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hxxsxxng · 1 month

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JAKE 심재윤 - LOVE FROM AFAR

MINORS DNI

Word Count : 3.9k

Genre : SMUT, ANGST

Content : bar fight, jealousy, toxic ex, mention on infidelity, unprotected sex, oral f receiving, praising, creampie, implied consumption of alcohol, sloppy make out….. let me know if i missed anything!

Preview : Once Jake finds out that his girl of interest is single, who knows what measures he is willing to take it to protect her?

Authors Note : Thank you to whoever requested this, I definitely had fun writing it!

SUPPORT BY REBLOGGING if you want

You were having a great night catching up with your buddies Felix and Bangchan at the local pub. It had been too long since you all got together like the old days. As they joked and reminisced about the past, you couldn't help but feel grateful for having such caring friends in your life.

Suddenly, Felix's friend Jake arrived, pulling up a chair to join your booth. You vaguely remembered meeting the scruffy-yet-handsome guy with a warm smile once or twice before at other hangouts. He seemed nice enough, if not a little quieter and awkward around you specifically.

As the four of you continued swapping stories and laughing over fresh rounds, something about Jake's furtive glances and blushing kept catching your eye. You couldn't deny the slightly giddy feeling it gave you to rendered this usually composed guy so flustered. He was pretty cute when he got all shy like that.

Maybe it was the liquid courage, or maybe you just felt emboldened by the positive energy. Whatever the reason, you decided to be a little flirty as you leaned in closer to Jake.

"So do you boys always get this rowdy, or am I just bringing out the wild side?" you teased with a wink.

Jake's eyes went wide as his cheeks flushed an even darker crimson. He seemed to be struggling to formulate a response as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um...w-well, I uh, we don't want to...you know, shock you or anything--"

He was saved by the interruption of your phone ringing. Flashing an apologetic smile, you excused yourself from the booth to take the call. It was your boyfriend wanting to know if you were free later to come over and watch a movie.

"Yeah babe, I'll be there in a couple hours!" you replied affectionately before rejoining the group.

If you had turned back around just a few seconds sooner, you might have caught the way Jake's expression fell when he overheard you refer to your boyfriend. He shrunk back into himself, the brief moment of bravery evaporating.

Over the ensuing months, you noticed Jake never acted quite the same way again when you were around. He was polite and friendly, but also seemed to keep a distance, like he was afraid to let himself get too close. You figured he just wasn't someone who enjoyed casual flirting even in jest. Either way, it didn't really matter since you were happily taken anyway.

Until one day...you weren't anymore. Just like that, a two-year relationship came crashing down after you discovered your boyfriend's unfaithfulness. You were blindsided and devastated.

As you nursed your broken heart, Felix and Bangchan were there every step of the way, rallying around you with movie nights, distraction activities, and a steadfast supportive presence. True friends when you needed them most.

One evening a couple months later, you arrived at a dimly lit bar where the three of you normally met up. You were finally feeling like your old self again after weeks of sadness and anger. Ready to just be around your friends and enjoy a fun night out.

The moment you walked through the door, you heard a familiar voice call out from a booth off to the side.

"Hey! Over here!"

It was Jake, looking as handsome as you remembered even under the low lighting. He had stood up from the booth and was waving you over with a warm smile.

You couldn't help but feel a small flutter of nerves mixed with excitement. Despite the slight awkwardness that encounter at the pub, you always thought Jake seemed like a good guy deep down. And if he was here hanging out with Felix and Bangchan...maybe you could finally get to know him better without that weird tension.

As you reached the booth, exchanging greetings and hello hugs, you noticed Jake's arms linger around you perhaps a beat longer than necessary. And this time when he looked into your eyes, there wasn't a hint of shyness or restraint behind them.

"It's really great to see you out and about again," he murmured once you were all seated. "You're, uh...you're looking as beautiful as ever."

You felt your face warm at the sincere compliment, an unfamiliar bout of flustered energy starting to buzz within you. What was this all of a sudden?

"Uh thanks, Jake...you're not looking too bad yourself," you managed to reply, unable to stop yourself from chewing your lower lip nervously.

Felix and Bangchan traded looks like they were watching a private tennis match, wondering just how heated this newly charged atmosphere might get.

Before things could get too tense though, Felix cleared his throat and changed the subject, regaling you all with a story about a hilarious screw-up at his job earlier that week. You forced yourself to shift your gaze off Jake's intense stare and laugh along with the others.

By the end of the night, you almost felt...disappointed? Like there was some

elephant in the room you wished would address itself directly instead of all this subtext. You brushed it off as emotional vulnerability from your recent breakup making you read into things.

The weeks after, however, proved those suspicions false. Because every interaction, every hangout, every moment with the four of you together continued carrying the same electrifying undercurrent of tension, especially between you and Jake.

The way his warm eyes would linger on you when you laughed, the random innocent touches and grazed caresses that made your skin tingle, the undisguised admiration and want in his gaze when you caught him staring...it was all quickly becoming impossible to ignore or chalk up to simple friendliness.

You couldn't lie, you felt it too - that persistent, gnawing pull toward Jake growing stronger with each encounter. There was just something magnetic about his presence, his humor, his gentle teasing and care for your emotional wellbeing.

But you were still terrified of being vulnerable and opening yourself up again so soon after being burned. Especially to someone like Jake, who clearly had some very intense feelings starting to develop, if they weren't already there to begin with.

That fear reached a fever pitch one evening when the four of you were gathered at Felix's place before heading out. You had just finished getting ready in the bathroom when Jake poked his head in to ask if you needed any help with your hair or makeup.

"Sure, I could use another set of hands back here if you don't mind," you replied absentmindedly, turning away from the mirror to grab a comb.

The next thing you felt were Jake's strong hands gently gathering your hair as he positioned himself directly behind you. His broad chest was nearly pressed against your back, the warmth radiating off him in tantalizing waves.

"Here, let me..." he murmured in that deep, gravelly tone so close to your ear. You caught the intense look in his eyes through the mirror as his fingers deftly began running and separating through your locks.

Every brush of his knuckles against the nape of your neck made your heart skip a beat. The soft, even breaths puffing against your skin raised delicious goosebumps along your arms. And the smoldering, hooded gaze he was burning into you through the mirror reflection was quickly dampening your panties with arousal.

You were both entirely under each other's spells, the thick sexual tension swirling through the small bathroom like an intoxicating fog. All Jake would have to do is turn your chin and slant his lips over yours and you would have melted into a helpless puddle against him.

The trance was finally broken by a muffled shout from the other room of Felix yelling "You two good back there?"

As if getting doused with a bucket of cold water, you and Jake sprung apart, awkwardness and uncertainty crashing back in. You muttered a quick thanks before rushing out of the bathroom, flustered and needing to put some distance between the two of you before you did something reckless.

After tiptoeing around each other for a couple more weeks, you finally broke down one night and asked Felix what the deal was with Jake. Why he was giving you such intense, loaded vibes lately despite having barely interacted before.

Felix let out a long sigh before breaking the truth - Jake had been harboring a massive secret crush on you for years, long before you started dating your now-ex even. But he never acted on it or admitted those feelings because you were already in a committed relationship by the time you met him.

Now that you were newly single, however, all those long-simmering emotions and attractions were bubbling out from Jake at full force. He was struggling with wanting to pursue you, but also not wanting to make you uncomfortable or disrespect any boundaries while you were fresh out of your heartbreak.

You were stunned speechless, your mind swirling as you processed this information. All those small nuanced moments between you and Jake over the past couple of months finally clicked into place. How had you not seen it sooner?

More importantly...what did you want to do about it now? The thought of exploring those sparks between you and Jake made your heart race. But you were also still so freshly vulnerable from being crushed by betrayal and heartache. Could you really take that leap again so soon?

~~~~~

In the weeks that followed after Felix filled you in about Jake's long-standing romantic feelings, you couldn't stop mulling it over. Every time you saw Jake's warm smile or got pulled into his magnetic presence, your mind raced with the possibilities.

There was no denying the potent chemistry and tension that had been building between you two. Even before you knew about Jake's crush, you felt that persistent pull towards him, that fire simmering with every loaded gaze or innocent touch.

Now that you had context for what was truly driving that intensity from his end...it felt like the coals had been stoked into an inferno. You couldn't get Jake off your mind, couldn't stop imagining what it would feel like to finally act on those sparks.

The more you allowed yourself to lean into the fantasy, the more you realized you were falling for him too. Despite the all-too-fresh sting of betrayal, Jake's caring presence and unguarded desire for you were quickly healing those wounds.

Of course, you had reservations about opening yourself up again so soon. But Jake was clearly different - his intentions pure, his affections transparent. Maybe taking that terrifying leap would be worth it after all.

One night, after spending an evening together that had your skin tingling from lingering caresses and eye contact, you finally summoned the courage to go for it. As he walked you to your car, you spun around, grasped the front of his shirt, and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Jake instantly melted into you with a rumbling groan, his strong hands grasping at your waist to pull you flush against him. You lost yourselves in that fervent clash of lips and roaming touches, all those months of unresolved tension pouring out.

When you finally parted, cheeks flushed and chests heaving, the depths of Jake's gaze sparked with pure reverence and awestruck lust. No words were needed as you gazed at each other's swollen lips and tousled hair - you both knew everything had irreversibly changed in the most overwhelming way.

From that moment on, you and Jake were inseparable. You went from months of "what ifs" to not being able to keep your hands off each other. The slightest brush or heated look was enough to have you desperate to jump his bones at any opportunity.

For Jake, it was like a dream come true after pining from afar for so long. Finally being able to worship every perfect inch of you, to tangle his body with yours, to drink in your breathy moans and whimpers...he never wanted this haze to end.

You were both entirely drunk on each other, drowning in the depths of your smoldering passion. Any lingering fears or heartache you had were washed away by the passionate intensity Jake craved you with, how eternal his devotion felt.

Of course, such a whirlwind romance wasn't without ruffling some feathers. About two months into your torrid new relationship, you crossed paths with your ex at a local bar while out with friends.

"Well, well..." the snide voice called out as soon as they spotted you. "If it isn't my favorite dumped loser found someone newer, dumber, and even more desperate to settle for less."

You instinctively shrank back, feeling that old sense of shame and hurt bubble up despite Jake's arm protectively wrapped around you. But this time, you didn't have to face that menace alone.

Jake immediately stepped forward, jaw clenched as he attempted to keep his fury in check. "Why don't you do yourself a favor and get the hell out of here before I make you," he warned in a low, dangerous tone.

Your ex only scoffed, clearly finding amusement in watching Jake's anger boiling over. With a drunken saunter, they closed the gap between you, keeping their gaze locked on yours.

"Don't forget, I know you better than this sad rebound ever will," they taunted with a cruel smirk. "I know all the filthy little things that got you--"

Whatever nasty comment they hoped to sling next was cut off by Jake's hand violently shoving them backwards. Your ex's dumbfounded shock soon dissolved into equal rage as they came charging back at Jake, grabbing him by the collar as the two began exchanging shoves.

"Hey, hey! Break it up!" your other friends tried jumping in to separate the heated tussle, but not before your ex landed a hard punch square on Jake's cheekbone.

That was the final straw. Like some primal switch being flipped, Jake totally snapped. With a feral growl, he tackled your ex to the ground, taking a few more solid hits as the two rolled around in furious punches and choke holds.

"Jake! Oh my god, stop!" you cried out in horror, watching helplessly.

It wasn't until a handful of bouncers finally broke through to pull them apart that the violence ceased. Jake was dragged out back by a couple of the burly guards, clothes disheveled and sporting a split lip while the other patrons sneered at your ex being dragged out as well.

Your heart was still racing from the adrenaline and shock as you rushed out the back exit after Jake. He was leaning against the wall, chest heaving and knuckles bleeding from the brawl.

"Jake! Are you okay?" you rushed over, cradling his face to inspect the damage. He hissed at the contact against his wounded skin before melting into your touch with a heavy exhale.

Those stormy irises locked onto yours, slightly glazed but burning with pure longing and possession. "I'm so sorry, baby...I just..." he rasped, voice dripping with unrestrained desire. "I just couldn't stand the thought of that piece of shit being anywhere near you, talking to you that way..."

One of his hands slid up to tangle desperately in your hair while the other snaked around your lower back, pulling your hips flush against his hardening length. "You're mine now," he growled before capturing your mouth in a torrid, demanding kiss.

You opened for him with a heady whimper, the thrill of claiming this smoldering, dominant side of Jake setting your blood on fire. His tongue invaded greedily as he walked you backwards, pinning you against the wall with his body weighing deliciously against you.

~~~~~

Any care for location or being seen was abandoned as Jake's arousal ground shamelessly against your core, his big hands gripping and roaming with reckless possession. You gave back as good as you got - raking nails down his back, nipping at his full lips with moans muffled between heated clashes of tongue and teeth.

Just as the frenzied make-out was reaching a fever pitch, a loud clatter from behind the dumpster nearby caused you both to jump apart, chests heaving. Jake's eyes bored into yours, still glazed with lust but now mixed with frustration at the interruption.

"Get in the car," he rasped in a low rumble, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the parking lot. "We're going somewhere more private."

You eagerly followed, legs still wobbly from the dizzying heat coursing through you. The ride to Jake's apartment felt like an agonizing eternity with how badly you were both aching to crash together again. He kept one hand firmly planted on your thigh, thumb tracing maddening circles that had you squirming.

The second you crossed the threshold into his place, Jake pinned you against the door, claiming your lips in another heated, desperate clash. You melted into him as his talented fingers quickly divested you of your dress, palms roaming every newly exposed inch of skin.

You fumbled with his belt and jeans as he attacked the sensitive spots along your neck and collarbone with a trail of opened-mouth kisses. Each graze of his teeth and insistent suckle from those full lips had you whimpering in delirious need.

Somehow you managed to get Jake's pants undone, allowing his thick hardness to spring free as he kicked them off along with his shoes. You drank in a shuddering breath at the glorious sight of his arousal, already leaking with need for you.

Jake's heated gaze followed yours, a prideful smirk tugging at his swollen lips. "You like what you see, baby?" he rumbled, giving himself a slow, teasing stroke.

You bit your lip with a tiny nod, unable to tear your eyes away. That only made his cocky grin widen further as he leaned in close, beard tantalizingly scratching your jaw.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, make you remember that you belong only to me" he murmured, the deep timbre of his gravelly desire sending shivers straight to your core. "Let me worship every perfect inch of you, nice and slow..."

As if to emphasize his point, Jake trailed a series of torturously unhurried open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest again before dropping to his knees. His smoldering gaze remained locked on yours as his fingers hooked into your soaked underwear and slowly dragged them down your trembling legs.

You were bare before him now, glistening arousal fully exposed to his ravenous stare. Jake's hands roamed back up the smooth skin of your thighs, close to your throbbing center yet making no move to provide relief just yet.

"Such a gorgeous sight..." he husked in reverence. "All mine."

Unable to take any more teasing, you carded your fingers through his thick locks as his lips ghosted nearer to your pussy. "Please, Jake..." you mewled desperately.

That was all the encouragement he needed before diving in. You cried out at the first swipe of Jake's talented tongue, back arching against the door as waves of electric pleasure flooded through you...

He was relentless, sucking harder and deeper, plundering your wet folds until his tongue was completely coated with your slick essence. You gasped loudly with an intense wave of pleasure, leaving you breathless and panting.

The rhythmic motion driving you insane until you suddenly broke down into violent, uncontrolled moans of ecstasy. It was over too soon though as Jake pulled away, sitting back on his heels with a self satisfied smile and dark eyes glittering.

He carefully took the wet, limp package in his large hand and gently stroked your slick slit. "You're gonna be so fucking ready for me tonight, sweetheart," he assured huskily. "Trust me. There's nothing you could possibly do that would turn me off."

And then he lowered himself over you, spreading the moisture around, filling you with such potent satisfaction that you almost screamed in bliss. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist as Jake sank slowly and surely down until he could bury himself inside you easily. As he started slowly moving, you gripped his shoulders tightly with your thighs, your entire body tensing and relaxing under his weight. His hands tightened around your arms and shoulders to make sure you weren't trying to crawl away. He held still, letting your body adjust itself to his thickness until the feeling started to fade. As your legs relaxed, they found a more comfortable place to rest, and your stomach felt better about being full. After you got used to being filled up, he reached down to gently cup your tit in one large hand as he pressed himself even deeper, burying himself within you with one hard thrust. His long fingers caressed your soft skin, drawing groans from your lips with every flick of his finger.

With the most powerful thrusts, Jake filled you completely in one go, filling you entirely and filling every single space. For a moment it seemed like there wouldn't be enough room anymore in your womb; you'd never been so far gone before with anyone else, but Jake made that possible by holding you so close and filling you so much you couldn't get enough of each other.

You held tight to his muscular back, digging your heels into the mattress as he pounded into you with a relentless rhythm, your walls clenching down on his rigid shaft with a fierce, hungry grip. He let out a feral growl of satisfaction as you writhed beneath him, grinding yourself against him faster and quicker, begging for release. Your whole body shook with pent up passion, the need to come crashing down on you like a tsunami.

With a sharp jerk, he suddenly stiffened underneath you, causing you to cry out. His breathing became labored as your pussy clenched around his girth with unrelenting intensity. You didn't think you'd ever seen his face contort in agony quite like that before. You both took a deep breath at the same time and released it in unison as he let you cum around his dick. His cock twitched inside of you, but you didn't want to break eye contact; he was still so intent on looking at you. Your hands reached up to run through his hair again, and he bent down to kiss you gently as you both enjoyed each other's company. Then it was over in an instant as he came with a deep grunt breaking the kiss, body shaking with the force of his release, painting his white masterpiece on your walls as he slumped forward, resting his forehead heavily against your naked belly with hot tears streaming down his flushed cheeks.

“I will not let him bother you ever again”

#enhypen #enhypen niki #enhypen sunoo #enhypen x reader #heeseung #heeseung smut #jungwon #enhypen jungwon #kpop #stray kids #jay enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen jay #enha #enhypen jake #enhypen fanfiction #jake sim smut #jake smut #jake sim

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meiluu · 10 months

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Leon S. Kennedy NSFW Drabble

Leon / Reader(Afab) cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI, A LITTLE BIT DARK(he infects you with the plagas)!!, Plagas! Leon.

Tears rolled down your flushed cheeks, dark love bites mar your neck leading a bruising trail down to your thighs. A blend of bites and scratches accompanied with all too familiar hand prints

You didn't know what had come over him, ever since Leon had gotten back from his most recent mission he has been acting different. At first you had suspected that the classified mission had been rougher on him and Leon was just having a hard time with the aftermath. Comforting him seemed to help that, but over time his mannerisms began to change. He was so much more possessive of you, protective to an extreme. And now you've come to the devastating conclusion that something was wrong- something had happened to Leon while on his mission and he had brought it home.

You had gone out with a couple of your friends to one of the small local bars around where you work, hoping to catch up with them. But about an hour in as you were getting up to get some more drinks, a man had started to hit on you. You had tried to politely decline his requests and advances, but he just wouldn't take no for an answer. Then he was being thrown down to the ground, chair tumbling down with him. Leon, at first, relief had filled your body at the familiar sight but your heart dropped into your stomach when you got a look at his face. Rage didn't even begin to cover the emotion that plagued his face- he looked like he was going to kill the man. But that wasn't even the worst part, Leon's beautiful sky blue eyes where now a bloody red and you could see the faint outlines of black veins beneath his skin. Thinking as quickly and clearly as you could you had nearly dragged Leon out of the bar, hastily apologizing to your friends for leaving so soon. Afraid of what would happen if you didn’t get Leon out there.

The moment the door to your shared home slammed behind you, you've been in Leon's tight embrace. Time has completely slipped from you, mind blurry with pleasure and fear.

Leon had you on your stomach, hands caging your body in, as your hands tightly held onto the sheets trying to keep yourself steady with Leon's harsh thrusts. Your cunt stretched around his cock, his cum dribbling out of you making a mess on the sheets. Teeth latching onto skin where your shoulder and neck meet, a cry of pain mixes in with your moans. Leon had broken the skin, sharp canines digging into you as he lapped his tongue on the open wound. Harsh mumbles continued to tumble from Leon’s lips, a mix between ‘mine’ , ‘I love you’s. In your peripheral vision you can see the onyx veins beneath his skin. Part of you feared for what Leon was, but that only lasted for a moment before ecstasy took control. With another particularly mean thrust a moan falls from your bruised lips, then you feel the familiar touch of Leon’s hand against your throat. Pulling you up into his chest, there you are able to look down at your self. Black veins had started to spread down your chest from where Leon had just bit you. A sob retches it’s way out of you, Leon halting his thrust at the sound. Seeing what you were upset about he is quick to comfort you. “No baby, don’t be sad- this is a good thing. You’ll be just like me now.”

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belovedmusings · 1 month

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God’s dead, and that’s all right with me.

Sukuna Ryomen x You

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part One of the 'Hell and back.' story. Click for story masterlist.

Sukuna Ryomen is the most fearsome syndicate head of the modern day. As such, you never in a million years expected him to wind up at your strip club in a dingy corner of town, but you’re going to make the most of it.

Relevant tags: Mafia! Sukuna, Stripper! Reader, rough sex, rough and sloppy blow job, cum swallowing, cowgirl, unprotected sex, cockwarming, multiple rounds, I don’t use “y/n” for better immersion, AFAB reader

Songs recommended while reading: Gods & Monsters (Lana Del Rey), Slow Down (Chase Atlantic), Swim (Chase Atlantic)

Cross-posted on Ao3.

Read below cut:

Sukuna Ryomen is the most fearsome syndicate head of the modern day. He looms like a storm cloud that threatens to unleash devastating hail at any moment over the city, ruling it with an iron fist. He’s the Two-Faced Demon incarnate, as you’ve heard those around you refer to him, the enigmatic man always addressed as if he was a mythical creature rather than a living, breathing person. He was the richest man in the city with his mountains of dirty money, each finger on his hands tied around the neck of all the local politicians and officials. As such, you never in a million years expected him to wind up at your stripclub in a dingy corner of town, so far away from the luxury of the inner city.

He stands out like a beacon in the night, with his sunset-colored hair and white suit, which is really only slacks and a blazer, shirt forgone to display the large black markings of his tattoos instead.

In your little corner on the outskirts of town, no one remotely interesting has ever come into the club. It’s usually slimy, older men, married and greedy for what they can’t have, salivating like dogs in heat for a glimpse at bodies that exist just out of their reach.

Sukuna is a reprieve from that. Someone young and gorgeous, with an aura of danger…and you’re attracted to him like a moth to a flame. So, you decide to move in on him—he’ll probably never be here again, so why don’t you have some fun with it?

You saunter towards the section he’s sitting in, a booth against the wall, deciding to walk by and glance at him for a second, enticement in your eyes but no need on your lips.

It works.

“Hey,” His deep, chalant voice calls to you. You pause, turning back around, leaning against the separator of his booth to the next.

“Hey,” You echo smoothly. The edge of his mouth turns up, interest flickering in his appraising eyes as he takes in your form.

“How much for a dance?”

“Twenty.”

A tilt of his head. “You know who I am, don’t you?”

You hum. “Sukuna Ryomen. Who doesn’t?”

“And you’re not gouging me?”

At that, you just snort. “Gouge you? I’m gonna enjoy dancing for you, I don’t need to gouge.”

He raises a brow, then his hand is up and he’s beckoning you towards him with a finger. “I gotta come to a shoddy little hole like this more often.”

You don’t reply to him, you just swing a leg up onto the booth in the seat beside him, waiting for him to tuck the cash into your garter. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing the small leather wallet from within and producing a twenty-dollar bill. As prompted, he slides it into your garter, brushing his calloused fingers over the skin of your thigh before you grab the pole beside you and hoist yourself up, beginning your dance.

You never get this much enjoyment out of performing for any man. They’re all the same, gross and worn-out, but Sukuna…there’s a fire in his eyes. Usually, you’re watched with impersonal hunger, but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s appreciative, calculated, controlled. He’s savoring every shape he finds in your body with his eyes, and it feels so good. By the end of it, you can feel yourself pulsing with arousal, the bottom of your skimpy lace set damp with the evidence.

It’s not lost on him; once you finish, slinking down with your legs parted to cage his body between your heels, ass on the cold wood of the table, he grabs your hips and pulls you into him abruptly, causing you to gasp.

“I can see how wet you are,” He murmurs under his breath, pushing you down into the evident bulge in his pants. It’s rock hard, and you have half a mind to maul him there in the lounge.

Immediately the security guard nearest to you springs into action, ready to intervene, but you hold a hand up to him.

“It’s okay,” You reassure him, feeling Sukuna’s palm shamelessly gripping at the flesh of your ass. “It’s welcome.”

“Mmm, welcome?” Purrs Sukuna, drawing your attention immediately away from the guard and making you forget all about him. “Just how welcome am I?”

You suck in a breath, meeting his eyes, such a brilliant, unusual brown that they appear almost red. You can only think one thought–fuck it.

“We have private rooms,” You inform him breathlessly, “…if you want.”

That pulls a breathy chuckle out of him, and he huffs, amused. “I think I’ll take you up on that offer, sweetheart.”

It’s sort of hard for you to recall the time it takes for you to get off of him, take his hand, and lead him to the hallway where you enter an empty room, locking it behind the two of you.

You’ve never been back to one of these with a customer, and immediately it reminds you of a motel bedroom, old wallpaper on the walls, worn carpet, and nothing but a bed and side table placed in the center with sheets and no comforter. Dingy, seedy, and for one purpose only.

He hums, sitting down on the edge. “This place is no Vixens for sure.”

The name of an upscale club closer to the center of the city. You laugh softly, choosing to be bold and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass immediately, as if they’ve been there a million times.

“It’s not,” You agree, “I’m no Vixen girl.”

“Mmm, I’m not missing out on much,” He grins wolfishly, admiring your figure again. “They all start to look the same once you realize they have the same surgeon. Don’t know how many girls’ bodies I’ve paid for over there by now.”

“A frequent visitor, then?” You ask, running a hand over his chest. He laughs haughtily.

“Like you have room to talk. I’m just another client.”

The smile you give him is full of chagrin. “I don’t actually take anyone back here. You’re the first.”

“Oh, I won’t believe that, but nice try,” He holds your chin between his index and thumb. “Now…it seems I’ve ensnared my prey for tonight.”

The predatory edge to his gaze should scare you, but if you do feel fear it quickly converts to arousal. If the way the world works is truly survival of the fittest, you’d be the first to go. You know that now for sure.

Sukuna Ryomen is not a gentleman, but then again, you dance naked for a living so you aren’t a saint either. Two souls, both sold, entwining within the heady musk of a room fortified with filth. You only serve to add to it.

He puts you on your knees first. It takes him no time at all to pull his cock out, hot, heavy, and thick beyond belief, with a length that sets your insides ablaze when you can wrap both hands around it and still see the tip.

“Suck,” is all he commands, and like a concubine determined to service her master, you get to work.

You may not usually offer sex for money like some of the other girls at your club, but you’re far from inexperienced.

With him, you feel like you can be as bold as you want and he’ll enjoy it. So you just go for it.

You part your lips and take him in, sliding the large cock back to your throat where the gag reflex has long been evicted.

He groans, grabbing you by the back of the head and forcing you to stay down. You moan, the vibrations adding fuel to his fire, and he pulls you back for a moment.

“Breathe now, because you’re not comin’ up again until I say.”

That and five more seconds is the only warning you get before he slams you back down, starting to properly fuck your face.

It’s a blur of push, pull, stretch, gasp for an immeasurable amount of time, the musky taste of his skin mixing with the salt of his precum running down your burning throat on its own volition, swallowing only triggered when he thrusts particularly hard.

You can vaguely feel the tears running down your face, not from discomfort but from reaction alone; he’s conducting your body as if you’re a symphony and he alone holds the baton, cueing your every move.

“Fuck,” he hisses, looking down at you with sharp eyes. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You make an incoherent, garbled noise, your own arousal dripping down your thighs at this point, effectively ruining your set for the night. You won’t be able to dance in it after this, although, if this keeps up you won’t be able to dance tonight at all.

He throws his head back and gives you a guttural groan, hot, bitter seed pouring down your throat in thick rivulets.

Sukuna straightens back out and looks down at you. “Clean it up. Every last drop.”

You moan, sucking on him just to be sure you collect it all, and only then does he pull off.

“Tongue. Show me you swallowed.”

Obediently, you do just that, lips puffy and abused but tongue clean of cum.

“Good.”

He sniffs. Sitting back down on the bed, laying sideways, and regarding you for a moment, still on your knees and almost shaking with how turned on and untouched you are.

“You haven’t gotten any pleasure, huh?” He asks, leaning on his hand thoughtfully. You nod, clearing your throat.

“I’m,” it comes out raspy and hoarse. He guffaws, a salacious grin playing on his face. You try again. “I’m soaking.”

“Yeah?” He asks, casual and uncaring. “Hmm…I could toss you my cash and leave you here like I usually do…let you take care of it yourself…”

You wait to hear the other option, begging him to choose whatever it is as long as he gives you something.

“Or…I could reward you…since I enjoyed you so thoroughly…though I have to warn you, it’s not for the weak.”

Interest flares inside you. “I’m not weak.”

“Oh, well, you did take what I just gave you like a champ, so I suppose,” He acknowledges with a shrug.

The room is silent for a moment before he hums decidedly. “Get up here. Kneel in front of my face.”

And you do so. He hums, eyeing you without an ounce of shame.

“You are quite wet. Look at your thighs, all shiny and sloppy.”

You don’t have time to reply, because he suddenly reaches out, pushing two of his fingers inside of you deeply. A gasp leaves your lips, but he ignores it.

“Pussy’s tight and soaked,” He states as if giving an appraisal. He looks up into your eyes, beginning to pump his digits in and out slowly, making sure to press hard every time they slide in. “Think you can take my cock inside?”

Your heart begins pounding in your chest. There’s not another man like him, you can’t explain it. Nodding, you say, “I can.”

“Eager,” He laughs, amused. “You’d probably do it for free, wouldn’t you?”

A shameful red blooms across your face, and you suddenly feel self-conscious. He chuckles, low and breathy. He grips your chin firmly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll compensate you prettily for your work,” He almost cooes, letting you go and laying down on his back. “You will work for it, though. I already got my fill.”

You become perplexed. “How?”

He glances down to his soft cock, laying against his abdomen, then back at you expectantly.

“You want it, come and get it.”

It dawns on you that if you want any sort of satisfaction tonight, you’re going to have to do the work. Fine, then. One of the perks of doing this line of work is the ability to easily shake off any shame. You want what you want and you’re gonna take it.

The first thing you do is lose the platforms adorning your feet, their weight dropping with a satisfying ‘thunk’ to the floor.

You then straddle his hips, taking his flaccid cock in hand and, after moving your soaked g-string aside, take him by surprise by slipping him inside of you just like that. He breathes in deeply, sensitive no doubt, and you start rolling your hips to get him hard, removing the straps of your skimpy top and exposing your breasts to him.

“Heh,” A crooked smile adorns his lips, “You were born to do this, weren’t you?”

You’re starting to think you were too, but not just for any man. The kind of guys that come in here are nowhere near Sukuna Ryomen. For him only, you can become whoever you are right now.

You nod, feeling him begin to harden inside of you, the sensation sending hot shivers cascading down your spine. As you begin to get more into it, he follows suit, hands exploring your body. First they fondle the malleable flesh of your breasts, then down your waist, your hips, gripping it tightly. You mewl, speeding up, his dick now stiff inside of you. He’s huge but it definitely helped to start out with him soft, because now he’s locked in, and all you have to do is move.

Wanting to feel more, you raise yourself up on him and drop back down harshly, the depths of you intruded by his length. It makes you release a cry, and before you can recover, his hands have found your ass, gripping it so hard it hurts. He starts to guide you faster on his cock, arm muscles straining beneath the fabric of his blazer.

“Sukuna,” The name leaves your lips before you can stop it, and for a moment you think you’ve messed up until he doubles down on his efforts, groaning deeply in his throat.

“Fuck,” He hisses, “Say it again.”

“Sukuna,” it comes out even more debauched than the first one, and slaps your ass hard, the sting causing you to flutter around him, his hips stuttering with the effort to move in such a confined space.

“You’re fucking tight…”

All you can do is whimper, not even participating in the movements anymore, just letting them happen to you, taking whatever he decides to give you.

He seems to notice this, because your back meets the sheets in the same breath, the syndicate head suddenly on top of you.

With the new leverage, he really begins drilling into you, and desperate, obscene drawls start pouring from your lips, so loud and abandoned that if the music wasn’t so loud in the lounge, someone would surely come looking for you in concern.

His hands are on the backs of your knees, pushing them down, folding you in half without regard for whether you can bend that way or not, and he’s screwing you so absolutely hard that the coil inside you begins winding without any touch at all.

“Sukuna,” You mewl, completely wrecked now, “Gonna cum…”

“Fuck,” He grunts, “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

Your response is a choked moan, and all it takes are the three subsequent, hard snaps of his hips for you to shout his name, cumming so hard your body shakes.

“Shit,” Sukuna seethes through his teeth, pulling out and jerking himself off a few times before his second load paints your abdomen and thighs, staining the parts of your set it lands on, and you feel yourself clenching on nothing, gaping in the absence of his shape.

The sharp-eyed man takes in the sight of you for a moment before climbing off of you and getting to his feet. He walks over to the lone nightstand in the room, grabbing the tissue box and tossing it onto the bed, grabbing a few for himself to clean up.

You sit up, taking your own tissues and cleaning yourself off.

“Gotta say,” He breaches the silence after the tissues are disposed, your lingerie readjusted as good as you could get it. “I ain’t fucked like that in a long time.”

A loose smirk slides over your lips. “Me neither.”

He moves over to you, holding out a wad of cash. Your eyes widen–the girls that do take clients into private rooms usually make a hundred or two hundred at best per man, and what you see in front of you is easily at least a couple thousand.

“Don’t be shy now,” He says, “I’m loaded and you worked for it.”

He’s not wrong. You won’t deny him.

Once it’s in your hands, he flashes you another grin. “It was fun, uh…?”

You realize he’s prompting for your name, so you give it to him. He repeats it, the contours of his voice giving it a quality you’ve never heard before when other people say it.

“Hope to see you again,” He says, heading for the door.

You watch him go, replying with, “you know where to find me.”

He hums, looking back at you for a moment with that confident simper before he exits.

Once you’re alone again, you take a look at the stack of cash, taking a look at how much he gave you. Three thousand.

“Holy shit,” You gasp, eyeing the money with bulging eyes. That’s an entire good week’s worth and then some.

You look back up at the door, thoughts echoing his last words to you.

Hope to see you again.

A/N: my first Sukuna piece!! I love how this turned out...and yes, this will be a series.

So excited for this new story. Something about a stripper and a syndicate man just works for me. I had to sugar-coat him a lil but he's still Sukuna... p.s. doing research, I learned "Ryomen" isn't Sukuna's name technically, but the name of a folktale/mythical demon? So it's kinda funny using that as his last name but for purposes, we'll just role with it lmao

In true D fashion, it's going to be full of drama, so comment here or on the masterlist for updates!

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk imagines #sukuna x you #sukuna headcanons #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #hell and back fic

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angstysebfan · 9 months

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Was It A Mistake - Part 1

Pairing: Bucky x Fem Reader Chapter Summary: You and Bucky broke up but still remained friends. When you go on a shopping trip with your best friend, you learn a devastating thing. Warnings: Angst (duh its me lol), Arguments

Series Masterlist

You punch the punching bag in a series of combinations. Sweat dripping from your head and y/h/c hair. You’re the only one in the gym right now, but you knew that would change. You had a standing sparing appointment with your favorite super soldier.

Everyone in the tower thought it was weird that you and Bucky remained such good friends. You both dated for 3 years, and were hot and heavy. You realized the last six months, of your relationship, Bucky was pulling away from you. It broke your heart; so you decided distance yourself also, in preparation of him breaking up with you. You couldn't take the stress of waiting for him to break it off, so you begrudgingly did it. It completely killed you, but he didn't seem ultimately ruined, and you both decided to continue just being friends.

You were nervous that it would be awkward, but it wasn’t. You were just happy he was still in your life. You know you still loved him, but sometimes that's not enough. You were obviously not enough. That thought runs through your mind as you punch. You shake your thoughts from your head as you heard the gym doors close behind you.

“Tiring yourself out before I even get a chance to beat you fairly, doll?”

You turned around and see Bucky walking over the the bench to place his water and towel down. He's wearing navy blue basketball shorts that hung perfectly low on his hips, and as usual, no shirt. You couldn’t help admire the beautiful specimen in front of you.

“Ha, just warming up Buck. Don’t worry, I still have enough energy to kick your ass!” You yell, while pulling the tape off your hands.

You grab your towel and water and walk over to him, drinking and wiping your sweat.

He laughed, “Whatever you say. Shall we?” He asked walking toward the sparring mats.

After 30 minutes, and Bucky taking you out for the 5th time, you gave up. He offered his hand to help you get up. “One day… I’ll get you down… mark my words.” You say through your panted breath.

Bucky laughed. “Can’t wait.”

You both walk over the bench to grab a drink. You wipe your face with your towel when you hear the doors to the gym. Nat walks over to you both. “Hey guys!” She says smiling.

“Hey Nat, you still up for shopping later?” you ask.

“Absolutely! Meet me in the common room at 1?” She asks.

You nod as you take a drink. You start walking out of the gym when you notice Nat and Bucky give each other knowing smirk and whispering to each other. It makes you feel uneasy, but ignore it as you head out to shower.

–

Later that day, you and Nat are shopping at the local mall. You sit outside the changing room as Nat tries on a new red dress. She comes out and looks in the mirror, turning at different angles to admire herself. You can’t help but notice how gorgeous she is. The dress fits her curves perfectly.

“Oh Nat, you definitely need to get that!” You say with a smile.

“Yeah, I think I will. It will be absolutely perfect.” She said as she turns and looks over the shoulder to see how it looks.

“Perfect for what?” You ask.

Nat looks at you through the mirror. You can see she looks… nervous? She turns toward you and gives you a small smile. “Bucky asked me out on a date. We've been hanging out a lot lately, and we wanted to finally give dating a try.”

Your jaw and stomach dropped. You can already feel the tears forming, but you internally yell at yourself to keep it together. You knew you weren't good enough. You would never be enough! You take a deep breath and close your eyes for a moment, willing the tears to disappear. When you open you see Nat still looking at you, waiting for your reaction.

“U-uh, wow! I, um, I-I didn’t know you guys… were…were talking.”

You cringe at your shaking voice. Nat looks at you with minimal sympathy in her eyes, which pisses you off. You didn't understand how this happened. Nat knew what happened between you and Bucky, as she was your best friend. You confided in her about everything, including that you are still in love with him. And now you learn she has been moving in on him and they are going on a date?!

“It wasn’t a planned thing. I swear, and I'm sorry I didn’t tell you. I know should've, but I’m…” She trails off, looking down at her hands. You have never seen her look so nervous.

“You’re what, Natalia?” You say slowly standing, getting angrier.

She looks at you. “I’m falling for him, hard. And he told me that he's falling for me too.”

She might as well had slapped you in the face. You grab your bags without saying another word and left. You ignore her calls for you. You finally let the tears come down your face as you head out to grab a cab to head back to the tower.

You try to control yourself as you ride the elevator up to the residential floors of the tower. As soon as you walk out, you see him with a concerned look on his face. You figured Nat called him and told him what happened, but you couldn’t deal with him right now. Just looking at him caused the tears to come down. You quickly turn and head to your room.

“Y/N, please. Don’t run away from me,” You hear him call.

You try and outrun him, but he was so much faster. Before you even got a chance to close the door, he pushed his way into your room.

“Get out!” You scream.

He looks devastated. You've never yelled at him, even when you guys fought when you were together. “Y/N, please. Talk to me,” he begs.

He was so confused by your reaction. You're the one who broke his heart. He was ready to marry you and then was told that you wanted to end things with him. It crushed him, so he distanced himself, hoping to ease the pain. You eventually did end it, and asked to be friends. He didn’t fight it because he was hoping you would change your mind. He has been miserable for months, pretending to be friends with you, when all he wanted is to be with you.

Nat helped him by being there and listening to him whine about how much he missed you. He opened up to her about feeling like he wasn't enough, and she showed him that he was enough for her. He couldn’t help but start developing feelings. Nat was the only one who knew how he felt about you, but is still willing to try with him. Willing to help him move on from you.

“Please….” he whispered, on the verge of tears.

A sob escapes your lips. “Buck… why? Why Nat? Why my best friend?”

You knew it didn’t matter who he was dating, but you needed to know why her. He shook his head, sniffing.

“When you broke up with me, I-I was miserable. I didn’t know what to do. Nat was there, and she let me confide my feelings to her. As time went on, I started to develop feelings. I…. I didn’t think you would care! You didn’t want to be with me! You were the one who wanted to be friends! I’m sorry, but I didn't think you'd care," he said the last part in a whisper as he silently cried.

You were confused as you took in what he said. He was miserable? I broke his heart? He didn't want to break up? He confided in Nat, while you also confided in Nat? You look at him in shock. He was confused by your reaction.

“I… I don’t understand. You became distant, which is why I broke up with you. I thought you didn’t want me anymore; that I wasn't enough for you. I thought us being friends was better than losing you all together.” You said. Bucky stares at you confused. “Nat… Nat talked to you about us?” You asked, and Bucky silently nodded.

Betrayed. That was the word that went through your mind. Your so-called best friend knew that both you and Bucky still loved each other, but kept it quiet so she could take him. You couldn’t believe it! Bucky obviously didn’t realize what was happening either.

“I…. I need to think.” Bucky said, leaving you alone in your room.

You couldn’t move. All you kept thinking was that there was miscommunication somewhere between you and Bucky, and neither of you actually wanted to break up. Nat knew this, but kept it quiet and made a move on Bucky. But why did Bucky become distant in the first place? There are so many questions in your head that you can barely think straight. You had to get to the bottom of this, somehow.

One thing you already know is, Nat back stabbed you. You will never forgive her for this.

Part 2

What do we think? No matter what it's messed up to go after your besties ex. Feedback is appreciated.

Permanent Taglist: @rebekahdawkins @marajade1974 @missvelvetsstuff @phillygirl77 @pattiemac1 @winterslove1917 @vampire7595

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky #bucky x natasha #bucky fanfic #natasha romanoff #angst #miscommunication

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hollybell51 · 10 months

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If I don't have you

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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding.

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip.

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?”

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened.

“That was fucking insane!” you burst.

“Are you ok?”

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers.

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back.

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.”

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.”

“A bullet graze!”

“It’s fine.”

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !”

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics.

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes.

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him.

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you.

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair.

“Ethan?”

“Yeah.”

Another silence, though less tense.

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest.

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso.

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted.

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–”

“No, (Y/N)–”

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall.

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast.

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled.

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?”

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own.

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–”

No one’s coming.

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.”

He wasn’t looking at you anymore.

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!”

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear.

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him.

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should.

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards.

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed.

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle.

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back.

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath.

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you.

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure.

“(Y/N).”

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive.

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?”

“Yeah.”

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep.

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…”

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.”

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know.

“For yelling at me?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–”

“All that matters. You said.”

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle.

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.”

The frown deepened. “Hm?”

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real.

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely.

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.”

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek.

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up.

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore.

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.”

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his.

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too.

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition.

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt.

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything.

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt.

“Huh?”

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.”

“All’s fair in love and war.”

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose.

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?”

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine.

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind.

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone.

“Yeah.”

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?”

Again, “Yeah.”

You smiled. “What about me?”

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.”

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it.

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity.

“What else?” you asked.

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.”

Oh. Oh.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys.

“Can–”

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair.

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.”

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.”

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit.

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders.

“Hm?”

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.”

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?”

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face.

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises.

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–”

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad.

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–”

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders.

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again.

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail.

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him.

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification.

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry.

“Say it again.”

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?”

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.”

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Say it again.”

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?”

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again.

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap.

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand.

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.”

“Yeah?”

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.”

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?”

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?”

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.”

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–”

“Insane?”

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?”

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?”

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.”

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again.

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?”

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other.

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.”

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined.

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece.

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.”

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.”

“Hm?”

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?”

“(Y/N)–”

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you.

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–”

“In me.”

“You sure?”

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–”

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter.

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress.

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed.

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit.

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned.

“What?” he asked.

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything.

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?”

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?”

He nodded.

“I still want to check them.”

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?”

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.”

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.”

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?”

“Yeah.”

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.”

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.”

“Guess I’m just that special.”

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

#ethan hunt #ethan hunt x reader #mission impossible #shameless smut #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #tom cruise

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ijustreallylovethem · 5 months

Text

christmas delays

luca fantilli x reader

words: 1,780

masterlist

luca groaned, landing face first on the couch as you closed the front door. you sighed at the sight, shrugging off your coat and slipping off your shoes. luca hadn’t done either of those things upon entering, just dropped both of your bags and belly flopped.

“lu…” you made your way over to him, kneeling next to the couch and gently rubbing his back. he had been facing the other way but after a moment he turned so he was looking at you. tears lined his eyes and you could tell he was trying to stop them from spilling over.

“this is all my fault,” he choked out. you were quick to shake your head.

“no it’s not. don’t think that at all.”

“it is! i was the one who wanted to go to that show, which is why we had to book the later flight. we would already be back at my house if it wasn’t for me.” a tear fell down his cheek.

“luca, you couldn’t have known this would happen,” you tried to comfort him. you hated that he was putting all of this on himself.

he had wanted to do something romantic, so he bought tickets for the two of you to go see a live version of a christmas story at a local theatre. it was a popular show, and only one night had tickets left by the time he bought them, which was the night you had originally planned to fly out of michigan and back to canada. when he surprised you with the tickets, he reassured you that he had changed the plane tickets and you would be on a flight the day after the play. unfortunately, from the time that your original flight took off, to the time you showed up at the airport for your new flight, a heavy winter storm had popped up near the airport you’d be landing at. no one knew how long it would last, and after three delays, all flights were eventually cancelled.

the wait at the airport had been rough. you were both antsy, ready to get back to the fantilli household but instead stuck in a terminal with numerous other angry people. when the second delay was announced, luca called adam. adam was flying in around the same time, and was facing the same problem trying to fly out of ohio. it hurt you to hear the boy talking to his brother, knowing he missed him and couldn’t wait to see him in person. but the longer you both sat in the uncomfortable airport seats, the more your hope started to dwindle. a third delay was announced, and luca started to pace. when they informed everyone the flight was cancelled, you wish you hadn’t been looking for luca’s reaction, because it hurt your heart. your boyfriend looked absolutely crushed at the news, realizing he wouldn’t be going home to see his family for the holiday like he had been looking forward to.

you had already checked your bags, so you had to retrieve them before leaving the airport. you waited for a moment, listening to the employee explain that everyone would be refunded and where to go to pick up checked luggage. you followed her instructions, walking hand in hand with luca toward the baggage claim. you passed a bathroom, and you tugged luca’s hand.

“i’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick. you go ahead and i’ll meet you in a minute.” he just nodded, too upset at the day’s events for much else. you watched for a moment as he sulked away, and then you pulled your phone from your pocket. a moment later, you were holding it up to your ear, listening to it ring.

“hello?”

“has your flight been cancelled yet?”

“no, not… fuck. yeah, it has,” adam informed you.

“ours too. luca’s absolutely devastated. i don’t remember the last time i’ve seen him like this.”

“shit. okay, uh, let me call him once i get back to my car and-“

“i was thinking you could come up and surprise him.” the line was silent for a moment so you took that as your cue to keep talking. “he’s bummed he isn’t gonna see your family but that doesn’t have to be true. it’s not snowing here at all so if the roads near you aren’t bad-“

“no, they’re not,” adam informed you. “i gotta get my bag but then i’m on my way.” you nearly cried at how easy it was to convince the boy.

“don’t tell him. i’ll try to keep him busy for the next three hours but i was thinking it could be a surprise when you show up.”

“sounds great. i’m gonna go so i can get on the road but i’ll let you know when i’m coming into town okay?”

“perfect. thank you so much, adam.”

“of course. he’s my brother. and i’m sure i miss him just as much as he misses me.” you smiled and nodded, even though adam couldn’t see you. “i’ll see you soon.”

“see you, bye.” you ended the call, letting out a deep breath of relief before heading off to find luca at baggage claim. keeping your sad attitude was hard with the amount of excitement coursing through your body, but you managed to keep the act up enough. luca didn’t suspect a thing.

“i texted adam.” you hummed at the information luca told you when you approached. “his flight was cancelled too so at least i wont be the only one that’s not with everybody at home.” you gave him a sympathetic smile, nodding your head.

“that’s a little better, i guess.” you walked in silence back to the car, loading your bags back in, and climbing in to start the drive home. it was silent for the entire half hour, the only sounds being the heat coming out of the vents and the music playing lowly through the speakers. it gave you plenty of time to think of ways to distract luca, though. by the time you got back home, adam would still be about two and a half hours away, even longer depending on traffic. but you couldn’t be too obvious about keeping luca off his phone, or he would know something is up.

“you wanna take a nap?” you suggested now. “we can turn on a movie and maybe by the time we wake up, we’ll be feeling a little better about all of this.” luca sniffled.

“i don’t think i’ll feel better but that’s fine.” you lifted your hand from his back, gently running your fingers through his hair.

“luca. this is not your fault,” you reiterated. he was looking right at you when you said it, so you could tell he still didn’t believe you.

“can we watch home alone?” you raised a brow at the request. the movie wasn’t one he had ever asked to watch before. “that’s how i’m feeling right now, but like, backwards.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes slightly.

“how about we watch something that isn’t related so we can get our minds off of it, yeah?” you turned around, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and turning on the tv. your back was now rested against the bottom of the couch as you clicked on the disney icon. a moment later, as the app loaded on the screen, luca’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. he pulled you back slightly, just enough for you to know that he wanted you to join him on the couch.

“lay with me?” he whispered, afraid you hadn’t understood his gesture. you stood, placing the remote on the cushion.

“pick a movie, i’m gonna go grab a blanket.” you made your way down the hall, pulling the big fluffy blanket off of his bed. when you returned, he was scrolling through all of the christmas options. when he heard you coming back, he got up on his knees, giving you the space to lay down under him before he settled against your chest. he pushed play on the good luck charlie christmas movie, then made himself completely comfortable against you as the opening credits rolled.

it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, a few stray tears still staining his cheeks. you gently wiped them away, pouting slightly at the sight of him. your heart hurt for the boy, knowing he was stressed and blaming himself, despite the storm being totally out of his control. but then you thought about his reaction when adam arrived in a few hours, and a small smile found your lips.

you hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep until the doorbell ringing woke you up. luca was still dead weight on top of you, but his brows furrowed when the bell rang again.

“someone get it,” he mumbled, pushing his head further into your chest.

“we’re the only ones here. you gotta get up.” he huffed, but pulled himself off of you, running a hand over his face and muttering as he walked to the door. you had just enough time to grab your phone and start a video before luca opened the door. he went still for a moment, then rubbed his eyes, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

“you gonna move out of the way so i can come in or-“ adam was cut off by luca surging forward and pulling him into a hug. you could hear adam laughing and you ended the video as you stood from the couch.

“what are you doing here?” luca asked, pulling away enough to analyze his brother and make sure it was actually him. adam nodded toward you as you approached the pair.

“y/n called.” luca looked at you with wide eyes.

“you asked him to come?” you shrugged.

“you can’t be home but you can still be with family.” luca closed the distance between you, hugging you tight and swaying back and forth slightly.

“thank you,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to your forehead. you heard the door close and looked over to see adam finally inside, taking off his coat and shoes. you glanced over to your luggage, which was still sitting just inside the door where luca had dropped it earlier.

“i’m gonna go unpack and let you two catch up,” you informed them, grabbing the handle of your suitcase. “call your mom, let her know you’re together.” you made your way down the hall to luca’s room with a smile, already hearing the two boys talking excitedly behind you. so you wouldn’t be in canada for christmas, but you would still be somewhere you could call home.

#luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #luca fantilli fic #luca fantilli imagine #raegan’s advent calendar

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lihyot-am-chofshi-beartzeinu · 2 months

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This was sent to my main but I didn't want this putrid shit on my aesthetic blog. @trudgemank99, I'm going to try to explain this as best I can without insulting you.

Zionism is not a fascist ideology, and it is not responsible for an "ongoing genocide".

You don't even know what Zionism is. Seriously, you and others like you straight up don't even know what it means. You don't know its history, you don't know its cultural and religious significance, you don't know its politics, you don't know how it has saved so many Jewish peoples' lives over the 20th century. How dare you apply your own made-up interpretation of it to give you an excuse to go around harassing Jewish people on the internet?

You know how I see you? I see you as a Nazi. Because you have replaced "Jew" with "Zionist" in your vocabulary, so that you can get away with the same hatred of Jews that has festered within society for thousands of years.

You claimed in that other thread that you cared about the Palestinians. But you don't, because instead of, oh, I don't know, donating to charities or uplifting Palestinian voices, or even supporting joint Israeli-Palestinian peace movements like Standing Together, Women Wage Peace and A Land For All, you chose to desecrate the images of dead and grieving Palestinians who are victims of the tragedy of the conflict to "prove" it was a genocide (it's not; the ICJ ruled that Israel must take steps to prevent actions that could be considered genocidal. War and civilian death is horrific enough on its own; you gain nothing by misrepresenting what it is.)

You couldn't even name a single person in those pictures when I pressed you. I don't even know if those photos were of the conflict, because you didn't link to any reputable sources or date the images or name the photographer. For all I know they could have been pictures of the devastating war in Syria, which have taken on a second life with people attributing them to Gaza. Either way: how dare you use the dead as props. They were real people with real families and friends left behind to suffer - they are not your "gotcha" gore card to play on the internet.

Despite all of that, I don't hate you. I don't hate anyone. I don't want anyone to die. I want the conflict to end but I am realistic about why it occurred and why there is no ceasefire yet (hint: it's because Hamas keeps refusing ceasefires, because they want to send as many Gazan civilians to their deaths as they can). There is nothing I can say or do on my blog that will work towards an end to the conflict, and nothing I can do or say in my real life that will end the conflict - because I don't have a direct line to Netanyahu's office, and calling my local politicians here in Australia will accomplish fuck all. Because Australia doesn't influence Israel, just as Israel doesn't influence Australia.

So how does ranting incoherently at Jewish people on Tumblr save Palestinians? Go on, answer how screaming at me demanding I call it a genocide helps anyone.

I'm not defending Israel. I don't need to. What I do talk about is fighting Antisemitism and anti-Zionism - because there is no difference between them anymore. You and people like you might keep using the word "anti-Zionist" (something that I consider to be grossly inappropriate and culturally appropriative, actually) but we all know that, deep down, you're just Jew-haters.

If you can't admit to yourself that you are operating on a basis of incoherent hatred for Zionists (aka Jewish people who believe in the existence of a Jewish homeland in our ancestral land of Judea; something, by the way, that is fully compatible with the existence of a Palestinian state) then I'll do it for you: you are a Jew-hater.

Oh, wait! You did admit it:

Thank you for this mask-off moment. Truly.

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onmyyan · 7 months

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Will you ever write an Ashley Hunt scenario that shows his “yan” side? I wanna see this fine gentleman get possessive and violent/murderous. Cause we’ve seen it with the Delmonts many times, but there hasn’t been anything with Ash yet. I guess I and probably a lot of other readers are curious to know what’d happen if like MC tried to escape, or she was being courted by another equally charming out-of-town cowboy. (That’d be so cute to have a rival cowboy scenario to Ash!!!)

A/N: TW: YANDERE, 💀 BY PIG, VIOLENCE (NOT AGAINST READER)

To think all of Ashley's problems started with a help wanted sign at the local general store in his small town.

You, bless your heart, had been working there to help the older man Paul after seeing him struggling to stock his shelves one afternoon, that being said Ashley didn't have an issue with you working, because 1. Paul both adored and trusted him implicitly, meaning Ashley had access to the grainy CCTV footage of you whenever he had to be away, which wasn't often as he brought you lunch everyday and brought you to and from work. And 2. Everyone in town knew Ashley had laid claim to you He made it clear in every way their culture said, from placing his hat on you in public to only ever dancing with you at the town socials.

At least he thought everyone knew.

Tony was a man he'd gone to highschool with, and he wasn't fond of him then, so when you came home complaining about your new coworker every red flag was raised in his eyes, he made a point to stick around the next time he took you to work, not really needing an excuse to be there, Ashley simply made himself look busy and waited. Low and behold your new coworker came in the old door, the bell jingle sent a chill of anger down Ashley's spine. The second he recognized the man's face Ashley felt his blood pressure rise.

He knew the kind of vile, peaked in highschool kind of guy this dude was so it didn't take much to set him off, that same day he takes you home with a grin that falls the second he watches you enter your home, he drives back to the store breaking all the speeding laws in order to catch Tony just as he's leaving, Tony mistakes his greeting for something friendly, grinning his weasely smile, he begins talking about his new job and the next words from his mouth are the ones that seal his fate.

"You should see the pretty little thing I'm working with- boy I tell you what give me five minutes alone with her a-"

Ashley hit him before he could finish his perverted thought, busting his upper lip with the initial hit, Tony stumbles backwards a few steps, his nose disfigured and bloodied, crimson drips all over his boots, the dirt he kicks up in his attempt to get his bearings causing a cloud to cover the scene almost eerily.

The second his body hits the ground, he's trying to get up, but Ashley is on him before he can spit out the blood in his mouth. "Fuckin' pig." He wails on him with one hand, the other fist holding his collar in a vice grip. "Nah, yer lower than a pig- a fuckin' waste of air is what you are." With every word came another devastating blow to the man's face, by the time Ashley pulled himself out of the moment, the man's body was twitching, face bloated and bloody. Broken wheezes leave Tony's lips, "Still breathing Buddy? C'mon." He rises and freezes meeting the eyes of the shop owner, an older man who'd known Ashley since he was a young boy. After a moment of tension Ashley gave him a grin, still standing over the barely alive Tony. "Evening Paul."

Paul returns the grin, leaning on the store's front porch, "Evening Ashley, fine night tonight boy..you be careful getting home." He says without looking at the bloody man in the dirt. The older man puts the help wanted sign back up and Ashley can't help but chuckle to himself, he drags Tony by his cheap boots and hauls him in his truckbed, whistling a song from his childhood as he shuts the door with more force than necessary, still fuming from the bastards comments about you, his sweetpea.

"Tch. Right where you belong, almost a shame." Ashley says to himself , the words feign regret, but the satisfaction in his tone says otherwise, it's almost too easy for Ashley to haul Tony's still unconscious form out of his truck bed and across his shoulder, he tosses the body in the pig pen sitting in the very back of Ashley's farm.

As if it were a bale of hay, Ashley tosses Tony with a satisfying thud, it's occupants didn't swarm immediately, but they would within the hour. Ashley intended to watch. It was the only end befitting the scum before him he thought would atone for his sins against you. Ashley did such a number on him in the parking lot his face was unrecognizable.

He only felt his rage quell when he slipped into your room later that night when all was said and done, blood and mud on his jeans, he smiled down at you tranquility in his gaze, he couldn't be more at peace, knowing he'd made your life better with one simple action.

#yananswers #anon submission #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere oc x reader #ashley x reader #ashley hunt #Ashley hunt x reader

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itsokbbygrl · 3 months

Text

An End, A Beginning

Summary: They're dead, they're all dead, and now you're stranded. You're the sole survivor after infection devastated your crew of fellow Fireflies out of Boston tasked with transporting a girl from Massachusetts to Colorado. When the hired smugglers responsible for getting her out of the QZ show up, you find yourself bargaining for your life. After learning one of them was bit somewhere between the edges of the QZ and the old City Hall where your crew was waiting to complete the transfer, and with only moments left to live, the infected smuggler convinces her partner to take you with them in her absence. After a long, hard-fought journey across the country, you're nearly at your ultimate destination and emotions are running high. How will a surprise confession affect the future of your group?

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader (literally zero physical description of reader, it's YOU)

Length: 1.4k words

Tags: DESCRIPTION OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, emotional constipation, father/daughter dynamics, found family dynamics, kissing, flowery language about a grumpy old man

a/n: hello I had severe brain rot after seeing this beautiful piece of fan art by @minacoleta and had to write about it. this was supposed to be a teeny little drabble but lmao here we are at 1.4k words and while writing it, I decided to perhaps PERHAPS!!!! don't hold me to it expand the story of reader as a third party to our favorite grumpy old man/sassy teenage girl duo. hashtag give ellie more adult supervision support. :) anyway without further ado! here is "An End, A Beginning." please comment/reblog to support your local authors ♡ thank you to my wonderful friends @5oh5 @morgaussy @tightjeansjavi and @javierpena-inatacvest for cheering me on. i luh u. credit to @firefly-graphics for creating the beautiful divider.

“It was me,” Joel blurted out. “I was the one who shot and missed.” Your feet cemented you to your spot and you could see Ellie’s breath hitch, her shoulders raised and fists clenched.

“Ellie, can you check that tent over there and see if there’s any leftover bandages or pain meds?” you ask her in a vain attempt to shield her from enduring anymore unnecessary trauma.

“But–” she starts and stops when she sees the minute shake of your head. She sighs and rolls her eyes, “Fine, I’ll just be over there, pretending I can’t hear the adults talking from 20 feet away” she points over her shoulder at the tattered remains of the first aid tent behind her and shuffles away.

You shake your head fondly. Teenagers.

You take a breath and turn around to face him and find him sitting on an old concrete barrier, looking down at his hands clasped in his lap, seemingly lost in thought. You make your way over to join him.

“There’s no story,” he begins, “Sarah died, and I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that.” He pauses for a moment, using the toe of his worn boot to kick at the broken bits of concrete at his feet. You remain silent, allowing him a breath to compose himself before he continues. “And I wasn’t scared either, I was ready,” he nods his head and furrows his brow as if convincing himself of this fact, “I couldn’t’ve been more ready.” He looks up then, meets your eyes, and you can see the earnestness there. It breaks your heart, understanding how hopeless he felt, the pain he must have been feeling, a pain you can imagine now that you’ve had him, had Ellie, in your life.

He gives a gentle shake of his head and starts to give you more. “But when I–” he stops, words catching in his throat, eyes misting over for a moment, “When I–” he tries again, words continuing to fail him. You reach over and lay a soothing hand on his thigh, encouraging him to drain this wound he’s let fester for the last 20 years, letting him know you aren’t afraid of this, his darkness. You’ll meet him there, find him with nothing more than the persistent thump of his heart to guide you, let your fingertips trace down the familiar topography of his arm, soft hair and bumpy scars texturizing the otherwise warm, soft skin, until they meet his own, intertwining, no longer alone.

His gesture of raising his fingers towards his skull in a mock recreation of a scene that was once all too real pulls you out of your reverie. “But when I went to pull the trigger, I–I flinched.” He gives half a chuckle and shakes his head, like he can’t believe it himself, like he might even feel lucky. It eases some of the tightness in your chest. “Still don’t know why,” he finishes. He takes a final moment to himself, reliving the memory, allowing himself to feel it. He comes back to the present and meets your eyes again. “Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all this is–”

“I know why you’re telling us all this,” Ellie interjects from her position now, just behind your right shoulder. Clever girl, you think, her stealth reminding you of that scene from Jurassic Park, thinking she would love that film and grinning to yourself briefly at the bittersweet memory of something from before times, while simultaneously being both endeared by and frustrated with her tenacity to get what she wants. Joel gives her a glance before fixing his gaze back on the ground in front of him.

“Yeah, I reckon you do,” Joel replies. The three of you allow the moment to breathe, running your thumb idly back and forth across Joel’s thigh where you’ve laid it. A comfort to the both of you. Never one to let things be, Ellie breaks the silence first.

“So, time heals all wounds I guess,” she says flippantly, full of benighted teenage ego.

Joel looks up at her then, eyes serious and full of soft determination, making sure to hold her gaze as he tells her, “It wasn’t time that did it.”

Her eyes widen at his words, like she can’t quite believe them. You let the two of them have their moment. A father and daughter minting the truth of their relationship for the first time. You remove your hand from Joel’s thigh and subtly reach back, grabbing Ellie’s hand as it lays limp at her side, and give her a quick, gentle squeeze before releasing it, keeping slight in your movement, knowing all too well how fiercely independent she is and not wanting to embarrass her at the reminder that, despite her hardness, she’s still a child who needs the physical comfort of a caregiver.

She takes a deep, shaky breath before she speaks, “Well, I’m glad that that didn’t work out.” They’re both valiantly damming tears that threaten to flow, sniffing and nodding at each other.

Joel eventually responds, voice thick with feeling, “Yeah, me too.” He breaks their eye contact then, still nodding to himself for a moment before he reaches his hand to the bridge of his nose, pinching the remaining tears in his eyes away with his thumb and forefinger.

Never one to show her soft underbelly for long, Ellie prompts your little crew to continue on your journey. “We should probably get going,” she says to you both.

“Yup,” Joel agrees, getting back to business, shouldering his pack and standing from his position on the concrete block. Ellie, ever her father’s shadow, follows suit. You take one last second to absorb the remaining energy of the fizzling moment, taking a deep breath before standing and brushing your hands on your dirty, worn jeans. You sling your backpack over your shoulders and give a small jump to resituate its contents into a more comfortable position before catching up to your partner, watching him watch Ellie as she meanders a handful of steps ahead, the distance allowing you a moment of privacy.

“Joel,” you start quietly, not stopping your trek, keeping your eyes steadily focused ahead, “about…all of that,” you wave your hand absently in the air in front of you, trying to remain nonchalant, approaching the great bear of him carefully as though being too honest will cause him to spook, to flee back into his deep, dark cave to protect his freshly opened wound. But you remember your earlier thought, you aren’t afraid of his darkness, you will find him anywhere, so you push on. “I am, too. Glad. I’m so, so glad that didn’t work out.” Your next thought flits through your mind and you smile at its ridiculously honest nature, letting the soft laughter that’s building within you to trill forth from where it was caged behind your teeth. The sound pulls his attention towards you. Fuck it, you decide, if this is the end of the world, the least I can do is give him is truth.

“Thank god you flinched. For that girl, for me. We needed you here,” you shake your head fondly, turning your head to meet his eyes. “You had so much left to live for. I can’t imagine life without you now, you know that? And I’m terrified of what comes next, what happens after we find them. I can’t…I can’t leave her, Joel. I can’t leave you. You’re my family and I can’t–”

Your confession is cut off by the warm press of Joel’s plush, slightly chapped lips against your own. You close your eyes and breathe in through your nose, allowing your hand to find and rest on his firm bicep as you return his kisses in kind, giving as good as you’re getting, deciding if this is the only time you’ll experience him like this, soft and yielding, you’re going to savor it.

He pulls back after a moment, silently holding your gaze.

“Joel, I–” You begin. He shakes his head gently and you quiet.

“I know,” he gives you then. And it’s there in his eyes. He knows. And you know, too. It doesn’t need to be said, not now. You both know and that’s enough. You both face forward and continue your hike, increasing your strides to catch up to Ellie, now a good distance ahead.

Whatever comes next, you know now for sure, you’d both burn down the world to save this.

A/N: thank you so so so much for reading i love u. you can find more of my writing here, if you'd like, and as always comments and reblogs get you a kiss on the forehead and endless positive karma :)

#LJ writes #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou hbo #tlou episode 9 #the last of us fanfiction

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liquorisce · 11 days

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Do you have any eremika age gap au recs?? It’s my favorite trope and there’s nearly not enough fics out there😭😭😭

*rubs hands* I took my time with this because I am not the most avid fic reader unfortunately, but I do have a few recs and some more on my tbr. I think what you're looking for is not just an age difference but where the age gap is the focus? i've marked those in pink. definitely check the tags on these before proceeding!!

gonna start with mine just for completeness, and also because i love it *blush*

boy next door: For sixteen years, Mikasa has watched the boy next door. First: through the eyes of a child, hand in his during family trips, his hand on her first bike when she learned how to ride. Then: through the eyes of a teenager, peeking behind her blinds into his room on hot summer months when he didn't wear a shirt, eyes lingering on his lips when he pulled away his cigarette. Now, she is so much older, but he is older still, and the gap between them feels ever widening. But her desire to close it only feels more desperate.

i'm certain you've checked out @herblacktights 's ao3, but here are my favs of hers with that age gap sauce:

degausser: After a deadly flu pandemic that devastates Paradis Island and the rest of the world, Eren is all Mikasa has. After she turns sixteen, that gets complicated. -> the plot is entirely the age gap, lol!

comfort me: “Mikasa,” Eren drawled, fake scolding edging into his voice as he held the basement door open and led her outside. “Does Aunt Carla know what a bad girl you are?” For a moment, she looked stunned. A sliver of a second, a wink of an eye. Looking every inch the little girl he watched grow up, who he knew deserved better than him. But before it could take root in her and make him regret what he said, Mikasa gave him a terrible, sweet smile. “Aunt Carla says I deserve to do whatever I want after the year I’ve had,” she said and from the way that she was looking at him, he should’ve known it was a threat. cw: mild daddy kink!

love dog : this one is a bit different! teacher mikasa x student eren, and mikasa is the older one. cw: it doesn't exactly have a super happy ending. but it is one of my favs from hannah!!

Butterfly effect by @sunlightandsuffering : Sugar baby AU - older hobo eren x younger mikasa. how can i say this... it's the OG, the most delicious, lys-brand chaotic eremika but age gap flavour! i love it, i'm sure if you've been around this block you've read it lol, but it's simply amazing, read it again!!

You, me and our sins by @loneghostss : Eren is married and Mikasa has a boyfriend. But the fact that they both have someone doesn't stop them from sinfully falling in love with each other. (it is about eremika having an affair with each other and it is so sensual and hot, age gap is not central here but it definitely brings heat!!) you could also check out lost saints by the same author, there's also some age difference and great smut.

@dead-dolphins is a connoisseur of the age gap trope, defs check out all the aus on her pinned post!! ro is a master of drama and worldbuilding so her fics are always a treat. she's got some on ao3 that are all about that sweet age gap <3

chemical hype boy : idol mikasa x actor eren!! and eren is definitely playing into the older established actor mold!

i apologise if you feel something: Goth mikasa gets involved with older Eren, lead vocalist of a metal band.

the promised princess: a medieval fantasy au inspired by got. age difference is not the central theme, but it's a stellar fic regardless.

straight/edge by @sinigangsta-ao3: Mikasa Ackerman is prim, proper, and perfect. As the golden child of the Ackerman family, her academic achievements set her up for a bright future and atone for her older brother’s past mistakes. When the spring semester of her junior year arrives, she crosses paths with a local boy toward whom she’d typically never give the time of day — and they begin a whirlwind relationship that unlocks parts of herself that she didn’t know she kept hidden. this fic is more about the good girl x bad boy trope but with that delicious 3-4 year age gap sauce!! cw: NOT a hea

devilish lovers by softwinter: “I wanna be your friend, Mikasa,” he told her one day when she got home from school not able to feign a less distressed expression on her face, too many sixteen-year-old problems going on in her life. He had the habit of commenting that she was always sad, that he didn’t like how that transpired on her gray eyes.

“I thought you wanted to be my daddy,” something flashed in his eyes right then, like she’d said something forbidden, a kind of thing that could make her a bad girl in his eyes. cw: step dad kink!! definitely check the tags before proceeding.

heaven knows by @joannaofarkham: priest au where priest eren is mikasa's teacher in a catholic school. it is unfinished but the first chapter reads pretty well standalone!

eternally yours by @cxcassii: reincarnation au + age gap. It's been 2,000 years since Eren Jaeger was a titan shifter and unleashed the blood drenched madness of the rumbling upon the world. Now, in the year 2023, he's a twenty-four year old who lives with his best friend Armin. He goes about his days working as a pharmacy technician all while attempting to cope and come to terms with the loss of the loved ones he still remembers with clarity from his previous life. The atrocious sins of his past life he can never ever truly atone for. But most of all, there's one person he simply can't forget: His former love of his life, Mikasa. It's when he's not actively searching for her that they cross paths once again, and their love will once again be on trial when Eren learns that Mikasa not only doesn't remember their past life together, but is also seventeen years old. this one is still on my tbr but whatever i've read so far looks extremely delicious!!!

enjoy!! if anyone wants to add more please feel free to reblog and improve this list!! <3

#eremika #fanfic rec #age gap trope

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blushweddinggowns · 22 days

Text

Nancy furrowed her brow as she went to answer it, just as confused as everyone else, “Hello? What? I-Fred please be quiet for one second! How did you know I was here- I know the article is due but I’m in the- why call me if you aren’t going to let me talk!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “You know what? Yeah, just wait for me at school. I’ll be there in a few hours. Yes, hours! I’m hanging up now.”

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before addressing everyone, “It wasn’t important. I just have to stop at the school at some point today. But for now we should get going-”

But Wayne wasn’t having it. He turned back to the duo, pointing an accusing finger their way,“If either of you think you’re stepping out of this house you have another damn thing coming-”

“Okay!” Eddie interrupted, reaching out to grab Wayne’s arms, “It’s time to talk in private. The rest of you stay here.”

Eddie dragged Wayne into the back room, Steve following meekly behind. They could still hear them in such a small space, hushed voices arguing in Eddie’s room.

It made Chrissy feel weird, like she was intruding on a family moment. She knew she was, they all were. Dustin even went as far as to turn on the TV, effectively giving them the noise they needed to keep their conversation private.

“Oh my god,” Dustin breathed after a few seconds, “Oh no, oh no, oh no.”

Chrissy glanced at the screen, her stomach dropping when she saw what it was. It was her school photo. Followed with a reporter’s voiceover, “...following a cryptic voicemail, that police suspect was a forced call. Considering the untimely deaths of multiple young women in the town of Hawkins, we need a prompt and quick response in regards to finding this young lady. If anyone knows the whereabouts of Chrissy Cunningham please call your local authorities immediately.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. She should have known. Of course her mom would go straight to the police. She knew that call had been pointless. Worse than pointless. If she had never said anything then she probably wouldn’t have even realized Chrissy was gone until today.

“We can’t stay here,” Chrissy said suddenly, already feeling frantic.

“Why not?” Dustin asked, his brow furrowed, “No one else even knows you're here!”

But Robin was already moving, cursing under her breath as she got her shoes on, “Because if anyone looking for her has a single working brain cell they’ll look for me. And how do you find me?”

“You find Steve?” Dustin asked, still watching in confusion as the rest of the girls got ready to go.

“And if you’re looking for Steve,” Robin asked, “Where would you go?”

“Here,” Dustin grumbled, finally catching on.

“There you fucking go,” Robin sighed, before calling down the hall, “Steve, Eddie, we gotta go. Now!”

“Give us a damn minute!” Eddie yelled back, but Robin wasn’t having it. She marched back there, dragging a confused Chrissy with her.

The three men stared at them as Robin dug around, talking as she searched, “They reported Chrissy missing so that means cops are almost certainly on their way here. We need to go now-aha!”

She held up Eddie walkman, before waltzing over to Chrissy to put the headphones over her ears. She hummed the melody as she snatched the tape out of Eddie’s player, snapping quickly into the walkman and pressing play.

“There,” She said with a gentle smile, interlacing Chrissy’s fingers with her own, “Now you’re mobile.”

She turned back to Eddie and Steve, her voice softening at the kicked-puppy look on Steve’s face, “We’ll wait outside, but we need to think of a place to hide. Fast.”

“I already know a place,” Eddie sighed, waving them off. He threw his keys in their direction, Robin just catching them in time as he kept his eyes on Wayne, “Go to the van and hide in the back. We’ll be out in a minute.”

Chrissy nodded, and then Robin was dragging her off. She chanced one look back at them, her heart breaking a little at the devastated look on Wayne’s face. She felt so bad. Yes, whatever this was had started before her, but she was the brand new reason she was involved. Why all of these people were now risking themselves for her of all people.

“This isn’t your fault, y’know,” Robin said quietly as she unlocked the van’s door, the rest of the group talking quietly amongst themselves in front of the beemer, “I can see your brain working over there.”

Chrissy shrugged as she climbed inside, settling in the back. Robin sat beside her, close enough for their shoulders to touch. Chrissy wished Robin would think about stuff like that, how often she touched her. Or maybe Chrissy wished she could start thinking of it less.

“Maybe not everything,” She mumbled, “But it’s my fault you’re involved now. Maybe you guys could have been the bystanders for once if I never happened.”

“I doubt it,” Robin laughed softly, giving Chrissy’s hand a comforting squeeze. ``I got involved by working at an ice cream shop. Don’t underestimate the randomness of this crap. Besides…”

She trailed off, scooting closer to lay her head against Chrissy’s shoulder. Close enough for the warmth of her breath to tickle Chrissy’s neck, “Getting to know you is more than worth the trouble.”

From the latest chapter of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #buckingham fic #the universe trapped in your skin #i told you all it's not abandoned!#the chapter is officially in the ~editing~ phase #things are happening after like #8 months #my bad on that one #fic snippet #season 4 rewrite #childhood friends au

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infinitystoner · 1 year

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01. Mishaps

Part One of Box of Rain

AO3 | Loki Masterlist

Summary: After the universe plummets into chaos, you find yourself working alongside a merry band of misfits who’ve made a home for themselves in Tønsberg, Norway. When a harrowing incident occurs, Loki is forced to confront his feelings.

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

Word count: 7.4k

Content: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Humor, Mutual Pining, Eventual Fluff, Mentions of Depression/Past Trauma, Mentions of Blood, Post-Infinity War, Canon Divergence, Loki Lives, Asgardians of the Galaxy, Second Person POV, Loki POV

*header designed by the talented @tripleyeeet. and shout-out to the incredible @use-your-telescope for being a kick-ass beta.

The view looking out across the fjord was one you’d never tire of. As the sun set, heaven and earth collided, and for a brief moment, you existed within a world made only of skies, framed by towering mountains on either side. It was serene. Mystical. Otherworldly. Seemingly as if you were living on a totally different planet. And, in a way, you were. A changed planet, at least.

You let out a contented sigh as you watched the amber sun sink lower on its path across the sky, its hazy rays glistening on the water. Flashes of gold reflected across the ethereal cerulean inlet, shimmering and rippling with the last light of the day. Broad stripes of coral and lavender wrapped around you like a cozy blanket as the sun dipped slowly behind a jagged peak, kissing the distant horizon. Time slowed down, and all you felt was stillness and peace.

You almost forgot about the harsh reality of the near-dystopian state of the world. Almost. Moments like these were always as fleeting as they were unforgettable.

You inhaled, relishing the way the fresh, crisp air left a dash of salt on your lips. Your eyesight adjusted as you turned around, taking in a new view that was less than desirable. A small, plump codfish floundered at your feet, its spotted scales catching the last rays of receding daylight.

“Sustainably caught and everything,” a proud voice rang out from below. You glanced down at your furry companion and winced.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked for your assistance, Rocket,” you sighed, wrangling the poor fish into your grasp before tossing it into the waters along the jetty. The raccoon scrunched his wet face in dismay as the tail fin disappeared with a glug beneath the placid inlet.

“What the– That was gonna be dinner,” he growled, kicking at one of the jetty rocks in mock protest.

You had grown quite accustomed to the dramatics of your new friends and simply rolled your eyes as you removed your gloves, wiping your hands against the rough cotton fabric of your coveralls.

“Spare me. We’re supposed to be monitoring and mapping movements. Not doing meal prep,” you said as you climbed up onto the harbor, only pausing to retrieve your tablet off the low stone wall of the dock. “And now I’m late for a meeting.”

“How exactly is that my fault? If you hadn’t been daydreaming, sunshine…”

“You smell terrible, by the way,” you called over your shoulder, hurrying up the stone steps toward town.

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly smellin’ like a rose yourself!” you heard Rocket call out as you turned the corner.

Despite New Asgard’s remote location, it was a bustling place. The people of Tønsberg had accepted the Aesir with open arms, and you’d witnessed firsthand how the Asgardians’ unique culture and traditions had seamlessly blended with the local Norwegian way of life.

And you were lucky to be here.

The immediate aftermath of losing half of the Earth’s population had been devastating. Three years later, the planet – the universe – was still responding to the aftermath of mass extinction.

It had been a haunting phenomenon, the collective grief of half a world wondering if those who had disappeared would ever return. You had to believe, in some way, that they would. That you’d finally obtain a resolution. But losing your entire family in the blink of an eye was still something you were coming to terms with.

Most days, it seemed there was no closure to be had. By anyone.

The assembled trauma and utter shock had gotten you through the most chaotic times. And yet, you had never been more alone in your sorrow. Everyone you loved – everyone who loved you – vanished in an instant. Your grief had eventually led you here, to Norway, to your great aunt’s abandoned cottage. You never imagined it would also lead you to a new family of sorts.

You knew that Valkyrie had led the surviving Aesir to Earth, that Thor and Loki had fought against the invaders in Wakanda, ultimately failing to stop what Rocket called the ‘Snap.’ You also knew Thor had gone on to kill the madman who inflicted his cruel interpretation of order on the entire universe. The same tyrant who had tortured Nebula. Who had tortured Loki.

And while they all bore witness to his demise, none derived satisfaction.

Still, you didn’t know the whole story and had long accepted you never would. Rocket, while he loved to yammer on about all sorts of things, never actually gave you any information you couldn’t easily seek out online. And none of the others ever spoke of it. It was as if they had chosen to exist outside of reality, weary and burdened by their experiences. Their silence was like a heavy cloak that draped over them, concealing the past and shielding you from the horrors that resided within their minds.

Nonetheless, you cherished your otherworldly friends, grateful for the moments of joy and camaraderie that you shared in the midst of persistent responsibilities. Which, for you, meant working under the guidance of Asgardian leadership, developing ethical frameworks that promoted sustainable interactions between the citizens of New Asgard and the natural world. It was a far cry from your previous profession, but one that gave you a renewed sense of purpose amidst the lingering mayhem.

You hurried along the cobbled walkway, popping in your headphones as you bypassed New Asgard’s central square, where a statue of Odin stood tall and imposing, watching over his people. Veering off the main path, you opted to take the shortcut over the hillside while there was still enough light left to guide you.

As you walked up the trail that wound through a thicket of trees, you pulled your tablet from your bag to email your daily report to Valkyrie. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure approaching from the opposite direction until it was too late.

With a jolt, you crashed back to reality as you collided with someone along the narrow path, the device falling from your grip.

“Oof,” a deep voice resounded from above you. You snatched out one of your earbuds, your other hand searching for purchase against a broad chest.

“L-Loki,” you stammered as you looked up at his stoic face, framed by his perfectly groomed curls that obediently rested atop his broad shoulders. How he always managed to look so impeccably regal despite the blistering cliffside winds was a mystery you were too eager to solve.

“Hello.” The resounding timbre sent a shiver down your spine as your fingers absentmindedly lingered on the soft wool of his dark pea coat. Loki looked down his nose at you, his eyes flitting from your fingertips to your face. Then he frowned.

He was not a fan of his personal space being invaded and you knew this. However, there had been a few moments between the two of you when he almost seemed to welcome your touch. Your mind flitted back to the time your fingertips grazed his while sitting together at a council meeting. You recalled the way your shoulders often touched as you walked side-by-side along the docks, and how he never removed your hand from the crook of his elbow as you navigated through the crowds on village market days.

And then there had been the time you’d excitedly hugged him after successfully tagging your first Norwegian cod, and you swore he hugged you back. You thought about the hug a lot. Too often, perhaps. It was all strictly platonic, of course.

You felt Loki’s cool fingers wrap around yours, and you hurriedly took a step back, snatching your hand away.

“I am so sorry,” you said as you shoved your headphones into your coat pocket. Your already wind-chapped face grew even more heated under his puckish gaze. “I was– ”

“Preoccupied?” Loki mused, his eyes crinkling with mirth. The playfulness in his tone calmed your nerves a bit.

“Mmm. I’ve been down at the docks all afternoon.” You forced out a laugh in a poor attempt at regaining some semblance of composure as Loki squatted down to retrieve the forgotten datapad at your feet.

“Thank you,” you murmured as he handed it back to you. “Again, sorry for that less-than-graceful display.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, his piercing green eyes surveying your form. God, he was always so intense.

“You’ve got a lot on your mind, I’m sure. As do I,” Loki commented as he cast a knowing glance in your direction. “I just left Thor’s.”

“Oh. How is he today? Will he be joining us later?” you asked, trying to keep up with Loki’s long strides as he turned off the path in the direction of Valkyrie’s secluded lodge.

“The same, I’m afraid. His apathy for– ” Loki opened his arms and gestured down the hill “ –all this grows by the day. But I don’t imagine that surprises you,” he replied, quirking an eyebrow.

“And I’ve asked him to come tonight,” he continued as he turned to knock on the cabin’s front door. “But no promises were made.”

Valkyrie placed a steaming cup of tea in front of you as you set down your tablet and propped your head on your hand.

“This proposal is ridiculous. They’re already manufacturing synthetic food products in labs across the globe. Asking us to operate a fish farm would not only skew our ecological research, but it essentially violates New Asgard’s sustainability treaty,” you lamented, glancing across the table at Loki.

He was surrounded by an imposing tower of folders and an array of alien technological systems that rivaled the inventions of Tony Stark. He still obstinately refused to use Midgardian tech, deeming it inferior to what he could procure from elsewhere in the universe. He stopped thumbing through a stack of papers, his eyebrows slanting up as he gave you a bemused look.

“Exactly. Why is the Council giving us a hard time?” added Valkyrie, settling into a chair and pushing a holographic map out of view as she too looked to Loki for an answer. “I did not agree to come to this planet just to be controlled by another group of insane bureaucrats.”

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose, a weary sigh escaping his lips before he responded. “Because they can, I suppose. The entire universe is in chaos – and not the kind I usually revel in, mind you,” he said, casting a sly wink in your direction that immediately made your cheeks flush with heat. You quickly took a sip of your drink as Valkyrie suspiciously peered at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“But, by all the Nine, the governing bodies of this particular realm are so tedious. I can admit I’m at my wits end with these negotiations,” Loki continued, seemingly oblivious to your flustered state.

For the next half hour, the three of you continued to address the unremitting concerns of the new world order. As you brainstormed, the holographic map in the center of the room flashed various graphs and statistics. In any other situation, you’d find meetings like this incredibly irksome, but Loki had a way of keeping you fully engaged.

Why did you find everything about him so alluring? Your heart fluttered as you watched him reading over his notes as the conversation lulled, the urge to reach across the table and smooth the deep creases on his brow overwhelming. When he ran his thumb under his bottom lip as his eyes flitted back and forth across the page before him, you couldn’t help but imagine how his lips might feel against yours…

When you realized you’d been staring, you fumbled with your own notes, ignoring the smug expression on Valkyrie’s face.

“I believe we have a solid plan,” Loki said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And if all else fails, I can always use my charm to persuade them otherwise.” At his words, a flash of seidr shot from the palm of his hand as five more Lokis appeared around their commander.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Valkyrie sneered, rolling her eyes as she stood up from the table. Loki waved his duplicates away with a huff, turning around as the door creaked open behind him. Thor sauntered in, his eyes glued to his phone as his wide frame strode through the glowing data projections.

“Ah, how kind of you to join us, brother,” Loki scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “We were just discussing the most recent inane request presented to us by your friends at the Disunited Nations.”

Thor grunted in response, still mindlessly scrolling. Loki, however, was not so easily dismissed.

“Care to verbalize those rousing thoughts, your majesty?” he said sharply, his frustration palpable.

Shit. You stared at Valkyrie, eyes wide. The last thing you wanted was to be caught up in an altercation between two brooding demigods. She subtly shook her head, motioning for you to join her in the kitchen.

As you stood, the blonde Asgardian bristled, finally glancing up from the device dwarfed in his palm. “Erm, sorry. What is it you’re rambling on about?” Thor muttered, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“The prospect of a fishery…” Loki did little to hide the annoyance in his voice. “As king, I thought you might have an opinion. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

Thor shrugged, scrolling through his phone once more. “I don’t know. You seem to have everything under control. I’ll just… be over here,” he replied, drifting to a nearby chair.

Loki abruptly stood, sending his belongings to his interdimensional pocket with a flick of his wrist.

“I see. Then we will move ahead with our plan– ” he paused, giving you a knowing look across the room as he walked toward the door “ –to continue the monitoring and not risk further contamination with foolhardy farming practices.”

Thor let out another grunt as Loki exited the cabin, turning to you and Valkyrie with a look of indifference. “What’s got his cape in a twist?”

Damn it. You quickly dismissed yourself, snatching your tablet from the table and hurrying after Loki. It was dark out now, but not so dark that you couldn’t make out his stately form descending the hillside. At least three of your strides equaled one of his, and you found yourself breaking into a graceless jog as you struggled to catch up with the god.

Before you could stop yourself, you shouted out his name. Loki turned on his heel and held up his hand, conjuring an orb of glimmering light.

“S-sorry, hey,” you panted as you finally reached where he stood waiting. “I thought we could walk back together?”

He pursed his lips, glancing over your shoulder at Valkyrie’s cabin. Perhaps this wasn’t your brightest idea. After what felt like an eternity, Loki responded.

“Of course. I- I should not have made such a hasty exit. Apologies for my imprudent behavior.” He spoke with a twinge of forced formality that sent your mind reeling. He obviously wanted to be alone right now.

“Oh. No worries,” you replied almost too casually, cringing internally as you fell in step alongside him. The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes, and it took every ounce of your resolve not to gawk at the handsome god. The way the moonlight illuminated his sharp features was absolutely devastating and definitely not something you’d be thinking about as you drifted off to sleep later.

You turned your focus to the warm glow emanating from Loki’s floating orb, humming in delight as you observed the tendrils of gold light wafting through the nipping sea air. You were endlessly fascinated by his seidr, from his masterful displays of sorcery and deception on New Asgard’s training fields to simpler charms such as this. Everything about Loki was beautiful. Otherworldly. Unattainable.

He finally spoke up again, his tone guarded. “I do hope I didn’t cause any offense,” he said, his eyes darting over to you briefly before flicking away. “Thor and I… it’s complicated.”

You shook your head. “No, no, not at all,” you replied, trying to sound reassuring. “Your reaction was justified.”

There was another moment of silence before Loki let out a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. “He’s– things are just very different now.”

He was right. Everything was different. You tried to ignore the ache in your own grief-stricken heart as you cautiously reached out to touch Loki’s arm, hoping to offer some comfort. “I know,” you said softly.

Loki glanced down at your hand on his arm, then back up at you, his expression softening a little. “You do know, don’t you?”

Your breath hitched as you regarded him, taking in the way his eyes sparked with an intensity you’d never seen before. It sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about you in the same way you thought of him. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the glimmering light?

“And that’s part of the problem,” he continued. “Thor blames himself for everyone’s loss. Not just our people’s.”

Oh.

Suddenly he stopped walking, and you realized you’d reached the small gate that led to your cottage. For a moment, you hesitated, reluctant to say goodnight just yet. Loki had never spoken this openly with you before, and you didn’t want the conversation to end.

“Would you like to come in for some tea?” you asked as the twinkling orb disappeared from the space between you. Had he kept it lit only for your benefit?

“Ah, I’m afraid I must prepare for my journey to Vanaheim tomorrow.” He gave you a sad smile as you opened your gate, no doubt detecting the confusion on your face. “A strictly diplomatic visit. Valkyrie is aware. And it’s probably best if I spend some time away from New Asgard.”

“Well, the offer stands. You, me, and a cup of tea. Perhaps when you return?” you asked, attempting to conceal the disappointment in your voice. Loki didn’t owe you anything, after all.

“Of course. When I return.”

The next few days were relatively uneventful, all things considered. You continued your research of now-endangered fish species, while Valkyrie prepared for a convening with neighboring republics. Loki was off-planet, as were Nebula and Rocket.

And you hadn’t seen Thor since the meeting the other night, which was why you now found yourself in the God of Thunder’s cluttered cottage. He’d hastily greeted you at the door, pulling his long unkempt hair into a half ponytail before haphazardly scooping up an assortment of dirty dishes and carrying them to his kitchen.

“Thor, about the other night,” you began, plopping down on your usual spot on the sofa – the cushion nearest the fireplace. It was the one with the least amount of stains.

“Would you like some ale?” he asked roughly, avoiding eye contact as he opened his refrigerator door. You knew he was trying to avoid the subject, as he always did when confronted like this. But you weren’t going to let up so easily this time.

“Thor…”

He continued to ignore you, the sound of glass bottles clinking together echoing through the room like tiny bells ringing out in unison.

“You could, you know, try to be a bit more involved with– ” you paused, searching for the right words. “Human affairs. The people adore you, you know.”

“Perhaps they did. In the past.” Releasing a small grunt, Thor settled down on the sofa next to you. “But I’m afraid your attempts at flattery are in vain, little mortal.”

“I may just be a mortal, Thor, but I am doing the best I can with the hand we’ve been dealt. We all are. And regardless of whatever you think, we need your help.”

He merely scoffed, handing you a bottle of beer before putting his headset on and returning to his video game. Of course you had interrupted him in the middle of some imaginary battle.

Thor Odinson, king of Asgard, ancient warrior, Avenger, god among men. Toiling his eternal days away in a too-small, too-dark cottage, drinking ale and talking shit to teenagers halfway across the globe as he numbed himself to everything around him.

He had lost his purpose.

You empathized with him, you really did. And perhaps you were out of line to address him in such a manner. But in all the time you’d known him, he’d never once displayed even the smallest flicker of sovereignty. No, that responsibility had fallen upon his younger brother’s shoulders. And you could see the toll it was taking on Loki.

When I return.

His parting words echoed in your mind like distant thunder, each rumble a reminder of the restless storm brewing in your heart. You weren’t entirely sure if Loki would actually be returning this time. Perhaps it was the way he had looked at you when he said it – the mask of his unwavering stoicism falling aside for the briefest moment to reveal a kind of hesitant sorrow.

Tension swelled within you, like charged air, ready to erupt at any moment. The deep-seated longing you had tried to suppress for so long now was overpowering any modicum of resolve that remained within you. All you could do was hope the storm would eventually pass.

Frustrated, you sat in silence for a few more minutes before the urge to speak became overwhelming.

“Loki can’t keep going on this way. Managing everything himself,” you blurted out, curling a leg under you as you shifted to face the larger-than-life Asgardian.

“Ah, and there it is. It isn’t diplomacy, or the people of New Asgard, or even me you’re worried about here. It’s my brother.”

Thor punctuated those last three words, and they hit you like bolts of lightning, electrifying every nerve in your body. You winced at the intensity of his tone, but you couldn’t deny it was the truth. Loki’s predicament weighed heavily on your mind. You knew that you needed to gather your wits and find a way to respond, but for now, all you could do was stare at Thor, a silent plea in your eyes, hoping that he would understand the depth of your concern.

“It’s all right. He’s done it before,” Thor continued, casting you a sideways glance.

“Done what before?” you asked, baffled.

“Led the people of Asgard. Without me.”

What? You’d have to address that later. Thor must have somehow noted the look of abject shock on your face because he continued to divulge as he continuously – annoyingly – tapped a button on his game controller.

“Loki has always been better at this sort of thing. Since we were mere children, he’s always had the answers to all of our problems. The problems I inevitably create.”

You straightened your back, voice resolute despite your growing nerves.

“But do you want him to leave? Forever? He’s– you’re all the other has, Thor. If you keep pushing him away– I’m afraid he feels he has no reason to stay.”

“I say this with no malice, but unlike you, I’ve known Loki for a thousand years. He is not going anywhere,” Thor replied matter-of-factly. “He cares for our people more than he’s willing to openly admit.”

“That may be true, Thor. But– ”

“And you,” he interrupted, pausing his game and looking at you, his deep blue eyes searching your own. “You are reason enough for him to stay. Certainly you’ve realized that.”

For the second time in a matter of minutes, Thor had managed to completely stun you. You were reason enough? Surely he was mistaken. Despite all the small, genial moments between you, did Loki even consider you a friend? Much less someone worth sticking around for?

You opened your mouth, but no words formed on your heavy tongue. Instead, you heard your own incredulous laugh ringing around the room. None of this made sense.

“Thor, I– ”

“You’re not gonna believe the haul we got!” Rocket interrupted, scurrying through Thor’s front door and disrupting any thoughts that had started to form in your bewildered mind.

“Well, c’mon!” the raccoon panted, beckoning you both into the yard.

It was long past dusk, but the glow of the Guardian’s ship was unmistakable along the cliffside. You waved as Nebula exited the spacecraft, rolling her eyes as Rocket excitedly pulled open a hatch revealing a collection of foreign weapons.

“Thor, you shoulda been there. I’m tellin’ ya, it was wild…”

You greeted Nebula with a teasing eye roll of your own. “Successful expedition then?”

“If you consider obtaining inferior technology successful, then yes,” she replied simply, walking over to Thor’s makeshift fire pit. A mischievous grin spread across her face, reminding you of Loki. “I would like to make a fire.”

You glanced over at Thor, who seemed quite preoccupied with Rocket’s latest collection of artillery. At least something had him excited.

“Well, then, let’s make a fire,” you responded, clapping your hands together as you searched the darkened ground for something to use as kindling. “Go grab some firewood. Thor keeps it stacked out back,” you nodded at the lean-to behind his cottage. Nebula let out a dramatic huff as she headed off to grab the wood, and you chuckled as you gathered up some dry twigs and leaves.

Minutes later, the fire crackled to life, illuminating the darkness with its warm glow. Nebula settled down next to you on one of the logs surrounding the amber blaze, looking immensely pleased with herself. Once Thor noticed the merriment happening fireside, he tore his attention away from Rocket’s collection of weapons and came over to join you. His massive frame loomed over the lapping flames, his golden hair creating an ethereal outline around his chiseled face. For a brief moment, he looked younger, raw power radiating from his being. As flickering embers rose around him, you regarded him as the impressive god he was. Yet, as he passed you a large bottle of mead, you noted the hint of weariness lingering in his eyes.

He needed to be reminded of who he used to be. Who he could still be.

“Tell us about the time you slayed the Bilgesnipe hoard,” you giddily implored, hoping to distract him by recalling one of your favorite stories. He’d told it countless times before, but it never failed to entertain.

“Bilgesnipes, eh?” murmured Rocket, curling his lip as he grabbed the mead from your clutch. “I’ve heard their teeth can fetch a pretty penny.”

“Oh, what an epic day that was!” Thor beamed, his large hand falling heavily on Rocket’s back, knocking the wind out of the raccoon. “I was in the wilds of Asgard with the great warrior Volstagg, when all of a sudden…”

You listened intently for the next ten minutes as Thor paced around the roaring fire, jovially describing the most disgusting details of the carnage he inflicted upon the mythical creatures.

“And then– ” Thor paused, eyeballing one of the discarded weapons on the ground beyond the pit. He walked over to it and picked it up, examining it with a playful snicker.

“I wielded the mighty Mjölnir, hurling it right between the antlers of the pack leader,” he said, dramatically lifting the alien artillery above his head.

“Go on then, show us how it’s done!” you shouted as you rose to your feet, feeling the effects of the Asgardian mead rush to your head. Nebula and Rocket both looked skeptical, but you egged him on, enthralled by the idea of seeing Thor wield the foreign weapon in his signature style.

He grinned, swinging the silver contraption around his head with a flourish. But just as he was about to release it toward the cliffside, the weapon malfunctioned, shooting off sparks and emitting a loud, ear-piercing screech.

Then everything went black.

It had been a long day. A long few days, Loki thought as he poured himself a cup of tea. Taking a slow sip, his keen eyes narrowed as he stared at Stormbreaker leaning against his kitchen island. It was probably time to return the axe to Thor – if he even missed it at all.

Loki was teetering on the verge of exhaustion, and hadn’t even bothered to change out of his ceremonial armor. He had spent the last three days on Vanaheim, checking in on the realm’s remaining population. He would never be able to shake the nagging responsibility he still felt to the citizens of the Nine, especially his mother’s people. Not after he had failed them on such a massive scale.

In the immediate aftermath of the Snap, Thor had joined him on these royal visits across the galaxy, but now Loki went it alone. A small part of him still felt the sting of collective disappointment from the Vanir when he arrived via the Bifrost without his brother. It wasn’t that Thor didn’t care, though, and deep down, Loki knew that. He just hoped the others understood.

You understood, at least. And even though he’d been realms away, Loki could not escape you. He didn’t want to.

Just yesterday, as he observed the Vanir children practicing seidr, one of the younglings had conjured a small orb of light, and Loki was overwhelmed with thoughts of you. How your face lit up every time he displayed even the smallest bit of magic. How your infectious wonderment was slowly chipping away at his resolve. How he felt a spark of something he thought he’d never experience again each time you touched him, always so gentle, as if you were afraid he would break…

A sudden bang made him spin around, instinctively conjuring his daggers as his mug clattered to the floor. The front door had flung open with such force that it splintered around the hinges, its agonizing creak reverberating around the cottage like a death knell.

Loki huffed, dissipating his weapons as he realized who the culprit was.

“Nebula, I have warned you– ”

“Loki.”

Something about her tone had a bitterness burning his throat – the usual monotonous cadence he’d come to expect from the humanoid had been replaced with something else. A sense of urgency? Before he could swallow down the acrid taste in his mouth and respond, all hell broke loose.

Everything happened all at once and yet Loki felt like time stopped. A guttural howl cut through the biting wind. Thor. It was a sound he’d hoped to never hear again. Loki’s heart lurched, then plummeted to the depths of the earth’s core as Nebula stepped aside, revealing his brother’s imposing form, outlined by glowing moonlight in the darkened doorway.

Thor’s shirt and forearms were smeared with a dark red substance, your slack body clutched against his chest.

No.

Loki lunged forward as Thor stumbled into the cottage. The look of sheer panic on his brother’s face sent a surge of fear into the depths of Loki’s soul.

No.

“What have you done?” Loki barked out, his hands hovering apprehensively above your body, afraid to touch you.

“They– I– I shot them, Loki,” Thor stuttered, his blue eyes conveying a portentous sorrow Loki hadn’t seen since their mother died.

NO.

This couldn’t be happening. Loki’s chest constricted as his eyes frantically darted from Thor’s stricken face to your pallid one. You looked… were you? He shook the macabre thought from his mind. No. Not you. Not if he could help it.

“Fuck! Here, put them down. Gently.” Loki quickly cleared a spot on his kitchen table with a flick of his wrist.

“Nebula,” Loki said tersely. “How did this happen? What type of weaponry did this?” He glanced at Thor, who still had not let go of your body despite it being strewn across the wooden table. Loki’s brows furrowed in earnest concentration as he returned his attention to you, magically removing your coat and sweater as his fingertips ghosted over your wound. He flicked his head to the side as he slowly, carefully began to weave his seidr around the gaping flesh.

“It was an accident. I– I swear it,” Thor sputtered, choking down a sob.

“Enough!” Loki bellowed, the intensity of his outburst causing Thor to finally release you from his grasp. “Get out of the way, you useless oaf, and let me handle this. Like I’ve always done,” Loki growled before nodding at Nebula.

“Tell me.”

“Contraxian. There was a malfunction,” Nebula answered somberly. Loki’s eyes once again focused on the laceration across your midriff, noting your breathing seemed to be a bit less labored than before.

“Accident or not, this is too much blood.” Loki’s voice was unwavering, but he could no longer conceal the anxiety creeping across his features. He just needed to stop the bleeding.

Loki steadied himself with a deep, measured breath before drawing on every bit of power he possessed. As he felt the eerily familiar surge of energy course through his veins, Loki thought back to the last time he’d been forced to access this facet of his seidr. That cursed day on the Statesman. He would not – could not – fail this time. But you’d lost so much blood already.

Far too much for a mortal.

“Can’t you do something?” his brother implored, running a hand through his wild blonde hair as he paced around the room.

“I am doing something, but I am not a healer, Thor!”

“Wake up, kid,” panted Rocket. In the brief moment Loki had taken his eyes off of you, the raccoon had hopped onto the table and was now peering down at you. A cold fury burned in Loki’s gaze as he watched the creature pat your cheek with a small paw.

Your eyes fluttered open and Loki finally exhaled the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in.

“See? They’re fine. It’s just a flesh wound, drama queen,” Rocket commented as he leaned over your wound, examining the tendrils of seidr. They weaved around the lesion, binding together to create a bandage of pulsating, shimmering gold. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ve seen worse– ”

That fucking furry arsehole.

“Move back, you insolent rabbit,” Loki spat, giving the raccoon a malicious glare. “And better yet, leave. Now. Before I turn you into a fur stole.”

He continued to thread his seidr around your fragile body, praying to the Norns above that it would be enough.

“Loki…” you groaned, lifting your eyes to meet his. The sound of his name on your lips sent a small rush of relief through Loki. But your dazed expression let him know that you were having trouble focusing. He wondered if you even realized what had transpired. You let out a rugged sigh as you attempted to sit up, but Loki gently pressed a steady hand against your shoulder.

“No, don’t move. Please. Conserve your energy,” he implored, running his fingers along your face.

“I’m– I’m okay.” You gave him a weak smile, reaching out to him before your eyes fluttered shut again. Loki wrapped his fingers around your trembling hand in an effort to calm you both.

“Yea– yes. You’re going to be okay,” he repeated in a whisper, unsure if it was for your benefit or his. He glanced down at the lesion again, and though his vision was slightly blurred from the tears frustratingly welling in his eyes, he could see that he’d been successful this time.

“I– I think I’ve stopped the bleeding,” he said finally, looking around the room and finding no solace there.

Exasperated and drained, he grabbed his cape from a nearby chair, wrapping it around your body before lifting you into his arms as he turned to Thor and Nebula.

“But we need the healers. Now.”

Loki jolted awake at the sound of the door closing. Slivers of receding sunlight filtered through the aluminum blinds, casting long streaks of light across the modest space. It took Loki a moment to find his bearings, and he blinked slowly, watching the warm light dance across the walls.

Someone had been in your room at the clinic, and he’d slept through it. Norns, when had he dozed off?

His gaze flitted between your motionless form and the intravenous bag at your bedside. Grimacing, he wiped an embarrassing amount of dribble from his lips. Gods, I am truly losing it, he thought. He discarded the open book in his lap as he stood, stretching his aching limbs and following the attendant into the hallway.

Loki grasped the woman’s shoulder as she filed a chart, an irritated expression marring his face.

“What did you give them?” he demanded hoarsely, voice still thick with remnants of sleep.

“Something for the pain,” the nurse explained. Her voice was kind. Soft. Forgiving. It reminded Loki of his mother. It made him furious.

“While the healers were able to mend the wound and provide a sleeping spell, pain management is still necessary,” she continued.

You were in pain.

Loki huffed, warily turning back to look through the doorway at you. His brows furrowed as he regarded your current state. Was the extent of your injury so severe you needed something more than Aesir magic could provide?

He flinched when the nurse patted his shoulder. Are all Midgardian healers this bold? he wondered.

“Nothing to be concerned about,” she continued, obviously sensing his unease. “I assure you, your highness, it is a common treatment for humans.”

“Right. Of course.”

He gave a curt nod and quietly made his way back to what had to be the most wretched chair in the universe, shifting his thighs on the seat in an attempt to find a comfortable position. He glanced at you, your body lax against the meager, rigid hospital cot. At that moment, Loki made a mental note to secure funding to update the clinic’s furnishings.

By all the Nine. He never imagined this would be his life: Thinking of ways to improve the day-to-day operations of the Midgardian healthcare system. Negotiating border policies and peace treaties with diplomats. Researching patterns of pollen limitation. Reading your infuriatingly charming reports about the migration patterns of fish…

Of course, these were not things totally unfamiliar to him. He was a prince, after all. A beacon of diplomacy and guile. But Thanos had changed everything. Loki winced as he tried to shake the dark memories encroaching on his mind. He inhaled, focusing on his surroundings.

The uncomfortable chair. The fading scent of antiseptic. The acrid taste lingering on his tongue. The cool leather against his skin. The dull beeping of machines by the bed. The mortal before him.

Not just any mortal, though. You.

Your presence alone challenged the carefully measured control he held over his emotions. And, much to Loki’s chagrin, you had managed to wind your way into his heart. It had changed him in ways he had never thought possible.

Loki let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to get a grip. But he did not leave your side.

“Can you hear me?” he asked softly, inching closer to the bed. There was no answer, only the sound of your faint snores. The sleeping spell was working, then.

You looked so meek. So fragile. It pained him to see you this way. Part of him wondered what would happen if you suddenly awoke to find him there. Would you be pleasantly surprised? Confused? Or worse, disappointed to find that he was the one watching over you?

Would you even care? His heart constricted painfully in his chest at the thought.

He concluded that he would accept whatever outcome. Any response at all would relieve him of the incessant worry churning in the pit of his stomach. He just needed to know you were going to be okay.

Loki’s eyes burned as he blinked back tears. One large hand raked through his wild curls, and he scowled as he shifted back into the seat. How could you have been so careless?

“You infuriate me.” He felt half-mad, confessing to you this way.

“You brilliant, reckless creature. It’s no wonder Thor befriended you. You’re always too eager to go along with his half-brained schemes.”

Loki, admittedly, had been reluctant to accept your friendship. He wondered now why he’d fought against it for so long. He leaned forward, cautiously caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers.

“I’ve not been a good friend to you, have I?”

He paused, recalling all the times you’d been so infuriatingly kind to him. How he wished he had not refused your invitation for tea. Perhaps if he’d been more open with you, perhaps if he had stayed…

“The way you look at me,” he continued. “The way you see me… I don’t deserve it. None of us do.”

“Thor’s guilt is slowly consuming him. And I don’t know what to do. I realize we all have our own ways of coping. Dealing with this… immense loss. What I do know is that I cannot stand by and let you become a victim of his destructive behavior.”

Loki leaned forward, taking your hand in his. What a fool he’d been, so assured that his burgeoning infatuation would pass. A lopsided smile crossed his face as he looked at you, and he finally let the walls around his heart come crashing down.

“I– I care for you, too much to let any harm come your way. I only wish I had realized it sooner.”

With a deep sigh, he rested his head on the mattress, his raven curls fanning across your thigh as his eyes fluttered closed. He never let go of your hand.

This time, Loki heard when someone entered the room but didn’t bother moving away from your bedside.

“I’ve never seen the prince act with such concern for anyone,” a lilted voice commented.

“I have known Loki his entire life. And though he may often refuse to acknowledge his own feelings, I have no doubt he cares fiercely for those he loves.”

Loki frowned, recognizing the second voice immediately. It was Eir, Odin’s former head physician and now New Asgard’s top healer.

“I’m awake, you know,” Loki finally responded when he heard the younger healer leave the room.

“Yes, and that’s exactly why I said what I said.” Eir cast Loki a cautious glance as he righted himself, a glow of seidr washing over him, concealing any lingering signs of exhaustion.

“You cannot hide from me, boy. You’ve been sitting vigil here for nearly a full day. And don’t think I’m unaware of the toll the magicks you wielded to stabilize your friend took on your body. When was the last time you actually slept, Loki?”

The nerve. Loki stood to his full height in an attempt to regain some semblance of power. He peered down at the old healer, her keen glare meeting his own. Her silver brows furrowed, wrinkles carving an ancient map across her face. Loki sometimes wondered if she was as old as the Norns themselves.

“That is no concern of yours, Eir,” Loki responded haughtily, rolling his shoulders back and regally tossing his dark locks over his shoulder. “And I would remind you to not speak so casually when in the presence of the crowned prince of Asgard, lest you forget your place again.”

Of course, Eir was right, and he knew it. Perhaps that is what bothered him most of all.

He had to get out of here. He didn’t want to leave you, but he knew he couldn’t stay another minute. Loki bundled his cape in one large fist and strode past her.

“Your friend is going to be okay, Loki. I promise you, by Frigga’s grace.”

Loki froze at the mention of his mother’s name. He closed his eyes as his fingers curled around the doorframe, bracing himself for an impact that never came. Still, he did not turn around.

“Once the sleeping charm wears off, we’ll discharge them. Likely sometime tomorrow morning. Do you want to be informed when that happens?”

Finally, Loki glanced over his shoulder, his narrowed eyes flitting from you back to Eir.

“Ah, no. No, that won’t be necessary.” He turned and walked into the hallway before exalting a final command.

“You will alert my brother when it is time to accompany our friend back home, understood?”

He didn’t wait for the response.

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