#was a very painful one based on how he treats her

[kotaromita]

okay it IS illegal to hurt people but also akito's dad deserves it

so is it really THAT bad?

i mean i've never met the guy and i've only heard a little bit about him in passing

all i know is:

he doesn't get along very well with akito

he REALLY doesn't get along very will with ena

he's a famous painter

a robot burned his house down? and then someone threatened him at gun point right after he lost his house?

um and i think those last things are usually only things you do if someone is like a serial killer or a terrorist or something

maybe it's just because i get along with my dad so well that it's a little hard for me to take in but as long as akito and ena are okay and he and mrs shinonome survived i think that's most important?

[saintobio]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓. (final part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the painful memory of what once was, sylus learns that love can't be bound where it was never meant to stay.

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. sylus's pov, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus might be ooc, main story spoilers, razor's dance spoilers, nightplumes spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), espionage, jealousy, brief smut, mentions of pregnancy/impregnation kink, mentions of accidents, suicide attempt, injuries, blood, usage of guns, usage of knife, killings, death, my own theories incorporated into the lore, sylus groveling bcos yall want him to

♱ notes. 9.5k wc. l&ds!mc is referred to here as 'diana'. THIS IS A REPOST of the original post i accidentally deleted. i already posted this several hours ago, so if you’re seeing this new one again, blame my dumbass 🤧 oh well life is life.

Sylus had a part of him that wished things could be different. 

Ever since he turned away and left you that night at the alleyway, he didn’t really realize the chain of events his decision would set into motion. He simply underestimated how strongly your threats were backed by the grudge you had on him for bringing the hunter girl from Linkon into his base.

After all, you were just an assistant of his. And her, she was everything to him. It wasn’t just about the Aether Core, too—their bond stretched back into his distant past, into another planet where two of them ruled before the inhabitants of Philos came to ruin everything. Him and Diana had a connection he couldn’t sever no matter how much you had come to mean to him. And he spent years, centuries even, just to search for her. 

So, how could a mere assistant he had known for less than a decade have such entitlement to her role in his life? 

Eventually, days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. With your prolonged absence from the Onychinus base, Sylus’s business transactions and illicit deals had become increasingly unruly. He had grown too dependent on you as his right-hand woman, relying on your meticulous management to ensure all his illegal activities ran smoothly. Yet now, without your oversight, things were falling apart.

And while he was contemplating how to fill the void your absence had created, the office door slammed open. A subordinate soon rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “Boss, she’s betrayed us!” Luke exclaimed. “She’s gone to the Hunter’s Association. We got word that she was a high-ranking intelligence agent there!”

“A.K.A a spy!” yelled the other twin, Kieran, who looked equally hurt at your betrayal. “She fooled all of us. And here, we treated her like family.” 

That was how Sylus learned that you had left the N109 Zone, seeking refuge in Linkon City, and had exposed critical intel on Onychinus. At the time, rage naturally exploded within him. Didn’t he take good care of you while you were here? He had given you everything, trusted you, and you had thrown it all away. Four years of falling into his trap. Four years of being his partner in crime, his right-hand woman, his lover. People even saw you as the modern day Bonnie & Clyde. Sylus couldn’t understand the root of your betrayal, couldn’t imagine how letting you slip away from his grasp would cost him so much in return.

When you vowed to do everything in your power to kill Diana, was this just a part of your grand scheme? What other machinations were you orchestrating in your pursuit of revenge?

“She’s a wild animal on loose.” Sylus looked up at the twins, maintaining a calm yet ruthless mien as he sat on the couch. He might be idly tossing a coin like he didn’t care, but inside his brain was chaos ensuing. “Where’s she now? Any news?”

It was Luke who shrugged in response. “She hasn’t been seen anywhere, boss-man.”

“We suspect the Association is hiding her,” Kieran added. 

The hunter girl, Diana—the very girl you were jealous of, was sitting next to Sylus throughout the conversation. Their hands were connected by a strong energy linkage that was seemingly ignited by the Aether Cores in their bodies. They couldn’t separate themselves even if they wanted to. And God forbid you would have lost your mind tenfold had you seen their situation right now. 

“That g-girl,” gasped the hunter girl, eyes wide in bewilderment at what she was hearing. “Sylus, your assistant. She did all that? She was a spy from the Hunter’s Association?” 

Luke tilted her head at the girl, his beaked mask mocking her. “Oh, miss hunter! Haven’t you heard about the HIS? You should know them better than us.” 

“Well.. what is the HIS?” 

“Hunter Intelligence Services.” Sylus was the one who answered, releasing a deep sigh while rubbing his temples. “They’re top secret. Regular hunters wouldn’t have known about them, because they only deal with people like me.” 

Diana looked between him and the twins, rubbing her wrist before moving closer to the boss of Onychinus. Her close proximity allowed him to smell her familiar sweet scent. “Is she… after me? But I don’t understand. If she’s part of the Hunter’s Association too, then shouldn’t we be colleagues?”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Ever since you came—”

“Place a bounty on her head,” Sylus interrupted the twins, and also ignored the question of the girl next to him. She didn’t need to learn the history behind you and him, or why you chose to target her. “Make sure to bring Y/N back to me. Alive.” 

“Roger that, boss!” 

It was his last desperate attempt to draw you back to him. Now that you had the Hunter’s Association protecting you, Sylus knew that locating you wouldn’t be as simple. Otherwise, he would have easily captured Diana long ago. He convinced himself that the bounty was to punish you, but deep down, he knew it was because he couldn’t bear to lose you to his enemies completely.

~~

It took you a year to return to the N109 Zone.

Did you forget he had eyes and ears everywhere? He was the boss of that infamous No-Hunt Zone. Even if you leaked intel about his residences and the Onychinus base to the Hunter’s Association, Sylus still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He had hideouts in places that even you weren’t aware of, and the residents of the N109 Zone were loyal to him. Too loyal that they wouldn’t give any information to anyone no matter the consequences. 

And how foolish were you to forget about Mephisto’s existence?

“Caw! Caw!”

The mechanical crow’s eyes glowed with the same red hue as Sylus’s as it landed on his arm, projecting visions of you entering the underground fight club disguised in an Onychinus uniform. It was almost farcical that you thought you could infiltrate a place Sylus frequented unnoticed.

But then, the vision shifted to you speeding on a motorcycle with a truck in hot pursuit. Sylus quickly recognized the truck’s decals—it was the hitman he often employed for dealing with his enemies, now terrorizing you in a high-speed chase. Without hesitation, Sylus grabbed his leather jacket and mounted his own bike, racing to your location in sixth gear.

He arrived just a minute too late. And what was meant to be a dramatic reunion turned into a scene of you lying unconscious and injured on the road, while the hitman grinned nearby with an expression of triumph. If it hadn’t been for your helmet, Sylus would have been met with the gruesome sight of your shattered skull.

“Mr. Sylus!” the hitman exclaimed, jumping out of his truck with arms outstretched in petty victory. “Can I get the $500,000,000 in cash?”

As Sylus’s gaze fell on your unconscious, injured body sprawled on the ground, a surge of anguish overwhelmed him in ways he couldn’t understand. But it was quickly replaced by seething rage—rage that made him summon his black-red mist, enveloping the hitman in its dark tendrils.

“I said not to harm her,” Sylus growled, his red eye glowing ominously against the desolate highway backdrop. “You failed your task.”

“P-Please, Mr. Sylus! I thought you—”

Without another word, Sylus scooped you up in his arms while his mist dealt with the hitman behind him. The hitman’s desperate cries were soon drowned out by the expanding tendrils, which tightened around him until he was engulfed. Then, in a violent burst, the mist exploded, reducing the hitman and everything around him to dust.

Sylus brought you to his underground hideout immediately after. And an unfamiliar—or perhaps strange—pang tugged at his heart as he gently laid you in bed, his gaze lingering on the road rash you obtained from the crash. The injuries were severe, with patches of skin nearly stripped away in the most brutal fashion he could think of. He could only imagine the burning pain you had to endure as soon as you skidded along the gravel, and Sylus felt his own frustrations knocking at the door knowing that he didn’t have the power to extend his fast-healing abilities to you.

“Tch. My kitten’s reckless as always, riding without the proper gear,” Sylus grumbled, looking at your unconscious body. “You’ve never been one to follow the rules, have you?”

To make up for his inability to save you on time, he applied a potent medicinal ointment all over your body and placed you in an anesthetized state while you healed. His mist enveloped you like a protective shroud the entire time you laid in bed unconscious. Every single day, Sylus tended to your wounds, changing your clothes and bandages, and applying the ointments over your bare body. He even took special care to ensure the twins did not enter your room without his permission. 

Despite the care he showed, a persistent question echoed in his mind: Why am I doing this for you? You were his enemy, a traitor, and a woman who had betrayed him. It didn’t make sense. 

That afternoon, feeling suffocated from this internal conflict, Sylus decided to leave you in the care of Luke and Kieran while he went to Linkon. He knew he needed space to grapple with the feelings that were driving him to care for you in the first place.

He needed to see the real woman he should be caring for. 

Because you had not only exposed intel on Sylus and Onychinus to the Hunter’s Association, you also asked for them to isolate Diana so she would have no way to see or contact him. Who knew that mere feelings of jealousy would spark you to do such trivial things? 

Frankly, you were insane. You were dark and twisted like him. 

But in a way, it only underscored how similarly deranged the two of you were. Perhaps, in your madness, there was a strange compatibility—one that Sylus found unsettlingly fitting. The suggestion of you two being more a suitable pair than he and Diana gave him an unease that he couldn’t simply shake away. 

It should be her. Her. Just her and her alone. He dedicated his whole life into finding her, yet you came into his life to ruin the foundations he had built to meet the person he was supposedly destined for. He had repeated it over and over in his mind like a broken record—the voices in his head telling him to let you go, to hurt you, to make you suffer. 

However, as he stood across the pedestrian crossing, watching Diana from afar, a realization hit him like a cold gust of wind. There she was, oblivious to his presence on the other side, but the spark that once ignited in his heart whenever he saw her was gone. Now, his pulse remained steady and his heart stayed still.

With a wary glance around, mindful of any watchful eyes, he decided to pick up his phone and ring hers. It was a good thing he was able to seamlessly blend into the crowd, with his practiced nonchalance making him invisible among the throng of people. After all, he was Sylus Qin, the mastermind of Onychinus—disguise was second nature to him.

“Sylus?” Her voice came through the line, tentative and filled with a mix of emotions as she scanned the faces on the other side of the crossing.

“According to the conditions set by the Hunter’s Association, we shouldn’t be meeting again.” His voice was steady, almost detached, as he kept the phone pressed to his ear. “Or if not, you will be marked as a Tenebra.” 

Her eyes eventually found him amidst the walking crowd, keeping an expression on her face that showed both longing and forlornness. “Not the first time someone has been marked a Tenebra because of you,” she managed to slip in a snarky remark in her worried expression. “Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he nonchalantly asked, watching as she stepped off the curb when the light turned green. Each step was a step closer to him, but nothing changed the pace of his own heartbeat like it should have. Nothing stirred within him as it once did.

“You have the audacity to use a phone when you’re right in front of me,” she snapped, frustration flaring as she yanked the phone from his grasp. Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, dragging him along with her to escape the dangers of being seen in public. They ended up in an alleyway, a place hidden from prying eyes, an irony that made Sylus chuckle under his breath. The alleyway. Why has that become such a memorable place to him? “Sylus, what’s so funny? I was so scared something happened to you! You couldn’t even call me back or text me the past few days?”

He remained expressionless as he observed her outburst. Strange. In her frantic worry, she reminded him of you, and it was a discomfiting parallel that sent chills down his spine. “I said I’d need to disappear from your life completely, so I have to tie up loose ends,” he began, each word seemingly a dagger to her heart. “We haven’t been able to resonate either way, sweetie. There’s no reason for us to keep meeting.” 

“No!” she adamantly denied the thought, pulling him into an embrace. “No, you’re not allowed to disappear just like that! We need to find a way to get—”

“It’s a dangerous gamble to be caught in my world,” he said in a low voice. 

But she was stubborn. “I’m already caught in it! So, please, Sylus, take me with you. Take me to the N109 Zone or wherever you’re hiding. I want to be where you are.” And in spite, she uttered words that made Sylus think twice about his perception of you. “It’s her fault that this is all happening. She’s a traitor to you and to the Association. Her loyalty isn’t with anyone but herself, Sylus. She’s the one who needs to disappear!”

~~

Back at his hideout, Sylus was careful to ensure that Diana remained oblivious to your presence in another room. He was already grappling with how to manage the situation—torn between the woman he loved and the woman he had wronged who, ironically, were both now under the same roof. The thought of you two crossing paths was a nightmare he didn’t want to deal with, so he gave strict orders to the twins, notorious for their loose lips and loud mouths, to keep Diana far from you.

Because when Sylus returned to your room, he knew you were awake. The dark classical music playing from the vinyl record had likely stirred you from unconsciousness. It had been nearly a week since the crash, but thanks to his meticulous care, your wounds had mostly healed, leaving only faint scars behind.

“You can’t hide from me forever.” Sylus hovered over you to whisper into your ear, summoning his protective black-red mist to slowly release you. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.” 

When you finally opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity, Sylus told himself it was natural to feel relieved, that it was only right for his heart to soften at the sight of you returning to consciousness. But as you awoke, the voices in his head—the damned, relentless voices—grew louder, mocking him, provoking him, and luring him into darker thoughts. His right eye began to glow like a flickering candle, and when he saw the fear on your face, the words that followed weren’t his own. They were driven by the unforgiving side of him he couldn’t control, a side that thrived on your terror. The beast that couldn’t be tamed. 

She’s a traitor.

Punish her. 

Hurt her. 

Devour her. 

While in a heated, dramatic exchange with you, Sylus was spewing words he didn’t mean. He was doing actions without regard. He was mocking your pain. Your jealousy. Your heartbreak. The drive to hurt you was strong in his head, but he fought desperately against it. The demon inside him that tried to consume his every thought. He tried to battle his own self just to protect you. 

“I betrayed you because of her!” 

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened, replaced by the wicked smile on his face that enjoyed seeing you suffer. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but Sylus pressed his foot firmly on your wrist. She betrayed you, Sylus. Punish her. 

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with corrupt satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

It wasn’t until you reached for the gun on his nightstand, pointing it at yourself, that Sylus snapped out of his dark trance. The horror in his eyes was a stark contrast to the sorrowful shine in yours as you stood there, sobbing in front of him. Each word you spoke was tailed with the pain of a heart shattered by everything he had done and said. 

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment, but your heart had already been blown into smithereens. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened and a flicker of regret passed across his face, you had already made your decision when your finger tightened on the trigger. The recoil jolted your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. Instead of ending your life, the bullet shattered a window, ricocheting off the glass and disappearing into the night.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief.

You were barely responding to him as he cupped your cheeks and forced your lachrymose eyes to lock into his crimson ones. It was as though you had already resigned yourself to reality, that ending your own life would have been a better option than being with the man you hopelessly loved. 

“Y/N,” Sylus tried to shake you awake, desperate for you to look into his eyes. “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.” 

“...I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was overwhelmed by a profound, indescribable pain that pierced his chest. It was a pain that mirrored yours but was infinitely more intense. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me,” he said in a low, softened voice, “It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe. Why don’t you listen?” He longed to pull you into his arms, but the crushing reality was that he only now realized how deeply he cared for you. It was devastating that his awakening had come at the cost of your near-suicide, forced by a love he was unable to return.

Was it truly too late for him to come to terms with his feelings for you? Was it too late to accept that he had fallen in love with you rather than the woman he believed he was meant to be with?

His answer came in the form of a gut-wrenching realization. It manifested in the frantic voice of Diana—the woman he believed he loved, piercing through the haze of his thoughts by yelling, “Sylus, step back!”

“No!” he shouted, his black-red mist swirling to intercept the bullet.

But his efforts came too late. The bullet had already been set in motion, and it tore through the side of your head. 

It penetrated your skull with a cruel precision, not just once but twice. And the warmth of your blood seeped through his fingers as he caught your head before you fell onto the floor. 

Sylus’s mind raced with the enormity of what had just happened. His face grew ashen as he looked at your bloodied head and lifeless eyes, a wave of acid welling up his chest until he couldn’t breath. But the reason for his suffocation was because of his own guilt and grief. It was at the force of a sledgehammer when he was hit with the admission that he had always been in love with you. All along, despite your tangled mess, it was you who had captured his heart in this world.

His chest tightened, his breaths coming in ragged, broken bursts, while he held you close in his arms. And your last three words, your very last words of “I… love… you…” as you stared despairingly at him was icing on this bitter cake. 

No… no! 

He couldn’t fucking accept it. He was losing his mind, he was going insane. He was plunging into madness. Utter hysteria. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking as your eyes, once full of life and light, were now glazed over with the sheen of death. “Don’t leave. No, I can’t let this happen!” For the first time in a long time, he once again felt hot tears leaving his eyes. It was an emotion so rare it only ever showed toward the people he deeply cared about. “I love you too,” he struggled to say. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said back there.”

Sylus held you close, disregarding the blood staining his clothes while he was consumed by agony and regret. He had driven you to this, pushed you away, and then drawn you back into his orbit only to lose you forever. 

Though he may have conquered your heart, in doing so, he had only destroyed the both of you. The memory of your love and the warmth of your touch would haunt him for the rest of his days. And as he held your lifeless body, he knew that he would never be whole again.

But it shouldn’t be too late. No, it shouldn’t! He didn’t know if it was the hysteria or adrenaline kicking into him, but he had thought of an idea—no matter how immoral—that would return you back to him. He just couldn’t weigh which strong emotion he had to deal with first; should he grab the gun and shoot Diana out of anger? Or should he ignore her presence entirely and just focus on you?

Sylus chose to proceed with the latter as he carried you through the corridors of the base, his steps heavy with guilt and his shirt drenched in blood as you remained unconscious in his arms. The hunter girl had followed him in his spiritless steps, her eyes wide with confusion over his anguish.

“Sylus, why are you doing this?!” she demanded, grabbing his arm to halt his progress. “She would’ve killed you. That girl’s a traitor!”

Although he stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really return her gaze. His eyes could only look at your lifeless ones. “That girl you shot in the head,” he spoke low and in despair, “is my woman.” 

Diana was horrified. “But… but you never said—” Before she could finish, the twins intervened, holding her back from pursuing Sylus further. “What about me?”

He had already turned away. “I’ll fulfill my promise to protect you from afar, but this is where our paths part. Do not come near me again.”

~~

Sylus stood over your unconscious body, his eyes bloodshot and tears-streaked, while his heart pounded with a mix of grief and desperation. He had summoned Philip and the finest surgeons he knew to his hideout, where you lay in a medical bed, exposed and vulnerable, as if you were a subject in a desperate experiment.

Philip arrived with a grim expression, his eyes scanning the scene with both skepticism and professional detachment. Sylus could barely contain his desperation as he demanded, “Do everything you can to save her. Even if it means infusing a high-grade protocore in her brain.” After all, he had plenty of that. Sylus had all the resources, protocores of the highest grade, each with their own purpose and capabilities.

Yet Philip hesitated, his face contorting with concern. “Mr. Sylus, you know I can’t do this. She’s gone. The best thing to do is accept—”

That was when Sylus’s composure cracked. He kicked the nearby chair out of rage, tears streaming down his face as he begged, “You’ve done it before. Do it again! Please, I need her to live!”

The sight of Sylus, usually so imposing and dominant, breaking down in front of him was shocking. Philip felt a pang of sympathy toward the Onychinus boss who was willing to do everything for a woman who was already dead. His hands trembled as he spoke, “I-I can try. But I’m warning you, Mr. Sylus… even if she survives this, there’s zero chance her memories will be the same. They may even become altered, and it will be out of our control.”

Sylus’s gaze never left you. “I don’t mind. Just do it.”

~~

Weeks later, Sylus found himself in a secluded alleyway, meeting with a deepspace hunter who was also an enemy of his from another planet. Of course, the atmosphere was tense as both men stood in front of each other, eye-to-eye, carrying a defensive stance from one another. 

They were never friends. But that day, they weren’t enemies either. 

“How’s she?” Xavier broke the silence first. 

Sylus answered with a low voice. “She hasn’t woken up, but she’s stable.”

“Why’d you ask to meet?”

“I want you to look after her,” the Onychinus leader began, his voice steady but carrying an undertone of desperation, “Speak to the Association about taking Y/N back and forgiving her for her betrayal. In return, I’ll step away from Diana’s life. She’s all yours. I just want Y/N to return to her normal life.”

Xavier’s expression was serious. “You’re forgetting you still have a bounty on your head.”

“And you’re forgetting you and your backtrackers destroyed the planet where I was living,” he replied in equal disdain, but only enough to trap Xavier into a wall of guilt and obligation.

“I’ll see what I can do,” said Lumiere—or, in his current form, the deepspace hunter, Xavier. “The HIS will be easy to convince. But what if she wakes up and wants to go back to the N109 Zone?”

Sylus felt a tug of deep sadness pulling at his heart. “She won’t. Her memories of me are gone for good.” 

~~

If this was his karma for hurting you, then it was definitely the worst kind. 

Sylus maintained a distant watch over you after you returned to Linkon, observing from afar as you rejoined your life with the support of the Hunter’s Association and former colleagues. Each day, he sent Mephisto to monitor your whereabouts, carefully tracking your interactions and daily activities. The mechanical crow often returned with glimpses of your life, which Sylus scrutinized with intense focus as if he were watching a movie. Each glimpse offered him a sense of relief, happiness even, at knowing how easy you were settling back into your old life. 

You had been officially dismissed from the Hunter’s Association due to a medical condition that rendered you unfit for duty, but they continued to cover your pension and provided free lodging—likely thanks to Xavier’s persuasive influence over the Association. The official story was that you had been sent on a dangerous mission where a Wanderer had placed you in a life-threatening predicament. The narrative praised your honor and dedication to the end. There was no mention of Sylus, Onychinus, or the N109 Zone. No hint of the life you had once led or the truth behind your memory erasure. 

Yet, in a bitter twist of irony, perhaps the story you were told may not actually be farther from the truth.

After all, Sylus was the dangerous monster that sent you to that life-and-death situation.

But at least now, you were well cared for. So much so that Sylus fought to contain his jealousy whenever Mephisto’s eyes relayed visions of you sharing lunch with a physician named Dr. Zayne. He struggled to mask his irritation as he saw the man drape an arm around your shoulders while guiding you out of the hospital or wrapping a scarf around your neck to keep you warm. He would often even drive you home and send you gifts that were masked as tokens of “recovery.”

Bullshit.

Sylus clenched his fist, his thoughts of jealousy consuming him. My girl, he thought in despair, my beautiful girl is cherished by other men, while he remained imprisoned in the desolate shadows of the N109 Zone, longing for you.

Eventually, Sylus felt an overwhelming urge to see you in person. After discovering that you had taken a job at a café in Bloomshore District, he convinced himself that observing you from a distance wouldn’t cause harm. He just wanted to be near you, to ensure your safety, and to protect you from any potential threats.

As he sat on a nearby bench, Luke joined him with a comment. “Boss, you said we needed to disappear from her life.”

Kieran, taking a seat on Sylus’s other side, added, “Do you think she’d recognize us if we walked into that café? If she doesn’t, I’ll give her a hard time with my orders ‘til she remembers us!”

“Ha ha! Let’s do that!” 

“Boss, let’s go!” 

“Leave her be.” Sylus took a deep breath, adjusting his sunglasses and setting aside his newspaper—part of his disguise—as he watched you through the café window. He noticed the subtle traces of familiarity in your actions, but the connections that once bound you were now distant memories. “...I’m just here to make sure no one’s bothering her.”

The truth was, he wrestled with his emotions each time he visited the café you were working at. He wanted to approach you, to speak to you, but he hesitated each time because of the fear of rejection and the pain of seeing you not remember him holding him back. There were so many what-ifs in his head that it drove him insane to think about. 

Because if anything, what if you were already seeing someone else? What if you were already in a relationship with that scumbag doctor from the Akso Hospital? 

It was petty jealousy that drove Sylus into stepping into the café. And the first time your eyes met since you resurrected, his heart initially froze, then raced uncontrollably. His heart swelled with hope as you looked up at him, but it was quickly replaced by the lack of recognition in your eyes the moment you spoke from the counter. 

“Hi. What can I get you?” you asked, treating him no differently than any other customer. 

Sylus was caught off-guard, but he knew he had to play the part. “I, uh, I’ll get an Americano. Large.” 

“Alright, sir. And your name, please?” you asked, following your routine without any real interest in the man before you. 

But in a way, this was a relief for Sylus. It confirmed that the protocore embedded in your head was functioning as intended, and that any dark memories from the past had been completely erased, even if it meant he was no longer part of your life. 

“Skye,” he said with a soft smile. “That’s my name.”

~~

There wasn’t a single day Sylus missed visiting the café. 

At first, he worried that his constant presence might seem odd, or that you might think of him as a stalker. But as the days passed, seeing you became an essential part of his routine. A day without catching a glimpse of you felt incomplete, almost maddening. Seeing you was like a drug he couldn’t get enough of.

Initially, you found his regular visits a bit strange, but gradually, the small interactions between you two evolved. Sylus began to appear at the café just when you needed him most—whether it was fixing a broken coffee machine, addressing rude customers, or simply offering a helping hand. These acts of kindness somehow transformed your view of him. What started as a customer-service relationship slowly became more personable, and in recent days, you often greeted him warmly and smiled whenever he walked in. If only you knew how badly it warmed his heart that he got to do things for you without making him feel like he was intruding in your life.

And to be honest, Sylus even felt like he might be—as Luke termed it—foolishly ”crushing” on you. 

“Who knew our boss-man could be a hopeless romantic~?”

There was a time when he visited the café, only to find out from your manager that you called in sick from work. Sylus knew where you lived, but going to your place uninvited was a different story. He had to put some boundaries no matter how worried he was for you. But that was when Mephisto became useful; the mechanical crow would simply fly off to your place and observe you from outside. Then, an idea to drop a box of medicines and chocolates at your balcony was something he had thought of at the last minute. 

Back in the N109 Zone, Sylus anxiously looked at his crow. “Are you sure she didn’t see you?” 

“Caw! Caw!” 

“Did she eat the chocolates?” he asked, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t think he was holding.

“Caw! Caw! Caaaw!” Mephisto responded, fluttering its wings as if to reassure him.

~~

And then, that day happened. 

The day Sylus finally gathered the courage to ask you out, fate had other plans. And what began as a simple gesture to offer you a ride home during a stormy night quickly escalated into something far more intense.

Because one moment, he was offering you a ride. The next, he found himself in your bed, having the most passionate sex he had ever had with someone. He wasn’t even sure if he could call it that, because it felt more like he was making love to you, even if to you, he was probably just an attractive guy you unexpectedly hooked up with. 

So, he had to make himself known. He had to hear his real name leaving your lips. “Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curves, “Call me Sylus, kitten.” 

That night, he was an insatiable man who could only be satisfied by his woman. 

When he was buried far too deep inside you, he enjoyed the sight of ecstasy on your face and lavished at the sounds of your titillating moans with his every thrust. Not only did he miss the feeling of your walls tightening around his shaft, he also remembered how badly you used to want him to cum inside you. 

And so, he did just that. At his climax, he released hot spurts of seed into your womb, fulfilling a wish from the past that he used to deprive you of. 

But as the night progressed and the heat of the moment faded, the conversation shifted to a more profound and emotional terrain. Sylus wrestled with the urge to reveal the truth about his true identity—every painful detail and the secrets he kept from you. Yet, he knew that doing so would only complicate matters further and risk causing you more pain. The idea of hurting you again, after such a meaningful connection, was unbearable to him, especially now that you were still fragile as glass, ready to shatter at any moment. 

“Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?” 

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he pressed, forcing you to believe the narrative with his rueful eyes staring back at you. “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.” 

“Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” He caressed your back as you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, crestfallen as he thought of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.” 

~~

Your relationship with Sylus remained unclear since that night. And it seemed as though the roles had reversed—now he was the one left wondering where he stood in your life. Because on the surface, it did seem like you were willing to work on building a relationship with him again, but every encounter you two had were always physical rather than emotional. 

Sylus found himself at your apartment frequently, three or more times a week, engaging in intense, passionate encounters. He had lost track of how many times you two could do it in a single night, exploring every possible position, in every corner of your home. He had tried his hardest to make you feel like he was the only man who was more familiar with every inch of your body than anyone else. Yet, despite the physical closeness, he sensed that the emotional barriers between you remained intact.

No matter how deeply intertwined your bodies became, the walls around your heart remained firmly in place, and Sylus knew that there was a part of you he still couldn’t reach.

That, and the fact that he was still seeing you interact a little too closely with that doctor from Akso. 

It somehow didn’t surprise you when Sylus’s car showed up outside the hospital to pick you up, and you got on with a guarded look. 

“How’s it for my kitten today?” Sylus asked as he secured your seatbelt, his lips brushing against yours in a quick peck. “You didn’t mention you’d be at the hospital.”

You shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “Oh, I just... didn’t think I needed to inform you of my whereabouts.”

Dammit. He knew you weren’t officially together, but it hurt more than he cared to admit. And it didn’t help that Sylus’s pride couldn’t naturally take it, so he probed more. “That doctor. He’s not your neurologist, is he? It seems a little inappropriate for him to always be around you like that.”

“Well, I’ve known Zayne for a long time,” you merely replied, eyes focused on the view outside rather than the driver of the car. “I’d also appreciate it if you'd be less territorial over me, Sylus. I know you said we have a history together, but I don’t remember a thing, so… I hope you won’t rush me.” 

The Sylus you knew back then would have been enraged. Who were you to order him around? Who were you to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do over someone he rightfully owned? But he was a changed man now, and it was all because of you. You were the beauty that tamed him into a powerless beast.

“I understand,” Sylus replied, swallowing his pride as his hands tightened around the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead. “I apologize.”

He heard you sigh beside him, and a part of him wondered if it was out of sympathy. But before he could dwell on it, you spoke up, your tone more serious. “I was at the hospital today because I had a pregnancy scare.”

Sylus hit the brakes at the red light a bit too abruptly, his heart racing in excitement. “Are you?”

“No, thank God,” you breathed out in relief. “But... can you please stop doing it inside? I really don’t like it. It’s not smart for me to get pregnant by a man I barely know.”

His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t describe. The old you nearly begged him for a baby so he could be yours forever, but he was aware that this version of you right now was not the same. It never would be, and that was the price he had to pay for love. 

“I won’t do it again.” Once again, swallowing his pride. “I’m sorry.” 

You still invited him to sleep at your apartment that night, and your reason being to work on the memories of him you had lost. Time and time again did Sylus tell you it was better you didn’t remember them, but he could also understand your dilemma when you told him that you always felt like a piece of you was missing ever since that “accident”. 

“And this ugly scar on my temple,” you pointed it out, settling into your side of the bed. “What kind of Wanderer did I fight for me to get a traumatic brain injury?”

Sylus placed a tender kiss on your scar. “Perhaps it was a heartless monster more terrifying than a Wanderer.” 

Like me. 

“Oh, well.” You pulled the sheets over your body, suggesting you two would have no action tonight. “Good night, Sylus.” 

“...Sleep tight, kitten.” 

You didn’t need to worry, though, because he wouldn’t have touched you even if you had explicitly asked him to. After hearing your words that afternoon—about not wanting to get pregnant by him and asking him to stop being so territorial—Sylus felt the need to pull back and be more cautious in his actions toward you. Your words had cut deep, but he understood you were only protecting yourself from a man who was, essentially, still a stranger to you.

And despite the sting, he had promised himself that he would be patient for the only woman he cared about.

~~

However, that same night was a different story. 

No, it was actually way past midnight when Sylus woke up from an agonizing scream that pierced the silence of the night, chilling him to the bone. Instinctively, his hand reached out to the side of the bed where you should have been, but the sheets were cold and empty. And then panic gripped him, forcing him to leap out of bed, his mind racing with a single horrifying thought: the protocore.

He darted outside of your bedroom and deeper into your apartment space, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. The image of you, eyes wild and frenzied, ravaged by the effects of the protocore, haunted him.

What if it’s happening now? What if I lose her for good?

The horrifying thought of the protocore making you berserk like a wild Wanderer was always there.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw you on the kitchen floor, curled up, your body wracked with sobs. Relief washed over him to have found you, but it was fleeting, replaced by a deeper, more insidious fear. He tried to approach you cautiously, his voice soft as he placed his hands on your shoulders, “Sweetie, are you okay?”

You flinched at his touch, and when you turned to face him, the sight made his blood run cold. Your eyes, usually so warm, were now wide and filled with tears—tears of terror, of anger. And in your trembling hand, you held a knife, its blade gleaming in the low light as you pointed it directly at his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” you cried, your voice breaking at every word. Sylus froze, his breath catching in his throat as your sudden hostility surprised him. The knife’s tip hovered dangerously close to his skin, but it wasn’t the threat of violence that shook him—it was the raw, unfiltered pain in your eyes.

“Kitten, let’s talk about it calmly.” His voice was laced with cautiousness. 

“Stop calling me that!” You swallowed hard, your grip on the knife tightening. “You! I had a nightmare... about you. But it felt real, like a memory. You were torturing me at your base, laughing... and then, you shot me in the head.”

Sylus’s heart dropped into his stomach at hearing your altered memory. He felt his soul tear apart at the edges as he stared into your tear-streaked face. “It was just a dream. It wasn’t real, kitten.”

But you weren’t listening. “But is it also not real? That you…” You uttered each word with a threatening voice, “are the boss of Onychinus?”

The question hit him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words were stuck in his throat and refused to form. He was trapped. The situation felt like a dead end—he could deny that your dream was a real memory, but admitting he was the leader of Onychinus would only validate that lie.

His silence alone was an answer to you. And your expression crumbled into one of betrayal at that. “You lied to me! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. How am I supposed to believe anything you say now?”

The anger in your voice enforced the stillness of Sylus’s breath. He knew he had no saving grace from this situation, but still, he took a step closer, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you—”

“Get out!” you screamed, the knife shaking in your hand. The sight of you so broken, so shattered, tore him apart. “Get the hell out of my sight! I don’t wanna see you ever again, you monster!”

But Sylus couldn’t leave—not like this, not when you were hurting because of him. So in his desperation, he lunged forward, grabbed your wrist, and forced the knife into his own chest. The sharp pain radiated through him as he plunged the blade in and stabbed himself repeatedly, his face twisted in agony, but not from the physical pain. This was nothing compared to the torment of knowing he was the source of your suffering. Again. 

“Even if I can’t die,” he choked out, his voice ragged as he tried to absorb the stinging ache in his chest, “I’ll take all of this pain away from you.”

His own blood soaked his fingers, staining your hands as he released his grip on the knife. It fell on the floor as he stepped back, his heart aching more than his wounds ever could, but those wounds easily healed. The pain of losing you again, on the other hand, would never heal.

He looked at you one last time, seeing his monstrous reflection from your frightened eyes, before turning away. Sylus walked out of the apartment with heavy steps, feeling his soul crushed from your antagonism. He knew he had lost you—perhaps forever—and the realization was more than he could bear.

~~

A haze of cigarette smoke and the clink of glasses filled the air of the bar. Sylus sat alone at the counter, his new glass of whiskey untouched as he stared blankly into the amber liquid. The sting of alcohol was nothing compared to the numbness that had settled in his heart after that agonizing night with you. Every swallow of the hard liquor was a desperate attempt to drown out the torment of recent events, but the pain lingered, and it was damn persistent and unforgiving.

As he poured himself another drink, the muffled sounds of conversation around him blended into a dull roar. That was until a familiar voice cut through the haze—someone he wished he hadn’t come across.

“Sylus?” 

He looked up, squinting against the dim light, to see Diana standing before him. He hadn’t seen him for the past year or so. And surely, her presence was unexpected, but he felt a sudden tinge of irritation at the sight of her. While her, she looked both apprehensive and determined, as if she had just made a hard decision to confront him. 

“H-How have you been?” she asked the question as a conversation starter, but Sylus could see the faint hint of unease in her eyes.

He then straightened up, and his posture became stiff and defensive. “I told you it’s not wise for us to cross paths,” he said curtly, his voice slurred from the alcohol but still holding a note of finality. He didn’t want to engage, not with her, not tonight.

On the one hand, Diana’s eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. “I… I wanted to say sorry for what happened with Y/N. I didn’t realize how much she meant to you. Xavier… told me everything. About you and her.”

The apology was genuine, but the mention of your name was a fresh wound, and he felt the anger and sadness surge again, bubbling beneath his carefully maintained exterior. He wanted to lash out, to blame her for everything, but he swallowed the words, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing. In the end, this was all his doing and he couldn’t point fingers over the mess that he alone had created.

Sylus tried to stand up, the room spinning slightly as he steadied himself. “I’m leaving.”

But Diana stepped closer, her hand reaching out as if to stop him. He simply brushed past her, his movements unsteady but undeniably distancing from her. The desire to remain composed was slipping away, replaced by the harsh reality he faced every day since you were taken from him.

He made his way to the exit, pushing through the bar’s heavy door with a forceful shove. Sylus’s next move was to lean against the wall outside as the cool winter breeze blew on his face. 

“Boss.” Kieran’s voice held a note of concern as he and his twin steadied Sylus by wrapping his arms around their shoulders. “We’ll take you home.”

Luke glanced at his brother with a sad glint in his eyes before leading Sylus toward the car. “Maybe it’s time to let her go, boss.”

~~

February nights were the coldest. And it was supposedly the day for lovers, too. 

Unlike the couples that littered the riverside, Sylus stood alone, his breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. His dark coat offered little protection against the biting wind, but he stayed committed, his gaze fixed on the empty expanse before him. Four hours had passed since he had sent you the message, and each minute he stood there waiting for you felt like an eternity. The biting cold gnawed at him, but he was determined to wait even if he’d end up getting frostbite. It was the least he could do.

The frozen river’s surface glistened with a thousand points of light as the moon cast its silver glow over the landscape. And for the next thirty minutes that passed, he was still alone. 

She won’t be coming, said the voice in his head. Give up. 

As he prepared to leave, the ache of disappointment settled in his chest, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized you, standing cautiously across him, your eyes wide and filled with both curiosity and trepidation. The sight of you, despite waiting in the cold for hours, instantly warmed his freezing body. 

“Thank you for coming.” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. “I won’t keep you long.” 

You maintained your distance, wary of his next move. “Why did you want to meet?” 

With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to peel the scarf from around your neck, and he felt a prick in his heart seeing you flinch. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He waited until you allowed him to proceed, his fingers brushing against your skin in a touch that was both gentle and reverent. You looked at him with confusion, the chilly air fought by the warmth of your breath. Sylus was just carefully replacing the scarf with the necklace he had given you long ago, the red Beryl crystal catching the light and sending soft, radiant glimmers into the night. 

Do you even recognize it? 

“I’m just returning a gift, kitten.”

As he fastened the clasp behind your neck, he pressed a tender kiss to the nape of your neck, his lips lingering for a moment before he straightened. That small gesture of his was actually carried by the depth of his affection and regret. And, if you may, it was his silent apology for all that he did to you.

“Sylus…” 

His red eyes shimmered, intensified by the bloodshot whites. Sylus stared at your face with a mixture of love and ruefulness clouding his expression. He was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, with his voice breaking as he feathered the snowflakes that rested on your hair. “Take care of yourself. Always lock your doors at night and stay warm.” He took the scarf Zayne gave you, and pulled out a new one from his coat. It was a silly scarf with kitten prints all over it, that he soon carefully wrapped around your face and neck. “Wear that whenever you can.” 

Your own eyes were large and rimmed with tears as though you were also hurting inside. “Why are you saying this?” you asked, keeping the weakness inside. “You sound like you’re saying goodbye.” 

Sylus’s gaze was suddenly directed back to the river, but it was only because he had to avoid looking at your eyes or he would lose it. “The Association managed to track me here in Linkon and they’re still after me. I just managed to escape, but I can’t stay here,” he explained calmly, “I only came back to this city because of you… But now, I have to disappear, so don’t worry about having me around. I won’t bother you anymore.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and the tears that had been pooling your eyes finally spilled over. “Are you crazy?” you cried, seemingly unable to comprehend the words he was spewing. “You’re leaving me?”

Sylus’s heart broke at the sight of your tears, but he had to restrain any weakness by giving in. Instead, he reached out, and his hand trembled as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “I love you, Y/N.” He wanted to be the first one to say it this time. “Even if you regain all your memories of me—good or bad—I want you to know that I regret every pain I caused you. Even if you hate me, I’ll still love you. Today, tomorrow, and in our next lives.”

Sylus took one last, lingering look at you, his eyes filled with a sorrowful haze that nearly blinded his vision. He turned slowly, walking away from the river’s edge, with each step causing distance from the love he was leaving behind.

And you, you stood there, the necklace around your neck feeling heavy as you watched him disappear into the night. A surge of emotion overwhelmed you, and without thinking, you sprinted towards him. You took quick, long strides just to reach him, pulling him into a tight embrace, and crashing your lips against his in a bittersweet kiss.

Both of you cried as the kiss deepened, and you were encasing each other’s lips in a tight lock. The intensity of your emotions poured out in this poignant, intimate moment. And frankly, Sylus had never been this emotional. No one had ever seen this fragile side of him that he had always kept hidden. After all, what dominant, cruel boss of Onychinus would spill tears over a woman?

But they wouldn’t understand it. They never would. 

When you finally pulled away, your eyes were red and swollen from tears. “Be careful,” you sniffled, barely unable to catch the breath you needed for the next. “Keep in touch if you can. And when I’m ready, I’ll find you.”

Sylus’s eyes were also filled with tears, but he managed a forlorn smile as he nodded. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll wait,” he promised softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

“Until we meet again.”

As he stepped back, the distance between you seemed impossibly vast, but the promise in your eyes and the love in his heart made the separation bearable, if only just. And when Sylus turned away, his heart was heavy but full of the hope that one day, you would find each other again. That one day, this distant love would become a cherished memory that you would look back on as you grow old and wrinkled, yet insurmountably happy and content with the life you had lived. With or without him.

PREVIOUS PART

[burins]

bat physical therapy thoughts:

Dick: longest routine you've ever seen, does it religiously every night. some of the stretches are things he used to do with his parents but most of them are recovery/compensation ones for his bad knee and his fucked up shoulders and his weird wrist and his etc etc etc. dick is kind of a mess but he's also an acrobat and he knows how to keep his body at peak performance as long as he can.

Tim: also does all his stretches because a) Dick does and b) he wants to keep being Robin as long as possible and that means treating his body like a machine brute forcing his way into physical prowess

Bruce: has a VERY extensive routine. regularly forgets to do it until he finds himself white knuckling through blinding levels of lower back pain and has to get back on the wagon and rebuild his muscle strength. you would think based on everything else about him that he'd be better at basic bodily maintenance but he resents the necessity of it enough to not do it the way he should.

Jason: has never stretched in his life. sounds like microwave popcorn every time he moves. everyone thinks he does that stupid rolling panther walk because it's intimidating but he actually fucked up his hip flexors years ago and hasn't bothered to get them checked out because "it doesn't impact him in the field" (it does)

Steph: kind of perfunctory routine Leslie made her learn. she does it every couple weeks it's fine.

Cass: has never been injured in a way that required PT to recover because she doesn't move in ways her body doesn't support <3

Damian: should be young enough not to need it but does all of Dick's stretches anyway, just in case, and with incredible concentration. it's sooo cute

Duke: is kind of dubious about all of this (he has superpowers, come on.) but he'll do stretches with someone else as a team thing.

Babs: if any of the bats complain about not wanting to do their stupid routines for babies to her again she's going to beat them with a pull down bar removed from one of the very expensive custom machines in her extremely extensive home gym.

[followthebluebell]

hello! I was scrolling through your blog (delightful) and found the post about Beef and his whiskers position, and I'm ashamed to say that in all my near-thirty years of being around cats and thinking I understand them pretty well I never thought to pay attention to the 'circle shape'. could you please expound a bit on what to look for when it comes to whiskers position and how to interpret it? Beef is an absolute sweetheart but looking at a brachy cat as an example makes it a bit hard for me to generalize. thank you!

Thank you! And also thank you for your patience--- I wanted to give some really good examples and have been scouring my blog for the best circle whisker cats I could find.

Picture heavy post under this.

so this is the cat grimace scale. It's a sort of way to visually see if a cat is in pain/distress, and it gives a simplified view of the things I'm going to discuss. It's important to recognize that whisker shape/position is just ONE piece of communication and doesn't tell the whole story. A lot of this is also based on CONTEXT as well.

When you're looking at a cat face, here are the things you really want to pay attention to:

Ear position—Ears facing forward, ears slightly pulled apart, or ears flattened and rotated outward.

Orbital tightening—Eyes opened, eyes partially opened, or eyes squinted.

Muzzle tension—Muzzle relaxed (round), muzzle mildly tense, or muzzle tense (elliptical).

Whisker position—Whiskers loose and curved, whiskers slightly curved or straight, or whiskers straight and moving forward.

Head position—Head above the shoulder line, head aligned with the shoulder line, or head below the shoulder line or tilted.

Calypso's huge whiskers give a REALLY good visual on the 'circle shape' to look for. You can see her whiskers are pushed forward and are loose and curved. She's feeling playful and engaged! She really wants to know what I'm up to and what's in my hand (spoiler alert, it was treats)

Compare that to this later picture, taken after she heard a dog bark nearby:

Her muzzle is tighter. Her whiskers are pulled back a bit, and are straight. Her ears are set differently as well, one pulled back a bit. She's concerned, but not terribly worried about this strange sound.

You can also compare it to this handsome lad:

Again, his whiskers are fairly straight. They aren't pulled back as far, but he's still very tense. He was extremely tense and upset that I took his water dish away from him (because it needed to be cleaned and changed).

Milo is another great example of excited whiskers. They're pushed forward and curved, forming a sort of circle. Like Calypso, he's interested in what I'm doing and feeling playful. He was very interested in the toy I was throwing for him.

Gumdrop is a good example of a more relaxed whisker position. She's curious, but not feeling playful. Her whiskers are held very loosely rather than being pushed forward. Her tail nub is up, indicating friendliness and confidence.

[oceantornadoo]

ch6 the wrong john | masterlist | next

tw: idiots in love acting like idiots, reader is insecure i fear

john price x f!reader, reader is johnny’s twin

--

Your cat likes John better than you and you can’t seem to care.

He coaxes her into the carrier with ease and you watch it like you’re not there, instead floating above your body. John’s hands rummage through your dressers, packing underwear and shirts and pants into the same suitcase you used when you visited base. There’s a joke in there somewhere but you can’t seem to find it, words turning to ash in your mouth. Johnny is missing, so there’s no reason to laugh. All you can do is stand in the corner, holding your cat’s carrier, watching a captain commandeer your apartment like it’s a mission. In five minutes, John has fit your necessities into two bags and has you out the door with a hand on your back. 

“You didn’t tell me her name yet.” You blink and there’s a black car in front of you, John’s hand pushing you into the passenger seat while he puts your stuff in the back and gets into the driver's side. The cat is on your lap, somehow not throwing a fit at her new home.

“Bubbles.” He hums, gunning the engine and turning the car into the familiar path to the airport. “Bubbles?” You glance out of the window, noting the day is as dreary as you feel. “She has a mohawk. Like Jo- my brother. He’s Soap, so I thought Bubbles…” Your throat tightens. Johnny’s missing and you’re sitting here with your cat, making stupid puns he would love.

John squeezes your thigh and returns his hand to the wheel. The loss of it is a shot to the heart. Now, you’re a victim to him. Sadness is not sexy. It’s painful but you try not to think of it too much. Everything is falling apart anyway.

“We’ll find him, sweetheart. Can tell ya more on the plane.” Everything is in slow motion. Bubbles licks your fingers through the mesh of her carrier and you focus on it like your life depends on it. 

“I’m supposed to work tomorrow.” 

“Already called ‘em. Y’r on sabbatical.”

“My plants…”

“Left a note f’ y’r neighbors.”

“How can I pay rent if I’m not working?”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. ‘ve got ya.” 

You nod and close your eyes, wishing everything away like a bad dream. When you wake, you’re on a small military plane. Bubbles is next to you, buckled in. You reach for your phone to take a picture for Johnny, to show him your military cat, but your hand drops when you remember. The heat of John’s stare burns the side of your face, and it takes a few seconds, but you finally gather enough courage to face him. The look in his eyes is haunting. You can’t tell, but John’s been replaying the moment he lost two of his men over and over since it happened. When he closes his eyes, it’s all he sees. Opening his eyes is worse, seeing you in pain and knowing he can’t do anything to immediately fix it.

“Was s’pposed t’ be an easy mission. They got the drop on us. Would’ve been so easy to take all four but they only took Soap an’ Ghost. Ghost’s only family is Soap so we think they’re goin’ to target you next. They’ve got a vendetta against y’r brother. Old wounds an’ all that. You’ll be on base where y’r protected.” He pauses for a second. It’s now dawning on him that you’ll be a few meters away, the fantasy he’s been wanting, but under the worst circumstances. “Questions, sweetheart?” Only one.

“Will you find him?”

“I will. Don’t care what I’ve got to do to do it.”

When you get to base, Kyle is there. He’s looking worse for the wear, a new scar decorating his eyebrow. “You look very chic, Kyle.” He shakes his head, pulling you into a hug. “‘m sorry, angel. We’re gonna find him.” It’s the first time it’s really hit you. Maybe it’s the fact that this is only the second time you’ve met Kyle and he’s already treating you like family on account of your brother. Tears form in your eyes and he tugs you closer, rubbing your back as you cry. You remember you’re still out in the open, standing in front of countless guards, and start taking deep breaths to calm the tears. “It’s ok, let it out.” You nod against him, then pull back to wipe the tears away. Bubbles meows, desparate for attention, and Kyle’s ears perk up at the sound. “‘m goin’ to walk you to your quarters an’ you’re goin’ to tell me when you got a cat.” John’s already ahead of him, your bags in his hands, so you turn to Kyle and hand him the cat carrier. “So it all started with a dumpster…”

There aren’t spare quarters in the task force’s section of base, so you’re staying in Johnny’s. As if that wasn’t already terrible, you’re across the hall from John’s quarters. John’s disappeared, the bags he packed for you neatly set near Johnny’s bed. Kyle brings you to the room, already having bonded with Bubbles, and promises that someone will be by with dinner. Every second is precious to find your brother, so you can’t blame them both for having to leave.

Your idiot twin didn’t even make his bed before he left. You tidy his room, ignoring your shaking hands, then venture out with a bag of his laundry just to give you something to do. A kind lieutenant in the hallway directs you, and you can feel pitying eyes follow you to the laundry room. A civilian staying multiple nights on base is unheard of, but the rest of the soldiers there are used to the task force operating by their own rules. It seems some groups have left, the building feeling emptier and less lively since you last visited. Or maybe they’re just giving you space in this time of half-mourning, this purgatory of doubt. While you wait for Johnny’s clothes, you try to remember the path to John’s office. It takes you a few backtracks, but you finally make it back to where this all started. You raise your hand to knock, but a bit of eavesdropping reveals there’s at least five people in the room. Not wanting intrude, you go back to Johnny’s room and wait. Waiting seems to be the only thing you can do.

Hours later, after a tasteless dinner of mess hall food, you still can’t fall asleep. It’s past midnight and base is quiet. In your state of delirium, you drag yourself out of bed and outside your room, feet tracing an easy path to John’s room. It feels selfish, seeking him out when your twin is probably in some sort of hell, but you can’t prevent your hand from reaching his door. You knock twice, then curse yourself as the logical half of your brain wakes up and asks what the hell you’re doing. It’s too late to turn back. “Come in.”

John’s sitting at a small desk shuffling through papers. He’s got on blue light glasses you’ve never seen before, and the utter attractiveness of them stops your mouth from opening. He still hasn’t looked up yet, making small notes on the papers in front of him. “What is it?” Finally, John’s head tilts up, then straightens when he realizes it’s you. “I’m sorry, I’ll go-” “Don’t. ‘M sorry sweetheart, didn’t realize it was you.” You twist your hands together, feeling awkwardly uninvited. His space is hardly lived in, no personal effects to be found except a blue blanket on his bed.

“Somethin’ botherin’ you?” You nod, taking a step closer to his desk. “Couldn’t sleep.” He nods back, eyes shining with understanding. Rolling out his chair from under his desk, he spreads his legs in invitation. You answer it silently, shuffling towards him until you’re standing in between them. His actions are so at odds with how avoidant he was in the morning, but you’re too tired to care. Rough hands caress the outside of your upper thighs, then move up to your hips and waist. He rubs small circles, similar to how he did during your bathroom confrontation months earlier, and the motion already starts to calm you. John scoots closer to the edge of his chair until his face is flush to your clothed stomach. Instantly, you reach out to pull him in, hands sinking into the strands of his hair until you feel his glasses poke your stomach. His hands settle above your ass, never stopping their circular caresses. The angle is slightly awkward, a bit uncomfortable, but it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, namely being this close to the man that haunts your dreams. The two of you stand in almost-silence, breaths syncing until you can’t tell where his start and yours end.

“Sleepwithme.” You pull back until your hands cradle his face, smoothing over the creases your shirt left on his skin. “What?” He releases his hold on you to take off his glasses, setting them down on his desk. “Sleep with me.” Your heart drops, hands leaving his face. The implication that you two only seek each other out for sex is clear, and you can’t even blame him since that’s how it started. He frowns at you. “I’m not really in the mood for sex, I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow or…” John shakes his head, standing from his desk chair. “I meant jus’ sleep, sweetheart. Can’t blame you f’ jumpin’ to conclusions, I know I’m irresistible.” You roll your eyes, shoving him away. John catches your arm and pulls you into him, tucking your head under his chin like you were made to fit together. You let him hold you, nuzzling into him like you did the first night you meant. “I take this as a yes?” You nod against him. John turns off the light and ushers you into his bed. It’s a bit small for two until he tugs you on top of him, chest to chest. Your legs tangle, your arms flaying about for a better position until he tucks them around his broad shoulders. You can feel his muscles contract with every breath, how his heart beats strong as you shuffle your head up and into the crook of his shoulder. 

“Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

When you wake in the morning, your core is throbbing, and not in a good way. Your period’s early, a symptom of how deranged your mental state has become, and it would be fine until you remember the man under you. The man who’s seen you naked but not like this, not vulnerable in a way you can’t control. Early morning sun peaks through his curtains, reminding you that you’ve only slept for a couple of hours. The light reveals a small stain of blood on your pajama shorts and John’s boxers, a bit on his chest since he slept shirtless. It’s your worst nightmare.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You whisper-yell. John’s up and moving before you have the chance to take stock of the situation. Always a man with a plan, he peels you off of him, pushing you towards his ensuite bathroom. He murmurs sweet nothings you’re sure are empty platitudes, just him being nice. 

“‘S okay, jus’ some blood, pet.”

“Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

“Take a shower, be there in a second.”

In the shower, you want to bang your head against the tiled wall. The shock of your period almost erases the memory of Johnny being missing until it comes back in full force, along with worser cramps. Tears stream down your face, washed away quickly by the shower. Everything is unfair, and your hormones join the party to make it worse. That’s where John finds you, wiping away the puffiness under your eyes as the water turns cold.

“None of that, pet.” There’s still blood on his chest and he notices the same time as you do, shucking off his boxers and joining you under the shower spray. It’s not sexy, the first time you shower with John. You feel stripped raw, maneuvering yourself into the corner so he can have the water. John’s having none of it, tugging you into his arms. 

“John…” You murmur. Satisfied that you’re clean, he reaches around you to turn off the water. He’s so nonchalant that you’re both bare, that your body is bloated and sore in all the wrong ways. 

“What?” He finally replies. Getting out first, he hands you a towel, then grabs another to wrap around his waist. There’s a pair of your underwear on the counter, clean, and you question how he got it without leaving his bedroom. It’s a mystery not worth your time. He hands you a container of pads and tampons. 

“Where’d you get this?”

“My cabinet.”

“...Why do you have these?”

“Jus’ like to be considerate is all.”

His thoughtfulness collides with the fact that he has period products for any menstruating woman in his bedroom. Does this happen often? Do women’s bodies sense how safe and nuturing he is and just let loose?

“Jesus, why aren’t you someone’s boyfriend yet?” You mutter it, mainly to yourself, as you’re sticking a pad on your underwear. John’s head snaps up at you, eyes questioning. “What’re ya talkin’ about?” You ignore him in favor of putting on your underwear, stumbling with wet legs until John catches your shoulder. “That. This. All of this. The fucking period products. You’re like a walking template for husbands. How are you single?” Finally, you’re eye to eye with him, gripping your respective towels. His brow is furrowed, stubble slightly outgrown in a way you’re itching to feel. His eyes, normally blue like the ocean, are stormy. “Didn’t think I was single.” Um.

He walks out of the bathroom and you follow him to his closet where he’s digging for new boxers. “You have a girlfriend? How could you not…oh my god. I’m such an idiot. What, is she waiting for you at home somewhere?” Clothed in new boxers, he finally hits you with the force of his full glare. You almost step back under the cloud of his anger. “There is no girlfriend waiting at home. I thought you were waiting for me. Guess I miscalculated.” The weight of his words drags down your shoulders. You sit in his desk chair, mute as he gathers a clean set of fatigues. It’s only when he’s putting on his belt you finally find your voice.

“You thought we were dating?” He scoffs at your question. “Clearly, we’re not. Guess that one’s on me.” You fumble for something to say. “John, I told you, we can’t.” He shakes his head, and you note how he has to try twice to get his belt through his pant loops. “We can call and fuck and sleep, but we can’t date. Thanks for clearin’ that up, sweetheart.” He’s already lacing his boots and you’re still in his fucking towel, dripping water onto the floor. John approaches you and for a heartstopping second you think he’ll kiss you, but he just reaches around you to grab the paperwork on his desk. “Well, hope you feel better. I’ll be out workin’.” You nod silently, tracking his footsteps to the door. “John.” He stops with a hand on the doorknob. It’s the most vulnerable thing he’s ever done. Your tongue fumbles to find the right words, the right order to say them in, but all you can settle on is a “Thank you.” He shakes his head, not turning back when he replies. “I’ll see you later.” You busy yourself with gathering your bloody clothes, finding a T-shirt of his to wear so you don’t step into the hall naked. Tears threaten to fall but you choke them back, refusing to cry over him.

When that nice lieutenant finds you again, she tells you John’s been deployed, and he won’t come back until he finds your brother.

-

is anyone noticing how he uses different petnames based on the circumstances? no, just me? also i swear this has a happy ending we just have some idiots in love.

taglist

@lveegsoi

 @galactict3a 

@nova-willow-541 

@sirbonesly 

@starlightkitten19

@prettycatboy

@roastyyytoastyyy

@autumnheartsprice

@lucienofthelakes

@eyeless-kun

@bina-passion-fruit

@lilynotdilly

@lovenewfandoms

@tired-writer04

@sleep101

@konigsm

@mehjustalasshere

@alyssajofreitas

@thriving-n-jiving

[luxcuriousao3]

Fevered Mistakes

Summary: Ghost, a formidable Alpha, is captured and dosed with rut inducers. You are the omega he's tossed into a cell with. WC: 3429 Warnings: a/b/o, graphic nonconsensual sex, nonconsensual drugging, unprotected PIV sex, referenced torture/experimentation, blood, vomit, death, hurt no comfort, background ghoap, POV switches denoted by triple asterisks (***) Notes: Based off the first half of this post that I made a bit ago. Ngl, I don't really like how this one turned out, but y'all were begging for it so, so I feel bad just letting it rot in my google docs lol. There are two scrapped versions of a second chapter that would make this fic farrrrr less angsty, but idk if I'm ever gonna continue this, so I'm treating this like it's a one-shot with the warnings. If I ever do post a continuation, it will be linked on my masterlist, so you can check for it there. And hey, maybe if y'all share your thoughts about this in my inbox or whatever, it might entice the brainworms again lol. Taglist: @captainsherlockwinchester110283

There was a girl in the cell.

She was small and soft in the way that almost all omegas were, though it was her scent that really gave her status away. Sweet and alluring but soured by fear, it invaded his nostrils and made him all the more dazed. The blow to his head, the one that had landed him in this situation, would have been hard enough to kill him, had he not been an Alpha.

He’d been sloppy. Let his feelings for Johnny get in the way of procedure. But seeing his beta, laid out on the floor, bleeding from his head, still as a corpse… he couldn’t have controlled himself if he tried. And at that point, he hadn’t wanted to try.

He’d gotten distracted, and he’d paid the price.

It had been three days since he'd been captured, by his best estimate. It was hard to measure, between the head injury and being kept in a room with no windows. All he had to go off of was how often someone came in to torture him for information. He never gave any up, of course. Even compromised, he never would. He'd been trained far better than that.

Still, he wasn’t in very good shape. Beaten to hell and back, his head scrambled… his feet dragged uselessly as he was pressed up against the bars, one of his captors unlocking the cuffs on his wrists while the other two kept him restrained. The fourth jammed a syringe into his neck, injecting him with some unknown substance. Ghost tried to break free, to throw a punch or a kick, anything, but his reflexes were sluggish, his thoughts painfully slow. All he succeeded in doing was annoying them, and he got an elbow to the back of his neck for the trouble.

He was no omega, couldn’t be immobilized by a simple scruffing, but fuck if that shit didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He collapsed to the concrete floor of the cell with an animalistic howl, and the sourness in the omega’s scent spiked, her heart rate speeding up. Ghost couldn’t find it in himself to care—the very last of rational thought was beginning to abandon him as the pain spread from the back of his neck throughout his entire body, growing unbearable as it reached his groin. He felt like there was fire raging just beneath his skin, and his senses sharpened as his dark gaze locked onto the wide-eyed omega curled up in the corner, neck cracking unsettlingly with the speed at which he turned. He had time for only one more thought before instincts took over, his heart dropping out his ass as dread turned the blood in his veins to ice before it began to boil all over again.

Rut inducers.

***

When you woke up, you were escorted to the cell in which you spend your heats. That confused you, since your next heat wasn’t supposed to be for another month at least.

It also terrified you.

Though you didn’t remember much of what happened during your heats, you did remember the pain. The desperate, burning need for an Alpha’s knot, and the aching, gaping emptiness when you were denied it, the only thing that could bring you any relief. This cell held nothing but bad memories, and you didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

But you had no choice. For as long as you could remember, you did as you were told, the way a good omega should. In your sleep, you thought maybe you saw glimpses of a time when things were different, when there were no scientists in white coats and men and women in military uniforms controlling your life. But you knew those were just dreams. None of it was real.

You sat on the thin mattress in the cold, dank cell for hours before something finally happened that could explain why you were there. A man was brought in—massive and with a terrifying skull mask on his face—and you barely had to take a whiff of him as he was shoved into your cell with you to know that he was an Alpha. There was that familiar smell of damp, scorched earth after a lightning strike, and you knew from the intensity of it that he was angry. No, not just angry. Furious. The very air reeked of electricity and burning plastic, overwhelming any hint of his natural scent. This was an Alpha that was ready to rip, rend, tear, kill. And you were stuck alone in a cell with him.

“Не сопротивляйтесь,” one of the uniformed men told you, expression entirely unsympathetic. It was almost worse than the look of sadistic, scientific glee on the face of the white coat next to him. “Ты сделаешь только хуже.”

Don’t fight back. You’ll only make it worse.

Your eyes widened, and you barely had a chance to shake your head before the unfamiliar Alpha was on you, grabbing your ankle in a brutal grip and dragging you away from the corner you’d curled up in. You screamed in pain as you felt the bone snap like a twig under his large palm, instinctively hitting your hands against his broad chest as you tried to fight him off. If you had been in heat, you wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have even felt the pain from him breaking you, would have spread your legs and begged him to knot you. But you weren’t, and so your survival instincts overtook those of your omega. You knew you would be punished later for disobeying, but at the moment, you didn’t care. Anything was better than being knotted by the feral Alpha on top of you. He would maul you to death while he fucked you, you just knew it.

The Alpha grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. The other ripped your shirt off, causing your back to arch and your tits to spill out of your bra. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and letting out a satisfied growl. You tried to headbutt him, and he snarled in your face, wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing tight enough to make your vision go black around the edges in less than ten seconds. By the time you caught your breath and were able to think again, his hands were busy yanking down your pants and underwear in one harsh tug. You let out a hoarse shriek of fear, flipping onto your belly to try and crawl away, ignoring the searing pain in your shattered ankle. But that was your fatal mistake. His beefy palm met the back of your neck, fingers digging in as he lifted you slightly by it, his other hand coming around to roughly grope your breasts.

And you stopped.

You stopped moving, stopped screaming, you nearly stopped breathing. You were limp as a ragdoll as he scruffed you, utterly and completely paralyzed. You could do nothing but take it as he shoved your face into the dirty concrete, pried your legs apart, and forced himself inside you. You could feel the agonizing pain as his cock practically tore you in half, could feel the ice cold fear freezing every cell of your body, could feel his blunt nails digging into the ultra-sensitive skin of your nape. You could feel everything. But you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

It seemed to go on forever, and yet take no time at all. One second, you were pliant and supine beneath the Alpha as he pounded into you, his weight constricting your lungs and making it difficult to breathe. The next, the restrictive grip on your neck was gone, replaced by a sharp pain at the junction of it and your shoulder as his teeth sunk into your flesh. Into your mating gland. Your own screams were echoing in the tiny cell, now, no longer confined to your head.

“M’sorry, M’sorry, M’sorry,” a rough, wet voice chanted in your ear. It was the Alpha, speaking to you in English. You could understand it, even if you couldn't speak it. He was still on top of you, still inside you, his knot stretching you far beyond your limits. And yet he was… apologizing? You stopped screaming in your confusion, the terrified screeching replaced by the sound of your heaving sobs.

“M’sorry, M’so sorry, they dosed me, M’sorry,” the Alpha continued, voice slurred. You struggled to focus on his words, distracted by the liquid you could feel dripping down your thighs. It was probably blood, you realized distantly. His knot wouldn’t have let any of his seed escape. That’s what it was there for.

That, and to keep you from running.

The Alpha’s voice grew more and more gravelly as his knot began to deflate, his apologies interrupted by grunts as he began to move his hips again, thrusting in and out of you shallowly. You whined, clawing at the floor, trying to wriggle free, but he just settled nearly his entire weight on top of you.

“Don’ fight,” he growled, and you could tell from the strain in his voice that he was at least trying to resist his instincts. It didn’t make you feel any better, especially not when his fingers inched closer and closer to your nape again. “Don’t, or m’gonna have to— fuck, I don’t— fuckin’ be a good omega an’ take it— m’sorry, fuck— don’t fuckin’ fight me—”

You were still sobbing, shrieking like a dying thing with every quick, brutal snap of his hips against yours. Too out of it from being scruffed, you missed the warning in his jumbled plea threat, continuing to struggle underneath him. You felt your ribs crack as he pressed the rest of his considerable weight onto you, and the strangled, stuttering gasp that left your throat was the kind of sound that elongated in a horror film.

The Alpha seemed to think so too, as he moaned in a horrid mixture of pleasure and abject misery before he scruffed you again. You went still, once more trapped in your own body. It was the worst sensation you’d ever felt, worse than the experiments the white coats ran on you, worse than your punishments, worse than your heats spent alone. Worse than the shattered ankle or broken ribs, worse even than the feeling of him ripping you apart from the inside. You were always helpless and vulnerable, being an omega, but this… when you were scruffed, you were no longer a person. You were just an object, to be used as your Alpha saw fit.

Your Alpha.

The man on top of you—who was knotting you for the second time now—was your Alpha. He’d claimed you, the pain in your shoulder was proof of that. You would wear his mark forever, now. You would belong to him for the rest of your life.

You prayed that it was short.

Your Alpha released his painful grip on your nape again, but you didn’t try to get away this time. You were far too disoriented. Being scruffed once was bad enough, but twice in as many minutes? You could easily go into shock from that. You probably were in shock, but you didn't panic, feeling too distant and floaty. The ice in your veins was numbing you from the inside. That was nice… you leaned into it, letting your blankly staring eyes flutter shut—

“Omega!”

Your eyes snapped back open and you whimpered, trying to curl in on yourself. That only caused pain to flare up all over your body, the burning between your legs as you tugged on his knot pulling another scream from you.

“Stay still,” the same harsh voice ordered, and your instincts forced you to obey. The command was a little more collected this time, a little more coherent, even if he was still groaning and slurring.

“Don' move,” your Alpha panted, each word sounding like it was dragged out of him. He started to fuck you once more. “Don’— don’ wanna scruff you ‘gain.”

You didn’t have it in you to be grateful. Didn’t have it in you to be sympathetic to his situation either, not while he was still rutting into you like an animal.

They dosed me, he’d said. You wished they’d dosed you. At least then you wouldn't feel the pain…

***

Simon had never hated being an Alpha more than in that moment.

Bollocks deep in a pretty little omega, one already stuffed full of his come and wearing his mark… he wished fervently that this was just another of his nightmares, the ones that stuck with him like a bad smell even after escaping Roba.

Between the disorientation from his forced rut and the nasty head injury, he almost let himself believe that it was. If it was a dream, he could give in, and he wouldn’t actually be hurting anyone. He could just ride it out, come in trousers wherever he was sleeping, and hopefully, it would end faster.

But her screams were far too real.

She wailed like she was being flayed alive as she struggled underneath him, and his Alpha—after being denied a partner for his ruts for over a decade—was brutal and swift in its response. Scruffing her like a scrappy mutt, growling in pleasure at the way she submitted to him—the way she was forced to submit to him.

It was nearly impossible to think around how fucked his head was—by instinct and injury both—but after he'd knotted her for the second time, he was able to act a little more like the trained soldier he was, and not like a panicked civvie.

He didn’t argue with himself any longer. He accepted the reality of the situation as it was. He was in rut. He was trapped with an omega. He had brutalized and claimed her. If he kept focusing on trying to stop himself altogether, he was going to kill her. He needed to give up on that and instead just try to minimize the damage.

Starting with stopping her from going into shock, and then stopping her from fighting back. It only made his Alpha all the more eager to dominate her—by any means necessary.

It sickened Simon that that part of him existed. Deep down, he feared that it always had. That Roba hadn’t created it, back in the desert. That he’d just unearthed it. All of Simon’s evilness, all his wicked desires…

It was why he’d never taken an omega before. Never even let himself date one, back when that was something he did.

Johnny was perfect, in that way. In many ways, really, but him being a beta—it soothed Simon’s fears. The fears that were being proved true.

He didn’t know how long passed before the rut inducers wore off. It had to have been hours. The omega—his omega—was still facedown on the ground when he pulled out of her for the last time. She was bleeding from where he’d bitten her, and where he’d bred her, his cock drenched in her blood, her own thighs stained with a mix of it and his come.

Simon threw up at the sight. He told himself it was just from the head injury.

He was naked, except for his mask, which was pushed up past his nose. He didn't remember taking off his trousers, though he recalled that his shirt had been cut to shreds the first day of his captivity by his torturer. He didn’t remember a lot of his mini-rut, as was common when it was induced. But the evidence of what he’d done was right in front of him. The omega—not mine, not my omega, not mine—was clad in nothing but the scraps of her clothes. Her side, hips, wrists, and the back of her neck were bruised. Her ankle was bent at a funny angle. A small patch of hair near her nape was missing, leaving her scalp red and raw. Simon looked at his hands, and found the strands woven between his fingers.

She didn’t move.

Simon pulled his mask into position and Ghost took over. He moved towards the girl, feeling for a pulse. She flinched violently when he touched her neck, and he felt relief—and guilt—reverberate through him. Ghost was good at ignoring his feelings, though.

“S’over,” he told her, voice gruff. “S’done now. Promise.”

The omega didn’t acknowledge his words, just kept her shoulders tucked up by her ears, guarding her neck. Ghost didn't protest, simply felt along her spine for any breaks. He didn’t find any, so he carefully rolled her over.

Her breasts were red and raw, nipples bleeding from being scraped back and forth across the floor. There was a hand shaped bruise around her throat, and petechiae in the whites of her glassy eyes. Ghost ignored his horror at the sight, and began to palpate her ribs. She inhaled sharply when he touched the eighth and ninth ones, a pitiful, pained whine escaping her.

The ribs were probably fractured, if not broken. The bruising above them was clue enough. There was another massive bruise low on her belly, and Ghost swore. Internal bleeding. He may have actually fucked this poor omega to death. There was no way she survived the night if she wasn't treated soon.

He got his pants and trousers on, hoping it would help her believe the worst was over, and then got to work doing what he could—wrapping her ribs with the dirty blanket in the corner, and holding the scraps of her shirt between her legs to try and stem the bleeding there. It wasn't enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. He didn’t even know if it was really worth the discomfort it caused her—but he couldn't bring himself to just let her die. She was his omega.

Not mine, not mine, not mine.

He talked to her as she faded. Tried to keep her awake with the sound of his voice, though he knew it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. He told her stories from his childhood—the few good ones there were—told her the plot of the last film he and Johnny had watched, told her about Johnny. That was the topic he lingered on the longest. It was far easier to talk about his beta than himself. And by the time her eyes slipped closed and her shallow breathing stopped, it was Simon that was holding her, not Ghost, despite the mask on his face.

It was Simon that watched her die.

It was Simon that realized he didn't even know her name.

And it was Simon that howled with grief and rage, clutching the broken body of the omega—my omega, my omega, mine—against his chest.

Footsteps rapidly approached the cell, and Simon snarled like a rabid animal as he turned towards the bars. He barely had a second to pull his omega—dead, dead, dead, she was mine and I killed her, she was innocent and I killed her—behind him before a familiar voice rang out. The only voice that could have possibly reached him in this state, that could stop him from giving into his instincts completely and going feral.

“Simon?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, sounding desperate and broken. He felt broken. This little omega had managed to do what Roba and a hundred others had failed at. And she hadn't even tried.

“Let us help her, Si,” Johnny coaxed, moving closer while Price and Gaz hung back. Wise, because Simon could barely keep himself from baring his teeth at his own beta. Johnny didn't back down. “Si. Let us help her.”

Simon hesitated for a long moment, fighting his overwhelming instincts, before moving away. Johnny rushed in, immediately checking the omega’s pulse and starting compressions when he couldn’t find it. Simon tried to struggle to his feet, but he nearly fell over, Gaz and Price catching him. He snarled, weakly pulling away from them, but they held fast.

“We got you, soldier,” Price’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Stand down.”

Simon slumped, unable to hold himself up anymore, all his injuries catching up to him.

“I killed her,” he whispered raggedly, eyelids falling shut. He felt Gaz shake him to try and keep him awake, but he simply didn't have the willpower, anymore. “She was mine and I killed her.”

The mantra rang in his head even as he lost consciousness, and her screams of pain and the look of fear on her face as she lay dying followed him into his dreams.

[lightnersdream]

i've been thinking about exactly why people portraying one of the other crew members successfully killing Jimmy as a "for what you did to Anya" kind of thing rubs me the wrong way a bit and it's because like..... this is just another form of taking agency away from Anya, in a way. it's kind of framing her as some meek, shivery woman-thing who's entirely at the mercy of the men around her, either to hurt her or save her.

(i understand these are mostly for wish fulfillment on the audience's behalf because everyone would like to see Jimmy pay for his crimes. whether or not this is the intention of the person writing it isn't really relevant, characterization happens with or without intent. i feel like it misses the point by portraying it as an 'ideal ending'.)

because... Anya is a capable person. she takes things into her own hands when she can. it was partially(?) her idea to get into the cargo,

(before he interrupts her.. remember when she interrupted Curly in the dead pixel segment?)

it was her idea to get the code scanner from the cockpit,

it was her idea to get the medication from behind the foam.

(the chance to do these things herself is not given to her.)

she'd been keeping Curly alive for months in a critical state somehow, her psych evaluations at the start are only so useless because Jimmy refuses to take it/her seriously and Curly is obviously biased when he puts it into his own hands. he's known him a long time, like he said. "I'll just put good for that one."

there's not a lot of material to work with because of how the game is framed, but it's there. we are working with two very biased perspectives and neither one lends Anya what she deserves

there's significant changes in how she speaks post- and pre- crash, and depending on who she happens to be talking to. i recommend re-reading her dialogue, because the difference is drastic

she acts the way she does around Jimmy because he has tangibly done horrible things to her, is actively hostile, and physically could not escape him by any means. she can't take away Curly's agency herself, in my eyes. you have to remember that Especially in the post-crash segments of the game, it's entirely from Jimmy's POV, and he obviously does not (and has never) thought very highly of her or treated her with a shred of respect

i've seen a general idea that she can't bear to hurt other people for any reason, but that doesn't really track to me. this is the real point of the post by the way

it seems based on the parts where she says she struggles to give Curly medication. "It just hurts him so much, I can't stand the noise." "It makes me nauseous."

it's not really the same thing as, say, hurting someone in self defense

this sounds like she did want the gun itself. this never felt worded like someone who would refuse to, at very least, threaten Jimmy with a gun, with violence. if she had been given the agency to make that decision on her own. she wasn't though

she still tries to reclaim some of it even as she's denied it

by the end she's still trying to keep that gun out of his hands

i think some people overly soften her, for similar reasons the game itself is trying to comment on. she's not a tender victim who couldn't cause pain to another out of the softness of her soul, she's a person who's had every last bit of agency ripped from her repeatedly until she couldn't take it anymore. that's the point. that's why framing her that way, "needing" someone to save her, is odd to me

she didn't need Curly to save her, she needed him to take responsibility

she didn't want to escalate things, but she's not an idiot. self defense was absolutely on her mind

but who knows im just saying shit *smiles serenely*

[amialunatic]

Just trust me baby..

divider credits to @anitalenia

Based on anon request: would you be willing to write a sam fic about his first time between him and reader where she has scars from her time with a vamp nest (say she was taken a while back and that’s how she got into hunting) and she’s insecure and a little anxious with having his mouth on her body because of the way she was once treated but sam is very patient and understanding. basically just really sweet and sam is catering and talks her through it :,)

Warning: Light smut, Fingering, Sam Winchester/ Hunter!Reader, Fem!Reader, brief mention of readers time in vampire nest. 

A/N: Omg my first actual fic. I'm quite stoked to be putting it out. Nervous too. I hope you all like it. I'm starting simple and soft core ig.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

“Hey, you awake?” Dean called from the driver’s seat. That jolted you from down the memory lane. They were returning from the hunt. It was rough. At least 10 vampires. 3 newly turned, innocent, and pain-stricken but unable to control themselves. You guys had to kill them all. Everyone sustained injuries. That was natural. You getting bitten was not. You tried your best to not get bitten as it brought back nightmares that lasted quite a while than you cared to admit.

Sharp teeth piercing you had been a routine for weeks. Until you were rescued by Bobby and the boys. They found you on the brink of death. Several weeks of hospitalization later, you were fit to hunt. You hunted alone, focused mostly on vampires. And sometimes with the boys if the targets were nests. Helping those trapped there brought you catharsis. You wanted to be the hunter you needed all those weeks. And you strived your best to be that.

As you got out of Impala to the motel you were staying, you realized how tired you were. Slumped shoulders and bitten forearms, you moved slowly to your room. In the background, you hear Dean invite Sam for a drink and he refuses. As soon as you enter the room, you get into the shower. Maybe warm water can block out the sensations, the fangs that haunt your mind when you close your eyes. It never has, but you always hope it does this time. As you get out, red from the shower, you hear a knock. Sam’s voice calls out “Hey, it’s me.”

You open the door to see him standing at the door frame all fidgety. “I didn’t think you’d be showering.” he looked unsure almost second guessing his decision.

“I was done.” You moved back as he let himself in. Awkwardly standing with his arms on the chair, brows furrowed he asks “You okay?”. “As ok as you’d be after ganking a bunch of vampires I guess” you tried to lighten the situation. But Sam was having none of that “ You got bitten”. “Yes Sam, vampires bite. That’s like their whole MO.” you poured sarcasm to derail the conversation. This enraged Sam. “Don’t downplay this” his voice raises.

Reaching your breaking point and seeing that Sam wouldn’t leave you without a confrontation, you spit out the truth “You wanna know? OK. I’m fucking tired and I’ll probably have nightmares for days." Your outburst continued as you paced the room in a dressing gown. "You wanna know how weak I am, how the thing that happened to me years ago still brings me to my knees? There you go”. These moments were always followed by tears for you. But he didn't have to know that. You move across to the window facing the half-empty parking lot and turn away, not wishing to humiliate yourself further.

You hear the shuffling of feet as you feel two large hands wrap around me. “Y/N..” his voice laced with sympathy and concern. You lean into his familiar hug, your back nestled against his chest, his warmth enveloping your core. “Sam. I..I don’t want you..guys to see me weak. I am not weak.” you sigh. Sam chuckles “Now that’s the dean-est sentiment I’ve heard you express.” you appreciated his efforts to cheer you up.

“Hey it’s not like you too to sit around and express your feelings” you counter.

He sighs “I know. Me and Dean. Not the greatest examples of sharing feelings. But..you can tell stuff to me. You know that right?” He continues. “Also I don’t think you’re weak at all. Infact you’re one of the most badass hunters for recovering and facing your fears.”

You look down with a grateful smile “Thanks Sam.” As you turn around to face him, you take in his face. His eyes look desperate. Like he is trying to convince you that he can be your safe place. That you needn’t be scared of being vulnerable. And you can’t help but place a kiss between his furrowing eyebrows. Those lines that form when he is worried. You wanted to stop those and let him convince you. To forget the pain and nightmares even for a moment.

“Kiss me”

He looked at you, slightly surprised. “Now? You sure?”.

They had made out before. But this felt different. Somehow more intense, somehow more desperate.

“Yeah Sam, kiss me. Now.”

He didn’t need more encouragement. He bend down, caught your face with his hands as he pressed his lips on to yours. Restrained strength flowed through his hands that he tried to keep in check while pure gentleness caressed your lips. He lifted you effortlessly so your faces were leveled as he continued kissing you, gently tugging your lower lip with his teeth drawing out sighs. You mindlessly tugged his flannel, wishing it’d disappear.

“Patience” He chuckles as placing you on the desk, your back against the wall. You hastily removed the buttons one by one while he untied the knot of your dressing gown in a nanosecond. Your freshly showered skin glistening with water drops stops him in his tracks. As he stares at your underwear-clad body mesmerized, he stops to notice the bite on your forearm, still fiery red, even with the ointment around it. Around your shoulder and neck were faint scars. He caresses the skin around the bite, careful not to cause you any pain. After gently running his fingers along the scars when he looks back to your eyes he only notices your fierce stare, bestowed on his eyes, his swollen lips, and his now visible body, muscular and oh so strong. How you wanted him to take you then and there.

Not wishing to drag it any longer, he starts kissing you again as you gently run your hands through the battle scarred abdomen of his. Moving down to trace a drop of water from your jaw to your neck, he presses gentle kisses coaxing you to lean back your head opening up your neck and chest in the process. He practically groans as he gently nibble across you neck connecting to your shoulder.

In a flash, you freeze and push him away. All of it happened so sudden, Sam stared at you one feet away, confused. In a moment of clarity, it dawned on him. He gently came close to you and tentatively caressed your sides. Your apologetic eyes said everything it needed to. He lifted your chin up to him.

“hey hey..baby. , it’s ok. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He looked at you concern etched in his forehead. When you remained silent he coaxed you “Baby, talk to me.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just..I..was bitten..mouths on my body.” you shudder, visions running through the back of your eyes

“ Does it bring back memories?” He gently asks

“Sometimes, I just can’t block it. I want to Sam, believe me. I want this. I want you..so bad.” I look at him desperate.

“I know. But you know I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with right? We don’t have to do this at all”

“I want to. Sam. I need you.” you lock eyes with him, forehead burrowing

His eyes searched mine for any trace of hesitation. Seeing none, he reaffirms gently “Do you trust me, baby?” “I do” I whisper as I breath out.

“You can stop me whenever you need to.”

A corner of his lips curled revealing the deep dimple. “So no biting I guess?”

“Yeah, no biting.” You bit your lips slyly. “ Well not you anyway”

“I look forward to it, sweetheart” He nudge your lips again easing them apart. As the same time, his hands part your thighs as he stepped impossible close.

You feel his hands slipping the robe off you. Before long, his long fingers were moving closer to your core. His fingers slipped in to your panties and finding the wetness pooling, he groans. I met his gaze, my eyes a blend of desperation and embarrassment at being so affected by him. “Sam..”.

“I know baby” He looks at you for permission before plunging his finger in the wetness. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your fingers never managed to reach that deep. He ease it out. And again and again until you were a slobbering mess. To add to the torturous pleasure he lifts his palm so each thrust is paired with your clit being rubbed enough to cause friction but not enough to tip over. This was agony but delicious agony.

Sam looks into your convulsing face, his features radiating nothing but the desire to please you. To make you forget, to have a moment of pleasure, away from the darkness that consumes both of you. As you almost reach the height of pleasure, he adds in yet another finger. Through your hazily closed eyes, you don't see him kneeling. Suddenly you feel his warm mouth enveloping your clit. You gasp as your eyes flew open. “Sam..Sammy..” you say tentatively.

“Trust me baby..this will feel good” his voice is laced with soothing promise.

Before you can have further doubts, pleasure blankets you and drags you up to the height of it. As he sucks and laps gently, your hands involuntarily wander through his luscious locks. Finally with a cry and grasp of his hair, you tip over. His hands and lips soothe you through the fall with barely-there touches of your slit.

“oh god..that was..” you breathe heavily through your mouth as you struggle to push words out. Sam leans over and kiss you sloppily, with a goofy smile. “it’s cute to see you all thoughless and spent”

“Sam..you little jerk” you say in amidst panting.

“Hey remember I was the one making you moan my name a moment ago. Some gratitude” he smirks.

“And I’ll make you do the same, just you wait” you rope your hands through his neck pulling him.

"Is that a threat or a promise, honey? Either way, I'm all in." He interlocks his lips with yours, the deepening kiss tasting like an invitation for round two.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

MAybe there should be a second part! Idk. This felt long but not long enough at the same time. Please let me know if anyone would like a second part. I'll try to write one (meaning I'll probably stress over it and write it in 2 weeks)

[tra1nchi]

My request is based of this very vivid dream I had.

Youre an orphan who is being fostered by an older couple. They know their son doesn't like you so they sent you both to a cruise vacation to get along with each other. Their son is like, this bad boy who fights with everyone. And whenever he picked a fight with someone on the cruise, you ended up apologizing and making it up to them. He gets pissed about you being so nice with everyone and decided to punish you for being too nice.

The dream also took place in a dark living room with only a couch and a coffee table in the middle with a TV in front.

(also in the original dream, it was a threesome with a girl but we don't care about her)

MINORS DNI!! bttm male reader,,mean Foster sibling,,spanking,,handjob

He hated you, you were just his dumb little foster brother who seemed to follow him around like a little rat. Whenever he hung out with his friends, you'd always be there to embarrass him. How could he be dark and mysterious with a little bitch hanging off his arm?

The poor older couple had noticed how he treated you. They just wanted their children to get along with eachother, so the best idea that they could come up with was sending you both away, not for forever of course but on a nice expensive cruise. One that could possibly introduce him to a more luxurious life and fix your bond.

He ignored you the entire time as you both waited to board up onto the ship, though he did carry some of your bags, lazily shrugging them over his shoulder.

He made sure you stuck close even as the crowda grew bigger as they shuffled onto the boat, his hand firmly gripped onto your waist, dragging you along roughly like you were nothing but a carry on to him.

Someone had bumped into you, when he heard the pathetic little sound that slipped past your lips. He snapped, forcefully grabbing the older man's arm and practically screaming in his face. Someone so disgusting laying his hands on his property?? He couldn't take it.

It was a blur when you had to apologise for him. He couldn't help but notice how your cheeks flushed red from the embarrassment of pulling him away as if he was a rabid dog and you were his owner. He could definitely feel something stirring.

The cabin you both shared was dark but cozy, with a simple furniture and a large window looking out onto the dark waters below. Your Foster brothers mood didn't help with the unnerving vibe of the place.

"I was just protecting you, you little.." He lets out a short grunt as he stops himself from saying more. "You're too damn nice." His hand reaches for your shoulder, shaking it lightly. Leaning in so close that his lips almost brush against yours.

"Little..bitch." He spits out, his hands becoming rough on your shoulders as he forces your body down onto your knees before him. Forcing your body down onto the coffee table, roughly shoving your pants down your thighs.

"Such a pretty ass for such an annoying boy." His voice was husky but quiet, you had no idea what he was doing behind you until you feel the sharp stinging pain onto your ass, he had spanked you!! His coo when you flinched was sickeningly sweet.

His body weight practically pinned you down to the poor coffee table, the weak wood creaking under the weight of both of you but your mind was soon occupied by something else, the feeling of his warm hand on your cock.

"I'll get you nice and hard for me yeah? Then our..bond..can actually start forming." Biting down on your earlobe after he whispered his words so softly into your ear, you could feel how hard he was through his slacks. He couldn't help himself but hump you subtly from behind :( His desire to punch you had turned sexual!!!

[minzis]

The Ghost Of Her

Art Credits: “Selene Thrown Down by Argus,” 1886 by Ferdinard Keller.

⋅•⋅⊰𖥸•┈୨A Simon Riley One-shot୧┈•𖥸⊱⋅•⋅

♡Summary: Even after being on the team for months Ghost has yet to warm up to you. On a drunken night he confesses a truth leaving you feeling worse then before when he simply hated you.

♡Tags: Angst, no comfort, sfw :)

♡Authors Note: so wow have I been gone….I have worked on other things. Can’t really use the I’ve been busy excuse cause I haven’t I’ve been literally doing nothing.-. ANYWAYSSS I did listen to “Sweater Weather” by The Neighborhood on repeat while writing this so take that as you will. If y’all want a part two let me know! Other then that I will work on things hopefully soon but no promises😞

⋅•⋅⊰𖥸•┈୨♡୧┈•𖥸⊱⋅•⋅

“You look like her,” he admitted blankly his hand half hazardously setting his empty glass on the counter. He’s drunk, very drunk.

You weren’t even sure why he was talking to you let alone why you bothered sitting next to the same man who treated you like complete shit during training, during missions. Just about any interaction with him was always ill ending but at the same time you couldn’t help but sit next to him based on the looks from the rest of the team. They all looked worried but couldn’t bring themselves to approach him. So you settled for being the sacrifice, he always yelled at you anyways what’s another night?

His gaze was unfocused as he looked at you, he was there but he wasn’t really there. His finger tapped as his glass as he went to take another sip but he placed it back down his glance of realization it was still empty.

“Who?” You asked softy, eyes drawing over his half covered face the balaclava just hovering above his lips. The blacked makeup around his eyes smudged, he looked messy. You wondered if he’d even remember talking to you tonight.

“My girlfriend,” his eyes crinkled the same way a person’s does when they smile. His brows furrowed shaking his head like he simply forgot something, he motioned over the bartender to refill his glass. Your eyes followed the bartender as she refilled his glass, that was his fourth glass since you had gotten here.

“Sorry my ex-girlfriend, she died a few years back. Some tumor in the brain they said, it was inoperable and terminal,” he spoke as you swallowed harshly sitting up in your seat. You tired not to frown but the pale look on your face would’ve been obvious if he hadn’t been so drunk.

The hatred made a sudden sense now, your hand clenched at your own glass as he continued. “Yeah she looked just like you, same hair, the laugh too and the eyes it’s really in the eyes the first time I seen you I could’ve sworn it was her but,” he trailed off his gaze flicking in hits of disappointed.

“But it wasn’t, it was just you,” he spoke taking another sip from his drink, more like half the glass. You hated the way he said you like it had been wrong for you to even exist at all, like it was some evil thing you had done showing up at all. You suddenly wished all he did was yell at you, for some reason that would have cut less deep.

You downed your own drink the alcohol leaving a stinging taste like the thoughts of wishing you had never even sat down next to him. Wishing you had just ignored him like he would’ve done to you. You glanced back at him surprised to find he was already looking, you thought he was but once again his gaze was unfocused. He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at her.

This wasn’t just another night, it was a sicking one. One that left you feeling ill and guilty for hating him even more after his confession. How could you hate him but how could you not hate him? Your eyes watched him as you took in a heavy breath. He reached out to brush a stray hair of yours tucking it behind your ear. His hand dropped to your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered but it sounded pained like he was being forced to speak. You couldn’t even move as your lip quivered at the sight. His eyes watered as he moved to hug you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, he was shaking horribly as he clung to you. The overwhelming smell of alcohol from him engulfed you, his fingers clenched at the fabric of your shirt.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral. I should’ve been there but I couldn’t see you in that casket all dull and lifeless,” he spoke in a slurred speech as your own tears fell. Still even now he wasn’t even speaking to you, you simply weren’t even there to him.

The feeling was overwhelming you, being so unseen and invisible was truly something despicable. You bit your lip in attempts to keep yourself from crying any further. You felt sick, surely you’d throw up soon.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited your grave. I swear I’ll come and I’ll leave your favorite flowers. I just wish…I could’ve been there to hold your hand, I should’ve been there when you died I’m really fucking sorry,” he spoke in rushed statements as you tired to bring yourself to push him away, to yell or scream. Just anything at all but you were stuck frozen, what are you supposed to say to a drunken man who thought he was talking to his dead girlfriend?

Your heart ached as you reluctantly returned his hug as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands rubbed up and down his back humming in response. Your teary eyes met with the rest of the 141, you shook your head glancing down at Ghost’s back. They nodded moving across the bar to pry him off you. Gaz and Soap each held up one of his arms and a supporting one along his back. What hurt the most was for some odd reason they didn’t seem all that surprised. The three men shuffled away Ghost mumbling more words but you could hardly understand.

You gaze met with Price’s as he looked sympathetic, he reached to offer a soft tap on you shoulder but you pushed his hand away. You felt angry and used, “you guys knew didn’t you? You fucking knew I looked like her and you still let me run around like some fool wondering what I had done wrong.”

You stared at him with a frustrated glare standing up on your feet ready to say more but held your tongue. You sighed shakily digging through your purse, you opened your wallet slamming a hundred dollar bill on the counter.

“For the drinks,” you muttered angrily turning on your heels, he grabbed your arm his own gaze softening. He moved to speak but you stopped him yanking your arm back.

“Don’t…just leave me be,” you sighed in disbelief, how stupid you must’ve looked complaining to them about Ghost’s antics as they joked along. A complete and utter fucking fool you must’ve been. “Respectfully sir fuck you and the rest of the damn team, I want a transfer put in,” you spoke through gritted teeth, he didn’t say anymore letting you walk away.

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

⋆⟡˚ ཐི⋆♱ 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 ♱⋆ཋྀ ˚⟡⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dad coriolanus snow x fem reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: parent life with coryo has been a blessing and a curse due to his political status and long work days so imagine your surprise when he finds time to take your kids trick or treating

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: tooth rotting fluff, softie dad coryo, trick or treating, "family costume" based on the addams family (didn't really mention it though), bullying, coryo being a very protective dad

𝐚/𝐧: HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!! hope everyone has an amazing day and here is my final treat for all of you! i am honestly so surpirsed i actually finished all of this and i hope you enjoy the grand finale of this years flufftober!!

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟-𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Come on Melody darling, we gotta go if you wanna go out!” You yell from the family room of your house.

“OKAY MAMA, ONE SEC!!!” Your daughter yells from her room. You shake your head, turning to the clock that pointed to the time of nearly nine PM. You shook your head, your darling two year old son, Jasper, raising his arms to you from your feet where he stands. You smile at him, picking him up, his arms coming to play with your silky hair that lay softly on your collar. He babbles “pwetty ‘air” as his small hands run through the perfect waves.

If only Melody would hurry up.

If only Coriolanus would hurry.

It was nothing new for your President of a husband to be staying overtime with the senators and other politicians on Halloween of all days. You knew exactly what you were signing up for when you signed that marriage contract. In fact, you knew much much earlier when you and Coryo had started dating during your time at the Academy. You knew that no matter how much he loved and valued you and his family, he’d always work so hard, too hard, just to make all of you proud. You knew that he loved you so much that he dedicated the quiet dark of his nights just to be with you while slaving away his days to achieve that dream that, not too long ago, felt so far away. 

You made sure your children knew that as well.

“Dada,” Jasper smiled, turning his brilliant blue eyes towards you. He had inherited all your looks, from your hair all the way down to the curve of your nose but his eyes were all his fathers.

You smile, pressing a warm kiss to your son’s cheek. “Yes, don’t worry darling, your papa is on his way here right now.”

“Is he really Mama?” Your daughter asked, you smiled at the girl who was now standing on the couch, not too far away from where you stood. You smile, carrying her with your other arm, noticing how she runs her fingers through her blonde curls much like her father. Her hair, a little messy from running around her room and downstairs.

“Why, of course he is baby. You know how bad traffic can get. I’m sure he’s running home right now on his own two legs.”

Jasper and Melody laugh, hugging you. You smile, setting them down and bringing Melody to sit on your lap so you can fix her twin braids. 

You knew Coriolanus wouldn’t be able to make it tonight, he had one of the most important meetings of his presidency tonight. Yet, it didn’t hurt to wait and you still had to fix Melody’s attempt at braids.

Jasper wobbles on his feet, walking to the coffee table in front of the TV to grab his bag. 

Melody hums as you braid her auburn hair, the color similar to Coriolanus’ mothers apparently. 

When you were pregnant with Melody during the beginning of Coriolanus’ campaign for President, you were so worried. The actual pregnancy was so so so painful, for you and Coriolanus. Many times he had urged you to terminate, making sure all Panem's best doctors were five minutes away in case anything went awry. Coriolanus barely slept at night, watching your form sleep curled up to his side. He watched in trepidation for even the slightest tell of pain. But it never came, not that that would stop Coriolanus from watching his beautiful wife sleep. that stopped him from watching his beautiful wife rest peacefully.

The actual birth of your darling was terrifying for Coriolanus. You had been in so much pain during your third trimester and hearing your cries and wails as you pushed Melody out scarred Coriolanus forever. 

He especially felt fear when you had gotten pregnant with Jasper. Coryo’s own mother didn’t make it out of the second birth, so imagine his fear after you smiled at him announcing your second child. 

You two had an enormous fight about it which ended with Coriolanus sleeping in his office for nearly a week while you could barely care for five year old Melody who always asked for her papa and why “mama and papa not talking to each other? You sad, mama?”

You nearly broke under the pressure, especially when you two had to attend the last minute dinner party of one of the senators with Melody in tow. You had forced laughs and smiled so artificially in your elegantly dark gown, the color a silent nudge at the growing rift between you and Coriolanus.

But by the end of that night, you were so exhausted from walking around on shards of glass, you carried Melody to the car, setting her down to lay in your lap before letting the dam overflow. Coriolanus had never seen you so low, he knelt in front of you after you brang Melody to your bed, hugging your tummy and nuzzling his face into your belly. He apologized so profusely, you wondered if that was all he could say.

Suffice to say that after that night, Coriolanus vowed to never again make you cry as you did on that tortuous ride home where you dug your palms flat against your eyes, sobbing softly while sniffling quietly.

“There you go Melody. Do you like them?” You asked having finished the second braid.

You reach for the mirror on the coffee table, holding it up to show your daughter her hair. She squealed, taking the mirror before bolting to where her brother stood. She held the mirror in front of her brother, Jasper turning his head slightly in the mirror watching his reflection. 

“Lookie, Jas! You as handsome as Papa and I’m pretty as Mama.” She giggles, setting the mirror down before dancing with her younger brother, squeals of joy filling the air.

“That you are my little snowflakes.” A deep voice rumbled from the doorway.

Jasper and Melody squeal even louder, if that possible, and run to their father who stands in the doorway. He smiles, bedding down in his pressed black and gray pinstriped suit, wrapping his strong arms around your two children, hoisting them up. Jasper hugs his fathers neck, nuzzling his face into the crook of Coryo’s neck while Melody smacks a kiss to his cheek before wrapping her arms around her brother and her father.

You smile at the scene, Coriolanus’ deep blue eyes meeting your own as he walks over to you. He plops the kids onto the couch before stepping right in front of you. His hands fall to your hips where the delicately black fabric wrinkles, accentuating your figure.

“Hello darling.”

“Why hello mister President.”

He barks a laugh, smiling down at you. He leans in, kissing you softly on your forehead, making his way to each cheek before finally kissing your nose.

You pout, “no kiss on the lips Coryo?”

He smiles, his hand coming to hold your cheek. “Wouldn’t want to mess up your perfectly vicious red lip now would I?”

“Good thing it’s kiss proof then, isn’t it?”

He growls before, bringing his hand to your nape, tugging you forward to meet his lips in a savage kiss. You hear Melody gasp before slapping her hands over what is probably her little brother's eyes.

His lips ravage yours, your hands flying to his chest, roaming the expanse. ALl that could go through either of your heads was mine. His hand comes up to your lower back, rubbing soothingly up and down knowing that ever since the birth of his two gems, your back hasn’t quite been the same.

“MAMA PAPA, CAN YOU PLEASE HAVE THIS MOMENT LATER?! WE NEED TO GOOOO!” Melody yells, wedging herself between yours and Coriolanus’ legs. 

Coriolanus finally lets up, heavy breathing and near panting filling the small space between yours and Coriolanus’ faces.

“Ma, Pa, kiss kiss.” Jasper says as he stalks over to your legs, grabbing the black fabric of your dress, arms stretched up to you. You chuckle, picking your baby up.

“Yes, Ma and your Pa were kissing.” You nuzzle his cheek, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Come on Mama, Papa, can we please go? They gonna run out of candy before we get there.” Your daughter runs to the door, slipping on her boots, candy bag in hand.

“Slow down there snowflake, don’t want you to melt before you get out there, do we?” Coriolanus pats her head as she turns her face to look up to her fathers, her eyes mirroring into her own.

“Okay Papa, I’ll slow down.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Trick or treat!” Melody and Jasper yelled, along with the other kids that had reached that particular door.

“Oh my, what a wonderful group of children I see.” The woman who opened the door exclaimed, handing each and every child at her door at least five candies each. Melody shouted thanks before walking over back to where you and Coryo stood waiting for them by the sidewalk.

“Oooo Papa, can we go to that house over there? And the other one? And the other one?”

“Of course we can have my little gem, but are you sure your bag will be able to hold all that candy?” Coryo raised his eyebrows even though you and Coryo both knew that you had each brought an extra bag for the kids knowing just how long they’d want to stay out walking door to door to get some free candy.

“Of course it can Papa!”

“Okay then Melody, we can go to every single house in the Capitol then. If that is what you want of course.”

“Mama said we should definitely stop by Mrs.Plinth house so can we go there after this street?”

Coryo raises his eyes to meet yours, a sheen of unshed tears brimming his eyes.

“Okay darling, we can go visit Ma Plinth’s if you’d like.”

Melody smiles, a brilliant smile, at her father. She runs off to the next house, her brother in tow. The subtle (although not really invisible, just in disguise) bodyguards follow the young kids, you and Coyo not trailing too far behind.

“So, Ma Plinth’s, huh?” He asks, his eyes watching his darling kids ahead. He takes your arm in his, his hands slightly trembling.

“Yeah, I just thought it’d, you know,” you pause. Your hands rubbing circles on Coryo’s, knowing everything that he did, all the sacrifices he made to survive. You sigh, turning to the man next to you, his gaze hardening ahead of him. “I just thought it’d be nice to pay her a visit with the kids.”

Coryo let out a shaky sigh, shaking his head while his jaw was clenched so hard, his jaw could seemingly kill a man. You leaned to him, kissing his jaw.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in, holding it for a second, and then releasing it. He takes your hand, kissing the blood red diamond sitting on the delicate band of your fingers before smiling at you, his deep blue eyes meeting yours.

You two continue to stroll along, watching Melody and Jasper walk from door to door, yelling “Trick or treat!” You and Coryo laugh, taking in all the sights and sounds that neither of you got to experience all thanks to the war. 

You and Coryo laughed, feeling fully at ease with each other on the night where you can be anything and anyone, anywhere.

Until your head cries that is.

You and Coryo both stiffen at the sound of your children crying. Both of them run back towards you, tears falling down their rosy pink cheeks. You crouch down, picking up Jasper whose sobs and cries could be heard all throughout the Capitol. You soothe him, asking him what’s wrong. He just nuzzles himself further into your neck, more and more tears falling from his eyes.

Coryo’s eyes had hardened, his long legs carrying him to where his precious First Daughter stood, the back of her hands rubbing profusely at her eyes. In that instance, she resembled him, Coryo thought. Her same marine eyes, tears rolling down them as he just found out that his mother died, his father died, that they had lost everything. 

He kneels down in front of Melody, taking his hands to cup her cheeks, nudging her own hands out of the way.

“What’s wrong my darling snowflake?”

She hiccups, kids around them stopping and staring at the strangely fancily dressed man and the small girl wearing twin braids in a gothic black dress.

“O-oh Pa-paa, w-” she stumbles over her words, making Coriolanus’ heart grow weaker at the sight of his daughter crying, “why are k-kids so m-mean?”

“Darling, you’re not a mean kid. What happened?”

“Th-They took our c-candy, me and J-Jasper’s. They took i-it saying i-it was taxes so I told them that y-you were my Pa and that y-you make the taxes.” 

Coryo’s hands balled, fists ready to hunt down whichever lowlife had dared tax his daughter, stolen her candy, and ridiculed the Snow name.

He lifted Melody up, rubbing her back up and down slowly as her tears slowed and her hiccups became few and far inbetween. He walked back over to you where Jasper had nearly cried himself to sleep, the previously full candy bag slung over your shoulder.

You met Coriolanus’ eyes, a quiet yet roaring fire brewing in his iris’. He sends the guards off to find the little shits who had harassed his daughter. He led you to the car you had driven there, setting a sleepy Melody down in the seat next to yours before shutting the door.

You rolled down your window, asking Coryo “where are you going?”

He simply replied, his eyes darkening. 

“Taking care of business.”

Needless to say, the next day Melody’s squeals of excitement and subsequent footsteps up the stairs and into your room were explanation enough for the truckload of candy awaiting you in the family room downstairs.

Bonus:

“Coriolanus Snow, what are we going to do with all this candy?”

“Eat it?”

“Don’t you think you went even a little overboard? Whatever did you do to those poor boys?”

“First off, they were not poor. And secondly, I didn’t do anything out of my reins as President of Panem and father of two gems.”

and that concludes this years flufftober!!! i hope you have enjoyed each of these as much as i have whilst writing them!!

[nekropsii]

ALPHA TROLLS RANKED BY HOW WRONG THE FANDOM AT LARGE IS ABOUT THEM:

This is a personal challenge, based entirely on my own experience and perspective, and also ranked from Most to Least Correct. I was bored, and thought this might be fun.

Putting this under a cut, because it's long as hell.

MEULIN LEIJON

People get her mostly correct, from what I’ve seen… Most of the time, fan content of Meulin is absolutely recognizable as Meulin, but her pride in her deafness + joy of learning new ways to interact with the world through/due to her disability is always removed, and I do not often see people tackle the Toxic Positivity aspect of her character. That seems less like character assassination, though, and more like a combination of people not actually playing through the Openbounds, people not being able to fathom disabled people (especially those who gained a disability later in life rather than being born disabled) being happy, and general fandom distaste for the idea of touching anything uncomfortable, especially when that uncomfortable topic is highly mundane, normalized, and potentially applicable to them or their loved ones. Meulin’s toxic positivity was, of course, commentary on Tumblr’s ecosystem at the time, so… It was much harder to touch back then.

ARANEA SERKET

People tend to get her general, broad strokes personality right, but unfortunately she gets treated pretty roughly for the crime of Being A Serket. People refuse to understand her motivations, and she often gets demonized for what she was doing around/during [S] Game Over, even though that was something she’d gotten pushed to and also was cool as fuck to watch. God forbid a woman do anything.

DAMARA MEGIDO

People are right about the racism, 100%. It is completely despicable, hard to look at, and extremely blatant. She does, however, have character outside of that. No, it isn’t “whore”, it’s more like “angry, dysfunctional abuse victim”, and she’s genuinely a very interesting and tragic character. But, again, people are right about the racism, so she gets to be placed way up here.

MEENAH PEIXES

She is such a chaotic little bastard. I love her. I really do. Please understand that she genuinely does not understand the concept of consequences. This girl didn’t have a Lusus, she didn’t have parents, it was functionally illegal to tell her “No, you can’t do that.” That would fuck up literally anyone’s moral compass. That’s not me hand waving away all the fucked up and bad shit she’s done, we all know what she did, but people tend to forget this aspect of her character and it pains me deeply, because it is a very genuinely interesting concept that I want to see more of. She’s capable of regret, we’ve seen her feel it, I just don’t think foresight is her forte. No one raised her to consider consequences, or help her experience them in a healthy way, because nobody raised her period.

Also, her ass is not butch, she is the girliest girl in the entire comic. She is about hot pink and glitter and kiss marks and unicorns and cute little puns and you will respect that. She is not masculine. Her ass is not masculine nor is she butch. Let her be her hyper-feminine self.

LATULA PYROPE

Please for the love of god there is more to her character than “Gamer Girl” and “Mituna’s Girlfriend”. You are falling for her fucking ruse. Please. Please. Please recognize that her entire character is about internalized misogyny, and being forced to overcompensate for misogyny in gaming circles as a gamer who happens to be a woman. Please. I’m begging.

KURLOZ MAKARA

His character is not that deep, it’s mostly just a string of events he is mysteriously, inexplicably involved with. The Makaras are extremely Function Over Form- their characters practically do not exist, they're mostly just plot devices that exist to push the story along. I'm sorry to Makara fans. You just invented a guy in your mind and decided he was real. He is also not that soft, though, and his relationships with both Meulin AND Mituna are not healthy. Hard to stop people from ascribing cutesy squishy lovey dynamics to random men who happened to have looked at each other once, though. Some people truly haven't graduated from 2012.

HORUSS ZAHHAK

I am begging people to consider that maybe the biggest issue here is not that he is “Bad Otherkin/Therian Representation” and is in fact maybe the fact that Hussie was actually making fun of Systems when he was writing Horuss. Because Horuss is canonically a system. He uses the word system. He uses the word switching. He uses the word host. He literally talks about his Plurality at length in extremely upfront, plain terms. I don’t know how him being “Bad Otherkin Representation” was and still is the main discourse about him. It makes me insane. That is a commentary that truly writes itself. Talk about having your priorities out of wack, honestly...

PORRIM MARYAM

No, she is not a MRA, she’s just a regular feminist who happens to live on a different planet with different politics and social hierarchies from Our Real World Earth’s USA. Whatever argument you’re about to pull out of your ass to say that she sucks is bad. She already explained what she meant by that, in more detail, very clearly, and she was right. Half the time she’s literally just giving you factual information about what Beforus was like, and literal plot synopses. She isn’t saying anything insane. She’s literally normal. I don’t know why people cannot handle or process this. Porrim has not ever said anything controversial. If you disagree with this you’re either misconstruing her on purpose or you fell for Kankri’s bait, and that’s just fucking sad at that point.

Also, she’s more than a sex object, and her tits are not huge. Honestly, half the shit she was saying was just “I am more than my sex life”, and so many people took that and made her main character trait her sex life. Just pathetic.

RUFIOH NITRAM

This man is a fucking war criminal and I will stop at nothing until he is behind bars for his crimes against Damara. Raging misogynist. Total fucking cunt. Just the worst. If I talk any more about this, this part will be 1,000 paragraphs long. But also, I’m begging people to recognize his relationship with disability, too. He was similar to Meulin in the sense that he didn’t mind his disability, and his biggest gripe with it was the way that Horuss tried to “fix” it… Which is an interesting way to expand upon how Beforus’s culling system is not only very explicitly ableist, but mimicking real world systemic ableism. I also want people to recognize that Hussie is actively having a conversation about the reclamation of slurs with Rufioh’s character, and how not letting people reclaim such language is doing nothing but giving the word power against them while stripping away their own personal agency. Rufioh’s a complicated guy, and he’s interesting and also the worst, and I am really tired of how he gets watered down to nothing but “Pretty Boy Victim Of His Inexplicably Psycho Ex”.

MITUNA CAPTOR

Holy Fucking Shit, You Guys Are Ableist.

KANKRI VANTAS

To this day I see people saying he was just Hussie making fun of SJWs. To this day. To this day people think Hussie was trying to make Every Tumblr Leftist look bad, and that he hates them Because They Are Leftists. When will people recognize him as a bootlicker to the oppressive class and the violently bigoted. When will people recognize that. When will people recognize that this is more of a commentary on the legitimate real flaws of Tumblr’s politics at the time. When. When.

When will people stop portraying him as a lovey-dovey Catholic Whore. I’m going to stab my fucking eyes out and then kill everyone in this building. Me when it's based and cool to ship an aroace character with a sexual predator. I GUESS.

CRONUS AMPORA

I say this with every ounce of sincerity I can possibly muster as a person: What the literal actual fuck.

[yanderes-galore]

in love with the platonic yandere aegon ii and the greens too, will you please write more? 🥹💖 i cant imagine the thrill he’d feel when you bond with a dragon, and maybe even actively seeking him out and being there for him when the maesters treat him. i would love to see reader be so caring for helaena and their little sister, training to fight for the purpose of protecting them from harm. i can also see reader being inquisitive of their lineage as a targaryen, asking their uncle aemond to let them see vhagar and learn about their family. i can also see queen alicent being weirdly caring like seeing reader as another chance of being a better mother?

This is extended thoughts based on the Darling in this concept I'm linking here. Kept Darling Female as she was in the previous concept.

Based these extended thoughts on the Anon comments you made ^^ I don't mind making a few other cute ideas. Sorry it isn't all that yandere, I wanted to make cute content with the subtle echo of a threat without forcing unnecessary conflict.

Yandere! Platonic! Team Green Extended Thoughts

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Overprotective behavior, Isolation, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Fear of loss, Violence, Dubious companionship.

While Aegon is nervous about it, a good Targaryen princess and queen needs a dragon of her own.

So eventually you'll be given one of your own.

Dragons are rideable rather quickly, so within a year and a half you'll have a rideable dragon.

It's a hatchling of your own with pretty scales and piercing eyes.

Aegon himself would want to teach you the ways of having a dragon.

Although he often comes off as arrogant with his explanations, using Sunfyre as an example as he shows you how to properly command a dragon.

Uncle Aemond may be the one to teach you High Valyrian to not only hold conversations and mess with Aegon... but to give better commands to your mount.

Even if Aegon was burned, he still asks for frequent updates on your progress.

Of course the burned king feels thrilled to see and hear you able to control a dragon of your own.

While he was anxious at first, he feels quite prideful to see his eldest daughter prove herself.

Aegon loves you the most out of his children, even if laws limit you due to being a woman.

You're just so determined to do good for your father.

Aegon usually doesn't want you to see him suffer when the Maesters treat him.

Yet you often go out of your way to show up and stand beside his bed.

You love him even if Aegon tries to isolate you from the world.

Aegon only wants you to focus on your family....

It makes him happy even if he's pained when you hold his hand.

You're loyal, staying by your father's side as he's treated after being burned.

Although, eventually, Aemond will call you away to teach you more.

Be that swords or ancient languages and history... Aemond takes a great deal of enjoyment when becoming your mentor.

He even offers to help you with your dragon bonding, showing you Vhagar and teaching you how to treat your own mount.

Aegon would hate you being shown Vhagar but Aemond knows he can't do anything about it.

Since you've been taught to care for family, you care for Helaena after the death of one of her sons.

You often help her parent your younger brother and sister, sitting quietly in her chambers as you watch the two babes coo to each other.

You beg Aemond to teach you more in order to protect your family.

Your uncle is amused yet teaches you of course.

Sometimes people wonder if Aemond is trying to gain your favor instead of Aegon...

Aegon was never into history or very dedicated to swords or language.

Which means Aemond spends a lot of time preparing you.

Your grandmother, Alicent, may wish her sons taught you like a proper lady.

Despite it, Aemond usually ignores her and gives you the lessons you desire.

Speaking of Alicent, you're right when you'd say she'd want to parent you to try and be a better mother.

You may be Aegon's kid, yet she finds herself also attentive to you.

She usually visits Helaena's chambers when you're there to interact with both you and your mother.

Alicent loves you too... and with how you're being brought up... she's happy at least one Targaryen seems to have their heart in the right place.

Even though Aemond, Helaena, and Alicent are usually the ones who have your attention... you still return to Aegon.

You lay beside him as he rests, telling him of your progress as a young Targaryen princess.

Aegon is pleased with it all... you're almost fit to be a queen... you just need a husband...

Although Aegon dreads the idea of promising you to anyone.

Sure, you'll have heirs of your own someday...

Yet for now Aegon wants to keep you to himself for a while.

You're his promising princess... more precious to him than anything...

The rest of the family feel a similar way, you're like their trump card.

None of them would ever let anything happen to you.

Blood has already been spilled in this war, so them executing anyone else in your name isn't too unheard of.

The last thing The Greens want is to let The Blacks have you.

They don't want you being tempted and betraying them... or being kidnapped... or worse.

So, for now, Aegon and the rest want to keep you isolated...

If you ever got captured by The Blacks... or were tempted to leave your family by other means...

Fire and blood will follow.

[stonerbamtori]

Purple Haze

synopsis: Due to screwing up at the Strawberryland Annual Fair, Mary Jane isn't very well liked by her fellow villagers. She hardly ever goes into town. Elsewhere in the little village is Peach Beomgyu, equally isolated but for entirely different reasons. After typical medical malpractice leads the unlikely pair to cross paths, things get smoky.

THIS FIC IS BASED ON THE STRAWBERRYLAND EVENT BY @thetxtdevil and @beomiracles 's concept of Peach Beomgyu but with tweaked bruising lore and can take place in a pre/post/parallel timeline to Little Apricot

pairing: Peach!Beomgyu x Marijuana!Reader ??????

wordcount: too many ~10k

warnings: MDNI, fluff/smut, hurt/comfort, sub!Beomgyu / softdom!reader, fem!reader sorry for pussy rocking, chubby!reader (she gets the munchies haha get it), pretty vanilla sex all things considered, but there is slight cum eating, bad language, drug use, smoking, edibles, reader has snake bites, that pottery scene from ghost but its teaching him to use a bong, other txt members mentioned, also chaewon don't worry about it, clementine was cute in strawberry shortcake and chaewon starts with c so i had to add her, idk what im doing, i don't normally write fics, this is basically just a disability allegory, beomgyu is a fuzzy peach like in the og, my shitty sense of humor is involved

author's note: this account may just be me dumping this fic and running. hope you enjoy if you have the same derangements as I do

Strawberryland is an idyllic little village, rather conservative in its values- after all, everyone that lives in it is a cute little hybrid motherfucker. The culture surrounds plants, especially fruits- gardening, exchanging foods, sharing recipes, etc. Residents nearly all tend to their own gardens, sharing heritage with a particular plant species. Some even had full orchards. A few of the villagers are quite popular, like Cherry Yeonjun or Lemon Drop Soobin. Others, though, are not- like Mary Jane.

Mary isn't a particularly tasty fruit. Rather, she was a flower, an herb. But she wasn't delicious. Sure, she was edible, but no one was baking her buds in treats for the taste. She was something else.

For a day job, Mary Jane puts herself to use as a town healer. After many years of trying her hand at helping with different things around town, she stumbled upon her uncanny ability to alleviate pain. Naturally skilled, she took care of whoever she could when the opportunity presented itself. Before long it became clear that this was her natural talent; this was all she knew how to do. Soon enough she settled into such a role. Although many thought she was a bit kooky and out there, she didn't really know what else to offer.

Though she has limited training, she is rather successful. Still, because she's a natural healer, her work is commonly thought of as improper. Dr. Chamomile and the others, licensed in medicine, are considered reputable. Mary Jane is considered shady- not above board.

Still, Mary wanted so badly to be a part of Strawberryland, to be among the people. After running into him at the local market, Mary took up baking alongside the kind Gingerbread Taehyun, who had a rather curious mind. In exchange for information on the mystery of the young woman living on the outskirts of town, he teaches her some basic recipes, including brownies.

Using what she learned, Mary Jane baked a big batch of brownies for the County Fair. But when people started to turn loopy after eating her treats, any salvageable bit of reputation she had left was gone. Blueberry Kai was so faded that Cherry Yeonjun had to carry him home on his back. When their precious youngest is threatened, the villagers accuse Mary Jane of trying to poison them. She is swiftly banned from the Fair. From then on, any appearance she made in town was met with scoffs.

Not everyone was so rude. Blueberry Kai, for example, still brought her pie when he had some to spare. "Just because you're not... great at baking, doesn't mean you're a bad person," he'd say, with a grimace. Others, like Clementine Chaewon, came to her for healing. Mary Jane was mostly shunned into her home, but she at least was not completely isolated.

Although her services are not under high demand, Mary takes great comfort in being able to contribute in at least this little way. The one thing that can heal her lonely heart is putting herself to good use. She soothes the pain of her fellow villagers whenever she can.

-

Something is wrong with Peach Beomgyu. Everyone in Strawberryland knows it. Hell, his hair isn't even Peach. Within a dilapidated cottage hidden in the forest, Beomgyu keeps to himself. He isn't like the other fruits. His garden doesn't bloom. His hair is dark. He is consistently covered in bruises. And although he is rather playful, he can only manage to brush aside his chronic pain so often. It isn’t uncommon for there to be a frown on his face.

Peach Beomgyu doesn't go into town much, but for reasons different than Mary Jane. It was an entire ordeal- he would have to ration his energy, plan for mishaps, and take time to recover after. Most of the time Beomgyu left the safe haven of his cottage, it was just to visit Chamomile at the clinic. Only the necessities.

Today is just one of many in a week of flare-ups for him. Once he has reluctantly exited his bed, Peach Beomgyu makes some tea, swirling a spoonful of apricot jam into the mix. Although the first sip is heavenly, and the warmth soothes his throat, the rest of his muscles still ache. After tossing and turning for the umpteenth time on the couch to get comfortable, he drops his book on the floor. He groans, defeated. If he couldn't even read, he might as well be dead.

-

"I'm sorry, Beomgyu. There's just nothing I can do," Dr. Chamomile sighs, scribbling something on the notepad on her desk. He wasn’t even sure she was listening. Or what she could be possibly writing down given the conversation. Maybe she was just doodling.

"Please, Dr. Chamomile. I know my condition cannot be cured, but there has to be something you can give me to at least help with the symptoms," Beomgyu pleads, eyes worn.

Dr. Chamomile sighs, her tired eyes blinking slowly. "I can offer you some tea to help the body relax, but that's really it. I've told you this time and time again."

Frustrated after being consistently let down, Peach Beomgyu can't help but slam his fist on the desk. "That stuff isn't strong enough! It doesn't do shit!"

At the sudden slam, Dr. Chamomile jumps, startled out of her stupor. Dr. Chamomile didn’t take nicely to being so violently bewildered. She scowls, a stern look suddenly on her face. "Then don't take the tea. Now get out. I have other patients," she mutters, jaw set. Beomgyu feels his heart fall at her look of disapproval, just like everyone else's. Head hung in shame, he sullenly leaves the office.

As Peach Beomgyu slowly hobbles through town, too stubborn to let anyone see him with a cane for fear they'll pity him all the more, he can't help but glare ahead. A raincloud practically hangs above his head. As he shuffles over the cobblestone, a cheerful voice snaps him out of his sulking. "Peach Beomgyu! It's good to see you," says Clementine Chaewon.

The short girl smiles up at him, excited by the opportunity to speak to someone so elusive. It almost makes Beomgyu's frown soften. No one ever looked that excited to see him. If anything, they winced. "...Hi Clementine Chaewon," he murmurs awkwardly, dropping his gaze.

Chaewon, although cheerful, is not tone deaf. "What's wrong?" she murmurs gently, tilting her head slightly to try and catch his eyes.

Beomgyu sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. "Dr. Chamomile says there's nothing more she can do for me. I mean, look at me. I'm all fucked up, there's no hiding it. How am I supposed to live like this, knowing I'm never going to get better?" His voice cracks with vulnerability as he extends his bruised arms. Shit- he really hadn't meant to say that much, especially stuff so dark. It just slipped out. Maybe he was beginning to reach a breaking point.

Chaewon's eyes widen. To say she didn't see that coming would be an understatement. Peach Beomgyu hardly ever spoke more than a few words, infamously quiet. After a moment, though, her gaze softens with compassion. "Beomgyu, please don't say that. You're not 'all fucked up'. You're just bruised," she gets out after a sputter.

Beomgyu sighs, unable to help but relent under her kind-hearted words. But who was going to pick on the bruised guy? Of course she had to say that. "Thanks. I just wish I wasn't in pain, that's all. Even if I am different from everyone else, even if I can't bear fruit- that's fine... I just wish these bruises didn't ache."

Chaewon sighs, nodding in understanding. She's quiet for a moment, gaze drifting aside as she thinks. Finally, she suggests, "Why not go to Mary Jane?"

Peach Beomgyu furrows his brows. It went without saying that he was a total homebody. The only people he knew in town were the ones he came across when he was forced out of his hideaway. "Who's Mary Jane?"

"Marijuana. She lives on Hemp Lane. She does natural healing. I know it sounds like snake oil salesman nonsense, but she really helped me when I hurt my back last year gardening!" Clementine Chaewon explains.

Beomgyu narrows his gaze as he considers this, nose scrunching up in distaste. As a well-read man, Beomgyu always thought of himself as informed. A man of science. He was too intellectual for essential oils and natural remedies. That stuff was all scams.

Still, the desperation in the back of his mind doesn't want to completely let go of the idea. It is still hope, albeit half-hearted. "...It's not like I have anything to lose," he sighs. "Thank you, Chaewon. I'll give it a shot."

Chaewon smiles once again. "Of course! Do you need any help getting home?"

Beomgyu frantically shakes his head. "Oh, no, no! Thank you, but I'm alright." And just like that, he scrambles to return to his walk home before she can insist. He's not sure if it's his pride or his general hatred of small talk that propels him, but he's off.

"No problem. Have a good night!" Chaewon calls after him with a wave and a beaming smile, before heading off in the other direction.

Beomgyu can't help but let out a huff as soon as he's out of earshot, pain shooting up his legs as he rigidly corrects his posture for imagined prying eyes. Appearing in public was always a performance. As he continues the trek home, it's as if his mind turns off. The only thing he can focus on is the deliberate effort of every step. When his cottage finally comes into view, he thinks he could weep for joy.

Once inside, he collapses on the couch. He doesn't get up again until the next day.

-

It's about noon when Mary blinks her bleary eyes open. People didn't come by often, and certainly didn't in the morning hours. With a yawn, she stretches, relaxed muscles coming to life one by one.

It's a day like any other. Mary tends to her plants in the yard, watering and surveying them. She mostly grows marijuana, of course, the plant passed through her family. Still, she's experimented with many variations. Her favorite is Purple Haze for its beautiful color- and lucky is she, for it matches her hair.

Once Mary is satisfied with the state of her crops, she returns inside. She hums as she enters the kitchen, grabbing a few buds from a jar on the counter. In one swift move, she clicks on the radio and grabs the mortar and pestle.

Mary sings along to the tune as she grinds down the buds, too lost in the song to pay much attention. Once she feels little resistance, she smiles down at the bowl. Perfect.

When she sits down on the couch and sets the bowl on her coffee table beside her favorite bong, her tranquility is interrupted as she hears a knock at the door. She pauses, brows furrowing. Had she imagined that? No one called to say they were coming today. Maybe it was just part of the song on the radio?

When another knock is heard, she hums, pouting in surprise. She makes her way to open the door, only to have to squint into the bright sunlight.

Slowly, her pupils adjust to the light, green irises rimmed with red more visible. The young man standing before her isn't someone she recognizes, and he's at least a head taller than her as she looks up. "Hello," she murmurs with a lazy smile, eyes a bit droopy.

"Uh, hi. Are you Mary Jane?" Peach Beomgyu asks nervously. What was with this girl? She looked half asleep.

She blinks for a moment. "Hm? Oh, yeah. That's me," she drawls, a bit dazed. Still, Mary notices the way he shakes, frowning slightly and giving him a once over. It wasn't just anxiety- he was leaning on a cane of beautifully carved wood. Her eyes light up at the sight. "Holy shit, that's an excellent cane you have. Come in!"

Beomgyu's eyes widen a bit, not expecting a genuine compliment on his mobility aid. "Ah, thank you..." He nods with a slight blush, slowly stepping inside behind her. Mary closes the door and gestures for him to sit on the couch.

Mary Jane smiles, patiently waiting until he's comfortably sat to join him. "Did you carve it yourself?" she asks excitedly. With the cane at the forefront of her mind, she'd forgotten to ask why he was even here. It wasn't immediately important.

"Uh, yeah, I did..." Beomgyu says nervously, eyes surveying the items on her coffee table. A bowl of herbs and some sort of... phallic contraption. Maybe coming here was a bad idea.

"Well, you're very talented. I'm a bit of an artist myself in my free time, but everything I've whittled is shit compared to that," Mary chuckles, before catching herself cursing. "Oh shit- sorry, I have a bad habit of swearing..." she murmurs, voice softer and apologetic.

Peach Beomgyu chuckles. "It's fine. I'm not hurt by little words," he says with a smirk, before sighing. "So, Chaewon told me you do healing and stuff. Is that true?"

Mary blinks, spacey and having forgotten the task at hand. Ah! "Yeah, I try! I'm a bit of an amateur, but I do my best. I'm CPR certified by the Strawberry Council," she announces proudly, a self-satisfied grin on her face as she raises her chin high.

Beomgyu can't help but chuckle a bit at her goofy display of pride over something so simple. There's something charming about it. "Wow. I'm impressed," he murmurs half-heartedly.

Although Mary Jane picks up on his half-sincerity, she smiles. "Thanks. So you need to be healed, do you... what's your name?"

Beomgyu chuckles again. Mary didn't seem too quick to the punch. "I'm Peach Beomgyu. Nice to meet you," he introduces, giving a slight bow of his head, which Mary returns.

"A peach? No wonder you are here for healing. You're awfully bruised," Mary murmurs with a frown, gaze drifting from the brown hair atop his head to the marks on his fuzzy arms. It was as if she dumped a bucket of ice water on his head. Most of the villagers wouldn't acknowledge any of it out loud. Too awkward, too taboo. But Mary Jane is taboo.

It took Beomgyu a second to gather himself enough to answer coherently. "...Yeah... I was just born this way. I've been to Dr. Chamomile several times, and even traveled further to visit Dr. Ginseng, but there's no cure. The only thing I can do is try to be comfortable as I live with it," Beomgyu explains, voice a bit gentler than before. It was as if his voice handled the fragile topic as delicately as it could.

Mary Jane nods slowly, a look of acknowledgement taking over her eyes that betrays an unexpected wisdom. "So the system is failing you, and you need to get creative?" she murmurs, much more invested, though her little grin provides the smallest hint of levity. Peach Beomgyu lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Yeah… Can you help me?” Peach Beomgyu whispers, lower lip caught between his teeth. He didn’t mean to plead, but the desperation in his eyes was hard to hide. He didn’t want to hurt anymore. 

Mary Jane smiles, resting a hand on his shoulder gently, careful not to hurt his tender skin. “Of course. I assume you are coming here because you're willing to try some less conventional options. You know about my reputation, right?" she asks with a grimace.

Beomgyu nods. "Yeah, I'm aware of the risks.... I'm still interested," he murmurs meekly.

Mary Jane nods, keeping a trained neutrality on her face so as not to sway his decision. "Marijuana helps with pain relief- not strong enough for surgery, for example, but certainly for body aches and pains,” she explains swiftly, sitting up straighter. “Do you smoke?”

Peach Beomgyu’s eyes widen a bit as his cheeks flush pink. “Uh, not really… I can if that’s the only option, but…” he trails off, awkwardly averting his gaze. He didn’t fuck with his lungs. He already had enough to deal with when it came to the bruising.

Mary Jane shakes her head with a smile. “No, no, don’t worry about it! I have edibles. It takes longer for it to kick in, but it is also generally stronger. Since this is your first time, I’ll give you a low dose to try,” she explains, standing to her feet. The soft patter of her feet is heard as she walks into her kitchen to retrieve two brownies- one for each of them. 

“Brownies?” Beomgyu asks, furrowing a brow. 

Mary Jane nods. “Yup! They might taste slightly off because of the pot, but I think they’re passable,” she says with a grin, extending the plate. Beomgyu takes a brownie, frowning slightly as he examines it. There was obvious hesitation in his eyes. Was it really worth this? He didn’t know what was scarier, if he had a bad reaction, or if it just didn’t work. Did he really want to eat something strange from this girl?

“Do you trust me?” Mary Jane asks softly, rousing him from his thoughts. Beomgyu was about to say no when he looks up at her face, at her eyes sparkling with hope, and suddenly he's taking a bite.

It was alright. He chews slowly.

Mary Jane beams, sitting beside him again and eating a brownie of her own. 

The two finish their treats and sit in awkward silence.

“....So… How long is this supposed to take to kick in?” Peach Beomgyu whispers, twiddling with his thumbs.

“Twenty minutes on an empty stomach,” she murmurs back. “It has to digest to hit your bloodstream.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu remarks softly with a slight nod. 

The silence is regular for Beomgyu, but unbearable for Mary Jane. After another minute, she can’t help but yap again. “So, Peach Beomgyu! I’m a healer or whatever, but what do you do? How do you pass the time?”

Beomgyu blinks, unsure where the girl who can barely keep her eyes fully open gets the energy. “Well, I don’t go out much on account of the bruising… I usually pass the time reading.” 

At this, Mary Jane lights up. “Reading? I love books! What do you read?” she asks excitedly, nearly a golden retriever at this moment. Maybe if she’s enthusiastic enough, he will crack a smile.

Not yet, though. “Uh, mostly fantasy. I mostly read fiction, novels. I like scifi too, but fantasy is my favorite,” Beomgyu explains, more interested than before, maybe, but still far from excited.

“Ah. I only really read nonfiction. I’m a bit of a nerd, I guess,” Mary Jane confesses sheepishly. It’s this that finally gets a reaction out of Beomgyu, eyebrows shooting up. 

“Nonfiction? Really? But isn’t it boring?” he implores, eyes widened. “I don’t really read that stuff for fun.”

“Not at all! I love to learn about the outside world. I can’t experience all of it myself, but I can learn about it. I can hear the stories of those who came before me, too. Of how the world became this way,” she muses, thoughtful words in contrast to her lazy drawl. At this, Beomgyu pouts in consideration. He gives her a shrug. “Besides, doesn’t fiction kind of get boring sometimes? When you think about how the stories aren’t even real…”

Peach Beomgyu can’t help but blink as he realizes the differences in their ways of thinking. He didn’t anticipate that this eccentric girl would be, perhaps, a bigger nerd than him, but anything was possible. Before he can think much further into it, though, his eyes start to feel a bit fuzzy- and not like his peach fuzz. “Uh, Mary Jane? I’m starting to feel it, I think,” he stutters softly, chest warm.

Mary Jane’s eyes light up as she peers over at him, examining his demeanor. Drooping posture, half-lidded eyes… “You’re high,” she smiles. 

“High?” Beomgyu asks, brows furrowing. “Isn’t that bad?”

Mary Jane shrugs. “It won’t harm your body nearly as much as alcohol would, because it stresses your liver. And since you didn’t even smoke it, your lungs will be fine. Marijuana is a depressant like alcohol, so it general slows down the nervous system. The high will last about two or three hours.” When she sees the nervous look on his face, she softens a bit further. "You wanted to give it a try, right?"

Beomgyu slowly nods. He had been willing. It’s just that now that he’s heard the term “high” all his negative associations begin to surface once more. Still, this really wasn’t that bad. For once, his arms weren’t aching, and neither were his legs. Even the bruise on his ribs was conspicuously numb. “I did. I guess I’m just nervous because I’ve never been high before…” he trails off. 

Mary Jane hums in understanding, her own edible starting to hit as well. “It’s okay, you’ll be fine. I’ll be right here in case you have a bad reaction or anything. You should expect some dry mouth though. Unfortunate side effect,” she chuckles. Beomgyu nods, cracking a small smile at the sound of her laugh. 

“Alright, I guess I can live with that,” he murmurs playfully, relaxing further into the couch cushions. The further he sinks into the plush stuffing, the more weightless he feels. It’s almost akin to floating on clouds, if they were covered in corduroy. A feeling of relaxation and general pleasantness washes over not only his body, but also his mind. His anxieties begin to fade.

Mary Jane tilts her head, gaze narrowing as she gives him a knowing look. He was rather cute as he grew more dazed. She hadn’t known him for long, but this was the first time she’d seen him so peaceful. “So how do you feel? How’s the pain?”

Beomgyu hums happily as he melts into the couch beside her. He hadn’t even consciously thought about the bruising, really. But his pain was definitely alleviated in this moment. Or maybe some of it was there, but the high made him not care, made it not bother him. He wasn’t sure. But before Beomgyu can even realize it, silent tears slip down his cheeks. This is the first time he's been without pain in years.

The second Mary sees his tears, her heart aches, and she quickly touches his shoulder again. “Oh, Beom, are you okay? Why are you crying, Peach?” she coos, a more doting side of her coming out. She was a caretaker, ultimately. 

Peach Beomgyu sniffles, wiping his face clumsily with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it's just… I can’t remember the last time I felt relief like this,” he confesses in a whimper. Mary’s heart wrenches. 

Hesitant, she opens her arms. “Oh, sweetheart… can I hold you?” she whispers, needing permission before she touches him, no matter how much her heart was screaming at her too. Especially with his sensitive skin. There were times when having discipline was important, to not impulsively give into her instincts, and this was one of them.

When Beomgyu wordlessly nods, Mary Jane scoops him up in her arms as delicately as she can, cradling his taller form against hers. She’s soft to the touch, squishy under his weight. After all, all these years of the munchies hadn’t left her particularly skinny. 

Beomgyu lets out a shaky sigh as he eases in her grasp, slowly letting go of his muscles. He didn’t want to crush her with his weight, but the high was relaxing his body so much. He felt so heavy, but not in a bad way. Mary Jane quietly coos again, gently stroking his back over his shirt. Beomgyu can’t help but give in completely, melting into a puddle in her hold. 

“...thank you,” he whispers meekly, a small, vulnerable voice. 

Mary Jane knew in that moment she would protect him to her death. 

“Of course, angel. You don’t need to thank me. You deserve to feel comfortable, to exist without pain…” she whispers back. 

And just like that, the two remain cuddled on her couch in comfortable silence. 

-

It becomes clear rather quickly that Beomgyu needed this kind of support regularly, and there was no reason for Mary to deny him. If she could help it, he would never feel pain again. After he went back home that first time, he’s continued to drop by regularly. Mary Jane offered to bring his supply to his house, but Beomgyu insisted that he needed to get out of the house once a week. Mary Jane didn’t realize what a little safe haven her home had come to feel like to him.

It’s a month later when Mary carefully blows him a glass bong of his own, forging in her garage. The smoke isn't anything out of the ordinary, anyway. She carefully sculpts the molten glass, adding a peach shaped bulb for the water to sit in at the base. Once the glass is cooled enough, Mary Jane can’t help calling him. 

“Peach Beomgyu?” Mary Jane chirps into the phone.

“Hm? Mary Jane?” she hears Beomgyu’s voice filtered back through the line.

“Yes! I have a gift for you. Could I come by?” she asks, biting her lip in excitement. She couldn’t wait to show him how to smoke this. Now that he’s opted to smoke so he can get the relief faster, this would be a game changer. 

“I was already going to drop by later today to pick up my stash anyway. I’ll be there in a couple hours,” he responds. He can’t help but smile to himself when he hears her eagerness through the phone. She was rather excitable. 

“If you’re really sure you’re okay with walking all this way?” she asks with a grimace. 

“Mary Jane, it’s like three streets down. I’m not that bruised,” he chuckles. He has sounded so much happier lately, she thinks she could cry. Still, she laughs at his joke. 

“Alright, alright, I won’t nag then. Just please be careful!” she acquiesces, before hanging up the phone.

-

As Mary Jane waits for Peach Beomgyu to arrive, she tidies her little cottage. Once she’s done with that, she’s a bit restless. She has to force herself to sit down on the couch to stop pacing willy-nilly.

While she sinks into the sofa, her gaze settles on the two bongs on her coffee table- one purple, like her, the other peach, like Beomgyu. Beomgyu wasn't in pain when he was with Mary Jane. But maybe she could aim higher than that. It didn't take long for Mary Jane to feel a deep connection to this young man. In a lot of ways, he was just like her, and just as lonely. The moment they shared was intimate, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty at how much it meant to her. She wasn’t supposed to be this attached. She was basically just a glorified dealer who deluded herself into thinking she's a nurse. But still, she had held him while his life changed. 

At this point, Mary couldn't help but want to please him more. Seeing his smile had become an addiction. Watching him come to stop hating his body was amazing. But maybe seeing him merely comfortable wasn’t enough. She wanted him to enjoy his body as a source of pleasure rather than pain for once. It was a body she loved, because despite its flaws, it was his. And not only that, it was the reason they met in the first place. Maybe, if Beomgyu had been a perfect peach, they wouldn’t have ever crossed paths.

Mary Jane’s thoughts are interrupted when she hears a knock on the door. She quickly shakes the thoughts away, jumping to her feet to answer the door. There he was, looking far more radiant than ever. “Hey, Mary,” Beomgyu says with a smile, stepping inside. Mary Jane can’t help smiling back- it was like his grin was contagious, somehow.

“Hi, Beom! Come on in,” she says, stepping aside to allow him inside. It doesn’t take long for Beomgyu’s eyes to fall onto the bongs on display. 

“Oh, Mary Jane! You bought me this?” he asks, eyes lighting up as he takes hold of the peachy bong. He examines it as he sits on the sofa. 

Mary Jane feels some shyness come over her as she fidgets with her sleeve. “I, uh, actually made it,” she explains with a soft smile. 

At this, Peach Beomgyu looks at her incredulously. “You can do glass work?” he questions, baffled. 

Mary Jane can only nod as she awkwardly sits next to him. For some reason, being the center of attention right now made her squirm. It was completely irrational, but after the inappropriate thoughts she had just moments ago, she was scared he would somehow sense it. She was terrified he would find out. “Oh, yeah. It’s something I learned from the bakery twirling sugar. Glass is the same…” she trails off awkwardly, unable to meet his eyes. 

Beomgyu assumes she’s just become meek because he’s praising her work, and doesn’t think much else of it. “Well, why don’t we try them out?” he suggests with a smirk. 

Mary Jane blinks. She was certainly more than eager to no longer be sober. “Fuck yeah. I’ll show you how to use it,” she says. And with that, she plucks the peach bong from his hands, heading to the kitchen. She pours some fresh water into the chamber before returning with some weed already ground. 

“Alright, so it’s kind of like smoking a pipe, but bigger,” she chuckles, welcoming the distraction. She packs the bowl, before turning to give him a clear view of what she’s doing. “When you want to take a rip, you cover this hole-” she explains, gesturing to it with her fingers and demonstrating- “and then you put your lips on the mouth piece and inhale. It’s more intense than smoking a joint, though, so keep that in mind.”

Peach Beomgyu slowly nods as he watches. 

“Are you ready?” Mary Jane asks, tilting her head. Peach Beomgyu blushes, but nods, taking the bong into his hands. It really was pretty, he thought. He didn’t want to fuck this up. 

Mary Jane smiles as she helps him, guiding his hands to where they belong. “Alright, put your mouth on. You can breathe through your nose,” she chuckles. Once he does, she flicks her lighter on, lighting the bowl. Steamy smoke begins to billow within the bong, and Mary Jane can’t help but grin excitedly. “Okay, now you can suck it up into your mouth and inhale.”

Beomgyu does as instructed, only to hold it shortly before coughing out a laugh. “Damn, that is different,” he chuckles breathlessly. 

“You did it!” Mary Jane cheers, beaming. Beomgyu takes another rip, holding it much longer now before he exhales, the smoke billowing from his lips. 

“I did,” he drawls with a smirk, passing her the bong. Mary Jane simply blinks for a moment, having imagined using her own. Still, she can’t resist. She swiftly takes the bong herself, taking a long rip before relaxing into the couch with a sigh. “I take it you like these, huh?” Beomgyu murmurs with amusement. Mary Jane only nods. 

The two continue like that until the bowl is all gone, melting into puddles on the couch. She begins to repack the bowl, mostly moving out of muscle memory. In her daze, mind left to her own devices, Mary Jane can’t help glancing over at Beomgyu. She doesn’t notice when she freezes in place. Beomgyu really was incredibly handsome. The straight slope of his nose, the way his eyelashes feather his cheeks (especially when he could barely keep his eyes open like now), his soft lips. She doesn’t even realize she’s staring until he calls her out. 

“Hey, Mary Jane? Earth to Mary Jane?” he drawls with a smirk, snapping her out of it. Mary Jane hums, perking up at attention. “What are you thinking about? You got all zoned out staring at me.”

Mary Jane feels her cheeks burn, turning to light the bowl. “Snacks. I’m starting to get the munchies,” she jokes, lying with ease. “I like to eat, you know…” she trails off with a playful look, gazing down at her plump body before looking back at him. She then lifts the bong to her lips. 

“Nothing wrong with that. Bet if I had a better appetite I’d have a lot more energy,” he chuckles, but Mary Jane doesn’t miss the way his gaze lingers on her figure. She was definitely curvy, large chest and round belly obvious with her form-fitting top. Not that he minded. He loved how plush and squishy she was when she had held him the day they met.

“That’s fair enough. I think the energy might be wasted on a lazy stoner like me, though,” she retorts, smoke let loose with every word. Though there’s something between them now, some elephant in the room. Mary Jane doesn’t know if it’s just the purple haze, or wishful thinking, but the air feels different now that she's noticed his gaze. 

“Nothing is wasted on you,” Beomgyu says automatically. Mary Jane’s eyes widen. She quickly searches his face, only for him to blush when he feels her examine him. “What?” he murmurs, much more softly. 

“Nothing. That was just really sweet. And I don’t know… something just feels different…” she answers quietly. Mary Jane was a lot of things, but tight-lipped wasn’t really one of them. She hated silence, she hated walking on egg shells, she hated ignoring tension. 

“Different how?” Beomgyu asks, a hint of trepidation in his voice. 

Mary Jane can’t help but sigh, giving him an earnest look. “You really want to know?” she questions, peering back at him skeptically. 

“...Well, now I’m nervous. But yeah,” he answers quietly, honest. 

“I find you attractive,” she confesses bluntly, looking back at him with a simple gaze. Beomgyu almost chokes on a breath. For a short moment, he just looks back into her eyes. Maybe Mary was wrong- maybe his gaze didn’t linger. Maybe she imagined it. He doesn’t say anything at first, wordlessly taking his bong back for another rip. Mary Jane watches him in silence as his eyes flutter shut, little clouds of white slipping from his mouth. “...Beomgyu?” Mary Jane murmurs tentatively, tilting her head. 

“Hmmm?” Beomgyu hums lazily, eyes slowly blinking open. 

“I’m interested in you. I guess I didn’t really ask anything, but I thought you might comment,” she chuckles. Despite the blush on her cheeks and the way her heart fluttered, she still lets out a little joke as if she weren’t shaking in her boots. 

“Oh, yeah…” he murmurs, blinking slowly as he gives her a once over. “You’re pretty cute yourself.” Mary Jane can’t really read his expression. After burying all his time in books, he wasn’t very skilled with flirting. Still, she smiles at his compliment. 

“Yeah? Just cute?” she murmurs with a smirk, plucking the bong from his hands once more to have some more herself. Once she inhales, she sets the bong down. “How cute?” she teases, leaning in with that same smirk, smoke escaping her nose. 

Beomgyu gulps. She looked like a sexy dragon sizing him up. It only made him feel even smaller and more helpless under her gaze. “...uh, very?” he mumbles, almost inaudible. As Mary watches him fluster, she’s only emboldened more. The high alleviates some of her inhibitions, and she’s more playful than usual.

She takes a hit without ever taking her eyes off of him, before leaning closer. “Cute enough to kiss?” she purrs, lips hovering mere inches from his. The scent of the warm smoke brushing against his lips makes his breath hitch. It’s all Beomgyu can do to nod, cheeks nearly flushed scarlet. When his eyes drift down to her lips, snake bites glinting in the light, Mary Jane realizes he likes them. And with that, she captures his lips in hers, exhaling the smoke into his mouth. 

She pulls back with a satisfied smirk, reclining against the couch cushions as she keeps her gaze intent on him. He lets out a shaky breath, the smoke slowly slipping past his parted lips. He just looked stunned, as if nothing were going on in that head of his. Frozen in place, he watched her with doe eyes. “Maybe next time we get high, baby,” she begins, looking at him with darker eyes, “I can take care of you. Make you feel good when your body isn’t hurting, hun. But sober you will have to decide on that,” she asserts.

Beomgyu feels a shiver course through him, face burning more than the hot smoke in his lungs. Take care of him? His body? He almost couldn’t wrap his head around what she was suggesting. Still, she was pretty, and it was hard to say no. He quietly nods, peering back at her like a puppy. Shit, he was supposed to smart. This stupid fucking weed was making him dumb. “...okay. I’ll think about it.”

-

It’s not until the following day, when Beomgyu has sobered up, that Mary Jane hears from him. “Hello?”

“Mary Jane?” a voice calls from the other side. She’d recognize that voice anywhere at this point. 

“Yeah?” 

He’s quiet for a bit, trying to pick the right words. “I… I’m sober now,” ends up being what slips out.

Mary Jane chuckles. “I should hope so,” she jokes smoothly, ignoring the quickening pace of her heart. “What does sober Beomgyu have to say?”

“...I want to try it,” he murmurs shyly, almost a mumble. He doesn’t know why it’s so hard to get the words out, she can’t even see him. But her voice alone was enough to make him weak in the knees.

Mary Jane is silent for a moment. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you, baby,” she clarifies, slipping the pet name out to sober him for the first time without thinking. 

It makes his heart do a flip. “Yeah, I’m sure. You introduced me to new things before… I trust you,” he says automatically, the words seeming to come back to him. Mary Jane can’t help but smirk to herself. Maybe he really did want this. 

“Alright, Beom. Bring an overnight bag and I can take care of you tonight,” she instructs, and Beomgyu instinctively nods. She can’t even see him; what is he doing? 

“Okay. Tonight?” he murmurs, voice still a bit shaky. Mary Jane can just imagine him fidgeting with his sleeves on the other side of the phone. 

“Tonight.”

-

Beomgyu fusses with his hair as he stands on her doorstep that evening, procrastinating knocking. He felt like this girl might eat him alive. She was ostracized from the village for a reason... but the way she made him feel, as if blending into a blissful harmony with the world around him in a way he never had before, was too tempting to resist. He never felt unsafe around Mary Jane, only nervous about the unknown.

Finally, he musters up the courage to knock.

"Beom!" Mary Jane beams, eyes lit up with excitement as she throws open the door. "You came."

"Mary Jane," he mirrors with a smile, "I did." He follows her into the cottage, putting his bag down by the couch.

"So, have you eaten dinner already, hun?" Mary drawls, already halfway to the kitchen.

"Ah! No, not yet..." he explains sheepishly, gently scratching the side of his neck.

Mary Jane smirks. "Well, lucky for you, I have prepared a fabulous meal," she declares playfully, mimicking a posh accent. It isn't even that funny on its own, but something about Mary's unapologetic corniness was endearing. Beomgyu can't help letting a chuckle slip.

"Well, I'd be honored," he responds softly, playing along. He follows Mary Jane to the kitchen, helping bring the dishes and silverware to the table. "You didn't cook weed in any of this, did you?"

Mary Jane laughs. "No, no, that's for dessert," she jokes. She carefully carries her pot of spaghetti to the table, oven mitts shielding her hands.

"More of your infamous brownies? I can't believe you ever gave one of those to Blueberry Kai," he teases, setting their places. Mary Jane scoffs, jaw dropping in a scandalized smile as she takes her spot opposite him.

"I didn't realize that if I don't wear gloves, everything I bake gets contaminated with weed! It wasn't on purpose!" she insists, placing her oven mitts aside.

"Likely story," Beomgyu murmurs with a smirk, eyeing her skeptically. "Are you sure you didn't just want to get someone else hooked so you can have stoner friends?"

Mary Jane's jaw drops into that baffled grin again, a sputtering sound of disbelief slipping past her lips. "You're a stoner too, now! I hope you remember that!" she retorts.

"Yeah, and it's all because you groomed me to be," he teases again, now just happy to push her buttons. Mary Jane just scoffs, rising from her seat to serve them both a good amount of spaghetti.

"Don't tempt me. If you keep treating me like a criminal, I might as well have the fun of enjoying the crime," she smirks, sitting back down with a satisfied grin and a glimmer in her eye. Suddenly, Beomgyu felt a shiver go down his spine.

"F-fine..." he stutters, a bit thrown by her flirty look. He quickly shovels some spaghetti in his mouth, eyes settled on his plate rather than her.

"You can dish it but you can't take it, huh?" Mary giggles, taking a bite of her own. Beomgyu looks back at her with a slight blush, shaking his head.

The two continue to eat their respective meals in silence for a bit, until Mary Jane remembers their earlier conversation. "Hey, Beomgyu," she whispers, quieter than before.

He hums, lifting his head to look back at her with clueless eyes.

"You said I could take care of you tonight. You know what I meant, right?" she asks, looking back at him plainly. "I meant sex."

Beomgyu sputters again, nearly choking on the bit of spaghetti still in his mouth. He's certain that the tips of his ears are glowing red now. He grimaces with his lips in a tight line, nodding as a strangled "mhm" sounds from his throat.

Mary Jane can't help but chuckle at his reaction. "Sorry, I just wanted to make sure... You were high when I suggested it," she jokes, shrugging. She takes her plate then, standing and carrying it off to the sink.

Beomgyu scarfs down the rest of his meal before following her meekly, trying his best to ignore his burning face. "Thank you," Mary Jane smiles, carefully taking his plate to wash off alongside her own.

"I should thank you... You're the one who made me dinner," he murmurs softly, reaching over to try and take the sponge. Mary Jane tsks, pushing him aside with her shoulder.

"You're a guest. It's two plates and a pot, I can manage," she reassures with a chuckle, before gesturing with a flick of her head. "Go ahead and have a brownie. Treat time," she smirks.

Peach Beomgyu certainly won't turn down an intoxicating treat. He takes one of the brownies sitting on the counter, letting out a happy sigh after his first bite. It doesn't take long for Mary Jane to finish up the dishes and have one as well.

-

"Let's go get ready for bed," she suggests, giving Beomgyu a questioning look to which he simply nods.

Peach Beomgyu grabs his cute duffel bag, peachy-pink like everything else he owns, and follows Mary Jane down the hall to her room. "Ah, where's your bathroom..?" Beomgyu asks meekly.

"Right here, first door on the left," she explains with a soft smile. Beomgyu nods gratefully, slipping inside with his things.

Mary Jane makes it the rest of the way to her room, butterflies settling in her chest. Beomgyu brought his bag into the bathroom with him, so he must be getting ready. He'd probably be gone long enough for her to get changed into pajamas of her own.

Mary Jane grabs a sheer purple nightie, lacy trim on the edges. In reality, she never wears cute shit like this to bed- who did? But Beomgyu didn't have to know that she normally slept in a huge tee and ratty old sweatpants. Those weren't so sexy. Tonight, she'd look at least a little alluring. Hopefully.

Meanwhile, Beomgyu is having his own wardrobe doubts in the bathroom. He was in completely regular pajamas- a white tank top and plaid pajama bottoms. But still, he couldn't help his shyness. Beomgyu nearly always wore long sleeves and covered as much skin as possible for fear of his bruises attracting unwanted attention. As he looks himself in the mirror, so many conflicting feelings come bubbling to the surface of his gut. He gulps, steeling himself to exit the bathroom.

When Mary Jane hears the door open, she looks up with excitement, only to be met with the vulnerable look in Beomgyu's eyes. She can hardly take it- it's like her heart is clenched in his fist. She immediately coos. "Oh, Beom, come here," she whispers, perched atop her bed.

Beomgyu blushes as he sees her body veiled in lilac, plump and round. He nods, hesitating for a moment before closing the distance to join her. It doesn't take any time at all for Mary Jane to open her arms to him, pulling him up against her.

Beomgyu lets out a shaky breath. "Sorry, I just... don't let people see the bruises much," he confesses in a whisper. Mary Jane nods, gently petting his hair as he settles in her hold.

"You're very handsome. I'm pretty lucky to have the viewing pleasure," she reassures in a playful whisper. Beomgyu can't help but chuckle at her flirty words.

"Leave it to you to hit on me at such a moment," he snarks. Still, it's a bit hard to keep his head straight at this point. The brownie is starting to kick in, blood abuzz. He instinctively nuzzles his face into her shoulder as he leans against her, the sensation of her silky skin against his fuzzy cheek pleasant. Her large breasts are nearly an inch from his face, and he's trying really hard to ignore that fact and not freak out.

Mary Jane giggles. "Maybe if you saw yourself the way I do, you'd understand how hard it is to keep my mouth shut," she whispers, gently stroking his back. She smiles down at him, his pretty brown eyes magnetic. "But I suppose I could show you..?" she suggests softly.

Peach Beomgyu blushes at her cheeky suggestion, gulping once more. He looks up at her with a curious gaze, head still resting atop her shoulder. "Show me?" he repeats under his breath.

Mary Jane nods, smiling sweetly despite the darker spark in her eyes. "Did the edible hit, baby? How do you feel?" she whispers, glancing down to his bruised arm. She gently caresses the spot, carefully gauging his reaction. "Does it hurt?"

Beomgyu shakes his head, sucking in a shaky breath. "No... not sore," he whispers.

That's all Mary Jane needs to hear, swiftly lowering him onto his back so he's reclining atop her pillows. Beomgyu's breath hitches as he's nearly manhandled by the smaller woman, though she's probably twice his weight. Maybe she's really just shorter.

Mary Jane giggles when as she notices his stunned reaction. "Relax, baby. Just gonna make you feel good," she murmurs comfortingly, moving in to lay beside him. Beomgyu gulps again, but nods.

Once he's relaxed a bit more, Mary Jane leans in to begin trailing kisses down his jaw. She hums, the soft scent of peaches surrounding her as she drags her lips over his skin. "You're much sweeter than me," she whispers, lips curled up in a grin as her path leads her to his sensitive neck. His peach fuzz stands at end, a shaky gasp escaping his throat.

"Mary Jane..." he whispers, hands instinctively lifting up to hold onto her by his side. She doesn't let up, continuing to trail gentle, loving kisses along his flesh.

She can't help but giggle at his half-hearted protest. "What? It's true! Peaches smell better than pot," she teases, kissing her way down to the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Beomgyu can only groan, too weak to protest in his dazed state. The combination of the high dizzying his mind and the overwhelming sensations of her playing with some of the most sensitive spots on his body is simply too much to bear.

Mary Jane hums in response, making her way down his shoulder. Beomgyu is hardly paying attention to what she's doing, just along for the ride. Mary Jane coats him in kisses, making her way from one bruise to the next, gently worshiping his marred skin. "You're gorgeous," she whispers sweet praises, taking her time to appreciate every piece of him. The high heightens every sensation, each touch all Beomgyu can comprehend in his daze.

By the time she reaches his hand, trailing kisses over his knuckles one by one, Beomgyu can't help but whimper. No one has ever spoiled him with this much attention before.

Mary Jane smiles, peering back at his face with loving eyes. "What is it, baby? Am I going too slow?" she whispers, unabashed affection in her eyes. It makes his heart skip a beat as he swallows.

"N-no... I just... I didn't think you'd be so sweet..." he mumbles, shyly averting his gaze. Mary Jane was normally so playful and cheeky, and here she was doting on him like he were the most precious man in the world.

Mary Jane can't help but laugh at his words. "I can be mean?" she whispers with a teasing look, to which Beomgyu's eyes widen. He frantically shakes his head. "That's what I thought," she finishes with a smirk.

Once she finishes pressing little pecks to the tips of each of his fingers, she swiftly moves to straddle his lap. "No pain?" she whispers, to which he nods. She carefully rests his arm on the bed once more before lifting its opposite, starting from the tips of his fingers to kiss her way back up his body. Beomgyu shivers as her soft lips trace his body, a shaky breath escaping him. Mary Jane hums with pleasure while mapping his body.

Eventually Mary Jane has made it all the way back to his neck. She presses her lips beneath his jaw, caressing his skin lovingly. Beomgyu sighs, eyes fluttering open to give her a pleading look. Mary Jane nearly freezes when she sees it. Still, she's determined to do this properly. She kisses her way along his jaw and cheek to complete her path before finally giving him what he wants.

Mary Jane captures his lips in hers, the sudden action after all the anticipation stunning Beomgyu for a moment. It takes a second for his dazed mind to catch up to whats happening, to which he finally returns her kiss, arms slipping up around her waist. Mary Jane can't help but sigh against his lips, relaxing into his arms.

Beomgyu feels his stomach do a little flip when she hears her breathy sigh. The sound was so intimate, soft, vulnerable. He instinctively kisses her with greater need, and it doesn't take long for Mary Jane to catch on and part her lips. "Damn, baby," she purrs between kisses, softly licking at his bottom lip. Beomgyu can only groan in response.

The sound makes Mary Jane's eyes darken as a possessive sort of hunger flares up inside her. Fuck, his voice sounded hot. Once allowed entrance to his mouth, her tongue curls around his. She's greedy for dominance, and Beomgyu doesn't seem to care, just soaking it all up. At the feeling of her tongue dancing with his, Beomgyu lets out moan, slowly losing his inhibitions as the weed and lust cloud his mind.

If Mary Jane wasn't wet before, she certainly was now. She groans, quickly breaking their kiss to hastily undress him. "Let me take this off?" she whispers, breath heavy as she pulls back to grab the hem of his tank top. Beomgyu gulps, simply nodding with red cheeks and parted lips.

Mary Jane wants to rip the damned garment off, but she is too smart for that. She couldn't hurt Beomgyu. So she instead carefully removes it from his body, helping him shimmy out of it with her jaw set. It was taking all her self control not to pounce on him completely, and she wondered if he knew it. Once he's left bare, tender chest and bruised side visible, Mary Jane can't help but curse. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," she sighs, gently kissing each newly exposed bruise.

Beomgyu blushes as he opens his mouth to speak, only to gasp when she licks a stripe up his chest. It was much lewder than the delicate kisses of before, and he shudders. "Oh, Jesus, Mary Jane," he pleads softly, holding her a bit tighter. Mary Jane feels his cock twitch beneath her, and it only spurs her on further.

At this point, Mary Jane's mind is blank, simply indulging in her impulses. She licks and sucks at his skin, leaving little hickeys to bloom across his chest. He can feel the vibrations of her hums through his skin. At a particularly harsh suck, Beomgyu whimpers, hips stuttering beneath her. "Fuck, baby, you taste like heaven," she whispers against his skin, finally climbing off his lap to begin her descent.

It takes all of Beomgyu's self control not to squirm as her searing hot lips trail down his abdomen. At this point he's perpetually breathless, panting beneath her touch. "Mary Jane, please..." he begs softly, the lack of friction where he needs it beginning to ache.

"Relax baby, I've got you," she whispers, finally making her way down to his waistband. "May I?" she asks, meeting his eyes. When he nods clumsily, she helps him kick his pants and boxers right off, hard dick slapping his stomach. Her mouth is already watering at the sight.

"Fuck, look at this cute cock," she purrs, carefully taking him into her hand. Pretty pink tip and swollen with need, she wants to taste him right there. So she does.

Beomgyu lets out a soft cry when Mary Jane licks his tip, quickly grabbing onto her hair. "Mary!"

Mary Jane can't help but giggle as he squirms beneath her. "Sorry, baby, you taste like peaches and cream," she whispers, pressing an affectionate peck to his tip before releasing him. She moves to straddle his hips once more, hovering over his lap. "Don't want you to hate this wonderful body of yours anymore," she sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead.

Beomgyu doesn't know whether to laugh or cry when she ambushes him with such sweet words after saying something so filthy. His hands settle on her hips as he peers back up at her with blown-out eyes. "I... I won't..." he whispers, gulping.

Mary Jane smiles, nodding. After a moment, she lifts herself up a bit, slipping off her panties. Beomgyu gulps. "Mary Jane... you're sure?" he whispers, searching her eyes. Mary Jane's heart immediately melts. She was the one taking him, and he was still trying to make sure.

"More certain than I've ever been," she whispers, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. "Want to milk that pretty cock of yours, baby," she purrs against his lips, explicit words in contrast of her sickeningly sweet tone. All Beomgyu can do is gulp and whimper while he feels his cock throb. "Are you sure?"

Peach Beomgyu nods, face flushed scarlet. "Yeah," he whispers. "Mary Jane, I want you," he confesses for the first time.

Mary Jane can't help but smirk, his words going straight to her ego. She reaches down to align him with her dripping entrance, eyes locked with his. "Fill me up, baby," she whispers with a lopsided grin, before finally taking him in. Her walls are snug around him as she bottoms out, lower lip drawn between her teeth. Beomgyu lets out a deep moan, head fallen back against the pillows as he squeezes his eyes shut. It takes all his self control not to buck his hips. "Fuck, you fill me up so good."

"Please move," Beomgyu whimpers, fingers digging into her hips as he struggles to stay still. Mary Jane can't help but giggle as she looks down at him. She had this effect on him? It was too good to be true. Experimentally, she softly rolls her hips, gaze intent on his face as she toys with him. Beomgyu's hips stutter in response as he whimpers, hazy eyes slowly fluttering open to give her a pleading look.

Those puppy eyes were her weakness.

"Don't worry baby, I've got you," she coos, resting her hands on his shoulders to brace herself before she rides him. Her purple nightie sways with her movements, though the sheer material leaves nothing to the imagination. Her large breasts bounce as she finds a rhythm, walls fluttering around him. At this point, he's crossfaded- high and pussy-drunk.

Wanton, unrestricted moans fill the cottage as the two chase their high. Beomgyu gradually begins to meet her movements, hitting Mary Jane at a new angle that makes her see stars. "Fuck!" she gasps, walls clamping down around him. The bed creaks with each move of their joined hips.

"Mary Jane, I'm-" Beomgyu starts, but she doesn't need to hear a syllable more before she interrupts.

"Cum, baby, fill me up," she commands, voice stern and commanding despite being strained from breathlessness. Beomgyu whimpers, nearly there.

Determined to take him over the threshold, Mary Jane leans in, capturing his lips in hers. She sucks on his tongue, swallowing his moans as their movements reach a crescendo. It doesn't take more than a couple more thrusts for Beomgyu to burst.

A flood of warmth fills Mary Jane and she shudders, the sensation of his release bringing her ecstasy. But even more than that, it's the whine that escapes Beomgyu with his release that breaks her. With a deep guttural moan from within her chest Mary Jane reaches her peak, walls pulsing and fluttering around Beomgyu's sensitive cock. The two ride out their overlapping highs, hips clumsy. Their foreheads fall together as they part for air, equally panting.

Waves of euphoria pass through them both before the exertion catches up to them. Mary Jane slumps atop Beomgyu with a shudder, slowly catching her breath.

"Holy shit," Beomgyu whispers. Mary Jane opens her eyes just to see his beautiful post-orgasm glow, fucked-out expression on his face. She can't help but grin.

"You look so fucking delicious," she whispers, voice a little hoarse from their previous activity.

Beomgyu would blush at the praise if he weren't already beet red. "So do you," he whispers.

Mary Jane slowly sits up again, hissing as she climbs off his lap. The emptiness is immediately upsetting, but she can't keep him forever. Slowly she slips her hand beneath her dress, fingers swiping up some of his peachy release. She licks her fingers clean with a hum of satisfaction, relaxing atop his lap.

Beomgyu groans at the sight. She had no shame.

-

authors note: idk how did i do guys? should i never write smut again? did you jerk off to this? did any of my shitty jokes land? happy new year. if i find any mistakes or typos i might edit the post. gonna go get high now

[stevie-petey]

we thought love was something (we weren't meant to find)

﹂ season two of "come home"

as you approach a year since will's disappearance, things seem to be back to how they were. you still have jonathan and the boys, hawkins is boring again, and you and steve harrington aren't really friends. you convince yourself that it's fine, but time can't heal all wounds, and you sure as hell have your fair share of them. when will starts having episodes and your brother hides a literal monster from you, junior year becomes a lot more painful than it already was. (and because you can never win, steve gets dragged into it). (more complicated feelings arise). (as usual).

episode one: MADMAX - what does steve fear more ? you or the plague ? currently it's you, some guy with an awful mullet stares you down in the parking lot (gross), nancy invites you to a party from your nightmares, and you become an official unlicensed therapist for will. yay for junior year !

episode two: trick or treat, freak - you and nancy have a bonding session in the library (kinda hot tbh), billy gives jonathan and steve a common cause to unite on: Protect Y/N, you're a chauffeur to a very sad steve harrington, and dustin uses will's trauma to his advantage.

episode three: the pollywog - you lecture jonathan about daddy issues and then have an intellectual debate about healthy relationships, you play Mr. Love Dr with Steve, nancy and jonathan go on a sick side quest (and actually inform you this time !), meanwhile: you're about to put a leash on your damn brother.

episode four: will the wise - jonathan is gone for one day and suddenly all hell breaks loose, your hesitant friendship with steve is already rocky (thanks billy) but steve is hot when he's angry tbh, you become a couple's counselor to lucas and max (sorry dustin), and you're now officially the world's worst cat owner ever. and babysitter. but what else is new ?

episode five: dig dug - you and dustin bury a body and con your mother into fleeing town, great sibling bonding time ! you play hockey with a monster, dustin gets ghosted by his friends, and now it's your turn to kidnap steve (technically dustin does, but you don't stop him) who later gives you some terrifying realizations.

episode six: the spy - dustin and steve haggle a butcher, you throw some meat at steve and then have a weird conversation about love, you stop dustin from becoming an incel, and then you wrestle some demodogs like any real woman would. side note: steve is hot protecting the kids.

episode seven: the mind flayer - jonathan is back and has a lot of questions and you have even more for him, the gang gets back together and ties will to a chair, you tell the kid a story to distract him from his demons, steve is a confused mess but at least youre with him, and someone makes a surprise appearance (her name rhymes with shell).

episode eight: the gate - you encourage nancy to take your place (everyone is shocked), you and steve are the newest babysitters in town, billy ruins things as always, tunnels are weird when youre concussed, you remind jonathan of an old promise, and when the snowball comes you make your own promise with steve that you know you can keep.

⌑ set between seasons 2 and 3

﹂ episode nine: the fall - surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

⌑ status: COMPLETE

⌑ season two title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

[taskforce420]

leaked. simon 'ghost' riley

it was obvious something had happened, the way people stared at you as you walked past them, they watched as your hips moved, and chest bounced. however- you couldn't understand why everyone had taken some kind of liking to your figure randomly. there was no need for them to, you wore the same kind of clothes everyday around the base.

it wasn't until your captain jogged over to you and pulled you into his office, along with your fellow team mates, that you finally realised something bad had happened. it was obvious that your captain, price, felt a little uncomfortable in explaining the situation. he stumbled over his words a little, he cleared his throat far to much and for gods sake- why does he keep pacing?!

"for christ sake cap, what's goin' on?" you finally spoke up, looking at him and everyone else in the room with a frown. price, and the others looked down as you spoke, apart from one. ghost.

"the fella you, stupidly, got yourself associated with- has leaked somethin' of yours" ghost spoke with his awfully dull tone. you could have sworn you felt you heart and soul leave your body, my eyes stayed glued to his.

"what.." you finally muttered out, in complete and utter disbelief. the man you once trusted with those kind of photos had completely disregarded your wishes of deleting those images you had sent him a while ago.

"he hasn't sent them to anyone, but he's been showing them to people." ghost continued on, crossing his arms across his chest and looking down at you. he was...disappointed in you, thought you were better then to send those kind of photos to someone; but we all know he didn't understand why you did what you did, he doesn't understand why anyone does it to be honest.

you were stunned, how the hell were you supposed to get out of this? sure you could talk to that foolish man you once liked, but that probably wouldn't end very well, you couldn't delete it off his phone..

"what am i supposed to do?" you finally spoke up, your voice a little shaky and desperate. it was embarrassing to admit but you sent those photos because he asked you to and you thought, you liked him; but little did you know you was using him as a distraction. trying to keep you feelings hidden for someone else.

it sounds bad, but he was using you just as much as you were using him. he only cared about one thing, nudes, and he was willing to do whatever he could to get them off you and if that meant filling your head with sweet nothings then that's exactly what he'd do.

price looked up as you spoke, he heard the pain in your voice and god it was horrible. he knew about the issues of men leaking photos around the base, it happened more often then he'd like to admit, but seeing you in this mess; a sweet, caring lady with the desire to do good and treat those around her with nothing but respect, pissed him off.

it pissed everyone off, soap, gaz, but one in particular was ghost.

you couldn't tell, but his eyes were squinted, his teeth clenched, his breathing heavy, and his hand squeezing his own bicep out of anger. sure, it was annoyed at you, but he was far more angry at the man who threw your trust out of the window and purposefully showed you off. how could he?!

"i'll talk to em'" ghost finally spoke up, you and the others looked at him, dumbfounded.

"si, you don't have to do that. i-i'll handle it on my own, after all its m-" he cut you off, you were right. it was your own fault, but he knew how you felt and he was not about to let you deal with it on your own.

"don't be daft, i'll sort it" and he was gone. straight out the door of caps office. the door slammed behind him and you bit your cheek nervously.

"well, thats tha' sorted" soap said, and god was he right.

it was only the next day, and people stopped staring. their eyes no longer followed you or your chest as you walked, no, instead they stared at the ground or simply refused to look your way. it was hard not to smile to yourself. oh, simon. the man you are.

it was now even more harder to mask your feelings for him, he helped you, without a second thought.

where you walked into his office to ask him about it, he immediately looked up at you, his hands stopped typing away at the computer. you let out a small hi, as you closed the door to his office and made your way to the desk.

he replied with a small nod of his head and a quick, you okay?. "im okay, thank you for talking to him" tilting your head a little with a small smile.

he took notice of you small gesture and smirked under his mask, so pretty.. he leaned back into the chair. "'course love".