#think of any other insult or slur. hold it in your mind.

[borrelia]

anyway shoutout to lgbt people who are NOT queer and they are NOT dykes and NOT faggots. being uncomfortable with a slur does not separate you from your identity and place in the community. kind of the point of slurs is making people uncomfortable. would be weird to assume they don't.

#myaa #post made by a faggy dyke btw #reclamation is a personal choice and you can't make someone do it 👍 #think of any other insult or slur. hold it in your mind. #would you yell at someone for not being comfortable referring to themselves by that word? #would you claim the part of their identity that that word mocks/others/dehumanizes* them for is absent bc they odnt want to be *?

[davosmymaster]

Home

TAGS AND WARNINGS - Hurt/comfort, panic attack, family issues, abusive family, racism (against Joel and Sarah), mentions of stalking (if you squint), Joel is definitely Latino, potentially triggering if you have suffered from an abusive household, self-degradation, “Mexican” as a slur, Christmas celebration and religion. Reader is 28. Because of the plot both reader and family are implied to be white/not black or latino.

PAIRINGS - Joel Miller x fem!reader (Pre-outbreak! Joel)

WORD COUNT - 3.2k

SUMMARY - Coming back “home” to your family for Christmas is always a dangerous move. The goal was simple: survive through the night. Joel comes to the rescue when the mission becomes unbearable.

Home

There is a warmth in your chest as you close the door to your childhood room. Out of the bubble you have now created for yourself beyond those four walls, there's a dad sitting in front of the tv and a mom putting the finishing touches to Christmas dinner. Your brother is somewhere out there, too. And all you can think of is how the warmth in your chest becomes white lightning, a fire going up and down through your sternum; and your closed-up throat unwilling to welcome any more air into your lungs.

'What's wrong?' you ask yourself in your mind; as if you didn't already have the answer for that. All is fine, all is well. And yet the fire doesn't stop despite the lack of oxygen in your lungs, and the trembling in your hands becomes somehow more erratic.

'What's wrong?' The voice in your head is unforgiving. Sarcastic. Insulting, even. 'Nothing's wrong. You know damn well that's the problem.'

Your breathing comes out laboured. Somehow the autopilot has failed, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing; it seems that your body is no longer interested in keeping you alive. Let alone sane.

As if sent by God themselves, the flip phone in your handbag rings. The melody fills the room from where you left your things an hour ago and your knees crawl there, unable to hold your own weight. Back hits the mattress, and your form becomes a boneless bundle of anxiety against it, on the floor. Your shaky hands look for the phone inside your bag; and you pick it up on its last ring.

You hear a relieved breath on the other side, and yours immediately follows. His voice comes out low, a drop of worry staining it inevitably like blood on a white shirt.

"It's me," he says. And you want to respond 'Of course it's you, who else would call me at this hour on Christmas eve?' "Just wanted to check how everything is going."

Words don't come out of your mouth. You just bend into yourself a little more, feeling extremely cold all of a sudden. The trembling is gone. Although it has left remnants behind, a trail of weakness in your very soul, your breathing still in manual mode. Slow. Lungs aching.

"Darlin'..." Joel whispers.

You can almost picture him bent over his yellow kitchen counter. One hand is pressing the phone against his ear, his elbow supporting his weight. The other is against his chest as if trying to comfort himself with half a hug. The crease between his dropped eyebrows is deep. Concern flows from his voice like a river after it's rained. You want to massage the fine lines on his forehead, press your own hand against his patchy beard; and kiss the worry away.

The words you prepare yourself to say are comforting, dismissive of your current situation; but they never leave your lips.

"I shouldn't be here," it's what flows from your mouth instead.

He takes a deep breath followed by a sigh, and you can perfectly picture him shutting his eyes tightly.

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

He insists, but you don't have a different answer to offer. Truth is, nothing has happened; and that is something Joel Miller, your boyfriend, whose parents were always there for him both physically and emotionally when he and Tommy were growing up, will never understand.

He will never understand the silence in the room below, and how unsettling it is to patiently wait for the inevitable fight. He will never understand that the smell and sight of the house you grew up in bring memories deeply buried but burnt into your brain. He will never understand the unnerving rage that floods your nervous system whenever your family behaves like family; when they treat you nicely and kindly and it feels like they are mocking you somehow. Because you know how they are, and you know they are seconds away from dropping the masks and beginning the third world war as soon as you bring up the wrong topic; which seems to be any topic these days. But especially the fact that you're dating a divorced dad. And as if that wasn't enough, it bothers them, even more, knowing that said dad is of Latin descent, and his child, a black girl.

You don't understand why you're even there. Well, you know why you're there; because they drove three hours to pick you up even though you repeatedly told them that you could drive back home for Christmas. Because you had felt guilty —and sick— at the thought of one: saying no after that; and two: the anxiety a fight in front of Sarah's teacher would cause you.

How had they found out you were taking Sarah to school, or what school she attended? You had no idea.

"I'm sorry..." you whisper, suddenly guilty for being there; even though you know it's not your fault that they are manipulative and abusive and a complete fucking nightmare. It feels like you need to apologize to both of them, for still wanting and expecting your parents to change despite the awful things they think of Joel and Sarah.

"Hey... hey..." Joel speaks in a whisper, his heart pounding so hard it hurts. And you hear him walking somewhere; probably outside. He doesn't like Sarah listening to things she's not supposed to know about. "We both know it's not your fault they have their head so far up their asses."

There's no reason for you to break the way you do, but that doesn't stop your tears or your own shallow breath from making it to the other side of the line. A low grunt escapes your lips. The pain is raw, and feels new rather than just an uncomfortable scar. Your eyes scan the room and they find your purple walls, old notebooks, clothes in the open wardrobe and, suddenly, it feels like you're fifteen and so fucking helpless and exhausted and done.

"Darlin', come on..." he's begging. "Take deep breaths with me. C'mon..."

You close your eyes, so tightly that your very brain hurts, so tightly that you see bursts of fireworks behind your eyelids. That doesn't stop the tears from coming, but at least now there is a dark invisible barrier between you and that house that should be your home but isn't. And you take a deep breath with him, and let it out.

"Good. You're doing so good," he says, and it fills you with guilt that his voice sounds so scared. "One more... Yeah, there you go. One more baby girl... That's it," he keeps you from falling into the abyss of your mind, and you don't think you could ever repay the debt.

A comfortable silence settles between the both of you before he asks.

"Want me to go and pick you up?" he asks, with such a gentle voice you couldn't help but picture him as he talked to baby Sarah. He doesn't want to scare you or upset you in any way.

But you shake your head quickly and wipe your tears with the back of your hand.

"No," you respond. "It's so far away, and Christmas... and Sarah needs you."

"Sarah is perfectly fine here, and Christmas will last 'til morning. It's not even that late," he says. "...and you need me too," he insists. "It's not that far, anyway."

"It's a three-hour-long drive."

"For those old motherfuckers maybe. I can go back and forth in that same amount of time."

You sigh, loudly. The strength is leaving your body with any passing second, and you fear you will pass out on him while still on the call.

Almost as a threat, you hear your mother speaking in the living room.

"She's in her room?" she asks, and your heartbeat increases. It pounds heavily against your ribcage. The voice is muffled by the walls and stairs, but loud and clear as if she wanted you to hear. "Some things never change, do they? What a shame. A twenty-eight-year-old woman, hiding in her room from the parents that raised her... and put a roof over her head..."

Then, your brother laughs.

"Joel..." you say. With the tone that comes out of your shutting throat and your knees on the floor, his name in your mouth feels like a prayer. He winces on the other side of the line as if he could feel the stabbing pain in your heart. But that, you don't know. "Please hurry..."

"I will, baby," he says.

As soon as your words leave your mouth, you regret them. Almost screaming his name, he gets startled; asks what's wrong as if he feared the ceiling of your childhood bedroom collapsing on top of you. It certainly feels like it.

"Don't be so quick, though," you whisper, and immediately cringe at your own words. "I mean... Don't get yourself killed on the road. Please."

He blows a long sigh, directly into his phone.

"Je-sus... Christ," he could almost laugh at the relief. "I won't. Keep your phone at hand."

"Thank you, baby."

Before either of you has even hung up the phone, the door to your room bursts open. Your brother is standing there, with that sly grin that you wish you could beat out of him without him killing you first; but which, at the same time, terrifies you to the point of absurdity.

He leans his head, covered by a baseball cap, towards the hallway.

"She's talking to the Mexican!"

A different kind of rage fills your veins, but even before you have the chance to say or do anything; you're defeated by your own dread. You wait for him to say something else, to reveal your new plan for Christmas; but he just stands there squinting in your direction. He seems confused by your puffy red eyes and your sitting position on the floor; rather than concerned for your teary face as an actual brother should be.

Your mother speaks, then. A loud cry comes from the first floor. Exaggerated. Malicious.

"Oh dear lord," she sobs. "What did we do to deserve this? And on Christmas Eve. Can we not have one peaceful Christmas?"

"Dinner's ready," your brother says. And slams the door.

[***]

For almost two hours you eat up your father's complaints about hypothetical broken hinges and your mother's cries about being the worst possible mother ever. Your brother seems the only person eating dinner in peace, and you're almost jealous of how unbothered he appears to be.

At some point the conversation redirects towards Joel, you don't know exactly when or why, but your father says his name as if Joel had anything to do with whatever he was talking about. You try to defend him, but end up with both of them somehow offended because you called them racists and they-are-not-racist and Mexicans-take-our-jobs and no matter how many times you tell them he's not Mexican, they don't seem to care.

How you manage not to have another panic attack, that you don't know.

The doorbell rings throughout the house, as if announcing the apocalypse. Your brother stands with his fork halfway out of his mouth, and your heart races as you look toward both of your parents. You see their mind going a mile a second, wondering if their complaints have been loud enough for the neighbors to call the police. Until shaking like a leaf, you get up from the table without having eaten a single bite, get your handbag and head to the front door.

Everything else is a blur, even if nothing special happened, even if they just let you go without a single word. Somehow, silence is even worse than what you were expecting. Next thing you know, you're in Joel's truck heading back to Austin and he's holding your hand.

Just the sight of him calms your nerves enough to wake up from the trance. He's rubbing small circles on the back of your limp hand. He manages to drive with one single hand on the steering wheel, but he clenches his fist so much around it that you can see his knuckles turning white.

He turns for a split second to look at you, and his gaze softens. His fingers intertwined with yours, and he squeezes gently.

"There you are, gorgeous," he says, his voice being the only thing you can hear. He takes a deep breath, and you know he's trying very hard not to pull over and squeeze you against his chest until your atoms and his merge together. "We're going home now, baby. It's okay."

The sentence feels like a kick in the gut, but he's right; you're going home now. The force of the blow is so hard that you physically flinch, and fat round tears come back to your cheeks.

You wished it was different. You wished they were different. You wished you could call their house your home and those people your family, but they hardly have earned the title of acquaintances. It doesn't matter that you're their flesh and blood; they haven't treated you as such. Through the four of you flows the same blood, but what does that matter when they seem to break your own heart with every word they pronounce?

You don't even realize how or when, but the truck is standing on the side of the road. Joel gets out and walks to where you are, and your arms fling themselves over his broad shoulders as soon as he swings the door open. He buries his nose in your hair, breathing in your own presence and squeezing his fingers on your waist as if he could get your body any closer to his. When your touch falters, he takes his chance to grab your cheeks and kiss you.

The kiss tastes like salt from your own tears, but that doesn't stop him in the slightest. He wants to kiss you harder than his own body is capable of. He daydreams of becoming the prince in those Disney movies Sarah loved as a child. All so he can erase all your pain with a single kiss, wake you up from the terrible nightmare with just his presence, his love and care. He knows that's not possible, but that doesn't stop him from trying.

His tongue gently licks yours. He revels in the kiss, his knees almost buckling up as if he was a teenager all over again. Before he lets go, he nibbles at your lower lip. And it's not until then, when his hips accidentally brush your inner thigh, that he notices how hard he actually is.

You gasp, and your lips form a perfect 'oh" against his mouth. Your eyes are closed, and he holds his breath at how drugged up he feels. He breathes your exhale and now it is pooling at the bottom of his lungs, making a home there. Unmoving. Strange to his system but somehow still welcomed. He presses his lips against the pulse point on your neck, feels the swollen vein there and flattens his tongue against the warm skin. Just the soft moan coming from your lips makes his boring existence worth it.

And then he bites. Softly. So soft that he barely feels his own teeth against your flesh. It still makes you jump.

"Joel!" you whisper, and the following second he's smiling as he draws a path of kisses back to your cheek. "Ugh... stop"

The air he's been holding finally comes out of his system with a long sigh. Both his hands are hugging your cheeks as his lips approach your forehead and gift you a kiss there.

"I won't let anyone mistreat you this way again," he says. He's all eyes closed and heart on his sleeve. Even if he was usually affectionate, he had never once before been so open before. The ghost of his ex-wife still haunts his nightmares and threatens him to end the same way with you if he let himself go. "I wish I met you before... maybe I could've been there and..."

"Joel," you stop his ramblings. Those words he's saying are not even directed at you anymore. He's lost in his own thoughts, in his own pain. "Joel you couldn't have done anything. This had to happen sooner or later."

Finally, he lets go, but still keeps you close enough to bury your head in his chest if you need it.

"Look at you..." he says. "Comforting me when it is you who needs comfort now. I can't even begin to imagine what it was like to be there all those years. I would've lost my fucking mind."

With teary eyes, you look into those gentle brown eyes he carries. They look at you with so much pain already, such a heavy backpack full of sorrow for you on his back, that you feel bad to answer.

"I did. I did lose my fucking mind. Not having a home does that to a person."

Maybe it is because he doesn't want to cry in front of you, not now that you're so tender around the edges, at least; but he brings you back into his arms and a few tears well his eyes.

"Let me be your home," he finally whispers against your hair. "I will always be your home, somewhere you can always go to and depend on. Sarah and I will be your home. You don't have to keep looking anywhere else..."

The wound in your chest cannot be mended, that you already know. Yet Joel's words feel like a balm on the open wound. The promise sounds heaven-sent, too good to be true. It also feels threatening somehow. The breaking of that promise, if you agreed to it, would mean completely losing any hope remaining in your body, any strength to keep fighting. Trusting is so difficult and love so complicated when fate seems so random. Yet this is what living is like, isn't it? What is life if not a continuous gamble we play in the hope of achieving a little happiness?

His eyes are fixed on yours, trying to read the thoughts coming non-stop to your mind. But in the end, there's nothing left to consider. Before you could even make the conscious decision, your mind, even if broken and dazed, had already performed the biggest proof of care you were capable of. You had stood against your parents for Joel and Sarah, something you had never been able to do before. Not in all seriousness, at least; not as far as showing them that you were capable of walking out of their house without their permission.

You loved them, and they loved you the way a true family should love. Joel loved you in a way you had never thought possible, and Sarah considered you, in all aspects, her true mother. Their home was always open for you. Always welcome. The only scream anyone would hear could only come from the tv or the radio. The arms were always open, the coffee always boiling hot, and the favors didn't need to be asked for. Love wasn't traded, but simply given.

"You two have always been my true home," you finally conceded, right into his incredulous and love-struck eyes. "Will you forgive me for forgetting?"

"Oh, babygirl..." he whispers, a smile dancing on his lips as he presses his forehead against yours, and his hands slowly warm your cheeks. His nose gently brushes yours. "There's no need to apologize. I will never get tired of reminding you."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tlou fanfic #the last of us x reader #joel miller x you

[dearhargrove]

Hii can you do Ethan x Reader where reader grew up with Ethan and his family so she was always close with him and Quinn and they go to the same college and are in Tara’s group but when they go to the party reader gets really drunk and Ethan takes care of her and the next morning reader thanks Ethan and they end up confessing 🫶🫶 (can have slight smut at the end if you want)

Let me care for you

Ethan Landry x fem!reader (but isn't specified I think)

summary You're drunk - your eyes unfocused and mind working at 0.5 speed. But one thing you knew for certain was that Ethan Landry was half-carrying you to your dorm and taking care of you.

word count 1426

warnings swearing, alcohol

a/n this was so cute! I wrote this dead tired and google docs wouldn't spell check, so if there's any errors tell me pls <3 otherwise enjoy! Oh, also: I know I made Ethan a lil more confident than he probably is canonically BUT him and reader have known each other for so long he's just comfortable around her and doesn't second-guess himself! Hope y'all don't mind and I also don't think it's that apparent, anyway

masterlist

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You were drunk. Wasted, even. There were other students surrounding you, dancing and drinking, some you even knew from a random class or seeing them around campus. Well, right now? You weren't seeing anyone - at least not clearly. Your vision was fuzzy from the shots you'd drank pretty much the second you had gotten here with Tara and the rest of the group.

The party was fun and the music was good, the alcohol even better. So far you hadn't thought about your unfinished assignments and essays, you'd left all the stress in your dorm after pregaming with Quinn (and Ethan warily watching).

You were stumbling through the living room and kitchen, trying to decide whether to find another drink or just dance for now. However that decision was made for you when you arrived in the kitchen to see the few people there browse through bottles - all empty.

“Wait, they're out?” You drunkenly slur, glancing at the boy that was standing at the kitchen island next to you. You just barely hear his laugh, “Yeah.”

That's where the conversation had ended in your book, but he turns around and faces you, a grin on his face. “I haven't seen you around here?” You stop in your movements and look at him in your peripheral vision, hoping he'd take the hint and notice your definite disinterest.

He didn't.

“You don't wanna talk to me, princess?” He teases, though even in your drunken state you hear the slight aggravation in his voice. “No, sorry,” you dismiss and turn to leave the kitchen. He yells an insult after you and in turn you hold up your middle finger without looking back. Great, now your good mood is ruined.

Pursing your lips you look around the full hallway and living room, trying to spot at least one or your friends. How did they manage to turn invisible? You frown and stumble along a wall, your hand on it supporting you as you pass by a random couple making out (you don't know if the bile in your throat is from the copious amounts of alcohol you'd drank or these two but you're pretty sure it's the latter).

You don't know if you're imagining it or not but you can hear your name being called in a familiar fashion. You squint your eyes in suspicion and do a quick twirl, surveying the people. You regret that immediately, remembering why exactly you never moved that hastily while intoxicated. “Oh, God…” you lean over and heave, silently begging to whoever would hear you to let you get to a bathroom before vomiting on the floor of this frat house.

You feel a hand appear on your back, casually stroking along it in hopes to calm you down. Your brows crease and you're about to lash out at whoever thought they had the right to be touching you when you see the familiar pair of shoes and recognize the voice.

Ethan!

You look to the side and upwards, seeing the curly hair covered with the dorky cardboard knight helmet from his last minute costume (that you had helped him with!). He has a worried frown on his face and is talking but you don't hear him, focused on his unhappy expression. Who made him upset? Who did you have to have a word with?

You swallow and stabilize yourself on the wall again before straightening up, him copying your movement with his hand now on your shoulder.

With determination to make him happy again you reach out and press your thumb on the frown, trying to smooth it out. “Why is it not- Ethan. No frowning.” You warn when your thumb doesn't do the job.

There's a flicker of surprise on his face and then he laughs, “How much did you have to drink tonight?” It makes you giggle and you shake your head with a finger on your mouth, “It's a secret.”

He raises his eyebrows and then his hands in mock surrender, “Alright, alright. I won't tell anyone. If I hadn't seen you dry heave I wouldn't have had a clue you had something to drink.”

You squint your eyes again but decide to believe him. Then the music you'd ignored faded back in and you groan, really not a fan of the way you could feel the vibration of the bass in your gut (you were a hair's width away from puking, this was not making it any better).

“Hey lovie, let's get you home?” Ethan suggests and puts an arm loosely around your waist. He never held you tightly, always loose enough that you could just slip out of his hold if you wanted to.

You see this as an offer and lean your full body weight against him, mumbling about going home and being happy to see him after wandering around this house, unable to find anyone.

He catches and holds you up with ease, gently guiding you to what you guessed was the front door (could've been a window and you wouldn't have batted an eye) before leading you outside.

Cold, crisp air surrounds you and suddenly you can breathe again, the music only in the background.

“Fresh air is great, isn't it?” He asks with amusement and you manage a glare that makes him grin.

“Alright, I'll help you walk home.”

-

Now, almost an hour later, you're back in your dorm. The small, dimmed lights around the room are turned on and Ethan is busying himself, cleaning (you guessed, he was mainly moving stuff around and then putting it back).

You simply sit on your bed, hands under your thighs and feet swinging as you watch him, only looking away when his quick movements overwhelm your drunk brain.

“Alright, come here. You can't sleep in that,” he finally says, holding a shirt (your favorite!) and sleep shorts in his hands. Instead of complying you cross your arms and eye him up and down, “and why can I not sleep in this?” Your party outfit is… well, a party outfit. Apart from the overall vibe and fit there was definitely some liquor that had burned its way into the fabric.

“Because it smells like tequila and you'll hate me tomorrow if I let you lay in bed with it,” he calmly explains and nonchalantly kneels in front of you to help you take off your shoes.

Your eyes are droopy and teary as well as a dull pulsing at the back of your head. You're almost asleep by now, having been convinced to change and get ready for bed (Ethan had gently but clumsily cleaned off your make up with some wipes and then you'd tiredly brushed your teeth and changed).

But, even now with you already in bed, he was still here, back against Quinn's bed and sitting on the floor.

Cuddled under your blanket you blink tiredly at him, “Eth?” He looks up from his phone and looks at you attentively. You just take him and his cute costume in for a second before a warm smile appears on your face. “Thanks. You don't have to do this but you do anyway…”

You seem to surprise him with that and he puts his phone down, “Nothing to thank me for.” You smile warmly, no strength to phrase how thankful you actually felt.

“I'm glad it's you. Taking care of me.” You admit, the haze of drunkenness fading with the time and water you've chugged. “I'm glad too.”

You're staring into his brown eyes, the light of your desk lamp illuminating them beautifully as he smiles at you, this time a bit more shy.

“Eth?” You mumble and you two just look at each other before he gets up and you lift the blanket. He lays down with his back facing the door and yours facing the wall, a palm coming to rest on your cheek.

“I'm happy you're my best friend.” He says, but there's a slight hesitancy as he says the last thing.

Maybe it was the buzz from the drinks or just the vibe of right now but you lean in and press your mouth to his. You're both too out of it and tired to do more than this, smiles in between short pecks.

It was sweet, no words needed to be exchanged between you to know what this meant.

You would talk about it in the morning with both your heads clear, but for now all you needed was to be cuddled against his chest, his hand lazily stroking along your back.

#jack champion #ethan landry #jack champion x reader #ethan landry x reader #ethan kirsch #scream iv #scream #scream 6 #ghostface x reader #ghostface

[youareinacomawakeup]

Hey, you should watch Kyo Kara Maoh, and here’s why:

I feel like, when I try to get people into Kyo Kara Maoh, all I ever say about it is “You know how there’s this thing in shounen anime where there’s always some rival character that makes you wonder if he’s kinda gay for the protagonist? Yeah, in this one, it’s canon, and blatant about it. It doesn’t make you wonder for a second. It’s just upfront about it and you can watch him being gay on main the whole time.”

But like, that’s not the only reason I like the anime. Far from it. It’s just what I think is most likely to draw a new fan in. But it really is just a solid story with or without that.

It’s an isekai--and I know, I know, isekai are a dime a dozen now, but at the time this came out the only thing I really had to compare it to was Chronicles of Narnia--about a guy who goes back and forth between our world and a fantasy world where magic exists.

And he’s your typical plucky shounen protagonist, energetic and kind and willing to make friends with absolutely anyone. You know the type. Not really covering any new ground there. But unlike One Piece or Naruto or, I don’t know, Black Clover, he has no interest in becoming the best of the best. He kind of just wants to go home and be a kid and play baseball.

But the thing is, he’s king of this world by divine right. He was chosen to become king before he was born and he’s just been left to incubate in our world until he was older. His whole family has always known this, though he doesn’t find out until he’s magically pulled into the world and it’s sprung on him right away. And he wants nothing to do with it at first. It’s not something he has to do, either. He’s given the option of turning down the position and going home.

But.

There’s been this cold war going on between magic-users (”Mazoku” or “Demons” though the use of “demon” is more of a reclaimed slur than anything literal) and non-magic-users (humans). The real bloodshed has been put on hold for a while, but there’s a real threat of that cold war turning hot at any second. There are laws against humans and Mazoku being in romantic relationships, their mixed children face severe prejudice both from the people and institutionally, for instance being shoved into ghettos and left to starve, and tensions are high. And the protagonist realizes quickly that these people have been living this way for so long that peace is not going to happen naturally. They need someone with fresh eyes who can see that peace is possible. And that someone needs to be in a position of power to do something about it.

So the protagonist accepts the job. Not because he wants to--he HATES it; there are so many scenes of him complaining about all the paperwork and the struggles of trying to learn the cultural norms and mores of surrounding nations so he doesn’t fuck something up in his position of power and accidentally start the war he’s trying to prevent just by unintentionally insulting another nation’s leader or something--but because he feels responsible. He has to do something to bring peace to this land because he might be the only person who has both the power and the good intentions to do so. Hell, the MacGuffin of the series is the protagonist trying to steal four magical nukes from other countries so he can seal them away where they can’t be used. (They’re just wooden boxes, nothing impressive about their appearance. Not romanticized at all. They’re as boring and dangerous as war.)

And that’s...basically the series. Kid gets sucked into a fantasy world and becomes a king because he actually has a political agenda to make the world a better place and he saves the world with the help of a found family of nobles who are fondly exasperated by his incessant pacifism because they don’t think it’s reasonable, until he gradually and sincerely starts to change their mind and they all reevaluate their own prejudices. (And the prejudice reevaluation is really subtle, too. They don’t have big awakening moments like, “Wow, I’m not racist against half-humans anymore!” They just...slowly get better and bit by bit see the world the way the protagonist does.)

Other little details you might want to know are:

The protagonist has a Yu-Gi-Oh-esque alter ego. (The anime is from the mid-2000s, after all.) The protagonist himself isn’t super skilled in magic, despite having the ability to use it, and it’s...left kind of vague, but it seems like the magic itself takes over his body from time to time. But it’s not as helpful as that trope usually makes it. His alter ego is basically a big self-destruct button. It’s just an eruption of power that leaves the protagonist unconscious nearly every time. The typical result is that he wakes up a day later with his head in the gay rival’s lap and the two of them in a cell because, guess what, passing out on a battlefield isn’t super convenient. The alter ego is treated a bit like training wheels the protagonist needs to grow out of, and it’s extremely cathartic when the final conflict of the series is solved without the alter ego. Not because the protagonist can use strong enough magic that he doesn’t need to lose control to get the same result, but because the solution is not to use magic at all. To put his money where his mouth is and show himself as the pacifist leader he spends the whole show trying to be.

The protagonist is the reincarnation of someone who died in the war, a woman who overexerted herself trying to heal the injured. Unlike the alter ego, the protagonist’s connection to this woman is treated as a strength rather than a weakness. She, like the protagonist, wanted peace, but unlike the protagonist, she wasn’t the king and lacked the power to achieve that peace. Her gentle and kind heart shines through in the protagonist’s nature and actions, and those around him who knew her, and who know that he is her next life, can’t help but see how little she’s changed from one life to the next. All the features the protagonist inherited from her, that were treated as feminine, are his biggest strengths. This shounen anime is so far from toxic masculinity and it’s beautiful.

To be entirely transparent, this is an older anime, and as such, there are some problematic tropes that were common around that period. For instance, “Hahah an adult is creeping on a teenager, that’s funnie.”

I’m not the biggest fan of that, either, don’t worry. I acknowledge this as a flaw in the show. But if Master Roshi and Shigure could get away with it while DBZ and Fruits Basket are still beloved series, I’m willing to roll my eyes and overlook Gunter and Cheri as well.

And another thing I feel I should be transparent about is that the first half of the first season A) Is devoted to fleshing out the characters and the world, and B) Doesn’t have the best animation quality. What that means is that you’re going to have to sit through some wonky drawings and not a whole lot of plot for the first twenty episodes or so. But there’s a point--I won’t get into spoilers, but the shift is VERY obvious--where the plot really kicks into gear halfway through the first season. The animation quality starts to skyrocket at around the same time, and the entirety of the second season is absolutely BEAUTIFUL.

Also one of the supporting characters is this beautifully tragic character who is slow to trust the protagonist because he’s half-human and he’s never had a reason to believe in a leader before. It’s treated not as a thing that character needs to get over, but as a completely reasonable doubt, and the protagonist understands that. He actually gives that character quite a bit of power--basically the keys to a very powerful weapon--and tells him, more or less, that if they ever need that weapon, it’s up to him to decide if they get to use it. Like the equivalent of giving a post-WW2 Japanese refugee the full power to veto the use of hydrogen bombs, and I love that. ...This character, who is very serious and very cool, is also a drag queen. This removes nothing from how cool he is. He’s still an utterly sincere character, because this show is cool as fuck.

Last thing: What I’m advertising here is the first two seasons of the show. It’s something like 80 episodes. That was where the anime proper ended and should have stayed ended, imo. I know some people like the third season, but the first two seasons tell a complete and extremely satisfying story whereas I find the third season (as well as the OVAs) has the vibe of a straight-to-video sequel to a great movie that tried its hardest to further a great story but only managed to invalidate all the original movie’s strongest moments by making them suddenly mean nothing in the face of new information. If you want my advice, stop where the story was originally designed to end and only watch the first two seasons. (I’m also saving you from having to look at the bad CGI skeletons. You don’t want to look at the bad CGI skeletons.)

Those first two seasons, though? Go. Go watch them. Watch them right now. They’re so fucking good. You won’t regret it, I promise.

#kyo kara maoh #kyou kara maoh #kyou kara maou #there are so many spellings of this damn show #kyo kara maou #kkm #anime rec #it's gay go watch it #but also watch it for the reasons beyond it just being gay

[pyxaperson]

I am procrastinating on my uni assignments so here’s the 2012!TMNT main cast ranked on who would be homophobic/transphobic

1 being the most and 6 being the least

this is my opinion and my interpretation. i will fight people for one of these rankings if they disagree with me

6 - April

You cannot convince me she isn’t a 2012 Tumblr girl like… look at her. She spent most of her teenage years debating with homophobes on the internet. She would 100% watch supernatural and 100% ship Castiel.

"Would she fetishise mlm relationships?" NO. She would also watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer and ship Fuffy. She reads yaoi AND yuri in her spare time.

If she swoons over a mutant and an alien getting together, she will 100% do the same for a gay couple.

Probably taught the others not to be homophobic (mostly the top 3).

If you believe she hates the LGBT+ community, I am sorry but you are objectively wrong I will be hunting you for sport right now. I am outside your house with the episode "Karai's Vendetta" playing loudly on my laptop.

5 - Donnie

“Erm actually, homosexual behaviour has been heavily documented in animals such as penguins, bats and hyenas. It’s very much natural.“

While I cannot imagine him ever being homophobic, I can imagine him being transphobic when he was younger.

BUT I only think that because the primary school biology textbook was his bible when he was five.

As soon as he had access to a more “advanced” biology book, he learnt his mistakes.

Had a deep understanding of gender before his brother understood the differences between them as a result of this.

4 - Mikey

Thinks LGBT+ people are awesome, however his only exposure to gay people is rupaul drag race so his views on them are stereotypical.

He would probably be taken aback if you introduced him to a gay man who isn’t flamboyant, but he would adjust after a bit.

He would definitely say “You don’t look gay” though.

Aside from April, he would be the most angry when hearing homophobic/transphobic comments.

3 - Leo

The middle point between homophobic and not homophobic for the group (even though she's seconds lmao, the group is just not really homophobic).

I headcanon her as a trans lesbian so any homophobic/transphobic thoughts she would have are a mixture of her sheltered life and internalised issues.

Nothing extreme though, but her mind would get hung up on two girls holding hands on the street for multiple days.

She would also go through the 5 stages of grief for every unprompted homophobic thought she gets.

Everyone helps her overcome this, especially after she discovers herself and comes out.

2 - Raph

I am sorry, but he would probably use homophobic language before meeting April.

However, that’s due to him not understanding what he was saying. He probably thought gay was a synonym for stupid.

Once he understands who LGBT+ people are and what they face (AKA being scolded by April), he would probably feel really bad about it.

He wouldn’t really apologise for it verbally, but he would 100% kill a homophobe after that so everyone understands he’s changed.

Mikey would then make fun of him for being homophobic which would get him really mad. It's revenge for Raph calling him gay to insult him and brushing his genuine anger off.

“At least I’m not-“ “I’M NOT HOMOPHOBIC MIKEY!”

1 - Casey

I am not sorry, this dude was definitely homophobic before meeting the Turtles + April. Like, actually homophobic.

His dad is homophobic so it comes from that.

He called Donnie the f-slur behind his back to the rest of the group. To put it lightly, they were not impressed.

The first moment where he questions his behaviour is when April rips him to shreds over it, but it’s not until Raph pulls him aside to express disappointment that he realises how bad his behaviour is.

Probably goes MIA for a couple of days undergoing serious reflection on his life and beliefs. He then comes back to apologise for his behaviour.

He takes some time to truly overcome his bigotry, but he gets there eventually. Like Raph, he'll kill a homophobe after the ordeal.

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #2012 leo #2012 donnie #2012 raph #2012 mikey #2012 april #2012 casey #please don't take this too seriously this is just for fun #i had this ranking brewing in my brain for months #thats why i had deep reasonings for this joke idea

[boogiewrites]

Seeing Stars Pt 18

Star shows Eddie the most unambiguous sign of true love his cynical eyes have ever seen. A chapter of fights, revenge, and falling in love.

TW: Use of the f slur by a bully. Canon typical violence, 3-on-1 fight. Panic attacks from bullying/PTSD triggered. Cleaning/patching up after a fight. Snuggling for comfort. Protective Eddie. Major Hurt/Comfort.

Part 1 if you missed it!

Star was sipping her soda, her lipstick leaving a red ring around the straw while she watched the boys she called her closest friends argue about whether the two albums they were looking forward to this month, Black Sabbath or April Wine would have the better record. Eddie was firmly planted in Black Sabbath and damn near screeching with a pointed finger at his bandmates.

The appearance of someone behind enemy lines walking up to their table made everyone freeze and turn to look at his appearance. It was hard to miss the guy, he was a basketball player and one of Jason’s puppies that followed him around.

“Hey.” He got out with a nod, nervous glances at the intimidating mid-argument faces glaring at him. Star sipped her soda and having reached the bottom she broke the silence with a noisy inhale through her straw, eyes up at the familiar face. Everyone stopped to look at each other now, confusion taking over as he wasn’t calling them crude insults.

“Did you come over here to stand and blot out the sun, you behemoth or are you gonna say something?” Eddie asked the large athlete.

“Uh, no I came to talk to her.” He nodded to Star whose chin pushed into her neck in surprise.

“She’s got a name you know.” Eddie spat back out.

“Yeah. Star.” He looked at Eddie with genuine puzzlement. Eddie’s tone surprised no one, even if this hadn’t been the guy that had slipped notes into Star's locker all year that she’d been avoiding, he would’ve been just a bitey.

“What is it?” She asked with a neutral voice, sitting her empty can away.

“Could I talk to you?”

“You are.” She stated plainly with a nod.

“I mean can we go somewhere and talk?”

Eddie's eyes shoot to Star dissecting her every reaction. Star narrowed her eyes, but subtly. She let the question hang in the air, long enough to make him squirm.

“I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust your friends. I’m not going to go anywhere alone with you. So you can ask what you want here or wait.” She shrugged casually and the guy started to sweat. His face went through stages of grief and landed on acceptance as Star openly stared him down.

“Okay.” He said with disappointment clear in his voice. He cleared his throat, hand to his mouth before shoving them in his pockets. “I uh-have seen you dance before.” Star blinked and awkward judgemental smiles started to sprout among the guys around her. “And you’re good at it. And…” his eyes shot to Eddie who had sat back and crossed his arms, legs spread to take up space as the tiny in comparison man intimidated the much large one with only a look. His eyes switch back to Star as he scratched his head nervously. “And I think you’re hot. And-“Star's mouth rolled into a tight line, holding in a laugh. She couldn’t believe the guy was going through with it. “And there’s the valentine’s dance coming up and I wanted to ask you to go with me.” He said quickly to get it out and over with.

Star sucked her teeth and let out a loud sigh, pity on her face.

“Oh hun, no. That’s not gonna happen.”

“You like to dance. It’s a dance.” He said as if that should change her mind.

“Brandon, let me be clear. No.” She stated with praying hands that chopped down. “I’ve avoided you and your notes all year because the answer is no. I’ve been subtle and that isn’t your strong suit. Your consistent insistence that you liking me is a reason for me to give you a chance is very stalker-esque and not to mention sexist. I owe you nothing. I won’t go to any dance with you or date you or give you a drunken hand job out of pity. Let it go, big guy.” She pat his arm condescendingly and shooed him away with her hand. He turned bright red and watched the other guys covering their mouths to not laugh.

“Why do you give them a chance and not me, huh?” He motioned to the table.

“They’re my friends. They’ve had more interactions with me than writing poorly edited notes and telling me I’m hot. They know me as a person, not some predictable weird girl fetish they think they want. They aren’t trying to fuck me to fulfill some misogynist fantasy. I trust them. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust your friends. I trust mine.” She stated again. Not raising her voice and sticking to facts but it still bruised his ego.

“W-well what about him?” He pointed to Eddie like a child and he noticeably sat up and back in retort.

“What about him?” Star became louder and more challenging.

“You’re fucking him.” He blurted out.

“And?” She said confirming and challenging someone 4 times her size.

“Why him? He’s a fuckin freak and I’m a nice guy and -“

“Imma stop you right there you numb nuts Clydesdale.” She had a single finger pointed at him and the guys shared a sibling-like grin of watching another kid get in trouble with your mom. “You answered your own question in 3 sentences.” She snapped. “He’d never call someone a freak like that.” She glared up fearlessly into the overgrown toddler's eyes.

“What’s he got that I don’t have?” He asked genuinely and angrily. She shook her head and frowned.

“Do you really want to do this to yourself in front of everyone? You’ve got an audience now.” Her tight expression, not overly emotional scared him.

“Yeah, I wanna know.”

“Fine. He’s the opposite of you. Is that what you want?” She leaned forward. “I like him. I don’t like you.” She tapped her finger to her palm to emphasize her points. “He knows no means no and consent isn’t a big word he doesn’t understand!” She raised her voice. “If those words are all too big for you, I want to fuck him and I don’t want to fuck you. Since sex seems to be all you cavemen give a shit about.” She sat back and huffed out an angry sound.

“You’re a-fat ugly bitch.” She sputtered out. “Jason was right about you. I was just trying to be nice.” He turned and stomped off.

“If I had a dollar for every time someone called me a fat ugly bitch I could buy a damn house, am I right ladies?” She raised a brow at the group of girls sitting at the table next to them and a giggle ran through them.

“Tell me about it.” One snorted out in agreement.

“Just another day living as a woman.” She turned and put her elbows on the lunch table.

“You’re not gonna punch him?” Dustin asked, knowing she fought a guy almost as big before.

“No, he’s not worth it. He’s stupid as shit.” She chuckled.

“You’re not a fat ugly bitch by the way,” Gareth added in without eye contact but feeling bad for her.

“Don’t go pretending to be sweet on my behalf, I’m fine.” She smiled.

“You might’ve got insulted but I think you complimented Eddie so much his ego is gonna make his head explode.” Mike grinned.

“I mean.” Eddie shrugged and let out a genuine bashful laugh as he looked to the table to avoid eye contact. “That was very nice of you Star.” He swung his head her way and she rolled her eyes but the smile told him she meant it.

“It was all true. Guessing stroking your ego is natural to me now since I’ve been stroking your-“

“Hey! Oh!” Eddie tutted and covered her mouth. “Children are present let’s not.”

“We know she meant your dick dude,” Dustin said deadpan. It sent the older friends into a cackle.

They were already healed and back to enjoying their lives again. But across the lunchroom, a wounded group of jocks was stewing in their not-so-stroked egos.

-

If there was one thing Star wouldn’t miss about high school it was gym. She hated everything about it. No amount of naked girls in the locker room could make up for the loathing the rest of the experience caused her. She wasn’t a gifted athlete. She couldn’t hit a ball with a bat to save her life. She couldn’t remember choreography. And her aim was self-admittedly shit. So when dodgeball was announced as the game of the day she groaned into her hands amongst the cheers of the rest of the class.

Star was jumpy and paranoid without the threat of balls being launched at her face. And this was in no scenario in which that statement could be interpreted as fun. The only time she wanted balls hitting her in the face was during a sloppy blow job.

She’d tried to purposely get hit at first. But the gym teacher caught on and made her get back out on the floor unless it looked like she was trying. So she was. She was avoiding a ricocheting ball by running toward the middle of the court. A vengeful Jason, angry at her for making his friend look bad had been watching her, waiting for an opportunity. He ran forward as she was distracted, and when he was within arm's distance of her he yelled her name, causing her to turn to look his way before he pelted her right in the face as hard as he could.

Those balls seem like they wouldn’t hurt that badly. Their big and bouncy and make a fun noise when they hit something. They seem innocent enough. But anything when hurled at your face from 3 feet away by someone who handles balls for a pastime. Insert joke here. It’s going to ruin your day.

Star got knocked flat on her ass as she felt her nose throb. Everyone let out a mix of amused and concerned ‘ohs’ when she hit the ground.

“What the FUCK?” She shouted and put her hand to her nose. Jason strutted up to her and looked down at her.

“You’re out.” He smirked.

“Your balls are gonna be out of your mouth.” She growled. He had enough time to look confused before she used her angle to her advantage and kicked him in the balls. He doubled over and there they both sat on the shiny hardwood floor, each holding their injuries.

Jason groaned and gritted out strings of half-words that were all insults. Star sat and watched his friends try to help him up but his knees wouldn’t work yet. It was no surprise to Star that no one had come to pick her up.

“If you want to be able to have kids. Don't fucking hit me, dude. I didn’t do anything to you, you asshole.”

“You’re a bitch.” He grunted.

“Again with this? I haven’t even talked to you. What the hell is your problem?”

“Brandon.”

“Oh come ON.” She groaned loudly. “You hit me because I turned down your friend? That’s fucked up man, even for you.”

“He was trying to be nice and ask you out. The guy likes your weird ass for some reason.” Star was standing now and Jason wasn’t risking being left on the floor, his friends trying to help him up.

“I told him no. I gave him reasons. I answered his questions. What more do you fucking want from me?”

“Go out with him.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious,” he took a deep breath. “He’d be good for you. You’re a mess star. You’re with the wrong crowd.”

“Again. Go. Fuck. Yourself.”

“I hate to see a pretty girl with so much potential have such a nasty mouth.”

“Fuck you, you fucking fuck.” She bit back.

“Munsons a bad influence. You’re gonna catch something you know that?” He was standing now but still bent.

“You’re one of the most ignorant brainwashed people I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.”

“You’re the one who’s brainwashed! Those guys, that club, they’re no good.”

“They are good which is ironic. They were my friends when no one else would be. They don’t hit me in the face and insult me. Why would I hang out with people who want to hurt me when I have a group of good people I trust? What don’t you get?”

“C’mon. Good? Them? Munson?” He scoffed. “Kids a freak. He kills cats you know.”

“He loves cats!” She screeched defensively. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“You expect me to believe a guy that looks like that is good? That he’s worth your time? I don’t know what you see in him, Star. You need to ditch him. He’s got a reputation. His whole family does. His dad's in jail. His mom was an addict. He sells drugs. Lives in a trailer park? I mean come on the guy's a loser.”

Star got so close to Jason that he stumbled back and put her nose right to his.

“You keep their names out of your fucking mouth you ignorant piece of shit.” She reared back and spit on his shirt. “Eddie’s a better man than you could even think of being. He’s smarter than you. He’s funnier. He’s kinder. He's more of a man than you ever will be.”

“Aw, the freaks are in love, you guys.” They all mockingly awed.

“And what if we were? It has nothing to do with you! What we do affects you in no way. Why do you care? We don’t care about you!”

“Yeah, you do you’re getting all emotional right now.”

“Have you ever noticed how we never go after you guys? We’re always acting in retaliation to you? Happy people? Us? They don’t go around worrying about what other people are doing and wanting to make them feel bad for no reason.”

“People like him don’t deserve to be happy.” Star blinked in shock at the honesty.

“You are pathetic. Brainwashed. Pitiful tiny little shadow of a person. I feel so bad for you.”

“I feel bad for you! That’s what I’m saying!” He entirely missed her point. “You need someone like us to make you see you’re the one that’s brainwashed! And it’s okay, you're a girl, it happens. But Munson? He’s a born-and-bred loser. You need someone like Brandon, who’s from good parents, and has real moral values. He can set you straight.”

“I don’t need your help. I sure as hell don’t need Brandon. I have what I need. And that’s Eddie.” She said it without thinking. Talking straight from her gut and trusting it would tell her what she needed to hear. It delivered. “I would choose that so-called loser over you any day. Every time he wins. In any scenario. He beats you. Always. He’s better than you in every way. And that kills you. Eats you up inside. Because you’re scared and you’re afraid of things that are different from you. And that’s why he’s better. Because he’s everything you aren’t. Everything you wish you could be but are too afraid to because what would other people think? What if people see the real you and realize you’re nothing? An imposter. A bunch of hot air inside with no real value. Nothing of worth. Not worthy of love or friendship. You envy Eddie. Who is openly himself. He has friends that love him. The real him. He has the love and the freedom you wish you had. You’re so fucking predictable. All of you. All the same. Enjoy these last months of high school because this is your peak. This is as soon as it gets for you.” She spits out the venom with her words and said them so close to his face he could feel the heat from her breath. She knew guys like Jason. They were all the same. She cut hard into him and it felt so good to see the spark of worry that she might be right in his eyes. The fear of how did she know that’s what I’m scared of.

“She’s hopeless.” Jason blurts out, defensive, voice cracking under someone getting into his head.

“Then leave me alone,” she growled before storming off.

-

Jason was a little spooked by Star’s words. He didn’t like that someone knew his weaknesses and that they said them out loud so other people could hear. He had heard she was a witch and being who he was, he fueled his anger with a sense of righteousness. He broke away from his group, following out to the parking lot to see what Star did after their altercation. What he saw only made him angrier. He saw Eddie sweep in with the caring face that she had claimed he had. He held her face and pulled her towards him, a hand to her cheek as she sighed and explained, her fingers stroking the fabric of his jacket on his biceps where they held him back. He saw the tenderness, the kindness, the love between them. They shared a kiss they both laughed through as Eddie stroked her face and hair, kissing the tip of her nose where it was starting to bruise. They held each other for a moment, he saw Eddie’s face hold both anger and softness and Jason grew angry that he could feel both at the same time. The fact that they were just as happy as she claimed made him furious. Eddie Munson was beneath him. He didn’t deserve to have someone love him like that. Especially not someone that was conventionally attractive. Guys like him didn’t deserve it. That’s what he’d been told his whole life. He was compelled to do something to take it away. What he didn’t know, however, is you should never seek vengeance against a witch who knows how to protect herself and those she cares about. Because it will backfire. Jason was going to learn that soon.

-

Eddie was swearing and catching all the shit falling out of his locker like it did almost every time he opened it. He caught the slide of stacked books in his arms, noticing a note that sat on top. He grabbed it in his teeth and shoved the books back inside forcefully. Turning his back to his locker, he opened it to find it was from Star.

“Meet me after work out back. I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” it was signed with a sloppy star and a heart. He smirked before chuckling. Babe was new. Was she trying to flirt? Set a tone? The heart made him annoyingly hopeful. He shoved it into his jacket pocket and headed home to be anxious the entire evening.

It was late, Eddie was wearing the mix of oils and cologne Star loved. He was looking forward to having her bury her face in his neck, comedically inhale and groan and bite him. He itched for her touch the whole evening, stomach fluttering with nervousness he couldn't explain.

-

Star was woken up out of her nap by a wave of nausea. She curled up and groaned, feeling nothing rise in her throat but the pain in her stomach stayed. She got out of bed and had tea as the sun set, sitting on her front porch, overlooking the treeline and field but the usual calm that it brought wasn’t coming. It stayed with her all evening, sitting in the doorway of her small bathroom and sucking on peppermint sticks to try to ease it, but it never manifested into throwing up and never went away. If anything it got worse. She started sweating, not even the January air stopping it as she let herself get too cold outside in an attempt to ease it. She wondered if she had food poisoning for a moment, but she’d been emptying out in one way or another if she were. She decided to call Eddie. See if he felt bad, if he did maybe they were getting sick. Or maybe he could come over and be a distraction. She felt compelled to be with him when she felt bad. The phone rang to no answer. She even left a shouting message, thinking he was asleep or in the bathroom, and still, no one picked up. She became restless, well into the night now she paced, feeling like she might crawl out of her skin. She decided to take a drive, letting her intuition take her where it wanted. She felt better in the car, the window cracked and the radio on. She headed towards town with no real idea of what was up with her.

-

Eddie didn’t see Star’s car when he pulled into a nearly empty parking lot. The diner was dark inside as he pulled in. He saw Steve’s car on the street outside Family Video. He thought maybe he’d given her a ride. Eddie trotted up the back alley of the diner, that nervousness building again. He stood under the street light where he’d watched Star argue with the line cook. Eddie lit a cigarette and shifted his weight from his heels to his knees. He heard footsteps from the other end of the alley, expecting Star or Steve to appear, maybe both since his car was still around. The silhouette wasn’t familiar and Eddie felt a shiver come over him. Jason came into view with a smug smile on his face.

“I see you got my note.” he stood confidently with his hands on his hips.

“Oh shit,” Eddie said under his breath.

“For once we agree, Munson.” two more silhouettes began to grow in the distance and Eddie felt his stomach drop out of his ass.

“So you wrote the note?” his voice gave away nothing, a plume of smoke escaping in the exhale after.

“Of course I did, why would Star want to see you?”

“Because she likes me.” he gave a cocky smile, eyes bright in the shadows as he let the cherry of his cigarette light up his features with an eerie orange glow in the low light of the alley. “And I think that really chaps your ass, Carver.” he chuckled.

“She doesn’t like you. I’ve heard her say so.”

“That’s interesting because when she’s begging me for more in bed she says some very, sweet things to me. I bet you can imagine.” Eddie was terrified, but he wouldn’t lose the mental game. That was something he refused to do.

“I don’t know why she’d even touch you.” his cheeks began to grow red.

“You wanna find out big boy? I’m very good with my hands.” he winked.

“Don’t even joke about that faggot shit.”

“I don’t think I could handle all three at once but, your boys can watch like they usually do.” he grinned.

“I said shut up!” he moved towards him now, trying to intimidate him. When Eddie remained relaxed, appearing unbothered and looking Jason up and down it made him start to sweat.

“What’s wrong Jason? What’s got you wound so tight?”

“You.”

“Little 'ol me? Well, I didn’t do nothin’.” he flicked his cigarette away. “Except Star.” he turned with a villainous charming smile. He started to laugh as Jason's nose twitched. “You HAVE a girlfriend Jason. Your little Chrissy. Why are you trying to intimidate me over a girl?” his easygoing laugh burned Jason's cheeks. “Oh. Oh, no does SHE like me too? So you wanna take my girl away? As cute as Chrissy’s little ass is I still think I’d stick with Star, thanks though.” he patted him on the arm and Jason grabbed his forearm hard. It hurt, but Eddie didn’t show it.

“You don’t talk about Chrissy.” He growled.

“I could tell you to shut the fuck up about Star too.” Eddie straightened his posture. “What the fuck is your problem, man? You’ve got yours. Just let me have mine.”

“No.” he snapped. “People like you don’t get to be happy.”

“Well shit, tell me how you really feel.” he snorted.

“You’re going to learn that people like you don’t get what they want. You don’t get Star, you don’t get your friends. You’ve been having it too good lately Munson.”

“Yeah, I thought it was going pretty good myself.” he nodded. “You think beating me up is gonna stop that?”

“Y–yeah.” he stuttered. “If you’ve got the shit beat out of you maybe it'll knock you down a few pegs. You won't be able to protect Star or your friends. She’ll see you’re a loser who isn’t as big of a man as she thinks.”

“If you think beating me up will turn Star away you’re a fucking idiot. It’ll do the opposite. And then she’ll come after you.”

“Am I supposed to be afraid of her?” he laughed.

“You should be.”

“She gonna put a spell on me?” he cackled.

“Yeah,” Eddie answered without an ounce of laughter. That did scare Jason a bit.

“You’re all freaks. You deserve each other.”

“Do I deserve her or not here, dude? You’re giving me whiplash. I’m starting to think you don’t even know why you’re doing this.” he laughed and shook his head.

“You don’t deserve to be happy.” he gritted out.

“Listen, if you’re gonna beat my ass just get it the fuck over with. Because I’ll go to Star and she’s going to wait on me hand and foot like a fucking baby. She’s going to be so mad she’ll rain down hell on all of you. It’ll make us closer, she’ll love me even more. And I think you know that. Deep down. That you can’t do anything to take that away from me, so you’re resulting to hurting me physically because you can’t hurt my feelings.”

“Maybe so. But she’s not as good as you think she is. Do you think she’s going to stay with you here? She’s not from here. Nothing is keeping her here. She’s smarter than you, she’ll go to college and leave your dumb ass here to rot in that trailer. I think she’s with you because she feels sorry for you. You know how girls are, they see a hurt dog and they want to help it. That’s you. You’re the dog.” For the first time, Jason hurt Eddie’s feelings. It was only for a moment, tapping into a worry he’d had from the moment he laid eyes on her.

“I think we’ll leave together. And pursue the things we want in life. And we’ll be successful because we’re good people who work hard. We’ll be happy. We might do the whole, marriage and kids thing. Who knows? And I think you’ll still be here. You’ll probably marry Chrissy and have some kids. Close to 30 you’ll start losing those boyish looks. You’ll lose your hair, you’ll get fat, and spend your time rehashing the glory days and being miserable. Chrissy won’t love you anymore, because you’ll hate yourself. Because one day you’ll wake up and realize you never made a single decision in your life for yourself. You only did what other people wanted. You’ll have a crisis and maybe buy a car you can’t afford because you’re not as smart or talented as you thought you were so things aren’t turning out how you wanted. You’ll drink too much, you won’t know how to relate to your kids. They’ll probably be the opposite of you. They’ll be like me. And you’ll hate them for it. And they’ll hate you because they know their dad's good-for-nothing bully who doesn’t know how to handle his emotions. One day you’ll have had too much to drink and one of them will say that. And you’ll hit them. And you’ll regret it. You might get divorced, or put a gun in your mouth about it. You’ll wish you were dead.” Eddie, like Star, could read people. And people as transparent as a high school jock weren’t hard to know how to scare them. Because it’d been done so many times. He probably just repeated to him his own father’s life. And of course, he wouldn’t want to be like his father. But deep down he knew he was. “And there I’ll be, miles and miles away. Happy. Loved. Successful. Not having thought about you since I left this podunk town. You’ll have been dead to me for years.” he grinned. “I’ll have the life you wish you had. And you’ll be here, alone or dead. And either way, everyone around you will be better off for it.”

Jason landed the first hit. He’d made sure that point was made before they started this plan. Eddie, being the unhinged person he was laughed at the knock on the cheek.

“I think I struck a nerve.” he touched his cheek and laughed. Jason hit him in the stomach.” You’re so cute when you’re mad, princess.” he kept the smile on his face until he’d taken too many hits to count. -

Star was headed downtown, her heart racing, feeling on the verge of a panic attack. She wondered if she should stop and if she was finally going to be sick. She wished she was because then she could shake this looming feeling something bad was gonna happen. She’d rather have food poisoning.

She saw the diner in the distance, her focus on it, dark as she approached. She saw Eddie’s van first. She turned the wheel so hard the car made a noise of protest. She swung into the parking lot, swerved with a squeal, and gassed it when three Hawkins letterman jackets came into view. She made a line straight for the guys and slammed the brakes just as she got near them. The thunk of hitting one of them who had been frozen in fear by the headlight's appearance let her know she’d hit them. She launched out of the car, she was moving so quickly on instinct alone she blacked out. She saw the one who was hissing and clutching his leg, the others now stood and gawking, stuck in processing what was happening. She knew who they were. She made eye contact with Carver and launched herself at him. He ran, the other guy getting away, but she grabbed Jason by his jacket and was on him like a piranha in a flash. She had no idea what she said, she knew she used her long nails to try to gouge out his eyes. She failed but left scratches all over him. She’d gotten a few good hits in using surprise to her advantage. She kneed him in the crotch as she hit his head into the pavement by his hair. The other injured guy booked it out of the alley past them. Star looked at him for split second and Jason hauled back and slugged her in the face. It knocked her off him, the already sore and bruised nose now thoroughly split open.

Eddie hadn’t frozen like the three guys beating him up at the sound of Star’s tires squealing into the parking lot. He took the chance to pop his head up from his protective curled position. The headlights blinded him, but he saw the bright yellow paint glint and knew in a heartbeat who it was. He felt his body relax, seeing one guy now on the ground, his leg having taken the hit of her bumper against it. He lay hissing in pain as the others ran. He saw Star in a blur and knew from the fading blonde hair bouncing and the banshee screams that ripped into his ears that it was her. He sat up, letting his head rest against the brick wall. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit him, he felt sleepy, his entire body twitching from strain. He heard her growling and screaming, a guy's voice shouting back at her, pleading. Eddie knew he was in no shape to help her, but it sounded like she wasn’t being hurt, so he let himself sit there in the wet gravel and close his eyes. She was there, everything would be okay. His guard dog guardian angel had swooped in and he could rest for a moment.

She let out a frustrated sound as he scrambled away. She quickly turned, to her hands and knees before running and stumbling back to the hunched form against the alley wall. He was lit so beautifully like a baroque with her headlights. She choked out a sob, seeing his eyes fluttering about, closed.

“Eddie!” she squeaked, her throat feeling sore and raw. She hadn’t known it but she’d been screaming. He made a sound, she knew he was alive but that was all. “Eddie, baby, please.” hot fat tears built and fell in an instant. “No, no, no.” she cradled his head as her hands shook to wipe away the fresh blood on his face. “Not you, Eddie, no.” she kept chanting and repeating her words as they came to the forefront of her mind. “Eddie, baby, please. Open your eyes. Look at me, sweetie please.” she begged, a light slap to his cheek as she held his upper body in her arms.

“MMnnrrrggg.” he managed, eyes rolling in their sockets.

“C’mon Eddie, baby. Wake up for me. It’s your Star. It’s me, please. Look at me.” she rasped out crying.

“Ugh. Shit.” a little clearer, his brow furrowing before he hissed at the pain.

“Oh thank you.” she sobbed, holding him to her chest, her clothes covered in blood. She didn’t realize that most of it was hers. She looked up at the sky and thanked the bright moon. “Eddie, baby. Can you hear me?”

His eyes focused, one then the other as he looked up at her. She was silhouetted by the car lights, but he knew her touch, her smell, her shape through a veil of blood and tears. She smoothed his hair out of his face, in an attempt to soothe him.

“There he is.” she cried through a smile. “There’s my pretty boy.” The light hit his eyes in a way that made them warm amber. They glowed from within as they tried to focus on her face, feeling his hand reach up to hold her forearm.

“Star.” his voice was a whisper, trying to get his bearings but he was dizzy.

“Yeah, baby it’s me.” she leaned her nose to his so he could hear her. She wanted to squeeze him so tight their bodies fused into one, her whole body was alive and on fire, tingling and burning like her lungs.

“MMm.” he smiled and let his head rest in her hands, his cheek mushed. “Baby does feel nice,” he muttered and she giggled, wiping away at her tears as they started again.

“You silly man.” she kissed him, she didn’t care about the split lip and the blood. “We’re gonna get in my car and I’m gonna take you home okay?” she promised with her nose to his.

“Kay,” he grunted out, his hands slapping out to find purchase.

“Put all your weight on me, I’ve got you, don’t worry.” she touched him as gently as she could, thankful to not see any blood anywhere besides his face. She felt like the stories of mothers who suddenly have the strength of ten grown men when their child was in danger. She managed to get her car door open, Eddie let himself weigh against the car on his arm as she did so. He was slowly realizing he could use all his limbs and that even though they all hurt, they didn’t seem to be broken. He got into her passenger seat and looked at his hands. They were a bloody scraped mess, one finger looked a little crooked and he was concerned about that.

“You okay?” she shut and locked her door, turning to help him with the seatbelt. She wanted him upright.

“I mean… define okay,” he mumbled and touched his face, only finding more blood. He finally looked at her with fully open eyes. “Oh fuck, Star.” he reached out to her face and she jumped.

“I’m fine.” she gently took his hand and put it down.

“Have you seen your face?” he asked and she flipped down her visor.

“Shit.” she hissed. “Doesn’t matter.” she sighed and smacked it shut. “Do you need a hospital?” she looked over his legs, they were both moving, just like his arms.

“I'd rather just go home,” he admitted with a defeated exhale.

“Home or my place? Do you want Wayne to-”

“Yours.” he nodded and let his head rest on the seat. He wouldn’t want Wayne to see him like this until he had it all cleaned up. Star by far had the superior first aid setup out of the two of them.

“Can I drive? Are you okay?”

“I’m… here. Promise. Drive.” he sighed and let himself slouch. As soon as she was out of the parking lot she took his hand into hers. She held it tight and shuddered the whole ride home. He looked at it, a smile on his face. He knew he was right. Doing this would only make her care more. He lifted it and kissed it before putting it back onto his thigh with a rather content-sounding sigh, putting his other over it.

“I’m so sorry.” he heard the tears in her voice.

“What are you talking about?”

“If I hadn’t been so mean to him maybe he wouldn’t have-”

“This didn’t have anything to do with you.” It was partially a lie to make her feel better but he also knew Jason’s real issue was with himself, not anyone else.

“I don’t believe that. It was at my work. Why?”

“He left me a note pretending to be you. Told me to meet him here after work.”

“Motherfucker.” Star gritted out.

“I said much the same.” Eddie groaned. “What I’m more curious about now is how you knew where I was?” He saw her eyes squint and her head tilt as if she were weighing her options.

“I don’t really know how to answer that.”

“That cryptic answer makes me nervous so could you try?” he asked nicely.

“I didn’t know where you were. I woke up sick from a nap. I felt like I had food poisoning but I wasn’t getting sick from it. I tried calling you because I felt bad and you weren’t home. So I went for a drive to clear my head, and get some air and I didn’t think about it. The closer I got to town the more my stomach sank. I felt like I was going to have a panic attack, you know that feeling you get when you’re like, something bad is going to happen even if you don’t know what it is? That’s what it was. And I went into town and saw your van at the diner and I just…” she stopped and took a breath. “I just knew somehow. And there you were,” she said in a raspy whisper. She felt him squeeze her hand.

“My little witch.” he grinned and hummed. “First the shower. Now, this.” she felt his thumb rub comforting on her hand. Star was still twitchy and looking distressed. She was scared of the connection between them and what it meant.

“I’m… I’m still shaking.” she took in a deep inhale to steady herself. “I didn’t know if you were … fuck. That must’ve been what it was like finding me,” she whispered, he saw fresh tears rolling down her cheek. “Baby, I never wanted this to happen to you. I’m so sorry. I don’t care if you don’t want to hear that I’m sorry. I am. I don’t know why. I just am. These things aren’t supposed to happen to you. Nothing bad isn’t supposed to happen to you!” her voice cracked as her chest tightened. He felt warm and fuzzy from the outpouring of emotion trapped in the small space between them. How many times had she called him baby? He felt selfish wanting more.

“I’ll be okay. Shhhh.” he squeezed and kissed her hand. He brought a hand up her shoulder to rub it comfortingly. “We’re fine. I mean, not fine but we’ll be fine. Breathe.”

“I know. I’m s-.” she stopped herself and bit her lip. “I just don’t want anything bad to ever happen to you,” she whispered and another tear fell. He felt the burn, the threat of tears in his own eyes at the sight. He reached her cheek with his knuckle and wiped it away.

“Baby. I’m okay. Get us home. That’s all you have to do.” he said with that burn in his chest appearing again. She had thrown herself into a fight with three men, all bigger than her. She hit one with her car. She did not hesitate. She was willing to sacrifice herself, and her safety for him. That was the most unambiguous sign of true love Eddie knew of.

Star quietly cried the whole ride home, squeezing his hand. He wasn’t the only one that felt it. Her chest burned for him in the same way. The thought of losing him, or having something bad happen to him had been the kick in the ass she’d needed. The universe isn’t one to be sorry. But it wasn’t particularly glad it had to hurt Eddie in such a way to get it through to Star that she loved him. That she was in love with him. But it had worked. She knew. She was in love with Eddie Munson.

-

“Oh fuck.” Star said loudly in surprise as she saw the state of herself in her bathroom mirror. She’d looked up from getting a warm washcloth for Eddie’s face.

“Told you.” Eddie smiled to himself, sitting on the edge of Star's bed.

“I’m gonna get the blood off me, I’ll be a minute.” She insisted.

“I’m not going anywhere. Take your time.”

When she appeared the damage was more clear on her face, scratches covered her chest, neck, and face. Her nose was darker now, looking a little crooked and swollen.

“You should see the other guy.” She gave him a soft smile, putting on a kettle as she dug out her first aid box. She’d taken her now bloody clothes off and had pulled on a big loose sweatshirt. She kneeled in front of Eddie and he saw the wince she tried to hide as her scraped knees weighed on the floor. Her shoulder was bare from the old sweatshirt falling off it when she hunched over the kit.

“Who did that to you, baby?” his crusted hand took her by the chin and saw her eyes swollen from crying and red. A wet shine still to them as they brightened at his touch. She blinked as if she forgot how to speak for a moment, her mouth opening and closing, affected by his tender tone. She felt the heat burn from her chest to her stomach as he stroked her cheek with his knuckles.

“I only managed to get ahold of Jason.” She whispered, looking away as if she was ashamed.

“He did this?” Eddie’s brows raised.

“He…” she stopped and an odd smile moved across her face. “He had to.” She let out a quiet laugh. “I was on top of him and I wouldn’t stop hitting him. I don’t know that I would’ve stopped if he hadn’t punched me.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“Being on the ground and hearing the tired squeal then being blinded by a light and seeing someone hit the ground and the others run. I think I saw you running down the alley. But there was blood in my eyes and I was feeling light-headed.”

“You didn’t miss much then.” She shook her head and laid everything out next to him on the bed. “Can you strip for me?” She asked casually, clicking the space heater on.

“Huh?”

“I want to see what the damage is.”

“Oh.” He laughed nervously, grunting to take his shirt off. She leaned up on her knees to help pull it over his head. “I was gonna say, I don’t think I’m up for it sweetheart.” He joked, wincing through the ache. She undid his jeans, his fingers throbbing from defending himself. They were pulled off with his socks to check for broken toes. Her hands were light and cold and felt nice on his hot, angry skin. He let out an audible sigh as she softly rubbed his back before wrapping a blanket around him. The kettle sounded with a scream and she raised to switch it off.

“Nothing seems broken. That’s good news.”

“I guarded my ribs like a mother fucker. Didn’t want to deal with that. But that means my arms took most of the hurt.” She had a mug made and sat on her bedside table for him after he was finished.

“You’re going to be covered in bruises for weeks.” She said, sitting back on the floor with a grunt on impact.

“Good color study huh?” He smiled at her and she stopped after clipping back his hair and looked at him for a silent moment. Her eyes danced over his face and he felt self-conscious suddenly, she seemed so somber but her eyes were so bright.

“It will be a beautiful color study.” She whispered and kissed his cheek.

She whispered apologies as she cleaned him up. Hurting him to find out what was blood and what was injury. Sweet apologies and gentle touches were all he knew from her. After she had a pile of dirtied cloth and tissue she deemed him finished. She bandaged what she could. It seemed mostly superficial but he knew it was going to hurt. “That’s all I can do.” She said with sorry eyes. “I’ll give you some of the pain pills I have for my period. That’ll take the edge off.”

“You’ve done more than enough already.” He took her hand and she stared at it, quiet again. “Do I get to take care of you?”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head and smiled at him, holding his hand back. “He only hit me once.”

“One too many.” He said with a deeper tone as he touched her face. It was as if she startled herself, looking down at his hands.

“I might’ve really hurt Jason.” She whispered.

“He ran away, didn’t he? He hit you. He can’t be that bad.”

“I blacked out. I knew it was you they were hurting and I just-“ she swallowed audibly and looked as if she might cry again. “I hit his head on the pavement. I saw red. I didn’t think. I just did. I didn’t care if I killed him at that moment. I wanted to. Just thinking that they hurt you I-“ tears started to fall again and he pulled her to him despite the pain.

“You did nothing wrong, okay?“ he said into her ear as she cried in his arms. “I’m… flattered honestly. I’m… more than thankful to have you give a shit about me at all, let alone to the point of…. What went down tonight.” He pulled her away to meet her eyes. “Thank you.” He put his forehead to hers. “From the bottom of my heart. Thank you for doing what you did.” She felt it ache, but it was overtaken again as she let out a sound of pain.

“I’m going to make them pay, Eddie.” It was a gravel-filled rasp and he felt a cold hit his spine. “No one gets away with hurting you. You understand?”

“We can’t go after them Star. They’ll expect it and I’m in no shape to-“

“No. No, we won’t. She’s going to take care of it.” She gritted her teeth and stood, she grabbed an empty jar from the cabinet and slammed it onto the counter. “I’m going to ruin his fucking life.” She was spitting fire as Eddie watched her, timid from the energy coming off her. She put sloppy pinches and pours of oils and herbs into the jar. She ripped a piece of her notebook out. “What are their names?” She asked with a white-knuckled fist holding her pen. “Their middle names too if you have them.” She didn’t look at Eddie, she stared at the paper. He didn’t dare disobey. She scribbled furiously. She put them into the jar, she was repeating things over and over, about how they’d pay and hurt and grieve their choices. She threw in things Eddie never would’ve thought of. Nails, chilis, vinegar, and dirt. With an almost full jar, she turned to him with her eyes as dark as he’d ever seen them. “Don’t do what I’m doing right now.” She told him. The eye contact was intense but he wasn’t afraid of her. He knew anyone else should’ve been. She went into the bathroom and had a jar now full of a familiar colored liquid in her hand. “I shouldn’t be doing this like this but I’m too angry to take my time. Always protect yourself.” She held the jar up. She grabbed the star he gave her around her neck. “May their words come back to haunt them.” And she added the last ingredient of spit and sealed the jar. Eddie knew black candles scared him. She lit incense and sat at the kitchenette. She sealed the jar shut with wax. He couldn’t make out her words but it sounded like something a villain of his campaigns might do. He was inspired, fascinated, and also a bit uneasy. She put out the candle and shook the jar in both hands as hard as she could as she let out a roar of a scream. After she looked like it all caught up to her fast. She stood against the counter for a moment, the jar on the kitchen table directly her opposite. She panted as if she'd ran and slumped, her head hanging down. He sat in silence and looked on in awe. She was terrifying and also the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. With tired eyes that were a serpentine stone color, she came back to herself and turned to face him. She studied him for a moment before coming over and kneeling again. She felt so tired, he could feel it coming off her as she touched his face. “No one hurts you.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. He felt the prickle of tears threaten him. He’d never felt so defended and supported before. Not as an adult anyway. It felt similar to how Wayne had been when he was young. He felt loved. “No one will hurt you and not feel pain from it.” She was protecting him, promising him. “They’ll see the error of their ways quickly. And be better for it after. They will not hurt you again. Any harm to you is a lesson they’ll learn the hard way.” He felt as if he was being blessed by a goddess. She sounded so sure. He didn’t know where to start. Did he thank her, tell her he’d do the same for her? He didn’t know. So as she rest her forehead on his, he kissed her. He felt her smile against him. His worry turned into a memory. “Would you stay with me tonight?” She asked, pulling away and taking his hands into hers.

“Of course.” He barely spoke the words. Her asking was a courtesy more than anything.

“I don’t want to be apart from you right now.” She admitted and kissed his hand. “I’m still scared.” Another quiet confession.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” He sounded so sure, she thought. She let it bring her comfort. “Let’s get in bed.” He suggested and she nodded. Silently they stripped down and got between the sheets together. Feeding their touch-loving selves seemed most important. Instead, she held him. She kissed his face and hair. He took her hand into his and held it between them to his chest until he started to fade. She brought up his hand to explore the minute details of it. She kissed his fingertips and palms and let the warmth of him soak into her face. She watched his lashes dark and long fan out over his cheeks. He’d swell more and look less angelic tomorrow. But she knew he was okay.

She didn’t feel okay. She felt more terrified than ever. She’d blacked out. What if it happened again? What was this love going to make her feel next? She didn’t know how to navigate it, how to feel it properly and it terrified her. She’d never felt this before. Realizing she’d never been in love before was another revelation that weighed heavily on her. She couldn’t tell him. That would make it real, make it have consequences. Make her face her issues with no brakes on. She couldn’t do that. She was afraid it'd make her lose her mind.

She heard her ex’s voice in her head telling her she was alone in the fact of being in love and being childish. That she was a terrible person and partner. That she was selfish and annoying, and bringing anyone into her life would be a burden to them. That as soon as she tried to be with someone else they’d see right through her. They’d see she wasn't worth it. That she couldn’t be what they wanted. She still believed that. She hadn’t allowed any evidence to the contrary to be felt. To do that she’d have to be vulnerable and honest. She’d killed that part of herself to survive her ex. And she still hadn’t been able to revive her. Being in love was the best feeling she’d ever had. Especially looking at him like this, kissing his bruises and hands, holding him, and being useful. It was a double-edged sword. As she felt the sting of self-sabotage inside her.

It was all too much. She would have to figure out how to deal with being in love tomorrow. Tonight she had done enough.

-

School the next day was interesting. Three basketball players showing up, one with a black and blue face and one with a major limp was fuel for the rumor mill fire. Star and Eddie had stayed home to sleep it off. That Friday they returned, swelling subsiding and makeup helping cover a good amount of Star’s bruising. Eddie however, refused and wore his with an odd sort of pride. He was still sore, everything still hurt, he figured his ribs were bruised since his arms, covered with the layers of his clothes were turning a gnarly watercolor mix of bruise shades. Once they both appeared, the rumors swelled again. Star set anyone straight who had the balls to ask. No, she and Eddie weren’t in some domestic violence situation. Jason was a jealous asshole who tried to hurt Eddie and Star intervened and beat his Ken doll face into the asphalt. She was starting to understand why Eddie lied to people so much, when you have a weirdo reputation, no one believes you even if you tell the truth. So Star decided to have some fun with it.

“Can we switch seats?” she whispered to Gareth from across the lunch table.

“Huh? Why?” he drew his face back and glared.

“She wants to sit next to me.” Jeff wiggled his brows and a chuckle moved through the group.

“That and Gareth has a straight line to Carver. I have my back to him. I want to mess with him.”

“You two look like you got hit by a bus are you sure that’s a good idea?” Dustin hissed, Steve’s influence coming through.

“Yes, Dad I do.” she snarked back.

“Anything to mess with that guy,” Gareth said giving up his seat.

Eddie’s bruised face, a busted lip, nose, and brow watched Star as she settled in, taking a giant crystal out of her purse.

“What the hell is that?” Mike asked.

“It’s a rock, what’s it look like dummy,” Jeff added.

“No shit I mean, why do you have it?”

“Trust the process.” Eddie let out a raspy chuckle.

Star hovered her hands over the stone and started saying nonsensical words. Not loudly, just enough to show her mouth was moving, shutting her eyes. She did this for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“Is he looking?” Eddie somehow knew she was asking him.

“Go for it.”

She snapped her eyes open to stare directly into Jason, not stopping the words. She jolted to put her hands on the stone and Jason jumped. Eddie covered his mouth and hid his laugh.

“It’s too easy,” he said quietly, shoving a fry into his mouth.

“She’s freaking him out.” Jeff snorted.

Star took a deep breath and rolled her eyes back then slumped, a very stereotypical movie performance of someone casting a spell. She sat back up slowly to blink her eyes open and put the stone back into her purse. She leaned in like nothing ever happened.

“He’s gonna piss the bed tonight.” Eddie grinned.

“If he hasn’t in his Levi's already.”

“He’s leaving.” Jeff was shaking holding in a laugh.

“It’s too easy sometimes,” Star said with a smile.

-

Eddie had taken them to school and taken them home just the same that day. They hadn’t parted since the incident. Star was feeling a new neediness she was afraid of. She didn’t want him to leave. At first, she put it to worrying about his injuries but now she knew that wasn’t true. They were both in bed, in next to nothing as they had been for a few days. Star split a pain pill with him, and they smoked themselves out. They lay in bed, Star’s hands moving carefully through Eddie’s hair, being sure not to bother his sore spots.

“I think your bruises have peaked,” she spoke softly, her thumb light on his temple.

“I’m still so sore.” he confided to her with tired eyes.

“The pills not helping?” she asked, concerned.

“Oh yeah, they are, right now. But without them, I can feel everything. My arms especially.”

“Your tattoos are mixing in with the bruises.” she mused, fingers touching the bats on his forearm.

“I hope it doesn’t fuck with them.”

“It shouldn’t. Don’t worry.” she kissed his forehead. “Just enjoy it not hurting for now.”

“Are you?”

“Very much so.” she smiled, having her nose not hurt when she moved her face.

“This is nice.” he sighed. “I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, the mix of pills and weed softening them both to mush.

“Me too,” she whispered, taking his hand and bringing it up to kiss the busted knuckles. “You got more hits in than I thought. I saw all three of them today. They all had something going on.”

“I think they got more,” he answered pitifully but it made Star laugh.

“But you’re still pretty and they look like busted orcs.”

“Orcs are already ugly.”

“That’s my point.” she felt him chuckle. “But you’re still elf pretty. You get hit in the mouth? Your lips are plusher. Hit in the nose? It gives it a new angle. Brow? Suddenly you’re super intimidating.” she kissed his face, and a happy hum from Eddie as she rolled him out of her chest and kissed every bit she spoke of.

“I got hit in the dick too,” he muttered and she fell into giggles, burying her face into his neck. He wrapped his creaky arms around her to keep her close. “Does he get kisses?”

“No.” she smiled and raised to see his eyes shut and an impossibly soft sleepy expression on his face. “You’re still hurt. A pulled muscle isn’t something I’m interested in adding to your injuries.” she kissed his cheek. “Plus my nose is busted. Gotta breathe to do that.”

“I was joking, sweetheart.” he yawned and opened one eye to see her gazing down at him, stroking his hair back. He knew they were both not sober but he swore she was looking at him differently. “What?” he decided to ask.

“You’re pretty,” she said with a smile. A light kiss to his lips. “I like looking at you.” she snuggled in and let him hold her this time. Face to face they touched noses and look each other over.

“That’s me. Your pretty boy.” his eyes shut when his cheeks rose in a pronounced grin.

“You are.” she leaned in to kiss him again with a content sigh. “You’re my pretty boy,” she whispered into his mouth. Another kiss he pushed back into. He squeezed her tightly to him, despite them both knowing it hurt. She let herself curl up into him, entangling their legs together and nuzzling like a kitten against him. They kissed with no intention to take it further for the first time. It was gentle hands in hair and caresses over bruises. Brushes against barebacks and fingertips to faces. There was something there in the haze of intoxication they were both too weak to fight. They floated together in the warmth of being someone else’s under the covers. Neither wanted to pry and take away the good feeling when both were already worn down from pain. They lazed together, kisses intermittent and spurred on by nothing but unspoken affection. As they fell asleep, one would kiss the other in the rounds of waking through the night. They would smile in their sleep, knowing the touch was safe and wanted, and pull the other closer. It was what they both wanted every night together to be. They wanted this every night. They wanted it forever. But both were too afraid to admit it.

-

Star woke to Eddie’s concerned face over her, his hands on her shoulders, shaking her awake. She gasped out of unconsciousness, feeling the warmth of tears on her cheeks. Her eyes darted and lolled as she came out of her dream.

“There she is, hey sweetheart. You were having a bad dream.” he cooed at her, petting the sides of her face to steady her.

“Yeah.” she rasped out, throat thick with sleep. She swallowed and caught up her breathing, having been thrown into a heaving pace from the moment she woke. “Sorry I-”

“Shhh.” he insisted with a creased brow, leaning on his side and pulling her in. He’d heard her ex’s name cried from her trembling lips in her sleep, she didn’t need to explain. “I wouldn’t have woken you up but you were upset.” he rubbed her back as she let herself wrap her arms around his waist. “Didn’t like the thought of you trapped in there with him,” he said barely above a whisper and he felt her shrink and squeeze him tighter. It hurt, his body still sore and bruised but he didn’t let it show.

“It was bad,” she muttered into his bare chest. She had flashes of the dream come back to her, all flickering an old fear in her head.

“I know, I heard.” he kissed her head and she nuzzled into the barely-there hair on his chest. “But you’re safe now. You’re here with me. And he’s far, far away, locked up. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.” he softly said in her ear, trying to reassure her. She knew all these things, but hearing it from him made her chest hurt.

“But I do.” she whimpered rather pitifully. It helped her release a pinch of the pressure she felt from having his voice in her head so much since realizing she loved the man holding her in his arms.

“I know, baby.” he sighed, feeling the exhale slump his shoulders at the weight of the statement. He wanted her ex to be a bad memory and nothing more. He wanted that so badly. The guy had been out of the picture for a long time and he was still messing with Star’s life. Eddie didn’t want to feel impatient, but it was hard not to at times like this when emotions were high.

-

Eddie woke from a dream, hands fumbling on the soft bed around him as he recalled where he was. He had fallen asleep in Star’s bed. He’d come over, fed the cats, and settled in with a book, resigned to wait on her to get home from work. He felt a cold chill cross him, aware of the sweat that covered his skin, and an odd feeling that he had been having a bad dream he’d already forgotten. He laid back, body stretched out as he watched the single streetlights' fuzzy light fight through the darkness to glow shapes onto the ceiling through the curtain. He was in an unpleasant state of half awake and sleeping when the phone rang. He nearly jumped out of his skin, his hands jolting to his chest as he looked in its direction with a high-pitched shriek he was glad no one was around to hear. He mumbled and cursed, sitting up at staring at the phone on the wall. He wasn’t sure if he should answer it. It wasn’t his phone or his house. But something whispered into his ear, telling him to.

“Hello?” he decided on, Reynolds residence felt silly, too formal even if it was factual.

“Ugh, thank christ he’s there.” he hear a muffled familiar voice. “Hey, Eddie, It’s Steve.”

“Uh.. hi?” he tilted his head despite no one being there to see it. Steve calling Star didn’t seem that weird, but the fact that he knew who he was coupled with the formerly mumbled words didn’t sit right with Eddie. “Star’s not here, she’s working tonight. She should be home soon though,” he said, sleep still heavy in his voice.

“I know, she’s here with me.” Eddie’s brow lowered at the news. “We’re at Family Video, are you in any shape to drive down here?”

“You think I’m just high all the time?” Eddie deflected, looking at his watch to verify that it was in fact past closing time and late.

“Do you want me to answer that?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Besides, this is serious. Those guys that she went after pulled some fucked up shit on her at work. She can’t drive. Or I won’t let her in this shape. She needs you.” Eddie’s heart fluttered, happy at the statement, but his stomach also dropped at the news that something had already happened in retaliation.

“Yeah, I’ll leave right now. Is she okay?”

“She’ll be okay she’s shaken up. No need to drive any more recklessly than you already do.”

“Sure. Be there in 5.”

The diner was dark, and Star’s car was still in the parking lot. Family Video was closed, and the sign turned as Eddie jogged up to it. He saw the familiar trio inside, sitting on the countertops of the checkout. Steve jumped down to let him in, Robin was trying her best at being comforting and failing to Star who looked beyond exhausted.

“She’s-” Steve began as Eddie shoved past him, ignoring him. He shrugged, not insulted due to the circumstances. Eddie leaped over the counter, forgoing walking the distance around and making a straight line to Star who had already held her arms out to him.

“You okay baby? What happened? You hurt?” he blurted out after they pressed against each other for a heavy moment. Robin gave a sympathetic smirk to Steve at the pet name.

“I’m okay. I mean, I’m not hurt I’m just… so tired. I had a panic attack.” there were dark circles under her eyes, and her mascara ran down her cheeks. Her usual neat bun was loose and tilted on top of her head.

“What happened?” he asked, holding her cheeks to look her over to make sure she wasn’t downplaying her situation. She looked over to Steve who had already heard it all. She was so tired she didn’t have it in her to go over it again.

“Can you fill him in? I don’t have it in me.” she exhaled and let her shoulders slump, her head landing on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I was out back and heard screaming. I saw her run out of the diner to her car and she was in a full-blown panic attack. The not talking, crying, hyperventilating, the whole 9 yards. So I ran over and tried to do… something. Anything you know?” he shrugged. “They turned the gas stove on and held the door shut on her, while one lit it from that little window where they keep the order tickets. It flamed up really big and she…” he held his hand out toward her. “Understandably blacked out and went full-blown PTSD soldier.” Eddie frowned at the insensitive description. “Her words, man.” he held his hands up to show he wasn’t at fault. Eddie’s face softened again, having now perched up on the counter next to Star, his arm around her, rubbing her arm as she let herself lean against him. She stared at the floor the entire time.

“Was it Jason?” he asked her, looking down at her.

“I assume. I didn’t see anyone. Just a guy's arm come in the window. They got scared when it happened, I heard other guys’ voices shouting and they ran. I heard the back door slam.”

“How’d they get in the diner?” his voice was angry, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. She was too tired to be angry and was thankful someone could be on her behalf.

“No idea. I thought the back door was locked while I cleaned up. John left, he’d cleaned the kitchen, and I was finishing up everything else before I headed out.”

“That’s that line cook isn’t it?” Eddie didn’t hide the disdain in his voice. “I bet he did it.” Steve shrugged. “Did he try something again?” Eddie asked, holding Star’s face up to his to look into her eyes, making sure she was telling the truth. Her brow furrowed at his suspiciously.

“How did you know?” she asked quietly.

“Steve and Robin told me he hits on you all the time.” Star let out a huff of a laugh.

“I set him straight a little while ago. Yelled at him and told him to fuck off. All that shit. He’s not done much since then.” she shrugged.

“It was multiple guys though. She said she heard more than one voice.” Robin pointed out.

“I’m thinking he might be how they got into the diner.” Eddie elaborated and Robin nodded slowly in understanding.

“That guy has bad vibes written all over him,” Steve said with an assertive hand. “I wouldn’t put it past him to let those guys in.”

“That’s what I’m thinking too.” Eddie let Star’s head rest again, rubbing on her back now. “It had to be Jason. He’s been the one messing with us. He’s hurt he got beat up by a girl. Two of the three that came after us had to sit out on one of their games so they’re pissed about that too.”

“Jason’s the one that knows I’m scared of fire,” Star said quietly.

“Wouldn’t anyone just assume you were from the scars?” Robin asked obviously.

“Jason threatened her at the Halloween party with it though.” Eddie backed up Star’s statement.

“A lot of people don’t even know they’re from fire,” Star added with a roll of her eyes.

“That’s fucked up,” Steve said with sympathetic eyes Star didn’t mind at the moment.

“We can’t just let them get away with this right? It’s not just some fight or bullying. This was… yeah... fucked up.” Robin said, chewing on her nails.

“It feels personal.” Steve winced as he and Star looked at one another and she gave a small nod.

“We can’t go beat them up. It won’t work. That’s clear now. We have to do something different.”

“You won’t be doing anything,” Eddie said, looking down at her. “We’ll handle this. You can’t be attached to this. If they know it’s you, or us they’ll keep coming back and this won’t end. We need a plan.”

“Something sneaky,” Robin added.

“Something that can’t be traced back to you.” Steve tapped his pronounced cupid’s bow, his eyes tight in thought.

“We need to scare them.” Eddie’s already dark eyes were black with vengeance. If they put their heads together. They could figure this out.

-

Star sat out the next Hellfire meeting, she was exhausted still from the panic attacks. Eddie didn’t give her any shit about it. It gave him a rare moment to get people together without her involved.

The appearance of Steve and Robin at Hellfire confused the hell out of the club.

“Tonight’s session will be delayed. One of our own has been personally attacked and we’re going to brainstorm a way to ruin these guys' lives.”

“But no amateur shit, alright?” Steve said forcefully. “We aren’t talking fights and rumors. We need a solid plan of attack.”

The combination of Steve and Eddie and their rage fueled their leadership. With the addition of multiple points of view, the genius of Dustin, the insider knowledge of Lucas, and Mike’s ability to get access to what Nancy had access to they formulated a plan.

Steve pulled Eddie aside, his face and tone still serious.

“I know you aren’t going to agree but I think if we talked to Hopper-.”

“The cops? Are you fucking kidding me? No. Absolutely not.” he shook his head and motioned in the negative dramatically.

“Listen. We can trust him. You saw how he let Star go. He’s not as big of a piece of shit as you think. I know him. We can trust him.”

“I have a lifetime of experience that tells me otherwise, Harington.” Eddie snapped back.

“Hopper and I…” Steve sighed and rubbed his face, he couldn’t tell Eddie the truth, so he had to try to find a way to convince him. “Hopper and I have been through some shit together okay. I mean, life-changing, government-level shit. I got involved when Barb went missing. When Will went missing. Do you remember? The chemical leaks and all that shit? I was there. Hopper and I went through hell trying to figure that shit out.”

“You were involved in that?”

“Yes. It’s complicated. I got involved because Will was missing and Nancy was helping Jonathan look for him and he was friends with Mike and all the kids and that’s her little brother and their friend and it all just got….complicated. So if I talk to Hopper, maybe we can get his help. Or at least an idea or two.”

“The Chief of Police is gonna help some shithead kids take revenge on some other shithead kids?” Eddie said with no belief in his eyes.

“Will you go with me? Can you trust me? You know I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think it was a good idea. I’ve taken care of Star before right? You know I care about her too. I’m not going to make things worse. Can you at least trust that?” Eddie groaned. Steve had a point.

-

“What the hell are you two doing in my office so damned early?” Hopper groaned, sitting down at his desk.

“We needed some advice.” Steve started, Eddie had promised to keep quiet. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing while in a natural mode of defense in a police station. He’d never been in one for any good reason. “About Star.”

“Are you two a little old to need advice on girls?” Hopper grinned and laughed in amusement at himself. Eddies brow quirked up at the odd friendliness he was showing.

“Not like that. We have reason to believe that Carver kid and some of his friends, maybe the line cook at the diner is involved too, attacked her to scare the shit out of her.”

“A prank?”

“She’s deathly afraid of fire. You saw the scars on her arms. They lit up the gas stove in the diner’s kitchen and held the door shut and it sent her into a full-blown PTSD flashback and she nearly had a heart attack from a panic attack.” Eddie blurted out, still hurt over the fact that it happened.

Hopper blinked, seeing the Munson kids' passion for the situation. He sat back and Eddie watched as Hopper's face contorted, not happy about the information he just blurted out.

“You have any proof?” was the first question.

“I saw her run out of the diner screaming and hyperventilating. She was still freaking out by the time I got her into the store. Robin was there. Is that a witness?”

“Did you see who did it? Did she?” he clarified.

“No.” Stever frowned and slumped noticeably.

“She said she saw a guy's hand light the stove through the window. And it had to be someone strong holding the door to keep her from opening it. You saw her take that giant kid down, she’s not weak.” Eddie added.

“She heard more than one guy's voice when it happened. It scared them too. They didn’t know it would be that big of a fire cloud, I’m guessing.”

“They could've killed her,” Eddie said, his voice cracking.

“I know that old place doesn’t have surveillance. There was that weird incident with the car and blood everywhere a little while back. Are these things related?” Hopper eyeballed Eddie who still had an inkling of bruising still left on his face. Eddie looked at Steve nervously.

“I told you. You can trust him. Tell him.” he offered earnestly.

“I have no reason to be a dick to you kid. I get pranks and the dumb shit you kids pull. I was an idiot once myself. But terrifying a poor girl who’s already clearly been through a lot isn’t acceptable in my book. I’m not here to give you shit for getting in a fight.” Eddie shifted uneasily.

“Jason Carver and two of his basketball team members faked a note from Star and jumped me in the alley. I thought I was meeting her after work. Star showed up and she got ahold of Carver and beat his face in. He looked rough. She got me and took me home. We think that them scaring her at the diner was retaliation for her fighting back.”

“Unfortunately that makes sense for that kind of person,” Hopper mumbled.

“I can’t press charges without evidence. And you don’t have any. I know that’s not what you want to hear but that’s me being straight with you.” He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee.

“We can’t let them get away with it. But we need something to get them back, that can’t be traced back to us.” Eddie, although more at ease, was still tightly wound and surprised by Steve’s willingness to be so direct.

“Sorry, kid I’m not gonna pull some Lone Ranger-type shit on a bunch of high schoolers.” he chuckled and paused, then leaned forward on his desk and motioned for them lean in too. “But… there are plenty of ways to very quickly make a car not run you know,” he smirked. “I’m sure you can use what you know about cars to figure something out, Munson.” Jim gave him a nod. “Keep in mind what I said about evidence.” he sat up with a grunt. “It can be used for people besides you. A well-placed piece of evidence can be very damning in the right circumstances.” Eddie’s eyes went wide as he blinked at Hopper in disbelief. He was being… helpful. “I’m just saying this to warn you of course. This isn’t me giving you any ideas.” he winked and nodded.

“Shit. That’s a good idea.”

“What’d I just say?” Hopper grumped at Steve.

“You’re right. Thanks. We just needed some…guidance on what NOT to do.” Steve gave an overly performed wink and Hopper groaned.

“Don’t get caught,” he said as they stood to go to the door. “Don’t. Get. Caught.”

-

Star sat back, each unfortunate accident a surprise to her and she relished in each one. In the next few weeks, things moved fast. Star didn’t mind the nights alone when she knew her friends were out raising well-deserved hell. Cars started mysteriously not working. Whole engines needed to be replaced. Mike, pleading for the sake of revenge got Nancy to let an embarrassing typo at Jason’s expense into the school paper in the name of justice. However, she might’ve chosen the least flattering photos of him for the ones used in the paper for the rest of the year. Jason and his friends suddenly were failing their classes on their midterm report cards. Thanks to Dustin’s girlfriend, Susie. Dustin messed with the tech at basketball games. The scoreboard would miscount, creating arguments and distractions to make them perform poorly. The cameras would just so happen to stop recording from time to time. Enough to make Jason miserable, missing out on having his top performances lost to memory as they weren’t recorded. Star’s personal favorite was an anonymous call being put in for a health hazard at Benny’s, the abandoned building the jocks partied at was suddenly boarded up and covered in caution tape for the second time in its history. This time, a big poison sign was plastered to the front. They no longer had a place to party. The boy’s favorite was the senior prank gone wrong. Steve had been blamed for spraypainting things before but never had. Eddie had a hard-on for vandalism he rarely indulged in due to always being the one that got blamed. But with the help of the club, too many of them to catch them all, and a shit load of spray paint and spray foam insulation, not only did they get two days off school for the subsequent cleanup, they got Jason suspended. with a well-placed receipt for the purchase of the two products used in the vandalism and the spray paint can used under his bed he couldn’t deny it. It was labeled a distasteful senior prank gone wrong. A disgrace they called it. He was now an outcast, his parents deeply disappointed, grounding him for a month, and the church ripe with rumors of the downfall of a once-promising young man. They dare not even speak the words spray painted all over the school inside and out. It was beautiful to the perpetrators, seeing some justice in the world for the first time in a long time.

If you enjoy my work, likes, comments, and reblogs really help get my work to a bigger audience.

Part 19!

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#Eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x f!oc #eddie munson x ofc #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson ff #eddie munson fanfic #joe quinn #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things au #eddie munson au #eddie munson fix it fic #stranger things s4 #stranger things fic

[space-wedding]

Apollo! My darling 🤍 I just saw your prompt post. I hope this is okay for me to request?

Calmly reassuring the other it’s okay when they drop a glass, gently checking their hands for any injury. 

With: Mr. Han ✨

Lola!!! Hi hi! Yes, I was very much looking forward to this prompt when I saw it in my askbox! I really hope you don't mind the way I wrote MC here haha! - prompt list

It's a warm autumn evening. Jumin and you are sitting outside, in the garden of his penthouse, enjoying a glass of wine, talking about this and that. The wine, of course, of highest quality. Only the best for Jumin's darling. Whenever you drank a bit too much, you were prone to talk with your hands, gesturing, to highlight the points you were trying to make.

You report, words a bit slurred: "This morning, when I woke up, I called out for Elizabeth... and I swear, I saw her jumping all the way from the cat tree to-" You are cut off by your hand hitting the half-full wine glass in front of you, some of it spilling on Jumin's shirt, staining it red. The glass falls to the ground, splitting into a thousand pieces.

It feels like you sobered up from one second to the other as fear overcomes your body. Tensing up you cover your face, trying to hide yourself as past memories slip into your mind. Memories of instances such as this, where you ended up being yelled at, shunned, for a minor accident. You almost prepare yourself for an insult, but all you can hear is a slight chuckle from your boyfriend. "You're so clumsy Y/N."

After taking a second look at you, he is quick to notice your body language. He stands up to make his way over to where you are sitting, bending down as to lower himself to your height. Gently putting his hands on your shoulders he asks: "Are you okay Y/N? Are you hurt?" You try to answer, but all you are able to muster are stuttered words. "I- I- I'm so- s-"

"Sssh... it's okay my love." He reassures you. "You don't have to say anything right now. I can see that you are going through something. I may not quite comprehend it, but I promise, I am not angry with you, if that's what you think." He lifts one of his hands from your shoulder to gently brush through your hair. "Besides, you are much more precious than a glass. Unlike this glass, you are irreplaceable. I love you so much, more than words will ever be able to describe."

His welcoming aura, soft touch and warm words are able to calm you down. Enough for you to speak. "I love you too Jumin. And... Thank you... for always being so understanding of me."

"Of course, my love. You are everything to me. Shall we go inside? It is getting chilly." You nod and slowly raise from your chair. You grab his hand, it's warm, the perfect opposite to your always cold hand. Making your way to the entrance of the penthouse, Jumin notices a wetness on the very hand he is holding. He immediately stops in his tracks to inspect it. "Y/N, you're bleeding. I apologize for not noticing sooner. I must take care of this immediately."

After bandaging up your wound, the rest of the night is filled with sweet kisses, words of reassurance and love and warm embraces.

#aaah im sorry that this is so short ;-; #i still hope you like it! #mystic messenger #jumin han #mysme #mysme jumin #my writing #ask #drabble #lolaalee

[redheartwriting]

Origins - Chapter XVIII

<ProcellaCor> *It's the dead of night. Quartz sits up very suddenly, still plagued by nightmares. Of their childhood, of losing Rose, of everything they fear. They glance at Rose, and decide he might be asleep at night for once. They're wrong, of course, but they quickly leave the bed and head downstairs. But they don't head outside this time, they just don't have the energy. Instead, they go through their kitchen, finding the honey that others have gifted them. They've discovered the magic of alcohol, and it /is/ helping. Or so they think it is, but they don't realize they're developing a problem fast. By the time Rose comes downstairs, they're already three bottles in and nursing a fourth. They sit on their front steps, just drinking in silence, trying to drown it all out.*

<champi1612> *Rose takes a sit next to them, shaking ever so slightly in the cold.* Meine Liebe... *He leans against Quartz, resting his head on their shoudler, his hand slowly and carefully prying the bottle away from them.* It's not good for you to be outside so late.

<ProcellaCor> Hey... *Quartz' voice is a bit low and slurred, but their tone still sounds annoyed that Rose is taking their bottle* Gimme that back... *they reach for the bottle, but there's no energy behind it. They're exhausted and the alcohol weakens them.* I can't even feel the cold.

<champi1612> *Rose sets the bottle away from himself, far out of Quartz's reach in case they get any idea.* It's still not good for you. *Rose tries to pull them up, letting them have the choice to stand up themself first. If they won't, of course, he's just going to pick them up and bring them inside.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz weakly tries to shove Rose off and away, though even in their bad state they're still exceptionally careful not to touch his wounds or broken wing* Just go back to bed, I'm fine, give me the damn bottle back-

<champi1612> *Rose sighs, practically sweeping them off the ground into his arms. He hasn't fully healed yet, nor has he gotten his strength back, but it wasn't too much of a problem.* I won't help you when my friends start attacking you, let's just go inside.

<ProcellaCor> Hey-! *Quartz sounds offended that Rose just picked them up* Put me the hell down, what's the matter with you!? *they struggle out of his arms once they are inside, but they only manage to fall face first onto the floor. They groan in pain, but they make no effort to get back up* You're such a... *they trail off, not having the heart to complete the insult*

<champi1612> *Quartz struggling made them both fall to the floor. Rose, hitting his back against the walls, accidentally hurting his wings in the process. He grunts, muttering some Roguetian curse words under his breath, hope that didn't mess up his wings even more.* Quartz... *Rose looks up to them, having given up on trying to get them back to bed, he just hugs them, right there, on the floor.* What's wrong?

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz tries to struggle away still, but the effort is emptyhearted. They don't /want/ Rose to let go, they do want to hug him, but they also don't want to talk about any of their emotions, anything that's been on their mind.* N-Nothing, I'm fine. *They frown. Dragon, even /they/ can hear the lie in their own voice* Worry about yourself.

<champi1612> *Rose holds them even tighter, shuffling closer. It's nice, and they're so warm.* Please, talk to me. *He looks up at Quartz with puppy eyes and his wings lightly droop.* Talk to me.

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz almost falls for the guilt trip* I... *but they trail off as they look at the movement of his wings, as they remember his wings are broken, /why/ they're broken. They don't let themself finish the sentence.* I-I don't know what you want me to say.

<champi1612> I know you have something on your mind. *Rose puts his forehead against Quartz's, nose bumping against theirs, nuzzling them.* You talked to me last time, what's the difference now.

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz' eyes water a bit. They know Rose is only pushing because he cares, and they know they /should/ talk to him. But they... can't. They look away from Rose, looking more and more upset* Can I just have the bottle. *their voice is hoarse as they try to stop themself from crying*

<champi1612> *Rose brings his hand to their face, gently turning it back to look at him.* Please. Don't push me away. Tell me what's bothering you.

<ProcellaCor> *Some tears finally escape Quartz' eyes and roll over Rose's hand.* I can't. *they whisper it, their shoulders slumping in defeat* You're- you're the priority, we need to make sure your wing heals properly.

<champi1612> *Rose wipes away their tears, kissing their hair and letting them sob into his shoulder.* My wings can heal on their own, you can't just bottle everything up to yourself. Please, just tell me what's wrong?

<ProcellaCor> Sure I can, I've done it for years. *Quartz tries to sound casual and nonchalant, but they fail /badly/. More tears stream from their eyes as they lean foreward, crying against Rose.* I-I'm plenty strong, I'm a Brute, I don't need- *they're cut off by Rose*

<champi1612> *Rose runs his hand through their hair, and another one up and down their back.* You don't have to be strong all the time. We're here for you. I'm here for you. I don't want you to be our Brute if it means that you'll just push me away.

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz shakes in Rose's arms. It's not even just that they don't want to talk about it, it's that they also don't know where to even fucking start. The nightmares are getting worse, they're pretty sure some of their injuries aren't healing right, and they keep having these... flashes of their childhood now. Of trauma, of things they thought they had repressed. They cry a bit harder and slowly wrap their arms around Rose, hugging him tight.* A lot has just happened, lately. *they say it quietly, and it's the best they can manage* I-I'm just... stressed.

<champi1612> *Rose pulls back a little, just enough to start peppering kisses on Quartz's face, kissing away their tears.* Let's talk about everything, one thing at a time, okay? Let's take it slow.

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz sighs out slowly, trying to find the words* I-I... I can try. But I can't promise I can talk about everything right now. It's so much and I... *they finally look back up at Rose, putting a gentle hand on his face. Their thumb gently runs over his eyepatch* I... I feel... guilty. *they force the words out, but it's not untrue. They're just fighting years, decades, of conditioning against talking about their emotions* I keep failing to protect you. 

<champi1612> *Rose takes off his eyepatch, something he has trying to make a habit when he's around Quartz.* You're not failing at anything. Everything that has happened to me is my fault, it was just supposed to happen because I chose to... Because I failed to protect myself. *Because he chose to stay, because he chose to stay. But he can't say that, he can't let Quartz know that he's still terrified, that he has never gotten use to the sound of war horns, that every night when they're asleep he considers running away, or hide into his bunker for the rest of time like a coward.* You have never failed me. Ever.

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz puts both their hands on his face, their own expression twisting into guilt and anxiety* I don't /want/ you to have to protect yourself. And you shouldn't have to. I should be more than capable of protecting you. What did I spend years training for if I can't even competently save your life. *They breathe hard* You- I had to watch you /die/ because I wasn't /here/. Your wing is mangled and I don't know that I even set it right. I have to protect you because I cannot lose you, I /know/ I can't. Not again. *they hang their head, their hands falling from his face in defeat* And I see you die, every night, with those "nightmares" *they begin sobbing* A-And I can't take it. I just. Can't.

<champi1612> *Rose holds their face, bringing it back up and kissing them softly.* I'm still here, after everything, I'm still here, because of you. You have never failed to protect me, you have never failed me.

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz collapses against Rose, letting him hold them as they cry in his arms* I-I can't lose you. I'll break. If you die, I won't be long after, I'm sure. If you run, I'll come with you. I-I just can't lose you. P-Please, please don't- *they're cut off by their own terrified crying* Te debeo. Te amo. Mane.

<champi1612> *Rose holds them tightly, silent tears rolling down his face, it hurts, like something is weighing down on his chest, on his heart when he sees them cry. He doesn't understand the feeling, he has only really felt this with Addict, but it hurts to see them cry.* I can't... leave you. I can't let myself leave you. I won't leave you. I promise.

 <ProcellaCor> *Quartz wordlessly cries for a few moments longer, but they start to calm down. They clutch onto Rose like they need him to live. They finally begin to breathe normally again* ...I'm sorry. *they whisper* I promise too, I won't leave, I'll protect you, you don't have to be scared. *they look back up at him, and finally offer him a weak smile* I love you.

<champi1612> *Rose wipes away a tear still on their cheek, leaning in close.* I can't leave you, so don't leave me. *Rose kisses them, just softly, but for a long, long moment. He refuses to break the kiss, Quartz was warm, and even though they still taste like alcohol he doesn't quite mind the sting at all, not if it's Quartz. He finally gives in to the lack of oxygen, but still just pulling away enough to gasp for air, resting his forehead against theirs.*

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz kisses back, holding him close, needing him close. When he pulls away, they don't let go. They can't. To them, this is plenty romantic, even if they're both just on the floor. They smile when Rose touches his forehead to theirs, and they begin to purr, though they don't realize it.* The sun will be up soon, you should get to sleep. *they say it softly* And for once, I think I'll sleep in too.

<champi1612> *Rose nuzzles them, some of his feathers ruffling, like how he would usually flap his wings when he's happy.* I'm tired. *He still peppers kisses on their face though, like he would die if he goes a moment too long without kissing them.* It's nice to actually sleep together once in a while

<ProcellaCor> *Quartz gently picks Rose up, like he had them earlier. They carry him to bed, laying him down, and they lay down beside him, snuggling up against him. They're still purring, and they keep one arm around him, their head against his chest. They don't say anything else, they don't think they need to. Their purrs quiet down as they finally fall asleep*

#origins #word count: 1905 #total word count: 47468

[nofoundboy]

Holding out for a hero

Jason Vorhees x Male reader

Tw: homophobic aggressions, a slur

Your calves burned with every step you took. You were completely exhausted but you couldn't stop, not when for sure, 5 guys would finish what they started.

And heavens no, you definitely hadn't planned a head trauma for dinner.

Somehow you had run all the way to the woods. You'd passed that dreary cabin and now all you could see were trees and bear traps.

"Shit shit shit shit" you whispered as you stumbled again. You knew that was that darned Crystal Lake but you couldn't be bothered to remember the history of that place. You just had to keep running.

God, you needed help, now you had to admit it. You never liked to admit when you couldn't do something alone, but now you needed someone to give you shelter or stop them.

But who could show up in that place at night? No one was stupid enough to wander around a place like that at the dead of night, so you had to keep running even if your chest burned and your legs felt like jelly.

The aftertaste of blood in your mouth didn't help and even less so the fact that you had no belongings left. With no money, what would you do if you were saved?

Then, thanks to your bad habit, your mind began to travel.

Oh, Bonnie Tyler were you so in need of a hero, one and big and strong? You doubted she was as needy as you were now.

And you had given them a fight. You were used to that and well knew what you were up against when you showed those girls how to voguing. That was implicitly forbidden in the straightest place you had ever seen.

At least they'd get some scratches and bruises from you but none of that would be worth it if you ended up a bloody mass.

Very grim, back to Miss Tyler.

Yes, a strong Hercules ready for battle. I mean, if anything you could occupy yourself while running was imagining that. Thinking about the possibility of dying wasn't your style.

You heard their voices in the distance and so you felt your bruises widen simply in fear. What would they do when they came before you?

No, damned brain, you had to go back to the hero.

You had never been too picky, but being protected at that moment by someone sweet, good-natured and extremely strong like Superman didn't sound bad at all.

"You're finished you fucking faggot" your calves wouldn't go any further, no matter how much you wanted them to. They had gotten to you and now...shit.

You didn't want to die being called that.

Your head did its best to isolate the insults, the humiliating words. The crescendo of Tyler's hero came on, your mind playing it at full volume, just in time to see the machete lopping off the head of one of them.

The same then plunged into the chest of the next one and although the other screamed and cried for help at the top of his lungs, it didn't stop him from being killed by an accurate slash from the machete.

And oh shit. There was your hero.

You couldn't see him completely thanks to your black eye and the tears you had thought were your last but hey, you wouldn't stop watching your savior.

You had never been good with statures but you could define him as a "perfect to take refuge in his arms". His face was hidden with an old hockey mask and his arms...oh, his arms. Big and powerful as trunks.

Bonnie Tyler's blessing right in front of your eyes.

You curled up in a ball on the floor. The giant looked at you with his head cocked to one side, curious. You were clearly not a threat, not like the others.

"Thank you" you mumbled with a trickle of your voice.

He didn't put down the machete, but offered you his hand,gently.

You looked at him once more. He was less scary with that confused dog stance.

You took his hand and with extreme care, more than you would have ever thought from someone so big, he lifted you off the ground.

You couldn't say for sure but you thought you saw his ears going red and that made you smile.

"I'm Y/N" you replied this time louder, following him through the forest even though every step hurt. "What's your name?"

He shook his head and pointed to his mask.

You understood then that he could not speak.

You kept walking until you reached the huts.

"They were going to kill me. Beat me to death" the sudden realization of what could have been your fate, hit you. You no longer had any stupid thoughts to replace it with. You could have died.

"And you saved me. You saved me from dying like so many others" your voice cracked but you didn't want to cry. Not anymore.

"Jason...you're Jason" and you remembered. A nasty drunk telling the story of the poor drowned boy. The tormented and ignored child. The neglect. The desperation and vengeance of his mother.

"Thank you, Jason. Thank you" slowly, not wanting to scare him, placing your head on his chest.

He dropped the machete with a jerk and looked at you in surprise behind the mask.

He had never experienced such gratitude with anyone other than his mother. No one had ever sought comfort from him and yet there you were, seeking his warmth.

When his hand gently patted your head, you knew there was your hero and he was so much better than Bonnie ever sang.

#jason voorhees #jason vorhees x reader #Jason vorhees x male reader #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slashers x male reader #friday the 13th

[33roda]

Kaeya X Dom!Reader <3

tags: tiddy sucking (m!receiving), butt fingering, (m!receiving), brat taming kinda, gn!reader I think !!

____________________________________

Yet another exhausting Abyss Order attack, finally over with.

It was a quite difficult one at that, having required a whole army of knights at the gates of Mondstadt, so Kaeya invited the team to a drink at Angel's Share, out of all places. Even after all the energy that used up, he's still in the mood for drinks?

Well, that didn't matter anyway, because either way, you would've been forced to go either by Kaeya or by Lisa. You sat quietly next to Kaeya, listening to him chat with the other knights.

"Ah, another success.. Of course, we couldn't have done it without our Honorary Knight here," he chatted, sounding as sarcastic as ever. "You truly are a new storm after all."

He rested his hand on your shoulder while holding up his third glass of sparkling wine of the night, chuckling at how Amber was already tipsy after one sip of beer. Jean held her up, furrowing her eyebrows tightly, looking for where Lisa went. Probably off to flirt with the new naive bartender. Everyone's enjoying their time here while she had to babysit Amber and Lisa?

"Of course, Y/N. It is truly an honor to celebrate this with our new Honorary Knight." she stumbled as she continued holding up Amber and wiping her drool with napkins, her slurring drowned out by the noises in the background. You let out a polite smile, showing your appreciation to everyone on the table.

"Thank you, Grand Master. It was a pleasure working with you today." The table was awkward. Too formal, too stiff, but Kaeya didn't seem to mind it, just smirking and slowly sipping on his wine. You almost started wondering and fantasizing about when it'd be time to leave, but as soon as you thought of that, you felt Kaeya's hand slide off your shoulder and started gently caressing your thighs. Ah, expected. Of course there had to be an ulterior motive to his invitation, not that you minded. Taking advantage of the loud, distracting chatter in the background, he ducked his head next to your ear just enough so you could feel his hot breath against it.

"You sure look bored, Y/N. Quite rude of you to not respect etiquette," he whispered against your ear and chuckled. "I have something more fun for you later. Meet me outside the bar once the rest leave."

Ha. Finally, something interesting this night. You had nothing to lose anyway, so why not entertain his request? his actions motivating you to just get the night over with, you try to be more friendly with Jean to lessen the tenseness in the air, her unaware of the touching and groping exchanged between you and Kaeya underneath the table.

Lisa would never seem to return, and Jean eventually got tired of the Outrider hiccuping and slurring on her words next to her, deciding it was best for everyone to just go home. Exchanging goodbyes to everyone, Kaeya escorted them outside, looking back and shooting you a wink and a smug smile before leaving the tavern. Oh what you'd do to wipe that smug smile off his face, and you'd be sure to do just that tonight. You started packing up your stuff, taking your sweet time with it, thinking about how you're keeping The Cavalry Captain waiting. You can already picture how he'll be squirming and begging to be touched.. What a pretty sight, you thought, as you exit the tavern door to be greeted with silence for a second; then the husky voice of a grumpy-looking Kaeya.

"Took ya long enough, Honorary Knight," he raised an eyebrow, waiting for an excuse or an apology, getting a figurative slap in the face when he got teasing instead.

"Oh, so sorry, Captain, did my touch make you so needy in there you couldn't wait for a few minutes?," you cooed, giving him as much of a smug smile as he was giving you earlier.

"Hm," he scoffed. Resistance? from a new knight like you? that's new. He was known to be irresistible, to both men and women, being all dolled up with his fancy fur and chains. At least he still has you in his hands, he thought.

Thank Barbatos the streets were empty ‒ if anyone saw you leading the Captain to your house in the dead of the night, the rumours would not sound pretty for either of you. But rumours were the least of your concerns, being in your room with Kaeya holding you against the wall and leaning down to whisper in your ear as you twirled his ponytail in your fingers from behind.

"Getting you here was easier than expected, Y/N," he taunted, "I'm starting to think you've wanted this for some time."

"In your dreams," you looked up at him. To be honest, he was a very attractive man - looking down at you with half lidded eyes and that smirk that never seemed to fade. He shot down to kiss you, but it was too early, you thought. He had to earn it. You grabbed his ponytail, forcing him to throw his head back and expose his pretty little neck to you. His eyes going wide as you started tracing circles on his exposed chest - now that was a sight to appreciate. Funny, he's the captain yet his skin felt smooth and silky against your calloused hands.. now you understand why he liked showing it off so bad. Switching hands to grab him by the face, you snickered, "It seems like you've been the one planning this, Sir Kaeya. Actually, how about you let me be your master tonight, hm?"

"You think it's that easy? Insulting of you, Y/N," you raised an eyebrow at the disobedience, even with your hands grabbing his cheeks, his words coming out slurred. Should've expected that from a smug fuck like Kaeya. "Prove yourself to me."

"You really are a brat. Not surprised, honey." you said, letting go of his cheeks and immediately diving into his chest to lick and suck at it, leaving it with red and purple bruises. Sliding your fingers across his wet chest and under his shirt, you flicked his nipple with your thumb before squeezing it, feeling him shudder standing in front of you. "What's wrong? can't handle it? need to lay down?" you didn't even let him finish before shoving him down into the bed, impressing him with your sudden strength. Giggling, you pinned his wrists down next to his head. "Just let me have my fun with those pretty tits of yours." Surprisingly, he didn't complain - instead, he just bit his lip and turned his head to the side, allowing himself to be touched. "Such a good boy, really,"

"Th-this is just a one time thing, Y/N, don't get your hopes up," he stuttered out between little gasps and squirms, "I promise you, I'll be stuffing you full tonigh- ngh!" he choked, feeling you move his shirt to the side and start lapping at his nipple. If he wasn't hard before, he sure as hell is now. Riling him up was easier than expected - although he'd never admit that. You continued nibbling at him, feeling his hardness underneath his pants on your stomach. Poor Kaeya, getting hard just from this?

"Sensitive, are we?" you commented between licks. "No wonder you love showing off your chest so much. Makes me think how you'd like showing the rest of you off?"

"You'd love to see that, huh?" he remained smug.

"Why yes, I would, Captain," you purred. You started unbuckling his belt and stripping him all the way down to his underwear, leaving so much more area for you to lick, kiss, and just ruin. "Such a pillow princess. Are you like this with everyone else?"

"N-no!" he exclaimed, looking insulted. "Just strip me already, Y/N." Honestly, it was pretty funny how he tried to mask his horniness, even with his dick as hard as ever under you, face flushed and breathing heavily.

"I'm not stripping you unless you call me your master. And if you strip yourself," you held up his chin with your fingers, "I'll just leave you here, naked and horny, with no pleasure at all. Your choice, Kaeya."

"Master.. please, please strip me - I need more, anything, please," he sounded like he was about to cry. How adorable, his pride crumbling right before him, all just so he could have your touch..

"Good boy."

You pulled down his tight blue underwear down to his ankles, freeing his oh-so-pretty cock. He was certainly impressive, but unfortunately, his dick would be useless to you tonight. "How pretty," you hummed, tracing every vein with your fingers, feeling every throb. "You want more, don't you? I want to hear you beg for more."

"More, please, I n-need you to touch me master, please," gasping, he tried rutting against your hand, rubbing himself on you, anything - but failing. "I want it so bad,"

Having the Cavalry Captain being your little bitch wasn't so bad after all. Laughing at his little whines and pathetic attempts to get off on your hand, you grabbed him and started pumping gently, watching his reactions in pure amusement. His usually striking eyes shut closed, eyebrows tight, his mouth wide open - it was all a sight to behold. Groans and whimpers filling the room, he continued trying to thrust harder into your hand, chasing his release. But baby, he had no idea the plan was entirely different than he thought.

He really thought it was just a bit of teasing, then you'd make him cum with your hands, or fuck you tight. But you stopped pumping him, leaving him whining and begging for more, a look of pitiful disappointment on his face. It almost made you feel bad.

"It's not gonna be that easy, pretty boy," you slapped his thighs, "legs up for me baby."

"H-huh?" he looked genuinely confused, still in a daze from the sudden disappearance of your hand on his cock. Not letting him waste any time, you lifted his legs all the way up by yourself.

"Can't even take orders?" you smacked his ass, making it jiggle and let out that filthy noise. You were impressed how loud it was, honestly. "What would the other knights think seeing you like this, Kaeya? maybe you want them to hear you get fucked? see you all spread out for your master?" Not even giving him a chance to respond, you shoved your fingers in his mouth, he could only hum little "mmphs" and nods in your direction. "I never knew our Captain would be such a slut," you watched in amusement as he coated your fingers in drool, looking up at you in desperation. "I'll give you exactly what you want." smiling at him, you rubbed your saliva-coated fingers against his hole for a few seconds before shoving a finger in to prep him. He wanted more, evidently, by the way he kept humping down against your finger with hesitant moans.

"Y-You're doing it all wrong," he slipped off your fingers with heavy breaths, "let me show you how it's done, master," You raised an eyebrow, and as soon as you were gonna grab him by his throat and punish him, he spread himself out even further with his hands, looking to get a reaction out of you. It was his first time doing this with someone else, but he's definitely fucked himself in front of a mirror before. Who wouldn't love to watch his body like that, anyway?

Shoving two fingers inside himself, he started looking for his spot, erratically humping the air looking for more stimulation, anything; but the most you'd do is stroke his thighs with a smile on your face, teasing him even further. He was obviously just trying to put on a show for you, make you watch him stretch himself out and look at him make the most erotic faces for you - he'd even make sure the whole of Mondstadt heard him get fucked, as if he wasn't gonna wear your hickeys like an award in front of the other knights tomorrow. Watching him fuck in and out of himself, listening to the filthy noises his ass made; you couldn't help but cross your legs a little. "Do you like it, master?" he whimpered.

"I know what you're doing, prince," you answered, "trying so hard to get more.. such a desperate bitch, don't you think?" he nodded in agreement. "Well, since you've been so good.." turning him over, you pushed his face down into the bed. He was already arching his back for you - his pretty hole all wet and ready to get fucked. "You'll still have to work for it, though," you laughed, hearing him groan in protest into the bed. Gently pushing your digits into him, you ordered, "Fuck yourself on my fingers, Kaeya."

Immediately obeying, he pushed himself back onto your fingers, dick flailing under him, sobbing and begging for you to just fuck him yourself - maybe if he obeyed for a little, you'd finally do it? "Such a good boy. And to think you wanted to fuck me?"

You wouldn't let go until you found his spot, curving your fingers towards his navel, making his legs give out from all the pleasure - the Captain was simply a doll in your hands to play with. Even when his legs gave out, only then would you finally fuck him yourself, his tears staining your bed alongside his cum. Fucking his spot even when your arms got tired, you had to make him cum again. His moans getting more and more high-pitched with every fuck into him, squirming and grinding his ass against you, he finally came again with a throaty moan filling the room. You pulled out of him and gave his ass a quick smack, letting him take his breath before turning over to face you. His cum all over his stomach and chest was a sight to remember, dick twitching, his face blushy and pretty lips open gasping.

Sliding your fingers across his chest, you picked up some of his cum and put it near his mouth, waiting for him to put his tongue out to lick it. He did just that, making eye contact with you, and even holding your wrist in place so he could lick it all up. "Good puppy."

He'll definitely be limping around the other knights tomorrow.. Not that he minded. He'll absolutely be teasing you again at the Knights of Favonious headquarters, anyway.

#sub!genshin #genshin #kaeya #sub!kaeya #gn!reader #sub!genshin x reader #dom!reader #smut #genshin smut

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Geraskier letter R

I dunno man!! It got angsty!! Your word is RESTRAIN. Again, this feels more like Geraskier-lite than anything.

~

“Let me go!”

Jaskier thrashes against the ropes that bind him to the tree, eyes wild, hair a tangled mess around his head.

“I can’t,” says Geralt, surprised at how calm he sounds.

Jaskier swears, hurling insults into the air, then resumes wriggling against the ropes. It won’t do any good; Geralt has restrained people twice Jaskier’s size, double his strength. A cursed bard won’t break through those bonds.

He doesn’t even know what the curse is. The forest around them is rich with chaos, and Geralt’s medallion had begun vibrating the moment they stepped in. It had been inevitable, he now knows, that one of them would have walked into a spell. He supposes its luck that it was Jaskier: had it been himself who’d wandered into the trap, Jaskier would have been unable to hold him back.

It’s fuelled by emotion, that much he can tell. Jaskier had flown into a rage the moment the spell had gotten root in his mind, flinging himself forwards until Geralt had managed to grab him and pin him down.

That’s often how these sorts of spells go: low-level magic, no more than a trap designed to lure victims towards a hungry beast lurking deeper within the forest. It could even be a Fiend or some other mind-alterer, waiting for its next meal to willingly walk themselves into its mouth. It'll only last a few hours; but it's torture to wait them out.

“Please.”

Geralt turns. He’d been too lost in thought to pay attention to Jaskier’s futile efforts to escape. He’s stopped moving, slumped forwards, the ropes keeping him from falling. As Geralt watches, his limbs twitch and jerk. His mind is still clearly snagged, but his body is exhausted with the effort.

“Let me go,” he says, voice hoarse. “Let me go, Geralt, you fucking--”

His words crack, slurring into a pained hiss. Geralt cannot stand it. He moves closer. Jaskier’s arms are bound to his sides - it had been necessary with the way Jaskier had clawed at him and attempted to steal his swords, even if it had pained Geralt to do it. He’s harmless, now. Just tired.

Without thinking, Geralt wraps his arms around him as much as he can, taking his weight, guiding Jaskier's head against his shoulder. Jaskier twitches against him, swearing weakly into his tunic.

“Let me go,” he repeats. This time, it’s a sob. “Geralt, please--”

Geralt holds him tighter. Jaskier’s arms jerk, and Geralt can feel hot tears spill against his skin.

#the witcher #jaskier!whump #sorta #cursed jaskier #geraskier-lite #the issue is if im writing about them u KNOW theyre into each other #even if thats not what the fic itself is about

[cherienymphe]

Fallen Angels (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Bucky, mentions of kidnapping, NON-CON, trusting reader

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

This takes place in the same universe as Protect & Serve. You don’t need to read Protect & Serve to follow along as this takes place before Protect & Serve

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

summary:  Bucky thinks you’re the sweetest thing to grace this earth, and he’ll do the unspeakable to get what he wants

~

You heaved another sigh as you made your way up the steps to the police station. It was warm out, a soft breeze ruffling the bottom of your dress. The sun beat down on your face, making you squint, the heat only adding to your annoyance. You didn’t even know why you got annoyed anymore. It wasn’t as if this was exactly new for you.

“Y/N!”

You threw the woman behind the counter a small strained smile, shoulders sagging as you approached her.

“Hi, Jane,” you sadly said. “I’m here for my sister.”

There was a spark of recognition in her eyes, nodding while returning your strained smile.

“Of course.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, turning away as she disappeared into the back. You swallowed, briefly reaching up to rub your forehead and resisted the urge to a sigh again. You couldn’t believe that you had to leave work yet again to come and deal with your sister’s neverending drama. 

You turned as soon as you heard a door open, watching a familiar face bring another familiar face into the room, his large frame making her look small. Officer Barnes greeted you with his usual smile while you returned it with a sheepish one. How many times had you watched him carry her through that door? How many times had you felt sheer embarrassment at her behavior? 

“Where was she?” you quietly asked.

“Stumbling through the park,” he said with a shrug.

“Thank you,” you breathed, genuinely meaning it. “I can never thank you enough.”

How many times had you thanked him?

“Hey,” your sister slurred, eyes bleary as she struggled in his firm hold, legs trembling. “Don’t talk about me...like I’m not here.”

“Sorry,” you murmured, and she rolled her eyes, head falling back.

You reached for her, but Officer Barnes shook his head.

“Let me help her to your car. It’s the least I can do,” he said.

You started to argue, but decided against it and swallowed your words. You led him outside, the mumblings of your drunk sister reaching your ears. He was gentle as he placed her into the passenger seat, and you frowned at her as she laid her head on the dashboard.

“Really, thank you,” you said, looking to him as soon as he shut the door.

He folded his arms over his chest, leaning against your car as he gazed at you with a look you couldn’t place. He did that a lot.

“I can’t keep letting her off the hook forever, you know,” he told you, making your heart drop.

You knew that. You had known it for a while, probably since the second time. You didn’t know why Officer Barnes, and the station by extension, always let your sister off easy every time she was found drunk somewhere, but you were grateful nonetheless. You couldn’t keep taking advantage of his generosity though.

“How is Officer Wilson?” you asked, changing the subject.

The blue-eyed man smirked at the mention of his roommate and colleague.

“Still as much of a pain in my ass as ever,” he answered, making you chuckle.

“You know, as much as you insult him, I think you’d really miss him if something ever happened to him,” you said with a grin.

Officer Barnes joined you, eventually nodding with a smile of his own.

“You’re probably right. He’s still a pain though,” he agreed, walking with you to your side of the car.

You paused when you placed your hand on the door, swallowing with your eyes to the ground before looking to him again. You really couldn’t appreciate him enough, but like he said, you knew he couldn’t continue to let your sister off of the hook.

“I really hope this will be the last time,” you whispered.

Officer Barnes frowned, dark brows lowering as he heaved a sigh, sounding as tired as you felt.

“Did you ever think…”

He paused, shifting on his feet before continuing.

“Maybe a few days in jail will do her some good. I mean, what kind of lesson can she learn if you keep bailing her out?”

You couldn’t say that you hadn’t considered it, but you sadly shook your head.

“I can’t do that to her. She’s family,” you quietly replied.

He studied you for a bit before nodding, running his eyes over you with a soft hum.

“No, of course not. You’re too sweet for that,” he said.

You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that, so you simply thanked him again and said your goodbyes. He didn’t move as you got in and drove off, his stare piercing your rearview mirror until he was nothing but a speck in the distance.

When you finally arrived home, your sister was barely able to stand at all. You got her as far as the living room before your arms gave out, depositing her onto the couch. After placing a small trash can beside her, you went into the kitchen to make some coffee and put together a little hangover concoction that you’d been using for years.

As she slept off the alcohol, you couldn’t help but to think about Officer Barnes’ words. Not just him admitting that this couldn’t go on forever, something you already knew, but his proposal to let your sister spend a few nights in jail. You had thought about it. That wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t think it’d do any good. It wasn’t that simple. Your sister needed professional help.

You wondered if you could get Officer Barnes or even Officer Wilson to help you out with that. You didn’t think that your sister would react too kindly to an intervention. You suddenly shook your head, telling yourself that you needed to stop relying on them so much. Especially Officer Barnes. 

You’d known them both for years, ever since they moved to the city during your 3rd year of college. They’d been mere officers in training then. You remembered even having a slight crush on Officer Wilson, but that had died the minute they found your sister the first time, wandering around the city drunk and belligerent. You had been so embarrassed, telling yourself that no one in their right mind would get mixed up with a family like yours, no matter how small it was.

Officer Barnes was always the one to find her. He never judged her nor did he ever hint that he was even thinking any kind of negative thoughts. He’d always been much nicer than either of you deserved, and you mentally reminded yourself to bake him some cookies. You suspected that his love for your food was the main reason he let your sister off the hook time and time again.

It was hours later, when you were taking the fresh cookies out of the oven, when you heard your sister stir. You turned just as she stumbled into the kitchen, struggling to open her eyes. You grabbed her a cup.

“I made coffee. It’s not as fresh as I would like it to be but…”

You trailed off, handing it to her. Her eyes were wide open now, and she gratefully took it, gulping it down.

“Thank you,” she breathed as soon as she was done.

The silence was awkward, and the smell of fresh cookies wafted through the air. It was an odd picture.

“So,” you started, playing with your fingers. “What was it this time?”

Your sister heaved a sigh, setting her mug down as she leaned against the counter.

“I got fired today.”

Your face fell, shoulders dropping as sympathy tore through you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, meaning it.

“Don’t be. It beats sleeping with my decrepit former boss,” she scoffed.

Your eyes widened as you registered the implication behind her words, and your heart clenched. You stepped towards her, reaching out.

“Are you serious? T, we should tell someone. File a lawsuit or something-.”

Her laugh cut you off, and you frowned at her.

“Have you met the guy? He has more money than either of us could ever dream of. It’d be a waste of time,” she sneered.

You shook your head.

“You don’t know that. You’re probably not the only woman he’s done this to. I’m sure with the right lawyer-.”

“This is the real world, Y/N? Where those in power take advantage of the rest of us as they see fit,” she told you, making your frown deepen.

Your bit your lip, not exactly agreeing with her but opting to swallow your words. You watched as she neared the pan of cooling cookies and ran her eyes over them with a light scoff.

“Who is this for? Officer Barnes?” she mockingly wondered, a look of disgust on her face.

“Yes, actually,” you said, ignoring her tone and reaching to get a plate. “Do you want one?”

“You should really stay away from him, you know.”

“Well, that’s kind of hard to do when you keep getting arrested for public intoxication,” you threw back.

You immediately cringed, turning to face her, surprised to find not an offended look on her face, but merely a shocked one. She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her head at you.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just… He’s a nice man, T. A good man. Much more than we deserve. Anyone else would have put you before a judge a long time ago.”

She chuckled, reaching past you to grab a cookie.

“Gee, I wonder why that is.”

Her tone confused you, and she shook her head at you.

“The guy’s a creep. No amount of friendly smiles can hide that,” she tossed over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

You frowned at her words before shaking your head and sliding the cookies onto a plate.

A week later, you were thankful that your sister seemed to be doing better. Normally she needed a month to really get herself together to at least try and get back on her feet again, but her uncharacteristic behavior both shocked you and made you proud. However, when your doorbell rang at almost 1 in the morning, you realized that you had spoken too soon.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

You had swung the door open and come face to face with none other than Officer Barnes and your sister, the latter almost keeled over. She would have been face first into the ground if it wasn’t for the man holding her up.

“Her room is this way,” you told him as soon as you let him in.

She mumbled a few times as he followed your lead, quieting altogether when he placed her on her bed. He made sure that she was on her side, and you heaved a tired sigh as he followed you down the hall.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-.”

“Hey,” he said, grabbing your shoulder and stopping you.

You turned to face him, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, much quieter this time.

Officer Barnes just stared at you, brows drawn together as he rubbed your shoulder, attempting to calm you down.

“It’s okay-.”

“No, it’s not. I really...I really thought this time would be different. I did.”

“I know you did-.”

“...and there are actual criminals out there who need to be dealt with but instead you’re here dealing with me and my sister again.”

You placed your hands over your face as your voice cracked, and your shoulders trembled as you held in all of the emotions threatening to spill.

“God, all of the cookies in the world can’t make up for what we put you through,” you sighed.

He pulled your hands away from your face, and you looked away from him.

“Hey…”

You wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he let go of one of your hands to place it under your chin. He made you look at him, and his blue eyes searched your face as he smiled at you.

“This is my job. I’m not going out of my way to do anything here, okay? It’s okay.”

You reluctantly nodded before your eyes found the floor again.

“She needs help,” you said, finally admitting it outloud. “Professional help. The 12 steps kind.”

There was a brief silence before the dark-haired man spoke.

“I can help with that, get her into some meetings,” he offered.

“Would you? I...I didn’t want to ask because you do so much for us already, but…”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at him. He rested his hands on his hips, tilting his head at you with a slight frown.

“Now, Y/N… How long have I known you and your sister? I’m always happy to help you two out in any way I can. You know that,” he told you, lips quirking up just a tad. 

“More than we deserve,” you murmured

He looked as if he was going to say something else, but you continued before he could. 

“Do you want something to drink before you go? I usually make her some coffee,” you offered.

His smile widened as he looked at you, eyes twinkling with something you couldn’t name.

“I’d love to.” 

His steps were light as he followed you into the kitchen, and you wondered if his stealth was just part of the job or if he was always that way. He didn’t say much as you moved throughout the kitchen, opting instead to watch you as you turned on the coffee pot.

“I think I have some leftovers from last night,” you told him.

“I’d love some.”

As you made to fix him some food to take with him, you found yourself humming a bit, a habit. So immersed in your tasks, you’d almost forgotten that he was there until he spoke again.

“You’re going to make some man a very happy husband one day.”

You threw him a smile over your shoulder.

“You sound like my dad,” you complained, thinking of the man who you hadn’t seen in years.

“A harmless compliment, I promise. You’re just so sweet...and you can cook better than any chef in the city,” he elaborated.

“Well, we’ll see what the future holds,” was all you said as you handed him a container of food.

You moved to get his coffee for him when he spoke again.

“Any man would be crazy not to snatch you up and beg you to have his children,” he said with a chuckle.

You joined him, shrugging as you handed him a to-go cup full of steaming coffee.

“That would be nice, but I can’t have kids,” you said.

Officer Barnes’ smile fell, eyes widening just a bit as he blinked. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve dropped his coffee.

“What?” he murmured.

You shrugged again, throwing him a small smile.

“I can’t have kids.”

He looked like he didn’t know what to say, and he frowned, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you told him, placing your hand on his arm. “I’m not bothered by it anymore. I used to be, but… I figured that some people just aren’t meant to have children, and that’s ok.”

You turned away from him, moving to clean up your mess. You could still feel his eyes on you.

“It’s why I work at a nursery. I love it, and sometimes I think to myself that if I had children of my own, I wouldn’t have time for the dozens I see every day.”

You leaned your back against the counter, facing him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“I like to believe that everything happens for a reason.”

Officer Barnes smirked at you, a light chuckle escaping him, face pinched as if he was thinking hard about what you said, dark hair curling around his ear.

“That’s a nice way of looking at things.”

You shrugged, leading him to the door.

“My sister doesn’t exactly share my sentiments, so it’s nice to hear that you do,” you confessed, opening the door for him. “Thank you again, Officer Barnes.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you.

“How many times must I tell you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” you said with a groan. “Bucky. It’s a force of habit.”

“Well, I’m kindly asking you to kick it,” he lightly replied as he stepped outside.

“Drive safe.”

He paused, blinking at you before nodding.

“I will, and I’ll talk to someone about getting your sister into some meetings.”

You waved him off, a slight frown overtaking as you heard your sister retching from down the hall. With a sigh, you closed the door and turned to go tend to her like you always did.

The weeks that followed were better, the best you’d had in a long time. True to his word, Bucky got information on some meetings, and surprisingly, your sister agreed that she needed more help than you alone could provide. You drove her to, and picked her up, from every one. You’d always felt like the older sister despite the opposite being true, but it was glaring now more than ever.

Her behavior was improving, and you constantly prayed that it would last. You knew that recovery wasn’t always a smooth journey, plenty of people relapsing, but that didn’t seem to be the case for your sister. She had gotten another job, was keeping up with her meetings, and hadn’t even looked at a bottle of alcohol in weeks. She was just her normal cynical self...until she wasn’t.

You tapped your finger on the steering wheel, watching as the last person left the building. You waited a few moments, hoping that she would be the last person, but she never came out. Hurriedly stepping out of your car, you made your way to someone who hadn’t driven off yet. You could tell that you had startled them by knocking on their window, and you apologized the minute they cracked it. You asked them if your sister was still inside, and your heart sank at their answer.

“She never showed up.”

Your lips parted, brows furrowing as you registered their words. Unsure of how to respond, you simply took a step back, allowing them to drive off. It was late in the evening, and the parking lot was now empty, and you felt helpless as you looked around, as if waiting for your sister to appear.

She had never showed up?

You had dropped her off yourself. You had seen her walk into the building with your own eyes. You wondered if something had happened, something to send her over the edge again, and with a heavy heart, you got back into your car and headed home. You waited up most of the night, expecting a call from the police station or even a knock on your door, but your phone never rang and your door was undisturbed. You hadn’t meant to, but before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Your notifications were just as empty when you woke up the next morning, and your stomach churned as you sat there alone. You had the most awful feeling in your gut, and despite the fact that this should seem like a normal act for your sister, you couldn’t help but feeling like it wasn’t.

Later that day, you drove to the police station. For someone who swore not to rely on Bucky as much anymore, you were doing a poor job of it. He was happy to see you, and that made you feel even worse. Bucky was always happy to help you, and you constantly felt like you were taking advantage of it.

Your worry must have been written on your face though because his smile soon fell. He walked you outside of the station, and you quietly followed.

“It’s my sister,” you immediately said. “She’s missing.”

He eyed you for a bit, eyes narrowing just a tad as he thought. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Are you sure?”

You knew what he wasn’t saying. Your sister wasn’t exactly the most reliable, and absences weren’t unusual for her. He was right to be skeptical.

“They said she never showed up at her meeting. I dropped her off myself, and even if she wasn’t really going, she’d at least pretend like she was. She wouldn’t want me to worry and...and that’s all I seem to be doing,” you murmured.

Bucky placed his hands on your shoulders, massaging them as he attempted to console you.

“Alright. Have you called her?”

“She doesn’t have a cell phone,” you told him. “She can never keep a job long enough to.”

He nodded at that.

“I know that for adults, they need to be missing for at least 48 hours to be treated as a missing persons case. I know that, but…”

You trailed off, and Bucky understood, nodding.

“Hey?”

Your eyes met his, and he sent you a small smile.

“I’ll do what I can. I’m going to find her, alright?”

You gave a shaky nod. He told you to go home and let him handle everything. And thats what you did. The house felt too quiet, and uncomfortable, you started cleaning and cooking. In the midst of all of that, you called your father to tell him what was going on, but it was in vain. As usual, he didn’t answer his phone, and you found yourself wondering if your family was cursed. Your father was too indifferent, your sister too cynical, and you were too nice.

Despite the fact that you felt like you shouldn’t, you went to work. Was it to distract yourself? Oh definitely, but what else were you supposed to do? You didn’t worry until the 4th day had passed and you’d heard nothing from Bucky. He said that he would handle everything, and you trusted him, but you were tempted to go back to the station. However, a knock came on your door one night before you could.

You knew it was him, and you didn’t hesitate to open the door.

“Well?” you anxiously asked, letting him inside.

Bucky’s face was solemn, and you feared the worst, but he simply shook his head.

“Nothing,” he sadly told you.

Your frown deepened, and you frantically blinked away tears.

“Hey,” he quietly said. ‘Hey, none of that, doll.”

You shook your head, stepping back.

“I just feel like this is my fault. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe I pushed her too soon. Maybe-.”

“...and maybe it was all her and had nothing to do with you,” he said, lips pressed together as he looked at you.

You slowly nodded at what he said, not quite believing it.

“Maybe,” you murmured, turning away. “I feel like I should be out there, doing something.”

You heard Bucky approach you, and he tsk’d. 

“No, absolutely not. This city is dangerous, and I can’t look for her properly if I’m worrying about you, now can I?” he said, hands resting on your shoulders.

You turned your head to look at him, taking in his soft expression, his baby blues resting on you. You reluctantly shook your head.

“No, I can’t. So the best thing for you to do is sit tight while I try to find your sister.”

“It’s hard. The house...it’s so quiet now. It’s so obvious that she isn’t here, and I hate it,” you whispered. “I’ve never lived alone.”

He hummed, glancing around.

“I don’t have to leave right away. My shift is over, and I could stick around for as long as you want,” he offered, making your heart soar.

“You would do that? I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep me company.”

He grinned at you.

“Never. You just kick me out whenever you get tired of me,” he told you.

You didn’t kick him out. Bucky slept on your couch that night and the night after that and the night after that. His presence was welcoming, comforting, and you found yourself growing used to it. Having known Bucky for years, it was easy to get into a familiar groove with him. He started occupying your couch more and more, and feeling so bad about inconveniencing him all because you couldn’t handle being alone, you usually cooked him breakfast before he had to go to work. 

When he wasn’t at work looking for your sister, he was at home with you. Sometimes he cooked with you, or sometimes he fixed something that had been broken for months. He made missing your sister a little easier. You had faith that he would find her, that he’d bring her through that door, drunk and on the verge of sleep like before.

Still, sometimes, you couldn’t help the dark thoughts that assaulted your mind. What if she never came through that door? What if he never found her? Or worse… What if he did? What if he found her in a ditch somewhere, body maimed and ruined from being dead for so long? Despite how much you tried to remain positive, despite how much you wanted to believe otherwise, what if she was gone? 

This was what woke you up out of your sleep one night, on the verge of a panic attack. Your breathing was shallow, eyes unfocused as you fought to calm yourself. You were startled, a shriek leaving you as you felt something brush your arm. Light flooded your room, and your eyes immediately met Bucky’s as he stood beside your bed.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, doll,” he whispered, kneeling beside you. “ I could hear you all the way in the living room.”

“Sorry,” you weakly said, shaking your head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting beside you, facing you as he pulled you into his arms.

You hadn’t realized that you were shaking, and Bucky tightened his arms around you.

“What if she’s never coming back? What if she’s dead?” you cried.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, rocking you. “Don’t think the worst.”

“But-.”

He shushed you, cutting you off, and you couldn’t fight the tears as they spilled over. His hand brushed over your back, and you closed your eyes as he held you, not taking note of what was happening until his lips met yours. Your eyes flew open as confusion filled you.

You struggled to pull away, but Bucky’s hold was firm. His mouth moved over yours, and your eyes were wide as he kissed you. He only pulled away when you struggled to breathe, and you pressed your hands to his chest immediately.

“Bucky what-?”

“It’s alright. Let me make you feel better. Help you forget,” he murmured, leaning in again, but you turned away.

“No!”

You got out of his grip, scooting back against the headboard, looking at him as if he was a stranger. Bucky was frowning at you like you were in the wrong, and your mind was muddled with so many conflicting thoughts.

“What are you doing?” you asked him.

He scoffed at you, narrowing his eyes at you like you had offended him.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? You smile and bat those eyelashes at me-.”

“I-.”

“You invite me into your home. You allow me to stay for as long as I want. You cook me breakfast, hell, we cook together like an old married couple. Are you telling me you intended to just play house forever?”

You were floored, and you flinched as you remembered your sister’s constant words, telling you that you were too nice, too trusting. You stared at Bucky, and you felt like an idiot. More tears sprung forth, and you dug your nails into the palm of your hands. 

“Bucky I…”

You looked down, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that...that there was more to this, but that was never my intention. I’m really sorry.”

You heard him heave a long sigh, shrinking in on yourself as he moved closer to you.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry.”

You looked up at him, and he reached out to touch your chin. The blue of his eyes was a tad darker, colder than you’d ever seen them. 

“I keep forgetting how sweet you are. Too sweet. It’s my fault really, but let me explain how things will work from now on, just so there’s no confusion…”

Your brows drew together, dread swirling in your chest.

“You treat me nice, you be as sweet to me as you always are, and I’ll do everything in my power to find your sister. You don’t...and it’s classified as a simple runaway case.”

You sharply inhaled, mouth dropping open as you registered his words.

“What-?”

“Is that understood?”

He didn’t give you time to respond, pressing his lips to yours again. Your mind was screaming at you to do something, to fight him, get out and go get help. But what if he was telling the truth? Would he really give up on finding your sister if you didn’t sleep with him? Besides, even if you could get away, who could you go to for help? The police was currently pushing you onto your back, lips tasting every inch of you.

Still, you couldn’t help but to fight against him, and Bucky huffed. He paid your trembling hands no mind as he pushed your t-shirt up, fingers trailing over your skin as he did so. You felt like you were having an out of body experience. You almost felt like you were looking down on yourself as he undressed, and you barely fought him as he did the same to you. Your breathing was shallow, and you were certain that you were going to pass out.

“Bucky,” you breathed, pressing your hands against his shoulders.

He simply lowered himself, attaching his mouth to you, making you forget your train of thought for a second. He was like a man starved, tasting you until he was more than satisfied. You hadn’t had sex many times, the few times you did it was great, but this surpassed all of those times, something you never thought possible.

Your legs trembled around him, toes curling, and you reached down to press your hands against his head, trying and failing to push him away. His fingers dug into your thighs, holding them in place while he had his fill of you. Your chest arched upwards, and one of your hands pressed against the headboard, attempting to ground yourself, but Bucky seemed determined to make your head spin.

“Bucky, stop,” you begged, voice cracking. “Please…”

Your next words were lost, the only thing climbing out of your throat being a moan. You tried your best to swallow it down as you came, but Bucky’s tongue and mouth didn’t rest, lapping up your juices as you clenched around the pink muscle. You were still coming down when he climbed over you, and you opened your mouth to stop him, beg him, but he pushed into you without warning. 

A gasp escaped you, a groan of his own leaving Bucky as he immediately began to thrust into you. You placed your hands on his chest, lips trembling as he slid into you over and over again. He kissed you again, taking you by surprise, and you stared up at him in something akin to disbelief.

How did you get here? Bucky was your friend, and somehow, here he was on top of you, forcing pleasure onto you that you never asked for.

“You taste just as sweet as I thought you would,” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth.

“Bucky,” you quietly begged.

“I always knew you’d be sweet in bed, making the cutest little noises, all soft skin and soft smiles.”

His words confused you, and it occurred to you that this behavior did not come out of nowhere.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to take you in the back of my cruiser, right there in the station, but you deserved better. You deserved to be kissed like a princess in between your sheets-.”

“Stop,” you begged. 

You wanted him to stop talking. You didn’t want to face how unbelievably stupid and trusting you had been. It hurt too much. He pressed his hips against yours again, his thick cock dragging along your slick walls.

“Your sister wasn’t good for you, doll.”

Your eyes widened as they met his, his brows furrowed in concentration, a bead of sweat on his forehead as his hair hung over his face.

“She was nothing but trouble, always bringing nothing but her problems into your life. You were far too nice to do anything about it...so I did,” he told you, not a hint of humor in his blue eyes.

A horrified gasp escaped you, and you continued your struggle. You felt like you’d been punched in the chest, and your vision was completely blurry from your tears now. You were full on sobbing, but Bucky paid it no mind as he intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hands down above your head. Every thrust was a brush against that little bundle of nerves, and you felt yourself clenching around him.

“Oh, that’s it,” he purred. “Come around my cock.”

“No, no, no,” you cried, bucking against him, but only making it worse for you.

Your second climax crashed over you like a wave, and like you were drowning, you struggled to breathe. Bucky’s lips felt like they were everywhere, and soon after, you felt him twitch inside of you, coating your walls as he came too. You couldn’t breathe, and you felt the walls of your room closing in.

“I’m the only one who knows where your sister is,” he murmured after catching his breath. “I’m the only one who knows if she’s even okay.”

Your chest was heaving, and you kept thinking to yourself that not enough air was getting in. Bucky wiped the sweat from your hairline, running his eyes over your spent frame as he caged you in even further.

“So if you want to see her again, you know what you need to do.”

The world finally caved in on you.

Even though you couldn’t have kids, it seemed like Bucky was determined to try. Or maybe he just couldn’t get enough of you. Despite the fact that he had a place of his own, he spent all of his free time at your house. His hands never strayed from you, and it seemed like he was kissing you any chance he got. At night, and sometimes in the morning, he enjoyed the feel of you wrapped around him, milking him as he groaned in your ear.

And what could you do but let him? Now knowing the truth, you wondered if you ever knew Bucky at all. How was it possible to hide one’s true self for years? Constantly? You remembered your sister’s last words about him, calling him a creep, and you wondered if he was that good or if you were simply that trusting? 

He acted as if you were a normal couple. He cooked with you, ate with you, watched tv with you, and even bathed with you. Bucky brought you flowers and gifts and pretty dresses he thought you’d look good in. Every time, you thanked him with a smile and could do nothing but accept it as he undressed you. Every time you asked about your sister, every time you built up the courage to, he always dodged the question, and you wondered how long this would go on.

As it turns out, not long at all.

He came to the house one day, angry and frantic and his eyes were searching for you. The minute he spotted you, he pounced. He was rougher than he had ever been, pinning you to the wall as he thrust into you, hand fisting your hair while the other pressed his fingers into your thigh. You felt like he was going to break you, but Bucky paid no mind to your tears. 

You had made your way to the floor when he finally came inside of you, sweaty and angry and gripping you like he’d lose you. You were trembling in his arms when he lifted his head, and you stared at him like he was going to hurt you some more. You watched as he swallowed, running his eyes over you as he reached up to brush his thumb along your lip.

“Sam and I gotta leave,” he breathed.

You blinked at him, frowning.

“It’s all so sudden, but they found some things, and we have to leave.”

You didn’t know what to say, and you stared at him in confusion.

“...but when it’s safe, I’m coming back for you,” he told you, making your heart sink.

“B-Bucky...my-.”

“You want to see her again, don’t you?”

You nodded, and he nodded with you. 

“Okay. Then you’ll wait for me. You don’t tell anybody what you know, and you wait for me. Tell me.”

Scared to say anything else, and scared that you’d never see your sister again, you told him what he wanted to hear.

“I’ll wait for you,” you whispered through trembling lips..

He kissed you, and that was the last time he kissed you for a long time. You didn’t know how many years had passed. 4? 5? 6? You couldn’t keep track and they all blended together. With Bucky gone, you felt more alone than you ever had before. Had your body grown used to his? Grown to crave his even? The man was your rapist. Was that normal?

The house was too painful for you to remain in, so you moved a couple of blocks over. Every day that passed, you wondered how your sister was doing. You wondered where she was. Some days you missed her more than others, and some days you were angry. Why couldn’t she have told you outright what Bucky was like. Surely, she must have known, known better than you.

Some days you were angry at Bucky, and on more than one occasion, you had even been tempted to tell someone what you knew. You hated him for what he did to you, what he’d done to your sister, putting you both through torment. Most days though, you were just angry with yourself. You felt like you deserved some blame in all of this, for being so naive, so trusting, for having faith in everyone until they proved otherwise. 

Work only distracted you for a short time, and the lonely nights came quicker than you liked. Provided that you were able to find sleep, it was normally after a crying fit. It all felt like a strange sort of limbo, and you wondered how long you were meant to endure it. You started to think that Bucky would never come back, you’d never see your sister again, and once again, you’d be an idiot for believing him. But what other choice did you have?

It was one early morning, the sun still yet to rise, when there was a knock on your door. You were riddled with sleep and practically stumbling to the door, but when you opened it, all of your fatigue was gone. Your wide eyes met familiar blue ones, and you felt like the air was sucked out of you.

His hair was shorter, but he otherwise looked the same. He was dressed darkly, as bulky as ever, and you took a step back when he took a step forward. An unfamiliar car was behind him, and you squinted, recognizing Officer Wilson in the passenger seat. Your eyes fell to Bucky again, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk.

“Hi, doll.”

~

tags:  @darkficreposter​​​​​ @xoxabs88xox​​​​​ @harryspet​​​​​ @readermia​​​​​ @opheliadawnwalker3​​​​ @nickyl316h​​​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​​​ @sebabestianstan101​​​​​ @villanellevi​​​​​ @lokislastlove​​​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​​​ @coconutqueen21​​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​​ ​​​ @hyoyeoniie​​​​ @kellyn1604​​​​ @sherrybaby14​​​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​​ @mandiiblanche​​​ @gotnofucks​​​ @oneoftheprettynerds​​​ @doozywoozy​​​ @sapphirescrolls​​​ @threeminutesoflife​​​ @searchforanotherway​​​ @mcudarklibrary​​ @ksjksjkv​

#bucky x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #cop!bucky #dark fic #marvel fanfiction

[albed-hoe]

Can I request a story of Diluc and a bullied male reader in a modern AU?

I Deserve It

Characters: Diluc x Male Reader (Modern AU)

Summary: Diluc admires you from afar, until one day he decides to step in on a situation gone a little too far

Warnings: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AND HOMOPHOBIC SLURS

Word count: 1045

A/n: This feels kinda rushed cuz I didn’t want to do my usual ~2000 word ramble, I also wrote this all in one go at midnight cuz it’s my FIRST REQUEST AHHHH tysm for requesting!!! I am already getting more requests as I type so I hope you enjoy this little fic! (Thinking of maybe doing a part 2? Idk🤔)

Also this may or may not be slightly based off my personal experience…😳

It’s 8:15 as you make your way through the front doors of school. Half an hour early for class, but at least you avoid the usual torment, and you get to finish any work you couldn’t before. You make your way to your secret corner of the library and plug in your earphones to finish some homework you forgot to do last night. The usual quiet bustle of the library as others file in to read, talk to friends or do the same as you, paired with your music on a low volume is somehow quite relaxing.

You check the time – 8:40, five minutes until class. You leave it as late as possible to avoid the usual treatment that you will probably end up getting anyways, later in the day. This morning, however, goes without any altercation. You make your way to your seat (in the back corner of the class) and get ready for another boring class. As the teacher rambles on about whatever subject, you can’t help but let your mind drift to the boy sitting near the front of the class. He was handsome – strikingly so – but you were aware of the rumors about his personality. You witnessed it firsthand too, the way he would flatly reject any girls that asked him out and his stoic expression which never seemed to change.

It would seem you got a little too distracted, as the bell rang, startling you into putting your stuff back in your bag for your next class. The rest of the day was filled with dreading the end of it, and perhaps a couple thoughts of the redhead in your year. As you made your way to your locker at the end of the day to organize the books you would take home, you suddenly tripped over a foot that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Sending all the books you carried in your arms across the hallway, you fell to the ground on your hands and knees, probably bruising your kneecaps badly. You didn’t even bother turning around to see the culprit – you already knew who it was. Thankfully the hallways weren’t too full of other students.

“Hey, [Y/N], how come you’re here today, I’d have thought you would have killed yourself yesterday.” Said your bully, the rest of his group laughing behind him. “In any case, I think you should. Would do us a great service!” They all laughed again in unison as you were gathering your items. You didn’t even bother crying anymore, you were used to the insults anyways. They got kind of dry after a while, could they not even think of new ones to come up with?

“I already told you.” He grabbed you by the collar and lifted you off the ground, holding you close to his face. “People like you have no place in this world. Fucking fa-“

“Enough.” You heard a deep voice call from behind you. The bully suddenly dropped you to the ground and put on a smug face as he looked towards the person who had saved you.

“What are you gonna do about Diluc? You like boys too? I bet you’re just trying to defend your little boyfriend here.” He taunted the redhead, who showed no signs of interest or… Any emotion really. You finished gathering the last of your books as you heard this ‘Diluc’ boy mutter something about how the bully’s group wouldn’t really think highly of some sort of secret he had. This seemed to make them leave fast enough. As you stood up, he turned to you and your [E/C] eyes met with his bright amber ones for a split second before you averted them downwards.

“You are [Y/N], correct?” he questioned you.

“Y-Yes, thank you for helping me, Diluc.” You mumbled, before turning on your heels and almost running out of the school to go home. You didn’t even spare another glance back at the fleeting form of a rather sad looking boy.

-

As days went by, things began improving for you a little bit, it seemed that whenever you were expecting another beating from the group of bullies, you could swear you saw a flash of red hair somewhere amongst the crowd in the hallway. Perhaps a guardian angel had finally answered your prayers and was manifesting itself in the form of a bright red ponytail.

You were currently in your corner of the library during lunch break, as you would usually do, reading your favorite book with your earphones in. You didn’t happen to notice the unusual imposing presence which was standing just across from your table. When you became a little more aware of your surroundings, you took in the person towering over you, making you drop your book and tear out your earphones.

“D-Diluc! How did you know I was here?”

“I heard from someone you like to spend your free time here. I thought I might come to… Apologize.”

“Apologize? What for?” the boy looked away from you with a slight red hue across his cheeks, which genuinely surprised you. He did, in fact, show emotions.

“I- I’m sorry for scaring you the other day, it was not my intention. I was simply trying to-“

“NO!” the redhead snapped his gaze back to you in surprise. “I- I mean… I should be the one apologizing, I thought the rumors about you were true, but they were very clearly wrong.”

“I see… That’s a relief…” You sat there in awkward silence as he kept avoiding your gaze and you twisted your fingers in discomfort.

“I should probably go. Thank you again for the other day, you don’t need to-“

“Wait!” he grabbed your wrist as you stood up to leave. “P-Please be my friend, I don’t have… Any.” He muttered, still embarrassed by his earlier apology.

The rather shy nature of the rumored bad boy made you smile a little bit for the first time in what seemed like years. You looked into his eyes giving him your genuine smile. “Hehe, alright. I’ll be your friend. I hope you can be mine too!” You didn’t seem to notice the darkening of his already-present blush as he stared at your smile, eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Don't really know if I'm doing this Tumblr thing right lolol I'm used to using Wattpad. Also please know that you are loved and are worth everything to many people. If you do ever feel low, please talk to someone about it. I love you all, stay safe❤

#genshin x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #diluc x y/n #diluc x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader

[thevoidscreams]

I don't care which slashers/killers you do for this BUT...... May I have some killers hcs meeting their male s/o for the first time? 🥺👉👈

also I know I need to get through what little writings I have planned done and out so I can do these in return and maybe do somethin for ya

I really tried here, I'm sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted. I love these two and I wanted to write more for them. Please let me know if you'd like me to change them at all or if they seem wrong.

Ghostface:

Danny Johnson did not have a tolerant upbringing. His family, despite lacking any sort of faith, was a family built on the foundation that men only slept with women. That's just how it was and that that was how nature had kept things going. When Danny realized he didn't just get hard when looking at naked girls however, life became a lot harder. Literally.

Collage was the escape he needed. He took off and never looked back. Ghosting his family before it was a regular thing. He could finally be who he really was.

The first time he saw you was at a party and he knew something was different. Just introducing himself felt like a life or death situation, he couldn't fuck this up. Some deep part of him needed you to like him, needed you to want him. Danny man not have called it love at first sight but it was definitely something. When you left you took his number and promised to hang out later. You had similar schedules so it would be easy. Right?

You threw a wrench into every plan he'd set in place. All his aspiring affairs with other people died the moment you gave him your name. Your perfect name.

Danny begins every morning thinking about you and would lay down at night with you on his mind till he faded into sleep. Everyday for months you plague his thoughts. Your chill sessions are basically dates in his mind. Even if it's just bumming it on the dorm couches with Mariocart and eating cheap greasy pizza. He cherishes every moment. It has to be more, he thinks, your too nice, too friendly and some of your remarks could be taken as flirting. You're not like this with your other friends. Just with him.

He plans to ask you out but for the first time in his life he's scared by the idea of getting a no. The thought of being rejected by you makes him feel legitimately sick to his stomach. What if he's misread all your signals and your disgusted by his advances. What if you call him all the awful things his old high-school friends did when he came out to them. He needs you to know how he feels, keeping it all in is making him feel anxious.

He was mulling it over in his mind when he got a call, answering it to hear your voice caused a sudden feeling of euphoria within him. "Hey, can we meet up?" Your voice was shaky and you sounded unsure. But Danny agreed right away, assuring you he had the time and was happy to meet up.

You two got coffee together all the time but today there was something more to it. The way you laughed and bumped his shoulder with your fist, the way you smiled awkwardly like you were trying to keep something from him. Danny was getting worried as he looked down at you. "Is everything alright shortstake? You seem off today."

You took a deep breath and looked him right in the eyes. "DannyIlikeyou" you blurted out cheeks red and eyes wide in panic. "I'm sorry I just I couldn't do it anymore," you looked away, "keeping it all in made me feel so awful and I just needed you to know. I'll understand if you don't feel the same way about me and if you don't want to see me again I'll understand that too but-"

He kissed you, right there in front of all of the coffee shop patrons and employees. To his amazement a few people wooped and clapped.

Danny pulled away, he took his coffee in one hand and then your hand in his other.

"Let's go somewhere more private."

He led you to a little pond, there were ducks and water lilies. It was quiet, peaceful, the perfect place to have a heart to heart.

The talk that followed was long and he explained at great lengths how he felt about you.

You confirmed some of the things he suspected, embarrassed by how easily he read you. At the end of it all you were both a bit teary eyed.

"So I guess what I'm trying to say here is, I love you." You did cry after hearing that, so happy and relieved he felt the same way. You kissed him, and he responded in kind, with only the ducks as witnesses this time. They didn't make a peep about the kiss....but they did quack.

Thomas Hewitt:

Tommy knew something was different the first time he met you. You were just a new hire at the meat plant but he couldn't take his eyes off you. The poor thing didn't know what to do. So he just watched. Intrigued by the feelings he felt when he did.

"Good morning Thomas." You'd nod as you passed him to get to your work station. He'd grunt in reply and nod. Happy to see you.

"Hey Tom, lunch time! Thank God for lunch breaks am I right?" Your hand was firm as you passed him, clapping his shoulder. He liked when you touched him, no one ever touched him unless he was also being yelled at. But your touch was different and it was good.

"See ya tomorrow Tommy." You groaned tiredly after a long shift, promising to see him tomorrow. He hoped to see you everyday for the rest of his life.

It was a system, a pattern, it was something Tommy relied on, like a clock, you were on time and followed the routine.

Except this morning, you weren't here. The supervisor was passing by to inspect the work station.

"Where the hell is that freaky bastard at?" He asked pointing to your station. Tommy shrugged, he didn't know, probably the bathroom. "Yeah well you might want to keep your distance, I heard from some the other guys that he's one of them men lovers. If it were up to me he'dhave never come here, but the boss says we're 'short staffed'." The snicker that bubbled up from him was disgusting and he mouthed off a few insults and slurs before walking off to finished his rounds.

Tommy was angry, more than usual at least. He wanted to take that supervisor's head and crush it under his mallet. Instead he stripped his apron off and went to the bathroom. Still a tiny part of him was happy, glad to know he wasn't alone.

The bathroom was never locked, it couldn't be, the lock was broken and building management was too cheap to replace it. So Tommy pushed through the door and listened. A soft rhythmic sound greeted him. Soft uneven breathing, muffled by the walls of the stall. He knew that sound, it was all too personal to him.

He stepped in front of the stall and their sounds turned panicked like they knew they'd been caught.

He knocked on the wood so gently and as it swung open he confirmed his suspensions. Your eyes were red and swollen, a large bruise on your cheek. Tommy saw red as he looked over your generally disheveled appearance.

You were trying to hide the fact that you'd been crying.

"Hey Tommy, what's happening brother? The uh... supervisor send you in here to find me or something?" When you tried to push past him to get to the sinks Thomas stopped you with one big arm.

"Uh you good?" Your voiced trembled and it torn Tommy apart to hear the man he loved so distressed. His big arms pulled you in, holding your smaller body against his massive one. He just didn't care anymore, he didn't care if you knew, or if the whole world knew. People already called him a freak for the way he looked. They were wrong, Thomas wasn't a freak, not for the way he looked or for the way he felt. Neither were you for that matter. When you hugged him back his heart soared. "Thank you." You cried softly, face buried in his chest.

The gentle giant wiped a tear away, carefully as not to agitated the bruise. He grunted and ran his thumb around the edge of the darkening spot.

"Don't worry about that, some of the guys found out about my...well I'm sure you know or have at least heard." Thomas nodded, still holding you. "We should probably get back to our stations."

Tommy was hesitant but he let you go to wash your face and fix your appearance. Things were going to be hard for the both of you. But hard was nothing new to him he was used to fighting for equal footing with others, fighting to get what he wanted always fighting. But this time it really was something worth fighting for. This time it was you.

#dbd x reader #slasher x reader #male reader #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #ghostface x male reader #danny johnson x male reader #leatherface x reader #thomas brown hewitt x reader #leatherface x male reader #thomas hewitt x male reader

[deluluass]

Red, like blood. Blue, like love.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; bullying; soulmates au

Prompt: 88 & 183

There’s someone for everyone, you’d learned growing up.

 "Remember, blue means happy," your mother would say. "The happiest you'll ever be.”

She liked reminding you about this fact— for it is an indisputable truth, every so often when she could still carry you. You’d be hugged from the back, as she recounted stories of first meetings, serendipitous and life changing in their nature; belonging to those who’ve lived long before you, sometimes even those who’ve only lived in tales.

Mostly, your mother loved telling those involving the people she knew. And if you’ve behaved properly, she would tell you about hers. 

Tracing your palm, starting from the forked lines to the dashed ones on your fingers, she’d say, “These would start to glow like stars.”

“That’s weird!” you’d burst out, shrieking a laughter as she tickled you. 

“Listen carefully,” she chastised. “Blue is for your soulmate, okay?”

And you’d repeat: Blue is for my soulmate.

“Then, mama,” you tugged at her sleeves, “What if it’s really, really bright red! Like! Bloody glow sticks! Say, mama, you see, everyone at the park was talking about the man who died because he touched someone and his hand became bright re— ”

You never brought that up again. What your mother said about it had been enough to never make you forget.

“Tell me if you get red,” she said firmly, clutching your arms as if she feared someone would snatch you away from her. “Red is bad, my heart. Red means run.”

 It hadn’t nearly been as gruesome as your mother made it out to be. 

Case in point, when you turned twelve the couple three houses down your street found out, shortly after their honeymoon, that their palms gleamed a fierce red once they clasped each other’s hands in front of the neighborhood aunties.  

Their marriage ended with a swift and ordinary divorce, a year or so later.

Red: Not just an ominous warning for homicide, then. That was a relief, you’d thought.

Contrary to how your mother framed it, you were thankful, actually. It helped some of your friends escape from potentially hellish relationships. How lucky is it that you lived in a reality where the universe seemed exceedingly benevolent. Though, you sometimes have to question if that generosity extended to everyone.

Fat lot of good it did for you. 

Because, from where you’re standing, it doesn’t have to take some arbitrary and unsolvable scientific mystery to heed that Oikawa Tooru must be avoided like the plague.

Any person in your shoes would be conditioned to do exactly that. 

You’d first met in Elementary. You thought he was the prettiest kid you’d ever seen, with chestnut curls and doe eyes and lashes that swept past his cheeks, and when you’d asked for a hand shake he’d called you “the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen” and “fart face.” 

Recess and lunch were when he’s most fearsome. Spiky burdocks slapped on the collar of your dress; dead lizards in your food; the boy was determined. The worst part was that it always happened when no one was looking. And if someone were, it was his best friend. So when you finally told on him to your mom, both your teacher and the principal simply judged Oikawa as the victim of an attention deprived child.

“Please discipline your daughter,” they told her. “We are all aware of your situation at home, but do ensure that she’s not getting out of control.”

You couldn’t even muster up the strength to defend yourself. In that moment all you could do was swear that you’d never allow anyone to talk to your mother in that way again. 

You moved out of that school. 

You didn’t wait for your palms to flash a warning signal because, somehow, you knew that boys who discover early that they could get away with anything cannot get any better. 

There’d been no way to be sure of that until Aoba Johsai— after a peaceful interim of no Oikawa; no red palm lines (and no blue ones, either).

The proof hit you in the face. Literally. 

“Oi, Shittykawa!”

Heat permeated from your nostrils as you patted your cheek, detached and staring back at the large gymnasium. 

“You hit someone!”

How unlucky did a person have to be to bleed right on the first day of classes? 

You tried to lean forward. “It’s okay,” you slurred nasally, pinching your nose and averting your embarrassed gaze from the boy kneeling next to you.

“Trashykawa! You better hurry and apologize!”

“Don’t be mad, Iwa-chan,” that disgustingly saccharine voice came from behind you, making you flinch, as if the years you’d spent apart had done nothing to purge it out of your system.

In all honesty, you hadn’t really cared for whoever was responsible for the ball that careened all the way to where you were standing, so sure that it had to be an accident. No one in their right mind would want to injure someone they barely knew, especially if said someone is a couple of feet away from you. 

Morally and athletically, it should’ve been improbable. But then you saw who did it and everything made perfect sense.

Iwa-chan. The boy beside you. Iwaizumi Hajime.

If he’s here, then— 

“You,” he whispered. 

“Eh?! Gosh, I’m so sorry!” Oikawa Tooru gasped. “You’re bleeding.”

Time is cruel. It wears down on you, tears you and molds you into something you can’t even recognize, if it decides to. (Fate, more so). You didn’t know if you wanted to cry or laugh, looking at him. If the universe were so benevolent, then perhaps Oikawa Tooru had received all of its favor.

He was beautiful. You’d known this before, but with all the baby fat replaced with sharp yet slender angles, figure lean and imposing even when he’d lowered himself to meet your eyes, Oikawa didn’t seem real.

“I did hit someone, didn’t I?” he pouted, wiping the dried blood atop your lip. “And such a pretty girl, too.”

That volleyball existed should’ve made life better for you. It didn’t. If anything, it seemed that out of the court, when he’s not taking names and being praised like a god, you were his little pastime. Something fun to take his mind off whatever it is he thinks about it. 

The mocking comments, you could handle; every time you’d recite and he’ll interject with something playful and then the entire class would laugh (because he’s Oikawa) and your professor would reprimand him but you could always tell that they, too, are holding in a giggle. 

Those were easy to bear, because although his insults hit way too close to home, it’s just— it’s just so petty.

Really, it’s the aftermath that does the damage.

“They’re like Christmas lights under your skin!” 

This topic pops up every month or so. Most people your age can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate this early. 

“And it’s the most awesome feeling in the world,” your classmate sighed. “When we touched hands? Man. We just- we glowed.”

Then, the others would poke fun, faking a gagged expression, but they’d always ask afterwards, “What happened next?” And everytime, you’d watch from the sidelines. Like an uninvited audience. 

You tried being a part of it once, wanting to share about the time your close friend met her soulmate. But all you’d gotten were side eyes and titters, as if they were laughing about a joke only you didn’t know about. 

“They’re so mean to you.” 

You groaned.

Oikawa was seated behind you, resting his head against his elbow. Everyone was too busy talking about blue lights and destined souls to notice what’s happening at the back of the room. 

He continued, “Not including you in conversations, treating you like an outsider.”

You didn’t bite, focusing on the opened book in front of you.

“Must be lonely, having no one.”

“Oikawa,” you muttered under your breath. “I don’t have the energy for this.”

The silence that came after that was unexpected. You were sure it would be short lived; he’s just gearing up for more. He usually went at it until you’d have no choice but to physically remove yourself from his presence. You’d thought once that that may be why he does this so much. Maybe he still thought you were the “ugliest girl” he’s ever met and he wants you out of his sight. Because Oikawa’s infantile like that.

But the silence stayed, accompanied by the background noise of eager conversations; lingering some more as white, fluffy clouds passed by the glass windows. 

When he broke it, all Oikawa said was, “Soulmates, huh.”

You felt a finger touch your back, drawing the barest of lines over your uniform. He removed them just before you could stand up and leave. 

You disliked those moments with him. 

You disliked him especially when he played. 

Oikawa’s a monster, be it in volleyball or with you. There are times, though, that you’d notice some things that you think you’re not meant to see. Like after a serve— its impact booming throughout the court, he’d have this puzzling expression on his face. 

It looked like....anger. 

He scored a point, right? Everyone’s cheering for him, aren’t they? Wait, didn’t they win?

You thought maybe it’s the adrenaline making him nastier than usual, but sometimes you’d pass by the gym when he happens to be alone. And that anger is still there, punctuated by the sound of the ball exploding against the floor. Jump. Hit. Spike. Jump. Hit. Spike. He’d do it, again and again and again. 

As if he’s trying to grasp something even he cannot reach. 

Those instances should’ve taught you that the best thing to do is look away. 

That’s what you should’ve done. Look away.

They lost the Interhigh tournament.

You knew this not because you’d watched, but because for one day, Oikawa Tooru wasn’t your bully. 

The derision was replaced by sulking. He didn’t speak for the entire period. The funniest thing about it was that everyone kept staring at you. Like somehow you’d been the cause of this, when all of them were lamenting the loss just as much as the team itself. 

 What was supposed to be a reason for celebration suddenly became a crime that you had to explain for.

 “Great,” you grumbled to yourself. “One time I don’t have a target on my back, now I’m the bad guy.”

Trash bag in hand, the scraps inside rattled against each other as you stomped to the recycling bin, both sleeves of your P.E jacket folded up to the elbows. You affected a tone, choosing to mock the grating way some of classmates talked:

“Oh, hey, if it’s not too much,” you began. “Can you please be his punching bag again? If you will, can you relieve our superstar’s burdens? By, I don’t know, alluring him into walking all over you? Like the good old days! Please, oh please? We rely on you, oh Great Punching Bag! We Beseech thee, oh Esteemed Doormat! We compel— dude, what the fuck?!”

Crumpled papers and steel and tin cans rolled to the ground. You didn’t pick them up, like you should’ve; you left it there, trash bag lying open, and grabbed the ball that whisked mere inches from your face. 

This time you’re not making the same mistake. The asshole is more than capable of suspending what little morals he has, just to hurt someone he barely knew. As well as athletically adept (an understatement, that) at hitting a walking target; or not hitting it, in this case.  

You stormed the almost empty gym. Oikawa is a ray of sunshine, greeting you with that smile. It makes you want to punch him.

“What is wrong with you?” you spat. 

He chuckled. “Whoops. Sorry!” 

“I’m not having this-” you shoved the ball to his stomach. He didn’t even blink. “This isn’t gonna slide anymore, Oikawa.”

Wide grin still in place, he took it from your hands with his much larger ones and said, “Wow, you’re actually mad this time. ”  

Then, he added, “I didn’t mean it! Honest!” 

Must be nice, you thought with a scowl, to be him. Anyone can be sincere if they look anything like Oikawa. 

“Sure. Fine. No, actually,” you glowered. “You know what?” 

“Hm?” He tilted his head. Oikawa tilted his pretty little head.

You seethed. “I get it. You lost. That doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. I mean, what did I ever do to you, Oikawa? I have-” you exhaled, surprised by the break in your voice. 

“I haven’t done anything to you. We stopped being kids a long time ago. That shit you pull should’ve ended by now. We’ve grown.” You jabbed his chest. “But I see that maybe not all of us have.”

His pleased expression hadn’t dropped. “Ouch,” Oikawa grimaced, glancing amusedly at the place you’d touched. “How mean.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

You don’t know why it took you this long to realize this, as you shifted your gaze away from him, noticing the gashes on the floor that tear the surface like scars that never healed. That must’ve been because of him, with the amount of practice he does. 

“It won’t be enough, won’t it, Oikawa?” you whispered. “Not for you.”

The smile that’s been there since you arrived tensed, straining at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” he beamed. 

He was bathing in his own sweat, seeping through his shirt and matting his hair to his face, and he looks— Oikawa looked tired. His eyes were sunken in, too. Did he even sleep?

You’re so used to seeing him not a hair out of place, with a sweet scent that you amusedly thought lures his gaggle of admirers into following him everywhere. It takes you aback, honestly. Particularly the wobble in his step as he bent and squeezed his knee with shaky fingers.

You don’t think he’s aware he’s doing it in front of you.

Then, just like that, everything seemed to have added up.  

“You’ll never be happy,” you said.

You should’ve stopped there. You should’ve left. Instead, you looked him in those brown eyes, the warm hue becoming a lot colder as he moved closer. 

Oikawa sneered. “And what do you know, huh?” 

(Go. Leave.)

“Nothing,” you told him. “I don’t- I don’t know. Because, I don’t get it.”

(Shut up. Shut up.)

“Why you try any harder, I don’t know. Win or lose, it’s all the same. You’re still the same. You’re still awful and annoying and- and still you.” You laughed, unsure why you’re running your mouth like this. 

“Win or lose. Oikawa is still Oikawa,” you breathed in. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

His teammates must’ve gone somewhere. For lunch, maybe, you thought as you eyed the abandoned bottles and used towels scattered around the court. “Besides,” you huffed, not without a twinge of envy. “They’ll all still love you, either way.” 

Everything went still for a while, and you’d just realized what you’d just said.

“What about you?” 

You looked back at him.

“What?”

He tipped his chin. You stepped backwards. 

He brushed your wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed, but he only smiled and wrapped his entire hand around it. 

Oikawa had been your first bully. Before you could even comprehend what that meant, Oikawa had been the source of your mother’s worries whenever she parted with you at the school gates. It is funny, thinking about it, for letting this boy affect you despite making an effort to stay away the first time. 

But it is only now— now that he has a firm hold on you, gentle yet smothering— that you truly feared Oikawa Tooru. 

It rattled your breath, squeezing your heart and refusing air to pass through your lungs, as you felt a shock zap through you. And apparently through him as well.

You broke away from each out with a cry.

Your hand was burning. That’s the only explanation for it. Your hand was burning and any moment now smoke will diffuse from the pores. 

You waited. Any moment now. But the more you stared at it the more tiny spots of flames sparked under your skin, bursting along the palm lines— first, the forked ones; then, the dashed lines— glaring back at you, glowing brighter, blotting and spreading until they mapped your palms then your entire hands like constellations. 

“Red is bad, my heart,” your mother said. “Red means run.”

“I knew it,” you scoffed, shaking your head. 

Well, it’s not as if this is news to you. 

“What about that, Oikawa?” You put both your radiating hands in the air. “The universe is telling us, you and I? We just don’t—”

Why are you crying?

Why is Oikawa crying? 

“I knew it,” he croaked.

Your mother made the red light sound so horrifying for a reason. 

There has to be a reason, too, why the universe is warning you so late into your life. You’d actually ran before. And when you thought it a waste of money, you chose to stay and not fight back; thinking that his punches have become less severe, degraded into verbal taunts that induce social exclusion at most; that, certainly, red doesn’t forbode something as bad as murder, right?

Well, what now? You were wrong, after all. This time you have a feeling that you actually need to hide. 

Because Oikawa’s looking at you like you’re the last two people left in this Earth. 

Just you and him. Without any need for anybody else. 

You didn’t breathe, attempting to bolt despite the overwhelming need to throw up right where you're standing. He stepped closer, faster than you’d liked, and touched your face, caressing your cheek up to your aching temple.

“You should really stop trying to run away,” he said, voice low as if he’s sharing a secret. “I’ll always find you, you know?”

You didn’t have to look to know. Even if you closed your eyes, as well, you know it’s still going to be there; glowing in the darkness behind your eyelids.

“Me and you—” Oikawa sighed. 

Listen carefully, your mother said.

“ —we have a connection that no one else will ever understand,” he said.

The light emitting from his hand was so harsh it hurt you, pricking your sight until it drew fat tears, reflecting against your damp face and tinting the fallen streaks with bright—

Blue means happy, she told you. The happiest you’ll ever be.

And you’d repeat: Blue. Blue is for—

“My soulmate," Oikawa said, before locking you in a deep, searing kiss. 

The lights didn't die even as he dragged you into the storage room.  

"Hey, where'd senpai go?" 

The rest of the volleyball team came in droves, occupying the hollow court with their squeaking shoes and questions about Oikawa's whereabouts.

"Must've gone somewhere," you heard a deep voice say. 

You could answer that question. All you  had to do was scream. They weren't so far from the room that they wouldn't pick it up over the noise of their volleyball practice. Really, if you needed to, you could even outshout their guttural yells of "Nice kill!"

Though, you'd have to remove the underwear lodged in your mouth first. 

Yours, in fact; soaked now by your own saliva, drool dripping to your chin as your wrists chafed against the rope that's keeping them tied at your back.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" You felt every sickening movement of Oikawa's lips against your throat. "Feels good when you- ah, fuck- when you give in."

With the cloth muting your shrill bawling, you tried your best to recall how you ended up here: seated on his lap as he sluggishly humped himself against you, his still glowing hands cupping your ass.  

The only thing left on your body was your bra, and even that he's already lowered to let your tits spill over the top. Your pants and t-shirt and jacket are lying around somewhere. You couldn't determine where in particular; the only sources of light were behind you.  

He was leaving imprints of blue all over your skin; around your waist as he slithered his hands to reach your breasts, scantily brushing over the hardened nipples and making you keel over.

"So sensitive," he tutted, smooching your neck so gently that even the underwear couldn't muffle your loud yelp when he suddenly bit into the flesh. Hard. 

You wanted to claw his eyes out and call for help and you wanted badly to scream don't do that Oikawa someone please save me he's gonna kill me he's gonna kill me-

But the gag remained intact and the boys outside continued their game, ignorant that their precious captain is taking everything away from you. 

Sharp canines bruised your skin, provoking a fresh batch of tears as he sucked and licked every after cruel bite. 

Then, when you thought the worst had passed, he removed his mouth from your neck to spit onto your bare cunt, allowing it to slide from the hair on your mound to the nub sticking out in the middle.

(It is not enough that he is killing you. Oikawa must defile you, too.)

His fingers gripped the insides of your thighs open when you tried to shut them together. "Don't be a brat," he clicked his tongue.

"Be a nice little kitten for me," Oikawa drawled, smearing the slick that's soaking your folds against the spittle coating your clit.

You didn't notice when he'd taken his cock out, you only realize that he's about to enter you when he teased your entrance with it, pushing the tip to nudge the drenched hole, only to pull it back again.

And you didn't dare look. The feel of it almost stretching you out with just the head is already driving you to insipid begging.

"What'd you say, kitten?" he pouted.

Oikawa you've already taken too much is it never going to be enough Oikawa let me go.

"I can't understand you," he chuckled. "Here—"

He pulled the underwear out of your mouth as he thrust all the way inside, your back arching, driving him deeper, as his cock throbbed against your pussy walls.

"Now, what were you saying?"

You swallowed your cries and heaved and swore you were gonna tear his heart out after this. 

"Say," he whispered, sniffing your wet panties without breaking his gaze. "If everyone saw us right now, how'd you think they'd react?"

It was so reverent, the way he did it, blue light revealing that he closed his eyes as he took a whiff, as if he hung onto your scent like a lifeline.

But you thought that'd been a calculated move, because as you dumbly stared at him, he immediately gyrated his hips under you, rocking back and forth ever so slowly, and you remembered that you had to keep quiet.

His cock was so big inside you, making you bite your lip as it filled you up, the curved tip hitting a spot that has you squirming in his embrace.

"At this point they'll know how much of a whore you are," he said, tangling his muscled arms around yours and anchoring you to his body. "Made just for me."

"Oika-Oikawa…"

You don't know this person. 

"Help..me.."

You don't know who's speaking out and whimpering for Oikawa, on her knees and bouncing up and down on his lap with weak, quivering thighs. 

It couldn't be you.

"Help you?" You felt him nuzzle your neck. "I thought you wanted me to stay away, though?"

Someone mewled out a pathetic, "N-no."

"No? Then what d'you want, kitten?"

(Oh. Oh, he feels so fucking good.)

Your belly has never felt this hot before and it's driving you crazy that you're chasing for something you cannot see and it feels so near but there's something, something that's keeping you from it that all you can do is grind your sopping cunt closer to him.

"Wanna- I wanna cum."

Oikawa kissed you on the forehead, and then he said, "Go ahead, then."

He released your arms. 

Then, he's scooping cum off your pussy, making sure to drag his fingers under the lips, before circling your large, swelling clit. Then, he's sucking your tits and swirling his tongue around a nipple and you're so so close.

"That's it," Oikawa sighed. "Ride my cock, baby."

His rough palm slapped both your ass cheeks and the cry that erupted from you only made him laugh. 

"Make yourself cum on my cock," he grunted, licking his smiling lips as he leaned back against the wall, hand idly rubbing your dripping clit. "You're making a mess, darling. Leaking like that."

You're quivering all over; your cunt is spasming and your legs are complaining beneath you, but you don't stop. You lift your hips and then sink your pussy down, down until you feel his balls touching your sore ass, the sloshing sound growing louder as you move faster. 

You don't think about what this'll all mean later, what you're doing giving in to him, when you scream out his name. But as soon as you did, Oikawa's growl had been your only warning.

He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you, plunging his tongue into your throat, his strong arms pressing you so close to him you can no longer tell his skin from yours, his battering heartbeat from yours. 

You didn't move—weren't allowed to, when he hammered his cock into you, pounding your cunt and fucking you raw until you're breathless and nothing but a shuddering wreck, splitting at the seams in his hands as you feel thick spurts of hot cum slide out of you. 

"My pretty girl," came his hoarse whisper. "My pretty, pretty girl."

The lights have dimmed, when he cradled your shaking form and moved out of you, faint traces left on just the palm lines and fingertips. 

They were flooded by the sudden brightness that enveloped the storage room.

"Holy shit."

You pressed your eyes close, your entire body prickling at Oikawa’s touch.

It shouldn't be surprising, at this point, that Oikawa, as quick as he'd stripped you off of everything, has already covered you back in your jacket. The smell of it striking you ruthlessly, that old cologne that you always use to school reminding you of who you were, before all this.

Had it only been a few hours? It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Ah," Oikawa murmured. "They caught us."

"Oikawa,” someone roared. Oikawa held you, hiding your face against his chest. “Why you son of a-"

"C-coach..! Stop- Oi, someone help me hold him- no, coach! "

You heard him chuckle. “Sorry about this, everyone.” He held up his hand and you had to keep yourself from sobbing. “But, look.”

There were several gasps. 

(Everybody knows now.)

“You..and her?” 

The boy who said that sounded so astonished, clearly overjoyed for some reason, that it revolted you.

“Mhm,” he nodded, a smile in his voice. “Now, can you guys please give us some privacy?” 

Feet shuffled out of the room, along with stuttered apologies. They all left. 

Except for one.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pouted.

“What did you do, Oikawa?”

A beat. Then, he repeated, “Iwa-chan.”

Please. 

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. 

Please help me.

“Sure,” he grunted.

He was gone, too, after that.

You were back in the darkness, with nothing but the faltering red and blue on your hands and his, while he untied your wrists and kneaded the abrasion away, cooing sweet nothings to your ear. 

“I hate you,” you rasped. 

“Don’t say that.”

“I fucking hate you-”

“Please stop yelling-”

“I won’t ever forgive you, Oikawa!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he cried, shaking his head as he brushed your tear-stained cheeks with both thumbs. You clutched them, wanting him off you, but he only latched himself firmly into you. “We’re meant to be.”

“You’re the only one for me.” 

Oikawa brought your numb hand to his face, pressing a kiss to your palm, the red light basking him in its soft glow.

“And I’m the only one for you,” he said, intertwining your fingers together. 

The lights flickered in and out, at first, as you stared vacantly into it, the red and blue swallowing each other. Until they finally disappeared, leaving just you and him, curled against each other in the shadows. 

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere oikawa #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

[blahkugo]

Sleepless

Shouta Aizawa X Reader (BNHA)

Warnings: 18+, bondage, bratty rc, over-stimulation, umm it’s just pure filth sandwiched between some fluff 

Word Count: 3.9k

A good night’s rest? You’ve never heard of her! 

“At least take off your heels before you throw yourself into bed,” your boyfriend’s voice rings out, still deeply agitated from a long night of feigned smiles and interest. You know that tone well— the exasperated sigh typically saved for his students at U.A— but the room is spinning too fast for you to take heed of his reprimand. 

“M’too tired,” you slur your words, face down against your mattress. 

The two of you had been at a pro-hero gala, or as Shouta called it, a “gaudy show of riches for politicians and government dickheads.” It had taken almost all of your energy, and a lot of homemade dishes, to persuade him to accept the invitation; however, he had followed through. He behaved properly all night, smiled and socialized with every partygoer that approached you, and even ensured the vicious insults on the tip of his tongue were whispered into your ears only after each person had turned away. You deemed the night a success, despite waving off Shouta’s warnings about that fourth glass of champagne you downed. 

“You’re going to get our covers dirty, idiot.” You can’t help but feel your heart flutter at that word— our. Be it the hundredth or thousandth time, you don’t think you’ll ever get over hearing him refer to the two of you as one. It had taken years for him to warm up to you, after all. While he considers it endearing now, you’re positive Shouta had initially found your constant laughter and positive nature unbearable, thinking of you as simply another nuisance to avoid; never had he met someone who reduced his usual threatening tone to something playful or entertaining. And little did either of you know, he would slowly come to adore the way his scolding amused you. 

No amount of persuasion from his students or other heroes can convince you Shouta is actually intimidating. If anything, his constant stoicism only compels you to misbehave more. You love pressing his buttons, take pleasure in watching him get riled up and lose his calm demeanor. But as of this very moment, you’re simply too tired, and a bit too tipsy, to play along. You wave off his words with a flick of your wrist, only to feel a tug at your ankle. 

“Wha–” 

“Stop squirming. I’m trying to take them off,” he struggles with the straps woven intricately up your calves, “damned things are more tangled than my cloth.” When he finally removes them, you feel the pads of his fingertips graze your legs softly. Shocks travel your entire body as he pays special attention to the indents adorning your skin— drawbacks of the tight laces that are quite easy to disregard when they urge him to touch you so sweetly. 

Shouta stalks away for a moment, only to return with a cotton pad and makeup remover. You’re surprised he even knows what products to use, though you know you shouldn’t be. He has spent countless minutes watching you complete your night routine intently, though usually his stare is paired with a sleepy grumble to hurry up and join him in bed. 

He shifts you into a sitting position, wiping tenderly at your cheek while you pull off your false lashes.

“Those are fake?” He snorts, baffled. 

“Mhhm, I’m prettier without them, right?” You poke fun at him, knowing he’ll ignore the cheesy question. A faint heat rises on his cheeks. 

“Shut up and put this on,” he nudges one of his t-shirts into your arms before he slides your strapless dress down your body. Even with your eyes half-shut, you can feel his charged stare ogling every hill and valley of your naked form. His fingers barely skim you— a purposeful maneuver to focus on the task at hand— but your body jerks into his grasp, keen for more. Sleepy or not, you’d never waste an opportunity for a quickie. You know just how swiftly a few words and caresses on his part could have you bucking and sobbing, like putty in his han– “(Y/N), stop. You’re drunk and half-asleep.” 

“Only tipsy and a quarter asleep, thank you very much.” Your eyes flutter open to see the beginnings of a smile touch his lips, but he just barely holds it back. He’s trying his damn hardest to remain stern, how cute. “Shou,” you mewl, elongating his name in the hopes that he’ll budge.

“Don’t pout at me,” he taps a chiding finger against your bottom lip, “the answer is no. I still have work to do.” Ignoring your whined protests, Shouta walks out of the bedroom. Seconds later, you hear his office door shut, a sign that he’ll be in there long into the night. 

Any inkling of sleepiness your body possessed is gone without a trace, now feeling nothing but an intense heat coursing the skin your boyfriend brushed, and the alcohol left running through your veins only intensifies that warmth. You turn yourself over in bed, naively will yourself to succumb to sleep and deal with the ache tomorrow; however, your body has other plans. Your thighs press together on their own, desperate for any sort of relief to quell the throbbing between your legs, but it’s no use. Looks like you’re getting up. 

With each step towards his office, you find yourself more impassioned. Who does Shou think he is anyways, leaving you alone in such a needy state? It’s not fair. He gives you the slightest taste of his touch and then cruelly rips it away. So if anything, it’s his fault that your body won’t rest until completely appeased— until he soothes the burn. Besides, you’ll be damned if you’re going to allow him the pleasure of hearing your moans through the thin walls knowing he goaded you into touching yourself.

Upon walking through the door of his workspace, you’re greeted with the sight of your boyfriend, the stealthy pro-hero, seated ever-so casually at his desk. He has a hand pressed adamantly against his temple and his hair up in a messy half-bun. So badly do you want to run your hands through it, tug the clip off so you can watch those beautiful, dark locks tumble down his shoulders. You always catch yourself silently hoping for a piece to fall in his eyes so that you can reach out and tuck it behind his ear, delighted when you have any excuse to stroke the soft waves between your fingertips.

“Shou,” you mumble, one hand rubbing at lidded eyes. The white glow of the computer screen washes over him as he turns to you, and you feel your breath hitch again at the Adonis in front of you. 

He’s opted out of wearing any sort of top. Instead, gray joggers hang low on his hips, allowing you to feast your eyes on his lean chest and softly sculpted v-lines. A dark line of hair trails down into his pants, and you feel your mouth water at the idea of licking a long stripe up his navel. 

“Can’t sleep.” You’re aware it comes out a whine, don’t care to correct your tone because it may just convince him to join you in bed. He rolls his eyes, your name flowing off his tongue with a low sigh— music to your ears. 

“I have work to catch up on since somebody forced me to go to that stupid gala,” the accusation is probably sincere, but you smile anyways. 

“Please,” there’s that whine again, “just five minutes.” This time your words are accompanied by a quick yank at the hem of your t-shirt. Your cleavage makes an appearance, and when you see his eyes wander up towards the supple globes— tongue just barely poking out to slide across his bottom lip— you know you’ve got him beat. He mutters under his breath, but the only words you catch are something along the lines of ‘pampered brat’. 

Well, spoiled or not your methods work, and he’s the one indulging your whims anyways. Being curled up against Shouta’s sturdy chest, you find the fatigue of a long night creeping up on you once again. His close proximity is enough to relax you; all of your senses are engulfed in his presence, saturated with him. Your body gladly welcomes his scent with every inhale— clean laundry, aftershave, and something a bit woodier that can only be described as ‘Shouta’. Though he shaved this morning, newly grown stubble scruffs against you every time you nuzzle against his jaw. Slender fingers tangle in your hair, smoothing lazy circles into your scalp. And with your ear pressed to his chest, you realize the slow, steady drum of his heartbeat just might actually lull you into a deep sleep. 

But that’s all before you hitch a leg around his hip to pull him closer. At the sensation of your heat nudged tightly against him, you feel his heartbeat rise rapidly. If any thoughts of sleep linger in your mind, the prospect of riling Shouta up— and perhaps securing an orgasm or two in the process— throws them out the window once again. 

Your fingertips begin to caress his shoulders subtly, ear still pressed to his chest to listen for any jumps in his rhythm. The less he notices your movements, the easier it’ll be to overwhelm him all at once. When your fingers don’t incite any noticeable response, you run them through his hair instead. At the same time, you feign discomfort at the position you’re in and twist your hips slightly, making sure to press your core against him harder. You feel his breath hitch under you, and then your hair being jerked harshly. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he forces you to look up at his cloudy eyes, always ringed with darkness no matter how much rest he receives. Caught. You flash him your sweetest pout, gazing up at him through dainty lashes. A slight ‘hm?’ leaves your lips, but within seconds, they’re attached to his neck, shamelessly kissing and nibbling at the sweet spot near his jaw. “If you’re not going to behave on your own, I’ll make you.” Your thighs tighten around his hips, goosebumps trailing your arms at the clear-cut threat.

“Do it then,” you urge between kisses, now peppering them up his jaw. Your teeth kiss the shell of his ear before you whisper, “or I’ll just keep misbehaving, daddy.” 

In an instant, your face is shoved into the mattress, arms crossed behind your back with Shouta’s cock straining against you through his pants. Rigid cotton brushes against your folds and you realize that perhaps he was expecting this turn of events more than he let on, because the fucker never bothered giving you a change of underwear. 

“You’re such a needy slut,” he spits, heated breath fanning your neck while he tightens his grasp around your wrists. “Can’t go one night without getting me worked up, huh?” His free hand darts under your shirt, now kneading and pinching at your ass. 

“Nope,” you bite back, always ecstatic to provide sassy retorts, especially when he’s seething like this. 

A stinging pain travels your body when he slaps the globe of your ass. Once, twice, five times, each spanking invoking a louder gasp until tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

“Are you done acting up?” Shouta’s tone is slow and composed, almost disinterested. If not for his heaving chest pressed against your back, you would believe him unaffected by the punishment. 

You, on the other hand, are very obviously flustered. Tears stream down your face freely now, and you’re positive the spanking has left a blazing handprint on your cheek as a reminder for days to come. Shouta gives you a final, petty love tap to shake you out of your thoughts. “I don’t have all night.” 

But you’re left unsatisfied, the throbbing between your thighs only worsened by his harsh welts and complete neglect of your clit. He hasn’t made a single motion towards your glistening cunt, probably won’t ever if you simply take his discipline lying down. 

“What if I’m not?” The words leave your mouth hesitantly, face turning to stare back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. He doesn’t say a word, his own eyes narrowing and lips quivering into a disgusted scowl. Even though you’ve asked for this, know exactly what situation you’ve gotten yourself into, your heart quickens at the thrill of seeing your partner so worked up. He may not be outwardly angry— Shouta has always been a man who prefers quick, biting remarks over piercing screams and smashing glass— but his mannerisms tell you everything you need to know. It’s going to be a long, sleepless night.

You feel the tight, unforgiving fabric knotted around your body before you’re even aware of what’s happening. Nimble fingers quickly wrap your arms in place. Then, your legs are bent at the knees and tied securely to your wrists. Only your taut midriff and breasts touch the mattress, leaving your sopping core exposed, no way to flail or deny him entrance. You’re his to do whatever he pleases with.

“Behave.” He wraps your hair around his wide palm and yanks hard, a pained cry leaving you at the prickling in your scalp. His fingers graze your slit, but never touch you where you need him. It’s absolutely maddening. You buck into him to no avail— the cloth wraps too firmly around your limbs. 

“Shou, I– I, please,” you’re practically sobbing, his name leaving your lips over and over like a prayer. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve angered him. 

“Who said you could speak?” He tugs harder on your locks. The motion rocks your skull, all nerves standing on end. It fucking hurts, but the action has your slit quivering all the same. “Are you going to be a good little whore now?” 

“Yes, Shou.” The response wins you a sharp slap to the ass, the sore cheek. You suppress a loud wail, correcting yourself quickly. “Y-Yes daddy, I’ll behave.” He doesn’t respond, only lets out a low growl and loosens his grip on your hair. 

Then, his presence is gone. He’s moved off the bed, and your cunt pulsates at the number of delicious things he may do next. 

A slam rings out from your bedside dresser and he’s back within seconds. Something foreign, hard and long,  is pressed against your tight hole. No stretching, no warning, he simply sinks the toy into your slick cunt. After a few merciless thrusts you’re whimpering softly, choking back pleas. If he wanted you to beg, you’d know it. 

“Is this what you wanted?” The dildo is driven into you faster. “Is this what you were grinding like a bitch in heat for?” His words are spit like venom, tone disappointed— appalled— with you, but it only fuels your steady ascension to orgasm. You’re teetering closer and closer to the edge, but you just need a bit more. His cock, a finger on your clit, anything. 

“Yes, yes, yes.” You can’t help the onslaught of moans that spill from your lips in between pants. His hands begin kneading at your ass again, right cheek still flaming with every touch. If he’d only remove the bindings, now digging tightly into your wrists and ankles, you’d be able to hump back onto the toy as you so desperately wish to. 

He stills all at once, leaving you distraught and gasping. If you cry out, you’ll only be met with harsh reprimands. You want to sob— for his touch, for a break, for anything to soothe the ache in your core. 

You hear it before you feel it.

A small buzzing noise as something is clicked on. Then, vibrations wracking your insides, your clit— a slew of pleasure as the dildo pulses. You sigh loudly, that stubborn itch finally being appeased by the pressure of the toy. 

“Is my pretty little slut enjoying herself?” Shouta laughs behind you, voice still cold and filled with loathing. It’s as though he’s repulsed by your desire, your ceaseless need for him. You mewl loudly at the thought. “Mhm, and you’re going to continue enjoying yourself,” you feel the bed dip as he steps away, “until I finish my work.”

The fucking bastard. He’s leaving you tied up and helpless with a sex toy on the highest setting. He knows you’ll be a drooling mess for him, probably only half-conscious, by the time he’s back.

“N- no Shou, please.” Your protests do nothing to sway him. He simply snickers and walks out of the bedroom, leaving you to writhe and wail on your own. And God, does it feel good. Your stomach pulls taut as you rut against the bed like– like an animal. In a constant cycle of edging and ebbing, your orgasms build and build and build until you’re hit full force, only to begin all over again. It’s equal parts satisfying and unfulfilling, because fuck, do you just want your boyfriend’s cock inside you. It’s all you can think of— his warmth, his hands roaming your body, sweet, degrading nothings whispered into your ear while he pounds into you.

You lose track of time, aren’t even sure at this point whether your body is spasming or simply attempting to dispel the thick length inside you. The pleasure has turned to an entirely different ache, swollen clit now abused by the constant vibrations. Your voice is run hoarse, face carved into a permanent wince. And despite your attempts to stay quiet, chokes and gasps still rip through your throat. Even Shouta’s cloth is soaked through with the scorching sweat enveloping your body.  

Though absolutely exhausted, you’re conscious enough to hear his quick steps as he makes his way to the bedroom. You can sense the smirk plastered across his face without even seeing it. 

“Tired out?” Fingertips ghost over the cloth and across your painfully numb calves, nerves jumping at the feeling. “Ah’, you’ve soaked the bedspread.” A fierce blush runs across your skin, humiliated at the sight you must seem to him— a drooling, high-strung mess. He either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore the way your body shakes at every prod. 

All you can do is let out a meager ‘Mmph’, your brain too scrambled to form anything close to words, let alone coherent sentences. “If you use your words, I’ll consider taking the toy out.” Shouta’s ruthless; he knows every inch of your body, your reactions, like the back of his hand. Of course he’d ask you to use your words. He lives to watch you come undone, thrives off the pain etched onto your features. 

“Please,” the request is drawn out— paused midway to let loose another gasp— and dripping in desperation. “I can’t– I just-”  It’s all you can manage in your state. 

“Seems you’ve been fucked stupid,” he chuckles darkly, though the vibrations wracking your cunt finally come to a halt and the dildo is swiftly removed. Your core clenches at the emptiness. “But I haven’t had the chance to stuff this tight little pussy full,” he slaps a harsh palm against your slit, making sure to wipe the slick that now coats his palm all across your cheek. If you weren’t aware of how soaked you were before, Shouta makes damn sure that you do now. The most you can work out in response is a feeble squeak. 

One of Shouta’s hands strokes at your matted hair from behind, agile fingers tidying the disheveled strands. The other rubs harsh circles on your clit; you twitch incessantly, sparks running through every inch of your body. “There’s that pained little face I love,” he grabs at your cheeks roughly, forcing your lips into a ‘o’ while grinding into your calf. “Fuck.”

Your legs and arms slump onto the mattress as soon as the cloth is unbound. Every muscle in your body aches with overuse; numbness buzzes through the limbs that were strung together for God knows how long. 

Your boyfriend— sadist that he fucking is— thrusts himself into you without warning. Sure, you’ve been stretched by the toy, but your poor slit is so overworked by previous orgasms that even the slightest hint of friction invokes senseless blubbering, your tongue lolling to the side in defeat. Wet, harsh slaps of skin against skin sweep the room, mixed with cries of ‘daddy,’ ‘please,’ and senseless nothings.

“Wanna see you cum.” It’s an order more than a request, grunted into the crook of your neck. His chest flattens against your back. It should feel suffocating, should feel disgusting, considering your body is gleaming with hours worth of perspiration, but you’re enamored with the warmth— engrossed by the way your skin sizzles at his touch. His fingers are secured at your hips, propping your ass in the air and pulling it against him with every piercing thrust. 

“N- no, can’t,” cheek still buried into the mattress, you muster whatever strength you have left and grip at his slick bicep behind you. He simply swats your hand away, takes your wrist between his slender fingers, and presses it into the bed. His thumb caresses the marks left by the cloth, savoring the aftermath of the punishment he inflicted. 

“You can and you will.” Despite the rasp in his voice, the command still holds authority over your forlorn frame and sends prickles down your spine. You feel yourself, yet again, creeping to the edge of an orgasm. “Cum for me.” 

It’s those three, simple words that have you seeing white. Breathless, your brows scrunch together and lips open into a wide ‘o’, but no sound comes out. Your whole body tenses, all senses overwhelmed by this final tidal wave of pleasure, and then finally goes slack. 

You’re officially done, body worked to the point of no return. A couple more snaps of his hips and Shouta follows, your name grunted loudly as he spills into you. 

For a long time you simply lay together silently, chests heaving with his body still splayed over yours. You know that eventually he’ll roll out of bed and make sure you’re all cleaned up. You always revel in the way he pampers you, taking his time to ensure he doesn’t miss a single inch of skin. If you weren’t so exhausted, he’d probably run a bath as well. 

Right now, the heat is finally proving too much for you, so you tap at his hip and he slides himself out of your raw core. 

“Ouch,” you wince at the friction, the ability to speak returning to you at last. The whole bottom half of your body is tender. It’ll be a miracle if you’re able to sit comfortably for the next few days. 

“Surprised you actually behaved,” he chuckles, flipping you over to hold you. His fingers rub lazy circles into your back and he presses a kiss to your forehead, “You were so good for me.” 

“Not like you had me tied up or anything,” you poke a finger at his chest. “And to do paperwork at that.” 

“Oh,” a slow, smug smile inches across his face, “I didn’t get any work done.” You might just slap him.

“Shouta,” your voice is even, but your eyes pierce his, narrowed in disbelief, “what do you mean you didn’t get any work done?” His laugh rumbles through his chest. 

“Do you think I could really focus, hearing your screeching through the walls like that?” 

-

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#AIZAWA FUCKERS COME THRU #this took me so long i hated it for the longest #but reading over it now i think it's okay??? lmk #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #bnha #bnha smut #shouta x reader #shouta aizawa x you #daddy aizawa #sunny writes #bnha fic #mha smut #mha