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kaiser1ns · 3 months

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#. KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

featuring 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗯𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. umemiya hajime, sakura haruka, suo hayato, kaji ren, togame jo, takiishi chika, endo yamato

fluff. since when did you dream of a first kiss with the boy you like. and the chance finally came, but not everything turned out as imagined.

up to 500-600 words per scenario, i tried my best, sorry i'm still trying to describe romantic scenes womp womp, like and subscribe!

UMEMIYA HAJIME

You are so in love with this man that you can't get enough. Literally, you can't get enough of the way he is so oblivious to the hints you drop every single day. He is laughing yet again at something, surrounded by Furin first years and Hiragi at Kotoha's cafe. The desire to smack him on the head and tell him he is so stupid grows faster than the vegetables in his garden. Only Kotoha seems to notice your gloomy mood — you haven't touched the food she prepared, and it makes her worry.

"I'm going to give up if he doesn't do something soon," you tell your best friend, your voice tinged with frustration.

She pats your hand reassuringly. "It'll be okay. Don't mind Hajime's antics. Boys take time to develop, you know."

You thank her and finish your food, but you still want to go home. Being in his presence feels draining right now. You quietly say goodbye to Kotoha and immediately leave, while she wonders what she can do to help you out.

You aren't far away when you hear running footsteps behind you and the voice you knew all too well. "Y/N, wait for me, please!" It's Umemiya, running worriedly towards you. You turn to face him as he pants from the exertion. "Kotoha said you wanted to talk about something with me. Is that why you left?"

Oh my, this girl. How dare she does this to you? You didn't want to tell him, you were supposed to be mad at him. "It seems that I have forgotten what I was going to say," you murmur, turning on your heel to walk away again. But he hugs you from behind, his grip strong and tight, your back against his chest.

"You wanted to have your first kiss, right?" There it goes, your best friend spilled everything to her brother. "I've noticed everything you did to indicate your wants and needs. I was just waiting for the right moment, when we aren't with people, like this ..."

He lets you go, turning you around and kissing you. His eyes are closed, but yours widen in surprise. The feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your back makes you relax. You're a blushing mess, a whirlwind of butterflies and emotions coursing through you. Hands find their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat race as fast as yours.

When he finally pulls away, his eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness you've longed to see. "I'm sorry it took me so long," he murmurs, his voice soft and sincere. You smile, your heart swelling with the butterflies going there instead. "You better make it up for all the waiting."

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I guess I am a bit dense, huh?" You laugh, the sound light and genuine, laying your head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat once again as he hugged you "Just a bit."

As he walks you to your home, hand in hand, you can't help but think about Kotoha and how she played Cupid, knowing exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t.

SAKURA HARUKA

You’ve heard it all before, the endless litany of self-deprecation and doubt that spills from Sakurs’s lips like a broken record. It’s a familiar routine by now, his recounting of how he doesn’t deserve kindness or acceptance, how your sweetness to him feels misplaced. His voice wavers with each confession, half-hoping you’ll agree and half-fearing you’ll walk away.

“I don’t get why you’re so nice to me,” he says for the umpteenth time, eyes downcast. “I don’t deserve it.” Your eye twitches. You’ve had enough. The words repeat in your head, grating on your nerves. You care about him deeply, but his lack of self-worth is starting to drive you insane. He’s strong, capable, a fighter in every sense of the word—except when it comes to himself.

“Oh my god, Sakura, stop with this bullshit,” you snap, sharper than you intended. He blinks, taken aback. “Hah!?”

“Stop talking about yourself like that. It’s so frustrating. ‘I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve that.’” You mimic his tone, letting your irritation seep through. His eyes narrow, anger mixing with confusion. "Huh!?" He clenches his fists, the familiar motion of cracking his knuckles following. It’s a gesture meant to intimidate, but you’ve seen it too many times to be scared. “Shut up before I make you,” you threaten.

He meets your gaze gaze, unflinching. “Make me then. Let your fists do the talking.”

That’s it. The breaking point. You stand up abruptly, closing the distance between you. He braces himself, expecting a fight. You can see the conflict in his eyes, torn between his instinct to fight and his deep-seated fear of hurting you. Instead, you grab his face with both hands and pull him into a kiss. It’s sudden, forceful, and completely unexpected. His body tenses up, then melts against you, stunned into silence.

When you pull back, his face is a shade of red you didn’t think was possible to achieve. He’s a mess of incoherent sounds, his mind clearly struggling to process what just happened. “W-what… Huh!?”

“You shouldn’t talk so much crap,” you say calmly, sitting back down. “It’ll lead you to problems.”

He stands there, dazed and silent, a stark contrast to his usual self. You relish the quiet, the absence of his self-doubt hanging in the air. Finally, a moment of peace. Sakura haven't said a word all day, lost in his thoughts. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, hoping that your impulsive act has left an impression, that maybe he’ll start to see himself the way you see him.

SUO HAYATO

The boy himself, the living legend of making people accept his requests with his teasing smile, is sitting next to you. His beautiful dark brown eyes make you melt like chocolate left out in the hot sun. Suo Hayato, the enigma from the neighboring school, is here in your living room, surrounded by your scattered chemistry notes. You begged him for help with your homework, and in his usual style, he agreed with a condition. You, expecting another teacake request, readily agreed.

The two of you sit on the floor, papers spread out across the table. Hayato explains the properties of alkaline metals and their reactions. His hand occasionally brushes against yours, sending a jolt through your system each time. He notices your reactions, the subtle glances you steal, the way you tense and relax. He is enjoying himself, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“And that’s all. I’m sure you’ll ace the test, L/N-san,” he concludes with a smile.

A few days later, you find yourself beaming as you show him your test. Maximum points. You’re the only student with a perfect score, and Hayato knows it. His smile widens, and his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

“I knew you’d do it. But don’t you forget something?” he prompts.

Ah, yes, his reward. “No, I didn’t forget, Suo-kun.” You reach into your bag and pull out a box of homemade teacakes. “Here, just the way you like them.” He takes the box, smiling with one eye closed, the other hidden beneath his signature eyepatch. “Oh, thank you very much. So kind as always.” he pauses “But I wanted something sweeter.”

Confused, you stand there trying to figure out what he means. Wasn’t he on a diet? Perhaps you should brew him some tea. He chuckles, observing you and most possibly reading your thoughts.

“Don’t worry, I don’t want freshly brewed tea.” His voice is soft, but there's an edge to it. How does he always know what you’re thinking? Does he know you wanted to kiss him while you studied? His perceptiveness is both thrilling and intimidating.

“So what do you want?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. He closes the distance between you in a heartbeat. “You.”

Before you can process his words, his lips are on yours, warm and insistent. Your bag slips from your shoulder, landing with a soft thud. The kiss is everything you imagined and more, a perfect blend of surprise and inevitability. You feel the chemistry, the undeniable connection between element Suo and element Y/N, strong and unbreakable.

You pull away, still in shock, as he steps back. His hands are behind his back, holding the box of teacakes, but his eyes are fixed on you. He turns to leave, but glances back over his shoulder.

“I’ll be waiting for more chemistry tests to help you out,” he says, a promise in his voice. And you know, without a doubt, that his request will always be met.

KAJI REN

You had always admired the way Kaji Ren seemed to be in his own world, headphones clamped over his ears and a strawberry lollipop lazily balanced between his lips. He was lost in thought, probably wondering about you, always worried—if you needed help, how your day went, if there was someone he needed to deal with for you. His obliviousness gave you the perfect opportunity. You appeared in front of him and, snatching the lollipop from his mouth, putting it in your own.

"What the—" His initial reaction was irritation, a typical Kaji Ren tantrum brewing, until he saw you standing there, and that devilish look in your eyes. You were still in your school uniform, like you always are when he waits to walk you home.

"Oh, strawberry one. My favorite." You teased, a smile tugging at your lips. He scoffed, too tired to engage in your banter, as started walking behind you, when you suddenly stopped. Before he could react, you snatched his headphones and dashed off.

You were fast, but Kaji was faster. In a heartbeat, he caught up, slamming you gently against the nearest wall, his arms caging you in. You looked up at him, a devilish grin on your face.

"Now, what, Ren?" you taunted, breathless.

For a moment, he just stared, as if trying to figure out his next move. Then, in a move that surprised both of you, he grabbed the lollipop from your mouth and tossed it on the ground. His lips crashed onto yours with a hunger and urgency that sent the butterflies right into your stomach. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, tasting the sweet strawberry flavor that lingered on your lips.

You kissed back with equal hunger, your hands tangling in his hair. Time seemed to stand still as you both poured everything into that kiss. When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, as you stared at the blonde boy.

"Do you want to try an apple flavor next time?" you asked, a teasing once again.

"Shut up," he muttered, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. He snatched his headphones back and started walking again, but you weren’t ready to let go just yet. You ran up to him and slipped your hand into his. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, but instead, he squeezed your hand tightly.

TOGAME JO

You never go into Shishitoren territory without Togame. He’s your personal bodyguard, a very fine one at that, and he insists on accompanying you every time. Texting him is a lost cause—he never responds. At least, that’s what he wants you to believe, even though your texts are the only ones he ever reads. So, you always call to tell him you are under the bridge, waiting for him.

Tonight, the two of you are wandering down a bustling street, searching for a pub to settle in. The crowd is big at this time of the night, and Togame keeps his hand firmly on your waist, ensuring you stay close. Despite him wanting to keep you close and safe, you are always slipping away, and it drives him crazy.

You meander through, your curiosity piqued by a very interesting shop window. Something inside catches your eye, and you pause to admire it. Meanwhile, he is frantic, scanning the crowd for any sign of you. When he finally spots you, relief floods his body, quickly replaced by an angry expression. The Shishitoren vice-capitain makes a note to buy the item for you tomorrow, but now is not the time. He strides over and grabs your hand, pulling you towards a quieter, more secluded area.

“What if something happened to you? Do you know how much I’d regret that?” His usual slow, measured speech is now rapid and laced with frustration.

You look down, guilt washing over you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He sighs heavily, his expression softening as he sees your sad face. Gently, he tilts your chin up, his fingers brushing away the few tears that have escaped. “Don’t cry now, pretty girl.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss. You hadn’t expected your first kiss to happen like this, in a quiet, dimly lit alley, but it’s with Togame Jo, and that’s all that matters.

His hands cradle your face, thumbs tracing soothing patterns on your skin. You close your eyes, relaxing in his touch, your heart pounding in your chest. It is soft, tender, and unhurried. There’s no rush, no urgency—just the two of you in this moment. His lips are warm, and he takes his time, savoring the feel of you, as butterflies made their way to your stomach. When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless, faces mere inches apart.

He presses his forehead against yours, a small smile playing making its way, reassuring you that everything was fine, “Just... don’t do that again, okay?”

You nod, still dazed from the kiss. He entwines his fingers with yours, leading you back to the crowded street, but this time, his grip is gentler, more safe. The bustling city seems a little less overwhelming with him by your side, and you can’t help but smile, stealing glances at him, your heart fluttering with every step. Togame catches your eye and squeezes your hand, his own smile growing wider.

TAKIISHI CHIKA

He showed up at your house, knocking on the window as you sighed, getting up from your bed. You, of course, let him in, seeing how he was again stained with blood that was not his. It was the same every time: he came to you so you could patch him up, fix him, give him a shower, change of clothes and a place to sleep in. You never ask questions, and he never offers explanations. Tonight is no different as you sit in his lap, bandaging his face and hands.

You're not a couple; you're not anything. It’s complicated. There are unspoken words between you, a delicate balance that neither of you dares to disrupt. As you sit on his lap and clean his face, you find yourself closer than before. His yellow eyes, intense and piercing, lock onto yours, heart races, each beat echoing in your ears. You’re getting closer, inch by inch. Hesitation grips you, your breath caught in your throat.

"Don't move." Just as you think of pulling away, his hand moves behind your head, gently but firmly pushing you forward. Your lips meet his in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s surprising, the gentleness of it, especially coming from someone as fiery and unpredictable as Chika. The kiss is brief, a fleeting moment that feels that for once you were something. When it ends, you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for any hint of what this meant to him. But his expression is the same as every day. And then you are back to becoming nothing.

For you, it meant everything. It’s a confirmation of the connection you’ve always felt but never acknowledged. But what did it mean for him? You're not sure, and you don't dare to ask. Not now. Maybe not ever. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. You can think about this later. Right now, he still needs you. You focus on his injuries, cleaning and bandaging.

Chika watches you work, his eyes never leaving your face. You can feel the weight of his gaze, and it only makes you more aware of your own feelings. But you don’t let it distract you. You finish bandaging his hands and move to check for any other injuries, your fingers brushing against his skin, meanwhile, he gently caresses your thighs with his thumbs leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

When you’re done, you lean back, surveying your work. He looks a bit better now, though still battered and bruised. You meet his eyes again, and this time there’s something different there. Something softer, more vulnerable — a golden hue reflects the dim light, adding a warm, almost ethereal quality to the sun.

“There all done,” you say quietly, unable to trust your voice to say more. You stand up, as you don't want to leave his embrace but you have to clean up the supplies scattered around and prepare a bath. As you move around the room to get him new clothes you can feel his eyes on you, following your every move. You wonder if he’s thinking about the kiss, about what it meant. You wonder if he feels the same confusion, the same longing, the same love.

ENDO YAMATO

The wind lifting strands of his dark hair and whipping them around his face. He’s talking about something, his tattooed hands tracing patterns in the air. But you’re not listening. You’re caught up in the way his lips move, the curve of his smile, the glimmering in his eyes.

"...and Takiishi was there, you know? Doing that thing he always does," Endo continues, oblivious to your silent longing. Takiishi Chika. Again. You frown, a little annoyed now. Why does he always have to bring up Chika?

"Endo," you say, softly at first, hoping to catch his attention. He doesn’t notice.

"Takiishi’s just so unpredictable. I never know what he’s going to do next."

"Endo," you repeat, louder this time. Still, he’s lost in his own world, his words tumbling out like the wind itself, unstoppable and carefree.

"And then, Takiishi—"

"Endo!" You say it sharply, frustration bubbling up inside you. He finally pauses, blinking at you in surprise. You take a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, before he can say anything, you reach up and grab his collar, pulling him down to your height. His eyes widen in shock, but you don’t give him time to react. You press your lips to his, silencing him in the most effective way you know.

Feeling his lips against yours, the taste of his breath mingling with your own. It’s not perfect. It’s rushed and a little clumsy, your noses bump awkwardly, and you can feel him tense. But it’s real. It’s happening. And it’s better than any dream.

When you finally pull away, he’s staring at you, confusing and amusing gaze. His hands, still raised from his gesticulations, hover in the air, uncertain.

"Ah," he says, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I’m not good at judging people, am I?" You laugh, knowing how he chooses people and how his expectations are later contradicted, that right now is happening with you, "No," you agree, your voice soft. "You’re really not."

He rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "Sorry. I guess I was talking too much."

"A little," you admit, your heart still racing. "But it’s okay."

He steps closer, his hand brushing against yours, indicating his motives. "Can I try again?" he asks, his voice quieter now, the playful edge gone. You nod, your breath hitching in your throat. "Please."

This time, when he kisses you, it’s slower, more deliberate. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin as you live your dream.

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selarina · 9 months

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continuation to this

so, that night gojo satoru leaves with no jacket and half a broken heart and for the first time since he was 12 years old, he takes a sip of alcohol as he slouches against his home bar.

it's bitter, and it tastes a bit too much like soy sauce for his liking but he sips and sips until he sees the engraved "S.G" inscription at the bottom of his glass.

"hello, husband," a voice comes from behind him, interrupting his sob fest.

and for a moment, for dumb little moment, he thinks it's you. the voice sounds nothing like you though, it's far too high-pitched, but he's dreamt of this far too much for him to imagine someone else calling him husband.

aya tsukino materialises next to him, and seats herself on a seat beside him. she moves with a certain a quiet sleekness that he barely caught her moving from behind him. or maybe, he's finally out of it. "excited for the wedding, then?" she deadpans as she pours herself a drink.

"thrilled," he parrots back, merely a barren echo of emotions.

there's more truth in this room than there's been in your shared room for weeks. because it's simple really— gojo doesn't want to marry her, and aya couldn't care less as long as she got the money his family had.

before they had even exchanged any words, it was clear that they had this silent agreement that the two of them had little to do with love and everything to do with societal expectations and status.

as gojo attempts to take another sip from his empty company, he can't help but replay the events of the evening in his mind. your anger, and the way you stood up for the love you believed in. it'll haunt him for the rest of his life.

he wonders if you'll genuinely come to understand that he did have you in mind when he left you. he doesn't want you to be a mistress, a dirty little secret. he's seen how it broke his mother apart. how could he wish the same fate upon you knowing how his mother's life ended?

you're strong, and he believes you will persist and he will see at the end of his life sleeping grey and old in his bed as he stares at the way the sunlight hits your laugh lines.

but he also remembers the way you cried in secret. he never brought it up, he never brings it up. he was just waiting for the day you'd be comfortable enough to cry in front of him but for now, he settles for meaningless presents he brings afterwards to wipe off the blue from your face.

he places his glass down with a clink, and he hears a resembling clink from aya. "i'll ask you this only once, gojo satoru," she speaks up. "do you want this marriage?"

"i never wanted this marriage," his reply is immediate.

"of course not," she says. "i meant, do you still want to go through with this?"

he doesn't respond. the both of them know the answer to that, it's written all too clearly on his soppy little face.

"what if i don't," he finally speaks. "what about your money? your status?"

"my money..." she feigns to ponder. "as someone who's always sought out money, i can tell you one thing about it. money, it comes and it goes. i'll find another way as i always do," she says. "i will be fine."

"your father—"

"—is a terrible man, who will go on his pissy campaign against me but i hope it's not presumptuous of me to expect you to come to defence when needed. you know, for all the trouble?"

he chuckles with no mirth. seems trouble is all he's capable of causing the past few days. "of course," he responds.

aya smiles, she supposes there's one benefit of having the strongest sorcerer as her ex-fiancé. she stands up, as she pulls her coat snug against her body as she prepares to leave. "besides, you're not the only rich high-status man in town, you know?"

"well, they're not all me," he replies. his smug demeanour returning to him like it's breathing a new life into him.

"wow, a bonus too," she chuckles.

"and who was that handsome man with you on friday? blonde, glasses, chiselled like a—"

"nanami kento," he replies with a grin.

"nanami kento. is he rich?"

"not as rich as you," he replies. it's true. he's rich, he worked on wall street after all and nanami is a smart man, he has so much in his savings account, it's enough to feed an entire nuclear family. why he saves up is something that's beyond gojo.

"well, he's handsome. tell mr. kento i said hello," she smiles facetiously.

"tsk, fine." he grins again. "get out of here."

it's been a week since you heard about the wedding falling apart. and since, you've been hearing about it daily, almost hourly if you're being honest. after all, you're at the centre of it. it only makes sense.

there's a whole slew of narratives running around, cheating, money laundering, even murder. but the most popular one was about how aya was the rosaline to your romeo and juliet. gojo's as romeo as he comes — handsome, influential and maybe a bit endearingly dumb but you fail to see how you're juliet. she was rich, influential, beautiful — everything you've been starkly reminded that you are not.

but everyone's talking about the romance of it all and you haven't heard from gojo himself so it's strange to take their words to mind or heart. you ignore them, forming a ready-made response sheet in your head to every possible question you encounter across the week. they become white noise, as you go through your day like a pre-programmed robot.

but that changes on a hot, dusty afternoon as you're sitting in a cafe, awaiting a man you were advised against seeing, and he's late. of course, he's fucking late. he broke up with you and he has the audac—

he walks in. he looks exhausted, lankier than usual, and there's a cruel part of you that likes it. to know he looks as miserable as you've been seeing. there's the other, familiar part of you that wants to run your fingers against his sensitive eyes as you feed him with the warmth of the diner's food.

but you do neither, you neither smile nor frown. you sit in place as you wait for him to come and sit opposite you.

"hey," his voice sounds gravelly. "i'm sorry i'm late."

"nothing i'm not used to," you reply with a glare as you cross your arms.

his hands reach for the menu as he plays with the edges of the paper. he always orders the same breakfast meal from this place. he must be nervous.

"i... i wanted to talk to you," he starts. "i want you back."

"excuse me? you can't just—"

"i'm willing to do anything. anything. if you want to take it slow, i understand. if you want to take your time, i understand. if you want me to get down on my knees and beg, i understa—"

"do it."

his eyes widen, you can tell — even though the black glasses are blocking his eyes, you can tell. it only lasts for a split second, because you blink with contempt and he's beside you. on his knees, as he stares up at you. he barely stares up at you — he's so tall, he's almost eye-to-eye with you. but even so he hunches his back, makes himself small.

"i'm sorry," he says again, as he takes off his glasses placing it onto the table in front of you. his eyes are alarmingly blood-red, and it takes every muscle in your body to hold back from running your fingers over his. "like i said, i'll do anything. just pleas— take me back."

you stare, and he stares back at you. you're too lost in the way he looks at you — at your mercy — that you miss the strange and baffled looks from people around you. and when you finally do, your cheeks flush with heat.

"okay," you say. " please, get up now."

"no, let me— let me stay," he says. pleads. "just let me stay until you take me back."

"fine," you sigh, as if there was any real objection from your side. "get up now."

"really?" his blood-red eyes gleam, you could almost see a tinge of the vibrant blue coming back to life.

"yes," you groan as your hand grip his elbow. "i was willing to be your fucking mistress. did you really thin— i would say— mmpph"

and just like that he's up, sliding next to you on your seat, as he kisses you. you're ashamed to admit that your first thought was the idea of getting kicked out for public indecency but your second thought was about how you think you could stay like this forever. despite the public gawking at you through mean and baffled stares.

"i'm serious about doing whatever it takes," he says, sincerity laced in his voice. "you shouldn't let me get away with this lightly."

you smile. "I hope you mean it," you reply. "and i won't. i’ll make you work for it, just a little."

he nods with a smile, "anything. i'll make it up to you."

"you have to do the chicken dance," you say, seriously and firmly.

"what?"

"you have to do the chicken dance. right now in the middle of the diner and i'm taking a video," you pull out your phone. "and... i'm sending it to nobara."

his eyes widen, almost like he's feeling actual fear. "not nobara," he gasps. "but she's so mean, baby."

"well, you said anything."

he sighs. gojo looks around the crowded diner, his tall frame rigid and tense. he glances at you, then at your phone, and finally resigns himself to the absurd request.

"fine," he mutters, standing up from the seat as he begins flapping his arms and doing a clumsy version of the chicken dance in the middle of the diner.

#the idea was to make gojo as pathetic as possible #but ya'll asked and i'm delivering #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader angst #jjk x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader angst

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twistedmir · 4 months

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KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE !

⇀ summary : your partner talks too much, and what better way to make them shut up by kissing them?. (Malleus, Ace, Riddle, Vil.)

⇀ write's note : i have a favorite and its showing.

MALLEUS DRACONIA !

This man, it has already been two hours since he started talking about gargoyles. On any other day, you wouldn't have minded his rambling. But today you were particularly exhausted from babysitting the ADeuce duo, so you could only bear so much.

“ they were originally created as a means of disposing of water, but with time..—” there he goes again, this cute little dragon fae ranting about some random fact about gargoyles. Your head was starting to hurt, you just wanted to cuddle him and let this awful day pass. Despite the growing headache, you didn't have the heart to cut him off.

However, a bulb light up in your head.

You grabbed the fae from his necktie earning a surprise noise from him. You brought him down to your level and kissed his lips. It was a light peck, but you lingered a little bit too long. “ can we go inside now? I want to cuddle? ” Malleus was frozen in place, his lips could still feel yours. He didn't know what to do so he simply nodded, letting you guide him toward the house, your hand in his. Humans were rather bold.

ACE TRAPPOLA !

It was during lunch, your boyfriend's neck was decorated with his housewarden's magic. Ace was complaining—yet again— about how ridiculous the rules are. (something about not eating leftovers that had a green sticker on top of the containers, he swears he didn't know it was someone's else.) His lips were pouting, arms crossed over his chest he looked so cute. Until he opened his mouth to complain this time about Deuce. You sighed, this man always finds something to complain about.

And there he goes again, talking his head off about sevens knows what. This man would not for the sake of it be quiet. You wished to eat in peace, maybe talk with your boyfriend. But he kept going on and on, it was starting to get on your nerve. You love the guy, but he talks too much. Finally, as if the sevens heard your pleas, Ace quieted down. A sigh of relief left you. At last, you could eat—

“ and then Deuce just—” And there we go again. A bulb light up, it'll be funny to see him match with the collar on his neck. Moving closer to Ace, the boy not noticing your approaching figure still going on about how much of an idiot the blueberry boy is (his words.) your hands cupped his cheeks, ceasing his chatter. You lightly pecked the soft lips, pulling away after a short time. The boy was stuck speechless, his mouth closing and opening like a fish, face as red as the Heartslabyul's warden. A chuckle slipped past you, how cute.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS !

In your defense, Ace payed you. He knew how soft the warden goes on you whenever a rule is broken by you. Which is why, the first year though it was better for you to paint the flowers in his place. Riddle was unaware it was Ace's turn—for the first time— so, imagine his surprise when he saw how wrongly you painted the roses. It wasn't such a deal, but it bothered him how dangerously close you were to falling from the ladder. Riddle walked up to you, keen on lecturing you all about safety. Until you wondered if his face can match his hair.

“ How many time have I told you to be careful? You know this ladder is not in the best shape, I wouldn't want you to match it's state. ” The housewarden was scolding you for being careless. While your eyes were focused on his, your mind was wandering somewhere else. Thinking back on Ace's words, you were curious just how far was Riddle lenient on you. A smirk formed in your face.

The Housewarden wasn't aware of the Adeuce level of mischief stirring up in your mind. Closing the distance between you, relishing in the small stutters in his words, you placed your lips on his owns.

It was quiet. Maybe he did let you go with anything—

“ OFF WITH YOUR HEA—”. nevermind.

VIL SCHOENHEIT !

Vil was lecturing some first year about the proper use of skin care. The poor first years were so frightened by his harsh scold and cold voice that when they saw you they pleaded you with their eyes to help them escape from this hell. You took pity on them, Vil, even after his overbolt, still couldn't get rid of some of his habits. Mainly his harsh scolds, but he made progress. The first years looks frightened yet still listen to him. Before, some even cried while others were crushed by his words. So you saw this as a progress of some kind.

Walking up to them, you taped the beauty on his shoulder, making him cease his talk and turn to look at you. He quirked an eyebrow at you, his hands unconsciously finding yours. He was waiting for you to speak, you always taped him when you wanted to talk.

Your heart swell at his small yet meaningful gesture. Despite his busy schedule, he always found time for you. Even when he was scolding his juniors, you clearly saw how his eyes soften at the sight of you. (you made a mental note to pamper him later today in his room).

You signalled him to lean down, which he did despite the obvious confusion. Hands finding their place on his cheeks, cradling Vil's face. You laid your lips on top of his, eyes widening at you actions. The first years took this as a sign and quickly left.

After the initial shock, Vil grumpily returned your kiss. His clean hands pinching your cheeks. “ Honestly, just what am I going to do with you... ”. Even though he was complaining, you didn't miss the pinkish colour at the tip of his ears.

©— twistedmir. 2024 / DO NOT REPOST OR PLAGIARISE MY CONTENT IN ANY WAY.

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 days

Text

Copy that

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 3

Prompts: Lingerie & Sneaking Around

Words: 1,273

Rated: E

Tags: Office AU; Janitor Eddie; Junior Boss Steve; Secret Relationship; Semi-public sex; Steve in lingerie; Groping; Manhandling; Dirty talk; Dry humping; Inappropriate treatment of office equipment

Notes: Set in the same universe as this one

Eddie can tell what kind of day it'll be the second he walks into the office. Chrissy looks up from the files she's organizing on the reception desk and smiles ruefully.

“Hey, Eddie,” she calls. “Good thing you're here. The copy machine on the second floor is broken.”

“Jesus,” Eddie groans as he hands over her usual styrofoam cup of coffee. “It isn’t even nine yet and there’s another copier literally one floor above that. Did that not occur to those corporate dumbfucks?”

She giggles and draws a breath to reply, but is interrupted by the phone on her desk ringing.

“I bet that's Steve again,” she sighs.

Eddie’s stomach does a weird little flip.

“Harrington Junior? I thought he was in New York this week.”

She shrugs. “His conference got canceled. Listen, can you go check on this? I don't know why he needs those copies so urgently, but this is the fourth time he's called about it.”

As he steps into the elevator, Eddie wonders why he keeps putting up with this shit. He isn't being paid enough to deal with entitled tie-wearers who think the entire universe revolves around them.

The second floor is still mostly empty, only a few miserable employees settling into their cubicles. At the sound of Eddie’s boots thudding closer, Steve steps out of the copying room, frowning and flushed pink with annoyance.

“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie says. “I’m here now, aint’ I? No need to get your panties in a twist.”

“Finally,” he snaps. “Do you have any idea for how long I’ve-”

Something twitches across Steve’s face, something that looks suspiciously like a smirk, but it’s gone as quick as it came as he grabs Eddie by the elbow to steer him into the copying room.

While Steve clicks the door shut behind them, Eddie walks over to the copier. He peeps into the gap between the machine and the wall, sighs, and bends down to retrieve the pulled plug.

“Seriously?” he asks. “Again? You need to start coming up with new excuses, because this is getting-”

And that's as far as he gets before two large hands shove him against the machine and a warm, slick tongue pushes past his lips. Eddie hums a half-hearted protest and tries to pull out of the kiss, but Steve growls and grabs his face in both hands to hold him in place. The copier rattles as he wedges a leg between Eddie’s thighs.

“Woah, princess,” Eddie gasps as those lips leave his mouth, blazing a hot trail down his jaw and throat. A look towards the door reveals three large cartons of paper stacked in front of it, but he doubts they'll withstand one or two hearty pushes. “Hold on. There's people out there, anyone could-”

“Better make it quick then,” Steve says, breath leaving warm puffs against the hollow of his throat. The seams of Eddie’s overalls groan dangerously as he yanks them off his shoulders. “If you'd have been here sooner, we wouldn't be in this situation. Now c’mon, or are you scared?”

Eddie growls. Steve’s self-satisfied grin only serves to fuel his rage as he spins them both around and bends him over the copier.

“I'll show you scared, you little brat,” he says, nudging Steve's legs apart and pinning his arms behind his back with one hand, the other opening his expensive leather belt with practiced motions. He bends and bites down at the base of that long neck, just long enough to feel Steve’s answering moan rattle in his own chest, then straightens back up and yanks Steve’s dress pants down in one violent motion.

And then he freezes.

Lace.

Steve Harrington's glorious ass is covered in shiny, delicate lace. It stretches over it in a pattern of pretty flowers and little hearts, golden skin and dark moles shining through the see-through fabric.

It is red.

Jesus Christ on a fucking motorbike.

“What's the matter?” Steve asks. He's craning his neck to take in Eddie’s reaction, face unbearably smug and flushed as red as the lace of his panties. “You planning on doing something or are you just gonna stand there and catch flies?”

“You might wanna get going soon,” Steve singsongs. “There’s people out there, y’know?”

He rolls his hips, grinding his ass against the rapidly growing bulge in Eddie’s overalls. His pants slip further down as he does. There's garters. Red, lacy garters hugging thick, muscled thighs and Eddie is not going to survive, is he?

“Oh my God, you're such a slut,” Eddie mutters, and surges in. Steve moans again as he fists a hand into the hair at the base of his neck, pushing him face-first onto the copier. Eddie has a fleeting thought that it's simultaneously lucky and a pity that the thing isn't plugged in because man, those copies would be something to look at.

“God, baby,” he growls, yanking Steve’s head up by the hair, forcing his back into an obscene arch. “You're gonna kill me one day, you know that?”

“Hope not,” Steve gasps, fingers digging into the edge of the machine for dear life. Glass creaks and metal rattles as Eddie rocks his hips, grinding their bodies together. “I really like your cock.”

Eddie laughs, the words igniting a firework of want low in his abdomen. Steve shivers under him as he blankets him with his weight, pressing him down against the hard surface of the machine so that he can whisper right into his ear.

“Oh, yeah? That what you want, princess? Well, be my guest. I’m gonna stuff you so full, you’ll feel it all day. You gonna walk out of this room and back to your stupid meetings, and all you’ll be able to think of is how good it felt, getting fucked by me. How all you wanna do is go back and take my cock again, you greedy little-”

“Steve? You in there? What is wrong with the door?”

Steve is out from under him and on his way to the door before Eddie manages to fully process his shock.

“Hold on a sec, Tommy! I think it’s stuck.”

Steve smiles while he pulls up his pants and fixes his hair, like he has all the time in the world. Eddie is so busy bemoaning the loss of the panties and garters that it takes him a second to remember his own disheveled state. He has hardly shrugged back into his overall sleeves and pulled the zipper up when Steve shoves the boxes out of the way and Hagan from Sales stomps into the room, a stack of papers in hand and a scowl on his face.

“Oh, sorry,” Steve says, full of genuine regret. “The copier’s broken. Eddie and I were just looking into it.”

Steve shrugs exasperatedly. “I know, right? Looks like someone needs a refresher course on how to treat company property.”

“Man, does anything in this company work?” Hagan grumbles, stalking past Eddie to flip open the lid of the machine. “Who the fuck did this? There’s cracks all over the place!”

Hagan groans, slamming the lid shut and turning back towards the door. “Whatever, I’m using the one upstairs. Oh, by the way, your dad wants you in his office. Something about New York?”

“On it,” Steve calls after him. “Thanks for letting me know.”

As he brushes past Eddie and out of the door, he shoots him a coy smile. “I guess we'll need to conclude this meeting later. Come to my office around lunch?”

Eddie really, really isn't getting paid enough for this shit. Luckily, the job comes with other benefits.

More smutty September

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie smutty september #hype's smutty September

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lost-and-ephemeral · 7 months

Text

Series: In Her Shadow, pt.2 (ft. main trio)

Part 1 | Part 2

Slowly but surely she replaced you in his heart.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, reader is not MC, breakup

A/N: I recieved a lot of comments and request asking me to continue, so here we are! I've tried my best. Ty everyone, I appreciate every message, even if it would be hard to mention every single one of them in this post. Also, if you want to be tagged in future fics, let me know!

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Rafayel

You began to notice that Rafayel was spending less and less time with you, choosing his bodyguard over you.

It wasn't obvious at first, yeah, but as time went on, everything became so noticeable that you couldn't ignore it anymore. Especially when he forgot about your plans with him and didn't even consider apologizing for it.

The smell of someone else's perfume in his studio, the way Rafayel would leave you at home and take her to all the important events because "you probably don't like spending time among journalists and annoying guests." It seems that he didn't even notice the moment when you were completely estranged from each other.

And all your attempts to talk to him about it ended with nothing.

"She's my bodyguard," he'd say. "No wonder I take her everywhere I go. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Yes, a lot of things were wrong.

But he was completely unwilling to notice it, and you were tired of collecting the shards of your broken heart from the floor day after day. Those warm feelings that brought a sense of lightness and happiness in your heart suddenly turned into pure torture.

You had to end it all, even if it'll hurt so much.

When you arrived at his studio this morning, you came face to face with "Ms. Bodyguard" herself. She was just about to leave, and didn't even hesitate to embrace your beloved. Right in front of you.

Maybe you would've exploded from all these negative emotions, if you had any strength left to be mad or to cry. But there was only emptiness in your heart.

You became strangers to each other.

"I'm breaking up with you," you said without any regret and pushed him away as he tried to hug you. "I don't want to be a second choice after your precious bodyguard."

"W-wait, why? What... But I didn't do anything!" he replied confused, apparently not realizing how much he's been hurting you all this time.

"Maybe that's the point. That you'd do anything for her, but not for me."

He looked at you with the same confusion in his eyes, trying to figure out if it was a joke, but you continued before leaving this place forever.

"You were everything to me, Rafayel. But for you, I was just a small episode of your life. I'm tired. You've been spending all your free time with her, like I didn't exist. It'll be better this way. Goodbye."

No matter how long he was calling your name, asking you to stop, to come back and talk with him, you didn't.

Zayne

Loving a cardiac surgeon with his busy schedule is hard.

But it's even harder when he no longer cares about your existence and spends a significant amount of time with his childhood friend.

After Zayne forgot about your reservation at the restaurant, making you feel like you were the last fool in this world, some more time has passed.

Yeah, he apologized. No, he didn't start spending less time with his "friend".

It's hard to count how many evenings you spent alone when he stayed late at work for her or was invited to a "friendly" dinner with her. But it happened often enough so finally your love turned into suffering.

At first you tried to convince yourself that you're too jealous and he's just happy to finally reunite with someone close to him from his youth. You care about your friends too, don't you?

But it only got worse.

All your plans were constantly adjusted to his friend's wishes. She wants to take him to a cafe at the same time you were planning to go to the cinema? "Sorry, love, let's reschedule our date for another day". You've made him his favorite dinner? Too bad, his friend already brought him dinner at work and he's not hungry.

Eventually you started feeling like he stopped enjoying your time together and just continued to exist in the same apartment with you out of habit.

Talking didn't get you anywhere, because Zayne didn't notice how much he was hurting you (or he simply didn't want to notice it) with his actions and only distanced himself from you even more.

At some point you felt like he put an ice wall around himself again.

He stayed late again this evening, completely forgetting his promise to spend time with you. You packed your things with tears in your eyes, ready to say goodbye to life with Zayne once and for all.

And he showed up at the doorstep of his apartment just as you were ready to leave.

"What's going on?" his voice didn't betray a shred of emotion. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to leave you and your lovely friend together so I don't have to be an unwanted addition to your life."

Zayne was taken aback at this statement and was about to say something, but you interrupted him.

"You were the one who brought happiness and comfort into my life. You were the one who made me feel loved and wanted. But now I realize that I wasn't good enough for you. Goodbye."

You walked away and closed the door behind you, leaving him all alone.

Xavier

Before, you without a doubt would've said that your relationship with Xavier was the ultimate dream.

But now it wasn't actually true.

Yes, your beloved still showed care and attention every spare minute he had. Just not to you. It seemed as if his colleague started to occupy his every thought.

During dinner, on a walk, after missions. He was always talking about her, how strong she is, and how lucky he is that she chose him as her partner. His eyes were shining with delight you had never seen before.

You were happy for him, but only until it crossed the line. Only until you started to feel like he was in love with her, not with you.

One day you found yourself completely miserable. Xavier texted you that he would be late because they had "decided to celebrate another successful mission". Except that you were usually the one he shared his joy with. But things have changed.

Even though you were the brightest star in his world, you were inevitably lost behind the glow of the Moon.

You were trying to be better, to be more interesting. Trying to reach an unattainable ideal. But you couldn't. After all, maybe you were never meant to be together if it turned out like this. Maybe you weren't enough for him.

You couldn't remember the last day you didn't cry. Sometimes alone, sometimes locking yourself in the bathroom after another conversation about this "super-strong collegue". But Xavier didn't seem to notice it at all.

"I thought maybe you'd be interested to know what happens during missions," he said when you brought up this painful topic.

And, yes, you were interested. But all you heard was, "She took down that Wanderer so easily, I couldn't take my eyes off her." Or, "she's so good with her weapon, it's amazing."

He distanced himself from you so much that you hardly spent any time together.

He wasn't even home the day you left.

Xavier sent you a message saying he'd be late again. As usual, with her. Even though he promised to have a movie night and you had already prepared everything you needed for it.

Maybe it's even better if you don't see the look in his eyes the moment you tell him you're breaking up with him. You packed your things and left a note on the table, next to the snacks you bought.

"Maybe in another universe I would be worthy of you so you could look at me with the same adoration. I can see that you enjoy spending time with her much more. And we should break up so you don't torment my heart anymore. Goodbye."

You glanced around his apartment one last time before leaving it forever.

♡ tags: @skyowlz @prettytemis @aishasreality @randompersonwhoexist @kreishin @reni502 @moonyzstarz @chin-chii

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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capsi-cuminme · 7 days

Text

Closer, Closest

summary: in which you've just joined the x-men, but land up in a situation where you're forced to get very close with logan.

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k

warnings: mild swearing, suggestiveness, smooching omg

author's note: This is my first ever logan fic, and my first overall full-length fic after a loooong time, so it'll probably be a bit botchy, but I hope y'all enjoy the self-indulgent logan content.

•──✦──•

Logan was not in the mood for surprises, or uncomfortable change. He’d had enough of very major, very uncomfortable changes in the past month or so - changing history wasn’t easy. So imagine his distaste when he got to the mansion after a seemingly easy mission the kids somehow managed to mess up, and instead of Jean, there was someone else that’s supposed to treat him - you.

A new recruit, he guessed. Brows furrowed, face covered with a cheap surgical mask, but eyes full of wonder, you were doing this and that to Logan’s few, easily-healable injuries, attempting to fix them. Your fingers were nimble, and shockingly not ticklish at all. He wondered if you knew you didn’t need to do half of what you were doing, considering the speeds at which Logan’s body tended to heal itself. Had Charles not told you? Well, whatever. He was too occupied with his cigar to want to speak anyways, so he waited. Waited and waited and kept on waiting for what seemed like forever but you weren’t letting up.

“Bub, are you creating new injuries to treat? I know sure as hell that it doesn’t take that long to look at any wounds on my body,” he grumbled, sparing you a glance as you continued to do whatever the hell you were doing, paying no mind to him or his questions. Your eyes were focused as they flitted around, jumping from one spot on his arm to another on his wrist to a third on his neck. It caught him off-guard, a tiny bit, the blatant indifference you displayed - as if he wasn’t an adult whose body you were tampering with, but a child who had to be dealt with. He didn’t really like it. Nonetheless, he decided not to do anything. It was better to pass time on the bed and smoke peacefully rather than have to teach children History that he could barely remember.

Mind made up, he closed his eyes in relief, mentally applauding himself for successfully coming up with a reason to get out of class. When he opened them again, you were gone.

So was all the strength in his body.

. . . . .

“So, what did you think? Was healing him of any help to you?” asked Charles, smiling in the controlled, calm way he usually did.

You shook your head, “Not really, no, because I didn’t really heal him, you know?”

“Of course, you didn’t heal him; Logan’s body is capable enough to do that on its own means. What I mean to ask is, was he any different? Were you able to access his energy or were you unsuccessful?”

“Semi-successful would be the word, professor,” you grimaced. Taking the cup of tea he offered, you continued, “I was really not able to make any sort of progress when he was awake, so when he rested himself, I decided to drain him out comple -”

You were interrupted by the sudden bang of a door opening. As you turned around, you saw Logan standing in the doorway in all his muscled glory. God, it’d been so difficult to focus on extracting his energy and not ogle all the time he was there - being able to treat the Wolverine, being able to touch him, it was no less than a dream. Honestly speaking, half the reason you weren’t able to carry out energy identification and extraction easily was because of how distracted you were, how nervous. His muscles felt like God herself had carved them out of her best and favorite materials, while the intensity of his gaze seemed like fire itself burned inside them.

Your lust-filled train of thought was broken by Charles’s voice as he addressed the man you were dreaming about. As you turned to him, you realized that Logan was glaring at you, excellently conveying his lack of desire to be dreamt about. “Hello, Logan. How are you?”

“Who the hell is this, Charles? Why was she downstairs instead of Jean, and why the fuck did I feel like a dead body after she left?”

Oh.

Dream shattered.

You stood up hesitantly, nibbling on the inside of your right cheek, glancing at Charles for help. He didn’t return your look, simply straightening himself a little bit and then saying, “Logan, this is Vitality. She’s a new recruit, and will be helping around the mansion for some time before she’s ready to go on missions.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, lips pulled back in a sneer as he observed you. You felt practically naked under his gaze, and not in the good way; it was the kind of naked where there’s goosebumps on your skin right as you’re about to step into a shower of extremely cold water in a comparably cold temperature.

“Whatever she might be here for and whoever she might be, I couldn’t give less of a damn. I just want one answer – why did I feel so… so -” “So drained out?” you sheepishly suggested, noting his struggle to find the correct words. He didn’t look like he appreciated it, but nodded to the affirmative anyways. “Well, that’s because, as my name suggests, I deal with energy – any and all forms of energy, except what is found in living beings.”

“So what were you doing to me?”

You found yourself cringing at his words. “I wasn’t doing anything to you, Mr Logan, sir, I was experimenting with your energy. Remember how I said I deal with all energy except that of living beings? That’s because I can’t control my abilities well enough to not hurt living being if I tamper with their energy.” You stopped. You didn’t know how to continue explaining without possibly offending him.

“So, Logan,” picked up Charles, “since you’re someone who is beyond the risk of death, I asked her to try controlling your energy. It was supposed to be easier, more… convenient.”

Logan’s face had relaxed a bit, but he still looked confused and glanced at you for further explanation.

“Yeah well, in short, you don’t die and recover quickly and also have a lot of energy so you were the ideal candidate for me to practice on, but unfortunately I failed and ended up draining out all your physical energy for a short period of time,” you finished with a sorry expression your face, silently apologising.

“Why didn’t you tell me, professor?”

“Simply because you’d have spent more time asking where Jean is than actually helping in the experiment. Now,” he said, with an air of finality and dismissal, “if you’ll please leave, so that we can continue our conversation.”

You silently thanked the professor, moving to sit back down. Yeah, you had, like, a bit of a celebrity crush on him or whatever. So what? He was still intimidating and made you want to run out of the room (not before staring at him a little more). As you turned back to the professor, you were grateful the interaction with the legendary mutant was over, but you were also curious about something. Something that’d been mentioned throughout the conversation two to three times, and you felt like you’d already had enough of hearing.

Who the hell was - “Jean. Where is she though, professor? Haven’t seen her since yesterday.”

You swallowed, taken aback a little bit. Someone seemed to care about this Jean a lot. No one had told you the Wolverine had his heart set on some woman whose face you don’t even know.

Well, whatever.

“Jean’s on a mission with Scott. Now if you’ll excuse us, Logan?”

The aforementioned man grumbled something, then left after a quick, “Right, sorry.”

“I think we can resume our conversation now, no?” asked Charles, sipping a cup of tea, looking at you with a smile. Right as you started to nod, he said, “And oh, don’t worry – you’ll meet soon enough.”

Oh God, he can read thoughts. How stupid can you be?

Your embarrassment was only damped down by the mischievous twinkle in Charles’s eye and his swiftness to steer the topic of the conversation back to what it was.

. . . . .

It had been a month since you were here. A month filled with practicing extraction and infusion of energy relentlessly, all while trying to make at least a few bare-minimum acquaintances with your colleagues and the children you’re supposed to teach.

In some fields, you’d been making progress. Under Charles’s skilled eye, your abilities were sharpening quickly. Storm’s powers were similar to yours, so she would sometimes come and keep you company, sparring, chatting, lingering around. She was fun to be with – a good leader, but an even better friend. She was just the person you needed at this infantile stage of your journey to become an X-man. (X-woman? Whatever.) You’d even started teaching some of the younger kids, and they all seemed to be liking you, more or less.

There was also the not-great part.

Namely, Jean and Logan.

See, you knew you hadn’t started off on the best foot with Logan, seeing how you’d non-consensually (accidentally) drained him of his body’s physical energy for like ten or fifteen minutes, and so obviously it’d take some time for him to grow comfortable around you. Fair enough.

What wasn’t fair, on the other hand, was the fact that Logan was either in his room, or on missions, or teaching, or with Jean. Not-single, in-a-relationship-with-Scott, Jean. (Yes, you had noticed they were dating thank you very much.)

The person whose energy you were physically unable to be around, that Jean.

It seemed a cruel trick by fate.

You’d had a crush on him since forever, ever since you’d first seen him protecting kids on the news, and it wasn’t as if you wanted to fuck him or anything, no! (Although you wouldn’t be opposed to that.) But would it be wrong to want to be at least on talking terms with him? Apparently, yes. So you decided to just suck it up and carry on with your work. That’s what you were here for, that’s what you’d do; to hell with anyone who was a distraction to you.

. . . . .

Holy shit, working with these people was so difficult. It wasn’t the constant fights waiting to happen or powers waiting to erupt. It wasn’t even the fact that all this newfound energy around you, all the damn time, unsettled you heavily. No, you could get used to that.

It was their utter refusal to cooperate that was posing to be a bit of an issue.

You had asked Charles to lend you, for lack of better terms, a few mutants different to each other in terms of their abilities, so that you could practice.

So you had in front of you, the entire team – how were you supposed to not die of nervousness?

“Alright then, shall we begin? Any of you can step up first, whoever’s more comfortable,” Charles remarked quietly, observing from the sidelines the slight tremor in your arms and legs, coupled with the apprehension visible on the team’s faces. It’s a given, of course, the existence of the overall tone of nervousness. The team doesn’t know you too well, hasn’t known you for long, not even Storm.

You nod in response to Charles, signalling that you’re ready. For a beat or two, no one comes up. You stare at them, waiting; the moment you think Storm might step up, Logan strides forward and seats himself on the chair in front of you. You blink at him a couple times, not really expecting him to come up and offer himself for – for lack of a better word - experimentation so calmly when only a while ago he’d had a bad experience regarding the same thing?

Oh, well. It was a good thing, all things considered. You got someone to practice on, and it just so happened to be the person you’ve had the meanest fattest crush on forever. Works out perfectly.

So, on Charles’s cue and under the watchful eyes of all the X-men, “Logan, please close your eyes for a little bit.” As soon as he did, you started. You weren’t really trying to extract or infuse copious amounts of energy, just weeding out the bits of excessive power, that’s all.

But even though it seemed a small task, it had rendered you on your knees in only a few minutes, because a) energy extraction in living, sentient beings was not easy, b) it had only been your first or second time trying it and you were being extra careful, and c) Jean’s energy, constantly at odds with her own self, was distracting you more than you’d like. And you were concentrating, really, you were, but Kitty, apparently, was not, as she fell through the roof and on to the ground a couple of feet away from you. Her fall distracted all your momentarily built focus onto her instead, as you lost the thread of energy you had been constantly pulling out. The thread turned into a pool of energy before you realised.

You looked up into Logan’s eyes – yours were probably more fearful than his, but you still tried to give him some sort of reassurance. You could observe how quickly you were sucking up his energy; his skin was paling in an unnatural way, eyes drooping, but you didn’t know what to do. You’d learnt how to extract, infuse, and return the energy back. You couldn’t just skip the middle step, you didn’t know how. As you were scrambling to figure out a solution, a voice rang out in your head.

“Calm down. Think. The solution is what comes naturally.”

Naturally? What comes naturally?

Oh, right – your own energy. You could just infuse his energy with the tiniest bit of yours, and it’d work (most probably), so that’s what you did. You kept infusing and returning and repeating, but the amount of energy that had pooled out was so much that you were practically a cadaver by the time you were done sending it back.

“Are you okay?” you questioned softly, looking into the eyes of the man seated before you. You couldn’t muster your voice to be louder, so you hoped that your whispers and desperation were enough to convey to Logan what you were asking.

Tilting his head just a bit, he nodded, looking increasingly renewed and full of energy. You breathed a sigh of relief, finally stopping the influx of energy into his body and standing up.

The task had taken an unprecedented toll on you, what with the unexpected amount of work. So of course, the blood seeping out of your nose and ears wasn’t a surprise, nor was you fainting, unceremoniously falling to the ground right as a pair of arms gripped you.

. . . . .

When you woke up, you could make out several things right off the bat, without even fully coming to your senses - there were bunched up sheets digging into your back as your throat felt parched and scratchy. Needles pricked into your hands, slowly supplying glucose into your system, drip-by-drip. The air conditioning was making an unruly amount of noise. In the corner of the room, Logan sat on a stool, watching you with keen but tired eyes.

“You finally up, Bub?”

It took you a second to register he was speaking to you. The movement of his lips seemed a bit unfamiliar. “Uh, y-yes. I’m up now. Awake.”

“You feel fine now? Because you definitely don’t look the part,” he asked-or-said with the slightest smirk. At your consequent nod, he continued. “You looked the spitting image of a dead body when you fainted, ya’know? Had all of us scared, me especially, considering your decision to give me your energy or whatever.”

You tilt your head, confused. How did he know? “Did the professor tell you?”

“Damn right he did,” he drawled, getting up from the stool and walking to your bed.

You wished the slight increase in heart rate would go unnoticed. Just because you weren’t fully able to register your surroundings and connect the dots of what might’ve happened when you fainted, didn’t mean that you were also unable to register the veins in his arms as he folded them over his chest. God, that damn wifebeater of his -

“Hey, you alright?” As your eyes lifted up from his chest and arms to his face, you realised he looked sort of concerned. For you.

“Uh-huh. I’m good.” He nodded to himself, “Alright then. I’ll go tell the professor that you’ve woken up. You take some rest, okay? Don’t move from here.” With a quick dip of his chin, he turned, walking to the exit. Right as he was about to reach, you called out for him.

“Hey, Logan? Thanks for being here and keeping an eye on me.”

“Wasn’t even here that long, but don’t mention it.” You were sure you saw the ghost of a smile on his face before he left.

You were also certain that the sudden increase in heart rate did not go unnoticed by him, heightened senses and all. You hid your face in your palms, screaming silently.

. . . . .

After that day, things with Logan improved, however slight the improvement may have been. You’d gotten into a habit of greeting each other if you crossed each other in the halls and corridors, and if, by chance, both of you ended up at the breakfast table together then you’d have breakfast together too.

Did you still absolutely lose your mind over him whenever you saw him walking around wearing literally whatever? Yes. But there was also a sense of newfound respect you developed for him as you watched him work and train students. You and he often had to substitute classes, so you’d understood his manner of work and training. As rough around the edges as he seemed, he was still a very soft-hearted person, never going overboard on any of the children and apologizing immediately if he thought he did.

You were learning loads while working with him, and had to thank Professor X for that. So imagine your surprise when Charles called you into his office one day, and said “Congratulations, Vitality. You’re ready for your first mission, on which Logan will be accompanying you. He and Storm already know what is to be done, they’ll brief you. Now if you don’t mind, I have a class to take.” And with those words and a tiny smile, Charles sent you out of his office to embark on your first mission.

Your first mission, with Logan.

Oh God. You could absolutely scream.

Was this some kind of joke? How the fuck were you supposed to carry out such a nerve-wracking task with the most gorgeous man on the planet? Yeah you’d grown sort of comfortable around him, but not if you two were supposed to go to some remote place alone on the jet.

“Vitality?”

You turned as Storm called you, Logan lazily walking right behind her. “Yes, what is it?”

“Did Charles inform you of the mission?” “Yes he did, but I don’t really know the details.”

“It’s alright,” she assured, “just get ready to board the plane, Logan will explain everything to you on the way.”

. . . . .

The mission was simple. No fighting, just stealing. You had to go to some abandoned factory and take five vials of green-colored serum out of lots of multi-colored vials of serum. You’d asked what the serum was for, but Logan didn’t seem to know the answer himself, so you decided to drop it.

As you sat in your seat, belted in and anxious, you watched Logan. He was sitting beside you, curiously looking at the jet’s controls the same way a baby regards new toys. It was kind of cute. And also very distracting, because Logan looked very good in his uniform; you hadn’t ever seen him wear it before this, so seeing him in it was doing things to you.

“Have I got something on my face?”

You flinched, surprised at being called out. Refocusing your gaze, you were met with Logan looking at you with a crooked half-smile. “You were staring pretty hard there. Do I look that good in the uniform?”

You resisted the urge to maniacally nod your head and instead settled for a meek apology. “S-sorry,” you squeaked out, more breathlessly than you’d like.

“It’s alright, I don’t mind. Just didn’t think you’d be into old men like me, is all,” he remarked gruffly.

“Old?”

“Yes bub, old. ‘Ve been around for a good couple of centuries.”

Your eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. Sure, he aged slowly, but 200 years? You never knew. Before you could continue the conversation, the jet landed in the middle of the clearing.

Both of you silently made your way inside the factory, no words exchanged, just vigilant gazes keeping check of everything around you. But even though there was no threat - nothing tangible, at least - you felt on edge. You were sensing a mixture of otherworldly and downright disturbing energies from various places within the factory, so when you finally reached the room with the vials, you couldn’t have been more thankful.

With a silent look of understanding, Logan went in and retrieved the box containing the vials you needed. Mission complete.

But as you guys were walking out, you bumped into one of the racks and another vial - deep purple - fell and broke right onto your shoulder. Logan turned to you with alarmed eyes. “What the hell? You’re not hurt, are you? Does it burn or something?” You quelled his worries and insisted to keep moving. After all, it didn’t burn your skin, nor did it harm you in any physically visible way, and it was an obvious assumption that the leak of energy from your body could be addressed in the jet.

Unfortunately, you were incorrect. Despite going to the jet even faster than you guys had made it out, significant amounts of energy had started seeping out of you.

Gasping, you said, “The serum probably had something to do with capability retention, that- that’s why I’m not able to maintain control.” You plonked down onto the jet’s floor, uncaring of the way the machinery around you rattled.

Logan hurried to you, cradling your head and making you look him in the eyes. “What d’ya need, bub, huh? Tell me, tell me.” “Energy.”

He frowned deeply, confused. “Energy? Yours?”

Your eyes had begun rolling to the back of your head; you were about to pass out. Shaking your head aggressively, you clarified, “No, no, just- any energy works.”

Logan couldn’t understand. How was he supposed to give you energy, when yours was slipping away so fast? His lack of comprehension was annoying you. You whined, pulling him closer, hugging him completely.

Skin-to-skin contact, the best way to get energy.

As you basically situated yourself in his lap and hugged him like a koala in an attempt to gain back some kind of energy, your half-coherent brain could not register the rigidity of Logan’s body for the first couple of seconds, instead misinterpreting it as refusal to help.

“Logan, please, I need you,” you borderline sobbed, shifting in his lap to make yourself comfortable, nuzzling yourself in your neck.

“W-wait a second,” Logan said shortly, trying to comprehend what was happening. He could see that the energy leaks were decreasing, but God. This was uncomfortable in ways that weren’t exactly bad; it plagued him with guilt.

Oblivious to the workings of his mind and delirious due to the serum, you grabbed onto his arms, wrapping them around your waist, trying to get even closer. Tsk-ing, “Why can’t I get close enough?”

“Darlin’,” Logan mumbled, voice a couple of octaves lower and blood rushing south, “calm down. ‘M right here, you’ll be j’s fine, promise.” He rubbed soothing circles into your back, attempting to placate your restlessness.

You lifted your face from the scruffiness of his neck, pouting as you looked up into his eyes. “Please Logan, this isn’t enough.” And God, he could not resist that face and that expression and that goddamned voice of yours, dripping with sticky-sweet honey and whining. So like any sane man, he did the only thing he could to get you both closer.

He grabbed a hold of your jaw semi-gently, making you look up at him. Once your eyes were finally focused enough, he leaned up to press his lips into yours. The kiss wasn’t exactly supposed to be chaste, but with the speed you opened your mouth and demanded entry into his with your tongue caught him just a tiny bit off-guard.

He pulled back, watching you gasp for air. “This close enough for you?”

You shook your head, shifting yourself further and attaching your mouth to his, determined to get the closest you could.

. . . . .

As you once again regained your senses on the infirmary bed, you could make out several things right off the bat - there were bunched up sheets digging into your back as your throat felt parched and scratchy. Needles pricked into your hands, slowly supplying glucose into your system, drip-by-drip. The air conditioning was still making an unruly amount of noise.

And of course, in the corner of the room, Logan sat on a stool, watching you with keen eyes. “You alright there, darlin’?”

You gulped, your throat feeling like the Sahara desert was in there. You’d damn well have spontaneously combusted hearing him call you ‘darling’, only you hadn’t forgotten what you’d done in the jet a couple days ago.

“I-I’m good, Logan. Are you okay?”

He smiled. “Never been better.”

You exhaled shortly. “Good, tha-that’s great.”

“Sure is.”

You tried to breathe quietly. You felt you breathed too loud. Especially in a room with Logan.

You were nervous.

“You like Italian?”

Looking up, you were met with the sight of Logan, fiddling with his jeans pocket. Cute. “Sorry?”

“D’you like Italian, bub?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Great. Wanna try that new Italian place in the city? Scott wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Sure, yes. I’d love to,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your smile.

“Right. It’s a date then, love.”

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tojivu · 8 months

Note

Megumi and reader after a two week separation because of megumis mission. He admits that he almost died to reader and talks about what happens after.

empty spaces ⋆ megumi fushiguro

an. argh sorry i got carried away LOL

cw. sfw, gn!reader, comfort + fluff

playing. bills by enhypen.

the bed's been useless these past few days.

it's as if the weeks have been drawn out, the universe adding new hours to each of the days so they're longer than they should be — that's what it's been feeling like.

you refuse to sleep in the master bedroom. the pillows next to your head smell too much like your boyfriend; hints of mint shampoo linger and enter your nose as you try to sleep, but ultimately fail to do so.

megumi's been gone for a bit now, and you haven't gotten much news, either. yaga's always talking about classified information and how 'the public shouldn't be concerned with jujutsu affairs' — anxiety pits in your stomach because why couldn't he just tell you whether your boyfriend was dead?

you try to distance yourself from places in the house that remind you of him, incase he's really gone this time; you believe it'll make things easier for you, but it feels as if someone's cutting away at the vessels closest to your heart whenever you imagine it — imagine megumi's body laying lifeless as they transport it back to tokyo.

megumi's never been gone for more than 3 days, especially on a mission. he's usually quick with it, coming home with a cut or two on the arms or face; it'll heal just fine, because he always asks you to take care of his wounds.

you usually sit on his lap as you bandage him up. he winces at the sting of the antiseptic, his fingers gripping harshly at your waist and then you'll tell him to sit still — he never listens, gets all grumbly with furrowed eyebrows — until you clean him up and put on the last bandaid, kiss him over the piece of clear film (and maybe an extra on the lips, if they aren't bleeding too); it's only then he finally shuts up.

you wonder how long you'll have to sit together on the kitchen island this time, if he comes home, that is — you don't think you'll mind the back and arm strain this time. you just want to see him.

"relax," gojo reassures over the phone. "he'll be back soon."

those words mean nothing to you. he's been gone for 14 days now, and he hasn't called — his location hasn't updated, either, you think he must've broken it during the fight or something.

a few sentences are exchanged between satoru and you, before your finger taps the red button at the bottom of your screen; unsatisfied doesn't, couldn't, describe your current thoughts — you were enraged that that was the only piece of information that was provided.

it takes a few hours for you to calm your thoughts. they make your head spin and heart sink, jump around like marbles on clean linoleum and deafen the shows you play on television.

you're watching megumi's favourite drama, which happens to be your favourite drama, too — he was the one who introduced it to you. you're seven episodes in when you hear the front door creak open; so loud that it reminds you to get the hinges replaced.

megumi was supposed to call the guy. it's clear you might have to ring him up yourself, now.

you wonder if it could be nobara. she didn't tag along with yuji or megumi, and you've been ignoring her calls for the past week or so — she must be here to give you a good lecture.

you hear faint groans and bags dropping to the floor, close to the entryway. you aren't greeted by a loud "[name]" as you usually would by nobara. a shiver travels down your spine, hairs on the back of your neck beginning to stand.

you throw the woven blanket off of your body and to the side of the couch — the socks on your feet lubricate your steps and you almost trip with how fast you make your way to the door.

"[name]," his voice calls, rasp voice barely reaching your ears. "i'm home."

megumi's lip is bloody, bandages wrapped over his right eye and around his head — his left arm and leg had some cuts, as well; but those seem to have scabbed already.

you want to call his name, but nothing comes out of your mouth; only a small whimper before your lover is wrapping his arms around your torso. "sorry i was gone for so long."

the pit in your stomach is gone now, almost instantaneously — instead, you begin to sob into megumi's jacket.

megumi feels the guilt but the comfort of having you in his hold overpowers it. if it didn't, he was sure he would be tearing up, too; he never liked seeing you cry.

"megs," you sniffle. "i thought you were—"

"i almost did," megumi cuts you off. he didn't want you to say those words, though he knows being a sorcerer had his fate sealed — but it didn't mean he wanted you to know that. "but i'm alright, see?"

megumi smiles down at you, as if it didn't hurt to move the muscles in his face: they stung like small needles, but he sees the relief wash over your face like a splash of cold water — so he thinks he can put up the act for a bit longer.

"you're all bloody," you mutter. "can i clean that for you?"

you point at his lip and he nods, wincing at your finger that tries to inspect the cut a little closer — it's a familiar feeling: your delicate fingers treating him like glass.

megumi's standing in front of you, and you're sitting on the kitchen island so you can actually reach his face. he lets you do your thing and he's fighting every urge to kiss your lips; he knows the cut will only get worse.

"i don't want you to go missing on me like that," you say. "never again."

"i won't," he assures, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt as you continue cleaning his cuts. "can't die yet."

"ever," you correct. "don't plan on dying, ever."

"i'm not immortal, [name]."

"that's not my problem to fix."

he smiles at your attitude — megumi might really have to figure out a way to become immortal now — freeze the cells that are dying in his body before his bones get too tired to move, stop the pigment in his hair from fading.

"okay." he breathes, hands finding their way around your waist — he taps your legs to open wider to let him fit between. " but you'll have to be immortal too, then."

"why?" you question. "i don't go around killing myself to chase curses."

"when you die, i'll be lonely," megumi explains. "need you to fill the empty space on the bed."

you laugh, trying to think of a witty comeback — you were still upset at your boyfriend for going MIA — but the look he's giving you makes it difficult not to give in.

"is that the only reason you're dating me?"

"maybe," he lies. "i didn't buy such a big bed for nothing. can't let it go to waste."

you gasp, too dramatic to be real — you put the gauze down and give him a stern look, and he lets a giggle slip through his lips before you get to nag him again.

"i'm just kidding, baby," megumi begins to kiss your frown away, pressing his blood stained lips to yours. "i love you for far more than that."

and it's just like that that you melt at megumi fushiguro's words — his red lips and blushed face making your heart skip more beats than humanly possible.

"whatever." you continue to feign anger, yet your arms are still wrapped around his neck. he knows your attitude will last for at least a week.

his lips hurt, and he thinks your hard work has gone to waste with the way he's peppering kisses all over your face.

your hands find his jaw and you lead him into an actual kiss, and you realise he tastes like antiseptic — a little blood in the mix, too — but you can't really complain.

"i'm serious."

you wonder if it's megumi who fills the void you have, or whether it's you who fills his. whether that be in the form of empty beds or an empty house, you know for certain that everything feels off without him — missing like a centre puzzle piece.

"i know," you run your fingers through his rough and matted hair. "i love you too, megs."

"think you'll have to wash my hair for me, too."

you shake your head. "probably has lice."

"we'll have lice together, then." your boyfriend shrugs his shoulders.

"that's so gross, megs," your face sours. "you're such a romantic."

200124 — WHY IS THIS SO LONG DAMN

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi x reader fluff #megumi comfort #megumi x reader comfort #jjk comfort #jjk megumi #jjk imagines #jjk imagine #megumi imagines #megumi imagine

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bookworm-with-coffee · 1 year

Text

Sleepless Nights. . .

(Fili x Reader)

(A/N); Hey, readers! Thank you for stopping by to read this!! You can probably tell that this was a "lying in bed whilst cold" idea. Cos let's face it - we all want to snuggle a Dwarf. Enjoy! ❤❤

Plot; Bedsharing drabble

Pairings; Fili x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; if you like sweet fluff - you'll probs need a dentist, sexual themes / implied smut / brief scene (18+)

__________________________________________

The last light of the day had finally descended behind the horizon when the Company had finally set up camp for the evening. Although the wind of the evening was soft, its chill bit down to the bone. For the Dwarves of Thorin Oakenshield's company, this was not the case.

The Dwarves had thick, hardy blood from their upbringings and many winters spent within the Blue Mountains, making them immune to what they considered a light evening breeze. Gazing at their merriment, you found yourself envious of their indifference to the elements whilst you sat close to the crackling embers of the campfire. You had no such resistance in your blood. Your homeland was mild and warm, the summers being considered hot. None of the furs and clothing you had brought with you were enough to combat the chill of the nights in this part of Middle-Earth. Snuggling into your blanket that you'd draped over your shoulders, you sighed. You prayed that the cold evenings would cease or that you magically gain resistance to the elements over night. These were only the first nights of the quest, and there would be hundreds more. Bombur's hot stews only gave temporary relief, not being able to stop the suffering you felt in your nightly attempts to sleep restfully.

Night after night now, you'd slept horribly. In your futile attempts to rest peacefully, your sleep was light and consistently broken with your trembling. In the mornings, you'd been feeling drained and sore from being curled so uncomfortably in your bedroll. The Company had sensed your quiet and if they'd seen your exhaustion, they'd kept silent about it for your sake. Thorin Oakenshield was a hard man to please, still remaining unimpressed with your presence, like that of Bilbo's. He'd made it clear to the both of you that you were not to be liabilities on the Company. There would be no stopovers in cities, only the dangers of the wilderness. Despite Thorin's hardened will towards you both, you'd grown close with the Hobbit and become quite fond of him. His soft, kind nature had inclined you to feel more protective over the smaller man. However, Fili and Kili saw it as a point of exploit for their mischievous teasing.

There had been many wails and cries from the forest, heard within the evenings, some even managing to startle Thorin himself. He never rested easy either, to your understanding. "The Orcs must be getting restless", Kili mused beneath his breath, knowing that Bilbo was within earshot. The Hobbit had worriedly glanced around the quiet camp. Kili fought his grin, sharpening and cleaning his blade with careful strokes.

"I wonder how long it'll be before we come across them? Or how long it'll be until they find us?", Fili sighed nonchalantly. Your brows furrowed in distaste at their jesting. This was the second time over the course of the week that they'd done it, Thorin telling them off on the first time. It was your turn now.

"Don't listen to them", you chided Bilbo, sparing half a glare to the younger Dwarves as they sniggered to themselves. "They're just trying to be funny". Bilbo sighed, setting his bedroll next to yours,

"Don't you worry that they may be right??".

"No". Your flat answer and shrug surprised not only Bilbo, but the two mischief-makers across the fire. "We're in a camp full of Dwarven warriors armed to the teeth", you elaborated, eliciting smug brow raises from the Dwarven Princes who eavesdropped. "Their pained screaming would probably alert us so that we could escape". The Hobbit found himself chuckling at your addition, the two Dwarves quickly losing their smugness. Despite that, they found themselves in admiration of your fiery wit and sense of humour; Fili especially. He remembered your meeting in Bag End, when he protected you from Kili's food throwing. Although, you really didn't seem to mind it at the time. Both Dwarven Princes had taken to you quickly, despite their Uncle's coldness to you. You had been kind to them since the moment you'd met, carrying many hilarious conversations and jokes on the journey thus far. A smile curled onto the blonde Prince's face whilst he lit his metal pipe, his eyes dancing over to where you and Bilbo prepared to sleep. The Hobbit turned to you,

"Are you sure you want to sleep so close to the fire?". Pulling your blanket closer to your shoulders, you nodded,

"I'll be fine". Bilbo couldn't help his concern. One turn, and you could easily catch fire. He hadn't realised it, but you'd been trying to sleep closer to him each night, praying that some warmth might leech onto you. Even that had become futile now, this becoming your last resort.

Shuffling down, you started to make yourself comfortable for the evening. A soft hum left your lips once you settled, the deep warmth of the fire reaching your frozen limbs effortlessly. Fili watched in curiosity, as he'd done for the last few nights thus far, unbeknownst to yourself.

He'd noticed the paleness starting in your face, the way you constantly needed to stretch your limbs as if they were weak, tired and sore. You'd also developed a soft darkness beneath your eyes, seemingly more tired with each day's passing. Something was wearing you down. He even thought of telling Oin that you were unwell, Kili refusing the idea. If their Uncle caught wind that you had a sickness, he would leave you in the nearest town for care, unable to risk the safety and health of his kin. Kili was positive that it would pass. Yet, Fili wasn't so sure. Seeing you now trying to curl up to the fire after countless nights of lying extremely close to Bilbo had him worried that you had caught chills from a disease. That slowly, hypothermia may take you. Your eyes fluttered closed, unbothered by the world, Fili's brows creasing with worry.

"What is it?", Kili whispered, noting his brother's expression with equal concern.

"Something isn't right", he replied underneath his breath, eyes drifting to his counterpart. Kili's lips pursed, eyeing your form from afar.

"Agreed. She strays further from being herself every day, growing more exhausted".

"I wish I knew how to help her", Fili sighed. "But, she is silent about whatever this is. Maybe Oin—".

"No", Kili halted him. "I don't think she's sick". The blonde's brows rose, encouraging his brother to elaborate. Yet, before he could, a figure had crossed the camp.

"No, I've seen enough", Dori hushed his brother Nori, turning to your figure on the floor. "(Y/n), pardon me for disturbing, but I can't take this any longer". Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gazed up incredulously at the pompous Dwarf you'd also grown fond of. Dori had begun to fuss over you in previous days, ensuring that you were eating enough. You appreciated him and his motherly nature, yet now you weren't so sure.

"Dori?", you questioned, a brow quirking in confusion.

"You need to move from the fire right this very instant, lest you wish to burn yourself alive!". Sighing, you rubbed at your eyes.

"Dori, I'll be fine—".

"No!", he cut in harshly, silencing you. His eyes seemed to plead with yours, clouded in concern. "You'll catch alight being this close and I will not allow it!".

"Dori, please", you begged, the exhaustion in your voice softening his eyes. "I'm freezing. I'm cold—". Before the argument could get around the camp, Fili marched forward. He now understood why your nights had been sleepless. It all made sense. You were cold. He'd almost forgotten that you'd come from a more tropical part of Middle-Earth.

"Dori", his stern voice seemed to break the resolve of the older Dwarf. "I'll handle it from here". In his crystalline gaze, there was a surity and a sense gratitude for the other's efforts. Dori conceded hesitantly, sparing you a sympathetic glance before he parted. You came to dread the Prince's presence, grumbling to yourself in frustration. He was going to ask you to move as well, wasn't he?

"(Y/n), just move aside from the fire a moment".

Not wanting any more fights, you huffed, coming to a stand. The evening air attacked your form, your lower jaw beginning to tremble. The comfort of the fire was no more whilst you settled not too far from Bilbo. You curled painfully in your blanket, forcing your eyes to close. Fili had a sense of relief within him. You weren't sick, thank Mahal, but, he wouldn't let you suffer it out anymore.

In your numb, painful state, you hardly noticed the Prince setting his bedroll beside your own. He slid down, increasing the cold you felt when he lifted your blanket from your form. Your eyes shot open in a form of shock, your body tensing and covered with goosebumps. Instead, Fili set the blanket with his own, creating a double-layer blanket. Not only did the Prince cover you, but himself as well, shuffling closer to you. "Fili", you breathed out his name, your teeth beginning to chatter. "What are you doing?".

"It's okay", he murmured with a softness, wrapping you under one of his larger arms. Heat seemed to pour from Fili, his barely clothed form alike to a furnace. "Can I move closer?".

"Please", you shuddered, the Prince obliging quickly. Your arms came to wrap around him, the cold of your hands resting on his back seeming to give him shock.

"Mahal, you're so cold", he mumbled, curling his head over yours to comfortably have your head in the crook of his neck. You huffed harsh breaths, your body slowly becoming used to the warmth enveloping you. His large hands were like branding irons on your clothed skin as he rubbed circles over your arms and back, his hair masking your face from the cold. Once you ceased your breaths, your trembles coming to fade, he eyed your face for sickness. "Are you alright?".

"Yes", you sighed, nuzzling into his chest. "Thank you". A soft smile splayed on his face, relieved to see you no longer in pain. "Please don't leave".

"Just sleep", he encouraged, running his hand over your hair. "I won't leave you". There was a gentle compassion in his crystalline gaze that completely mesmerised you. Your tired gaze finally closed, fully trusting the kind Dwarf. Sighing in contentment, your body relaxed for the first time in many nights. Fili's heart thrummed like a lullaby close to your ears. His soft breaths were calm and steady, repeating in a blissful loop. It wasn't long before your breaths evened out, his callouses running gentle caresses over your cheek. And despite how he usually stayed up later, Fili allowed his eyes to come to a restful close as well.

The following morning came quickly over the horizon, your eyes fluttering open to find soft breaths fanning over your face. Fili's expression was peaceful whilst he slept, his arms holding you flush against his form. His legs had tangled with yours in your shared unconsciousness and you found that your muscles and bones no longer ached with inflammation. It had been the best sleep of your life.

With him already awake, Thorin's ocean gaze scrutinized your tangled forms from afar, yet said nothing. The rest of the Company didn't share his response as they rose for the day.

"You were awfully quiet for two people that bedded each other", Dwalin had teased, earning a disappointed look from Balin.

"Can't have been that good in bed then", Nori commented playfully. Gandalf had shaken his head at their antics.

"I was just keeping her warm!", Fili had defended, the Company laughing in their amusement.

"Aye, I believe that", Bofur conceded. "But, with or without yer pants on?". The blonde glared, sparing only you a sympathetic glance.

"Did you sleep well?", he asked, slipping his coat on over his tunic.

"Yes, thank you", you grinned, your muscles no longer stiff and your face no longer like death. Fili matched your expression. "I'm sorry about them".

"Don't be", he chuckled, shrugging. "They're just jealous". Some part of you felt as if you'd never sleep that well again. You knew Fili was doing this as a one-off and it saddened you. However, you would not waste this energy while you had it. You'd relish in it, even if it was for only one day.

Bombur had made a hot breakfast, rehydrating dried meats, cooking eggs, tomatoes and frying the mushrooms Bilbo had picked in the woods yesterday. Dori had set you aside a plate, ensuring that you had enough sustenance to carry you throughout your day. "I'm sorry", the older Dwarf planted himself beside you. "For everything". You turned to him, feeling the regret in his gaze.

"Don't be. I was lying too close to the fire. You cared for me, like Fili. Thank you". Dori offered you a smile of warmth, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"It's alright", he assured you.

As the day progressed, Ori had offered to knit you an extra blanket. Thorin didn't like the idea of his scribe forsaking his job for you, however, he understood why. Compassionately, he'd offered you his coat instead, which had shocked even his nephews. You didn't wish to deprive Thorin of his source of warmth, thanking him kindly, but declining the offer. The days were growing warmer, you'd noticed, but the nights were less promising.

The evening approached all too quickly, the late afternoon winds carrying a chill. Eagerly, you'd awaited Bombur's rabbit stew, courtesy of Fili and Kili's hunting skills. Ori had approached you whilst you ate, wrapping a scarf gently around your neck that he'd knitted post-haste for you. "I know it's not much", the young Dwarf fumbled. "But, I hope you like it and that it keeps you warm". You smiled, causing his expression to light up before you offered him a side hug. Happily, he obliged.

"It's more than I deserve, thank you, Ori". Dori smiled at your interaction, clapping his youngest brother on the shoulder in gratitude when he returned to his family. Bofur had taken to giving you his hat, lowering the flaps over your ears to keep them warm.

"Keep that safe for me, Lass. Can y' do that?". You grinned at his friendly demeanour, nodding.

"Thank you, Bofur".

"Was the stew hot enough?", Bombur asked with some insecurity. It occurred to you then that word had spread fast around the camp about your more tropical background.

"Beautifully so", you'd assured him to his delight. Oin had even taken to offering you a tea he'd made from chamomile flowers and honey-dipped sage for more peaceful sleep and happy muscles.

However, you dreaded only being with one blanket as the cold front moved in. You'd set up your bedroll as the trees rustled up above. The stone-covered floor beneath you matched the cold in the air, stealing the warmth from your form as you attempted to settle for the night. Steps approached your tensing form, the blonde Princeling aligning his bedroll with yours again to your surprise.

"What are you doing?", you whispered, eyes darting up at him in alarm. A soft laugh rumbled in his chest whilst he settled in with you.

"What does it look like?", he bounced back. "I told you I wouldn't leave you. I meant it". He offered you a lopsided grin that made your heart do backflips. "How close you snuggle up to me is entirely up to you". And despite his cheekiness, you didn't refuse his kind embrace, that same compassion twinkling in his icy blue gaze. His hot clothed skin met your own, a sense of bliss travelling into your very soul at the soothing feel of it. He adjusted Bofur's fluffy hat, ensuring Ori's scarf was also adequately covering you.

"Thank you", you hummed, almost gasping at his callouses trailing up and down your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"It's alright", he murmured, his chin resting upon your head in contentment. Some part of you prayed that he'd never stop sleeping beside you like this.

To your delight, it became a nightly ritual. Most times, no words had to be expressed. It never mattered how involved in a conversation Fili was, he would always follow you to your slumber whenever you decided to sleep. If he was on nightwatch, he would hold you in his arms, bundled into his lap. It was in the quiet hours of the night in which Fili allowed himself to admire the evenness of your breaths and your restful expression. Sometimes, he would lay soft kisses upon your forehead when he was sure you were entirely asleep. Slowly, he came to the understanding that he was becoming taken by you.

Guilt had begun to fill his heart over time. This was an entirely innocent act and yet, Fili felt as if he had tainted it. You had no idea about his feelings and if you did, would you still allow him to be so close? To hold you with the hands he desired to do so much more with? He found it was selfish to keep you so close, feeling that you deserved more than him.

It mattered not when danger struck the Company.

First, it had been trolls who'd taken to stealing the ponies for their meal, before putting yourself and the Dwarves on their breakfast menu. But, with the coming of Radaghast the Brown afterwards, Fili realised there were far worse worries than the trolls they'd faced or his impure thoughts.

Wargs with Orcs astride were hunting you all and there was nowhere to run. Adrenaline carried the Company across a field littered with boulders. "Ori, no! Get back!", Thorin exclaimed, pulling the younger Dwarf back against the fifteen-foot boulder your group had begun to pass. Sweat beaded down your forehead, eyeing Thorin for further instructions. It was Gandalf who instructed you to keep moving instead. "Come on, come on, quick!!", he ushered everyone along. Fili stuck close to you, pulling you with an iron grip to ensure you kept up. You never fought his touch, holding onto his larger hand whilst your legs burned amidst your sprint.

"Where are you taking us?", Thorin had ground out in his suspiscions, eyeing the grey wizard who declined to answer him. The howling of the Wargs was enough to heighten your anxieties, alleviating your pain, pushing you forwards. Radaghast's cries of laughter descended over the hills ahead, alerting you all to the nearby Orc pack. What you weren't expecting was to see Radaghast leading them in the hills right ahead of you. The Dwarves were lead to a sharp left, you all ducking for cover beneath a boulder. Thorin pinned Bilbo beneath his arm and against the boulder face, doing a headcheck to make sure that everyone was accounted for. Fili had you pinned behind him, his large twin-swords drawn. Thorin admired his nephew's instincts to protect those weaker than himself. Not that you weren't a capable fighter, you just weren't as seasoned as the Dwarves. Dwalin growled beneath his breath, his axe at the ready. Ori clung to your arm, holding on for dear life. All of your breaths, despite wishing to catch them, shallowed as the jaws of a Warg gnashed menacingly above. Thorin's ocean gaze darted to his youngest nephew, armed with a bow. Panic leapt into your throat. You would get caught, you knew that. Your mouth opened to protest, but Thorin had given his orders. Kili stepped out from beneath the boulder, firing true between the Warg's eyes. This was not enough, to everyone's surprise. The Warg and his rider tumbled to the floor, the Dwarves striking hard and fast. Your face had screwed into a cringe, the wails of the two hellish creatures echoing throughout the hills. A moment of tense silence passed before a foul tongue was heard on the wind, Gandalf's gaze snapping to the hills ahead. Howls began to echo in the landscape, the wizard shouting, "Move!! Run!!". Your feet hit the ground, Fili pushing you forwards, ahead of himself. Noticing that Bilbo was lagging behind to your right, you gripped onto the Hobbit, pulling him with you.

"Ori, quick!!", you ushered the smaller Dwarf that flanked your left.

"I'm trying!", he gasped, gaining on your lead.

"There they are!!", Gloin yelled, pointing to your far right. You spied the many numbers they had, your heart battering within your ribcage.

"This way!", Gandalf called, looping you further left and down the yellow hills. Thorin was faster than the rest of his Company, taking the lead ahead of the grey wizard. Yet, it was all for naught. Thorin's arm stopped your group, growling at the Orc riders dead ahead.

"There's more coming!!", Kili shouted, arming his bow to fire.

"Shoot them, Kili!! Shoot them!!", his Uncle ordered with urgency. You drew the sword on your waistbelt, holding it in a defensive position.

"We're surrounded!!", Fili proclaimed, only a few yards ahead. The enemy had completely enclosed the Company in. And you were all heavily outnumbered. You darted forwards to help build the front lines, Fili catching you in his peripheral. His strong arm outstretched, catching your smaller form. "Stay behind me!!". The sternness and desperation lacing his voice whilst he held you back was almost terrifyingly different to the softness he usually offered you.

"I'll fight with you! I can fight!!", you argued.

"No!!". His voice dropped an octave. "Flank the others. Protect them. Let me protect you!". His eyes pleaded with you whilst he gently shoved you back. "Do as I say, (Y/n)!". Fili was a seasoned warrior. With so many enemies, you may be the Company's last line of defense. Kili shot arrows effortlessly into the wind, the other Dwarven warriors falling into a panic.

"Where's Gandalf?!", Dori shouted. Now that you looked around, running to regroup with Bofur, Bilbo and Thorin, you didn't see the wizard anywhere. Dwalin flanked your right, responding hatefully,

"He's abandoned us!!". You panted, watching to your horror as Ori took the first line of defense, shooting his slingshot weakly at the leader of the pack to no avail.

"Ori!!", your cry broke the air, Thorin charging forwards from your left to join the outer circle with his nephews.

"Hold your ground!", he screamed, Dwalin and Bofur lingering with you to protect the others. Readying yourselves for a difficult fight, you all jumped when hearing the voice of the wizard you'd all come to love so much.

"This way, you fools!!", Gandalf yelled, seemingly within a ditch in the rocks. It was your best chance. Everyone knew it, not hesitating to sprint in the opposite direction, towards the boulders.

"Come on! Move!!", Thorin barked, ushering Bombur, Fili and Ori ahead of himself. Kili had not stopped holding his ground courageously. "All of you, let's go!! Move! Move!!". As per Thorin's proclaimations, you helped Bofur, Bilbo, Balin and Dori into the ditch below. Meanwhile, the King skillfully struck down the Wargs that attempted to foil your escape. Oin, Gloin, Bombur and Bifur slid down, one by one. Dwalin grabbed ahold of you, once assuring himself that Fili, Nori, Ori and Thorin were near enough.

"Let's go!", he'd shouted, dragging you down into the darkness below. Eagerly, the Dwarves below attempted to catch you both, cushioning your rough fall successfully. Quickly regaining your foothold, you held up your weapon in renewed fervour.

"Kili!!", Thorin shouted, still not descending until all of his kin were accounted for. Gandalf helped keep track of that, having counted you all as you fell in. Ori and Nori had come tumbling into the cavern, everyone pulling together to break their fall. Nori pushed Ori behind himself, growling with a primal fury. The two Dwarves were followed by Fili, Kili and finally Thorin. Dwalin and Fili fronted a defense in front of you, the latter tucking his arm behind himself to cover you.

Instead of the onslaught you'd all expected to follow, a horn broke the air, hooves breaking the softer ground above with thunderous steps. An onslaught had begun, just not involving the Company. Metal clashed in the fields above and arrows flew, an Orc tumbling into the cavern with one piercing his chest. You all were ready to fight the creature, sighing in relief when you found it to be deceased. Not satisfied, Thorin ripped the arrow from the Orc's chest to examine its make. "Elves!", he spat, throwing it aside distastefully.

"I canny' see where the pathway leads!", Dwalin called out, having now moved ahead from the group. "Do we follow it or no?!".

"Follow it, of course!!", Bofur responded all too eagerly, pushing his way through the crowd his kin had formed. The Company didn't wait for further orders, Nori leading his brothers behind Bofur and his cousin and brother. Balin followed suit with Kili at his side. Gloin and Oin followed after them. Thorin's eyes darted between Gandalf and Bilbo with an unreadable amount of frustration before following his kin.

"I think that would be wise", Gandalf agreed with some lighthearted amusement. You breathed a sigh of relief, placing your sword back into its scabbard. The Company had survived, you were all alive. Fili waited for your steps to follow his own before moving forwards. Bilbo lingered with the wizard, their steps falling far behind your own.

"Are you hurt?", the Princeling asked, his gaze travelling over your beautiful body for any signs of injury.

"I'm fine", you sighed. "In need of a lot of rest. And you?".

"The same", he assured with an amused huff. You were all finally safe, having landed in the realm of the Imladris, better known as Rivendell; the home of the Elves. You had always wished to visit these lands, having read about this place only in legends.

The rays of the setting sun reached over the cliffs of the Valley. It provided a dim, natural lighting of a golden orange. Upon seeing the water that flowed freely through the small and beautiful city, your body craved a bath and a new set of clothes. Sweat and dirt had matted your clothing heavily, creating an unpleasant stink and stickiness to your skin. Thorin was in no way impressed about being in Rivendell over the next few days. Yet, most of you couldn't care less.

You all had descended the stone steps, having an Elf by the name of Lindir greet you upon entry. Gandalf had asked for an 'Elrond', a name you had read only in Middle-Earth's greatest history books and legends. Lord Elrond Half-Elven. And it wasn't long before he showed. He and his men came astride many stallions, surrounding the group of Dwarves that shoved you and Bilbo into the middle of their kill-circle. You had been relaxed all along, realising that there was no harm intended. The Elven Lord was kind beyond words, greeting the wizard as a very old friend. He had looked upon your group, noticing how weary everyone was. Without hesitation, he offered food, his house and all its amenities to you all. You didn't hesitate to thank him on the spot, Dwalin and Thorin rolling their eyes at your good manners.

"You are most welcome", Elrond had assured you with an inclining of his head, Gloin's words having been quickly forgotten in your kindness.

The day's passing seemed slower in Rivendell. You didn't feel rushed as you rinsed yourself in pouring water to remove any and all dirt before soaking in a premade bath. All of these amenities were in your room, the silk curtains closed for your privacy. The water seemed creamy, smelling floral as it softened your skin. Steam rose from the water, being just the right temperature. A clean dress had been set on your bed along with a night gown. You used the exfoliating oils on your scalp, rinsing out the sweat and dust once you had left the bathtub. The dress the Elves had been kind to leave you was a soft baby blue, sheer with many layers. The sleeves and underdress were silver silk that clung to your arms comfortably.

When you arrived at dinner, the Dwarves noted your sweet scent. You'd definitely bathed and left your hair loose to dry. Despite being offered a seat at Elrond's table with Thorin, Balin, Bilbo and Gandalf, you chose to sit with Bombur, Dori, Ori, Bifur, Gloin and Fili at their smaller table. You sat between Ori and the space on your left where Bofur sat at the head of the next table. Fili had eyed you from the moment you entered the terrace. Silken silver and sheer blue. It was a breathtaking combination on you. You sat across from him, the sun hitting your back and giving you an ethereal halo. His mouth went dry, but it seemed he wasn't the only Durin in the state of infatuation. Kili had eyed the harp-playing Elf-Maid, her delicate fingers tracing over the strings. He even offered a wink which faced scrutiny by Dwalin, seated across from him. You hadn't noticed Fili's gaze whilst you ate, watching as Kili further humiliated himself at his table. The blonde Princeling had taken his lower lip between his teeth, resisting the impulsive thoughts that raged like fire within his mind and blood.

Dori had trouble trying to convince Ori that salads were good. So you joined, coating some of his salad with the light citrus dressing on the table. "Dressing makes it taste better", you encouraged the younger Dwarf.

Dwalin seemed to disagree with your words, searching his plate frantically for even the smallest traces of meat.

Bombur wasn't fussed, stuffing his face without a care. "Change the tune, why don't you?", Nori groaned eventually. "I feel like I'm at a funeral!".

"Did somebody die?", Oin echoed, his deafness making his counterpart harder to understand. Nonetheless, a change of music was in order and Bofur was happy to oblige. He clambered onto a stone platform to your own surprise and had started singing the merriest drinking song that you'd ever heard. The Dwarves all seemed to know it, clapping and banging on the table, Thorin seeming to tap the floor happily in rhythm. Bofur leapt around, offering you a friendly wink and smile whilst he danced with not a care in the world,

"So, the cat and the fiddle played 'hey diddle-diddle', a drink that'll wake the dead! He squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune! And the landlord shook the man in the moon, 'it's after 3!', he said!".

The song came to a crashing conclusion, dinner becoming a foodfight fest amongst the Dwarves. What mattered to you most was that they were all here, able to be merriful. It was a lovely dinner, however, Elrond and Lindir were unimpressed with their guests' manners. With good reason.

After the festivities of dinner, you had chosen to retreat from the terrace on your lonesome to the Dwarves' disappointment. You wished to explore the Elven libraries, whilst the Dwarves took to wreaking havoc on the Elves' pantry. They stayed in a small room, all together with many chairs, a few beds and just their bedrolls.

Night had finally descended upon Rivendell, the evening seeming milder to you. Thorin, Balin, Bilbo and Gandalf had all disappeared for the evening with Lord Elrond, nowhere to be seen by anyone for many hours now.

The moon shone through the curtains of the Dwarves' shared room, exhaustion having taken them all after their post-dinner snacks. The fire they'd made in the center of the room was now dying into embers. Snores were heard for halls beyond, the Dwarves draped both comfortably and uncomfortably over furniture, the floors and the bed. Fili was curled up by the bedside table within his bedroll. He'd bathed and washed his clothes, setting them to dry over the balcony railings, wearing the soft brown tunic and pants he'd brought as a spare. Everyone was dead asleep, yet his eyes were wide open. Even Kili, who had his limbs twisted in many directions on a hard chair had fallen into a slumber. His mind drifted to you, pondering if you were sleeping soundly or not. Despite how he should've been glad to not be sharing his space for a few nights, Fili found himself distraught. He'd gotten used to hushed words being shared before sleep would take you both. He got used to the feel of you within his arms. Your nightly embrace felt right, your bodies snuggled together perfectly. Although he'd never admitted it, Fili had slept better since having you beside him. The Prince realised that he missed you. Packing up his bedroll and abandoning his belongings, Fili crept past the sleeping bodies of his comrades, beginning to wander the halls in search for your quarters.

________________

Bodies molded together in passion, hot breaths mingling. Kisses were like fire upon the skin, strong arms holding you to the mattress in your shared pursuit of pleasure. One could only wish, you thought, placing down the book you'd tried to read in your attempt to relax and sleep. When your thoughts drifted to passion, Fili's expression and tone of voice came to mind. He'd looked at you on the battlefield like nothing else mattered, your skin still feeling his hard grip. The deep warmth of his skin and his callouses often had you fantasising on what a heated night would be like with the Princeling. It had tingles building between your legs. Aside from such thoughts, your mind had drifted to him. Fili must've been glad to be without you for a few nights, surely. He had not the faintest clue of your fantasies whilst you shared soft whispers and warm embraces during the colder nights, nor the feelings for him dancing in your heart. You missed him, unable to chase sleep without his arms around you. Heaving a sigh, you stood from the chair in which you'd perched, your nightdress falling to your knees. It was strappy and hemmed with lace around the chest and ends. It was a pure white colour, sheer with an underdress. The colour matched the silken sheets of your bed, you finally lifting them to climb in. You had to attempt sleep. In the dimness of your room, your mind raced, thinking back on the few handmaids that had tended to your room earlier in the evening. They pondered to you about your supposed partner, noting Fili's glaces and protectiveness over you. You had assured them that he was just a friend. You were you and he was a Prince. He could never—

"(Y/n)?". Your head lifted from your pillow and snapped to the open curtains at the front of your room, the blonde Princeling eyeing you from the doorway. Your eyes had widened in surprise, hardly expecting his company at this hour.

"Fili! I—", you fumbled, trying to cover yourself with your sheets.

"Don't!", he'd halted you. "It's fine, I don't mind". He wasn't exactly dressed properly either, you noted. His tanned tunic hung loosely around his broad figure, the first buttons undone to reveal his chest. The sleeves had been rolled up to reveal the strongly built muscles of his forearms, wearing nothing but a pair of pants with a dagger attached to his leg. "I came to check on you", the Princeling's voice softened amidst his confession. "I wanted to see if you were safe". Seeing you like this had him at a loss for words. Your smile made you seem relieved to see the Prince, and perhaps you were. His eyes seemed heavy with thought, coaxing your next question.

"Is something wrong, Fili?".

"No, no", he assured, offering you a smile. "The lads are keeping me up with their snoring. I was actually wondering if I could stay with you for the night?". You matched his expression amusedly.

"Of course", you nodded, beckoning him to join you. "I'd actually like some company tonight".

"Makes two of us", Fili sighed, straying forwards to your bed. Climbing in on your left, his eyes lit up with gratitude. "Thank you, (Y/n)". His body heat had radiated outwards once he'd settled in beside you. And despite how you weren't the slightest bit cold, you still felt drawn to his warmth. Fili had moved his body closer to your own almost out of instinct, lying so close that you could see the curves of his lashes and the depths of his kind gaze. "Are you alright?". The way you'd withdrawn from the terrace on your lonesome and your sleeplessness had the Prince worried that the Warg attack had unsettled you.

"Better now", you assured, a content sigh leaving your form. "Are you holding up okay?".

"Better now", Fili mirrored with a fond smile. "I feel like I can finally get some rest now, at least".

"Likewise". His brows knitted together in confusion, silently asking you to elaborate. "It was different, trying to sleep without you next to me tonight".

"You missed me??". Fili's heart had begun to hammer within his chest, his courage slowly dissipating with every breath he took. Trying to avoid getting any of his hopes up, his crystalline gaze monitored your expression for any signs that you may be uncomfortable.

"I've hardly slept a night without you since this quest began, Fili. It's hard for me not to miss you". His lips parted, brows raising in slight shock at your confession before he murmured,

"I missed you as well". His eyes had grown sadder, as if harbouring some guilt. "It's also why I chose to come here. I sleep better when I'm next to you".

"Me too", your hushed whisper barely left your lips before you pressed them to his softer ones. Fili's eyes fluttered closed at the contact, his heart having leapt into his throat. His heated hand found your waist, slowly tipping you onto your back with him hovering over you. The beads of his braided beard hitting your face tickled and shocked you with their cold, the kiss becoming devouring, his tongue working into the wet cavern of your mouth whilst your hands wove into his golden mane. His kiss had you seeing stars when his lips retreated from your own, trailing down the base of your throat in soft, searing touches. Fili's hand gripped the delicate material of your nightdress, declining to remove it without permission. When his lips reached your collarbone, his head lifted to tease you, pressing a feathersoft kiss to your forehead instead. Spindling his braid between your fingers, you smiled cheekily up at the Princeling, "The lads will definitely know something's up now. We'll both probably never hear the end of it". A soft laugh rumbled in his throat. Something told you that he didn't really mind the idea.

"We probably won't", he conceded, raising his brows almost suggestively. "But, maybe we should give them something to tease us about?". Heat traveled to your core, noting how his fingers began to thread into the material by your waist. You saw the glint of dark mischief playing in his gaze whilst it danced over your features.

"I quite like that idea". Your response coaxed him into resuming the heated ministrations that he was desperate to continue.

___________________

-- Extended Ending --

When the first light of the morning sun rose from over the cliffs of the valley, the soft light poured into your open room. The sheer curtains moved with the cool breeze, encouraging you to worm yourself deeper into the hot embrace of your lover. A delicious ache remained between your legs, reminding you of the previous evening's delightful happenings. You could still feel the hard grip he had when he'd parted your legs, the tingles from the desperate kisses you'd shared whilst he pumped rhythmically into your core, the smiles both loving and devious; and the way the heavens descended to the Earth when he'd helped you reach your high. Fili had held you afterwards, grounding you from the dizzying pleasure, cleaning you up and pressing sweet kisses across every inch of skin he'd been privileged to see. You truly didn't care for the vulgar sounds that slipped from both your lips the previous night, sighing contentedly in the embrace you shared with the Prince. As if being called by your thoughts, his crystalline eyes opened, blazed with an admiration and a laziness. They traced the features of your face, his callouses working imaginary patterns on the skin of your bare back. Brushing your messed fringe from your face, his lips finally pecked yours lovingly. A sigh left through his nostrils blissfully. Nothing could make this moment any better than it was...

The sound of steps stumbling into the room caught your shared attention, a distraught and exhausted looking Bofur standing in the doorway. "Just lettin' ye know that breakfast is ready", he grumbled, rubbing at his head. "And that the whole building heard y' last night". The both of you pursed your lips in restraint of your laughter, Bofur remaining unamused. "I had to try and sleep to multiple horrifying renditions of a Warg's call. Scarring t' say the least". Bofur forced a smile before leaving, "Glad t' see ye slept well, at least".

When his steps faded, the dam broke loose, your shared laughter pouring from your very hearts. Fili laid back, a shiteating grin on his face. You had to wipe at your eyes that became tearful with amusement.

Maybe this moment had just gotten a lot better?

The End . . .

__________________________________________

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#fili x reader #fili x female reader #fili durin x reader #fili #fili durin #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction

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rowretro · 2 months

Text

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

(picture found on tumblr)

✧Warnings: Violence, detailed ghost and gore, blood, a horror themed yandere story, dead bodies, possibly creepy dolls?, mafia demon Won (coz he has a gun in the pic, and I need him to be a demon in this story)

✧Synopsis: Y/n never found herself having to hide in her sweet penthouse, her $500 bottle of red wine spilled out of her crystal wine glass, the stunning door many envied, bloodied and broken. She found herself running, running into danger yet again... and the police were on a search for her, as she's now a missing person case. But Jungwon was on a hunt for her, making sure his darling is safe at all costs.

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

Y/n's blood ran cold. one last audio recording of her discoveries on day 7 of surviving. Surviving what you ask? she doesn't even know what to call it. It's eyes blank white, blood surrounding it's pearly eyeballs, running down it's cracked porcelain skin, dried out, it's long hair, everywhere it trails. She learnt not to touch it or it'll immediately sense she's there. It couldn't see her, but it could hear her. it could hear how her blood pumped through her body, her somewhat heavy breathing but it never knew where she hid. She was in an abandoned school.... a University known for it's paranormal sightings. She'd ran into many bodies, of those who tried to escape, some were streamers, reporters who willingly walked into the death department, others seemed like students who tried to escape.

Yet somehow she managed to find out how to kill it... the monster. Finding random letters a woman named Angela Xiao wrote till her death. Y/n examined how the monster's nails went from plain dead, to growing, blinding white nails. The day time was when it was most safe, it never came out in the late, but y/n remained wary. But now it's winter. The nights longer than days, darkness lasting long. She couldn't remember the last time she slept soundly with her only worry being waking up late when she has a morning lecture.

She figured the monster wrote those letters, it was once a woman, forced into an abusive marriage with a man that hurt her always, until he had it, ripping out her ligaments whilst she was still alive, as the woman screamed bloody murder, according to the random news letters in the cold dead hands in some reporters. There was some talks of a kid's ghost that lurked the hallways too. Her heart ached for this woman, but she had to get rid of this.... cursed being. perhaps perform an exorcism?...

She found a lighter, checking if it'd still blaze up, unaware of her surroundings, when a sudden, gut wrenching, ear-piercing scream shook her. There it was, the monster. Not expecting anything to happen but at least slow the thing down, she set it on fire, running off and hiding. but it kept screaming in agony, its body burning up, as it disappeared to ashes.... Y/n's eyes grew wide as she saw a much prettier woman in the form of a ghost, staring around at the bloodied mess, looking quite hurt... It saw y/n, and left behind a key....

It was the key to get out of this place physically. Hopeful yet extremely cautious, she picked up the key. The sound of clinking, echoed the empty hallways, not too far. That can't be right... she hid in the closet, watching as the shadow grew bigger. Her heart dropped at the sight. another one? she wondered as she saw the porcelain mannequin, walking robotically, its hair looking like an elegant wig a woman's love to wear, a red bow tied around it. the strappy red dress looked like a dress she had worn to a friend's frat party.

Those red glass heels looked as fragile as it's ceramic, glossy skin. "I know you're in here human... I can smell your yummy blood... oh don't be shy come out! it'll only hurt a little... I just wanna tear you open and eat your insides whilst u scream in pain!" it said with an eerily sweet voice. She calmed her breath, hiding well, she saw its face. pupils black, lashes drawn on, like a man had made himself a pretty wife in the 1950's, except it looked creepy, sure it possessed the beauty standards one'd expect in a woman, that were so unrealistic. but it's mouth area was broken off, and it's bloodied teeth, with some skin evident in between.

"Come out dear girl... I can see your dark hair.... what such pretty skin you have there......" she commented as Y/n swallowed hard. "THERE YOU ARE!" it screamed as y/n felt herself giving up, reaching for the blade to end her sorrows so she wont face the pain. as it's cold hands grabbed her shoulders, and opened its jaw revealing many rows of bloodied, long sharp teeth, y/n couldn't help but scream. Yet it dropped dead. glass shattering, soul arising from the shatterred, creepy mess off porcelain and disappearing. Y/n breathed heavily, as she finally cried.

"Fuck it's ok, its ok.... I'm here y/n...." a familliar voice said, Jungwon, the sweet boy in her class, the man she had a crush on.... but... he looked different. Gun in hand, black, featherred wings that had sprouted out his back. She backed away, repeating the word no, scared he's just an illusion. "shh shh.... I promise it is me.... I've been looking for you everywhere.... I didn't know that the curses still lived on earth- but trust me, you're safe with me.... look me in the eyes sweetheart." he said as y/n did so. and she immediately felt his sincerity.

As the police bought her story, and discovered the many dead bodies, they pinned their target, the man who started the curse of course, The man who had killed his wife and child. To the police however, he was a psychotic serial killer who killed every one there brutally and had gotten away with it for dozens of years. Y/n was in Jungwon's home, getting a little used to his demon abilities, and his dear friend Jay who casually sipped out of a blood bag before her. Jungwon could feel she was scared.... god it hurt him that she was so shaken up, in such a condition for about a week.

But he loved it, he loves how she grew so dependant on him... How she dragged him with her everywhere, how he helped her shower, delicately scrubbing the soap on her soft skin, wary of the wounds and cuts. He's loving how she's currently snuggling into his embrace, dressed in one of her short yet comfortable nightgowns, needy for his reassurance. See if something like this never happened, he couldn't have gotten her attention..... The haunting was all that was needed to get her to love him... And he will make sure she'll forever love him. She has no choice, only he can protect her, and only he can love her....

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

A/n: I'm gonna have nightmares for picturing this- but I hope u enjoyed, comment how u feel, and if u want me to make it up to you w a fluff- or maybe smut idk yet(shoot me w some requests, ill try)

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Text

TOWER OF BABEL (VII)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VIII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.4k

WARNINGS: Angst, intense stalking & stalking behavior, talks of death/injury, toxic modeling standards/expectations, dark implications, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scar descriptions, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: This is where some of the more serious/dark aspects come into the story involving Seraph's job and the pressures that are put on her. It's only implied in this chapter, but in the next, it'll be talked about more. Just to let you all know.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The day after your meeting, your gifted clothes came to the lobby of the penthouse.

You’d gone down with Nikto and picked up what you could, bags and bags of designer goods including purses, makeup, and jewelry. It was excessive—like Fedorov was trying to buy your silence; buy your affection so you’d cozy up into bed with him.

This job tried you every day, but that was a line you would never cross. Never.

Still, the items needed to be taken and packed for the trip regardless. Eyes would be on you from the moment this adventure from hell started until it ended in what hopefully was a peaceful fashion.

But you severely doubted it would be anything close to peaceful.

You take another gray dress and slip it into the garment cover, legs folded on the floor of your living room as you hum under your breath. Music wafts out from your record player, and you’re desperately trying to focus on the task at hand. Nikto reads from the couch.

“Have they called you yet?” You ask, not looking up as you slide the cover’s zipper, missing it once as your hand shakes unexpectedly.

The Russian responds with a slow and even, “Нет. No calls.”

You sigh, licking your lips.

No one had been telling you what was in that last gift at AMA—not even your mother. Aly had said it was probably nothing when she’d been briefly over to assist with the clothes, on a tight break in her schedule, but you weren’t too sure of that.

Pale eyes blink slowly, and a page turns. “No use thinking. Pack.”

“You make it sound like it’s that easy,” you huff, body leaning back and spine resting against your various rugs. The penthouse was warmer today, and you wear comfortable loungewear; shorts, and a dark baggy t-shirt. Your head shifts, arms out beside you. “How are you so calm about everything? My heart feels like it’s constantly going to break out of my chest.”

Your phone goes off on the coffee table, a short buzz that has to be either your mom or Alyona. Rubbing a palm into your right eye, you hear the bear grunt and close whatever he was reading, finding it pointless to try and focus if you continue to speak to him.

He stares for a moment, hidden face a mystery you long to solve. With a tap of his finger on his thigh, he explains.

“Training,” you blink, intrigued. Nikto seems to notice, tilting his head and looking down at you. “You are scared, Woman, yes?”

“Of course.” You had no trouble admitting it. “Anyone would be.”

“In military,” the air of the penthouse moves with the weight of his broken words, the rough bleed of vocals. You really did like his accent—it just added so much to his already intimidating form. Just a stack of bricks being constantly grated against one another. “We were taught how to become used to it—the adrenaline. Fear. In the end, it held little over many; failure was the only fear that never left.”

Your brows furrow, lips frowning. “You fear failure, Nikto?”

You expected a blunt refusal, quick words. But the man had been softening to you over the time you’d known him—if that was your own doing, or something more, you can’t quite tell anymore. Any talk on soulmates has feld you like a rabbit in a dark wood to shy away from the looming presence of something bigger; parties and scorned maniacs.

You still wonder if ignoring the gifts was the right thing to do. Would that make it worse? You think you’d read about that somewhere.

A trigger. But the stalker had already pushed one of those, hadn't he? What could he do that was worse than killing three men? Mutilating animals?

Nikto surprises you.

The man blinks, not looking away from your pleasing eyes—even now, your pupils were small with anxiety; he’d noticed how you adamantly avoided social media and the news, plastered with your pictures and the case. The window had never been opened fully since he’d been here, only a creak of natural light slipping from the crack of the half-risen blinds.

For a gruff beast of action, his eyes missed nothing.

“Yes,” he grumbles, blinking away for a moment before his attention returns. “But it is…lesser than what you feel. Незначительный. Minor.”

A small smile flickers your lips, skull to the ground even as it aches slightly.

“I like it when you speak to me—it helps,” you mumble honestly. It wasn’t flirting, not really.

The Russian looks slightly confused at your sentence, but that doesn’t stop his shoulders from minutely tightening. You chuckle, shifting your head to the ceiling where your little bits of painted glass hang.

“Nikto,” you point upwards. “That one—the bird. What color is it?”

This was a game you’d taken a fast liking to. You’d point and ask the color; Nikto would answer.

“Red,” is his monotone reply after a glance. Eyes from behind his mask shrouded in dark paint. You doubted the face grease could come off anymore, the chemicals already bone deep.

“I thought it was orange,” you sigh. “I still can’t tell the difference.”

“Obviously,” is the dryly amused response, with you glaring without venom and putting your hands to the ground to help push you back up.

“Hey,” you try to hide your teasing smirk. “I’m getting better at it—”

Your voice is strangled off as a sharp inhale, eyes blinking rapidly, and your vision blurs in a moment of ricocheting pain flaring in the base of your skull. Snapping one hand to the back of your head, you strangle down a small scream, reducing it to a whimper of utter agony.

Neck bending forward, your mouth fills with saliva as your spine pulls in, yet you can’t even focus on that. You feel like if you even have a single thought, your brain will explode out of the back of your head.

Nikto startles, eyes widening, but he doesn’t waste time on shock. Feet already rush over at the slighted change in the air, a hand grasping the base of your neck tightly, attention snapping into place. Your breath puffs as your frantically moving face tenses and eyelids twitch. Your nerves were on fire.

The Russian watches, confusion and a certain unease striking him through his pounding heart. What had happened? One second you were speaking and the next your body was so steel-like it shook harder than he’d ever seen it.

“Seraph,” he barks, face close to your head, looking at the spot you grasp at with your visible knuckles, the sound of your gasping pants leaving his throat echoing with reverberations of unease.

Nikto pulls at the skin of your wrist, peeling your hand back before you draw blood, trying to assess what to do. He only sees it then.

It’s a rabid-looking thing, the scar. With your hair as such, your fingers stuck in the knots, they’re pulled back just perfectly to see it. Pale blue eyes stare unabashedly, struck dumb for a moment in their concerned sheen.

It spans from the base of your skull upward, a jagged bulge of healed tissue and fissures—the shade of skin is different there, hyperpigmentation just as Nikto had. Halfway up the back, the rough line breaks into two places, creating a ‘Y’ with the one nearest to the right stopping sooner than the other.

But it was deep. Deadly-like. An indent lives at the middle point.

For someone so in tune with the ways of the body, Nikto was horrified and fascinated at the very implication; how had you…survived this? Your entire skull might have been broken open from the force of whatever had happened, judging by the strength needed to achieve such brutality. Was this the injury that you’d been speaking about?

An overwhelming emotion takes him by the lungs.

Your body had scars just like his did.

Form curling even farther forward, your legs pull into you, and Nikto finds that at the moment, none of that even matters.

“Seraph,” he orders again, equally as urgent but noticed less sharp. His thumb curls your wrist to trap itself at your pounding pulse; running as if being chased by whatever nightmares he hears you whine from in your sleep.

You swallow down your bile with a clicking of your throat and a small cough, eyes stinging.

“Burns,” your lips whisper, lids closing firmly. “God, my head burns.”

It’s a brief thought—a small moment of slip-second thinking that had saved his life many times.

A chilled palm spreads itself over the back of your head, directly over the broken fracture of flesh, without an utterance of a word. The effects aren’t immediate; you don’t just calm down and stop panicking. But it helps. Like a light in the dark, it helps.

After a minute, the chill seeps into your bones. It goes deeper and deeper, the large grip of Nikto’s fingers stuck into your hair perhaps a little harder than they needed to be, but you weren’t about to complain at the pressure. After two minutes, your panting slows to a small ragged wheeze—feeling like a sick duck as your beady eyes finally open. You see the unblinking pale orbs directly to your right almost immediately after the abyssal dots go back to wherever it was they came from.

He doesn’t speak; you didn’t expect him to. Nikto was arrogant, prideful, but he never spoke unless he knew he had something he needed to say. A blunt hound who never hesitated to bark, but only when he could see something was up in the tree.

When you’ve seemed to calm down, the hand on your wrist leaves with a brush of rough gloves to the skin, making you shiver. You notice the hastily tossed material of the matching product, belonging to the other limb, near your knee.

Cold fingers. Cold hands. A corpse would be jealous, but you’d never felt so thankful.

Nikto studies your face rapidly, and your raspy voice levels out a meek, “Sorry.”

Barely visible brows furrow tightly, almost disgusted. You perhaps misinterpreted that expression the wrong way, because just as you’re about to rush into a wild explanation as to why, how, and every excuse you can give, you’re once more taken off guard today.

Bulky arms circle your waist and under your vibrating knees.

With a sluggish reaction, you blink rapidly as you’re settled against the hard Kevlar of his chest—kept firm in his grip. Your legs hang, hand stabilizing yourself on Nikto’s pec.

“What did I say?” He asks heavily, looking down at you as your shock bleeds away to focus on how to calm your heart. “Seraph?” Nikto prompts, his fingers digging into your clothes.

You try to think, stuttering, “You don’t like it when I apologize.”

“So do not,” the Russian grunts, clenching his jaw out of sight. His words are low, and he rolls his shoulders. “That is the end of it.”

He sets you down on the couch, sinking into the multiple plush pillows. You feel weak—limp. Not looking into the man’s eyes, you curl your hands around your waist, leaning back and being careful to not hit your head on the back.

Nikto watches with hidden concern.

“Explain,” he utters, not moving an inch from in front of you. It’s a minute or so before you can find the words. All the Russian does in that time is shift his arms over his chest—fix the stance of his feet. You can feel his eyes like a knife, but you can’t feel how his brain is on high alert; vigilant to any pain that may be hidden from him.

“Happens sometimes,” you whisper, one vibrating hand coming up to lightly run over the back of your skull. You trace the scar softly, feeling the pulse underneath. “It’s just… sensitive.”

Nikto’s eyes narrow.

After a pause, where it’s obvious you feel some sort of embarrassment judging by your avoiding gaze, the great beast sighs long. A slow blink makes his dark lashes up and down.

He hated how he despised that look on your face.

Moving, Nikto sits beside you, leaning back with a grunt and extending an arm behind you on the hardwood of the couch’s frame.

“Tell me. I want to know.” You side-eye him, knees pulled up to your chest. It has a distance to it, your focus. Everything feels like it’s underwater.

“It’s not a good story,” you force a broken huff, smiling wobbly. Numb eyes don’t waver over the lines of your face.

“No,” Nikto bluntly says. “I did not expect it to be. Nonetheless…” he trails. “I am asking if you are willing to answer.”

It wasn’t like you were against saying what had transpired, but there was a lot of history there—so much. The event had happened when you were young, so many years had passed to a point where the mental pain of it had dimmed to all except the consequences. The aftermath.

This was a give and a take; you consider yourself a fair person.

“How did you lose part of your finger?” You turn it around, licking your lips and staring at his neck. The man’s body stills at the question.

Nikto slowly loosens a grumbled scoff. But it isn’t a feral thing. Perhaps he was even impressed that you had the forethought to gain something of his story when you’d already told so much of yours.

He reminds himself once more, not dumb.

“Very well,” Nikto’s head tilts like a wolf, his knee hitting the place where your feet hang over the edge of the cushion. He looks you up and down as his finger taps the wood behind your head. “Second year with PMC. Operation in far-off country—we do not care to remember which anymore.” You listen, heart calming with every scrape of vocal cords. Nikto explains slowly, thinking over every word carefully as his vision trails to rest at your nose. “Hostile hiding under floorboards.” The Russian rolls his shoulders. “I was reaching down to grab at the hatch; it confused me because it was partially open.”

Your body lightly turns his way, the side of your skull meeting the hard build off the inside of his forearm. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, getting everything under control again one second at a time. As if a book, you turn the pages of Nikto, painting a picture of his tale, oblivious to the way his eyes are stuck on your face. His arm stays completely still for you.

He longs to look at that scar again, and he can’t understand why.

“...Large knife came up through the wood. Cut it off and damaged the others near it. It is numb most days. Barely can tell I still have finger. Very inopportune, but all was not lost.”

“What wasn’t lost?” You hum, sighing, and open your eyes again. The Russian’s gaze darts away.

“I killed him,” he says numb-like, a vicious smirk in his voice. “In the end, it was only us who could tell the story, yes?”

“Does it hurt?” You change the subject back to his scars, liking how his forearm acted as your pillow. You could feel his tendons as they pulled.

“Sometimes,” Nikto shrugs at your quiet question, thighs over the couch cushions. “Like all the others. Natural.”

He doesn’t need to ask if yours do.

You dwell on what he insinuates about his body—the scars you already thought he’d have; why he wears that mask.

“I fell,” you share, not letting a long silence linger. Nikto’s feet shuffle on the floor, but otherwise, like a waiting cat, he was completely beholden to your soft voice. “Far. Cracked my head open on a rock.”

There’s so much more to it—but this is the version you always tell everyone. It’s less…complicated. Gets you less looks of pity, even if you’re not sure Nikto is the type to do that.

The large man hums, nodding. He wants to know more; he’d have to look into it further on his own. “You are lucky to be alive after an injury like that.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, lips twisting. “Lucky.”

Your skull pulses.

“But, anyways,” you wave a hand, locking gazes. “Thank you.”

Nikto’s knees crack as he stands, moving away; his heat leaves. Hands situating themselves at the collar of his vest, the Russian’s throat rolls with a noise of acceptance.

“It is my job. Do you require anything?”

“I think I’m okay,” you admit, feet delicately moving to the rug on the floor. It’s back to packing, pushing this to the back of your mind just as you do the remembrance of his fingers tight in your hair; tight at your wrist. Nikto’s hard voice in your ear, saying your angelic title.

Your throat clears itself, blinking, as you stand.

The man takes it as lightheadedness, one foot moving closer. Your hand raises, and he stops. A small chuckle moves out of your mouth, side-eyeing him with a crinkle to your lids.

“I’m okay, Nikto. Trust me, please.”

He sighs, fingers twitching. But he doesn’t grumble any blunt vitriol, he just watches. Always watching.

Your spirits are lightened by his presence.

Brushing down your t-shirt, you close your eyes and shove away the memories, tiny tingles of pain still present as they go up and down your spine.

“Now, we have to get to work,” you brush past the episode, used to them. “It would be helpful if you lent a hand, Big Guy.”

Your joke leads to a huff, fingers taking back their book from the table—all in Russian script, so you didn’t know what it was—and a roll of eyes.

“That is not my problem. Your clothes, your parties.”

“The parties you’re going to have to go with me too,” you smirk, eyes glimmering as you grasp your phone, flipping it over to turn it on and look at the text you’d received. “I hope you like suits.”

Pale eyes widen before a growled Russian sentence wafts over the music from the recorder. You laugh, already knowing the contents of curses and refusals. He was so much like a child sometimes it takes you aback. A brute, utterly refusing what was in front of him and owning a short fuse.

“Oh, calm down,” you blink, signing into your phone. “I’m good at finding clothes as long as you tell me colors and shades. You’re in the best hands in the business, Nikto.”

“Do not say it like that,” he barks, eyes narrowed and his body moving forward to pass you, most likely to go back to your bookshelf and return the book, seeing as he’d get nowhere with it now. “I do not want your hands, Whelp.”

“You’re saying that now,” you tease, pointing with your free finger. “Everyone says that before they have a taste of—”

“Quiet.”

You laugh, spine lightly bending forward, and Nikto’s back turned to you to where you can’t see his face soften at the sound. His body unconsciously loosens, orbs gaining a distance that has nothing to do with his condition. Your existence is a curse to him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It’s only after you’re able to calm down, the Russian putting his book away with a large hand, when you finally look down at the text you’d gotten.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

‘I sent you a gift and you didn’t even open it?’

Your face freezes mid-smile.

‘I’m giving you everything you wanted—you didn’t open the letter I gave you in the grocery store, either, did you? I waited for hours for you to show up! Hours for you! I’ve waited YEARS to be near you! I love you more than anything in my life and you’re ignoring me? How can you do that when I’ve risked so much? Please, Seraph, I love you but you’re breaking my heart—I’m trying so hard to be kind to you. Please, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Это любовь с первого взгляда! Я не могу жить без тебя!

I’m trying to forgive you, my Сладкая, I promise. I’ll always forgive you, but let me show you how much you mean to me.’

Images pop through, scent quickly as your glee stiffly drops like glass to the floor. You’d never felt yourself go so still as when you’re halfway through the block of text and you see yourself at the grocery store, alone, and Nikto’s shadow disappearing around the aisle. More—so much more. You in AMA...in…in the photoshoot wearing nothing but the lingerie, skin on full display.

Your eyes flood with tears, jaw open.

He had been in that fucking room. He’d been there when your manager had brought in the dead birds—he, he had…

He’d been right there.

You can’t speak, you’re only looking down at the continuing barrage of photos.

Outside of the Consulate building, walking down the street, talking with Aly on a girls outing from months ago. Your phone vibrates with every one, quivering hands already moving but now more so. Like a rabbit being hunted down. It shows an escalation—the more you see the closer this freak was getting in each, slowly slinking with vile intentions until the last.

An image of the direct back of your head, a hand reaching, and almost touching, exactly where your scar lives.

You’re going to vomit.

The entire device is snatched by gloved fingers.

Nikto glares in confusion, ears twitching at every buzz of your phone. “What is wrong with—”

The man is suddenly more wound up than a dog under a noose.

Rushing past, you only reach the kitchen trash can two seconds before your bile rocketed from your mouth, heaving what little you’d managed to eat of Nikto’s cooking into the bottom with a tight sob.

Nikto’s hand holds the thing—reading, looking, with dead eyes. Dead eyes that gradually become enraged with a certain type of anger that breeds in silence. The skim, a ruthless finger tapping the screen and dragging the conversation back to the top before he stares. He stares and stares and stares at the pictures. At you.

The way you live your life, oblivious to the threat right behind you. Stalking closer.

Nikto can’t remember a time he’s felt so angry at an enemy before. Not just an enemy, no, an animal. This wasn’t like the rules of war, this was for pleasure; for a selfish need. He knew how to keep himself separate—had to for his sanity—but this was something no one could not get wrathful at. Even him.

He hears you wretch, vomiting into the trash just below the island where he’d made the both of you lunch, the choke of your sobbing breaths. The sounds make his hands tighten over the phone, to smash it to pieces like a toddler with a block castle.

And then the device buzzes one more time as Nikto silently finishes reading the first text you’d been sent.

‘Don’t worry about the bodyguard, Seraph, I can take care of him, too. We can finally be together, just like it’s supposed to be.’

Nikto is hitting the call button before his brain catches up to his finger.

Slotting it to his covered ear, he breathes like an afflicted hound, eye buggy and chest rattling with air. Panting echoed from behind his mask, the hot breath moving back to warm his slashed and burned flesh.

It picks up on the second ring, but nothing is said. No words from the other end.

In the corner of his eye, Nikto sees you hyperventilating. The former soldier speaks entirely in Russian, slipping back into his native tongue as easily as he slips into violence—it is nothing more than a slide of sandpaper.

“I am going to watch the life bleed from your eyes,” he grinds out. “And then I’m going to make your corpse wish it had been set on fire instead.”

Nikto hangs up, tossing the phone to the coffee table and making a mental note to get Yaromir and Galina to trace the number. Stomping over to you, your body was away from the trash now, hand to your mouth.

“I’m okay,” you say hurriedly, tears tracking your cheeks. “I’m okay.”

“You are not,” Nikto wishes he could go to the shooting range—wishes he could spar and slam someone down to a wrestling mat. He needs flesh under his fingertips.

The Russian’s chest is wide and rising with the pulse of untamed lungs. The bulge of his pecs stuttered over their course and the old scars he carries itch under the barrier of his gear.

Growling, the man clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head to the side firmly.

But there was something about the implication of you being threatened that made Nikto need to feel the weight of his service weapon in his grip. To feel the recoil of a bullet being sent into someone. A nameless figure; a silent phone call.

Nikto scoffs, rolling his neck and shoulders.

Thinking like this was making him reckless.

“I guess I should have told you about the letters, then,” you taste bile on your tongue, images swirling in your head—paranoia was firm. Suddenly, every memory was tainted. You gag on your saliva, coughing.

Nikto doesn’t respond to the self-deprecating comment.

Once more today, hands move to touch you, pulling at the space under your arms and lifting. Blinking, you’re moving around when your feet are flat on the ground—hands going to rest on the edge of the counter behind you.

Nikto’s hands stay stuck at the meat of your limbs, great head tilted. Eyes lock on the tear tracks spreading down your skin, and he pauses.

A thumb slowly pushes at them, spreading the liquid along your flesh as your blurry vision stays at his neck. With a shuddering inhale at the unneeded attention, your head lightly sags forward—connecting with Nikto’s chest.

He tenses, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

After a minute, his nose releases an unheard sigh, and his arms lower to his sides.

Nikto lets you rest there as long as you need.

—

You’re in the bath tonight, and Nikto listens to the water sloshing as he pushes the envelopes around from inside the lockbox.

It was safe to say you hadn’t gone back to packing.

That woman, Alyona, was here—she’d made a big fuss about the texts before she’d taken you with her and led you into the bathroom to clean yourself up. You were both in there now—talking. Nikto wasn’t going to act like he wasn’t eavesdropping; he didn’t care if your friend or you knew it. It was mostly about the parties, the talk, and the Russian could understand that Alyona was trying to occupy your mind.

His mission was more important.

You’d passed him the box and watched as Nikto had retrieved the letter from your coat pocket. The former soldier had already called the investigators and promptly told them to arrest Sergi, or they would have him to deal with—there hadn’t been time to respond before he’d hung up and smashed his phone to the nightstand of your rented room. The resounding echo had made both parties in the bathroom go silent for a minute before hesitantly starting back up.

And now, there was the scratchy English script of a stalker in his hands. He felt disgusting even touching them; he was glad he’d put his gloves back on. A permanent sneer was stuck to his hidden face like a curse, eyes narrowed.

Standing, the man trades weight from his thighs as he reads the letter that had been stuck in your jacket.

‘My Сладкая,

This is the one-hundredth letter I’ve written to you, though you haven’t been sent all of them yet. I’m still waiting for you to notice me, and I’ve grown disquieted by your response to the way I disposed of your three guards. Was that not what you wanted every time you looked at me?’

Nikto’s hand comes up to rub at the fabric over his neck, digging until he feels the bulge of his scar against his fingertips.

‘I thought you would be thankful, but now you have that man following you everywhere. He took your doves from you—the doves that were supposed to make up for the misunderstanding about the dead men. You looked beautiful with the red fire moving over your face that day, you know? It caught every curve and the softness of your skin perfectly. Here—I even took a picture for you to enjoy as I thoroughly have. I hope it brings you the pleasure it brought me to run my lips over your holy image.”

Fingers crumble the side of the letter, creasing it. Not once do they delve into the envelope to look for that picture. If he had the choice, Nikto would rip this entire thing into little bits.

‘I think it’s time that we meet—alone, Сладкая. I’ll be waiting tonight at the café for you, so we can run away together. And start this life together. I think it’s time. Yes. I will ravage you with all of the beautiful things in life; jewelry, dresses, makeup, my body. It is mine, isn’t it? You? You’ve told me with your eyes, so why are you still ignoring me? You look at me every day. I look back—you love me! I know you do! Why are you still being such a—’

It falls off into nothing but rabid script; illegible even to Nikto’s best abilities. The letter is saturated with something—spots of the paper pulling in on itself with droplets off…

Nikto stills, disgust and insult moving in his gut. There wasn’t any DNA on the box, but they certainly had some here.

Dropping the letter into the lockbox on the nightstand, the man takes the top and rams it shut with a rattle of the nesting dolls on the upper shelf. Nikto removes his gloves and tosses them into the garbage bin.

Stalking to the bathroom door, he moves on instinct. Ever the animal.

Knuckles rasp to the wood. Conversations halt once more.

“Seraph,” he eases, accent tight. “You are well?”

A bead of silence, the moving of water.

“Yes, Nikto,” your voice is still shaky, but it comes out from under the door.

Nikto stares at his feet, blinking. With a grunt, his feet shift and he forces out, “Good. You will call if you need us.”

It wasn’t a question.

Moving back, he nods to himself firmly, shaking out his right hand—he can’t seem to stop being on edge. Every creak, every shadow of your decorations moving, made his eyes dart to them, honing in as if behind the scope of a rifle.

Nikto brought his hands to the side of his skull, pushing in. You were messing with his head, he tells himself again. The moments of dissociation were becoming more frequent as of late, and he could feel it in the back of his mind even now. A glaze over his brain that made everything feel like it was worlds away from him—it was sharp and sure of itself. Words jumbled, ‘I’s came out as ‘We’s, things were lapsed from his brain; important things. Moments of confusion—aggression. Leaving you behind in a grocery store at the flip of a coin. Snapping at you in real anger when you were just curious.

He can’t do that. He can’t lose his grip.

From inside the bathroom, your eyes stay locked on the door, your head resting on the wall behind you as your skin soaks in the claw-footed tub.

“I don’t know if this is good for me, Aly,” you confess lowly, eyes shifting back to the wall ahead of you, a little black and white ceramic fish on a shelf. Candles let off the scent of linen and pine.

Alyona sits on the stool a few feet away, watching your face worriedly.

“Солнышко,” she starts slowly, “we both know it isn’t. It’s going to pass—I can’t hope for more than that.”

It’s like a repeating record—It’ll be okay, just keep strong, push through.

It wasn’t Aly’s fault; she’s involved in this too.

“Is Nikifor worried about you?” The woman’s head perks, her lips twitching as the orbs inside of her head soften.

“Seraph, you don’t have to change the subject—”

“Truly,” you move a hand up from the water and rub at your face. “Really, Aly, I need a distraction. Please, just…talk. You know I love to hear about the two of you.”

She sighs, looking to the wall. After a moment, she chuckles, head tilting down. “Yes, he’s worried. He worries about you as well. You have a home with us, little Солнышко—I want you to know that, yes?” Alyona brings a hand to your cheek, pinching in good nature.

You shuffle away in mock annoyance, lips twitching.

“...I know, Aly.”

“Good,” she huffs. “I would not be a good friend if you didn’t. At least that brute is taking care of you, it seems.”

“He’s a good cook,” you ease out. “You should try it sometime.”

Gray eyes blink at you, shocked. “He got you to eat a meal?”

“You’re saying it like I never do,” you chuckle, eyebrows pulling in as the dimmed overhead light shines down on your avoidance of the problem at hand.

“No, it’s not that,” Aly’s eyes rove with unseen emotion, her concerned heart gaining a smidge of affection for the man outside of the door, whose shadowed feet can still be seen pacing. “I am…glad, Seraph. Food is always the way to someone’s senses, eh?”

Your lips twitch, but the weight on your chest remains. A tense pause grabs the both of you.

“I wish you were coming with,” you have to admit on a stiff tongue. “Ever since I first got here, you’ve been with me for all of it—the parties especially.” Your open mouth stutters. “Aly, I don’t think I can do it again by myself. All of those people; what some of them expect from me, it…it’s just…” Getting choked up, you move a hand to your mouth, covering it. From behind the flesh, you mutter, “I can’t do it again, it’s just the same as staying here, as a matter of fact, I think staying would be better.”

“You need to think rationally,” Aly shakes her head, getting closer to take your hand in both of hers. She squeezes, her top shiny in the light as it moves. “Nothing is worse than staying in this city. The man outside the door agrees. It is the safest option for you, even if,” Alyona closes her eyes, looking away as she opens them. She never finishes her sentence.

“I don’t want to,” you fight a whimper. “Aly, we tried so hard to get out of them sending us like meat.”

But there’s nothing that the woman can do to you when you say it like that, and even her expression gets far away. Alyona’s eyes blink fast, getting glossy before they avoid your eyes for the rest of the night.

“I’m sorry, My Seraph. I’m so, so, sorry.”

And that’s all that can be said.

When night comes, you don’t think you sleep at all, and by Nikto’s pacing of his room, the occasional pause to peek his head through your doorway, neither does he.

—

The time to leave came far quicker than you could anticipate as the days blended. Chelyabinsk was nearly a three-hour drive if you went the fastest route, and in the time before it, you and Nikto hadn’t spoken much about the letters. They’d been taken by the investigators the next day, along with your phone, for testing and tracking. While you’d been given a new device, it was a tiny thing that died more times than not; you had three contacts—Alyona, Nikto, and your mom.

You’d been assigned a driver by AMA for the trip, and thus, the all-black vehicle had arrived in the small hours of the morning as you had finished a hurried call to your matriarch.

“I’ll be back soon, Mom,” you’d explained. “Business. I’ll keep me busy.”

She had said it was a good idea like everyone else. Aly and you were the only ones to know the truth. Dread was a fishhook in your throat, but the fear of staying here was just as prominent. Those pictures haunted your mind.

“Nikto,” you ask, grabbing one of your suitcases on the street with a grunt. “Can you…?” The item is taken and easily lifted into the trunk. “Thank you,” your voice breathes out a sigh into the early morning air.

You hadn’t been to Chelyabinsk in a long time. Your brain knew that it would be most of the same—you needed to be careful of who you spoke to and how you did it. While regular crime was only moderate, corruption and bribery was your main problem when entering the place. You were on Allurement’s payroll, would your CEO’s influence be enough to stop anyone from trying anything with you?

If you stuck to where you were told to go, you should be fine.

Along with yourself and Nikto, photographers and media know-hows would be tagging along; makeup artists and stylists. A team of people who mostly refuse to look at you at all, only a few familiar faces among them.

But, thankfully, only you and your guard would be in this car.

“You can get in,” Nikto comments, blinking at you in the dark street, the lights of the car and the penthouse behind you all you have to differentiate between shades of black and gray. Your eyes had been constantly narrowed so you could try and see better. “I will load the rest.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” you smile sheepishly, “I’d like to stay out until we leave. I get fidgety when I’m in the car for too long.”

His shoulders shrug, taking another of your bags from the ground. “Very well. You will eat on the way there, then.”

Your eyes blink, attention pulled back from the shadow of a man walking across the street, raising hair on your arms.

“What was that?” You tilt your head.

Nikto huffs. “Eat. On the way there.” He raises a brow. “You need breakfast.”

“Oh,” you at your neck slightly. “Sure, yeah. But what about you? Do you want me to turn around or something so I won’t see your face?”

“No need. We ate as you dressed. Packed the remaining for you.” You’re brushed past, the purse around your shoulder connecting with Nikto’s thigh as his boots clop over the concrete.

Your lips twitch, expression still worried but the tease sneaking out instinctually. “I need to start calling you Mother Bear, Nikto.”

“It will be the last thing you do, Whelp,” he grumbles, eyes looking over his shoulder as he packs the last suitcase away. Amusement is like liquid stone inside of them.

So the trip ensued.

You entertained yourself by staring out of the window as the cityscape rolled back, already missing the sanctity of your penthouse as you fiddled with a small stuffed bird in your grip.

“I spy…” you mumble twenty minutes in, trying to be normal again. “Something tall and gray—”

“Tree,” Nikto grunts, trying to read one of the books he packed.

“No,” you say, defensively. “It was,” your mouth opens and closes, scouring the passing scene but finding nothing. “Fine, yes, it was a tree.”

“I spy something blue.”

“That’s not even funny.”

“I believe it was funny. Perhaps you do not have a good sense of humor, Woman.”

You glare, throwing your stuffed bird directly at his forehead and watching it bounce off. Nikto doesn’t even look away from the words on his page, flipping to the next with a deep chuckle in his neck.

Rolling your eyes, you groan and slouch into your seat.

You had to say, though, that as the city disappeared, so did your anxieties. It felt good to be near dense croppings of trees again—only an open and uncrowded highway and Nikto beside you. His pale eyes would watch you every so often, and you would do the same, studying each other as time passed and a gradual silence fell.

“Can I use you as a pillow?” You ask with only an hour left on the trip.

Nikto’s halfway through his book, and up until now, you’d kept to yourself, lost in thought.

“I am not comfortable,” he utters, leg shifting. He glances, but his numb eyes don’t do much until they move back to where they were prior. “And my Kevlar is hard. It will aggravate your head.”

You had to wonder how fast he caught onto that fact about you. A smile grows on your face, and you shift to grab your jacket, folding it and tossing the item onto Nikto’s thigh. His head darts down right as you move to rest there, body sideways and legs folded against the door.

“I like it when you worry—it’s cute,” you stifle a yawn, ignoring his digging eyes. “Wake me before we get there?”

Your ears don’t wait for an answer, your fatigue from missing an entire night of sleep catching up where Nikto’s never would. He watched you rest for the remainder of the ride, hand hovering over your shoulder until it slowly slipped down to rest on it with a grumble of exasperated Russian under his breath. But the man had noticed the bags under your eyes—unable to be hidden by makeup. He found it in himself to let you sleep, even if the infection of your warmth made his head go loose; how your slackened face looked peaceful.

The knowledge of what you’d just experienced was still with him, even as he linked his feelings together as pointless. This was a waiting game, and everyone else seemed to have time except for you.

He didn’t like it. There was a nagging in the back of his gut—instinctual understanding as a hired gun who’d gone through many deployments. This was bigger; something was going to happen soon. A tipping point.

Nikto had a feeling you felt it too, as your head nuzzled his thigh in your sleep, shoving yourself into your jacket as tiny grunts moved from your lips; eyebrows furrowing.

Bad dream, the Russian clocked immediately, his book long placed at his side and his one elbow against the window frame.

Pale blue eyes watched for a moment, looking at your deep red blouse and the long back skirt that lightly cascaded over the side of the seats. His hand at your shoulder—hard and immobile, twitches as it tries to keep you steady, feeling the muscle under your flesh writhe.

Only when you can’t seem to calm down does he do anything at all.

Nikto can easily stamp an expression of annoyance on his face, of bored numbness, but instead, a sliver of something that could be considered softness bleeds from behind his eyes; something that even if he were to look into a mirror, he couldn’t name himself.

A finger brushes up your neck, scarred and broken, most of a finger missing and the nearest ones fuzzy with nerve damage. It hovers, steady, before his hand moves to massage along the base of your scar. It’s an awkward angle, no mistake. After all, he was practically grabbing the side of your neck to reach, but it was all he could offer short of waking you.

When he couldn’t sleep, he’d do the same to himself; it helped, he thought, feeling skin on skin—a caress that eases aches. Call it pathetic, but the sensations he was feeling doing the same to you were nothing short of trance-inducing. To understand the pulse of your heart—your breath returns to a slow puff; brows settling back down at only his circling thumb.

A bit of that infectious pride trickles into his eyes; smug.

Nikto grunts, and leans back into his chair, continuing his work to settle you, and smirks softly under his mask.

Only roughly half an hour to go, and then it was back to guard duty. But perhaps he could close his eyes and rest as well.

You made for quite the distraction.

TAGS:

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yeoosaangg · 11 months

Text

All Mine || Kinktober - Day 19

pairing ▸ lee jeno × f!reader

now playing ▸ all mine - plaza

⤷ ❝man, i didn't want this all, believe me. i would've been so gone, but her sex so strong.❞

genre ▸ non-idol au, bf's best friend, smut

warnings ▸ size kink, spitting, throat fucking, degradation, rough sex, breeding kink, infidelity, getting caught

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

Jeno did not expect for this to go as long as it has.

You're his best friend's girlfriend, yet he folded the second you showed interest in him.

You are his own personal drug.

No matter how hard he tried to stay away, he comes crawling back when you ask him to.

And he can't help but love the fact that you're smaller than him. His hands and body engulf you, and it has his dick jumping for more.

That's why he's currently got you pinned against your boyfriend's mattress.

Just like he's always had you.

You're a moaning mess as he slams his giant cock into your tight hole. His hands push your legs against your chest, fingers digging into your flesh with a hiss.

Jeno: You're such a fucking whore, Y/n. Getting fucked dumb by your boyfriend's best friend. What if he were to come back early, hm?

You knew it was risky, always luring Jeno into his roommate's bedroom to fuck you. But you don't care anymore.

You just want him so bad.

Jeno: My cock keeps opening you up, baby. Soon, it'll fit me perfectly. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To be my personal cocksleeve?

You scream, clawing at the sheets below you as he pins you down in a mating press.

There's something about the way your mouth falls open with broken moans slipping out that keeps his cock hard. He just keeps fucking you deeper into the mattress, hips bruising your ass.

Both of you cum for the third time that night.

He moans into your mouth as he fills your cunt again, mixing with his other two loads inside you.

Jeno: What'll Jaemin think when you get pregnant, Y/n? Don't think I'd just let you run around playing house with my fucking kid.

You're crying in oversensitivity. He still doesn't pull away for you to take a much needed break. But he also knows that if you truly wanted him to get off, you'd call the safe word.

Jeno: He'll understand, won't he? Why the kid will look like me instead of him? Why your slutty cunt doesn't get wet for him anymore?

His weight on top of you was too much, but the way his cock hits the deepest part of your insides has you drooling all over yourself.

Jeno: Can't speak now, can you? Where's the bitch that was begging me to fuck her two hours ago?

You whine, squeezing your tits as he sits up and pushes your legs over his shoulders.

He presses his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he pumps his cock along your dripping walls. He kisses you deeply, both of you moaning in each other's mouth.

He feels you squeeze his cock, squirting all over him again. He smirks against your lips as he pulls out of your swollen pussy.

You whine at the loss of his cock, but gasp when he straddles your head.

Jeno: Come on, baby. Put your mouth to good use as my cum drips out of your cunt.

You obediently open your mouth for him to fuck your face. He always gets surprised at your lack of gag reflex - it just adds to his desire to destroy you.

His hips stutter against your nose, holding onto your hair so he can get as deep down your throat as possible. You look up at him with droopy eyes, moaning on his cock.

Jeno: You're so fucking nasty. Look at you letting me abuse your face.

He bites his lip, not breaking the eye contact as he shoots another load down your throat. The hard look in his eyes as he continues thrusting his hips has you cumming untouched.

He pulls away, grabbing your chin harshly. He spits in your mouth and demands you to swallow. You obey, opening your mouth for him to see that you listened.

Jeno: Good girl.

Jaemin: What the fuck?

Oh shit.

═══

a/n: i wonder if anyone's gonna notice what i did differently this time around... ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎ thanks for reading ‹𝟹

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sl33paholics · 10 months

Text

Pay Attention To Me

Baki Hanma x Dom!Black!fem reader

Warning(s): smut (handjob), fem!dom! reader, odaxelagnia, slang, crying, overstimulation, teasing, a bit of degrading, bounding, ball-play

Edit: Why is this getting so popular? I literally made this bc I was bored 😭

You're the second girlfriend Baki has gotten in his whole life. After him and Kozue didn't see eye to eye on things, they've decided to end their relationship. It left the poor boy heart broken and didn't bother to search for another as she was his one and only soulmate, the second woman he could share his trust and secrets to.

The two of you came across each other when you were at a convince store one evening after school, your cart stacked with snacks as you stared at the different varieties of milk on the shelf. You were exhausted. You didn't even notice a dark-haired boy staring at your direction as you mindlessly stood there. "Get strawberry." You turned your head to where the voice came from. "Strawberry milk. It'll suit a pretty lady like yourself." He'd say, walking off. You couldn't help but giggle.

Soon, one encounter turned into another. The two of you kept seeing each other at that store once, twice, hell, even three times a week. You sometimes even wondered if he was there to buy something or to just see you and chit-chat. Eventually, you two became friends in the process. Hanging out at different locations, walking through the park, in the city. You were flattered by the guy's presence and personality. Baki was comfortable enough to tell you about his previous relationship, sharing both the joys and heartbreaks that shaped him. As your friendship deepened, you found solace in the genuine connection, realizing that sometimes, unexpected encounters could lead to the most meaningful relationships. The two of you began dating soon after.

It's been weeks since you two started dating, and you were already fed up by the frustration of the fact that Baki wasn't paying enough attention to you, not enough PDA. You'd often find yourself lonely. He'd disappear for so long and come back for a short time, only to be gone. He'd never let you into his business. You'd notice recent bruises on his face and body and didn't dare to question him about it.

It just irked your soul. This whole thing made you into an irate woman. You didn't bother to speak to him whenever he came back, never answering your messages or listening to voice emails. But oh, he always knew where to find you. Whenever coming out of the shower, you'd always see him at your window tap tap tappin' away for you to let him in to talk.

Now here you are, at his small vandalized house in the middle of the night. The soft, whimpering sounds coming from Baki as you tied him up, Frog Tie style. He was laid on his back, staring at you as you took off your clothes, revealing your black corset lingerie. Baki couldn't look away from how alluring you looked. His poor cock twitching in eagerness. Baki slowly sat up, attempting to break free from the rope before being slammed back down onto the ground, making a grunt sound looking up to see your smug expression. "Y/N, please..." he whined, his voice deep and husky with arousal. You chuckled as you lubed up your hand, you grabbed his cock and wrapped your fingers around it, your pinky finger is close to his balls while your index finger was more close to the top of his shaft. Baki felt your fingertips touching the head.

You slowly stroked him up and down with your hand. "Say, Baki, you're strong. How come you can't break free out of the rope, hmm??" You ask, drawing your attention to the look on his face. The expression of neediness and embarrassment plastered was over. You couldn't help but chuckle. How pathetic he looked under you as you took control. "Those scars on your naked body, the bruised marks on your face, you should be able to break free, pin me down, and fuck me into oblivion. But you ain't, tell me." Baki was panting heavily, the slow strokes were sending him on the edge as his cock was awfully stiff and hard. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't expecting to get bounded up like this. It was humiliating.

Baki turned his head to the side, his hair covering his eyes, his chest rising up and down rapidly. He felt your other hand grab his face, his lips puckering together as you turned his head back to face you. "Did I say that you could look away," Baki shook his head. "Then why did you do it? Did I give you permission to do that?!" You swiftly moved your hand down to his neck, giving it a grip and seeing his eyes widen. As you continued stroking him up and down, you rubbed your thumb over and back on the head of his cock. Baki was shuddering. It didn't help that the rest of his body was beginning to heat up. He felt it all from his stomach to his chest.

Unexpectedly, Baki was somehow able to jerk away from you, catching you off guard. He was trying to find a way to get his arms free. You quickly grabbed the boy and turned him over. Baki's ass up was now up in the air and on all fours. You smacked his ass, hearing a yelp escape from his mouth. Again, and again, and again, and again. More and more, the welping now turned into mewling. Using your other hand to grab Baki's neck, lifting him up towards you, he was now sobbing. "Don't fuckin' play with me," you said gripping his ass, he could feel your nails in his skin "You think you slick? Trying to move away from me? Fuckin' try it." Your grip became tighter, and harder. The boy tried to scream but it came out as a squeal.

You pushed him back down, his head hitting the ground as Baki groaned. Leaning down, putting your head in his neck area, you began to kiss it lightly. You could feel his body tense up, and then relax. You continued kissing him, making sure he wouldn't move around too much. Baki let out another squeak of pleasure, this time one that seemed a little more desperate than before. As you were continuing the sweet torture, you went back to jerking him off. Your hands went towards his sack, you gently fondled with them as your movement on his cock went at a rapid pace. His body trembling. Those kisses soon turned into biting, you left hickeys all over his neck but others looked like genuine bite marks.

You felt pre-cum dripping. "Hm? Close to cumming, Baki? You're gonna explode all in ma' hand? Like the little bitch you are?" You said in his ear, he was now moaning loudly. Not caring to hold back the sounds of pleasure coming from his mouth, you started sucking his earlobe. "Mmm...you taste so good baby. I love when yer moanin' like that. It gets my heart goin'."

Baki finally came. Your hand was now covered in his seed as he lay there, drooling out of his mouth and tears still running down his cheeks. He felt exhausted. He felt defeated. Baki closed his eyes as he tried to control his breathing. You began to remove the rope off his body, seeing him go limp. "Next time, your pushiment would be harder, baby."

#anime #black writers #female writers #black reader #poc writer #fluff #x black reader #baki smut #baki son of ogre #baki hanma #baki the grappler #yandere baki #dom reader #sub male character #female dominance

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lesbojournals · 4 months

Note

Hi Liz! I’ve just read your poly!marauders pregnancy fic and I love it! Your reading is stunning!

I’m here with a special request… I was wondering if you could write a poly!marauders x fem!reader where reader is acting weird and distant and the boys are worried and at the end she was hiding a huge secret, a pregnancy. She was scared they wouldn’t want a baby but they all ended up really happy about it? Just some slight angst with happy ending. ❤️

a/n: hi anon! i did put a little bit of my own twist to this, hope that's okay!

Poly!Marauders x Pregnant!Reader

It had only been two days. In fact, it was only the beginning of the second day.

One full day and some hours since you found out you were pregnant.

One full day and some hours since you started ignoring your boys.

What else were you to do? It was a complete surprise. You'd never even discussed having a baby together, let alone if they even want children.

After taking your pregnancy test, you bolted out of your shared flat with no explanation, driving yourself to the beach so you could have a long cry.

Each boy texted you separately and called you separately, various times. You ignored every call.

I'll be home soon. Staying at my parents for the night. is what you texted in your shared chat.

You weren't lying…yet. Just withholding information.

As you had driven up to your parents house you felt the tears all ready to burst. The shocked look on your mom’s face when you were at the door was enough for her to bring you in and comfort whatever you were going through. You had told her your secret, and she admitted the boys reached out to her in concern. You fell asleep on your parents’ couch in distress.

One day and a few hours is when you woke up. You scrolled through your phone. Missed texts from Remus, missed calls from Sirius, voicemails from James.

“You're going to have to tell them, you know.” Your mom entered the living room with a cup of tea for you.

You gratefully took it and sat up, shaking your head. Your hand went to your stomach without thinking.

“I know,” You said, starting to feel worked up again. “I know.”

It was an hour or so later of your mom giving you the confidence to tell your boyfriends that led you to dial Remus’ number.

“Honey?! Oh, my love, are you okay?!”

“Is that her??”

“Give me the phone!!”

The voices of your boyfriends rang through the speaker, and you sighed with a shaky voice.

“Can you guys meet me at the beach? We need to talk.”

It was James that broke the silence that took place after you spoke.

“Yea, of course darling. Be there in 10?”

You felt tears dripping down your face. “Mm-hm. Love you. Bye.”

Three “Love you”s chorused through the phone. You hung up quickly and held your face in your hands as you cried. Your mom rubbed your back encouragingly.

“Love, it'll go okay. And if it doesn't I'll be right here for you.”

That brought you to arriving at the beach. Your mom drove you because of how emotionally distressed you were, not being able to control your tears.

You saw James’ car in the lot and took a deep breath as you rubbed your eyes.

“You got this sweet pea.” Your mom gave you a shoulder squeeze.

You hesitantly exited the car and watched as the boys did the same.

They looked broken. Remus was unusually dressed in sweats and one of Sirius’ shirts and looked like he hadn't slept. James eyes were bloodshot and cheeks pink. Sirius, on the other hand, had a dangerous look on his face, borderline between looking like he'd scream or cry.

“Where have you been?!” He came off intimidating, eyes glossy. You flinched at his tone, leading Remus to step in front of him.

He grabbed your hands. “Dovey, why did you leave?”

You looked up at his hazel eyes, noticing James holding Sirius in a side hug behind Remus.

“I…I…” Your voice cracked and you felt hot tears slide down your cheeks.

Remus rubbed your hands gently with his thumbs.

You let out a desperate cry and looked down at the ground. “I'm pregnant. I’m keeping it.”

With that Remus let go of your hands, and you felt your world collapse. You started to cry harder, about to bring your arms around your body to hug yourself before a body slammed into yours, grasping you tightly.

“Oh, love…” Sirius spoke into your neck.

You looked up in shock at James and Remus, both looking utterly surprised.

James stuttered as he spoke. “I, you, we are going to have a baby?”

“You guys are staying with me?” You asked, uncertain.

Sirius whipped from the crook of your neck to grab your face with both of his hands.

“Is that what you thought dolly? That we wouldn't stay with you!!” He almost seemed hysteric at the thought.

You shrugged.

“Oh sweetheart…” Remus spoke quiet.

Before you knew it Remus and James both joined you in your hug, holding onto you tightly.

James was the one who broke it apart. “I just, I can't believe it.”

He grabbed your shoulders and gave them a gentle shake. “We’re going to be parents!!”

You blinked and James had you up in the air, swinging you around in a circle as Remus fretted and Sirius laughed. “We’re gonna be parents!!!”

#poly!marauders x pregnant!reader #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x you #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin

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buddiebeginz · 5 months

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Since I'm still seeing posts where people are saying Buck wanted Tommy's attention in 7x04 I thought I would do a break down of the episode. Cause the entire thing was about how Buck wanted Eddie's attention full stop and I'm baffled that some of you missed that it wasn't exactly subtle:

This is going to be a long post with gifs so I'll put it under the cut

First there was the mansion call. (I know some might say this scene is different because it was meant to be a part of episode 7x05. Doesn't matter they changed the order so it's canon for this ep and so Buck's behavior in it is relevant).

Buck trying to get Eddie's attention with the random facts he knows and also because he knows no one listens and appreciates that stuff about him like Eddie:

Buck glued to Eddie's side the whole call.

Buck also not showing any interest in the ladies from the Bachelor while he's standing with Eddie.

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Then you have the scene at the hanger:

Here's the thing I do believe Buck has an attraction to Tommy and is interested in him but the main draw Buck has to Tommy is because of the multiple similarities Tommy has to Eddie. The show was practically putting a neon sign above Eddie and Tommy multiple times saying that Tommy is a mirror of Eddie.

I'd also like to point out that maybe it was just me but Tommy didn't seem all that interested in Buck throughout this scene or really any scene until the last one. Now yeah he could have been being cautious because he didn't know if Buck was into guys but I honestly got the vibe he was into Eddie. I can't help but wonder if he was trying to get with Eddie and then maybe in Vegas Eddie told him he was straight (not that he is) or maybe Eddie just told him he has a beard girlfriend. No one can convince me otherwise that Tommy doesn't think there's something between Eddie and Buck. I 100% believe all Eddie did was talk about Buck when they hung out and Buck did the same thing right up until Tommy kissed him. That whole "my attention" line was very telling. Tommy you're gonna get your heart broken but I get it dude Buck is hot.

So anyway Buck goes for a tour and unsurprisingly he brings up Eddie before Eddie ever shows up. And while yeah it's him responding to Tommy saying he was in the army it just feels like a partner moment. Like yeah no way my boyfriend was in the army. Buck talking about Eddie is as second nature as someone talking about their spouse. They're such an integrated part of their life that they don't even realize how much they talk about each other. It'll be interesting to see if Buck does the same thing when he's on his date with Tommy too.

Then Eddie shows up and if you watch Buck the whole scene once Eddie arrives he's almost exclusively watching Eddie.

(watching Eddie walk away)

Here's the difference btw in one of the few times he looks at tommy (when Tommy speaks) after Eddie show up 👇

Then at the end you have Buck make this face:

Which I think isn't so much about feeling left out as it is seeing how happy Eddie is and knowing he's not the one making him happy. Although I don't think Buck is consciously processing all of that right now but I definitely think that was a big part of it.

I think in this whole scene what's going on in Buck's head is this: 1. surprise that Eddie is there because he didn't expect him 2. Why didn't Eddie tell me he was hanging out with Tommy (I usually know everything going on with Eddie). 3. Trying to understand what he's feeling when he sees Eddie and Tommy together. 4. Feeling confused about everything. 5. Jealous that Eddie is going off with someone who isn't him but not really understanding that's what it is.

I get some people might watch that scene and say well Buck was essentially asking Tommy out on a date and then Eddie showed up an took off with him so he must be jealous that Eddie is getting to spend time with Tommy. Buck obviously has an attraction to Tommy but the person he really wants and wants to spend time with is Eddie this is further highlighted by the next scene we see them in when Buck keeps getting more and more upset over hearing about how Eddie is doing things he enjoys with someone who isn't Buck. But also in how Buck acted while at the at the hanger. He wasn't focused on Tommy. I mean have you ever been crushing on someone when they're in the room it's like no one else is. The person who Buck couldn't take his eyes off of was Eddie.

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Next we have the sewer rescue scene with Ravi. (We really need more Ravi and Buddie scenes btw I love them together) We have Buddie working together as per usual. Highlighting like in the Bachelor scene how well they work together which they always do.

You have Buck telling the story from the pilot about when he saved that baby in the wall and Eddie smiling fondly like a typical spouse who has heard that story a million times.

While they're working Buck is spending the whole call trying to find out what Eddie was up to when he went to Vegas.

Buck is asking a million questions which implies that Eddie hasn't told him yet about the trip. This goes back to the helicopter scene where Buck didn't know Eddie was spending time with Tommy and is really starting to feel left out. Again this isn't really about Tommy or Buck feeling like he's missing out on spending time with Tommy it's Buck feeling like he's missing out on Eddie's life.

Buck calls out the similarities between Eddie and Tommy

Although he's still clueless that this is what is primarily causing him to be drawn to Tommy. More than anything this was for the audience to again say in case you didn't catch it by now Tommy is like Eddie. They want to keep reminding us of this before the kiss so we know Buck is going to date someone who is like his best friend.

Also want to point out that while Buck is talking about Tommy to Eddie the camera shakes at points so we feel Buck's nerves. He's nervous to hear what Eddie has to say about Tommy.

Also the whole conversation about "naked men pummeling each other" and Eddie saying that he was wrestling with Tommy. Like I'm sorry but not one ounce of that convo felt heterosexual.

I've seen someone say that Buck's jealousy must have been about Tommy because Buck isn't even interested in the things Eddie and Tommy were doing together like Muay Thai and basketball etc but you can hear/see Buck getting more and more hurt as he and Eddie talk because Eddie is sharing parts of himself with someone else.

I feel like there's multiple reasons why Eddie and Buck haven't been spending as much time together. I mean yeah Eddie made a new friend but for the longest time it's been BuckandEddie like peas in a pod in work and outside. But I think the end of season six played a role in some of that changing

At the end of last season they were both dating someone else and they had both gone through some major trauma with Buck literally dying for 3+ minutes. We know that seriously affected Buck but the show didn't touch on how I know it must have affected Eddie. If you watch the scene (from 7x01) where Buck talks to Chris and we see Eddie's reaction in the hall when Chris talks about how everyone leaves. I can't help but think Buck's brush with death made Eddie think of Shannon and how scared he is to lose another person he loves or worse put Chris through that.

Not to mention what Buck said in the cemetery how he felt like Natalia this woman he had known for less than a minute saw him better than anyone. I feel like all of that combined made Eddie distance himself a little even if he wasn't doing it totally consciously.

There's also the fact that I think Buck has kind of taken Eddie for granted a little. We find out later in the ep that Eddie had asked Buck to play basketball with him many times but he'd always turned him down. I also got the impression in this ep that Eddie has all these hobbies that he was sharing with Tommy when he would have rather been doing them with Buck (he was so excited when Buck showed up on the basketball court).

And I'm not saying Buck doesn't love Eddie or hasn't tried hard to be there for Eddie and Chris over the years but it's something that happens in relationships sometimes. You think the person is always going to be there and you get distracted with life stuff.

This combined with things Oliver has been saying in interviews about how Buck is going to have to put in work for his next relationship. How Buck has always gotten whatever person he wanted mostly and I can't help but wonder if that's going to play a role in how Buddie is developed. Is Buck going to have to prove to Eddie how much he means to him?

This part of the scene if no other really lets you know it's about Eddie and not Tommy. We can see how Buck is looking at Eddie when he says I do I really do and we feel all these intense emotions from him more than would make sense for the brief amount of time he's known Tommy. He's clearly thinking of when he met Eddie.

These are really just the baby steps of Buck recognizing how deeply he feels for Eddie. Because right here he's thinking that he thought their connection and place in each other's lives was special and unique to every one else they knew but then he hears Eddie talk like that and thinks maybe he was the only one who felt that way. Maybe he's easily replaced in Eddie's life.

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So Buck goes to talk about his feelings on everything with Maddie. Tbh I wasn't thrilled with how they did the Buck and Maddie scenes in this ep. Though I do think we're going to get more of a heart to heart with the two of them in future eps when Buck officially comes out. I just feel like Buck needed someone to really listen to him and Maddie was a little dismissive both times he talked to her. I also really want someone to try to ask Buck about his feelings for Eddie.

It's kind of crazy to me how no one in the 118 has ever really brought up the fact of how close Buck and Eddie are. Maddie has said the whole "boy crush" thing and that elf mistook them for being married but what I mean is you know the 118 sees how they are. Look at when Eddie was shot. It was assumed automatically that Buck was going to be the one to talk to Chris because they knew how close Buck and Eddie are and how they're essentially raising Chris together. This is how people talk about someone's spouse not just their friend.

Back to the convo with Maddie

Buck is complaining to Maddie about Eddie and Tommy. His feelings in that scene don't come across like he's unaware of some attraction he has to Tommy or like he's trying to hide feelings for him. He comes across as hurt, and frustrated, and confused that this new person has moved in on his place in Eddie and Chris' life.

Again I'm not saying Buck doesn't have an attraction to Tommy but I do think Tommy is a distraction more than anything. I think Buck is focusing on him rather than looking at the entire situation. Instead of asking himself why does it matter if your friend has a new friend? Why does it matter if Eddie spends time with new people? Why does it matter if Eddie shares parts of himself with someone else parts he might not be sharing with you?

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Then of course there's the gym scene at the firehouse. I've seen people say Buck thought Eddie was on the phone with Tommy. And maybe he did. But you expect me to believe he was upset and jealous over Tommy and because Eddie was getting to talk to him and his way of dealing with that was to try and get Eddie's attention through lifting weights and pointing his dick at him. o_o

Literally sitting up in the middle of lifting weights so he can see if Eddie is looking over at him.

Nothing about this scene is telling the audience that Buck is thinking about Tommy. It's saying he wants Eddie's attention.

This scene is actually very similar to what happened at the hanger

Buck saw Eddie looking incredibly happy and he wasn't the one making him happy. Eddie also wasn't sharing what's been going on in his life with Buck. Buck felt shut out and ignored from the one person who he's been the closet with for years. Even when they've had girlfriends it's clear Buck and Eddie have been close and connected in ways they never were with anyone else. Buck is scared he's losing that.

If the show wanted us to believe that the scene was about Buck and Tommy and Buck's growing attraction to Tommy there are so many different things they could have done to highlight that. Have Tommy ask Eddie about Buck (if that even was who Eddie was talking to) and have Eddie tell Buck he was talking to Tommy maybe direct a question from Tommy to Buck. They also at the least could have said that's who Eddie was talking to and they didn't even do that. They could have had Buck ask Eddie hey is that Tommy? But they didn't because the scene wasn't really about Tommy it's about Buck's feelings for Eddie that he still hasn't fully come to terms with yet.

Buck buys a basketball literally has it sent to the firehouse so Eddie can see him with it and hopefully ask him to go play basketball with him. Because remember he's feeling left out of Eddie's life. It's not like he asked Tommy to play basketball or asks Eddie if he can go with him to the court in hopes of seeing Tommy. No he wants Eddie to invite him. He wants to know Eddie wants him there.

Watch how Buck acts even when he's opening the basketball. He's trying to do it quickly and even while he's doing that he's looking over to Eddie to try and get his attention.

Also someone on twitter pointed out that in season 3 it was shown in Buck's loft that he already had a ball. My head canon is that he still has that ball and the lunatic that he is he just bought a whole new one and had it sent to the firehouse so eddie would see him with it. 🤦‍♀️

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Next is the infamous basketball court scene where I knew the minute I heard "basketball beard" and playing with the boys and other Top Gun references that canon bi Buck was a go.

Similar to the hanger scene Buck's attention is almost exclusively on Eddie through the whole scene.

Oh I'd also like to point out that both times that Eddie was with Tommy in this ep he was wearing sunglasses particularly when the two of them were side by side. I feel like it's the shows way of saying that Buck is not seeing Eddie right now and he's not connecting with his true feelings for Eddie.

I know Oliver is good at basketball but I couldn't help but laugh when they included that shot of him spinning the ball. Like we're meant to believe Buck doesn't play how did he learn to do that 🤦‍♀️

If the basketball scene had really been about Buck wanting Tommy's attention or being jealous that Eddie was getting Tommy's attention Buck wouldn't have been spending the entire time trying to get Eddie's attention. He also would have been competing with Eddie for Tommy's attention and he wasn't he was trying to get Eddie to notice him because he felt like all Eddie was doing was focusing on Tommy.

You can watch Buck get progressively more upset through the game as he feels like Eddie is competing against him and partnering with someone else when for so long that's been his role on and off the court. It's been Buddie against the world.

Also there's a moment when Buck runs into Tommy but the show never plays it as some kind of moment between the two. I mean they had more of a moment on the boat after the cruise ship when Buck patted Tommy's shoulder. But like according to some this is supposed to be the episode Buck is all into Tommy but that's just not present most of the episode.

Buck immediately knows he's fucked up after Eddie is hurt. I've seen people say why wasn't he running to help him but I've been in a similar situation like that where you're so stunned that you did something to cause someone you cared about to be hurt you can't even move.

Then as soon as Buck wants to try and help Tommy swoops in and says he'll take Eddie to the hospital. Taking care of Eddie has been Buck's job for a long long time. Think about how he saved Eddie during the shooting and took care of him and Chris. Also he took care of them during Eddie's mental health crisis. Buck is feeling like Eddie doesn't need him anymore.

Here's another thing I want to bring up about the basketball scene. Like I keep saying people have said that a lot of Buck's motivations in this ep were about Tommy. I'm sorry but you don't have those kind of strong emotions over someone you just met. Even if his emotions were that he had a crush on Tommy and felt like Eddie was taking all Tommy's time away. If Buck behaved that way from a simple crush on a guy he barely knew I would think he'd lost his mind. No he reacted the way he did because all of these feelings (that he's just now scratching the surface of dealing with) are connected to Eddie someone who means everything to him.

Remember too that Oliver said in his interviews that Buck doesn't even know why he's jealous or who or what it's about. Which is why I think even by the end of the episode when Buck thinks he's figured some things out there's still a lot he's missing.

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The second Maddie scene

I definitely agree with what others have said that unfortunately Maddie's words here only served to further confuse Buck. What he was feeling was not just being left out and excluded from this friend but mostly jealous over a man he loves being all excited to spend so much time with someone else. Buck was jealous and scared of someone taking his place in Eddie's life and doesn't really know how to process that.

Oh and for people who say he wasn't jealous over Eddie he literally says he was to Maddie.

Buck admits he was trying to get Eddie's attention which like I said in the basketball scene you can see because Eddie is all Buck is focused on.

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Then of course we have the end scene with Buck and Tommy.

First we get the opening shot where Buck answers the door. And before he even answers we the audience are made to think it's going to be Eddie and made to think Buck also thinks it's going to be Eddie. Because all of the tension that's been between them in the ep hasn't been resolved and Buck hasn't talked about how he's been feeling to Eddie at all. So we're left waiting for that resolution.

Instead however when Buck opens the door it's Tommy

One thing I didn't mention earlier was that the show has made it a point to have Tommy only call Buck Evan. I've seen a number of theories people have for why this is, personally I think it's a reminder to the audience that Tommy for all his similarities isn't Eddie. Like they give us all these signs that say look Eddie and Tommy are so much the same but everytime you hear Tommy say Evan so casually like that you remember they're different.

Eddie who knows the real Buck only ever calls him that and it's only on the rare serious occasion does he use Buck's real name. Maddie is similar. It's like when Ana called Eddie Edmundo. These people have an idea of who Buck and Eddie are but they they don't know all the little intricate pieces that's something Buck and Eddie only have with one another.

So Buck is smiling and laughing (somewhat out of embarrassment for how he behaved on the basketball court) but watch his body language at even the mention of someone replacing him in Eddie's life:

I find it extremely foreshadowing of what's to come with Buddie that the show chose to have Tommy and Buck spend most of the time before their first kiss even right down to the seconds before it talking about Eddie and even talked about him afterwards. I mean if you didn't want your audience shipping a ship or giving them hope it was going to happen would you do that?

Buck not only talks about Eddie before the kiss he talks about how great he is and brings up memories of their past. Almost like someone talking about an ex they're still in love with. Like you're trying to move on but you can't help what your heart wants.

Like I said above I fully believe that when Tommy said "my attention" he knew that Buck is all about Eddie. Buck's response being "I guess" is even more telling because it shows his confusion. I definitely think that when Buck and Tommy break up (or however far they get in their dating) that we'll get some kind of confirmation that Tommy always knew Buck and Eddie were in love.

I think a lot of the stuff Buck talks about in this scene is him trying in the moment to make sense of the confusing way he's been feeling. I do think he's attracted to and likes Tommy but there is also a whole host of other feelings he has that really were the main motivating factors into why he acted the way he did in this episode.

The last time Buck was with someone and there was an I love you it was with Taylor and it was like Buck just went along in that relationship because he felt like he was supposed to. Buck and Eddie are similar in that way. They have this amazing love and bond with one another but there's a reason besides the fact that they're both guys that they keep avoiding really confronting their feelings. They're scared. They're scared to loose what they have. They're scared to change it. They're scared of fucking it up like they believe they have their past relationships. Scared of so many things. So they just kind of side step it at every turn.

The show mentioning Eddie right before the scene ends is one of the biggest indicators that this is all leading to Buddie.

If the episode was really just a misdirect where Buck was really into Tommy all along they wouldn't have made the last scene so Eddie heavy and especially not the last bit of dialogue about Eddie. The last few lines are what you're leaving the audience with until the next episode and the words they left us with are about Eddie (and Buck) so we're meant to focus on them.

If you read all this thank you ❤️. This post took me forever (which would be why it's getting posted a full week after the ep >_< ) please reblog if you like it. Can't wait for the ep tonight.

#buddie #911 meta #911 7x04 #911!#long post #911 s7 #buddie s7 #b*ck t*mmy for bl

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