. Your breasts jiggled in his face, when he was at his deepest point within you. You moaned with every entrance, your eyes starting to water. Your thighs tried to clench around his arms, but he fought you, continuing to rail you deeper and deeper with his long thick dick. Your walls clenched harder around him.  Your hips fought his hand trying to buck against him for more friction on your clit.

“Sabo, going to cum.” You cooed through gritted teeth as he railed you faster.

“Me too. Going to finish in you and let it pour out onto this desk.” 

Sabo slammed into you twice more, as he did a tear rolled down your cheek.

“SABO.” You moaned loudly as you felt the heat in your abdomen burst.

Your juices dripped out of your entrance and down your thighs. He pounded you through your ecstasy. As you came down from yours, you felt a warmth explode inside you. His length twitched and he dropped your thighs to grab the desk, for support as he rode out his ecstasy inside you. The two of you panted, still intertwined. Steadily he removed his length from you allowing both your juices to drip from within you and pool on the desk. 

Sabo reached for a towel from the bar cart and wiped himself off, tossing a fresh one to you when he was done. You sat up and wiped yourself down, then reached to clean up the desk. You paused and looked up at him.

“I’m going to leave the mess, I want my father to know someone was here. I want him to know someone was ravaged on his desk.”

“Not, so innocent yourself, aye, Vice Admiral?” Sabo questioned as he zipped his pants and placed his top hat back on his head.

You crossed your legs and stared at him as he adjusted his coat. He was handsome for a criminal and he sure knew what he was doing when it came to pleasing a woman. That still didn’t tell you why he was here. He certainly had not come all this way to fuck you in your dad’s office.

“What are you doing here, Sabo? This was a fun detour, but you know I can’t let you go again.” You said as you stood up from the desk shakily.

“Why do you think I fucked you, so hard?” He said with a devious smile. 

You reached for the desk drawer knowing your father usually left a back up transponder snail inside. Sabo pinned you back onto the desk and threw the drawer open. He found the snail and put it in his pocket. Before removing himself from you, he smirked as he once again admired your still naked form.

“Shame I don’t have time for a second round, Y/N. The first was fun, but I really must be going. Until next time.” Sabo said as he slammed his lips against yours once more and squeezed your breasts in his gloved hands.

Sabo removed himself from you and ran out the door. You sat up and groaned. 

“My goodness, am I going to let that man get to me like that everytime?” You thought to yourself.

You stood up and put your clothes back on. Once you were dressed you turned off the lights, exited the door, and locked the room behind you.

“He said he wasn’t here to wreck the Reverie, but what could he be here for..? Well, he did take care of me, I think that warrants the head start I just gave him.” You whispered to yourself.

You took off in the direction of your weapon. Once you had your weapon in hand, you headed for the other side of the floor to find a transponder snail you could use to report the intruder. 

“Better start coming up with a cover story now… He was too fast for me? He pleased me into submission? He overpowered me and took my transponder snails? That’s it. Not too far from the truth, there may just have been a little detour.” You thought to yourself as you ran.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

character layouts for this au !!

(lmk how I did, just kinda winged this)

Simon’s Daughter

Name: Brianna “Bri” Riley

Age: 16

Birthday: November 20

Physical Description: Blond hair (slightly brown in some streaks), blue eyes, diamond-shaped face, light brows, thin lips (downturned), nose has a slight ridge to it. Has some muscle packed onto her body, but generally skinny, with smaller breasts and butt, stands at 5’6, blond lashes.

Personality: Has serious rbf (resting btch face), and quiet like her dad, but has dry humor. Generally a bit more able to lead and take control of things, and make the hard decisions/calls. Not the type to talk about emotions. Anger issues. Burns bridges before trying to cross them.

Talents: Handling weapons. Simon would definitely not let his daughter go have some teenage fun without making sure she could handle a knife and gun, and he sent her to self-defense classes too. Also good with time management, as well.

Likes: Watching terrible romcoms with friends, she would die before admitting it, but she loves it, often hiding her tiny smile behind her hand. Also loves providing for people, her love language is def acts of service.

Dislikes: When people walk slowly or talk too slowly. It genuinely infuriates her. If you need to get somewhere or do something, hurry up with it??

Relationship with Family: Not in contact with mother (she might be dead, haven’t decided yet), close but strained bond with dad, close with uncle Kyle, Johnny, Price, and their kids.

Johnny’s Daughter

Name: Isla “Is” MacTavish

Birthday: August 17

Age: 16

Physical Description: Thick brown hair, darker blue eyes than Brianna’s, dark brows, little ridge to nose, medium-sized lips, medium breasts, and butt. Plumper body (think pear-shaped), with thick thighs. Has muscle, and lifts with her dad at the gym. Stands at 5’2, her right canine is slightly crooked, giving her a very devious grin. Face shape is diamond with a wider jaw.

Personality: Hilarious. Absolutely hilarious, just like her dad. She can make light of almost any situation, making jokes in her Scottish accent that defuses any tense situation. However, she also gets angry very easily, leading to both Brianna and Charlitte to hold her back from starting fights.

Talents: Learned a thing or two about defusing bombs from her daddy. She’s also freakishly good at math (got that from her dad, too), and can take things apart and put them back together very well, too.

Likes: Lighting things on fire. Throwing fireworks down the sideways-sewer-tunnel things in ditches and watching them explode. Just destroying things.

Dislikes: When people make fun of her accent. It inflamed her temper worse than anything, because who do they think they are to make fun of her family and ancestor’s accent??

Relationship with Family: Very close with mother and father (both around in the same house, married), and close with uncles Kyle, Simon, John, and their kids.

Kyle’s Daughter

Name: Charlotte “Charlie” Garrick

Age: 16

Birthday: June 27

Physical Description: After some research, I think she’d have 4c hair, usually wearing it in braids tied up in a ponytail, and sometimes adding a lick of color into the ends. She doesn’t like beads on the ends, though. Bronzed skin, dark brown eyes, dark long lashes, dark brows, stands at 5’5 and ½ (yes she counts the half inch), softer diamond-shaped face. Medium breasts and butt, body is a bit plump like Charlotte, but she doesn’t have as much muscle, has more of a mushroomed nose, and plump lips.

Personality: She knows how to get all the gossip and drama out of someone, loosening their lips with the right words and faux sympathies, only to run back to the girls and spill everything. She has a strong moral compass (sometimes ignoring it), almost the opposite of Brianna, and she takes pride in her appearance being clean and put-together. When hanging out with friends, though, she is very sassy. Like Gaz really imprinted on her with the sass.

Talents: Good at getting information out of people/manipulating them (interrogation skills observed from her dad). She’s also mostly the one to calm everyone down, shutting arguments or fights down with some cleverly aimed words. (Basically, she’s the glue of the group)

Likes: Journaling. In school, she’s the type to have everything highlighted, underlined, and the prettiest handwriting by far. Writing her thoughts down helps ease any anxieties she has inside. (She also has the best perfumes)

Dislikes: Bratty children. She was raised to be respectful towards her parents, so seeing some screaming kid in the grocery…it makes her want to pop their little head off.

Relationship with Family: Close with mom and dad (separated, but on good terms, share half custody while both live in London near each other), close with uncles Simon, Johnny, Price, and their kids.

Price’s Son

Name: John “Junior” Price

Age: 17

Birthday: October 25

Physical Description: Rounder face, still has a decent jawline, the nose goes almost straight, the tip of it just barely pointing up. Medium-thickness chestnut brown hair, grey-ish eyes, medium size lips, brown brows. Cannot grow facial hair for the life of him (much to his father’s teasing), and stands at 5’7 and ½ (counts the half inch just to get on Brianna’s nerves). Has some muscles and meat on his bones, and a little belly pooch (his southern momma has been shoving him full of food). Has the fattest ass known to mankind.

Personality: He’s been raised to be a leader like his dad, but he’s honestly better at fixing than leading. Growing up with his younger sister, he learned to play gently, and how to fix any problems. The best with his emotions, and will patiently listen to anyone’s problems, understanding that sometimes you might just want someone to listen, and not fix. But he is very good at planning things out and fixing them if that’s what you want. He’s patient, and a bit soft-spoken, but can be rowdy, and if someone above him tells him to get his hands dirty…he will. Has a good moral compass, but ignores it most of the time.

Talents: Good at handling emotions, basically a free therapist. Very good at making plans, thinking rationally without any sort of tunnel vision on one thing, and fixing problems. Likes to think of himself as level-headed.

Likes: Secretly loves having tea parties with his little sister. Won’t ever admit it to the boys, but Uncle Kyle has caught him fake sipping a cup of tea, plastic crown on, with his sister before.

Dislikes: People who try to cut off relationships and burn down bridges instead of addressing the problem. People that run from their problems *cough, cough, Bri, cough*

Relationship with Family: Loves his momma and dad, (married) very close with both, and his little sister too, not to forget his uncles, Kyle, Simon, and Johnny, and their kiddos.

Price’s Daughter

Name: Josie

Age: 5

Birthday: April 12

Physical Description: Round face, big cheeks, big blue eyes, wispy brown hair. Chubby little body and hands, super short at 3’4, button nose, long eyelashes, puffy lips. Always has a tiny pout for whatever reason, but as soon as she sees her brother, her face lights up.

Personality: Little kids don’t have the most personality, but this kid loves Disney princesses, she makes John dress up as Tiana or her favorite, Rapunzel, and has tea parties with him and the stuffies in her room. She also loves cornbread and begs her mama to make it on the daily.

Talents: Eating copious amounts of cornbread?

Likes: Playing dress up.

Dislikes: Nap time.

Relationship with Family: Super close with everyone, but most attached to her mom, rightfully so.

Tags:

@seconds-over-first

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

last christmas, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Last Christmas, she gave you her heart, wrapped up with a note saying, I love you. She meant it. This Christmas, you give her back the stuff she left at your place and run into her next-door neighbor that knew all about your love. Somehow, you end up explaining why it went wrong.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of previous w/w relationship; pansexual reader; mentions of bad parents and discrimination / prejudice; reader def needs a therapist and Jeon Jungkook is not a therapist; JK is also reader's ex-gf's next-door neighbor; pining; awk tension; I cannot shut up about JK's big peepers; smut (fem reader, a lot of making out [both lips and bodies], light scratching, so much grinding, cowgirl); motorcycle-owning!JK takes you on a ride, whee

inspired by Wham!'s 'Last Christmas'; you are the shitty ex, don't read this unless you're okay with that and, yes, some decisions are made

--

You handed the bag over.

“This is it.”

“T… Thanks.”

The cold stung your cheeks. Around your neck was a dark green and black plaid scarf, thick layers shielding your heart that was exposed to the winter thanks to your open parka. Your hands returned to their tucked position in your fleece-lined pockets. You smiled, ever so slightly.

“You look pretty. The short hair suits your face well.”

She reached up to touch the tips of the chin-length bob, wispy front bangs framing her gentle eyes, not quite looking at you. You noticed her short nails were painted a light shimmery gold, suiting the holiday season. Her lips pursed and she breathed in deeply, looking straight into your eyes.

“Don’t say stuff like that. We’re not together anymore,” she said decisively.

“Ah… right.”

You left the smile on your face.

Right, because you could no longer compliment a person after dating them and then breaking up with them. Rules of some code apparently you didn’t get the memo for. The breeze whipped around your body, chilling moments as you stood at the doorstep of your former lover, feeling a strange kind of satisfaction seeing in her shiver in her fuzzy cream sweater and fleece pajama pants, complete with ivory fur slippers. But those thoughts were cruel to think and so was the bitterness.

She glanced at you.

You felt bad, seeing the glisten in her eyes.

In a box labelled donations in your apartment, there was a knit scarf, checkered peach and cream, the note included long gone, probably in a trashcan. Last Christmas, that scarf had been in silvery wrapping paper with a white silk ribbon, the package shaking in her hands and accompanied by a nervous smile, handed over for you to open, seeing the note first and then the handmade gift.

I love you above the handiwork of love.

It wasn’t the very next day, but you were still giving it away.

“I hope you have a nice holiday,” you said, bowing lightly.

“A-Ah, yeah,” she stuttered, clutching the brown bag of the few sweaters and joggers she had left at your apartment, all laundered and folded neatly the way she usually folded them. You had remembered, and this would be the last time you needed to remember how to delicately tuck sweaters into themselves like cake rolls. “I’m going to see my mom and dad. You should…” And she trailed off, knowing full well you weren’t going to see your parents. “You should eat something nice.”

You nodded.

Smile.

“I will. Take care.”

You took a step back and bowed again, taking your graceful exit from the front porch of that apartment that you would never walk into again.

You headed for the stairs, being careful when it came to the snow-slicked stone steps. Good thing your black boots had sturdy, thick treads. You reached back and pulled the hood of your parka up, fleece blanketing your head and ears, instantly warming your cold hair. It was already getting dark. You barely saw the sun these days, with work and all. There was something nice about the winter evening though, not as thick as the humid summer nights. Crisp and chilly, sure, but maybe you could argue that was all you were anyway.

Shit, holding a pity party for yourself? That’s rich.

The voice was inner self-loathing was nice and loud tonight, huh.

You heard your name being called from the garage at the bottom of the stairs. You looked up to see a familiar resident of these apartments.

Your ex-girlfriend’s next-door neighbor, in fact.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

He smiled and waved, jogging over, something large and round under his arm. Black leather jacket, his gloves matching his jacket. Black jeans. Heavy-duty boots. You took a couple steps towards him, and then you spied the parked motorcycle, and finally recognizing that it was a motorcycle helmet he was holding. The sweater underneath with the somewhat tacky, bright red-and-white candy cane print didn’t quite match the rest of his ensemble.

He looked down when he realized you were staring at his chest and laughed. “Ah, yeah, I came back from a work party. Christmas lunch before we go on break. Theme was ugly sweaters.”

You blinked. “You could have tried harder.”

He grinned. “Yeah, my co-worker Jimin said that too, but I told him he was ugly enough for us both.”

You shook your head with a sheepish smile as the young man looked way too proud of himself burning someone who wasn’t even here to defend themselves. Well, supposedly he burned them publicly already. Poor Jimin. You had never met this Park Jimin Jungkook occasionally talked about, but they seemed to have a brotherly friendship, complete with Jungkook providing shithead younger brother quips.

“I haven’t seen you around lately,” Jungkook said, tilting his head.

Oh. Right.

You pointed up and prepared yourself to say it again and again until everyone knew.

“We broke up.”

“Oh…” His expression fell, big round brown eyes and the downturn of his lips. Man, Jeon Jungkook looking sad was not something you realized you needed to brace yourself for until now. It almost made you sad seeing his expression. “I’m sorry to hear that. I liked watching movies with you two, since you like Marvel stuff.”

You chuckled. “I’m not banned from going to the theater. I can still go to opening nights with you, if you want.”

He scratched his cheek, nodding slowly. “She wouldn’t feel weird seeing you with me?” he asked.

Oh.

Right.

If it was only you and Jeon Jungkook going to the movies, then, of course, people would think certain things.

You answered him honestly.

“I don’t know.”

You didn’t need to give answers, but Jungkook was your ex’s next-door neighbor and you had made friends with the guy before she did. Would be odd, considering she had proximity on her side, but, as it turns out, she was the lesbian and you were the pansexual. She had other priorities than the man living next door. He was not that interesting to her.

You shrugged. “I don’t know how she would feel, but what’s done is done and life goes on.”

Jungkook blinked at you.

You puffed out your left cheek and then exhaled heavily. “As you can expect from my reaction, it was me who broke up with her.” You clicked your tongue. “It wasn’t her. It was me. I have issues when women try to take care of me, even if they only have good intentions.” You reached up and pushed your parka hood back, letting the cold wind pierce your skin again, eager to feel something else. “Doesn’t really happen to me when it’s men, but women? Hah... I tried to tell myself that that wasn’t it, but facts are facts. In the end, I didn’t like her anymore and it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.”

Sounded awful coming out of your mouth.

Truth was ugly.

“I thought I would feel like shit not being with her during Christmas, but actually I feel worse because I’m actually glad I’m out.”

You glanced at Jungkook, whose was staring at you with those big brown eyes. For his part, he simply accepted when you introduced his neighbor as your girlfriend back then. Didn’t pry much. It had come up in conversation about representation in movies, and you both clarified your sexualities. Jungkook’s reaction was, oh, cool. But, of course, you hadn’t specified about the differences of various romantic relationships for you personally, until now.

You winced. “Sorry. Kinda dumped all that on you.”

He shook his head quickly, his long black hair flying about like floppy puppy ears. “No, no. It’s okay. Have you talked to anyone about the breakup?” He held up his free hand, pulling it back a little. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. It’s just… I mean, I knew you two a little bit, so… I can listen, if you wanna say stuff.”

You opened your mouth, ready to say, yeah, I’ve talked about it, but then you realized, no, you haven’t talked to anyone about the breakup. You didn’t really have friends outside of the ones related to your previous relationship, and, well, he was standing right here. You certainly weren’t going to tell your parents about dating, least of all dating outside of the heteronormative. They already didn’t like you for various reasons and being anything but heterosexual was probably going to lead to full-on pitchforks and chasing. Not your idea of a fun Christmas, you had to admit.

Mostly because you were the one that had to do the outrunning.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his head, screwing up his face. “Uh, well, a friend much smarter than me told me once that good and bad is relative to who you’re talking to and that most of the time no one is good or bad because there are too many ways to judge.” As he spoke, his eyebrows became more knitted together in increasing confusion of unsure recollection. “Um. Something like that.”

You half-smiled. “Hm, ever considered becoming a therapist?”

Jungkook frowned, looking displeased. “Sounds complicated.”

You laughed. “Don’t worry. You would totally suck at it.”

He harrumphed. “Anyway,” he concluded gruffly, chopping the air, his Busan accent coming out with the flourishment. “I’m saying you don’t have to be sad or feel anything in particular.”

You nodded.

Awkward silence.

Jungkook suddenly perked up and pointed to his bike behind him. “Oh! Did I tell you? I got my motorcycle license over a month ago.”

No, he didn’t tell you, because at the point you had already broken up with your now-ex and stopped coming to this apartment complex. But you glossed over that detail and shook you head, cocking your chin to the metal monster. “Yours?”

He grinned, bouncing like the Energizer bunny. “Yup! Mine! I bought it as soon as I got my license. I always wanted one. Want a ride? I have an extra helmet upstairs.” He pointed up excitedly. “It’ll only take me a second to grab it.”

He knew you didn’t drive here and usually walked here from the train station because it was easier. You looked at the silver and black motorcycle and then back at him, seeing the bubbling eagerness and childlike joy in those sparkly big peepers. What the hell.

“Sure.”

He grinned.

You always liked Jungkook because he had such an expressive face.

He hurried past you and reached out to nudge your arm towards to the stairs. You stood steadfast, your head following his face as you saw his changing expression.

Time slowed.

So did Jungkook, stopping, standing beside you, his motorcycle helmet and arm in between your bodies.

You looked up at him.

Eyes connected.

Your hands lifted and you took his motorcycle helmet from him, ticking your head upstairs.

“I shouldn’t go back up there,” you softly said.

For a moment, he didn’t understand. You knew what he intended, you to follow him up to help carry the extra helmet so he had a hand free to lock the door again. But he hadn’t quite thought about why you were here in the first place, days away from Christmas, after months of not seeing you, and now the comprehension was creeping into his eyes, the wheels of his brain moving in real time right in front of you. You nodded slowly as his lips formed a small ‘o’ accompanied by quick, sharp nods as he bounded up the stone steps two at a time.

“I’ll be fast!”

“Don’t break a leg,” you scolded, rolling your eyes as he completely ignored you, but he held onto the railing, so at least he wouldn’t tumble down and squash you if he tripped.

That left you standing there in relative silence, holding Jeon Jungkook’s helmet and staring at his fairly new motorcycle, only a couple floors underneath your ex-girlfriend who you recently gave back all her things that she had left in your home, the only trace of her now being your memories that would fade in time.

You felt a bit weird, not minding too much about it.

Also felt a bit weird realizing in a few minutes you would be holding onto her next-door neighbor’s waist, your chest to his broad back.

I’m an asshole.

You sighed, remembering the apprehension you had felt embarking on this relationship. Maybe you should have listened to it, but, then again, hard to say. No one wants to believe they have issues. Also, she was quite cute and convincing at the time. Unlike in past relationships, she was already secure and didn’t make you feel ashamed about not being strictly lesbian or heterosexual. It made you think that this was right, this was how it should be, and then it started getting a little too serious.

You kept thinking, I’ll get over it.

You did not get over it.

Then you realized what you really meant was, I must get over it to prove that my shitty upbringing didn’t affect me but all I’m doing is pretending that I’m over it when I’m not.

Yeah, well.

You ended up breaking up with a nice, pretty girl that you weren’t really in love with. She had just made you feel secure because she actually accepted your sexuality, which was awesome but not enough.

So, why did you feel like a complete and total jerk, like you wasted her time, as if you weren’t worthy of it?

Don’t know.

You stared at the motorcycle in front of you.

He must feel free when riding it.

“I got the helmet!”

You didn’t even turn around when you heard Jungkook’s announcement. You were too busy transitioning out of your reflections. “Don’t you know motorcycle accidents are much more likely than car accidents?”

Jungkook popped into view, holding out the other helmet in his hands. You exchanged the one you were carrying with his, and he shrugged. “Everybody dies.”

“Morbid.”

“At least I wouldn’t die knowing I never got to ride a motorbike like I wanted to when I was a kid,” he pointed out, revealing a bit of his inked skin under his leather sleeve. “Same reason I got tattoos.”

“Bet your mom loves that.”

“My mom just has to love my personality,” he laughed. “And I got defiance from her, so she’s doomed.”

You shook you head with a smile. Jungkook showed you how to put the helmet on.

“Just stay safe.”

“Don’t you mean drive safe?”

“It’s not just you on the road, dude.”

Suddenly, his hands stopped moving after you put it on. Now you were staring at Jungkook through the opening, about to close the visor, but then those brown orbs found yours. There was a strange intangible ripple between you and him. He tilted his head.

“Why are you talking as if you’re not here about to get on the bike with me?”

Everybody dies.

You pointed to the helmet. It felt heavy and odd. You were unaccustomed to the tightness. It smelled clean though. “I am. Why else would I put this thing on?”

Maybe I’m already dead because I don’t feel bad about what I did.

You wondered if you should feel bad, even though you did the right thing, even though you knew there were no real villains and heroes in this situation, even though you knew you both were only people that chose how to live their lives. How were you supposed to know if you were dragging things on or running away? The only thing you knew was that she deserved someone who really loved her as much as she loved you. It wasn’t her fault you didn’t. You just had to be honest about it.

Right?

Jungkook nodded and stuck on his helmet, fitting it snugly and climbed onto the motorcycle, unlocking it as signaling you to get on behind him.

“Hold onto me here. Set your feet there. Yeah.”

He was warm and solid and present.

He even smelled nice.

You didn’t think about it too much. What was there to think about? Life was complicated. You could spend countless hours analyzing why you made certain decisions, if they were wrong or right and in which eyes that mattered, and then all those thoughts blew away when the mechanical monster underneath you roared to life, loud and vicious and pure power wielded with skillful hands, and you held on tighter to Jungkook, startled by the sound, yet not scared for some reason.

Just fascinated as Jungkook pulled out of his parking spot and zoomed out of the garage, onto the road.

It was fuckin’ cold.

Layers of green-and-black plaid between Jungkook’s back and your sweater, shielding your racing heart, wind and speed and thrill shooting throughout your veins, the winter night flashing past, blurring streetlamps and stoplights, forgetting the cold, your hands tucked inside Jungkook’s jacket, fingers fanning over his waist and ribcage, feeling his muscles under the tacky sweater.

You closed your eyes.

At least I wouldn’t die knowing I never got to ride a motorbike like I wanted to when I was a kid.

You used to think about riding a motorcycle when you were in middle school, although you had been looking at those smaller, zippy Japanese models, not a Harley-Davidson. You always assumed only loud obnoxious Americans rode that kind of stuff.

What?

Movies didn’t help.

Unfair stereotypes aside, it had been only a passing thought for you. One among many rebellious teenage desires. Cringe. That was hard to admit. But apparently for Jungkook it was a dream that he had turned into a reality and, while someone could view it in whatever negative light they wished, you saw it as walking the walk. You could respect that.

You leaned against him.

Felt the cold but there was something hot under layers of green-and-black plaid.

This is what joyride means, huh?

You were slowing down. Opened your eyes and saw Jungkook turning, seeing a parking lot and, across that, a field of white covered in a walkway of colorful lights. Oh. That was right. The park over here had put up this light display called Festival of Lights, where local artists had created wire sculptures covered in Christmas string lights which were displayed along a walkable path.

You went her last year, holding her hand.

You got off and took off your helmet, entranced by the bright twinkling displays, barely making out a gingerbread man doing a handstand.

“Wanna walk?”

You glanced at Jungkook. “What about this? Should I carry it?”

He laughed, waving to the sudden open top-box behind the seat. “Put it in here.”

You handed the helmet to him and watched in fascination. “Oh. I didn’t know there was a space to put stuff.”

He grinned. “Come on, let’s go.”

You following his bouncing jog with a loose stride, closing your fingers into your palm and remembering the feeling of his solid body in your hands only moments before. Furrowed your brows and shook your head, approaching the entrance, seeing a family several meters ahead, tired parents with a couple of loud kids pointing excitedly at a lit-up snowman holding six candy canes like Wolverine claws.

“Have you been here this year yet?”

“Ah, no,” you absentmindedly replied, seeing Santa and his reindeer. Classic, and well-done. “Haven’t had the time.”

“There’s one at the end I think you’ll like,” Jungkook was saying excitedly. “But I think the food vendors went home already. There was a hotteok truck and another one that sold roasted sweet potatoes, mmm, but maybe you can come back some other time.”

“Uh huh.”

You knocked into Jungkook’s back and bounced, vigorously shaking your head. “Ow.”

“Sorry, there’s ice. Careful.”

“Oh.”

You realized Jungkook was looking at you and you let go of his arm, not even realizing you had grabbed it out of instinct so you didn’t trip. A weird moment of muteness. You looked past him to see three chipmunks flashing in red, blue, and green scarves.

You looked up at Jungkook, who had followed your eye line to the three cuties.

“Jungkook.”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you ask your neighbor why I wasn’t coming over anymore?”

Those brown eyes looked away from the twinkling artificial stars to your eyes. There was a little bit a guilt. They shifted away and came back and you realized Jungkook didn’t know how to lie but he also wasn’t sure if he was about to be out of line either.

“I… I heard her crying. A lot. And it’s none of my business,” he mumbled, frowning. “My mom told me not to be nosy,” he added under his breath.

You almost snorted. “You told your mom that you were worried about the lesbian couple next door?”

Jungkook squinted at you, annoyed. “No, I told my mom that I was worried that my friend might have broken up, so I asked her if I should do anything. Something nice?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed weird especially when Black Panther: Wakanda Forever came out, and I was going to ask if you, I mean, you both were going to the midnight release but…”

The kids were yelling in the distance and you didn’t even hear them.

You were just staring at Jungkook and noticing that his ears were turning bright red.

All the adrenaline from the speed and, now, everything slammed on the brakes.

“I didn’t cry.”

He blinked slowly. “What?”

You breathed out, looking around you, at snow and lights and white, and then at Jungkook, wearing all black and that candy-cane sweater, at yourself and your dark monochrome outfit, and then you admitted it again. “I didn’t cry, and I feel kinda shitty for it.”

“Oh.”

You stepped past Jungkook and walked down the carved-out path, following footprints and hard work. He followed and you acknowledged him, looking from one festive decoration to another, admiring the creations and spinning through the inner workings of your mind. “I felt frustrated. I know sexual attraction and romantic relationships are two different things, but I wanted to believe they weren’t. I wanted to believe that enough time had passed and I was okay, but I wasn’t okay and maybe I’ll never be okay, and I don’t know how to feel about that.”

You glanced up.

Jungkook looked confused and thoughtful at the same time. “I think you said before you don’t talk to your parents?”

“Yeah. They’re assholes.”

“Oh.”

That wasn’t very descriptive so you gave a brief explanation. “They looked at me like a product they made. A child was an object that they could program to do things they weren’t able to do, like make lots of money, marry rich, and in general sacrifice all my autotomy for their every beck and call.” You shrugged. “A dog would have more grace than their child.”

“Ouch.”

“Also, they would not understand that I’m pansexual. I think I’d be shot on the spot.”

“Don’t talk to them,” he puffed heatedly.

“Mmm,” you hummed in agreement. “And, yeah, I’m sure that kind of upbringing affected my romantic relationships.” And lots of other things, but that wasn’t the point right now.

“Everybody goes through stuff like that.”

You looked at him.

Jungkook shrugged. “My last girlfriend said all I care about is myself and there’s a reason why all my friends are older than me and called me irresponsible, selfish, and childish.”

“Are you?”

He frowned. “I don’t think so? I do the dishes and always fold my laundry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Only fold?”

“Okay, sometimes I leave it on the table for a little while,” he grumbled.

You chuckled. “How long ago was this?”

“Um, couple years ago? Maybe five?”

“You were barely an adult,” you commented, seeing a face-down figure with white hair in a bun and something that looked suspiciously like deer tracks on the back of that red coat. Uh. You decided not to comment and move on. “Still learning.”

“Learning to be a dick, she’d probably say now. She would tell me not to get a bike for sure.”

“Thought the whole point she was dating you was because you had a dick.”

Jungkook laughed, loud and vibrant, the lights making his cheeks glow. “Well, she’s married now so I guess she found a better one.”

“Or settled.”

“Damn, you would think you were the one who dated her,” he snickered. You could tell he was enjoying this though, those brown orbs sparkling a little too bright. There was a little bit of a jealous streak in him, you could sense. “I think I was dating the wrong kind of girl though. I think I have to date someone who shares my interests more. I like being with the person I like all the time. I don’t want them to be sick of me.”

“Mmm. I can see that. Pretty childish of you.”

“Hey!”

You laughed, nudging his side. “As long as you know you are the problem.”

He narrowed his eyes.

You grinned. “I didn’t say you weren’t a fun problem to have.”

Jungkook leaned closer, squinting harder.

You grinned wider.

Then you realized he was so close and he realized he was so close, both of you backing up at the same time. A little too fast, simultaneously darting your hands out and grabbing each other’s forearms, you grasping his right with your left hand and his right hand on your left sleeve, squeezing hard, immediately regaining balance.

You let go.

He let go.

Speed under a green-black plaid scarf, something hot and moving fast under all those layers.

“Sorry.”

“Ah, no, my fault. Sorry.”

You jerked your head towards the light displays and started walking again, trying to move past this sudden weirdness. You pointed out the various ones you liked. Yellow pill-shaped Minions decorating a Christmas tree. A curtain of lights programmed to look like falling snowflakes. Penguins sliding down a light-up hill. Slowing down. Breathing. You glanced at Jungkook.

He looked somewhat ashamed.

“Hey.”

He tilted his head, inquiring with his big eyes and pink nose. “Hm?”

“I’m glad you took me here. I don’t think I’ve done anything festive this year.”

“O… Oh.” He looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought it might be cool. Cheer you up a bit.”

“Yeah. It’s funny. A lot of people think I don’t like this season.”

You saw Jungkook rub his nose, realizing it was cold. “Huh? Why?” he asked nasally.

You glanced down at your dark color palette. “Well, you know me, I like Halloween most, but I actually enjoy Christmas quite a lot. Not because I have any particularly nice memories around it,” you mused. “Ah, I mean when I was a kid. But, I don’t know, maybe that made me appreciate the spirit of the holiday time more than all the capitalistic stuff surrounding it, since I didn’t participate much in that.”

Jungkook blinked, puzzled. “You didn’t get gifts?”

You thought about it. “Hmm, not until I was an adult and only when I was dating someone who gave gifts.”

He pursed his lips and then reached out, taking your elbow and pulling your along, to the corner.

“Come on. This can be your gift.”

You stumbled behind him, craning your head in confusion. “Huh?”

“Did you watch Wakanda Forever?”

“Of course, I did. You know Black Panther is my favorite.”

“Then, look.”

Your eyes widened as the bright display of Black Panther, black lights complete with the purple highlights and signature action pose loomed among the other creations, slightly out of place because it wasn’t holiday-themed or even remotely Korean, but apparently none of that mattered and it didn’t matter to you as you admired the craftsmanship of the wire structure underneath, obvious it was specifically Chadwick Boseman’s T’Challa from the violet details.

“Oh, shit. That’s sick,” you breathed, staring at the display for far too long and probably burning it into your eyeballs.

“I knew you’d like it right away.”

“That’s so random that it’s here.”

“I mean it’s not Christmas, but the movie did come out a month ago, so I guess they made an exception ‘cause it was so cool.”

“I mean this feels like Christmas to me. Put a Santa hat on him and call it a day.”

Jungkook laughed. “Okay, I’ll sneak one on in the night.”

You whipped your head to him, wiggling your eyebrows. “I mean…”

“It turns off automatically at midnight to save power…” he trailed off, putting on a scheming face.

“Would you go to jail for that? Is a Santa hat vandalism?”

“I didn’t commit a crime if I don’t get caught,” he countered.

You gave him a look. “Sounds like someone belongs on the naughty list.”

Jungkook scrunched up his face.

“Naughty or nice depends on who’s asking.”

He stuck his little pink tongue out.

You poked the tongue tip sticking out of his lips.

Instant wet warmth on your index finger. Jungkook jumped, startled at your quick action and even you snapped back, surprised at yourself. Why had you done that? A wave of fluster, and you froze, hand hovering in the air, and Jungkook rapidly blinking, cheeks turning bright red. Silence. Couldn’t even say sorry, too stunned at your action to try to double back to apologies. Big brown eyes framed with windswept black locks, something unsaid hanging between you and Jeon Jungkook.

A casual friendship.

Kept at a fixed distance for… reasons.

Well, it had been.

Nobody was stupid, but time and place meant something.

Fast lane, not feeling the cold, racing pulse, lowering your hand, and you could feel it. You knew it was there, but time and place and all those other things.

“Sorry,” you finally said.

Jungkook’s eyes started darting in all directions. “It… It’s okay.”

“It’s kind of not. No one should be touching other people’s tongues without permission,” you pointed out.

He wasn’t really looking at you. “It’s okay… I forgive you.”

“Stop pretending I’m not a bundle of walking problems.”

Now those brown orbs finally scooting back to you.

There was no getting around that.

“That doesn’t mean you’re not a fun problem to have,” Jungkook mumbled softly.

Yeah, especially not after this irresponsible, selfish, childish guy said something like that.

There was a lot of shit you could say, but none of it seemed right. They sounded like excuses, or lame roundabouts, or too much too fast, like getting a whole sleeve of heavily-inked tattoos in a little under two years and a bigass motorbike after passing your motorcycle license exam. They sounded like feebleness in what was pretty clear, and you didn’t believe in saying something that wasn’t the truth.

“Um...”

Jungkook continued staring at you like a lost reindeer even though his nose was quite red.

You decided it was best to give a response. “Yeah?”

“You… You’re not doing anything on Christmas?” he asked.

“Ah, no. Nope, I just get a day off work.”

An extended silence.

You verbally approached very carefully. “You wanna… uh… hang out at my place?”

“Oh…” Man, this conversation sure was something. “I can bring some food and stuff. I can cook.”

“Me too.”

“You… like pork belly, right?”

“Yeah. It’s my favorite.”

Good fuckin’ gracious.

You couldn’t stand it anymore and exasperatedly put your head in your hand. “Just…” You saw Jungkook peering at you, looking worried. You put your hand down, resolving yourself quite quickly. “Okay. Give me your number. I’ll text you the address.” You didn’t think about it too much. Just yanked your phone out of your inner pocket and furiously typed down the numbers that came out of Jungkook’s mouth, your frozen fingers needing to press more than once, but you eventually got there.

After you pressed send, you immediately jerked your head up and looked at those big brown eyes very seriously.

“I… We… What happens, happens,” you finally said.

Jungkook nodded determinedly. “Yeah.”

It was pretty obvious what was going to happen but, then again, there were children around.

Last Christmas you received a gift with a note that said I love you.

This year, you would receive…?

-

“You think Die Hard is a Christmas film?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Sure?”

The actual movie didn’t really matter. Mostly because you fell asleep on top of him and woke up to a black television screen, wrapped in a fuzzy red velvet blanket, and Jeon Jungkook staring at you in the darkness. You blinked slowly. Could barely make out his face in the faint light of the open window, seeing the shape of his parted lips, the shine of his large eyes, the waves of black hair that cradled his cheeks.

You had animated conversation over dinner, funny stories of Jungkook’s friends and viral videos you had both seen on the internet, so natural it was almost frightening, complete with weird tense moments of silence that you or he pushed along, resolute, knowing how you got here, and yet.

Chills all over despite the warmth under the blanket.

He was not wearing a tacky sweater now. Just a simple black and white plaid flannel and a white t-shirt under, paired with loose black pants. Oversized and cozy to go with your fleece red-and-black checkered long pajamas. He smelled the same as he did the other day. He didn’t bring anything with him but a large glass Tupperware of food and his motorcycle helmet, saying he forgot to leave it by his bike. His heavy black coat was hanging in the hall closet by the front door.

You stared at Jungkook, saying nothing.

Stayed close.

He leaned in.

You closed the distance.

You were pretty sure you had a soul of ice.

Then again, Jungkook had said earlier in the night that he had been told in his fortune that he had too much fire in him, so maybe it canceled out or something.

You wanted to say you had an entire, deep discussion of, is this a good idea, or perhaps even, what is courteous and respectful but also fulfills the personal desires of the very obvious between us, but there was only heavy making out and lip-locking and breathless gasps and your hands around his waist again, warm and solid and present, and you shuddered, breathing him in, pulling him close, pressing your body to his.

Jungkook didn’t waste time.

His hands were on your hips, his wispy moan trailing over your lips.

Oh no. You tried to resist the addictive sensation that demanded to be chased, your lower body rolling into his, feeling was what very real and very apparent, his shaking breath tickling your lower lip and chin, whine shimmering in his throat. He liked it. Pulled you closer, increasing the pressure, your clothed pussy practically riding his clothed dick.

You caught his moaning mouth and felt the electricity of his arousal enter your lungs, your hands tangling into his hair, pulling his head back, first lightly and then when he didn’t relent, harder, tearing a moan from his throat, loud and vicious and pure power of his vocal cords vibrating under your kisses, nipping at his neck and leaving small possessive marks that he encouraged with gasping, don’t stop, don’t stop, please, falling apart in your skillful hands, tracing the crown of his head, his ears, his jaw.

You ran your tongue over his collarbone and then softly trailed back with kisses.

“O-Oh, fuuuuck me…”

That was the idea, yeah.

He was unbuttoning your pajama shirt.

“Wha… Why are you wearing a bra?”

You guessed that was not supposed to sound whiny but then again Jungkook was pouting in frustration.

“I generally wear bras. You know, to hold my tits.”

He puffed his cheeks. “Don’t ladies usually not wear bras at home?”

“I imagine the situation might change if there was a hot man involved.”

An involuntarily shiver travelled all over Jungkook and the only reason you could feel it was because you were basically humping his dick.

“Also, we can’t talk much if you are distracted by my nipples,” you added.

You felt an agile hand creeping around to the back clasp. “What if I want to be distracted by your nipples…?” he trailed off experimentally, giving you a curious, mischievous look.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Sounds like someone belongs on the naughty list.”

He tilted his head, sending dark strands over one eye and his cheek.

“Who’s asking?” he purred, his silvery voice low and deep.

Well, shit.

The man knew how to be sexy.

You raked your fingers through his thick black hair, feeling him tremble under you.

“Leader of the naughty list herself,” you breathed back, leaning in to kiss him again.

While it was true that Jungkook had not come with some last-minute wrapped trinket, he had brought a hard dick and abundant horniness, and that was a pretty good gift in your book. You showed him your boobs and those nipples he was so keen about – well, technically, he showed himself and audibly gasped when your bra tumbled off. You weren’t sure if he was acting or not, but that question was answered too, because he lifted you by the waist and ran his tongue over your cleavage and then started making out with your chest.

“Oh…!”

Your turn to be surprised and you clutched his head, gasping, pushing him to suck, and he didn’t need any more signs, circling his tongue around the hard nab and then his eyelids fluttered, moaning deep in his chest. Hot shivers at the feeling of his warm mouth and gentle insistence, your body pressing into him, matching his rhythm and sound, holding his free hand to your neglected breast while his other hand splayed over your lower back, strong and secure. Your thighs squeezed his waist, feeling his desire melt into yours.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know.

You just didn’t act on it and neither did Jungkook, other than the occasional puppy eyes because he was terrible at lying. He had made a conscious effort to stay securely in the friendzone out of respect. You had appreciated that, really. But then there was that chance meeting, and, even then, you knew he took you to the Festival of Lights just to cheer you up, not to put you in any complex or awkward situation, but, again, he was bad at lying and there was no getting around this very intense attraction between you and Jeon Jungkook.

Hence the current kissing down your stomach and you leaning back, slow cascading moan falling from your lips as you felt his dance around your bellybutton and he pulled down the waistband of your pajama pants, following your hip line.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy…”

Your fingertips grazing the lines of his legs, nails applying dainty pressure that made him quiver under you, his breath hitching as you placed your hands on his thighs and pressed your fingers inward, lifting yourself back up. Leaning down to kiss him again, tasting traces of you on his lips. Slowly peelings his clothes off, tangling him in them just to see his eyebrows knit in frustration, so cute, but you didn’t say, not yet, and then your clothes were in a rumpled pile on the living room floor. You in your panties and him in his boxer briefs, and you straddled his waist, kissing him repeatedly, rubbing your chest into his, feeling him under you.

Hot.

Shivering.

Overwhelmed with sensation, rolling his hips and hard cock into your covered heat.

He liked the feeling of your fingernails running down his chest. You did it once, just to test, and he reached for your hands, pulling them back up, more, and you watched his body writhe and fall apart under your touch, his head tipping back and lifting up his torso to add more pressure, moan hiking when you scratched down his sides and kissed his chest, licking his nipples, traveling to his back, earning a stronger reaction and his fingers sinking into your ass, his erection throbbing in between your thighs that squeezed his tense hips.

“Fuck, oh, fuck…”

You could feel the dampness occurring, both from you and him.

“J… Jungkook…”

You couldn’t stop kissing him, continuously telling yourself last one, but that was ages ago, lips locked and drunk on foreplay, on his body and his sound, vibrant and carnal, a mix of cute and sexy that was practically illegal. Couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop whispering to him how nice he felt, how nice he tasted, careless, absorbed in the strength of his lust.

“C-Can I fuck you…? I brought condoms in my coat, j-just in case…”

“Naughty boy,” you scolded and didn’t mean it, and it was dangerous, so dangerous the way Jungkook desperately moaned as you placed your hand over his damp, pulsing hardness and rubbed him through his underwear, too dangerous with the way he looked at you and gasped, you wanna sit in this naughty boy’s lap?

Thankfully, that was the extent of that.

Also, you didn’t bother going all the way to the hall closet when you had plenty of condoms in your bedroom.

And, yeah, you sat in his lap.

”Oooh, wow, y-you feel soooo fucking good…“

Could have been either of you or both of you saying it. You wouldn’t remember if you thought about it later, because you were too busy rocking your hips and trying to find the correct rhythm again. It was easier than you thought, maybe because of Jungkook’s roaming hands on your thighs, hips, breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure across your torso that matched the satisfying fullness deep inside, and, right there, finding the correct depth and forcefulness, chasing it immediately, building the steady pace with the condom wrapper tumbling down your sheets and hitting your knee.

You snatched it and chucked the foil wrapper over the side of your bed.

“Oh!”

“Forget about it, fuck me, Jungkook, fuck me.”

He angled his hips up and you rode him, relentless pleasure and waves of need satisfied by thrusting, clenching around his thick, hard cock, losing yourself in the shocking bliss.

You closed your eyes.

Felt the heat, so intense it sent chills up and down your spine. Couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, hands on his chest, tense and vibrating under harsh smacks and craving more, your name in Jungkook’s breathless voice addicting. His sound, intoxicating. His body, telling, unable to lie and you could be nothing but be honest, so good, fuck, feels so fucking good, speeding in the fast lane and soaring from the feeling.

There was no doubt that Jungkook was someone special.

You looked down, just for a moment, catching those brown eyes, glassy and fucked-out and watching you like you were everything and more.

I need him.

The thought was so intense and raw that you felt something inside you snap, your breath cutting off, torrential crash and orgasm seizing you by the throat, throwing your head back, your hair sweeping your shoulders, and you came around him, jerking your hips to bury him deeper, oh, fuck, yeees, suspended in the blissful, powerful rush, feeling your liquid honey leak out and down, covering him with it, the scent of sex rising between your bodies.

Jungkook lifted his hips and your body by doing so, his hands strongly grasping your waist, moaning with you, thrusting hard and fast, fucking your through your orgasm and you immediately tumbled into another peak, back-to-back intensity, feverish pitch of your joined voices as he came too, rock-hard and twitching inside your pulsating tightness, holding both of you up by a miracle.

Or sheer lust.

Nice or naughty, right?

For a moment, mute, stunned silence at the shared feeling between you and him.

Sure, it was pretty damn obvious you were going to fuck.

You just didn’t expect it to feel this good and this right.

Down, down, down. Slow, serene, subliminal, the way he sank down and both your gazes left the ceiling, sinking into your sheets, your eyes and his eyes connecting, quiet but an entire conversation humming between your bodies.

“J… Jungkook.”

He was panting hard, sweat glistening on his chest and forehead, his long black hair a mess your pillows. “Y… Yeah?”

“It’s… It’s a bit late…”

Well, actually, you had no idea what time it was.

“Y-Yeah, it kinda is…” he breathed, caressing your hips with his fingertips, relentless energy under you, eyes so big and brown that you could drown in that comforting darkness.

“Can you just…”

A pause, racing hearts beating together.

“Stay?” you asked, tentative and unsure.

Jungkook squeezed your thigh, reassurance in his touch.

“I wanna stay,” he stated, nodding determinedly.

So, he stayed, the start of many Christmases to come.

--

masterpost

[quitealotofsodapop]

(resending because it looks like some of my asks got deleted)

[Im uber excited to read more your fic btw!]

I'm glad that you're excited for the fic! I'm going to split up the story arcs into their own fics and turn it into a series! book 1 will feature Wukong's journey and following isolation up to a hero is born.

[...Peach chips at least dont seem to trigger the worst of his food adversion though, the crunchy chip texture seems to cancel it out.]

at least he can still get the flavor through the chips

[...So the idea that MK potientially remembers Wukong from this time is a huge shock to him.] + [MK, clueless: "Umm... their hair was a warm orange-y color. Like the sun. And I think their eyes was this really shiny yellow, or maybe amber colour? Oh! And they had this round stomach - I remember hugging it..." *gets kinda wistful* "I don't know why I'm not with them anymore, but hope they're doing ok if they're still out there."]

upon learning that MK kinda remembers him Wukong def feels guilty about not being able to raise himself, especially with the fact that MK doesn't hold anything against his "birth mother" for giving him up.

but then MK being a monkey comes out of the bag in s4 and MK and Wukong actually get to talk about it. it's a very emotional conversation, with Wukong having come to terms while in the scroll about all of his reasons for not being able to raise MK, and MK just being the sweetest most understanding boy ever, even if he wishes he could have known sooner. they come out of that conversation stronger.

what if after MK learned he was a monkey when he and Macaque go into the scroll to get Wukong they stumble upon a memory of a tiny baby monkey that looks like his monkey form cuddling into Wukong's stomach like MK remembers doing with his "birth mom" and that's how he realizes that Wukong was the person he thought was his mom. when he faced the scroll's curse he got flashes of his life before the noodle shop, but nothing that revealed anything about his birth mom except the small flash of Nuwa, so the sudden, proper reveal still takes him by surprise. he also stumbles upon the memory of Wukong crying as he makes the decision to and give away MK.

[Wukong def was hit hard by Ao Lie's passing. It pains him to give the godparent title to anyone else...]

In a way, giving the title to anyone else probably feels like the final straw of admitting that Ao Lie really is truly gone. but admitting that finally means learning to let go, allowing Wukong to grow and heal from his grief which in turn will lead to him isolating himself less. character development ya'know, and in the end he probably feels like moving on is one of the best things to honor his late brother's memory, Ao Lie would want him to move on and find joy in what he has now.

[...PIF just looks over at Red Son, alive and healthy, and just hugs Wukong the next time she sees him.]

Wukong is def very confused when he and DBK go to tell PIF that they have a plan to stop the bone demon but it involves giving the fire back to Red Son, and before he can even say hi she has him in a bear hug. he isn't used to this, he is very confused.

[And when Yuebei is born having "imprinted" on Wukong's yearning/love for Macaque...] + [Both monkey parents are sobbing, especially when they learn that Yuebei was unconciously trying her best to look like Macaque's baby with the limited genetics available. Wukong has multiple centuries of love to dish out, and Macaque is catching up fast.]

Macaque, as happy as he is that she looks enough like him that he can pass as the baby-daddy, def feels a bit guilty upon learning that the only reason that is is because of how how much Wukong missed him after he left. he loves being a parent to Yuebei, but as much as he loves people assuming that she is his their likeness also serves as a reminder that he wasn't there.

he has a lot of time to make up for, and he plans on getting right on that.

[PIF: *seeing the baby's dark fur and glowing ears* PIF (whispering so not to wake the baby): "I fcking knew it." Macaque: *is too tired/proud to argue with her* "Yeaaah..." :')]

Macaque is honestly just happy he's allowed to be involved in baby's life.

[Red has no idea what to do in response to all this baby talk, so he just; tries to apologise to SWK for setting him on fire a bunch as a toddler??] + [Mei, PIF and Jiuweihuli get talking and soon Wukong is looking at a baby shower akin to a red carpet event.]

hey, it was a delicious cake. though Wukong is pretty sure cakes aren't supposed to be spicy.

the attention Mei and the older ladies are giving him over the pregnancy is honestly a little overwhelming at times due to how unexpected it is. especially from PIF and Macaque's adopted mom figure, he'd thought the two of them would be far more mad about mac dying then anything else. he does apologizes to Jiuweihuli about bonking her over the head that one time when he was hormonal and stressed when they get a proper chance to talk.

[You'd honestly be more afraid of that baby.]

absolutely.

if the infamous "god killer" is set to show up and then you learn that the god killer is the child of the Sun Wukong, menace to the heavens, and earned her title before she was even out if the womb, that is terrifying. imagine what she'll be like when she gets older and starts combat training.

[like turning the Medusa's head into a shield.] +[Her staff being a gift from her parents that has no inate magic ability beyond the fact that she puts her trust in it as her first "real" weapon.] + [I can imagine she uses a glamour/quick magic to put the skull/mask on (like Dr Facillier in "Friends on the Other Side") as a way of saying "You're f*cked" to her opponents.]

the medusa comparison is awesome and on point!

I love idea she puts so much trust she puts into the staff because it was her first proper weapon. I feel she also puts a lot of trust into it because it's from her parents.

I love the Dr. Facillier comparison, I was thinking of her swishing her mask on like a miraculous lady bug transformation.

[I'm excited to see how your drawings go!]

I'll be sure to share soon!

[Wukong and Macaque are def panicking, though its more an excited kind of panicking. Nezha and MK are def screaming. Guanyin is the only one with a cool head the entire time.] + [Pigsy is good at pretending he isn't worried, but he ends up tearing apart the campsight's kitchen in a hurry to make enough food for everyone.]

everyone is panicking, just to different lengths. Wukong for his own sake is trying to keep his excitement to a manageable level, Macaque is notably not, portaling warm blankets and pillows and water and towels to the campsite or wherever the end up settling for Wukong's labor to play out (i like to think Guanyin takes everyone to the south sea). Mei and MK are shaking each other and screaming while Red Son tries to calm them down, Ne Zha is running around doing everything Guanyin asks of him to keep himself distanced from hyperventilating. Tang is torn between trying not to be sick and writing about what's going on, Pigsy is already tearing apart the kitchen, and Sandy is politely calling the Demon Bull parents to let them know where they are, that they're all safe, and that the baby is on the way! while keeping LBD's host preoccupied.

[Especially when DBK and PIF realise what's happening, and are posted incase Wukong's baby causes as much trouble for him as Red did to them.]

the bull family are on their way the second they hear about what's going on. they aren't missing the birth for anything, and they wanna be there for their family. also they need to check in on Red Son

[Guanyin has a secret stash in the Southern Ocean of all the letters and tapes (and even some drawings of what she might have looked like) Wukong ever made for Yuebei, in case he wasn't able to give them to her in person. Yuebei ends up finding them when she's a moody teenager, mad at her baba for something stupid.]

Guanyin is there to go through all them with her, Yuebei is amazed at much her baba loved her well before she was ever born, even if it becomes a little bittersweet after she learns that he could have died for her to be born and was willing to go through with the pregnancy anyway, for the sake of the baby he loved so much he may have never been able to meet. when she goes home she gives her baba a big hug. Yuebei: *walks into to the house* BABA Wukong: *not expecting her back so soon* oh! Yuebei, are you okay, I'm sorry about the fight earlier I was- Yuebei: *tackles him into a hug, muffled talking with her face buried in her Baba's chest* m'sorry, I love you. Wukong: *a little surprised but happy* love you too little one ps: what do you think Wukong would use as an affectionate nickname for Yuebei in this au? also, at what point do you think her name was decided on.

[Pre-series; In absense of any other godparent... I bet Wukong would have trusted Yuebei with Guanyin if possible. The goddess would have gladly taken the infant had Wukong not survived the birth, though it would pain her for many centuries to come.]

they absolutely would, even if looking at Yuebei would always be bittersweet long after it stopped actually hurting whenever she saw Wukong in her. I feel like in the event she was left in Guanyn's care, Guanyin wouldn't hide her parentage, and the first time Yuebei asks about details at like 10yo or something and they spend the next few hours going through the things Wukong left for her (except for anything specifically for certain dates/milestones).

[Once the relationship between Wukong and Mac improves, so does the baby's reaction to Mac's voice (symbolism). She finally starts to associate the "bad" voice with her bama, and soon it's not a "bad voice" anymore. Though there probably is a weird bridge-point where Mac has to put on silly accents/voices when he baby-talks to Yuebei or else she'll get mad at him.]

Macaque def cries at every big relationship milestone between him and Yuebei (and him and Wukong, seeing how much Wukong has changed for the better makes him very hopeful they could have the life they promised each other, but seeing how much Wukong has also been hurting he is very grateful he has the oppurtunity to make things better. ultimately, he is very grateful he made the decision to stay and not squander the chance). but there's def a period of time in there where anytime Macaque and Wukong get in a fight (because healing and reconciliation isn't linear) it sets his relationship with Yuebei back a couple squares.

I always thought that Macaque having six sensitive ears and being a theater performer would make him a killer at vocals, and he can change his voice pretty much at will to something completely random, someone else's voice if he hears them, or mimic the sounds of animals and/or other non-living objects that produce sounds. so he would absolutely nail and accents and voices he needs to do to keep Yuebei appeased. he probably at some point mimics Wukong's voice in order to calm her down, because out of all her "good sounds" her baba's is the most "safe".

[Yellowtusk immediately notices and warns Azure to let the cub down so she can at least crawl and inspect her new surroundings. Peng laughs at the thought of letting "the hatchling" decide the terms of her imprisonment.] + [Then Peng feels a tiny, but powerful, hand grab their wing feathers...] + [Yellowtusk leaves before the carnage reaches him.]

the brotherhood assumes Yuebei is also Macaque's kid like everyone else, and because of this Peng def is not above teasing the already fussy infant monkey. Yellowtusk is looking at his brothers either ignore or "torment" the infant of at least one if not two of their other sworn brothers. he realizes in that moment that the other two aren't who he thought they were, or at the very least they aren't anymore, but most importantly they aren't the type of people he wants to be involved with. the change of heart leads him to not feeling to bad when leaving his brothers to their fate when Yuebei has enough for the sake of his own safety.

(dont worry you asks didnt get deleted, Im just very lazy/bust with college)

referencing this previous Slow boiled au post.

[I'm glad that you're excited for the fic! I'm going to split up the story arcs into their own fics and turn it into a series! book 1 will feature Wukong's journey and following isolation up to a hero is born.]

I wait with bated subscribe button.

[upon learning that MK kinda remembers him Wukong def feels guilty about not being able to raise himself, especially with the fact that MK doesn't hold anything against his "birth mother" for giving him up. but then MK being a monkey comes out of the bag in s4 and MK and Wukong actually get to talk about it. it's a very emotional conversation, with Wukong having come to terms while in the scroll about all of his reasons for not being able to raise MK, and MK just being the sweetest most understanding boy ever, even if he wishes he could have known sooner. they come out of that conversation stronger. what if after MK learned he was a monkey when he and Macaque go into the scroll to get Wukong they stumble upon a memory of a tiny baby monkey that looks like his monkey form cuddling into Wukong's stomach like MK remembers doing with his "birth mom" and that's how he realizes that Wukong was the person he thought was his mom. when he faced the scroll's curse he got flashes of his life before the noodle shop, but nothing that revealed anything about his birth mom except the small flash of Nuwa, so the sudden, proper reveal still takes him by surprise. he also stumbles upon the memory of Wukong crying as he makes the decision to and give away MK.]

THIS WHOLE IDEA!!!

Wukong doesn't want to tell MK the truth cus he think's he'll hate him for having to give him up.

When MK and Mac see the memory of a baby monkey demon hugging (a much more sad-looking) Wukong's stomach, the memories all come flooding back to MK about who he thought was his "birth mother" . Even though he knows the Monkey King isn't really his birth parent (glaring at Nuwa), he knew that the choice to raise MK fell on his heavy shoulders. Even if MK is a *little* upset when he finds out via S4 Memory Scroll-ing with Macaque that he's a monkey demon, MK understands that the Monkey King was simply unable to care for him while he lacked a support system. Wukong wanted MK to have a "normal" childhood that he was denied, and that simply wasn't possible on FFM at the time.

Ultimately MK is glad that Wukong had the good judgement to leave MK with Pigsy all those years ago, no matter how much it hurt.

They find the memory of Wukong standing outside in the city streets, affixing a strong glamour spell to the baby's head, and sobbing as he forces himself to stop holding them long enough to disappear and make a noise that alerts the pig chef inside the shop. It's very Meet the Robinson's esque.

The first thing MK does when he reunites with Wukong, is hug him tight and say "I never blamed you." Wukong is confused until the realisation that MK was in his memories kicks in, and he starts sobbing too.

[In a way, giving the title to anyone else probably feels like the final straw of admitting that Ao Lie really is truly gone. but admitting that finally means learning to let go, allowing Wukong to grow and heal from his grief which in turn will lead to him isolating himself less. character development ya'know,]

Yeah, even if the decision to give DBK the title of "Godfather" was pretty rash in the moment, Wukong eventually hits a point where him and DBK end up having a talk about the monkey's "late younger brother" when Wukong hesistate to make it official.

DBK is understanding of why Wukong finds it hard to move on from Ao Lie's passing. He wouldn't know what he would have done if he'd lost his Xiandi all those centuries ago. DBK is patient enough to let his little bro come to terms with this emotional hurdle. He just wished he had more time to know this odd, horse-like dragon that Wukong adored as a brother.

The convo probably happens at the same time they decide to give Red Son back the Samadhi Fire + PIF giving Wukong's an unexpected hug.

[Macaque, as happy as he is that she looks enough like him that he can pass as the baby-daddy, def feels a bit guilty upon learning that the only reason that is is because of how how much Wukong missed him after he left. he loves being a parent to Yuebei, but as much as he loves people assuming that she is his their likeness also serves as a reminder that he wasn't there. he has a lot of time to make up for, and he plans on getting right on that.]

OH you better believe post S3 Macaque is running up that Dad hill full sprint to be there for Yuebei. Even if him and Wukong take a while to confront their issues, and have a fight or two, Mac ultimately wants to BE THERE for the King who missed him so much, and the cub that changed it's appearance to reflect that.

S4 is Macaque busting on through, resolving any petty fights him and Wukong had in the past, saving his mate and cub, and developing a fatherly attitude towards MK. This is THEIR happy ending, and Mac's not gonna let Azure take that away from them.

Fun fact; since Stone Eggs are able to "steal" the Dao of others, it ws common in Stone Monkey days for widowed monkeys to start the egg-making process while buried next to their mate in hopes that both of their traits lived on in the baby. It's influenced a lot by yearning/want of the parent for their mate (the supernatural "other parent").

[the attention Mei and the older ladies are giving him over the pregnancy is honestly a little overwhelming at times due to how unexpected it is. especially from PIF and Macaque's adopted mom figure, he'd thought the two of them would be far more mad about mac dying then anything else.]

Wukong is def confused but amused by how much PIF and Jiuweihuli are adoring of him, but are shooting Mac the stinkeye. PIF has already declared herself the baby's Godmother in partnership with her husband's title, and Jiuweihuli is treating the situation as if she's expecting a grandchild. Even when Wukong explains that Mac only "started the process", that doesn't deter the demonesses.

Wukong is ofc overwhelmed by the positive attention, and scurries away for a break once the womens' backs are turned. Red Son offering him a confused, but tasty spiced cake is like a breath of fresh air.

[if the infamous "god killer" is set to show up and then you learn that the god killer is the child of the Sun Wukong, menace to the heavens, and earned her title before she was even out if the womb is terrifying. imagine what she'll be like when she gets older and starts combat training.]

Yuebei, aka "The God Killer" toddles into a fancy heavenly party and all the Celestials scatter like they saw a tiger enter the room. The infant monkey just jumps on the banquet table and starts chowing down on the hors d'oeuvres like her baba before her.

[I love idea she puts so much trust she puts into the staff because it was her first proper weapon. I feel she also puts a lot of trust into it because it's from her parents. I love the Dr. Facillier comparison, I was thinking of her swishing her mask on like a miraculous lady bug transformation.]

Yuebei and her big bro MK share the trait of "I believe, so it is", and that includes her super-cool FIRST STAFF that was probably made from a completely normal stalk of bamboo by Wukong and Mac as a birthday gift.

Ooo I like that Ladybug idea for her skull-mask. Magical girl transformation except she's dressed to reap souls. >:3

Oh gosh now Im thinking of little Yuebei being obsessed with Sailor Moon. XD

[everyone is panicking, just to different lengths.] + [while keeping LBD's host preoccupied.]

The campsite is just a warzone of panicking found family members as they scramble to get things ready for the baby's arrival. I love the idea of Sandy having enough sense to call DBK and PIF on the phone to give them a heads-up.

And poor Bai He. Just got over being possessed for x-amount of months by an ancient world-ending demon, and now she's just swept up in the chaos that a baby is coming!? She probably "heard" things while being piloted by LDB, so she knows "someone" is having a baby, she just doesn't understand the context. Especially considering that the monkey demon couple (one's the Monkey King?!) have been tending to her like parents the whole trip home. and- "Is that lady Guanyin?"

Bai He def has a "she's so cute!"-moment when she sees Yuebei for the first time. She's cuter than a kitten! :3

[the bull family are on their way the second they hear about what's going on. they will do what they have to for their family.]

The second that the Bull Couple learn that Wukong is ok after LBD's defeat, they're flying over to see if their Xiandi is ok. DBK has to be reprimanded for almost getting into a fight with Nezha over their protective instincts towards Wukong in this state.

[Guanyin is there to go through all them with her, Yuebei is amazed at much her baba loved her well before she was ever born, even if it becomes a little bittersweet after she learns that he could have died for her to be born and was willing to go through with the pregnancy anyway, for the sake of the baby he loved so much he may have never been able to meet. when she goes home she gives her baba a big hug. Yuebei: *walks into to the house* BABA Wukong: *not expecting her back so soon* oh! Yuebei, are you okay, I'm sorry about the fight earlier I was- Yuebei: *tackles him into a hug, muffled talking with her face buried in her Baba's chest* m'sorry, I love you. Wukong: *a little surprised but happy* love you too little one]

OOOOUHHH!! Yuebei having the realisation in her teens about how much Wukong sacrificed/could have lost to ensure she was born safetly!! Yuebei def stares at the tapes Guanyn provides in silence, tears rolling down her face as she sees and hears her Baba in different eras, telling his baby that they may never meet but that he loves them no matter what!!

Yuebei would feel so guilty for running off after a petty fight with her Baba! Especially if one of the things she yelled at Wukong was along the lines of; "You never do anything for me!"

Wukong is just relieved that his daughter came home safe and sound. Guanyin def did the divine version of a text message telling Wukong that Yuebei came to her island, but Wukong was still worried.

[ps: what do you think Wukong would use as an affectionate nickname for Yuebei in this au? also, at what point do you think her name was decided on.]

Wukong's nickname for Yuebei is "Egg" much like MK in the TMKATI au. Hard to get rid of the moniker when Wukojng had been using it for almost a thousand years. One of the rarer nicknames he had for her was "little moonlight" whenever he was particularly wistful.

Macaque calls the baby cuter things like "starlight" or "sunspot" cus she's "a little Sun" (pun).

The name "Yuebei" aka "Lunar Apogee" was only decided in the later months leading up to her birth. Wukong had wanted to wait until the Egg was born to decide. And ofc with his "moonlight" finally back at his side, Wukong's brain went towards moon-themed names...

[they absolutely would, even if looking at Yuebei would always be bittersweet long after it stopped actually hurting whenever she saw Wukong in her.]

Guanyin would 100% refer to herself as being Yuebei's "grandmother" in the scenario that Wukong had not survived/woken up. Little Yuebei would have grown up on Fragrant Mountain in the Southern Oceans as beloved as any creature under Guanyin's protection. Safe from teh eyes of Heaven. Wukong knows he would have made a good choice.

[Macaque def cries at every big relationship milestone between him and Yuebei (and him and Wukong, seeing how much Wukong has changed for the better makes him very hopeful they could have the life they promised each other, but seeing how much Wukong has also been hurting he is very grateful he has the oppurtunity to make things better. ultimately, he is very grateful he made the decision to stay and not squander the chance). but there's def a period of time in there where anytime Macaque and Wukong get in a fight (because healing and reconciliation isn't linear) it sets his relationship with Yuebei back a couple squares.]

Macaque and Wukong I think would have had a fight just prior to S4, likely over how MK is being trained as Wukong's successor - Wukong want's to be careful and soft on the kid, while Macaque was more the mindset of preparing MK for the worst-case scenarios. It caused the two to be on not-speaking terms, even though they were still both technically co-parenting the baby. Wukong had walked out on the most recent fight, and taken Yuebei to the old stone palace to decompress when MK found the memory scroll.

The subsetquent hours is Macaque fellign like sh*t for making Wukong hate him again + Yuebei crying when Mac raised his voice. He's convinced that he F-d Up Big, and that Wukong would never trust him again- oh hey a text from Mei.

Mei, texting: "Scroll thingy ate Monkey King!! *shocked emoji*" Mac, on an ancient nokia: "WHAT!? Where's the baby!?" Mei: "Being babysat rn. Don't worry, we're on the case!" *thumbs up* + "100 emoji" Mac: "oh thank buddha."

Macaque still goes to Water Curtain Cave to see whats up... only to find no Monkey Kids, and the smell of a familar lion...

[I always thought that Macaque having six sensitive ears and being a theater performer would make him a killer at vocals, and he can change his voice pretty much at will to something completely random, someone else's voice if he hears them, or mimic the sounds of animals and/or other non-living objects that produce sounds. so he would absolutely nail and accents and voices he needs to do to keep Yuebei appeased. he probably at some point mimics Wukong's voice in order to calm her down, because out of all her "good sounds" her baba's is the most "safe".]

Macaque canonically can nail voices and animal sounds! He pretended to be Mo meowing when he split the vans up.

I can just imagine him setting a fussy Yuebei down for sleep and trying to read her a story like;

Macaque, normal voice: "Bustopher Jone-"

Yuebei: *gives him a stank face* >:(

Macaque: "Oh ok, little miss high-standards."

Macaque: *clears throat*

Macaque, now in a goofy falsetto ala Ed Wynn: "Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones— In fact, he's remarkably fat. He doesn't haunt pubs—he has eight or nine clubs, For he's the St. James's Street Cat!"

Yuebei: *delighted giggling!* :D

Wukong: *secretly watching from the doorway, falling in love with his Warrior all over again*

[the brotherhood assumes Yuebei is also Macaque's kid like everyone else, and because of this Peng def is not above teasing the already fussy infant monkey. Yellowtusk is looking at his brothers either ignore or "torment" the infant of at least one if not two of their other sworn brothers. he realizes in that moment that the other two aren't who he thought they were, or at the very least they aren't anymore, but most importantly they aren't the type of people he wants to be involved with. the change of heart leads him to not feeling to bad when leaving his brothers to their fate when Yuebei has enough for the sake of his own safety.]

Yellowtusk is the only one of the Brotherhood trio who recognises that people have changed in the last few hundred years.

The Pilgrims are dead and gone, and their decendants are far different from their originals. Brother Bull is a family man who would do anything for his wife and son.

Brother Wukong is, from what Yellowtusk overheard, has become far wiser and more cautious. And not to say the acts of heroism he's heard attributed to Brother Macaque! (Defying and saving the world from the icy bone demon that resurrected him is no mere feat - it was the talk of the celestial and demon worlds for weeks). Not to mention the tiny dark-furred infant monkey that Azure holds, squirming in his grip...

And he also recognises that his own two companions have changed... but not for the better.

The selfless leadership once held by Azure Lion has become warped into a form of tyrany, one where their new Emperor holds their sworn brothers' infant hostage and openly fantasizes about taking Brother Wukong as his consort.

The curt bluntness he had appriciated in Peng's words have become needlessly harsh and tormenting. Even towards something as small and blameless as the infant they hold hostage.

Yellowtusk recognises that perhaps even he has changed. Being made to relive your mistakes throught the Scroll can do that. He realises that he should have said more to defend his shyer brothers, and wishes that he had the foresight to know that the Jade Emperor would have succeeded in their haphazard coup.

Yellowtusk is Wise because he recognises that the best option is to jump this sinking ship now while there's still time.

He goes to take the hostage infant away from Azure's grasp when the little girl suddenly grabs hard on one of Peng's flight feathers, the gold plating crumbling away in her grip...

Yellowtusk backs out of the throne room as the child of Sun Wukong destroys the two grown warriors like they were toys to be broken. He's thankfull that his calmer treatment of the infant only leaves him with a sore trunk from the little monkey tugging on it to guesture that she was hungry.

Sorry it took so long to answer! I've been very lazy over xmas :3

[prettymrswright]

Lockdown.

pairing: koffee!singer x black!fem choreographer/artist

content: fluff, barely angst, innuendos, a lot of patois (Koffee is from Spanish Town, she has a strong JA accent), mentions of God/spirituality, artistry, choreography, flashbacks.

background: you had been spending quite a lot of time with the reggae artist after meeting her at a Reggae Fest a few months back. as time went by, the two of you grew closer, but in attempt to keep up your guard and protect yourself, you pulled back. the artist didn’t like that too much, and def used she would double down on her interest. she wasn’t letting you go that easy.

a/n: to this day, there are not Koffee fics to be found so guess who’s here to change that like the manifestor human design that I am?? ME! i unintentionally made this character almost identical to me.. by accident. there are so many things about y/n in this book that is my true life story lmaooo.

I’m gone try to insert some translations here and there, even though patois is still english, I know some things are harder to comprehend. But it’s important I insert it because 1, it’s sexy and 2, I like to maintain accuracy. hope unnu like it. <3

translations:

deh - there

yah - here

nuff - a lot, plenty

dung - down

guh - go

unnu - you (plural, like you guys/ y’all)

dem - plural, noun (i.e friend dem (friends) )

pan/pon - on

guh - go

suh - so or how (A suh you feel? That’s how you feel?)

dolly - slang for attractive girl/woman

taglist: @dejaonline @saintwrld @inmyheadimobsessed @venusdraco @vampzxi @msplayas @abenomeiiii @vixentheplanet @pinkwright @verachii @shuriszn @shurislover @sapphicvqmpires @ventingfanfics

if you wanna be apart of my taglist, apply through the link pinned to my page!

If you wan to opt out, or only want to be tagged for someone specifically, those are also options!

LOCKDOWN PART 2!

"Okay sexy!" Your friend and fellow artist, Sabirah-Amani paraded your ear with praises and hype as you checked yourself out in your hotel mirror. You had been working for the past few months, project after project, and although you were grateful, you were two hops and a skip away from burnout. Between choreographing for artists and late nights in the studio in hopes of being your own artist, you hadn't much left to give. You were very clearly overextending yourself in all areas. You were ambitious and focused, precise about your work; You're an artist, and you were sensitive about your shit! However, you were beginning to neglect yourself emotionally and spiritually. You and Sabi came to the mutual decision that a vacation was much needed. The two of you spent the week catching appointments, pampering and refreshing your appearance. You give a small giggle before looking at her briefly and mimicking a hair-flipping motion. "Look you," She continues in her trini-yunese accent. "In short ting. All yuh collarbone outside." The two of you erupted in laughter. "And all of Jamaica will continue to see my collarbone, okay?" you responded, still laughing. Ochi was so beautiful. It was full of sights and bashments and raves and just beautiful people having a beautiful time. For a reason unbeknownst to you, everything out of Jamaica just resonated with you and held your heart so deeply. It had been your first morning in JA, and as expected, the sun was blazing. The bright sun and tropical breeze shone through your plexiglass balcony doors. You and Sabi were going to get breakfast as well as check out the rest of the hotel. A cocoa-beige brown triangle bikini set hugged your body, overlapped with a long, knitted skirt of the same color. A white, knitted long-sleeved cropped coverup laid baggy over your toned arms. Your feet rested in some rhinestone encrusted strap sandals. Your hair was braided in cornrows falling right above the dip in your lower back , swirl designs in every direction. It was entirely too hot for a full beat, so your fresh lash set was holding you down. "You ready to go?" You asked. "Let's do it. " Sabi replied, and with that, you were out of the room and off to the lobby.

After getting off the elevator, the two of you walked through the lobby to reach where you would be having breakfast at. After filling up your plates at the buffet, you took a seat in the far corner of the restaurant, a clear view of the beach across from you. "I know we just got here and everything but," Sabi started. "I kinda wanna jump into the vibes tonight." "Um absolutely, that was the plan from jump," You say in sort of a 'duh' tone. "But I know you need your rest. You know, some unwinding time." She says concerningly. Sabi was always looking out for you in that way, it was one of her greatest assets as a friend. "Girl, mi neva come a Jamaica fi lie dung. I got another week and a half to rest!" You say in a comedic way, but you meant it. You were already starting to feel better being in a newer and fresher feeling environment. Rest would come, but right now? Vibes. "Okay, okay!" Sabi laughed in a hearty manner. "Yo you and this Patois accent, knowing you not even Jamaican is frying me." You playfully rolled your eyes. It was true. You were in love with all things of different cultures, so each one you immersed yourself in, you began to pick up. Growing up in NY, all you were around were Caribbean people, so it wasn't out of the ordinary for you. "Speaking of Jamaicans," Sabi began, and somehow, you knew what direction this was going in. "When's the last time you spoke to Mikayla?" "Who?" You lie, lazily spooning through your bowl of porridge. "Mikaylaaaa, Mikayla, Koffee, Big bad reggae artist from Spaintown, Jamaica, your woman--" She goes into a rampage and you cut her off. "Alrightttt, alright, alright. I get it" You rush her to end her tangent, hoping no one around you guys heard. "I don't know.. March?" You say, voice dying down at the end in cowardice. "MARCH?" Sabi's draw drops. "Y/N..it's June." A guilty expression washed over you. "I know, Sabi." "Why you duckin' her?" Sabi cocks up her left eyebrow and leans forward, curious to hear your answer. "I--" You drop your utensil in audacity. "Why you assume it was me?" "Girl, please okay. She was on your ass like back pockets at that Roc Nation Brunch. We both know you're Miss Ghost Town." Sabi says reading you for filth, pulling an accidental laugh out of you.

“I mean, she’s a big artist, she could have anyone she wants.” You shrug. “Her not hearing from me is barely putting a dent in her life plans.”

The truth was, prior to your disappearance, you two were becoming closer by the minute. You really liked Koffee. And with that, your body began to do that thing that it does when you’re about to be fully consumed by that feeling of infatuation. It wasn’t so much the idea of a relationship that you were scared of, but more-so of the uncertainty of its stability. Koffee was now an international artist, who meets thousands of people every day. You knew how it was in the industry, you were in it. It was one thing to really like someone, but to like someone in the entertainment industry was like setting yourself up for heartbreak. And you had entirely too much on your plate to go through that shit again.

“Who reached out last?” She asks.

“.. Her.” You say in a “so” type of tone.

“Mm.” She responds, strategically setting up her “aha” statement. “And who gave who an unlimited backstage pass for all her shows, in ANY city?”

“…her.” your defeated responses began to get smaller.

“And who—“ you cut her off, in attempts to stop the physically pain of her being right.

“Okay, okay, damn,” you laugh. “But you know how that shit go, Sav. One minute she thinks she wanna be with me and the next, she’s in some European country, with who knows, doing God knows what.”

“Uh, uh.” She says in disapproval. “Now you know she ain’t hunching with no white women.”

You burst into laughter. She could always tie something together comedically while simultaneously giving you the real.

“It don’t hurt to just say wassup, Y/N/N. I mean besides, when’s the last time you had any ‘fun’. Let loose a lil. If anyone needs to, it’s you.” Sab says, voice full of concern, but direction.

You looked off outside the window, pondering on her message. You missed her dearly. Who were you trying to fool? I mean maybe you were a little harsh. She didn't really give you any reason to be. Sure you'd seen some photo ops with her and other female artists, but that was her job. You didn't like the feeling it gave you though. When you look back towards Sabirah and her now empty plate, she was smiling at her phone. "And who exactly got you smiling like that?" You ask, now shining the figurative spotlight on her. "Oh it's nobody for real," She waved off. "Nobody huh," You chuckle. "What nobody say?" "Well actually, Nobody is gonna be at this party tonight that I planned on dragging you too." "Party?" You say frowning. "With all these white folks? Since when you wanna go to a resort party." "Oh girl, be so for real," She says scoffing. "My cousin JJ and his girlfriend are here at her family house, and they're throwing a bashment, off the resort." Your eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. You were actually ecstatic to be getting into some real vibes off the resort. I mean, truly you had no real complaints, after all, you were in Jamaica. But country had the homegrown, feel good energy you were dying to be around. It was more authentic. "See now, that's what I'm talking about!" The two of you embraced in a dap across the table. "How we getting there?" "You ever been on a dirt bike before?" Sabi asks sincerely, yet you think she's joking. "What?!" ꨄ︎ Night begins to fall and as you and Sabi make your way out of the resort, a warm breeze surrounds your body. You two are greeted by JJ and his friend, Dwayne, and hop on the back of their blue and green dirt bikes. You wrap your arms around Dwayne's torso, tightly shut your eyes, say a small prayer and with a loud rev, you pull off into the rocky roads. When you finally gain to courage to open your eyes, you're blown away by how beautiful the scenery was. The hue of the sunset was mixed with orange, pink and purple, and tall trees took space along the sides of the open road. Each refreshing breath you took smelled like rain-bathed plants, summer and adventure. As a result of the fast-paced vehicle moving swifter and in the opposite direction of breeze flow, your braids flew past you forwardly. You couldn't help but to smile, in awe of all the beauty around you. "Woooo! JAMAICA WE REACH!" Sabi yells, cheers carrying across the sky, 80-mph. You beamed at her enthusiasm. Truth be told, you were just as excited. 20 minutes later, you pull into a backyard seemingly as big as 1/3 of the island. You were nowhere near the DJ booth, but you could feel the bass bumping through your entire body. If it weren't for the spacious area, you'd be packed like sardines. Everybody from the parish you were in were in attendance. Men dressed in their straight jeans, belts and button downs, marinas and cut-up shorts; most with spliffs in hand. Women in their mesh top and shorts, mini skirts, mini dresses, heels and bamboos, nails done and hair laid to the gods. This definitely wasn't the event to come looking regular. The aroma of seasonings and a burning grill slithered through your nose canal, causing you to avert your attention behind you, where hot plates of food and alcoholic drinks were being given out to the people in the line. It was definitely a vibe. "Ayeee allyuh mek it!" Sabi's cousin JJ comes and greets us both with a hug. "I saved two plates for y'all, cuz if it was any later, you'd be chewing your lip." You all erupt in laughter. "Omg J," you began. "You're the literal best because I am starving." "No sweat," JJ throws his hands up, emphasizing the 'no big deal.' "Your plates are in the fridge in the kitchen. Shelly's mom is holding it down, so you don't gotta worry about nobody theifing it." "Thanks Knucklehead," Sabi pinches his ear.

"Ouch! Remind me, I ent doing anyting nice fa yuh no more, yuh could starve!" JJ says to Sabi, rubbing his pinched ear.

"yUh couLd sTarVE!" Sabi mocks him. The two of them couldn't get along for more than 5 minutes, but it was always love behind their quarrel.

"Well look at you twooo!" JJ's girlfriend, Shelley approaches you with beaming smiles and open arms.

"Hot gyal Shells!" Sabi starts. "It's been a long time."

"Naa tell no lie! When JJ told me you two were visiting a resort so close by, I had to pull you for at least one night." Shelley says holding both you and Sabi's hands individually.

"Your home is beautiful Shells." You sincerely confess. "Thank you for the invite. Look at the turnout! You doing your big one."

"Thank you, babydoll. You know you're welcome absolutely any time. And I gotta put my ex party-promoting skills to some use!" Shelley replies.

Shelley threw crazy parties back in the day. She always was hosting, and was sure to not only bring in a crowd, but a GOOD one. Amongst many talents, she had the gift of gab for sure. She also always had artists in her venues. From Spice to Konshens, Shenseea to Aidonia. Everyone knew Shelley.

"I know that's right. Besides, I was getting tired of the resort food." Sabi says honestly, making us chuckle. The food was still good, but definitely a watered down version.

"Well!" Shelley clasps her hands together. "Dolly nuh come a party fi hug up pan wall. Unnu guh dance!"

"Don't nobody wanna dance with Paula the Preying Mantis." JJ teases Sabi, bending his arms up like the insect.

"Shut up, JJ!" Sabi says, giving his shoulder a hard nudge.

"Leave Sabi alone." Shelley follows up with a back-handed slap over his other shoulder. "I ain't wanna dance with you when we met. I just felt bad."

"Ohhhhhhh..." You and Sabi both say simultaneously, gagged by the way she just read him.

"Now why you had to go there? You ain't ha-" JJ began and Shelley cooed, half consoling him, half mocking. You and Sabi laugh your way all the way to the middle of the backyard, where the bulk of the party was.

You took in the scene around you and allowed yourself to get lost in the music. Sean Paul & Sasha’s I’m Still In Love with You is pouring out of the speakers and into your ears, filling you with nostalgia. You begin to rock side to side and slow whine your hips. It was definitely a bittersweet feeling. This was one of the songs you danced to at Reggae Music Fest with— her. You missed her. But she could’ve reached out right? You know, besides the 3 times she did already, that you were seemingly to busy for? That didn’t mean give up!

You and Sabi spun each other around and shared some whines and some laughs. You truly felt at peace for the first time in such a long time. You broke away for Sabi for one minute, and the next, she had a new dancing partner. You smiled at the interaction, and before you could really take it in, somebody approached you to dance with you as well.

“Excuse me likkle miss,” A tall, brownskin man with locs down his back approached you with a smooth, but respectful hand on your waist. “Beg yuh a dance nuh?” He smiled, showing off his fanged teeth.

He wanted to dance. Why not? You were out there to enjoy yourself. And at least you know the two of you could dance and that be it. It’s not like he was your type anyway— (obviously). What was truly the harm?

You gave him a smile, accepting his request & began to dance with him. Long before you knew it, you were dancing to another song with him. The man knew how to move. And he smelled phenomenal. Your moment was disturbed, however, when you began to notice two men in the far, right corner of the yard staring at you. And not in the admiring way; it was almost as if they were discussing you. Like they knew you from somewhere. The guy obviously felt it too.

“Yuh know dem from someweh?” He asks, semi-concerned. You just gave him a confused head shake, no.

“Yow yow yow, people, if yuh a enjoy yuhself tonight, mek some bloodclat noiseee!” The dj scratched and lowered the track to speak, and the crowd erupted.

“Outside nice, man. Good weather, sexy ladies, hot tunes. If a Jamaica yuh come from and yuh proud of it, buss a blank!” He continues.

Gun finger emotes fill the sky, followed by mimicked gunshot noises.

“This next song yah is fi all a di people dem weh love the Caribbean.”

Soon as the song begins, you feel your heart drop to your stomach and you’re adrenaline begin to rush.

Balenciaga 'pon me structure

Who them talk, push get the duck yah

I-i-i-io!

Everybody begins to cheer and holler to the feel good song.

It was West Indies.

West Indies was your favorite song by Koffee. It was such a feel good song, and you were there while she was constructing it. You knew it was close to her heart. She had even asked for your input. You encouraged her to push it out and make it a single. You knew the people would love it just as much as you did. And they did.

You felt yourself begin to get emotional, but you stopped the tears from advancing their welled-up position behind your lower lids. You migrated away from the main section, simply to avoid being asked to dance again. Not to this song. Too personal.

Sabi found you in the crowd and shot you a look of sympathy. “You okay?” she mouthed. You gave a closed lip smile and nodded. You decided to go get a drink and take some edge of. As bothered as you were, you still loved the song.

“One rum and pineapple, please.” You ask tell the lady serving drinks. You know you don’t have to pay anything, but you slip her a $10 anyway.

The mixed beverage slides down your throat and coaxes your nerves and you begin to let loose.

Coming from the West Indies

And you know say we giving them the best indeed

Anyweh we deh, we do a flex 'pon street

And the stylе weh we do no moderatе stampede

As you sway back and forth, cup in hand, approaching tipsy, you see a group of girls walking by, double-taking your face and your frame. They then begin whispering. All you could make out was “Koffee” and “Girl”.

Alright. What the fuck was going on?

You tried your hardest to ignore it, returning to your state of groove. As the chorus began to approach, the dj lowered the music once again.

“Alright everybody, mek some noise and big up Koffee!!!”

You froze. Immediately. Ironically when all you wanted to do was melt into the ground.

She was here. Of course she was.

And there she stood. In her black tank, showing between her opened and collared olive green button down, with olive green straight pants to match. She stood in black clarks. Her toffee brown skin being complimented by gold chains and gold bangles. Her medium-long locs held back in a hair tie in a loose bun.

Damn. She always looked good. But she would be looking her absolute best when you’ve been semi-dodging her.

If you know me, I'm having the time of my life

Don't you slow me down, beg you pardon me

I wanna just party (yeah)

I wanna just, I wanna just

I wanna just party (yeah)

I wanna just party, yeah

She walked back and forth the backyard stage, she captured the entire audience and held them hostage with her stage presence. If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you’d be in awe too. She was alluring in that way.

Sabi looked back at you from the crowd with wide, just-as-shocked-as-you-are eyes. Koffee spotted her and followed her gaze, making eye contact with you. There she stood, taking you in. Almost immediately, she gives you a warm expression with soft eyes and a wide smile, showing off her braces. A couple people looked back to see who or what she was looking at; others continued to vibe.

Instantly you felt your body heat up, and you failed an attempted fight not to smile back. You missed her, and she looked great, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty for letting so much time go by. However, something was telling you that she wasn’t phased very much. Seeing her up there in her element, you couldn't help but to think back to when the two of you first met at Reggaefest. She had been on the rise, heavy in the media, and the crowd was absolutely losing it. She had amazing stage presence. She wasn't too harmful on the eyes either. She went right after Lila Ike, who's dancers you choreographed. Koffee and her dancers walked up to the end of the stage and took a collaborated bow, hand in hand. Thank you Reggae Sumfest! You sat sideline, watching in awe. Her set was amazing.

Not to mention she wasn’t too hard on the eyes either. She had on a pair of light blue shorts, accented with white lines, a plain white tee, a blue fitted and AF1’s that looked like she bought them right before this set. Neck and wrists laced with that Caribbean gold. Her skin was glowing and glistening, sweat parading the circumference of it. Her locs were out, falling and standing right beneath her shoulders. With her team following, she walked and exited stage right, where you had been standing. She looked at you, and your rose your hands to clap for the artist, giving a closed-lip smile. She stopped in front of you gave you a small bow and a smile, appreciating your acknowledgement. You killed it, are you kidding?

A dat yuh seh?! She exclaims and smiles brightly. Respect, respect mama, thank you. Her speaking voice was just astonishing as her singing voice. The accent wasn’t making it any better either. What's your name? Y/N. She hummed at the sound of your name and repeats it. Y/N. I saw you and your dancers dem inna Lila's rehearsal. You have nuff talent. I'm a fan honestly. You scoffed in disbelief, shrugging off the compliment. Oh please. If any one should be a fan, it's me. Well I'd love if you came by one of the rehearsals. Y-you want me to choreograph? Absolutely. She stood trying to read your expression. Not sure if you were happy about the idea. I mean if yuh nuh want to, yuh nuh have to-- No I'd love to. Cool. She smiled brightly. Gimmi yuh numba and mi wi sen yuh all e details dem. If that's ok with you, of course. Yes of course. She takes out her phone and you type in your information. "Y/N." It was nice meeting you officially, Koffee. You can call me Mikayla. The pretty girls nuh have to call me by fi mi stage name. She throws you and wink and walks off to meet back up with her crew. If you weren't a professional at work and if you didn't have any morals, your clothes would be off. You felt your cheeks warm-up and you began to smile against your will. Not knowing this job opportunity would lead into a far more deeper connection.

You came back to reality, visited with a bittersweet feeling of a fond but seemingly distant memory. How did you get here?

She performed a few more songs before making her way off stage to navigate through the crowd and do her rounds with all her people. Panicked seized you as you ran to grab your friend.

“We gotta go, neowwww” You grab Sabi’s arm and begin tugging her away from whoever she had been dancing with and towards the direction you so desperately wanted to go in.

“N-now? But we just got here!” She replies in a semi-whiney tone. You in fact had been there for a couple of hours.

“Yes now— JJ! You ready?” You ask him.

“You ready to go?” He whisper-mouths. You nod & he takes a small sip of his red-stripe beer, taps his friends next to him and off you guys were.

As the two of you approached the resort again, a feeling of relief washed over you. You were somewhat disappointed that you let your anxiety take over you, but at least you left before you were confronted. And you knew you would be.

You hug the boys and thank them before walking in and heading up to your room.

“That party was active, wasn’t it Sab?” you say, walking in, somewhat telling the truth. somewhat deflecting.

“Yeah, until you busted it, party pooper.”

You drop your jaw and gasp, fake taken aback as if you didn’t know what she was referring to. “Whaaat? me? What did I do?”

“wHaT dId i Do!?” she mocked you. “You chickened out on the vibes cuz your girlfriend came and you dodging her.”

“I did not! And she is not my girlfriend.” You start picking things up around y’all room and tidying up, needing something to focus you.

“Nah, Y/N/N, you on some wack shit right now, I won’t even front.”

She wasn’t wrong. If she did want to talk, what was the harm? She didn’t even do anything to you. But what if she hated you? And now you made it even worse, because she SAW you and you ran. She probably thinks you’re dodging her. But aren’t you? You desperately wished you would get it together.

“I mean what was I supposed to do?” You turned to face her.

“I don’t know, maybe talk to her? I mean what you think she gone say, marry me?” She semi-chuckled.

“K likes you, a lot. I can tell. And I think she’d be really good for you. But you gotta believe that you deserve it. Don’t let your overthinking cause her to slip out of your hands.”

You chewed at your bottom lip in thought, pondering on all of the different ways the night could’ve went. You always did this. Self-sabotage, and then beat yourself up over it. It was starting to get old, even for you.

“Imma let you sit with that. I’ll be back, I’mma hit the bar down in the lobby. Get me another lil drinky-drink, okayyy!” She says grabbing her things and you playfully roll your eyes.

“What? Okay don’t look at me like that, your night is over, not mine!” You give a hefty laugh, and slightly nudge her. You do your signature handshake, and she’s off.

Quickly after she unlocks the door with her key and runs back in.

“Almost forgot my hand fan. You know that liquor coat get serious. K bye love you!” And she’s out again. You laugh to yourself. That girl could drink.

You continue tidying up, even though there’s not much to tidy. But any form of cleaning/organizing grounded you, and now in this moment, you needed nothing more but to be grounded.

You were on your way to sit down when there was a subtle knock at your door. Leave it to Sabi to have forgotten something.

You walked up to the door, unlocked it, and began opening it. “What’d you forget this time S—“

Startled, you jump at the sight of who was actually standing before you.

“M-Mikayla?”

“Oh, so you do know who I am?” She says tauntingly, letting herself in. You close the door behind her, eyes following her movements, still in shock.

“I was starting to think seh yuh did forget about me eno?” And she flashes that smile again.

“How did you find me?” You ask sincerely, feeling sort of turned-on, not that you would admit it.

“The gyal who Sabi cousin deh wid told me you’d be here.” Shelley. I should’ve known. It was no coincidence that out of all people, Koffee would be performing there when I was. It started to click. This was a collaborative effort from Sabi and Shelley.

You gave an exhausted sigh as you prepared to plead your innocence. “Look, K, I didn’t mean to run off how I did I j—“

“Oh so you weren’t dodging me then?” She pries, stepping closer to you, waiting to see if you’d lie.

“I-i mean, no. Well, not on purpose.” You half tell the truth. She wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“Oh suh yuh dweet fi accident?” She gives a sarcastic laugh. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, and for once, you wish it was from sunburn and not your own shame.

“I just thought..” You paused, debated telling her the truth or not. Awaiting your answer, she folds her arms across her chest and raises her eyebrows.

You decided to give in. She went through all this trouble.

“I don’t know, I ain’t really think you’d be checking for me like that. You know, with everything you got going on.”

Sheepishly, you looked down at your feet, fidgeting with your bracelet, ironically, the one she brought back for you on your second date. She looks down at it, giving a small, satisfied smirk, thankfully feeling not totally closed off from you like she almost thought.

“A mi tell yuh dat?”

You shook your head no.

“So you assumed,” She began. “I mean which part mek yuh feel like seh I wasn’t ‘checking’ for you?” She lightly mocked. “The repeated calls, or the double-triple texts?”

You chuckled bitterly at her sarcasm, and also at the fact that you couldn’t pin her to be wrong.

“If yuh nuh interested anymore,—“ She began and you couldn’t stomach her even continuing that thought.

“No, no.” You quickly interrupted her. You gave a heap of sigh before you would began to be totally honest with both her and yourself at the same time.

“I like you. I really fucking like you. And that’s the problem. You’re charming, you’re charismatic.. you fine…” you say trailing off that last part, making her laugh heartily.

“You have such a big heart. And if I, as the tough cookie and critic that I am can fall for you, I know girls all around the world are. I’d be lying if I said the thought of that didn’t make me ragingly jealous, but I also like you so much, that I don’t wanna deprive you of that opportunity. There could be someone far better for you out there. You could meet her tomorrow, hell, you could’ve met her already. See i’m all over the place and I—“

“Y/N.” She gently grabs your elbow and gives it a tug to bring you closer. “I appreciate your interest in my well-being. But mi neva ask yuh fi do dat, baby.”

“I chose you fi a reason. If mi really felt like seh a somebody better out deh fi mi, mi woulda neva run down yuh phone.” You laugh at her comedic delivery.

“I’m not perfect, but when mi love somebody mi love deep. A you mi want, and I knew that then and I know that now. All mi ask of you is to put it a likkle effort.”

She raises her hand to wipe the couple of tears that began to fall from your eyes. When you finally looked up at her, all you could do was nod. Nobody had ever went these lengths to show you that they cared before, and it meant so much that the person who was doing so was someone you considered your best friend. Mikayla knew you like the back of her hand. She could pull you out of any mood and place you in a better one, no matter the circumstance. And right now in this moment you felt so safe and so seen. And all you could think about was how silly you had been acting, and how silly it would be to let her go.

“Don’t cry baby.” She pulled you close to her and held you tight.

“I-i’m sorry for n-not answering you I—“ You let your vulnerability take over, and she consoled you before you could even get it out.

“Yuh nuh have to explain to me. Just mind yuh nuh pull away from me like that again, y’hear?” She pulls your chin up to her, switching her gaze between both of your eyes.

You lean into her and the two of you share a kiss. A pair of lips you have been longing to feel and haven’t felt in months. Instantly you felt a rush of emotions, all of which you felt when the two of you first met.

“Cuz mi need. All. of dis. yah love yah.” She repeatedly pecked you between each fragment, making you giggle into her lips.

“Okaaay, okay!” You say fake fighting her off. Truthfully you couldn’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be. You wrapped your arms around her neck and hoisted yourself up, locking your legs around her waist. You missed this feeling. You missed her. But you don’t know peace. Not yet.

“.. So who was that girl on stage who was tryna dance with you?” You playfully start an argument.

“Oh nuh start yuh fuckry, Y/N please.” She laughs and carries you out to the next room. And the two of you fall into each other all over again.

[suffarustuffaru]

I think I read a while ago on reddit that you had a madoka magica au for re zero, do you still think about it? I can Imagine Subaru taking the place of Homura but the rest of the cast is harder to place. It's a fun thought exercise though.

WAIT wow your ask sent me down memory lane wkdndn i forgot i even had a madoka magica au in the works for a while. i made it in like late 2020 and last worked on it in early-mid 2021 hah mostly bc my skill with writing and art didnt match with how big of an idea a multichap plotty crossover/fusion au was and i was still just dipping my toes into more ambitious ideas!! but id love to revisit it again now that i got more practice 👍

i like read your ask then went WAIT A MINUTE I DO HAVE A MADOKA MAGICA AU and then i skimmed through my old google doc plot outline for it in a frenzy. but also i used to write in yellow comic sans at the time so i wont subject you to my old terrible (affectionate) writing habits too much. but i think its funny how i had some notes on vague (and Dead Serious) ideas for witch form symbolism and i just found this yellow comic sans monstrosity:

2020/21 me was on some drugs probably LMAO 😭😭 but given madoka magica’s canon content that is probably a good thing if youre writing serious madoka magica fic.

also i did have a tiny bit of finished writing for it. here is the old synopsis past me came up with:

Stumbling across magic and witches, fourteen-year-old Natsuki Subaru follows his new friends and a mischievous cat spirit into a world where a single contract could grant you your greatest wish.

And at the end of it all, he really should’ve known this from the start: wishes always come with a cost.

i think that currently id probably change up this synopsis a bit if i worked on it again but it aint bad i think 👍 and yes youre right subaru would def be in homuras role for this fic… 😔 anyone whos seen both madoka magica and rezero would immediately make that connection i think hah they have. Similarities, as we know 😔

and i deaged some of the rezero cast as you can see hah. not sure if id keep that but i think an important aspect of madoka magica is that the main characters are that young. it helps add to some of their decisions and adds to the tragedy and whatnot. that and like. targeting vulnerable young girls, Literal Children, knowing that most would make a wish and sell their souls in a heartbeat and then easily be crushed by trauma without being able to fight back much, you know? :,) and then theyd make Lots and Lots of despair to harvest… and madoka was meant as a magical girl deconstruction and magical girls iirc tend to be arounddd early teens/preteens!! ill talk a bit more later on how id try to do this au with deaged rz cast hah.

also i did have a small drabble written for this au!!

The boy, no older than fourteen, stands there with an eerie sense of calm.

His frame is seemingly scrawny and lean, dawning dark clothing reminiscent of a mixture between a tracksuit and a school uniform - even if it’s adorned with golden ribbons and stripes - with a whip attached to the belt at his waist. Draped over that is a cloak, the hood of it casting a shadow over messy black hair and a cold expression. His keen eyes, emphasized by the deep bags underneath, narrow at the sight of Puck, mean and brimming with distaste.

With a steady hand, he raises a pistol to Puck’s head.

The moonlight shines dimly through the broken windows and onto the shards littered all over the floor. A beam illuminates a metal contraption, its appearance similar to a shield, strapped to the boy’s forearm.

“You know, I don’t quite recall making a contract with you,” Puck muses cheerily, though an undercurrent of a threat weaves itself into his tone. He stares down the barrel without fear, his sharp teeth revealed in his smile. “Who are you, really? And why are you so upset that I’ve been getting close with Lia? Jealous much?”

“Don’t you dare call her that,” the boy replies instead, bitterly spitting out each and every word. “Don’t you dare pretend that you only have her best interests at heart, or that you really care for her like a father figure would. It makes me sick.” He sneers as he digs the cool metal of the gun harder into Puck’s fur. “Because if you make even just one mention of creating a contract with her, or if you even come near her… I’ll definitely make sure that you regret it.”

yeah so. past me made puck kyubey apparently 😔👍 and if i revisited this au im not sure if i would keep subarus character development to be Exactly the same (ie it was very greedbaru/pridebaru/homura inspired) but this drabble was a fun exercise at the time!!

but anyway i will ramble about some more ideas i had for this au under the cut!! turned out past me had A Lot of ideas.

yes so this au was like. a fusion of sorts so yes i was assigning rz characters certain roles, blending worldbuilding together, etc etc but the general plot sort of followed the general story of the main madoka magica plot from the main show to rebellion!! it was like vaguely modernish too, but you know, madoka likes to be Creative with its backgrounds (see: the infinite amount of crazy chairs everywhere, which im still very fond of to this day) and also rz vainglory/school if has its fantasy world cast mixed in with subarus parents still being there iirc and a whole bunch of other details too (like beatrice being subarus adopted sister iirc?). so i was going the vainglory-ish route here in terms of “how modern is this world?” 👍

the main cast i was focusing on was gonna be subaru (homura), emilia (madoka), rem (sayaka), ram, beatrice, felt, and reinhard. also puck as kyubey haah and satella as walprugisnacht aka the giant witch at the end of the main show. i havent seen madoka in a bit wkdn i gotta rewatch. but anyway!! felt and reinhard got a mix of mami and kyokos roles narrative wise yeah.

quick rundown on their characters is that i wanted to stick to the rz cast’s canon characterization as much as possible while leaving room for fun experimentation!! and if theyre still younger than normal canon here—subarus still got his Big Ego/Im The Main Character mindset but in that way thats specific to his little kid self bc he hasnt gotten Completely Depressed yet (think like. arc 7-8 type stuff), reinhards still stuck in the middle of watching his dad gradually deteriorate, felts even Younger and still trying to find her footing a bit, rem is Guiltily and enviously trying to live up to ram’s Golden Childness (this is pre-Incident That Kills Their Whole Family). and emilia has lived a lonely life in the forest somewhere with no one for company :,) i cant remember if i had some Magic Mindfuckery ideas for her backstory here but ive definitely had ideas for modernizing her backstory for other aus like this!! but either way emilias family is still dead ;-; and i do consider like. the idea that modern emilia would have albinism, especially when there is discrimination in place against people with albinism that is a little similar to emilias canon struggle with her appearance so a modern take of emilia being that she is someone with albinism would be Very Relevant!! but!! not sure if id go all the way with that bc its a sensitive topic that needs to be treated with care and i dont personally have albinism 👍 or i could go the magic route and go “emilia looks like a previous magical girl thats become the most powerful witch yet….” ie satella ofc. so emilia would still be a bit of a “red flag” to other magical people.

but yes emilia wished for. im not sure but probably smth like “i wish not to be lonely anymore”…………. and then she got her wish granted via having magical girl/boy friends and puck!!!!! thisll totally end happily.

and quick note on reinhard is i didnt have much plot ideas for him yet but i considered different ideas for his backstory!! maybe theres some magic fuckery and theresia was a magical girl once? no clue how that works but it was an Idea i had for sure. also various ideas to modernize the Astrea Family Drama (dont worry the accidental indirectly/directly causing your family member’s death thing would still be there wkdndh this is an important detail to me.) but regardless of whats going on with reinhards backstory his wish was a naive little kid wish!! he wanted to be a hero who helps people ;-; good going reinhard ;-;

the entire plot of this au in general was divided in half, first half would be the first timeline where things go wrong. subarus gonna be the pov and hes the audience surrogate bc hes new to the world of magical girls/boys and no one in the group 100% knows the ugly truth yet!! and like in canon emilia/madoka has already become a magical girl here. emilia is also already close with puck—and emilia is the one person puck has genuine fondness for ;-; and i had a Lot of ideas for what exactly went wrong here—i had elsa and meili planned as witches? and i think i considered disemboweling felt :<<<< this is very sad bc her family gave her away to save her bc they were in danger (yes just like in canon rz) but then later felt had her life threatened or smth? and like mami, felt wished to keep living. but the wording felt used was wanting to “live strong”…………….. well she sure got it by fighting elsa valiantly but still losing 😔

also ok the first person to become a witch is beatrice. i had like wild ideas with beatrice—the possibility that echidna still made beatrice and puck and that beatrice couldve been a failed—whats the word for the creatures in madoka that collect/cause magical girls??? incubators i think?? yeah that. because whatre the two things a little kids gonna probably trust?? a cute cat creature and a tiny little girl offering free wishes, probably. and of course beatrice got assigned by her biomom echidna to look after echidnas library maybe. bc echidnas funny like that and beatrice didnt work out as an incubator so now shes gonna generate soooo much despair when she realizes that there is no That Person + the truth of magical girls/boys and what beatrice was meant to be used for….

yes more various shit hits the fan bc rem and rams canon witch cult backstory… i had plans to adjust it for this au and make it happen In Real Time. and also rem’s wish was probably something along the lines of wanted to be needed. and Better. so not just Like Ram. but rem wanted to be More than ram. which rem is guilty about but thats still what she wants so she wishes for it away from rams eyes. ofc rams feelings on this is that she just wants her sister to treasure herself and be safe and whatnot but rem is kinda in her pre-witch cult trauma mode and Oops now their town is destroyed in flames and their family is dead ;-;;; not sure how else id modernize rem and rams backstory but yes this is. this is how their plot went in that first timeline wkdnd. and ram is injured in some way ;-;;;

yes and then rem you know pulls a sayaka and goes a little crazy about everything bc beatrices whole ordeal already revealed how fucked they all are and then rem and rams Trauma just happened so rem feels like shit!! and then she becomes a witch too oops ;-; and then reinhard decides to be the hero and sacrifices himself so emisuba can escape ;-;; or at least that was my plan at the time. but yeah rem became better (a magical girl. bc ram didnt feel like making a wish bc her only wish would be wanting rems happiness but she didnt want to Cheat That. she wanted rem to find it on her terms. except rem became “better” and bigger than ram by being a witch also oops. also i think i still had vague plans to include rem being Obsessed with subaru to contrast what will later be subarus emilia obsession haha) and then reinhard. is the hero. </3

satella comes in somewhere at the end. she used to be a magical girl but she became a witch and shes Crazy Powerful for reasons i have forgotten now 👍 but i definitely wanted to have more shenanigans going on with her backstory to keep that sort of emilia-satella-subaru mystery connection. and theyre still connected anyway bc emisuba inevitably lose to satella bc shes too powerful ;-; emilia is gonna die and puck realizes OH SHIT I SHOULDNT BE FEELING LOVE BUT I DO GENUINELY LOVE EMILIA I CANT DEAL WITH THIS. WITH HER DYING. ID RATHER DESTROY EVERYTHING THAN LET THAT HAPPEN. and ofc subarus also in agreement bc oh god oh god—and yeah. subaru hasnt made a wish until this point but he makes a contract with puck to promise to save Everyone. like subarus promise in canon right before he dies for the first time you know? bc then he dies.

and wooooo the time loop officially begins!!! i had more ideas but i have typed lots on this post already akfnd maybe ill save it for another time if people are interested.

but yes thats all thats the au!!!! i am not familiar with stuff like magia record yet sadly ;-;; but if i ever wanted to expand the au thats def One option 👍 bc WOW the rz cast would be such a goddamn gold mine for those fucking incubators. little kid felix argyle would be a Top Tier candidate for them. like can you imagine???? thatd be the biggest disaster of all time ;-;;; and also theres Lots of possibilities for various witches the cast can fight!! very fun stuff its why i chose elsa and meili and satella :o !! but yes id consider exploring other candidates for magical girls and boys as well bc WOW felix would go insane here.

[theprinceandthewitch]

Hmm... it's interesting how they made Luz wear a witch's cloak in Hunting Palisman - the episode where she introduces Flapjack to Hunter. This is also the episode where Hunter defies Belos by choosing Luz over him. He goes back to his palace empty-handed and he doesn't hand over Flapjack to Belos. Unbeknownst to Hunter, he is following Caleb's footsteps.

But then, in Hollow Mind, they made the choice to have Luz not wear her witches cloak - instead they made Luz wear a jacket with a giant "E" on it. They could have given Luz a completely different outfit like they did in Hunting Palisman. But they don't... they make her wear this specific jacket...

...They also make Hunter wear Caleb's symbol in Hollow Mind... an episode where Luz and Hunter are trapped in Philip's mind... where we can see paintings of the two most important characters in Philip's life - his brother and a witch from another world.

But I'm sure this is all unintentional.

You know, like this is:

oh, nbd, just a painting being paralleled with the scene happening right before our eyes

here's a more high def image of the painting

Oh, hmm, okay, this is a painting of Caleb standing next to a witch with short dark brown hair and who just so happens to be a witch from another world. Both of them are startled by Philip...

Hunter, the Grimwalker who looks the most like Caleb, is standing next to someone who ALSO just so happens to be a witch from another world with short dark brown hair... both are startled by Philip's monster form...

Hmm, must be unintentional I guess.

there's also this:

Mhm, okay, I see... I see, very interesting. Here we have Caleb being lead away from Philip by a witch from another world after the brother's have a fall out. This fall out marks the point of no return for them, as Philip later kills Caleb out of anger.

Hunter and Philip's relationship completely deteriorates because of Luz, which leads to Philip's decision to kill Hunter. She shows Hunter Belos' true nature and she offers Hunter sanctuary at The Owl House right after he finds out Belos has been lying to him his whole life... Luz saves Hunter's life and changes it forever.

Hmmm... very interesting

But I'm sure this is unintentional [I'm being sarcastic]

[order-of-river-phoenix]

A Kind Word; Brad Colbert

_____________

Fandom: HBO War; Generation Kill

A/N: Kinda inspired by the shitshow of a week I’ve had. I have been asked a few times for some Brad content, and I had something else started but I wasn’t feeling it so I busted this out last night.

Warnings: none? def more on the platonic side tho

__________

"I fucked up."

You had been so scared to confess, expecting him to berate you. You expected to feel like a disappointment, an idiot, an asshole… all still less than you thought you deserved in that moment.

But he called you none of those. He gently put his hand on your arm and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “Are you alright? Did anyone get hurt?” Sergeant Colbert’s face showed no disappointment or anger.

You shook your head. “No,” you choked out. No one had gotten injured, but it had nearly cost everyone their lives. And you couldn’t shake that.

“Go get yourself cleaned up. Eat something. Then come see me.”

You nodded. You turned on your heel, finally releasing the breath you’d been holding. There was enough strength in you to stave off crying until you got to the showers, where no one would notice the tears.

Hair still wet, you started towards the mess tent, but you could feel eyes on you. Imaginary or not, whispers were enough to turn you around. You kept protein bars tucked away with mementos of home. There, you sat alone—your mind replaying those moments on a loop, giving you the highlights of the worst moment of your military career. Your protein bar, a couple bites shorter, began to stick in your throat. You guzzled water and decided that was enough food for the day.

“L/N?” Colbert’s voice questioned.

You felt your insides clench, like you had been caught red handed. You leapt to your feet, at attention, as if you were a private again.

“Did you eat dinner, Corporal?”

“No, sir.”

“Relax, L/N. You’re not in trouble.”

The tension in your shoulders hardly eased. “I should be.” It came out in a mumble, but not incomprehensible.

“Why is that?”

“Sir, I almost got our people killed today.”

“That happens sometimes. It doesn’t make you any less of a Marine.” He gingerly raised a hand to your shoulder with that encouraging squeeze again. “Or any less of a person. You owned up to your mistake, and I know you’ll use this lesson to do better. I have seen enough to know that not everyone will do that.”

You nodded. The gentleness in his voice was something you weren’t familiar with coming from the Iceman, but it loosened the knot in your stomach. You realized, for the first time, that the man in front of you was capable of more than the often apathetic objectivity his job required of him.

“We’re meant to be in harm’s way. That is what all of this is about, right?” He waited for you to agree. “A good leader makes their decisions to the best of their knowledge with the information they have. That’s all anyone will ever ask of you. Even the most fool-proof, so-called perfect plan can go wrong with one missed detail. Nothing is perfect. We just have to keep fighting.”

“Thank you. I will do my best to put it behind me.”

“I know you will.” He shot you a flash of a smile and a wink of his steely blue eye. It seemed so out of character, but offered a familiar warmth. “Now, let’s go get you a proper meal.” He patted your back. “Let’s go before someone thinks we’re making out in here.”