#watch me searching for everything I can find from her so I can understand from where she comes

[matteodemedici]

The lady's laughter filled the room like bells hanging from an open window, swaying in the breeze and singing their sweet song. He couldn't help but smile in response – her presence amused him, and she was like a breath of fresh air against the backdrop of everything that was happening. Her blonde hair was like a ray of sunshine in the midst of the fog that surrounded them.

Matteo narrowed his eyes, accepting her words with apparent calm. His face had to remain an inscrutable mask, but inside he felt the blow to his pride. He knew he was an excellent rider - he had never lost, so the girl's self-confidence was maddening for a gentleman who was well aware of his own excellent qualities. He tried not to give himself away, remaining silent, but his eyes flashed with devilish flames, betraying his mood and the sudden desire to bring the proud lady down a notch.

"I love riding, milady," Matteo began, tilting his head to one side. "I don't know if a friendly competition can affect me that much, but there's no harm in trying. You seem confident to me, and I love confident women - they make life much more interesting. It would be my pleasure to watch you reveal your skills to me."

He took a step toward her, smiling in a way that could be seen as a challenge - or as the smirk of a shameless man who had woven deeper meaning into his words. The young lord had no intention of being rude to the lady, but he was burning with desire to play with her to find out just how bold she really was.

"What if the truth proves unbearable to understand? What if we go mad because we cannot understand and accept it? Are you that brave, milady?" He took a step forward after each question, approaching the blonde woman as if he wanted to press her and force her to take off her mask of self-confidence. But who would crack first? Her or him? "And still, you’re right — there’s nothing more valuable than the truth. Speaking it brings freedom. Lies are nothing more than an unbearable burden that destroys the soul.“

He paused at the sound of her name. His eyebrows rose in surprise - he had introduced himself with such pride, showing his love for his country, but Marjorie seemed to want to hide her true origins. He tried to recall the names of most of the noble families who had been invited to Vienna by the Emperor, but he could not remember a lady with that name. He frowned slightly, wondering what she was hiding, but alas, he couldn't be sure of any of the versions that crossed his mind. He was ready to back down, ending his game of playing the confident gentleman, but something in her behaviour made him continue his attacks, hoping to break her down. Noble ladies did not engage in informal communication so easily. Could she have been sent by the Emperor himself, her silken presence masking a hidden agenda? Could one of the whispered conspiracies actually be true?

Matteo began to circle Marjorie, pacing around her slowly. He let his gaze wander over her hair, her shoulders, the folds of her dress, the tight corset that squeezed her waist. He wanted to drive her crazy, creating the illusion that he was looking at her and judging her for a completely different reason. He wanted to provoke her, to tease the truth from her lips like a tune coaxed from a reluctant songbird.

"Simply Marjorie..." he whispered somewhere behind her shoulder, "dressed in silk."

His fingers had touched and removed more than one or two dresses so that he could assess the expensive fabric from which the woman's clothing was made. Was she a noblewoman or a servant who had received an expensive gift - from her mistress or her lover?

The lord finally found himself in front of her again, meeting her gaze, searching for the blush that had spread across her cheeks. Had he embarrassed her enough to loosen her tongue, or would she continue to lift her chin proudly, challenging him with her gaze? His fingers found hers, squeezing them gently and bringing them to his lips to pay her the honour she deserved.

"I do not offer compliments lightly, Marjorie, nor to win favour. I speak only the truth - and for that, you may trust me. But if it’s a challenge you desire, then let us compete. Spare me no mercy. I just might come to enjoy it."

The gauntlet had been thrown - not in jest, but as a challenge wrapped in charm, and now Matteo awaited the counterattack in their little duel, where both had put on masks, pretending to be someone else.

Who would fall into whose trap?

a  surge  of  friendly  rivalry  rushed  through  her  spine,  drawing  her  posture  even  straighter,  as  if  the  already  tall  princess  was  trying  to  stretch  for  some  extra  height.   a  harmless  grin  rested  on  her  lips  and  though  the  lord  had  not  uttered  a  word  that  was  directly  challenging  her,  she  could  feel  the  stuffy  air  dissolve  into  something  easier  to  inhale:  the  promise  of  competition. 

when  he  mentioned  his  fondness  for  horses,  she  couldn’t  help  but  wonder  if  he  was  one  who  only  watched  horses  from  the  distance,  between  fences  and  safety,  or   if  he  was  one  to  enjoy  the  wind  in  his  lungs  as  he’d  enjoy  a  race.  inspecting  him  closer,  and  with the  narrowing of  her  eyes,  effie  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  certainly  did  not  look  like  the  latter.  his  eyes  spotted  a  gentle  green,  flecked  with  warm  brown  shining  through  it.  and  when  she  noticed  the  hue  of  red  shimmering  in  his  ginger  hair,  refusing  to  be  swallowed  by  the  gloom,  he  reminded  her  of  a   scottish  autumn,  the  week  right  before  everything  withered.  and  then,  for  no  reason,  she  caught  herself  wondering  what  autumn  in  tuscany  would  look  like.

 “  they’re  indeed,  at  times,  i  believe  they’re  the  most  interesting  creatures  to  be  found  in  this  strange  place.”  she  laughed,  her  heart  beating  a  little  lighter,  shedding  the  weight  of  the  earlier  conversation.  it  had  been  a  while,  since  she’d  allowed  herself  to  laugh  through  the  grief  of  everything.  losing  her  siblings,  leaving  her  home,  hating  the  new  position  that  was  forced  upon  her.  “  do  you  enjoy  riding  ?  i  do  not  mean  a  troth  through  factitious  fields  ,  i  mean  a  friendly  race.  the  sort  that  leaves  a  bruise  in  your  pride  when  you  lose  ?”  she  asked,  though  the  question  was  phrased  as  a  challenge,  and  a  promise.  she’d  win. 

“  i  did  not  expect  anything.”  her  voice  softened  and  effie  stepped  back,  as  if  she  was  trying  to  give  him  some  room  for  his  feelings.  more  often  than  not,  effie  struggled  with  knowing  the  right  thing  to  say.  as  much  as  she  was  forced  to  pretend  to  be  something  she  wasn’t.  her  heart,  sometimes  foolish,  and  even  more  insistent,  seemed  to  always  sit  on  her  tongue,  rather  than  being  tucked  safely  behind  her  sleeve.  “  i  only  wished  to  know  your  thoughts.  i  thought  it’d  be  kinder  than  simply  offering  some  other  speculation.  i  must  have  been  mistaken  and  believed  you  wanted  someone  to  listen  to  what  you  might  think.”  as  much  as  she  liked  the  challenge,  and  that  weird  enjoyment  of  teasing  him  a  little  bit,  she  didn’t  mean  to  be  cruel.  if  anything  ,  she  wanted  him  to  know  that  she  cared,  that  she  shared  the  same  weight  of  pain  that  came  with  losing  someone.  but  perhaps  she  was  wrong  again. 

“  well,  i  still  wish  to  know  the  truth.  even  if  it’s  something  as  absurd  as  witches,  dragons  or  higher  powers,  fates  written  in  the  stars.  as  hurtful  as  the  truth  might  be,  it  won’t  wound  us  more  than  the  lost  we’ve  already  experienced.  i  daresay  we  owe  it  to  them,  endure  a  little  more  pain  for  their  sake,  if  it  gives  us  even  a  little  bit  more  of  a  chance  to  find  them.  step  towards  the  truth.  ”  she  shrugged,  glazing  a  nonchalant   half-smile  on  her  lips,  never  reaching  her  eyes.  the  same  she  usually  would  wear.  if  her  expression  didn’t  match  her  words,  it’d  hurt  less.

she  remained  at  her  spot,  unwavering  even  as  the  distance  became  smaller  between  them  again.  there  was  no  way  she  was  going  to  step  back.  although  his  words  did  surprise  her,  and  she  did  feel  bad  for  him,  effie  hated  going  back  on  her  word,  and  if  they  shared  one  thing,  effie  would  guess  that  he  might  be  as  stubborn  as  she  was.

at  the  question,  her  steady  facade  only  wavered  a  little.  though  expected,  the  darkness  of  the  room  seemed  to  have  tarnished  her  mind  at  least  that  much  that  she  forgot  that  she  wasn't  supposed  to  behave  that  way.  the  name  not  belonging  to  her  (  but  her  horse  )  slipped  with  panic  before  she  could  even  think  about  the  future  consequences.  “  marjorie.”  the  mention  of  any  title  proved  itself  to  be  too  much  of  a  complicated  lie  at  this  moment.  “  simply  marjorie…  it  is  an  honor  to  make  your  acquaintance,  my  lord  …?”  an  awkward  curtsey,  barely  passing  as  polite,  quickly  followed  her  words.  “  or  perhaps”  with  a  lift  of  a  chin,  and  confidence  borrowed  from  the  horse  she  borrowed  her  name,  she  attempted  to  recover  “   i  think  we  should  cast  aside  any  formalities  ,  and  simply  call  each  other  by  our  names.  our  meeting  was  rather  unconventional,  i  think  our  names  should  follow  suit,  no  ?  ”  she  nodded,  a  smile  plastered  on  her  face.  if  she  wasn’t  in  an  unreasonable  state  of  panic,  she’d  have  given  him  an  equally  challenging  smile,  as  she  could’ve  sworn  he  was  mocking  her  with  his. 

“  impressive  ?”  effie echoed.  “  you’re  flattering  me. though i must say and with no intention to brag, the women in my family are all impressive. ”  her  eyes  crinkled.  “  yet i cannot help but wonder if flattery  and  charm  is your  way  to  get  into  someone’s  good  graces?”  a  click  of  her  tongue.  “  unfortunately,  i  must  shatter  your  hopes  and  be  truthful  and  inform  you  that    such  attempts  will  not  earn  you  any  advantage,  should  you  be  brave  enough  to  go  against  me  in  my  suggested  race.  i  do  not  plan  to  go  easy  on  you.  ” 

[the-sunflower-room]

scared half to death

🌪️tyler owens x fem!reader 

☆ genre: angst, fluff, friends to lovers

☆ wc: 2.7k

☆ summary: tyler owens is not easily angered, but when the love of his life runs into an incoming tornado without a second thought, his emotions get the better of him.

☆ warnings: a very upset tyler, yelling, language

note: so i watched twisters and it was actually everything to me! the brainrot is bad and i’ve been wanting to write for tyler ever since i saw it, so here it is! this is very much the idiots in love trope because it’s one of my favorites. enjoy! :)

“Where is she?”

Tyler isn’t sure if he’s ever felt this angry before. He considers himself a fairly easy going man, always quick to make light of a situation and put everyone in the room at ease with his charming, joking nature.

But this was different. This had his heart pounding, his ears ringing. His face is flushed red and he feels like he can hardly breathe.

All because of her.

He slams the door of his truck, approaching his crew in the gas station parking lot with a look on his face that’s so completely un-Tyler that it makes them all shift uneasily.

“Where’s…who?” Boone tries weakly, unsuccessful in his attempt to play dumb. Lily rolls her eyes and elbows him in the ribs, shooting him a glare.

Tyler clenches his jaw, for once not in the mood for his friends’ antics. “You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

They all exchange glances, his uncharacteristic demeanor both surprising and concerning. This isn’t the calm, charismatic frontman of the Tornado Wranglers they’re used to.

“She’s in the RV, but I don’t think-” Dani begins, but he’s already beelining for the camper before they can finish. He can hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears as he nearly bursts through the door, finding her sitting at the small table in the back with her head in her hands.

Her gaze snaps up at the sound of his entrance into the RV, and her face immediately drops when she sees him practically fuming. “Tyler-” she says urgently, instantly on her feet as he approaches as if she’s about to defend herself. But he isn’t having any of it.

“You wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking out there?” He seethes, suddenly towering over her with his jaw clenched and hands on his hips. She swallows thickly, nervous around this version of him. Terrified to have upset him, disappointed him.

“Tyler, I promise, I was just trying to do the right thing-” she starts again, her tone practically pleading, but he just scoffs. 

“The right thing?” He questions in disbelief, cutting her off with a shake of his head. “You call nearly getting yourself killed in the field ‘doing the right thing’?”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the reminder of what she’d done, at the venom in his voice that’s ordinarily so gentle when directed at her. Memories of what had transpired nearly 20 minutes ago flood her mind and she feels a lump forming in her throat.

“I couldn’t let our data get lost,” she whispers weakly, her gaze glued to the floor in shame. “Bullshit,” he mutters, jaw clenched as his breath picks up. His eyes search her face, grasping to understand why the hell she had risked her life the way she had.

“You don’t run into the path of an incoming EF3 to recover some stupid equipment for our disruption research,” he practically spits, his voice growing louder, more emotional.

“That equipment is completely replaceable. You sure as hell aren’t. So I want to know why on god’s green earth you thought it was a good idea to run headfirst into danger like that.”

Her breath hitches, her eyes welling up with unshed tears at the reminder of her brashness. She feels ashamed and almost embarrassed as Tyler practically berates her.

They were best friends, a pair that the rest of the team liked to call the “dynamic duo.” With a shared passion for tornadoes and a taste for danger, they had instantly clicked from the moment they met during a chase a few years ago, becoming inseparable. Which is why Tyler’s harsh reminder of her stupidity stung so painfully.

She wasn’t used to hearing him so upset, so emotional in the worst way. With her, his tone was always soft, teasing, sometimes so overtly flirty that it would leave her heart pounding and her cheeks flushed.

But this was different. Now his gaze was harsh, curses unnaturally tumbling from his lips as she struggled to explain herself. And she hated every moment of his scrutinizing stare.

“You’ve worked so hard on putting together the equipment for the disruption research. I didn’t want you to have to start from scratch…not after all the effort you went through,” she explains pathetically, her voice cracking slightly as her emotions begin to shine through.

Tyler shakes his head, stepping even closer into her space. “And you thought it was worth risking your life for?” He grits out, his furrowed brow and downturned lips looking so unnatural on his normally smiling face.

Another shuddering breath escapes her as she catches herself from revealing the true reason she’d been so careless, from baring her soul and telling him that she’d run into the path of an incoming tornado because she loved him more than anything. That the thought of his disappointed face, his devastation over months of work lost to an unpredictably large tornado, hurt her so much that she would have done anything to save that equipment.

Anything to make him happy, to be the hero that he was to her.

“I- I didn’t get hurt, I knew I had time to get at least some of it-” she stammers, but she can’t get the words out.

“You didn’t have time!” He practically yells, gripping her shoulders and giving her a gentle shake. His eyes are wide, his gaze burning as he stares down at her.

“If Boone hadn’t been close by with his truck, you could’ve easily not made it. You could’ve died,” he chokes out, his grip on her tightening. His eyes are watering now, his anger fizzling out into something more desperate, more panicked.

Tyler still remembers the pure, unadulterated fear he’d felt as she slipped out of the safety of his truck before he could stop her, sprinting out into the open field where the winds and torrential rain were getting worse by the second.

He remembers the devastated scream of her name that had ripped itself from his chest, lost to the howling winds.

He sure as hell can’t forget the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness that overtook him when the rain became so intense that he could not longer see her, no longer assure himself that she hadn’t been sucked up into the raging funnel or hurt by the flying debris.

It was only when he got radio confirmation from Boone five minutes later, stating that she was safe in their truck with some of the equipment intact, that he even knew she was alive.

It had been the most hopeless, terrifying five minutes of his life.

“Don’t you understand what you mean to everyone? What you mean to me?” He rasps, his voice quieter now, more broken. “Some stupid equipment for an experiment isn’t worth your life, Y/N. Not in the least.”

His eyes are tender now as they rake over her face, scanning the scrapes and cuts littering her cheeks, the patch of dried blood clinging to her temple. His heart aches at the thought of her getting hurt, even if the injuries are small.

She notices that nearly all of his anger has left his body, replaced by the emotion that had truly been brewing beneath the surface: crippling fear at the possibility of losing her.

A silent tear runs down her face at his softer, more vulnerable words, her heart breaking as she realizes the effect her thoughtless actions have had on the man she loves. He’s quick to gently wipe it away with the pad of his thumb, his touch lingering on her cheek as he gazes at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking as she chokes back a sob. In an instant, he’s enveloping her in his tight, comforting hold, cradling her head to his chest and pulling her so close to him that their bodies are practically molded together.

“Shhh…it’s alright, sweetheart,” he gently hushes, his hand stroking through her hair as she cries softly against him. He’s back to himself now, all anger and frustration long abandoned in favor of his naturally calm, caring demeanor. Through her tears, she feels herself flushing slightly at his term of endearment.

“I’m the sorry one. I shouldn’t have yelled at ya, you didn’t deserve it,” he murmurs into her ear, his arms tightening around her.

He internally berates himself for defaulting to anger when she had also probably been scared and upset. But thinking she had died in that tornado just for attempting to recover his equipment had struck something so deep within him that his brain had reacted irrationally.

He stews in his remorse for a moment longer before admitting a truth that might be a little too vulnerable, a little too revealing of his deep and unwavering love for her, but he has to get it off his chest.

“…You just scared me half to death, darlin’. I can’t lose you...I can’t. It would tear me apart worse than a damn tornado ever could.” His whispered words are so raw and tinged with devastation that her breath hitches against his chest.

Slowly, she peels herself away from his comforting embrace to get a good look at him, and what she finds makes her heart clench in her chest. 

His eyes are red and glassy, obvious signs that he’d been crying. His muscles are taught with anxiety, like every fiber in his body had been tense ever since she fled his truck. His hair is slightly tousled and she instantly knows he’d been running his hand through it the way he does when he’s stressed.

The thought that she could cause him this much worry, this much pain, sucks the breath from her lungs and makes her feel dizzy.

“I only tried to save the equipment because I knew how important the research was to you,” she whispers, her voice still shaky but full of sincerity.

“I know how much it means to you, finding a way to keep these tornadoes from causing so much damage to innocent lives. I just- I wanted to do something brave and selfless for you, the way you always have for me,” she admits softly, swallowing as she meets his gaze.

His lips part slightly at her admission, the reverence in her words staggering. Hearing that she cares for him, finds him brave and selfless, wants to return the way he makes her feel, fills his heart with a love so deep he feels like he’s drowning in it.

“Y/N, you’re-” he rasps, pausing to clear his throat when he hears how raw and weak his voice sounds.

“You’re so damn sweet. Your heart is so big. That’s what I love about you. But please, don’t be as stupid as me. I throw myself headfirst into danger so much because I don’t think first…my judgement gets clouded by the thought of helping someone and I get tunnel vision. Which has put me in one too many potentially life-ending scenarios,” he murmurs, his hands squeezing her slightly as they rest on her shoulders.

“I can’t- I won’t let you be that careless. You mean too much to me.”

Her eyes widen at the tenderness in his voice, the affection and worry dripping from every word. It feels like their conversation is breaching on something deeper, something much more vulnerable and terrifying.

Her mind is hung up on his soft that’s what I love about you. Even hearing the word love directed at her from the mouth of Tyler Owens makes her head spin and her face heat up, and she’s unsure if she’s even breathing anymore.

“Tyler…” she manages, her voice threatening to break with the overwhelming swirl of emotions running through her. She can’t help herself, knows that she’s finally going to put it out there, tell him how she feels no matter how scary it might be.

“I love-” his lips are on hers before she can even finish. The sensation of Tyler kissing her is unlike anything she’s ever felt, and she’s damn sure she never wants him to stop.

His large hand tenderly cups her cheek while the other snakes into her hair, tangling his fingers through the strands as he pulls her even closer. She gasps softly as his grip tightens, his lips moving against her own with an almost feral desperation.

The salt from her tears mixes with his sweet taste – something like honey and peppermint – and she melts further into him and his warmth. She can feel him pour every ounce of his turbulent, pent-up emotions into the kiss, and it leaves her completely breathless.

He’s waited for this moment for so long, and after thinking he’d lost her today, he’d be content to just kiss her like this for the rest of time. Reassuring himself that’s she’s still there, that she’s his. Showing her what she means to him.

Finally getting a grip on his emotions, Tyler pulls away for a moment, wanting to make sure he hasn’t misread the signs, misinterpreted what he’d felt brewing between them for so long.

But a wide, disbelieving grin spreads across her face as she fights to catch her breath, and he suddenly has no doubt that she’s been his all along.

“I’ve been waiting for that for- well, I don’t even know how long,” she laughs breathlessly, slightly woozy from his intoxicating taste.

He huffs a laugh in return, his eyes shining with an overwhelming adoration for the woman before him. “Yeah…I think Boone might owe Dexter and Lily some money,” he jokes softly, his thumb gently brushing her rain-soaked hair away from her face.

His eyes roam over her, taking in every inch of her muddy clothes, her scraped up hands, the shallow cut on her temple. Regret courses through him at the way he’d raised his voice at her, even if it had been out of fear of losing her.

“Are you sure you weren’t hurt?” He murmurs, his voice lower and more serious than before. She gently nods, her hand moving to rest on top of his own as it cups her face.

“I’m ok, promise. It’s just a little scrape from slipping in the mud,” she reassures him, sensing his lingering gaze on her slightly bloodied face. She can practically feel the apprehension in his stare, his constant worry for her well-being so endearing that she just wants to kiss him again and again.

“I promise, Ty. And I swear, I won’t do anything like that again. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t think before acting.” He nods slowly, letting the sincerity in her voice wash over her and comfort his racing mind. 

“You’d better not,” he teases softly, a ghost of a smile pulling at his lips. “If we’re doing this thing, no more running headfirst into tornadoes, you hear? Can’t have my girl acting like an irrational daredevil like me. I’ve been told she’s smarter than that.”

She feels herself blushing as he calls her his girl, the title rolling off his tongue so naturally that it makes her heart skip a beat. Tyler watches as a hearty laugh escapes her and she leans into his touch, his own smile growing wider.

Suddenly nothing else has ever mattered beyond this moment of her in his arms, blushing and laughing like he’s the funniest damn man in the world.

“Ok, alright,” she giggles with feigned exasperation. “No more running into tornado paths, I swear. Wrangler’s honor. But you have to swear it too. You’re an adrenaline junkie and a trouble maker, even more than I am.”

He chuckles at her playful jab, his body feeling lighter than it has all day as he finally lets the tension within him fade. She’s safe, he tells himself over and over. She’s alive, she’s teasing him like she always does, and she’s got him smiling like a damn fool.

“Baby,” he mutters with that teasing glint in his eye, “you need to get my head checked if I ever run away from you and into a tornado. No man in his right mind would leave a gorgeous thing like you for some wind.”

Before she can reply to his ridiculous comment, he captures her lips once more with his own, relishing in the way she smiles against him as he pulls her closer.

This is all Tyler’s ever wanted - all he’s ever needed. Just her, safe and sound, loving him in all his flaws and worry for her.

If her running into that damn field led to this moment, this reality where she’s finally his, then so be it. He’s never been more grateful for a tornado.

[clockwayswrites]

More DoMAYn D5 Cont Chapter 2, Part 2

masterpostish just look at day 5. mental abilities iffy, please no con crit or editing <3

Danny, Jason, and Mr. Wayne all pile into the back of a car that Vlad would be jealous off. Neither of the adults even blink at the mud that’s getting on the floor and seats from the graveyard. Still, Danny tries not to fidget too much and make the mess worse.

Jason still has Danny’s sleeve in his grip, even as he’s leaning heavily against his dad. It means that Danny can’t get the seat belt in, but Alfred is driving like he’s got the most precious cargo so it doesn’t really matter.

“We need to go to Leslie’s,” Mr. Wayne says.

Alfred gives a nod. “I’ve already notified her that we’re on the way. She’ll be expecting us at the staff entrance.”

“Danny, are you hurt at all?”

Danny can’t help but start a little at that. “What? Oh, no, I’m okay. I just helped Jason out.”

“Leslie is a doctor and close family friend, we’re going to her clinic. If anything is wrong, they can see to it,” Mr. Wayne explains.

Danny shakes his head. What’s all the concern about? “No, really, I’m okay. Just a little cold and muddy.”

“How long were you out there, dear boy?” Alfred asks from the front.

“Just a few hours.” With his parents were gone ghost hunting, it was easy enough to just leave when he needed to. Sure, he planned in extra time to make sure he got there and find the graveyard and the plot, but he had his phone to entertain him.

Mr. Wayne is watching him with too seeing eyes. “So, you knew to be there?”

Fuck. “Um, the sticky notes.”

Searching around in his backpack one handed is a little hard, since Jason won’t let him lean far, but he manages to grab the slightly crumpled square of bright green paper with the time, plot number, and cemetery name on it.

Mr. Wayne takes the note like it’s something that could explode. “Do you know who these come from?”

“Yeah?” Danny’s nose scrunches up at that. “I’m not going to listen to strange notes from someone I don’t know.”

“Well, that is wise,” Alfre says. He almost sounds amused for some reason that Danny doesn’t get.

It seems safest just to be quiet for the rest of the drive. Besides, his silence gives Mr. Wayne tie to focus on his son. Danny listens without trying to as Mr. Wayne checks over Jason’s battered fingertips. Jason’s answers are stilted, but Danny thinks that Jason is already speaking more clearly. When Jason’s voice starts getting rough, Danny offers the thermos.

“It’s just tea,” he explains, looking at Jason rather than Mr. Wayne. “I thought Jason would be cold, you know, being underground all that time, so I brought it with me. He’s had some apple slices too and an oatmeal cookie.”

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Alfred comments. “We were in such a rush, we brought nothing with us.”

“Oh, no, yeah, course you were,” Danny says. “I’m sure that was… startling.”

“To say the least, but in the very best way,” Alfred says. He catches Danny’s eye in the rearview mirror for a moment. “In Gotham, you learn to accept the impossible.”

Danny nods as if he understands.

-

Arriving at the clinic is a flurry of activity. Mr. Wayne helps Jason into a waiting wheelchair. Alfred ushers Danny out of the car. There’s an older woman with kind eyes and a stern voice directing everything. Before Danny can even protest he has a fuzzy fabric hooked up to a tube squeezing his arm. He’s seated next to Jason because Jason wouldn’t stop trying to move until Danny was close enough to touch.

“I’m fine?” Danny tries to tell the nurse.

“Hold out your other hand please,” the nurse says instead of listening and sticks what Danny guesses is some sort of monitoring thing around Danny’s fingertip.

“Bruce,” the older woman says, a firm question in the man’s name. She has Bruce pulled off to the side and her voice low.

“Alfred got a call just after eleven,” Bruce says with a little motion, “from someone named Danny that he was in the cemetery with Jason. Alfred heard Jason over the line, got me, and we as quickly as we could. And… there he was, Leslie, just sitting there.”

The woman, Leslie, Danny guesses, shoots a glance towards them. “He looks like Jason.”

“He knew me,” Bruce agrees.

Clone? With transferred memories?” Leslie asked, as if that was a normal thing to just have to ask.

“We haven’t run any DNA yet,” Bruce says back, unphased.

“No, it’s Jason,” Danny protests. He doesn’t care that he’s not supposed to hear from so far away, he wouldn’t let Jason be doubted like this. “As long as Jason is who was in that grave, then that’s Jason. I helped pull himself out myself!”

“It is simple that the earth was hardly disturbed that brings questions,” Alfred soothes.

“That’s because—it’s just… I’m a—a meta!” Danny says. It’s… enough the truth. He reaches out a hand and waves it through the machine the cuff is connected too. “I heard him screaming in his coffin. I pulled him out!”

Jason grabs Danny’s hand as soon as it’s solid and clings to it. “I’m—I’m me. I don’t—I… I remember dying. Dad, I remember d-dying. There was so much smoke. The door wouldn’t open and-d I t-tried…”

Mr. Wayne is across the room in an instant and has Jason wrapped up in a hug. Danny looks away, as if he can give them any privacy being right there. Leslie at least gives him a distraction by coming over to take off the weird cuff and finger thing.

He doesn’t like the way she crouches down in front of him though.

“It’s Danny, right?” she asks. It’s like she’s using a ‘teacher voice’ but one step to the side. It’s weird.

“Yeah,” Danny answers anyways.

“Danny, how long were you out in the cold?”

“Why does everyone care about that?” Danny asks in what is totally not a whine. “It was only a few hours.”

“Well, Danny, I’m asking because your blood pressure and pulse are both really low,” Leslie explains. “Is that normal for you?”

“Oh, is that what those were measuring?” Danny asks with a little shrug. “I don't know? I don’t feel that different from normal. Like, I’m just a little tired but it’s been a busy day, you know?”

“I’m sure it has,” she agreed in that same patient voice. “When was the last time you were to a doctor?”

When had it been? Was that weird? “Since I was little, I guess? My parents are biologists, and they just take us to the pharmacy for shots and things.”

“Well, Danny, since you’re here and we’re going to be running some tests on Jason anyways, how about we run some tests on you t—”

“No!” Danny is up and out of the chair before she can even visit. He can’t go far because, well, Jason, but he’s not going to stay sitting down for this. “Nope. No tests. I’m not a lab rat.”

Leslie is almost frustratingly calm. “You’re not, and no one is going to try and make you into one. I just would like to make sure you’re healthy. How about this, any test we do on Jason, you can watch. If I think it would be a good one for you to do, I’ll ask and you can decide if you want to or not, okay?”

Danny chews on his lip as he thinks that over. Slowly, he nods. If he can always say no later, it doesn’t hurt to agree for now, he figures.

It makes Leslie smile. “Great. We’re going to start by taking care of Jason’s hands, okay?”

Danny doesn’t really have any say in that, but he nods anyways. Mostly just because one of Jason’s hand is in his. As it is, they take care of one hand before having Danny swap sides, and then take care off the other. They make Danny scrub up in between and change into some clean, if too big, sweats, but he’s fine with that. He doesn’t want to be anything that makes Jason sick.

They take the chance to weight Danny and take his height during that, but those are fine. That’s normal, right?

He tucks himself between the wall and the exam chair thing Jason is one when he gets back in the room. Jason’s bandaged hand finds his sleeve.

“This is just a basic reflex test,” Dr. Leslie explains as she taps on Jason’s knee with a prehistoric looking tool. Jason’s knee jerks forward. “Your reflexes are a little slow right now, Jason, but if you did just… come back, there might be some rigor mortis still in play. Jason, do you feel stiff?”

Jason nods slowly. When he speaks it’s very carefully, as if his tongue doesn’t want to listen. “Everywhere. Like… when had that bad flu. All fuzzy too… it’s hard to… yeah.”

Dr. Leslie breathes deeply and lets it out slowly. “Okay. There’s only so much we can do here, but let’s run through some more tests.”

[zweetpea]

Yandere batfam one shot/imagine thing

I'll probably make a part 2

You met Bruce while you were working as a waitress for a gala. It was a second job to pay rent. Maybe he brought Selina or some other girl or maybe he came alone.

Either way you two end up in a room together and end up sleeping together. Just as you’re pulling on your clothes he asks to see you again. He even offers you a check (let’s say it’s for 500k). You take the money promising to see him again but you don’t for about a year.

After a year of him searching every corner of Gotham he finally finds you. And surprise surprise you have a three month old baby girl.

He goes up to you and begs you to let him be in the baby’s life. After a few weeks of bribes (and him secretly stalking you) you finally make a deal with him. If he works from home he can take care of the baby during the day.

So you brought your baby to the Wayne Manor. You expected maybe a servant or maybe Bruce to answer the door. You were not expecting a young man to open the door. He had short shaggy black hair with an undercut and a K-pop hair style. He stared at you with his piercing blue eyes-

“Tim drake! That’s who you are! I used to love watching your let’s plays! I love your sense of humor!” Tim was surprised. Being the middle child (especially the middle boy) he often feels left behind by his siblings, so having someone notice his accomplishments for once felt nice.

“Drake. What are you looking-” a short boy came up behind the gamer. He had a darker complexion and slicked back black hair with piercing green eyes. You smiled at him and he straight up slammed the door in your and your baby’s face. Your eyes grew wide and your face fell into a scowl.

You heard shuffling from behind the door and when if opened you saw Tim holding the kid by the scruff of his collar as one would do with a misbehaving animal. “Sorry about that Miss.” Tim smiled at you. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“I’m going to be late for work. Here give her to Bruce. Her name is Echo.” You give the baby to Tim. “Oh there you go. Support her head now.” You threw the bag in the small rude kids face. “Everything she needs is in there. I’ve left instructions inside for how to take care of her. If she doesn’t eat that much try tickling her tummy. I’ve labeled the extra bottles of her food so if she’s really hungry give her some and if it’s not enough call me I’ll get here as soon as I can. I don’t want her drinking any of that store bought crap. Understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” Tim smiled.

“Good.” You ruffled his hair. Then you turned to the younger boy. “Be good to my baby ya hear? Or else I’ll milk papa Bruce for every penny I can.” You ruffled his hair too. You then kissed your baby and went back to your car.

Tim shut the door and immediately Echo started crying. Bruce and Alfred came running at the noise.

“No… I missed her.” Bruce said. He looked at his three youngest kids. “Hey sweetheart.” Bruce tried to grab Echo. But Tim held her close. Everyone looked at him surprised.

“Father why did that rude lady drop off a baby.” Damian scowled.

“She’s not rude. She’s your future Step Mother.” Bruce smiled at the thought of your and his wedding. “Now Tim, give my baby here. She’s crying.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?” Bruce seemed flabbergasted.

“She trusted me to hold her child. This is my baby sister.”

“Drake! Give father the baby. She’s being loud.” Damian covered his ears. Echo looked over at him and made a grabby hand gesture at him.

“It looks like she wants Master Damian’s attention.” Alfred pointed out.

“but-” Tim was cut off as Damian took the baby.

Echo’s cries grew quiet as her youngest older sibling held her. While Tim’s obsession with You and Echo became apparent almost immediately, giving him the praise his own family and the Media refused to, Damian’s was slow. It started with someone (echo) actually liking him. After all he went from being showered in attention under Talia’s thumb to being practically ignored at Wayne Manor.

Dick was by far the kindest to Damian, being a mentor to the young boy. But he could still bite back at Damian’s snark. Barbara and Stephanie took none of his crap, to the point where they barely spoke to him. Cass and Duke held no qualms about fighting with a kid. Jason was like a cool big brother and while he wasn’t at the manor often he always made most of his time there focused on the kid. Tim and Damian had a very strained relationship. And while Bruce loves Damian there’s always a bit of strain, and guilt on Bruce’s part. If he’d stayed with Talia maybe Damian wouldn’t have to grow up in a cesspool of Violence and mental agony.

“Back to your old ways of not wearing protection father?” Damian smirked.

“Damian… give me my Daughter.” Bruce said gently but firmly.

“Its nice to know you fought for her more than you fought for me. Though to be fair to you Ummi did shove us together.” He snarked as he held the baby who’d fallen asleep. Bruce went to grab her but Damian stepped back. “Ah ta ta. You wouldn’t want to disturb her right?” Damian smirked.

Over the next few hours Damian was mainly the one taking care of Echo if only to stop her from crying.

And at the end of the day when you finally got off work to pick up your sweet baby you were surprised to see Bruce, Damian, and Tim all playing with her in the living room. (What was more surprising was that her attention was mainly focused on the brat from this morning Damian.) She cooed as she saw you and you rushed to pick her up and gather her things into her bag.

Damian glared at you as you took Echo from his borderline iron clad grip. Who were you to take his sister, his blood sister mind you, away form him? (Her mother but we're not going to get into that right now.)

"Sweetness how about you just slow down. I'll have Alfred prepare you a drink. Which kind of tea do you like more Earl Gray or Jasmine." Bruce smiled and twiddled a piece of your hair in his hand.

You smacked his hand away. "No thank you. My baby and I need to get home." You said and quickly hurried out of there.

"Father you can't let her leave!" Damian said.

"Yeah! Don't you want that nice lady to be your wife?" Tim agreed.

"I was talking about Echo." Damian deadpanned.

Bruce ruffled both their heads. "Patience boys. Have a little faith in your old man." He smiled as you walked away. Before the month was out he'd have you and echo safely tucked away in his arms in the deepest recesses of Wayne Manor.

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Dr. Zayne will handle it.

Pairings: Zayne x afab! Reader

Summary: Zayne finds out your gyno appointment is going to be with a male doctor and he’s less than happy about it.

Warnings: not really any just Zayne being jealous yet respectful, idk if I wrote him ooc or not… but it’s a learning experience lol.

Ps- it’s a lil shorter than what I normally write but I have so many ideas brewing.

————

Zayne’s fingers type quickly on his laptop, a warm cup of tea steeping next to him. His glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose with the lenses reflecting reports and patient files. He had promised only an hour of working in his home office while you stayed with him.

He could hear your voice in the main room arguing with whomever you spoke with. After your tone sharpened slightly, he decided to close his computer, remove his glasses, and see what was happening.

“No, I’ve been waiting for this appointment for two months! There has to be something else you can do.” You plead with frustration.

Zayne raises a brow, wondering what kind of appointment has you so stirred up. He watches as you angrily huff and say goodbye before ending the call. Your phone is tossed to the couch carelessly and you rub your face in your hands.

He carefully comes up behind you, his large hands covering your shoulders and the pads of his thumbs gently massage the tissue.

“Is everything okay, dear?” Concern is evident in his voice.

You nod and turn around to face him. “Yeah, just my stupid gynecologist.”

Zayne remains quiet, obviously waiting for you to continue.

“I’ve been trying to see this specific doctor because the association recommended her, but they just called me and said they overbooked her for this month and she won't be able to see me."

“Why does the association even have a recommended gynecologist?”

His questions hung in the air for a few moments while you scooped up your phone from the couch.

“I guess Dr. Lina is the best in her field. Kinda like how you’re the best cardiologist- most hunters try to see you instead of anyone else for heart issues. I guess it’s the same for her, and since a lot of hunters are women, the association trusts her to handle any issues for us.”

Zayne hums in understanding and places a tender kiss on your temple, his hand stroking your back to relax you. “So, what are you required to do now?”

You let out a sigh, “They can either reschedule me a month from my original appointment or I have to see the other gynecologist that the association recommended… who’s a guy.”

He tenses up and his hand stops moving.

Zayne maintained a high level of professionalism in his interactions with female patients. He recognized that the primary objective of doctors, including himself, is to assist individuals in need. Nevertheless, he experienced a sense of jealousy at the chance of another man observing you in a vulnerable situation.

“And are you comfortable with that?” His voice grows more cold and tense.

You pull your lip that you were chewing on from between your teeth, “Not really… that’s why I was waiting for Dr. Lina. If I’m not cleared soon, then I’ll have to be put on desk duty until I am.”

The foreboding future of being limited to desk duty when you weren't even physically injured was sure to make you go crazy. It was one of the most frustrating things about being a hunter- forget the wanderers, no, it was staying on top of all the appointments to ensure you were completely healthy. Dental appointments, eye exams, physicals, and now gynecology.

“I’ll miss my deadline if I wait for her,” frowning, you collapse onto the sofa in defeat. “Hello desk duty for the next month.”

You glance up at Zayne, searching for a hint of his thoughts on the situation, but he simply exhales through his nose, a silent acknowledgment of your frustration. He settles beside you, and you allow yourself to rest against his chest, feeling the cool steadiness of him. As you roll your eyes at the absurdity of it all, you pull out your phone to dial the clinic once more. Unbeknownst to you, Zayne’s gaze is intently fixed on the screen, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

“I’ll just book with that other doctor,” you say dejectedly.

Zayne's hand clamps down on your wrist with a surprising intensity, preventing you from dialing the number. Shock floods your senses, and as your gaze meets his, you can't help but notice the piercing coldness in his green eyes. The tension in the air thickens, making it clear that this moment is more weighted than you had anticipated.

“Zayne?”

You look back to his hand locked onto your wrist. Little white snowflakes flurry from his arm, and from that, you can tell the doctor is having an internal battle with his emotions.

“Forgive me for my impracticality, but I don’t think I’m comfortable with you seeing a male gynecologist.” You don’t fail to notice the way his voice was now lowered and a chill ran through your body.

The flurry of snowflakes burst from his hand in quicker movements at your words and he quickly lets go of you.

“My, my, is Dr. Zayne… jealous?”

“I don’t see why I cannot clear you for this, I am your primary doctor after all.”

Aww, your snowman was jealous. He just didn’t want to admit it.

“Zayne, honey,” you lock your fingers with his, noting the way the snowflakes start to calm down. “As much as I would prefer you to do it over anyone else, the association wants someone specialized in that field.”

Zayne furrows his brow, a wave of frustration washing over him. He knows deep down that he lacks the authority to grant you the necessary clearance, and the thought that another man will see you exposed, no matter how justified it may be for medical reasons, angers him even more. The tension in the room thickens as he rises abruptly from the sofa, his movements are almost forceful as he unintentionally nudges you aside in his haste, caught between concern for your well-being and the turmoil within himself.

“Don’t make the appointment.”

And with that, he leaves the room.

"Zayne!" You call out, but the sound of his office door shutting was all you received in response.

—————-

About an hour ticks by and you never leave the couch, instead just opting to watch some soap opera to pass the time with a throw blanket covering your body as the rain pelts against the windows.

You could faintly hear Zayne's muffled voice speaking to someone over the phone. You didn't want to disturb him, understanding how difficult it is for him to express his emotions. If he needed some time alone, you would give him that space.

By the time the door opens, the main character is already in tears again for the umpteenth time. He stands over you and you turn off the show.

In the stillness, you can sense his struggle to meet your gaze, while your eyes remain locked on his, filled with concern and curiousness.

Finally, he clears his throat.

“You have an appointment with Dr. Lina at 8 a.m. on Monday. Please do not be late.”

Shock washes over your features and your mouth parts open.

“What? Zayne, how did you-”

“Being at the top of your field has its advantages.”

You're silent, not knowing what to say, just overall confused. It would’ve taken you another month to see her and now you’re seeing her in three days?

“One of my colleagues is Dr. Lina's cousin. I explained to him your situation and he talked to her. I guess she was delighted to find out that the one and only Dr. Zayne’s girlfriend wanted to see her- so she pushed back one of her appointments.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Without another thought, you move off the couch and wrap your arms around his neck. Zayne reciprocates the hug and cradles your head to his chest.

“Thank you.”

Zayne's hand continues to stroke your hair, a bit hesitant as he chooses his next words carefully. "Darling, I want to apologize for my behavior earlier."

You pull away with furrowed eyebrows as he meets your eyes.

"You were right, it seems I was a bit jealous." His hand brushes back a stray lock of your hair. "If you were required to go see another male doctor, I should have been more understanding of that. It wasn't right nor professional for me to intervene without your consent-"

"Zayne." Your sharp tone cuts off his apology. "You don’t need to apologize for anything. I understand how difficult it is for you to confront your emotions. Honestly, I couldn’t be more relieved. I had already told you that I wasn’t comfortable seeing a male doctor for this, so you being jealous and taking action like that is kind of sexy."

"You think that was sexy?" Zayne smirks as if humored by the situation. "Really."

You shrug and nod your head, "I mean, yeah. You being all protective like that and realizing you're jealous is something I don't get to see every day. Maybe I should make you jealous more often..."

He lets out a low growl and pulls you back to his chest, lips brushing against your hairline as he inhales your shampoo.

"It would be wise not to push it," He warns. "Besides, I’d much rather owe Dr. Lina a favor than you forced to be uncomfortable.” His thumb brushes over your ear.

“What’s the favor?”

“That I see one of her children. With the discovery of his new evol, I guess his heart had some abnormal fluctuations.”

You frown at his answer. A child with heart problems already?

Zayne notices your change in demeanor and he tilts your chin up to look at him.

“Don’t fret over it darling, I’m seeing him tomorrow and she had already given me a brief rundown on his condition. It sounds like it’s just the body getting used to the abundance of power. It's common in children.”

You nod, relieved. If anyone can figure it out, it’s your boyfriend.

The rest of the night was spent cuddling on the couch and snacking on sweets while the cliche drama played in the background.

———-

Your appointment with Dr. Lina went very smoothly and she said you were in perfect health.

By the next week, you were approved to continue out in the field and the heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders.

Zayne was very relieved to find out his hypothesis was correct with Linda’s son, Ivan. As it turns out Ivan’s evol was super speed and the fluctuations in his heart were just him needing to burn off the energy.

You were glad it all worked out, thanks to your Dr. Zayne.

[hedwig221b]

any fics with stiles being the darling of the hale family like the whole fam just loving him and really supporting derek’s relationship with him

Hello! Found these ones, but I feel like I'm forgetting some, so if anyone has suggestions, please, leave them below (I wanna read more)

can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time? by whiry

There's something strange about Beacon Hills. Stiles can't really put his finger on it, but the way certain classmates look at him at school and the way certain adults look at him in the grocery store has him curious. And it's not the sort of pitying looks that his mom's coworkers used to give him, but these ones are longer, more searching, like they're looking for something. Not to mention the weird noises that sometimes come from the woods when he runs, too human to be animal and too animal to be human. Plus the way the Hales have seemed to sequester themselves to the wild and give Stiles serious Cullen family vibes. But Stiles, like everyone else apparently, ignores it. Until it becomes too great to ignore and he has to investigate for himself and find out what is actually going on in Beacon Hills. +++ Or, the one where Stiles and Derek meet, hate each other, slowly get to know one another, and fall totally head over heels for each other all while avoiding curious classmates, an angry ex-girlfriend, and, oh yeah, imminent death.

here in the heart (of my sanctuary) by crazyassmurdererwall (smartalli)

Talia accelerates through the tunnel, and Derek looks up, watches the light that makes it through the bramble dance and shift over the hood of the car as they drive, fingers gripping the sides of the tank. It’s beautiful, like a gateway to another world. He’s lived in the preserve his whole life, and he didn’t know this was here. She eyes him. “You should know this man is very important to me. I take the responsibility of his care and counsel very seriously. Handing him over to you…it’s not a small thing. Please keep that in mind.”

Northern Blues by kaistrex (weishen)

When Stiles steps into the room that the Hale house has conjured for him to stay in, the first thing he sees is a window already open, letting in a pleasant breeze. The second is a door in the right-hand wall. Laura clears her throat, scratching at her nose. “That leads to Derek’s room.” Stiles’ eyebrows shoot up and a laugh bursts out before he can stop it. Now he understands how the pack knew this room probably wouldn’t belong to his dad (which, gross). He looks over his shoulder at Derek who’s glaring pointedly at everything except for Stiles with pink-tipped ears. “Presumptuous. I like it,” he says to the house, patting one of the walls and throwing a wink at Derek hovering in the doorway. _ When the Hale pack transitions to a new Alpha, Stiles is thrilled to be assigned to Beacon Hills to try out as their new Emissary. He and his dad are immediately enamoured with the idyllic little town, fitting right in with the rest of the Hales – except for Derek. The new Alpha shows no signs of welcome, but it will be hard for him to stay stubborn in the face of his family’s encouragement and a sentient house that has plans for the two of them whether Derek likes it or not.

Don't You Worry (Stiles) by Watermelon Wolves (RogueMarieL)

After Scott was bitten, Stiles told a very small lie in exchange for a very huge prize -- pack membership -- and he has spent the intervening years winning every Best Fake Boyfriend award on the books. Now, however, Scott wants to be in an actual relationship, and Stiles is losing his pack. Enter Derek.

Hung The Moon by BurnItAllClean (nrnyx)

Slowly Stiles got control of himself again. His heart calmed. His breathing evened out. The anger was gone. In its place, a bone-deep weariness settled. He couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t survive this.

Bonded to a Spark by AMatchInWater

Derek comes back to Beacon Hills after living in New York with Laura as a deputy. His mom wants to retire and has enlisted Stiles to be their emissary in training since he's such a successful spark. Derek hates all of it at first until he cracks when Stiles wakes him up in the middle of the night to fix the wards, and he starts to fall for the Omega living in his home.

sanctuary where i stand by ceserabeau

"We're happy to have you, Stiles," Laura says, and nudges Derek hard, "Aren't we?" "Of course," Derek says through gritted teeth. When he looks at Stiles, the kid has a smug grin on his face. What a little shit. AU where Stiles is sent to the Hale pack to be their emissary.

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!” Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her. “What?! What was that sound?!” “You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder. “Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!” “Mike,” she argued. “Who’s Mike?” Scott asked. “Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

Only By Entering The Wolf's Den by Spuri

Stiles gets a call for help from his old babysitter, Laura Hale, after a slew of magical sabotage to the restaurant/gastropub she runs with her brother Derek. Mysterious magical and supernatural shenanigans are Stiles' bread and butter, so who is he to deny what's basically family? Even if it does mean facing his age-old, hopeless crush on Derek again, and the fact that Derek hates him.

[masterlist link]

[cameronsbabydoll]

SUGAR-COATED CHAINS — CHAPTER NINE

WARNINGS — possessiveness, rafe watches the reader through the security cameras in his penthouse,

You wake up slowly, stretching beneath the silky sheets, the warmth of sleep still clinging to you. The familiar scent of Rafe’s cologne lingers in the air, but the spot beside you is empty, the mattress cool where he once laid. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you push yourself up on your elbows, searching the room until you find him.

He’s already dressed for the day, standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt. The city skyline stretches behind him, morning light spilling into the penthouse, casting golden hues against his sharp features. The way the sun hits him from behind only makes him look even more formidable, like some sort of power-broker god. Your heart flutters just watching him.

His gaze flicks to you, expression unreadable. “Morning,” he says simply, voice deep and smooth, but it carries an undertone of authority. The kind of tone that makes your stomach tighten in anticipation.

You hum in response, still groggy, rubbing your eyes. Your usual routine is to roll over and curl up for another few minutes of sleep. But there’s something about the way he stands, so effortlessly commanding, that keeps you awake. You half-expect him to tell you to get up or tease you about staying in bed too long, but instead, he says something completely unexpected.

“You should just stay. Move your things in.”

The words hang in the air, casual, matter-of-fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Like it’s already decided. Like he’s been waiting for this moment.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you sit up quickly, clutching the blanket around you, your pulse quickening. “Really?”

He gives you a look—one of those unreadable, slightly amused stares he always gives when he thinks you’re being a little slow, as if everything is part of some plan. “Yeah,” he says, tilting his head, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “You’re already mine, aren’t you?”

The words hit you like a wave, a surge of warmth filling your chest. You nod without even thinking, the answer bubbling out of you as though it’s been rehearsed. “Yes.”

His smirk widens, almost predatory, and it makes your heart race. He steps closer, and in one fluid motion, he tilts your chin up with his fingers, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb before leaning in and kissing you. It’s slow, deliberate, claiming. Every movement makes your chest tighten, your body already responding before your mind catches up.

When he pulls back, he brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering. “I have meetings all day,” he says, voice low and confident. He shrugs into his suit jacket, smoothing out the fabric. “Make yourself at home.”

And then, just like that, he’s gone.

The second the door clicks shut, you scramble for your phone, heart hammering in your chest, feeling like you’ve just entered a dream—or a whirlwind you can’t control. You barely wait for your best friend to answer before whisper-shrieking, “He asked me to move in!”

Her gasp is so loud that you pull the phone away from your ear, heart thudding harder now. “No fucking way.”

You flop onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, grinning like a giddy schoolgirl. “I’m serious! I’m literally in his bed right now. He just left for work and told me to make myself at home.”

“Holy shit. You’re actually, like, a little housewife now.”

The words make your stomach do a little flip. You don’t know why they hit you so hard, but they stick, almost like a label that feels right—too right.

You giggle, kicking your feet. “I guess?”

Your best friend hums from the other end, the sound of her shuffling things around echoing in the background. “Are you sure about this?”

You hesitate for half a second, weighing the idea in your head, but there’s no doubt in your voice when you reply, “He takes care of me. You don’t understand.”

You can almost hear her raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I kinda do. You sound so whipped right now.”

You roll your eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. “Shut up.”

“Shut up? Girl, you just called me squealing about moving into your sugar daddy’s penthouse.”

You scowl, but there’s no real bite to it. “He’s not—”

“Babe. He’s rich as hell and spoils you rotten. He’s literally your sugar daddy.”

You huff, but there’s a smile creeping onto your face. “Well, he’s hot.”

“Obviously.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Okay, okay. I should give you a tour. You won’t believe this place.”

You flip the camera, starting with a slow pan across the living room. The plush, modern furniture gleams under the lights, the cityscape sprawling out beyond the glass walls. His home is the kind of place you only see in magazines, the kind of place you never imagined could ever be yours.

Your best friend whistles. “Jesus. He’s loaded.”

“I know,” you murmur, in awe all over again. “It’s crazy.”

You continue to show her around, feeling proud of the space, the luxury that suddenly feels like it belongs to you. But more than that, there’s a warmth inside you that swells. This is real. It’s happening. And no matter how fast everything is moving, you don’t want it to stop.

—

Across the city, Rafe sits in his top-floor office, the city spread out beneath him, endless and busy. The glass walls reflect the midday sunlight, bathing him in a sharp glow that makes his presence even more commanding. He’s not paying attention to the skyline, though. His focus is entirely on the small screen in his hand.

You. Wandering around his penthouse, showing off every corner like it’s already your own. You didn’t know he had cameras installed in every room—an added layer of security, of course, but also a way for him to keep an eye on his territory. And right now, his girl is wandering around, lost in his world, taking it all in.

He smirks, sipping his whiskey with one hand, the other resting lazily on the arm of his chair. His eyes track your movements on the screen, watching you giggle as you show your friend the oversized kitchen, the walk-in closet, the marble bathroom. The soft tones of your voice drift from the speakers, and he finds himself listening a little too closely.

His thoughts are interrupted when one of his business partners walks in, pausing as he sees Rafe staring at his phone with an uncharacteristic grin.

“What are you grinning at?” the man asks, raising an eyebrow.

Rafe looks up, smirking even more. “Just watching something.”

The man takes a few steps closer, squinting at the screen. “Is that security footage?”

Rafe doesn’t even glance at him. “Yep.”

“You got cameras in your penthouse, huh?” The man steps up beside him, now grinning as realization dawns. “Wait… Is that your girl?”

Rafe takes another sip of his whiskey, his eyes still glued to the screen. “She’s mine.”

The man lets out a low whistle, impressed. “Damn. You’re really moving fast, huh?”

Rafe just shrugs, his gaze never leaving the screen. “Told her to move in this morning.”

“Holy shit, you’re not messing around,” the man mutters, shaking his head. “Guess I don’t need to ask how things are going with her.”

Rafe just smirks. “No. You don’t.”

—

Later that afternoon, Rafe comes over to help you pack.

You’re excited at first, the thought of finally moving in settling in your chest like a warm, comforting feeling. But when you open the door to let him in, the reality of it hits. The place you’ve called your own for so long suddenly feels… small.

Rafe steps into your room and looks around, his expression a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “Jesus, princess,” he drawls, arms crossed as he takes in your space. “Didn’t realize I was moving a whole toy store into my place.”

Your face heats up as you watch him pick up a stuffed Jellycat. His lips curl up in a wicked grin. “You’re bringing all of these?” he teases, holding the toy up like it’s some kind of oddity.

“Yes,” you snap, snatching the plushie back and cradling it like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

Rafe’s amusement doesn’t die, though. He picks up a delicate lace nightgown you’ve never worn, holding it between his fingers, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You wear this?”

Your cheeks turn crimson. “Sometimes,” you mutter.

He tilts his head, studying the piece of clothing with a smirk. “I’ll bet you look good in it.”

Then, he finds your diaries. You freeze as he flips through the pages, glancing at the messy scribbles inside. “What’s this? You write about me in here?” he teases, lifting a page that looks suspiciously familiar.

“Rafe!” you squeak, lunging for it, but he holds it just out of reach. You try not to blush, but it’s impossible.

Rafe laughs darkly, his voice low and full of that unyielding authority. “You’ll have to tell me about these later.”

You glance at him, heart skipping a beat. “I—”

“I’ll read them later, then,” he says, dropping the diary into the box, a wicked smirk on his lips as he watches you scramble to stuff the rest of your things into bags. “You’re really mine now, aren’t you?”

There’s no hesitation this time. You look up, meeting his gaze. “Yes, Rafe. I’m yours.”

He nods once, clearly satisfied with the answer. “Good. Now let’s get you moved in.”

The thought of the future seems less daunting now, wrapped up in a world of power and control. Everything has already changed. And you’re finally realizing just how much it’s about to shift.

As the evening settles in, the penthouse feels more like home with each passing minute. Rafe has settled back into the luxurious bed beside you after helping you unpack, though now, there’s a different air in the room—one that feels charged with something more than just the day’s events. The sheets feel like silk under your skin, and you can’t help but notice how comfortably you fit next to him, even as the distance between your bodies feels like the closeness of a couple that’s been together for years.

Rafe is lounging against the pillows, eyes scanning over something on his phone, though his focus never really leaves you. You’re sprawled out beside him, fiddling with your own phone, just distracted enough to ignore the small, almost predatory smile that keeps tugging at the corners of his lips.

You can feel his eyes on you, making the back of your neck tingle as you type quickly into your notes app, your fingers tapping out your thoughts in the quiet of the room.

I think I like playing house with him.

You read it over for a second, your heart racing. Is it too soon to feel like this? Too soon to acknowledge how good it feels to be his in a way that feels so natural? The thought of being his—the way he owns the space, the way you fit into it—has become so familiar that you wonder if this is where you’ve always belonged.

Before you can hit send, Rafe shifts beside you, his phone now forgotten. You glance up just as he tilts his head and gives you that knowing grin—the one that always makes your stomach flutter. His eyes darken slightly as they trace the curve of your body beneath the soft nightgown you’ve slipped into.

“You think so?” he murmurs, his voice low, almost predatory. It’s a question, but you can feel the command in it, as if he already knows the answer.

You nod, a soft blush creeping over your cheeks, but you don’t pull away. The space between you is still just enough to make your heart race, but you can feel the pull of him—it’s magnetic. His gaze dips down to your exposed legs, then back up to your face. The heat of it burns you from the inside out.

With one swift motion, Rafe reaches out, dragging his fingers lightly over the delicate lace of your nightgown, his touch so careful yet so possessive. You can feel his fingers trailing slowly up your back, the fabric shifting under his touch as his hand moves with deliberate purpose.

"You're mine, aren't you?" His voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s firm, expectant.

You bite your lip, feeling your breath catch in your throat. His presence is overwhelming in the best way, and every part of you wants to surrender to him. “Yes," you say softly, your voice betraying the heat that's built between you.

Rafe leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Good."

You shiver at the feel of his breath on your skin, but then he shifts, his hand now resting on the small of your back, just above the curve of your hips. He moves you closer, pulling you flush against his body. His grin widens, a wolfish gleam in his eyes as he looks down at you, seeing right through any pretense.

His hand slides lower, smoothing over the back of your nightgown with an almost lazy touch, like he’s claiming every inch of you. You feel a gentle pressure against your spine, a light caress that feels possessive yet comforting all at once. You can’t help the sigh that escapes your lips, your body instinctively pressing closer to him.

With that same commanding, almost teasing voice, he says, “Come here. Sleep.”

The way he says it, it’s not just an order; it’s a promise—of what you still aren’t fully sure of, but you know it’s something he’s not going to let go. There’s that little spark of danger in his tone, the one that makes everything inside you tingle. It’s the kind of command you’ve learned to expect from him, and this time, you don’t hesitate.

You slip closer, curling into him, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close, and as you settle into the familiar warmth of his body, you can feel the faint, rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

You hear him chuckle softly, a deep, low sound, as his fingers stroke over your back, soothing and possessive all at once. The moment is perfect in its stillness, but you can feel how restless you both are underneath it.

And as the night draws on, you don’t know what’s coming next—how he’ll change you or how you’ll change him. But in this moment, wrapped in his embrace, you think to yourself with a soft smile:

I think I really do like playing house with him.

Rafe’s voice breaks the silence before you can drift off completely, his hand still moving lazily over your nightgown, tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “It’s just the beginning, princess.”

Your pulse spikes at the sound of his words. You don’t even have to see his face to know the grin that’s there—faint, dangerous, and full of promise.

You close your eyes, your body relaxed against his, and let sleep come, knowing the future holds more than just playing house. And with Rafe, it’s a game you’ll never tire of.

[mayasaurusss]

I love your writing.Pls, can u do jinx gets reader to try out a lingerie 🙏

It fits you just right

Contains: suggestive themes but not exlicit smut, soft Jinx.

"Babyyy, I've got you something!" Jinx's loud voice echoes inside her hideout, catching your attention.

She has been gone for a couple of hours at least, having told you that she was going to do some of her usual mischief in Piltover. You bet she painted that town blue from head to toe.

She walks in on the helix, humming a made up song and carrying big patched sacks on her shoulders.

You get your from the couch and push away the book she so kindly took -stole- for you, following her small bouncing with your eyes. "Jinx! What have you..." she throws the bags on the ground just before your feet, their contents spilling all over the floor.

Trinkets of any type, scraps of dull metal, old cupboard sweets and clothes overflow from the linen sacks, tinkling resonating inside the room. You marvel at the many trinkets she got, turning over their glass shells and admiring the many colors reflecting on their metal surfaces. "Jinx!" you say while stuffing your hands inside the creases of a brand new coat, "where have you gotten all this stuff?!".

Her silence is enough to make you understand what she did before she even opens her mouth. "What?! They took everything from us, I'm just repaying them the favor" she moves around you and watches as you intently examine every object she took -stole, again-.

"I told you to me and to me again, you gotta stop steal-" you are rudely interrupted by her exasperated voice, "Yeah yeah I get it! I know".

Silence fills the space again, something that doesn't usually happen while Jinx is there. You look up to see her usual pale skin tone replaced by a faint pink. Her bottom lip is pressed beneath her teeth and her eyes avoid yours. You can already feel a bit of annoyance at her almost childish ways taking their place on the sides of your brain, "What is it?". A small choked sound comes from Jinx's throat, she rocks in the balls of her feet for a moment before you see her taking in a deep breath, closing her eyes and pushing a paper bag towards you. You blink your eyes a few times, surprised by her, before you take the paper bag and open it.

Inside it sits a small brown packet. The way it's nearly stored gives away that whatever is in there must be special to Jinx's standards. The brown paper is adorned with Jinx's signature drawings, colorful traces of crayons depicting small characters -mainly you two holding hands- , scenarios and hearts all over it. A pink ribbon ties everything up, completing the picture.

"Jinx, what is this?" you ask her, earning a whine from her blushing figure. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, no?".

She watches in anticipation as you unite the ribbon, carefully peel the paper back and...

A set of lingerie sits in front of you, all embroidered and neatly stored. "Do you like it? It's even in my color..." Jinx's words make you realize that the set is a deep navy blue.

You snort at her words. "Really? You steal a pair of lingerie and your first thought is to search for blue ones?" she would have reacted shyly if she hadn't seen the playful smirk on your lips. "I-I mean... It's important, you know?" you walk closer to her, making sure to sway your hips as you do.

"Why? You like seeing me all pretty for you, in your favorite color?" as if she wasn't red already, blood starts to pump even faster into her veins, making her look like a tomato.

"Y-yes I do! N-now put these on!" she roughly shoves the pair against your chest, much to your amusement. "Alright, just wait here, cutie" the way your voice drags over the last word makes something inside of Jinx move, pumps blood in her heart and in her hips.

A few minutes pass by, Jinx's mind already finding new things to think about, when she hears your sing songy voice "Cominggg".

A gasp leaves her when she sees you wearing the lingerie on your skin. It's just perfect, emphasizes every curve of your body, every scar, mole or freckle visible through it: and most importantly, it's her color.

"Wow..." Jinx sits up from the couch, reaching her hand to touch your shoulders, then traveling to grab at your hips. "It fits you just right..." her eyes are glazed and cheeks pink as the ribbon she used to tie your little present up.

"Sooo? Do you like it?" you let out a gasp as her grip on your hips tightens, making you suck in a sharp breath. The way she has you at her mercy makes something pull at your heart strings.

And Jinx? She looks like an absolute mess. Pretty flushed cheeks, eyelids heavy with desire, mouth open and heart full of desire. "Like it? I fucking love it" her nose presses against the cease of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. "You look so good in this..." she starts to press kisses, electric against your skin. "How did I ever find someone as perfect as you?" her words come out as hot as molten lava, as sweet as honey.

"Jinx..." your breaths are heavy against the unnatural cold of your home. Jinx slides her hand up to your neck, hugging you closer to her. All her newfound confidence suddenly blurs and you can feel her heartbeat through her chest on yours. Again, that shyness she harbors for you and you alone resurfaces, making her look so small against your body. She pushes her lips outwards, pouting a bit before she asks something of you.

"Could we...you know..." her voice is hoarse, creacking here and there. Deep violet eyes stare at yours, assessing if you understand her and silently waiting for an answer. "Could we...what?" you already know what she wants to ask you, but you are having far too much fun teasing her. Her eyes widen for a moment and she swallows hard, before looking at her boots. "You know...you know what I mean...".

You still aren't satisfied with your teasing, waiting for her to admit what she truly wants with words instead of embarrassed chocked sounds. "I don't think I do" that dumb smile of yours only makes Jinx feel more and more embarrassed, tempted by your lips but pulled back by her shyness. She can't do it anymore. With an exasperated whine, Jinx strengthens her grip on the back of your neck and pulls you down towards her, kissing your lips fiercely.

The kiss is all teeth and tongue, all sighs and touches, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. You pull back from her, lips wet, feeling blood rise up from your veins into your cheeks. "Woah...I guess that was enough" you say, giving her a knowing smirk and earning a sigh from her, before she brings you back to her lips. "Oh shut up toots".

[magnoliaswriteatsunset]

I watched a reel showing what Zayne said after being gone for 30 days. I can’t help but wonder about something.

Imagine this:

We are the MC. We are because we customized her and the cafe can show time passing from morning to evening, then night based on the time of where we are/the server. Usually, we/MC always tells the guys/chosen love interest(s) if we are leaving. We can say good night and hello when we meet.

But something bugs me.

When we exit the game and leave for 30 days, sometimes less, sometimes more, they send messages. Try to get in touch. Search the spots we frequent. Check in on things we left behind to keep them in order and in good shape for when we return. They don’t know when we’ll come back. If we’ll ever come back. All they know how to do is wait. Wait for someone who seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet.

A thought occurred to me.

What if the reason no one can find us, and the reason no one else seems too concerned, is because in their world once we exit the game, MC, us, our avatar, the only way for us to show and give our love to the guys, ceases to exist, but are not completely erased.

The side characters are none the wiser, believing we were sent away on a classified mission or simple were too busy to socialize with their peers. However, the love interests are different. They are aware of the situation to some extent, at the least. They know us well by now. They know we wouldn’t disappear without good reason. And the threats surrounding us are ever present. But something’s off. If that were true, and we were taken by force, they know we wouldn’t go without a fight. They know we would have left traces of *something* behind. Anything. From a knocked over glass to cameras watching over Linkon. They would have found it. But no. It’s like once we step foot outside the game, out side of Destiny Cafe, we simply cease to exist.

The space itself is empty, save for the lone chair the love interests lounge in, only allowing one at a time. No staff to take your order, no customers chatting idly in the background as they sip on their drinks and eat whatever food they bought earlier, no people passing by the windows or coming in and out of the building. Just us, our love interest, and this empty space all to ourselves, playing music of our choice non-stop.

I think we forget, at times, that we have more power over this “world” than we realize. That our choices, feelings and thoughts have sway over how we perceive their world.

But what really gets me, is that it’s as though there is mutual comfort to be found.

Comforting us by easing our worries, waiting for us, the world refusing to turn unless we arrive. Comforting them by interacting with them, touching them, conversing with them, sometimes reacting to what is going on beyond the screen in eerily perfect timing, even though they don’t know what’s actually going on. They are just programmed to do so. Nothing more, nothing less.

Here’s what gets me, though.

We have all this interaction, all this time together, chatting, studying, working (while trying to act like or blatantly staring at each other), playing, or even sleeping together (literally just sleeping, like a nap with the phone on because your too exhausted to exit beforehand). Then suddenly, it’s like we’re a ghost. Gone. No one else has seen us. The only thing left is the echoes of where we once stood.

I wonder,

Do they wait in that chair, acting as though we exist beyond those cafe walls? As if they’ll find us on a walk in the park or fighting to protect Linkon? Do they sit and wait, switching out from time to time to try and see who will get to be in the cafe when you arrive?

So many questions.

Perhaps, in their world, you are the only thing that helps time move forward. Everything else feels flat and stagnant. As their whole world encompasses this small room.

Do you know?

Do you understand what they do while they wait?

Do you feel the same longing and yearning for them as they do for you?

Do you wait? For them? Or is the world around you able to keep you company? Unlike their own. At least, not the way yours does.

Will you ever get to be with them? No longer being stuck behind a screen and wall of code. Would you still love them, without that safety net? Or would it be too much for either of you to bear?

…..

I deviated a bit from where I originally planned to go but I’ll expand more on these later. What do you think? What ideas are bouncing around in that brain of yours? (I also put stuff down in the tags if your interested by it’s mostly just little note from me.

[darnell-la]

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗬 𝗠𝗜𝗫

pairing: dark!dom!Logan Howlett x non-mutant!fem!reader

warning: drugging, head butting, oral (fem receiving), nightmare fuck, woken from sleep, rough fuck, multiple orgasms, obsession, etc.

note: we can’t stop writing about this man. he’s everything we need.

please like, COMMENT, follow, reblog, and REQUEST us!

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

“Maybe you’re just no one’s type anymore, sugar. That attitude doesn’t sit well on women like you,” Logan said across the bar after hearing y/n complain to Storm that it’s hard to find a person she’s interested in.

“Or maybe you can mind your business!?” Y/n turned to look his way with a yell. Storm slightly touched her back to calm her now. “No! — I’m tired of him talking. It’s not like you’re so sweet yourself!” Y/n said.

Logan looked at the frustrated young lady with a grin as he placed his cigar in his mouth. “Ain’t like your dick could stand up still either,” she said, making the people who were listening, laugh.

“Ahh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Logan said, unfazed by the small words she tried to use to hurt his feelings. “Actually, I wouldn’t, because even Jean didn’t want a piece of you. And that was when you were younger,” she said.

People were shocked at her words, still laughing but watching out how much. They knew mentioning Jane was a topic he hated hearing.

“Watch what you say. Just because you ain’t a mutant, don’t mean I won’t handle you,” Logan said. Of course, her heart rate raised, but she stood her ground as she got up from the bar seat.

“Try me,” she said, making the metal-boned man laugh as he approached her. He could see her chest rise, knowing she wanted nothing she challenged him to do.

Logan looked back at Storm who was shaking her head as she pointed at the shit glasses y/n had downed. A whole tray that hold at least fifteen was insane for a human.

Logan looked back at y/n understanding why she felt so much emotion tonight. Her eyes were glossy and she slightly swayed back and forth. She was definitely halfway to passing out.

Logan leaned forward, mouth slightly grazing Y/n’s ear. “Go to bed, sweet cheeks,” Logan said as his hot breath hit the side of her face before heading to his room.

It’s been a few weeks since the incident at the bar with Logan. Y/n decided to keep it cool for a while until no one expected anything.

“Logan, can you please get my phone from the living room while I cook, please?” Y/n asked. He sighed loudly, always grumpy about something as he got up and walked out of the kitchen.

Y/n quickly pulled two pills out of her pocket and dropped them into his full glass of liquor. She had gone through the pharmacy they had for mutants downstairs, and searched for something that would make him rethink what he said to her.

Y/n went to walk away until she stopped and thought of his constant bullying since she got here.

Y/n pulled two boxes from her other pocket, took every pill from their wrapper, and dumped them in his drink. “One for your lazy dick, and the other energy since I should go to sleep early,”

Y/n quickly through the trash in the bin before running back to continue cooking. “Almost done,” she smiled as he placed her phone down with a fake smile back.

“For a mutant, you sure do get tired walkin’ room to room,” y/n snickered as he downed his drink. If he looked at the glass, he would’ve noticed something off, but he didn’t think of it.

“Does liquor get old these days? Fuckin’ hell,” Logan spoke with a few coughs. Y/n did her best, to keep her laughing. He had no clue.

“Logan, relax!” Y/n heard Scott yell somewhere in the mansion. At first, she thought they were arguing again until something broke and Jane screamed. What the hell is going on?

Y/n quickly got up from her bed and ran out of her room, toward where ever they were. “Logan, relax! Y-You’re safe!” Jane spoke. She’s told y/n she had to use those words whenever he got out of control.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked as she stepped around the corner. Logan’s head instantly snapped towards her. “No,” Scott said, having a feeling what Logan was going to do.

“Y/n, stay back. H-He’s not doing well right-“ Jean spoke but got knocked out of the way by Logan running towards y/n. As well as Scott.

Y/n tried to run, but before she could turn all the way around, he grabbed her, quickly throwing her over his shoulders before running away.

“Hey! — Let me go, Logan! Stop it!” She yelled as he ran towards the front door. Where was he taking her? Why was he taking her? He almost made it out of the mansion with her in hand until Storm used the wind to drag y/n back.

Logan stumbled, realizing she wasn’t in his hold anymore. He turned around stepped forward followed after y/n was dragged back until he looked up to see the whole crew staring right back at him.

Logan let out a loud growl before running off and out into the darkness of night.

“What the fuck!” Y/n shouted as Storm lifted her up and Jean checked her for any bruises. “What the hell is his problem?” Y/n asked as Scott ran out of the house to see where Logan had run off.

“Motherfucker’s taking my bike!” Scott shouted. “We don’t know. He was sitting on the couch, eatin’ the rest of the food you cooked, as always, then — then he started switching,” Jean said.

“At first it was mild, but I noticed it first. He then asked where you were and if we thought you’d be asleep yet,” Storm said. “We said we didn’t know, and he instantly grew angry,” Jean said.

“Motherfucker got up to go to your room and I stopped him before he could,” Scott said as he ran back into the mansion. It was late and y/n was confused. What was happening?

Y/n’s currently in her room as the crew took the yet to go find Logan. Xavier came with them. He said, maybe if he got closer to Logan, he could ease into his mind.

The school has been out for a couple of weeks, so the kids are either with their parents or in buddy groups somewhere in instate.

This means y/n has the whole mansion to herself on one of the worst days possible. While an animal is loose. A wild animal.

Y/n thought if she closed her eyes and went to sleep, she wouldn’t stress as much, so that’s what she did. Now she’s deep in her sleep, dreaming about what she was trying to distract herself from. Logan.

Logan was chasing her through the long halls. Every door being locked and the hall getting longer was the most terrifying part of the nightmare.

He chased her for what felt like hours. Each time he spoke, it felt like he was closer.

“Don’t run” “Stay still” “Mhm — That’s it” “All that shit talkin’ and you’re cryin’. Pathetic,” he said with a chuckle following behind his voice.

“Please, someone help!” She yelled in her dreams as she felt his breath on her neck. She was caught. Logan grabbed y/n and dragged her to a room that would’ve been locked for her.

“You’re a fast one, but I’ve gotcha,” he growled low as he hovered over the girl, lips inches from hers. “Smellin’ so good for me. You’re such a tease,” Logan ripped her clothes off. They disappear into dust. She knew she had to be dreaming.

“Runnin’ from me, but you’re soaked. You’re a lair, baby,” he said as he slipped her panties off, sniffing them before placing them in his back pocket. “Now how about ya cum for me?”

Y/n woke up slowly, hearing a voice in her room. “Now how about ya cum for me?” She heard for the second time, but in between her legs. Y/n whined as she looked down, not knowing what was happening until she saw him.

Logan was in between her legs, sucking on her pussy like a starved man. “Logan!” She screamed, scared at first until her back arched from the full effect of his tongue all over and between her folds.

Logan watched her reaction as he ducked on her hard, eating her out rougher than before. He’s been at this for. Good thirsty minutes and still couldn’t get enough.

“Gimme another,” he said. “What? — I-I don’t- Fuck,” y/n’s eyes rolled back. He was working her just right. He knew he was. He’s been waiting all night. From when he was eating the rest of dinner, to when he hid in the woods, waiting for the crew to leave, to sneaking in her room, hoping not to wake her up too early.

“Give me a 6th one, heh? Then I’ll fill ya up,” Logan said as he slipped two fingers into her cunt, curling and pumping into her to force another one he so desperately wanted.

The instant pressure of his fingers sent y/n over the edge with a loud cry and shake. She came all over his face, wetting him like a waterpark.

“Fuuuck,” Logan groaned, feeling in heaven. “Can never get tired of that, princess,” Logan said as he crawled up and over her until he attacked his lips onto her, softly.

Y/n kissed back for a second, feeling too deep into the mood. She only lasted for a little bit after she woke up, but she was sure this was the best orgasm she’s ever had.

“Logan- Logan!” Y/n pushed at his chest, making him lean back. “W-We can’t. They’re looking for you and you’re — You’re here eating me out and making out with me and-“ y/n’s mind ran everywhere until he cut her off with a short kiss.

“It’s okay, sugar. I need them out of the house for what I’m about to do to you,” Logan said, confusing her. “Logan — You’re feeling this way because I drugged you,” y/n blurted out.

Logan forced over her as she slapped her hands over her face in embarrassment. “Saying that out loud makes me feel bad, but, yes. I put a whole box of energy pills and Viagra on your drink when you went and grabbed my phone — I-I’m sorry,” y/n genuinely apologizes.

She thought he was going to lash out before she heard him chuckle. That chuckle turned into a laugh as he leaned up off of the bed.

“Baby, I pieced that together when I was in the living room, eatin,” Logan said as y/n backed up against her headboard. “My plan was to go up to your room and confront you before fucking you into your mattress, but Scott stopped me,”

“Then I saw you come around the corner and thought I could fuck you into the dirty in the woods like the low and pathetic slut you are, but Scott stopped me again,”

“So I ran — I knew they’d come looking for me. I waited in the woods for nearly an hour. Cock throbbing. Balls waiting to empty. I wanted to jack one off right then, but I knew it wouldn’t have been enough,”

“Besides — I’d rather fill every whole you’ve got to satisfy my needs,” Logan said before lunging at y/n. Y/n screamed and fought, trying to get from under him, but there was no use. He was stronger and wild. He needed her now.

“Keep fightin, baby. Always seemed hot knowing you couldn’t overpower me, even if you tried,” he mocked as he ripped his jeans off of him, as well as his boxers.

“N-No, no, no! Logan, I-I’m not doing this. I’m not doing — That!” Y/n said after seeing his length. He was long. He was huge. Veins nearly covered the whole thing. His balls looked stiff and in need of release.

“You’re gonna take it. You brought this on yourself, princess,” Logan said as he ripped his shirt off. Y/n had just noticed she was fully naked. He had stripped her from her nightgown when she was sleeping.

“I-It was a mistake!” Y/n tried pushing back as he came in between her legs. “Was it though? I smell how wet you get around me every day. All that anger is just an excuse because you’re too bitchy to ask for my cock,” Logan looked directly into her eyes, just a few inches away.

“Well, you won’t have to ask anymore. I’ve got the picture from now on,” Logan forced his huge length inside of y/n, stretching her walls in an instant. She cried at the pain but moaned at the pleasure.

“Yeah,” he growled, teeth stuck together. “Gonna fuck you all fuckin’ night,” Logan’s hips began to move at an ungodly pace. The huge man leaned over y/n like an inhuman form. Deep down he was.

He placed her legs on his shoulders and pushed down into her like some duck doll he had ready in his room for him.

Her lower back was slightly in the air. She could him thrust into her fully. She was forced to watch him use her cunt like some movie.

“L-Logan,” y/n threw her head back as she came unexpectedly from the angle he had her in. “Look at that waterfall. So fuckin’ pretty,” Logan wished he could slurp her up, but he was too busy digging in her guts for more.

“You know — That comment about Jean back at the bar — It was unnecessary,” Logan began a conversation with y/n. She was so confused about how because she was struggling to keep her mind straight. Her head already seemed light.

“I should’ve dragged you to my room then, but I was calm. Noticed you had a few drinks. Drinks always make sluts act out,” he spat.

“Anyway — About Jean. Yeah, I lost feelings a while ago. You wanna know when? When you came along,” he admitted. “Those sexy jeans and top that hugged your body set me off, quick. Jean was outta there,”

“Then your personality. Sweet and precious but evil to people like me. People who’re assholes,” he leaned closer to her face. “But, you know what, baby? I think you like assholes. Just look at the way you take my cock. I’m basically bullying myself into you,”

He wasn’t wrong. Before y/n signed up to teach at the school slash mansion, she was always caught up with some deuce. She wouldn’t be lying if she said she felt a type of way around Logan after realizing how grumpy and mean he can get.

She didn’t realize at the time, but when he felt the need to let some steam loose earlier today, he asked, looking for y/n. Not Jean. His mind was all on y/n.

“Such a slut — You’re squeezing me,” he teased as he felt himself grow close. “Keep goin’ — I know you like this,” he said as y/n’s mouth parted. The groan leaving Logan’s mouth as he watched y/n cum on his cock for the second time tonight, sent him over the edge.

The man had no words. All he could do was groan and growl loudly as he pounded into her, watching the light leave her eyes. She was definitely done for tonight.

“Fuck!” He yelled, cum spilling into her throbbing cunt. Logan thrust slowly, watching their cum coat his cock. He knew after tonight, that he’d need her every night. He was going to make that happen whether her attitude matched his or not.

[fligniuz]

a performance deserving of standing ovations

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ you have some inquiries about your boyfriend’s habits.

word count: 2.6k • nsfw • read on ao3

tag list : @mangionebabymama , @mangobabygirl , @jenisaswift13 , @mangionesdaisy , @iinfinitelimits , @daydreamingwithluigi , @nephris , @mashkatzi

warnings : gender neutral reader; EXPLICIT; voyeurism; mutual masturbation; discussions of filmed sex and oral; probably poorly translated italian; starring luigi’s dislike of porn

notes : this is dedicated to @diors002 in spirit because i thought of her while writing this,, title from:

^ divider by cafekitsune

“So if you don’t watch porn, how do you get off?”

Luigi looks at you from over the lip of his laptop, eyes narrow. “What?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t jerk off, either,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Seriously. What do you do?”

What kind of question is this?

“I have a broad imagination,” he replies, still typing away. “I just use my brain.”

“Are you sure you don’t have any of those hentai sex simulator games on there?”

Please. As if he’d be caught dead with that trash. He’s almost insulted that you would insinuate such a thing, even if you’re joking.

His face remains neutral. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” You crawl up onto the couch to sit beside him. “I’ve never known a nerd to not love hentai.”

If he weren’t smart, he would tell you that he’s not a nerd. Instead, he says, “I pride myself on being unpredictable. And hentai is too…It’s over the top. The girls are always voiced by someone who sounds five years old. Huge turn off.”

“Then why do you not like porn?” you ask, propping your head up on your palm. “At least it’s grown humans.”

If he weren’t busy, he would probably give you a lecture—but that would technically be mansplaining, he thinks, so better to leave that alone. Instead…

“This is a whole conversation we could have,” Luigi says, “and I would love to have it with you, baby, really, but my mind is a bit occupied with something else right now. I have my reasons. I’ll tell you that.”

He’s got reasons for everything. Sometimes it pisses you off that he’s such a good thinker. Right now, though, it intrigues you; what does he like to imagine when he’s touching himself? Does he think about you? Doing what?

These are questions you could answer with one question of your own:

“Can I watch you?”

He glances over, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. “Watch me what?”

“Jerk off,” you say simply.

Then he blinks. Stops typing. Flushes ruddy red in his cheeks and his nose. “I’m—That’s—”

God, he’s adorable.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you tell him, gently planting your hand just above his knee and squeezing. “It’s just an idea.”

Your boyfriend stumbles over his words for a moment, makes some funny choked noises—as if he wants so desperately to find the means first, but just can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Would you like that?” he asks finally. “Like—Watching me?”

Well, you asked for a reason.

“Yeah,” you nod. “But if you’re uncomfortable with it, I understand.”

His big hands linger over the keyboard of his laptop, tracing the ridges beneath his palms. It takes some significant willpower to push the image of his fingers in your mouth out of your head.

“Think about it,” you say, patting his shoulder.

You don’t know if he does. Not for a while.

You’re in his room looking for your phone charger when you get to find out.

First you hear his keys turning in the door, his gigantic feet shuffling against the welcome mat: “Our House is a Very Very Very Fine House”. They step closer, trailing off every so often when he peeks into a room in search of you—but eventually you hear them approaching right behind you, a familiar pair of lips finding your neck.

Typically Luigi is quite blunt. Today he has no qualms about being indirect with you.

“What’s up, babe?” you ask when he wraps his arms around your torso, face buried in the warm crease of your shoulder.

And then you feel him.

Luigi is hard. You can feel his cock pressing against your backside, straining through his jeans, shockingly intimidating even after all this time of waking up next to his morning wood.

“Baby, is that you?”

“You said you wanted to watch me,” he interjects, his voice a rough and gravelly murmur in your ears. His breath is hot against your throat. “Do you still want to?”

Is he kidding?

“Fuck, yeah,” you nod, hands meeting his. “Are you gonna let me?”

He doesn’t answer you with words. Rather, he pulls away from you to settle down in his desk chair, just opposite the bed you’re now sitting on. You have to swallow your moan when he starts to unbuckle his belt—arousal rushes through your nervous system at the sound of metal clinking and pure Italian leather slipping through each loop of his pants.

You smile at the imprint of his greedy sex in his boxers. “What got you this worked up, Gi?”

His eyes relax, those long lashes fluttering. “I was thinking about you at work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He’s palming his erection through navy blue cotton, leaning back against the headrest of his chair. “Can’t get anything fuckin’ done. You’re distracting, you know that?”

He says that like it’s your fault he can’t control himself.

“You drive me nuts,” Luigi continues, hand squeezing and stroking at himself. “I’d quit the fucking thing if it meant I could just keep you in bed all day.”

The sound of that is nice.

“What were you thinking about?” you ask.

He takes a moment, either to formulate a response or to relish in the feeling of his hand teasing his cock through the soft fabric.

“You remember our third date?” he asks, eyelids heavy.

Of course you remember. For your third date, on a mild day in early June, Luigi took you to Kauai so you could see the Nāpali coast. June was the best time to visit, he said—tourists come for the sunniest weather, so the intermittent months when summer is still settling in are the least crowded and most tolerable. The sun was setting by the time you had made it down near the shore, and the way those glowing rays hit your skin had him feeling things that scared him and exhilarated him all in one sweeping breath; he insisted on pulling out his phone to snap a few pictures of you prancing along the coastline, your hair blowing in the wind. Your eyes were wild with joy and you squealed in ecstasy when he ran over to scoop you up in his strong arms and spin you around. For your third date Luigi fucked you in his car, parked in a lonely dirt lot just a few miles out of Koke‘e State Park, with the windows rolled down so the salty air could stream through and cool your flushed, sweating, moving bodies, his hips pounding into you from underneath. You think it’s the day he really fell in love with you; you heard him groan the words into your ear, breath shaky and words choked, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in time with his pointed thrusts.

You nod. “In your car.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, the thumb of his left hand dancing along the waistband of his underwear. “Fuck, you were so pretty that day. Sun looks good on you.”

Yes, he had made that very clear to you. He told you probably fifty times on the drive back to his apartment, thirty of which were said just before he pulled over and took matters into his own hands.

“You think about that day a lot, babe?” you ask.

“I think about you a lot.”

“Tell me,” you say. “Show me that big cock and tell me what else you think about.”

He’s pulling his boxers down his thighs—they quickly join the pool of denim at his ankles. One hand just barely lifts his sweater up, revealing a hint of his chiseled abs. The big cock in question smacks against his abdomen, the fat head of it pink and oozing pre. Your mouth waters.

“Think about fucking your face,” Luigi mutters, words slurred and hazy with titillation. His slender fingers are stroking the head of his dick, smearing slick over himself. “When you bent over the console to suck me off…I wish—Wish we could’ve been in my bed, so I could’ve just used your gorgeous little mouth.”

You can’t change the past, but you can certainly imagine an alternate universe where that did happen. He can too. He’s using his thumb and two fingers to squeeze his weeping glans, coaxing more of his arousal onto his hand and spreading it down to the base of his dick.

“I enjoyed that,” you tell him.

“Fuck, I did too,” he says, nodding. “You’re lucky it was so late and nobody was around. You had your ass facing the window. Probably would’ve given anyone walking by a pretty fuckin’ sight.”

Luigi’s loose fist continues stroking his cockhead, curls pressed back against his chair. His throat is bared to you, Adam’s apple bobbing, and your teeth yearn to touch the sensitive, stubble-dusted skin there. Every so often his thumb grazes his tender slit and punches a delicious whine from him, a sound so precious you wish you could collect it in a conch, hold it up to your ear and listen until the Earth burns out.

“I think what’s in front of me is much prettier,” you purr, leaning back onto the bed casually.

“Should’ve seen yourself,” he says. “I’m so glad I got you on camera. My brain could never conjure up the perfection of you, baby.”

That’s right. The pictures he took of you at the Nāpali coast weren’t the only documentation of that night. There was more taken later, in his car, as he was driving his hips into yours with your hair fisted tight in his hand; this video was more explicit, more revealing, a landscape shot of you riding on top, him gripping your ass ravenously. A few times you had suggested watching this particular video together—perhaps past glimpses of your voyeuristic desires—but every attempt only ended in a recreation rather than a communicative, parallel experience.

His hand begins to move lower, spreading his pre down his shaft with long, languid strokes, cupping and squeezing his balls occasionally. If you listen closely enough you can hear the wet sounds of him touching his cock. His face is pink, blatant evidence of his arousal, if the sight of him playing with himself right in front of you wasn’t enough to prove it.

“You gettin’ hot, babe?” you ask him, tone sultry.

He nods frantically.

Smirking, you order, “take that sweater off.”

Luigi has always been a good listener. His dick bounces when he shifts to pull the offending article up and over his head, curls ruffled and stomach muscles twisting. With his torso revealed to you he settles back into the chair and moves his hand to his cock again, still focused on wetting his length sufficiently (which isn’t difficult, what with how much he’s leaking at the sound of you bossing him around.) His abs are flexed and his nipples are hard, begging for a tongue to tease.

“That’s a good boy,” you murmur.

He groans, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“Listen to me, baby,” you say, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Stroke that perfect dick and keep your eyes on me.”

Your boyfriend nods obediently, hand moving with intent over the entire length of his cock, balls and all. His lush lips are parted, breathing heavy and moaning when his slick palm passes over the underside—his pace is slow at first, working himself up to his climax with ease.

And when his beaming brown eyes meet yours you take off your own shirt, leaving it to pile with his on the floor.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” you instruct.

Luigi whines. “I want my mouth on your nipples.”

You moan at that. Your hands glide over your chest, groping at yourself and passing over the very nipples your boyfriend speaks of. With a tightened fist he squeezes his glans, sighing with delight as he watches you move under lidded eyes.

“Il tuo corpo è arte,” he mutters under his breath.

“Yeah?” you tease, as if you understand what he’s saying. As if your flesh isn’t burning with desire. “You thinkin’ about tasting me?”

As you speak your hands migrate to the waistband of your sweatpants, beginning to pull them down.

“Fuck yes,” he nods. “You know I always am.”

In the process of getting your bottoms off you wiggle your hips around playfully, grinning at the way Luigi licks his lips and pumps his cock with each inch of skin you unveil to him. Your thighs flex and your smile grows the longer you keep your lidded eyes glued to his flushed face, lip trapped between sharp fangs. You ache to feel the point of his teeth in your skin.

“Baby, touch yourself,” he pleads. “Per favore, I want to see.”

You tut. “Patience, sweet boy. Keep talking to me.”

“Fuuuck,” he moans, compressing his cockhead with two fingers. “I love how you taste, love all the noises you make, fuck, so fucking pretty…”

“Mhmm,” you hum, leaning back on the bed invitingly. You run your hands over your chest again and smile sweetly at him, crossing your legs, uncrossing them, crossing again. Egging him on.

The tendons in his wrist flex against his Fitbit deliciously. “I want to lay you down and just make you come until you can’t stand me. Così dannatamente stupendo. You are…Shit…Tu governi la mio mente.”

You have no idea what the fuck he’s saying or why the Italian is coming out so strong when he’s this worked up but goddamn, if you were recording this…Your brain certainly is, capturing every second of his fist rubbing his cock furiously and the slick sounds of it projecting throughout the room. His wide throat pulses when he throws his head back to whine, feet fidgeting as he works, and you bite your lip to suppress your own needful impulses.

When your hand sneaks between your legs he grunts like a rabid dog.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yes,” Luigi nods, staring directly at you. “I’m gonna come, oh, fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop…”

You nod with him, hand moving in sync, working yourself up quickly to see if you can meet him head-on. If he gets to watch you come while he’s climaxing you think he might explode. His veins throb as he speeds up his wrist and tenses his thighs, eyes glued on the pure arousal between your legs, spread open and on display just for him.

And then his face drops familiarly, eyelids stunned and lips parted, like he’s teetering on the edge, and you push him to the other side with a honeyed “I love you, baby,” and then he’s coming, splattering his hand and his sweat-soaked abdomen with himself. He keeps stroking the fat head of his cock for a few seconds longer and you love how he twitches and furrows his bushy brows, loudly finishing yourself at the sight of the mess he’s made for you.

“Wow, babe,” you chuckle. “You needed that, didn’t you?”

He flushes. “Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to watch, perv.”

Before he can reach for the tissues on his desk you hop up from the bed and crouch by his seat, grabbing his face. “You liked being watched. Didn’t you?”

“I—”

And before he can answer you, you reach down and scrape some of his orgasm onto your fingers, popping them into your mouth emphatically and giggling when his jaw goes slack.

“Well, did you?” you repeat with a wicked grin, licking some excess from between your index and middle finger.

His face tenses, then settles. “You’re insatiable.”

You shrug playfully.

Luigi points in your face. “And I better not hear about hentai simulators anymore. Help me clean up.”

il tuo corpo è arte = “your body is art”

per favore = “please”

così dannatamente stupendo = “so damn gorgeous”

tu governi la mio mente = “you rule my mind”

[eclipixels]

Bitter Sweets

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Content: You and your daughter learn to live without Gojo

Wanings: angst

[2,457 words]

      You've been numb for days. The world moves around you in a haze, colors muted, sounds distant, as if you are watching everything unfold from behind a thick veil of glass. The weight in your chest is unbearable, pressing down on you with every breath. It’s not just grief, it’s emptiness, a void that has swallowed you whole.

      Your daughter keeps asking when her dad will come back home. Her voice is small, hopeful, full of innocence you wish you could protect forever. But you can’t. You can barely protect yourself from the truth.

      You haven't slept in your shared bedroom for days. In fact, you haven't slept much at all. The bed feels too big now, the air too cold, the scent of him still clinging to the sheets like a ghost. You lie awake on the couch, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint sounds of the night, waiting for a peace that never comes.

      "Mommy, you not gonna eat?" Her voice pulls you back to reality. You blink, realizing you've been sitting at the table, untouched food in front of you, lost in thought. Her wide cerulean blue eyes, so much like his, gaze up at you expectantly, full of concern that a child her age shouldn’t have to carry.

      You force a smile, shaking your head. "No, sweetie. You eat up, okay? So you can be big and strong."

      "Like daddy?" she asks, tilting her head, rosy cheeks puffed out slightly.

      Your heart aches, twisting painfully in your chest.

      "Yes, baby. Just like daddy."

      She beams, shoveling food into her mouth with an enthusiasm you can barely comprehend. She’s too young to understand, too young to grasp the finality of it all. You envy her innocence, her ability to still find joy in the simplest things.

      Days blend together, indistinguishable from one another. You go through the motions, tending to your daughter, making sure she’s fed, bathed, and safe. But you? You are running on autopilot, existing but not living. The house feels empty without his presence, the silence deafening.

      Then, one morning, you wake up and she is gone.

      Panic surges through you, an icy grip around your heart. No. No, where could she be? You stumble to your feet, calling her name, your voice trembling.

      She couldn’t have left the house. The doors were locked.

      You search frantically, tearing through the rooms, checking the closets, looking under tables, behind furniture. Your breathing becomes ragged, your vision blurring as terror sets in.

      And then you find her.

      She’s in your bedroom, curled up on the bed, her tiny legs dangling off the side.

      She’s holding something in her small hands. A crinkled wrapper.

      A piece of candy.

      From Gojo’s box of sweets.

      You freeze, staring at her. Your heart clenches, a thousand emotions crashing over you at once. Anger, sadness, heartbreak, love, each one more suffocating than the last.

      "No–no no no no. Sweetie, what are you—are those—?" Your voice catches, throat tightening.

      She looks up at you, wide-eyed, mouth slightly full. "I'm sorry, Mama. Was I no eat?"

      Her voice wobbles, her lower lip quivering, and it shatters whatever fragile composure you had left. You swallow down the lump in your throat, forcing a smile through your tears.

      "No, baby, no. It’s just… these are Daddy’s, okay? Let’s not touch them."

      She frowns, her small fingers gripping the wrapper tighter. "But Daddy always give me him candy."

      Her words are a dagger to your already bleeding heart. You close your eyes, trying to steady your breath.

      "I know, sweetheart. But just not these. These are… special. Different." You exhale slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, hoping she doesn’t see how much you’re breaking.

      She stares at the candy in her hand before looking back at you.

      "Mama?" she whispers.

      "Yes, baby?"

      She hesitates for a moment, then asks the question that you knew would come but never wanted to hear.

      "Daddy no coming home?"

      The room falls silent.

      Your chest tightens, your breath catching as you look at her, so small, so innocent, waiting for an answer you wish you didn’t have to give.

      Your throat burns as you try to find the words, try to summon the strength to say what you’ve been avoiding. But there is no easy way to break a heart. No gentle way to explain the permanence of loss to a child who still believes in bedtime stories and magic.

      Tears spill down your cheeks before you can stop them, and you pull her close, pressing your lips to the top of her head.

      "No, baby," you whisper, the words barely audible. "Daddy’s not coming home."

      The sobs come uncontrollably now, wracking your body as you hold her tight, as if she is the only thing anchoring you to this world. And maybe she is.

      She sniffles, small arms wrapping around you, her warmth the only thing piercing through the cold emptiness inside you. Tufts of her white hair ruffle against your shoulder. You don’t know how long you sit there, rocking back and forth, mourning not just what you lost, but the future that will never be. The father your daughter will never have. The husband you were robbed of growing old with.

      Time passed, though it never truly erased the ache in your chest. The days turned into months, then years, and with them, the weight of loss shifted, not gone, but settled into a part of you, like a scar that no longer bleeds but never fades. You learned, slowly, that grief was not something you conquered. It was something you carried. A shadow that followed you, sometimes silent, sometimes heavy, but always there.

      You had to come to terms with the fact that pain would never leave, but neither would the love. You had to live, not just for yourself, but for your daughter, for him. After everything he had fought for, after everything he had believed in, you knew you couldn't let your sorrow consume you. You couldn't let it fester into something dark, something cursed. He wouldn't have wanted that. He had given his life to protect others, to protect you both. The least you could do was honor him by living, by making memories that weren’t just soaked in loss.

      And so, you did. You pushed through. You smiled more, even when it hurt. You held your daughter a little tighter at night, whispering stories of her father when she asked, letting his memory be one of warmth instead of only pain. You taught her to laugh, to grow, to fight, not just in battle, but in life.

      Now, here you were, years later, sitting among familiar faces, watching the young girl who once clung to you, now standing tall, adorned in Jujutsu Tech’s graduation uniform. She had followed in her father’s footsteps, stepping into the legacy of the Gojo clan, determined, strong, and full of the same spark that made him unforgettable.

      The crowd was filled with familiar voices, old students, old friends, those who had known and loved him just as you had. The past and present intertwined in a bittersweet symphony, but today, there was more pride than sorrow.

      The doors burst open with a sudden commotion. "Are we late?" Itadori's voice rang out, slightly frantic as he stumbled forward, adjusting his tie with fumbling hands.

      You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. "Nope, right on time."

      Megumi let out a sigh, stepping in after him with his usual air of quiet exasperation. He took the seat next to you, nodding in greeting. You met his gaze, offering a small smile. Out of everyone, Megumi had remained the closest to you and your daughter. You remembered raising him alongside Gojo, back when you were barely adults yourselves, navigating a world that demanded too much from those too young. You used to call him your ‘practice baby’ back then, a joke that had stuck even as he grew into a formidable sorcerer in his own right.

      And when your daughter came along, he had stepped into the role of an older brother without hesitation, protective, steady, always watching over her.

      The moment felt frozen in time. You watched as she stepped forward, accepting her certificate with a graceful bow, her movements poised yet full of excitement. She looked radiant, strong, confident, and breathtakingly beautiful, a reflection of both her heritage and the future she was forging for herself.

      As she descended the steps, her cerulean blue eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on you. For a split second, the world around you blurred, and all you could see was her, your little girl, all grown up. Then, with a beaming smile, she took off running, her short white hair swirling in the wind, catching the light like strands of silver silk.

      "Aw, look at that little face! She looks just like her pretty mama," Gojo cooed, his voice dripping with adoration as he grinned down at the tiny bundle in his arms. Your daughter’s tiny fingers had wrapped around his much larger one, gripping it with all the strength her little body could muster.

      "As if," you scoffed, rolling your eyes with a smirk. "She looks like you gave birth to her instead of me."

      Gojo gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "Excuse you, I’m flattered, but last I checked, you were the one in labor for hours while I almost passed out watching."

      You snorted, shaking your head as you folded the last of the baby clothes. "Exactly my point. All that effort, and she comes out looking like your tiny twin."

      Gojo beamed, leaning in closer to your baby, his snowy white hair nearly brushing her soft skin. "Look, I know she got my eyes and my hair, but if you really look at her, she’s got your face. Your cheeks, your smile, your nose."

      You walked over, peering down at the little miracle in his arms. "A perfect mix of us, huh?"

      Gojo nodded, his usually playful expression softening as he pressed a gentle kiss to your daughter’s forehead. "Yeah. Can’t believe she’s ours. Our little girl."

      She cooed in response, laughing in that pure, uninhibited way that only babies could, her tiny limbs flailing in excitement.

      Gojo chuckled, lifting her slightly. "You gonna be a sorcerer like Mama and Dada, huh?"

      The baby let out another happy squeal, her tiny hands reaching for him.

      You smiled at the sight, at the sheer joy radiating from him, from her, from the life you had built together.

      "Can you imagine her going to Jujutsu Tech?" Gojo mused, his tone drifting into something almost wistful. "Watching her graduate? I wonder what she’ll look like when she’s older."

      You leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you watched your daughter babble away, completely unaware of the love surrounding her.

      "I don’t know," you murmured, smiling softly. "But I bet she’ll be amazing."

      And now, years later, standing at her graduation, you realized just how right you had been. If only he knew he wouldn’t make it to see this day.

      The thought weighed heavy in your chest as you wiped at your eyes, surprised to find them wet with tears you didn’t remember shedding. It was bittersweet, watching your daughter stand tall, strong, and radiant, everything he had ever dreamed she would be. He should have been here, standing beside you, grinning ear to ear with that boyish excitement he never outgrew.

      But he wasn’t.

      And yet, in so many ways, he was.

      His presence lived on in her, the way she carried herself, the glint of mischief in her eyes, the way she beamed when all eyes were on her. She had inherited so much from him. Including his complete lack of humility.

      "So, what’s my gift?" she asked, raising a brow, a smirk playing on her lips.

      You scoffed. "Not even five minutes out of graduation, and you’re already expecting rewards?"

      She shrugged. "It’s a big day."

      Before you could respond, Nobara’s voice cut through the moment. "Congratulations!!"

      Your daughter barely had time to react before she was engulfed in a bear hug, Nobara squeezing the life out of her. You laughed as she struggled to breathe, waving dramatically at Itadori and Megumi for help. They ignored her. Instead, Itadori grinned as he handed over a handful of gifts wrapped in bright, clashing colors, undoubtedly chosen by him. Megumi gave a small nod, his own gift tucked into the pile, subtle, but meaningful, just like him.

      You stood back for a moment, watching them all laugh and joke, teasing each other the way they always had. The way Gojo used to with them.

      It was a beautiful sight.

      Finally, when the chaos settled, you stepped forward, holding out a carefully put-together basket, filled with teddy bears, balloons, and a gift bag.

      "Here," you said with a smile.

      Your daughter grinned, eagerly accepting it. But before she could dig through the contents, you pulled out one last gift, a small, carefully wrapped box.

      Her brows furrowed as she took it from your hands. There was something about the weight of it, the way you looked at her, that made her pause. Cautiously, she unwrapped it, fingers trembling slightly as she lifted the lid.

      She gasped.

      Inside sat a familiar, neatly arranged collection of sweets.

      Gojo’s sweets.

      She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide as she looked from the box to you. "Mom? Are these…?"

      You smiled, warmth filling your chest despite the lump in your throat. "Dad’s? Not exactly. I was able to find the old man who would always make these and sold them out his stall. I asked him to make some in your and your dad’s favorite flavors."

      Her lips parted in shock before she let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, thank god. I don’t think I could’ve eaten the ones from all those years ago without getting food poisoning."

      You rolled your eyes. So much like her father.

      "Smartass," you muttered, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

      She grinned, cradling the box as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Then, looking up at you, her expression softened. "Thank you, Mom. Really. I love it."

      "No problem, baby," you said, voice thick with emotion. You reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear like you had so many times when she was little. "I’m so proud of you."

      She didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you, holding on tight.

      "I love you."

      You closed your eyes, holding her just as tightly.

      "I love you too."

[andvys]

Eyes don't lie ⭐︎ S.H

⭐︎ Summary: Nancy got everything she wanted but at what cost? Her eyes won't leave you, her hands crave to touch you, she finds herself in daydreams with you, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, to feel your lips on hers instead of his -- the girl Steve left for her.

And Steve, he is still haunted by what he threw away for a girl he could never love the way he loved... loves you. And while they are longing for something, chasing for someone that they both broke, you are only out for one thing, revenge.

⭐︎ Pairing: Nancy Wheeler x fem!reader | Steve Harrington x fem!reader | mentions of Eddie Munson x fem!reader and Billy Hargrove x fem!reader

⭐︎ Warnings: cheating, mentions of unrequited feelings, mentions of breakups, previous steve x reader, stancy, angst, this is some unhinged au of I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss (iykyk). they're all in college (in Hawkins), mentions of affairs, no happy ending... yet? no smut yet, but it's coming I promise

⭐︎ Author's note: This was supposed to be a oneshot but after talking to @hellfire--cult (as always, my hero) we came up with more filth and this will definitely be getting a part two so buckle up hehe. Also thank you for choosing the title bby!!!

Also this took me way too long to post but I lost inspiration AND now I got it back and I can't wait to get started on part two!

Nancy could not focus on anything Professor Harris was saying, she couldn't care less about the numbers he was writing on the board, her mind was elsewhere and her eyes too, no longer focused on the green board or the young Professor that all the girls were lusting over as they sat there in their short skirts, twirling their hair and blinking at him cutely. 

While everyone was focused on him, her attention was fully on someone it should not be on, but no matter how many times she tried to look away, her eyes would always find their way back to you, tracing every inch of you, from your hair to your face, from your nose down to your lips, from your neck to your chest and then down to your exposed legs, skirt riding up on your thighs, skin glowing softly. 

Your eyelashes kiss the skin beneath your eyes every time you blink, your tongue traces your bottom lip before you bite down on it in concentration, your hair falls over your shoulder, locket nestled perfectly in your cleavage. 

She can smell your perfume from here, every time you pass by her, she gets a whiff of it and it causes goosebumps to rise up on her skin. 

Something in her belly stirs every time she sees you and it's nothing new, it happened the very first time she laid her eyes on you but back then you were always in the presence of the guy she now calls her boyfriend and back then, things were different, so very different. She thought that it was jealousy that she was feeling every time she saw you two together, she could not stop watching you both, but she placed her focus on the wrong person, she wanted the wrong person, she went after the wrong person.

Nancy was horrible for what she did,  and she knew it from the moment she started chasing Steve Harrington when he was still yours and it got even worse when she stole him from you. 

She killed the light in your eyes, she caused the sadness that found home in you, she took away your happiness and for what? Her eyes still follow you, her stomach still tingles and burns when she sees you talking to someone who stares at you a little too intensely, who looks at you the way he once did every time he pulled away from your lips and she can’t understand why, she refuses to let herself see why. 

Regret resides in her, it’s gnawing at her, making her sick on the inside for what she did to you and the feeling only intensifies when he kisses her – she blames the guilt that settled into her body, for making her obsessed with you, for making her unable to look away from you or search for you in the crowd. 

She isn’t the only one, she can see the way he still looks at you, she can see the longing gazes between you both, the way he stops listening to her every time his hazel eyes find you, the way his lips curl into a smile before it becomes a sad one when he stares for too long. She knows that he thinks about you, she knows that he imagines you when he is inside of her, she knows it when he buries his face in the crook of her neck, refusing to look at her, holding her tighter and moaning louder, though biting his lip just so he won’t say your name when he comes undone. 

Steve Harrington may be her boyfriend now but he doesn’t belong to her and she knows it, he is still yours, he always will be. 

And a part of her, doesn’t give a damn fuck – she just can’t see it yet, she refuses to. 

It’s been weeks, months, since he had left you for her and not a single day goes by when she doesn’t wonder why he did it. 

She compares herself to you and her mind can’t comprehend why someone would leave you, why someone like Steve would leave you for her. 

Sometimes when she can’t sleep at night, she thinks about you, about you with Steve, about what you looked like underneath him, how your face contorted into pleasure when he unraveled you with his tongue, how his large palm would press down on your lower stomach to keep you from squirming away from him, how you tugged at his hair, desperate and needy, grinding your sopping pussy against his face before he pounded you into the mattress, kissing and biting your skin, covering you in love bites, making you moan and whimper in need as your boobs bounced while he pleasured you, balls deep inside of you, cock filling you up so perfectly that it made you cry and drool all over the pillow beneath you – by the end of each fantasy that haunted her, her stomach was burning and her thighs were clenched together. It was because of him, it was because of Steve, she told herself but it was a lie, he was there, but he wasn’t who her mind focused on, it never was. 

“Cunningham might chew your head off if you keep staring at her girl,” Barb whispers into her best friend’s ear, making Nancy frown at her words. She turns around, catching the blonde cheerleader glaring at her but she isn’t the reason for her frown. “Her girl?” Nancy asks as she looks away from Chrissy with an eye roll.

Barb chuckles, shaking her head as she starts to gather her books, “come on, everybody knows that Chrissy has a crush on her, she follows her around like some lovesick puppy.”

The feeling in Nancy’s chest tightens, the pit in her belly growing as a snarl makes its way on her face. 

“Right.”

Nancy never really paid attention to Chrissy or the way she looks at you but now that Barb mentions it, she sees it too, especially when the cheerleader grabs your hand and drags you out of the classroom once the lesson is over, a possessive look in her eyes that is directed at no one but Nancy. 

“You never saw it?” Barb chuckles, rising up from her seat, she grabs her coffee that she’s been sipping on all afternoon, holding the paper cup against her chest. 

Nancy shrugs, pretending not to care even though that thought is starting to take up every space in her mind. 

“Well, pay attention tonight, wait – you’re still going to Tina’s party, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s all Steve has been talking about,” Nancy grumbles, clearly not impressed by it or him. 

There is only one reason she will go to the party and it isn’t him. 

To… get drunk, yeah, just to get drunk, nothing more or less, only that. 

Not to observe and obsess over a certain someone. 

-

But it’s not what she ends up doing, not even in the slightest, she downs one drink and that’s all, she can’t even feel the alcohol in her system but she gets drunk on the way he looks at you as sick as it sounds, something within her burns deeply whenever she catches him, the fire only grows bigger when she sees the way you look at him, burning bright red whenever your eyes lock and Steve tenses up beside her – she knows all too well why he tenses up the way he does, why his knuckles are white as he holds his cup of beer tightly, why his brows are furrowed so strongly, why there is a scowl on his face. 

You are on the dancefloor, hands in your hair, a lazy smile on your lips, cheeks burning from the heat of the room and from your dancing, a skimpy little dress being the only thing keeping certain parts of you hidden, the glittery material keeps riding up on your thighs, dangerously high but not enough to expose your ass. You are moving your hips so smoothly, so effortlessly, your skin looks so soft and kissable beneath the string of lights above the room, you know how to move your body, how to put on a show, how to steal the spotlight in the room, how to make everything and everyone around you disappear – everyone except for Billy Hargrove who is snug behind you, hands on your waist, chest pressed against your back as his lips are dangerously close to your neck, ready to kiss and bite, ready to mark you up.

Nancy swallows harshly as she watches you, cheeks burning, chest rising up and down heavily, she licks her bottom lip as her eyes catch Billy’s hands moving to your front, palm pressed against your lower stomach to press you tighter against himself. She squints her eyes, nose scrunching in displeasure when you press your own hand over the larger one on your body. 

Steve scoffs under his breath, mumbling words that Nancy can’t make out in the loud room, she narrows her eyes at him, the red solo cup in his hand has dents in it, his eyes are dark, nearly black, his lips curled downwards as his focus is on nothing other than you and Billy. 

He is pissed and he is jealous, it’s written all over his face. 

Jealous over a girl he left, a girl he dumped – the girl he could never stop loving, the one he still craves and aches for. She knows it all, she always did. 

And now she can’t help but wonder why she doesn’t care, why there isn’t a single part inside of her that is filled with rage over seeing her boyfriend pine after his ex-girlfriend. Shouldn’t she be angry? Shouldn’t she feel hurt and jealous? Shouldn’t she feel possessive or even sad? 

She can’t feel any of those things when she looks at him – she doesn’t feel anything at all when she looks at him. Steve is a handsome guy, there is no doubt about that, he is one of the most good looking she has ever seen, from head to toe, he is gorgeous. His perfect hair, his soft hazel eyes, his lips – he is pretty, yeah, but his lips are rough and his hands are too, his skin not as soft as… the one of a girl. 

And when he talks of his future, she finds herself cringing, looking away to avoid the dreamy look in his honey eyes. Waves of nausea crash over her when he mentions marriage and kids, when he talks of a white picket fence and the RV he wants to explore the country with before going back to his small town life, with wife and kids. She hates it, it makes her sick. 

She looks up at him, arms crossed over her chest, bangs hanging in front of her eyes, her heart sinking into her stomach but not because of the way he is watching you, no, but because of the realization that dawned on her only now. 

Steve Harrington is her own personal nightmare. 

Steve Harrington is everything she never wanted. 

And he is only with her because of the summer they shared, the drunken nights, the giggles after smoking a joint together, the comfort he found in her while you were gone ‘doing god knows what with god knows who’ as he had said back then as though you would have ever done anything to hurt him, you worshiped the ground he walked in, the way he should have done for you too. 

You were in love with him and anyone could see it. 

She heard the rumors, the ones that drove him crazy, the ones that led him away from you and pushed him into her arms – well, not exactly, nothing happened between them until he officially broke up with you. But those rumors were only… rumors and yet, Steve believed in them, he believed Carol Perkins when she told him that you were seeing someone else while you were visiting your cousins in Chicago, that you were spending your nights in a dingy bars, admiring skilled fingers working on a red electric guitar, that your lips touched different ones, that your hands were too busy taking off his leather jacket instead of picking up the phone and calling him. 

He believed it with no evidence, he didn’t need it, his insecurities were enough to push him away from you – the sight before him only confirms the rumors of your sinful summer, though Billy isn’t the guy he was worried about during that time, he was always a problem, as well. 

He poured his heart out to the only who listened and that was Nancy, she comforted him with words, with alcohol and weed, nothing more, there was never a moment that could have led to anything more but her mind back then was wired differently than it is now – now she can’t understand how she misread between the lines so badly, how she mistaked platonic feelings for deeper ones, why she was so angry when you came back to college and to him, why the sight of you kissing your boyfriend filled her with so much rage. 

She was jealous. 

She was so jealous. 

But not because his lips touched yours but because yours touched his. 

It wasn’t a sight she had to endure for long because before she knew it, Steve slipped through your fingers after a big fight caused by the rumors he confronted you about, he didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself, didn’t allow you to tell him what had really happened that summer, he just dumped you, like it didn’t tear his own heart out, like he didn’t regret it the same moment he did it. He dumped you and then he left. He showed up at Nancy’s apartment, not caring about her weird roommate who gave him an odd look when he opened the door and stared at him for a good while, just watching the tears streaming down his cheeks before he called for Nancy, who held him through the night and kissed him in the morning, hoping for a taste of something she would only continue to dream about. 

Now they are here and they are together and they are more miserable than ever with each other.  

They are better off as friends and they both know it… deep down, at least. 

Your giggles break her out of her thoughts, she tears her eyes away from Steve and finds you walking into the room, completely ignoring her and his presence as you make your way over to the table filled with drinks and snacks, Billy close behind you, eyes heavy on your ass, bottom lip caught between his lips. 

Nancy rolls her eyes at him and Steve scoffs at the jock, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond.

“Harrington,” Billy smirks, nodding at him mockingly, “how’s it going?” He looks between him and Nancy, lifting his eyebrows at her but she only squints her eyes in response, glaring at him. 

“Peachy,” Steve replies with an unimpressed look on his face. 

You ignore the presence of the couple in the room, not paying attention to them or their interaction with Billy who won’t stop chasing you, especially after your dance with him – it was a mistake and you won’t make any bigger ones, not tonight. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Billy smirks, puffing his chest out as he takes a step closer to Steve, “you don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself,” he chuckles, looking Nancy up and down before his eyes flicker back to Steve’s, “either of you.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business, Hargrove?” Steve grumbles, eyes falling behind the figure in the back, taking in the sight of you so close to him now, the way your dress hugs your body, the way the strap of it falls down your arm and you don’t even bother to fix it, too fixated on the drink in your hand.

“Why don’t you lighten up a bit, hmm? Shouldn’t you be the life of the party, now that you’re with your ‘dream girl’?” 

Nancy nearly gags at the words of the blond. He always knows how to get under his skin and hers and she sees the way you tense up at Billy’s words, as much as you try to ignore the conversation in this room, you can’t unhear it. 

Steve tears his eyes away from you, looking into the blue ones before him, he takes a deep breath and unclenches his jaw, he opens his mouth to speak. 

“Hey guys, we’re playing truth or dare, wanna join?” Tina’s voice cuts him off, the brunette peeks her head inside the kitchen, looking between all of you with a curious spark in her eyes, a bit of mischief lingering in her eyes as well when she senses the tension. 

Steve rolls his eyes, scoffing in annoyance, “what are we fifteen–”

“I’m in.” 

All the attention is on you now, every pair of eyes in the room, staring straight at you as you stand there confidently, with a smirk on your lips, one that surely doesn’t match the look in your eyes as you are looking straight at your ex-boyfriend. 

“I feel like finding out some dirty truths.” You tilt your head to the side, sparing Nancy only a short look but one that leaves her swallowing harshly and blushing furiously. 

You hate her, she can see it in your eyes, you never fail to make it known either, not with words, but with all the glances and glares you direct at her whenever you catch her staring. 

Steve holds your gaze, intensely so. An unamused chuckle falls from his lips, “yeah, why don’t we uncover some dirty truths, Dolly?” He mocks you with the nickname from your childhood. “Let’s go, I’ve been dying to find out more about your summer.” 

If looks could kill then Steve Harrington would drop dead, right now. 

He never gave you a chance to explain yourself, he never even tried to talk to you about the rumors he had heard. When you came back, he pretended like everything was fine, he kissed you and held you, spent time with you, he was distant but he was still there… and then, he wasn’t. 

Nancy purses her lips, watching the way you slowly make your way towards Steve, ignoring Billy’s presence and hers as you halt before him, tilting your head to the side, you lick your lips as your eyes flicker between his eyes and his mouth. 

You are close, close enough to make her feel like she is floating, getting lost in the scent of your perfume, in the color of your eyes. Nancy isn’t sure if she had ever been this close to you before but something in her chest stirs when her eyes follow the way your lips curl downwards, the way your chest rises up and down, necklace stuck between your boobs, the softness of your skin. She digs her nails into her palms, fighting the thoughts in her mind. 

“Oh, now you want to talk?” You scoff and cross your arms over your chest, “we could’ve talked months ago but you were the one who just walked out on me after believing the shit Carol made up about me. I didn’t believe Tommy when he told me about your dirty little secret,” you mumble with nothing but hatred in your voice when you glance at Nancy. “But clearly I had every reason to believe him, unlike you, Harrington.” 

“Yeah, right.” Steve looks down, avoiding your eyes as he finds himself drowning in regret but also in denial. 

He had every reason to believe her, didn’t he? 

He remembers him, he remembers the metalhead that you befriended before he left his hometown to pursue his rockstar career, the same metalhead that Steve used to buy from, it was his fault that you had crossed paths with him anyway, he invited him into his home, you were there when he showed up to drop off the weed, Steve had asked for. The smirk that crossed Eddie’s face when he saw you skipping down the stairs in nothing but Steve’s shirt, should have worried him then already but it didn’t, not even when you invited Eddie in and he started showing up more frequently, not even when Steve was out of town, visiting his grandparents in Colorado, leaving you to spend spring break with your new friend. 

Only when he came back, did the sudden insecurity hit him, when he saw how close you and Eddie had gotten while he was away, when he saw the playful touches and heard the soft giggles, when he saw the sadness in your eyes when the metalhead left for Chicago after graduating high school. He got suspicious, he got insecure and it only worsened when you chose Chicago out of all places to spend your summer at — he knew you had family there but you never visited them before that, so why this summer? 

You never gave him a reason not to trust you but he was deeply insecure and scared that his fears would come true, that had pushed him into Nancy’s arms, the overthinking and the rumors that Carol had started about you and Eddie, the ones that already got around while the metalhead still lived here – Steve ignored them then but he couldn’t ignore them any longer when you left.

Steve felt sick to his stomach at the mere thought of what or who you could be doing, the thought that you had fallen out of love because of someone else made him feel blue, though your voice through the phone had sweetened his day and made him forget about what had previously made him cry but even that didn’t save him or your relationship that started to crumble without your knowledge. 

“What?” You scoff again, eyes glaring into his so intensely that it almost makes him shrink, “don’t act like you’re fucking innocent, we both know you aren’t.”

Nancy shifts on her feet, uncomfortably so, she glances at Tina who is still watching the interaction, amused and intrigued by it all, just like Billy. She rolls her eyes and looks back at you, a part of her wants to speak up, to defend Steve, tell you that nothing happened between them then but her words are caught in her throat. 

“Oh and you are?” Steve replies, taking a step closer to you, he looks down at you in anger, like his heart isn’t aching and yearning for you, like it’s easy for him to look down at you like you don’t mean a thing to him, like you aren’t still the girl that he would do anything for. “Don’t act like you weren’t messing around with the freak–”

“Don’t call him that,” you spit back, frowning at him. 

A dark chuckle falls from Steve’s lips, his eyes flicker with rage and jealousy. 

“Freak? That’s the first thing you’re going to address, not the fact that I just said that you were messing around–”

“I never did that.” 

At this moment, Nancy can’t tell whether you’re telling the truth or not, she was convinced that you weren’t messing around with Eddie Munson – she saw the way he looked at you, the way his eyes followed your every move, filled with softness and adoration, filled with lust. But she also saw the way you looked at Steve, you were devoted to him, only to him. 

Though Steve’s insecurities made her question you as well, especially now. 

“Yeah sure, you didn’t, Dolly,” Steve clenches his jaw. “You were just friends, hmm right.”

“Yeah, like you and Nancy,” you fight back, looking at him smugly, angrily. “You were just friends, right? When I came back to Hawkins, that’s all you were right? Just friends, huh? Funny how you dumped me shortly after you had befriended her.”

Her name fell from your lips and that’s all she could focus on, on the anger in your eyes that sparked something within her, that made her lick her lips. 

“I didn’t cheat if that’s what you’re saying,” Steve frowns, eyes lingering with disgust. 

“Of course you didn’t,” you chuckle in disbelief, “that’s why you had no problem getting into a new relationship only a day after breaking up with me, right?... I don’t know about you but I can’t imagine dating a friend, you do realize what it made you look like, right? A cheater, Steve, a goddamn cheater.” 

Steve swallows harshly, shoulders relaxing from the tension that resided in his body for the past minutes when he sees how glossy your eyes get, how pain is the only thing left in them, no ounce of anger showing anymore, only sadness and heartbreak that you had refused to show in these past months since he left. Seeing this, seeing through you, feels like a blow to his chest, something he refused to look at to avoid the regret is now right in front of him, on full display. 

You huff again, shaking your head as you take a step back and look between them, eyes meeting Nancy’s for a moment before you lower your head, glancing down at your drink, you bring it up to your lips and down the rest of it, you slam the empty cup on the counter and step back towards Steve, looking into the hazel eyes that you used to love so much, you pat his chest, “I wasn’t the one who left with no explanation, I wasn’t the one with the dirty secrets and I wasn’t the one who cheated and then accused you of doing it, asshole, so spare me your bullshit.” With one last glare, you step away from him and direct your gaze at the girl who can’t seem to tear her eyes away from you, you step towards her, unknowingly making her heart flutter, “I hope you can taste me when he’s kissing you.” 

You think that anger is what she feels from hearing your words but it’s not that at all, not even in the slightest. 

Her eyes follow you when you walk out of the room, brushing past Tina who looks like she is ready and excited to spread around what she just witnessed. The moment you are out in the hallway and making your way upstairs, she giggles loudly and runs off, making Steve roll his eyes. 

Nancy feels like something is pushing her, pushing her to walk the way you just did, to follow you upstairs, to talk to you… alone, to explain what had really happened this summer or these past few months. 

Billy’s laughter echoes through the room, a satisfied grin appearing on his face, one that Steve easily ignores, he slams his drink down next to your empty cup, not caring about spilling it. 

“I’m gonna get some fresh air,” he announces, sparing a poor glance at Nancy before he walks out of the room and out of the house, slamming the front door shut so loudly that it’s even heard over the music. 

“Sure,” Nancy mumbles when he is outside already, uninterested. Her mind is in a haze, body angling towards the stairs. Billy’s eyes are on her, intensely so, but she doesn’t bother to turn her head to look at him, her feet carry her out of the room before she can rethink the decision her mind had already made. She pushes past the people in the hallway, ignores the curious glances from Carol and Tommy. 

Her heart is pounding in her chest as she walks up the stairs, fingernails digging into her palms, she bites down on her lip nervously, letting her body move on its own accord. She doesn’t know where to look first, where to go but it's like something is leading her to her wanted destination. 

She finds you in one of the bedrooms, sitting at the end of bed with tears running down your cheeks, sniffles sounding through the quiet room, the lights from the hallway illuminating the dark room, you jump in surprise when you notice her in the doorway. 

“What the hell do you want?” 

Nancy sucks in a sharp breath, the guilt in her continuing to eat at her when she sees the pain in your glassy eyes before your expression hardens at the sight of her. You wipe your tears angrily and push yourself up, smoothing down your dress, you blink, trying to get rid of the tears. 

“I’m sorry I-I just wanted to–”

“What did you want?” You snap back, frowning in rage as you stalk towards her like she is your prey. “Did you want this room to yourself? Am I in your way? Oh, I’m sorry, let me just make space for you.” Your voice is sarcastic, your face angry but it does nothing to scare her or push her away from here. 

“No,” Nancy shakes her head, knowing all too well what you mean by those words. She sighs, “no, I just wanted to check up on you.” 

Her words are clearly something you weren’t expecting, because for a good moment, you’re dead silent, staring at her with confused eyes and parted lips — ones that Nancy can’t look away from. 

It would’ve been dead silent too if it wasn’t for the voices downstairs, for the loud music or the sound of laughter outside. 

“Check up on me!?” 

The anger on your face and in your voice should be enough of a reason for her to leave the room and avoid you, her brain is telling her that but her body… her body is telling her something entirely else. Somehow, you look even better with the fire behind your eyes, the burning gaze you look at her with, sets her lower stomach on fire, your skin looks even softer beneath this lightning, your lips look so… so kissable.

She can’t deny it any longer, not after months and months of observing and pining, even before she met Steve properly. It was never him that she looked at, it was never him that she wanted. 

“What? So you can laugh in my face and mock me? How you stole my boyfriend!?” 

Nancy shakes her head, “n-no, I’d never do that… I am… I’m sorry.”

You chuckle darkly but a hint of sadness is there too, she can’t even miss it. You roll your eyes at her and finally decide to step away, to leave this conversation that you never even wanted. But Nancy doesn’t even let you pass, in fact, she places herself in front of the door after slamming it shut, standing in your way with a stubborn look on her face. 

“What the— get out of my way, Wheeler.” 

“No.” Nancy shakes her head again, blue eyes burning into yours, cheeks glowing red. “I’m sorry, I really am, I-I know you hate me, I would too, what I did was… was messed up but I’m really, really sorry!” 

You can only stare in disbelief, blinking, you can feel your heart pounding and your chest hurting from it. 

You don’t need that, you don’t want that. 

You don’t want no apology, not from her and not from him. 

He betrayed you and he broke your heart, stomped on it like it was nothing, and then, he just moved on, right away, like you never meant anything to him, like he never loved you, like it was the easiest thing to just forget about you and date someone new. 

And Nancy, she never owed you anything, no loyalty or sympathy, but what she did still hurt, a lot. And her apology angers you in ways you can’t even describe with words. 

“Fuck you.” The way those words leave your lips followed by the venomous look in your eyes should make her feel intimidated, it should make her draw back and let you leave but instead, she feels any of what she should feel. Your anger makes her feel something she had never felt before, some sort of anticipation, a curiosity she never felt with any guy, not the cute guy from summer camp last year whose name she forgot, not Jerry Carlson who was the first ever to ask her out on a date, not Steve Harrington, no guy had ever made her feel the things that burn in her now, only you. 

Fuck. 

Only you. 

She can’t tear her eyes away from your lips any longer, she can’t fight the desire in her that calls your name, she can’t fight the urge to move closer to you and the way your eyes flicker to her lips, even if only for a second, gives her the push to take a step closer. 

You have to feel the tension too, right? 

The fire between you – maybe it’s only anger on your part but maybe, hopefully, it isn’t only that. 

Nancy’s heart starts pounding, she suddenly feels drunk, hazy. Her feet move on their own accord, her feelings act on their own, she no longer feels control over her own body. 

“You and Steve are unbelievable, you know that right?” You snap at her, flipping your hair over your shoulder, arrogantly. “He fucked me over and you helped. You both got what you wanted, you got each other, so why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone!?”

She doesn’t answer you. 

She doesn’t say anything. 

She just looks at you. 

Her eyes are almost unrecognizable, dark and barely blue, a wild look lingers in them as she stares at you like you’re her prey, like she’s about to eat you alive, maybe it should terrify you but it doesn’t, you are too angry to feel anything else. 

Nancy watches the way you roll your eyes like some goddamn brat and she is beginning to lose her patience with your attitude – she deserves it, she knows she does but her feelings overwhelm her and your bitchiness doesn’t help much. 

Enough of her silence, you move forward, about to push her aside so you can make your escape, you reach for the doorknob but freeze in your place when her hand wraps around your wrist and she gives you a stern look and it only angers you more, even when there is a small part of you that feels intrigued by the way she looks at you. 

“I swear to god, Nancy,” you sigh. 

There is guilt in her eyes, beneath the flames that linger and it irritates you so deeply. 

If she is burdened by guilt at this moment, then she must’ve been back then too and it only makes you wonder. 

“Why did you take him?” You ask, trying to hide the pain in your voice, trying to hide what you have been feeling for the past months. 

“I never wanted him.” 

Her own eyes widen after those words leave her lips, not out of shock but out of relief – the truth that’s been there all along, finally uncovered and revealed, not only to you but also to herself because a part of her didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to admit it, that it was you, that it was a girl whom she wanted. 

A gasp tears from your mouth and your eyes widen, hand falling from the doorknob you were holding onto so tightly, your heart lurches to your throat and something stirs within you. It takes you a long moment to realize what is happening, to realize what she is doing, to realize what she just confessed. 

You feel warmth, in your body, on your body, on your lips. You feel her hands cupping your cheeks, you taste her raspberry chapstick, the rum she must’ve had earlier, you feel the intensity radiating off her. 

She is kissing you. 

Nancy Wheeler is kissing you after confessing that it wasn’t him who she wanted. 

Your ex-boyfriend’s girl is kissing you like her life depends on it – lost in the kiss, she looks completely in bliss, with her eyes closed and her lips moving against yours passionately, softly in a way only a girl's lips can feel. 

She kisses you in a way no one else ever has before, with a kind of desperation and need that can only come from someone who has been longing for this moment for a long, long time and to your surprise it makes your stomach flutter but your confusion guides you, you raise your hands and press them against her shoulders, pushing her away from you with furrowed eyebrows and puffy lips. 

Your heart is racing, your thoughts are too. 

What the hell just happened?

Nancy slowly opens her eyes, cheeks flushed and eyes needy as they flicker back and forth between your eyes and your lips, like she’s hungry for you, like she yearns for you, like she needs and wants more. 

You open your mouth to speak but not a single word falls from your lips because what is there to say? You are confused, more than that you are irritated by the fact that the kiss made your stomach burn and your legs shaky, that it left you craving for another taste of the girl that stole your happiness but she looks at you like you’re… something special and it makes your heart flutter and it makes you angry because she is still Nancy Wheeler. She is still the girl who is the reason for all your hurt, she is the girl your Steve left you for. 

She blinks, lashes fluttering as her eyes soften, vulnerability crossing her face. 

“I wanted you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, your face flusters at her confession. You don’t know what to think of it, of her. But that little voice in your head, that angry one that has been trying to take control over you these past few months is telling you to use this given opportunity to get back at him. 

She wants you. 

Steve’s girlfriend wants you. 

She looks at you like she is ready to drop everything and everyone for you. 

She is. 

Your eyes flicker to her lips, you can’t deny the fact that it felt good to feel them on yours and you can’t help but wonder what they would feel like in different places on your body. 

But you don’t know whether it’s the thrill, the curiosity or this opportunity that fell right into your hands. 

She wants you so very badly, you can see it in her blue eyes, the way she is practically begging for you to let her in, to let her have a taste, to let her have you, she is needy, not for Steve, no, not for him, for you, only for you. 

And who are you to pass up on an opportunity to have a good time and get your sweet revenge all at once? 

So after a lot of heavy breathing and contemplating, you break out of your trance and move forward, catching her by surprise this time, you grab her face and slam your lips against hers, earning a whimper from her the second you kiss her. 

Satisfaction rushes through you, numbing the anger and filling you with pleasure to know that this will ruin her. 

And him. 

Both of them. 

♡

tagging ppl who might be interested!!!

@thesickestqrmydcll @prettyboyeddiemunson @fanfic-fanatic-2024

[callme-holly]

I NEED I NEED a sweet soft domestic dallas. i need it. i crave it. idc if its out of character. i live, breathe, eat, sleep, a cute soft dallas winston. so if u will, please and thank you write dallas with fem reader where she needs picked up from her house bc her parents are kicking her our OR bc they are fighting and she doesn’t wanna be there (you choose!) and dallas is teeth rotting sweet and soft with her.

ilysm!!!❤️🙏🏼

𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 [𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐚/𝐧 : IM LOVING THIS PLEASE GIVE ME MORE SWEET REQUESTS LOVE Y'ALL

The familiar rumble of an engine pulls you from your thoughts, cutting through the muffled yelling coming from the house behind you as it rolls to a stop in front of your gate. It’s sleek red paintwork in scratch and dented in places, and one of the headlights is out, but you’re relieved to see it all the same. 

Before you can process what’s happening, you’re already on your feet, moving instinctively. You jog across the front yard, ignoring the way your heart pounds and the blood rushes in your ears, not stopping until you collide with Dallas, tucking yourself into his chest the second he steps out of the car. 

He grunts a little in surprise but wraps his arms around you anyway, holding you steady as you catch your breath.

“You called?” He mumbles, his voice husky and rough with sleep, and you’d almost feel bad for waking him if you didn’t need him as much as you do now. Almost. You pull away enough so that you can look up at him, searching his features for any sign of annoyance or irritation, but strangely, you find nothing but fondness and what looks like it could be concern. 

“Yeah… They’re fighting again. Didn’t want to be in the house.” 

Dallas nods in understanding, squeezing you a fraction tighter before letting go completely, exposing you to the biting chill of winter once more. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t question why your parents are fighting or how long you've been sitting out of the porch, just waiting. Instead, he bundles you into the car, closing the door for you and going around to climb into the driver's side. You watch as he adjusts his seatbelt, something he only ever seems to do when you're riding with him, then he turns the key and the car roars to life, pulling away from the curb and speeding down the street. 

The heater is broken again if the cold air inside the vehicle is anything to go by, and you’d almost go as far as saying it was warmer outside than in here. The windows are fogged over, making it near impossible to see anything outside, everything passing in a muted blur, and while you know the roads like the back of your hand, you feel strangely lost in that moment.

“They’ll be back to normal again tomorrow,” Dallas says suddenly, startling you and bringing you back to the chilling interior of the car. His eyes are focused steadily on the road, but the way he clenches the wheel tells you everything he needs to know: he’s angry for you, angry that all your parents seem to do is yell and scream and tear you down with words that aren't even meant for you but still hurt you in a way you wouldn’t think possible. 

“I know,” you tell him quietly, letting your head rest against the cool glass of the window, letting out a long breath. “I just… I don’t know.” 

There is silence for some time after that, and you watch the flicker of colour and lights streak by outside the misty window; the quiet hum of the engine and shifting gears are the only sounds besides the thud of your heart in your chest. Dallas’ hand comes to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing back and forth in a gentle manner that nobody would think him capable of managing. It's soothing and calming, a reminder that he’s there, and you’re safe, that everything will sort itself out for better or for worse. 

“It’s gonna be alright.” His voice has softened considerably, and he almost doesn’t sound like himself—too tender and kind. It doesn’t suit him, not at all, but you find it nice all the same.

“How do you know?” You glance over at him, barely turning your head, your movements growing lazy as the exhaustion takes over, your limbs growing heavy, and your mind as hazy as the fog steaming the windshield. 

Dallas shrugs, swallowing heavily. “Because you got me. And I won't let anything’ happen to you. Not without a fight.” 

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, and butterflies stir in your stomach, fluttering wildly. He smiles at you, warm and genuine, and you can’t help but return it, watching the way his eyes crinkle slightly in the corners, his face lighting up in a way it very rarely does. 

A warmth settles around you, one that dashes away the freezing cold settling in your bones, and you don’t bother fighting it, content to let it engulf you, too mesmerized by the lingering calm expression on his face to care. 

He’s got you, and you’re safe as long as you’re with him.

[meanderingwistera]

Pomegranate Seeds

I felt his arms around me then, we didn’t need a wedding bed. - Chant ||, Hadestown (2017)

Summary - You wake up in the underworld after being carried off. Despite the rocky start to your stay, you begin to know more about the man whose domain you are staying in.

He is different and more interesting than the other gods on Olympus. As you begin to settle into his domain Suguru comes to a glaring realisation, he can’t let you go now. But the Goddess of Spring can’t stay in the underworld forever.

Pairing - Hades!Suguru Geto x Persephone!reader

Content - Fluff, SMUT, piv sex, light angst, obsessive behavior, PINING, idiots in love, talks of death and murder, possessive behaviour, you both have it bad

Word count - 6.4k

A/N - You match each other’s freak.

The cold throne room offers Suguru no comfort as he paces the length of it. A few souls pass by with concerned expressions but he pays them no mind. They whisper amongst themselves then move on.

He mentally scolds himself for not having the restraint to leave you alone. He is better than to give into this desire for you that threatens to drown him. Suguru’s fingers still tingle from where they touched you.

You were so peaceful in his arms and he would do everything in his power to protect your peace. He didn’t know how much more his love would grow when he held you to his chest for the first time.

Suguru needs to find an excuse for this, basically kidnapping a Goddess would not go over well unless he has a good reason. Surely you would understand if he said that he found you asleep and wanted to help you? He doesn’t want to schwander your trust before he even has it.

A pair of hurried footsteps break his thoughts.

He looks up to see Yuta practically running into the throne room. The boy has a smile on his face and he looks like he ran all the way here from the room Suguru put you in.

“She’s awake!” Yuta says and stops next to him to catch his breath.

“Thank you for watching over her.” Suguru says and walks out of the room.

Yuta probably has better things to do as the god of sleep then watch over you. But he owes Suguru a favor so Yuta had to oblige him this once.

Suguru walks down the dark halls of the palace, the only light are the lit candles lining the sides of the hall. He should probably have more candles installed for you, he doesn’t know if you will adjust well to being without the sun.

The door is slightly ajar when he gets to your room. He tries to be quiet so as to not startle you anymore then you probably are. The long curtains veil you from him and his breath hitches as he goes to move the curtain.

Suguru prepares for you to yell at him, scream, or even hit him. He had already gone over every single scenario in his head while you slept. So he shifts the curtain to the side.

You are sitting near the headboard, your legs partly pulled under you. A pillow is clutched in both your hands like you are ready to beat him with it. Your eyes search his face suspiciously for something he can’t tell.

All Suguru can think of is how beautiful you look. Even with your nose scrunched and eyes narrowed you are breathtaking. His heart lurches as he thinks of your pretty face nestled in pillows that look so similar to those on his bed.

Suguru’s mind wanders to places it shouldn’t be.

He imagines you in his bed, under him.

Oh how he would make you sing for him. Your soft lips parted as soft moans spill from them. His hands would hold you gently as he unraveled you.

Your eyes widen and it snaps him out of his lust. He fears that he may have wondered aloud but you lower the pillow in your hand.

“You!” You exclaim with surprise.

He almost snorts at you exclamation.

“I’m sorry for startling you Lady Kore,” Suguru bows slightly in apology, “I found you asleep and brought you back to my domain to make sure you were alright.”

You look down for a moment, a sad look crossing your face. He feels his heart drop at your sadness, he would do anything to banish it from you.

“Thank you, I am sorry for troubling you.” You say and your face regains some of it’s normal sunshine.

He holds out a hand to help you out of the bed, “No need to thank me and you are no trouble.”

You look hesitant to take it but soon grace him with your touch. Your hand fits in his perfectly, like it was made to be in his. Standing you look up at him with a sheepish expression.

“I never got to ask for your name.” You admit with a blush tinting your cheeks.

Suguru grins at your words.

“Suguru will be fine Lady Kore.” He says and you smile back at him.

“Suguru it is then.”

Suguru’s palace is vast, the dark halls seem to go on forever. You traverse them with him at your side. The halls are open aired with long drapes on them. This place seems to be barren of plants which saddens you a little. Your bare feet walk on the cold tile of the floors. Maybe you should ask Suguru for a pair of shoes.

When you were above ground you never had to worry about that because the ground never hurt your feet. Now you only feel a slight chill but it would be good to at least have them if you need them.

Suguru seems to know the halls by heart as he guides you to the kitchen. After sleeping for a day you felt hunger creep into your body. Gods didn’t really need to eat but going a while without ambrosia was not a pleasant experience.

His presence is comforting to you as the two of you walk through a large archway to a spacious room. Your eyes light up as you see people- no not people- souls moving about in the kitchen. They all work together in harmony, each of them doing a task.

At the entrance of you both they look at the two of you. Some look surprised to see both of you, others of them don’t seem to care.

“Tell them what you would like to eat and they will make it for you.” Suguru says with his arms crossed.

His face is a neutral expression as he speaks. It is different from the easy smile he gave you back in the room you slept in. You wonder if he means to act differently around you or not.

With a smile and a gentle pat to his shoulder you walk up to one of the souls and tell them what you would like. The soul only nods at you before all of them get back to work.

The corners of Suguru’s mouth are ticked up slightly as you walk back to him. You notice how his eyes soften at the edges when he smiles.

“What?” You ask him as the two of you turn to leave.

“Just thinking.” He deflects and trains his eyes ahead, “The dining room is up ahead if you would like to eat there or in your room.”

You don’t know if him saying ���your’ room was intentional but you kind of like it. Having a place here would be nice, you could help bring some life to this place if he let you.

“The dining room would be fine.” You answer him and he wastes no time in guiding you to the room.

In the large dining room is a long black table. Many chairs are lined around it but it is hollow because no one is here. You chose a chair close to the head of the table to sit in.

Suguru goes to sit down in a chair farther away but you grab his sleeve. He blinks back at you in confusion.

“I don’t want to have to yell down the table at you.” You say.

He chuckles and sits down in the chair next to yours.

“I wouldn’t want you to strain your voice Lady Kore.” He teases you with a grin.

“I also wouldn’t want that and please drop the title, it makes me sound too important.” You respond and he shakes his head.

“You are important but if the title makes you uncomfortable I won’t call you that.” He counters you.

“I guess I don’t want to think about my title right now.” A sigh escapes your lips as you look down.

You remember the words you said to Utahime. She must be hurt and you never wanted to, you just wanted your freedom. A melancholy feeling settles in your heart.

“Why is that?” Suguru asks, his voice soft.

You look at him and his concerned expression with a sad smile. He is nothing like the rumors that follow him. How everyone got the wrong idea about him you have no idea.

“I said things I shouldn’t have. I hurt my sister and I don’t think I could bear to face her for a while.” You admit to him.

He hums in understanding and touches your hand.

“You are welcome to stay here if you like.” Suguru offers.

“Oh! I would not want to impose-”

“You could never impose on me,” He cuts you off, “if anything you could help to liven this place up.”

You brighten at his words, your mood bouncing back from sadness.

“You would let me?” You ask hopefully.

“I have never tried to grow anything, maybe you could try.” He says with a smile.

It wouldn’t hurt to stay here awhile.

Suguru follows behind you as you look for an open pavilion. He must look like a love sick fool walking behind you as your body radiates excitement.

And he probably is a love sick fool.

You finally find what you are looking for. A hall takes a turn to the left out into a pavilion. There are a few seats on the marble floor that probably haven’t been used in a while.

The dirt around the pavilion is so dark it is almost black. You inspect it anyway and Suguru watches you experimentally touch it. The ground glows green for a second before a rose bush begins to grow out of the course dirt.

You look back at him with a triumphant grin, “The ground isn’t so bad here after all!”

“You would be the only one who could make use of it, I am sure.” He says and leans down to touch a red rose.

The flower wilts at his touch and he frowns down at it. He had thought that he could touch the flowers since you grew them but it seems like he is still not able to.

“Here.” You say and put your hand on his.

Suguru watches as you guide his hand to the flower again but with your hand on his. His finger tips touch the soft petals and the rose doesn’t wilt. He looks over at your smiling face in awe of you.

“You look like a fish out of water Suguru.” You say and he realises how close the two of you are to one another.

“I-” He clears his throat. “I have never touched a plant without it dying before.”

Suguru can feel a flush rise up the back of his neck as he feels your body so close to his. Your hand is so warm on his and you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“My Lord!” Yuta’s voice cuts through the moment.

You back away from him and he mourns the loss of your warmth. He stands up and turns to Yuta who looks anywhere but the two of you, his eyes darting to the side.

“Nanami has a few souls for you.” He says and Suguru sighs deeply.

Suguru turns to you, you have stood up from your position on the dirt. He sees that dirt has gotten on your dress.

“I must attend to my duties but Yuta will show you to the palace seamstress, she will make you more clothes so you don’t have to stay in your current dress all the time.” Suguru says and Yuta looks between you two.

“Alright, come find me when you are done?” You ask him, a hand on his shoulder.

“Of course.”

“Oh my!” The seamstress exclaims when she sees you, “I had heard there was a Goddess in the palace but you are more beautiful than the rumors.”

You laugh, “Do rumors spread that fast?”

She smiles at your question and gets to work. Her nimble hands begin to take your measurements.

“You would be surprised at how chatty the dead are, there is not much happening here.” She explains to you as she works.

You had never thought about the dead before in that way. It must be so stagnant here that anything would be interesting to them.

“Does Suguru not invite others over often?” You ask her as she holds up a bolt of dark pink fabric to you.

“No, he is mostly by himself but the Gods of Wine and Witchcraft try to visit him when they can.” She says.

He must be lonely down here by himself.

After a few days the two of you fall into a rhythm. Suguru does his duties during the middle of the day but the mornings and evenings are spent together. He is distracted by thoughts of you when he is sat on his throne hearing the souls plead their cases.

He sits with his head propped up listening as a woman tells him her whole life story. Suguru doesn’t let the sigh escape his lips that he has been holding for two hours.

Your voice comes to his mind.

“After you finish I can show you the garden I am working on!”

He can already imagine you sitting among the flowers like the day he first saw you. Suguru’s mind drifts through the possibilities of what flowers you would grow. He knows that you are fond of lillies and roses so he is sure that they will be included.

“-then my husband left me-”

Suguru wants to leave. He wants to see you.

Then like his thoughts summoned you, you appear. You glide in like you belong here, your long black skirt almost dragging on the ground. He thinks you look good in black. A grin on your face as you walk closer to the center of the room. The woman stops speaking to him to stare wide eyed at you. As you walk past you smile kindly at her.

He can’t help but smile as you draw near to him. You ascend the dias to where he sits. Suguru’s lavender eyes trace your outline in that outfit. It hugs your waist tight and his hands ache to hold your hips.

“Sorry for interrupting you but I must steal him from you.” You say far too sweetly to the woman. Your sweetness should be reserved only for him but he allows it this once.

The woman gets the hint and gets out finally. Suguru sighs in relief as she leaves. You giggle at him and take his hand. He gives no resistance as you pull him to his feet.

“Thank you for that.” Suguru thanks you.

“Anytime, let me show you the garden I made.” You say and pull him along.

Suguru lets you lead him down the winding corridors of the palace to the garden you had promised to show him. He finds your excitement contagious as you hum a tone as the two of you walk.

Eventually you come to a stop in front of a large courtyard. Wild flowers coat the ground of it like the meadow you like so much. Every imaginable kind of flower are now growing out of the once unusable soil. A large willow tree looms over the right side of the yard, its branches sway gently in the wind.

“What do you think?” You ask him, looking a little subconscious.

“It’s wonderful.” Suguru answers honestly and he reveals in the blush that rises to your cheeks.

“It’s not too much?” You press him for more feedback.

“Why would I argue with the Goddess of Spring about her flowers?” He chuckles.

You huff good naturedly, “I want you to tell me if I am ever crossing a boundary.”

“I have no boundaries- not with you.”

Once again sleep dangles just out of Suguru’s reach. His mind races as he knows that you are sleeping in the same palace as him. You are in reach and he can do nothing about it. He invisions you next to him in this bed.

Your lips on his neck as he guides your hips to grind down on him. A soft moan would leave your lips as he would run his hands up your thighs and under your skirt. His fingers would reach places you never could. Suguru would watch in amazement as you throw your head back in pleasure, your chest heaving.

Suguru groans as he palms his already hard cock.

He practically ruts up into his hand as he wishes it was your hand. Your soft hands around his dick. Or maybe he would take you in the garden. Your back against the ground as he fucks you senseless. He can practically feel your nails on his back, sinking into him.

It would be poetic to take you in the meadow where he first saw you. Suguru fucking you against that tree that you were sitting under, the flower crown still on your head.

And in his deepest fantasies you let him.

You would pull him closer, let him take and want and need you. Suguru cums after that, his mind a haze of pleasure and you.

He doesn’t think he will get any sleep tonight.

You toss and turn in bed.

This bed is too large for you, the black sheets seem to go on forever. You stare up at the ceiling in the dark, hoping it will put you to sleep but it doesn’t.

Maybe the underworld is so different from anything you know that you are homesick. Maybe you miss your sister and don’t want to fight with her anymore. Tears of frustration and sadness fall down your face.

You know it’s stupid to cry over this but you have not been from your sister for long before. Her presence was the one constant you had. But now she is most likely upset with you, that’s why she hasn’t even looked for you.

Wiping your eyes you hear a faint rustling from a room a ways away. You realize that it is Suguru’s room. Can he not sleep as well?

Getting up from the bed you throw a robe over your night dress. You walk down the cold corridor until you get to Suguru’s door. For a moment you hesitate before opening the door. It might be too late to do this but if you can comfort him and yourself at the same time you have to try.

You knock and wait for him to open the door. You hear his footsteps as he approaches the door. He opens the door to you, his eyes wide as he looks at you. Your eyes can’t help but look him over for anything wrong.

As you look your eyes catch on the opening of Suguru’s robe and the bare expanse of chest revealed by it. Heat rises in your cheeks as you force your gaze up to his eyes.

“I could hear you tossing and turning from my room.” You tell him.

“Oh,” He says, “I am fine, just restless that’s all.”

You see the dark circles under his eyes and aren’t convinced. He must have had a few sleepless nights to have dark circles like that.

“I can stay with you if you want?” You offer him, hoping that your presence would be comforting.

He stares at you with something you can quite decipher.

“I can’t sleep either!” You explain then grow more timid as you continue, “I was hoping we could help each other out.”

Suguru lets you in.

His room is bigger than yours but somehow more barren. The high ceilings only add to that. His bed is the same as yours but a desk is next to it. You don’t waste too much time looking around because you know he needs sleep for tomorrow.

You climb into his bed and can feel him watching you closely. Vaguely you wonder if you are overstepping a boundary but he had let you in. So he was fine with this.

The bed is warm, it smells of lavender oil. Your head sinks into the pillows that smell like him as he climbs in beside you. He still hasn’t said anything, only stares at you intently.

“Thank you Suguru.” You mutter as sleep hits you suddenly.

He chuckles deep in his chest, “No need.”

You just nod and move closer to finally get the sleep you have craved for the past few hours. His body is warm against yours and it pulls you into sleep.

The two of you have become more physically affectionate after that. You hold his hand and he puts his hand against the small of your back when you two walk together. When the two of you are in the garden you planted his head is in your lap.

You hum gently and run your fingers through his silky hair. It is a comfort to have this gentle touch with him. You can reach for him anytime you need his touch and he responds in kind.

“Do you think I should go back soon?” You ask him as he looks up at you.

Suguru looks startled by your question. Then his face smooths out into something more calm.

“It is up to you,” He says, “You could stay forever if you wanted.”

Oh

Oh how you want to say yes. You want him to keep you here, in his arms forever. The two of you intertwined for all eternity together.

You can imagine your life here so vividly. The soft stolen kisses in between him seeing souls, his arms around you at night. He hands roaming places no one ever has before. You don’t ever want to leave.

“Would you want anything in return for my stay?” You say, your eyes flicking down to his lips.

You want to know how they taste.

His eyes darken just slightly as he looks up at you, “What did you have in mind?”

“Is a kiss a good payment?” You smile sweetly down at him.

Suguru stares up at you, his lip slightly parted in awe as if he never thought you would say that. You giggle at his expression and lean down to kiss his lips.

His lips don’t have a distinct taste but they feel soft and warm. For a moment you are the driving force as the two of you kiss. Then you are on your back in the wildflowers you planted a week ago.

His lips move almost frantically against yours. You put a hand on his forearm, holding him closer, encouraging him more. His arms wrap around your torso and hold you somehow even closer.

When Suguru pulls back the both of you look at each other. His eyes are alight with adoration and you can’t help but mirror his expression.

“Can I-?” He starts.

“Please.” You practically whine and pull him back down to you.

With a grin he obliges you and connects your lips again. It is softer and sweeter this time. He doesn’t act like you would flee from him this time. His hands settle on your hips and your hands wander up into his hair.

You fall into a slow rhythm as you feel your body heating up at his touch. He seems so steady as you grow more desperate for him.

His hand moves up under your skirt and you shiver at his touch. Suguru moves from your lips to nip at your neck. You moan as his mouth and fingers explore your body at a languid pace.

You’re addicting to Suguru, you are even better than what he had imagined. He can’t help but look at you as you throw your head back as his fingers graze your entrance.

“Do you know how long I have wanted this?” He breathes against the column of your throat, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

You whimper at his words as he slips a finger into you. He marvels at how tight you are around just one finger, let alone his cock.

“Have you not done this before?” Suguru wonders aloud with a hum.

One of your arms covers your face in embarrassment as you answer, “Only- only you-”

Your words ignite a fire in his very bones.

Suguru is the first and only to ever have you like this. He has claimed you in a way no other can and he will make sure of it. No one is going to take you from him now. He will lock you in his palace if he has to.

A shiver runs through him at the thought of staying here with him, you perched on his lap as he judges souls. He imagines you waiting in his bed for him, your pretty body on display for him and only him.

Gently he removes your arm from your face so he can see you. You look up at him through your eyelashes in pleasure, your cheeks aflame.

“I’m glad to be the only one to see you like this.” He tells you as he adds another finger.

You are a pretty mess under him as he works you open. Your voice rings out in the quiet garden, a song so sweet the muses would fail to recreate it.

“I need more-” You gasp out between moans.

“Just a second more Sweetheart, you're doing so well.” He coos at you as you whimper and whine at him.

Suguru pulls the gold cord holding your dress together to bear you to him. His darkened gaze looks you over in pure desire.

Out of reflex you go to cover yourself but he grabs your hands and pins them above your head.

“Don’t hide from me.” Suguru says and pulls his fingers out of you. Your brows scrunch in frustration at the loss of contact.

He chuckles at the small pout that forms on your lips because he doesn’t plan on making you wait long. Suguru slips out of his clothes and lines his throbbing cock up with your entrance.

Slowly he pushes into you so he doesn’t hurt you. Your nails dig into his back as his cock fully enters you. His breathing gets heavy as you suck him in eagerly. You are so perfect, made specifically for him.

After he gives you time to adjust he begins to move.

Suguru is sure he is in heaven as he thrusts into your tight cunt. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your head is buried in the side of his neck and he feels your panting breaths against his skin.

“I can’t hold on much longer-” You moan out against his neck.

“Cum then Lovely, I am close myself.” He admits and picks up his pace.

Suguru groans as you pulse sweetly around him. Your cunt holds him so tightly he doesn’t want to ever leave it or you. You cum soon after, your release mixing with his precum. He might slip in between your thighs later to clean up the mess he made.

You moan as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your moans and whimpers are a song so sweet the nine muses would fail to recreate it. His thrusts grow erratic as he nears his orgasm.

With a mean snap of his hips he cums deep inside you, claiming you inside and out. You are boneless underneath him, your orgasm leaving you on cloud nine. He presses a soft kiss to your temple in pure devotion.

He moves the two of you to his bed in a wisp of black smoke. You settle on his chest, your breathing still a little heavy. He runs a hand up and down your side in a soothing motion.

“Stay with me.” He asks you.

You smile wide, “Of course.”

Utahime bursts into the main hall of the gods. She startles the crowd of gods as she stomps in. Her face is a mix of anxiety and rage. Dark circles are prominent under her eyes and add to the frantic look in them. She looks around the room as she walks to the center.

“My sister was taken by the God of the dead.” She says as she approaches the throne at the end of the hall.

Yaga looks down at her with a brow raised, “What proof do you have of this?”

“Haibara saw him carry her off.” She declares and Haibara comes forward to give his testimony.

“It was just as dawn broke when I say him disappearing the Goddess of spring in his arms. I have not seen her since.” Haibara explains to him, a sad look on his usually sunny face.

Yaga rubs a hand over his chin in contemplation. He did not want to disturb Suguru but if this is true he will have to intervene. This is going to be a mess.

“Shoko and Satoru.” He summons the Goddess of Witchcraft and the God of Wine to the center of the room.

Shoko has a neutral expression on her face as she walks forward. But he can see through the mask to the pure displeasure of being dragged into this. Satoru looks somewhat amused as he follows her forward.

“Go see if the Goddess is there and if so try to reason with Suguru.” He commands.

“As you wish.”

The room is tense as Shoko leaves, a stormy expression on her face. She is none too pleased to be tasked with a wild goose chase.

Walking into the throne room you laugh.

Suguru is sat on his iron throne, which is not out of the ordinary but the crown of violets are new. The souls probably were shocked that he wore something that colorful.

He grins as you enter, the corners of his eyes soften in that way you adore. You join him on the throne, his arms pull you into his lap.

“What did Yuta have to say about your accessory?” You tease him and wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“He was too bewildered to speak this morning, even Nanami was speechless.” Suguru says with a chuckle, “But I think it would look better on you.”

He gently settles the crown on your head.

“Thank you.” You say and lean your head on his shoulder.

The two of you stay there for a moment, just basking in each other's warmth. You long to pull him from his work but you know how dedicated he is to it.

So you will settle for this.

“Well~” A familiar voice has the two of you looking towards the front of the room. “So you can break the rules Suguru!”

Satoru and a Goddess you haven’t met before walk into the throne room. You feel Suguru’s grip tighten on you. In a gesture of comfort you squeeze his shoulder.

“What do you want Satoru?” Suguru asks, his voice holding an undertone of suspicion.

“We came to see if you had kidnapped the Goddess of Spring but it does look that way.” The Goddess comments with a raised brow.

You flush a bright red as you realize how this looks. Suguru, on the other hand, doesn’t look fazed by their comments. His gaze is stormy as he looks down at them.

“How did you get that idea?” You ask them, trying to make up for Suguru's lack of diplomacy.

“Your sister kindly informed the rest of us about it.” Satoru says with an amused expression on his face. “Apparently Haibara saw Suguru haul you off.”

You feel a flicker of confusion since Suguru said he found you at night, not in the morning. Haibara as the god of the sun can see everything as he passes through the sky.

So how did he see Suguru if he found you at night?

“Tell Utahime that she is fine and if she wants to cause a fuss she should come herself.” Suguru tells them, his gaze icy.

“Sadly Yaga asked us to bargain for her safe return.” The Goddess says unimpressed with his glare.

You are sure that this is going to be a mess.

Suguru is enraged that Utahime would send someone else to bargain with him rather than coming herself. She was a coward and didn’t deserve you.

“She came into my domain and chose to stay willingly, this is ridiculous.” Suguru says and rubs a thumb down your side.

It was soothing to have you in his arms. Your calming presence was a balm to his anger.

“At least let us take her to tell her sister that.” Shoko tries to reason with him.

“It sounds reasonable Suguru.” You tell him gently, “You know I won’t leave you.”

Suguru knows that, you gave him your word after all. But he doesn’t trust Utahime. She might hide you from him or keep you from him. He can’t let you go now, not now that he has held you in his arms. It would break him if you left and never came back.

So he will just have to tie you to the land of the dead. If you eat of the dead you are tied here. An idea comes to his mind.

“Fine, but I want a moment alone with her Shoko.” Suguru says.

Shoko nods, “As long as you will let her go after Suguru.”

Both Shoko and Satoru walk out of the room, leaving him alone with you. He sighs and turns to you. You smile softly at him, a fond look in your eyes.

“Don’t worry.” You say and kiss him.

He leans into your touch before you pull away from him to get up. Suguru wants to pull you back but he needs to act like he is fine with this. He gets up after you.

Suguru wraps his cloak around you and kisses you on your temple. He takes your hand and puts six pomegranate seeds in your palm.

“For your journey.” Suguru says and leads you to the hall.

Satoru and Shoko are talking amongst themselves as the two of you approach. Well Satoru is talking, Shoko looks annoyed by his presence. He feels a flicker of guilt for dragging them into this.

“All ready?” Satoru asks cheerfully.

You just nod in response and Suguru glares at his friend.

“I will bring her right back!” Satoru exclaims with his hands up in surrender.

As you three leave Suguru watches with a knowing smile. You will come back to him.

He made sure of it.

The grand hall of the gods is abuzz as you walk in. All the gods have gathered for a spectacle. They line the room talking amongst themselves but they go quiet as you walk in. You feel their stares as you make your way to the middle of the room.

Yaga sits tall on his throne at the back of the room. His expression is neutral but you can see a twinkle of interest in his eyes. It seems that even the King of the gods loves a good spectacle.

“Sister!” Utahime exclaims and runs to you.

She wraps you in her arms and sobs into your shoulder. You can see the lines of worry on her face and the dark circles under her eyes.

“I am sorry that I worried you.” You apologise softly and hug Utahime back.

Pulling back she shakes her head, “All that matters is that you are back and safe.”

Utahime holds both your hands in hers with a smile.

“About that-” You go to explain the situation she cuts you off.

“What is on your hands?” She asks with a quizzical look on her face.

She turns your hands palm face up to see red stains on them. Her brow scrunches in confusion at your hands. Then a look of horror takes over her face.

“Did you eat fruit from the underworld?” She looks frantically at you.

“Just six pomegranate seeds, nothing more.” You explain and the color drains from her face.

“It looks like he has tied you to the underworld.” Yaga speaks finally.

Utahime looks back at him, “You can do something can’t you?”

Yaga seems to consider this, then speaks,“You ate six seeds, correct?” He asks you.

“Yes.” You clutch Suguru’s cloak tighter for comfort.

“Then you will spend six months of the year in the underworld and half with your sister.” Yaga explains.

A few gasps are heard from the crowd but for the most part the room is silent. Utahime looks devastated at the verdict but no one can oppose the Yaga’s will.

You turn to her and squeeze her hand, “I will be back for spring okay?”

Tears start to form at the corner of her eyes. You wipe them with a swipe of your thumb. She nods her head and you hug her again.

With that you leave in a flurry of petals.

Suguru feels your presence as soon as you enter the throne room. He had expected for you to be gone longer but he is by no means complaining.

You are still in his cloak from earlier. He watches as you approach him. You don’t speak to him as you do.

Suguru expects you to scream or hit him. He expects you to curse him for dooming you to stay here.

“You were the crow, weren’t you?” You ask quietly, an emotion in your eyes he can’t understand.

“Yes.” He admits, there is now use in lying to you now, he is ready for the repercussions.

But instead of getting angry or crying you do something he never would have guessed. You grab his collar and pull him down into a kiss. He blinks down at you in surprise then melts into your touch.

His hands rest on your hips when you pull away. You look up at him with a look he hasn’t seen before. It is coy and knowing then he realizes that you knew all along about the seeds.

“How devious of you to keep me here,” You say into his ear, “whatever will I do with you?”

“Anything.” Suguru answers and matches your grin.

He pulls you in for another kiss and you oblige him. Suguru feels your lips on his and your hands in his hair and he feels content.

He knows now that you are going to stay.

[iamasaddie]

tell her to stay away from the light

Clint x f!Reader

summary: 1982, Clint parks at the screening of ‘Poltergeist’ in the local drive-in. Somewhere between ghosts intrusions and seances, he finds a much more appealing thing to look at in the car next to him. warnings: DARK FIC, DO NOT READ IF ARE EASILY TRIGGERED! Clint POV, voyeurism, edging, unreliable narrator (?), not thoroughly edited a/n: this is my too early of a submittion to @pedgito's spring fever challenge ! it was something new for me since it's not straight up porn but i hope y'all will still be able to enjoy it!

The light reflecting from the flickering screen plays ornately on your skin, giving it a cold hue. Clint is used to seeing those colors on those he dealt with. Bluish, purplish, grayish. Lifeless. The shades he knows so well. It is odd to see now, like you are going through the premature postmortem hypostasis while your heart is still pumping hot, thick blood through your veins, and your pupils are dilating with a range of emotions.

Diane Freeling's heart-rending screams are accompanied by the hum of gasps and yelps that come from dozens of different cars. Clint can’t tell what is happening on the screen anymore. All his thoughts are focused on you. So beautiful, so pitifully lonely. No girlfriend, no boyfriend, whose shoulder you can bury your scared face in when fear takes over your body. Instead, you lean back, pressing into the seat of the old Honda as if it can save you.

Clint doesn't take his eyes off your heaving chest. The white tank top clings tightly to the skin, leaving no room for imagination. It's too hot in a cramped car with the windows closed, but as if sensing an external threat, you don't rush to roll down the windows. 

The car parked to your right is packed with a bunch of obnoxiously loud guys. They laugh every time the people on the screen or in the neighboring cars scream in horror. The fear of others is just entertainment for them. Clint had seen dozens of guys like them, pompous dicks in soccer jackets, confident as long as they were in a crowd of equally muscular jerks. However, they squeal louder than a pig on a slaughter when they finally sense the danger themselves. When the only working convolution signals them about a deadly predator, when the instinct of self-preservation screams to run. Clint laughed himself when he heard their screams, their panic, their pleas. He's who they pretended to be.

And although Clint understands perfectly well what you're afraid of, he can't help but snicker arrogantly, because you still don't know where the threat really comes from.

A foggy gradient whitens up the windows in your rustbucket – a consequence of your heavy breathing combined with the usual stuffy and humid southern night. Clint returns his gaze to the stretched canvas where the movie scenes change. He is trying not to miss your movements with a peripheral glance, while not being obvious.

Leaning over the center panel, you reach for the passenger door, and soon the window is down, and a cool air seeps inside the car. The windows in Clint's car were rolled down from the very beginning, and now the last barrier between you has been eliminated. Everything is going according to plan.

For a second, Clint feels your searching gaze on his face, and makes an effort not to turn, not to meet your curious eyes. He concentrates on the film, even though the plot has been lost to him for some time.

After a few moments, you return to your usual position, fragile shoulders pressed into the old upholstery of the driver's seat, eyes darting across the screen from one character to another, lips parted. At the same time, Clint allows himself to return to scrutinizing you. He is pleasantly surprised by the way the movie captures your attention completely. Maybe he'll come back to watch it again, it looks like the story is worth it. But now his evening is coming up with a much more attractive story.

As if you can physically feel his caressing gaze, he smoothly glides it along the column of your neck, descending below, where the neckline of your almost see-through top teases him with a view of your chest, rising and falling to the rhythm of your fear. Your skin is glowing, a thin film of sweat has left its mark on the flawless canvas. Your body, that was so hungry for some freshness, is covered goosebumps as soon as a breath of wind actually invades your car. Following with his eager gaze lower, Clint feels the familiar tension in his groin area just as his eyes land on your taut nipples. No shame, no bra. Clint loves summers in the South.

He imagines how hard your heart is beating. If he looks closely, maybe he'll see how your tits shake with the influence. He could feel how fear makes adrenaline rush through your veins. Cold sweat, slippery and salty, is now accumulating on the back of your neck. Greedily, he sniffs the air, his nostrils flaring, as if trying to completely absorb the smell of your sea.

His hand reaches for his swollen dick, but he doesn't take it out, doesn't even unzip his fly. On the contrary, with a wide palm, he rubs himself slowly, applying the perfect amount of pressure over the rough material. The movement would have made him growl if he wasn't so close to you. But he doesn't want to scare you off, so he just clenches his jaw, not letting even a sigh leave his mouth. 

The caresses over his jeans do not bring any relief. His arousal, unable to spill in the heat of orgasm, courses through his veins, teases, tickles. 

Without taking his eyes off you, he continues to torment his suffering dick. The head was so swollen that any touch felt like torture. He knows that the plain cotton boxers already have the shameful stain of his arousal on them. And it's your fault.

So beautiful, so scared. So lonely. Clint thinks about your skin prickling up with chills, but now because of him. The way your hard nipples would feel against his palms. The way you’d scream when he lets his teeth mercilessly close on the sensitive buds. The weight of your soft breasts would pull them down painfully, but his teeth wouldn’t let go of the delicate skin. In his imagination, tears are spurting from your eyes. Now he regrets that he didn't look at them after all. What color are they? Blue? Are they green? Brown? Maybe black? It didn't matter, red goes with any color equally well.

Involuntarily, and as much as his jeans would allow, his hand begins to tighten around his cock, which has been begging for release. Clint has learned to enjoy this torment caused by you. He'll pay you back in kind later.

As soon as you start fidgeting, he freezes. Only his cock is pulsing helplessly in the captivity of his pants. Your hands reach for your head, gathering up your unruly hair, trying to peel off each strand from your sweaty temples and neck. That neck. Clint bites his lip, the familiar iron taste hitting his tongue. Such a thin, fragile neck. He is sure that one hand is enough for him to wrap around it almost completely. His thick fingers will be too rough compared to your delicate skin, even if he does everything more gently than usual. There's nothing to do about it, swans like you always have breakable little necks. 

Will you gasp for air, kick him, scream for help? Will you beg? Clint's gaze returns to your face, as if trying to find an answer, but in vain. Will you ask for more? Moan with pleasure? Squirm with desire? You will. Just like all those who came before you.

Lost in his thoughts, Clint himself flinches when the drive-in descends into darkness for a couple of moments. His eyes lazily trail across the noisy field of cars until they stop on the screen. The film had come to an end, as the opening credits indicated. 

With diligence, he unclenches his fist, which was lying like a sledgehammer on his left thigh, and removes his right hand from his groin. The loss of pressure and heat almost makes him whine like a beaten dog. Steadying his breathing, he raises his palms and wraps them around the leather of the steering wheel. 

All that remains is to wait, and he does. He waits for the cars to slowly start leaving the site; he waits for you to start your car. To his delight, he notices that you're not in a hurry. Apparently, you wanted to let that group of noticeably intoxicated guys from the car on your right side go ahead. By the time your Honda makes the pitiful sound of the engine starting, the field is almost empty. Clint pretends that his car won't start. An act that he has performed dozens of times, the one that would with a standing ovation if he played it out in front of an audience. Everything is going right as he directed it, and here you are, throwing a pitying glance in his direction and pursing your bitten lips. Gotcha.

“Do you need any help?” You lean towards the window, which is still open, trying to shout over the noise of the engine. Clint just shakes his head in fake annoyance.

“Don't worry,” he rubs his eyebrow where an old scar cuts through the short hairs that are starting to turn gray. The sound of his sad laugh is frankly unnatural, but, unexpecting, you don't notice anything. “The damned thing breaks all the time, maybe it's easier to just leave it on the side of the road and walk.”

You shrug, clearly not knowing what to say to that. Clint can see the cogs turning in your head. 

“Maybe,” as if doubting your own decision, you paused for a second. Clint pulls the key out of the ignition and slams on the steering wheel, hoping that the little scene won't scare off a trusting lamb like you. “Maybe I can give you a lift to the station? You can still catch a bus.” 

He doesn't miss the way your gaze appraisingly runs over the part of his body that you can see. You're evaluating whether you can handle him if he turns out to be a psychopath. And now it’s Clint's turn to shrink, try to make himself smaller, even though it's impossible with his stature.

“Are you sure?” He adds embarrassment to his voice, a slight tremor, a question. “I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. I understand what it looks like: a creepy old man in a broken-down rust bucket abuses the kindness of a young girl. Just what they write in those scary newspaper stories.”

You laugh, your shoulders relax, and he finally gets out of the car, having previously closed the windows of the Toyota he rented a couple of hours ago. Clint pulls down his shirt, covering his still painfully hard cock. Black jeans are always a good solution.

“It's okay, I'm passing through the station anyway. Besides, you don't look creepy or old at all.” You push the passenger door open, inviting Clint to climb inside.

“You haven't heard my knees pop yet.” 

You laugh again, twisting the steering wheel. Clint takes the last look at the screen. The credits stopped flashing with the names of the actors and the characters they played. The movie was over, but his evening has just begun.

tag list: @toxicanonymity @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @evolnoomym @pascalispretty @imaswellkid @joelemillersgirl @laurrrra @kyloispunk @codenamekitten please LEAVE A COMMENT AND REBLOG <3