#3rd life scar x reader

[pathologicalreid]

Comforting spencer 🙏🙏 Maybe after the Tobias thing or something, sorry if this is too vague 😭

your needs, my needs | S.R.

who? spencer reid x gn!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: takes place following 3x12 "3rd life", spoilers for 2x15 "revelations", drug addiction, mentions NA and narcan word count: 1.74k a/n: hey anon! this is kind of too vague BUT i've had this idea marinating in my brain for so long and i just needed to find a place for it in the timeline! i hope this works for you! thank you for requesting!

Halfway down his arm, in the crook of his elbow, your boyfriend had a scar.

It was left by someone who was now dead and had been for months. The pink, new skin would eventually fade, but you’d always see it there.

The memory of Tobias Hankel would always haunt your relationship, but the two of you would manage to create new memories in the wake of everything that he had almost destroyed.

Hanging up your keys next to the front door, you note the silence of the apartment, there was no radio playing, no turning of book pages, and yet, you glanced over at the couch, seeing Spencer’s signature mismatched socks hanging over the edge of the couch.

Quietly, you set your bag down before you made your way over to the couch expecting to find Spencer asleep, but you’re surprised when deep brown eyes look back at you. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, a book tucked in the crook of his arm like he had given up on reading for the evening. “Hi, love,” you whispered, making your way around the back of the couch and squatting next to him, studying his expression intently. “How was work?”

He closed his eyes as you reached out and smoothed his hair back, “Hi,” he responded. His voice was raspy like it had been a while since he used it. You had woken up in an empty bed this morning, so the BAU must’ve arrived home from Chula Vista at some point while you were at work.

Spencer didn’t offer any other conversation. He didn’t tell you how work was. He didn’t ask you how work was. Sadly, you pressed your lips together in a thin, white line and tilted your head to the side, “What happened?”

“I’m tired,” he answered, averting his eyes from yours as he deflected. The avoidance was telling enough, you knew what was going through his mind. “I need to take a shower,” he admitted, his voice softening with use.

You raised your eyebrows curiously at him, despite the fact that he wouldn’t look at you, “Did you want me to leave you be for a while?” You asked, letting him know that you could keep your distance, but you wouldn’t leave him alone – not when he was like this.

His lips parted as he prepared to answer, “I don’t want to go into the bathroom,” he admitted meekly.

A deep understanding filled your chest. The bathroom was where you first figured out his addiction. The bathroom was where you now kept Narcan in the medicine cabinet. “Did you want me to go in with you?” You asked him a new question, hoping you could somehow gently guide him to an answer.

“I just don’t want to go in,” he said, voice raising in frustration before he checked himself, “I don’t want to be in a bathroom.”

You steeled your expression, not wanting him to know that you caught on the way he said a bathroom instead of the bathroom that time. “Alright,” you told him, pushing up on your knees so that you could stand and head into your shared bathroom. Going into the shower, you reached in and grabbed Spencer’s shampoo and conditioner, pulling a towel from the linen closet before you walked back out, passing him on the couch as you made your way into the kitchen.

Setting everything down on the counter you went back to the bedroom, closing the door to the ensuite before calling Spencer over. You heard heavy footsteps approach the bedroom before your boyfriend showed up in the doorway, “What is it?”

“Change into more comfortable clothes, then I can wash your hair in the kitchen sink,” you told him insistently, taking up a tone that told him you weren’t going to take no for an answer. Reaching into his side of the dresser, you pulled out a pair of flannel pajama pants while he stripped himself of his work clothes. Making sure he was moving, you followed suit, pulling off your work pants before resorting to sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

He grumbled as you herded him into the kitchen, sock-covered feet shuffling on the tile floor. Despite giving you a look when you instructed him to lie down on the counter, Spencer did so without much of a challenge. As you flipped on the tap, he settled on the laminate surface, “What are you doing?” He asked, frowning at you as you gently took his glasses off and placed the thick, black frames on the opposite side of the basin.

You hummed, taking the towel and tucking it underneath Spencer’s neck so the edge of the counter didn’t hurt him, “I don’t want to get soap and water all over your glasses.”

With furrowed brows, he looked up at you, “I won’t be able to see without my glasses,” he informed you.

“Then you’ll have to use that memory of yours to remember just how good-looking I am,” you responded earnestly, refraining from victoriously throwing your hands in the air when a small smile bloomed on his face.

Sighing, he relaxed against the hard surface of the counter. Too tall to fully lay down, he kept his legs folded up at the edge. It looked awkward, but if he was comfortable, who were you to judge?

Checking the temperature of the water with your hand, you took the sprayer in your hand and quickly sprayed a bit of water on Spencer’s hair, “Is that too hot?” You asked softly, watching his face for any kind of reaction.

Spencer quickly shook his head at you, “No, that’s good.” His answer prompted you to continue wetting his hair, using the sprayer before setting it down and taking his shampoo in your hands.

Lathering a dollop in between your palms, you slowly started to work it into his hair, he closed his eyes as you massaged the shampoo into his hair, focusing on his scalp as you did so. You smiled softly at the way he visibly relaxed, watching the way peace overtook him as a result of the simple service of having his hair washed.

Using your hand to protect his face from soap and water, you took the handheld sprayer back in your hand and rinsed the shampoo from his hair, the suds slipping from the locks in a waterfall. Taking a moment, you elected for another round of shampoo, squirting the same amount in your palm before repeating the process.

In your periphery, you noticed Spencer fiddling with something in his hand, a flash of gold caused your heart to clench while he flipped the coin through his fingers. His six-month NA chip.

Deciding against mentioning it, you continued working your fingers through his hair, the second round of shampoo foaming up even more than the first had, leading you to rinse your hands off before going back for the sprayer. Using your hand, you made sure to get all of the remaining shampoo from his hair before gently wringing his hair dry.

Putting a small amount of conditioner on your fingers, you deftly worked the product through the ends of Spencer’s hair, “Your hair’s getting long,” you observed aloud. “Did you want to cut it or keep growing it out?”

Not opening his eyes, Spencer responded, “Not sure yet,” he mumbled, clearly still enjoying your ministrations on his hair.

Finger-combing the conditioner through his hair, you nodded to yourself, “If you want to cut it, just let me know and I can help.”

In response, he nodded slightly while you tried to work through a small knot in his hair, “I thought I could stop him.”

Your movements faltered at the sudden change in subject, but you quickly regained your footing and continued, “You can’t save everyone.”

“I hate that,” he told you. Spencer had a lot of anger, it was never directed at you, it was directed toward the world, but that didn’t mean you liked it.

Letting the conditioner sit in his hair, you rinsed the product off of your hands before turning the tap off. “Do you need to go to a meeting?” You asked him gently, reaching over to seal the caps to the shampoo and conditioner before glancing at your boyfriend.

Mentally, you recalled where you had set your keys and bag when you got home, just in case you needed to take him away, “I’ll go tomorrow,” he answered.

His usual NA group met on Wednesdays, so it made sense that he’d want to go to that group. It didn’t mean you wouldn’t keep an eye on him tonight. “Okay,” you murmured softly, flipping the tap back on before you proceeded to rinse the conditioner from his hair, using your fingers to get all of the product from his silky brown strands.

Adjusting the temperature slightly, you focused your energy on getting the product out, settling into a comfortable silence until you felt satisfied, shutting off the water and wringing the water out as best you could with your hands.

You carefully coaxed the towel from where it rested beneath his neck, getting him to sit up while you towel-dried his hair. Pulling the cotton off of his head, you left his damp hair sticking every which way as you reached over to return his glasses to him, “Do you feel any better?” You asked, refraining from reaching up and touching him, you put your hands behind your back.

He nodded softly, settling his glasses on his face and blinking as his eyes focused. Spencer surprised you when he reached out for you, sitting up and leaving his legs dangling off of the edge of the counter, he parted his knees and pulled you so that your body was flush with the counter, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I love you,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck.

Burying your face in his shoulder, you breathed in the all-too-familiar scent of his shampoo and conditioner and leaned into his embrace, “I love you too, Spence.” Tears pricked your eyes, and you pulled away from him before any could trickle down your cheeks. “Come sit down on the couch, I’ll brush your hair out.”

A small, content smile grew on his face, nodding at you before he pushed himself off of the counter, following your footsteps back into the living room.

[vampiresfromxenon]

Kiss It Better

Astarion x gender neutral! Reader/Tav

Around 2.2K words 

Tags: Fluff, kissing, blood, soft!(ish?) Astarion, hurt/comfort, angst, 3rd person, no use of y/n

CW: Blood, deep wound on hand, existential thoughts (?)

Summary: After accidentally cutting your hand on your blade, Astarion is the only one in the camp to help you deal with it. You’ve been seeing him for awhile now, but this is the first time you’ve ever seen him actually care. Perhaps he does feel the same way about you…

~

With the daylight fading, you rest just outside your tent, wiping the blood off of your blade with a damp rag. As you sit there, shining it to perfection, you can’t help but analyze your reflection, thinking about the events that led you to having newer, fresher scars on your face. It’s been a few months since the start of this nightmare, since the start of having these things inside your head. The tadpoles weren't that bad to deal with, but your feelings were worse. 

You’ve grown to love all the companions you’ve met along the way, laughing and enjoying their company as you travel across the land, searching for answers, for a cure. You all keep each other safe in one way or another, and while you hate to get too attached, knowing this won’t last forever, you feel as though you found your family, especially since you can’t remember your real one. God, your real family. One you once knew but now have no memory of. Your past is a mystery, and it haunts you, much more than the gnawing idea that you could become a mind flayer at any waking moment. 

You want to remember. Oh, so desperately do you want to remember, but you can’t. That is not an option for you. And besides? What good would that do you now? You can only confront the horrors that lie before you. The thought of losing your friends, the thought of losing yourself. The thought of losing… No. You can’t bear the thought of losing him.

You find your heart sinking in your chest at the thought of him turning into a mind flayer. Your chest aches at the thought of where you promised you’d stab him if, Gods forbid, he turns. Looking into his eyes and seeing nothing, no life, no character, but a vessel. A vessel for these wretched things. It was becoming too much to handle. Your body begins to tremble from these false images enveloping your thoughts, these twisted and sickly ideas corrupting your mind for far too long. You’re so distracted by these terrors that you fail to notice the fact that you started to scrub the blade harder, or even more pressing, the fact that you dropped the rag. 

In one swift movement, your palm forcibly glides across the blade, drawing both blood from your palm and a string of curses from your mouth. The images disappear, fleeing your mind as you pick up the rag and crush it into the palm of your hand to stop the bleeding. The blade was no longer important in this moment, tossed off to the side for later. You storm into your tent, clutching your hand, searching for any sort of healing potion or power that you could find. Shadowheart and the rest of the camp had left to explore the town for the night, leaving you all to your lonesome, or so you thought. 

You sit on a cushion, exasperated and upset with yourself and your doomed existence. Removing the cloth, you take a closer look to see just how bad the wound is, trying to ignore the stinging feeling. Distracted by the blood, you fail to hear a visitor’s light footsteps approaching. 

“Oh dear, what happened to you?” A charming voice rings out. 

You turn to see a pale, slender elf standing in the opening of your tent, his white hair perfectly styled as always, his piercing red eyes invading your soul. Shoving the rag back into your burning palm, you attempt to hide your mistake, though you know he smells the blood from miles away. 

“I had a moment of clumsiness, nothing more.” You stated in a nonchalant tone, attempting to downplay your embarrassment. 

You turn your hand away from him, your eyes drifting around your tent, avoiding his gaze. He slowly approaches you, kneeling down on the cushion you are sitting on. He moves his head to meet your gaze, not wasting a second of eye-contact. 

“Mind if I take a look, darling?” He purrs, asking more nicely than usual. 

Your heart begins to race as he leans over you a little, prying into your personal space. If it were anyone else, you would push them away, but he invited himself in so much that you couldn’t help but miss it when he left. However, in this moment you did not want to feel this vulnerable, this embarrassed at your mistake; you couldn’t help but push him away just a little. After all, he is not known for having the best 'bedside manner’, if any at all. Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look.

“I’ll be alright on my own, thank you, Astarion. Besides, I thought you went into town with the rest of the camp?” You inquire, suddenly aware of just how much your feelings of being alone may have been an illusion. 

“I had no need to go, and honestly I couldn’t take any more of Gale’s whining about ‘needing to eat magical artifacts’. I know everyone complains about my diet, but let’s be realistic here for just a moment…” He looks away smirking, proud of his own snarky comment. Turning back to you, there is suddenly a shift in tone on his face. While he still has his typical look, one that is oozing with flirtatious energy, he looks a bit more serious, concerned even. You’ve never seen this side of him before, and it shocked you considering just how insignificant he’d find a wound like this normally. 

“Let me see it, please.” His voice was low, softer than usual, but commanding. One of his hands reaches across you, his hand ghosting over yours. You can’t help but lift your bloody hand so his palm touches the back of your hand. Never breaking eye-contact, he pulls your hand closer to him, gently pulling the rag from your white knuckles. Looking down, he notices just how bad the cut is, taking up most of your palm. 

“Oh, my dear… How did you do this?” His voice is more concerned now, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your wrist. His eyes soften, and you can’t help but think back to what put you in this mess to begin with. Your body trembles once more, eyes breaking his gaze as you stare down at your hand. 

“My hand slipped while cleaning my blade. It’s alright, I just need to wait for Shadowheart to come back…” You trail off. 

“Why wait for Shadowheart? I can make you feel better, you know…” His free, slender hand reaches down and grabs your chin, gently raising your head to face his again. You blush from his touch, his willingness to command your body. Your mouth falls open a little, unsure of what to say or how to respond to such a comment from him. You were used to his flirting, but this unlocked a whole new feeling in you. He could sense your speechlessness, and so he did the one thing he knew how to do best: make you even more flustered. 

“Would you like me to kiss it better?” He asks in his normal, teasing tone. This offering catches you off guard, breaking your immersion in this intimate moment. You can’t help but laugh, thinking now that he was only just charming you like he does everyone else. Continuing to laugh, you call him out. 

“Very funny, Astarion. Hilarious. Need I remind you of when I was opening up to you not that long ago and you said almost the exact same thing? Seems to me you’re running out of tactics here.” You roll your eyes, not amused by his antics.

You feel his grip tighten on your bleeding hand, pulling it closer to him. Looking to see what he is doing, you connect with his eyes one more time, seeing an almost predatory look. You stop laughing, your face heating up once again, your heart pounding as his soft lips connect with your wounded palm. It still stings, and you wince a little at the contact, but you can’t seem to look or pull away from him. He kisses all along your palm, and you can feel him gently sucking at the blood. Not only was he kissing you better, but he was feeding on you. 

If you weren’t so attracted to him, you’d be much more upset. Instead, you sit on this cushion while the vampire of your desires kneels before you, kissing and sucking at your wounded palm. You can feel his tongue lapping at your skin, his fangs ever so slightly poking out from behind his lips. Yes, he was feeding, but was he… actually kissing you too? His hands continue to massage the back of your hand and your wrist, trying to provide you comfort without completely invading your space. Eventually he stops, planting a final kiss on your wrist, his mouth covered in blood. He licks his lips, and you can’t help but tremble now but for a whole new reason. 

“Better?” He asks, smiling enough to show his fangs this time. 

“You just wanted an excuse to suck at my hand, didn’t you?” You raise an eyebrow, an attempt to see through him.

“I am always looking for any excuse to suck at any part of you, my sweet.” His voice is low once more, a rumbling laugh escaping his lips.

He finds a section of the rag not absolutely soaked in blood and pushes it back into your, now much cleaner, palm. Your whole face is flushed now, unable to think of any more witty remarks or comebacks. For the second time in just a few small minutes, he found yet another way to leave you completely speechless. The sly vampire decides to take advantage of your silence once more. 

Letting go of your hand, he leans forward, his lips connecting with yours. It’s soft, gentle, and new. To be fair, while you have spent a few intimate nights together, this moment here alone feels so much more real, so much more genuine. Almost as if he was kissing you… because he wanted to. A real, genuine want. His hand caresses the side of your face, his other landing on the small of your back as he continues to kiss you. Without hesitation, you lean into the kiss, your body elated by his touch. It’s not long before he deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips, wanting more from you. 

He tastes of iron, what more could you expect, but for once you don’t hate the taste. You invite it more into your mouth as he continues to lean even further over you. He begins to push you back, your body relaxing into the cushion. He breaks from the kiss, planting small kisses on your face, trailing them down your jaw and to the side of your neck. You can’t help but close your eyes, softly sighing as he kisses at your skin, sucking softly, his fangs once again poking you. He had been feeding off you almost every night now for weeks while you were dead asleep, and while it was unusual for you two, it was so much more enjoyable to experience it this way. He lifts his head, meeting your eyes as a way of warning you he was about to bite. He opens his mouth, his fangs protruding, ready for the taste of your flesh and blood. 

“Helloooo? Astarion? Tav? We’ve got some goods!” Yells out Karlach, just a few meters away from your tent.

Shit. He sits up, kneeling over you, looking dissatisfied. You sigh and throw your head back into the cushion, frustrated. His cool hand caresses your cheek before tracing down your arm. He leans in close to your face one last time, his breath warming your skin. 

“Shall we finish this later tonight, my love?” He purrs, not even remotely finished with you.

You nod, still unable to speak from the last few eventful minutes. He kisses your cheek before standing. “Find me in the woods at our little spot, just after everyone has gone to bed. Don’t keep me waiting.” He flashes one last cheeky smirk before exiting your tent. 

“Hello, Karlach. Gale find any boots to devour today?” He quips, and you can’t help but laugh when Gale offendly responds.

The camp erupts in conversation, and you find yourself leaving your tent after a few minutes to track down Shadowheart. She heals you in her tent, though she has quite a few questions. Giving vague enough responses, she accepts them and lets you be on your way, but she’ll definitely be curious about it for a while. 

No matter, the only thought you could think of now was what Astarion had planned for both of you tonight; you knew exactly what was going to happen, but there was this whole new sense of excitement now that you could tell there was something deeper, real, and authentic going on between you two. You lie there in your tent, waiting for the snoring and sleep talking to begin to resonate throughout the camp, eager to scamper off into the wilderness with the elf you adore.  

-

Author's Note:

Hello! I haven't written any fan fiction in a loooooong time, and none of it was ever good to begin with- I've been struggling with writer's block for awhile now, and this was the first thing to break me out of it... lmao. I am very new to BG3 in general honestly, and I just barely started act 2. Please no spoilers, but also if Astarion is sorta OOC, I hope that explains why too :)

I've only had Astarion for what, two, three weeks now, and this man is just so whewww. I thought of this fic idea right as soon as I started a longer drive, and I started recording my thoughts on video so that way I wouldn't forget anything before I could start writing hahaha- I blushed so hard writing this, hope y'all feel the same

Hope you enjoy!

[newobsessionweekly]

Lost and found

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x undercover!cop!reader Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You and Tim have a history together, but it took a nearly death experience for Tim to confess.

A/N: Oh, how I love writing for Tim. I don't really have anything to say but I really do love your requests and I will post all of them soon. I have a lot of ideas and I get lost on them, honestly. I absolutely love your support and I'm so grateful for all of you. I'm watching The Rookie for the first time and I'm only halfway the 3rd season so if you have requests related to the following seasons, I will write them when I get there! Feedback is welcome and screw my studying, I'll be taking requests! Be safe and lots of love, bubs! Hope you enjoy this!

Angst | Action | Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of beating, Hurt, Tim having a panic attack, not proofread yet

Requested: No Words: 6.7k GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

Tim's marriage to Isabel was like a storm that swept through his life, leaving destruction in its wake. The scars it left ran deep, etched into his soul and shaping the man he had become. He carried the weight of his failed marriage like a burden, the pain of betrayal and loss weighing heavily on his shoulders.

When you crossed paths with Tim, it was during one of the darkest moments of his life. He was grappling with the aftermath of his divorce, struggling to make sense of the shattered pieces of his heart. But in you, he found a beacon of light amidst the darkness, a steady presence that offered solace and support when he needed it most.

There was an unspoken connection that defied explanation, drawing you closer with each passing day. Despite his efforts to keep you at a distance, you found yourself irresistibly drawn to him, like a compass pointing north, guiding you towards him despite the obstacles in your path.

As your friendship blossomed, so did the feelings that simmered beneath the surface. Tim's past, fraught with pain and heartache, cast a shadow over your burgeoning relationship, leaving you both hovering on the edge of something more yet unable to take the leap.

You became Tim's confidante, his rock in turbulent seas, lending him a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen as he poured out his pain and anguish. In your unwavering presence, he found a sense of peace he hadn't known in years, a glimmer of hope that perhaps, despite the scars of his past, he could find happiness again.

In the beginning, your relationship was like dancing on the edge of a knife, a delicate balance between friendship and something more. You indulged in the intoxicating allure of each other's company, letting the flames of your past ignite between you and consume you in their fiery embrace.

It was a whirlwind of passion and desire, a fleeting moment of ecstasy that held the promise of something deeper. You reveled in the connection you shared, basking in the warmth of each other's presence and losing yourselves in the depths of our desire.

But as quickly as your fairytale began, it came crashing down around you, shattering the illusion of bliss and leaving you both reeling in its aftermath. Tim's feelings for you burned brighter with each passing moment, threatening to consume him entirely in their fiery intensity.

In a moment of clarity, Tim made the painful decision to cut it off, fearing that he was not good enough for you, that he would only bring you pain and disappointment. He believed he could not protect you from the darkness that lurked in his past, and so he pushed you away, extinguishing the flames of your passion before they could consume you both.

As an undercover cop, your mission was to infiltrate a notorious human trafficking ring that had been plaguing LA for far too long. Posing as a vulnerable young woman seeking refuge from a troubled past, you wormed your way into the inner circle of the criminal organization.

Under the guise of vulnerability and months of play pretend, you gained the trust of your targets, earning a place of significance within their twisted world. But with every step deeper into the belly of the beast, you knew the risks grew greater, the danger more palpable.

Months of gaining the trust of the ring's leader had led to this crucial meeting, where you hoped to finally make a breakthrough. You are supposed to meet one of the important members, to discuss your part. They need you to find vulnerable women, in order to keep their protection. It was a role you had to play convincingly, despite the knot of unease twisting in your stomach.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the parking lot, his voice shattered the air like a thunderclap. "Y/N!"

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of Tim's voice, a flood of memories threatening to overwhelm you. But you couldn't afford to let emotions cloud your judgment now, not when the mission hung in the balance.

"Y/N!" His voice grew closer, each step echoing with the weight of shared history and unspoken emotions. Tim Bradford, the man who had once held your heart in his hands, stood mere feet away, his presence a reminder of a past you had tried so desperately to forget.

You tightened your grip on your resolve, pushing aside the rush of feelings threatening to engulf you. This wasn't the time for sentimentality, not when lives hung in the balance. Ignoring him once more, you pressed on, your determination unyielding.

But then, he called out again, using the undercover name you had adopted for this dangerous game. "Sunny!"

As Tim's footsteps drew nearer, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. The shock of seeing him here, in the midst of your dangerous undercover operation, sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Tim," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to process the surrealness of the moment.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he took in your appearance, his expression mirroring the mix of emotions swirling inside you. "Y/N," he said, his voice hoarse with surprise and concern. "I... I didn't expect to see you here."

Neither did you. The last person you expected to encounter in the midst of this high-stakes operation was Tim Bradford, the man whose memory had haunted you for so long.

"I can't explain now," you managed to say, your words coming out in a rush as you fought to maintain your composure. "But you need to trust me. It's dangerous, and I can't get you involved."

Tim's brow furrowed in concern, his gaze searching yours for answers. "I trust you," he said quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But Boot and I are here to help."

His words washed over you like a wave of relief, the weight of the situation lifting slightly as you realized you weren't facing this alone. "You're backup?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Tim nodded, his expression unwavering. "Alongside the cops patrolling the streets around this place," he confirmed. "We've got your back."

As you exchanged glances with Tim silently thanking him for being there, Lucy emerged from the shadows, her appearance a stark contrast to the glamour of the restaurant's surroundings. Dressed convincingly as an abused woman, Lucy embodied the role of the vulnerable victim you had concocted for the gang's twisted game.

Her hair, usually sleek and polished, now hung in disarray around her face, strands tangled and unkempt. Makeup expertly applied to mimic bruises and scars adorned her skin, a haunting reminder of the violence she was portraying.

Despite the facade of vulnerability, there was a fire in Lucy's eyes, a fierce determination that belied the submissive persona she portrayed. It was a testament to her strength and resilience, a silent declaration that she would not be easily broken.

As you approached the entrance of the restaurant, you cast a quick glance at Lucy, silently conveying the gravity of the situation. This was your moment, and you had to execute flawlessly.

"Okay, Lucy," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Listen carefully. I'll do the talking. You stay silent unless directly addressed by the right-hand. No showing of doubt, no hesitation. We need this operation to go smoothly."

Lucy nodded, her jaw set with determination as she absorbed your instructions. Despite the nerves flickering in her eyes, she straightened her posture, steeling herself for the task ahead.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Remember," you continued, your tone firm. "We're in control here. Stay focused, and we'll get through this."

Lucy nodded again, a silent promise of her commitment to the plan. "Roger that." she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside her.

With the stakes higher than ever, you knew that this undercover operation had to be executed with precision and finesse. As you and Lucy took your seats at the table next to the most important man you can lay hands on, you couldn't shake the feeling that every move had to be calculated, every word chosen carefully.

From your vantage point, you observed the man closely, your senses on high alert as you awaited the perfect opportunity to strike. Across the room, you knew Tim was watching from the shadows, his eyes scanning the scene for any signs of trouble.

The man's scrutinizing gaze fell upon Lucy, his eyes assessing her with a predatory gleam. "And who might this be?" he inquired, his tone slick with suspicion.

Taking a deep breath, you tell the man everything as practiced. "This is Lucy," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "She's... she's been trapped in a nightmare with an abusive husband."

Lucy nodded, her eyes casting down as if reliving the horrors of her past. The man leaned back in his chair, a calculating glint in his eyes. "And you think we can help you with that?" he asked, amusement dancing in his voice.

You nodded eagerly, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation in your favor. "You have resources, connections... You could help Lucy start over, away from her husband."

As Tim listened intently to the conversation unfolding before him, a knot of unease tightened in his stomach. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that washed over him, knowing that he was unable to intervene directly without blowing your cover. All he could do was watch and wait, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and frustration.

The man's lips curled into a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Of course," he said smoothly. "We can take care of her. Provide her with a safe place to stay. We have a room prepared at Bates."

Bates motel was an important piece of the puzzle, where they would take the girls and force them to practice commercial sex in exchange for the protection they provide. The girls usually don't stay there longer than a couple of days before they fly to different countries outside US. Rich countries filled with desperate men that would pay fortunes for the girls.

As the name of the motel fell from the man's lips, Lucy's breath caught in her throat, fear flashing across her features. The plan was that both of you to be taken to the motel and gather some information for the FBI so that they'll be able to arrest them. But someone failed to explain Lucy all the details.

The man's gaze narrowed, suspicion flickering in his eyes as he noticed her reaction. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded, his tone sharp.

Feeling the weight of Lucy's panic, you subtly reached out and gently squeezed her hand under the table, offering her reassurance. With a quick glance in her direction, you flashed her a smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm amidst the storm.

Tim feared for your safety, knowing all too well the dangers you faced in the heart of the gang's operations. Lucy's anxiety only heightened his own, sending a surge of tension coursing through his veins.

You fought to mask your own rising panic, your mind racing for an explanation that would satisfy his curiosity. "She's just... scared," you said quickly, your voice tinged with urgency. "She thought she'd left the state tonight, but... but she's worried her husband might find her."

As the conversation with the man continued, you maintained a careful facade of composure, all the while silently reassuring Lucy that you were in this together.

The man's gaze softened slightly, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I see," he said, his tone gentler now. "Well, there's no need to worry. She'll be safe here with the other girls until the plane is ready to take off for Italy."

As several armed men approached the table, their presence casting a menacing shadow over the already tense atmosphere, the right hand of the leader spoke with authority. "It's time to move her to the motel," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Panic surged within you as you exchanged a worried glance with Lucy, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on both of you. You couldn't bear the thought of letting Lucy face this alone, knowing the danger that awaited her at the hands of the gang.

Desperation fueled your next words as you pleaded with the man to let you accompany Lucy. "Please," you begged, your voice trembling with fear. "Let me go with her. I can't... I can't let her alone, I promise I wouldn't leave her alone."

But the man's expression remained cold and impassive, unmoved by your plea. "I don't give a fuck about your promises. Only one of you," he insisted firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "It'll look suspicious if both of you go missing. The police might decide to crash our little party."

As the tension in the room reached its peak, Tim could no longer stand idly by. With a sense of urgency coursing through him, he rose from his seat and approached the table, his expression a mask of desperation.

"Lucy, there you are!" Tim's voice rang out, thick with emotion as he stepped into the role of her abusive husband. "I have looked for you everywhere. I can't lose you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

His words echoed off the walls of the restaurant, each syllable laced with genuine anguish as he pleaded with Lucy to come back to him. It was a performance born out of necessity, a last-ditch effort to salvage their plan and get Lucy safely out of the operation.

With practiced precision, Tim threw himself into the role, his voice cracking with emotion as he pleaded with Lucy to come back to him.

"Please, Lucy," he begged, his eyes brimming with tears. "I love you. I'll do anything to make it right. Just... come home."

As Tim's performance unfolded, Lucy's eyes widened in surprise, her initial panic giving way to understanding as she realized the ruse they were playing. With a silent nod of agreement, you played along.

With a heavy sigh, you made a split-second decision. "I'll go," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't have family or anyone who would ask questions."

For a moment, silence falling upon you, the weight of your and Tim's words hanging heavy in the air. Then, slowly, tentatively, Lucy nodded, her resolve crumbling in the face of Tim's impassioned plea.

With a sense of relief washing over him, Tim gathered Lucy in his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might slip away. Together, they made their way out of the restaurant, leaving behind the facade they had constructed and the danger that had threatened to engulf them.

As the gravity of your decision settled over you, a sense of resignation washed over you. You knew that by sacrificing yourself, you were placing yourself directly in harm's way.

As the right-hand man of the leader was convinced by your offer to accompany him, he swiftly led you out of the restaurant, ignoring the chaos unfolding. With each step towards his car, a sense of urgency gnawed at your insides.

As Tim and Lucy hurried to Tim's car, Lucy's concern for your safety was palpable. "We have to go after them," she urged. "She could be in danger."

But Tim remained resolute, his jaw clenched with determination. "She knows what she's doing," he insisted, though the worry in his eyes betrayed his facade of confidence. "She's been trained for this and been in these situations before. We can't risk blowing her cover, especially when the motel is our only lead."

Lucy's brow furrowed in frustration. "But Tim, the motel is a front for prostitution," she argued, her voice tinged with desperation. "What if they force her into something she can't handle?"

Tim's resolve wavered at her words, a pang of guilt gnawing at his conscience. He knew she was right—no lead was worth the risk of putting you in danger. With a heavy sigh, he relented. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "We'll go after her. But we'll keep our distance until the FBI does their job and have the suspects in custody."

As the car sped down the darkened streets, fear coiled like a serpent in your chest, tightening its grip with every passing moment. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon you, the reality of going alone with the dangerous man sinking in with a bone-chilling certainty.

You knew the stakes were high, the danger palpable as you faced the unknown. The plan crafted by the FBI had hinged on both you and Lucy going to the motel together, creating a scenario that would make it nearly impossible for the gang and their leader to mask your disappearances. But now, with you isolated and vulnerable, the gang could easily fabricate a motive for your sudden absence, erasing all traces of your existence without a second thought.

As Tim's car raced through the streets of Los Angeles in pursuit of the vehicle carrying you and one of the most wanted men, a whirlwind of emotions churned within him. Fear gnawed at his gut, a relentless reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond the horizon.

But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, something else stirred within Tim—a spark of recognition, a flicker of something long buried beneath the surface. Seeing you again after all these years reignited a fire within him, flooding his mind with memories of your shared past.

In that moment, Tim realized with a jolt that the feelings he had buried deep down inside him were still very much alive. Despite the passage of time, despite the distance that had grown between you, his heart still beat for you, aching with a longing he had long tried to suppress.

As the realization settled in, Tim knew with a fierce certainty that he had to protect you, no matter the cost. Desperation gripped him, driving him forward with a single-minded determination to ensure your safety.

Tim and Lucy sat in the car, and Lucy couldn't help but notice the distant look in Tim's eyes. "So, how do you know Y/N?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Tim's gaze flickered to Lucy, a hint of sadness shadowing his features. "We go way back," he replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "She's been there for me through some tough times."

Lucy nodded, sensing there was more to the story. "Tough times?" she pressed, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Tim sighed, his gaze drifting to the darkened windows of the car. "When Isabel left," he began, his voice trailing off. "Y/N was there for me. She helped me through."

A pang of sympathy tugged at Lucy's heart as she listened to Tim's confession. "You said 'was'. What happened?" she asked gently, her voice filled with empathy.

Tim's expression grew somber, a weight settling upon his shoulders. "I... I pushed her away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was in a dark place, and I was afraid I couldn't protect her, couldn't love her properly."

A heavy silence hung between them as Lucy absorbed Tim's words, a sense of sadness washing over her. "Do you regret it?" she asked softly, her gaze searching his face for answers.

"It's not something I want to discuss." he snapped, his tone laced with frustration.

Lucy persisted, her voice gentle yet insistent. "Tim, I just want to understand."

"Yes I regret it because I loved her and I still do. And tonight I left my feelings get the best of me, being here is not right. Now take this as a lesson and don't be me."

Lucy hesitated, sensing Tim's walls closing in around him. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice laced with sympathy. "I didn't mean to pry."

As the FBI descended upon the motel, Tim's heart pounded with a mixture of hope and dread. He watched anxiously from his car as the agents swarmed the building, their movements swift and decisive.

But as the suspects were handcuffed and led away, there was no sign of you among them. Panic surged through Tim's veins as he realized you were nowhere to be found. With a sense of urgency, he flung open the car door and hurried towards the motel, his footsteps echoing in the deserted parking lot.

Each room he passed seemed to blur together, a maze of empty spaces and unanswered prayers. Desperation clawed at Tim's chest as he searched frantically for any sign of you, his heart hammering in his ears.

But as he reached the end of the corridor, a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. Tim turned to see one of the FBI officers standing behind him, his expression grim.

"We've searched every room," the officer said, his voice heavy with regret. "There's no sign of her."

Tim's breath caught in his throat, a cold wave of fear washing over him. "But she has to be here," he insisted, his voice hoarse with emotion."She was here."

The FBI officer shook his head, sympathy evident in his eyes."We tried to contact her," he explained. "But there was no response. We got worried ourselves, so we barged in. But she's not here."

As the FBI agents stormed the motel and chaos erupted around you, a surge of relief washed over you. But before you could fully grasp what was happening, one of the suspects grabbed you and dragged you away, their grip like iron around your arm.

Panic surged through you as you realized you were being taken against your will, your heart racing with fear and uncertainty. With each passing moment, the distance between you and safety seemed to grow, your hopes of escape dwindling with each step.

Soon, you found yourself standing before the waiting plane, its engines roaring to life in the darkness of the night. Desperation clawed at your chest, your hands steady as you carefully withdrew your gun from its holster. Each movement was deliberate, each breath measured, as you aimed the weapon at the men who held you captive.

With a steely resolve, you squared your shoulders and met their gaze head-on, your finger poised on the trigger. "LAPD, you are under arrest" you declared, your voice firm and commanding as you held up your badge for them to see.

The men's eyes widened in surprise at your sudden display of authority, but their expressions quickly hardened into sneers of defiance. "Funny" one of them scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "Cop or not, you're still a bitch and I have to honor a promise."

As the men closed in on you, their faces contorted with rage and desperation, you fought back with all the strength you could muster. But outnumbered, you were no match for their brute force. With a swift motion, one of them snatched the gun from your grasp, leaving you defenseless and vulnerable.

Panic surged through you as they dragged you towards the waiting plane, their grip like vice around your arms. Desperation clawed at your chest as you struggled against them, throwing punches and kicks in a desperate bid for freedom.

But it was no use. As the men wrestled you to the ground, their blows raining down upon you with merciless force, you felt the last vestiges of consciousness slipping away.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, you heard their voices, cold and indifferent.

"It's not worth the risk," one of them muttered, his tone resigned. "We need to leave her behind."

With a final, brutal blow, the man who had taken you from the motel left you lying on the ground, battered and broken. As he turned and headed towards the waiting plane, boarding without a second glance, you were left alone in the darkness, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

As the sound of the plane's engines faded into the distance, you closed your eyes, the world spinning around you.

As the moments stretched into eternity and the reality of your disappearance sank in, Tim's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and frustration. With trembling hands, he fumbled for his radio, his voice tight with urgency as he called for backup.

"Dispatch, this is Officer Bradford," he said, his voice taut with tension. "We have a missing officer. I repeat, we have a missing officer. Requesting immediate backup."

As he waited for a response, a whirlwind of emotions churned within him—fear, anger, desperation. The thought of you out there, alone and in danger, sent a chill down his spine. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, each moment stretching on endlessly as he prayed for some sign of hope.

As Lucy rushed to Tim's side, her eyes wide with concern, she could see the tension etched into every line of his face. "Tim, what's going on?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry.

Tim took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to compose himself. "It's Y/N," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "She's gone."

Lucy's eyes widened in shock. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?" she demanded, her voice rising with panic.

Tim's jaw clenched, he struggled to find the words to convey the gravity of the situation. "I searched every room in that motel," he began, his voice strained with emotion. "But she wasn't there. FBI told me they couldn't find her either."

As the police officers arrived one by one, their flashing lights cutting through the darkness of the night, Sergeant Grey emerged from the crowd, his face grave with concern. "What's the situation, Bradford?" he asked, his voice commanding as he approached Tim.

Tim opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, his phone his phone rang, the screen lighting up with your name.

All eyes turned to him as he answered the call, his heart pounding in his chest with a mixture of fear and relief. "Hey, are you okay? Where are you?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he put the call on speaker.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before you spoke, your voice strained with pain. "I don't know where I am," you admitted, your words punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. "One of the suspects took me when the FBI barged in."

Tim's grip tightened on the phone as he listened, his heart sinking with each word. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice trembling with worry.

You hesitated, a soft hiss of pain escaping between your teeth. "Yeah," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think so."

Sergeant Grey's voice cut through the tension, his tone firm and decisive. "Keep her on the line, Bradford," he instructed, his gaze focused and unwavering. "We need to track her location."

With a nod of determination, Tim focused all his attention on the call, his heart heavy with worry for you.

As Tim desperately sought answers, his voice quivered with worry. "Can you hear me?" he asked, his words tinged with desperation. "Are you still there?"

But there was no response, only the eerie silence of the line. Panic clawed at his chest as the silence stretched on, broken only by the faint sound of your labored breathing.

Tears pricked at Tim's eyes as he realized that you had lost consciousness. "Hang in there," he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. "We're coming for you."

With a heavy heart, Tim stayed on the line, his every breath a prayer for your safety.

But finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sergeant Grey's voice broke through the silence. "We've got her location," he said, his tone filled with relief. "Let's move."

The urgency of the situation weighed heavily on his mind. Every second felt like an perpetuity, each passing moment filled with the agonizing uncertainty of not knowing if you were safe.

Tim's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, his foot pressing down hard on the accelerator, propelling the car forward at breakneck speed. The world outside blurred into a whirlwind of colors and lights as they sped through the night, the roar of the engine drowning out all other sounds.

But amidst the chaos and urgency, Tim's thoughts were consumed by you. Memories of your time together flooded his mind, each one a painful reminder of what was at stake. His heart ached with the fear of losing you, his mind plagued by visions of what could happen if they didn't reach you in time.

As he stole a glance at Lucy in the passenger seat, he saw the same fear mirrored in her eyes. They shared a silent understanding, a mutual determination to do whatever it took to bring you home safely.

With each passing mile, Tim's emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Fear, anger, and desperation warred within him, his every nerve on edge as they hurtled towards your location.

But above all else, there was love. Love for you, burning bright and fierce in his heart, driving him forward with an unyielding determination to see you safe and sound once more.

As they reached the aerodrome, Tim's heart pounded in his chest with a mixture of fear and anticipation. With a single-minded focus, he bolted from the car, his senses heightened as he scanned the area for any sign of you.

But as he raced through the darkness, his heart froze in his chest at the sight before him. There, lying motionless on the ground, was a figure bathed in the dim light of the aerodrome. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Tim's breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling with a thousand different fears.

As he drew closer, his worst fears were realized. It was you, lying there on the ground, your form still and silent. A wave of anguish washed over Tim as he fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out to searched for signs of life.

Gently, he pressed his fingers against your neck, praying for the faintest hint of a pulse. Relief flooded through him as he felt the faint throb beneath his touch, a small glimmer of hope in the darkness.

With trembling hands, Tim reached for the radio, his voice steady as he relayed the news. "This is Officer Bradford," he said, his voice ringing out through the static. "I've found Agent Y/L/N. Breathing, not conscious, in critical condition. Requesting an ambulance at my location."

As he waited for the ambulance to arrive, Tim cradled you in his arms, his heart aching at the sight of you lying so still and pale. "Hang in there," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Help is on the way. You're going to be okay."

But as he spoke, he could see the flicker of consciousness in your eyes, the struggle to stay awake evident in the lines of your face. "Stay with me," he urged, his voice desperate. "I'm here, look at me."

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, Tim's voice washed over you like a soothing balm, his words a lifeline in the darkness. With each fleeting moment of clarity, you felt his presence beside you, his warmth a comforting anchor in the storm.

Desperate for any sign of response, he poured his heart out to you, his words a raw outpouring of emotion.

"I need you to fight, Y/N," he pleaded, his voice trembling with desperation. "I need you to come back to me. I can't do this without you. I know I'm not perfect and I know I was so stupid to push you away."

Tears welled in Tim's eyes as he confessed his deepest fears and insecurities, his voice cracking with emotion. "I love you," he whispered, his words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. "I've loved you for so long, and I can't bear the thought of losing you again. "

But as he spoke, there was no response, no flicker of recognition in your eyes. Panic clawed at Tim's chest as he watched you lie there, so still and silent, his heart breaking with each passing moment.

"Please, Y/N," he begged, his voice raw with anguish. "Don't leave me."

And as the ambulance arrived and the paramedics rushed to your side, Tim held onto you tightly, unwilling to let go. With each passing moment, his love for you grew stronger, a beacon of light in the midst of the storm.

As they loaded you onto the stretcher and whisked you away, Tim vowed to never leave your side and as the ambulance sped towards the hospital, his hand tightly clasped in yours, he watched over you with unwavering devotion. Inside the vehicle, the paramedics worked tirelessly to stabilize your condition, their urgent voices a constant presence in the cramped space.

"We need immediate assistance," one paramedic called out, their tone urgent. "Prepare the OR and alert the medical team."

Tim's heart pounded in his chest as he listened, his mind reeling with fear and confusion. "What's happening?" he asked, his voice trembling with anxiety.

"We're losing her," one paramedic radioed to the hospital, their voice strained with desperation. "Patient is experiencing severe hypotension, tachycardia, and respiratory distress."

Tim's brow furrowed in confusion as he struggled to make sense of the medical jargon. "What does that mean?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear.

As the hours ticked by in the dimly lit waiting room of the hospital, Tim sat alone, his thoughts consumed by worry and fear. The minutes stretched into eternity as he waited for news of your condition, each passing moment feeling like an eternity.

One by one, his colleagues began to arrive, their presence a welcome comfort in the midst of his turmoil.

First was Lucy, her footsteps hesitant as she entered the room, her eyes filled with concern as she approached Tim's side. Next came Nyla alongside Nolan, his expression solemn as his hand resting reassuringly on Tim's shoulder.

Angela followed suit, her steps purposeful as she made her way towards Tim, her eyes filled with understanding. "Hey," she said softly, her voice gentle as she settled into the chair beside him. "I came as fast as I could. I'm so sorry."

Tim looked up, gratitude flickering in his eyes as he met Angela's gaze. In that moment, he was reminded of the countless times she had been there for him, both on and off duty. Their friendship had weathered its share of storms, but through it all, Angela had remained a steadfast presence in his life.

"Thanks, Lopez," Tim replied, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm glad you're here."

Your eyes slowly fluttered open to the sight of Tim seated beside you, his features softened in sleep. He looked tired, yet peaceful, his handsome face illuminated by the soft glow of the hospital room.

You couldn't help but admire the tranquility that washed over him, the lines of worry smoothed away in slumber. Despite the exhaustion that lingered beneath his closed lids, there was a sense of calmness that enveloped him, making him appear more beautiful than ever before.

His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the gentle cadence of his breaths filling the room with a soothing melody. His tousled hair framed his face in a disheveled halo, adding to his rugged charm.

As you watched him, a rush of warmth flooded your chest, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Despite the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded you, there was a sense of peace that settled over you in his presence.

But as the beeping of the heart rate monitor broke the silence, jolting Tim awake, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. The fleeting moment of intimacy you had shared was gone, replaced once again by the harsh reality of your circumstances.

And yet, as Tim's eyes met yours, there was a flicker of something in his gaze, a spark of recognition that spoke volumes.

You blinked away the remnants of sleep and offered a sheepish smile to Tim. "Sorry," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Tim's gaze softened as he looked at you, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's okay," he said softly, his voice warm with affection. "I'm just glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

You paused for a moment, taking stock of your surroundings before answering. "Sore," you admitted, wincing slightly as you shifted in the hospital bed. "But I think I'll survive."

Tim chuckled softly, reaching out, to squeeze your hand in a silent gesture of reassurance. "That's good to hear," he said, his voice filled with relief. "I was worried about you."

You nodded in understanding, gratitude swelling in your chest at his concern. "Did they catch them?" you asked, your voice filled with apprehension.

Tim nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. "Yeah," he replied, his tone firm. "The Italian police arrested all of them. The girls are safe, thanks to you."

Relief flooded through you at his words, knowing that your efforts had not been in vain. "That's good," you said softly, a weight lifting from your shoulders.

Tim's expression softened, a proud smile gracing his lips. "They won't get away with it," he said confidently. "Not after they nearly killed the most badass cop."

"You were scared, weren't you?" you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes as you looked at Tim.

"Hey now, I wasn't scared," he protested, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Just... concerned. You know, professional courtesy and all that."

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. "Sure," you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Admit it, Bradford, you were terrified."

As Tim leaned back in his chair, a playful glint danced in his eyes. "Hey now, don't go getting a big head just because you survived," he teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I was scared about you, okay? But can you blame me? You were practically on death's door."

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Oh please," you retorted, feigning indignation. "I've been in worse scrapes than that. Besides, it's not every day I get to see you in full-on hero mode."

Tim's cheeks flushed slightly at your words, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Well, I was just doing my job," he said, trying to play it cool.

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Right," you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because confessing your love to a near-death colleague is all part of the job description, huh?"

"Can we please forget that part?" Tim pleaded.

You shook your head, unable to suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. "Never," you replied, a teasing lilt to your voice. "I had to almost die so you could tell me you love me. It's a hell of a story for the grandkids."

Tim's eyes widened, a playful smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Oh, we're having grandkids now, huh?" he quipped, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. "Not until you kiss me," you countered, a playful challenge in your voice. "Are you gonna do that, or shall I go out there and nearly die again?"

Tim's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he chuckled softly, a fondness shining in his eyes. "Oh, shut up," he muttered playfully, leaning in closer to you.

And then, without another word, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a tender, passionate kiss. As the world fell away around you, all that mattered was the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips against yours, and the overwhelming sense of love that filled your heart.

[dangerous-yam-fries]

NSFW Yandere Alien x Human GN Reader - Introduction

Asks and Suggestions are open and encouraged!

Warnings: kidnapping/alien abduction (tee hee), noncon/dubcon, uhhh not manhandling alienhandling?, MINORS JUST LEAVE I DON'T CARE WHERE YOU GO AS LONG AS IT'S FAR FROM ME

Zuri is the ruthless captain of the spacecraft Seed, plundering other ships and satellite-societies. Standing at roughly 8ft tall, his gray skin laden with tattoos and scars, long blue hair tied into dreadlocks, and his eyes. The first time you saw them, you weren’t sure what color of blue they were.

Whether it was the color of Earth, the icy planet of Kobu, or the reflective satellite society of Framtida, they were bluer than anything you had ever laid eyes upon before.

Zuri and his crews often robbed research ships for things of scientific value, usually to sell for I.U. (Interstellar Units).

It was your 3rd year working on the research spacecraft Argon. You weren’t a particularly noticeable employee, just a custodian of the first quadrant. So when the ship was breached by Seed, you didn’t think they’d bother to go after you.

You hid in your shared quarters, just sitting on your bed and guarding your belongings while you stared at all the other empty beds. You heard crashes and screams, alarms and gunfire, but all you did was clutch your pillow to your ears and wait for it stop.

But then you heard the unmistakable sound of a code being entered into the keypad of the room you were in. You dove under the bed, your body clinging to the wall as you stayed quiet. You saw pairs of boots walking through the room, heard hushed voices and watched as they looked under beds and rummaged through luggage.

The blood in your veins ran cold as they got closer and closer to you, and finally, you were face to face with a pair of impossibly blue eyes. You were so star struck that you didn’t struggle when you pulled out from under the bed and thrown into the middle of the room.

“Did you really think you could hide?” That sent a chill down your spine, or maybe it was just the cold sweat building up beneath your clothes.

You couldn’t speak, all you could see were those striking irises. It wasn’t until you felt a slap to your cheek that you spoke. “N-no.” You choked on your words, dread suffocating your throat as you prepared for the end.

When Zuri looked at you, he saw the fear that filled your eyes and how you forced your tears back. It made him want to fill you with something else, and make you cry.

So then Zuri gave you a choice, die right then and there, or join his crew. You chose the latter, but you slowly came to regret that decision as you begun life on Seed.

As a newbie, you kept your head down and did as you were told, but that wasn’t enough to keep the captain away from you. You thought that Captain Zuri wanted to kill you, or worse, so you did everything in your power to avoid him. But that only made him angrier. It wasn’t everyday that he of all people took an interest in someone, and your apparent disinterest in him left a mark on his pride.

Zuri thought long and hard as to why you weren’t reciprocative of his courting. He was obviously a powerful mate, handsome too, with wealth that could buy him a small planet if he so desired. Thinking about how to make himself more appealing to you only made him more obsessed, until you were all he could think of. An itch that he just couldn’t scratch, sitting rent free in his head.

For the next few months, you would be cleaning or doing repairs and he would be watching you. Sometimes through security cameras, usually brooding in a dark corner, or even looming over your shoulder. Zuri also gave you special privileges. You got your own room, small as it was, you always got off duty before meal times so you’d get early pickings, and you were even allowed to use the private showers.

But for some reason it wasn’t enough to cury any favor with you. You’re still as afraid of him as you were on the first day that you met, and it drives Zuri insane.

Humans are so difficult, so picky and confusing and complicated. So he’d have to make things simpler for you. Zuri found you on the east side of the ship, you were distracted with cleaning the windows. Well, not cleaning. The wash towel laid dripping at your hip while you gazed out the window into the void of space.

You looked so peaceful and content. But that changed as soon as you saw Zuri in the reflection.

You quickly apologized for getting off task, and you begun cleaning again. “Come with me. Now.” He ordered you and ignored your pleas, he dragged you back to his personal quarters, his grip unwavering.

He didn’t let go of you even once the door shut behind you both, Zuri simply stood in front of you, towering over you with his tall form. Humans have a tradition of getting down on one knee to profess their love, so that’s exactly what he did.

You were surprised that he was kneeling before you, and a little concerned. You tried to pry your wrist out of his hand, tried to get him to stand up, but he refused. Zuri confessed his love to you right then and there, his blue eyes looked so firm and steady, he was so sure of himself.

When you politely refused, he wasn’t even mad. Words and subtle gestures weren’t going to get through to a dense little human like yourself. So Zuri was going to fuck his love into you, then, surely, you’d know just how strongly he felt about you.

You were of course, extremely opposed to the idea, you struggled, but he was much stronger than you. Screaming didn’t work either, the room had thick metal walls with top of the line noise cancellation and isolation. Besides, Zuri was the captain, no one would have helped you anyways.

You were quickly stripped and thrown onto the bed, and Zuri kept a knee on your chest to stop you from running while he took his clothes off.

You saw his many tattoos, scars, and stretch marks from his muscles. And you saw his dick. He was already erect and dripping precum. It was large, and you could tell it was heavy too, some of his pre dripping onto your bare skin as he caged you in beneath him.

Zuri has waited for you far too long to wait for release, so you’re quickly forced on top of him, 69 style. You grip his dick while he services you orally, trying to stretch you out as quickly as possible. You can feel his ribbed cock throbbing in your hand, yelped when you feel a harsh slap to your ass.

You get the memo. He wants you to suck his dick, you can just barely get the head into your mouth as you rub and pump the rest of his length with both of your hands. You stop when you cum, the stimulus becoming too distracting, but this time he moves your body so that you’re straddling him.

You can’t bring yourself to look into Zuri’s eyes, the shame becoming too much as tears spill down your cheeks. And there it is. That look that he’s been looking for.

You look so beautiful stuffed full of his length, crying into his arms as he sends tremors of pleasure throughout your body.

You’re finally his<3

[90sbee]

Sometimes a saviour is a soldier afraid of peace

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

4.4k words. Also on ao3.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

The war is over, but the demons still haunt Levi. Luckily for him, the last member of his Squad seems focused on remaining by his side as they both face this new enemy: peace.

This was !!! My first fic written in English, actually. Also my first (and only time so far) writing for aot. Levi is such an angsty angel, and this story wouldn’t leave my head, so I had to end up writing it, ofc. This has been in the drafts for... months. Too many months already. And tbh I'm not a fan of how it came out. But. Posting it in case someone else can enjoy Levi finally getting some love and comfort, sjsjs.

Content: Use of 3rd person pronouns. No use of y/n. Mostly Levi's pov. Reader was part of his Squad. Post!Rumbling Levi. Written with the manga ending in mind. A lot of fluff, rude Levi even if he doesn't mean it (but reader knows he means no harm). Healing. Spooning (Levi as the little spoon btw. He deserves it).

Warnings: depressive thoughts, self confidence issues. Mentions of past violence (but nothing gruesome, it's all in passing). SFW. No beta reader we die like everybody in Aot here.

They always meet. Every single day, she leaves her little flat to find him near the fountain in the Marleyan park, eager to push his wheelchair and pass some time with him.

Levi doesn’t understand. When Onyankopon, or Falco, or Gabi let her take the wheelchair, he just ponders. He could understand why they would accompany him: because he is old? because they feel pity of him?… But her?

Nonetheless, every single afternoon, she comes to him. He doesn’t recall when this custom began. It’s like slowly, but surely, she started digging a place into his routine. She was part of his remaining squad, and he really didn’t see any point to her bubbling-self still being by his side.

Still, he appreciates her visits. She exchanges pleasantries with Gabi, already smiling. Why is she smiling?

“Hi, Captain,” she says. Should he feel mocked? He isn’t a captain anymore and the title feels too much, even if it’s comforting in some way. Levi doesn’t reply. He just nods, silently acknowledging her presence. “Is it okay if we go to the stalls for a while, Captain?” She inquires, as if it was the first time they did it, and not a weekly occurrence. His jaw tenses. He doesn’t understand, still. She surely pities him. She has to.

He agrees to her proposal, though.

“Sure,” he replies, barely any emotion on his face.

She smiles at him. For a moment, they look at each other. She sees that familiar scarred face, a grey eye gazing into her soul. He sees the older face of her remaining squad member, some wrinkles next to her eyes, her figure dressed in green. For some reason, he liked that colour on her.

He doesn’t share that with her, though.

“Let’s get going,” she adds, a little chuckle in her voice — he can hear it — as she starts pushing the wheelchair. They check out the little shops that are already so familiar. Sometimes she signals a piece of jewellery or clothes. She asks for his opinion, or points at a silly artwork, in hopes of making him laugh.

When the cold starts to set in, she stops them in front of a coffee shop.

“Wait here a second, Captain,” she tells him.

“Where would I go, anyway?” He wants to say, snarky, but he doesn’t really bother in opening his mouth. He stays silent still, perking his head up to see what’s she’s doing.

“Oi. coffee?” He complains.

She directs her gaze to him and chuckles, paying the vendor.

“I know you like tea but it’s time to broaden your horizons,” she explains. She comes up to him again, and hands him one of the cups. He sighs, but accepts the drink still.

“What is it this time?”

“Just chocolate. Hot chocolate,” she answers, already sipping hers.  She lets out a content sigh when the warmth of it starts to fill her belly.

“I don’t like chocolate,” Levi mutters under his breath. He is lying and she knows it.

“Tsk. That’s not true. Everybody likes chocolate.”

“… Fine,” he sips his drink and, admittedly, enjoys it. She hands him her drink so she can push the wheelchair again, and he takes it, guarding both cups on his lap, a familiar action for the two of them now.

“Where do we go?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “As if I had a choice.”

She looks at him still, and when he can see her, barely from his peripheral vision, he sees a softer face. She’s waiting for his reply. He looks at her, looks at her lips. She isn’t smiling anymore. Levi sighs, suddenly feeling guilty.

He doesn’t understand still why she does this for him.

“Captain?” She says, just above a whisper, since there are people around them and they both just want to have a calm evening, without the risk of being recognised.

Levi nods before he even opens his mouth.

“The bridge.”

“Good,” she agrees as he sips from his drink again, guided by her. He does feel warmer. Levi inspects the people around him in silence, letting himself be carried, taken to a nicer place. “Hange would have like this,” he thinks. He looks down to suddenly realise he is clenching his fist, hard. “If you could even call it a hand…”

“We’re here, Captain,” she announces, letting his wheelchair rest next to a bench, overlooking the water. She takes a seat next to him, and Levi hands her the drink. He wonders if she noticed how tense he’s been feeling today.

“Be quick with that, brat, or it will get cold,” he warns, as if to pre-emptively shut down any words from her. He’s not sure he could handle it.

She just nods.

“It’s still warm,” she mentions after a moment.

The sunset is taking its place on the sky, a beautiful palette of oranges and pinks against a very flat horizon. A reminder of what was once lost.

“Good,” he says.

Levi looks at her. She is still looking forward, features illuminated by the falling sun, breeze caressing her face. There is something in his heart that aches, but he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t dare to. Levi is old, too old, and too broken. And she only pities him.

He coughs to catch her attention, though.

“Hmh, yeah?” She immediately says.

“I heard the Scouts were going back to Paradis tomorrow,” he begins, the question lingering in the air. The small group was leaving first time in the morning.

“Yep.”

Levi blinks, expecting her to say more, but she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to ask. It feels… too much. He feels too exposed doing that, lower lip trembling.

“Are you going?” He finally dares to ask.

She turns back to him again, and looks at him with the sweetest gaze. Levi doesn’t miss how she looks at his lips first.

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have anything there,” she replies, matter-of-factly. Levi wants to hit his head against something, still uncertain about what that means. Does that mean that she has something here? Someone?

She must notice his doubts, so she lowers her gaze. “I mean. You know I lost my family during my first years as a Scout. And knowing that we tried to stop Eren… All the military forces in the island won’t be very happy to see me. Or any of us. I’ve done my part. I do not want more fighting.”

“… Right”. That still doesn’t answer his question, but it is enough to satisfy his curiosity without seeming to eager. He sips his drink again: it’s getting colder.

“You didn’t want to go, Captain?” There it was again, that fucking title that felt like a joke. He chuckles, not looking at her anymore but rather at the sunset.

“Why do you still call me like that?” He spits back.

“Captain?”

“Yeah,” His tone is unintentionally rude, but he can’t help it, not even around her.

“Well… It’s a sign of respect, don’t you think?”

Levi chuckles, amused.

“I never took you for a polite person.” He doesn’t want to look at her still. She hasn’t added anything, said anything else. What is she thinking of?

She looks at him. There’s a warmth in her belly which has nothing to do with the chocolate anymore. She knows: Her Captain has been way more vulnerable and open since the Rumbling. The little gestures that he could so easily hide before are now an open book. Or at least she feels that way, since she was always one to look at him.

It was so easy to just… stare at him. Admire him in every sense of the word, even now. When they were both soldiers they would fight alongside each other, against innumerable dangers. He was barely visible in the spectrum: always so fast, always so precise. A ray of dark hair and strong limbs, destroying everything to provide peace, to provide protection.

There was no point in denying how she felt about him… Except, maybe, to him.

“I don’t think I would like going back to Paradis,” she finally adds, finishing her drink. He seems to reflect on that idea for a moment, before nodding. He wants to ask why but he doesn’t dare to. “I’m just… comfortable here,” she finishes with a sigh. “This is okay.”

“That’s good,” he says, barely a spark of enthusiasm in his voice, but enough for her to notice.

She looks up at him again. And he feels tiny and scared suddenly, because she looks at him with wonder and care. Levi doesn’t mean to, but he ends up letting his drink fall from his hands, whether due to his nervousness or the state of his hand after the war.

“Shit,” he spits, upset.

“Sh, it’s alright, Captain.” In a second she is picking up the cup, handing him a handkerchief to dry his hands. She walks a few steps to throw both cups into a trashcan and is again, by his side. Such a quick interaction so as to ease his shame, he could notice it. “Are you alright?”

Levi still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why she still treats him with such respect, why she seems to care so much for him. But he wants to find out, somehow. He barely nods, but she notices it.

“Good,” she says, while taking the handkerchief back. She is about to put it into her bag again when she feels a hand grabbing hers.

Levi.

He doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t know how. She seems to understand, though, squeezing his hand, softly. Levi quickly lets her hand go, his cheeks going red. She gets behind the wheelchair again, as the sun is about to disappear, and Levi can hear her chuckling.

“Let’s get you home, Captain.”

He stays quiet, unsure if he could even say something useful.

There’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. How to do.

While she is pushing his chair he notices it again. A slight tremor in her right hand. “My wrist seems to ache lately… Must be from holding the blades for so many years,” she had explained in passing a couple weeks ago. He realises that it’s probably taking a strain on her to push him every fucking day.

“Oi,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Stop pushing me. I can handle it,” he explains, tone serious.

“Oh, no,” her hand is trembling still. “It’s fine, it’s no bother for me, Captain.”

“… It’s an order,” he commands after a moment. She stops in her tracks and he can hear a gentle laugh coming from behind him.

“It had been a while since that, huh.” Confidently, she places one of her hands on his shoulder, gently tapping it. Levi smiles. Barely curving his lips, but he does. He is about to be brave, hold her hand on his shoulder when she removes it from him. “Shit,” he thinks. “Too slow… Too slow? Slow for what? Tsk.”

Despite his missing fingers, he can still push his wheelchair quite properly. It also helps that he can see his street far ahead. She walks comfortably besides him, a silence and gentle ghost as his most devoted companion.

Yeah. There’s definitely something aching in his chest. He had been noticing the past days, feeling getting more painful as they both approach his place. And it has nothing to do with his faulty joints or damaged body or excessive age.

When they reach his door, she asks for his key. Levi gives it to her, his hand lingering for a second too long, reflecting on the brief touch of hands as she grabs it to unlock the door.

He is tired.

And he feels incredibly silly when he realises he doesn’t want her to leave.

“There we go, Captain. I help you in?” she suggests with a bright smile, opening the door.

“… Yes.”

She steps inside and pushes the chair into his living room, almost getting it next to his couch.

“That’s enough” he decides, in a semblance of independency he still wants to maintain.

She nods. “Okay… I guess… I’ll get going, Captain.”

Levi lifts up his gaze. He wants to ask… He wants to know… He savours her image for a moment, her tired expression and the way her dress now looks clumsy and wrinkled but he doesn’t care. Before, before everything had ended up like this he would remind every single cadet to iron their uniforms, all the outfits presentable, so as to look like respectable soldiers and honourable bodies if the occasion arose. Now she can have the privilege of looking messy. Of not worrying about death so often.

“No,” he mutters.

“Huh?” she inquires, taking a step forward.

“Shit,” Levi thinks. “I… I want tea,” he makes up a quick lie.

“Oh, sure. Yes, Captain.” She leaves her bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen, getting a kettle full of water.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

He stands up. His body still holds that ability, though his legs get tired rather quickly. He can still walk, so he does until he reaches the kitchen. She is still deciding on the teas when she sees him.

“Oh, no, Captain, please, just don’t…”

He interrupts her, grabs her waist carelessly and pushes her towards the couch, barely moving her.

“Let me handle it myself.”

“Levi…” She whispers, their faces inches apart.

“Go. Sit,” he mumbles, biting his lips and sending his eyes lower, so as to avoid her face.

“Are you sure?” She inquires a moment after, still close to him. He notices she has a hand on his waist as well, a protective aid making sure he stays on two feet.

“Yes,” he says, more commanding this time. He grabs that hand of hers and pushes her away gently now.

She nods, understandingly.

“I’ll be in the living room,” she adds.

Levi nods at her, making sure she finally gets that ass of hers in the couch. He is now faced with his kitchen. Most of the cups and teas, everything has been moved lower, so as to accommodate to his wheelchair. Slowly, he kneels, searching for a specific flavour for her. When he finally finds the peppermint and rose one, he mentally cheers. He stands up again, slowly, as if to show confidence, making sure from his peripheral view that she isn’t coming to his aid.

She isn’t. He catches her averting her eyes, though. A confirmation that she has been staring.

He decides to stare as well. Supporting himself on his weakened legs, he waits for the kettle to boil, while looking at her. It’s as if she could notice that, because her head doesn’t move, still fixated on an indescriptible point in his living room.

“Oi, what you looking at?” He says, a bit more light-hearted.

A smile forms on her lips before she even turns her head towards him. She doesn’t answer. Just keeps smiling at him.

“Fuck,” he thinks when he realises he has also slightly curved his lips.

Quickly he turns towards the stove, the kettle already boiling. Levi carefully fills the cups with water, letting the leaves rest. He lifts his gaze up to her for a second but it is already enough for her to notice.

“Need help with the cups?” Her, always so worried, so in tune with his needs. No need for words.

“Of fucking course.”

Still, the only answer he gives her is a polite nod. She stands up, approaching him.

“I’ll handle it, Captain. Just take a seat.”

He lets out a sigh, taking himself to the couch and plopping himself there.

“It’s hard,” Levi thinks as he sees her come back to the living room, two cups in her hands. He accepts the drink, his gaze not leaving her features. “I… I can’t.”

He knows he can’t accept kindness: he doesn’t know how to. Still, he tenses his jaw and forces himself to sip the tea as she takes a seat next to him.

“Peppermint, huh?” She hums mostly to herself.

 “… Yeah,” comes out of his mouth, unsure, less braver than expected. Is he insecure? Has he made a mistake?

“Good choice” She declares and he breathes again, realising that he had been holding his breath. “Bet you already knew that, right?” She adds, cocking her head.

Levi looks at her again. He has been avoiding her eyes but he hadn’t been trained as a soldier to back down in times of peace.

“I did,” he says, his tone firm, a very weak attempt at showing confidence still. “It’s the one you would always ask for when we would have meetings with the Scouts.”

“It’s good tea.” Her tone seems softer now.

Levi hums, too deep inside his mind to notice it.

She wonders. Wonders if he has ever realized that the only reason she would wander through the headquarters late at night was just to be found and reprimanded by him, the way she would be easily entertained by Levi’s stern face. Wondered if Hange had ever told him about the time she had fallen asleep in their office and woke up, mumbling his name, much to Hange’s delight, though they had promised to keep it a secret.

He looks down at his legs, at his carpeted floor.

He wonders if she had ever noticed the way he would mindlessly lick his lips after looking at her, the boring uniform suddenly a beautiful outfit, making her stand out. Wonders if it was too late to tell her that, yes, after Hange and her had found him, and stitched him up, that he had heard every single word she had uttered near his heart, softly pressing her timid hands on his chest. There hadn’t been time then to discuss anything or even think if it had meant anything else than old scouts being protective of each other, but now…

They finish their teas in silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the opposite, despite the fact that Levi has started nervously tapping his feet against the floor. It is dark outside already, the light from the lamps flowing into Levi’s house, a dog barking a few blocks away.

She stands up, makes sure to wash her cup in the sink and put it away before returning to him.

“Captain?” She mutters. No need for more words.

Levi hands her the cup with slow movements, as if trying to prolong that insignificant action for as long as possible. And when she is already about to head into the kitchen, little plate and teacup in her hand, he decides to be brave. No more lying to himself, no more being a coward. Too many people have died, have bleed, have sacrificed the little they had for a selected group of survivors to be able to live. To enjoy the remaining Earth. For the little ones that survived to be able to find some meaning. Something worth all the pain.

Basking in the fear serves no one. In fact, makes all the death meaningless.

So, Levi looks up at her and grabs her hand, even if he is scared still. Trembling fingers dancing on hers until they secure her hand softly in his. He feels warm even if he doesn’t know what to say, how to convey what he feels. Such a shadow of the man he was. So stupid now.

Levi just wants her to say.

She gasps at the contact but quickly composes herself. A shy smile showing up on her face. They stay like that for a moment, neither daring to break the silence.

“Levi?” She asks after a moment, moving closer to his face, as if asking for permission.

He can only look at her lips in reply.

She shortens the distance between them and kisses him on his lips. It isn’t a big kiss, too flashy or provocative: just a tender contact between two broken people. As soon as he has processed what was going on, she has already moved forward, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

And then, even higher, another kiss on his forehead, her lips remaining close to his face. Levi can’t say anything. Barely reacting. But when she looks at his eyes, she is greeted by the sweet glimmer of tears in them.

Levi. Happy, at last.

And as if reading his mind, she utters: “Do you want me to stay, Levi?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She complies. In the quiet, late hours of the night, Levi wakes up, his body feeling too rested already. It was a habit hard to break, he wouldn’t sleep much anyway. He sighs still, feeling her body pressing against his, holding him from behind. She has one hand on his shoulder, the other keeping him safe and secured, hugging his waist close. He dares to smile and grab that hand across his belly with both of his hands, so as to make sure that it is real: he is being held. There is someone else with him. Levi isn’t alone. Someone is taking care of him. Someone he’s been devoted to for so many years.

He wants to nuzzle up closer, hide in her chest or neck and feel more.

But he doesn’t dare to. He can’t allow himself to do that yet. 

So he stays awake in silence, hearing the soothing and steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Levi still doesn’t understand, though.

He doesn’t want to think of why she has chosen him, how he got this privilege so late in his life, when all hope seems to be lost and the thought of a partner didn’t cross his mind at all. He also doesn’t know what to do with this gift, this blessing. Why? How? He is such a crippled shadow of what he used to be. Slow, so consumed by roughness and violence and so useless now.

He has always had something to fight for: his life, his friends, his Squad, Erwin, Hange. Yet since the Rumbling he has just… fallen behind. He is just existing and it seems like his body has finally caught up to his age: no longer agile and strong, but a weakened man, finally leaving the survival mode that has characterised every single aspect of his life. He doesn’t have any goals or dreams now. Everything had been slowly trampled down like the titans destroying all land and all life.

He shivers, remembering that day and holds her hand tighter.

Once he had completed the promise made to Erwin, his last order, he had nothing more. No more commands. No more slaying titans.

Just existing.

He doesn’t want that. He has been a fighter, a rebel, a monster his whole life. He only knew of endurance and compliance with the spirit of life, of resistance. He doesn’t know of anything else: the calmness, the quietness, the routine walks and just reading books and sitting on his porch… That is not him. That isn’t life. Being able to choose things for himself, devour life gently and enjoy it instead of painfully trying to keep it close, to grip it between calloused fingers… Peace isn’t familiar.

He has nothing to devote himself to, nothing to prove or fight for.

“Yeah,” he thinks. “Everything is… meaningless… Or it was.”

He closes his eyes, relinquishing himself in the warm body against his.

Some things… Some things have meaning still.

Her.

The way she would scrunch her nose when laughing or buy him drinks or attempt to make him laugh or wear that damn stupid wrinkled dress and — “Fuck. I know her so much by now…”

She had been a Scout too. She had fought and devoted her heart and did everything a Scout had to do. She had fulfilled her duty in the same way he did. She has survived and she doesn’t regret a single thing. Not even this life.

She is at peace.

He wants to sob.

He doesn’t understand peace. Sure, it was his goal, what he always dreamed of, but, damn it. Levi had never thought he would actually get to see something resembling it. Unlike her. She understood what it was: she has accepted peace with open arms and a smile that — fuck, somehow— has been shining on her face throughout the years. Despite so much pain and death…  She still allows herself to fucking live in peace. She forgave herself for the death, for the pain and crimes and let go.

He isn’t sure if he can do the same.

Peace is foreign, strange even. An oddity. And he isn’t stupid, he knows that time would run up someday and that things would turn against them for a second time.

But, still, the promise of the rest of his life in peace lingers.

He could have it.

He fucking could.

Levi reflects on those thoughts for a moment, silent still.

He thinks he can get to an agreement. Maybe, when she wakes up in the morning, he can try to spill his soul to her a little. Try to understand how she handles this life, how she can get up in the mornings after killing so much, and just have tea with him.

But for now, in the quietness of the night, as the old warrior he was, he does the only thing he knows: he promises to dedicate his heart once more.

He finally has a reason, a purpose, something worth protecting again.

Levi lifts his hand, crossing it on his chest the way all Scouts would do. But he doesn’t press it on his heart, but rather, moves it to hold her hand, the one resting on his shoulder. He squeezes it gently, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed by her. By the silent love she had been proclaiming to him all these years and that he couldn’t reciprocate before.

Yes. Now it is the time.

Levi would dedicate his heart once more.

To her and only her.

That may have been the cheesiest ending ever written but !!!! He deserves it, I know. Also someone stop me before I write for Hange, the feelings got to me indeed. Dividers by @/cafekitsune @/saradika and @/vase-of-lilies

[captain039]

Wolf and bear

Halsin x shapeshifter!reader

Warnings: sexual, adult content, eventual smut, light swearing, mentions of dog fighting, first times.

Again! I don’t know Halsins character very well, nor have a played the game still lmao (3rd of the 9th ) well 5th cause that’s when I get paid lol.

Angry little wolf with her future bear husband lol

Kinda questionable xD

I cannot find Halsin smut and I need it

Also need Astarion smut

Challenging a bear probably wasn’t the smartest idea you had, but he was too close to your home. He smelt different though, not like normal wild bears that sometimes roam through. There was a scar down his eyes and his one of his lip. He was bigger than a normal bear also, then again you were a bigger than a normal wolf. Was he a shifter? He didn’t seem fazed by your warning growls and snaps, if a bear could looked amused he looked it. You huffed through your teeth and hoped he’d disappear. You headed back to your cottage, shifting back into your human form with a pained groan.

“Why’re you in pain?” you screamed at the deep voice behind you, body instantly going back into a wolf form due to reflexes. You smacked the ground with a groan before shifting back. Your body extra aching now, of course it bloody hurt your body literally changed into an animal! stupid idiot. You grabbed your robe quickly and covered yourself, you turned seeing an overly naked large man.

“Gods!” you covered your eyes praying he’d just leave.

“Do you have clothes?!” You yelled.

“I rather enjoy changing without them on, more comfortable” he said and you couldn’t argue with logic, but still. Sure if you were skilled enough in magic you’d keep your clothes on and not ruin them, every time you changed though they’d be torn and ruined.

“Why’re you here?” You asked keeping your hand over your eyes.

“It’s been a long time since I met another shifter, I was curious I suppose” he said and you sighed.

“Well I shift, the end, please leave” you probably sounded like a bitch, but you hadn’t had anyone here in years, people weren’t to found on a wolf in their villages, and life with other shifters was weird, constant need to bond with nature and a lot of nudity.

“Why have you not joined others?” He asked and you sighed.

“Because they are too much for me I like my quietness!” You pressed hoping he’d get the hint.

“You are against bonding with nature and being yourself?” He added and you groaned.

“Listen man, I don’t want your company or questions please leave!” You finally moved your hand to look at him, geez he was big. Big broad shoulders and wide torso, strong legs- oh gods. You flushed and looked back to his eyes seeing a small smirk. He had the same three scars over his eyes and the one on his lip, tribal markings down the right side of his face. Pointed ears and long brown hair half tied back.

“You didn’t answer my question” he stated and your mouth hung open slightly, did he not get a word you just said.

“I’m Halsin” he said.

“I don’t care!” You groaned getting up and going inside, slamming the door behind you.

You awoke the next morning ignoring the scenes

of last night, hopefully he’s gone back to his little nature loving pack. You went outside to tend to your garden only to freeze when you sensed someone to your left. You stared at the large man sitting by your table chewing on what looked like dried fruit. Is he serious? You walked back inside surely this was a dream, or an illusion.

“I’m real” he called and you walked back outside.

“What in the hell are you doing here?!” You snapped and he just smiled. He was clothed thankfully as he stood, woah he was much bigger than you.

“You intrigue me” he said.

“I don’t care, get off my property or-“ you stuttered what could you really do to a giant bear man? He smirked head tilted he knew you couldn’t do anything.

You ignored him as you went about your gardening. He didn’t say anything which annoyed you more, what did he want somewhere to hibernate?! Certainly wasn’t going to be in your comfortable bed.

“Excuse us” you frowned at the approaching men. The bear man stood on edge a frown on his face. You walked to them and wiped your hands.

“What is it?” You asked seeing a note in their hands.

“Have you seen or heard any bears around?” He asked and you froze.

“One with a scar on his face!” The man behind him piped up.

“No?” You said questioning.

“We believe it’s a demon” he said and you raised a slight eyebrow.

“Bear shifter” he added, so this man was a shifter hater.

“He caused a rampage in a dog fight arena” your stomach churned at the words, people still did that? Horrible beings.

“Was anyone hurt?” You asked trying to not sound suspicious.

“Just the owners, not dead, but all the dogs were let free” he answered and you felt relief flood you.

“This your husband?” He nodded to the bear man behind you.

“Uh-“ you faltered as he stood and came over with a smile.

“I am” he said and you froze as a hand went around your waist. You wanted to punch that smile off his face.

“Ah, have you heard or seen anything?” The man asked and your supposed husband shook his head.

“Can’t say I have” he said.

“Kinda got scars like you” the one behind said studying.

“Oh these I was attacked by a bear actually, got its head in our living room” he chuckled, but you felt how rigid his body went.

“Awesome!” The man behind said and you sighed.

“Well if you see or hear anything let us know, oh and if you see a dog or dogs let us know, we’re at the village council” the man said and left. The bear man growled and you tensed feeling the anger rolling off him. You rested a hand on his chest feeling his urge to murder those men.

“Killing them won’t solve anything” you said hushed and he stared down at you with big eyes. Now that he was close, you could feel his warmth, feel the muscles beneath your hand, smell his scent.

You closed your eyes for a moment taking him in before you realised what you were doing and stormed away embarrassed.

“What about those dogs?” You asked.

“They’re with good people now, away from that horrible place” he growled the last part and you couldn’t ignore the shivers and unwanted arousal it gave you.

“Good” you whispered as you went back to gardening.

Apparently this was his daily ritual, to greet you in the morning, ask some questions and just be around you. You really couldn’t deny how comforting it was to have his presence, but you also couldn’t ignore how weird it was. After a few days of not shifting your body began to ache, you hated it, hated having to change and run in the forest despite the freedom it gave you. You waited till night, waited till Halsin was gone. You went outside in a robe, shrugged it off and shifted. You took a moment to gather yourself before you took off into the woods. You rested by a lake and looked at the moon reflection rippling in the water. You heard heavy steps and stood, hackles up before you recognised the scent and scar on the big bear. You sat back down listening to him saunter over and sit by you. You enjoyed the cool breeze and took in a breath to smell the forest around you. Halsin bumped you suddenly and you looked to him seeing the bear smile. You huffed at him and looked away feeling him doing it again. You gave him a narrowed look feeling his playfulness. You pushed him back with your body watching him stumble. He roared playfully and you stood up tail wagging slightly. You bowed down slightly in a playful dog stance as he roared softly and began play fighting with you. If someone was to walk by the would be weirded out, but for some reason this felt natural. If you could laugh you would, it just came out a strange grunts and growls as you nipped playfully at Halsins paws. He was stronger though and knocked you into the water. You froze standing up quickly and shivering. You growled charging at him and trying tackle him into the water only to fail. You were pinned under him, paws in the air and you gave a huff. He shifted above you and you tilted your head.

“Shift” he said smiling and you did expecting pain. You frowned though as he waved his hand, yellow light coming from his hand.

“Was that better?” He asked softly and you nodded surprised.

“I’m a Druid” he said.

“Oh” you said glancing at your nakedness and his. You covered your breasts and looked away with cheeks flushed.

“Why do you hide?” He asked and you glanced to him, biting the inside of your cheek.

“This is- intimate” you muttered.

“I’ve never been intimate, nor has anyone seen me like this” you added embarrassed, you glanced to his face seeing his eyes darken slightly but remaining soft.

“May I kiss you?” He asked softly and you froze, but felt yourself nod. He smiled as he leant down, you closed your eyes as you felt him press his lips to yours. You made an embarrassing noise, but he just deepened the kiss. Your arms left covering your breasts and you gripped his forearms instead as he began to kiss down your jaw and to your neck. You felt him press his lower half to you, hips meeting yours, you gasped hand slapping over your mouth. You heard him chuckle lightly, his breath tickling your neck.

“I want to worship you” he said softly and heat ran straight through your body.

“I want to taste you” he pressed a kiss to a sensitive spot on your neck that made you squirm.

“Feel you” he muttered and you sealed your eyes close. You felt his hand rest on your ribs before sliding up your side and over your hip, before gripping your thigh. He gripped the flesh pulling it gently so your knee bent. He stopped kissing your neck and chuckled again as you opened your eyes and flushed, you moved your hand and he kissed you again.

“You’re not so feisty when you’re flustered” he grinned and you glared.

“I was wrong” he chuckled and you hated how you loved the sound. Hated how you loved the feeling of him against you. You were battling with yourself, you didn’t even realise he had slid down your body till lips pressed against your inner thigh. Your eyes went down to his, he smirked pushing your legs further apart before you felt his breath against your folds. Your breath hitched when a tongue darted out and ran through them, a groan leaving his lips as he began to lick. Your body squirmed and you closed your eyes leaning your head back fully. You had one hand on your stomach in a fist, the other at your side, he was skilful, gods you felt like you were in heaven, or hell. You felt his hand snake up your stomach and you opened your hand to hold it, which he gladly accepted. You moaned as he began to suck and prod his tongue against your entrance. You gripped his hand harshly but he didn’t seem to care, too busy working you up with his tongue. You felt fingers though, joining his tongue and sliding in heat. You moaned back arching as he began to slowly thrust his finger in and out. His fingers were much bigger than yours and much more delightful, you kept clenching his hand as you felt your stomach tighten with need and release. You moaned brokenly when he added a second finger, working you open for what was hopefully to come. His mouth paid extra attention to your clit while his fingers scissored and beckoned. You whined lowly muttering a please that you barely managed to get out. You felt him grin and wanted to slap the cockiness off his face, but was too caught in the pressure building. You felt the knot in your stomach come undone as you came with a moan. Your legs shuddered and you panted loudly as he continued riding out your high slowly. He sat back up, and crawled up your body again smiling down at you.

“Beautiful” he whispered and you flushed looking away. You waited for him to move, but he didn’t and you looked back ready to huff at him. He had a playful look and you groaned quietly with a huff, why was he teasing?

“Why’re you teasing?” You asked.

“Because it gets you worked up” he smirked and you glared with a huff, you crossed your arms over your chest too, looking away till he kissed down your neck and you felt his hips shift. You tensed a bit as you felt the tip of his cock resting by your entrance. He grabbed one of your hands and pressed it above your head, clenching it before he thrusted in. You moaned while he groaned in your ear, you held your breath before panting. You clenched his hand, gods you felt full. He let you adjust before slowly skipping out and back in, your eyes slipped shut as you felt the sting.

“Gods” you muttered.

“I’ve got you” he whispered giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You whined in response as he set a slow pace, the sting slowly fading. His hand left yours as he rested on it instead and you wrapped your arms around him. His pace quickened slowly and you were struggling to keep in your moans.

“Only I can hear you” he whispered lifting his head which made you open your eyes. He kissed you gently and you moaned into his mouth as he began to quicken again. He was getting close, his pants became uneven and his hips were moving more desperately. You closed your eyes tightly again, back arching as he sped up to chase his release. You gripped his arms in your hands as his hips stuttered and he came with a groan. His head was in your neck panting harshly as you lifted your hands to run them up and down his back.

“I’m sorry” he suddenly said and you frowned.

“Why?” You asked as he lifted his head.

“I didn’t bring you to your release again” he said looking guilty and you smiled shaking your head pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Another time” you whispered and his eyes widened slightly but smiled as he kissed you once more.

[gothic-thoughts]

Joined At The Hip

(For anyone who already read this, "part 2" was added on instead 😗)

König x Black Fem Reader Angst

DarkFicWarning

CW: Konig saves you from your captors and comforts you after, 3rd person and 2nd person pov, some German, showering together

TW: ransom kidnapping, tied up and gagged, guns mention, violence mention, animal death mention, anxiety/crying

Word Count: 2685 (give or take)

Any and all German translated by DeepL

“Colonel!” 

The towering man turns back, looking over his shoulder to see the soldier running towards him from down the hall. He folds his arms across his chest, the muscles of his forearms flexing beneath the sleeve of his uniform. He steps a little closer to wait until the soldier stops before him, huffing. 

“Sir.”

“Soldier.”

“We were just sent a video of an abducted woman.”

König's eyebrows furrow in surprise. “Show me.”

“We don't know her sir, but—”

“I didn’t ask, I said, show me.”

The soldier leads him to the conference room and plays the video. It was only 15 seconds of his girlfriend in baggy clothes that weren't hers while tied to a chair and gagged, the sight causing his chest and stomach to burn with wrath despite his eyes falling cold and emotionless. A gloved hand came into the frame, holding a pistol and pressing the barrel to her temple lightly to make her cry some more before holding up a sign to the camera that read, ‘₤500,000’.

Colonel König's fists clenched so hard his gloves squeaked, alerting the other soldier to look down at the fist before back up to the back of his head nervously, unaware of the cold fury in his eyes.

“How did they know about her...?” He whispered, albeit calmly.

“What, sir?”

He looks at the soldier, his gaze piercing and devoid of emotion. “I said how old is this?”

“2 hours, sir.”

“Woher?”

“Abandoned building just outside Milan; should I get the assault team read—”

“Nein.” He turns back to the looping video on the projector, “Three men and a chopper.”

“Three? Sir, that’s—”

“Sie haben Ihre Befehle (You have your orders). Und Gott helfe Ihnen, wenn ich mich wiederholen muss (And god help you if I have to repeat myself).”

The soldier runs out of the room, leaving his Colonel to watch the video over and over, the image of (Y/n) crying with a gun barrel to her head permanently staining his mind— he knew even when, not if, when he saved her he would still be scarred. He takes a deep breath to try and center himself, knowing he would save her and knowing those men will get what they deserve. It was the two things keeping him calm as he stood there and waited for the soldiers and helicopter to be ready.

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

5 Hours Later

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

You hear bones cracking, gunfire, and the terrified yelps and screams of men just outside the room you were being held in. You whimper with fear and confusion, sounds muffled by the gag in your teeth, unaware that König was both indirectly and directly the cause, meanwhile, the only pity in his mind was at the possibility of how much you were hearing and how terrified you must be. Finally, he reaches a door and presses his ear to it to listen to your muffled crying.

Meanwhile, you were in the room, hearing the deafening silence of the threat at the door, and begin to squirm and rock in the chair you were tied to until it fell on its side, making you whine at the pain in your shoulder right before the door flies open, the sound of wood splintering and metal hinges being ripped off filling the room as a bloody boot kicks the door in. He steps in, bloody gloves gripping his assault rifle tightly as it scans the room. Happy noises bleed through the ball of dry cloth in your mouth as you call out.

“König~!”

His eyes quickly land on you, tied up and on your side, and finally regain their life, softening as a wave of relief washes over him. He lowers his gun as he approaches you, his steps slow and deliberate until he kneels beside you, examining your body for any injuries. He carefully places a bloodied hand on your cheek, trying to reassure you to which you nuzzle his hand as tears pour from your eyes.

“Shh, bleib ruhig (stay calm), ich habe dich (I have you).” He carefully pulls the gag from your mouth, “I'm here.”

His bloody fingers gently wipe the tears away as best he can, leaving streaks of the combined fluids across your cheeks. He moves behind you, his fingers working to untie the rope that holds you in place— first your wrists then your ankles, his fingers moving with a practiced ease, and once the final knot is undone he pulls you up and holds your head to his chest, the sound of your sobs like a knife in his heart. 

You hug him back impossibly tighter without a single care about the amount of blood splattered all over his clothes or the tactical vest against your face, why would you? But despite your hero being here to take you home, your legs wobble from the amount of adrenaline still rushing through you, leading him to instinctively scoop you up in his arms as he stands up.

“Einfach (easy), I've got you now. Ich bin hier (I’m here).”

“I-I thought you weren't gonna find me... I thought--”

“Nein. I would have looked until the end of time to find you. I would have torn down every structure in this country to find you.”

He starts towards the door, his arms holding you close. König keeps a tight hold on you as he walks, and he can feel the tension in your body start to loosen slightly as you try to calm down— he can't help but feel a flicker of pride at the strength you're showing even in this situation. You tighten your arms and legs around him, burying your distressed face in his neck and he doesn’t miss a beat, shifting his grip to better support your weight, the muscles of his arms holding you secure.

“Ich werde immer da sein, um dich zu beschützen.”

You sniffle against his neck, “W-what?”

“Sorry, I said, I will always be here to protect you.”

“They dragged me out the shower a-and put me in a truck and... and..”

“Shh, shh... Atmen, Schatz, breathe.” He whispers, rubbing your back, “We’ll discuss it later, alright? Just focus on my breathing, can you do that?”

“Sorry...” You lift your face from his shoulder, “There were j-just so many of--”

You gasp softly. König glances down at you, wondering why you stopped talking then follows your gaze to the carnage he was so casually stepping through. There was blood splattered everywhere and dead bodies everywhere else, displaying the variety of ways your kidnappers met their ends: shot, stabbed, crushed... broken. König doesn’t say a word; he’s not ashamed, just concerned about your psyche after seeing the aftermath of his rage. He angles your body slightly so that you can't see the carnage as he carries you out of the building.

“Schatz, you should put your face back in—”

“Where’s your team...?”

“I...” He sighs, “I only brought 3 men.”

“Why...? And wh-where are they?”

“Two watched the sides and one made sure nobody escaped out the back.”

König’s heart started to sink at even the notion that you thought he was a mindless monster... a threat to anyone and everyone as soon as he was angry enough. But he nearly stopped in his tracks when he felt you hug your arms around his neck even tighter, your unconditional gratitude making his heart skip a beat. He glances down at you, his eyes softened, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath his usual gruffness.

“You're welcome, Liebe.”

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

Back At The Base

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

Right after he was reprimanded for not following protocol, Colonel König made sure you had been seen by the medical team, but once he was satisfied that you were physically alright, he was not leaving your side again. Now you were curled up on the bunk in his private room, still clearly shaken from everything that you went through.

König sits on the edge of the bunk, his eyes watching your every shudder as if he were afraid that you would disappear if his gaze broke contact with you. His expression is guarded, but his eyes are soft with concern. And you feel it. It weighs on you menacingly despite his intentions. You finally sit up and look over at him to see the glare in his eyeholes, a chill running up your spine.

“König...”

He snaps out of it and shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“I'm sorry if I--”

“No, no. Never apologize, it's never your fault for this. But I need you to be honest with me, alright? I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

You nod shakily, crawling across his bed to sit next to him, just to avoid eye contact. 

“W-well... Remember when I texted you? Right after that I made something to eat, watched some tv and then I took a shower to wash my hair. A-and...”

You start to tear up again, nibbling on your lip shortly before König uses his thumb to guide your bottom lip from between your teeth with a soft shushing.

“I’m right here, and it’s over. They’ll never get you again, they’ll never touch you again. You won’t leave this room until I know you’re safe. Ja?”

You nod slowly, choking up sobs, “I-I know, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you are being so strong, Schatz. Continue for me, please.”

“I heard shuffling around but I thought it was my cat...” You sniffle, “Then they kicked down the bathroom door and ripped my curtain down. They tossed a towel at me, grabbed my arm and pulled me out the bathroom, pulling me to the front door.”

König could feel the anger building inside him again, his fists and jaw clenched so tightly it was painful. He tries to hold back his emotions by wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to his chest, but it is overtly obvious that he's struggling to maintain his composure, especially when you start crying before your next words come out.

“They killed my cat...” You choke out against his vest, your voice utterly broken, “My house was a mess, like they were looking for something. A-all I had on was a towel and I was c-cold and scared.”

He holds you tighter, “You're safe now. I'm here.”

“They put a bag over my head in a car then shoved me onto a plane and gave me...” You gesture to the baggy clothes practically hanging off of your body, “...These and then I was tied up and gagged and— I didn't think you'd come for me.”

He pulls back slightly to look down at your wet, pained face. “There is nothing in this world that could keep me from coming to find you— nichts, Liebe.”

“They told me you wouldn't come for me b-because I would be a distraction.”

“Yes, you are. You are the greatest distraction I have ever had and you will always come first. You hear me? Immer (Always).”

“You promise?”

“Yes. I swear on my life, heart and soul, Liebe. I swear on all of it.” He lifts a hand and gently cups your cheek, “You're safe now, Liebe. I won't let anyone get you ever again.”

You sniffle, smiling through tears as you nuzzle his bare palm, still traumatized but overall reassured. The memory of the massacre in that building was a weird kind of reassurance to you that even if he somehow broke his promise and someone got to you, your abductors wouldn’t survive. After taking a deep breath, you look up at him, blinking excess tears from your eyes as bask in his comforting presence.

“Can I... I wanna get out of these clothes and shower, Kö.”

“Of course, you can wear my stuff. I'll get you a towel. Warte hier (Wait here).” 

He rises from the bed, going to the other side of the room briefly. A few minutes later, he returns with a fresh towel and a stack of his clothes cradled in his arms.

“Oooh army clothes~”

König chuckles softly, “Ja, they're a bit big, of course but they're warm. And also smell like me, heheh.” He sets the stack of fabric down beside you, “Do you want me to... leave while you shower?”

“No! I mean, no. Can you actually shower with me...?”

König is taken aback by her sudden request, his eyes widening with surprise and desire. He clears his throat, pushing the thoughts that swarmed his mind to the side to remind himself that this was supposed to comfort her. 

“You don't have to, its okay; never mind. I got it.”

He instantly shakes his head, his desire disappearing as he steps closer. “No, wait, I... I just thought you would want to shower in peace after all you’ve been through.”

“Yeah, I know, but last time I went to shower alone--"

“Say no more, then. Let’s go.”

“You will?”

“Of course. Be warned, my shower is... a little small, especially for me so I may be very close.”

She smiles, “Good.”

His eyes soften as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently caressing the soft, dark skin with his thumb. In the shower, you faced the water with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as the water poured over your shoulders, unaware that your giant boyfriend was still silently fuming behind you. He can see the fear and vulnerability in your body language, and it only fuels the protective, possessive feeling that's been simmering inside him ever since he saw that ransom damn video. 

König lets out a deep sigh as he presses his body against you from behind, making you hum softly. His movements pause at the noise before reaching around her to gently pull your arms away from your body, replacing them with his own to securely hold you against his chest. You lean your head against his bare bicep, loving how they tighten around you. König leans down buries his nose in your hair and inhales deeply before planting a kiss on your head.

“I was so worried, Liebling.”

“Really?”

“Ja, natürlich (of course); the thought of losing you...”

He trails off, unable to finish the sentence as the image of you with the gun to your head flashes through his mind again. He squeezes your tightly against him as if trying to convince himself that you're really here in his arms again, safe and sound. You turns around and presses a kiss to his mask where his lips are, making him chuckle a little.

“What was that for?”

“I just... feel bad for thinking you weren't gonna get me.”

He feels his heart pang. “You thought...? Why would you think that?

“Like I said earlier, they told me I was a distraction from your work and also... I don't know— we haven't been dating for long so I was scared. I was panicking and that's what my brain settled on.”

“It’s... It’s not alright; for them to instill that in you, I mean. But you should know I’d come for you. Always. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been together.” He reaches down and gently takes your hands, guiding them up to the hem of his sniper hood. “You should have more faith in me than that, Liebling.”

You falters at the gesture, wondering what it means.

“I know...” You say, feeling the fabric of his sniper hood for the first time, “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright, I understand that you were scared. Just... don't doubt me like that again, alright?”

You nod and continue to caress the fabric that hid his face.

“Remember when I said this was scary?”

König smirks slightly, “Ja. You said it was "intimidating" if I recall correctly.”

“It is, but it’s the most comforting thing I’ve ever known at this point. And seeing you wearing only it is kinda...hot."

He chuckles

[thewickedjazzy]

⌞𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰⌝

Part I : 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙉𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙪𝙨

Pairings: Chuuya x mafia boss fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mention of death, mention of other dimensions (could trigger derealization), please let me know if I forgot any Xx.

Author's note: Hey fellas!! Hope you enjoy my story ahead. Note: It consists of 3 parts. I've been toying with the idea of this story for a while now and honestly I am very satisfied with how it turned out!!

P.s: it's written in a 3rd person perspective.

Word count: 5.7k

In the deepest recesses of the human heart, there exists a haunting paradox: the insatiable thirst for power clashes with the equally profound yearning for connection. These two opposing forces, entwined yet in constant conflict, shaped the existence of a mafia boss who ruled Yokohama's shadowed underworld. Her life was a testament to this struggle—a legacy of power forged in the crucible of blood and betrayal, passed down as both a gift and a curse. Power was her birthright, a mantle she wore with unyielding resolve, yet its weight was a burden she bore in solitude, isolated by the very force that defined her.

At her side, Chuuya Nakahara stood as her most loyal confidant, a kindred spirit shaped by his own battles and scars. In the murky depths of their world, where loyalty was a currency as rare as it was valuable, their bond was forged in the fires of mutual understanding. Yet even with Chuuya's unwavering support, she knew that true power came at a steep price—a cost paid in loneliness and the silent suffering that accompanied her every decision. The shadow of her legacy loomed large, casting its darkness over every connection she sought to make until all that remained was the cold, unyielding pursuit of control.

Chuuya understood this truth with a clarity that bordered on despair. His unwavering loyalty was not merely a matter of duty; it was rooted in a deep, unspoken love that lay buried within the shadows of his heart. This love, a secret he guarded fiercely, was both his greatest strength and his inevitable downfall—a double-edged sword that he could never wield openly.

She, the one who controlled the very fabric of the underworld with her formidable ability, the "Malevolent Marionette," held the power to command not just armies, but the delicate balance between life and death itself. With a mere thought, she could pull the strings of fate, bending the wills of others to her own, yet this power, so absolute in its reach, left her isolated in a world where love was both a weakness and a danger. Chuuya, in his silence, bore witness to her lonely reign, knowing that his love for her could never be spoken, for to do so would unravel the delicate threads that bound their lives together.

In the dimly lit office of the mafia headquarters, the mafia boss was going through some paperwork as usual, on the top floor of the headquarters, her gaze fixed on the writings and patterns of the file she was holding, broke the silence first.

"Chuuya..." she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of unvoiced thoughts, "Do you ever wonder if the price we pay for control is worth it?"

Chuuya, leaning against the edge of the desk, met her eyes with a mixture of solemnity and affection. "Every day," he replied, his voice low but steady.

"But even in this world of shadows, it's your strength that keeps us going. Without it, we'd all be lost."

A fleeting smile touched her lips, but it was a rare moment of vulnerability.

"And yet, even with all the power we wield, it feels as though we’re trapped in a cage of our own making," she murmured.

Their conversation, delicate and laden with the gravity of their shared existence, was abruptly interrupted by a piercing alarm that sliced through the air like a knife. The blaring sound was a sharp reminder of the perpetual danger they faced.

“Alert: Intruder detected,” the automated voice declared with relentless efficiency.

"Ugh, give me a break," the mafia boss muttered, rolling her eyes as the alarm blared incessantly through the headquarters.

The shrill sound grated on her nerves, but it was more of an annoyance than a cause for concern.

She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as she considered the situation.

Chuuya, already halfway to the door, paused and glanced back at her.

"You really think they’ll get anywhere near us?"

She gave a small, dismissive shake of her head. "They won’t make it past the third floor, let alone reach us up here. But it’s still a nuisance."

Chuuya smirked, his confidence in her words evident.

"I'll handle it quickly, then."

With that, he turned and strode out of the room, the door closing softly behind him. Left alone, the boss exhaled, her eyes drifting to the window where the city sprawled beneath her like a living, breathing entity.

The layers of protection she had built around herself—both physical and emotional—were nearly impenetrable. No one had ever made it to the top floor, where she and Chuuya resided. And no one ever would.

She pushed herself up from the chair, moving to a hidden compartment in the wall.

She pressed a button, and the hidden compartment slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a sleek monitor embedded within.

As she activated the screen, a grid of camera feeds flickered to life, offering her a bird’s-eye view of the entire headquarters. She wasn’t one to micromanage her subordinates—she trusted them, especially Chuuya—but the instinct to keep an eye on things, especially when it involved him, was something she couldn’t quite shake.

Her eyes scanned the feeds, taking in the chaotic scenes unfolding below. The intruders, a small but highly trained group, had made it farther than most. The lower floors were a warzone, with her men locked in fierce combat, but it was clear that they were holding their ground. For now.

She switched to the third-floor feed, her gaze sharpening as she saw Chuuya enter the fray. He moved with lethal precision, a blur of motion as he tore through the intruders with the ease of someone born to fight not using his gravity manipulation ability just yet.

Despite her earlier confidence, a sliver of unease crept into her mind as she watched him. These intruders were no amateurs; they were too coordinated, too familiar with the layout of the headquarters. Her finger hovered over the intercom button, but she hesitated. Chuuya didn’t need her guidance—he was more than capable of handling the situation. Yet, the feeling persisted, gnawing at her as she watched him confront a particularly skilled opponent, their clash sending shockwaves through the walls.

Suddenly, something on one of the other camera feeds caught her attention. A figure, moving with uncanny stealth, had bypassed the bulk of the defenses and was making their way up the emergency stairwell—a route rarely used and known only to a select few. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized the intruder was heading straight for the top floor.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, quickly switching the camera view to track the figure’s progress. Whoever this was, they were dangerous—calculated, and possibly someone with inside knowledge.

Without wasting another second, she hit the intercom button, her voice steady but urgent.

"Chuuya, we’ve got a problem. There’s someone headed for the top floor, and they’re taking the emergency stairs."

Chuuya’s voice crackled through the speaker, laced with irritation.

"You sure it’s not just another grunt?"

"No," she replied, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

"This one’s different. They know exactly where they’re going."

There was a brief pause on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath.

"I’m on my way. Don’t do anything reckless."

She smirked at his concern but didn’t argue. "Hurry," was all she said before ending the call.

Her smirk faded as she watched the intruder move with calculated precision through the stairwell, each step deliberate and unhurried. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary assassin. They were heading straight for her, bypassing the usual layers of defense as if they knew exactly where to find her.

Her fingers itched to grab her weapon, but something told her this encounter would require more than brute force.

She had an ability—one she rarely used, because it was as dangerous as it was powerful. But this was different. This intruder was different.

She closed the compartment and stepped away from the monitor, moving to sit on a nearby desk near the door, her senses on high alert.

Every second stretched into an eternity as she waited, listening for the faintest sound of approaching footsteps. Then, just as she had predicted, they stopped right outside her door.

The handle turned slowly, and she felt her heartbeat quicken, her muscles tensing in anticipation. The door opened with an almost deliberate slowness, and the intruder stepped inside—a tall figure cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath a dark hood. They paused, surveying the room as if searching for something, before their gaze finally settled on her and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. But instead of striking, the figure remained still, as if weighing their options.

She didn’t wait for them to speak. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me why you’re here before I kill you,” she said, her voice sharp and commanding, yet calm, with an underlying edge that promised she would follow through.

The intruder lifted their hands slightly, a gesture of surrender, though there was a calculated caution in the movement. “I’m not here to fight,” they said, their voice muffled by the hood. “I’m here to deliver a message.”

She narrowed her eyes, distrust gnawing at her. “A message?” she echoed. “From who?”

The intruder took a cautious step forward, reaching into their coat. She tensed, ready to strike, but they slowly pulled out a small, sealed envelope instead of a weapon. They held it out to her, and she got up from the desk as she eyed it warily before snatching it from their hand, tearing it open with a swift, practised motion.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, the handwriting elegant but unfamiliar. Her eyes scanned the words quickly, her breath catching as she read the message. It was simple, yet devastating:

" 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦—𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴—𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘴. 𝘐 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. "

At the bottom of the note was a name—one that sent a cold chill down her spine. Her stepfather. The man who had been a shadowy figure in her life, part of a past she had tried to bury. But he wasn’t buried—he was back, and he had her sister.

The intruder watched her carefully, reading the shift in her expression. “He told me to give you that,” they said, their voice low. “And to tell you that this is just the beginning. If you don’t do as he says… your sister will suffer.”

Her hands tightened around the paper, crumpling it slightly as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She couldn’t let the intruder see how deeply this cut, couldn’t afford to show any weakness.

“Why should I believe you?” she asked, her tone cold. “How do I know this isn’t some trick?”

“You don’t,” the intruder replied, their voice devoid of emotion. “But you know who he is. You know what he’s capable of. And you know he’s not bluffing.”

She hated how true those words were. She looked at the intruder, her eyes narrowing in calculation. “What’s your role in this?” she demanded. “Why are you helping him?”

The intruder hesitated, then finally pulled back the hood, revealing a face lined with weariness and resolve. “I’m just a messenger. But I know what he wants. He’s not just after you—he’s after Chuuya.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Chuuya? What does he want with him?”

The intruder shook their head. “That’s all I know. My job was to deliver the message and make sure you understood the stakes. What you do next is up to you.”

She stared at the intruder for a long moment, her mind racing. This was no ordinary threat. It was personal, and it was a game she would have to play carefully. Her sister’s life was on the line, and now, Chuuya’s safety was in jeopardy as well.

Finally, she stepped back, allowing the intruder to leave. “Get out before Chuuya gets here” she ordered, her voice icy. “And tell your boss that if he harms her, I’ll burn his entire world to the ground.”

The intruder hesitated, their eyes flicking towards the door as if they were weighing their options. But the cold determination in her voice left no room for argument. With a slight nod, they pulled the hood back over their head, turning to leave the room as quietly as they had entered. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving her alone once more.

As the silence settled back into the room, she let out a slow breath, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Her sister—her only remaining family—was in the hands of a man she had long thought buried in her past. A man whose very existence she had tried to forget, yet he had resurfaced like a ghost from a nightmare, bringing with him a threat that was as personal as it was terrifying.

After a few seconds the door opened once again as Chuuya stepped into the room, his presence like a force of nature that filled the space. His eyes immediately went to her, scanning her for any sign of hurt.

“What the hell just happened?” Chuuya’s tone was sharp, cutting through the tension that still hung in the air.

She turned to face him, her expression carefully composed, though the turmoil inside her was anything but. “It’s handled,” she replied, her voice calm and controlled, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within her. “The intruder was just a messenger.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. He knew her too well to be fooled by her calm exterior. “And what was the message?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. He took a step closer, his gaze locked onto hers, searching for the truth she was trying to hide.

For a moment, she hesitated. The urge to tell him everything—to let him in on the danger that now threatened them both—was strong. But she couldn’t. Chuuya was too important, too precious to her, to risk him being dragged into this mess. Her stepfather was a dangerous man, someone who thrived on manipulation and deceit. If Chuuya knew he was a target, he would rush headlong into the fray, putting himself at risk for her sake. She couldn’t allow that.

She forced a small smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s nothing we can’t handle,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “Just someone trying to stir up trouble. But I’ll take care of it.”

Chuuya’s frown deepened. “Don’t give me that crap,” he snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

She exhaled slowly, knowing she had to give him something to keep him from pressing further. “It’s about my sister,” she admitted, her voice softening. “She’s been taken, and they want me to come for her. Alone.”

The truth in her words wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole story either. Chuuya’s expression shifted from suspicion to anger, his fists clenching at his sides. “Taken? By who?” His voice was low, dangerous, the fury in his eyes barely contained.

“A man from my past,” she said vaguely, refusing to give him the details that would send him charging into danger. “Someone I thought I’d left behind. But he’s come back, and he’s using her to get to me.”

Chuuya’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with determination. “Then we’ll find him,” he growled. “We’ll get her back, and we’ll make him pay for this."

She shook her head, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “No, Chuuya. This is something I have to handle alone. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t let you get involved.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “Like hell I’m staying out of this. You’re not facing this bastard by yourself.”

Her grip on his arm tightened, her voice firm. “You have to trust me, Chuuya. I need you to stay close, but out of sight. Let me deal with him. I promise, I’ll bring her back.”

He stared at her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. He wanted to argue, to demand that she let him fight by her side, but something in her eyes—something resolute and unyielding—stopped him. With a frustrated sigh, he finally nodded, though his reluctance was clear.

“Fine,” he agreed, his voice begrudging. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight. The moment I think you’re in danger, I’m coming in, whether you like it or not.”

She allowed herself a small, genuine smile this time, grateful for his stubborn loyalty. “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she replied, her voice softening.

Chuuya’s anger seemed to dissipate slightly, replaced by a deep, unspoken concern. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “I can’t lose you.”

Her heart tightened at his words, and she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging between them. She wanted to reach out, to tell him how much his presence meant to her, how much she relied on him, how much she cared about him not because of his ability but rather because of who he is. But there were too many walls between them, too much left unsaid. So instead, she simply held his gaze, letting the silence speak for them both.

The distance between them felt palpable, an invisible barrier made up of all the things they hadn’t yet confessed, of all the emotions they kept locked away for the sake of their precarious world.

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before finally placing a hand on her shoulder. The touch was light, almost tentative, as if he was afraid to overstep the boundaries they’d both carefully constructed. “You know,” he began, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it, “you don’t always have to carry everything on your own. I’m here, not just as your right hand, but… for whatever you need.”

His words hung in the air between them, laced with meaning that went beyond the professional bond they shared. She looked up at him, her breath catching slightly at the sincerity in his eyes. It would be so easy to lean into that touch, to allow herself the comfort of his presence, but the walls she had built around her heart held firm. She had spent so long keeping everyone at a distance, even him, that it felt impossible to let go now.

“Chuuya…” she started, her voice wavering, “you don’t understand how much this means to me. But it’s precisely because I care about you that I can’t afford to let you in too close. The world we inhabit is fraught with dangers—dangers that neither of us can escape unscathed.”

His hand moved from her shoulder to take hers gently, the gesture tender yet firm, as though he was determined to bridge the distance between them, however insurmountable it seemed. “Do you think I’m blind to that?” he replied, a trace of frustration colouring his words, though it was softened by a plea—one that echoed the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “We’ve faced every challenge together until now. I’m not asking you to tear down all your defenses—just to let me in, if only a little. We are stronger when we stand together, aren’t we?”

She turned away slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window where the city sprawled beneath them, a living testament to the power and control she wielded. But even as she looked out over the empire she had built, there was an emptiness, a hollow ache that power could not fill. She had sacrificed so much to be where she was—her freedom, her innocence, her very humanity. And yet, here was Chuuya, offering her something she had long forgotten how to grasp: connection.

"Chuuya," she said, her voice barely audible, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. "In our world, everything is a transaction. Loyalty, trust, and even love—they all come at a price. I’ve always believed that the cost was too high. That to let anyone in was to invite ruin."

He didn’t respond immediately, allowing the silence to stretch between them, heavy with the weight of their shared history. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost contemplative. "Maybe that’s true," he admitted, "but maybe the price of keeping everyone out is even higher. We think we’re protecting ourselves by building these walls by staying distant, but all we’re doing is trapping ourselves in a cage of our own making as you always refer to it."

She smiles and nods. He was right... of course, he was right, yet she couldn't help but stay in that cage.

The night draped over Yokohama like a shroud, its darkness suffused with the ominous weight of impending tragedy. The air was thick with the scent of rain and the distant echo of sirens—harbingers of chaos that had become all too familiar. In the heart of this city, where shadows wove their own intricate dance, a final confrontation was brewing.

She had indeed managed to save her sister, wresting her from the clutches of the man who had once been a silent specter in her past. Her stepfather—whose dark presence had loomed over her life like a persistent nightmare—stood before her now, his power radiating like a malignant force that threatened to engulf everything she held dear. His ability to subsume other powers was a fearsome weapon, a black hole of dominion that threatened to consume all in its path.

The battle that ensued was a tempest of ferocity and desperation. She fought with the strength of a woman who had everything to lose, her every move fueled by a fierce, protective love for her sister. But as the confrontation dragged on, it became clear that her stepfather's power was overwhelming—an abyss that threatened to swallow her whole.

In a final, desperate bid to secure her sister’s safety, she made the agonizing decision to invoke the full potential of her "Malevolent Marionette" ability. The room was filled with a sombre silence as she whispered the usual incantation, her voice trembling with the weight of her resolve.

The master puppet, an intricate symbol of her ability, materialized in the center of the room—a dark, foreboding figure that seemed to pulse with an ancient, dangerous energy.

Her connection to the puppet was immediate and intense. The energy surging through her was both exhilarating and terrifying. The puppet’s power was immense, a dark purple tide that surged through her veins, promising the ability to reshape the world itself if she so wished. But the cost was steep—five minutes of devastation, followed by her own inevitable demise if the puppet was not destroyed.

The minutes ticked by like a slow, relentless drumbeat, each second a harbinger of doom. She fought valiantly, her power a raging inferno that lashed out at her stepfather, but he remained an insurmountable force, his power too great to be overcome. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each exhalation a reminder of the ticking clock that governed her fate.

Chuuya stood at the edge of the shadows, his heart pounding with a frantic rhythm that mirrored the chaotic storm raging within him. He had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, his every muscle tense with a blend of fear and frustration. The stakes had been too high, and he knew that his absence, though well-intentioned, was a gamble with dire consequences. The reality of their world was unforgiving, and he could sense the weight of his decisions settling heavily upon him.

As he watched the building, a sudden flicker of purple neon light cut through the darkness, casting an eerie glow over the structure. The light pulsed rhythmically, a harbinger of something both powerful and dangerous. His blood ran cold as he realized the significance of the display. It was a sign—a signal that she had invoked the full potential of her "Malevolent Marionette" ability —the very ability they had always relied on him to control, to destroy.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and his heart raced with a desperate urgency.

The purple lights, casting long, twisted shadows, illuminated the building’s facade like a harbinger of doom. Chuuya could see from afar her silhouette, framed against the intense glow. Her movements were determined, each gesture a testament to the raw, untamed power she wielded.

Without a moment's hesitation, he sprinted toward the building, his every step fueled by a mixture of fear and determination. The forest trees blurred past him as he raced towards the source of the light, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Each heartbeat seemed to echo with the dread of what he might find.

The building loomed ahead, its once-sturdy facade now a chaotic wreckage. Debris littered the ground, and the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and destruction. Chuuya burst through the entrance, his senses assaulted by the aftermath of the battle. The interior was a scene of devastation, the walls scorched and twisted from the unleashed power.He pushed forward, navigating through the wreckage with a sense of grim determination. His eyes scanned the ruinous landscape, searching for any sign of her. The purple neon light was now fading, its power waning as the last vestiges of the ritual played out. His heart sank as he approached the center of the chaos, where the battle had reached its climax.

There, amidst the debris and ruin, he found her. She stood amidst the wreckage, her form silhouetted against the dying glow of the purple light. Her stepfather lay defeated at her feet, the battle won but at an unimaginable cost. Her eyes, once filled with the fierce resolve of a warrior, now bore the hollow emptiness of someone who had sacrificed everything.

Chuuya's breath caught in his throat as he approached her, his mind struggling to process the sight before him. She had succeeded in her mission, but the power of the "Malevolent Marionette" had taken its toll. The puppet, a manifestation of her ability, had exacted a price that was painfully clear. She had unleashed a force of destruction that could only be contained by her own life force, and now, as the ritual’s effects began to consume her, it was clear that the cost was far greater than he had ever imagined.

Her gaze met his, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. "Chuuya..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling remnants of the power that had once surged through the building. There was a finality to her tone, an acceptance of the fate that had been sealed by her own choices.

His heart ached as he moved to her side, reaching out in a futile attempt to bridge the gap that had grown between them. He had wanted to protect her, to shield her from the worst of their world, but in doing so, he had failed her in the most crucial moment. The realization hit him with a crushing weight—his absence had led to a loss he could never fully comprehend.

As she fell to the ground, her strength waning, he held her in his arms, the enormity of the situation crashing down around him. The world they had fought to protect was now a stark reminder of the cost of their choices, the price of power and love interwoven in a tapestry of tragedy. The light of the neon glow faded, leaving only the echoes of their struggle and the heavy silence of a world forever changed.

In that moment, Chuuya held her close, his tears mingling with the dust and debris that surrounded them.

“Y/N, hold on… You can do this. You’ve got to hang on... I will destroy the puppet. Where is it?” His voice was ragged, strained by the relentless tide of his grief, an anguished plea that seemed to reach out into the void.

She looked at him with eyes growing dim, her strength ebbing away like a fading tide. She reaches out, placing her hand softly on his right cheek. "It’s too late now, Chuuya," she said, her voice a fragile whisper. "Please, take care of my sister and the mafia... I leave everything to you." Her words, though soft, carried the finality of a conclusion drawn long before, as the life drained from her. Her hand hit the ground lifelessly.

" I didn't even have the chance to kiss you. To tell you how much I loved you. Don't leave me alone in this cruel world! " He buries his face into the crook of her lifeless neck sobbing and holding her close.

Chuuya's heart shattered as he clung to her, his voice breaking with anguished regret. "I didn’t even get the chance to hold you in my arms, to wake up to you by my side, to tell you how deeply I loved you. Don’t leave me... please..." His sobs wracking his body, a poignant lament for a love left unspoken and a future now lost.

"You lied to me... you promised me that you'd take care of yourself... please...Y/N..." His plea hung in the air, a raw cry against the encroaching silence of her fading life.

The love they had fought to maintain, the connection they had both yearned for—it had all came to an end. As the life drained from her, he could only hold onto the bittersweet memory of what they had shared, knowing that their story had ended in a way he could never have anticipated.

Days passed, each one marked by the hollow ache of Chuuya’s grief. The world continued its indifferent march, but for him, time seemed to stand still in the wake of her loss. He took on the mantle of the mafia boss, a role he had never imagined he would assume, and every decision he made was imbued with the weight of her absence. Her sister was safe, and the organization continued to function, but the emptiness within him remained a chasm that no amount of power or responsibility could fill.

Each night, the office became a sanctuary of despair. Subordinates whispered among themselves, noting the sound of Chuuya’s sobs echoing through the walls. The man who had once been a pillar of strength and resolve was now a figure haunted by his own sorrow, his once-unshakable confidence replaced by a profound and unrelenting grief. The weight of leadership was no solace, only a reminder of the price he had paid.

Every evening, after the office was empty and the city below was cloaked in darkness, Chuuya would make his way to her grave. It was a ritual born of both reverence and desperation—a desperate need to keep her memory alive, to bridge the gap between the living and the dead. There, in the quiet of the cemetery, he would sit beside her grave, speaking to her as if she could hear him.

He would recount the events of his day, the decisions he had made, the struggles he faced as the new head of the mafia. His words were a mixture of mundane details and heartfelt confessions, a dialogue with the shadows of the past.

"Today, we had another power struggle," he would say softly, his voice trembling as he knelt by her grave. "I managed to keep things under control, but it’s never the same without you. I find myself longing for your guidance, for your presence... I’m lost without you."

With each visit, his words became a testament to the depth of his love and the void she had left. The cemetery, once a place of finality, became a space where he could grapple with his grief, where the echoes of their shared past offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his pain.

And so, Chuuya continued his vigil, bound by the promise he had made and the love that remained unspoken but ever-present. His heart, though heavy and broken, remained steadfast in its devotion to the woman who had been his greatest challenge and his deepest love.

Then came a day like no other. The world trembled as a force beyond comprehension began to assert its presence. A powerful opponent, whose ability was as arcane as it was formidable, had managed to tear through the fabric of reality itself. This adversary wielded a piece of the reality book, a relic of unimaginable power capable of opening gateways between dimensions. As the fabric of their universe rippled and shifted, a rift emerged, a slit in the world that shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly light.

Chuuya stood on the precipice of disbelief in a scattered forest, his heart pounding as the dimensions collided. The air crackled with energy, and he could feel the weight of something monumental happening. His gaze was drawn to the rift, which grew wider, revealing glimpses of another universe beyond—a place of stark contrasts and unfamiliar landscapes.

And then, through the growing breach, he saw her.

There she was, a vision that defied all logic and reason. She stood amidst the chaotic light, her form illuminated by the strange, shimmering energy of the other universe. She looked different, her appearance altered by the peculiarities of the alternate realm, yet it was unmistakably her. Her presence was a beacon in the tumultuous void, a sight that sent a shudder through Chuuya’s very soul.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to cease its relentless march. Time itself appeared to hold its breath as he gazed at her, his emotions a tempest of disbelief, hope, and an unspoken yearning. He reached out, his fingers trembling as if he could touch the fabric of reality and pull her through.

Her eyes met his, and in that fleeting, impossible moment, there was recognition—a silent communication that transcended the barriers of space and dimension. Her expression was one of both sorrow and solace, a reflection of the love and loss that had bound them together in life and now, impossibly, in death.

The sudden, disorienting realization that had hit them both was almost too much to comprehend. Standing at the edge of the rift, they locked eyes, their shared astonishment mirroring each other’s disbelief.

"Boss...?" they both said in unison, their voices echoing in the charged air of the fractured reality. The word was spoken with a mixture of reverence and confusion, as if the title held a gravity that transcended their own worlds.

A/N : Hope you enjoyed it, fellas! Let me know if I shall continue? I'm very excited to finish writing part 2!!!

➵Want more of Chuuya Nakahara ?

[madschiavelique]

➯ 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐦𝐚𝐧 : 𝐀𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 - 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

here you might find content such as : ★ - miguel o'hara x reader drabbles & headcanons ★ - miguel o'hara x reader x peter b. parker drabbles & headcanons ★ - hobie brown x reader drabbles & headcanons (upcoming)

— 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

—————𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : a 4 shot miguel x reader where tension grows in each parts, he teases you, you tease him and it ends up in a glorious smut content warnings : blood, bullet, biting (literal), no use of Y/N, smut on the 3rd and 4th part (if there are others please do tell so that i can add them !)

----- chapters : ★ 1 — love bite ★ 2 — late night training ★ 3 — unexpected mission (nsfw) ★ 4 — shameless (nsfw)

𝐨𝐱𝐲𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : in which you start your new life as a Biology student, and have to live with the fact that your hot neighbour is also your hot teacher. content warnings : collegeteacher!miguel o’hara x student!reader, smut, praise kink, degradation kink, pnv sex, fingering, spanking, sir kink, size kink, no use of Y/N, fem!reader.

masterlist

—————𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

Restraint (Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader) NSFW

summary : you convinced Miguel to wear a muzzle to fuck you, and let's just say it drives him insane. content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, pnv sex, unprotected safe (be safe kids), miguel becoming a tiny bit angry because he can't kiss you nor bite you, possessive miguel, no use of Y/N word count : 1,1k

𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫 (𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎'𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) — 𝑼𝒑𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈

summary : you got a new lip balm set, with a bunch of different flavours, and miguel wants to try them all by kissing you content warning : none, absolute fluff

—————𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒

—————𝐒𝐅𝐖

✿ when you get one of these pheromone perfumes

✿ when miguel gets jealous because a random spiderperson flirts with you

✿ miguel nearly dies on a mission and now wants you by his side at all times

✿ headcanons (platonically and romantically) with an asexual reader

✿ headcanon : why vanilla ice cream with occasional sprinkles is miguel's favourite flavour

✿ miguel takes care on you on your periods

✿ reassuring miguel about his scars

✿ headcanon : miguel's type

✿ miguel reassuring a self conscious reader about their body

✿ miguel takes care of you when you're sick

✿ you tease miguel by using his last name

✿ headcanon : how miguel sleeps

—————𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖/𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓

✿ when you say miguel is too big and he won't fit, but he does

✿ you ride miguel's face until it fixes his neck

✿ when you wear a sundress and miguel can't contain himself

✿ when you ask miguel to teach you how to suck his dick

✿ when miguel discovers he likes being the little spoon

✿ miguel humps you when he's stressed

✿ miguel discovers you want lots of kids, so he breeds you

✿ riding miguel for the first time

✿ headcanon : miguel's favourite sex positions

✿ pegging miguel for the first time

✿ riding miguel to overstimulation... so he fingers you and gives you oral instead

✿ miguel discovers you're a stripper

✿ reader's first time with softdom!miguel

✿ reader rambling about how down bad they are for miguel, and him hearing it

✿ headcanon : miguel's dick

✿ miguel said he didn't want kids after gabriella... but sectrely tries to breed you

—𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫

—————𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒

—————𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖/𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓

✿ miguel made you cry because he was mean as you were eiffel towered by him and Peter B (nsfw)

✿ after tying you down and fucking you senseless, Miguel and Peter take care of you

✿ miguel and peter overstimulating you

✿ miguel and peter railing you from possessiveness

—————𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐕𝐄

✿ yandere headcanons : yandere!miguel o'hara x reader x yandere!peter b parker

—————𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐒

✿ how spider people feel orgasms (nsfw)

✿ how miguel's voice sounded before all the trauma

✿ thoughts on sub!reader with miguel and peter (nsfw)

✿ anon take on yandere miguel overstimulating you (nsfw)

✿ reader taking selfies after giving miguel head (nsfw)

✿ miguel fucking you and whispering 'iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou' (nsfw)

✿ why i picked nena as main pet-name from miguel

✿ anon developping on yandere!miguel and yandere!peter b parker (dead dove)

✿ anxious reader playing with miguel o'hara's hand (nsfw bonus at the end)

✿ miguel celebrating the holidays

✿ would miguel neglect his partner because of the multiverse work

✿ realistic scenario of miguel loving someone

✿ greek soldier miguel au idea

✿ anon and i expanding on the greek soldier miguel au idea

✿ cursed vampire miguel o'hara au idea

✿ miguel anxiety blanket

✿ miguel's favourite songs

✿ "i'll kill you if you don't shut up" girlfriend with "that's so hot, i love u" miguel

✿ miguel's insecurities

please, before sending me a request, make sure you read the request rules

thank you <;33

[pursuitseternal]

“An Afternoon in the Park” with 🦇 Batstarion in this special update to “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x Female Tav | T | 1.7 K

Summary: without their Rogue and his consort, Halsin and Shadowheart wait for Gale to come back from scouting out a Bhaalist ambush in Bloomridge Park. Fortunately, to pass the time, a pair of bats seem to join them, flying around and… engaging in some unusual behavior for this time of day, according to the Druid.

CW: bat sex, a bit of voyeurism kinda not really, “David Attenborough” Halsin commenting on Nature, yes the nature facts about bats are true, Gale sucks at recon, and Astarion is a smug bastard and a freak

A/N: for Batstarion week’s wild card day. Even though Antics is x reader, this update shifts to 3rd person for narrative purpose. In the Antics world, only Gale and Karlach know Astarion’s ‘other’ form. Until now. Enjoy my offering!

Ao3 link | Masterlist | My Ko-fi

“Bloomridge park is a curious place for a Bhaalist ambush,” Shadowheart commented, irritated and annoyed.

“Gale was sure he would find them. To think that murderous cultists could abuse the natural beauty of a park,” Halsin shifted his massive weight on his massive legs. “No one speaks for the trees in this city. There is so little space, so little greenery to soothe the soul. It’s small wonder everyone is in a foul mood.”

Shadowheart tapped her toe on the ground, impatient. “This is what we get for sending the Wizard to do the sneaking. That bloody Ascendant Rogue. He might have a palace he wants to inspect and a consort or whatever he wants to fuck in it, but dammit we need our party.” She gave a dramatically offended sigh. “We never should have agreed to give those two the evening off. I wonder what depraved, vampiric horrors they will get into.” Her outburst made Halsin’s scarred face twist in a warm grin.

His warm chuckle was probably too loud for even this public setting, and it made Shadowheart glare up at him. The Druid just shook his head. “It is typical of nature, when one head of the pack is supplanted by the next, the new predator in power will mark his territory and mate profusely. It is not different for Astarion,” he commented, always so sage in tone and smiling. As if he’s seen everything in this world.

“Please don’t call Astarion a predator to his face… or imply he’s a new alpha or something…” Shadowheart grimaced. “His ego has already grown too inflated to fit his pea-sized, smoothed brain. He already acts like the Elfsong is his palace, don’t add to that Halsin.”

Halsin only chuckled harder, putting his massive, tanned hand on the oak tree they both stood beneath at the edge of the city park. “It is remarkable how nature runs its course, even through the filth and contamination of the city. Seasons change, animals rut, and so life continues.”

Something darted over their heads. Two somethings. A streak of white and a smear of cool grey. They chittered loudly, swarming up the oak tree to cling their hooked fingers and toes into the bark. Ears twitching, wings folded, they seemed to chit at one another, squeaks from the grey and high pitched purrs from the white.

Instantly they caught the Druid’s attention. “See, not even the stain of the city can stop nature…. Although, these two do seem to behave rather curious. This white one… he seems strangely large for a bat and… strangely talkative.” The Druid moved closer to the tree, making the grey bat scamper higher in the tree, flying almost out of sight to hide far above their heads.

With a flap of his wings, the white animal was not far behind, landing on top of the other. Toes curled around toes, wings wrapped around her small furry body.

A chorus of two-toned chitters flitted from above their heads, and Shadowheart audibly gagged. “Oh that is disgusting. I have no need to hear or see that sort of… intimacy.” She almost puked on the last word.

Halsin just laughed. “Like I said, nature will always find a way.” He paused, a look more perplexed than before twisting his scarred smiling face. “It’s just this way of nature is most curious. Bats shouldn’t be out quite so early… nor is this typical for their mating season.” His thick, bushy brows furrowed. “Perhaps the corruption of the city is altering their natural courses…”

The bats then flew apart, circling the tree. Grey and white blurs passing over their heads noisily. “That white male seems bent on keeping his mate in this tree…”

Shadowheart scoffed incredulously. “Or just over our heads to annoy us,” she sassed. “Perhaps he’s just starved for the attention and requires an audience.”

“I’m not sure bats have that big an ego or a bent towards voyeurism,” Halsin chortled, watching with approval as the bats hung on another branch. “You’ll notice that the bats actually engage in a little foreplay. It’s not unusual for the male to… ahem… clean the female before coupling to ensure they are clean of a rival's sperm and…” he smirked sideways at the Cleric, “to warm the female up for another round when they are in heat.”

Shadowheart’s brows shot under her bangs. “Bats sound like better lovers than most people,” she scoffed, looking up to see the bats doing just as the Druid described.

They seemed so… into it, she noticed with a frown on her lips. Squinting, she watched them, a mess of fur and squeaks and chitters all hidden behind two large white wings. It lasted maybe two minutes before they stilled, a long pink tongue cleaning the face of the little grey bat that hung against him.

The warm smile on Halsin’s face made her roll her eyes so far back in her skull, they could have stuck there. “Where is Gale? For fucks sake, we shouldn’t have let the Wizard attempt to be the sneaky one.” She kept complaining, picking at the ends of her hair strands that had come loose from her braid.

That grey bat rushed right past her, almost buzzing the hair on her head as it zipped up the park path in the direction of the walls at the edge of the gardens. “Hey…” Shadowheart narrowed her eyes, “aren’t those the walls to Cazador’s Palace?” Suddenly, suspicion sank into her gut, just as Gale came down the path, winded and sweaty from the evening heat.

“Whoo,” he panted. “Okay, scouting isn’t technically my area of expertise, but I’m…” he placed a hand on his chest, wincing as he sucked in breath after breath. “Sorry, it took a bit to hustle around the whole park before the invisibility spell wore off.” He swallowed loudly. “I’m sure the great Ascendant would have been faster…”

“And considerably less winded,” Shadowheart grumbled under her breath as she crossed her arms over her plate-armored chest.

“Curious that,” Gale started to lecture, still winded and gasping like a fish out of water, “Astarion can’t get winded… he doesn’t need wind… or air…” he let out a long sigh, folding over with hands on knees.

Halsin beat him on the back a few times to help him clear his lungs.

“Right,” Gale finally swallowed and straightened. “While you two were busy enjoying the scenery…”

“Actually we were enjoying nature, yes,” Halsin chuckled warmly. “A lovely pair of bats must be in full heat, which is strange this time of year. What unique colors they were too, a brilliant while and sterling grey…”

A pause of… recognition fell on the Wizard. An incredulous look dawned on Gale, jaw hanging slack. “You’re kidding me,” he gaped. “Here? Just… out in the open?”

“Yes,” Halsin glanced up into the tree again. “Most rigorous and enthusiastic I would say.”

“Disgusting,” the Cleric added as she faked wrenching, tongue out as she gagged.

Gale buried his hands in his face, muttering something to himself about ‘when he gets his hands on those two horny idiots’ and ‘they couldn’t keep it in their pants… or fur… for one night…’ But before he could spiral into a whirlpool of disgust and secrets, he took a breath. “No matter,” he forced his voice steady. “I’ve counted four Bhaalist assassins in the center of the Park….”

“Six, actually…”

Oh, that sassy purr, that confidence in honey tones interrupted from behind them as Astarion strolled into the middle of the group, their fearless leader right behind him, blushing and red and unable to make eye contact with the lot of them.

“Well,” Gale squared his shoulders as he rounded on the vampire, “and just how could you be so certain?” His brown eyes glinting with suspicious mischief, his brows cocked haphazardly as he returned Astarion’s cool, sauntering stare. “It’s not like you were here? Not like you were just… flying around to get a bird’s eye view or anything….”

“Oh no, of course not,” he crooned, picking invisible dirt off the cuff of his armor. “Maybe you should be grateful we’ve decided to end our evening early. Seems you’re more pitiful at reconnaissance than even I thought possible.” He shifted his body to let Tav into the circle, her face still beet red. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Gale gave her a scolding, humored look, the kind that said, ‘You should know better….’

Astarion leaned his face into Gale’s line of sight, narrowing his eyes. “Something to say… Gale? Or are we going to murder a bunch of murder cultists?”

Halsin looked at Shadowheart, then at the tree, then with a low hum in his throat, he looked to Gale and Astairon staring at one another. “Tav, just how did you enjoy your… evening with our Rogue?”

“Fine,” she grinned her own fanged smile. “We just figured you needed a bigger party to flush out the Cultists. They are very well hidden, almost impossible to see if not from above….”

She snapped her mouth shut and blushed again.

Gale just shook his head and laughed. “Oh, not so sneaky Rogue,” he teased Astarion who gave Tav the cheekiest, most devilish leer, one dripping with conceit and self satisfaction.

“Oh… by my Lady’s name,” Shadowheart covered her eyes as she gagged again. “The bats… those fucking bats…”

Halsin gave a noise of realization, a wry smile on his face.

“I told him we needed to help survey for the ambush,” Tav muttered.

“And I said, only if she didn’t get caught,” Astarion’s sultry smirk melted with his love, his fingers lifting her chin as she placed an adoring kiss on his full and smiling lips. “It’s not my fault you’re a bunch of freaks who can’t keep their eyes to themselves…”

Shadowheart turned her back, ponytail whipping her own shoulders. “I think I’m going to be sick…”

“For the record,” Gale grinned and wagged his finger in Astarion’s face. “I’m not the one who let out your cute, fluffy little secret, O Mighty Ascendant.”

Astarion scrunched up his nose and grabbed his daggers. “Take out your disgust out on some murder cultists, everyone. Let’s turn someone inside out, shall we?”

Before they dispersed into the Park, the Druid gave one more chuckle. “It is rather fluffy and cute for a wild form to shift into,” Halsin chimed in with sage tones in his deep voice.

[tsukimefuku]

The broken idealist: Higuruma Hiromi

SatoSugu is canon and I can prove it

.˳·˖ HIGURUMA SENSEI +18! (fluff, romance, comedy, smut) mlist | higuruma hiromi, a brilliant professor who teaches Criminal Law and Criminal Procedure Law, is known among students and other faculty members for being a little... peculiar. Since you dream of becoming a criminal lawyer, you'll definitely have to endure his antics for a while - but, considering the odd charm he has, maybe it won't be as hard as you expected.

.˳·˖ JUJUTSU PARTNERS CANON DIVERGENCE AU +18! (multi-genre) mlist | collection of stories. canon divergent alternate universe where reader is a jujutsu sorcerer that ends up working for jujutsu high alongside nanami kento and higuruma hiromi.

.˳·˖ THE WORLD IS A WINDMILL (angst) mlist | a series of short drabbles (semi character studies) of jjk characters (yuuji, nobara, nanami and higuruma) based off of the song “o mundo é um moinho” from the brazilian musician and poet, cartola. 🇧🇷

.˳·˖ SAND AND SNOW (murder/mystery, action, canon typical violence) mlist | in the past few weeks, there have been multiple deaths in Odate city. Nanami Kento, a first-grade sorcerer, is dispatched to investigate the snowy city, unaware that this would be his final mission as a Jujutsu High’s student.

.˳·˖ NANAMI KENTO

4:00 A.M. (angst): nanami is your ex and calls you just before dawn to hear your voice.

Voice kink +18! (smut): suggestive drabble thanks to kenjiro tsuda’s voice and the chokehold it has on me.

Voice kink the reckoning +18! (smut): sequel to voice kink, in which nanami keeps teasing you even in the throes of it.

Blunt trauma (villain!nanami) +18! (angst, canon typical violence, smut): your mission is to execute a curse user. the issue? said curse user is nanami kento, your former high school classmate and the man who you still secretly love.

Be good for me and… +18! (smut): smutty office drabble, prompt based.

3rd of July (fluff, comedy, suggestive): you surprise Nanami on his birthday after some undeserved teasing. collab work.

Scarred Nanami head canons (fluff, comfort, smut): Nanami has you on his side to deal with the aftermath of Shibuya.

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ HIGURUMA HIROMI

Whimperer +18! (fluff, suggestive): you wondered why hiromi always seemed to not be enjoying himself fully in bed, and the answer is definitely not something you expected.

de-stressing the lawyer +18! (smut) - your husband hiromi is pretty stressed, so you decide to help him out by giving him head under his desk.

In another life (angst) - what if reader met higuruma briefly before the culling games.

drowsy proposal (fluff) - silly fluffy drabble with sleepy higu.

kintsugi (fluff) - Higuruma, former lawyer, curse user, and reformed jujutsu sorcerer tries to make sense of what his life has become after the war is finally over.

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ HIGUNANA X READER

jujutsu sorcery, and how the legacy stays alive +18! (fluff, suggestive) - a take on what would happen if the throuple's daughter wanted to become a jujutsu sorcerer.

Daddies (fluff) - hiromi is trying to feed his infant daughter, but failed to realize no one can really reason their way out with babies.

Stop teasing +18! (smut) - You and Nanami decide to edge Hiromi to the verge of tears. Prompt based.

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ KUSAKABE ATSUYA

lollipop kiss (fluff, comedy) - your workplace crush, kusakabe, is pretty dense when it comes to romance, so you try to ease things out with a bag of lollipops.

oh, you like that? +18! (smut) - smutty prompt drabble with hair pulling and soft dom kusa.

.˳·˖ NANAMI KENTO

Love language (fluff)

Kitchen fluff (fluff)

Scarred Nanami head canons (fluff, comfort, smut)

Babysitting (fluff)

◇─◇──◇─◇

.˳·˖ HIGURUMA HIROMI

don't cry, my love (fluff)

all by tsukimefuku ㋡ comments and reblogs are appreciated. do not copy, translate or repost.

[whatitshouldvebeen]

Hii! I feel like I’ve been loving angst and smut all being put in one fanfic as of recently, so I thought about heartbreaker Johnny because we all know he’s not the most loyal man 🌚 so I was wondering if like it could be the sort of where the reader was basically taken by the slaughter family and instead of killing her they kept her as bate for more victims like she’s very attractive and they use her whenever they go out to hunt, (I hope that makes sense but I figured that would prob be the only reason they kept someone alive 😭) but ok so one day basically she and sissy are sitting on the couch watching Tv in their free time , and Johnny walks into the house with yet another girl, like the 3rd girl of the week, and like the reader rolls her eyes and sighs a little too loud out of jealousy and I guess Johnny notices, so later on he like teases her about it and she pretends to hate him when in reality he was one of the things she looked forward to when they first kept her alive, so they kind of like hate fuck? Or jealousy fuck idk, but she ends up riding him at some point,

(also I’m sorry this is so long, I had this whole long elaborate idea in my head 😭)

I finished 😈

Johnny Slaughter x reader

MINORS DNI this is fairly fucked up please spare yourselves

Contains: abuse, angst, blood, degradation, humiliation, knifeplay, mentions of self-harm, implied cannibalism, jealousy, fingering, hate-fucking, and breeding

(Sorry for double spacing, I still don't know how to format on mobile)

Eight months ago, Johnny Slaughter brought you home for dinner. 

Well, he brought you after a full night of fucking you out of your senses in a seedy hotel room. And it was thanks to your chemistry with him that—when he made clear that you were to be the family's next meal—you were able to talk your way out of it. 

"Johnny, you don't have to kill me," you pleaded.

"Well I can't let you go, doll," he said, looking down at you with a predatory gaze. You were in the gruesome basement with the scent of death flooding your nostrils, but nothing felt so visceral as the blade of his Bowie knife at your neck, one wrist flick from ending your life. 

"You don't have to. I can help you." 

He barked a laugh. "Yeah? How so?"

You'd swallowed hard, then placed your hands on his firm chest. He'd raised an eyebrow but didn't pull away. "I'll do what you did to me: lure people back to the house. I'll bring in five times my weight in the first month, I swear."

"You do have a certain," Johnny's eyes flicked down to your breasts, "charm. But how can I trust you?"

"Come with me. If you see me doing anything against you, you can claim to be my caretaker. Say I'm mentally unwell."

"How exactly are people gonna believe me if I say that?" He asked, his head cocked. 

You held out your arm somberly, self-harm scars littering your wrists. "It won't take much convincing, Johnny."

Rather than the usual looks you received when people noticed your scars, Johnny's face lit up. 

"You like the pain, huh?" He'd said in a low tone. 

"Proves I'm still alive, doesn't it?" You responded, a strange sort of calm flooding you at his reaction. You tried to lower your wrist, but Johnny caught it with his free hand. 

He removed the blade from your neck, then brought it to your wrist, making a quick, shallow cut. He then brought the blade to his wrist and made an identical cut. Finally, he brought his wrist to yours and pressed the cuts together, mingling your blood with his.

"Blood oath. If you break my trust, I'll know."

You nodded, adrenaline lighting up every inch of your body, especially the cut.

"Oh, and," his eyes narrowed, and he reached a gloved hand down, cupping you through your shorts, "this pussy is mine. If I hear you slept with another man, I'll kill you both myself."

Once again, you nodded, and watched entranced as he brought your wrist to his lips and licked it, humming contentedly at the back of his throat. 

"Let's see how long you can last, sugar."

—

Now, you and Sissy sat on the couch, watching the only TV channel available when Johnny kicked the front door open. He had a screaming young woman thrown over his shoulder, pounding his back with her fists.

Johnny locked eyes with you, wearing that same predatory smile he often had. Ever since you'd shown an aptitude for luring people back home for slaughter, you and Johnny had become quite competitive. It didn't take long for him to recognize that you had fully assimilated into the family, and he'd allowed you to hunt on your own.

This month, Johnny had been far more successful than you – three kills to your zero. His cockiness was becoming unbearable, and that smug look on his face stirred up a now-familiar ache in your gut.

You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms as you turned away from Johnny, sinking deeper into the couch. Sissy looked at you and shook her head as Johnny slammed the door to the basement behind him.

"How you feelin', girly?" Sissy asked, patting your forearm.

You shrugged. "I don't like it when he does better than I do at bringing people home."

Sissy stroked your arm as she leaned closer. "Hon, I don't think that's your problem." She smiled, revealing her tooth gap as she caught your eye. "You wishin' Johnny was the type to settle down, hm?"

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. "No!" You responded a little too quickly. "I just... I wish he wouldn't sleep with them," you added in a low whisper.

"Well, don't you sleep with those guys you bring home sometimes?" Sissy asked with genuine curiosity.

"No, I..." The oath you made to Johnny flashed in your mind. "I don't."

Sissy giggled. "I'll get grandpa to bed and take Bubba out tonight. Sounds like you and Johnny need to talk."

–

You remained on the couch until the door to the basement clanged open. Johnny had been down there for a while, and by this point, your jealousy had you seeing red. You stood up from the couch and turned to face Johnny in the narrow hallway by the stairs. He wiped his blade off on his bloody shirt and locked eyes with you.

"We need to talk."

"Yeah, you haven't been pullin' nearly as many people as I have. Losin' your touch, sugar?" He taunted, leaning against the staircase and toying with his knife.

You put your hands on your hips. "Some months I got more than you did!"

"Yeah, like that month you brought in those slimy truckers. I couldn't even stomach their rancid, fatty meat." He spat in the corner by the door. "But it figures. You have lower standards than I do."

"'Cause I'm not sleeping with them!" You yelled, your fists trembling at your side.

Johnny's smile grew so wide it reminded you of a great white shark.

"Jealous?" He purred.

Your face heated, and you sputtered. "No, I fucking hate your guts, you piece of shit! Why would I be jealous?"

He pushed off the staircase and approached you slowly, a dangerous sway to his step.

"Needin' some attention? Has mean ole Johnny been denying you?" His tone was sickeningly sweet as he stopped in front of you, making your rage feel small and insignificant in his overwhelming presence.

It was true. When you were first brought home, Johnny had fucked you and only you daily for two straight months. He was the only thing you ever looked forward to in this hellhole, but in the last few months, Johnny had been using you less and less.

And you couldn't deny the anger that swirled in your gut whenever he brought a girl home. You knew how he was; you remembered how he'd hooked you that first night, and some of those girls he brought home had that same cock-drunk look in their eyes, some even willingly descending into the basement before realizing their fate.

It ate you up inside. Johnny had sworn you to him, but he took whoever he pleased, and the jealousy was making you more irritable than usual. You probably would have brought at least two men home this past month if it weren't for your overly-aggressive demeanor scaring them off.

But you couldn't help yourself. When you got horny, you were straightforward about it. Johnny had gotten you used to being with him, and without him to satisfy your urges, you were becoming more unhinged.

So now that Johnny was inches from you, admitting he was neglecting your needs with that cocky grin on his face, you couldn't believe the surge of desire that coursed through you. You hated how your body reacted, despised the urge to close the gap between your bodies, and grab him by his slicked-back hair, mashing your lips onto his. Damn it.

Johnny leaned even closer, whispering against your ear. "I can smell your cunt, you little slut."

Your face flushed deep red, and you pushed Johnny away as hard as you could. He took two staggered steps back, which gave you an odd sense of satisfaction.

That was until his predatory eyes narrowed, sending a shiver down your spine. He closed the distance between you two in one stride and crashed his lips against yours. You stumbled against the wall, cracking the drywall under the force of his kiss. Johnny couldn't care less.

His hands found your shorts, practically tearing them off your body to plunge his thick fingers into your needy core. You gasped and blushed harder as you heard the sound of your wetness squelching around his digits.

"You fucking brat," he growled low in his throat, biting your lip. You whimpered in response as he withdrew from you, bringing his fingers to your lips. You parted them, sucking yourself off him greedily, your eyelids fluttering shut.

When he removed his fingers, he harshly grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. "You've been a real bitch lately. Are you in heat or something?" He asked mockingly.

"Shut up, Johnny," you panted.

He ignored you entirely, turning your chin from side to side. "You need fucked, don't cha?" A slow grin formed on his handsome face. "Beg me for it."

Blood flooded to your core at his words, but you tore your chin from his grip. The words 'I'd rather die' welled up in your throat, but you realized Johnny might take you up on that offer, so instead, you glared at him.

"I'm waiting, darlin'," he drawled.

Your eyes unwillingly traversed his body, and you thought about how good that muscular form under his bloodied clothes felt against you. The thirst was truly getting to you, and he looked like a tall glass of red-tinted water.

Shame flooded you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. "Please, Johnny," you mumbled.

"What's that, doll? Please, what?" He asked, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.

You gave him a spiteful look, hoping that your hate might set him on fire. "Please, fuck me," you said through gritted teeth.

"Ahh, there's my little kitten. You'll need to do something for me first, though," he said.

"Oh, come on!" You spat. "What could you need from me that you don't already get from your sluts? I'm the one who isn't getting any!"

Johnny couldn't have looked more pleased. "Jealous AND possessive. How pathetic."

Your anger grew white-hot, and you slapped him. Hard.

The instant your hand made contact with his chiseled jaw, you knew you'd made a grave mistake. His eyes narrowed to slits, and he slammed you against the wall by the throat. You felt his blade against your collarbone, digging in, rivulets of blood rapidly staining your shirt.

"I'm sorry!" You squeaked out from between already-bruised lips, memories of the first time you'd begged for your life flooding your senses. He tightened his grip.

"Remember who you owe your life to, dollface," he snarled, pressing the knife deeper. "I like that bitchy mouth of yours, but if you ever try to hit me again, I'll end you. Understand?"

You nodded as tears ran down your cheeks, unable to muster more than the tiniest of breaths. Yet, even as your life balanced on a knife's edge, your desire dripped down your thighs.

Johnny loved a fight, but when he fought, he always had to win. In Johnny's mind, the only true victory was taking his opponent's life. His demand meant he didn't want to kill you, you realized. He was holding himself back because... some part of him wanted you around.

Johnny's eyes moved from yours to your cheeks where tears formed salty streams that raced down to your chin, slipping down your neck and pooling against his grip.

You always knew Johnny loved tears; be they from fear or ecstasy. As light began to prick at the corners of your vision, you wondered if you'd pushed him too far.

All at once, he released you, and you fell to your knees, choking on air.

"Suck my fucking cock," he commanded. He gave you next to no time to recover before his thick length was in your face, stiff and upward-curved. 

Your throat was already aching, and you could barely breathe, but you complied, taking his flushed tip into your warm mouth. 

His cock was salty and musky, and your envy flared. Johnny was never yours, was never going to be yours, but you had grown to crave him, and the fact you were likely tasting another woman on his cock made you livid. 

There was no woman in the world who wanted to please him more than you did, and you were going to show him that he needed you at least half as badly as you needed him. 

You poured all your hate, anger, and devotion to him into sucking his cock. Johnny was a narcissist through and through, and for some fucking reason, you reveled in it. The higher you put him, the higher he brought you with him, and the harder you fell when he spurned you. 

Tears continued to pour down your cheeks as you forced yourself to deep-throat all of him. He let out a delicious groan. "Fuck yeah baby, take it!"

You gagged and sputtered, saliva gushing from your lips when he grabbed the sides of your head and pulled you as far as you possibly could go. He held you there, choking on spit and pre-cum, until you couldn't take it anymore and pushed off his muscular thighs, stumbling backward onto your ass.

Johnny took this as an open invitation. He knelt down in front of you and grabbed your knees, pushing them apart and slotting himself between them. 

"You need this cock, don't you?" He said, using one hand to tease your clit with the slick head. 

"I need it," you respond, your voice raspy.

Johnny grinned wickedly before he plunged into you, making your back arch off the floor and your legs tremble. 

"Knew you were too proud to ask me on your own," he said as he gripped your hair and thrust so deeply into you that you saw stars, "so I wanted to see how long you could hold out. After all, it ain't like I wasn't getting any."

Jealousy bubbled up yet again from your core, and turned those stars in your eyes green. You needed him to know those sluts had nothing on you. They weren't form-fitted to his cock, they weren't so rabidly in… 

Your mind drew a blank. In love?

No! You hate Johnny. He's your captor.  Your judge, jury, and executioner. 

You love him?

You really were pathetic. Tears bloomed in your eyes again, and as Johnny sunk his teeth into your already-bleeding collarbone, you sobbed out loud.

He ground his hips against yours, his cock completely filling you. "There's my girl," he rumbled against your bloody skin. You practically melted. His girl. His. But he wasn't yours. Even though the two of you were clearly sexually compatible, and you couldn't do much more in his personal life for him than you already were, he still remained out of reach.

Then, it hit you. 

"Cum inside me, Johnny," you begged.

His harsh thrusts slowed. "What?" He pulled back and looked down at your tear-swollen eyes gazing back up at him so desperately. "You're joking."

You shook your head.

"Then you're a fucking idiot," he muttered, returning his attention to your neck and rocking his hips so that you felt him at every angle. 

"No, I'm not!" You protested, and you felt his smirk against your neck before he gripped your hips and pulled you closer. 

"You are, but I'll humor you. Why?" 

He wasn't moving, he was just holding you impossibly close, planting small, bruising bites up and down your neck. You felt every inch of him viscerally, and lust clouded your mind as you struggled to articulate your thoughts. 

"I- I want-" you moaned, writhing in his grasp. 

"Speak up, sugar," he chided, digging his fingernails into your hips.

Fuck. Your vision was spinning, and you let your head fall back and hit the hardwood floor. Johnny didn't allow you to rest long; he took one powerful hand and gripped the back of your hair, pulling you to face him. 

"I already know, so why don't ya just admit it?" He whispered, his lips inches from yours. 

Your eyelids fluttered shut, and you squeezed your thighs around his hips. "I want your baby, alright?" You admitted, humiliation mixing ice with the fire in your core. 

"Honey, there've been more women than you who've wanted that. What makes you think you're so special?"

Shame and desire in equal measure painted your cheeks, but you finally knew what to say. 

"I'm the only one you kept." 

He hummed against your pulse point. "You already kinda act like a mama; cleaning the house and makin' my favorites for dinner." Johnny's lips, which had traced a path along your neck, paused for a moment. He lifted his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "But I thought you hated me."

"Hate you so much it reached the end and flipped to the other side, I guess," you conceded.

Johnny rewarded you by slowly resuming his thrusts, giving you the cock you craved so primally. "I hate you too, baby. I hate how every damn thing you do drives me crazy, how you make me lose control then force me to keep you safe from me." 

He leaned close, fire burning in his gaze. "I hate that I can't kill you 'cause I can't imagine my life without you in it." 

In that moment, as your lips met again, it was a collision of contradictions—the fierce passion that had grown in the midst of hate and chaos.

Johnny was on a mission now, and you felt it in every fiber of your being. He sat up on his knees and pulled you into his lap without breaking the kiss, pistoning his cock so deeply you felt the head bruising your cervix. 

But you didn't care, you reveled in the pain. Johnny was claiming you, finally. All those women, and none had him like this—breeding them like the bitch in heat that you were. You moaned so loud Johnny broke the kiss with a cruel laugh. 

"You hopeless little slut," he chided as he moved one hand to your back and bent toward your chest. He licked at the still fresh blood before reaching your nipple, rolling it between his teeth and sending shockwaves through you. 

You gripped his shoulders and rode him harder. A low groan escaped his lips, and you felt his length somehow become even more hard before a warmth spread through your core as his cum shot deep inside you. The sensation was too much to bear and you came as well, holding onto him for dear life as you rode out your orgasms together. 

When he was done, he laid you back down on the floor and stood, leaning against the wall and gazing down at you, the girl he'd chosen to claim entirely. 

You laid spread-eagle on the floor, your chest caked in blood, wanting to meet his eyes but unable to move as his precious cum seeped from your abused pussy. 

"Get used to this," Johnny said, as he grabbed a cigarette from his pants pocket and lit up, "you want my baby, you're gonna get it."

[riskyraiker]

Hii, I saw you were taking requests, so how about this: A Vox x Reader who were old friends in life, now reunited in hell, but not in a way he would expect. Reader was fighting for the Hotel against exterminators and got hurt.

Sort of an angsty/hurt-comfort kinda thing, with Vox stepping out of his cruelty and demon persona. Please, take care and thank you 💕😋

Oh my i absolutely love this😍😍and here have a rose for being my first request🌹You didn't specify genders so i wrote Y/N as they/them, also i apologize if the pov changes from 3rd pov to anything else.

Glad that we're in hell | Vox x reader

Vox loved how much control he had in Hell. He didn't miss anything from the time when he was alive, or so he thought. He didn't want to break his persona in anyway, but he couldn't help but miss Y/N after Valentino had another tantrum over Angel Dust. He covered it by stalking and complaining about a certain radio demon who came back in town. Vox was so focused that he didn't even notice his good old friend next to Alastor.

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

All of the three V's sat on the couch watching how an army of angels flew closer to the Hazbin Hotel. Vox was enthralled that Alastor would lose, but all his focus on Alastor vanished when he noticed someone familiar being attacked by an exorcist. "No fucking way.." Vox mumbled under his breath which got the attention of Velvette for max. 2 seconds. His panic didn't last long when the exorcist head was shot full of holes by Angel. Soon enough Adam broke the barrier and started to fight with Alastor himself. Vox was celebrating as Alastor got his ass beat by Adam, now he was complaining about alastor leaving. "Agghh Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

Alastor was down, Angel, Husk and Cherry were struggling, Charlie was choked by Adam and Vaggie was struggling with Lute. Y/N had no other choice but try and sneak up on Adam. Attacking the first man, but almost no damage was done expect a scar on his shoulder. Adam threw Y/N to a wall, which made Vox absolutely enraged. "Y/N!!" Oh shit, that confirms it, it's you. As lucifer arrived to the fight, Vox dissapeared from the couch through cameras to the battlefield, he ran to Y/N. "I..what are you doing here?" It seems like they didn't recognize him well for being a TV screen. "I'm here to save you, darling. I-it's me Vox you knew me when we were alive." Y/N eyes widened as she coughs his name before losing consiousness. "Aw shit, let's go back" Vox held Y/N close as he went back into his place. He did the best he could to bandage you up and give you every pain reliever he had after you woke up. "uhh..what happened. The hotel! Where am i? I need to help Charlie and the others!" Vox was at his own desk watching the cameras, until he heard you yelling about the hotel and your friends. He had no time to get up and run when he straight up teleported through electricity next to you. "Oh god, I was so worried about you! I didn't even know you were in hell. Why in the fuck are you even here?!" Vox didn't care if Val or Velvet would walk through those huge doors as he held you close and rambled about you and your well being to you. "Vox, is it Really you? I thought i had lost you completely." Those words cut his heart in half and made him glitch. You held him tight as you could without being in pain.

You couldn't help but let tears fall down your face, you missed him so much. "I thought i didn't miss you at all, but I was so wrong. How could I've been so selfish not to realize I loved you all this time" Was it true what he just said or were you still in shock from the battle. "Vox. Did you just confess?" Vox only glitched and even shed a few tears which made him ashamed. "Oh darling don't cry, I love you aswell" You caressed his screen styled face softly as you leaned your forehead onto the top of his screen. "Y-You do?" His eyes flickered and moved up and down, looking into your eyes then glancing at your lips. "Of course I do. I loved you since we were alive. You make me glad to be in hell" It took you long enough to kiss, but you did it anyway. Angels say Hell is only suffering and pain, but they didn't know that it's not only that. "You make hell seem like Heaven to me, Y/N"

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

AN: I hope you liked it. I wrote this quick as possible to not keep you waiting. It might short aswell, I'm not good at going to detail :,)

[maximwtf]

Hii, I love your writing smmm!!!

Idk if you're still accepting requests but if you are, there was a new bts photo of Izzy's back and I was wondering if you could write about it? Maybe he's ashamed of his scars and the reader accidentally sees them? I know you like angst so I think this would be absolutely perfect for you :3

Izzy Hands x Reader

Words: 1960

Google docs pages: 3

Warnings: Description of scarring from a whip, yk the usual. Oh yeah, and french reader

Opening: The scars on Izzy’s back didn’t get any attention in s2 so being sweet to him about them is up to you. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! I’m putting these two requests together, due to them being similar. I’m also adding in the 3rd request because it’s been sitting in my inbox, I can’t see myself writing a whole fanfic for it and I think I could slide some of the content from there to this fic! But thank you so much for these requests, I had a blast with this one (for obvious reasons) and I hope yall like this too!!<33

“If you’d been happier not knowing”

Izzy usually hid any relations you had with him from the rest of the crew, at times you doubted if Edward even knew what was going on with you and his first mate. But the man was a rather private person, and didn’t like sharing whatever you had with him with others. Though, for an example he never paid no mind to you sleeping in his quarters, sometimes only asking if anyone had seen you enter the cabin. So you went along with his way of handling the unspoken relationship. Unspoken, as in neither of you had ever said out loud where you stood. One kiss in the past, and from there you’d been close like an old married couple, yet neither of you brought up what you wanted to call it. But at this point, it felt like you didn’t have to. Being with the grumpy first mate felt natural, even if anyone in the crew would disagree with that being possible. 

Though, as many nights and days as you’d spent with the man, you knew there were still things about him that even you didn’t know about. Sure, he rarely talked about his feelings and you knew about that to a certain level. But you found yourself often wondering about his past; where he’d come from and what his past on the sea had been like earlier. Since you had only met him after joining Blackbeard’s crew, and by then the first mate had been alongside the black bearded man for years. But even when he was slightly buzzed, he never stumbled upon talking about his past. The most you knew was of their former captain, Hornigold. But of those times neither of them rarely spoke of, which to your demise made you even more intrigued. 

But of course you knew the man well enough to not go and start asking him questions such as those straight away, out of nowhere. Even if it was just the two of you, you bet he’d lie to you. Maybe to save your ears from whatever he was hiding, or to save himself from having to remember. Neither of the options sounding too pleasant.

So as much as you wanted to get closer to him and know more about the man, you left it up for him. Left it until he would eventually tell you more about himself. After all, life at the sea from a young age like him could have caused him to see a thing or two before becoming the person he was today. The sea wasn’t a kind place to live, especially for a young pirate. And from the stories you’d heard of Hornigold, being raised from a boy to a man in a crew like his must have been anything but pleasant at times. 

So, the night you came to find more of the first mate had come as a surprise. Almost making you wish the topic would have come around in a different way. 

You didn’t spend each night in his quarters, knowing the man didn’t want to make the relationship known to everyone on the ship. Though, this night was one of those where you kept tossing and turning. Keeping your eyes shut felt almost impossible, and your chest ached for the company of someone. And you knew well who that was, Izzy. You also knew that he was most certainly still awake, no matter the late hour of the night. How he still always managed to be up before everyone else, you did not know. 

So you got up from the hammock, checking that no one else was around and made your way to his quarters. The ship was quiet as always at night, only the sound of snoring coming through the walls every now and then. But the further you walked, the more silent even that became. 

The door was quiet, the closing of it only making a faint sound. You turned from the door to find the man you’d been looking for. Though, that action caused you to see something he’d never shown you before. His back, bare. Old scars running across his back, both sides of his shoulder blades to his lower back, bruised with what you could only guess had been a whip. From a cat o’ nine tails. 

Your hand moved over your mouth on its own, covering the saddened frown from your lips, yet leaving your eyes uncovered with compassion flaming in them. And as long as this moment had felt like, it snapped broken as the man turned to face you. The expression on his face telling you everything you needed to know. He hadn’t meant to show that to you. The shame and a hint of something resembling anger almost made you turn around and leave. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. Not now that you knew. 

Your hand fell from your mouth, carefully reaching out to the man sitting in the faint light of a lantern. “Izzy-”, you gasped out, not sure what to say, as he hadn’t spoken his mind yet. “Get out.” The first mate muttered, hand searching for his shirt in the dark of the room, the movement rather panicked. You bit your lower lip, wanting to do as he said but also having a feeling that it wouldn’t actually help anyone. “No, I can’t. Not now.” You ended up protesting against his command, and to your surprise the man sitting on the bed with his gaze on his feet didn’t say anything against it. 

“Mon chéri…” You started again, voice a little softer this time. You felt his eyes scan your form, turning his gaze away from you as soon as he noticed that you’d been looking back at him. As he usually did when he was upset. 

You frowned, walking over to the bed and carefully sitting down to the very edge of it. Just in case he wanted to shoo you away still. Though you believed for him to not do so, seeing as your last comment had gotten him to ease out a little. “Sans toi, je ne suis rien. So please, talk to me.” You almost whispered, that being the last hope you had of getting the man to talk to you. If he felt like it. 

You’d been about to place your hand on his shoulder, but he’d turned around just in time for you to pull back swiftly. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, somehow his expression turning back to normal for a moment. “Wasn’t careful enough and a wild cat attacked me from the back. Nothing more.” He said, eyes moving away from you yet again. He was lying, of course he was. 

You stayed silent for a moment, just as he had done earlier. He seemed to have some kind of walls around him to protect himself from harm concerning the scarring. Which you understood, but it hurt to watch him have to make up stories to replace the real events from his mind. “Mon licorne, you don’t have to tell me. But I would like to know.” Your hand rose again, this time making contact with the man’s shoulder. He visibly tensed up for a moment, the touch on his bare skin so foreign to the man. “No need to dwell in the past, dear.” Izzy said, feeling as he sideyed you for a reaction. Your eyes stayed on him, hand slowly moving to the first mate’s upper back, carefully tracing the very tip of one of the scars. Izzy almost pulled away, but froze and leaned back to where he’d sat before. “I wanted to tell you, to show you what you would  be signing up for.” He started, voice low in tone. You listened, not interrupting him. “But I couldn’t find it in me to do so in the end.” A sight left him after that, seemingly finished with whatever he’d wanted to say. 

You hadn’t even noticed the way you’d started chewing on your inner lip, holding back a pained frown from appearing on your face. “I apologise for barging in, then.” You replied, hand carefully tracing the scar from the middle of his back to the other end of the scar. He sat still, allowing you to do so. “Got in a bit of trouble on Hornigold’s ship.” Izzy commented, seemingly knowing and remembering exactly which scar you’d traced. You stayed silent, eyes scanning the scars next to the one you’d touched. The others near it must’ve been from the same whip. But there was another bundle of scars on the other side of his back, seemingly from another time. Those were deeper, and from the look of it done by someone not keen on the man. 

You reached for the other scars, gently tracing the one closest to you. He tensed up a little, making you unconsciously place your free hand on his forearm for comfort. To your surprise he raised his own hand, placing it on top of yours. “The Royal Navy caught onto us.” He said, breaking the silence that had creeped its way between the two of you. You traced the scar to the very end of it, leaning back after to look at him. “Did you think I would leave if I knew?” You asked carefully, but the air wasn’t tense even after the question. It rarely was with just the two of you. His eyes looked into yours as he thought of what to say. He’d been more afraid of you realising why he was the way he was if you knew. He didn’t care for how they looked, no one could see them through his clothes. But like this he was vulnerable. But now that didn’t matter. “Maybe. But that’s in the past by now.” He said, a sigh leaving him as his shoulders relaxed. You tried to smile, for his sake. “I care for you, and if you seemed happier not knowing, I couldn’t have done that to you.” He added, his eyes staying on yours as he spoke. 

You didn’t know if that was the truth, but it didn’t matter. For one night, all of this had been enough for the both of you. If he had more secrets, he would come to you and open up if he needed. And now he knew that. You tilted your head, the hand from his shoulder moving to the nape of his neck as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Je t’aime, Izzy.” You could only whisper after pulling away ever so slightly. 

The ship swayed gently as you watched him look at you with what you knew was his way of showing love. He might have not been a man of many loving words, but hearing you speak your own first language to him melted something that had been casted in layers of ice within him for a long time. He leaned his head against your hand. 

Translations: mon chéri: my dear, mon licorne: my unicorn, sans toi, je ne suis rien: without you, I’m nothing

AN// Sorry if there is any delay with recent requests, I’ve fallen into a TADC Caine coma and cannot think of anything but that floating pair of dentures.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Coping Mechanisms

Summary - Y/N Hale goes to see her husband every night, even amidst the murders and hunters that have found themselves to be a reoccurring threat in town. The last thing that she was expecting however was for her Peter to wake up

Peter Hale x reader

Warnings - mentions of murder and death, talk of the fire, angst and fluff, ‘comatosed’ peter, burn marks, werewolf reader, 3rd person writing, i think that’s it

After work, speaking to him was easy, even if he didn’t reply back. She knew that deep down he was listening, he had always been such a good listener. The smallest things had intrigued him back in the day, especially the woman sat before him.

A smile was paved onto Y/N’s lips as she reached a hand up to lightly trail down the side of Peter’s scarred face. The fire had really done a number on him, but it was a blessing that he had escaped with his life.

“You’re still as beautiful as the day that we met, you’re looking like the bad boy that wants me to miss lessons to make out in the locker room all over again.” If Peter could speak, or had the ability to respond in the slightest, it was obvious to his wife that he’d offer her a cocky comment and a smirk.

She missed that, more than anything; their mutual interaction. It gave her a reason to live, it had made her smile, but all Y/N could do was curse the word;d for tormenting her husband in such a cruel and evil way; he didn’t deserve it.

“I love you, more than anything, but you already know that.” As she spoke, Peter’s eyes remained distant, glossy from the mental barrier that separated the two of them. “I have to get home, I can’t wait until the day I can take you from this place and bring you back. It’s a nice apartment downtown, nothing too big, yet its still a little like that for just me. I’ll be back tomorrow night, I’m pretty sure that Derek is going to visit you in a couple of hours, so you have that to look forward to.”

Inside, Y/N’s heart was breaking, if Peter were conscious, he would sense the ambient ache in her chest. Without him, she wasn’t complete, everyday a little piece of her was chipping and breaking away.

Reaching down, the woman planted a stern, heartfelt kiss of her puckered lips upon Peter’s forehead. He, as expected, made no response, he was still stoic in his chair. The muse came to the door, tilting her head at Y/N, thinking of how oblivious she was. Her mood sometimes resembled that of a widow, but she was lacking vast amounts of information.

Peter Hale was no longer compromised with his coma, and he had gained much more than physical stability. His brain worked smoothly once again, like a mastermind, and he had a plan. A brilliant plan.

“Thank you for everything.” Y/N spoke to the nurse, a feeble, pained yet satisfied smile upon her lips. “I’ll be back tomorrow, I guess I’ll see you then.”

The nurse politely nodded, expecting as much from the werewolf’s wife. Her absence would however give them the time to continue their spree of chaos and death, fulfilling every aspect that vengeance had to give. If the she wolf was aware of al the slaughtering and biting, she’d be relived of Peter’s recomposed state, although she would predictably be disgusted by his vengeful vendetta.

But the important factor was that she was completely oblivious to the to be revealed secret. Y/N was clueless, and it was due to her not searching for any contradicting evidence. However the private she wolf stopped in her tracks whenever she saw Derek, her nephew in law, and a teenage boy whom she had no recognition of.

“Y/N.” Derek greeted her, bowing his head at his old pack member, being polite as one could be in the face of someone that had yet to grieve. “I was hoping to have seen you, I need to know if you have any information on this alpha that is gang around Beacon Hills killing humans.” She was the best lead the young Hale had, however she defiantly crossed her arms over her chest and glinted her beta brazen eyes at the fresh wolf and his mentor.

Scott unsurely stepped aback, cautious to be in the sights of another werewolf, especially one that was a stranger to him. “I presumed you would’ve heard with your enhanced hearing that it was a mountain lion.” Y/N smirked, unsettling both the young and learning men. “However its targets are quite peculiar… all had involvement in the fire. And so they deserve death in every way, you’ve seen Peter!”

“Thank you for your time Y/N, I know things haven’t been easy for you.” Damn right, she thought at her nephew’s words. It was disgustingly difficult coping with the comatose shell of her mate, and with an excusing smile she abandoned the building in hopes of going to her lonely home and resting up so that she could return fully awake the next day.

However as the autumn air hit her exposed skin she paused. There was something in the nearby shadows watching her with crimson eyes that radiantly beamed towards the unsettled female. A stern growl tumbled out from Y/N’s throat until a familiar spectre entranced out from the darkness and revealed himself in Hale fashion.

“Hello darling.” Peter greeted her for the first time in many years, a cunning smile distorting his face that had been void of expression for so long. “Have you missed me?” She had, insanely so, but this meant… had he killed Laura? She wasn’t certain how to react and thus she bolted in the opposing direction from the one that she had missed for so long, afraid of the red pigment that had tainted his eyes. She had to get to Derek and warn him, but she watched as Peter evolved into a monster, and then it hit her. There was no escape and there had never been one.

He’d had her wrapped around his crisp finger for so long and as his face extended into a devise that no longer resembled a human, she succumbed to her fears and submitted to the alpha that had been tricking her from the start of time.

She understood his motives concerning his bringing of bodies, and soon he would make her like his decisions. With Y/N he would be stronger, they would be unstoppable, and that came first to his care for his mate, because with this malicious strength he could protect her; he was unable to save anyone in the fire that had set him on this path of turmoil and revenge, and he would ensure that he was never that weak again.

[c0rvusx2]

Wolf-ji 🤡

Toji x fem!reader

18+: Toji being a perv, swearing, described nudity I think. Somewhat creepy ig, he likes watching you do stuff. No smut, but it’s kinda spicy. Use of 2nd POV (you, your) rather than 3rd (she,her).

Notes: Keep in mind that he has the mind of a human, so don’t take it wrong 🤝 This man is my brain rot 🤤 lmk if I need to raise the age warning

Genre: Fluff/Crack, spicy idk

Toji had no fucking clue where he was. He expected hell to be… a lot less looking like a city alleyway. He tried to lift himself, rather than feeling like his legs they were bent at an uncomfortable looking angle. Pain flared in his left arm, he bent his head to see a bullet wound, a nasty one that kept on bleeding.

“The fuck?” He stretched as best he could, looking around for some sort of item that would give him his reflection. Luckily, there was a abandoned mirror, cracked and without purpose. Toji began to limp over to the reflector, his legs stiff rather than it’s normal nimble movements.

“Oh fuckin’ hell-“

Okay, so maybe going grocery shopping late at night might be a bad idea—especially since there’ll be all sorts of creeps walking around. Not to mention it’s freezing out there, but it’s too late. You’ve already stepped out of the store and onto the empty sidewalk, and if this was the Wild West there’d be tumble weeds rolling from view. You shiver, beginning your journey back to the safe confines of your home.

The store you frequented was your favorite, and the farthest… so to save time you’d take shortcuts through alleyways. Today would be the first time you were doing it late at night.

You stare into the darkness of the passageway in front of you, anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “Quick… nice and quick…” you hype yourself up before storming ahead, using a quick pace to get you to the other side. The deeper you went, the darker it became and soon the only thing illuminating the alley was the clouded moonlight from above.

From ahead of you, you suddenly see a pair of eyes, gazing right back at you with a stern emerald green color.

You screamed as the eyes began to rapidly get closer, accompanied by the sounds of claws hitting against the ground. You dodged, reversing yourself and pressing your back to the alleyway’s wall. A harsh tug came from your grocery bag, which almost ripped your arm right off your torso. Muffled growling came from the creature that was trying to steal your food. Luckily, you recognized the creature that was attacking you, it was some dumb dog.

This made you enraged and frustrated, this shit costed you a good chunk of the money saved from the leftovers after you payed bills—and the bills around here ain’t cheap.

“Bitch!-“

🌌

Toji is one lucky bastard. Perhaps this was god giving him a 2nd chance at life- their weird way of dishing out redemption.

Somehow, he was able to worm his way into the chick-he-was-about-to-rob’s heart. Life’s good for the man-turned-wolf, he’s got free food, a roof to live under, and no rent to pay. A bargain in his mind. The only downside being he won’t be able to fuck around anymore, and he sure as hell is NOT gonna fuck a dog.

You felt bad for the dog, the moment you saw it’s form when you scrambled out the alleyway. It wasn’t scrawny, but it wasn’t very lean either. It had a scar present on the right side of it’s mouth, sharp green eyes and dirty matte black fur. It sustained a limp arm, a recent wound most likely the reason why it didn’t go all out on you.

You couldn’t really just walk away from a hurt animal, the guilt would eat you up the moment you turned your back. You were also studying to be a vet, moments like this were what you meant for. So you left some food, ran home to fetch a med kit, and returned with your car.

Here you were now, caring for one big ass dog who kept stealing your food—even though you bought him his own food.

You named him Toji, mainly because that scar on the dogs mouth was hella familiar to the Toji you fawned over in Jujutsu Kaisen. He looked at you weirdly when you said that, but snorted a moment later and stalked off to your TV set.

The strange thing about him was that he apparently knew how to operate cable TV, which amazed you yet weirded you out at the same time.

You noticed Toji naps a lot, and wakes up whenever you turn on Netflix. He’ll eagerly sit next to you, sometimes snacking (read stealing) popcorn whenever you make some.

For some reason he likes tuning in whenever you play any anime episodes, especially Jujutsu Kaisen. Whenever Fushiguro comes onto screen Toji’s fluffy tail begins to wag a bit, which you giggle at. He’ll catch you looking and snap at you, which causes you to furthermore laugh at. In the end he’ll end up tackling you onto the couch.

🌌

Toji often feels bored in your household. Nothing really for him to do since he’s apparently a dog now. Nothing to do other than follow you into the bathroom whenever you’re going to shower, keeping a keen eye on every curve of your body. Nothing to do other than watch the fat of your ass lower into his view when you have to bend over to clean up a mess you of him might’ve made.

Nothing to do other than create smutty fantasies of you in his head from when he was human, imagining what your cute little moans would sound like with you under him. Nothing to do other than watch your tits bounce whenever you two go out for a jog in the early morning. Nothing to do other than take a nap between your legs, resting his head on your stomach or between your breast whenever he can. Nothing to do but wish your pretty lips were wrapped around his cock instead of that popsicle you were sucking on a hot summer day.

Toji was a lucky bastard. And lucky bastards get what they want.

🌌

“Toji? Toooojiiii, breakfast! Where’d the hell you go?” You called out, turning the house upside down as you looked for him.

“Toji?” The only place you haven’t looked was the guest bathroom, and currently the door was closed shut. You could hear shuffling from inside, which made you wonder how the dog could’ve closed the door. Without warning, you swiftly pulled open the door.

“What’s going on in her-“ You stopped mid sentence, mouth agape at the figure who stood in front of your bathroom’s vanity. You both stared each other down, your eyes blown wide open while his were glued to yours without emotion. It was a stare down for what seemed like ages, until the familiar man broke the silence.

“What?”

You screamed, and you wished it was without the s because it was embarrassing. He flinched at your volume and seemed to disappear for millisecond, only to return right in front of you, hand on your mouth.

“Jesus Christ- I know you’re a loud mouthed brat but now’s not the time to scream yer’ lungs out,” He huffed, “You can do that later,” The man smirked, you could feel your face flush a bit. After a sec, he hesitantly let go of your mouth. Your mouth was left agape again as Hulu blinked wildly in disbelief at the hulking man in front of you.

“I- wait a fucking second… where’s my dog!?” The man just deadpanned at you, you took this time to eye him up and down. His skin tight shirt had a massive part of it missing on it’s left side, dark splotches of blood surrounding it. The familiar man, however, seemed completely fine.

“C’mon, is it not obvious!?”

“No!? It’s not possible for some anime character to come to life!?” At this you dashed out the room, running into the kitchen to nab your phone to call 911. Before you could even pick it up from the counter, the phone was snatched at lightning speed.

“Hey-!” You whipped around, immediately meeting a stone hard chest.

You were trapped.

“What do I gotta do to prove ‘m real, huh?”

💫

Omfg this is so ooc 💀 writing in character is hard.

If anyone’s confused Toji died and reincarnated into a dead dog’s body that looks exactly like him. During the night get went back to the jjk dimension, shibuya happens, and he returns back human.

Not proofread 🤡