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nakachuchu · 1 year ago

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Protector | Gojo Satoru

SYNOPSIS: Your life was far more important than Gojo Satoru’s life, but no one understood why.

READER: female

WORDS: 1.9k

WRITTEN: 07/24/2023

NOTE: I never read gojo's arc bc I hate flashbacks so things aren't the same. I cranked this out on a whim.

EVENT: part of the Sly Fox Collab

Before the Satoru bloodline, there was the L/N bloodline. The very blood throbbing within the layers of your skin and flesh stood above all other bloodlines.

Despite not being as gifted as Gojo Satoru, you were still above him. Your very existence — your very breath — meant that the Jujutsu world was still standing.

If the beacon of light was struck down, there would be no saving others.

Your clan built the Jujutsu world and it was your great ancestor who closed off a portal that allowed demons — not only Curses — to roam free in Japan, destroying everything in their paths.

Gojo Satoru was your bodyguard — your protector since birth. Despite being born before him, he was still the person who was supposed to put your life above his.

However, as the first to hold both the Six Eyes and Limitless, he was an anomaly all on his own. His clan didn't like the idea of him having to sacrifice himself to protect you, should the time come for it.

So, his parents taught him one thing when it came to you: "Her life means nothing compared to yours."

Wherever you went, Gojo was supposed to go.

Gojo Satoru hated you. He despised your very existence. You were the reason he was on a tighter leash. He was already being watched since birth, but now he was being watched more heavily and had to watch out for others.

Gojo attending the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech School was only for him to learn responsibility and how to hone his abilities.

It was a struggle to allow him to attend, but a simple "Yes" from you allowed him to attend. You were his master and he was your dog.

Because of your approval for him to attend, you attended as well. There was no better protector than Gojo, so you had to stick with him.

Your clan didn't want you to leave the confines of their estate, but they had no choice.

You were the one who held the seed of life within your very soul. Your death would unleash unimaginable death into the world, causing destruction to the very earth itself.

Only high members of your clan could know the true power you held. You may not have been as strong on the outside as Gojo Satoru or Geto Suguru, but you held your own power.

Despite Gojo being your bodyguard, you were the one who followed him everywhere. You never spoke to anyone unless spoken to, and so you became his shadow.

He had no shame in voicing his opinions on the annoying shadow trailing after him day after day, but you had never reprimanded him or told anyone how he treated you.

It made no difference to you. As long as he kept you alive, you didn't care. Your clan members only listened to you because of the power of life you held.

You knew that if you were just another woman, they wouldn't listen to you.

You currently sat on a table, swinging your feet back and forth as you watched Gojo and his classmates bicker.

You envied him. You wanted to have friends as well. You wanted to go out after school to grab ice cream and gossip about crushes.

You let out a soft sigh and fell back onto the table, laying on it peacefully as you looked up at the blue sky.

"Are you alive?" Gojo questioned.

You turned slightly to look at him.

"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Good, I guess."

You turned to look back at the sky.

He stared at you for a moment before shrugging and going back to his friends.

The school day continued until it was time for Gojo to drop you off at home. He lingered around campus as usual, enjoying the idea of you having to wait on him because you couldn't walk home alone.

He was feeling quite smug about it — he felt smug every day — until a random dog entered the school grounds and bit him in the ass.

"OW WHAT THE FUCK — "

Geto and Ieiri burst out laughing, unable to contain their laughter. However, you were also unable to contain your laughter. You let out a snort before covering your mouth with your fist and clearing your throat.

Almost immediately, Gojo rounded on you after swatting the dog away.

"Did you just laugh?"

"No."

"You did. You just laughed at me."

"Not at you. At the situation," you responded.

He narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Come on."

He grabbed your sleeve and dragged you away, pulling you like an owner would pull their dog.

Gojo had never seen you laugh before. Who knew it would take his pain for you to laugh?

Since that day, he was always trying to make you laugh. He wanted to see what kind of person you really were. He wanted to know if deep inside you were just like him.

You were put in an unimaginable position, just like him. What were you thinking on the inside? Did you really like the life you were born into? Did you wish you were human instead? Ignorant of the Curses and death around you?

Geto and Ieiri exchanged glances at the scene in front of them: you and Gojo were laughing together.

A month shortly after the dog incident, you and Gojo had been more open around each other. He was more comfortable with your presence and didn't think of you as his shadow much.

You were more like an extension of him, always going places together. He even started walking you home right after his classes so that you would have enough time to stop by a place to eat sweets.

Today, the four of you would be going to a cafe together for the first time. It was your first real-time spending time with Gojo's friends. You usually left him alone when he was at school since you didn't want to bother him.

His life was much more difficult because of you and you felt responsible for the heavy chains wrapped around his neck.

You and Gojo walked side by side while Geto and Ieiri walked side by side in the front. The two would casually turn around to talk to you when the chance arose.

The atmosphere was fun and relaxing. It was your first time having a small group to spend time with, but of course, the happiness wouldn't last.

Before Gojo could even comprehend what had happened, your body was already on the floor and a warm splatter had formed on his cheek.

He didn't even notice Geto shaking his shoulders or Ieiri shaking while holding your body in her arms.

The bullet went straight into your head.

"Where?" he whispered. "WHERE?" he shouted, pushing Geto off him and frantically looking around for the culprit.

Gojo ran off to look for your murderer, leaving Geto and Ieiri alone with you.

But, that was exactly what the group of culprits wanted. They were silent and invisible until the very end.

One masked man pulled Ieiri off you, while the other dragged your body toward him. Before Geto could attempt to do anything, a skilled assassin appeared before him.

Geto was forced to fight for his own life while watching the culprits get ready to take your body.

"Let me go!" Ieiri shouted as she kicked around with one of the culprits.

"GOJO!" Geto screamed, knowing his friend would hear him.

Gojo appeared a few feet away, cursing his inaccuracy under the stressful situation. He frantically looked between his two friends struggling and your limp body being thrown over an assassin's shoulder.

Before he could even take a step, your body jerked and the screams of the assassin you were draped over alerted the other culprits.

Your supposedly dead body had taken a chunk out of the assassin's neck. Your hands dug into his body, clawing at him through his clothes as you spat out the chunk of flesh.

The assassin dropped you onto the floor and he scrambled away from you in fright, holding his hand against his neck.

You dropped to the floor on your hands and knees. Your bones cracked as you slammed a hand onto the concrete.

You turned abruptly to look — blood in your eyes — at the assassins who were fighting Ieiri and Geto.

The three teenagers were frozen in fear. You looked rabid — like a zombie covered in blood.

You slammed your other hand down onto the concrete. Cracks formed in the concrete, shaking the earth as the assassins attempted to scramble away from it.

Despite having a bounty on your head, no one knew the true reason why you were so important. They just knew you were important enough to have Gojo Satoru protect you.

A large monstrous hand shot out from one crack, while shadow-like tentacles shot out from the other one. The assassins screamed in agony as they were pulled under by the demons.

The "seed of life" within you was the ability to control those in the underworld. That was why you were so important.

Your very existence was the barrier between the underworld and the real world.

With the assassins gone, the cracks closed and repaired themselves. It looked as if nothing had happened, except for the blood that stained you and Ieiri's clothes.

You slowly got up to your feet and wiped your face with the sleeve of your jacket. The bullet lodged in your head pushed itself out and the hole repaired itself.

The three teenagers were silent.

"I died once before," you said quietly.

A tear rolled down your cheek.

"I got hit by a car when I was seven. I was walking home from school. And when I died, I saw things. I went to where those things were and I was in so much pain. Everything hurt. Everywhere hurt."

The more you continued to talk, the more it turned into sobs. You couldn't control your tears. You tried to stop them by rubbing your eyes raw, but your sobs turned into cries as if a child was crying.

"And I — I came back an hour later in the arms of my mother. I couldn't stop shaking and screaming. I tried to kill everyone who got near me. I — I didn't know who — who I was or where — where I was — "

Gojo walked the distance between you two and hugged you, smothering your head in his chest.

You wailed like a baby, clutching his school uniform into your fists. You refused to let him go and he wouldn't dare to let you go.

"Go ahead," he said to his friends. "I'll see you later."

Ieiri and Geto glanced at each other and nodded before walking home together. Geto wrapped an arm around her shoulders in comfort.

"I — I don't know if I can die," you said, muffled. "But each time I do, it hurts so much. It scares me. I hate it. I hate what I see. I'm damned to eternal hell."

His hand cupped the back of your head, large and warm.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Apologies were hard for Gojo. He hated showing vulnerability and sincerity, but he couldn't imagine what you had been through.

"I should have been more careful," he said. "I'll take better care of you now."

Gojo Satoru now understood why you had to be protected. His parents were wrong. His life wasn't above yours. You were far more important than him, but they would never understand that.

He would protect you until the day he died.

#jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #slyfoxcollab #slyfox collab

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darlink-xoxo · 1 year ago

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MEMORIZED BY YOU!ੈ̊♡

in which, a boy thinks he's in need of medical attention

but he's really just in love..

GIF isnt mine

─ͥ─ͦ─ͮ─ͤ➼♥

just shoto being blissfully unaware of how whipped he is 💕

read pt2 here

Warnings: Oblivious Shoto, Shoto in Denial, Puppy Love 🫶.. spelling mistakes

❥ · ﾟ₊ he blinked when a hand waved itself in front of his face. glancing at his surroundings, shoto's brows lightly scrunched together as he tried to remember where he was. oh right, he was in the middle of eating lunch in the cafeteria. turning to look at who waved in his face, he was greeted by his friends looking at him with smug faces.

".. hello?"

"sorry to interrupt you todoroki, but you were spaced out for a few minutes now." izuku spoke with a small smile.

ochako leaned over towards tsu and whispered something, before both started giggling with fox grins. shoto blinked, confusion clear on his face, he looked towards tenya who cleared his throat.

the engine quirk user pointed behind him to a table over with a sly smile on his face. shoto's head tilted as he looked over, his breath seemed to leave him as his eyes landed on a particular someone..

their name was y/n, one of the top students of class 1b. his surroundings left his mind once more, his vision turned tunneled, and it narrowed in on them. just how much time had passed? he couldn't say.

it was like they managed to stop his world from spinning, they kept him grounded, while also making him throw away any rationality he might've had. he felt lightheaded, did he have heartburn? or was he drunk..

wait shoto doesnt even drink

you were happily chatting with your classmates kinoko and tokage. although, it was more like kinoko was listening, while you and the dark green haired girl chatted away. you both knew that kinoko was the shy type, so you didnt forget to include her in your conversations.

as you sipped your drink, you glanced to your side to see tokage whisper something to the mushroom quirk user. it was then that kinoko covered her mouth to hide her giggles, her shoulders shaking with laughter and tokage let out loud laughs.

you flashed them a confused smile as you asked them what was up. they did nothing but laugh harder, before eventually calming down and pointing forward at the next table a couple feet away in front of you guys.

you tilted your head as you turned to face the direction where they pointed at, before being stunned when you made eye contact with a certain ice and fire user. although he seemed to snap out of whatever spell he was under, his face held a similar look of shock as yours.

you quickly glanced around you in case he was looking at someone else instead, when you found no one else you sent a confused wave in his direction. smiling at him before going back to eating your lunch

shoto responded with a wave of his own, although still stuck in a daze, he felt the corners of his lips quirk up. did.. did his quirk suddenly activate? last he remembered y/n didnt have the ability to activate someone else's quirk.. so why did he feel so warm..?

izuku lightly laughed at his love dazed classmate. how could one of class 1a's top students, be so unaware of how spell bound he looked?

"hey.. midoriya.."

"oh! yeah todoroki?"

"am.. am i sick? i feel warm all over, and i think i'm experiencing a heart attack."

the green haired male blanked as shoto was finally able to turn away from his attention capturer, "midoriya.. am i dying??"

.. eh?

"i'm serious, my mind is going blank, i think i'm experiencing cardiac arrest. i couldn't even breathe, and i zone out every time i look at them. i cant even speak.. it's like i've been brainwashed."

"pff," izuku was fighting for his life to keep his laughter in, but ultimately he failed when he heard how the rest of the table burst with laughter. ochako and tsu clutched at each other as they wheezed with giggles, while tenya repeatedly slapped at the table.

"OH MY GOSH TODOROKI!! 'AM I DYING??' HAHSHAHH THAT'S HILARIOUS!"

"wh- but i mean it! i'm not even sure recovery girl will be able to help with my situation!"

"PFFF BWAHAHAHA!! RECOVERY GIRL DEFINITELY ISNT GONNA HELP THAHAHAHAT!!"

"guys i think i might be allergic to y/n 😨"

"NO WAY AHAHAHA!!!"

you looked over at 1a's table, your eyes narrowing in on a dual quirk user. you sighed happily, finding the escapade that you were watching from afar to be funny.

kinoko nudged tokage's shoulder, and both girls turned to look at you before lightly giggling behind their hands, taking a breath to recollect themselves, kinoko reached over and prepared to wave her hand in your face.

"sorry to interrupt you y/n, but you've been zoned out for a while now." they laughed.

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jen-with-a-pen · 1 year ago

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F O X ＨＵＮＴ

summary: Not only has HYDRA executed their infiltration on S.H.I.E.L.D., but they have also reclaimed their finest weapon. Your safety isn't the only thing that's compromised.

pairings: WS!Beefy!Bucky Barnes x F!Avenger!Reader

word count: 6.1k

warnings: chasing, being hunted down, implied n0n-con elements, canon-level violence, cursing, implied t0rture, blood, beat1ngs, forced nud1ty, language, HYDRA-level cruelty, Bucky gets Brainwashed (again), there's Steve x Reader if you squint REALLY REALLY hard

read here on ao3!

a/n: This was inspired by last year's Whumptober Day 2: NOWHERE TO RUN - CORNERED, CAGED AND CONFRONTATION. I know it's February JUNE, but shit came up and my motivation tanked lmao thanks adhd med trials Literally have never done a dark(er?) fic before and this one has been cooking for god knows how fucking long now. I hope y'all like it <3 (also the hydra victory au is something i discovered from the lovely @lunarbuck reset series and stewed obsessively over for literal months now. still obsessed with it whoops)

dividers by @firefly-graphics | gif by @lost-shoe | @hydravictrix

my ao3 | my masterlist

Translations

Lisitsa | лисица - fox/little fox

Soldat | солдат - soldier

Syuda | сюда - over here

Khitraya suka | хитрая сука - sly bitch

Moy priz | мой приз - my prize

Glupaya pizda | глупая пизда - stupid cunt

Moye | мое - mine

The infiltration was subtle at the start.

A few missions gone mysteriously wrong, agents killed in action or disappearing entirely, hacks that were, thankfully, contained within an inch of a full-blown data breach. All of it seemed so coincidental when it happened, swept under the rug each and every single time before Director Fury could have a swear-filled say as to what the hell was going on.

But hindsight is 20/20. It always is.

The day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell was, ironically, the perfect day: brilliant sunshine, clear blue skies, a breeze weaving between the towering buildings and skyscrapers. It was almost eerie, in a way, how perfect of a day it was.

You found yourself in the gym, Steve and Sam hashing it out on whose turn it was in sparring. You had all but knocked Sam out cold in the previous round as Steve watched from behind the ropes, cheering you on with a cocky, proud grin as he watched all of his hard work in your training pay off.

Of course, the stubborn ass he was, Sam wanted another go.

“C’mon, Steve! I wanna rematch!” Sam protested, gesturing wildly in your direction with one hand while his other held an ice pack to his bruised temple. Steve stifled a laugh, tossing a glance over his shoulder to you. You shook your head, smiling back as you gulped down the rest of your water bottle. Cool strands spilled out from the corners of your lips and down your chest. You welcomed the relief from the sweat gluing your t-shirt to your skin.

“How ‘bout I take Steve instead of giving you another concussion?” you retorted, giggling as Sam shot a narrow look at you. He huffed, forfeiting his argument by waving a dismissive hand.

“Fine, ’m gonna go find some pain meds,” he grumbled, turning to point a swollen finger at Steve. “I better see you in the infirmary next, Cap.”

He stomped off through the metal doors and left the two of you in silence.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart? You up for round two?” Steve teased, stepping under the ropes and into the ring. He wrapped his hands as he moved to the center, muscle memory carrying him while keeping his eager gaze on you. His eyes carried excitement as they journeyed up and down your figure, rolling his lip between his teeth as he drank you with his stare.

You did little to hide your pride at the Captain checking you out, chewing the corner of your cheek to tame your own smirk at the beautiful blond. You turned away, hiding the heat from your cheeks as you tossed your bottle at your bag. You weaved under the ropes, coming face to face with your willing opponent in the center. You lifted your chin to meet his, the hidden smirk on your lips growing into a grin.

“With you? Always, old man,” you purred. You tossed him a teasing wink as you positioned your fists in front of you, feet planted firmly in the starting stance. Steve lingered on you for a second longer, tongue swiping across his lips hungrily as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, raising his hands to mirror you.

The two of you began to circle one another, dancing in a familiar pattern you knew by heart. Steve took his first swipe at you and you ducked, managing a hit to his stomach. A grunt escaped from him– not of hurt but of thrill. He lunged for you as you dodged again, blocking his failed strike to your head.

“Wow! You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks!” you taunted, dodging another blow, his wrapped fist only grazing your shoulder. You rolled it back, holding back a slight wince as you continued the violent waltz.

You lunged at him, instead faltering and falling to the ground. Readying the curse on your tongue, it stopped short of your lips as you looked up at Steve.

He stood frozen in place, panting, fists at his sides clenching tighter and tighter. As you opened your mouth to unload even more cursing questions, screeching erupted from the loudspeakers around the room. High-pitched tones screaming above, a robotic voice speaking clinically and quickly. You scrambled off the floor, unease creeping in as you latched onto Steve’s arm, his arm tensing under your touch.

CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS URGENTLY NEEDED. 40th FLOOR. THREAT IS ACTIVE AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS. REPEAT. CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS–

The message had cut out, static replacing it alongside the echoing alarms throughout the hallways outside the gym. You looked up at Steve. Anxiety surged upon finding his face devoid of all blood, his jaw slack, eyes boring into the metal doors leading to the hallway. He looked scared.

You’d never seen Steve scared before.

“Steve, what the fuck was that–”

“Get to the locker rooms and hide,” he ordered. He pulled his arm from you, jumping over the ropes and sprinting to his duffel bag on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed frantically as he ran to the doors.

“Steve!” You stood trembling in the ring as your stomach churned.

“Now!” he yelled. “I’ll come back for you!”

He didn’t wait to hear your response as he slammed the gym doors shut, followed by a whir and click.

He locked you in.

You didn’t– couldn’t– hesitate as a surge of urgency overtook you. You needed to hide. Now. Fast.

Your legs carried you as you jumped out of the ring and raced to grab your duffel bag, sprinting to the back of the gym through another set of double doors. You wove through the tiled maze of the locker room searching for some sort of hiding spot, settling on the showers. You snuck over to the stall at the very end, the closest one to the emergency exit, and ducked under the opaque plastic curtain. Your bag fell to the floor as you climbed onto the stall seat. Blood pumped in your ears, thumping as quickly as your shaky, shallow breathing. Millions of thoughts and questions and worries rushed through your mind at impossible speeds.

White and Silver. Which alert was that for?

You racked through fleeting memories, distant recollections of training and orientation from months ago, searching for anything remotely familiar. You remembered all of the other codes– red, orange, teal– but no white, no silver.

A faint buzzing sounded from inside your duffel. You lunged, unzipping it and fishing out your phone. Natasha. Her name lit up the screen and you frantically hit the answer key before the call could even think about dropping.

“Where the fuck are you?” Her panicked voice hissed into your ear. Her edged tone was enough to make your stomach backflip faster.

“Locker rooms, forty-fifth floor. What the fuck is going on, Nat?” Your voice shook as anger and confusion boiled in your blood.

A muffled swear. “Where’s Steve?”

“He ran out, locked me in, told me to hide.” More incoherent curses.

“Fuck, fuck, okay, look, trust me on this, you need to stay where you are, okay? I can get you out, I–”

High-pitched ringing overtook the speaker, sending you reeling away from the receiver. Static echoed out of the speakers.

“You what? Natasha!”

“No– time– you–”

“Natasha! Hello?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You tore the phone away from your ear and choked back the bile rising in your throat. Service was out. The blinking bars at the top of the screen mocked you and your sudden plunge into isolation.

The lights went next.

The dull fluorescents flickered. Someone cut the electricity, sending you into almost darkness as the backup generator lights kicked on. Scattered lights from above cast an eerie yellow glow over the shower tiles. You’d only seen this kind of outage happen once before, when New York was hit with Hurricane Noah a few years back.

The fear you felt in that storm paled in comparison to what you felt now.

You sighed, shaky and surrendering, and pulled your body closer to you on the shower bench. A chill snaked its way down your spine as your skin brushed the cool ceramic, an unwelcome addition to the cold already enveloping you. Your sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts failed to aid you and your aching muscles. Fingernails dug into your kneecaps in a struggle to stop trembling as you tried to focus on your breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, in, out. Screwing your eyes shut, praying to any deity imaginable it was all just a drill, it was all an accident or a misunderstanding or–

The ground shook as a loud bang echoed from outside the locker room. A panicked yelp escaped your throat before your hands could scramble and cover your mouth. You froze as the tremors subsided and listened. It, or they, sounded close.

Too close.

Another BANG! Then another.

Rhythmic, steady blows, each quicker and more powerful than the last. Hands clamped tighter over your lips until your blood froze at the sounds of crushing steel and crumbling concrete. The lump in your throat grew as horrific realization flooded over you.

They, or it, broke in.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it– those doors were more fortified than Tony’s lab. Four-inch-thick, steel and plexiglass doors with a three-tier secured locking system. Nothing, nobody– not even the strongest Super Soldier– was powerful enough to make the faintest of dents in them.

Racing through who, or what, could have possibly broken into the gym, your train of thought derailed as echoes of men yelling indecipherable words and mixed commands shattered the remaining air of safety you clung to. Listening intently, a mix of combat boots and tactical gear filtered in with the echoed commands.

The S.T.R.I.K.E. Team.

Your legs begged for reprieve from crouching, but your body disobeyed and froze you in place. Part of you didn’t trust who was outside. Footsteps and gruff voices became heavier, closer. The relief that greeted you was replaced again by panic as you listened closer.

Clear, Russian commands resonated at the entrance to the locker rooms. They were coming in.

Your breath hitched, blood running cold as footsteps closed in. It was one person, but their steps didn’t sound like the heavy boots before them. They sounded more like…

Sneakers?

The rubber from the intruder’s shoes squeaked on the tiled floors. Ragged breathing echoed off the walls. A low growl, accompanied by quiet whirring. Someone big, someone mean.

Your heart made its way to your throat as the intruder inched closer. Slow, methodical, as if trained in search and rescue.

It didn’t feel like a rescue.

The lump almost turned into a scream as an echoed BANG carried from the bathroom stalls around the corner. Silence followed, then a growl, then another BANG. The cycle repeated for the remaining stalls, the intruder slowly creeping along. Growls became deeper upon each disappointment.

Hostages. They were looking for hostages.

Soles squeaked as the intruder changed course, stomping around the corner to search the line of shower stalls. You hiccuped a sob, realizing tears started to trail down your cheeks. Biting your palm only proved a lame attempt to calm your racing heart, a scream threatening to leave your throat as they began tearing the plastic curtains off the stalls. Each clang of metal cracking onto the tile became closer as you ground your teeth into the meat of your hand. Eyes screwed shut, silent prayers raced in your head, pleading to wake up; to wake up from this hellscape of a sick, twisted nightmare.

The intruder’s steps stopped.

Your eyes opened, widening at the blurred, hulking shadow standing outside of your stall. They had to be well over six feet. Towering, bulky, monstrous.

Slowly, the shadow’s hand reached for the curtain. One by one, its fingers closed around the plastic’s edge, preparing to rip it down and rip you open. Eyes burning, hot tears felt like molten metal as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible in your corner, huddling your knees as close as they could be. This was it. This was the end. You prayed– actually fucking prayed– hoping they couldn’t hear your pathetic whimpering, hoping they would make this quick, painless; break your neck or put a gun to your head and get it over with. Leave your body for someone else to find.

“Soldat, syuda!”

The command made your heart stop.

The shadow froze, stopped by a call from the entrance to the locker room. Skin met your teeth as you bit harder into your hand. Lungs began panicking as you started hyperventilating, bile reaching your throat and burning the back of your tongue.

The shadow, the monster, growled in protest. It retracted the curled hand from the curtain, wordlessly moving back towards the bathroom stalls. Footsteps faded as muffled conversation floated away from the locker room.

You needed to get the fuck out of there.

You slid off the bench, legs aching and knees popping as you crouched silently over to the curtain, peeking out behind the plastic. It crinkled quietly and you bit your lip, leaning out ever so slightly over the threshold.

Tiptoeing around the corner, you faced the emergency exit. The glowing sign omitted a creepy, green glow that added to the eeriness brought by the generator lights.

This was it.

You slammed the push bar down, throwing the door open with your body and spilling out into the hallway. Sunlight flashed through the infinite glass hallway, blinding you. In your frozen state, you hear commotion from behind the door as it slammed shut. Banging from the other side, the sound of metal on metal, made your teeth grind. Indents from punches dented the door, deforming its smooth outside. You didn’t stay frozen for long as your body screamed at you to fucking move, now.

Your legs obeyed immediately, carrying you through the corridor to the closest means of escape you could find. As you rounded the corner, the crushing sounds of the door breaking off of its hinges hit your ears. You didn’t dare to look back, sprinting through the twists and turns of the infinite hallway. You followed what felt familiar, burning muscles egged on by the sound of pounding footsteps getting closer and closer.

Finally, you stumbled onto the entrance to a stairwell, pausing to gasp for air your lungs demanded. The burn in your legs and chest only aided in the physiological need to hyperventilate. Sweat dripped from your temple and your head pounded as hard as your feet hitting the ground.

You leaned into the safety bar, inches away from further distancing yourself from whatever, whoever, was on your trail, when a yell erupted from the end of the hallway.

It felt like slow-motion; one of those scenes in those cheesy horror movies Sam always made you and Steve watch on weekends off. The ones with cheap FX, bad sound, but somehow great editing for the budget. The scenes where realization hits the main character and suddenly everything is half the speed while they still move in real time.

You turned your head towards the source. Then, it hit you. Blood drained from your face as the horror of realization hit you, like a speeding sixteen-wheeler head on.

Bucky Barnes stood hulking at the end of the hallway. Generator lights and setting sun illuminated his snarling teeth, gleaming from parted lips that had him panting like a rabid dog. If you hadn’t known better it would’ve looked like he was heading for the gym for his daily workout. Blown pupils, sweat-stuck hair, complimented by a shaking frame– most definitely caused by adrenaline, dopamine, and a slew of Gods-knew-what other drugs he had pumped into his system. Splotches of drying, smeared blood coated his neck and shirt while even more dripped onto the ground from his fists. The crimson contrasted with the medically white floors.

Bile rose in your throat again. The acidic taste made you dry heave at the sight of the blood, knowing from the looks of Bucky it definitely wasn’t his.

He snarled as your eyes finally met. Fists of flesh and metal flexed. Rippling muscles shook as he readied to launch forward.

“You’re mine, lisitsa!” he barked. His voice booming louder than the speed of sound, it made your ears ring.

Your throat finally opened. You screamed as he sprinted towards you, making more ground down the hallway than an apex predator out of hibernation. You shoved the exit door open, heaving your legs forward as you ascended the stairs. No choice but to go up, you refused to look back– nay you didn’t dare to even consider it. Muscles and tendons and joints burned, yearning for you to stop, but the door slamming from flights below you only pushed you harder, flying up and passing floor after floor.

You were fast, but he was faster.

Dizziness overtook you as your vision began to blur. Darkened edges of your peripherals made you stop your climb at level 50, pausing for a split second to hear Bucky’s progress. He was close behind, but you still had more of an advantage. You knew the Tower better than him. You knew level 50 had another stairwell on the opposite side of the floor, through another hallway off the corner of your current one. Sneakers pounded too close for comfort as you shoved the door open and made a break for it down another corridor labyrinth.

If you made it out of this alive, you swore you’d kill Tony’s architect yourself.

“You can’t hide forever, lisitsa!” Bucky’s voice rang out from the stairwell as you rounded the corner, sprinting through more identical-looking hallways. Another corner later and the glowing red EXIT sign appeared above the next stairwell. A beacon of hope, almost. Relieved, you head straight for it, body and mind and soul pushing against the burning and the gasping for air. You were right there, hand outstretched, fingertips grasping the metal bar–

It felt like a car crash.

Not an accident or fender bender. No, it felt like seventy miles an hour meets a tree with no intent of moving. That split-second feeling where your stomach drops and you can all but brace for the deadly impact destined for you to meet.

Time stopped as you were yanked backwards. Cold, slick metal wrapped around your ankle, bloody hand print smearing some poor bastard’s DNA all over your calf as your body fell to the ground. Hard. Your jaw clenched as your chin slammed into the linoleum. Teeth ground into your tongue as copper flooded your tastebuds. Your lungs, with little wind left in them, gasped for oxygen. Another scream rising in your throat became stuck in your vocal cords.

Bucky whipped you around as you struggled to free your lower half. You landed on your shoulder, head bouncing against the floor and teary eyes struggled to stay open and endure the pain. He straddled your form, the weight crashing down on your bones and organs. A sharp inhale impaled your chest as you met Bucky’s darkened eyes, then; the familiar steel blue replaced entirely with dilated, unhinged pupils.

It was the first time you got a good look at his face. His face is speckled with blood spatter and several bruises spread across his cheek down his neck. Two black eyes, a bloody nose– one you hoped was his– and a broken lip. The bloodied collar of his shirt only aided in the mess of his hair. His soft, chocolate strands stuck in mats to his neck and temples with sweat and blood.

Out of sheer habit, because he looked like your Bucky, you couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him. A soft plea for the man behind his eyes, one you begged everything holy was still there. He held your stare, face contorting into unrecognizable emotions. Tears brimmed your eyes as your hand stretched further, sobs escaping as your fingers inched closer and closer to his battered face.

“Bucky, it’s me–”

Your appeal transformed into a shriek, quickly snuffed out as Bucky wrapped his crimson-spattered metal hand around your throat. You choked, sputtering lost pleas as your hands flew to your neck. Fingernails flailed in futile attempts to claw off the weapons-grade titanium.

“You’re done running, khitraya suka,” Bucky’s hot breath fanned your face as he leaned in. His mouth grazed your jaw, titanium hand on your throat flexing with each syllable. He slowly made his way down your neck, pushing harder into your chest with his forearm. A heavy growl. His grip only tightened as you tried to knee him in the groin, picking you up by your neck and slamming you down again.

Stars circled your blurred vision, eyes rolling back into your head. The corridor, the lights, everything split into two.

“You owe me for my victory, lisitsa,” Bucky’s husky whisper resonated in your ear as he licked the side of your face, his hot, wet mouth against your tear-stained cheek. As his free hand moved to the waistband of your shorts, another surge of panic washed through you. You tried to sputter a weak cry from your closed-off throat, blood turning cold, another scream building and building in your chest and aching for release.

“You owe me what’s mine –!”

BANG!

Something from somewhere all of a sudden. The object slammed into Bucky, throwing him off of you and spilling across the floor.

Finally, your lungs lunged at the chance for air, leaving you a heaving, choking, coughing mess. Spitting at the ground as you made your way shakily to your hands and knees, a freed hand traveling to rub the fresh strangulation bruises forming on the column of your stiff neck.

“Get the fuck off her, Bucky!”

Steve.

As your vision cleared, the shield whizzed past you as it ricocheted back into Steve’s open arms. Bucky groaned, low and guttural, but only for a moment is he subdued. Slowly, he rose, like smoke from extinguished ashes, looking to his metal vice. A large dent adorned the weathered, bloodied appendage where his bicep met his shoulder. He then turned his attention to Steve, baring his teeth, anger coursing through him as he immediately disregarded you. His sights set on a new target, launching himself at Steve without a beat lost.

Steve grunted as Bucky’s metal fist met the vibranium shield with a deafening clang. Steve gritted his teeth and pushed back, managing to break Bucky’s attack and aim a kick for his stomach.

“Go! I got him!” Steve yelled to you through a gasp as Bucky countered with his own swipe at Steve’s middle. Your body stayed put, relishing in the ability to fucking breathe again, also painfully aware how screwed you’d be if you didn’t escape as you had the chance. You willed yourself to move, to run and to keep going, to no avail. As Steve landed a blow to Bucky, his eyes met yours once more. His baby blues, pained and tired, begged for you to listen to him for once in your life.

“Now!”

The strain in Steve’s voice seemed to ignite a fire underneath you. Pushing yourself up, you willed your legs to carry you to the exit. Bloody shoe prints tracked your route as you slammed through the doorway. You cursed, knowing they’ll give away which way you’d go, knowing your life matters more than a twenty-dollar pair of sneakers. Kicking them off, throwing the pair down the exit, praying they made it far enough Bucky wouldn’t know any better.

You threw yourself up the stars, tremors and pain afflicting every limb as the cold concrete seeped in through your socks in each step. The railing helped as you heaved yourself forward with help from the railing. Sweaty palms slipped on the bars, but your grip only grew tighter.

You didn’t know how you, or your body, was able to do it, making it up seven more flights of stairs before your knees buckled on level 57. Heaving the door open and slamming it shut, you stumbled out into the new hallway. You hadn’t visited that level before. Something Steve and the others– especially Doctor Banner– said was “just a business floor.”

The sign on the wall directing to ‘SAFELAB’ said otherwise. Nothing in the Tower was “just business.”

What you did know was that every SAFELAB on every floor was located in the same, far-east hallway.

Wiping the sweat from your temple, you turned right, jogging down the darkened, emptied-out hallway. It felt like the apocalypse. No sign of anybody else. Doors left ajar, papers and bags and other employee memorabilia scattered throughout abandoned offices and cubicles. You hoped everyone was able to make it out, at least.

Part of you didn’t hope for much, though.

The door to the lab came into view as you rounded the last corner. The door was still locked, the lab inside sterile and untouched. A sigh of relief escaped you. Holding your palm to the door’s scanner, it answered your prayers in a soft beep and whir, miraculously allowing you in.

You maneuvered through the multiple security doors, four in total, crouching low once you managed to slip into the lab itself. The gigantic window at the front of the labspace spared no room for you to hide easily, but you had zero room to complain about it. It was your only option, after all.

Well, besides the roof.

Crouched, you snuck your way around the counters and various equipment to one of the supply closets. The furthest corner from the entrance. You scoured through drawers and cupboards for some sort of weaponry; the most you could find was a new scalpel out of a box of extras.

You closed in on the supply closet, reaching up and grasping the handle, turning it slowly to prevent any squeaks from the inner hinge. A tear glided down your cheek in relief. You hadn’t realized you started crying. Again.

The door swung open. It greeted you mostly empty, deep enough for you to cram your body into. Crawling inside, bones and limbs contorted into the most comfortable position you could manage. You pinched the edges of the doors to close them as best as you can, accepting they, in fact, couldn’t close all the way from the inside. A curse under your breath, the sliver of dim light through the crack cast onto your face. Once settled, you crumpled your damp t-shirt up from the collar and shoved the fabric into your mouth. Teeth and tongue greeted sweaty cotton and hints of copper as you bit down on the collar, covering your mouth with a free hand.

At last, after Gods knew how long it had been since you ceased moving, a silenced sob heaved out of your chest. Tremors only worsened as your nervous system rode out the fumes of its adrenaline high and flight mode instincts. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, mixing with snot further down your face, slipping down to your neck and leaving behind streaked paths in the bloodied, hand-printed bruises adorned on your flesh. The pain from the near-strangulation you suffered broke through the shock and endorphins that were keeping you sane until then. You knew, though, you couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not until you saw Natasha or Steve or someone you trusted face-to-face.

You started counting your breaths. Mind racing, thoughts traveling near sonic speeds through your mind carrying questions at how the hell it all happened.

You thought for sure S.H.I.E.L.D. was secure, especially after the ordeal with Bucky, Steve, and the whole ‘defeating HYDRA’ ordeal from a few years back. Hell, you thought it was safer than taking the FBI’s recon mission that was offered to you before being referred to Tony himself. Your mind raced, what-ifs and endless possibilities flashing across your eyes like a snuff film. You hoped Steve was okay. You hoped Natasha was on her way to your location any second. You hoped Sam was safe and made it out okay. You hoped Bucky –

Bucky.

Christ, you hadn’t even stopped to think about how the hell everything happened to him. He’d been doing so well in his recovery program. Steve was even telling you about it that same morning, bragging about how well Bucky was doing, how much progress he was making, how soon they’d finally be able to move in together once Doctor Banner cleared him. Another sob overtook you. How you’d never seen him like that before, the feeling of his titanium arm slowly crushing your windpipe, the weight of his entire body crushing your internal organs as he’d held you down. The things he’d said. You tried to wrap your head around what he’d said, what he was going to do–

Crashing followed by shattering glass emitted a muffled yelp from you as your blood ran cold. Another wave of tears flooded out of your burning eyes, chest heaving unevenly. Your hand clamped even tighter over your mouth as teeth bit into the salty fabric of your shirt, drying up any more moisture your mouth was grateful to finally have.

BANG! Then another. Then more in rapid succession. Shattering, crashing, shattering, silence. The final blow to the security doors sounded from inside the lab itself. Your breath hitched and bile began bubbling in your stomach, reaching the back of your throat and across your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow the acid, listening intently to the crunch of sneakers on shattered glass.

He’d found you.

“Lisitsaaa,” Bucky drawled, his voice dropped to a primally low octave. Lower than before. You almost couldn’t make out the words, a mixture of growled mumblings of English and Russian. Knees folded closer to your chest, you tightened your grip on the handle of the scalpel. Bucky’s footsteps were slow, methodical, predatorial.

His heavy steps inched closer, each followed by a pause, then sudden crashing of lab equipment and smashing of drawers. More glass and metal slammed to the ground and walls after each pause. He sounded feet away. Then inches.

Your breathing stopped as the sliver of light clouded over. The lump in your throat threatened more puke to rise as you dared to peer up through the crack, heart dropping like a dead weight to your stomach as your eyes fell on freshly bloodied sneakers. A stifled scream in your lungs choked you. You refused to think about whose blood that was.

Eyes darted back up. You could see Bucky’s blurred features clouded in shadows. The only light visible, then, was the glint from his wicked smile. Bloodied teeth shone as he licked his lips hungrily, a predator finally cornering its prey.

Ever so slowly he crouched, shoving his face closer into the seam in the door. Tears and snot continued to stream down your face, your body hyperventilating as you forced yourself to look into his eyes. There was nothing else you could do. Nothing else to say, to cry about. There was nowhere left to run. He got you.

“There you are, moy priz,” Bucky hissed before reaching through and throwing the doors open, heavy hands leaving imprints in the flimsy metal. Frozen, your fist was still closed around the scalpel, your muscles tensed as joints locked in place. His evil eyes scanned your body greedily, looking for which cut of meat to divulge in first. His gaze stopped at your fist and he chuckled, tisking in a disappointed tone.

“Oh, glupaya pizda,” Bucky shook his head, amused at your meager choice of weaponry. Compared to him, you might as well have been waving a white flag. His smile only grew, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Specks of blood coated the sides of his cheeks and edges of his mouth, smeared about from ear to ear with the back of his hand.

“Come with me and they might consider your life, lisitsa–”

You sprung into him, swinging your arm, landing the scalpel into the middle of his flesh hand, impaling straight through it. In an instant, blood spewed from the impact. Bucky screamed out in pain, a slew of mixed language curses reverberating in your skull. You scrambled out of your hiding place, bashing him with a balled fist to the face as you tumbled out and onto your feet, sprinting to the lab’s only exit. Freedom was only an arm’s length away when an overturned stool tripped you. The impact didn’t hurt near as much as the millions of shattered glass bits shredded cut into your skin, your hands and knees and arms and face littered as blood smeared under you and across the once-sterile white floors. You cried out, writhing around. Battered and bloodied, struggling to rise and run again despite the searing pain in your ankle.

Before you could form your next thought, a rough hand snatched your scalp and dragged you up by your hair. You uttered a panicked scream as Bucky hoisted you to eye level, snarling like a rabid dog as he shook you hard.

“I thought you were smarter than that, lisitsa,” he sneered, “but I was wrong.”

He hurled you back onto the floor, his bloodied, titanium fist still gripping your hair, dragging you over to one of the disheveled lab tables. More glass shredded your skin, blood and sweat and tears mixing and pouring over your face and hands and body. With ease and a free hand, he swiped the rest of the contents off another counter; beakers and burners crashed to the floor. His grip tightened as he threw you up onto the stainless steel counter, the dead weight of your body banging onto the table, landing you hard on your back. Eardrums rang into your skull and jaw, radiating down your spine and out your limbs. Your hands slip against the smooth metal from the blood, futile attempts to grab onto something, anything. You groaned and huffed excess sobs. The pain, unbearable; the fear, unimaginable.

Bucky hoisted himself onto the table, landing on top of your broken body, his knee hitting your spine and knocking your last breath out of you. Straddling you, his thick thighs bulged through tattered sweatpants, squeezing into your rib cage. He looped another fist into your hair, raising your head and slamming it down. The side of your face smushed into the steel table, smearing around more blood as he did it again. And again. The cartilage in your nose cracked and throbbing pain radiated into your eyes, your skull. Warmth from the break and the blood poured over your face. The pain, dulling into numbness as you began to fade in and out of consciousness.

Your vision started to blur and blacken, stars and specks orbiting around Bucky like a halo of hallucination. Your body, finally surrendering to him. No fight left. Any strength you could have mustered, funneled into staying awake, proved useless.

A new sound, then: ripping.

You didn’t have to look to witness Bucky unrelentingly tear your t-shirt away from your body, training his eyes on your open form. Bruised skin exposed to cool air, your chest still momentarily held together by your sports bra. He made quick work of it next, the nylon snapping off in one swipe, sending goosebumps racing down your spine.

Ice-cold titanium fingers untangled from your matted hair and made their way from your nape, to the small of your back, to the waistband of your gym shorts. Muscles tensed as you felt each digit wrap almost leisurely onto the elastic. He tore them away swiftly, baring the rest of you and your skin to him. A growl, one of pleasure, vibrated into you from him, emitted he palmed the skin of your ass. His fingers journeyed languidly in a slow trail from your back to your core. You squirmed, wasting the last of your strength, a hopeless attempt to get away one last time.

A crack came across your face. Flesh against flesh, he slapped you. A punishment. A command for obedience. Your body fell limp. Breathing raggedly and gagging on blood and spit, you shuddered as he took your wrists and tied them together with your t-shirt.

Satisfied, his prey finally submitting, Bucky paused, panting as he leaned down to you. He wet his lips before speaking, gruff words slurred against your ringing eardrum. As he spoke, cold metal grazed your entrance, a threat of what was to come.

“Now, I get to take what’s mine.”

Your screams echoed as the world fell dark.

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acotarxreader · 3 months ago

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My Library

Welcome to my lil library of fics I have enjoyed recently (and the gifs that summarise them way too simplistically)! This will be updated as I go 🩷

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor (Azriel x reader)

Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door. Azriel x reader - @daycourtofficial

Practice On Me

Set in Illyria when the Bat Boys are mere twenty-year-olds, Azriel has never explored intimacy and sex like his closest friends have. Reader is more than willing to help — not realising it will offset a series of events that will change life as they know it. Azriel x reader - @acourtofwhatthefuck

One Summer

One beach house. One festival. One summer to fall in love. Azriel x reader - @illyrianbitch

Morally Grey

Cassian drags the IC to his new obsession: open mic night at Rita's, and much to his delight, Azriel has been paired up to sing with the Reader. Azriel x reader. - @velariscalling

Come Here Sweetheart

You are suffering from burn out and having a meltdown. The General of the Night Court's Armies ensures you give him your best smile. Cassian x reader -

@sarawritestories

A Thousand Roses

Every day you curse the books which gave you unrealistically high expectations of men. Adamant he wants to take you on a date, Cassian does his best to impress. Cassian x Reader.

@milswrites

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny

You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one - Eris x Reader

@serpentandlily

Just a little Crush

Everyone secretly longs for Azriel, but Azriel only longs for her. Azriel x Reader

@writingcroissant

#a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acomaf #acotar fluff #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #cassian acotar #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #eris vanserra #eris x reader

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shayberri789 · 4 months ago

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My HC on the foxes (and trojans) and social media:

Dan and Matt: have a personal twitter account and regularly engages with people on there

Allison: has a twitter account where she acts a like an ice princess. Has a photogenic model-esque instagram account of places she goes and of herself looking hot, plus aestheic photos of her and her friends. Shes got enough followers to be an influencer but doesnt give enough of a shit to be an influencer, shes too busy. And too rich. Has a private instagram account filled with awkward/embarrassing candid shots of the foxes.

Renee: has a twitter account but only for news/checking on the PSU account. DOES have a tumblr account but no one knows she runs it. She reblogs bible verses and poetry and photographs, amongst shit posts

Nicky: he has a personal twitter, instagram and tumblr account. He interacts with fans on his personal twitter. Has a large following because he's got a good personality He and renee get into friendly arguments on tumblr and people ship them. Both members laugh and Nicky replies with a gay meme every time. He has a huge following there, and is only out as gay on tumblr.

He's also a marketing major, and like Allison he has a professional twitter and Instagram as well. His humor still makes it through but it's more sly. Ppl follow it because they get more fox tea/photos than his priv

Kevin: has a twitter and instagram. Strictly professional bc poor boy has never been able to unlearn the PR lessons. He rarely interacts with fans, and is illusive about the day to day of the foxes and his inner thoughts to the point of being nominated the fox cryptid. Despite this, his instagram is filled with aesthetic photographs of the various places he visits (sometimes he's even in it, PR friendly smile firmly in place). His captions include a historical tidbit about the place.

Aaron: he has a private twitter account only, and it's entirely anonymous. Maybe a tumblr account. He's just a normal dude on it, and interacts with Kaitlyn and his med school friends. No one knows who runs his account and he has a small following. He likes the privacy. He has a professional account to be tagged in shit but he does Not use it

Andrew: Kevin forced him to make a twitter account. He has never opened it. It's loaded on Kevin's phone, who makes the occasional necessary PR statement.

Neil: "what's social media?" (He knows what it is. But he's never been able to shake his weariness and distrust of it from his time on the run - too much of a liability. Also his name got dragged through the mud when his parentage came out and that soured him from EVER wanting to touch socmed again. His professional account was deleted after people kept @'ing him with insults and death threats)

Jean: never got PR training and socialing with his team mates is exhausting enough. Doesn't have social media and swears he never will. Gets his news and memes from Cat and Laila (he doesn't laugh at them but inwardly finds them amusing)

Jeremy: has a twitter account which Is a tasteful mix between professional and humorous. Has some personal insights but he'd skilled at sharing a lot without telling anything about himself. People don't notice it like they do kevin. Interacts with fans, but very little info about him and his friends' personal lives make it onto social media. He has a instagram too, but it's got 61 posts and it's mostly a Trojan's fan account, where he hypes up new members of his team and their victories.

Cat and laila: cat and laila are the most normal. They have a twitter account each, which they use like Dan and Matt. They share an aesthetic instagram account but also have their own private accounts where they post silly pictures of themselves and friends, or simp for each other. They have a tumblr account as well. They're married on there

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rosengard3n · 2 years ago

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“I got into an argument with Mitsutada-san and now ...”

“Well, let’s say this fox won’t be making aaburage for a while. Kon kon!”

#ic;;#v; touken ranbu #v; sly fox ; kogi

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spookyserenades · 9 months ago

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Valentines day special or drabble 👉👈 IM SORRY DANA IM A WHORE FOR UR WRITING OK!

DON'T BE SORRY LOVE!!! 💕 💗 💖 (this is for u!)

“Once again, I think I’ve gone overboard,” Y/N muttered to herself, hauling two ludicrously large, heavy shopping backs out of her car, trying her best to avoid the black ice slicking up the driveway.

The morning of Valentine’s Day, Y/N claimed she was simply shuffling outside to check the mailbox, hoping no one said anything about the fact that she had stuffed her car keys in her pocket.

She wasn’t really one to celebrate the holiday in the past. However, ever since her hybrids swept into her life, she made a vow to celebrate every holiday with perhaps a corny amount of enthusiasm. Hence, why she was lugging enough Valentine chocolate into the house to feed a village.

Huffing, she followed the voices that were echoing in the kitchen, kicking off her snow-coated boots as she went. The crinkling of the paper bags had the voices not too far off quieting down, Y/N grinning as she entered the room, the scent of sugared berries and pancakes filling her nose.

She had waited until each of the hybrids had slunk into the kitchen for breakfast, the only one aware that it was a holiday being Hoseok, who had dressed in every red-and-pink item he owned. Jeongguk, rolling his eyes at the breakfast nook, was bent over his notebook, appearing to be sketching something that he was copying from one of Namjoon’s occult books. The wolf hybrid was beside him, helping himself to more sugared berries.

Ears perked up in her direction as she bustled into the room, placing the heavy bags onto the coffee bar where Jimin was filling up his mug, a soft noise of confusion leaving his full lips as he examined the bags stuffed with white tissue paper.

“What’s that?” He asked, one of his sandy ears twitching as she squeezed his shoulder, the fuzzy fabric of his sweater making her fingertips tingle.

“Oh, nothing…” Y/N replied mischievously, curiosity growing even stronger in his bright eyes.

“Bullshit. I can smell your scheming from a mile away,” Jeongguk called out, looking bored when Namjoon shot him a dirty look.

“You have quite the bullshit detector, sweets,” Y/N moved away from the coffee bar, finding the mug Yoongi had prepared for her on the island, beside where Taehyung was sitting.

The Kodiak hybrid avoided her eyes, but still leaned into her touch when she used his upper arm to balance over the island to grasp for her mug. Things were still a little… tense between her and him, but Y/N was trying her best to give him space while he got used to her and Yoongi.

Speaking of, the leopard hybrid emerged from the pantry with the bag of powdered sugar Namjoon had requested, his hair tied back with a scrunchie. He winked at Y/N, pointing to the stack of pancakes on the stove that were waiting for her, Y/N shaking her head as she watched Seokjin fry up some breakfast sausages. When Seokjin turned with the plate, he smiled at Y/N softly, though his ears were pressed flat to his head.

“So, what’s in the bag, darling? Valentines?” Hoseok landed heavily on one of the barstools, sly knowledge spread all over his face. Grumbling, Y/N sipped her coffee with narrowed eyes.

“Nothing gets by you, Foxy, huh?” Y/N put her hands up like she was caught red-handed, poking his cheek as she waltzed by him.

“Valentines?” Namjoon’s voice was thick with confusion, Y/N more than used to the wolf hybrid being not exactly aware of the human calendar.

Sighing, her surprise spoiled by her clever fox hybrid, she trudged over to the bags once again, and if she had a tail like the hybrids, it would be between her legs. Like a shadow, Seokjin followed her, though not as closely as he used to– not close enough for Y/N to catch a whiff of his comforting eucalyptus scent. Later that night, she and Seokjin would be driving into the city for the cooking lesson, and she was hoping that things wouldn’t be so odd between them.

Humming, Y/N dove her fingers into the tissue, grasping onto the 7 envelopes she had placed in there only moments ago, the paper different shades of pink and red. It had been difficult to find cards for all of them that didn’t shout “I LOVE YOU” all over them, but in a stationary store within the same strip mall Judy’s shop was in, she found a bunch that simply wished them a happy holiday.

Moving quickly, she delivered one to each of the boys, Jeongguk rolling his eyes as he accepted his envelope, flicking Y/N on the forehead. Once everyone had their card, Yoongi receiving his with a smirk and a stolen kiss to her temple, Y/N began passing out the boxes of chocolate she had picked up at The Prudential center– the fancy Swiss place Seokjin had pointed out several times, with the slabs of chocolate in the window.

She tried to keep in mind everyone’s tastes; truffles for Jimin and Taehyung, a variety of filled chocolates for Namjoon, toffee for Seokjin. Namjoon accepted his box with glee, his dimples indenting his cheeks, abandoning his breakfast in favor of cracking into some peanut butter cups.

“Thank you,” Taehyung took his truffles with a blush blossoming over his cheeks and nose, Y/N’s heart squeezing as he afforded her the briefest moment of precious eye contact.

“These cards are so cheesy,” Hoseok snorted, pointing at the fat little angel on the front of his card. “You know, you should tell us that you’re planning to get us things for holidays. I feel like a bum whenever I don’t get you something in return.”

Hoseok’s russet ears drooped, pouting at Y/N as she ruffled his hair, giving him a squeeze around his shoulders. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she felt Hoseok’s back melt into her chest instantly, grinning as she watched him peel open his box of assorted pralines.

“You don’t have to get me anything,” Y/N insisted, giving Hoseok one last squeeze before pulling herself away, Jimin shaking his head in disagreement as he mumbled something about flowers. “Besides. I got myself the boozy truffles, and I’m going to make you all watch a cheesy rom com tonight when I get back with Seokjin from the cooking class.”

At the sound of his name, as well as the mention of the class, Seokjin perked up from his spot– leaning on the fridge with his little tub of toffee– an excited purr ripping from his chest. While everyone was busy with their chocolates and cards, each hybrid in various states of fluster and flattery, Y/N found her way to Yoongi, who disappeared into the pantry before she could give him his Valentine.

“Hoseok’s right. Cheesy,” Yoongi said, with his back turned to her, holding up his card. With a jolt, she realized he must have disappeared so he could open it privately, her cheeks burning as she clocked the sappy note she had written into his card. Desperately, she wanted to write similar sentiments on the other’s, but was still too chicken to confess to anyone else. “Here.”

Turning, Yoongi had a smirk on his face, reaching for Y/N’s wrist, and she was no longer paying attention to the commotion outside of the pantry. Holding her gently, Yoongi dug around in the pocket of his jeans, Y/N catching something sparkly between his fingertips. Swiftly, the leopard hybrid clasped a delicate silver bracelet around her wrist, the slim chain feeling like water as it was secured against her flesh. Gasping softly, she noticed the heart charm dangling from the chain, the design simple and elegant, and with the gift, Y/N felt her eyes water.

“Yoongi… when, and how–”

“Something to spend my money on from Daisy’s lessons,” Yoongi shrugged, still holding her wrist as he examined the jewelry. “Wasn’t going to let you get me something without anything in return.”

With that, Yoongi raised her hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, his cheeky smirk becoming even more pronounced once he read the emotion on her face; lower lip wobbling, shiny eyes.

“Be mine?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, flashing his sharp canines at her, enjoying how overwhelmed she was. The corny remark, the very same one printed on his card, had her snapping out of it, clicking her tongue at the leopard hybrid.

“Already am.”

#trouvaille #drabbles #asks #dana's thoughts #happy love day besties!!!!

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aquagirl1978 · 5 months ago

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Hi Aqua!! I love your writing! For your naughty or nice event, can I please request a nice Harrison using the prompt "carrying the other in their arms"? It can go naughty too if you'd like, entirely up to whatever you'd like to write!

Hi! Thank you - I hope you enjoy this - it starts out fluffy, then turns a bit spicy.

Make This Go On Forever

A/N: Part of my Naughty or Nice event Pairing: Harrison Gray x Reader Prompt: carrying the other in their arms Word Count: 796 Tags: fluff to spice

It wasn’t often when the castle was near empty and lucky for you, today was one of those rare days.

It was Harrison’s birthday, his second with you as a couple, and you wanted to make this day special. You knew he wouldn’t want some big, extravagant event, but something small – just you and him and a table full of his favorite sweets – should be more to his liking.

You were setting the final tray of pastries on the table, so focused on making everything perfect that you didn’t hear him sneak into the room. Strong arms snaked around your waist, whispered words warming your cheek.

“What’s all this for?”

Twisting in his arms, you were greeted by the face of a very handsome man. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone whose birthday is today?”

He pursed his lips, pretending to ponder your question. “I have no idea,” he said with a mischievous smile. Reaching blindly behind you, you grabbed the first treat your fingers found. It was a cookie, one covered with lots of sugary icing.

You brought the cookie towards your mouth, your pink lips parted. “I guess I’ll eat this then.”

In the blink of an eye, Harri snatched the cookie from your fingers and took a big bite of it. “Not nice to tease me on my birthday.”

“Oh,” you replied, stealing a bite of the cookie, “so now you admit it’s your birthday?”

Rather than argue with you, he tightened his embrace and pulled your body, closing the distance between you. Dipping his head, he silenced you with a sweet kiss. Head empty, your only thoughts were of the man kissing you as you deepened the kiss.

When the kiss was finally broken, Harri grabbed your hand, eager to sample sweets.

“Oh, wait,” you exclaimed, quickly pulling your hand from his, “there’s something I have to get from the kitchen.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he called out, as you dashed out of the room.

A few minutes later you returned with a tray. Harri was practically beaming when he saw what was on the tray – two glasses and a pitcher full of his favorite, strawberry milk.

He took the tray from your hands and placed it on an empty space on the table. Like the gentleman that he was, he pulled out a chair and gestured for you to sit. Smiling, you thanked him and waited for him to sit next to you.

“Now, let’s eat.”

******

After a few dozen cookies were eaten and a copious number of cupcakes were consumed, you and Harri both had your fill of sweets.

“I don’t think I could eat another bite if I tried,” you declared, pushing your plate away. Harri eyed you as you rose from your chair, a fox-like grin spreading on his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’ve had too much to drink.”

“What? No, I haven’t. I’ve been drinking strawberry milk with you.”

He shook his head in disagreement. “You’re swaying, you clearly cannot stand up straight.”

“Harri, what is – hey! What are you doing? Put me down!” You let out a little yelp as your feet lifted in the air.

“That’s better,” he said with a sly smirk, your body cradled in his arms. “You would have never been able to walk all those stairs to my room in your condition.”

Catching on to his trick, you threw your arms around his shoulders and clung to him, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before he ascended the stairs with you in his arms.

*****

With a nudge from his foot and a bump from his hip, he had the door to his bedroom opened without needing to put you down. The moment he crossed the threshold, he finally set you down.

“That’s better,” he mumbled as he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a more passionate kiss than the one you shared earlier. Hands roamed, fingers fumbling for laces and buttons; the temperature in the room was rising and you both were wearing too many layers.

Lips parted, his tongue invaded yours, the taste of strawberries from the milk still sweet. He ran his hands down your arms, your loosened blouse falling from your shoulders.

He laid you down on the bed, your arms circled around his shoulders, gazing into his darkened eyes, eyes you could so easily get lost in. He paused, his eyes locked on yours, as if he was simply savoring this moment, soaking it in for as long as he could, before he lowered his head, his lips seeking your heated flesh.

Wrapping your fingers in his milk-tea locks, holding him close, you wondered what you could do to make this night go on forever.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @themiscarnival @coral-relevium @cyberk1ee @kookie-my-little-sunshine

@pathogenic @ellisgivesmelife013 @ikemen-writer @nightghoul381 @judejazza

@xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia @ranhanabi777

@silver-dahlia @lunaaka @ikesenwritings @sh0jun

#naughty or nice #ikemen series #ikemen villains #ikevil #harrison gray #ikevil harrison #ikemen fanfic #ikevil fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

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a-court-of-lust-and-stardust · 23 days ago

Text

Love on Ice Chapter 11: The Sly Fox

Hmm…any guesses what this chapter could be about? 😜 Also, thank you to those who are keeping up with this story. Your comments keep me motivated 🥰

33 days until Competition

“No.”

“Come on, Elain.”

“No.”

“Chicken.”

“I am not!”

There was only fifteen minutes left for their designated ice time, and the pair had spent ten minutes bickering about a new move Azriel wanted to incorporate into their program. Elain declined without hesitation, and Azriel pulled out every trick in the book to persuade her into reconsidering.

“It’s just a simple curve lift. It’s easy enough,” Azriel tried again, hands gripping the sides of his waist. He looked like a perplexed parent, and Elain stifled a laugh.

“To you,” She emphasized. “I’ve never tried anything that complex. My past skating programs were…”

“Boring?”

Elain huffed, arms folded over her chest. He wasn’t technically wrong. “I was going to say basic.”

“Even so, I never pegged you as a safe skater, Elain.” Azriel taunted. The slight flare of her nostrils brought a smirk to his lips. “I figured you would appreciate taking risks.”

“Not risks where–if they end poorly–could slice open your thigh,” Elain said through gritted teeth. The move was dangerous. Azriel, clearly, was a sucker for thrills and had no regard for any potential life threatening injuries.

“You’re worried about me,” He teased, poking her cheeks. Her natural blush was slowly but surely becoming his favorite color, second to the lovely shade of her eyes.

Elain rolled those pretty eyes, swatting his hand as her heart thumped. “Don’t think too deeply about it. Of course I care about your safety.”

She cared about a lot more than just his safety. She wouldn’t admit it, though.

Comforting hands settled on her shoulders. Azriel bent down to her level, hazel eyes promising. Though he always wanted her to have fun and be silly, he knew when to be serious. She appreciated how he could read her so easily. “I need you to trust me, but more than that I need you to trust yourself. I know you can do this, Elain. I wouldn’t suggest we try it if I believed you couldn't do it. But if you feel strongly about not adding this into the routine, I won’t push you. It’s your choice.”

Choice.

She was growing accustomed to that word over the last few days.

A choice when to practice, and for how long. A choice of what spins or step sequences to add to their program. A choice to spend more time together, grow their relationship. It felt empowering to have that sense of control back in her life.

Elain exhaled through her nose, softening her features as she said. “If this ends badly, I am not visiting you in the hospital. I’ll send flowers with a note that says ‘I told you so’.”

He laughed, taking her hand to twirl her a few times before pulling her close, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead. Azriel’s platonic affection was also new to her. He held her hand. Smiled big and bright and beautifully. And was apparently a huge fan of feeling her skin on his lips. One could interpret his actions as romantic, and—and it certainly felt like it, but it wasn’t unusual for skating partners to be adoring. A part of her heart twisted.

“We both know you’d be the first person at my bedside, Elain. No point in trying to deny it, either.”

She hummed.

Fine. He was right, but there was no reason to tell him.

“And what about me?” Elain asked curiously, blades digging into the ice. “Would you be the first person at my bedside if I were to get hurt?”

“Of course I would,” He answered firmly, thumb running over her knuckles.“But we don’t need to worry about that. You’ll never be injured on my watch. I won’t allow it. I’ll take care of you no matter what.”

Something crackled in the air around them.

Elain coughed, hoping he wouldn’t find her rude for changing the subject before she could dwell on his promise. “So. When do you want to do this? After the twizzle?”

Azriel shook his head. “It’ll be best after a pattern dance step. First, you’re going to balance on one skate while I grab your ankle and the back of your leg like this.” He guided her through the movement, solidifying his grip on the base of her ankle. A grip that would never, ever let her falter.

“While I’m doing that, you’re pushing up to stand on my thigh, and then you’ll swing your other leg around so the weight is distributed evenly. And to make sure you’re secure during the curve, my hands will wrap around the front of your thighs, holding you in place.”

He continued the demonstration, positioning Elain’s body into the lift. She wobbled briefly, but Azriel did as he said. His hands came around to clutch the front of her thighs, his touch warm on her skin. The lift was held for three seconds, completed by Elain pushing off his thighs and spinning once in the air, Azriel catching her easily before lowering her skates to the ice.

“So?” His grin sparkled, and Elain allowed herself one brief moment of adoration as she gazed at the slight chip in his tooth. “What do you say? Think we can add it to the program?”

Elain considered, pursing her lips in thought. The element was bold and daring, and it could add even more depth to their program, something the judges would be looking for. And he believed in her, seemingly more than anyone else ever had.

She relented with a chuckle. “You haven’t led me astray so far, so let’s do it.”

With newfound enthusiasm, they rehearsed the lift for the remainder of the time slot. It was messy and needed work, but the pair was eager to perfect it. They were so immersed in the new element they failed to see two skaters gliding toward them.

“You’ve used up ten minutes of our ice time.”

Elain had almost lost her balance at the displeased voice. Azriel caught her with ease and set her down on the ice in front of him, his chest pressed against her back.

Lucien stared at them, voice cold yet his face was the portrait of indifference. Instinctively, Elain’s hand found Azriel’s, squeezing once. Lucien clocked the movement, humming to himself.

“What are you talking about?” Elain asked, only now noticing the stunning woman a few inches behind him. She tensed when the woman looked her up and down, and not in a way that made Elain feel comfortable.

“I said, you’ve used up ten minutes of our ice time,” Lucien repeated, rolling his eyes. The woman snickered, linking her arm with his. “What aren’t you understanding?”

“Watch how you speak to my partner,” Azriel said lowly, vein straining in his neck. Elain ran a thumb over his scarred knuckles. “I've got about a million reasons to make sure you leave this rink with broken legs. Don’t test me.”

Lucien clicked his tongue, but offered no rebuttal. It was a smart move on his end. Something told Elain he knew Azriel would follow through on the threat. She’d never heard his voice darken the way it just had. Something stirred low in her stomach.

“Temper, temper,” The woman purred, eyes flashing wildly. “I usually like that in a man, but I would advise against threatening my partner in front of me.”

Elain froze. Behind her, Azriel stiffened. His hands slid on either side of her hips, holding her in place. “I’m sorry?”

“Elain, Azriel, meet Vassa,” Lucien introduced, a sly smile painted on his mouth as she dipped her head. “My skating partner.”

Skating partner?

Impossible…he dropped out of the–

Oh.

“What the fuck do you mean skating partner?” Azriel questioned, eyes darting between Lucien and Vassa. His anger was palpable, skin ablaze against her own. She thanked whatever deity existed that his hands were on her waist. She was two seconds from pouncing.

“Well, after our little incident, I simply could not let my chances of securing the gold go to waste,” Lucien explained. Elain noticed how Vassa’s lips thinned, how she regarded her with disdain. “Vassa and I will be representing the Autumn Region in the competition.”

Every new piece of information gave Elain whiplash.

“Incident?” She squeaked, eyes burning. Azriel’s grip tightened, his hold on her grounding and comforting all at once. “What the hell are you talking about? There was no incident. You–.”

“I think we’ve chatted enough, don’t you?” Lucien cut her off, eyes hardening in challenge. He reached for Vassa’s hand. “Now, If you’ll excuse us, we’re going to use whatever time we have left to practice our routine.” The duo dismissed themselves toward center ice without another word.

Blood rushed through her ears, skin warm and clammy.

She couldn't believe it.

The abandonment.

The betrayal.

The lies.

No sadness or heartbreak filled her chest as it did weeks ago.

It was replaced by rage.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Azriel whispered as they skated off the ice. They took to the bench, aggressively flinging their skates into their bags.

Elain nodded, hands gripping the edge of the bench. A new fire crackled in her heart. She turned to Azriel, whose own demeanor had taken on an air of fury. “Yeah. We’re winning this fucking thing.”

The rage that had reared its head hours ago had finally dissipated into annoyance and an unshakeable contempt for redheaded men. Freshly showered in a pair of mauve leggings and a baggy white t-shirt, Elain had been pacing in her kitchen for the past 20 minutes, alternating between chewing her slice of strawberry shortcake and biting her thumb nail.

She could make peace with the fact Lucien had lied to her. She could make peace with the idea that he found it so easy to betray her. And now she had to accept the idea that he may have more tricks up his sleeve. Could he go as far as potentially sabotaging the competition? Ruining what very well could be her last chance at receiving a gold medal? She would have said no if the question was posed months ago. Now, she didn't know what to believe. Maybe he had always been sly and cunning, and her willingness to see the best in people blinded her.

And the more she thought about it, the more irate she became. He had jumped through hoops to abandon her, when she would have accepted his honesty even if it pained her. Clearly, in his mind, she wasn't even worth the truth.

The clock on the wall read just after eleven at night. She huffed, tapping her fingernails on the counter once, twice, three times before deciding to visit the one person she knew would be awake. And on her trek over to his home, Elain had one single thought.

She hoped Azriel had wine, because she was going to need it.

The matte black doors of his home were truly a welcoming site. Standing on the top step, Elain decided that she probably should have sent him a message and asked if he wouldn't mind a visitor. She hadn't even thought about if he had an early morning practice, or perhaps a game in the early evening that he needed to be well rested for. Even with those thoughts running through her head, she knocked on the door anyway.

The door swung open, and Elain didn't even give herself a second to take in his appearance before she let herself in. Nor did it register for Azriel who was standing on his front doorstep until she was brushing past his body in the foyer, expertly sidestepping his hockey helmet.

“Please tell me you have Pinot Grigio, Chardonnay, or something stronger,” Elain said by way of greeting, pushing past his frame until she was stomping straight toward his kitchen.

Dazed, Azriel blinked twice and pushed the front door shut with his index finger. “Hello to you, too, Elain.”

He didn't have much choice but to follow her into his kitchen. One shoulder against the wall, he folded his arms and watched her navigate his kitchen with an amused smile gracing his face. He had so many questions.

What the hell was she doing awake at 11 at night?

Why was she frantic?

Why didn’t she ask him to pick her up?

Why did she look so good with tangled wet hair and an oversized t-shirt?

Why did his heart race and his cock twitch at the mere observation that she looked comfortable in his home?

After scouring all of his cabinets, she spotted half a decanter of brandy and decided that would do for now. She grabbed two crystal tumblers and poured a finger width into each. Brows raised to his hairline, Azriel watched as she knocked back her glass in three gulps, scowled, and then refilled her glass, walking toward him with both.

Before he could accept the tumbler, Elain froze abruptly, liquid sloshing in the glass and slightly over the edge, dripping onto her fingers.

Azriel frowned, attempting to remove his glass from her hand. She only stood there with a pounding heart, eyes trained on the base of his throat.

Elain croaked, “Why are you wearing my necklace?”

Azriel stilled. Almost robotically, he tipped his head downward, where the gold chain with a cursive letter E was on display against his black compression shirt.

Fuck.

He’d been so careful, keeping it hidden underneath his shirt during practices, hockey games, nights out with friends. And now here she was, the rightful owner of the jewelry, with an expression on her face he couldn't read.

“Why did you come over, Elain?” A lame attempt to divert the subject.

She swallowed, handing over the glass with a shaky hand. The last time she saw that necklace was seven years ago. It hadn’t been in pristine condition back then, and certainly had lost its color now. “Well, I was in the mood to rant about the unexpected visit we received today at Snowspell, but now I think I want to talk about something else.”

Fair enough.

He motioned toward the living area, and they settled into the couch nearest to the fireplace. Azriel tucked his foot beneath his opposite thigh, sipping his brandy as Elain settled into her own spot, throwing a blanket over her legs. She crossed them under the cashmere blanket, settling the drink in her lap.

“You’ve held onto it all these years.” Not a question.

He nodded sheepishly. “I had every intention of giving it back to you at first, I swear I did. And then you left the rink without it and I just…” A shrug. “I barely saw you after that. And honestly, I wasn't sure how you would react if I sought you out. Or worse, really, how your mother would.”

Elain shivered at the thought. She could already picture Mama’s scowl along with her…colorful language.

Azriel traced his finger around the glass rim. Pink bloomed high on his cheekbones as he said, “You've been my good luck charm for a while, Elain.”

She almost spat out the brandy. Blinking, she asked, “What do you mean?”

“After putting on the necklace, I won the next three ice dance competitions,” He admitted, watching Elain’s brows rise. “I’ve also played some of the best hockey of my life. A small piece of you has been with me for years. Without even realizing it, you’ve been part of some of the best moments in my life.”

She looked at him then.

Really looked at him.

Not just the warm eyes and strong, beautiful features.

Not just the tattoos or the sweatpants hanging very low on his hips or the happy trail peeking out from underneath his shirt. (Though, she may have stared just a tad longer than necessary, and he may have caught her doing so and shifted a bit in the couch so more of his skin was exposed.)

But she looked at him and realized there weren’t enough words in any language to describe how important he’d become in just a short amount of time. There weren’t enough words to reflect how much she admired him, and how much his unyielding desire to see her happy had started chipping away at the walls around her heart.

And as he went to remove the necklace, she crawled across the sofa with the blanket and brandy and curled up beside him, stopping him with a gentle, “Keep it.”

Azriel gazed down at her, their noses only a few centimeters away. He had to pause himself from leaning forward and burying his face into her hair. “Why?”

Elain shrugged, throwing half the blanket over his legs. He splayed his arm along the back of the couch and breathed out a sigh of relief when she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Because it’s yours.”

There was a brief moment where she was unsure if she meant the necklace or her heart.

What she did know, however, was that something changed between them that night.

ARTWORK FOR THE CHAPTER BY @chachachai17: HERE

DIVIDER BY: @saradika-graphics

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