#but i just hate tasting that sadness that feels so comfortable and familiar knowing that i have to give it up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

killedpink · 1 year

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방찬 | the space between us.

🎧 masterlist !?

🏹 synopsis: after a particularly difficult breakup, your reliable, trustworthy best friend chan shows up to comfort you. in some ways more than others.

☕️ word count: 3.7k

🏷 contains: breakup, friends to lovers, mutual pining, comfort sex, soft dom chan, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, teeny bit of nipple play, possessive chan, thigh riding, so much praise, multiple orgasms.

a knock at your door pulled you from your bedsheets, throwing the covers off of your entire body and swinging off the edge of the comfortingly warm bed. your apartment was unnaturally quiet, unnaturally bare and unnaturally unfamiliar. was it even yours to begin with? it didn't take long to get to the dead-bolted front door, unlocking the tedious locks and swinging it open, the cold air slamming into your face.

seeing chan felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders, slamming your tear-streaked face into his middle and wrapping your arms around his toned back was your new favourite thing to do. he smelled warm, homey and gently masculine, like cedar wood and citrus. he was calming all over, he was comforting all over, he was kind all over. chan was your only sense of familiarity now, the better half of the past year being wasted on a dirtbag of the highest order. "what happened, beautiful?" he whispered into your hood, (his) the black champion hoodie obscuring the top and back of your head, using it to shield you from the cruel, unjust outside world. just hearing chan's voice made everything feel better; his presence giving you another reason to carry on tomorrow. you could hear the soft thumps of his heartbeat, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and most importantly you could feel his large hand slowly stroke your back, moving up and down, following the path of your spine.

you felt yourself hiccuping tears into his chest, his arm slowly rocking you back and forth like a tiny, exhausted baby. you pulled away from him, eyes immediately focusing on the dark patches on chan's hoodie from where you had cried into him. "come in, chan." you stood aside, letting him enter your apartment and set down the hot drinks he brought with him for the both of you to share on your coffee table. who bought that? you couldn't even remember, feeling like an intruder in your own home, despite owning it before ever knowing the world's worst boyfriend. chan settled on your couch, his trusting eyes watching you follow his lead, leaning your head on his broad shoulder. "i hate him.." you spoke, to no-one in particular, your eyes closing to let your tears pass. "oh, baby," chan was sympathetic, of course, rubbing your sides and wiping the tears from your eyes. you let chan take care of you — you let yourself relax into his touch, into his warmth, into his chest.

"what do you say we forget all about that idiot guy, yeah? you wanna watch a movie?" chan proposed, his australian accent making you giggle. "of course. you pick." you smiled into him, moving off of him so he could grab the tv remote. is that where you last left it? you watched chan, noted how his brows creased in concentration, how his full lips pouted as he debated every movie your netflix had to offer. everything about him just felt right: he never made you sad, he never made you uncomfortable nor unwelcome. you hated how you didn't hate anything about chan, instead completely enamoured with every little detail of him. his wavy hair, for one — you loved the way it tickled your skin, or how it framed his face, how it bounced when he moved too suddenly. his dimples, especially, you felt your heart flutter when they peeked through his skin when he stretched his cheeks or spoke certain words.

you hadn't had a drink all day, your body dehydrated from crying. the warm, aromatic coffee tasting so delectable you struggled to put it down, letting the heat seep into your hands through the sleeve on the cup. when your eyes caught chan's gaze, he looked away, seemingly upset even if you could only see one side of his face. he shook his head, barely, and turned to you, with a soft, small and gentle smile on his rosy, plump lips. "no one's gonna hurt you again, i swear." the palm of his hand gingerly holding the outside of yours, your hand now feeling warmth from both sides, giving you goosebumps. or was it chan's touch? his hand moved from yours to your cheek, softly cradling your face in his wide, strong hand. his brown, trusting eyes searching yours as if the harder he looked into them the more of your mind he would be able to read, "i won't let them." he whispered, your bodies close enough that you heard the emotion in his voice as clear as day. your hand wrapped around his muscular arm, fingers curling around his forearm, "i trust you, channie." you muttered, your mouth speaking the words before your brain even realised you were speaking.

there was nothing else the two of you needed to say in that moment, opting for a comfortable silence in which you simply rested your head on chan's chest, letting him absentmindedly play with your hair or fiddle with your hoodie strings. it was oddly relaxing; just lounging on chan was all you needed to feel miles better, his company alone proving to be more efficient than spending your days sobbing into your pillow. those days of pure heartbreak feeling like a lifetime ago already in chan's arms. he fixed everything, even if he was doing nothing but watching a movie and letting you use him as a pillow.

if you were asked what the movie chan picked was called, you'd be speechless, completely concentrating on chan, your aching, yet mending heart and the sting of your under-eyes. you supposed it was funny, considering you often felt the rumble of his chest from laughter, his mellow voice soothing you entirely. it was late when chan arrived, the sun slowly exiting the sky and the roads chock-full of people rushing back home. about twenty minutes into the movie you were certain neither of you were watching, the sky faded into a dark blue, the edge of the earth still brimming with light. you shifted positions, your legs resting on chan's lap, your head still tucked safely into the crook of his neck, his heartbeat coaxing your exhausted body to sleep.

when you woke, it was entirely because chan had moved you from his arms onto your bed. your body woke before your mind, your eyes not registering the time on your clock for a few moments before your brain had the opportunity to catch up. 01:22. are you serious? "chan? how long was i asleep for?" your eyesight was bleary, yet you could still make out his tender smile, his eyes crinkling. "don't worry about it. you needed the rest. go back to sleep if you want." he stroked the hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. what? "chan.." you started, voice betraying you as it whispered, voice slightly hoarse and feathery from sleep. "i know, i'm sorry, i didn't realise i.." chan was trying to get the words out of his mouth faster than he could say them, unable to explain what had happened.

"no.. it was okay, actually. i.. i liked it. a lot." you smiled, slowly sitting up on your bed. chan still seemed a bit uneasy, his mind likely racing like you knew he had a habit of doing. you sighed, "look. it's late, it's dark and it's cold. just.. stay the night for me? please? we don't even have to talk about it. i just.. i don't wanna say goodbye yet." you stammered, feeling your heart beating frantic in your chest, blood rising to your cheeks, throat dry and hands trembling. you smiled at him, your heart fluttering when you saw he couldn't resist his own smile, his dimples showing and his eyes turning into crescent moons. he was so pretty — who in their right mind wouldn't want him to stay the night?

please say yes. please say yes. please say yes.

"you're right, it's late and it would be really dumb to try driving anywhere right now. i'll just sleep on the couch, i'm sure you want your space," he decided, shrugging sheepishly. you were instantly dejected by his answer, his dark, copper eyes briefly holding eye contact with yours. you knew you were teetering on friendship and relationship, you knew asking could ruin so much — but you also knew you couldn't sleep without chan. fuck it. "please don't go. chan, stay with me. please." asking felt like a shot in the dark, it was terrifying and exhilarating. his gaze softened, his brows relaxed, his soft lips curved into a tiny, delighted smile. "okay. i'll stay here." chan sat down next to you, easily welcoming you into his arms once more. "so.. about that kiss?" you inquired, eyeing him carefully. his body usually reacted before his mind, always caught up in his thoughts. he shifted momentarily, "i just.. i don't even know, i saw you there, all sleepy and calm and i just wanted you to feel better." you shook your head, "i always feel better with you, chan." he was taken aback, clearly unaware of his effect on you, or on others. you sat up, facing him, inches away, interested in what his next words will be.

you were not expecting a kiss. a full bodied, chan's soft, plump lips on yours, his hands holding your cheeks tenderly, type of kiss. and while you sat there, blinking, dazzled it was over before you knew what had happened, before you had the opportunity to savour it. your eyes were wide, resembling a deer caught in headlights, a strong opposite compared to chan's relaxed, calm eyes. you leaned your body into his, allowing your lips to collide with his once more. you felt him smile into the kiss, you felt the tip of his wide nose brush against yours, you felt his hands twirl the hair from the nape of your neck in his fingers. you felt tingly all over, goosebumps rupturing all over your skin, feeling yourself nuzzle into him. "this isn't a heat of the moment thing, is it..?" chan whispered against your lips, pecking them quickly, hungrily and eagerly. you shook your head, "no.. definitely not." you answered, pressing your puckered lips against his, your teeth grazing his bottom lip.

distance grew in-between the both of you. "do you wanna..?" chan trailed off, too embarrassed to formally ask. "i thought you'd never ask." you leaned into him once more, pressing needy kisses to his jawline, "i need you, channie." you murmured into his bronzed, tan skin. with less than five words, you had set something ablaze in chan that you had never seen before. he tore his hoodie off of his body, letting you — not so subtly — check him out. he was like an adonis, every inch of his torso perfectly carved like he was a living, breathing marble sculpture. following his lead, you yanked the hoodie off of your body, turning it inside-out in the process, throwing it wherever your mind decided in such a short amount of time. your legs fell on both sides of chan, his hands holding your bare breasts in his hands; they felt heavy all of a sudden, hyperaware of his hands experimentally groping them, fondling the soft flesh in his skilled hands.

chan took your nipple in his mouth, flattening his tongue to brush the hardening bud in one swipe, his lips puckering around it as he let his teeth graze against the sensitive skin there. it gave you goosebumps — the feeling of his hot mouth on your erected nipple, heating up not only your breast but your face, feeling it flush against the skin of your neck. he replaced his mouth with his thumb, rubbing the nipple with the pad of his thumb, observing how you reacted to his touch intently. you squirmed in place, "chan, please.." you started; however unable to finish. he caught on quickly, yet he was simply too cruel to follow through, instead opting to lean back, putting his weight on his hands and arms as they held him up, "c'mere, then. i won't bite.. too hard, at least," he grinned, his white teeth poking out from his blushy, pink lips.

you approached him on your knees, "take these off," chan's finger hooked under the waistband of your pants, watching you expectantly. as shy as you were — you weren't embarrassed by chan, thanks to your many years of friendship, intimacy came surprisingly, yet welcomely, easy. you didn't have to think twice about it, quickly stripping them from your body, leaving you in your underwear alone. it couldn't be helped that your eyes wandered to his chest, watching as it rise and fell with his breath, watching as the shadows contoured his muscles, and how his abs fluttered with the air he inhaled and exhaled, the movement just a few milliseconds behind his chest's movements.

his hands wrapped around your waist, sitting just above the swell of your hips, and guided you onto his thigh. his smirk was crudely wide, not even hiding how much he was enjoying this. the denim of his jeans gave a different sensation than what you were used to, your arms wrapping around chan's bare, wide shoulders to anchor yourself, allowing him to grind you onto his thigh, your flesh under his fingers dipping from the pressure he was using to grab onto you, his veiny hands clinging onto your waist as if you'd slip through his fingers. chan brought you to paradise and back, pushing and pulling you by your waist on his thigh, clenching and unclenching the muscle underneath your cunt so expertly that you needn't do much but let him control you; positive you couldn't achieve an orgasm as brilliantly as chan gave it to you if you tried by yourself. your nails dug into the muscle of his shoulder, connecting his neck and shoulder blade as your clit caught on the waistband of his jeans — causing chan to chuckle and grind you onto his thigh even harsher than before.

it didn't take long for you to cum, leaving a dark wet spot on both his jeans and your underwear, sticky and clinging onto your sex as a consequence. "you see what you do to me, beautiful?" chan muttered, your eyes falling down to his crotch to see the painfully apparent bulge residing where his cock was. fuck, he was that big? the ashes of your orgasm are still glowing and simmering with a residual heat in your body, but it's the kiss that chan presses against your throat, and the way his hands trail down to the curve of your ass and brazenly gropes it — that's what fully reignites that volatile pit in your gut.

"chan.." you plea, your hand falling to cup the tent in his pants, palming it in your hand. you watched as his abs trembled, his chest stuttering as he shakily drew in a breath. he used the side of his hand to push you back, your body colliding with the mattress below that easily took your weight and cushioned your fall. chan loomed above you, your eyes unable to look away from his, despite the audible sounds of his belt unbuckling, the sound alone making your breath hitch and mouth water. he shrugged his jeans off surprisingly seamlessly, making it look easy — which you were sure it was not. you stopped him before he got to his boxers, "i wanna do it," you were sheepish about it, sure, but you were more eager than coy; you'd swallow any pride for him.

chan lets you undress him, of course, watching you endearingly as you pulled his boxers down, letting his cock spring free and hit his stomach. you almost want to roll your eyes when you see it, because on top of being caring, and talented, and funny, he's got a gorgeously thick cock that you know no man or toy could ever replace. your hands cradle his hard shaft, unable to fully hold it with one hand alone, your fingers a few millimetres away from touching your thumb. you drag your hands up and down the length of chan's cock, until his skin is glistening with his own arousal and every ounce of your body is screaming at you to let chan fuck you in desperation.

you felt his hand start at the curve of your calf, fingers dipping into the inside of your knee, travelling higher to the silky skin of the inside of your thigh, rounding out at the dip of your hips, before finally brushing against your naked, wet slit. you hum in approval, your hips bucking to follow his touch and grind yourself onto his hand. chan's index finger starts at your entrance, moving higher to illustrate small, electrifying circles around your clit, swollen and puffy and sensitive from his touch. chan stopped as soon as he started, removing his hand from your sex and using both hands to wrap around your thighs, spreading them far apart from each other and letting them rest on both of his sides, caging him in. you hiked them up onto his waist, both legs wrapped around and pulling him into you.

soft lips collided with yours, chan's mouth tasted lustrous and sweet, like ambrosia on your tongue. he parts the kiss before he slinks into you, "wanna see your pretty face when i finally get to fill you up," he hissed all too eagerly, his eyes attentively watching every flutter of your eyelids, every gasp that falls out of your lips, every little movement you could possibly make; chan ensured he'd witness it, determined to see it as it really was, not as he imagined it to be — but to really, truly see you under him. he fantasised about this for months, a vision of you not too far away in his mind whenever he had his cock in his hands. your breath hitches when you feel his hot, hard cockhead press against your hole, but you have to draw in a breath when you feel him slowly inch inside of you. there's no discomfort when he enters you, just a dizzying, breathless, fullness. it makes your eyelids flutter closed, completely lost in the feeling, suspended in the moment of pure, unfiltered delirium that seemed to intensify every time chan sunk deeper into you.

he watches as your cunt swallows him whole, eyes wide with glee and dark with a carnal hunger. he has to hold in a sensual, sex-drunken groan when he watches your puffy slit swell from his cock buried under your skin, and with each eager ache of your cunt clenching ravenously around his cock he in turn feeds you more and more of himself. you can feel his bulbous, sopping wet head throb from within you, letting out a starstruck gasp when chan finally fills you to the brim, his hilt rubbing against your sopping wet clit and you cry, keen and write under him, gasping for air. "so fuckin' beautiful like this, you're taking me so, so well," chan gushed, his heart-fluttering words of praise almost sounding innocent if his language wasn't filthy, and if he wasn't practically moaning the words out.

scratch that — nothing about any of this is innocent. not even a morsel. chan's hips kiss your inner thighs, fucking you in brutally powerful, needy and erratic thrusts, skin snapping against yours, his cock filling you to his hilt each time, his head nudging your cervix and pouring his leaking precum into your hole, confident you can take it all. and it's the only thing you can do, repaying his more-than-satisfactory efforts by taking everything he generously gave you. how is that anything but sinful? he's getting close, you can tell, his hand clinging onto your waist so hard it burned, setting your nerves ablaze. you shudder when you feel your shared slick leak out from your hole, chan's filling cock leaving no room inside of you, consequently pushing it out and letting it smear your thighs and trickle slowly down your slit. your body moved on its own when it clenched around him, your stomach twitching each time your cunt milked chan's cock.

you squeal, you cry, you gasp out his name like he will save you, your legs tighten around his waist to pull him physically impossibly closer to you, as if he could get any closer to you, both of your bodies sweaty and skin sticking together. your arms wrap around his neck, fingers hooking into his skin like he'd slip out from underneath you. your voice is hoarse, your legs ache, your head is dizzy and your lungs are breathless, but he keeps going as if he has something to prove. you wail out chan's name, your eyes squeezing shut, ignoring all of your senses but one: touch, of course, lost in the sensation of the wanton licks of friction chan sparks between the both of you, each drag along the inside of your cunt pushing you further on the edge of mind-numbing bliss. your pulse echoes in your ears, your heartbeat thundering in your ribcage as your insides turn into mush, your limbs jellied and your body so, so exhausted.

chan bottoms out inside of you, pushing his entire cock into you so forcefully you're sure you'd fuse together, his hips stuttering and his mouth pouring out such a pornographic moan so erotic you're sure you combusted from his sounds alone. he's shameless. he's noisy. he's so fucking sexy he makes you want him all over again. he stills, and you can feel the way every atom in his body tenses as he fills you with his cum, so heavy and so warm, pouring himself into you. completely spent, you sigh chan's name as if it were a prayer, leaning into his touch and surrendering yourself completely to him. once he pulls out, you quite literally feel yourself gush with yours and his climaxes, spilling out of your entrance and down your legs, slowly and crudely dribbling onto your bedsheets below, likely already soaked with sweat.

you wait until chan lays down next to you, and you sluggishly, timidly crawl into his middle, resting your head above his heartbeat, still erratic and still winding down. his arm wrapped around your waist, his skin so much warmer compared to yours even now. chan's thumb affectionately stroked your clammy skin, all the while whispering into your hair, "just so you know, i'm not going anywhere."

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mysafehaneul · 2 months

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Timestamp! Aquamarine Au!

Wonwoo x Reader

Part of this Series.

Angst, Hurt comfort, a child and a dog and some ice-cream.

TW: Mention of Chondrosarcoma.

12:31am:

You found yourself leaning against the kitchen counter, hands still gripping the smooth slab as you watched the water slowly dry in the sink. Your gaze was fixated on the droplets that fell and scattered; your fingertips still damp from washing your cup earlier.

The evening dress clung to your body, a reminder of the office event you had attended on behalf of your father. A wave of sadness washed over you, the ache in the lump of your throat intensifying as your eyes stung with unshed tears. Memories played in your head, and life didn't feel the same ever since you found out about

your father's diagnosis with Chondrosarcoma. The feeling of impending loss loomed over you, lurking in the corner, ready to impose itself on you at any moment.

It had been two days since you lost your appetite, preoccupied with your father's condition and the transition of the company's management. Meanwhile, Noel was away for the summer with Jeonghan and Victor and their son, and your daughter was about to start preschool. Everything seemed to be falling into place, yet the taste of the tea you had just drank still lingered on your tongue.

As you stood there lost in your thoughts, you felt sturdy yet careful footsteps approaching you. The familiar scent of his being, fresh from a pre-bed shower, reached you before his arms wrapped around your waist. His hot breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His lips left a tingling sensation as they moved to speak.

"Everything will be alright," he whispered, his voice a comforting reassurance in the midst of uncertainty.

You drew in a breath, feeling your chest constricted as your brows scrunched in distress. Despite your efforts to control your voice, it still came out tight. "My father is dying, Won. What could possibly become alright?"

"Y/N," Wonwoo stood straight, pulling you closer to his chest as his hand gently caressed the top of your head, your head now resting against his shoulder. "Don't say that. You know I talked with Doctor Jung, and he's hopeful that there is still a chance. If we go forward with the treatment, then he can…"

"I know that, but at what cost, Wonwoo?" Your voice shook, tears streaming down your face. "He's 70 years old, and he refuses it. He says he'd rather live out his days than lease them in exchange for pain. And I don't understand what's wrong with my mother that she's supporting him in this."

Your knees wobbled, but Wonwoo tightened his grip, carefully sitting down on the floor with his legs crossed and placing your shaking body on his lap. He pressed kisses on top of your head, then nuzzled his forehead against your back, his heart breaking at seeing you like this – his strong wife who always pushed through no matter what hurdles life threw at her.

"How can they be so selfish? Why didn't they think of me? Doesn't what I want matter?"

"Your points are valid, Y/N, and I know that," Wonwoo began, gently removing your hand from your face to look at you, providing reassurance. Mascara ran down your eyes, leaving a trace in its wake, and your lipstick was slightly smudged. The sight made him hate himself for being unable to take away your pain.

With downcast eyes, you spoke, your voice filled with childlike innocence that left no doubt that even though your daughter took after him, she inherited all her mannerisms from you. "But I need my father. I'll always need my father. I can't fathom the day where I pick up my phone and dial his number, and he won't be there to pick up after the second ring and tell me, 'Don't worry, I'll take care of it,' Wonwoo. I hate to think about it. Even a thought like that makes me feel like someone has taken the roof off my head and left me in a room surrounded by walls."

Wonwoo could feel a lump arising in his throat as well. He reached out to kiss your tears, but you moved your head and buried your face in the crook of his neck, circling your arms tightly around him. He shut his eyes and did the same.

"Why do I have to be the one always losing people around me? Why can't I–"

"Please don't finish that sentence, please, Y/N," his voice wobbled as he tightened his embrace.

You let your emotions take over, and the sobs soon turned into silent tears. During that time, your husband silently rocked you, rubbing your back and planting kisses periodically. You didn't know how long you both sat there, but the night had surely grown darker, and his hair was dry.

When his voice hushed, "There will be times when life makes us realize that our mortality is the ultimate and unescapable fact. Thus, it makes it necessary for us to live it while we can. Instead of crying, fighting, and complaining, I think you should spend time with your father and make the most out of it so that you don't have any regrets again about the things unsaid and the opportunity to make new memories with him and our kids."

You shook your head in understanding. "Okay."

"Okay."

You wiped your face with the back of your hand and moved away from his neck, his eyes trained on you with the same gaze as the night in London where he proposed to you.

"Since when did you become so philosophical?" you gave him a small smile.

Catching on to your attempt to lighten the mood, he said, "Just ever since I married this woman. You may know her very well. Or Maybe it's a girl-dad effect."

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at his antics, a small smile gracing both of your lips. You leaned in and planted a kiss at the corner of his lips, pulling back as both of your foreheads rested against each other.

"Have faith, my love. Let's try and talk with him about the treatment together, hmm?"

"Hmm."

You took a breath as you were about to move off and go change your dress. The pitter-patter of small feet and four paws slowly rushed down the hall.

"You didn't put her to bed?" you asked, your eyes still closed. "I did," both of your heads still connected.

"Hush, Denny, you're making too much noise. You're gonna wake papa and mama up," the voice was now coming from the other side of the kitchen island as both of you were hidden from plain sight. "I am going to grab the chair and get the ice-cream, but don't bark, okay?"

"How is she going to move the chair?" you whispered to your husband.

"That's what I also want to know."

There was a little screech from the dragging on the floor, then a little huff resounded. "This is heavy," the cute voice concluded. There was silence for a few seconds when the patter against the floor resumed.

You both exchanged looks when Iris opened the pantry and brought out the kitchen step stool. With a look of triumph written across her face, she made her way to the other side of the kitchen where the fridge, as well as the two of you, were sitting, with Denny wagging his tail, giving the telltale sign that this was not the first time they were doing this and he was well aware of what was about to come.

"We wouldn't need this if Oppa were here," she said, looking at Denny, when you said, "Is that right?" making her startled and drop the tool. "Hello Iris, fancy seeing you here way past your bedtime."

Your daughter looked at you, then at her father, eyes widened. "Mama, Papa."

You raised your brows in acknowledgement, Wonwoo's failed suppressed chuckle slipping past. "What are you doing with that, baby girl?" he said.

She moved away from the tool and approached where both of you were sitting and said, "Papa, Denny woke me up and he wanted ice cream."

Wonwoo looked at you and then at Denny before amusing his daughter, "Is that right, Denny?" Denny, none the wiser, gave a bark.

"Well, if Denny wants it, then we can give it to him. You can go to bed."

"Noo," she yelped, then looked down and pouted. "So did I."

You and Wonwoo exchanged amused looks as he said, "Hmm, ice cream does sound like a good idea. What do you say, Mama?"

You couldn't help but chuckle as both of you got up. You wiped your face with the kitchen towel and reached out for the ice cream bowls.

When Iris asked, "What were you guys doing on the floor?"

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AN: I have an exam tomorrow but I am kinda sad, and can't take this scene out of my head, Its cringe might delete it later. I know I must focus on the cheol fic but ya know the same'ol writter's bloc. Wish me luck for my exam.

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 5 months

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Shadows Entwined: Part 5

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 / Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

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A/N: Boy, did this take longer than I had thought it would. Anyway, it is finally going again!💙

Also, how have I been so thick that I did not know commissioner Gordon is Batgirl’s dad?? My Batman loving little brother would hate me if he knew…

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You learn about a break in at Arkham Asylum and get a little closer to the leader in blue.

Warnings: None in this one. Just a little fun before the horror.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

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You watched curiously as the four mutant turtles started eating their pizzas, causing tomato sauce to be smeared all over their face. And you watched in amusement as they turned down Alfred’s offer on napkins, causing the poor man to enter yet another state of mental crisis. And here you thought your and Damian’s antics in the Wayne Manor was bad enough, but so far the turtles had already caused Alfred more trouble than you and your brother had ever done in a week.

Leo noticed the way you were looking at him and his brothers, and shot you a questioning look.

“Uhm…”, you said, holding a finger up to your face. “You got a little…”

“Oh!”, Leo said in sudden realization, quickly getting his face clean with the back of his hand. Once more you couldn’t help but laugh, and Leo found himself more focused on the beautiful sound instead of the pizza slice in his hand.

As Batgirl was about to take a bite of her pizza, and you finally managed to get a piece from Robin, Batman’s voice sounded behind you.

“Batgirl, Robin, (H/N). Shredder and Ra’s will be looking for something to replace the Cloud Seeder. Any leads on where they might find that?”

“Not right this second, no”, Batgirl said, quickly whipping the pizza grease from her face.

“Then that’s what you should be working on”, Batman said before walking away.

Suddenly the pizza in your mouth didn’t taste as great as it did a few seconds ago. You saw your brother stare down at the uneaten pizza in his hand, before he let out a sigh.

“Yes sir”.

“Come on, dude”, Michelangelo said, following Batman with a slice of pizza in his hand. “You can’t fight crime without partaking in a cheesy slice!”

“This isn’t the time for pizza”, was all Batman said, causing Mikey to stand back in shock and sadness, not believing what he had just heard. This prompted Donatello to comfort his brother with the same pizza slice, soothing his head while shushing him.

A familiar beeping rang out through the Batcave, with the well known bat logo taking over the big computer screen.

“The Bat Signal”, Batman said, turning back towards you and the rest of your bat family. “Robin, (H/N), Batgirl. Let’s move”.

“What about them?”, Batgirl asked, nodding towards the turtles.

“What do you mean, what about us?”, Leo asked, his eyes finding yours for a short second, causing your chest to feel a little lighter. “We’re coming with you”.

“Please no”, Robin said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If they come along she'll never keep her eyes straight!”, he exclaimed pointing in your and Leo’s direction. Your face suddenly felt hotter than the pizza slice you ate a few moments ago. You did not dare to look at Leo’s face, but had you done it, you would have noticed how his face has gotten just as hot as yours.

“I don’t know Shredder and I don’t know the Foot. Leonardo and his brothers are important assets”, Batman said, handing Raphael his sai back. “But, you’ll have to follow orders”. Batman eyes narrowed in on Leonardo. “This is still my city”. That comment did not go past the leader in blue. Batman wasn’t just talking about Gotham. He was talking about you as well. Asking Leonardo to follow his order on his ground, and his order when in regards to you.

“Deal”, Leo said, holding out his hand for Batman to shake on, only to be interrupted by Michelangelo, carrying the last of the uneaten pizza.

“We’re definitely gonna want road pizza!”

And with that you left the Batcave and went straight to the source of the Bat Signal. You did not find it surprising, to find the location to be Gotham City Police Department, and you found it less surprising when you saw Batgirl’s father standing on the roof, waiting, mumbling to himself like always.

“Hmm… Ninjas… As if he didn’t have enough problems in this city”, you heard commissioner Gordon say.

“Commissioner Gordon”. The old and tired commissioner turned at the sound of Batman’s well known voice. “What have you got for me?”

“It’s Arkham”, Gordon said, pulling a folder from his jacket. “The alarms went off an hour ago, but when…” He stopped, seeing the company that Batman had brought along. You, Robin and Batgirl was not an unusual sight for him, but four humanoid terrapins. That was something new. “What are those?”

“Teenagers”, Mikey smiled brightly.

“Mutants”, Donnie pointed out.

“Ninja”, Raphael growled.

“Turtles”, Leo finished.

“Have your boyfriend and his brothers been practicing or something?”, Robin asked you in a whisper, causing you to flick him over the head with your finger. Leo swallowed, acting as if he hadn't heard that.

Commissioner Gordon sighed, rubbing his temple, mumbling about a nice retirement where turtles didn’t talk.

“It’s okay Jim”, Batman comforted the commissioner. “They’re friends”. Jim Gordon took a second look at the four mutant turtles, thoughts spinning in his head, until Batman brought him back to reality. “Arkham?”

“Right”, Gordon breathed out, fixing his glasses. “When my people tried to move in they were attacked by ninjas. Like the ones that have been knocking over laboratories”.

“Shredder”, Leo grumbled, punching his left fist into the palm of his right hand.

“We got the perimeter locked down, but we have to assume there’s hostages inside”, commissioner Gordon continued, looking back down into his folder. “Guards, doctors, nurses. I need you too…” Jim Gordon looked up to find that all of you had already left. No trace of the people he just had been talking to. “Sure”, he mumbled to himself. “Leave before I finish, pff, that never gets old”.

You jumped and ran from one roof to another, right in the heels of Batman and Leonardo, listening as they were discussing the information commissioner Gordon had just provided.

“The Foot have been robbing high tech laboratories all week”, Leo said as you ran across the rooftop. “It doesn’t make sense for Shredder to take over an asylum all of a sudden”.

“It doesn’t matter”, Batman said, keeping his eyes ahead of him as you got closer to the edge before the next building. “Arkham and its inmates are too dangerous to take any chances”.

You jumped over the edge and the alley underneath, seeing the moon light cast shadows on the street below, before continuing onto the next roof. You heard as Mikey laughed and roared, riding his skateboard like a mad man.

“Last one there pays the pizza!”, he called out to Robin as he rode past him.

“It’s not a race!”, Robin yelled back in annoyance.

“Not with that attitude it isn’t”, Batgirl said, bringing out her grappling hook, before shooting away over the night sky.

“You gotta step it up, little brother! Otherwise I would like a family size!” you smiled, increasing your speed so you could get ahead of him, inching ever closer to Leo’s side. His blue eyes catching a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye. “What do you say, Blue? Last one there have to do push ups?”

“Just because I’m a turtle, it doesn’t mean that I am slow!”, he called after you as you raced ahead, a smile spreading over his face.

“I’ll have to see you ahead of me before I’ll believe it!”, you called out, jumping to the next building, your hair flowing behind you as you did so.

Doing his best to ignore the burning look from Batman, Leo sped out, jumping right after you. A laughter escaped you as you noticed he was catching up. Wasn’t all of you on a daring mission on your way to Arkham Asylum, with your father’s heavy gaze right behind you, Leo wondered what he could do when he caught up to you. Would he dare to hug you? Just the mere thought was enough to make him scold himself mentally. Just a moment ago he had thought of what Shredder’s plans might be, and now he wanted to hug you.

Leo watched as you jumped onto yet another roof, a level further down than the one you just came from, way ahead than the rest of Leo and the rest. Disappearing from his vision, Leo couldn’t help but get a little worried. He increased his speed even further, before jumping down to the same roof. But Leo’s worry only grew further when he couldn’t find you on said rooftop. A mild panic managed to settle into Leo’s head, worrying what could have happened to you. Did the Foot take you? Or Ra’s al Ghul? What would Batman say? Were you okay?-

“Boo!”

Leo jumped and turned, finding you laughing your warm laughter. He couldn’t help feeling relieved, seeing your happy smile in front of him. But how you managed to sneak up on him was a mystery. Yet another thing he wished to learn about you.

“I’m sorry, Leo”, you said, holding your stomach in laughter. “I couldn’t help myself”.

“No, it’s okay”, he said, taking the time to admire your face and your smile, just as Robin jumped over your heads and landed on the roof, his feet still moving as he ran.

“You gotta step it up, big sis!”, he yelled over your shoulder. “I doubt Turtle Boy can pay for my deep pan!”

Leo caught a glimpse of your face turning deep red under your mask, before you started running after your adopted brother.

“You little maggot!”

Leo couldn't help but chuckle as he started running after the two of you. Maybe it wasn’t so bad to be dreaming about hugging you. Especially not if you looked that adorable with a red face.

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69misato69 · 1 year

Text

Ravenous (Il Dottore x Pantalone) ✦ 3k, smut

archive of our own ✦ twitter

masterlist pinned on my profile !

dottore gets back from sumeru and what better way to test out his new remote-controlled vibrator than by using it on pantalone at the celebration dinner?

cw: anal sex, anal fingering, vibrators, blowjobs, handjobs, ejaculation, blood/biting, bondage (hands), gagging, a LOT of orgasms, overstimulation. all practiced in a filthy yet safe manner

Top Dottore x Bottom Pantalone

writer's note: explicit +18 content, please view at your own risk. thank you, have fun !

Pantalone sighed in exhaustion and frustration upon noticing the man sitting by his table. “How many times do I have to tell you? No clones in my office.” he emphasized every word passive-aggressively while shaking the snow off his coat. He had just returned from his evening walk out in the snow, it had become a habit of his to take an extra lap around the perimeter for the past few weeks since it helped clear his mind and dissipate the aching feeling of missing his lover.

By the time he was done with his outerwear, the clone had already approached him. “You’re hurting my feelings.” the silver-haired man pouted teasingly. Pantalone took a good look at him for the first time ever since he entered the room, and upon closer inspection, he quickly realized that this wasn’t one of the annoying clones that failed to stay out of his hair, inconveniencing him all day and eating away at his funds. But it was, in fact, his Dottore.

Pantalone didn’t exactly know how he told them apart, with most of them, especially the older ones, the resemblance was uncanny. However, attentive or distracted, sober or drunk out of his mind, Pantalone would always feel it in his heart. And at that very moment, that familiar feeling had returned to his chest. The feeling that was gone from his life ever since Dottore parted and left him stuck with looking at those dull clones all day, taking walks and overworking himself to drown out the sadness.

“Dottore?” he asked in disbelief. Dottore chuckled, gently pushing Pantalone’s back against the door to glue his lips onto the Ninth’s, the freezing cold lips that longed for Dottore for so long. He grabbed his waist, bound by the embroidered corset and slithered his tongue inside Pantalone’s mouth. Dottore could taste his yearning, the sweet relief of their long-awaited reunion. Though he probably had many questions, feeling Dottore’s lips on his own was enough for Pantalone to soak in the comfort and warmth mindlessly.

The door behind them suddenly vibrated with a firm knock. Pantalone sighed and brushed Dottore to the other side swiftly. Standing in front of him was his appointed agent. “Good evening, I didn’t want to interrupt you, sir. But the Doctor will be arriving soon, you are expected downstairs for the banquet.” he stated apologetically. Everyone knew that the Ninth hated being disturbed in the evening.

Pantalone acted surprised, “Oh? But he isn’t supposed to return until next week.” The agent nodded, “Yes, my lord. It turns out he completed the mission early. Would you like me to escort you downstairs?”

Pantalone smiled, “No, thank you, Vasilyev. I’ll be there shortly.” He closed the door. Suddenly it dawned on him that Dottore apparently notified at least a few people for a banquet to be thrown, and that he was not one of those people. He crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow, “Not even a letter?”

Dottore was already tangled around him again, he pressed a kiss on Pantalone’s neck, “You don’t like my surprise?”

“I…” Pantalone paused, “I do… I missed you dearly.”

His arms wrapped around Dottore’s neck, his cold body absorbed the heat of the Doctor’s body as he relaxed into his embrace. “I did my best to hurry back. I’d hate to keep you waiting.” Dottore turned him around and headed for the table while leaving gentle kisses on Pantalone’s lips. In a few seconds, Pantalone found himself seated on the harsh marble surface, grinding up against his lover. Dottore caressed his thighs and hips, soon slipping his hand inside the banker’s undergarments.

“Darling, I don’t think we have the time.” Pantalone warned with a lustful gaze that contradicted his words. He wouldn’t complain even if they were locked in his office until the morning, but timing was truly unfortunate. “This won’t take long.” Dottore’s fingers circled around his hole, “Just a neat little gadget I stumbled upon while I was in Sumeru.”

Pantalone felt his hips raise as a finger slowly entered him. He waited curiously, moaning softly into Dottore’s mouth as one finger became two, only to be replaced with a small, round object. “How does it feel?” Dottore asked.

Pantalone was confused, usually when Dottore found something or invented it himself for the two of them to try, it would always leave him mind blown, but this time, the sensation was disappointingly underwhelming. “I mean… it’s not very satisfactory in terms of size.” Pantalone tried to sugarcoat it.

Dottore dipped his hand in his pocket with a chuckle, “The size is hardly the point.”

“Then why did you—Fuck! Stop it.” Pantalone gasped when he felt a strong vibration ripple through his lower body. His eyes widened as he finally figured out what the device was for, it really wasn’t filling, but the way it stimulated him with just a few waves was otherworldly. Pantalone was speechless, the frequencies changed as Dottore’s hand moved inside his pocket, piloting what he assumed was a remote controller. Dottore couldn’t help but chuckle at his lover’s stunned expression.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d enjoy it.”

“I do. But, take it out now. We should leave and I certainly can’t face people like this.”

“Are you back, Regrator?” Pulcinella’s voice echoed from behind the door.

“Yes, just a moment.”

“Come on then, we must get going.”

Dottore whispered in his ear, “Dinner will be more interesting this way, don’t you think, my love?” Pantalone pulled on his shirt’s collar, “Don’t you dare use it until we’re alone.” As soon as he finished his sentence, he felt another wave pulsate between his cheeks, he covered his own mouth, muffling a loud moan at the last second.

“What did I just say?!”

“We are alone.”

Pantalone scoffed, Dottore helped him get off the table and kissed his nape, “Don’t forget your zipper, Regrator.”

“A moment of your time, please.” Pierro clanked his utensil against the glass to get everyone’s attention. All the harbingers and high-ranking agents aside from a few aristocrats associated with the Fatui in secret were scattered around the table, sipping their drinks and asking Dottore about his journey, they immediately fell silent upon the call. Pierro cleared his throat, “We are gathered here today to welcome the Doctor home, and of course, to celebrate his monumental victory.” Loud claps and half-drunk yells of encouragement and praise echoed through the giant hall, “Dottore, a few words?”

Dottore laughed as he stood up, bowing with his head to those sitting near, especially the Ninth seated right beside him. “Thank you all. I don’t have much to say except, it feels great to be back.” he slipped his hand in his pocket and held his drink with the other, simultaneously Pantalone started coughing shakily, the sip he just took going down the wrong pipe.

“Are you alright, Pantalone?” Columbina handed him a glass of water. “Does my return excite you that much, Regrator?” Dottore jested, giggles and laughter gradually filled the room, even Pierro’s lips curled upward.

Pantalone gripped onto his seat, trying to hold his ground against the vibrations, “I’m okay. Please, do carry on.” he said calmly. Dottore hummed, “Thank you for the honor and the warm welcome, I shall dedicate this to our Fair Lady, may our reign be as ever-lasting as her protection over us.”

The attendees applauded him once again before returning to their conversations, Dottore leaned close to Pantalone and asked slyly, “Are you enjoying yourself, precious?”

Pantalone had his signature smile plastered on his face, his eyes were squinted while he nodded and agreed at the remarks being made. “Not at all, thank you for asking.” he whispered. Though he appeared to be enjoying himself, only Dottore could see the deathly glare buried in his gaze.

The rest of the event wasn’t any easier on Pantalone, the worst part was that the remote control’s range was unbelievably wide. Even when Dottore was out of his sight, he could easily activate the device from afar at unexpected moments, making Pantalone tremble with pleasure and embarrassment. He spilled his drink a handful of times and had to list out one too many apologies for his off-putting, unusual behavior.

Dottore was also exploring a new aspect of the power he held, and that was keeping Pantalone away from people who tried to make a move on him. He was a beautiful man indeed, at banquets, dinners and parties he gathered a lot more attention than he intended to. Furthermore, he was too nice to reject people.

When Dottore would ask about it, Pantalone would always say that it takes no effort to listen to the compliments and answer with a simple “thank you”, but it definitely did bother Dottore. If people knew that they belonged to each other, no one would dare to even think about courting him, let alone attempt it. Trying to touch what was Dottore’s was no different than a death wish.

But at least for one night, Dottore could crank up the frequencies all the way up so that Pantalone would be forced to excuse himself from the conversation every single time. Pantalone knew that his lover was a jealous man, he quickly connected the dots to realize the device was maxing out whenever someone poured him a drink, or touched his arm.

Somehow, he managed to get through the entire night and eventually made his way through the exit, bidding farewell to the rest of the harbingers in exhaustion.

He rushed to his room and left the door open slightly so that Dottore could enter. He walked inside a few minutes later, finding Pantalone sitting on the bed, rubbing his temples. He stepped towards the banker, running his fingers through the silky, dark locks.

“You seem tired.” Dottore remarked, “Shall we go to sleep?” A sly grin formed over his lips as Pantalone looked up, restless and uneasy, “You’re an evil man.”

“Yet you love me.”

“Of course I do.” Pantalone snuggled up to his chest, “But it doesn’t change the fact that you are evil.” Dottore smiled and began to strip him, slowly pulling away the many layers Pantalone walked around with all day. “You hid it so well, though. Professional as always.” he laid the dark-haired man down on the bed and reached into the bedroom drawer, “I bet no one could tell what you’d be doing later tonight.”

“To be fair, I don’t know what I’ll be doing later tonight either, my dear.” Pantalone quipped expectantly. Dottore got on top of him and straddled his hips while tying the banker’s hands above his head with a black leather strap. He chuckled, “Isn’t that the best part?”

Pantalone hummed, it was true, the Doctor was full of surprises, it was one of the many virtues that made him so enticing. He placed a kiss on Pantalone’s lips before gagging him with a ball that made its way around his head. The restraints discomforted Pantalone until he got used to the feeling, Dottore kissed his body up and down soothingly, assisting him while he settled down.

“I know you’re on edge.” the silver-haired man moved down to lightly bite his inner-thighs, “But you can enjoy it freely now.” He reached for the remote to set a medium pace and strength for the vibrations. Pantalone’s moans stayed muffled on the gag as Dottore left a long lick from his base all the way up to the tip.

“Also, if you really wanted me to turn it off… Well, you’d know exactly how to stop me.” his fingers wrapped around Pantalone’s cock, sliding back and forth to send shivers down the banker’s spine.

“But I knew you wouldn’t.” Dottore unchastely sucked on the tip, “Because I know that deep down, you’re just as sick as I am.” Pantalone was unable to hold even a single muscle in place. He melted away at his lover’s touch, his lewd words, his restraints that left Pantalone completely vulnerable and at his mercy. “Even when you hide it behind that innocent smile, I can see the monster underneath.” Dottore went for his soft, porcelain thighs again and dug his teeth in deep, imagining the scream Pantalone would let out if he was able to do so.

“That’s how I know we’re made for each other.”

Tears wetted Pantalone’s face as he struggled to hold still, blood seeped out of the spot the Doctor marked, he tasted the thick, crimson drops forming on his other half’s thigh. The banker’s hair and skin color contrasted each other beautifully, adding red to the mix was the cherry on top for Dottore. He absolutely adored Pantalone, especially when he was all laid out like this, it felt like feasting on a meal, tasting all the different courses, eager to move on to the next.

Experimentation was what Dottore found most thrilling, and it was no different when it came to their relationship. He found joy in testing Pantalone’s limits, seeing how much he could take, and bringing out this twisted, indulgent side of him. At first, Dottore used to think that Pantalone was too shy and selfless to stop him, but over time he realized that he also enjoyed being in this state of helplessness, so long it was controlled by Dottore.

Pantalone loved being preyed on, he adored the way Dottore devoured every part of him, oftentimes worshiping him like a god and degrading him like a sewer rat when he felt like it. He loved getting red, puffy cheeks coated with salty tears, he loved the bruises and the marks, he loved tasting his own blood off of Dottore’s tongue, he loved every batshit crazy method the mad scientist would deploy on him.

Now that his blood was dried up, Dottore’s lips were wrapped around his cock, sliding with ease and sucking on the areas he knew to be sensitive. It didn’t take long before semen shot out his tip, finally breaking free from the shackles of being pent-up all night. Dottore swallowed with pleasure, cleaning all the excess from Pantalone’s groin as the bitter taste corrupted his palette.

He reached for the remote and put it on a higher setting before the banker had any time to recover. The veins on his forehead and arms were becoming more visible, strained with pleasure and lust. Being unable to breathe properly was making him dizzier by the second, but Pantalone knew that Dottore wouldn’t let him pass out, instead he would keep him on the verge of collapse for hours on end, making sure he was alert enough to squirm at every wave of pleasure, but not strong enough to do anything about it.

He was the Doctor after all, an expert on human biology, and an insatiable lover when it came to his darling Pantalone. The dark-haired man sank even more into the mattress, parting his legs to their limits as he slithered under Dottore.

“That’s perfect, spread them even wider for me.” Dottore grinned as he squeezed his thighs, “You wanna cum again, don’t you?”

Pantalone shook his head up and down needily. “So unfortunate, no one took care of you while I was gone?” Dottore’s question was coated with fake pity, “You could always ask one of the clones.”

Pantalone shook his head left and right this time, though much more violently. “No?” Dottore’s brows raised, he liked teasing Pantalone about the clones, knowing how much he hated them. To the banker, they were nothing but cheap copies, taunting him at any chance, it disgusted him to even look at them, let alone get intimate with one.

Pantalone whined, his gaze pointed down, then up again at the Doctor’s face. “ Oh , you want me, I see.” Pantalone hummed faintly. Dottore stripped and slicked himself before lining up with his entrance, Pantalone’s eyes widened, curious to see if Dottore would take it out first or slip in directly. He did the latter, pushing the device even further into Pantalone’s prostate while stretching him out.

Tears streamed down his pale face as he felt fingers wrap around his cock and work it out viciously. Too much. It was more than he could handle, mind-bending heights of pleasure splitting his mind open as his whole body was rocked left and right.

It was hard to distinguish where one orgasm ended and the other began, cum kept leaking out of him, wetting his own groin and stomach. Dottore wouldn’t stop unless he drained all of it, leaving Pantalone a shriveled husk, a sensitive and satisfied, well-fed mess. Dottore lifted his legs and threw them over his shoulder, adjusting Pantalone to be even tighter. “I love it when you cry. So pretty.” he purred, “You look so desperate.”

Pantalone looked up at him with reddened eyes as he hyperventilated through his nose. “I’m lucky to be the one messing you up like this.” Dottore pressed a kiss onto his thigh. Pantalone left his body to spasm freely and unravel under his lover until his orgasms turned dry, physically unable to release any more. Dottore turned off the device and took it out before inserting himself back in. His tip racked against the sensitive, abused bundle of nerves deep within Pantalone.

He finally let go as well, spilling inside with an intense wave of pleasure. Pantalone closed his eyes, soaking in the warmth, the peace of his overly-satisfied state. Dottore leaned forward without pulling out and released the knot on Pantalone’s wrists and at the back of his head. Without letting him take a deep breath, he pressed a passionate kiss onto the banker’s lips, now with his freed hands Pantalone tangled his fingers in Dottore’s silver locks, clinging onto him with gratitude.

As they pulled away, Pantalone’s eyes began to shift, exhaustion washed over him while he pulled Dottore to his side. They laid in an embrace, and when Dottore finally attempted to pull out, Pantalone protested with a whine. “No? You’ll sleep like this?” Dottore chuckled.

Pantalone didn’t answer, he nuzzled his face on his lover’s neck, unable to resist the need for rest any longer. Dottore held him close and kissed his head lovingly, “Okay, I’ll clean you up.”

Pantalone mumbled faintly, “Night…”

“Goodnight, my beloved.”

Dottore witnessed the room fall to silence, all he could hear was Pantalone’s deepened breaths as he drifted off to sleep. He laid beside the dark-haired man he adored, placing soothing kisses all over his illuminated face before pulling away to clean him up for a night of well-deserved rest.

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #dottolone #genshin dottore #genshin il dottore #genshin pantalone #dottore x pantalone #genshin smut #mlm #mlm smut

127 notes · View notes

lavendertales · 2 years

Text

Rekindled || Javier Peña x f!reader**

summary: back in Laredo, Javi’s past weighs heavily on him. luckily, a long lost love is there for him.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: mentions of religion, loss and depression, alcohol and smoking; piv, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, doggy (what can I say, sad slut Javi needs some comfort). song inspo.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @skyshipper

read on AO3

The air is thick with heat, sweat and long lost memories. Some better than others. Not a single breeze rushes through the air. It’s all still, almost as if dead.

In all honesty, Laredo is both comforting and haunted.

Can’t be any worse than Colombia though, Javier thinks fleetingly as he tosses and turns in his bed. The heat is holding him in a chokehold, but you think he’d be used to it after facing years of it both here and in the drug paradise. But there’s a certain sadness attached to his hometown.

The looks people throw him, the smiles, the soul-aching melancholy that creeps its way into his heart each time he sets foot back home, they’re all making him feel even more disappointed with the outcome of his so-called career.

Home, he scoffs and stands to the side of the bed, his head in his hands. It’s been far too long since he last thought of a place as his home. Laredo is, now more than ever before, a dusty memory at the bottom of a box filled with many more of the same kind.

People here view him as a hero. Javier, on the other hand, feels like a failure. Yet he still shakes the hands of those who reach out to him to thank him, still offers a faint smile in their direction that fades into regret not a second later. He’s glad he can at least help his father though. He’s not getting younger, and the ranch needs a lot of work. That is now his sole satisfaction.

Okay, perhaps not the sole one.

He remembers your face vividly, like it is permanently tattooed on his brain. You were never exclusive; there was never any definition attached to your relationship and truly, there never seemed to be enough time. You were two acquaintances finding occasional solace in each other’s arms. Bodies entangled together, creating the only safe space either one of you ever knew, bringing pleasure to the other.

You’ve known each other for a long time. You were barely teenagers when your connection blossomed. Time split you apart, threw you in completely different directions and yet, whenever Javier made his back to Laredo, he subsequently made his way back to you.

He is a special part of you. That you would deny to no one should they ask, not even to yourself. Always has been, always will be. But you know him better than to admit to some childish feelings that could imprison you both to a lifetime of misery, or unwanted responsibilities. Things tend to work like that in this silly town: traditional, ancient, and you and Javier were either of those things. Each time you saw each other it felt like the first time, and there never seemed to be enough time to give in to each other.

But you do care for him, just as much as he cares for you. He needn’t say it or even show it in some way. You feel it.

Sometimes enough for you both.

It’s a little over midnight as he’s arriving to your house through Laredo’s heat in that rusty old truck he claims to hate, but that he can’t rid himself of. All he can hope to do is have a smoke, a conversation and maybe even a little taste of you, just a singular taste, then he can go to bed.

Except it’s never just one taste when it comes to you. And certainly not little.

It’s hard to explain. You’re… familiar, soft and comfortable. You understand, you reciprocate and you care. And it’s the best Javier could ever ask for.

He cares, too. Too much for his own good. So it’s far easier to conceal it underneath a thick cloud of nicotine and waves of liquor and carnal pleasure.

He parks a little further down the road so as to not stand out with that truck, and takes a deep breath. There is a faint light coming from your house, much to his relief. He wouldn’t want to wake you up just for his usual shenanigans. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting out of tonight or what he needs. He just needs to see you, to be with you, however that may be.

Usually confident with the opposite gender, you somehow render him speechless. A devilish trick, he likes to say and watch you chuckle with a je ne sais quoi that makes his heart tremble each time without fail.

Maybe he cares for you even more than he himself knows.

He musters the courage to knock on the door, pack of cigarettes already in his hand. He still plans to quit. Just… not tonight.

“Hi,” you greet him with a reassuring smile.

Javier releases a long breath, his gaze locked in a trance on you. Your hair is loose, combed and luscious as ever, and you’re wearing a silk robe that makes him swallow—hard. Unsurprisingly, the sight makes him a little hard, too, but he pushes it out of his mind. He hasn’t seen you in a few weeks by this point and it feels simultaneously like an eternity had passed and that it was like yesterday.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

One look in his chocolate, warm eyes that gape at you like a lost puppy and you are ready to surrender everything.

You make sure to close the door behind you, noticing that Javier steps aside to let you first. You diligently guide him to the living room, where you had been reading for the past hour, hoping to fall asleep.

Yet sleep eluded you, now more than before.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” you ask.

“Too fucking hot,” he says, already lighting his cigarette. “Too many… thoughts.”

“Was one of them me?”

“It always is.”

You smile at him and extend your own cigarette at him. “My lighter died,” you explain.

Sometimes you enjoy talking to Javier. There is plenty to be said and he is a remarkably smart man. But you have the feeling that right now, wrapped in the smell of nicotine, isn’t one of those times.

“You remembered to park closer to the trees, right?”

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you.

It’s not that either one of you cares about those folks commenting on your whereabouts, but you really didn’t need to be the town’s hot gossip, especially when Javier’s reputation had never been better.

“What’s keeping you up?”

Javier takes a long drag out of the cigarette before releasing the smoke and answering you.

“Life.”

“And I was worried you’d be vague.”

He looks out the window for a while, and you know not to push for more.

You know all the insignificant things about him that make up his puzzle-like persona: how he likes his coffee, his go-to breakfast, his favorite cigarettes and whiskey, as well as his favorite past times. But you also know the big, ugly truths: the heartbreak, the pain, the anger and the disappointment, the lost hope… you suppose you know him inside out.

But you could never say with certainty what he is. He’s merely a friendly face. You don’t dare think more. He’s there when you need him, and you are there when he needs you. That matters more than anything else.

“Everyone thinks I’m some sort of hero,” he says after a while.

“According to what I hear, you are.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like a fucking failure.”

You observe him quietly, steadily, like he’s your biggest and dirtiest secret. In a lot of ways, you suppose he is. Right now, you only see a disappointed man who is searching for a purpose, for more answers. He was always the kind of man who needed to know everything. He could never let things without definition.

Which is surprising considering that neither of you labeled this, what you were doing. Certainly more than friends with benefits if it were up to you, but who could say what was truly going on inside his head?

“You made it out of this town,” you remind him. “I call that a win.”

“I’m right back to square one.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you want to stay in this shithole forever.”

Javier chuckles softly, trying his hardest not to remark the way your robe is sliding up your leg and teasingly exposing your thigh to him in the golden, dim light.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “It’s a pretty bleak future ahead right now.”

“Have you been praying?”

You know the answer to this one, so the question is, technically, redundant. He’s never really been a believer, but he didn’t fight against it either. He sort of let the idea float in the air.

But there was a time in his life when he prayed. Day and night he desperately prayed for his mother, breaking your heart little by little. One day, Javier stopped simply wishing for good things. The day his mother was gone, he stopped. His hope began to fade away, but he never fully cast it away. He rather put it in the same box of old things he longed to forget about.

“For what?” he asks, slightly irritated by the notion and crushing his cigarette in the ashtray. “For justice? For a better tomorrow?”

You shrug. “Just because.”

Instead, Javier scowls. “Without any purpose, reason? ‘Just because’?”

“Not everything needs a reason, Javi.”

He doesn’t fight you on it. He simply looks at you, his eyes sneaking the occasional glance at your thigh, and gulps. His head is spinning, the room is much hotter all of a sudden.

“We need reasons to go on, don’t we?”

His voice is breaking in the slightest, and it makes your heart ache so.

“Some of the best things in life don’t have a reason behind them,” you try to reassure him.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Do you think people fall in love for a reason?”

A tricky question, but Javier is smart, and deep down he knows why you ask.

“No,” he responds. “I think it just happens.”

“See? A lot of good things happen without reason.”

“Alright. No argument there.”

You hide your smile as you finish the last of your cigarette. Some of his Texan accent slips in and it charms you as it always does. You rise from the armchair, headed for the kitchen. Javier follows, his eyes hungry and darkened. You pretend you don’t notice for the sake of the game because you know where things are inevitably headed.

What you don’t know is how things will progress.

“Whiskey?” you offer, and he instantly nods.

It’s his favorite, and one of your personal favorites too. You know it warms him up and makes his blood boil in his veins to the point where he craves a way to release all the tension.

“Have you ever fallen in love?” he asks.

How bold of him, you chuckle to yourself. If you play the cards right, you could offer a smooth answer that might tickle his curiosity. Why give the best away?

But again, Javier is smart. As everything has a reason for him, this question has its intentions laid out before you as well, only concealed in a very innocent manner. Maybe he craves to hear something flattering, something that would soothe his nerves and erase his melancholy and inner conflict, but he isn’t sure how to go about it.

“Maybe,” you reply with a coy smile.

Javier chugs his whiskey, placing the glass on the counter and approaching you with the same hungry eyes.

“Thirsty, are we?”

Javier shrugs, moistening his lips. “You don’t know the half of it.”

The smile on your lips stays longer this time, paired with flattery and heat from the drink you also chug. With Javier, you always need a little preparation to keep yourself calm.

“Have you ever been in love, Javier?”

“Once or twice.”

“Better than most.”

He’s so close to your face now that his warm, whiskey and nicotine-infused breath is tickling your nose. You stare at him, waiting and pleading for more, an insatiable hunger nesting in your belly.

And the key to its ignition is right before you.

One of his large hands goes around your waist to pull you in, the feeling of skin on silk maddening enough. He looked you over from head to toe, slowly undressing you of your robe. He lets it slide down your shoulders and draws in a quick, sharp breath upon seeing your silky nightgown.

“You could easily kill me one day, cariño,” he whispers as if in disbelief.

There it is. That little pet name that burned your whole being by simply being spoken in his husky voice.

“Honey, I wouldn’t dream of that,” you reassure him and caress his stubbly cheek.

His lips are on yours in an instant, hands rubbing your sides tenderly. You feel the tension in the way he kisses you, how it resides in his whole body in spite of his efforts to seek relief. You sigh brokenly as his lips travel to your neck and he pushes you into the granite counter, spreading your legs to make room for him to grind in between them.

The throbbing in your cunt weeps and aches and you squirm in his strong arms, your hunger only increasing.

“Javi—“

He licks a spot on your neck that triggers a moan out of you and spurs him on. You need this as much as he does, and you figure whatever crisis he’s going through, you can at least provide some physical comfort to him.

He spreads your legs further and lifts your nightgown enough to expose your pretty pussy, and suddenly you throb even more.

“Commando, huh?” he teases. “Were you waiting for me, by any chance?”

“You know I always do.”

He lowers himself to pepper kisses on your inner thighs, working his way up to your pussy, giving a tentative lick from your overly sensitive bud all the way down. You moan and reach for his hair, tugging with desire.

“Javi—“

He starts working against your clit, a wet and rather loud pop of his lips on your soaked ones. You feel a smile breaking from his lips along with the faint tickle of his stubble and you smile in pure bliss already.

“Easy, cariño,” he tells you in between wet kisses. “I got you.”

You can only moan at this point, and then he starts to really eat you out.

With Javier, everything’s a mission; he leaves nothing to his broken faith, so he seeks to do what he knows he’s good at. Obscene slurps emerge from in between your legs, with Javier’s face utterly buried there. It was far better than whatever late night snack you might’ve planned to have, and the same could be said about Javier.

Fast paces breaths leave your throat as Javier’s tongue dips in and out of you, up and down and in any possible way he can think of. The sounds emerging from you work as a terrific stimulant for him, so he dares add a finger to his ministration, starting to stretch you out. You moan louder, much to his delight.

“You don’t want the whole town to hear us, do you, cariño?” he asks sweetly.

“I don’t care—I don’t care—oh, fuck—“

He adds a second finger, carefully stretching you out and listening to your sounds to make sure you’re okay. When he sees your head thrown backwards and feels your hand tugging his hair tighter, he smiles. Son of a bitch actually smiles, knowing he’s doing the right thing in getting you nice and wet for him.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace, growing harder with each passing second, but so desperate to feel you cum that he’s close to spilling himself in his jeans, like a pathetic fucking teenager.

“You’re doing so good, cariño,” he encourages you. “So good… do you want to cum on my fingers? Hm?”

“Yes—yes, please, I do—“

You’re running out of breath already as you’re moving your hips forward to meet with more of his head.

“Can you make it a good one for me?”

“Mhm—“

“Go on. Fuck yourself on my hand.”

You do just that; you rock your hips to the best of your abilities to meet his fingers pumping in and out of you for a few more seconds till you come with a muffled cry of his name, almost ripping his hair out from how hard you’re tugging.

Your whole body is flushed with his presence and the aftermath of that climax. Javier’s fingers leave your swollen cunt and, just as he meets your eyes, he takes them to his mouth and thoroughly sucks on them, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You taste so fucking good,” he tells you.

“Javi.”

“Yes?”

“Would you please fuck me already?”

He giggles, a childish, playful sound that brings happiness to you.

“If you ask so nicely,” he teases.

“You’re the one who came to me.”

“Guilty as charged.”

You bite your lower lip, getting down from the counter. One of the best things about sex with Javier is that, no matter how sweet and romantic or rough and needy, it always leaves you feeling dirty. The feeling lingered.

He unexpectedly picks you up and carries you to your bedroom, making sure to turn off the light on your way there. After all, you wouldn’t want anyone drawing the wrong conclusions if they saw that old truck parked there and a light inside the house.

Then again, hiding is one of your fortes.

The only light now is the moon breaking through the glass windows, and it’s more than enough. You fall underneath him on the bed, the slickness of your cunt growing to be almost uncomfortable. Your legs wrap around his waist on their own accord, making his mission of undressing more difficult. You feel him hard against your stomach and you shudder.

“You feel that?” he asks from the crook of your neck. “You feel—how hard you get me? Every—fucking time.”

“You know how to flatter your women.”

He lifts his head, a few stranded locks of hair bouncing from his forehead as he looks down on you. “There’s no women, plural. It’s only you.”

You hold your breath, begging your mouth and your heart to not accidentally spill something that might drive him away.

So you struggle to pull the nightgown over your head, but Javier stops you. Instead, he breaks from you only to remove his jeans and underwear. Looks like he’s going for practical and needy tonight.

He smells of alcohol and cigarettes and cologne, as per usual, but he also smells like… him. Your unspoken safe haven wrapped up in a musky, earthly scent.

Javier takes himself in hand, giving himself a few preparatory strokes under your studious eyes. He can tell you’re enjoying the show, maybe as much as he does, but it hurts to touch himself like this. It hurts when you’re right there, legs spread and your pretty pussy glistening for him, waiting.

Finally he guides himself to your entrance, his weeping tip barely touching your soaked lips, and he moans.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “Fuck, I could cum right now like this…”

“That’s fine.”

“N-No, I need—I need to feel you—from inside out.”

You both gasp as his cock pushes past your soaked lips, slowly filling you up to the brim, just the way you both liked it. One hand goes around his neck to pull him down for a hasty kiss as he gives a first thrust.

“Oh God,” you moan.

“He’s not here right now. Only me.”

“Only you.”

It’s your reassurance to him that, indeed, there is no one else for you. Come to think of it, you’re not sure there ever was anyone else. Your mind and body carry all of his touches, all of his kisses and warm breaths.

He starts moving, and it’s not rough or fast because of the lack of time. Not tonight. It’s intimate and passionate, but deep enough for you to feel every single thing. He’s throbbing wet right there inside of you, each sharp snap of his hips bringing you closer to nirvana. Your moans get mixed up, coming out as a singular shaky one. He’s kissing you messily as his hips fall apart into yours, your bodies rocking against one another.

You feel so full, so heavy and cared for that the burn in your lower belly arrives faster than you might’ve anticipated.

“J-Javi—Javi, I think I’m—“

“Yes—yes, that’s it. Cum all over me, that’s right—you’re doing so good, cariño.”

“Fuck, I’m so—close—“

“Cum on me, give it all to me… you got this, you’re so good—so fucking good and perfect—and warm—“

And mine.

But he doesn’t finish that thought out loud. He’s too afraid to say it, even after all that time, and even with you.

You’re both as loud as you can be by that point, and it doesn’t help that the window is open. But you can’t help it. There’s nothing in the world that could stop you from reaching that high.

You start to clench around him, and unbeknownst to you, Javier smiles like a madman. This is the best feeling in the world, being sheathed inside of you like he’s part of you. He starts to feel the thrill of his own climax fast approaching and he fucks into you faster. The only sounds are ragged breaths, the nearly violent slap of skin on skin and the endless stream of yes, yes, yes coming from you.

You cry his name when you cum, nails digging into his still clothed back as his cock twitches inside of you, shooting his burning hot seed as deep as he can. You gush hot and wet around him and so does he. It’s a concoction of bodily fluids, quick breaths and sweet nothings whispered to each other. Sweat breaks down the navel of his back, his neck and temples, and he feels like he’s about to explode.

How the fuck is he still half hard? What kind of witchcraft are you pulling on him?

He doesn’t pull out. He’s barely moving, but he stays there. He’s afraid to even leave you. What would he be without you? He’s not sure. But maybe he’s not that broken when he’s around you.

“Still not enough?” you ask cheekily.

Ever the insatiable man, Javier. He smiles kinda shyly, like he doesn’t want to ask for anything more.

“Then let me take care of you,” you propose when he fails to talk.

“No, I—want to be inside of you.”

“That’s… where you are.”

“Need more.”

“So take whatever you want.”

“Can I?”

You nod, and his tongue moistens his bottom lip. You sure knew your way around him. It always went back to just how well you got him, how much you knew every scar, every navel and ridge of his body, every quirk of his.

He pulls out, grabbing your hips with strength and care alike as he turns you around. He gives your ass a big squeeze, followed by a few playful slaps, and again you shudder. He always molds the skin of your body like it’s playdough, kneading it between his calloused fingers with ease.

You moan out loud when he starts fucking into you again, this time from behind. His thrusts are no longer controlled; you gave him full control so he takes exactly what you give him. He’s downright railing you, his hands holding onto your hips as he reaches to the deepest part of you. You moan and grunt, unable to form any coherent thoughts.

“So—fucking good – “Javier mutters. “Fucking—perfect.”

He’s chasing his own high, selfishly so, and there’s something terribly hot about that. Even more so considering that he had asked for your permission. It was a lethal mixture, really, the sweet side of him that not many got to see, and the insatiable man who went after what he wanted.

There’s not much else said; soon, Javier’s haste is rewarded when his climax hits again, unexpectedly prompting yours. Surprised, Javier snaps his hips as fast as he possibly can in order to help you both, knocking all the air out of your lungs—and his, subsequently.

“You like this? You like—feeling me get so—fucking hard for you, all the time… and fucking you like this?”

“Y-Yes, Javi—“

He slows down, his hands arching your body all the way up so he can pepper messy kisses on your face, his cock still twitching inside of you, barely settling down. Your cheek is a little salty on account of your ragged, happy cry from your third climax. You feel him everywhere, in your whole body.

Then you both lay there, underneath the moonlight, with your needs sated, your head on his chest. Your mind resumes its furious pacing, but you don’t give it full control.

“You’re the best thing I have, you know that?”

Javier’s confession comes out of the blue and it almost shocks you. Although in retrospect, it probably shouldn’t. It’s not like you don’t know you each feel strongly about the other. It’s just never been verbalized.

And perhaps that was for the best.

“You got your family,” you remind him. “And don’t say something about me being family too because that would soil what we just did.”

He chuckles, moving a little so he can take a better look at you. His thumb sweeps across your cheek, then his lips find it and press a chaste kiss on the same spot.

“I don’t know if I believe in any mightier deity, but when I’m with you… pretty sure this is heaven.”

You smile, somewhat melancholic yourself. “Don’t try to butter me up.”

“If anything, I’d try to either liquor you up or spread some melted chocolate on you.”

“Ah, but you forget we did that one time.”

“Oh, right. Vegas.”

You both chuckle, with Javier pulling you in closer, wrapping his arms around you. He can feel your heartbeat as you rest against him, fast still, and he smiles, kissing on your forehead.

He might’ve not been religious, but you must’ve been some sort of angel who looks out for him in the best way she can.

And right now, that’s enough.

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña smut #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut

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madefordvarka · 9 months

Text

Kites (Gabriel/Renato)

Trauma is a fickle thing.

It’s something Renato knows all too well- he’s dealt with his own through life, and continues to do so each day.

He knows how it lurks in your chest and waits and waits until something just wrong enough happens, and rips it free from where it’s lodged.

How easy it makes you lose control, erases rational thought.

Sometimes it's next to nothing that causes memories to resurface, and Renato looks over just in time to watch as Gabriel falls into himself.

Gabriel avoids his gaze- his face contorts in anguish before he cries a familiar mantra about being broken.

Oh, Renato understands trauma.

He understands it in a twenty-first century human capacity.

Of bullies and broken hearts and loss.

Not like this.

Renato reaches for hands that tremble, as concerned features soften.

“You’re safe, you’re safe,” He whispers, as he pulls the man into his arms, “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Renato knows this is a lie.

Here he cannot make such promises but he knows he’ll damn well try to do whatever he can to keep Gabriel safe.

Gabriel whimpers, and Renato feels his heart shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. He seems so small, so fragile when he gets like this.

As Gabriel recalls his life- what he’s remembered since arriving in the Fog, Renato wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy. As his soul rips apart so do the fail safes carefully put in place to keep him submissive.

He remembers the pain.

The torture.

He was a child.

Gabriel tries to keep it to himself, but Renato hears him as he talks in his sleep. Half the things he chooses to share Renato already knows because of this.

It’s hardly ever that he wills himself to share small details about things he remembers.

None of them are great.

Most are awful.

The only memories he knows are real are the ones on Dvarka - ones of disgusting food, overworking, and fear.

Sometimes, Gabriel shares and Renato pretends not to feel the ache that settles in his chest.

His story breaks his heart, everything about his life is so unbelievable and yet?

Gabriel Soma fills Renato with a hope and love unlike any other.

Renato hopes, he prays and prays that he’s enough.

He wants so desperately to make Gabriel happy- it’s the least he can do, and the bare minimum of what Gabriel deserves after what he’s been through.

Renato Lyra hates talking- but he knows he’ll talk and talk until his throat is hoarse and words won’t come out anymore if it means that Gabriel can have some relief.

He feels as Gabriel curls his fingers into the back of his shirt, and Renato rests his chin in his hair.

His cries dissipate.

Comfort.

“One day,” He says, “I’ll take you to fly a kite, okay? I think you’d like it.”

Renato’s voice is soft yet strong.

He oozes warmth and kindness he never knew he was capable of.

Gabriel shifts in his arms, and buries his face into his shoulder.

Renato keeps going.

“We’ll fly them on the beach with Kate and Thalita,” He smiles as he thinks about it, “And then we’ll get ice cream and I’m sure you’ll get brain freeze because you’ll eat it too fast.”

He’s met with silence- for a moment he considers if he’s said the wrong thing, yet something tells him to sit with it.

When he’s ready, Gabriel speaks.

“I wouldn’t,” Gabriel states. His tone is matter of factly- filled with a playful seriousness, “I’d be busy trying to take yours.”

Renato smiles wider.

Despite the sadness that lingers in his voice, Gabriel’s response is light.

“Unfair,” Renato laughs, “I’d let you steal it because I love you.”

Gabriel shifts away. He quirks a brow and looks up at Renato with eyes filled with absolute adoration, “Do you promise?”

Renato feels the look is less about the ice cream, and more about the sentiment behind it.

He wishes he could make good on his promise now- the waiting game is agonizing.

“Of course I promise! It tastes better-”

Gabriel’s quick to interject.

“No, not about that,” He pauses, teeth sink into the flesh of his lower lip and gaze falls to hands that rest in his lap, “That you love me.”

Renato’s heart races. Has someone ever loved Gabriel before? Can you love someone you inflict so much pain onto? Surely those scientists that raised him couldn’t have.

No, there’s no way.

Renato feels agony whenever Gabriel is hurt, Thalita and his other friends too, for that matter.

When he thinks of what Gabriel went through it angers him- it makes him wish he was there so he could have saved him.

Gabriel is unloved.

Was.

Was, was, was.

Gabriel was unloved.

Renato loves him, loves him more than anything.

But is it enough?

He feels the way he breaks apart, the lump in his throat chokes him.

Now is not the time for this!

Renato forces the smile back upon his features, and reaches to rest his palm on Gabriel’s cheek.

“I promise,” He finally answers, “More than you know.”

#my writing #uploading like this cause some people like it idk #Dead By Daylight #Renato Lyra #Gabriel Soma #long post

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missmeowfam310 · 1 year

Text

Lee Know Knows everything

Hello, to anyone who might stumble upon this. This is something I had written for my, ex- bestfriend, and I think I want to share it to others. English is not my first language, I in fact SUCK, but I love reading fanfiction, and I love writing for people, I know this oneshot is far from good, but I still hope anyone who reads it enjoys it.

I love lino so much and I tried to showcase it in this fic.

Summary: You met this weird boy. (yeah this pretty much is)

pairing: Lee know x reader (y/n)

genre: fluff.

Wordcount: 3.7 K

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

"HEY!!! HEY!!! STOP PLEASE! SIR!"

finally the bus driver stopped when he noticed you.

"thank you" you said not looking grateful at all, after running for a whole damn 10 minutes.

"I hate this man"

you whined under your breath while trying to find a seat.

"BRO SAME HE NEVER WAITS FOR ME TO SIT DOWN BEFORE HE STARTS DRIVING AGAIN!"

you heard a voice on your left where a familiar young boy sitting next to the window.

you're not that social but he looked so cute pouting

" this bad man makes me stumble every morning as if he enjoys seeing me humiliated"

he continued, looking sad

you decided to set next to him.

" damn, stumbling in front of everyone every morning? What a way to start your day”

You surprised yourself, you’re not the type to talk this comfortably with a stranger.

"I know right? ah, it's alright, why do YOU hate him though?"

The sudden eye contact caught you off-guard.

"you have such beautiful eyes!"

you shocked the both of you with this statement, but it had to be said, sparkly, honey, and every other adjective.

His beautiful eyelashes, long enough to create a shadow on the tail of his eyes appearing as an eyeliner.

"OH! thank you I guess"

shit what is wrong with you.. he looked adorable though, smiling shyly while blinking too many times, it seems like it's his habit?

"well, this 'bad man' just made me run after the bus for a whole five minutes just because he couldn’t wait for more two minutes"

you sounded so angry.

"might as well run to the school since you’re that good at running"

Oh he’s cheeky

" I guess I should have run "

you agreed, smiling at him while acting like you're seriously considering his suggestion.

"we go to the same school right? because you look a bit familiar"

he asked you sounding a bit confident.

"yeah I guess because I feel like I've seen you before too"

"cool!" he said while gesturing a thumb up

"cool!" you replied

He’s weird, you love it

both of you kept the conversations going, words flow smoothly with him, you found him funny, adorable and a bit charming to be fair...

you both walked each other to your classes, " see you later" he said.

you smiled, "see you later"

you've never enjoyed somebody's company as you did today with- FUCK!! you can't believe you didn't ask him about his name! well to be frank it wasn't a usual "nice to meet you" conversation that ends ups with actually knowing the person's name.

Wow it’s your first time seeing the place so quiet and not so crowded, there was no line to wait in so you’ve got your food pretty fast, sat on a table alone because burritos before amigos!

Enjoying your meal peacefully while listening to a song your friend had recommended -which was not like anything you’d personally listen to - you turned it off looking a bit disgusted and mad because she kept gassing it, questionable taste as usual, shaking your head in disappointment.

“damn why you mad bro chill a bit”

It’s him again, now you’ve gotta ask him about his na-

“I’m lee Minho, friends call me lee know because I know everything, and that you’re Y\N, I know where you live too”

“okay that’s not creepy at all, lee know.”

You said, looking unfazed.

“Been going around asking about you all day, my efforts are totally wasted”

“and you’re disappointed cuz?”

You asked him, because he looked so done with life, even a bit mad which made you laugh.

“you’re supposed to be surprised with my amazing abilities, also, what a weird laugh, do you always make this noise with your nose?”

What did he just say?

“I-“

“I love it”

oh…

“0-okey thanks I guess lol”

“YOU PRONOUNCE LOL TO??? “

“I get roasted for it but no fucks are given”

He high-fived you with cute smile

“you have a cute smile”

You’re not that person who throws compliments so much but he makes you do that a lot.

“oh thank you dear Y\N”

He fake-giggled covering his mouth with his right hand

He received your smack on his shoulder because he’s looked like a silly rabbit, then he acted like you stabbed his arm, his extra ass started banting but as you ignored his existence, he quit his act and sat down to eat like a normal human being.

“why are you sitting alone?”

He asked with full mouth, you gave him a disgusted look

“my friend didn’t come to school today”

“you have friends??”

This mother fuc-

“OUCH IM SORRY! You take no joke huh, I bet you’re an Aries or a Capricorn, always so salty”

Speechless you were, because of course he was right, lee know knows… you heard him laughing, and his laugh brought a smile on your face.

“let me guess, you’re probably a Capricorn, you have that attitude, anger issues too, must be fun”

“if you think that I’ll be offended then you’re incredibly wrong, I am a proud Capricorn”

“yeah obviously lol”

“lemme guess, hmmmmm”

You stared at his face looking for answers, while he gave you a weird smile, you can count all of his teeth.

he seemed like cute asshole, savage, smart but silly, a Taurus? nah he’s not that naughty, or he is?

“damn is it really that hard, I’ll give you a hint, I’m lethal”

“A SCORBIO?????”

“yessssss”

“makes lot of sense to be very honest”

“what do you mean”

Opps he looked offended

“you, love yourself and its obvious”

“aren’t we all supposed to love ourselves? Look if you don’t love yourself enough, no one will love you”

He looked proud

“you talk a lot”

“I know”

“we know”

“you know”

“lee know”

You spent your break with him, it’s a lot of Minho in one day, you need to charge a bit.

The day is finally over damn this was an exhausting one. Walking to your bus with your headphones on listening to same playlist, it startled you when someone pulled on your bag’s belt, you didn’t really appreciate it, you turned around ready to fight but it was just lee know smiling his cute little smile , you removed your earphones because you saw his lips moving but couldn’t hear shit.

“been screaming out your name for hours”

Shit

“oh sorry I’ve had my earphones on”

“yeah I figured”

You walked in silence together to the bus.

“is this our thing now?”

He asked, making no eye contact, which is rare, because he likes to stare right into the eyes, is he nervous?

“what do you mean?”

You asked confused

He had his hands inside his pockets, eyes stuck on his feet.

“oh you know, walking each other to our destinations “

you couldn’t help but laugh at his cuteness, he was shy, nervous too, which is probably why he was avoiding your eyes.

“hmm I guess? “

You said with a smile, he looked satisfied.

You continued walking to the bus, and right before you took the bus steps, he pulled you from your bag’s belt, again, you almost smacked the shit out of him, but then he took the jacket that was hanging from you bag, sneaked his arms around your waist, and tied the jacket’s sleeves around your waist. He took his time tying it perfectly, and you took yours, staring at him, the way his bangs sat on his eyelashes, you feel your body getting warmer, he feels warm too, his hair looked shiny.

You patted him on the head when he finished, mouthing a soft “thank you”

“such a good boy”

With a smirk you said, as he walked next to you trying to find a seat.

“ew shut up you’re embarrassing me”

“OH MY FRIEND IS SUCH A GOOD BOY AWWWW”

He pulled you to set in the last pair of seats before the last row while you were cracking up at how embarrassed and shy he looked, you sat on the chair still laughing, whipping your tears, and something felt off, you turned on your left to check, and he was weirdly quiet, he had his headphones on, you can hear the music, it was -twice’s feel special-

“oh so you’re a twice fan, so typical”

“…”

Now you got it, he’s mad, and ignoring you too, cool, it hasn’t been a day yet and you’ve already managed to make him mad, amazing, your only talent.

“hey”

“…..”

“heyyyyyy”

“…..”

“HEYYYYYYYYY”

People starred at your loud ass but you gave no fuck

But you hear no music now but he’s still acting like he can’t hear you.

“well, guess you don’t wanna come over to rewatch endgame”

You whispered loud enough for him to hear.

You saw with the corner of your eyes how he froze and swore under his breath so you let out a laugh but acted fast as if you didn’t.

But he looked at you and saw your small smile.

And he giggled, so you giggled too.

“I do, want to come over to rewatch endgame”

“oh I know you do”

“cool”

smiling, he’s so cute, like a little baby, gets easily angry and with a candy it’ll be like nothing-

“if you tried to pull shits like this again imma hang you from your foot on the school’s gate”

He whispered at your ear in the sweetest voice ever, it gave you chills.

“boy chill damn “

He seriously scared you, big Scorpio energy.

But then he gave you one of the headphones side, he played breath by lee hi, it’s a long ride till home, and you were tired, the urge to put your head on his shoulder was extreme but you held it in, you kept on yawning, when he took your hand that’s next to him, pulled you a bit closer to him, and pushed your head lightly on his shoulder, while your arm is in his lap, and his arm is in yours, you held tight into it, you gave up and slept.

You were having a nice warm nap, until your nose felt itchy so you opened your left eyes to see a shadow in front of your face, you tried to clear your sight and open both of your eyes, you were blessed with Minho’s face, Minho’s smile to be specific, with his cute teeth, and his beautiful lashes. You saw his lips move but had no idea what he was saying, when the bus stopped you realized it was your stop, so you stood, gathering your stuff.

“see you tomorrow” with sleepy voice you said

You walked to the door, looking at the steps as you get down, the bus driver drove away and then you realized it’s not your stop.

Fuck.

You looked back to see the bus was far away already, but Minho was running to you from the same direction.

When he arrived, he was on the ground dying with laughter.

“-I can’t damn”

He was breathing heavily and laughing at the same time.

You stood there crossing arms waiting for him to stop his bullshit.

“you are DEFINITLY not okay, agh “

He giggled

“you done?”

You asked him is a bored tone, and no he was not, cuz once he looked at you he started laughing again, tearing up too.

So you started walking to your house which wasn’t that far from this stop, and he soon enough started walking with you.

“damn I’m thirsty as fuck” he stated

“I bet you are” you laughed at him

It is your thing, now that you think of it, he walked you everywhere.

“why are you smiling like a fool?”

Were in fact smiling like a fool, but you’d be damned to admit it

“I was not” you denied

“you definitely were”

He said sounding certain

“whatever”

“and by the way”

He stressed

“what moisturizer are you using?”

Wha-

“why are you asking about my moisturizer what th-“

“you’re always glowing like a glazed donut, my dry ass skin would never”

“oh poor you, bae I ain��t using any moisturizer, it’s just my oily ass skin, I use a serum that’s a bit hydrating, skip moisturizer and use sunscreen afterwards”

“I don’t call that oily skin; I call that being a privilege”

He’s not normal, you doubted before but now you’re sure. (now I know, now I know)

The five minutes’ walk you were both chatting and giggling in felt like a one minute walk.

“oh, we’re here”

He said not sounding happy at all.

“c’mon in”

You invited him gesturing with your head towards the door.

“oh- no it’s okay no need to-“

“shut the fuck up and get inside lemme offer you a drink”

You walked to the door waiting for him to follow and you were sure he will.

He did.

You took off you shoes, wore the house slipper and offered him a pair too.

“so, water? Orange juice? Mango juice? Coke? Sprite? fanta-“

“damn do you have own a bar or something? Water please I don’t drink anything else”

“lmao acting all healthy while all you eat is burger king”

“what the heck? How do you know?”

“we ate lunch together stupid, and you spilled all of your secrets”

“oh right “

You shook your head at him and went to bring him a bottle of water from the kitchen.

As you were taking the bottle from the fridge, you glanced to see him looking so awkward, just standing there, which you thought was so cute and adorable but you quickly threw the thought out of the window and hurried to give him the bottle.

“thank you darling”

He said smirking at you.

“I ain’t your darling sweetie”

You smiled at each other, you both have the same sense of humor which is your conversations are never free of jokes and sarcasm.

“thank you for walking me home”

You said almost whispering cuz ew you hate saying cringy things out loud.

“I honestly got off the bus to laugh at your ass”

“yeah right, that’s why you ran all the way, to laugh at me “

“yup, exactly”

He bites his lips holding his smile, barely.

Oh no what’s happening to you…..

It’s been two months since you and Minho became friends, you’ve been hanging out A LOT lately, more than y’all probably should, even your best friend noticed it.

You were both, your best friend and you, in the class before the break period, chatting while the teacher is answering students’ questions.

“I’m REALLY craving pizza”

You whined at her.

“let your new boyfriend buys you some”

“Minho, his name is Minho and he’s not my boyfriend”

You said, getting defensive

“yup sorry, Minho, your boyfriend-to-be”

“stop it before someone hears you”

“hear what?”

‘speak of the devil’ you thought

“hey Minho”

You friend greeted him

“hey Sara how are doing?”

“I’m fine, you?”

Why are they chatting as if they knew each other since forever? This bothered you.

“what do you want Mr.Lee knows everything?”

he’s so used to your rudeness now, nothing affects hi-

shocked by your question, he answered anyway.

“you said you wanted me to join you in your audition”

He said in a new tone that you didn’t like.

“oh right! I always need you by my side in the hardships, my brave and noble knight”

You HAD to fix your attitude because making him sad was NOT an option, you’d rather cut your arm-

“I know how much I mean to you and how much you need me-“

You take it back

“shut the fuck and let us go so I can be the first one in line, bye Sara see you later”

“bye, GOOD LUCK!”

She screamed as you both walked out of the class.

“THANK YOU”

You screamed back

You linked your arms together, yours and his.

It’s a habit now, he’s cozy and you feel so comfortable around him despite the crush.

You arrived to the hall where the audition room is, you were so nervous, shaking and breathing heavily, it was an audition to the school play, you were into acting since you’re a fake ass b-

You loved movies and shows, you loved how with a plot and a scenario, you could live another life, which is you respected actors so much, how they can showcase a whole character and live its life, and how they step out of their own personality and reality.

You were breathing so fast you feel your heartbeat going crazy, when a sudden warmth covered your hands.

It was him.

“hey hey, look at me, breath, inhale, exhale, you’ll do well, you practiced million times, just imagine it’s you and me, just as we practiced, calm down”

You’re far beyond crushing on him now, you are certain, you are deeply in love with him, you couldn’t help but pull him into a hug, he froze for two seconds but soon he wrapped his arms around you, rubbed you back, squeezed you a bit.

“you’ll do well I promise”

“thank you Minho”

You broke the hug and gave him a grateful look.

He slapped your shoulder

“LETZZGOOOOO YOU CAN DO ITTT”

He screamed in the middle of the hall gathering attention.

On other occasion you’d scold him for screaming, but right now, how could you? He’s cheering you up, embarrassing you both in the process, you couldn’t do anything but stare lovingly at him, he’s so precious.

“if I get accepted, I’ll tell you something”

You will, you’ll tell him how you feel about him, even if you don’t pass the auditions, it won’t matter because his support is enough for you.

“I’m going in, wish me luck!”

“GOOD LUCK Y/N YOU GOT THIS”

You knocked the door and got in after hearing the permission to get in.

“you’ve got the support as we can hear” your teacher said.

You laughed in embarrassment, but also in pride.

“show us what you got”

Twenty minutes passed as Minho was waiting for you in the hall, his neck snapped to the door’s direction once he heard it, you finally got out, but he couldn’t read your face, you walked calmly to him, he opened his arms ready to comfort you but you surprised him when you held his face and kissed his left cheek.

You backed away and smiled widely at him.

“REALLY????”

He screamed looking shocked as fuck and you nodded

“YOU GOT IN??????”

“yes”

You said, feeling emotional.

And he took you in his arms lifting you while hugging you tightly.

“omg I’m so proud of you”

He said while brushing your hair with his fingers.

“stop it or I’ll cry”

You hit him on his shoulder.

“put me down now”

You told him but he’s still holding you.

“shhhhhh lemme embrace and appreciate you a bit”

Your heart is racing tt might jump out of its place.

“I have something important to tell you Minho”

He heard your serious tone and got you on your legs but he still got his hands around you.

“so,”

You started, while he was staring at you in anticipation.

“we’ve been friends for almost two months, right?”

You stated without actually really asking.

“and I-“

“two months and two days to be specific”

He added before you finish and you laughed at his usual habit of stating facts in unusual times.

“yes, friends for two months and two days, and I really found myself, like, really, you know?”

No he did not know, he was staring at you with his eyebrows raised making you even more nervous.

“go on you’re doing amazing sweetie”

He comforted you while squeezing your waist a bit to relax and continue.

“so basically, I am soooooooooo attracted to you, I really never thought that I’d-“

“oh….”

He interrupted you again but this time you weren’t sure you wanted to continue.

“….”

He kept staring at you, and you can’t read his face, it’s the face he makes when he spaces out and starts thinking, thinking in what? No one knows.

“why did you stop? Continue!”

He pulled you even closer and his expression has totally changed, to a playful one, with his cute smirk, so you smiled at him while putting your arms on his shoulders, getting cozier, the both of you.

“hmmm?”

He hummed, tilting his head to the side while smiling at you.

“the point is, I really like you, like a lot”

You finally said it, sighing because damn that was tough.

“oh y\n”

He sighed too, but with a smile.

“I’d kiss you if we weren’t in the middle of the hall-“

You cut him off by jumping to peck at his beautiful lips.

His expression was priceless, his eyes were wide and his mouth stayed at the position.

“this works too, I guess”

He giggled his cute giggle that gives you a stroke, and looked around avoiding eye contact.

“lee Minho are you SHY????” you screamed.

He shook you in his embrace acting like he’s mad and will kill you.

“but you didn’t tell me if you like me too….”

You said after realizing.

“wait- so you don’t really know?”

He said with pure shook on his face.

“know what?”

“I thought you already know that I liked you, wasn’t I being obvious?”

Oh, he likes you too…

“no, I didn’t know, I was too immersed in my own crush to notice your feelings, sorry”

You replied while playing with the hair on his neck KNOWING he’s sensitive in this area so you laughed at his reaction, he cringed with closed eyes.

“stop it”

He whined with the tinniest voice ever.

“I’d kiss the shit out of you if we weren’t in the hall-“

You said, this time, but he was the one that kissed you, deeply this time, with passion, he KISSED YOU!!!

He backed off with a satisfied expression, while you were still lost in your own feeling, you felt like your soul was leaving your body in the best way possible.

“I think we should go get our lunch before it gets crowded in the cafeteria”

You said to finally change the situation, so you linked your arms and started walking towards the cafeteria, as usual, no major changes, comfortable you were, and he’s still the same Minho.

(I hope you liked it, tell me what you think)

#lee know #lee know fluff #lino fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids #lee minho

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darkakacademia0 · 1 year

Text

𝓐𝓫𝔂𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓮

The cream-and-gold dragon flew and hovered above her head, and the green-and-bronzeone prostrated itself at her feet. The black-and-scarlet beast was draped across her shoulders, its long sinuous neck coiled under her chin. They made a beautiful picture together, the three of them, like one creature, like a family of dragons and their riders…

She stared down at the red dragon, then looked up to where Katsuki should have been. He wasn’t there, and she could feel his familiar presence in the air around her. She knew that he had left the estate early this morning, as if he didn’t want to miss out on anything else of importance for the rest of his day; something about how he hated waiting, or something along those lines. And yet…

He couldn’t hide from her forever. After all these years, the bond between them still existed; it was simply stronger now. So why did his absence leave her feeling so empty?

No, no…it would be best not to think of him right now. Not when the task ahead of her was so important. She turned to her companion, and smiled warmly. “So what are you going to do today, my lovely boy?” she asked.

The brown dragon lowered his head, allowing her to stroke his smooth scales. His tongue flicked out, tasting her face affectionately. The sensation reminded her of their first meeting, almost thirty years ago. How many years had passed since then? She had lost count after the hundredth. It didn’t matter. As they had become more familiar with each other, as they learned more and more about each other, the number seemed to decrease; until finally, the only thing that remained constant about them was their bond. Their connection. That was all that mattered to both of them—and even though time moved forward, it was always present in the moments when their bond still lingered. She felt its comforting weight across her back like an extra wing. It was a comfort that came from the dragon, not herself—not yet, anyway. Soon enough, she promised herself. But she wouldn’t force herself to rush into things yet; she wanted them to take their time, and enjoy the simple things in life. It took effort, after all, to maintain such strong ties between two creatures who had been so disconnected from each other for nearly fifty years. She didn’t want to risk breaking her promise to herself and jeopardize the moment when their bond became permanent. Besides, she had plans, and she was looking forward to them very much. She just had to wait, and give the opportunity a chance to arrive. Her dragon nuzzled her cheek again, before moving away from her. The green dragon curled itself behind her, making herself comfortable in the crook of her arm. Its soft purr rumbled through her body. Her eyes flickered closed, taking comfort in the sound. In the midst of the storm raging outside, she knew that everything would be okay in the end. No harm would come to either of them, because their love endured. She never doubted it. The bond they shared was indestructible.

And when the time comes, we will know, she told herself firmly, I know that the time will come soon, and then everything will go according to plan. For now, it was enough to just hold onto each other, to be close, to know that nothing bad would ever happen to either of them. And she knew that this feeling would last. It was too precious to be ruined.

The wind gusted, blowing strands of h/c hair across her face. She pushed the locks away impatiently, ignoring their tickling, and instead watched as they floated upward until they caught on a gust, dancing across her face. She blew softly upon them, watching as they settled gently onto her nose, lips and brows, until they completely covered her entire face. The wind carried them away, swirling and billowing with a hypnotic grace, while the sun glistened overhead like a golden coin held high over a city of gold. It was a moment that would always remain etched deep within her heart. The sight brought her joy, but it also made her sad, because soon… soon, she would lose it forever.

When the sun set completely and the moon rose high, she pulled the blankets up higher over her, and closed her eyes. She drifted off, lulled by the comforting rumble of her dragon and her own steady breathing, and hoped that tomorrow would bring better fortune to her beloved. When the sun came back up and the sky shone with a brilliant blue, she slept.

When she awoke, she felt strangely refreshed, and despite her fatigue, a sense of urgency coursed through her veins. Something was definitely wrong. Her senses were on fire, buzzing with energy, and she had never felt anything quite like it. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly, her heart started pounding faster than normal, and her palms were wet with perspiration. Her body screamed with pain that she hadn’t felt in centuries, but somehow, inexplicably, she refused to open her eyes and investigate the cause of the discomfort. She wanted to stay where she was—just as her body was. Just as she felt safe. As long as she stayed here, she could keep the darkness at bay, keep the pain at bay. She could live like this. Forever and always, she could.

But, she couldn’t. It was too late. Her eyes popped open, and suddenly, the light hurt. Her vision blurred, and as if through water, she could see nothing but bright, white light.

It was hard to breath, to move, and to think. Everything was slow motion, and she struggled to understand what was happening to her. The pain was intense, like being stabbed through the chest repeatedly, but she was grateful that it was so intense; if not, it would drive her mad. She needed something to distract her. Anything would do at that point—so long as it distracted her.

There was a distant sound, and when she heard it, her blood went cold. It was a voice, calling her name; an unmistakable, familiar, sweet voice. She strained to hear it, trying desperately to recognize that voice, the same way she tried to remember every detail of the past few months.

“Y/n!” A woman shouted, somewhere near the front of the house. “Are you alright? Where are you?”

Y/ni? Was she Y/n? Did she know that particular voice?

As her thoughts whirled and spun, she tried to grasp onto something. Anything. There was only silence, and the agonizing agony that coursed through her chest. Suddenly the sounds stopped, and all she could do was scream. Her throat burned with every sob, and there was so much pain… so much pain…

Then…

Suddenly, everything went black….

#katsuki bakugo imagine #fantasy #dragon #bnha bakugou #fantasy romance #romance #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou x female reader

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aparticularbandit · 4 months

Text

Christmas Traditions

Summary: Agatha and Cian celebrate their first Christmas with their still unborn daughter.

Agatha Harkness/Ancient One

Rating: G. TW: Eating Disorder and Dysphoria.

AO3

What Agatha hates most about being pregnant is how much more she has to eat. She’s gotten used to eating again over the years, although her ability and desire to do so ebbs and flows. When she’s stressed or upset, it gets worse, and so she barely eats – whenever she has a miscarriage, which happens often, it takes days of Cian convincing her to eat something, to give her grieving body more than just bone broth. But there’s something warm and familiar and comforting in the broth, in the salty thickness of it, and it warms its way through her tired bones.

Now, however, while Agatha is pregnant, while her stomach is swollen far larger than she ever thought it could be, Cian has returned to cooking breakfast for her every morning - a mixed mish-mash of things that sometimes even the smell of which makes her nauseous. The early weeks of her pregnancy were filled with so much vomiting that she remembered why she’d never used that as an option; the taste of bile thick in the back of her throat and on her lips never went away, no matter how many times she scrubbed them with a toothbrush, no matter how much broth she drank (because at least she was able to keep that down). But now, in the last trimester, she feels less nauseous and more engorged. She can’t see her feet over her stomach.

And every now and again, that makes her stomach roil and writhe with discomfort.

She might want a child – she might even desperately want a child – but this isn’t her. This isn’t her body. It’s something else, and a part of her, no matter how much she doesn’t like to think about it, wants it out.

Christmas Eve finds Agatha curled up on the couch, bemoaning the state of things, unable to do what she would love to do and lie on her stomach, burying her head in her pillow, because even trying to do so makes her feel all sorts of uncomfortable. it’s almost worse when Cian sits next to her on the couch and sets a plate full of…she doesn’t even know what right now, all food looks unbearable, but Cian places it on her stomach, where it not only fits but where it balances.

You should eat something.

Agatha sinks lower against the couch. The plate on her stomach rustles but settles. She would have felt better if it fell. I’m not hungry.

Cian takes a bite of their own food and then tacks her plate with their fork. You are upset and frustrated, which frequently happens when you are hungry.

I think I know if I’m hungry better than you do.

Cian turns just enough to give her a look, not one that is startled or shocked or sad or disappointed or anything like that, but somehow a combination of all of the above. Of course, you do, dear. They don’t have to say it – But you have a long history of ignoring that knowledge – to have it sit heavy in the air between them.

With a sigh, Agatha picks the plate up and sits a little straighter – a little more comfortably – on the couch. This position won’t be comfortable for long. None of them are. More often than not, she feels like she’s about to burst, and no amount of moving makes that pressure go away. She picks up a piece of bacon between her forefinger and thumb, stares at it and the grease covering it, and scowls.

What? Cian asks. You don’t like bacon?

I love bacon, hon, Agatha answers, the scowl not disappearing. I don’t love all the grease. She tears a paper towel off from the roll that normally is not in their living room but which has been moved for easier access and dabs it across the bacon before taking a bite. The grease lies on her tongue, but she crunches her way through the first piece anyway.

When she’s finished with it, Cian reaches across and kisses her cheek. Good girl.

Agatha blushes. If you do that with everything I eat, maybe I’ll finish. She’d never said that the first time Cian began cooking for her, when they were training her how to eat again, when she’d never wanted to eat anything at all without exercising the whole of it off, when she’d forgotten what she looked like without being skin and bones. She’d never said it then, but she’d wanted to, and now that she can, she’ll take advantage.

No.

Not take advantage.

She will never take advantage of Cian again.

Still, Cian offers her a gentle, soft smile. Eat something else, and see what happens.

Later, Agatha’s eyes sweep among the vast pile of presents beneath the tree. There’s more than there usually are, but just enough for what will be in the future. Of course, Cian and Agatha have gotten each other presents, as is normal, but this year, they’ve gone ahead and gotten presents for their child yet to be. She may not be born yet, but that doesn’t mean this can’t be – and isn’t, in some respects – her first Christmas.

Can we open one now? Agatha asks, one lip curving with mischief.

Cian shakes their head. You know the rule. We open presents on Christmas Day, not before. They meet her eyes. You wouldn’t want to teach our child to cheat, would you?

No. Agatha leans her head heavily against Cian. You know what I want most this year?

What’s that? Cian runs their hand through her hair. It fits into each of the smaller tangles and slowly picks through them without any pain at all.

Agatha leans into their touch. You.

Cian chuckles and kiss the crown of her head. And I you, my love.

It would be so easy, in this moment, to tilt her head enough to kiss them, but Agatha feels swollen and unlovely and certainly unsexy, so she doesn’t. Instead, she curls a little closer to them and rests her head against their neck. Even like this? she asks, not looking up. Even old and fat and ugly?

You are none of those things, my love. Cian continues to run their hand through Agatha’s hair. You are still young – far younger than myself—

Don’t remind me—

—and what you see as fat and ugly, I see as beautiful. Cian places a hand on her swollen stomach. You’re carrying our daughter, our tiny Lillian Rose. There’s nothing fat or ugly about that.

Agatha knows they have seen her avoid the mirror most mornings anymore, unable to see how the change hasn’t happened just to her stomach but has happened to her face as well. She can’t look at herself because then she isn’t herself. That face in the mirror staring back at her isn’t her; it’s something else; and she wants to tear at it until it looks the way it should again. She’s never tried.

(It’s the same as how Cian once found her day in and day out measuring her weight until, eventually, they’d taken the scale and thrown it in the garbage. They’ve done this less and less frequently during their relationship – and not at all during their marriage – not because the compulsion isn’t still there, but because Agatha has stopped buying scales. She tries to rest secure in Cian thinking she’s beautiful because that’s what she wants, most days – for them to think she’s beautiful, and fuck what anyone else thinks.

But Agatha, herself, is part of that anyone else, and sometimes, no matter how much she clings so desperately to what Cian thinks, it all creeps back in.

It’s worse now. She knows it. They know it. They’re trying to get by.)

Here, Cian says, their hand still on Agatha’s belly, why don’t we start a movie? Something for Christmas?

It’s a distraction. It’s not even a subtle one. But Agatha still nods. Muppets, she says, not because it’s her favorite but because she knows how much Cian hates it. She grins when she sees the look on Cian’s face. Our daughter’s first Christmas Carol movie should be Muppets.

The best thing about being pregnant is that Cian very, very rarely tells her no.

The movie ends shortly after midnight, and then Agatha turns as quickly as her body will allow, and looks up at Cian with eyes as big as she can make them. Now we open presents? Please? She adds a whining tone to her voice, one that she knows Cian likes.

Cian lets out a groan and tangles their hand in her hair. They give a sharp tug. You have to wait for Santa, dear.

What if I don’t believe in Santa?

Cian looks down at her. Their eyes flit from Agatha to her stomach, where their baby still dwells, and then back up to meet her eyes. Are you truly going to teach our daughter such shenanigans? they ask, raising one eyebrow. Are you willing to give her permission to stay up this late only to wake us up because technically it’s Christmas? Even though she hasn’t slept a wink? You know she’ll stay up even later then, just to play with all of her toys, just to read her new book.

But Agatha holds Cian’s gaze. One present, then, she argues. Pajamas. Or a nice pair of festive socks.

You bought me festive socks?

Agatha just grins. I bought you pajamas.

Cian stares at her. They blink twice. Oh. Their gaze flicks across her, and their lips curve in the slightest way that shows their pleasure and amusement without ever growing into a big smile. That’s not how Cian expresses themselves, and Agatha, knowing this, sees that curve at the corner of their lips and preens.

They’re very festive, Agatha pushes.

Fine, Cian says with a sigh that sounds like displeasure but is clearly feigned. Show me what you bought us.

In the morning, with Cian dressed in a Rudolph onesie, complete with a red nose, and Agatha nearly dressed in a Santa onesie, though it’s unbuttoned around her stomach, they settle back in the living room to finally open presents. Cian makes Agatha wait until after she’s eaten – cinnamon rolls this morning, because it’s Christmas, and because while Agatha, even on a good day, has a hard time not thinking about the calorie intake, she still loves the taste of them, loves the cinnamon and sugar mixture, loves making her way to the center and eating the best bit all at once. It’s always – even now – a reminder of how far she’s come, and it warms her just as much as it warms Cian.

Before they begin, though, Agatha reaches over and flips a switch on Cian’s onesie. If we’re going to start, this needs to be on.

The red nose on Cian’s Rudolph onesie begins to blink a bright red. The color paints their face, and they cross their arms, feigning a pout. I can’t believe you’ve done this to me.

Agatha just reaches up and kisses their cheek. Lillian will love seeing you in it.

At her words, Cian’s gaze lowers to Agatha’s bare stomach. They place their hand there again, and it feels warm against Agatha’s skin. Should we let her open her presents first? they ask.

Even Agatha feels the kick in response. She laughs, a small but happy thing. I think she answered that question!

Later, they put all of Lillian’s presents in her room. It’s already been decorated, but now it’s more so. Maybe it would be a bit overwhelming to anyone else – and it is to Agatha, too, sometimes – but they’re happy. They’re excited. And whichever plushie Lillian decides is her bestest friend forever that neither of her parents can ever take away from her – well, let’s just say said parents have a bit of a wager going on, with some very specific prizes linked to specific toys.

Agatha sets the newest plush toy –a stuffed white bear in a red pajama suit covered with glow in the dark green stars – in Lillian’s crib. She runs her hand along the wooden exterior and smiles, a small thing. We’re waiting for you, she says and places her hand on her stomach. Everyone is waiting for you. And you are going to be so loved.

Like always, Cian wraps their arms around Agatha. They settle against her, resting their head on her shoulder. She’ll join us when she’s ready, dearest. She’s just like her mama. They kiss Agatha’s cheek. She wants to make an entrance.

Agatha chuckles. Just like you, too, angel. Then she turns in Cian’s grasp and kisses them.

It’s a small Christmas – bigger than normal, with all of Lillian’s gifts – but it’s right, and it’s theirs.

Nothing could take that away from them.

#bandit fic #december banditnanza 2023 fic #agave fic #agatha harkness #cian masters #agathian #mcu #tw: eating disorder #tw: ed #tw eating disorder #tw ed #ed tw #eating disorder tw #dysphoria tw #tw: dysphoria #tw dysphoria

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idontlikeem · 1 year

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i have some hockey-related asks, i'm going to try to get to them tomorrow. sorry guys, been a bad mental health weekend for me.

i thought maybe writing about it would help, so that's under the cut, but i'm discussing mental health stuff and a bit of food stuff so please don't click and read if you're sensitive to that, and even if you're not don't feel any obligation to click and read lol i just am complaining mostly.

as someone who's had mild clinical depression and moderate generalized anxiety for basically my whole life, it's kind of...shocking to me to sometimes pull my head up and look around and see just how badly i'm being affected by acute situational depression.

it has a different flavor and a different feel. i'm familiar with the struggle to motivate, the lack of desire to get tasks i find unpleasant done even when i know i have to do them, and the occasional bouts of like...idk just Existential Sad. i've always had that, and i've always been able to sort of stiff-upper-lip my way through it and come out feeling better after a few hours or days of feeling not so great.

this? jesus christ.

i cannot make myself get out of bed in the mornings more than a few minutes before i have to log on for work. i lose time during the work day just staring into space. i haven't taken my dog for a long walk in weeks (now part of that is due to the very extreme weather and now my fucked-up knee, but if those things hadn't happened i cannot with confidence say i'd be out there with her). i lie down and just want to...stay there.

i've always been a comfort/stress-eater. i've struggled with my weight for always, not exactly helped along with my mom's absolutely awful approach to body image and like. idk just general care and maintenance of a teenage girl's weight, this is all stuff i don't even want to get into lol, but suffice to say that i am not at my healthiest physical self and have for years sort of made myself feel better with little snacks. but now? i don't eat all day and it's like i can feel that i'm hungry, i understand that the reason my stomach hurts is because it's 4:45 pm and i haven't had anything but coffee today, but i cannot get myself to get up and go downstairs and have something. i bought protein shakes and those have been getting me through the really bad days, but even though they're the brand and flavor i like best when i'm training for long runs (koia vanilla bean and chocolate brownie btw if anyone needs recommendations), they taste like chalk and i have to force them down.

the insidious part is i think i'm doing ok. i get through a work day and maybe, like, do the dishes and say 'hey! look at me, being independent. i'm doing just fine'. and then i walk past the giant pile of stuff i've ordered to try and make myself feel better and haven't even opened. there's a pile of boxes downstairs that i cannot motivate myself to open. i go past it and i go upstairs and i lie down and that's it. the whole afternoon and evening passes and i just stare at my phone trying to keep my mind blank because if i don't i start crying and can't stop.

you can find articles out there that outside of the literal death of a spouse or child, divorce is one of the most stressful events a person can go through. and i fucking believe it. i have never felt this bad for this long in my whole entire life.

i hate feeling like this and it's been worse this weekend than since this whole fucking thing started, i think, and it's so DUMB because we actually got some good news with my mom (along with some bad but that's end-stage cancer for you), so you'd think that would pick me up and help me? you'd think i could have used these days to do some of the things i need to do, like actually putting my clothes in the dresser i finally bought? but no. i've spent basically since friday night getting out of my bed long enough to take daisy to do her business when she needs to go and use the bathroom myself, and that's...it, basically.

this is so stupid. there are so many worse things in life than this, so many people who are going through really bad shit, but all i can do is sit here and thing about how fucking worthless and thrown-away i feel. how pointless. like i'm a piece of trash that just can be discarded when someone's done using it up.

i don't even miss him. right? like i don't. he was bad for me. but holy shit.

#personal #this is so fucking whiny #i'm so angry at myself for not doing something but i CAN'T #i thought this would make me feel better but it's just made me feel even more pathetic #and i know what i should be doing but i just. can't. i can't do it! i can't do anything!

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loubetcha · 1 year

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assigning midnights lyrics to st characters- why not?

max: i cant let this go, i fight with you in my sleep //the wound won’t close, i keep on waiting for a sign // i regret you all the time

when my depression works the graveyard shift, all of the people // i've ghosted stand there in the room

no words appear before me in the aftermath // salt streams out my eyes and into my ears // every single thing i touch becomes sick with sadness // 'cause it's all over now, all out to sea

mike: life is emotionally abusive // and time can't stop me quite like you did // and my flight was awful, thanks for asking // i'm unglued, thanks to you

i searched "aurora borealis green" // i’ve never seen someone lit from within // blurring out my periphery // my smile is like i won a contest // and to hide that would be so dishonest

you said i have to trust more freely // but diesel is desire, you were playing with fire // and maybe it's the past that's talking // screaming from the crypt

will: i can't speak, afraid to jinx it // i don't even dare to wish it // but your eyes are flying saucers from another planet

soldier down on that icy ground // looked up at me with honor and truth // broken and blue, so i called off the troops

we can plant a memory garden // say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair // there's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair // and we will never go back

el: i looked around in a blood-soaked gown // and i saw something they can't take away

it only feels this raw right now // lost in the labyrinth of my mind // break up, break free, break through, break down // you would break your back to make me break a smile

we can plant a memory garden // say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair // there's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

lucas: you know how much i hate // that everybody just expects me to bounce back // just like that

if you would've blinked, then i would've // looked away at the first glance // if you tasted poison, you could've // spit me out at the first chance

dustin: familiarity breeds contempt // don't put mе in the basement // when i want the penthouse of your heart

nancy: he wanted it comfortable, i wanted that pain // he wanted a bride, i was making my own name

i'm damned if i do give a damn what people say // no deal // the 1950s shit they want from me

jonathan: my knuckles were bruised like violets // sucker punching walls, cursed you as i sleep-talked // spineless in my tomb of silence

erica: and you can try to change my mind // but you might have to wait in line // what's a girl gonna do? // a diamond's gotta shine

steve/robin: did you wish you'd put up more of a fight, oh // when she said it was too much? // do you wish you could still touch her? // it's just a question

byler: when the silence came // we were shaking, blind and hazy // how the hell did we lose sight of us again?

summer went away, still, the yearning stays // i play it cool with the best of them // i wait patiently, he's gonna notice me // it's okay, we're the best of friends

lock broken, slur spoken // wound open, game token // i didn't know you were keeping count // rain soaking, blind hoping // you said i was freeloading // i didn't know you were keeping count

lumax: my hand was the one you reached for // all throughout the great war // always remember // uh-huh, tears on the lеtter // i vowed not to cry anymore // if wе survived the great war

literally everyone: dear reader, when you aim at the devil // make sure you don't miss

#when boredom and tswift take over #byler #lumax #taylor swift #swifties #midnights #stranger things #eleven hopper #el hopper #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler #will byers #erica sinclair #robin buckley #steve harrington #dustin henderson #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers

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chxshiyaa · 1 year

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Real Men Don't Flinch Or Bleed In Public

Rating: T... or perhaps M. Content Warnings: Mentions of past child abuse, self-harm scars, toxic masculinity/general toxic mindset, and referenced/implied abuse of alcohol and addictive substances. Summary: Karube is strong. He keeps everything under wraps and never lets anyone see past his tough exterior. His boyfriend of three years and best-friend of fourteen, Arisu, manages to do so anyways. Word count: 2,900. a/n: i've been sitting on this for almost a year now, i think i started this before i deactivated my last account, hm. anyhow, i was feeling bummed since i didn't back up my writing pieces from my last account, so as a tribute to those fallen soldiers and also to clear some of my AIB google documents, i present this to the world.

— Usually, he’d lock himself somewhere and handle it on his own. He didn’t cry (He hated crying, it made him feel pathetic and weak), just…consoled himself, as he’d done since he was a little boy, quickly learning that if he were to be shunned when he showed vulnerability instead of being shown comfort, then he’d simply handle himself. That way, the only shame and ridicule he'd be subjected to was his own.

To be caught crying as a man (A man; not a boy, just six, with skinny limbs and bony shoulders and bruised knees) was one of the largest displays of weakness there could be, and in his youth, he beat himself up over it enough on his own - he didn’t need the harsh words and jeers of others to break him down more.

That habit followed him closely into adulthood. Now, as he’s grown from the little boy he once was and sprouted his own problems, it’s no longer just tucking himself away and trying to swipe away his tears. It was deep breaths, trembling hands, a repeated mantra in his skull of Suck it up, you’re a man as he willed himself to calm down and hastily glued back the pieces of his facade that managed to chip off.

He’s been bottling up his emotions for as long as he can remember. You’re a man, men don’t cry, his mother told him, ever since he was old enough to listen. Men are strong. Only little bitches cry, and I didn’t raise no bitch, Daikichi. You’re the man of the house now, since your Daddy ran off to who knows where.

In his life, there has never been any room or time for tears. He couldn’t let his sadness seep out of him, so he stuffed it all in, trapped it somewhere no one could reach and drowned it in the unhealthiest ways he could find; if he could not be sad, sentimental, and vulnerable, he'd be angry, hateful, and destructive. Cigarettes and alcohol helped, his vulnerable emotions reduced to nothing but a helpless gurgle of life within the raging sea of his being.

In the kitchen, his hands are shaking. They tremble like a leaf in the Autumn breeze and as a result he spills some of the powdered instant coffee meant to go into the cup of milk. It was just something to give him enough energy for work because sleep had abandoned him during the night, leaving him resolutely stranded in the planes of consciousness, desolate. He feels restless now, alive, but he knows it won’t last. This coffee will be like liquid gold in his veins, ichor, the blood of Gods, powering him through the work day.

The powder clumsily cleaned with a paper towel, he digs through the cabinet and adds some hard liquor to his cup, watching the milk curdle instantly, producing a foul concoction. He stirs it in, takes a sip, and feels satisfaction spread through him at the repulsive flavor that curses his tongue. It didn’t need to taste good. It only needed to supply him with energy his body was too burnt out to produce.

He takes his mug out onto the balcony, sits on the chair there and strikes up a cigarette.

Breathe.

His lungs burn. The taste of the coffee is almost overpowered by potent smoke, familiar after so many years.

In, out.

He shakily exhales, watching the smoke curl from his lips and up into the darkness of the early morning sky. He’s hit with a sudden rush of nostalgia, of awakening at five in the morning when it was still handsomely black outside to get ready for the school bus, back when he only numbed a cig or three every once in a while, instead of a pack a week. It used to be worse. It used to be pack after pack in dangerously short time frames, but he swore to cut down on the nicotine. For himself, partly, and for Arisu; he didn't deserve the cancer that came from second hand smoke, didn't deserve to live in an apartment with yellowed walls. Right now, though, he simply can’t settle with a stick of nicotine gum. He needs this burn, this heat.

A part of him, nestled right inside his ribs, longs to be a kid again - not for the poverty or the abuse or the mistreatment, the absent father and the crazed mother who gave him violence before love. No, he wants the youth. The sense of freedom that came with young age, the sense that nothing really mattered, even when his life was falling apart, from his home with walls yellow from smoke and too many things broken to count, to his future and ambitions.

Karube presses the cigarette to his lips yet again just as the balcony door slides open yet again. There’s the soft pad of shuffled footsteps and then a head of messy unruly hair that’s sticking up this way and that, balled fists rubbing at scrunched eyes. It’s Arisu, huddled in a quilt as he takes a seat in the other chair. From the corner of his eye Karube sees him staring from across the table.

“Are you okay?”

Karube doesn’t look at him. He looks down, down at his thighs clad in pajama pants, at his bare feet and the ash dropping onto the balcony. He feels ashamed, somewhat, for being caught smoking, even if he knows Arisu won’t judge him like that.

“Nah.” His answer is short, curt and barely audible. Arisu told him that he didn’t need to lie around him, and how could he bear to go against that invitation when he had to look into those big, shiny eyes? More smoke files from his lungs. His hands are still shaking and he almost, almost drops the cigarette.

“Okay.” A bird caws, echoing through the morning. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Arisu was gentle. He didn’t push but he didn’t ignore the problem, either - he tried to resolve it without words, because he wasn’t the best at those, either. Little gestures; running him a bath, massaging his shoulders, telling him he loved him in that soft, low voice with those big, big eyes. That last one always left Karube breathless and feeling vulnerable; exposed, like someone had sliced him from neck to stomach and revealed everything inside, his beating heart and his working organs and the bundle of something small, something soft and pure, something he hasn’t been in decades.

Karube only shakes his head in reply and Arisu nods. He looks out at the sky, at the moon still looming above them, bathing them both in powdery grey light. He stands, and then he asks - “Can I kiss you? Is that okay?”

His heart pulses. There’s a barely there movement of his head before Arisu tenderly, gently cups the side of his head, kisses his temple with fluttering lips. “Goodnight, Karube. I love you.” Is what he says, giving him another kiss as he does. Then, he retreats, closing the sliding door behind him.

I love you. His head reels. He feels like shit, like his life force has been trampled on and thrown into moving traffic, but at the very least, he has his baby’s love to hold close to his heart.

Out there on the balcony, he sits and watches the sunrise. When his cigarette becomes a stub he strikes up another, drains his repulsive coffee-alcohol mix and lets the combined effects fill him as dawn breaks into buttery yellow sun. The world around bustles to life, other balconies around the complex becoming occupied. A mother retrieving her toddler’s clothing from the makeshift line; A little old woman sipping her tea; A tired looking girl who's just barely a woman, probably a college student, with her hair in a messy bun and a fat furry cat on her lap, stroking its back and smacking her lips as she blinks at the outside world.

He goes inside, puts his mug in the sink and trails to the bathroom to ready himself to work. He showers quickly, ice cold to shock him into motion, then he takes a piss and brushes his teeth. When he’s swishing mouthwash Arisu shuffles through the doorframe, only wearing a big baggy shirt that hangs to his upper thigh on his tall frame, exposing the long expanse of his skinny legs. The plaid of boxers peeks out below the shirt hem and they come down for Arisu to sit on the toilet, blinking and looking rather frazzled, clearly having just woken up for the second time.

Arisu kicks his boxers off and away from him while he pees, hands curling on his thighs and Karube stares at him. Even like this, doing something so mundane and human and ‘ick’, he still thinks, This is the man I love. This is the man I gave my heart to.

“Is there somethin’ wrong with my face?” Arisu murmurs, slurring his words as he turns his gaze on Karube, rubbing at his eye with his wrist. He blinks at Karube with a perplexed expression and…yeah, that’s fair. Karube has just been watching him in silence as he relieves himself.

Karube spits out his mouthwash and watches the foamy green fluid go down the drain when he turns on the faucet again. “No. Nothin’ wrong, baby.” He rinses his mouth out once more as Arisu is standing, closing the lid before he flushes and peeling off his shirt while the water runs through the pipes. His nude body is a canvas of fading love bites on his chest and belly, healed over scars on his inner thighs and a few on his arms, too. Karube knows of their origin, he was there when they were made, there to rinse the blood from the steak-knife, bandage his torn skin and mutilated flesh. They haven’t been reopened in three whole months.

Arisu starts up the shower and Karube looks back into the mirror, at the face that earns him purred words of We should take this somewhere else, big boy at the bar, manicured nails curling around a glass. If it were a few years ago, before he had Arisu as a boyfriend instead of merely a best friend, he would’ve grinned at them (The grin that made him look like a wolf) and taken them up on their offer. Now, he merely smiles wryly and delivers a not rude, but not polite reply of Banks closed.

He was used to curvaceous bodies, feminine with wide hips and soft chest and something to grab in the back, high pitched moans and lips that left sticky prints on his skin. Arisu is skinny with virtually no fat. His voice is low, courtesy of the needle he sticks himself with every morning, and he hasn’t touched make-up since that dare he was proposed at sixteen. But, Arisu gave him what the women at the bar couldn’t - not just sex, lustful intimacy, but love. Understanding. He’d cup Karube’s face with his big gentle hands, smile wide and kiss his nose (The one that has a scar and a rough patch after so much fighting in his teens), say I love you and work his way into Karube’s heart, making a home there and living on a lease that would never expire.

His fingers come to button the undone front of his shirt, leaving a few undone so he doesn't feel so suffocated. His neck rolls and he sighs out at the crack of his bones. Then, after gathering Arisu’s discarded clothes from the floor, he exits the bathroom.

The clothing is dumped into the hamper which is then loaded into the washing machine. They do laundry twice a week, and today is a Monday. Wash day. He dumps in a cup of laundry detergent as well as some softening beads (A luxury, to he who grew up poor with more clothes dirty than he had clean), presses the buttons to start the cycle then walks out of the small laundry room - shutting the door behind him - and stepping into the kitchen.

He intends to make something quick for breakfast, just fry up an egg and pre-cooked sausage patty on some toast, however, he gets stuck in his own head while waiting for the bread to cook.

His eyes are glued to the knife block. His thoughts wander off of their path and he thinks that he could - he could - end everything. The turmoil inside him could be silence, the misery and pain ebbing away at his being finally put to a halt. Suck it up, you’re a man, his mother told him, he tells himself, but she’s not here anymore. She’s gone. Dead or drinking herself there, but wherever she may be, she’s not here. It’s merely his thoughts torturing him with the repeated mantra.

Karube is only broken out of his daze by the pop! of the toaster. Arisu has arrived, fingers leaving the toaster’s lever to shift two slightly overcooked pieces of bread onto the plate Karube had set out, blowing his fingers after he does so. At the very least, they’re not burnt.

His boyfriend is dressed in his work pants and a sports bra. He smells strongly of soap, turning his eyes on Karube. “And you tell me not to burn the house down,” He says, voice laced with amusement. He messes with how the bra clings to his ribs and tugs it down a little more.

“My manager asked if I could work paid overtime, and I said yes, obviously, so I’ll be home late.” Arisu speaks as he fetches one of the baby applesauce pouches from the cabinet, one of many infant foods in their pantry because they appeased the man’s picky appetite. “And Kuina wants me to model more of the clothes she tailored this weekend.”

Arisu wordlessly cracks the egg Karube has been holding for the past minute, letting it drop and sizzle in the heated pan as he drinks his applesauce. Those eyes of his are shiny, knowing.

“If you’re not gonna lay off work today, try not to collapse, hm?” He pats Karube center in the chest, then leaves, presumably to put a shirt on. He didn’t ask for an answer from Karube, didn’t express any verbal concern as to why he wasn’t speaking. He merely let him be, and that’s one of the many things Karube loves about Arisu. He does not nag, nor does he put himself at a distance; when Karube says something hurtful, he tells him so with sad eyes, and doesn't try to fix him when it's not his place to do so. He is what Karube needs, and too good for him all the same.

His egg is brown around the edges and his sausage is cold in the center. Still, Karube eats, because the taste or quality doesn't matter. This food is fuel, something to ease the natural pain of hunger his body subjects him to. He probably won't eat again until the evening, will probably have a cigarette on his lunch break and a few distant, dangerous thoughts to munch on.

Fuck the bar. Fuck, everything, and everyone. By the door, Karube doesn't put on his shoes, instead sinking down into the couch and staring up at the ceiling. He can open in the evening, which would be more reasonable. He just…

No. He should still go. His legs still work and he's not dying. He can work, so he should go. So why doesn't he want to? Why is he so hesitant to follow the words his mother has told him his whole life?

Karube is spooked out of his thoughts by big calloused hands on the sides of his face from behind, tilting his head up as soft lips kiss his own. "I'm leaving now," Arisu informs him, this upside down view of him still so beautiful. "Remember not to push yourself too hard, like you always tell me. Take your own advice."

He receives a back hug and another kiss on his cheek before Arisu disappears out the door. The words of his boyfriend fight against what Karube has been taught for years. But, of course, Arisu wins, and Karube does not make his way into the outside world.

Of course, he can feel the shame, guilt, and anger at himself settling in, seeping into him like poison. His hands ball into fists as he leans forward, arms on his thighs, teeth working the inside of his cheek. His mother's voice nags him - What are you doing, sitting around like a bum? Get out there and work like real men do! You're a man, aren't you

His phone buzzed, drawing him out of his brain. It's a text from Arisu of him posing beside an advertisement with a rabbit, followed by the message; Found my long lost twin in the subway :0

And something as simple as this, a digital message on a tiny cellular device, isn't enough to fix all his problems. He is still frayed, ruined, a cocoon filled with red violence ready to birth itself into the world. He is still damaged, still missing pieces of himself that he left back in his mother's house.

But, as he hearts the message with some semblance of a smile, he at least feels loved.

#alice in borderland #karube daikichi #arisu ryohei #angst #hurt/comfort

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electricbluebutterflies · 1 year

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'' i dreamt about you. ''

Vaguely-late-era Jessica/Leto, PG-ish, late queued crosspost // also on ao3

She hates their separations.

She understands the necessity, the fact that there will always be reputations to maintain and the equally valid and more practical facts that there are occasionally diplomatic issues her partner must attend to away from home, she would be frightfully bored on some of those trips, and it is understood that she would prefer to stay close to their son. Like every other element of her life, Jessica has learned to compromise in this, to accept that a few days of sleeping alone is not the worst thing that could happen to her and to cling to the deep belief that her partner will not wrong her while they are apart.

Still, she cannot push away how she feels when she sees the ship land, nor the fluttering within her heart upon reunion. There are times it is more acceptable to show all that she is; it has been a week, and that is long enough to make her forget her boundaries about public affection.

There are lines even in this, discussed limits to what she will allow. A single kiss – she’s not sure which of them initiates it, they meet in the middle as they always do and she tastes the familiar longing she hopes is equally present on her own lips – and then it is enough to be held, to claim this moment and be reminded that at times her partner really is everything she convinces herself. They function better together, everyone around them knows that, even voices who dislike her on principle have seen how she strengthens him and-

“I missed you,” he breathes when they must, and she reminds herself that this is safe, even this far into their dynamic she must remind herself that more innocent affections are safe. “It’s just… wrong without you.”

“As it is for me,” she replies, hiding her face against her shoulder. He compromises her so easily sometimes, makes her control slip with his kindness, and she knows she should hate him for it and instead that is what her love is built upon. “I don’t know that I slept, but… I dreamt about you, I must’ve-“

“What sort of dream?” he asks in that way he does when the limits of his humanity aren’t about to stop him, that accepting faith that worries her so much sometimes. He knows what he will never know, never pushes too hard or objectifies her based on rumor, but-

“Not… not the fun kind, I’m afraid. Not like that one time-“

It was more than one time, the occasional strength of the connection between them has certainly made her life interesting, but-

“Then what was it?”

She wishes he wouldn’t push her like this sometimes, but she’d burn the world for the light in his eyes and they both know that, this is what time can do to a person who remains enveloped in love, this is-

“The loss of you,” she says too quietly, her deepest fear brought into the open. “I don’t… what happened wasn’t the point, it was the sadness and the fear after and-“

“You would be safe,” he murmurs, shifting her closer. “You will be safe.”

She knows, she has seen every plan laid for her future if something tragic were to happen and found every hole in them she can and still she believes at least enough would hold to keep her here, but that is no comfort right now. “That isn’t the point,” she hisses, and she will not cry in public but she knows she will later when they are properly alone, the necessity of breaking her usual boundaries and reminding her partner that she too can easily be hurt. “I couldn’t… I have given you everything. Who am I without sacrifice?”

They do not discuss how much of herself she has offered over the years, though she knows the details of her choices are understood and appreciated. She would do what she wanted regardless and she has, but it is a comfort that her partner realizes not all of it has been easy in the same ways. Her shadow-work carries different implications, enough that they use a polite euphemism for it, than her decision to bear a child and try to find maternal instincts she suspects were bred out of her order centuries ago. Even on her worst days she still feels appreciated, even-

“You are beloved,” her partner murmurs quietly enough that even she barely hears, the only way they can ever say such things. “You have been more than I ever could’ve asked and-“

“There are days I feel that you have not asked enough.”

She feels a tension shift in him, a self-reminding that they have had this conversation quite a few times over the years and never gotten anywhere. “You have still exceeded… you offer yourself at every turn and I-“

“I made my choice,” she reminds him, or perhaps herself, she’s not sure which of them needs it more right now. “I am more… above all else I am-“

“You are not and have never been some decorative trinket,” he says, and this too is repetitive but it means something different now than it did fifteen years ago when she was less convinced. “You have stood beside me with perfect faith and-“

“You offered me that place.” Let them say that when she is alone, she prays, when she is someday widowed in all but official description. Let them say that she was not the ambitious bitch too many still believe her to be. Let them-

“And you have risen to it. We both have. Is that not enough?”

Perhaps nothing will ever be. Perhaps not even the only thing they are not, her occasional daydreams about lacy red dresses and delicate rings, would not be enough for her. This is no time to say any of that.

“It is,” she replies instead, and she knows he will hear her uncertainty in those little words and she knows equally well that he will respect it for the deflection it is. “We are. You are.”

She takes a kiss she is not sure she wants and then untangles herself – their interaction has gone on too long, and he has other things to do, and they will resume their normal routines in a few hours. She will not make herself too much of a priority, and she has gotten the affirmations she can still barely admit needing, and-

“You are,” he repeats, and if they were alone she knows this is a moment he would compare her to things she is nowhere near and she would allow it only for how much he’d mean every word. “We are.”

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

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luveline · 2 years

Note

hey lovely jade! i hate to be a bother and u can completely ignore this if u want, but could i request some hurt/comfort with remus? maybe the reader is rly upset about something but she’s holding back the tears bc she doesn’t want to show him she’s sad, and remus is just really comforting like “u can let it out, bub. it‘s just us here” etc etc ?

like i said before, feel free to ignore this or not write it if u don’t want! i hope ur having a good day! 💌

this is not good but tysm ilysm <3

The TV is playing some blurry transatlantic film you've seen a thousand times. You lie with your spine digging into a spring or five, your head upside down and hanging off the edge, legs hooked over the back of the sofa. The subtitles are difficult to understand from this angle but you're familiar enough with the scene to mouth along the words anyhow, muscle memory alone guiding you through it.

"And," you say, aligned with the pretty heroine on screen, "whatever of love? However of love? What shall I do differently, now I am loved?"

"Nothing," Remus says, in time with the romantic interest, his voice quiet and wry. "You will do nothing differently if you do not wish to."

"Nothing?" you act.

Remus' hand reaches out from his novel to rest over your ribs. "Nothing. Only that whatever you did before you must now do in lengths reach of my arms."

You smile to yourself as they kiss, suspended in the air, and twine your fingers over Remus', trying to feel the lines in his skin, the small hairs on his knuckles.

Something about the movie makes you emotional, and that opens the poorly scabbed wound of your upset, the worries you've been carrying around this week. You're still greatly hurting from the events of last week and acting like you're not, but something keeps giving you away - you're sure you're hiding it, so sure, only you must do the wrong thing or say the wrong words - because Remus won't leave you alone.

Space, of course, is allowed. Today's gap on the sofa is a whole cushion's width. By next week you might be able to stand at the bottom of the driveway by yourself.

You huff a small laugh through your nose at the thought of it.

"I've missed that sound," Remus murmurs.

You lift your heavy head up and see he's put down his novel and is looking at you with too much love. You quickly let your head fall back down despite the rushing feeling it's given you in your ears, hoping that if you don't look at him he won't ask.

He doesn't. Instead, the hand pressed into your ribs tugs on your shirt insistently.

"Sit up."

"Stop," you say bossily, "I like this."

"You like brain damage?"

"Poor taste."

"Dove."

And you're being pulled, what was suggestive now dominant handling as Remus pulls you up, pulls your head into his lap.

Your face feels hot. Remus looks down at you. He's so handsome it makes you want to die.

"What was that?" he asks.

"What?" you ask in return, nervous.

"This," he says, smoothing the pad of his finger between your eyebrows. "Here."

"Am I spotty?"

"No," he laughs, "no, baby. Your skin jumped."

"Jumped?"

"Like your eyebrows came together. Twitched," he amends, smoothing your skin, smoothing your hair, a repetitive motion that makes your throat ache.

"You're delusional."

Still, the more he looks at you and the longer he touches the more your eyes begin to burn. There's no safer place than his lap, you know it, your body knows it, and the twitch between your eyebrows becomes a crease. You press your lips together in an attempt to hide it.

"What's the matter with you?" he whispers. "Huh? Why are you holding out on me?"

"I'm not."

"You can let it out, bub. It's just you and me here."

You shut your eyes and turn your face into his thigh as the tears start, hot and thick as they slip past your lashes. You don't want to let it out.

His hands are calming, cupped to the back of your head. "You're okay."

"It just… hurts," you tell him, face pushed into his trousers. There's no other way to explain it.

"I know. It's okay."

Those few words have you bawling like a baby. It's hardly a cute look but Remus never flinches, movements showing no surprise at your sudden change. It comes on hard and fast, your brain half memory and half hurt. You throw your arms around his waist all twisted up and he leans over you protectively. A chest burning wave of sobs overtakes, Remus whispering encouragement all the while.

"Why'd you have to ask me?" you gasp out during a lull of sobs, shame in your skin like pins and needles. "I was doing okay."

"You were suffering in silence. Martyrdom doesn't suit you, bub."

You pinch his waist, your tears interrupted by a wet giggle when he hisses loudly.

"Sorry, sorry," he apologises quickly, squirming away from your punishing fingers. "Sorry." His voice is a mix of love and relief and humour, too much. "All I mean is that we both know you're not okay. Why do you insist on pretending otherwise? With me?"

"I don't know."

A tear dribbles over the bridge of your nose. Remus catches it with the side of his finger. "It's you and me. It's always gonna be you and me."

"You and me," you echo. Another fat tear.

"Exactly." He wipes away another tear, then another, fondness lining his eyes. "So don't hide, okay?"

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #Remus Lupin x y/n #fem!reader #marauders era #remus x reader #Remus x you #marauders #remus #Remus Lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb

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qlossytbh · 2 years

Note

Hey I saw that you were taking requests and I wondered if you could write jj helping reader with anorexia. Totally ok if you aren't comfortable with it! I just thought I'd ask cause it's something I've been struggling with lately

Thank you !

𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐣𝐣𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 jj helps you go through the struggles of your eating disorder

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 mentions of eating disorder behaviors, mentions of bulimic behaviors, mentions of anorexia and restriction, triggers, mentions of mental health and depression,

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.0k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 thank you for this request! I understand this is a very sensitive topic for many reader so I warn in advance, that if this is a tough topic for you to handle, click away. I’m fine with writing about it because I myself am going through the e recovery of an eating disorder and it’s my way of coping. It’s so hard to go through this and ok top of that feel alone and like people don’t understand how hard it is to keep pushing. especially when those people are the ones you love the most. i’m here for all of you and i’m just a message away <3 reach out, talk to someone. you aren’t alone.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You glared at the people around you. At the laughter, at the smiles. You felt a familiar pang in your heart, feeling angry, confused, guilty, jealous..?

How was it possible to feel so out of control of your own body? To feel like you're constantly floating around it with no say in your movements or feelings. To feel like you weren't even alive, even though the unsteady breaths coming in and out of your chest proved otherwise.

You cleared your throat, finally seeping back into the sad reality you lived in. You stared at the food on your plate. You hated the sight of it. You hated the way it made you feel.

"How is that even possible?" Kiara said, picking up a third slice of pizza. "I feel like it's only been a year."

You watched as she chewed happily, looking as if she didn't have a care in the world. Looking happy and satisfied. You watched her facial expression barely shift as the satisfaction of the taste of pizza settled into her mouth.

"This shit is bomb," She moaned in contentment. You stared back down at your plate, watching the sad slice of pizza grow cold. Kiara glanced over at you, noticing how quiet you were. "Are you going to eat?"

You felt your heartbeat pick up its pace, forcing a smile onto your face as you hummed in her direction. "What?"

"Your food? Are you going to eat?" She asked. You shook your head quickly, laughing and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"No, I ate before I came and I'm full as hell," You laughed, leaning back into the chair as the lie slipped off your tongue as easy as breathing. You glanced over at JJ who shook his head slightly looking away.

You felt a pang of guilt in your chest as you looked down from his disappointed glance. You didn't want him to feel guilty for stuff you were going through but it was inevitable because you couldn't stop. You weren't going to stop.

JJ found out a while back about how you were struggling with food. It was Sarah's birthday and you had let yourself eat a piece of cake figuring you had a distraction while with the group, having fun. The thoughts came flooding in quicker than anticipated and before you knew it you were heading over to the bathroom, wanting to get rid of it just like you always did.

JJ heard you over the running sink and didn't manage to get in since you had locked the door, but he put the pieces together along with the situations that had been following weeks before that.

"You-" He looked at you, brows furrowed and confused. "How long has this been going on?"

You hugged your body, trying to hide from the piercing gaze of your boyfriend.

"I don't know," You mumbled.

"Yes, you do." His voice was trembling slightly. You paused, looking anywhere but his eyes. You hated this. You hated yourself.

"Since May," It was October. He looked taken aback. You watched JJ place a hand over his mouth, taking a step back. You didn't waste time trying to make the situation better, it couldn't be better.

JJ felt stupid. He felt completely and utterly stupid. How could he have not fucking realized? How had he had been so oblivious to the signs? Because now, he realized how fucking obvious it was.

The constant complaint of feeling cold, even in the blazing summer heat, the bruising, the unjustified blowups you'd have towards him, the aggressiveness, the constant trips to the bathroom after meals, the food rules, the fainting... How did none of this click in his head..?

John B had brought up the topic once when you weren't around and everyone agreed. They said you looked like a part of you had died, and you looked thinner than usual. He felt personally attacked when he had said it and he told them to stop overreacting. He told them to stop overreacting.

He was supposed to take care of you and protect you against everything this world there at the two of you. And he had failed. But how was he supposed to protect you against yourself?

"I know you're probably confused, and you feel guilty," You spoke up. "But I'm fine."

He looked up at you, tears threatening to spill from your eyes and hell maybe even his own. "Does anyone else know?"

You clamped your mouth shut and he took in a sharp breath. "Y/N."

You looked at him. "Im sorry, but I'm going to have to talk to your mom-"

"What?" You snapped squinting at him. Your whole body froze and you quickly felt anxiety being to claw its way into your body. If your mom knew, you'd be forced into recovery, and you didn't want to recover. You didn't want to leave your rules or body behind, you couldn't.

"You can come to tell her with me or not," He said. "But this stops here."

You let out an airy laugh. "You can't be serious..!"

You stared at his stone-cold expression, feeling your laugh fade and the tears get heavier.

"JJ, you can't be fucking serious," You snapped, still laughing. "You aren't telling my mom..! You cant-! You cant tell her..!"

You felt your hands shaking as you walked up to him. "Please- Please don't do this- Im begging you-"

Everything, all the guilt, all the numbness, all the sorrow, and the excruciating pain. It was coming out now, you were embarrassed because the person you loved most caught you doing something you know you're proud of but you sure as hell shouldn't be. You were feeling like a shit person because now you weren't the only one carrying this burden. It was JJ and it would soon be your mom and possibly a team of experts problem as well.

You felt like you couldn't breathe. You wanted this, so badly. But you didn't. You didn't want to be healthy, you didn't want to live in a body that didn't look like it was dying. You wanted to be happy, so badly, but you wouldn't be able to leave everything else behind just for that. You couldn't.

"I love you," He said, kissing your forehead as you let out a choked sob. "And that means I love you enough to know that as mad as you may get, I cant continue to let you do this to yourself anymore."

You looked at JJ who looked over at the slice of Pizza and nodded his head in its direction, mouthing the words 'eat'. You sighed heavily, picking it up as the rest continued talking, shrugging your statement off as if it wasn't concerning. You felt the anxiety wrack your body as you brought the pizza close to your mouth.

"You can do this," You whispered to yourself. You took the smallest piece of the tip, nearly throwing up due to nausea and anxiety. You weren't sure, but it didn't feel nice.

And as soon as Pope began to talk to JJ, you felt the thoughts seep in. Like an uncontrollable flood, like a fucking invasion. You couldn't fucking control it and there was so fucking much of it that you felt overwhelmed.

You excused yourself and headed inside the Chateau, needing to take a breath to collect yourself. You turned to head to the bedroom, to lie down for a bit but you felt a hard grip on your wrist. You turned and saw JJ.

"What?" You asked.

"You know you cant go to the bathroom by yourself," He said, crossing his hands and leaning against the door frame.

"I wasn't going to do anything, I just needed to sit down," You rolled your eyes. Ever since JJ and your family found out about your eating disorder, they were guarding you like a hawk. You lost all privileges you used to have such as showering with the door closed, eating alone, going out to eat alone.. anything really.

JJ had also grown increasingly uptight with the whole ordeal. You could tell he was angry. And constantly on edge. He grew distant from you and you hated it. You missed the way he used to look at you before he knew how fucked up you truly were.

"Yeah well, I can't take your word for it, unfortunately," He looked at the floor. You furrowed your brows.

"You sound passive-aggressive," You stated, looking at him with frustration.

"Im not," He couldn't look at you. You felt sick.

"JJ," You sighed, pinching the crease between your eyes "I don't know what else I can do."

He lifted his gaze. He looked at you deeply. He analyzed your facial features and the emotionless hue in your eyes. His heart cracked at the simple sight of it.

"I know you're confused and mad, I know this is hard for you as it is for me. But I'm trying," Your voice cracked. "I feel so small and everyone around me is either mad at me or treating me as if I could break at any possible chance given."

"I can't stand the thought of food, I can't stand the thought of looking at myself in a mirror when I wake up," You continued, watching JJ swallow. "And I know that's hard for you to hear, I know."

"But I am so so tired and I don't think I can bear all of this plus you avoiding me," His voice came out quick.

"Im not-"

"JJ," You sighed, rubbing your finger against your forehead and eyes. "I fucking hate recovery, I hate looking at food as something other than my enemy or something that'll hurt me," Your voice trembled and you felt a burning sensation in the pit of your throat.

"I just need things to stop moving for three fucking minutes..!" You hid your face into your palms and groaned.

JJ stilled. He looked at you and sighed deeply, watching you try to avoid the tears from coming out. He knew that you avoided breaking down in front of people because the second you broke down, everything would come flooding through and it would all become visible to everyone.

"Hey, hey," He let out a deep sigh and walked over to you. "Come here."

He walked up to you, taking you by the wrist first before pulling your body into his chest. He held you. He held you carefully and you could tell it was because he was scared you'd break. But there was still a strong force in his embrace. Something that told you he wasn't letting go. That he was scared of letting go.

"I hate this.." You sniffled, gripping the bottom of his shirt tightly as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I know," He whispered. "I know,"

There was a silence. One that you could tell there were words on the tip of each of your lips, but none of you dared to let them out. To speak their minds. Maybe it was the fear of hurting the other one. Or maybe it was just fear in general.

"Im sorry," You mumbled, pulling away and looking up at him.

"Hmm?" He hummed, not quite understanding.

"Im sorry," You repeated. "I know this isn't easy for you either and I hate knowing that things would be different if I could just get better."

He smiled sadly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Listen to me," He said, grabbing your face between both his hands and placing a tender kiss on your nose. "You don't have to apologize."

You stared into his eyes silently as he gave you a reassuring look.

"I won't lie, this has been hell for me," He explained. "And I don't fully understand why you feel the way you do, but that doesn't mean I won't be here every step of the way."

He caressed both of your cheeks with his thumbs, he looked at you caringly and smiled softly once more, kissing your forehead. "Well go through this together."

You smiled as he leaned in, pecking your lips. Your heart fluttered, something that happened every time JJ kissed you.

"I love you," You said, pulling away. You grabbed his wrist and placed a chaste kiss on his palm.

"I love you," He said. You took in a deep breath and exhaled shakily.

"Now, I actually have to go to the bathroom," You pulled away and walked towards the bathroom.

"Door open," He added, turning to lean against the wall with his hands in his pockets as he waited for you.

"Shut up."

#fanfic #fic rec #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj x oc #obx jj #fiction #obx season 2 #obx1 #obx series #ed recovery #mental health

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